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kishibe-kisser · 5 months

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can I request Todo aoi with a very cute and affectionate gf? just like him shed do anything for him and loves him with all her heart. since shes so affectionate, maybe one day she was hanging out with yuuji and megumi while Todo was doing something else, then he saw her giving megumi hugs and stuff...maybe leading to some jealous smut??

Ask 2: could you please do jealous Todo aoi smut? he maybe got jealous cuz u were talking with megumi, but you didn't know why he was so mad...

A/N: I decided to combine these 2 request because they are quite similar! I hope you both enjoy it! Some things I had to change to fit the story but I still hope you enjoy it.

Tags: Aoi Todo x Afab! reader, p in v sex, face fucking, praise, jealousy, established relationship, cumming inside, fingering, doggy position, ass slapping (but not really spanking)

Word count: 2609

Anyone who looked at you could simply see how in love you were with Todo. It was as clear as day, the way your eyes softened the moment you looked at him, the way you would do absolutely anything for him. You were everything he could have wanted in a girlfriend and he was greatful for you everyday. He had never received care and affection from anyone in this way before.

"That tickles." He mumbled, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you played with his hands. "You want me to stop?" You asked, looking up at him with doe eyes as a silent plea to let you keep going. Letting out an exhale, he looked away and bit back a smile. You could get him to do anything with those eyes of yours. "Keep going." He exhaled, looking at you as you smiled at him.

Music was playing softly in the background as the students of both locations of Jujutsu tech mingled. Gojo thought it would be a good idea for the students to get together in a relaxed way rather than a competition or training. The students needed something positive, all of the teachers agreed.

Which left you cuddled up on the couch with Todo, as he held a drink in his hand and you under his arm. He was perfectly content and so were you, even as Megumi joined you on the couch.

"Sorry, I just need a people break and you two seem the calmest here right now." He said and you nodded, reaching over and patting his arm. Todo wasn't the fondest of Megumi and well vice versa, you knew this. However, you didn't have any gripes with the kid. Afterall, he was exactly that, a kid.

"How have you been, Megumi?" You asked and the boy shrugged. His mere presence was bothering Todo, you could tell in the way he stiffened next to you. However he couldn't help but find the boy irritating. "Im going to grab another drink." Todo mumbled, releasing you from your embrace and giving you a quick kiss to the forehead. You watched him walking away before turning back to Megumi. "Don't mind him. You know how he is." You smiled and Megumi nodded in solidarity. "Anyways, how have you been?" You asked again, waiting for his response.

"Your face looks sour." Mai told Todo causing her to receive a scowl. "Ah, I see why." She added on, looking at you laugh with Megumi. Todo knew he couldn't be mad, you were sweet and tended to love everyone unless they gave you a reason not to. He couldn't be mad at you for that, he just was a little jealous. "Shut up Mai." He remarked and the woman rolled her eyes. "She's laughing an awful lot." She added and Todo looked over to you again. You were laughing, nothing Megumi could say could possibly be that funny... at least to him.

"I don't mean to laugh but that must have been scary. I'm glad everyone made it out okay." You said and Megumi laughed too, you were so sweet it was hard for Megumi to even try and dislike you. He only had questions about why you were with Todo. The man must have been different when he was alone with you, that's all Megumi could conjure up.

"Yeah things have been hard lately." Megumi confessed once your laughter subsided. "Well you know, it's hard for a sorcerer. I see what Todo comes home with and well, he does laugh it off a lot but I can see it's hard. You need someone to vent to." You said and he nodded in agreement. "Todo won't like this but I'll talk to him about it. If it ever gets to be too much you should reach out to him and to me. I'll be glad to help and glad to make him help." Megumi grimaced at your suggestion but realised it came from a good heart. "Yeah, thanks Y/N." He said and couldn't help but blush as you extended your arms, gesturing him to give you a hug.

A set of big hands grabbed your waist, lifting you off the couch and tickling you in the process. "Todo!" You squealed, watching as Megumi rolled his eyes. "Couldn't help myself." Todo mumbled, turning you around so he could hug you tight. He knew he shouldn't be but he was jealous. Seeing you giggle and laugh at Megumi and then hug him, it made him feel protective of you. You were sweet of nature, Megumi didn't need to get the wrong idea.

"You ready to go princess?" Todo asked, hugging you close and side-eyeing Megumi. Megumi wasn't dumb, he knew he had made the older man jealous and that partially filled him with pride. "I guess so." You smiled, turning to say goodbye to Megumi only to be thrown over Todo's shoulder instead.

"What's gotten into you?" You asked, laughing as the rest of the students watched you walk away hanging over his shoulder. "Just want some alone time with you." He remarked, patting your butt gently as it was in a prime position for him. Todo wasn't lying, however it might have been a bit deeper than that. In his mind, he needed to prove himself, prove that he was better than Megumi.

When he reached his room, he put you down and pressed your back into the door. You looked up at him as he caged you in, his muscular arms on either side of your head as you smiled. "You're jealous, aren't you?" You asked, getting a hunch at his sudden change in attitude. He shook his head, shrugging even though it was entirely obvious. "No, what makes you say that?" He was lying through his teeth and he knew that you knew.

"Ohhhh you totally are!" You teased, reaching up and hugging him around his neck. He instantly welcomed the embrace, his arms hugging you closer to him as you placed your lips just under his ear. "You know I only have eyes for you." Your voice was low, making goosebumps coat his skin. You pressed a light kiss to the side of his neck and he hummed. "Is that so?" He asked, feeling you smile against his skin. "How could I even look at anyone else when I have you?" You asked, very slowly kissing down his neck.

You could feel his bulge starting to press against you as he pulled you into him even tighter. "I'll only believe it when you prove it." He remarked, holding you with one arm as the other opened the door. You could see he had a small smile on his face as you grabbed his hand, pulling him into his bedroom. You would tell him the context of the situation later, that could wait. For now though, this was more fun.

Todo wasted no time kicking his door shut behind him and grabbing your hips to pull you into him again. In situations like this, he hated leaving your body for too long. He tilted your chin up and kissed you deeply, tongue snaking into your mouth as his hand grabbed your ass. You hummed, your hands gripping his shirt as you continued to kiss. As you were going to rid him of his shirt, he stopped you and pulled away to take a breath.

"Maybe you should get on your knees and show me how much you love me first." He said, gesturing to the bulge in his pants. You grinned, kissing his lips quickly before sinking down. Your fingers worked fast, undoing his pants and allowing your fingers to brush over the prominent v-line disappearing into his pants. You made sure to keep looking at him, keeping a sweet expression on your face as you tugged the material down and making sure to lightly scratch your nails down his thighs.

You kissed his boxer covered cock before rubbing over it with your hand, the fabric causing friction and making him suck in breath through his teeth. Finally you pulled the fabric down and let out a hum at the sight of his hard cock. "Go on." He urged, one hand holding the back of your head as the other held his shirt up just enough to see his abs.

Todo let his head fall back as your lips and hand wrapped around his cock. "There we go." He mumbled, your tongue swirling over the head of his cock before taking him in deeper into your mouth. The hand on the back of your head pushed you down further and you gagged before pulling off of him. "Fuck." You moaned, while the feeling was uncomfortable it still turned you on. "Can I fuck your face?" He asked, breathing heavier than before. Sitting back on your heels, you nodded at him as he cracked a smile. "I love the way you look at me, only at me." He remarked before pulling his shirt off fully and gently grabbing your head.

You opened your mouth and he sank his cock into you, gripping his thighs for something to hold as he started thrusting his hips. You took as much as you could, trying to regulate your breathing. Spit dribbled down your chin and you did your best to keep your eyes open, looking at him as he took advantage of your mouth. Tears brimmed your eyes and Todo could feel himself getting close to cumming. As much as he wanted to cum down your throat, he'd much rather have this last longer.

He pulled you off of his cock, taking note of the precum and drool on your lips. "You look so pretty like this. You're so good for letting me fuck your mouth." He said, leaning down to wipe your mouth and help you onto your feet. "You less mad at me now?" You asked, hiding your giggle as he spun you around to press his chest into your back. "Hmm I'm not convinced yet." He mumbled, kissing the side of your neck before pulling your clothes off.

He bent you over his bed, pushing your ass into the air and exposing your wet pussy to him. He couldn't help himself, giving a harsh slap to your ass, watching the flesh jiggle slightly as you let out a moan. "Couldn't help myself." He remarked and you giggled, gripping his sheets as his hands moved from your soft skin to your wet slit. "So wet, all for me. Maybe you do only have eyes for me." Todo remarked, dragging his fingers over you slit and spreading your arousal around.

"Todo, please-" You begged, feeling his other hand gently rubbing up your back as slipped one finger in. Your back arched as his finger curled in you, needing more to stretch you out. He smacked your ass again, hard enough to leave a mark as he added another finger. "Have to stretch you out, don't want you hurting tomorrow." He grumbled, watching you fuck back on his fingers. You hadn't realised how needy you were until his fingers curled against that sweet spot inside of you, making you cry out, getting closer and closer to cumming. "Todo-" You moaned as you gripped his sheets, arching your back even more.

"Goddamn, the only reason I'm so jealous is because I'm so damn lucky." He remarked, placing a hand on the small of your back to make you arch even more. This was without a doubt his favorite sight. "I'm gonna-" You stopped, feeling his fingers leave you and making you whine in objection. Todo leaned over your back, kissing your shoulder as he guided the head of his cock to your core.

"Cumming with me or not at all." He remarked and pushed himself into you. Slowly pushing into you fully and watching the way you gripped the sheets. "Come on princess, let me stretch you out." He grumbled, fingers digging into your hips. You were so tight around him and so wet, he had to take a breathe when he bottomed out. You could practically feel him in your stomach, making you clench around him uncontrollably. Every time he fucked you like this you felt like he was splitting you open and you just wanted him to move.

Todo knew he wasn't going to last long, reaching around to rub circles on your clit as he started thrusting into you. You were sure if anyone walked into the hallway they would be able to hear your moans and cries, they'd know exactly that you belonged to Todo. "God you feel so good." You moaned, your arms giving out under you and your cheek being pressed into the sheets. You glanced back at him, watching the way his eyes screwed shut before his free hand slapped your ass again.

If Todo loved one thing it was the recoil of your ass as he fucked you from behind, it was partially one of the reasons this was his favorite position. Though he never lasted long, you were just so fucking hot to him.

"Todo please, I want to cum." You whined as his thrusts got eratic. The fingers rubbing your clit sped up and he was starting to get louder. "Todo please baby, cum with me." You pleaded, needing your sweet release. He groaned at your pleas, slamming himself into you fully as he continued to rub your clit. Your name left his lips like a prayer as he emptied himself into you and you weren't far behind, burrying your face into his sheets to muffle your scream.

He made sure to stay inside of you for a moment, leaning over your back once more to kiss your shoulders and spine. "God, don't ever leave me." He whispered against your skin, making you chuckle into the sheets. "Oh my sweet Todo." You mumbled, letting out a slight gasp as he pulled out of you and watched his cum drip out of your pussy and down your thighs. It was his own way of marking you, that and the handprints on your ass from his slaps. He just loved knowing you had that on your body.

"You don't have to worry about anything." You told him as you settled into his sheets. Your arms open for him to join you, despite your bare and sweaty state. He laid his head on your chest and wrapped his large arms around your body. "I have a lot to worry about. You included, your safety and fearing you'll find someone better." He admitted and you felt your chest ache. Your fingers gently raked through his hair, undoing the hair tie and letting it flow free before kissing the scar on his face. "Like I said. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Trust me." You said and he looked up at you. "I love you and only you. I worry about you every day and I need you in my life." You added on, watching him slowly start to smile.

"Besides, I was only offering help to Megumi. He seemed to be going through some stuff, I said you'd be willing to listen to him and be a friend. I know the stuff you come home with sometimes and I know he doesn't have anyone to vent to. That's why I hugged him." You clarified and Todo burried his face into your chest. "I feel like an idiot." He mumbled and you started to laugh. "Yes you are, but you're my idiot if it makes you feel any better." You shook your head, continuing to stroke his hair. "Maybe tell me I'm yours one more time, then you'll have made it up to me fully."

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #aoi todo x reader #aoi todo #aoi todo smut

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3d-wifey · 4 months

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And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 12

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 8.4k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn, @meandurdaughtergotaspecialthing, @innercreationflower, @kisskittenn Chapter Summary: There's a certain kind of pain in reading or watching something from the perspective of a character who doesn't know about the tragedy ahead of them. It's like watching a scary movie and going, "No, don't go to sleep! He's behind the door!" Like in The Song of Achilles, we all know how the original story ends. We know how the actual prophecy plays out. We know that the moment Patroclus's heart stops, Hector and Achilles fates are set in stone. You wince whenever Achilles says he has no reason to kill Hector because "What has Hector done to me?" You want to tell him that Hector will do the unforgivable to him. You want to tell Patroclus not to go on the field. Tell Achilles to get his damned head out of his ass as he disguises Patroclus as himself because he is at risk of losing something far more important than his pride. You hold your breath as Patroclus is speared in the back and as Achilles realizes the consequences of his actions. You knew it was coming, and yet, you still read the story because a part of you hoped. You hoped for the hopeless. All this to say that knowing and still having hope regardless is crueler than complete ignorance. A/N: I imagined your stylist as Anne Hathaway in Alice in Wonderland.

Past (xiii) - You [22 & 23] - THE CAPITOL

If you were from any other district, maybe it would have surprised you how attached Rue is to you. But the sense of community in Eleven breeds this need for kinship. You’re social creatures; you’re not meant to be on your own. Certainly not in a place like the Capitol. It’s how you end up hugging your knees to your chest, an unnamed ocean projected on your wall as you try to get lost in the tides the night before the tributes will be marched into the arena.

No one talks about this part, or maybe they just don’t want to think about it. The part where being forced back into the room you slept in during your own Games eats at you—that anxiety that courses through your veins and leaves your body thrumming. Because no matter what you tell yourself, your body isn’t entirely convinced that you won’t be the one entering the arena tomorrow. You close your eyes and suddenly you’re fifteen again, gripping the sheets so hard you could tear holes in them as you fight the vomit threatening to ride the wave of acid reflux.

Sleeping beside Finnick helped. He reminded you that you weren’t fifteen and alone and wishing you’d die in your sleep so you wouldn’t be slaughtered live. And now? Well, at least there’ll always be the ocean.

There’s a knock on your door, so tentative that you would have missed it if you weren’t already so keyed up.

You pause the projection of the ocean, assuming the sound woke someone up. You get up and go to open it, only to see Rue. Suddenly you’re shamefaced and embarrassed, like you’ve been caught doing something pathetic, even though it’s doubtful she even knows what the sound was, let alone the significance of you listening to it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Was I being too loud?”

“No.” She shakes her head, shifting from foot to foot. “Um, I couldn’t sleep. And I just—I saw that your light was on and thought maybe you couldn’t sleep either?”

That may be true, but you don’t think it’s the only reason. Rue is the oldest of six and they all live in Shacktown. With all those people in one house, you’re sure Rue’s never slept alone a day in her life. It makes you wonder how she managed these past few days.

You’re an only child; your dad was killed before your parents could have any more, so you can’t say for certain that you understand what she feels. Yet, you reminisce on the fact that you’ve never really gone through a year of mentoring without Finnick being within arm’s reach.

She stares up at you with those big, pleading puppy-dog eyes, and you twist your mouth to the side.

“C’mon.” You move so you aren’t blocking the entrance anymore and you nod your head towards your room. “How ‘bout you sleep in here with me tonight? You don’t have to, of course, but we might as well stay up together.”

You know you’ve made the right choice when she grins big, rushes in, and takes a running start to jump on your bed. You shake your head fondly as she scurries to get under the blanket, lying down with them pulled under her arms and getting comfortable like she belongs there. The door slides shut behind you and you twist the dimmer until the only light comes from the projector. You settle into your bed beside Rue and you can’t help but snort at how she keeps smiling at you.

“So…What were you watching?”

“Uh.” You pick the remote up to unmute the device and the sound of crashing ocean waves fills any remaining silence. “The ocean.”

She looks over, seemingly transfixed by the drag and pull of the water. The nearest ocean to Eleven is the one that rests just outside of the towering fence and only serves as a deterrent for escaping. This very well may be her first time seeing one outside of a textbook. “Why?”

“Well, I,” you let out a weighted breath, "I thought it would make me feel better. Help me sleep.”

“Oh.” Says Rue and then she looks at you. “Why?”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Um. I guess the ocean reminds me of my friend and—I don’t know. It’s just easier to sleep with him around."

“Is he your crush?” Crush? Such an innocent question feels surprisingly weighted considering your current relationship with Finnick. Or lack thereof. Is it a crush now that it’s unrequited?

“I love him.” You tell the wall and it’s the sad truth. You still do. You wouldn’t be so hung up if you didn’t.

"Whoa. You like like him.” Like like. It’s been years since you heard that. It brings to mind how young she is. It’s not as if you needed another reminder. “It’s okay, I won’t tell. I like someone too.”

“Oh? And what’s his name?” You smile. You both flip over to face each other. You picture little you and little Sage, shyly holding hands during downtime, and find yourself hoping this boy liked Rue back.

“You can’t tell anyone.” She narrows her eyes and makes you swear, which you do with a pinky promise. “Coriander.” Her voice goes all quiet and timid as she hides her face and you wonder if you’ve ever seen anything cuter.

“Ah, I think I might know him.” She looks at you with wide eyes as you tease her, peering out from between her fingers.

“Nuh-uh, no way.” She denies it as you tap a finger on your chin and pretend to think about it.

“No, no. I think I do. He’s got pink hair, no teeth, and walks with a waddle, right?”

“No!” She giggles and you can’t help but giggle along with her. You take a moment.

“Finnick. The boy I like.” You provide when she looks confused. “His name is Finnick.”

“Oh! Oh! Is he that boy from Four? The victor?” It’s hardly shocking that she recognizes him. He’s one of ‘the greats’. You nod and she gasps like that’s the juiciest piece of gossip she’s ever heard.

“He’s pretty.” She whispers.

“He is.” You laugh.

“Is he nice?”

“The nicest,” you say without thought or contempt. Finnick’s indeed been nothing but kind to you since you’ve met him, current behavior not included. You find that even when you’re mad at him, you can’t actually disparage him. And you don’t want to lie to Rue. “He made me this." You lift your wrist and show her your bracelet. You’ve been wearing it around your ankle while you’re out in public, but when you’re on your own, it goes back to its rightful place.

“Cori made something for me too.”

She pulls her necklace up for you to see. It’s woven grass attached to a wooden charm shaped like a flower—you squint—or maybe a star? Definitely the handiwork of a child. Adorable. It reminds you of Cane.

“Your token?”

