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atinylittlepain · 1 year

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crying at night thinking about protective!joel getting angry when he finds out that you’ve started getting close to another man living in the boston QZ. and tess calling him out on his jealousy and obvious attraction to you.

tess to the rescue -- tesscue if you will

Looking

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

He doesn't like the way she flirts with all their customers. But he's not jealous. No, definitely not jealous.

warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, smutty implications, sexual harassment

.............................

“Since when is she running deals for us?” “Since all the feds like customer service with a smile.”

“Tess.”

“Is there a problem, Joel?” He grunts, taking one more look at her, the easy smile she’s giving the guard as she flicks some of her hair out of her eyes. He knows her well enough to know she’s putting on a show for this guy, and it makes his blood boil. Tess steps in front of him, blocking his view.

“Hey, is there a problem?” She enunciates each word slowly and clearly, obvious irritation in her voice. He shakes his head with a huff.

“No– no problem. Just don’t come to me when she gets herself killed by one of these fucking guards.” He shoves off the brick wall he had been leaning against, trudging off toward their apartment, not bothering to glance over to where she’s still playing it up to the guy.

He tells himself that the only reason he’s pissed is that he still doesn’t trust her, the new addition to his and Tess’ smuggling operation, and he doesn’t want her pocketing pay behind their backs. But as the weeks go by of this new set-up, it becomes clear that he doesn’t need to worry about that. Whatever extra sweetness the FEDRA guards throw into their trades with her, she’s sure to share it with him and Tess. It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to laugh in elation when she brought home a bag of coffee the other day, offering it to him with the same smile she was giving to all their customers. Joel has no reason to be so pissed, so cold to her, at least no reason that he’d like to consider. Tess, however, seems to think otherwise.

“You keep staring like that and you’re gonna burn a hole through the back of her head.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tess snorts, nudging his shoulder with hers where they’re standing a bit further down the alley, both of them watching her finish another deal with another guard.

“Joel, we’ve been partners for what– five years now? In all that time I’ve never seen the look you get when you’re looking at her so maybe cut the bullshit, yeah? Because she thinks that you hate her.” He scoffs, toeing his boots into the cracked asphalt.

“Don’t hate her– I just– don’t like the way she acts– with these boys. She’s gonna get herself– I don’t know– jesus– will you just drop it?” Tess puts her hands up as if in surrender, a smirk that’s all too smug for Joel’s taste stamped across her face as she shuffles out of the alley. He settles back against the wall with a sigh, keeping his eyes fixed on her and the guard. How long does it take to trade some fucking pills?

She’s good at what she does, Joel will give her that, letting out breathy giggles as the guard smiles at her, running her hand down his forearm before waggling her fingers at him as she turns to leave, the bright facade she had been using immediately falling away as she looks to Joel with a firm but subtle nod. He presses off the wall as she falls into step beside him, both of them weaving through the crowded streets of the QZ back to the apartment building. She lives a door down from him, their proximity was what had originally drawn her into their business, but most of her time is spent in his apartment now, working out new deals and supply chains with Tess.

“Extra ration cards on top of the agreed on payment. And a date. But I’m not sharing that perk with you, Miller.” He huffs at her teasing, keeping his eyes focused on counting out the cards as he slumps down onto the musty sofa in his apartment. Tess is nowhere to be found, most likely off running some sort of scheme elsewhere in the QZ.

“Hardly call that a perk, darlin. Don’t know why you even entertain those boys. Ain’t nothing but trouble.” She sighs, tilting her head to rest on her shoulder as she looks at him.

“Those boys happen to have A-one access to any and all supplies you could possibly want. You can scowl all you want, Miller, but it pays to be on their good side.”

“Well then, when’s this date of yours?”

“Tonight, don’t wait up, Miller.” He scoffs, muttering a low “wouldn’t dream of it” as she’s already walking out the door.

…

“Joel, what the fuck are you doing? You’ve been standing at that window all night.” His head whips around, grimacing at Tess before he promptly goes back to scouring the darkened streets outside his window.

“It’s late. She should be home by now.” Tess scoffs.

“Oh please. You just don’t want to consider that maybe she’s not home because she’s getting laid right now. I say good for her, getting some action and some more supplies in one fell swoop.” Joel doesn’t like the sound of that at all, Tess’ words moving him away from the window to grab his jacket and head for the front door.

“What’re you doing now?” He glances at her over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.

“I’m glad you think this is funny, really. But I don’t. I’m going to look for her.” He closes the door before he can hear Tess’ exasperated exclamation.

“Fucking lovesick fool.”

…

He’s not sure where he should be looking, quickly realizing how stupid this is. It’s past curfew, so he sticks to the alleyways, ducking under the bright lights of the patrol cars whenever they roll by. He makes it a few blocks away from their apartment building before the reality of how foolish he’s being sets in. Just as he’s getting ready to turn heel back home, his ears prick to a shuffling sound coming from deeper down the alley. He moves toward the sound, sliding along one of the walls of the alley to stay in the shadows. His stomach twists when he hears a voice.

“C’mon, baby. You were so friendly this afternoon. Just let me have a little peek, huh?” Her voice answers, clearly laced with a strained distress.

“Just- just stop. It’s past curfew, what if we get caught?” The man laughs, and it takes everything in Joel not to sprint down the alley and take him out right then.

“You don’t gotta worry about getting caught when you’re with me. I run these streets. Now I suggest you quit being a little bitch and give me what I want.” He finally catches sight of them, dim figures in the outer reaches of a lone streetlamp. The man has her cornered up against the wall of the alley, his hands tugging at her clothes as she tries to push him off.

Joel moves before he can think, and in the blink of an eye, he has the man on the ground, bringing his fist down again and again as rage washes over him. The only thing that finally stops his blind rampage is a firm hand on his shoulder. He takes a shuddering breath, looking down at the man’s now pummeled face, a mess of blood, before looking over his shoulder to meet her watery gaze.

“We need to leave before someone comes looking, c’mon.” Neither of them speak as they hustle through alleys to get back to the apartment, but she holds Joel’s bloodied hand the whole way, tugging him out of his anger-induced haze.

…

“You came looking for me.” Her voice is a faint murmur as she keeps her gaze focused on his hand, daubing at his split knuckles with a damp rag in the bathroom of his apartment. He’s trying not to think too hard about the way she’s kneeling between his legs where he’s sitting on the lip of the bathtub, but his breath still catches when she finally looks up at him.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you.”

“What? Joel, you don’t even like me.” He swallows thickly and she huffs at his silence, getting back to work at cleaning his busted hand.