“Yep. He gave it to me when everyone came to see me off after I was reaped. He ran all the way home and back to give it to me. He almost didn’t get back in time, but I waited for him. I knew he’d come, and that’s why it’s good luck.”

“Makes sense.” You nod and she nods with you, like she’s happy that you get her logic. “He must like you a lot to go through all that.”

“Yeah. He’s sweet.” She smiles, fidgeting with the charm.

“I bet he is.” You push some of her curls out of her face. Just two doomed girls talking about their equally doomed crushes.

It’s silent for a moment; ocean noises make your eyes feel heavier with the pull of each tide. You watch as the shadows cast from the projector paint the ceiling in a series of swirling blues. You think you can see Finnick’s favorite color hidden amongst the other shades.

“Were you scared? When you went into the arena?” Rue asks and you still can’t find it in yourself to lie to her.

“Terrified.”

“Really? You’re so brave though?” She sounds so genuinely confused that you have to hold back your laughter. You don’t want her to think you're making fun of her. You appreciate the vote of confidence. It’s more than you have in yourself.

“I think…being brave means doing something even if you are terrified.” You look away from the ceiling to make eye contact. “It’s okay to be scared, Rue. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She mumbles like she doesn’t actually believe it.

“I think you’re incredibly brave.” You know she regularly went foraging for food for her siblings, and she took on more hours than what was required of her. Who knows how many times she’s entered her name for Tesserae?

And she’s still so young.

“Really?”

“Oh, definitely.” You laugh at her skepticism. You’ve laughed more with Rue in the short time you’ve had with her than in the last two years combined. Sadly, there hasn’t been much of a reason for you to. Realizing that this is the last night you two will laugh together is devastating. “I was fifteen and I felt like I was on the edge of breaking down the entire time. How are you so calm?” She’s only twelve years old—not even a teenager. If you were in her shoes, you’d have dehydrated yourself from how much you were crying.

“I am scared, but…" She drags out the ‘uh’, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t feel real.”

“Hmm. I get that.” You don’t tell her that it won’t start feeling real until she either wins or dies. It’ll only make her feel worse. She closes her eyes and you two are quiet for a time—so long that you think she’s fallen asleep.

Her voice is small when she asks, “Can I hold your hand?”

“Of course.” You hold your right one out for her to take, and her little fingers lace with yours. Her palms are callused too. Not as much as yours. No, she’ll never have enough time to catch up to yours.

Rue moves closer to you and you wrap your left arm around her. You feel her say your name more than you hear it and you hum in response. “Thank you.”

You pull her closer to your chest, your linked hands resting between you. “Of course, sweetheart.” You say this into the crown of her head, wishing that you could have done more for her and Thresh—wishing you weren’t so helpless.

But you can do this. You can give her this last comfort, this last embrace from home. You hold her tight as you both fall asleep and you only let her go when they come to take her away in the morning.

You do not cry.

You miss him, you decide one day. You thought you hated him after you got through your self-pity, but the words "hate" and "Finnick" are too oxymoronic to ever stay together for long. You were so angry at yourself, angry at the world, but you sat with that anger long enough to know what it truly was. Grief. You miss him the way you'd miss a limb. You're so used to having it that you only remember it's gone when you notice the space it used to occupy and feel the phantom aches of what it used to be—what you used to have and took for granted.

Chaff has described in detail the pain of losing his hand. But, he said, nothing hurts worse than remembering it’s not there.

You've never taken Morphling and you don't know anyone personally who's gotten hooked on it, but you imagine this is what withdrawal feels like. You haven't seen him since before he sent that letter, and it feels like he's actively avoiding you. You said years ago, after Annie's Games, that you could handle just being his friend if he decided he didn’t want you anymore. But he never gave you the chance.

That’s alright. It’s perfectly fine. You know when you’re not wanted around, you can take a hint.

Maybe it's for the best. There’s no telling what you would do if you ran into him again. Something pathetic, probably, like begging him to take you back. There's a specific moment when you really feel your loss. A few days into the 74th Hunger Games. Chaff is finalizing the transaction with the money Eleven gathered to send bread for Rue and Thresh, so you’re on your own.

“Your girl is something else.” You tell Haymitch from where you stand beside him, arms crossed, as you split your attention between him and the Games.

He cocks his head slightly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, then returns to watching Katniss and Rue rehearse their strategy. “I can say the same to you.” You hadn’t expected Rue to team up with anyone, but you can’t say you are surprised that it’s Katniss. The girl did volunteer for her little sister, after all. Primrose, was it? But you’re concerned that your little speech about being brave by doing things that terrify you may have swayed her to come out of hiding and help Katniss.

You can’t take full credit, though. Rue—well, she’s far too kind for her own good.

You look him over, a glass of something alcoholic in one hand while the other remains buried in his pocket. Honestly, you’ve never seen him this invested in the Games before, but you could hazard a guess why. You weren’t just blowing smoke up his ass about Katniss. She’s honestly got a pretty good shot of winning, if not making it to the top five. She’s already a fan favorite, along with Rue, Peeta, Glimmer, and Cato. She’s exceeded your expectations, along with Haymitch’s. No wonder he’s been networking his ass off. If she’s actually got a chance at surviving this, he owes it to her to try.

That’s when it happens.

Rue’s screams echo in your ears as Katniss races through the forest. Something has gone wrong—she's been captured or the Careers are using her as bait, or—you wipe your sweaty hands on your dress and then recross them, wanting more than anything to bite at the skin around your nails. You hold your breath, hoping beyond hope that she’s saved from whatever fate has befallen her.

She’s by herself in the clearing. Caught in a net, but not hurt. Katniss manages to get Rue out and your muscles begin to untense, but the relief is incredibly short-lived.

Marvel, that cocky little boy from two, throws his spear with deadly precision, lance soaring past Katniss to pierce Rue in the abdomen.

Your hands are numb as they cover your mouth, but then you remember where you are and drop them just as quickly. She pulls the spear from her chest and you want to yell at her not to, that taking it out will only make her bleed quicker. Like it even matters at all when she’ll bleed out regardless. You think you need to sit down.

Katniss catches her before she falls. You’re lightheaded.

Katniss sings to her after she whispers something that the mics can’t pick up and it feels like your heart is being wrung dry. You think of Rue’s mother. You think of her six siblings, who all look up to her. You think of Coriander. You think of how small she felt in your arms and how tightly she held your hand. You think of a lot of things in the time it takes for her heart to stop beating.

The cannon fires and all eyes go to you. Ranging from curious to pitying. Some are even tearful. She was a fan favorite, after all. Mentors and Capitols alike split their attention between you and the screens to catch your reaction, but your face is deceptively blank. You stare ahead silently, your eyes unseeing as they remain on the screen.

You will not give them the pleasure of seeing you break down. Katniss will leave and Rue’s body will be airlifted out and that will be the end of it.

This is nothing new for you. You’ve gone through this twelve other times. Why would she be any different? She isn't. You tell that to your shaky hands and they only tremble further. You tell your heavy lungs and they only get heavier. You try telling your chilly skin, but all it does is make you feel colder. Why is she different?

You want to close your eyes as Katniss grieves. To be able to save one little girl but not another, it must weigh heavy.

“I’m so sorry." Someone comes to stand beside you, some Capitol elite. “One less chance for your district to win.” You look at him from the corner of your eye and Haymitch scoffs on your other side. For one stupid moment, you thought he was offering his condolences.

“Right. Well. There’s still Thresh.” He nods along to your words, thoughtful, like you’re talking about the likelihood of a horse winning a race.

“Yes, he’s the big one, right? I have money riding on him or Cato winning.” Of course, he remembers his name and not Thresh’s. You close your eyes before they can roll out of your head. “I’d like to send him something to eat as a sponsor. I worry—what is she doing?” You open your eyes to see what tribute has captured his attention, only to see Katniss again. But she’s still with Rue, kneeling next to her body with an armful of flowers—

“She’s giving her a funeral.” You bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Rue rests on a bed of flowers—white daisies and lavender. She tucks a bouquet of daisies in her little hands and you wonder if Katniss knows the significance that being surrounded by flowers has for your people. Or maybe that’s something your two districts have in common. All that’s missing is fruit and it would be a proper Eleven funeral.

A funeral for a little girl. Your heart grows heavy with that realization and your mouth curls into a scowl.

You shouldn’t think about how she clung to you before she was sent into the arena. You shouldn’t think of Coriander’s childish hope dying with her. You shouldn’t think about her family watching this. You shouldn’t think of how her mother woke up this morning with six children and will go to sleep with only five. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t—

“Oh, how sweet.” The man coos.

“Yes.” Katniss faces the camera, kisses her three middle fingers, and salutes the cameras—salutes District Eleven. You don’t think of Coriander sprinting to the train clutching a grass-woven necklace with a good-luck charm that wasn’t very lucky. “Very sweet."

On instinct, you reach to the left for Finnick, but there's no hand to hold other than your own.

You need Finnick, and he isn’t here and for the first time since you've become a mentor, you have to brave the games by yourself and shoulder your grief alone.

“Kid…” A flinch rolls through you at the unexpected voice, and you look to your left at Haymitch’s face as he goes through a range of emotions before settling on sympathy. No. Empathy. For a moment, you forgot he was beside you. But he hasn’t forgotten you.

He does something that surprises you again. He places a big hand on the nape of your neck, warm and callused, and squeezes. You exhale sharply, your face twisting minutely, and it’s the closest thing to crying that you’ll allow yourself to do. He pulls you into his side, and it’s a battle not to burrow into him—a battle you lose. Your image will allow you to do this much. Allow you to be comforted while many of the other Capitols in the room do the same thing because it’s all very sad. You wrap your arms around his waist from where you’re held tight against his side and his hand goes down to rub your back soothingly.

No words are said between you two, and that’s enough. It has to be. Past (xiii) - Finnick

[22 & 23] - DISTRICT FOUR Finnick has never felt worse.

The sky is clear, the stars are bright, and Finnick has never felt worse.

It’s a particularly quiet night on the beach. There’s no one walking along the shore, no bonfires, no night swimming. There’s only Finnick.

He sits with his legs crossed under him; the coarse sand is warm against the exposed skin of his legs and feet. He’s always been able to come down to the beach to think and unload any weight on his shoulders. With how heavy his heart feels, he’s never needed that release more. A cool breeze carries the smell of the ocean, but it’s not as comforting as it should be.

He reaches into the ornate box sitting between his thighs and just rests his hand there, letting his fingers ghost over the pages upon pages of parchment paper. He’s kept a tight lid on this box, hoarding your letters and your scent inside like a corvid. Even now, outside on the shore, your smell wafts around him—concentrated and stiff. He blinks past the tears in his eyes.

He doesn’t look inside; he doesn’t think he can handle it. To see the length of your relationship measured by words on paper, to know he’ll never be adding to this box again—it’s too much.

He pulls out a letter at random.

His eyes have already readjusted to the darkness as he uses the moonlight to read. He traces the looping lines of your handwriting.

This is the letter you sent along with that pretty picture of yourself in case he forgot what you look like. A beautiful sentiment, but largely unnecessary. Finnick knows your reflection as well as he knows his own, if not better. Even now, with all this space, time, and hurt between the two of you, he could draw your portrait blindfolded. Not that anything could ever live up to the real thing. Nothing can compare to you.

He sighs, twisting his bracelet around his wrist absently. He feels the cool grooves of the fish charm between his thumb and pointer finger as he looks at the stars. There are more stars than there are grains of sand. Each tiny, flickering dot is a blazing inferno, the likes of which he can hardly comprehend. They don’t shine nearly as brightly as you do in his memory.

He just…he just wishes he could have told you that.

Unconsciously, his eyes fall on Cassiopeia. Punished for boasting about the beauty of her daughter. It’s not fair. Her only crime was loving her child, and for that, she was forced to give her up for the safety of her kingdom.

Sacrificing someone you love for the greater good. He can’t tell if he wants to scoff, scream, or cry. Maybe all three.

Are you looking at the same sky as him? Even now, are the two of you still connected? Is it cruel to hope for that? It has to be, but Finnick has found that he's grown rotten in his misery. Rotten and incredibly selfish.

Over the past year, you’ve sent him letter after letter and he read each one with ravenous eyes—desperate for you in any way he could have you. You were angry, you were hurt, you were confused. You alternated between begging him and demanding him to reply. So he did. Of course, he did. He could never deny you anything.

He just never sent any of them.

He kept them stashed in a drawer, locked away so he didn’t have to look at them—wouldn’t have to look at his bleeding heart. It wasn’t healthy; he knows that, but still. He just wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that everything was back to normal. That he hadn’t ripped out his soul by tearing yours apart.

Those letters had been a constant staple in his life for nearly seven years, and—he was going to wean himself off of it, off of you, really, he was.

But he never got the chance to before they stopped coming a few months ago. They just stopped.

He should be happy about that. He should be pleased that you're moving on. He should be a lot of things that he's not, but, as it turns out, he’s getting pretty fucking sick of performing for an empty audience. You've given up on him, and you have every right to, but—

God, it hurts.

It’s for the best. It’s what he wanted—no, it’s what he needed to happen for both of you. And it’s certainly better than the alternative Snow offered.

Knowing all that doesn’t make it hurt any less; it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

He takes out another letter, and it’s…it’s the first one? The first letter you left him after you spent the night in his room. He remembers waking up on the floor, tired and raw from that conversation on the balcony. He was fully prepared to act like it never happened. He was a little disappointed to wake up alone, but he was sure that it only proved that you wanted to forget about it too. Imagine his surprise when he rolled over—not to the empty space he was expecting, but to a note on your pillow.

I really appreciate…

Thank you for…

Just thank you.

He was left floored. He was seventeen years old and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone thanked him for anything.

Finnick brings the note to his nose and your perfume floods his senses, drowning him in memories. Memories of long train rides home from the Capitol, his only company being the smell of you on his clothes.

And try as he might, he can’t forget. He can still feel the blood caked under his fingernails and flaking at his wrist. Can still feel the warmth of your beating heart in his hand after he ripped it out. That’s his punishment. Remembering it all, good and bad.

He’s broken from his musing by the crunching of sand approaching him from behind.

“You’ve been out here for hours. Aren’t you cold?” Annie's soft-spoken voice is almost lost in the wind. No. He isn’t. He’s the exact opposite, actually. He’s scorching from the inside out. He’s burning bright and hot and one day he’ll implode under the weight of it all like a supernova. The only respite he can imagine is the cool relief of your touch. He’s scared he’ll forget what that feels like.

She sighs when he doesn’t answer. “We know you’re hurting, Finnick, and we’re worried. You can talk to us. You don’t have to just…talk to your letters. We’re here for you.”

He doesn’t look up; he doesn’t have the strength to, but he nods anyway. Of course, they can tell he’s hurting. A blind man could spot his suffering from a mile away. He hadn’t bothered to hide it outside of the Capitol.

“...Try not to stay out here too long, okay?

Annie squeezes his shoulder before walking back up the beach, leaving him alone, and he's thankful. She shouldn't have to see him like this. She shouldn't have to see him break down.

I'm allowed to, he thinks, I'm in mourning.

But how can he mourn something he killed?

He reaches into the box one more time, pulling out a stray scrap of paper and a pen. His hands shake along with his shoulders, his handwriting so bad that only he and you would be able to understand it. He writes:

Dear Heart,

I don’t know who Finnick Odair is without his love for you.

Every day, I think I can’t possibly miss you more than I already do. And then another day passes and I prove myself wrong.

Is there a fate crueler than this?

I just want to see you again. I just want to hold you again. One last glance, one last smile, one last laugh, one last kiss. If I knew the last time I saw you would be the LAST time I saw you, I never would have blinked. I’d have made the moment last forever. But forever isn’t nearly enough, is it?

Do you think you could ever forgive me?

-I love you I love you I love you,

Finn

Present (XI) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; ELEVENTH FLOOR

“I thought I’d find you here."

“Haymitch.” Finnick leans in the doorway of your room, wiping sleep from his eyes. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He wanted to stay awake and bask in the little time he had left with you, but he hadn’t slept next to you in so long and it felt like he was lured in.

“Listen,” the man rubs at his scruff, “it’s not what I came here for, but I’m happy you two figured out whatever the hell…” He trails off with a particularly constipated look, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of your room.

“...Right. Thanks.” Finnick clears his throat. “I’m, uh, I’m happy too.”

“Yeah…Anyway.” He sighs. “There've been a few last-minute adjustments to the plan.”

That wakes Finnick up, his mind running over what Haymitch has already told him to do in the arena. “Oh, should I wake Star—”

“No, no. This is just for you. We realized you’d have no way of knowing when you should be heading to the pickup point, especially since things out here can change on a dime.” He steps closer, burying his hands in his pockets. “Once all of the necessary players are gathered in the arena, a sponsor gift will be sent down, probably some kind of food. Pay attention to the district and the amount that’s sent.”

Finnick squints. “Why?”

“The district tells you the day we’re coming and the amount tells you the hour—do not get the two mixed up.” Haymitch raises a hand, staring Finnick down until he nods.

“Alright, I won’t. And the pickup point?”

“When in doubt, Beetee will know.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s sure working behind the scenes and acting as a messenger is harrowing work, especially with Snow on such high alert. “Our girl managed to get in Peeta’s good graces. Not that I’m surprised; they probably bonded over how ‘fun’ and'rewarding' it is to help the less fortunate or something. Having her plus Beetee and Wiress will definitely give Johanna and Blight some credibility in Katniss’s eyes. You, on the other hand, are gonna need to rely on something other than your good looks and Mags.” He fishes a flash of gold out of his pocket—some kind of bracelet.

Finnick takes it gingerly, examining how the light makes it shimmer.

“Take it into the arena as a token. Show it to her, preferably before she shoots you between the eyes. And, shit, if that doesn’t work, ask her…tell her to remember who the real enemy is.”

He wants to ask what that means outside of this very specific context; he wants to know what this bracelet means to him and Katniss if just seeing it will be enough for her to make him an ally. But he doesn’t. He feels like it’ll bring on more questions than it’ll answer.

“I’m gonna need you to hold onto something for me then.” He reaches into one of the deep pockets along his billowy pants until he feels the familiar shape against his fingers. He’s almost hesitant to give it away. When the Quell was announced, he was sure he would die with it on him. But it’s a part of you and he can’t take the chance of it getting destroyed. “It’s, um. It’s a photo she gave to me a few years back, I always carry it on me—”

“You don’t need to explain.” When it’s handed to him, Haymitch takes a moment to look at you. Finnick feels a little self-conscious of how faded it is from years of him running his fingers along your face—faded from years of being well loved. “I’ll make sure she gets back to you.” He’s careful when placing your photo in his pocket and Finnick feels relieved that there’s someone on the outside who wants to get you out of the arena just as much as he does.

“Good luck, kid.” He squeezes Finnick’s shoulder and hesitates. His eyes shift to the walkway that leads to where you’re resting. “When she wakes up, tell her…Tell her I said…” He trails off, his face severe, and Finnick understands painfully well.

“I will.” He promises. Haymitch purses his lips before giving a nod. Finnick watches his back as he leaves and wonders if that will be the last conversation he has with the man, one of his oldest friends.

Present (XI) - You

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; THE ARENA “Your tracker.” The Peacekeeper yanks your arm up wordlessly and waits for you to pull your sleeve back. You squint around the sharp pain as he jabs the needle into your forearm, burying the tracking device under your skin. You glare at his back and rub at your now-raised skin.

You grip the straps of your seatbelt as the hovercraft begins its ascent.

As relayed from Haymitch to Finnick to you, Peeta brought you up as an ally, and, luckily enough, Katniss wasn't against the idea. It might have something to do with the conversation you and she had before the Chariot Rides or maybe it’s the fact that you're the only person Peeta suggested. It hadn't been your intention to get on his good side when you offered to train him, but you're glad you did. It makes your job that much easier.

“It's a very breathable, lightweight material, so I’m thinking of a humid environment, maybe tropical. Large bodies of water for certain. Have you decided on a token?" Your stylist pipes up from her seat beside you.

“Oh. Yeah.” You lift your hand to show her the blue bracelet sitting snugly on your wrist. She gasps and you pull your wrist away, looking around the carrier for anything that could be the cause of the sound. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing!” She waves you off with a flippant hand. “It’s just, I didn’t think I’d see you wear that bracelet again. I know Finnick never took his off, but—” You yank your arm back against your chest, holding your bracelet almost as if you can hide it.

"Wha-what..how do you, how…?”

“Us stylists confide in each other, and, well, those of us behind the scenes thought the two of you were just so cute together! I never saw you without that bracelet for five years straight and then one day, it was just gone. Poof! Oh, we were worried sick something happened with you two. But now it’s back!” She cheers, clapping her hands.

You gape at her. “You…you knew? All of you? And you never…?” Never leaked the gossip to the tabloids? To Snow?

“What? Heavens no! We're not heartless, dear. It wasn't our place. Besides,” she leans over, her crimson-painted lips pulled into a smile as she pats your thigh. Her eyes are glossy enough that you’re almost certain she’ll start crying. “You two deserve to be happy.”

You nod stiltedly, rocked by this new information. Did Finnick know? No. If either of you did, you would have been a bit nicer to your stylists. You’re quiet for the rest of the flight as she talks to you. This time around, you do try to listen to what she’s saying, nodding along at the right moments to show you’re paying attention. It’s a bit late, but you feel like you owe it to her.

She walks you down to the tube that’ll take you to the arena.

“This is it, my dear.” She sniffs, raising a hand to her mouth as she actually starts crying now. “Oh, I’m a mess. I’m sorry.” She apologizes, fanning her pale face. You don’t think about it too hard; instead, you step toward her and pull her into a tentative hug.

“It’s okay, Shimmer,” you comfort her. “And for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“It’s not okay. It’s not fair at all.” You let her squeeze you tight, allowing the hug to go on longer than you normally would. She inhales and then pulls away. She holds you by your shoulders and takes you in. “It’s been an honor working with you, my dear.”

“Same here.” You smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

You step onto the platform.

The door slides shut behind you and you start feeling sick as you rise. Sick enough that you worry you might vomit before you even make it into the arena. Your heart beats in your teeth. It’s starting to dawn on you, you realize, just how fucked you are. There’s the revolution, but there’s no guarantee you’ll even live long enough to be saved. You’ve been training like crazy, not that it was that hard with the way you grew up. It’s one thing to use your skills for physical labor; it’s another to use them in a fight to the death. That wasn’t how you survived your Games.

You hold your breath, gathering and reminding yourself of what’s important. The plan. And the plan hinges on you getting to the Cornucopia and surviving.

Your stylist tearfully waves you off as you rise, her elaborate and puffy white gown the last you see of her. You look up at the hole of light as you approach it, your nails digging into your palm.

The drastic temperature change makes you shiver and squint, raising your hand to block the blinding rays of the sun. This heat is different from the kind you’re used to. Heavier, somehow even more humid than Eleven’s muggy summers. The sun disorients you and the little wind that comes through carries the smell of salt. You push through the fog of your senses and force yourself to see.

There’s water—a shit ton of it. Saltwater if your nose is to be trusted. Shimmer was right.

The first thing you do is look for Finnick. You can’t help yourself; the need to know where he is is stronger than your need to acclimate. Your gaze bounces from tribute to tribute in your search for him. Sweat is already gathering on your brow when you finally find him. You see him, but only barely, on your left. He’s about three sections away, close enough that you make eye contact with him. It’s brief and fleeting, but long enough for your stomach to settle and your heartbeat to slow.

You’re all divided by rocky strips of land that protrude from the island the Cornucopia rests on like the spokes of a wheel. And in between each spoke are two tributes. That would mean there are twelve sections.

Mentally, you try to map out where everyone is. You note that Finnick is standing beside Chaff.

On your immediate left is Johanna, sectioned off from you by the long line of rocks. You nod at each other and relief courses through you knowing you won’t have to search for her. Beetee stands with Cecilia in between Finnick and Johanna’s respective sections. Was this placement intentional or just luck?

With half of your group near you, your eyes rove around for the missing two and—

“Shit.” You curse. You’ll have to go looking for Wiress. That’s the first part of the plan: Johanna gets Beetee, you get Wiress, and Blight waits for the four of you away from the Cornucopia. You’re lucky to be placed next to Beetee and Johanna, but it would have been nice if Wiress was a little closer. Or within your line of sight, at least.

“Let the 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

The sound of Ceasar’s cohost echoes throughout the arena and you rush to gather more information. On your immediate right is the woman from Nine, about the same distance from you as the strip of land on your left. You know she never stepped foot in the training center, so you’re confident in the fact that she isn’t a threat. A little further down are Peeta and the man from Ten. You do a double-take. You hadn’t expected him to be so close to you and you have to force yourself to ignore him. You beat back the instinct to watch him like a hawk; that isn’t your job right now—it’s Mags and Finnick’s. The next section houses Woof and Mags and beside them are Enobaria and the female morphling. That’s as far down as you can see.

Your muscles tense up when he begins the countdown.

You take stock of your surroundings. Before you is the Cornucopia, and behind you is a beach and a deep forest—no, a jungle. The large body of water surrounding your platform looks pretty clear. Nothing but fish and plants, you’re sure. It’s doubtful they’d put anything deadly in there. Not when so many of the tributes can’t do anything more than doggy paddle. And certainly not this early into the Games. What an odd choice to have water this deep. Especially considering how rare a skill swimming is in the districts.

You watch the red, rotating cube as it flashes down to one, your muscles poised like a spring as you prepare to jump. You take a breath and dive in.

Deep in the woods behind the shack your family used to call home, there was a lake in an area the Peacekeepers seldom patrolled. That’s where your dad taught you to swim. You haven’t done it in a long time, not since before he was killed. You’re more than a little rusty and you wish you had aimed a little more to your left.

The cold water is a shock to your system, but you don’t have time to stay idle. You don’t sink to the bottom like you think you will; you’ve forgotten how much lighter water makes your body. The salt in the water burns your eyes every time you try to open them so you squint and swim towards where you think the strip of land is. It’s a battle. The distance, while a problem on its own, is nothing compared to the strength of the waves.

You’re panting by the time you make it there, shaky fingers grappling with the wet rocks as you pull yourself up, thanking your forethought to focus on training your upper body strength. The woman from Nine had jumped in the opposite direction, aiming for the beach instead of the Cornucopia. Smart. You’d do the same, but you need a weapon and you need to find Wiress. You push your water-laden hair out of your eyes, getting your feet under you and taking off towards the Cornucopia.

You're surprised when you make it across without slipping. You have to make the split-second decision between getting a weapon or looking for Wiress first. You glance behind you, and no one seems that adept in the water on your side. Johanna is just now clawing her way out of the waves. You guess there aren’t many reasons to swim in Seven. You make a run for the mouth of the Cornucopia with the sound of cannon fire chasing you and you hope to God that no one sets their sights on Wiress. You glance to your right, and you can blurrily make out Finnick, Katniss, and Mags helping Peeta out of the water.

You skid to a stop, your legs freezing without your actual input.

“Finnick!” You yell, and his head whips up before you fully get his name out. The water weighs his hair down, turning it a darker blond than you’re used to seeing it. You aren’t entirely sure why you called out for him. Maybe it was more for his comfort than yours; he’ll need to know that you weren’t the cause of one of the cannons firing.

“Star!” He grasps his trident tighter, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. When he sees none, his shoulders relax but his trident remains poised in anticipation.

He looks from you to his group and back again. You shake your head to stop him from taking that step forward. It was only three hours ago that you last saw him. And before that, the two of you stayed up talking about nothing until you fell asleep in each other’s arms. Nonetheless, the desire to run to him is strong. You can see him fight that same impulse you do. When the cannon fires again, Finnick leaps into action, nodding at you with an uncertain gleam in his eyes before placing Mags on his back.

You watch them all run for the jungle before getting your weapon. You spot a scythe propped up with spears and tridents and can tell immediately that it was planted for you. You take a second to analyze it distrustfully. A metal handle and a deeply curved blade, undoubtedly for show rather than harvesting. You won’t take it. It’s big and cumbersome, and it’ll slow you down in this kind of terrain. Plus, the strength needed to wield this in an actual fight is beyond you. Someone like Chaff or Brutus would get far more use out of it. Maybe even Finnick, if his trident ever fails him. It’ll just tire you out.

Instead, you opt for the twin sickles hanging next to it. They’re also bigger than any you’ve seen in Eleven. With their thick, smooth wooden handles, the blades are sharper than any you have ever used. Their weight will take some getting used to. When you notice more tributes orienting themselves on the rocks behind you, you decide the time for contemplation is over.

You sprint to your left, eyes scouring the water for a small brunette woman. Wiress is on the other side of the Cornucopia, more floating in the water than swimming.

“Wiress!” You call. She waves her hands as if you can’t see her and you nod, weary of attracting unwanted attention. Luckily, she’s been in the water for so long that the waves have carried her towards the island. It doesn’t take much to pull her out.

“You, you’re hurt?” She speaks in her usually broken speech pattern, gesturing towards you, and you’re quick to look down, thinking you’ve been hurt without knowing it. When you come back with nothing, you look back at her, confused, and she gestures again. You realize it’s a question, not a statement.

She seems tunneled in on whether you’re hurt or not. Drenched with water and frustration, you spin around in front of her. “I’m fine, Wiress, I’m fine, but we have to go.” She’s a lot more amicable now, allowing you to corral her back to where you saw Johanna last. The bodies littered around give you pause. In front of you lies a woman who is half-submerged in the pinkish water. Taking a deep breath, you step over her and drag Wiress with you.

When you get to the mouth of the Cornucopia, you spot your two allies locked in a fight. That is to say, Beetee huddles behind Johanna as she fights, clutching a spool of wire to his chest as if it were the only thing between him and certain death. Johanna and the man from Nine are locked in the most dangerous game of tug of war you’ve ever seen. They both have their hands on an axe and if this were a game of speed, she’d have him on his knees already. But he’s bigger than her, stronger too, and just as unwilling to let it go.

Her teeth are bared in exertion, legs almost buckling under the strain. He has the blade pushed alarmingly close to her neck and you don’t think about it; your body is pushed into action before you’re even aware that you’re moving. Later, you’ll think back on how easy it was. You’ll think about how quickly he stopped being a human being like you and instead became an enemy—a threat. You’ll think about it—about who he used to be before he became a body—and you will come alarmingly close to crying. For now, you kick the man in the back of the knee and he goes down with a grunt. Johanna uses the leverage the new position gives her and snatches the axe out of his hands with a huff.

You lift the sickle in your dominant hand high in the air, putting your full weight behind it as you drive the blade into the top of his head. The collision of metal against bone ricochets up your arms, leaving your muscles vibrating. He falls forward with a heavy thud and you stumble backwards. Your hands feel like they’re vibrating and the adrenaline coursing through you puts a stop to any panic before it can begin.

You move forward and have to place your foot on his back, grunting as you use both hands to yank your weapon back out. He makes a keening sound in the back of his throat—the guttural moans of a dying animal. You’re not used to being the one on this side of the slaughter. He’s still alive, but he won’t be for long. You won’t wait for the cannon to go off.

“Let’s go!” The four of you sprint towards the beach, glancing behind you in case the Careers decide to give chase. There are still plenty of tributes on their platforms, too scared to brave the water. They should hold their attention long enough for your group to get away. Running away as the Careers lay claim to the Cornucopia makes you feel like prey.

“Blight!” Johanna shouts and your head whips around, searching until you find the burly man a few yards away, waving you over. You all run to him and you take another mental stock.

Between the five of you, you have an axe, two sickles, a machete Johanna grabbed, a spool of wire, and two brilliant minds. That should be more than enough for the plan. Johanna hands the machete over to Blight and you and her share a glance before wordlessly booking it into the jungle with your charges. Blight leads and you carry the rear.

You really hope it doesn’t take long to find Finnick.

A/N: ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ Heyyyy, are you mad at me? I hope you didn't mind that rant in the summary. I felt like Rue's death from this perspective hurt a little more bc you know it's coming, but Star doesn't, and sometimes I get carried away with writing my thoughts. ┐(シ)┌ More Finnick audios in the next chapter to make up for the shortage in this one. Come yell at me!!!

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seabreeze1969 · 8 days

Text

Strawberry Pancakes

Summary: Gator Tillman meets OC stripper. She is reluctant to give him a dance, but ends up enjoying it a little too much. He is more than happy to break some rules with her.

Tags/Warnings: strippers, thigh riding, lap dance, power dynamics, paid intimacy, dirty talk, teasing

Chapter One

~Gator

It was the second Friday of May. Every other Friday he found himself sitting in the back of The Tender Trap, a local strip club, with an envelope in his pocket as he waited for a militia man to collect the hefty support of Sheriff Roy Tillman, his father. It was an easy job. That’s why his father gave it to him. At least it was supposed to be easy. But things never came easy to Gator.

As his lazy gaze glossed around the small club, his heart caught in his throat. He wasn’t met with Roxy or Crystal, the usual dancers who would throw him winks every now and again. He saw a young woman he’d never seen before. He was sure if she had been there any of the other Fridays he would’ve known.

Her legs were toned, but covered in stockings forcing him to imagine the bare skin underneath. As his gaze slithered further up skipping over her bare stomach to her breasts he started to feel his pants tighten. The white laced cups pushed up her small tits and had them spilling out over the low top. And finally he reached her face. Her bouncy brown curls framed her soft face, and he couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open as he caught her big doe eyes.

He knew he must’ve looked like a moron sitting there with his jaw on the floor, but he couldn’t help himself. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in person. Something straight off of one of those raunchy old bikini posters he tacked behind his bed.

Before he could stop himself his feet carried him over to the seats closest to the stage where she was entertaining two other men. The closer he got the more her eyes narrowed at him and she suddenly seemed familiar, “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the doc’s kiddo? Miss Grey?” He’d seen her only a couple times when he had to visit the local clinic after a job went sideways, and she looked vastly different in layers of clothes and thick rimmed glasses. But she had given him that same narrow look.

“No, sir,” she shook her head, her full lips turning into a pout, “My name is Candy.”

“Hah, yeah sure it is,” he huffed a laugh, “Anyways, aren’t you a little too smart to be dancing around half naked?”

And then it was her turn to laugh, “If smarts had anything to do with it you’d be the one in heels up here, sheriff.”

“Ouch, sour Candy. You trying to hurt my feelings, girl?” Gator mocked hurt feelings, putting his hand over his heart.

“Were you trying to hurt mine?” She shot back.

“No. How about you make it up to me with a dance?”

“Aren’t you on duty?”

“Nah, I just dress like this for fun,” he hooked his thumbs into the bulky sheriff’s vest, showing it off.

“Won’t it be a bad look for your father?” It was true his father’s election was going to be up soon.

“He’ll be alright. You running out of excuses?” Gator checked.

“I could just say ‘no.’ If you don’t want to take a hint,” she condescended, and that just made him want her all the more. No way in hell was she gonna say ‘no’ to him. He had all the power he needed in the envelope, who would even notice if a couple of the hundreds were missing? Taking less than a second to decide he pulled out the envelope and started counting out the hundred dollar bills that he definitely should not be spending at a strip club.

“Are you deaf? Or just dumb?” Candy frowned, but as he continued to count them she changed her tune, “Holy smokes, where’d you get all that?”

He waved three hundreds at her, “How bout that dance?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling with the decision, but then she nodded in defeat, “Let’s go.” She hopped off the stage, and took his hand in her own. Her hand was trembling, until she squeezed him a little harder, and he pretended not to notice it. Pretended he was far too preoccupied with the way her ass swayed back and forth in her little white lace underwear.

In the private room there was one lone chair in the center with dark velvet couches surrounding it. As she stepped into the room her white undergarments turned dark red with the lights. She led him to the chair in the center of the room, shoving him down roughly. He made a show of it for her, collapsing into the chair even though he was barely moved from her hands pushing his chest, “Take it easy, baby.”

She ignored him, sliding her hands across his chest into his leather jacket, to slip it off, taking his vest with it. She hooked it on the back of the chair, which still left him in his bulky hoodie.

“That’s more like it, sweetheart,” he grinned as she walked in front of him again. He drank her in once again now that he had her all to himself. Her slim ankles wrapped in the white plastic straps of the clear high heels that were giving her an extra half foot at least. She looked a little unsteady as his gaze raked up the stockings, lingering on the smooth bare skin of her upper thigh. He imagined for a moment how her legs would wrap around him, how he’d grip her hips. The swell of her hips was accentuated as she took a small step toward him, shifting her weight. As his eyes moved up he found her chest rising and falling in quick breathes, her breasts spilling out of the wired corset cups on every intake. Her blush went all the way down her neck, and when his gaze flickered up to her eyes she cast hers to the floor.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” he admonished half-heartedly, pleased with her little show of innocence. It was charming.

She took another deep breath, drawing his attention back down to her breasts once again, and unballed her fists, starting to undo the bottom of her corset top. He watched her struggle with the little wire clasps that ran up the front for a long minute before he finally huffed a little laugh, “You need a hand?”

She looked up at him with those big brown eyes, and he wondered if it was more than just a show. Then she frowned and gritted, “Shut up.” And he knew it wasn’t. And that made his cock twitch in his pants. She finally got all the clasps undone and then tossed the offending garment on the couch beside her, unable to hide her pride at getting the damned thing off. She locked her arms in front of her, covering up her exposed nipples. He barely caught a glimpse of the pink skin. And then she seemed to realize what she had done and forced her arms behind her back, sticking out her chest.