“That’s not true.” Her hands still and she looks up at him again.

“It isn’t?” He shakes his head.

“No, it’s not. I– I like you, I do. What I don’t like is how you act with all those boys. It just– it makes me– fuck, it makes me nervous.” She sits back, fully looking at him, her brows raised in surprise.

“You? Nervous?” He huffs, not missing the crooked ghost of a smirk that spreads over her face.

“Those boys are no good, darlin. It may seem like a game to you– swiping a few extra ration cards here and there with a bat of your eyes– but I’ve seen what they’re capable of. That’s why I went looking for you– because the thought of something– of him– I couldn’t–” His rambles die in his throat when she places her palm on his thigh.

“Thank you, Joel. For– helping me tonight. You were right, at least about this one.” Her eyes fall and Joel feels worry kicking back up in his chest, bringing his hand to her jaw and coaxing her to look at him.

“He didn’t try anything else, did he? Are you– are you alright?” She sighs, but nods, her cheek pressing lightly into his palm.

“I’m fine. Got there just in time, Miller.” His shoulders slump in relief.

“I don’t want you doing deals anymore.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he presses on.

“We do just fine without all the extras. If they want pills so bad they can go through me. Tess has some new connections on the border of Vermont, could use your help mapping a route, I’m guessing. But no more of that cute shit, alright?” She grins, and he immediately regrets that last bit.

“So what I’m hearing is, you like me and you think I’m cute.” He immediately takes his hand away from her face as she laughs, her eyes crinkling up at his grumbling expression.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease–”

“Oh, I think you do, darlin.” That makes her laugh again and Joel has to fight off his own crooked smile. She sighs, taking one more look at his knuckles before standing and tilting her head as she looks at him.

“That’s the best I can do for your hand–” Joel’s breath stutters when she bends over, resting a hand on his shoulder as she brings her lips to his good ear.

“And for the record, I like you too, Miller.” He swallows hard before speaking, worried that his voice might give away more than he’d like it to.

“You do?” She pulls away only slightly, looking him right in the eye as she nods.

“Call me crazy, but I like ‘em a little mean.” It happens so fast, he thinks he’s been electrocuted by the bright zap of her lips smacking a kiss to his cheek. She’s already out the door when he brings his palm to where her lips just were.

Maybe Tess was right.

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine

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lenaellsi · 2 months

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after my latest rewatch I am even more convinced that crowley really doesn't have the intense self-loathing issues he's commonly depicted with. like he has some regrets and bad memories and insecurities like everyone does, and he's under an insane amount of stress basically always, but he's very confident in who he is. he's not particularly happy about being a demon, but that isn't the same thing as hating himself for it. he hates hell, not himself.

like. he’s not upset about being called one of “the bad guys” because he agrees, he’s upset because he knows aziraphale is wrong, and because this is evidence that aziraphale still believes in a philosophy that has divided them since even before his fall. he has never once considered himself less than aziraphale or any other angel. I think it's clear that he's pretty offended by that implication, actually!

“crawly” as a name is too squirming-at-your-feet-ish for him because he knows who he is, and he sees value in that person. his depression and his worrying relationship with his own life and safety come from his feelings on god and predestination, not from self-loathing. crowley does not believe in the system. he doesn’t believe in the idea that people are purely good or evil, and he’s sure enough of himself to know that he's not either. that's why he's able to make the choices he does. he's able to act in the gray spaces between heaven and hell (see: job, the flood, the "virtues of poverty," armageddon, etc etc) because he is confident enough to make those decisions without worrying about what the powers that be say about what's "right" and "wrong."

that doesn’t mean that he’s not self-conscious. he’s very concerned with what humans think of him, what aziraphale thinks of him, and (out of self-preservation) what hell thinks of him. he hides his eyes and puts on a cool, flashy persona to hide the more vulnerable parts of himself. I think everyone does that, to a degree, but it's especially obvious in crowley because of how it manifests in his glasses. he's been burned (literally) before, and he knows better than to show weakness when he could be hurt like that again.

and re: the "I never meant to fall" thing--he's upset about being a demon, yeah, because the fall sounds like it sucked, and his job tortures him when he's Good or just Bad in the wrong way, and he's deeply lonely, and the love of his life has a complex about their relationship, and he's trapped in a system where he has to blindly follow one of two nearly-identical sets of bullshit morality rules or be executed. but again, he's mad at god, heaven, and hell for all of that. I'm sure he's angry at himself for all sorts of reasons often enough, because crowley is generally a pretty angry person, but he doesn't hate himself in any sort of existential "I am an unlovable monster" way.

maybe sometimes he regrets falling. maybe sometimes he thinks it would be easier if he never did. maybe sometimes he hates his fucking line manager and wishes he could do any other job for a while. but no part of crowley thinks that he is any worse of a person after the fall, or any less worthy of aziraphale's company. he just thinks aziraphale thinks that, because of the amount of times aziraphale has told him so.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #long post #if you are looking for a character with rampant self-loathing and self-doubt issues due to his relationship with god and heaven #may I introduce you to a guy called aziraphale ziraphale fell

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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I have an idea! Imagine reader and james are bestfriend, reader ask james to help her find a lingerie (bcs she want to impress a boy she like) so there he is sitting infront of the changing room and having to watch the reader change into multiple lingerie w a hard on.

Maybe then he realize that he doesn’t want anyone to see his bestf like this?

I love a possessive jamie!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: sexual implications, nothing explicit though

bestfriend!James x fem!reader ♡ 472 words

“It was fucking awful,” James laments, nursing a cup of tea and shoving biscuit after biscuit into his mouth. He’s at Remus and Sirius’ flat, after inventing some plans with his friends as an excuse to get away from you. “I had to think of my gran wearing that stuff just to be able to stand up when she was ready to leave.”

“I still don’t understand why you agreed to go in the first place,” Remus says while Sirius tries to get his giggling under control. “Why would you help the woman you’re in love with pick out lingerie for another guy?”

“I’m not in love with her!” James throws up his hands, sick of having this same argument every time you come up. “I mean, I do love her—she’s my best friend. But I mean, you could put me in front of any attractive girl when she’s wearing something like that, and I’m bound to have some thoughts. It didn’t matter that it was her, specifically. It was…it was boobs. It’s boobs’ fault.”

Sirius cackles, and James lobs a biscuit at him.

“I’d like to see you try to keep yourself under control in that situation, Pads. It’s biology, I couldn’t help it!”

“Oh, I know the feeling.” Sirius grins, reclining back against Remus’ chest. “Seems like exactly how I felt when I found out Moony here had made out with half of Gryffindor.”