“I’ve never done this before,” she finally confessed, but he had gathered that.

“I can tell,” he chuckled, “This might be the worst strip dance I’ve ever seen.”

That seemed to set something off in her. He was good at setting people off. Her cheeks were puffed out in anger as she slowly sank down to her knees, not bothering to hide her disgust at the old tile floors. And then she crawled on her hands and knees to him, swaying her hips and holding his stare like it was a challenge. He kicked his boots out on either side of him, making room for her between his thighs. Then he locked his fingers behind his head and reclined a little, the picture of unbothered, indifferent to her. And he saw exactly what he wanted. That angry determination swirling in those narrowed eyes as she let her cheek rest on his inner thigh.

She ran her hands up his shins, to the expanse of his muscular thighs. He felt the heat of her palm reach the bulge of his hardening cock, straining under his cargo pants. Her brow went up in accusation, “For the worst dance you’ve ever had, you seem to be enjoying it.”

“I’m easy,” he shrugged. Then her tongue was licking a stripe over the outline of his dick and his mouth fell open as he was unable to maintain his cool attitude toward the half naked woman between his legs. That had to be against the rules.

Before he could recover she was swinging her hips to the low vibrations of the bass that penetrated the room. She came up to her full height, giving him an eyeful of her breasts, making his mouth start salivating. Maybe he had just fallen for an act of innocence. Massaged them in his face, letting her head roll back as she let a small moan slip past her lips. His hands were moving on their own, in an attempt to assist her, when she slapped them away, “Hands by your side, deputy, or I’ll use your stupid cuffs on you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled out slow, gripping the sides of the chair to keep them there, but her threat just turned him on even more. Having her handcuff him sounded like a damn good time to him.

She swung one leg over his so her back was to him, and crawled down the slope of his leg, leaving her ass high in the air, and his hands squeezing the sides of the chair as she bounced a little on his leg. And then in time with music she was snapping back to sitting upright and grinding her hips just an inch above his thigh, letting him see that she was actually getting wet. Then she stepped out again, twisting to face him and kicked one of his boots so his legs came together before she sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and playing with his hair just enough to make his head lull back and seek her fingers. He hadn’t felt a touch like that in years, something intimate and gentle. Hell, if he knew a strip dance felt this good he would’ve started skimming money a long time ago, but he had a feeling it was just her making him feel this way.

She bit her lip, trying to contain a grin, and he felt like he was losing the game he had set up. But she made losing feel good.

Then the song switched from fast paced to a slow jam and she lit up, standing to dance in front of him once again. She was familiar with the song, mouthing the words as she ran her hands up her body and tangled them in her hair the way his hands wanted to. While she mouthed the explicit lyrics, he imagined her in his ear whispering filth only he would ever hear.

Her body rolled in time with the slow beat and she ran her hand down between her breasts, over her flat stomach and dipped between her legs for just a second before she pulled her hand back and ran her tongue over them, her tongue that was nearly on his dick when he had ticked her off. “You want a taste?” she asked, tilting her head curiously, and only then had he noticed his mouth had fallen open in want. He only nodded, sticking his tongue out as she stepped closer to him again with her outstretched hand. Her fingers were glossy from her spit as she brushed them gently over his upper lip, avoiding his tongue, and then pulled back, leaving him running his tongue along his lip trying to taste her. He thought maybe she was wearing some kind of strawberry chapstick as he savored a distant artificial sweetness.

He hummed his approval, and when he caught her eye again her pupils were blown wide. He could nearly see himself reflected in them. He was in a similar state. And then she stepped one leg between his and slowly lowered her hips onto his thigh, grinding on him in time with the music. Her skin was hot, like her entire body was blushing. It gave him goosebumps under his jacket where her warmth couldn’t reach.

And then she made a noise in the back of her throat that had him choking on the air in the room, which was suffocating him with a palpable heat. It wasn’t an over the top moan like from the porn he usually watched, it was a whine she had tried to hide but it slipped past her lips anyways. It was the sexiest thing he had ever heard in his life.

She bit her lip and looked at him apologetically, “Hah, sorry.” And the weight of her lifted up, before his hands flew out to stop her.

“No, don’t stop,” he lifted his knee in a jerk response, applying more pressure to her clit. He pulled and pushed her waist back and forth over his thigh, making her breath quicken. She was so sensitive, shaking like a leaf as he pushed his thigh up hard against her, with intention. He wanted to give her that friction which clearly affected her. His eyes traveled down her body to find a wet spot on his camouflage, “Gonna make a mess on my trousers, girl.”

She looked away in embarrassment as he looked up at her in awe. Her lower lip trembled as he leaned forward, bringing his hand to cradle her cheek. He was completely entranced in her glowing red face. He wanted to stop the anxious tremble of her lip, soothe her embarrassment away however he could. But he found no words, instead leaning in, and letting his eyes slip closed as he brushed his thumb down her bottom lip. He could feel her sharp intake of breath nearly against his mouth. He can’t remember wanting something as simple as a kiss with such an intensity before.

She shoved at his chest and stumbled backwards, catching herself on the edge of the couch. His head was spinning from the whiplash as he watched her catch her breath moving as far away from him as the couch would allow.

“No kissing the clients,” she finally spoke after a few beats of heavy breathing.

“No? Just everything else?” He joked a little, trying to recover his own breathing and will his raging erection to go away. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she started clipping the corset back on.

He stood and slid back into his leather jacket and vest, slicking his hair back which had gotten a little disheveled when she played with it earlier. Then she awkwardly put her hand out and he remembered what he had promised her for such a nice private dance and handed her three hundred, “That’s some technique for your first time.”

“I’m a quick learner,” she nodded, gripping the cash like he was going to snatch it back from her and run. She led him back out into the main room without so much as looking at him and then ran back to the locker rooms, still a little unsteady as his eyes followed her out.

“I’ve been waiting out here for nearly a half hour,” complained Henry, getting up from the bar when he saw Gator. He barely understood the words, too busy thinking about how there was no way in hell he could wait another two weeks to see her again. She gave him a high he knew he’d be hooked on until the day he died. He figured he’d be a married man and still jerk off to her.

“Boy! You hear me? When your daddy hears about you fucking around--” Henry started to threaten, finally pulling Gator’s attention away from the girl. The shove of the white envelope into Henry’s chest cut him off.

“My daddy ain’t gonna hear about it, unless you want me burning this money up and telling him you fucking backward ass hillbillies lost it,” he said it softly with a half smile, contrasting the shouting of the older man who got even angrier as he lost his power.

“We’ll see about that. Don’t make me wait while you’re getting your dick sucked. If you’re daddy don’t make you answer to him. I’ll make you answer to me. Understand, son?”

“Maybe if your wife was better at it you wouldn’t have had to wait so long,” Gator leaned into the man, his hand hovering over the gun in his thigh holster.

“Alright, your time's coming, boy. Your time’s coming.”

“Whatever you say, Henry,” Gator grinned at him, “I’ll see you later.” He waved himself out and hopped into his truck.

He reached for his vape in his pocket, taking a long drag reigniting the buzz in his head that was worked up in the back room of The Tender Trap. He was trying to remember the way her face looked when she moaned, but his memories weren’t coming out right. He needed to see her again. And soon enough he was hard again as he drove back to the Tillman Ranch. The road was lonely and dark that night as he started to touch himself.

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fan-goddess · 9 months

Text

Just tickling…

Authors Note: I’ve spoken to the artist, and they asked and gave me permission to write this. But I highly recommend to go check out the original art piece, the link for is here. This is pretty much the story/written version of this

Summary: You’re in the middle of being worshipped to heaven by your husband, only your daughter can’t sleep…

Warnings: Hints at smut, innocent child, religious talk,

Tags: @slytherincursebreaker

It had taken nearly half an hour to get your daughter to finally get into her bed and fall asleep. You tried reading her her favourite stories, you tried tucking her in bed with todays favourite teddy bears, you even tried promising her with a day with only her uncle Finan and uncle Sihtric, which you know would’ve only made Osferth sigh and worry about if you were forced to tell him.

Though by the end, after all that, all it took for her to close her eyes and sleep, was for you to promise that for tomorrow instead of her normal Honey Loop cereal, she got to have pancakes with chocolate chips and a drizzle of honey on top. You were already dreading the sugar high you know will absolutely happen, but at least for now you could finally get into bed and sleep and cuddle next to your loving husband.

“Is she finally asleep?” Osferth asks as you close the bedroom door behind you and get into bed.

“Yeah… just to warn you though, you’ll need to buy some flour in the morning love. May have needed to barter with her and it included chocolate chip pancakes with syrup…” You smile as you burrow into your husbands warm bare chest and sigh with relief.

You can feel the vibrations of his laugh as he chuckles lightly. “That’s our girl! Taking after her mother!”

“Excuse me mister!” You exclaim, hitting him jokingly on the chest with the back of your hand slightly. You go back to cuddling his chest, but as you feel your eyes begin to droop, the feeling of Osferths lips trailing the skin of your exposed shoulder, certainly begins to stir you. “What are you doing Os?” You mumble, smiling slightly as you become more vigilant the closer his lips get to the inner curve of your shoulder.

“Just showing appreciation to my gorgeous wife, and our daughters oh so beautiful mother…” He murmurs, turning the both of you over so you’re on your back, and he has better access to your lips. The sound of your lips smacking filling the room as the two of you hold each other.

His hands move to the edge of your sleeping shorts, and slowly take them off so your left half bare to him under the sheets. “Such a wonderful perfect wife…” Osferth smiles as his hand begins to trace circles on your clit, and he greedily takes in your pleasure stained face.

He suddenly stops, much to your annoyance, but your mood certainly brightens as his hands move to take off his own underwear and now totally bare himself to you, the sight of him never not a turn on for you.

Osferth makes no hesitation in entering you, groaning deeply at the feeling of you automatically clenching your walls on him, as if you were attempting to pull him deeper inside of you. “Always amazing you utter goddess…” He murmurs leaning forward to kiss you deeply whilst you moan softly.

“Careful sweet husband… is your faith not monotheistic?”

“You of all people my wife should know I abandoned the reigns of my faith long ago… and I shall abandon them once more as I worship you tonight…” If those words didn’t affect you in some way, then there must be something wrong with you, as when you heard them you could feel yourself become somehow more aroused than you already were.

His thrusts though, soon find themselves becoming rougher and rougher, as the tip of his cock hits that part deep inside of you that you yourself could never reach. At the sudden sensation though, you automatically clench down on him in pleasure and dig your nails into the skin of his shoulders slightly, smiling at the sound of his light groans hitting your ears.

You can feel yourself becoming close, a feat Osferth always manages to achieve with you, always leaving you satisfied and wanting more. The knot in your lower stomach becomes tighter the harsher Osferth pushes himself inside of you, and your arms once digging into his shoulders move to the sheets to clench between your fists for stability.

You’re almost there, you know Osferth only needs to thrust a couple times before you-

“Mummy, Daddy? What are you doing?”

The room immediately turns stuffy and panicky as both you and Osferths heads snap to the direction of your daughters voice. Your cheeks feel as if they’re on fire as a harsh blush takes over not only on your face, but your husbands aswell. She looks so innocent, just standing there in her new pyjamas and holding her stuffed bunny that the two of you got her for her birthday.

“Mummy and daddy are tickle fighting!” Osferth exclaims. From the corner of your eye you can see the deep blush spreading to his neck, and if the moment wasn’t so serious you would’ve made a joke. Instead, you glare harshly at his sudden used excuse while he looks back at you sheepishly.

“A tickle fight! Can I join-“

“NO!” This time, the both of you exclaim it as quick as you can. The panic clear in each others eyes and voices, and yet your daughter is still oblivious. She still continues, to your and Osferths relief, to just stare at the both of you with a bright smile on her face.

“It’s a… grown up tickle.. fight… it’s not for you! Because-“

“Because it’s very very advanced!” You chime in. You almost regret saying no at the sight of your dejected daughters face and the small sad “Oh…” She makes at your and Osferths stumblings, but then you remember the situation you’re in, and you certainly don’t feel as bad as you did before.

“Well I hope you win mummy, because daddy’s winning!” She chirps in, looking happy once more before leaving and closing the door behind her, to hopefully go back to her bedroom and sleep. Still, you and Osferth anxiously wait with held breaths until it’s been long enough, and soon the two of you are giggling in a mixture of shock, shame and disbelief.

“Oh my god…” You mutter in disbelief, both your faces still red, though what once was due to pure horror and shock now stay that way due to pure disbelief and amusement. “I probably need to go check on her…” Osferth removes himself from you, the passion once prominent in the room now quickly depleted after the incident. You place a quick kiss to Osferths forehead before putting on your sleeping shorts once more and heading to the direction of your daughters room.

You peak in slightly, and your heart instantly warms at the sight of your daughter sleeping soundly in her bed cuddled up to her rabbit. The soft blue of her nightlight casting a light glow that washes over her, while the sound of her light snores make it to your ears. “Night night little one…” You whisper by instinct, not even really caring if she heard you or not, as you close the door back up and head back to your room.

This time, both you and Osferth actually go to sleep. Giving into the need for rest as you cuddled with each other, relishing in the warmth the two of you provide each other with.

“Love you…” You hear murmured quietly in your ear.

“Love you too handsome…” You instinctively whispered back with a small smile.

#modern!osferth #osferth smut #osferth x fem!reader #osferth fics #osferth #osferth x you #osferth x reader #modern!osferth x reader #osferth the last kingdom #osferth fanfiction #osferth tlk #osferth fanfic #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom!au #modern!au #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell imagine

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1d1195 · 10 months

Text

Traditional XI

You can read the rest of Traditional here.

Thank you so much for the love and support on this story. She and Harry have definitely turned into one of my favorite couples I've had the pleasure of writing about. As an aside, I will be posting a long overdue "how my taglist works" (because I a tumblr-elder and don't know what I'm doing anymore). But for those of you that have been tagged throughout the series, please check out the message at the bottom.

This is the final part (not including the extras I have lined up.) There's a bit of angst and a good bit of fluff. It follows part ten immediately and I also continued with marking the days/time because I think it made it a bit easier to follow.

Truly, really, thank you so much. Part 1-11 is 67k words and I’ve enjoyed typing each one. I hope you continue to enjoy reading. Without further ado:

“She gave it back,” he said stiffly. His throat was catching on to the words.

“Gave what back?” Niall asked curiously. “The apartment?”

Harry felt his entire body freeze over with a new fear that Niall mistakenly unlocked. It truly felt like his body was made of ice. He grabbed at his phone anxiously calling the apartment complex’s main line. He had to suffer through prompts before he could finally talk to a person. He asked if it looked as if anyone was moving stuff from his apartment (although he would have given it to her at this point).

Monday

“I’ll kill him,” Louis shouted, almost proudly as he entered the apartment. She shook her head and just burst into tears as she told him about all the things Harry did. While he was prepared to murder him, Louis’ heart softened with each task Harry completed to make sure his best friend was cared for. It was everything he ever hoped for the girl he thought of as one of his own sisters. He wouldn’t kill Harry. He couldn’t...not if he did all that for her.

Eleanor combed her fingers through her hair while the poor girl cried in her lap. Louis was frowning, glancing at Eleanor every so often as she spoke. “Babe,” Louis whispered when she finished her story.

She sniffled. “I don’t know why I did that,” she croaked. “That was so stupid, who does that? You should have seen the look on his face. He’s never going to forgive me.”

“Of course, he will,” Eleanor said easily shaking her head. Her voice was so solid, like she had already talked to Harry about it and knew with every fiber of her being. Louis crouched beside her wiping the tears out of her eyes as comfortingly as he could. “Harry loves you, darling,” Eleanor reminded her.

“Why was I so mean?” She choked on another sob. “I’d hate me. I was so heartless.”

“You were overwhelmed, love,” Eleanor promised. “That was a lot to take in, all in one day. But he meant the best and brightest for you. You have to believe that. Harry has never done anything but try to make sure you’re taken care of.”

She took in a shaking breath as more tears poured out of her; she was so unhappy with how she handled the whole day. Maybe she was overwhelmed. That would at least have made some sense. There was so much to be overwhelmed about. Everything she had been bottling up. All of which was threatening to burst because it just had to be one of those weeks where it all just piled and piled until it all crumbled down.

“Babe,” Louis whispered trying to stop the tears from falling but failing because they kept coming faster than he could swipe her cheeks. “C’mon.”

“I know you all went to the funeral for my dad,” she sniffled. She may as well have wallowed in the hurt a bit more. They needed to know she knew. “I know they had one...I saw it in the online obituary.”

They were silent for a minute. Louis didn’t move his eyes from hers for a moment. He pressed his lips together in a thin line. So of course, she knew she was right. They did hide it from her.

However, Louis wasn’t going to forget that she let them hide it. He stared at Eleanor for a moment; having some silent conversation that only the two of them could have. The entire time she continued crying. Eleanor gave her a comforting squeeze as best she could with her sprawled across her lap.

“I think you’re scared,” Eleanor whispered without addressing her comment about the services.

“El,” Louis’ voice wasn’t a whisper like it had been directed at the sobbing girl. His tone wasn’t gentle. It was like he was warning her not to continue.

“Scared of what?” She sniffed because she may have heard the warning in Louis’ voice, but she was already miserable. It couldn’t be worse than what she felt.

“Tell her, Louis. Tell her,” Eleanor begged. She turned her attention back to her best friend.

Louis reminded her so much of her brother, she wondered if he would have been as wise as Louis was if he were still around. Even for the goofball he made himself out to be, Louis was nearly sagely at his age. He was the one she went to for advice. The one she asked for help when she needed to get Harry a birthday gift. If she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, she was pretty sure she would still call Louis first. He was her best friend because he always knew what to say to her and even if it was hard to hear he always told her the hard truths.

She could see on his face that it was going to hurt to lay whatever he was about to say in front of her if only because she was already so heartbroken. “Being cared for,” he bit the inside of his lip, but he didn’t break his gaze with her. “You think it’s a death sentence,” he told her. His tone was soothing, even though the words were not. “Because when your brother came to get you, he tragically died. Don’t think I’m forgetting that. But then, your parents stopped caring for you...so it was like...you associated the two,” he explained. “And then, you didn’t tell me. So, in your mind, caring for you is a death sentence for those that love you.”

She was speechless. Her sniffles slowed, which allowed her to sit in the upright position, but Eleanor still had her arm wrapped around her shoulders. She swallowed as she listened to him speak without hiccupping on her breath. “Do you really think we wouldn’t have let you live with us?” Eleanor asked softly from beside her. “The only one that thought you needed to get your own space was you...and don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that you got Harry out of the deal, but you could have lived with us for forever,” she smiled gently at her.