Remus rolls his eyes, as sick of this joke as James is of the ones about you. Still, he wraps a hand around Sirius’ thigh in solidarity.

“It’s different,” James grumbles. “That was…well, that was you two.”

“He makes a good point,” Remus says, and Sirius tilts his head back to beam up at his boyfriend proudly. “We both know what it feels like to think you love someone as a friend when it’s really something more.”

James glowers. “She was in a black. Lacy. Set. I am not made of stone!”

Remus only hums, sipping at his tea. “If it was your gran, you wouldn’t think the same.”

James shudders. “Why would you remind me of that?”

“So what’s next?” Sirius asks, raising a brow. “Do you want us to go sabotage her date with this bloke? Or better yet, lock her in her house so she can’t meet up with him at all?”

“I’m glad you’re on board,” James says, recovering from his disgust and beginning to look rather satisfied as he munches on another biscuit. “I’m thinking we hex him to be horrifically ugly. She won’t think of showing him her little outfit if he shows up and he’s got a face made entirely of warts.”

Remus and Sirius exchange a look. With a sigh, Remus begins stroking his hand up and down his boyfriend’s thigh consolingly.

“He’ll get it eventually,” he says.

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cambion-companion · 9 months

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Here’s ya girl who has gone completely feral over astarion. He’s the babiest baby. Okay, here’s the prompt. My characterisation could be a bit (or a lot lol) off bc I haven’t played the game Y E T so feel free to change the things that seem OOC.

Established relationship, but the beginnings of it, on a mission to find a way for astarion to be in the sun again. Reader has given astarion time to work on his sexual trauma so they haven’t been having sex for some time. Reader is 100% ok w that. But they have a big argument over something (not related to sex) and astarion doesn’t know how to resolve the situation other than reverting back to his seductive artifice and using sex as a way to ensure his safety (in this case, emotional safety). Reader figures it out because they (or she) are not dumb. They reassure astarion and he lets himself be vulnerable but also, it turns out that astarion wants that sexual intimacy. But reader decides this will be all about astarion and making him feel good and loved. Body worship, astarion’s praise kink, just everything focused on astarion’s pleasure in a way he has never experienced and that makes him completely unravel once he comes. Not a subby reader, tho. You know me, I don’t do subby.

If this is too long of a prompt, just the sexy part will be ok. Thank you so much, i have such astarion brainrot DDDD:

I Want to Live

word count: 1700

gn!reader x Astarion | Baldur's Gate 3 fanfic | 18+ only

"I don't think we should use the tadpoles for anything, Astarion." You put your hands on your hips, glaring at the sulky Elf in front of you.

This tense conversation between the two of you had gone on far longer than you'd have liked. Astarion seemed insistent on using whatever advantage the Illithids had unintentionally given your party. Despite not yet knowing the implications of doing so.

Astarion's silver hair glinted in the firelight that warmed your back, his eyes shone like droplets of blood. "You might as well leave me alone, spoilsport." He waved an imperious hand in your direction, sneering at you in the way he knew would hurt you most. "Since you insist on being boring and unimaginative."

You ground your teeth. "I'm trying to keep us safe."

"And a fine job you're doing, my sweet." His lilting voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you ask Arabella how her parents are doing?" He paused, then feigned surprise. "Oh wait..."

Your eyes widened as a jolt of genuine pain lanced through your heart at his callous words. Astarion was aiming to do damage and, like always, he knew how to push your buttons.

Magic sparked at the end of your fingertips as you fought to control your rage. It was the lack of verbal response that alerted Astarion to the fact he might have pushed a little too far with you. His face almost looked regretful for a moment, or perhaps it was a trick of the firelight casting shadows across his features. You didn't gain much insight because of the tears blurring your vision as you quickly turned away and strode as far away from the vampire spawn as you could.

Shadowheart, who always seemed to overhear everything, cast a worried glance your direction before leveling a glare on Astarion who still watched after you with a blank look.

You sat yourself upon your bedroll before the campfire and listened to Volo squeakily tune his lute. Wyll and Gale were over by their tents chatting and Lae'zel sat on a boulder by the river sharpening her sword.

You had thought Astarion would understand and perhaps even agree with you, and the rest of the camp for that matter, that the parasites should not be utilized to gain control of other beings. It was convenient and downright useful, yes...but not worth an unknown cost.

You had thought...since that night when the two of you had become intimate...that he'd maybe come to care for you. But that jab about Arabella's parents, who you'd failed to save, only confirmed that the vampire did not have your best interests at heart.

Sighing, you moved your bedroll away from its usual place beside Astarion's and arranged it next to where Karlach slept. You could feel multiple pairs of eyes watching you move about but you didn't much care at the moment.

Karlach gave you a curious and concerned look as she came over and got comfortable for the night. "Are you alright? I could hear you and Astarion going at it...and not in the fun way."

You grunted and moved your body to the side so you could scrape out a rock that had been digging into your back. "It's fine. He's just an ass." You said these words loud enough for him to hear.

Karlach shrugged and nodded as if this were common knowledge. She gave you a jolting pat on the back before getting comfortable in her own bedroll.

As the breathing patterns of your companions slowly deepened in slumber, you could not find any rest. You tossed and turned as best you could in such primitive sleeping arrangements. You missed your bed back in Baldur's Gate above the taproom of the Shadowcat Claw, the familiar bustle of voices and a mug of ale in your belly lulling you to sleep. Out in this wilderness, with the thought of your argument with Astarion tugging at your thoughts...you had to get up.

As quietly as you could, you slid out of your bedroll and got to your feet. A quick observation of your companions told you they were all in a deep sleep. All except Lae'zel who sat on the boulder still, keeping silent watch. She nodded at you curtly as you passed and didn't ask any questions, for which you were grateful.

You crept through the foliage down to the place in the forest by the river where you and Astarion had had your midnight tryst. You could still feel his moonlight hair running through your fingers, his fangs on your neck as you arched it just for him. The trust...you thought you had at least earned a little bit of his trust.

"I thought I'd find you here." His voice was velvet, it shivered straight through your defenses to your heart.

"I wanted to be alone, Astarion." You tried to keep your own voice cool and collected, but you ached to hold him in your arms again.

Astarion had followed you from the campsite into the woods. He'd been fully aware of your restlessness, of course he had. He entered your line of sight now, looking very much like a cat stalking its prey. His ruby eyes were dark and trained on your face. "Come now, you're far too obvious for all this bluster. Do you not want to feel me again?" He gave you a crooked smile, showing his teeth. "A second taste, perhaps?"