She stared at the two of them and Louis looked at her tear-stained face with a frown. “Love,” he said so gently. “You have spent so long building up walls making sure you take care of everyone in your life because the last time you stopped taking care of someone else and had fun of your own, something horrible and tragic happened,” She looked away from him, sniffling uncontrollably. “But it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. No matter how many times your mum says it was...no matter how many times you sit next to his gravestone and feel guilty for it. He would have gone and got you and he would have turned that steering wheel to protect you over, and over, and over again,” she couldn’t look at Louis when he talked about it. It was his best friend, and she just took him away forever...all for a party. “I would have done it for you, babe,” he promised. She hated the idea of that too so much that she let out another whimpering sob. “Now, so would Harry,” he told her, and the pang of anxiety at the mere idea Harry would fatally hurt for her rippled all through her body she felt sick at the idea...it hurt all the way to her toes and made her fingertips feel numb.

But Louis pressed on making it hurt even more but with every intention of making it better. “You can’t keep your guard up forever. You can’t stop people from taking care of you because you miss him and worry about the consequences of them taking care of you,” he said. “We all take that risk for someone we love,” he brushed the tears off her cheeks once more as they were finally slowing to a pace he could keep up with. She refused to look at him. But Louis wouldn’t accept that. “Babe,” he said turning her chin back to him. “Let someone else take care of you. Let Harry do it. You’ve done it for long enough.”

Tuesday

Niall found Harry throwing the lamp on his desk against the wall of his office so hard he was surprised the wall didn’t shatter. But the lamp certainly did. Nearly splintered into a hundred pieces. He flopped into his desk chair and hung his head practically between his knees.

“Christ, the two of you today,” he grumbled hoping to find Harry in better shape than his typically better mood intern. Obviously, that would not be the case. “What’s wrong?” He asked, closing the door.

Harry ran a hand over his face. He wanted to cry but he was at work, and he shouldn’t have. “She gave it back,” he said stiffly. His throat was catching on to the words.

“Gave what back?” Niall asked curiously. “The apartment?”

His gaze snapped up to Niall and he mouthed the word whoa. If Niall said it out loud, he didn’t hear it. He was shocked by the redness of Harry’s eyes, the withdrawn look. He knew it was bad when she could hardly keep track of what she was doing this morning. It was worse than when her coffee spilled all over her things a few months ago.

But seeing his best friend so distressed…

He was awarded the slightest bit of relief to hear the word “no” at the other end. It washed over him as he rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, alright. Thanks,” he mumbled hanging up. He sat in his chair, and he glanced at Niall balling his hands into fists. “She gave back all the money,” he mumbled.

Niall did the easy and quick calculations in his head regarding the last eight or so months. “Whoa.”

Harry told him all about the reference calls, the graduation ceremony, and the lawyers’ meeting with her mum, and the good news. He told Niall how he paid for her student loans and kept all of it hidden from her. Harry tried to hide the tears in his eyes, but Niall knew they were there in his voice as he listened.

“Harry...you gotta just talk to her.”

“M’pretty sure she hates me.”

“That’s a load of shit, alright,” Niall said knowingly. “She loves you.” Harry felt his heart hoping a bit by way of fluttering against his ribs. He shook his head. He didn’t want to hope because she looked betrayed, and it was all his fault. Niall shook his head. “She’s all snively and you’re all angry. You two are quite the pair. You could have a show.”

He wanted to throw something at Niall, but he was too exhausted to hold his head up, let alone hold anything worth throwing—and he wouldn’t really throw something at his best friend. So, he sat there, devastated that she gave him the money back. It worried him to the core. It seemed his new fear of her leaving that apartment was going to be real, sooner rather than later.

And if she left Styles Incorporated…

“She said that you needed this today,” Niall shrugged and put a folder on Harry’s desk in front of him. He winced knowing she was still helping even when she was upset with him. “Tragic that I have to play messenger,” he shook his head. “I hope you talk to her.”

But Harry didn’t want to press. It was obvious he pressed too much and now he had to wait for her to forgive him.

Maybe.

Wednesday

She didn’t come to work.

There was nothing else to say.

There was nothing he could think about except that she didn’t come to work.

He didn’t get to see her. All day and an entire near-sleepless night. He impulsively shopped for items scheduled to be delivered the following day. Items he didn’t need but he needed to get for her...even if she never set foot in his house again.

There was nothing else he could think about.

Thursday

Niall brought his tea to him that afternoon.

So, a new nightmare plagued him, and he continued to think of nothing else but the distance she was putting between them.

Friday

For the second time in his life, and moreover, the second time within a year, Harry left work early. Niall was insistent. He was agitated beyond belief, his one meeting he was completely distracted that Niall did most of the talking. Harry’s company was substantial, but surely, she couldn’t avoid him on the entire floor.

But she did. She managed somehow to avoid him even when he kept going in and out of Niall’s office and thereby walking through her little space. But she wasn’t there a single of the seven or so times he walked through. At one point he walked in for the sake of walking in. Niall was on the phone with a client. Harry just shook his head and left before even registering the fact Niall was there.

It was after the meeting that Niall encouraged him to leave for the day. “I don’t need to,” he snapped at his friend. “Jus’ get on with it,” he muttered.

Niall sighed, blew a long breath out his mouth. He packed his belongings from off the table and patted Harry on the back. “Meeting’s over, Harry,” he said and left him alone in the conference room.

He knew he was in tough shape but not even realizing the meeting was over seemed bad even for the way he was feeling. Rubbing the back of his head, he headed once more to Niall’s office. This time he wasn’t surprised she wasn’t there. Harry apologized to Niall quickly, returned to gather his stuff from his office, and left for home.

“Harry went home, so you don’t have to keep hiding,” Niall rolled his eyes as she tentatively tiptoed into her office. He didn’t look up, so he didn’t see the way she nearly dropped all of the papers in her arms at Niall’s sudden (accurate) accusation that she was hiding.

She bit her lip and put the papers on her desk. Niall didn’t look up as she walked toward his desk. “I yelled at him,” she whispered.

“Good, he probably deserved it,” Niall said simply. “People don’t yell at him enough. Think because he’s CEO, he’s without a flaw,” he shrugged. “He’s not, I’ve never seen him finish one document on his own because he never remembers how to fill it out. The man can’t multiply to save his life—I always do the tip at the restaurant. He has a terrible signature on contracts. It’s embarrassing to sign my name next to his. Also, he has a terrible handicap even though he’s been golfing for at least seven or so years now,” he said as if that should be the reason that she could yell at him. He looked up and smiled at her because it was an attempt to make her laugh but didn’t seem to do the trick.

“He’s also really cranky when he doesn’t see you at night now,” this was much softer said. His voice quiet as he further explained this. “And he bothers me. Called me at one in the morning last night asking if I wanted a porch swing. Do you know he has an online shopping problem? It’s worst when he's upset. He panic-ordered three sets of dishware when you got burned,” he continued. Her heart fluttered at the mention of a porch swing. It shot through her like a bolt of electricity. That was because of her. She knew it. But Niall’s attempt still got him not even a smirk. “You should probably go after him,” he smiled at her sadly once more. “You need to talk to him.”

She shook her head. “He won’t forgive me.”

Niall rolled his eyes again. “Would you forgive him if this whole crazy scenario was reversed?”

She looked at her feet because she wouldn’t even need to forgive him. It would be a non-issue. “I see why Harry made you his sous-chef around here,” she muttered...because yes, of course she would. Probably before he even tried to apologize, at that.

“I knew there was a reason,” he winked at her. “Have a lovely weekend, darling,” he said going back to the documents on his desk.

“Are you sure?” She whispered after a moment.

“He loves you. I promise.”

“But all the other interns...the...companions. I’d be no different falling all over him.”

“He fell for you long before you did,” he told her simply.

She swallowed, blushing at the notion. Her stomach flipped with hope. “Do you know he went to the funeral?” She whispered.

Niall frowned because he didn’t know that, but he did know that had to hurt her. He looked back up to meet her gaze and he smiled gently at her. “Another reason you should yell at him.”

“You’re a really good friend, Niall,” she rolled her eyes.

“Can’t wait to be one of your best friends, love,” he winked.

She took one more deep breath, hurried over to Niall’s desk. She kissed his cheek as he worked. He smiled. “Sorry I’m taking your job,” she whispered to him.

He threw his head back a bit and laughed. “I’d like to see you try,” but he didn’t mind, really. It would be worth it to have her around.

The driver was waiting at the edge of the cemetery. She took her wedges off so she wouldn’t get them covered in dirt as she sat cross-legged on the ground. She fiddled with the flowers—Eleanor probably planted them. Or maybe even her mom. She was surprised because there weren’t as many weeds pushing through the ground as there should have been—especially when she took notice of the other stones nearby. “I think you’d really like him,” she whispered. Of course, there was no response. “Louis likes him,” she told him. “So...there’s that,” she shrugged. “And he has a porch swing,” she added. “We’re not even together and he still didn’t cheat on me, so he beat the last guy, y’know?” she smirked sadly. “I wish you could’ve met him...”

She paused, looking around the grounds for a moment before she continued. “If you look, you can see a car over there, yeah? That poor man has to follow me everywhere because Harry doesn’t want me to get stuck without a ride in inclement weather or something,” she whispered, smiled sadly. “I’m so in love with him, I swear I can feel it in the atoms of my heart,” her eyes watered. “I gave him all the money back. I want him to know that I’m not...I don’t want money. I just want him,” she told him. “I know you would probably hate the idea of me being in love with anyone...but at least I waited until college...poor El stuck with Louis for the rest of her life,” she sighed as if it really were a tragedy. But it wasn’t. She loved Eleanor and Louis so much.

“Niall said he’s really bad at golf though, so you could still make fun of him about something,” she let out a watery laugh. “I miss you...so much,” she whispered. “I hope Dad is happy again,” she glanced over at the nearby plot of land. “He missed you,” she sniffled. “We all miss you,” her voice cracked. “Okay...I’m gonna go grovel for forgiveness, now,” she said. “I’ll see you soon,” she kissed two of her fingers and pressed them over his name before getting off the ground, brushing the dirt off, and headed for the car.

“Are you alright, Miss?” He asked with the utmost concern. He was opening the door for her as she approached.

She nodded, sniffling, and wiping her eyes. “For now,” she sighed. “Can you bring me to Harry’s?” She asked.

Harry didn’t want to answer the door. But whoever was on the other side knocked, then rang the doorbell. Knocked again. Doorbell again. Persistent.

If it was Niall coming to console him, he was going to kill him, simple as that. “For fucks sake,” he grumbled marching to the door in an angry fit. “Niall, y’made me leave early, and I did. What d’you want?” He snapped loud enough to hear through the door before ripping it out of the way.

She flinched at his harsh tone. Her eyes were puffy and red. She looked so defeated as she turned her gaze to the ground. His heart hammered against his ribs in total shock that she was there. Left him utterly speechless. “I know this is stupid...” she started. “I’m sorry. It’s not enough because you deserve so much more than sorry. It’s never going to be enough, but I am so... very sorry. I was...” she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I was. What I said was so hurtful and so untrue. You have to believe that,” she was staring at her feet while she spoke. “Harry,” her voice cracked, and she was so worried it wasn’t enough. He didn’t make any noise and she was certain if he didn’t forgive her, she would die in that spot. “I know you didn’t mean anything by what you did other than to help me. But I don’t accept help very well... in case it wasn’t obvious. Especially when it comes to something like...my career or my...past,” she explained. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you; I shouldn’t have said such awful things and I would time travel back to that moment and slap myself for even thinking about speaking to you like that. It was horrible,” she shook her head. “I’ll beg every day for as long as you want if you’ll forgive me,” she whispered. “I am—”

Harry pulled her into his arms suddenly, one arm around her waist, the other snaking up her back to hold the back of her head. He clutched her against him as tightly as he could without hurting her or inhibiting her breathing. “You were already forgiven,” he murmured breathing deeply into her hair. He kissed the side of her face. She released a long breath and buried her face against the side of his neck.

“You shouldn’t give in so easily,” she sniffled clinging back to him like he was a buoy. Of course, he kept her afloat.

“I’ll yell at you later if that’ll make you feel better.”

She nodded. “It really would.”

He smiled, kissed the side of her head again. Harry wouldn’t yell at her if his life depended on it. “I jus’ want t’take care of you,” he promised. “That’s it.”

“I know, you told me that first day you messaged me.” He smirked thinking about how a year ago, she wasn’t in his mind at all. He didn’t even know she existed. Now, he thought about spending one second without her beside him and it seemed like full-blown torture. “Louis said I take care of everyone else because the last time someone cared about me, they died,” she said bluntly. “Seven years of therapy and Louis was the only one who said it,” she muttered. Harry was glad she was tucked below his chin because he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. It was incredible she could make a joke in even the saddest of circumstances. She took a shivering, heaving breath. Harry tried to pull back so he could see her, but she squeezed him in place. Like she didn’t want to say it while looking at him. He nodded in encouragement for her to continue. “People will know if you hire me. You’d literally be making a position for me. And so… I thought if I got a job elsewhere... we could…” she swallowed the lump in her throat. She tucked her face deeper in his shoulder. “I…uh...”

He pulled back this time and didn’t stop when she tried to hold him in place. He pressed his hand to the side of her face and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “Thought we could be a real couple?” He asked softly.

Her cheeks turned red as ever and she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

He didn’t pause for even half a second. He didn’t want her to make her feel embarrassed or worried about anything regarding their future. “Kitten, m’so in love with you, I don’t care if we tell the entire world. I don’t care if everyone knows or if no one knows. All that matters t’me is that I love you so much.”

Her eyes watered and her heart melted. She didn’t know how to tell him she loved him so much it hurt but he said it so beautifully and without a care. She didn’t know how to articulate it as perfectly as he did. “They should really put a warning on that site about how you may accidentally find your soul mate.”

He managed to smile this time for just a mere moment as she spoke; his heart skipped beats waiting for her to say she loved him back. While she didn’t say it exactly as he thought she would (but when did she ever do what he expected?), it was exactly what he wanted her to say and meant just as much if not even more.

Then he kissed her so deeply he thought he might bruise her lips. But if he did, he thought she might not even mind.

Harry lifted her legs, so they were wrapped around his hips. He carried her all the way to the kitchen, pausing only to kick the door closed. He settled her on the counter and started looking for some medicine. He didn’t ask if her head hurt because the redness in her eyes told him it was aching.

“You have t’take the money back,” Harry said leaning down to take her shoes off as she swallowed the medicine. He tossed them toward the TV room. “I shattered a lamp over it,” he stood back up and kissed her again on the forehead.

“Niall told me,” she smirked at him. He stood between her knees.

“Can’t have any secrets with him,” Harry muttered.

She giggled and Harry pressed his lips to hers again then pulled back so he could hold her face between his hands. He smiled at her with a shake of his head. “God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled.

“Mm... the bloodshot eyes? The tired dark circles? The gray skin? That does it for you?”

“M-hmm,” he pressed his nose along the side of her face inhaling the mixture of her hair and soap. He didn’t cater to her insults to herself. “Take the money back,” he mumbled into her ear and pressed a series of kisses down the length of her neck. She shook her head trying to ignore the dizziness she felt from his lips on her skin. “Please kitten,” he was begging. Objectively, it was adorable. But she couldn’t accept it.

“Baby, you can’t pay me a salary, pay my student loans, and let me live here all—”

“You’re going t’live here?” He pulled back from her neck suddenly with a sparkle in his eyes that made it look like he was a little kid. Like it was Christmas, and he was getting the sled he asked for.

Her face was definitely not gray at that moment. She was completely blushing almost beyond recognition at her mistaken words. She shook her head quickly, trying to backtrack (uselessly). “No! I meant the apartment! I didn’t say that—”

“Please, please, please,” he now for sure, full-on begged. “Please live here, kitten.”

Her heart fluttered and she bit her lip trying to recover from how much she had revealed by accident. “Well...what am I supposed to do with all my great IKEA furniture?” She asked.

He rolled his eyes and pressed his face back into her neck. She wrapped her arms and legs around him clinging to him. “Throw it out, of course.”

“You’re so mean.”

He nodded against her and sighed, so happy she was there. So happy she was all his. “The meanest,” he assented. “Please live here,” he mumbled kissing the curve where her shoulder and neck met.

“You do have a porch swing,” she amended verbally but as if she were weighing the consideration in her head. His lips on her skin had such an effect on her it was hard to stand her ground or concentrate on joking around with him about the idea. “Speaking of—Niall told me you asked if he wanted one. Are you getting a new one or someth—what’s that?” She asked, glancing out the window as she spoke. She pushed him away immediately, rushing outside. She stood on his porch in total shock staring at his newest purchase before she turned back to him with a curious expression.

He followed behind her and stood in the doorway. “You said you would sleep out here if you could,” he shrugged. “I thought I’d make it possible...in case you ever came back.”

Where her favorite porch swing used to hang, was now a spacious, gorgeous, porch bed with so many pillows, so many blankets, and it nearly looked comfier than her lovely mattress back at the apartment. Her eyes watered and she swallowed so hard because she knew she had said that nearly three months ago in passing. And he remembered. So even when she wasn’t speaking to him, it was enough that he did something for her without knowing if she’d really be back. “You are something else, Harry.”

“Wait till y’see my new canopy bed,” he smirked feeling his cheeks warm at her compliment. Her heart nearly stopped because the canopy was mentioned almost nine months ago and the idea that he remembered anything from nine months ago was...well it was very Harry and very perfect.

“Baby, I love you and your impulse shopping so very much,” she whispered unable to look away from that beautiful reminder of how much he adored her. It made her feel so light that he cared for her so much. Now that he did, it was hard to imagine not feeling like this ever again.

Harry had other ideas though. He twisted her so quickly, her breath caught in her throat. He turned her back to face him and not the new bed. One arm wrapped around her waist, and he brought his other hand to her cheek in the one instant that she couldn’t even stumble because Harry had such a tight hold on her. He smiled at her, as if he was just told he won the lottery. Truly, he felt like he did. “Say it again,” he mumbled pressing his forehead to hers, his lips almost brushing hers as he spoke. She smiled shyly, the heat coming from her cheek warmed Harry’s hand.

“Say what? I love you?” She asked looping her arms loosely around his neck. He nodded silently and kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you,” she grinned so cutely Harry thought he would burst.

“Again,” he mumbled smiling as he carefully squeezed around her waist to lift her just so her toes hovered above the ground. She giggled.

“I love you.”

He kissed her left cheek. “More,” he inched toward the new outdoor bed.

“I love you,” she whispered, giggling more at his sweet request as he kissed her right cheek.

“Again,” he repeated.

“I love you, so, so much Harry Styles,” she whispered, holding his face between her hands, and Harry laid her back on the bed and kissed her again, fully on the lips with no intention of leaving that space for the rest of the weekend. Or until she asked to go see the canopy bed.

Whatever she wanted.

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca @stylesfever @tiredinwinter @ameerakane20 @kimmi-kat @avasversion @youcouldstartacult @likeapplejuicenpeach @manrocket-mo @golden-hoax @harryssky1 @michellekstyles @soachibstel1 @morklee02 @loving-hazz @harrysflorencex @cherrycolas-things @emma34501 @wish-upon-a-star-1310 @foreverxholland @daphnesutton @narry-heart

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :) When I do the extras/check-in blurbs I will tag you in those as well (unless you don't want to be, just lmk) Thank you all so much for being part of this nice little taglist for me, it's very special to me 💕

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #ceo!harry #sugardaddy!harry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #tradtional

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writingforstraykids · 6 months

Text

Be nice

Pairing: Minchan

Word Count: 2983

Summary: Sometimes, Chan helping him out isn't what Minho wants, and this time, they get into a fight. Later that day they talk but it never stays at that with them...

Warnings/Tags: angst, minor fight, fluff, lots of kisses, teasing, smut, top!chan, bottom!minho

Minho stares at the ceiling, wondering if Chan would join him at some point tonight. The lights of passing cars illuminate the room, and the continuous sound of raindrops hitting the bedroom window calms him slowly. He hates getting into fights, especially with Chan. His boyfriend was a sweetheart, but when he got mad, everyone else felt like hiding and let him deal with it. Which was exactly what had happened today.

Six hours earlier

Minho scrolled through his phone as his stylist made the last adjustments to today's outfit. They'd be giving an interview soon, and he was a little nervous since it would be in English once again. Understanding wasn't the problem, but the time his brain needed to process the information and grasp some words together for an answer was simply too long. He hated it, wishing he could participate more, and Chan knew how upset he could get because of it. Nevertheless, he had repeatedly told him that he'd take over the Japanese, becoming more fluent than the rest. One of their staff members came up to him, and Minho greeted him politely.

"The company feels like you're going to be left behind with all those English interviews coming up."

"Sorry?" Minho asked, confused. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, but a lot of this promotion is focused on English, so we need you to open up more," he told him.

"What's going on?" Chan asked, strolling over as he saw the utter confusion on Minho's face. The staff member repeated himself for Chan, who frowned. "Why? You're not pressuring any of the others who struggle with that either."

"Well, they try, at least. Everyone knows they won't get any new bits of information from him, though," he told them, and Chan glanced at Minho, whose face fell. "We need you to try at least."

Minho was hurt by that because everyone knew how much he struggled with it. Nevertheless, this was his job, and he knew he had to put in some work to excel. "Okay," he nodded quietly.

Chan placed his hand on his lower back and shook his head. "There's no need to pressure him like that. You all know I always try to include him."

"You may be the leader, but you're not the babysitter," he told him, and Minho closed his eyes in defeat, knowing Chan would be pissed now.

"It's okay, I'll try harder. I'm sorry," he said, and Chan opened his mouth to protest. "Just let it be, please," Minho said before stepping away from them and sitting down on the sofa next to Felix.

"What's going on?" Felix asked gently, but Minho didn't get to answer as Chan came over.

"Why don't you stand up for yourself?" he asked, and Minho stared at him blankly.

"You're serious right now? You do know your position as the leader is a little more secure than mine, right?" he asked defensively.

"They're not gonna kick you out just because you tell them to fuck off once in a while," he said.

"I got kicked before, didn't I?" he gave back and grabbed his phone. "Just stop, they're right you're not my babysitter, Chan, I can handle it."

Chan huffed. "You're right. I'm your boyfriend, and I'm there when you're in trouble."

Minho contorted his face. "It wouldn't have been a problem if you didn't waltz in and take over once again."

"Now it's my fault they're telling you that stuff?" Chan asked, offended.

"Chan. That's not what I said, and you know it," Minho sighed before pushing himself up. "Stop, okay? It's embarrassing."

Chan stared after him as Minho left their room and closed the door a little too loudly. He took a deep breath before following him outside. Minho was leaning against the opposite wall, nervously fidgeting with his hands. "Min, come on," he said softly.

Minho closed his eyes in defeat and shook his head. "I mean it; you're not making things easier. I know I'm shit at it, but you defending me for being shit at it makes it even more obvious."

"I was trying to help, okay? That's all," Chan said.

"I don't want your help, okay?" Minho told him. "I love you, Channie, but I have to figure out some things on my own. Stop hovering."

Chan looked at him for a long moment before going back inside. Minho sighed, knowing he was beyond pissed now.

This time, Chan didn't mention him once or ask any questions to include him. He kept his distance during the game they played, and once they were done, Chan packed up his stuff. "We're going home," he told him firmly, and Minho blinked at him surprised.

"I thought we were getting dinner with the -," he asked, but Chan's firm look made him stop. "I suppose not, then," he said, grabbing his bag.

The others watched them nervously as Chan opened the door and let Minho out first, who waved at them with a halfhearted smile. As soon as the door closed, Minho turned toward him. "You're an asshole."

"Excuse me?" Chan asked firmly, gently pushing him in the right direction, and kept walking next to him.

"Why would you spoil our group dinner just because you're pissed at me? They were looking forward to it all week. I was looking forward to it." he said.

"You're a grownup, you can still go," he shrugged, and Minho stopped walking.

"You know what? Maybe that's a good idea," he told him. "Because you're being ridiculous right now, and I'd rather enjoy my evening instead of hiding until you calmed down."

"Great, fuck off then," Chan said, not noticing the tears shimmering in Minho's eyes. Minho didn't answer and dropped his bag to his feet before turning on the spot and returning inside. Chan rolled his eyes and grabbed the bag before leaving. “Fucks sake,” he cursed.

Jisung watched him worriedly as he stepped inside. "You're okay?"

"Not really, but that's between me and Chan," Minho told him, accepting the hug he offered. If there was one thing that he cared about, it was not pulling the others into their disagreements. Their relationship shouldn't weigh heavy on the group mentality.

Two hours earlier

Minho came back later that night, waving Changbin goodbye, who had driven him home. He sighed softly as he pulled the door close behind himself and slowly walked into the living room, spotting Chan on the sofa. "Hi," he said quietly.

"Hey," he said, not looking up.

"You should've come, it was fun," Minho told him gently, trying to make peace.

"It wouldn't have been with me hovering," Chan said sourly.

Minho nodded more to himself. "Okay," he whispered, putting his keys on the kitchen table. "How long?"

"What?" Chan asked, irritated.

"How long do you need until you can look at me again and talk to me without being pissed off?" he asked calmly. It wasn't meant as an insult or tease but to check his boundaries.

Chan put his phone down and stared at him, a little startled. "What?"

Minho closed his eyes for a moment, reminding himself to stay calm. There was no use in exploding and triggering Chan's response even more. "Listen, love," he says very gently. "I had an amazing evening, and I don't intend to ruin my mood with another unnecessary fight. I missed you there, okay?"

"Why? I thought you don't want a babysitter?" Chan said before he could think it through.

Hurt filled Minho's eyes as he grabbed his keys from the table. "Now you're just being mean," he told him, clearly disappointed, and made his way upstairs.

Chan groaned at himself and leaned back into the sofa, rubbing his face.

Now

Chan still sits on the sofa, unsure if Minho would like him to join him tonight. By now, Chan knows Minho has every right to be disappointed, and deep down, he knows he didn't mean any harm telling him to back off a little. He is still hungry and craving that amazing noodle dish, Minho made them a few days ago. But now is hardly the time to ask him for it, having no idea how he made it.

He looks up as Minho slowly comes down the stairs, his breath hitching when he sees him. Minho is wearing nothing but boxers and a shirt he lent him, his hair framing his face beautifully. Chan is once more reminded of how effortlessly beautiful Minho is at all times. Minho's eyes meet his, and the world seems to stand still for a moment. "Min, I'm sorry," Chan says softly.

Minho walks past him into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water. Chan gets up, hesitantly making his way over and leaning against the kitchen island opposite him. Minho puts down the glass and searches his eyes. "You had dinner yet?" he asks.

"No," Chan shakes his head.

Minho sighs softly and opens his arms for him. Chan doesn’t hesitate and practically throws himself into his arms, hugging him tight. Minho gently runs his hand through his hair and plants a soft kiss on his head. "I know you meant well, Channie love. It's just…"

"I don't make it easier, I know," he nods. "I just hate seeing them treat you like that."

Minho places his fingers beneath his chin, lifting his face. "I have you, at the end of the day, I don't care what they say," he says, rubbing his thumb across Chan's lower lip. "We both know they're right, I have to try sometimes."

Chan smiles softly and sinks deep into his eyes. "Did I ever tell you how adorable you are when you try though?"

Minho's eyes brighten up, his smile growing shy. "Not since we recorded Drive."

Chan smirks, cupping his face. "Mhm, the day of our first kiss. You were too adorable to resist."

"So that's why you finally confessed your feelings," he teases lovingly. "I don't think I ever saw you that shy again."

Chan mindlessly brushes back his hair, caressing his cheeks. "I was scared to ruin our friendship."

"Technically, you did," Minho grins and searches his eyes. "We're way more than that now, aren't we?" he asks and turns, kissing the palm of his hand.

"There's just one thing that bothers me," he tells him, and Minho frowns softly. "Your last name."

"What?" Minho blinks at him. "Go blame my parents, thank you very much," he protests, gently shoving his chest.

Chan grins before taking his hand and mindlessly fondling his ring finger. "I intend to change it one day," he says, and Minho's eyes widen, realizing what he is on about. "When all this is over, I'll officially make you mine."

Minho chuckles softly and rolls his eyes at him. "You're so cheesy," he giggles.

Chan smirks and pulls something from his pocket. "Until then, I want you to hold on to this for me," he says, sliding a subtle silver ring up his finger.

"Channie," Minho breathes out, stunned.

"Happy birthday, Minho baby," he says sweetly after checking the time. It’s only a few minutes after midnight.

Minho's heart is about to burst, and he pulls him in, kissing him hard on the mouth. Chan's lips crash onto his, a soft moan leaving his lips that shoots straight to Minho's stomach. He sinks his hand into his hair and presses himself close. "Love, I need you. Right now," he whispers against his lips, and Chan takes the hint. He lifts him up, chuckling as Minho wraps his legs around him. Minho kisses him heavily as Chan maneuvers his way through the living room and up the stairs. He doesn’t even bother turning on the lights and sits down at the edge of their bed. Minho straddles his lap, hands cupping his face as he kisses him passionately. Chan sinks his hand into his hair, pulling him back as his lips travel down his neck. Minho moans sweetly at the sensation and presses him closer to his skin. "Chan, sweetie," he pants, and Chan hums questioningly against his neck, sinking his teeth into his skin. "Lube. Now."

Chan chuckles at his impatience but reaches for the table next to the bed, grabbing the lube from the drawer. Minho takes it and slips from his lap, chest heaving softly from their heavy kisses.

Minho leans down and captures his lips in another short, soft kiss. "Take it all off," he whispers before grabbing the hem of his own shirt.

Chan doesn’t need a second invitation and pulls Minho back down on his lap as soon as their clothes are gone. He hungrily kisses him before getting up and lowering him back on the mattress. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he tells him quietly, and Minho smiles sweetly beneath him.

"Please don't make me wait," Minho answers just as quietly, reaching out for him.

Chan flicks the bottle open and pours some lube on his fingers. He spreads Minho's legs, and his hand disappears between them. Chan watches his face in awe as he starts to open him up. Minho pulls him into an open-mouthed kiss, arching into him as Chan adds another finger. As soon as Minho tells him he's ready, Chan grabs a condom and prepares himself quickly. He pushes in with slow, careful movements and can’t help but groan when he is fully buried inside him. "Fuck."

Minho beams up at him, softly burying his fingers in his hair and pants at the pleasant stretch. He takes a moment to adjust before nodding. "Okay," he whispers, and Chan starts moving. He watches him full of adoration, brushing back a curl that's already sticking to his forehead, and places his hand on his neck, thumb fondling his cheek. Minho presses their foreheads together as Chan thrusts in deep, both moaning at the feeling. "Feels so good, Channie hyung," Minho tells him, and Chan growls softly at the honorifics.

Chan's bracing himself on his lower arms, gently playing with Minho's hair. He leans into Minho's touch as the younger one caresses his cheek, and their lips brush together, moans and soft sounds of pleasure echoing between them. Minho's head falls back, toes curling as Chan manages to hit his prostate. His hand shoots up, nails burying themselves in Chan's shoulder. A punched-out sound leaves his lips as Chan buries his nose in his neck simultaneously, gently licking the spot he previously sunk his teeth into. "I got you," Chan rasps against his skin and hits his sweet spot again. Chan watches Minho’s face flood with pleasure, lips falling open with soft whimpers and moans. Moonlight dances across his dark hair, highlighting every significant feature of his face.

Minho chases his lips, moaning into the kiss loudly, and wraps his legs around Chan’s waist. “Don’t stop,” he pants, gripping his hair tightly. “So close…”

Chan kisses a trail down his jaw, keeping the same pace as Minho’s hips start to stutter beneath him. He reaches down between their bodies, wrapping his hand around his dick and pumping him fast. “Come for me, baby. Make a mess,” he rasps into his ear, and Minho does, whimpering his name as he paints their chests. Chan picks up the pace of his thrusts, knowing Minho only likes to be overstimulated when he’s in the mood for it.

Minho smiles at him lazily as Chan falls apart above him, lovingly fondling his hair as the older one collapses onto him. They lay still for a moment, both catching their breaths before Minho speaks up again. “We could’ve done that earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have been sulking all day then..”

Chan giggles and weakly punches his arm. “Fuck you.”

“I thought you did already,” he teases, kissing his hair. “I’m joking.”

“I know,” Chan snorts before pushing himself up. “We need a shower.”

“You still need dinner as well,” Minho reminds him.

“Yeah, about that,” Chan starts, and Minho snorts softly.

“You’re addicted to that dish already, aren’t you?” he asks, and Chan blushes. “You always are when I try something new,” he giggles.

“You know me too well,” Chan laughs.

“Of course I do,” he smiles smugly. “And, of course, I’ll make it for a very late dinner,” he tells him and gently pats his back. “Now get off me, you big baby, before I get too lazy to move and decide differently,” he says, laughing as Chan does so immediately.

After their shower, in the dim light of their bathroom, Minho sees the scratch marks he left on Chan’s back and contorts his face softly. He gently brushes his fingertips over them and meets Chan’s eyes through the mirror. “I’m sorry.”

Chan smirks before turning and wrapping his arms around him. “One of the reasons I call you kitten, it’s fine,” he assures him, and Minho fondly rolls his eyes at him. “Also, I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but I can help you out with the English stuff at any time.”

Minho stares at him, amused for a moment, before squinting his eyes at him. “You know why that’s not a good idea?”

“Why?” he asks, clearly confused.

“You’d have another excuse to fuck me stupid and blame it on me speaking English,” he smirks, and Chan’s jaw drops.

“How is that bad?” he asks, playfully offended.

“How is that helping with learning? I’d be distracted the whole time, and we’d get nothing done,” he protests.

“It would work like a reward system, which is quite effective, by the way,” Chan smirks.

“Oh wow, he’s speaking English, but somehow he can’t walk straight anymore. I wonder why,” Minho thinks out loud, and Chan starts laughing.

“Shut up, I was being nice,” he giggles.

“I’m just being realistic,” he grins.

“Buzzkill,” Chan snorts.

“Be nice, it’s my birthday,” Minho pouts playfully, squirming away and laughing as Chan tickles him.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@soullostinspaceandtime @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies

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angelsanarchy · 5 months

Text

Tangerine Skies: Possum x Y/N Series CH 7

Tagging: @svgarcaine @icarus-star @romanroyapoligist @tempt-ress @madamemaximoff06 @shady-the-simp @liquidsmoothdomme @auggiethecreator @ethical-cain-vinnel @blacksoul-27

Possum had stopped responding to text messages at around 7:15PM. She knew he told her not to call but by 2AM, she started calling. When she first started calling, it would ring at least 4 times before kicking into his voicemail. Now that it was so late, she kept calling until it no longer rang but went straight to voicemail meaning the phone was now off.

"Come on Possum. Where the hell are you?" She paced around glancing over to Opossum while he slept on the couch in a bundle of blankets. She heard rustling outside of the RV and walked out to see Possum stumbling into his tent.

"Possum! Are you okay?" She startled him but he shook it off rather quickly.

"Oh yeah yeah I'm totally fine. No worries. I just...ran the whole way here. Did you miss me?" He was out of breath, sweaty and the bottom of his pants were torn and wet.

"Hey...take a minute and talk to me okay? You don't look alright." Possum frowned.

"Well I could use some rest. It's been a long day-" The moment he started towards the picnic table, his leg gave out and Y/n caught him.

"Okay, that's it." Y/n helped him limp towards the table and sat him down. As soon as she was able to assess him, she knew the wetness on his leg was blood. She tore the bottom of the pantleg open.

"Oh I liked these pants!" Possum whine as Y/n came face to face with a bloody and bruise leg.

"What the fuck happened to your leg Possum? You need to go to a hospital." She touched it carefully making him flinch.

"I may have been underestimated how observant I am while running through the woods...I got caught up in a bear trap." Possum winced again as she looked at the gashes.

"Oh my god..." She knew that the only bear traps that would be in the woods would be up near the mountains where all the drug dealers made their products. He was drug running.

"Stay here." She walked into the RV and found her first aid kit, some water and a few clean rags. Possum watched her clean his wounds up on his leg silently, drinking the water she had brought him and using the rag to wipe his face and neck clean.

"You're really good at this...ever been a nurse?" Possum asked seeing how in the zone Y/n was. She looked annoyed...or angry. He wasn't quite sure but he felt like shit.

"No I've never been a nurse. I've just had to take care of myself for a really long time." She gave no emotion as she moved to sit next to him.

"Shirt off, I want to clean the cuts on your neck." Possum took the shirt off and tossed it behind himself. She scooted closer to put ointment on his collarbone and he sighed.

"I'm sorry I scared you. That wasn't my intention at all." He spoke softly and Y/n's eyes fluttered to his.

"You shouldn't be drug running. You're lucky this was the worse that happened to you. Those tweaker deals get high on their own supply and end up blowing your head off." She felt her heart beating fast just thinking about how much worse this could have been.

"Then what would I tell your little brother?" She started getting a bit weepy and Possum grabbed her hand.

"I'm okay. You fixed me up, it's okay. See." Possum pulled Y/n into a hug and she tried to take a deep breath.

"You scared the hell out of me Possum. You can't just put yourself in danger like that...I won't handle it well if something awful happens...and you don't come back." She explained as he ran his thumbs over her cheeks, feeling a few tears.

"A stupid bear trap didn't keep me from coming back. That was the last big job I had to do so I promise I won't be going anywhere anytime soon." Possum tried to reassure.

"It's not like you could get there anyway. You probably broke your leg." Y/n gestured to his swollen limb.