You felt the hollowness of his words and saw the carefully arranged expression he wore like a mask. Beneath the facade you could make out the telltale twitch of a facial muscle, the tenseness of his eyes, indicating anxiety.

You sighed. "I thought we were passed these games."

"Games?" Astarion's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "Games are all part of the fun, my dear. So good at getting the blood pumping."

You folded your arms. "I want an apology."

This tripped him up. For a moment the facade slipped, and he seemed genuinely taken aback. "Apologize?" Then he was back to his usual bluster. "Me? Apologize for what?"

"For having a go at me today. Bringing up Arabella's parents when you know how upset I am about it." Astarion made a noise as if to speak but you cut across him. "That was cruel, Astarion, and I deserve better from you."

"I didn't..." Astarion sighs heavily, his eyes glancing down to the ground then back at your face. "I apologize." The words seemed to pain him in some way. "I wanted to get a rise out of you, that's all. Now let's forget about that and have some fun."

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, saying nothing, simply watching his face lit in the silver moonlight. His unconvincing grin slowly slipped off his face, a troubled frown replacing it. The two of you looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, you spoke.

"You're testing how much I care for you, aren't you?" Your voice was soft, almost inaudible over the rippling stream.

Astarion seemed momentarily taken aback, he seemed to consider taking shelter once more behind his mask of pompous indifference. But then his shoulder's slumped slightly, the fists at his sides loosened. That was all the answer you needed.

You stepped forward and placed your hands around his, tugging him closer. He did not resist, his footfalls light as ever as he drew near. Close enough to feel his breath warm your lips.

"I care about you, Astarion." Your voice was still soft amidst the rustling leaves and sparkling water. "I discourage you from using the tadpole's powers because I couldn't bear to see your will overtaken by yet another monster."

Astarion was silent for a long time, his scarlet eyes turned silver as a moonbeam fell across his pallid face. When he spoke, his voice sounded strained. "What if it's too late for me? To be anything other than a monster? My only choice is which one." He laughs forcefully, bitterness twisting his mouth.

"I won't let that happen." You encircled him tenderly in a hug, pulling him to rest flush against your body. "We're in this...together."

"Together." The word was echoed back to you, his voice framing the syllables as if it were a foreign tongue.

You turned your face into him and kissed his neck softly, feeling his body tense in your arms and then slowly relax. You kept your lips against his skin, over where Cazador had sunk his fangs all those centuries ago.

Astarion's hands slowly slid up your hips to rest against your lower back as he held you close. Your lips caressed his neck, throat and trailed up to his jaw until you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you." You murmured.

You felt him tense again, not pushing you away, but his hands tightened on your back. "I..." Astarion hesitated. "I'm not quite ready to say those words back to you, my dear."

"I know." You felt no anger, no hurt. You accepted him however he wished to come to you, grateful for this rare moment of vulnerability beneath the stars.

You pushed him back gently until his back made contact with the base of a large sycamore tree. A huff of air left his lungs, quickly claimed by your mouth as you kissed him hungrily this time. Your hands made quick work of his clothing and Astarion became eager to help the process along.

"Vixen." He murmured and you laughed against his lips, your tongues teasing each other.

"You're beautiful, Astarion." You held his face in your hands and kissed his mouth lightly, not allowing him to turn away even as the compliment made his eyes search yours for hints of disingenuity. "I want nothing from you in return." You said firmly, reading his emotional turmoil through your shared Illithid connection. "This is just for you." You kissed his mouth, his cheek, his forehead. "To keep."

Astarion's head fell back to rest against the tree trunk as you continued lavishing affection upon him. He moaned your name softly to the night sky as you slowly sunk to your knees before him, the dirt and rocks digging unheeded against your knees. His fingers twisted in your hair and guided you to where he wanted you most.

"Good, my love." You praised him, your words causing his body to shake with increasing pleasure. "Show me."

The night was long and full of bliss. A genuine exchange of pleasure, without the previous facades and plays at affection. You felt the change as surely as he did, and when the others awoke in the morning it was to find your bedroll pulled back right next to where Astarion lay curled against you.

"You owe me five gold, Shadowheart." Gale mumbled.

#baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #gale bg3 #shadowheart #bg3 fic #bg3 astarion x reader #astarion x tav #karlach #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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sundrop-writes · 6 months

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Better Than Sleeping

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary:

You and Jason are friends with benefits. Though you have come to realize that the relationship doesn’t always ‘benefit’ you when he ends up annoying you after a long, tiring day of training.

(He quickly makes you come to see that his annoying persistence can benefit you, even if you would never admit it aloud.)

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 5,300

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Warning: This fic contains Dubious Consent. One character ‘wears down’ the other and ‘convinces them’ to have sex, and both of them display verbal consent that goes against their true actions and desires (they say no to having sex when they do truly want to) and they think of convincing the other person to agree as a kind of ‘game’. It is a relationship that is playful in nature, and this consent is based on bodily queues, facial expressions, and knowing a person’s safety and comfort based on being in a relationship with them for a period of time. If this makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read the fic.

List of detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: friends with benefits, this is primarily a smut fic, the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive (once the sex begins), the reader could be considered a brat, Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (it is a canon event), Jason calls the reader ‘baby’, Jason calls the reader ‘good girl’, dubious consent - coercion (please see the above for an explanation about this), mentions of masturbation (watching someone masturbate), mentions of fucking someone to sleep/fucking someone while they are asleep, mentions of free use kink, mentions of cumming inside someone/unprotected sex, marking/biting, groping/touching through underwear (reader receiving), orgasm denial (toward the reader), ‘just the tip’,teasing, there is a point where Jason’s dick is inside her without a condom but he doesn’t cum, and he puts on a condom before fully penetrating (what would you call that?), begging, slight mentions of subspace (but it’s more so described as a lustful drunkness), there is implications toward the end of fucking someone to sleep/fucking someone while they are asleep with their permission. I believe that is everything.

A/N: This is definitely one of my favourite things I have written. I thought maybe I was going to edit it some before re-posting it, but I was rereading it the other day and I actually realized that it's really good the way it is, so here you go - some random cocky Jason smut, inspired by the 'just the tip' trope. I hope you enjoy!

...

You knew that becoming a Titan was never going to be easy.

But fuck, this was a lot harder than you imagined it would be. Dick Grayson was quickly becoming your least favorite person. Between the 5am wake up calls and the endless workout routines, paired with the bland ‘nutrient filled’ meal plans he had everyone on to ‘fuel your bodies’ for training - he was becoming a menial drill sergeant that you couldn’t get away from. One of the only things that made it better was the fact that you had friends around - the ability to joke about him with Rachel, Gar, and Jason behind his back. Was it a bit mean-spirited? Yes. Did you feel less guilty about it whenever he added more onto the training routine? Also yes.

You had no clue when these skills you were working so hard on were ever going to come into play. Every single night, Dick retired himself into the comms room full of computers to ‘monitor the city for threats’ - but he seemingly never found anything worthy of the team’s attention. At least not yet. So you went about the routine of training hard, becoming exhausted, falling into bed to sleep and then doing it all over again.

Oh - and there was the other thing. The not so occasional part of your routine where Jason fucked your brains out. The fact that the two of you had developed a mutually beneficial relationship to help ‘relieve’ each other when you were horny, a quintessential friends with benefits situation. But with your muscles sore from training and your entire body so exhausted, that was the farthest thing from your mind on this night.

After a long, hard day of training, the last thing you wanted to hear was a knock on your bedroom door. You hoped that it was simply Gar asking to borrow some of your body wash again (because he liked the smell), or Rachel asking you to kill a spider in her room, and not Dick alerting you to some surprise training drill that he had suddenly thought up.

You shoved your pajama top over your head, finishing getting changed for the night, and rushed across the room to the door. When you opened it, you barely had time to gauge if you were pleased or displeased at seeing Jason before he spoke.

“I’m horny.” He announced abruptly, being very abrupt about delivering his feelings.

But it was in character for him, and didn’t surprise you in the least.

You hated that your stomach jolted at his words, even if just out of Pavlovian habit. It had been only two days since the last time he had fucked you. He had caught you in the shower in the morning, snuck into the bathroom with a condom between his teeth and opened the shower door to join you while you were distracted meditatively washing your hair. It had been steamy, soapy, slippery, and goddamn wonderful.

But it had left you sore and stiff before training, and you were wondering how much give and take there was - if you truly needed his cock.

“Hello to you too.” You said, your tone just as dead tired as you felt.

You wouldn’t admit that you were a bit horny too. You were tired, and you wanted to go to sleep. So that made you annoyed with his presence. (It should have made you more annoyed than you were.)

Jason bit his lip, raking his eyes up and down your body with an intense heat lurking there. You glared back at him.

Jason was intensely attractive. He was a good looking guy, that was just a fact. And while you did enjoy the way he was looking at you, staring you down like you were a porn star when you were slumped with exhaustion, wearing baggy old pjs with mascara smeared on your face with sweat, your hair a mess from the day - there was barely a spark stirred in your stomach at the idea of fucking him right now. You were just too damn tired. Dick had been running you all into the ground, instituting the same training that Batman had given him, and it was fucking exhausting.

“So - can I come in?” Jason asked.

He gave you a very expectant curl of his lips and tilted his head toward you when you didn’t say anything for a few seconds. You just stood there and stared at him bitterly.

You sighed hard through your nose, not wanting to answer the question.

Fucking him might be nice. A good orgasm before bed. But you needed to put what little energy you had left into your nightly routine and then get a good, long sleep before Dick woke everyone up at ass o’clock again.

“No.” You finally told him. “I’m going to bed.”

You turned and walked back into your room, but left the door open. You hoped that he would get the hint to leave on his own. You grabbed your bottle of makeup remover and a cotton pad and began taking off your makeup.

You weren’t so lucky.

“I’ll go to bed with you, babe.” He announced proudly. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

He then came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You felt the half hardness of his cock pressing into your ass as you wiped away your makeup with stern hands. You tried your hardest not to let him wear you down, even as you felt a tingle between your thighs. He was used to training this hard, so it wasn’t as exhausting for him. Clearly, he didn’t understand how tired you were - how badly you needed the rest.

“Go get in your own bed.” You barked, your tone becoming more strained.

As you leaned closer to the mirror to inspect your face, to make sure that you had gotten all the tiny specs of makeup off, you unintentionally arched your back, pushing your ass much closer to his crotch. Jason let out a quiet moan and you caught him smirking at you in the reflection of the mirror.

He leaned in close, draping his warm body entirely over your back, trapping you there as he put one hand on the dresser and the other on the wall and leaned his body weight on you. You could have shoved him off you if you wanted to - but as you felt a tingling heat creeping up your back, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to.

“Come on, babe.” He sighed into your neck.

His hot breath on such a sensitive place caused a shiver through you that you would deny.

“Why are you being like this? You know if you want a good sleep, getting fucked nice and hard is the best way to get it.” He told you, so entirely cocky. “My cock will put you right to bed, baby.”

The words sent a hard jolt of electricity through you, settling a hard heat through you from your gut all the way to your face, burning uncomfortably through your skin. Combined with the way he ground his increasing hardness against your ass, you were forced to suppress a whimper.

It made you even more annoyed with him - the fact he could play your body like an instrument he had finely tuned. And you reacted with that intense annoyance.

“Why can’t you just masturbate like a normal person?” You scoffed at him, entirely firm, not giving away an ounce of weakness in your voice.

“As if.” He held intense disgust in his voice at the very idea.

He gave another firm dig of his hips, causing you to be pressed into the sharp edge of the dresser - a small twinge of pain that only added to the heat growing in your stomach.

“Why the fuck would I resort to touching myself when I have the sweetest pussy ever to fuck right down the hall?” Jason explained. “But ya know, if you want to watch me jack off, that can be arranged.”

Instead of responding to that, you just rolled your eyes. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice that subtle shift of lust in your features that said this was definitely a new fantasy of yours because he had brought it up.

“You can’t deny that you need it too.” Jason whispered into your ear.

“I need sleep.” You grunted in return.

You then shucked out of his hold, using one of the evasive maneuvers that Dick had taught you in training, ducking under Jason’s arm when he wasn’t expecting it. Before he could blink, you were across the hall and in the bathroom. It was mostly because you knew that if you stood there any longer with his warm body pressed against your back, you would have given in far too easily.

Naturally, Jason followed you.

He stuck by your side through your entire night time routine, trying to wear you down. You weighed the pros and cons in your head without truly listening to him as the exhaustion seeped into your bones and battled with the lust growing inside of you.

Jason brushed his teeth standing next to you in front of the sink while you brushed yours, all the while mumbling excuses through his toothpaste about how the sex would be good aerobic exercise to help with your training. By the time you got to doing your skincare, you ended up putting a face wash and moisturizer on him just to mentally drown out whatever he was saying - something about orgasms and endorphins and how it helps mental health.