"Nah, probably a bone bruise but definitely not broken. I might need one of those shots though. Trap was pretty rusty." Possum tried to lighten the mood but Y/n glared.

"Put your arm over my shoulders, let's get you inside so we can get that leg elevated." Possum was surprised.

"I can sleep in my tent-"

"Shut up and get your butt in that RV or so help me." Y/n warned. He limped up the steps and noticed the little blanket fort his little brother was wrapped up in and smiled. She had place a small bowl near him so he could eat and drink whenever he wanted. Possum couldn't help but smile. He turned towards Y/n who shut the door behind herself before Possum took her hands.

"Thank you for taking care of him...and me." He kissed her sweetly and gave her hands a squeeze. Y/n wanted to pout at him and be upset but he was here, in one piece, a little worse for wear but he was here.

"Anytime." She leaned her forehead against his and helped get him back into the bed. She helped strip him down so he would be comfortable and she slid into the bed next to him, pulling the covers up to her chest. Possum pulled her closer to his body until they were flush against one another.

"I like spooning with you. You always smell nice." Possum admitted making Y/n laugh.

"You set the bar pretty low babe." Y/n teased. Possum looked at her and shook his head.

"I think you far surpass the bar. You're perfect." Possum grinned and Y/n rolled her eyes.

"I'm not sucking your cock after you had me that worried." She said firmly making him nod.

"Would it be too much to get a joint out of my bloody pants...you know, for the pain." Possum asked making Y/n shake her head. He was taking over her world in every way possible and she wasn't mad about it at all. They both laid up in the back of the RV, naked and smoking with the window open until they both got tired enough to doze off. Possum had passed out holding onto her body tightly, face buried into her neck, leaving small kisses until Y/n's breathing had slowed.

#Possum #Possum x Y/n #Welcome to Willits #One Shot Series #Tangerine Skies #Tangerine Skies Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #7/9

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maximoff-forevermore · 5 months

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Tumblr Wrapped: BLORBOS!!

thank you sm for the tag @healmydesires 💋🫶🫶

tumblr wrapped canva template<3

i have SO much to say, but then again, i always do

i’ll start with my top five, and then do some honourable mentions because five fics is NOT a big enough list for me

1. Red Light by @kiwisbell

you may NEVER hear me stop talking about this fic. EVER. Red Light!Joel has taken up more headspace than anything else in a good long while, and i’ve reread this fic so many times if you asked me to rewrite it from memory i probably could, but i wouldn’t, because i’d never do it the justice kiwi did. this fic basically belongs to me, because no one can love it as much as me. i could go on and on, but there’s not enough time in the world.

2. The Dress Series by @janaispunk

can i let y’all in on a secret? i got the outrageous honour of talking to jana about the third part in this series, it’s like getting a shoutout from an artist winning a grammy, only better. this series restarted my obsession with dave, and i’ve had such brainrot about him since i started. LORD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL it’s so good, and the taylor titles GOD.

3. Las Mañanas by @kiwisbell

i had to be very careful, or else every fic on my top five list would be one of kiwi’s and people would think i’m biased (i am, just a little). so i only chose my two favourites, and this series was one of them. it brought so much light and life to the minutes i spent reading it, and i just had the best time!! javi my beloved, you have such a special place in my cold, dead heart, you wife-loving POOKIE!!

4. The In My Hometown Series by @swiftispunk

A SERIES INSPIRED BY ‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON *buries face into pillow and screams* ‘tis the damn season is one of my all time favourite songs, and it was done SUCH JUSTICE. this fic had just the right amount of everything, and i’m so grateful i got to read it!!

5. Punishment by @joelsgreys

OOOOOH HOT DAMN. there was something about this fic that made me drool, because hELLO JOEL MILLER?? gods that man is FINE AS FUCK, and this fic so perfectly captures that😫😫 i had the time of my fucking life reading it, and it was so SO worth every second. my next, pls joel🙏

those fics have such a special place in my heart, but so do many others, let’s go through them!!

Is It Over Now? by @planet-marz1 OH this one is my SHIT!!! angst is so delicious for twelve months of the year, and this one shot was me being FED. i loved every minute, and fuck joel, not in the horny way this time🙄

Sexfiles.mp3 by @beskarandblasters tim rockford, the grandma investigator, and love of my life WHERE have you been all this time?? this fic gave me that alligator-jiggling fever

the Seams series by @fuckyeahdindjarin MY BELOVED POOKIES!!!! i love lucy to the ends of the earth, and joel and pins have the CUTEST fucking relationship on the planet

A Lover’s Pinch series by @hier--soir pull me out of the dumpster and fuck me sideways GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO??? gods the sex is just so BXKANDIWNSKW clawing at my fucking WALLS!!!! i haven’t finished this series yet but when i do you may NEVER hear the fucking end of me🗣️🗣️

the Pretty Little Wife series by @beardedjoel OH MAMA, i need a fan because it is HOT AS HELL in here😫😫these fics give me such housewife-fever, i love them just a bit TOO much

Real Gods Require Blood, by @pr0ximamidnight you guys have no FUCKING idea how obsessed i am with this fic. the minute it’s possible to make fics into physical things, i will turn this fic into cocaine and snort it faster than you can scream “he’s evil!”, and even if you did scream it, i wouldn’t care, because WOW is he hot as hell

Feelings on Fire by @joelscruff CAN WE TALK ABOUT IT. CAN WE TALK ABOUT IT. CAN WE—im so obsessed. and i don’t mean that lightly. this series has CHANGED ME. i am moved. i am reborn. i am SOMETHING ELSE. i can’t get over this series i’m not sorry, it’s just so so SO good

and last, but definitely NOT least, Truth or Dare, ALSO by @joelscruff I’M SO UNWELL. I NEED HIM. I NEED THIS. I AM IN DIRE, DESPERATE NEED OF THIS FIC. it’s so so close to my heart, i actually physically cannot get over it. like, guys, GUYS. this fic is such a go-to of mine, and so close to my heart.

and that was my long, long, LONG list, but honestly, i’m not even halfway done. so many fics and so many fic writers have changed my life, and if i was less tired and had more energy to type, i’d list them all<3

all the love to every single fic writer out there, you are doing the most, and if you need someone to read something you’ve written or you think i’ll enjoy something, don’t hesitate to send it my way!!

tagging everyone who wants to participate!!!

as always, my obligatory taylor gifs:

#MY FAVES #i just love them all sm #my world

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lu-lus-duckies · 1 month

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@huskers-bar x @nunalastor chapter 4

Tags: enemies to lovers, angst?, eventual fluff, yearning?, soft huskers-bar, both mods are separate people, no beta we die like i do, minor character death, ooc, au: hellaverse (hazbin hotel), nunalastor is head of the marketing department, jealousy?, huskers-bar is an employee at voxtek, lulu as a villain, huskers-bar is a liar, secret dating?

chapter: 4/? / chapter Word count: 2,484 / total word count: 7,426

nunalastor as a single entity is nunalastor, traumatized mod dickmaster and cursed mod nun. and huskers-bar just husk/huskers. babygirl anon will be babygirl anon. I will be lulu. Angie will be angie but is meant to be read as angel dust.

A/N: pure lore this chapter. Almost none of the funny :( sorry. i've decided that as an apology for not being active at all today, the entirety of the next chapter is just going to be nunalastor fucking. I will also stop talking about plot from now on, cuz i'm just bullshitting my way through at this point.

"Hi" Lulu greeted. The room fell into an awkward silence, and the air thickened with palpable tension. Lulu locked his gaze with Alastor's, refusing to look away. The seconds stretched into minutes, elongating the unspoken battle of wills and determination, a staring contest neither wanted to lose, although Lulu was undeniably unaware of the game and was just being a menace.

"how may I assist you today?" Alastor finally spoke, his voice punctuated by a forced smile that failed to reach his eyes. The constant staring wasn't enough to get him to blink even once, but the mundane nature of just staring at Lulu was more than reason enough for Alastor to interject their five extremely long minutes of silence. Plus he didn't need the other members of the hotel to start asking questions. they were too persistent anyway.

Lulu snapped out of his reverie, jolted back to reality by Alastor's question. He rummaged through his bag, shuffling items aside in search of something specific, his actions conveying a sense of excitement. Ugh, he could've been a living vibrator with how jarring the immediate mood shift was. "Ah, right," He mumbled, his attention divided between the bag and Alastor. "I'm here to try and convince you to help me... Again."

Alastor let an exasperated sigh slip, pinching the bridge of his nose. This had been the third time lulu approached him this week alone and this feral... whatever that thing was, wasn't giving up on it "we've already went over this lulu, I am not going to help you steal Lucifers blood"

Lulu pouted, letting out a saddened squeak, his hands immediately stopping their search for the list of reasons Alastor should let Lulu steal Lucifers blood "Not even for 75 souls? Really cute ones?" He bargained, shoulders slumping and posture generally turning a lot more depressed, just like the owner of those shoulders probably was.

"No." Alastor reiterated, "No amount of souls is going to cut it."

The very annoyed and pissed expression on lulus face was honestly disgusting. Lulu leaned in closer, as if the proximity would convince Alastor. oh how wrong he was.

"Dear, why don't you just stop with this nonsense?" Alastor said, the corners of his trademark fake smile twitching in irritation. He put his hands back behind him and stepped away. The more distance between this creature and him the more comfortable he felt.

"what if it was the entire west side of the pentagram?" Lulu offered, sort of as a last ditch attempt... for today at least. Lulu was not exactly sane enough to know when to quit.

"I highly doubt a creature such as yourself is going to be able to achieve such a thing" Alastor answered, mostly as a jab to Lulus pathetic self, but the idea of him gathering so many souls was an amusing one.

However, Lulu didn't think so. Lulus eyes lit up with mischief, immediately switching from that almost-scowl to a smirk even the devil wouldn't be able to mimic. He jumped from the realization, "so that is a maybe! progress"

Alastor shouldn't be surprised but he is. Why is Lulu so obsessed with lucifers blood? sure it tasted good but not that good. Alastor sighed, shaking his head in disbelief and spoke "if that was all you came here for than you're welcome to leave"

"yeah, okay-" Lulu cut himself off as soon as he noticed a sexy four armed hottie walking by the door. "woah! who's that sexy thing over there?"

"excuse me?" Angie turned his head at the directed voice at him. he looked left and right, as if to make sure it was really him that this random imp looking creature was talking to. Once he was sure there was no one else, he put on his trademark seductive smile "oh, are you one of my fans?"

"no, never seen you in my life. what's a beautiful thing like you doing here?" Lulu said casually, running up to Angie and circling around him. The concept of personal space must've been a heaven thing because Lulu was prodding at absolutely every part of Angie.

"oh, that's a first." Angie chuckled nervously as he watched Lulu welcome himself to his body. "well the names angie"

"the names lulu." Lulu answered in a heartbeat. He finally relented the assault and turned to Alastor, waving "Bye Alastor, I'll be stealing your bitches"

"what?"

"he's the most precious thing I have with me here at the hotel!" Angie said petting the pig in question. Little fat nuggets was very comfortably set in his lap and was napping.

"he is a cute pig, i'll admit." Lulu said, laughing along and staring at the adorable little creature. He tapped his fingers against the nearest surface, humming to himself. "hmm... say though, what is it that you actually desire? surely there's more to your existence than just taking care of fat nuggets?"

Angie slumped at that question, he didn't like being reminded of work, especially not when he's supposed to be relaxing. HE looked away, scratching the back of his head "oh, that's complicated"

"how so?" Lulu pried, crossing his legs, picking up his teacup and taking one sip. "It's tea time, and tea needs spillin"

Angie shrugged, reaching out one of his four arms to grab his own cup. he blew on it before taking a sip and sighing. "well, I kinda sold my soul to a blind prick" He began

"ah, gotcha" Lulu nodded, "go on, what's this prick like?" he pried, observing him with a keen eye.

That was all it took for Angie to start going off. "he's a real asshole, and not the sexy kind. he has no sense of personal space and is so insistent on always having me around. it's pathetic really-"

As Angie continued his rambling about how unbearable val was, Lulu listened attentively, observing him with a keen eye. Sensing Angie's frustration and dissatisfaction, Lulu formulated a surprising proposal. "What if I told you," Lulu interjected, his voice filled with intrigue, "that I could help you with that?"

"You're serious?" Angie asked, his voice tinged with both skepticism and caution, but he wasn't too against the idea, who would be?

Lulu nodded, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Absolutely. I have been trying to find a way to gain status you see, and what better way than to steal the porn overlords most prized bitch?"

Angie leaned forward, his attention fully captured by Lulu's proposition. "And what would you want in return? I've learned the hard way that nothing comes without a price. Not making that mistake again"

Lulu's smile widened as he raised his teacup to his lips, savoring another sip before placing it back on the table. "you're absolutely right. The thing is, the plan I have in mind isn't one I can carry out on my own. I need a helping hand. A partner in crime" Lulu said, letting the rest be left unspoken.

"i'm not helping you kill someone" Angie said, crossing his first set of arms over his chest and wrapping the second around fat nuggets almost like a shield.

"kill? nonsense" Lulu said, waving his hand in dismissal, as if even the mere idea of it was ridiculous. |I need you to help me collect souls. souls that will give me a name. nothing more. I can guarantee I will not be harming any soul that I collect"

That sounded very sketchy. On one hand, yes it made sense, collecting souls was how other overlords became overlords, but most overlords were also assholes. Angie couldn't let another one like valentino exist in the world. But the offer was too tempting... "how do I know you ain't lying?"

Lulu got up, extending a hand over to angie, pausing first in confusion. He was having trouble deciding which hand would need shaking "uh..." He shook it off. "I'll make a contract. In exchange for your assistance, I promise to free you from valentino grasp. In addition, I promise that I will not harm a single soul in the process"

Angie was sold. That was enough a reason to think this guy wasn't fucking around. "As you already know, I've already sold a part of my soul. no need for the deal. I'll help you"

"wonderful. I'll be discussing the plan with you two weeks before the next extermination"

Vox stared at Huskers, his crimson eyes narrowing as he processed the situation. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, had broken another of Vox's employees watches. His anger was palpable and causing static to appear between his antennas. "That fucking bastard?!"

Husk shifted uncomfortably under Vox's gaze. The pitch shift in Vox's voice was stupid but a little intimidating. "I'm sorry. I didn't get to talk to him, I went to this hotel after Angie offered, and I just stumbled upon him there"

Vox looked like he was about to blow a fuse but for a moment Vox's anger got replaced with a smirk. He paced back and forth across his office, his sharp claws clicking against the marble floor. The gears in his mind (literally) spun rapidly, taking into account every single opportunity he had now that husk was attending the hotel.

"Hmm," Vox muttered, his screen displaying a smirk worthy of the sexiest man on twitter. "Maybe this isn't such a bad idea. Someone to gather intel on my dear Alastor-I mean, that asshole!" He turned his attention back to Huskers, his gaze piercing. "It has failed once, but to be fair, that Pentious was a complete idiot." Vox paused, putting a finger up to his face. "Do they trust you?"

Husker hesitated, unsure how to respond. "Uh... not particularly," they admitted. Sure, they were in hell, but they were almost killed on the first day, that can't be a sign of trust.

Vox waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Unimportant. From now on, you are free from all other duties," He declared, his voice full of pure adulterated joy, one only a horny man like vox could make. "Your primary job will be to gather intel on that radio prick. I want to know his every move, his every plan. What he eats. Where he sleeps. What his favorite color is. What time he goes to sleep. What his hooves look like-"

"But sir—" Husker began, his voice tinged with hesitation.

Vox's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Do not even try to negotiate with me on this," he warned, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "I own your soul" He reminded.

Husker's shoulders slumped, defeated. "Okay," he muttered, his voice barely audible. It would be fine. He saw Alastor once the entire day anyway and that was when he needed to break his tech. He wouldn't even get the opportunities to gather intel anyway.

"good" Vox turned away, his mind already racing with schemes and plots. He had been blindsided by Alastor once, but this time would be different. He would have his dear Alastor tied up and begging for mercy!

"and that concludes today's exercises! you're free to go about your days as usual now!" Charlie clapped, signaling everyone's dismissal. She turned to huskers and called out before they could leave "Huskers, may I have a moment?"

"yes, your... highness?"

Charlie chuckled, shaking her head. "Just Charlie," she corrected, her warm smile putting Huskers slightly at ease. "You know we have rooms at the hotel for you to stay at, right? I think it would be beneficial for all of us if you were available as soon as we started, and if it's something you'd like?"

Huskers' shoulders slumped and they sighed. "I mean, it's not entirely up to me, Princess. I'd have to consult with my boss first," They explained. It wouldn't be everyday that Vox showed mercy.

Charlie's expression turned thoughtful, and she nodded understandingly. "Alright, we'll let you talk it out with him and hopefully we can get you here!"

Charlie's excitement died down quickly though, realizing that due to short staff (literally), they were out of rooms where people could actually survive. "Unfortunately, we only have one empty and clean room at the hotel right now, and it's up with our marketing staff."

Huskers eyes lit up. The marketing staff? That's Nunalastor!

"And they tend to get messy at nigh-"

"I'll do it!" they far too quickly accepted, not wanting to miss the opportunity. "I don't mind at all. I'd love to take the room! I'm sure nu-the marketing staff are lovely!" they chuckled nervously, making it way too obvious what their intentions were.

Charlie, bless her heart, either didn't notice or didn't mention it. Her eyes sparkled with joy. "Wow, such enthusiasm! See, I knew I was right about you!"

Alastor hummed to himself as he traveled up the stairs. He couldn't help but overhear huskers little interaction with charlie and he just couldn't let the opportunity for some chaos and fun pass. He approached the door to Dickmasters and Nuns room and knocked thrice. Some thumping could be heard on the other side before the door opened in front of him.

Dickmaster answered "yes?"

"greetings, cohorts" Alastor greeted with that charming smile of his. Both Nun and Dickmaster collectively rolled their eyes.

"do you mind? we're in the middle of a fucking..." Dickmaster trailed off.

"we are not fucking, they're just too dumb to finish that sentence" Nun shouted from behind the room. The fact that they were sprawled across the bed in nothing but a shirt on wasn't helping the situation.

Alastor chose to not comment on it. He didn't care. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he began to speak "I have a favor. you see this new resident of ours is here to make my life miserable. I can hear vox's pathetic begging almost from across the pentagram, and they're a spy of his. I'm sure of it, however I don't view them as a threat"

Dickmaster raised a brow, unamused. "uhm, congrats? what's that gotta do with us?"

Alastor chuckled, leaning in font of them, hands resting on his cane. "oh, nothing much. I simply ask that you make their life miserable with your charming little quirks"

Nun and Dickmaster exchanged glances, contemplating Alastor's request. It wouldn't be hard and could prove to be quite entertaining. Plus, Nun wanted to stick it to that guy for some reason. After a brief silence, they smirked and nodded. "oh, will do at some point. What's in it for us though?"