As you pulled back the covers to finally settle in, he snuck his way into your bed under the guise of ‘just cuddling’. Though you weren’t anywhere near convinced of that sentiment, you didn’t kick him out of the room or protect. You were surprised, but grateful when he took off his shirt, laid down, and seemed to finally shut up. You weren’t sure which you were more grateful for - the quiet or the stunning eye candy of his tight body on full display. But you didn’t question the fact that he had finally stopped nagging you.

You crawled into bed beside him and settled into his arms. You gave him a kiss on the cheek as a goodnight (knowing that if you kissed him on the mouth, it would turn into something more heated). It was only about two minutes after you shut off your bedside lamp, shrouding the room in darkness, that the talking began again.

“You could sleep through it.” He noted quietly.

You sighed with deep annoyance.

“If you want to. I could be gentle about it.”

His voice continued on from behind you as he spooned you, one arm under your head underneath the pillow and the other laid almost possessively around your waist.

Of course, he didn’t even have to be too descriptive for you to know what ‘it’ was.

The idea of him gently fucking you while you fell into a lazy sleep was entirely too appealing. But he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to win. Especially not after you had put so much of your very little remaining energy into deterring him all night.

“Go to sleep.” You told him with a huff, shoving your head further into the pillow.

He simply chuckled.

You hoped that if you just ignored him, he would shut up and go to sleep.

You would never admit to him that heat bloomed in your stomach at the idea of Jason crawling into your bed when you were already in a deep sleep, using you for his own selfish pleasure and leaving you sore and full of cum to wake up to in the morning.

“Hmm… no.” He replied, as easily as a petulant child, his breath fanning out over your neck once again.

Your heated thoughts easily blossomed into a moan from your lips when he latched onto your neck without warning. He picked a particularly tender spot, sucking hard with teeth and the fullness of his lips, easily knocking the wind out of you. You shoved your heated face tightly into your pillow, praying that he wouldn’t notice your reaction. That he wouldn’t realize he so blatantly had you like putty in his hands. If he knew that, he would know that he could just take whatever he wanted and you wouldn’t protest. Not in the slightest.

Jason already knew that. But he wasn’t just going to pull down your shorts and slam his cock into you. As much fun as that would be - he wasn’t barbaric. Plus - now that he had one of your sweet little sounds in his ears, he wanted more. He wanted to hear you beg for it after denying him for so long.

He moved his arm from being so tightly around your waist, and pushed your shirt up. You tried your best to put up a wall of indifference toward this. He began skimming his touch oh so lightly along the roundness of your stomach, right above the band of your shorts. You knew he felt the shiver that ran through you, but you refused to say anything. You weren’t pretending to be asleep at this point, but it was a game to the two of you. You still refused to give in.

But he was playing to win.

He shoved his hand into the waistband of your shorts, touching you outside the fabric of your underwear. His skin felt like he could have burned you, even through the fabric. You had to make a conscious effort not to buck forward into the touch. When his fingers skimmed across your hotly beating clit (when had you gotten so turned on?) you swallowed another whimper and steadied your voice.

“Jason.” You said his name firmly, like a warning bell. “If you don’t behave yourself, I’m gonna kick you out.”

“I don’t think you will.” He whispered into your neck, defiantly cocky once again.

He sucked another hard, hot mark onto your skin as he cupped your pussy whole in his palm and began grinding the heel of his hand against your clit.

You let out a wobbling moan and your body thrashed, your energy so depleted that you could no longer hold back your body’s natural reactions to him. You were met with the hard wall of his body behind you, so firm and perfectly hot as he pressed himself tighter into you.

He gave a satisfied grin into your skin and only doubled down, putting more pressure on your throbbing clit and causing hot waves from that point, adding to the rolling boil that raged under your skin.

With the beautifully firm pressure and Jason’s talent, the way he knew your body so well, you could have come from this alone. Especially as the pleasure throbbed through your core, your underwear became more soaked through and it was all so beautifully smooth and wet.

Jason began grinding his cock - still trapped inside a pair of sweats - against the back of your thigh. He groaned into your neck when he felt a pleasurable tingling of his own spreading through his gut, though he craved to be inside of you. As much as he was enjoying this - the sweet, needy sounds falling from your lips, the way your thighs clamped around his wrist, as though desperately trying to keep him in place while your hips humped against his hand like a bitch in heat - he knew that he needed more.

And he was going to make you beg for it.

When he felt the signature twitch of your legs that said you were about to cum, he stopped. He held his hand completely still, his strong arm easily pinning your hips down to the bed to prevent you from humping against him and simply taking what you needed. In that moment, he even curled two of his fingers up to shove the fabric of your underwear inside of you slightly, creating a sharp sting that reminded you just how empty you were feeling.

“Jay-!” You let out his name in a petulant whine, about to scold him for the ruined orgasm, but he cut you off.

“You gonna ask me nicely now?” He rumbled into your ear. “Admit you were wrong?”

You wanted to bark out ‘either make me cum, or go to your own damn bed’ - but you knew that Jason was just as petty as you were. At that point, he would have gotten up and left for his own bed just to prove a point.

“You’re keeping me awake right now.” You huffed out, trying your best to sound annoyed. (Which wasn’t too difficult, considering how badly the ruined orgasm had frustrated you.) “My point still stands.”

Of course, sleeping was the farthest thing from your mind now. The sexual frustration had injected a new wave of energy through you, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to rest until you were truly satisfied.

Unfortunately, Jason knew that too.

“Okay.” Jason sighed quietly, giving a click of his tongue.

He then completely pulled his hand out of your shorts and pulled away from your body. It seemed like he was moving to get out of the bed - you worried you had accidentally triggered that signature pettiness in him.

But as usual, Jason Todd surprised you.

You bit your lip to hold back a cheer when he reached for the waistband of your shorts and underwear pulled them down all at once, exposing your hot, soaked cunt to the cool air of the room. (At some point, the blanket had been accidentally shoved off you.) You took a glance over your shoulder and of course, he was shoving his pants down to his knees. You caught a glimpse of his long, thick, hard cock bobbing out of the fabric in the darkness. But you didn’t dare to spend too much time admiring it, for fear of making him too cocky.

You relaxed against your pillow in satisfaction, waiting for Jason to grab a condom out of the bedside table’s drawer so that he could literally fuck you to sleep.

You were surprised when he scooted back toward you, pressing himself right up against your back once more. He proceeded to simply press his hips against yours - his cock laid flat against the bare folds of your leaking pussy, immediately becoming slick with your wetness. But be made no moves to grab a condom or even tease you by pushing inside of you raw.

(Which - yes, the two of you had agreed to always use condoms, but it was secretly a fantasy of yours that he would go against the rule because of his overbearing need to feel you raw - or even the need to cum inside of you).

But instead of doing any of that, Jason seemed to be settling in to relax.

Jason draped himself across your back, wrapped his arm around your waist again, and gently laid his head on your shoulder. But he made no effort to move, or fuck you. Your pussy throbbed with need, feeling the hot, hard length pressed against you, entirely unmoving. When you clenched around nothing, you let out a wave of slick that you knew he could feel right on his cock. You felt a groan catch inside his chest, but still, he didn’t move.

“Jason.” You breathed out, having to question him after a few more moments of silence and stillness. “What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep.” He answered, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought you wanted me to just shut up and leave you alone so that you could get some rest?”

That. Little. Shit.

You resisted the urge to elbow him in the face.

Obviously, being so close to you, he felt your entire body tense up with anger and annoyance. He was only able to partially hold back his satisfactory laughter. When the quiet snickers met your ears, you became even more annoyed.

“Jason.” You scolded him gruffly.

“Oh? I’m sorry,” He said, entirely sarcastic. “Did you want something?”

“Did you want something?” You parroted back, mocking his words in a childish voice.

Essentially, you had no more clever comebacks left. He had won.

“I guess I can give you something for your troubles, babe.” Jason sighed, as though it were a grand inconvenience to him. “Maybe just the tip, though.”

“Just the tip.” You sighed, finding yourself repeating his words once again. Though this time your voice was dead and sarcastic rather than mocking - mostly because you didn’t believe him.

You knew that in Jason land, ‘just the tip’ meant slamming his entire cock into you after the tip lingered in your entrance for a moment. You clenched down on nothing again at the thought.

Once again, you were expecting him to grab a condom so he could fuck you freely without worry. You were surprised when he peeled his body away from you slightly and reached down to grab his cock. After a moment of rubbing the fat cockhead along your folds to get it nice and wet, he did as promised and pushed the tip inside.

It was the first time he had ever been inside of you without the barrier of a condom, and feeling his hot, raw skin touching yours - even just a little bit, made you gasp.

“Jason!”

Your voice was whiny even to your own ears, so needy for him after so much teasing. Upon instinct, feeling that painfully empty ache coming from deep inside you, you arched your back and attempted to shove your hips toward him - attempted to pull more of his thickness inside of you. But Jason was quicker, and he had his hands on both your hips, shoving you down onto the bed so hard and fast that the tip of his cock fell out of you with a wet pop.

It was a sound that made heat beat through your cheeks, and the feeling of his wet cockhead brushing against the backs of your thighs took your breath away.

“Oops.” He chuckled, and moved to slot himself back into position.

You had no clue why it was so dizzyingly hot.

But this time he held you down firmly so you couldn’t simply fuck yourself back onto his cock. You moaned as the thickness of the cockhead popped back inside of you - you yearned for more, but he stayed still.

After a moment, he began to move his hips so slightly, feeding no more than an inch of his cock into your throbbing cunt before pulling it back out. It was an entirely careful movement on his part where he fed you the first inch, and didn’t let the tip pop out again, in pathetically shallow thrusts that could barely be called sex. Your pussy ached, tingled, yearned for more.

You mentally cursed Batman for teaching him such good self discipline and him using it for this.

“Jason.” You whined, trying fruitlessly to fight against the firm grip he had on your hips in order to fuck yourself on his cock.

“What, babe?” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss a line across your shoulder.

“You know what.” You replied, your tone even more frustrated and whiny.

You wiggled your hips desperately, trying to get more of him inside of you. You yearned to feel the perfect ache of his thick cock splitting you open, hitting all of those perfect spots so deep inside of you.

“No, I don’t.” He told you, his voice somehow steady and confident. “You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”

You couldn’t see it or feel it, but his hips were trembling and his abs were tight with the pure resistance of his self control. All of the energy he was using not to slam his cock into the tight, warm velvet of your cunt, especially as he felt it leak so freely around the tip of his cock, knowing how badly you needed him. He wanted nothing more than to watch you whine and babble and fall apart on his cock - but he wanted to win just a little bit more.

There was a distinct pause. The last shreds of your own stubbornness hanging in the air, even as your cunt throbbed with need.

Even if Jason couldn’t see your face from this angle, he could feel the warring in your body. He knew you too well. And he knew how to break you down so perfectly.

“If you want anything more than this,” He told you, emphasizing the point with another pathetically shallow thrust. “If you want anything more than just the tip of my cock,” His voice was low and silken and creating even more heat that almost drowned you. “Then you’re gonna have to beg for it.”

“Fuck you, Jay.” You whined out in protest, once again trying to fight his grip on your hips to fuck yourself against him.

He viciously dug his fingers into the fat of your hips, causing a sharp sound from your throat at the beautiful pain.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, and growled out his next words in a low tone that dragged through your insides in the exact spot where his cock should have been.

“Come on.” He urged you on. “Fucking. Beg.”

That was when you broke.

At least you hadn’t given in too easily.

“Please,” You whined out breathlessly. “Please, fuck me! Fuck me, Jason! I need it.”

“What else?” Jason asked expectantly.

You could have killed him. But when your desperate cunt unconsciously clenched down on the fat head of his cock and you felt yourself growing only more hot and needy, you knew that there was only one thing to do.

“I’m sorry, Jay, I should have - I should have just asked nicely in the first place. I do need it. I need your big cock inside of me so badly.” You poured it on thick, emphasizing the last words in the most pornographic voice you could muster, hoping that he was running low on self control as well.

And he was. So he was very satisfied with this. He grinned into your skin, leaving a surprisingly tender kiss on the back of your neck before he mumbled out ‘good girl’ - something that made you moan out sharply.

You let out a sharp noise of disappointment when his cock popped out of you again.

“I need a condom.” He told you, giving you a reassuring pat on the ass. “As much as I’d love to cum inside you, we do have an agreement.”

You weren’t sure which was hotter - his sex-thick voice admitting that he shared one of your deepest fantasies, or the fact that he was caring so deeply for you, making sure that he protected you with a condom even when you were in that floating headspace and willing to let him do just about anything do your body.

Your mind was swimming contemplating it, and next thing you knew it, he had the condom on successfully. He then slammed his cock inside of you in one firm, smooth movement. Any thoughts were easily pounded out of your head by the practiced movement of his hips.

“Better now?” Jason grunted into your ear.

You could practically feel his smugness radiating through his cock, spearing into you.

But you were now alight with intense pleasure, warm satisfaction rolling through you - so you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care about how smug he was. Every bit of cockiness he had, he did back it up with a pretty big dick that he knew how to use well. Not that you would ever say those words aloud to him. Not even on your deathbed.