"Entertainment"

"that's hardly a fair deal"

"By the looks of things, that isn't going to stop you." Alastor doesn't wait for a response and starts to melt away into his shadow. "they'll be staying in the room across from you." is the words he left with.

"fuck that guy with his own cane, seriously"

#lulu is delulu #nunwhiskers #lulu is feral #lulu fed you twice this week #don't expect a new one anytime soon #huskers-bar x nunalastor #this is a nunalastor simp blog #now if you'll excuse me I have probably a 100+ nunalastor posts to read through <3

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tadpoles-and-daydreams · 20 days

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Just so y'all know, I'm pouring some of my soul out in this post. It gets emotional-please mind the gaslighting tw <3 There's no pressure to read this, I just feel this needs to be said and hopefully will help someone out there.

In case this helps someone, the reason I say "Telling witchlings/baby witches that negative entities will pretend to be deities, or that they can't trust their deities is damaging" is because it damaged my craft directly. Not only as a witchling, but even now.

When I first started it was because I hid that I was working with Persephone from everyone except close friends, because I was scared I would be judged. Persephone came to me, and I had no reason to ignore the call. There was no questioning whether it was truly a goddess that had stepped into my head when I woke up from the fever dream (affectionate) that she sent me with the name "Persephone" blaring in my head.

Even now, Loki spent a solid chunk last night, late as hell, sitting with me while I spiraled. And it was a bad spiral, at least by my standards. I'm really good at gaslighting myself, not-so-fun fact, and I saw something talking about people convincing themselves that deities were around when really it was just their own imagination. I understand that that post might be helpful to some, so if anyone knows what post I'm talking about PLEASE do not attack them. And if you happen to have posted that, PLEASE do not continue reading this post and please don't feel bad. I don't remember if it was in my following or for you or your tags- but that's not the point.

The point is, of course my brain decided that today was the day to fuck me up! Yayyyyy. /s I had already been, due to some recent information I got about where my deity work will be going (that's a separate post) questioning the validity of my craft. Who the HELL am I to do that sort of work? Why me? I'm just some dude. I'm not even "just some dude" I'm some dude who actively struggles to do just about anything in life. Y'all I was having A TimeTM and seeing that post was the final straw.

So I sat there, cards in hand, completely unable to get any direct communication from Loki because my head was too loud and I was questioning whether or not they were even real at all. And I've gone from "trickster energy = asshole who laughs at others" to trusting Loki with all I have so quickly, because they sat with me. I could feel them even if I couldn't "hear" them. Card after card telling me I'm supported, I'm on the right path, what I've been told I'm meant to do is my path and not some "'chosen one' bullshit" as I remember wording it. Nothing but love and support. I pulled The Fool twice, which just felt like a nudge of "Hey, I really am here." (For those of you who may not know, The Fool is associated with Loki!)

This is.... a vulnerable thing to put in a tumblr post, but I leave it here anyway. I did get one thing from him, as I was going to bed. I thanked them for staying, even when I was too stressed and overwhelmed to hear them. And somewhere in the back of my mind, very firmly, I get; "I will ALWAYS be here." Long pause at the implication, because I know that deities often come and go just like people. "Always?" "Mhm." cue the clear image of them grinning.

So, apparently, Loki is here to stay with me for good. I'm so grateful to have them in my life.

But this is what I mean when I say it's bad to scare the witchlings. That post scared me, outright triggered me, and I've been around witchcraft my whole life and actively practicing for four years. Please stop telling people they're "just imagining" their deities.

#witchcraft #paganism #witchblr #pagan witch #pagan #eclectic pagan #paganblr #witch community #deity work #witch blog #tw gaslighting #tw gaslighting mention

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choicesfandomappreciation · 8 months

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Be Kind to HumanKind Week

Be Kind to Humankind Week is an annual worldwide celebration of kindness from August 25th-31st.

A lot of you expressed interest, but since no one gave me any ideas of how they'd like to see it celebrated in the fandom this year, I'm going to keep it simple!

I challenge you (yes, you) to send at least ONE kind message every day during the last week of August. You can send it anon or not. (I personally sometimes like getting anon positive messages because the mystery of behind it means it can be from anyone.) They do not have to be long messages, short and sweet is just as good. You just want to let the person know you are thinking about them. I do challenge you to try to message someone you haven't talked to in a while, or perhaps someone you've never talked to but have seen on your dash. Let's try to spread kindness to as many people as we can during this week!

If you get anon hate this week, delete it. Don't reply. Don't let it get to you. The only thing that matters this week (and always) is kindness! And to everyone who is sending anon hate, I challenge you to take the week off and think about what you're doing. I'm sure you can find something else to do with your time. Maybe even try sending a kind anon message!

You don't need to tag me or anything, this event is really just about spreading kindness, not keep track of anything.

Want to participate, but aren't sure what to send?

Here are some messages that I've written for this as well as ones written as part of my Sunday Positive Messages. Feel free to use and edit them as you like 💛 [I didn't include it, but feel free to add my PS about drinking water to any of the messages if you'd like to put it back😊🫶💛]

★Just stopping by to say hi! 👋 I hope your week is going well!

★ Hey! Hope you're doing well. Remember that you're awesome, and I'm here cheering you on. Have a wonderful week!

★ Hi! This week, may you find inspiration in the everyday moments and discover new reasons to smile and be proud of all you accomplished.

★You are amazing and you matter. Remember that. No matter how your day is going, I hope this makes you smile. You deserve to have a good day. Sending sunshine and sunflowers just for you: ☀️ 🌻🌻🌻 💛

★ I'm so proud of you and everything you have endured and achieved. I hope you know how worthy you are and how much you bring to the world. We are so lucky to have you in our fandom! (Share if you'd like to spread the encouragement, but no pressure) 💛

★ You are incredible and if no one told you this today, I want to wish you the best with whatever you want to do today even if you just want to rest.

★ Just a quick reminder that you are important! You are appreciated! You matter! You are doing a great job! You will get through this. Keep going!

★ You can do it. Even when you may doubt yourself. Even when things may feel overwhelming. Pause and breathe. Remember how far you've come. Trust yourself. You are so very capable and you're going to do amazing! 💛

★ Hi! I know we don't talk much, but I wanted to send a little positivity your way. Remember, even small steps can lead to big moments of joy. Keep going! 💛

★ Hello!Just wanted to drop a quick note to brighten your day. Your happiness matters, and I hope today brings you joy!

★ Somebody thinks you're amazing (It's me, I'm the somebody). Never forget your worth! You are more than enough! 💛

★ You don't need to spend your time proving yourself to others. If someone doesn't appreciate you, it's not your job to convince them. you are enough and you are doing AMAZING! (and I appreciate you!!!)

If you have encouraging quotes or song lyrics or messages of your own, you are more than welcome to send those as well. I just wanted to give people a place to start, hoping it might encourage more to participate!

#choices #playchoices #choices game #choices fandom appreciation #choices fandom #choices events #playchoices fandom

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hells-ringleader · 3 months

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💀RULES OF HELL 💀

✨️this blog is 18+ only cuz this fandom here is for adults only

🍎 NO godmodding! Respect each other's characters!

🌟I don't like mpreg, pedo shit, or anything proship so like gross illegal crap. Those would be my no nos

😇 respect my hcs as well NO MATTER WHAT

🎩don't be rude! Haters in my inbox are not welcome. If you are here to cause trouble. Leave now.

🐍do not dm mun UNLESS WE ARE GOOD GOOD MUTUALS I will not respond to random dms

🎉can't believe I must say this but, COMMUNICATION IS KEY. TELL ME IF A RP ISNT WORKING OUT BEFORE YOU JUST DROP IT. TELL ME IF YOU HATE ME AND I WONT FOLLOW OR INTERACT W YOU. SAME GOES FOR IF YOU DONT PLAN ON REPLYING TO ANYTHING I SEND YOU. TELL ME. I WILL STOP. I WILL GET IT AND NOT GET MY HOPES UP FOR NOTHING. DONT BE A JERK. TALK.

🎻please do me a favor and if you drop a rp let me know ahead of time. It hurts to just see people abandon rps I'm in with them. It makes me feel as if they hate me. It hurts. Please tell me in dms why you are doing it and do not just drop them without warning. I like to know what I did wrong so I can fix it for future threads. Always wanting to improve my skills as a rper.

🦆respect lgbtq here cuz mun is bi and ace and genderfluid any people against it leave now.

🎪I rp from these blogs out of enjoyment and as a extra hobby, I do have times when I'm not online cuz I do got a life so. I'm sorry if it's takes long to reply sometimes! I do my best! All I ask is you be patient with me! I do this for fun . Not as a career. I do not get paid.

👑also its sometimes hard to tell who's willing to reply back if I send something and who will just ignore me. Which. It happens a lot and. Upsets me. A lot . Makes me feel like shit. Don't make me feel that way maybe interact more w me and I'll be like oh this person likes my muse ill interact more..I'm just cautious..yknow?

🔥also.. I try to read rules cuz I get unsure if people are even ok w my subject matter at times it gets dark and gory. It's why I prefer 18+ peeps.

🎶and no you may not follow me if you just reblog my rp memes and fanart I post. You need to interact if you follow me okay. No one likes people like that. Don't I know it.

😈if you have a issue with me simply block me I will not take any more drama in my bubble

👼 I'm ace so I may feel uncomfortable with too adult of romance rps (must I say it) so romance is ok but boundaries are important. Edit: I'm better w romance and sexual ones even. But I just may not be good at it.

⭐️I will tag triggers but you must tell me which ones

❤️I don't like pe*os, proshi*pers (the ones who are pushy about it), or people who hurt animals . Please leave if you are any of the sort .

🐑just to make it clear I dont do rps in dms . I rp in threads, asks or posts. Ask around if you do not know what that means.

🦄I follow back from my main. You do not have to follow my main back but I would like it if you followed this blog at least back

🦚please read about my character on wiki if you wish to know them. I will not be going into detail about every one but I will post headcanons sometimes

🌹 Rp meme tag: rp memes: hellish memes (look this tag up to see my list of rp memes and use one! You can even use anon! Send one in go for it! Also these rp memes NEVER expire just make sure to specify what meme you were using)

🍷events will be tagged accordingly as well

❤️oh and I'm a multishipper so I will ship lilith and ocs even canon characters. Its possible. I'm doing it.

🎡most rps won't be canon to the blog. Those that are will be tagged accordingly. Events that are canon are usually interactions w other blogs, magic anons, and any comments I make to other canon characters. Non story tag will be #non story: another story written.

-mun Steph 🎠

Events: coming soon

Like for a starter:

#ooc: out of stars #rules: rules of the rabbits

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gingerbreadmonsters · 7 months

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bourbon

or: you know, like the kind you have with tea!

gn!reader, no content warnings, literal actual crack. now look what you’ve done! happy birthday to our wonderful zo - please direct all damages claims to our recently-opened ‘how dare you’ division at @zozo-01 . hope you’re having a gorgeous day - have a slice of colin on me! for those who may not know, i am actually english, so make of that what you will. love to rae for dialect consultation and hotline tag assistance, for the proof if proof were needed that neither the atlantic nor pacific can stand in the way of discord mischief - because we've now tried them both! darlin having an absolute mare in 1600 words or less.

“Darling?”

God, you’ve got to stop going to bed so late. What time is it?

“You up yet?”

Sam’s voice. Mmm. But he’s not here next to you - he sounds like he’s over by the door. Eyes still closed, you wave one arm vaguely in his direction in a feeble attempt to persuade him back into bed with you. “No.”

He laughs, walking over to take your hand, but unfortunately standing his ground when you try to pull him down. Stupid vampire strength.

“Nice try, darling,” he says, and it sounds… weird, somehow. “But we said we’d be round at Milo’s at half eleven, and we’re not about to be late again.”

The more he speaks, the stranger he sounds. What’s wrong with him? There’s definitely something funny about it, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

“Did you-” Blearily, you crack one eye open to look at him - he looks just the same as ever, handsome even in the darkness of the blackout curtains. “Wait, what did you say?”

Sam rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and the sight is so beautifully familiar that it’s almost enough to make you wonder if you really just didn’t hear him right. Then he opens his mouth, and nope, you were right. There’s something wrong.

“I said, they’re expecting us at Milo’s at half eleven, and it’s almost quarter past ten.” What sort of fucked-up fever dream is this? “Now, are you getting up, or am I carrying you?”

The words don’t come, staring up at him in abject confusion, your mouth just hanging open as you try desperately to make sense of what he’s saying. Why does he sound so - so-

“...Darling?”

-so English?

After a few seconds of bewildered eye contact, he seems to gather that you’re currently incapable of human speech, and lets go of your hand.

“Right then,” he says, and it’s starting to make your head hurt a bit. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready, then.”

“Yeah.” You nod, plastering on a cheery smile and hurriedly starting to sit up. “Yeah, I’ll, uh - I’ll just be a minute…”

He disappears out the door and you listen as he goes down the stairs and into the kitchen, before reluctantly dragging yourself out of bed and walking over to the wardrobe. What the hell is he doing?

Your first impulse is to say that it’s a prank, that he’s putting on an accent for fun, to try and mess with your head or something. But that can’t be it - Ash and Milo have dragged him into enough of their truth-or-dare games for you to know firsthand how awful he is at accents, and he’d never be able to keep it up for more than a sentence or two, least of all with a straight face. There’s no magic you’ve ever heard of that could make this happen, and people don’t just wake up talking like a completely different person, do they? So is it on purpose? Does he know what he’s doing?

Unsettled, you finish getting dressed and head into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Maybe that will make things a bit more ordinary, right? You’ve just… woken up on the wrong side of bed. You must just be hearing things. Hopefully, when you go downstairs, everything will be back to normal.

“There you are, darling. All alright?”

You’re in the kitchen. Everything is not back to normal.

It doesn’t smell like coffee. Hazily, you let Sam nudge you into a chair at the dining table, numbly accepting the offered glass of water and bowl of - is that Weetabix? God, you haven’t had this stuff in ages. It’s still as cardboard-y as ever, but you’re not really paying attention. Someone’s feeling unusually chatty this morning, it seems, and it’s starting to seriously throw you off now.

“-and he was going on about something Vincent said - have to admit, half of it was in French so I only got the gist, but-”

A pause, while he takes a sip of his Earl Grey. Your head is going to explode.

“But anyway, apparently it all went a bit pear-shaped - he said he’d had to leg it downstairs ‘cause Alexis had caught him nicking gum off her desk, but there’d been a delivery downstairs, right, and-”

“Are you okay?”

He stops, taken slightly aback, and you realise that you’ve said it out loud.

“You just - you-” Hastily, you try to clarify, hands waving awkwardly in front of you as you speak like it’ll help. “Your voice…”

He has the gall to look confused. “What about it?”

“Oh, you know!” you say through a mouthful of Weetabix. “The accent?”

“Yeah, I… I know,” he replies, like you’ve just told him the sky is blue. “I have one.”

“Not that one!”

Sam takes another sip of tea, utterly bemused. “What other one would I have?”

“But you’re not - you’re American!” Frustrated, your spoon clatters against the empty bowl as you dump it in the sink to wash up later, and you cross your arms as you turn to face him across the kitchen. “You’re literally from Mont Blanc!”

“...Yeah?” He seems to be taking the impromptu interrogation in stride now, raising an eyebrow in what he probably thinks is a playful challenge, but to you it’s reading more as wilful ignorance. “What about it?”

You take a deep, calming breath. It… well, it sort of works.

“Sam.”

“Yes?”

Hopefully, the smile you’re putting on looks a lot easier than it feels, like you’re playing along with the joke. “You can stop doing the voice now, I get it.”

He blinks. “The… voice.”

“Yeah.” Your head is starting to ache, ever so slightly. “The whole British thing.”

“British? But I’m not…?” He finishes his tea, setting the mug down on the countertop behind him, head tipping to one side as he looks at you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re American.”

“Yes,” he says, “Which really shouldn’t be news at this point, darling-”

“And you’ve never lived in the UK.” To be honest, you’re mostly just thinking out loud at this point, but he replies all the same.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve never even been to England before.”

“Well, unless you count a stopover in London on the way to France - must have been… ooh, five, six years ago? Oh, it was wonderful, William wanted us to visit some of his old m-”

“So why are you talking like that!” you wail, thoroughly confused and head aching even worse than before. “It’s not - you - you don’t - aarghh!”

Fuck this, fuck this whole stupid game, fuck this trip to Milo’s house for whatever birthday party bullshit he said he’d do - you’re going back to bed. Now. Sam tries to catch your arm as you pass him, stomping back out of the kitchen and clutching your head in your hands, but he catches sight of your too-sharp teeth and clearly thinks better of it. Good. You’d never actually bite him like this, but it’s just what happens with wolves.

He calls out after you, but you don’t hear it - everything’s just a blur of sound that washes over you in a strange, dizzy wave. In the end, you don’t even make it upstairs, throwing yourself down on the loveseat and grumpily hiding under the blanket draped over the back.

It’s pleasantly warm under here, and everything makes sense. It’s all normal. Nobody says weird things, or talks in some weird voice that they’re not supposed to have. It’s quiet, and it’s dark, and everything is back to how it should be.

Absentmindedly, you realise that you’ve shifted through your pyjamas. Never mind. It’s nice like this, curled up on the soft cushion, nose tucked neatly under your tail. Comforting. Safe.

No sound except your quiet breathing, no light except what little bleeds through the softness of the blanket. Nobody here but you.

There’s nothing to worry about.

There’s nothing going on.

It’s all going to be absolutely f-

“Darlin’, you - woah!”

It takes your eyes barely half a second to adjust to the light, clawing the blanket aside with a low snarl at whoever dares to come and annoy you, but-

“Easy, there!” Wait, this isn’t right - you were downstairs a minute ago. How are you back in bed again? And you’re human again - but you didn’t shift back, did you? “Jesus, you damn near took my head off…”

So caught up in your confusion, you barely even realise what's different now.

“Anyhow, now you’re up, you’d best be gettin’ dressed,” Sam says over his shoulder, turning to leave. “Milo wants us round in an hour, and unless we want another dressing down from Marie, we probably ought to be there on time for once.”

Before he can get too far, you reach out and grab his hand. You don’t really know why. It just feels right.

He looks down at you with a smile, pleased, if a little confused. “You okay?”

“Hmm?” Shaking your head slightly, you’re just happy to hear him. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You were pretty noisy, from what I heard,” he laughs, thumb stroking slowly over the backs of your fingers. “Didn’t know you were a sleeptalker. Havin’ a strange dream or somethin’?”

“I, uh…”

A deep, calming breath. It smells like coffee.

“Yeah, well. Something like that.”

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted crack #redacted fluff #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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