“Just shut up and fuck me.” You ordered, though it was breathless and had no bite.

“As you wish, babe.” He replied, and then doubled down - his hips fucking into you with an intense fury.

You moaned like a whore at this, finally feeling that dizzying fullness that you had been craving since he had snuck his touch into your shorts. Jason drank up your sounds and easily wanted more - more of your perfect pussy squeezing around his cock, more of that wetness coating his inner thighs, more of that filthy wet smacking as he fucked into you.

He leaned down, draping his body fully over yours once again, creating a pleasantly smothering weight on top of you as you laid on your stomach on the bed with your face nearly drowned in the pillow. He slowed the pace of his hips to a dangerous torture of a grind, fucking you so deeply now that you were sure you could feel him coming up inside of your throat. You let out a wounded noise, and he hushed you gently.

“Shh, babe, I’ve got you.” He whispered into your ear. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He moved one of his hands from your hip and shoved it between your body and the bed, and once again he was cupping your mound fully in his hand - but this time there was no fabric barrier, and he was settled deep inside of you. It was filling your whole body with lava, turning every place he touched you to boiling ash. You were sure that you would have dissolved into nothingness if not for the anchor of your cunt hanging onto his cock, keeping you grounded in reality with that slight nip of pain as your muscles clenched onto him.

“Now say thank you.” He told you, his voice so gruff in your ear, so thick with desire that it made you dizzy. “Thank me for giving you my cock.”

He used two precise fingers to rub circles on your neglected clit, immediately sending shockwaves through your body that made your muscles jump and jolt.

You gulped for air and struggled to move your face out of the fabric of the pillow, and Jason saw this. He moved his other hand and slid it under your cheek, gripping under your jaw to fully lift you up.

He stilled his hips completely once again, causing a pained sound to emanate from your lungs as you clamped down on his cock deep inside of you while he continued to relentlessly work over your tender clit. He gave you a couple of seconds to catch your breath. But you were so cock dumb that you had to be reminded of the goal.

“Come on, baby.” He encouraged you, pressing his lips to your cheek that he wasn’t holding onto. “Say ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you.” You easily repeated back, now completely pliant to his desires. “Thank you for-for your cock.”

“Good girl.” Jason praised you once again.

Then he began fucking into you once more - it only took a few careful thrusts of his hips and the talent of his fingers on your clit to finally bring your orgasm to life. He shoved his tongue into your mouth as you screamed through it, imitating some sloppy version of a kiss while you flailed and creamed on his cock, your body becoming truly boneless and tired as the orgasm rocked you.

When it was finished, he was still throbbing hard inside of you, and you let out a whine of disappointment. You were absolutely dead tired now, and you couldn’t even think of how much energy it would take to finish him off. Mister ‘Twice In A Sunday’ could last quite a long time, and that didn’t exactly work for you in that moment.

“You can go to sleep now, babe.” He whispered into your ear. “I’ll clean you up when I’m done.”

He began thrusting into you once more, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift closed.

It ended up being a good night for both of you.

...

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mulloey · 7 days

Text

innocents • yunho

it’s easy to forget you’re his prisoner

warnings: criminal!yunho, mentioned sex trafficking (but it’s in the context of him Not doing it), mentioned murder, reader is held against her will but nothing is done to her without consent, her shitty boyfriend pimped her out kind of and yunho’s not about that but he is Not a good dude in this, dom yunho, implied drugging (alcohol), implied physical punishment, other than the *implications* this is actually pretty tame. also san is yunho’s goon lol

this doesn’t represent yunho, ateez or my perception of them in any way. don’t like, don’t read:) please comment if you enjoyed!

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The first time you met Yunho, you were a payment. Your stupid, doofus boyfriend, thinking he was tough and smart enough to survive a life of crime, had gotten in too deep with the wrong people and found himself with a bounty on his head, pursued across the country until he was finally cornered in a dodgy part of Seoul. Dragged unceremoniously to Yunho’s office, he’d realised quickly who he was dealing with, and what was about to happen to him, and in a moment of desperation had offered you up instead. “Take my girlfriend,” he’d begged. “She’s at my house and she’s beautiful, you can have her. Just please don’t kill me.” And Yunho, disgusted that your boyfriend would offer you up like cattle but intrigued by the thought of you, had sent one of his men to pick you up.

You knew what your boyfriend had gotten involved with and you knew how spineless he was, so you weren’t surprised to see an armed man in your doorway, telling you to come with him if you wanted your boyfriend to live. You were more annoyed than anything else, but as much as you hated your boyfriend for selling you out like this, you didn’t want him to die, certainly not in the slow, painful way the man in your doorway had so graphically promised. So you followed, allowing yourself to be brought to a sprawling property on the other side of the city. When you were dragged into Yunho’s office, your coward of a boyfriend wouldn’t even meet your eye. But there was one person who couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The tall, dangerous looking man behind the desk.

He looked you up and down for a moment, ordering his man to turn you around so he could see the back of you, before nodding. “I accept your offer,” he told your boyfriend. “Leave her with me and don’t ever return to Korea, and I’ll wipe your debts and set you free. Understood?”

And without a moment's hesitation, your boyfriend agreed, thanking Yunho profusely for his generosity — for taking her instead of me. You could have attacked him if you weren’t surrounded by armed henchmen, but you were realising now that this pathetic little man wasn’t worth any more of your energy. So you let him scurry away with your back turned, eyes cast downwards to the floor.

The room was silent for a moment, tension in the air, until Yunho spoke. “If you’re wondering what I’m going to do to you, don’t worry,” he said. “I sell things, not people. Not women, at least. You’ll be safe here with me.”

You nodded, not really convinced before he ordered you closer to him. You shuffled forwards, as slow as you could before one of his men shoved you so hard you stumbled, landing on the solid wood of the desk.”

“San, you fucking idiot,” Yunho snapped, standing from his chair and rounding the desk to help you up. You looked you up and down and, satisfied you weren’t hurt, released his grip on you. “Your boyfriend’s lucky you’re such a beauty,” he said. “And so are you. Cus he’s not being fed to dogs right now, and I’m going to take much better care of you than he did.”

For some reason, maybe the sting and annoyance of the idiotic betrayal you’d just suffered, you believed him. Yunho would take care of you. He’d keep you safe. And you’d never be bounty again.

True to his word, Yunho was for the most part perfectly respectful. He didn’t touch or try anything with you without your permission, and he made certain none of his men did either, as made abundantly clear your second month under his care, when a low level fighter had cornered and felt you up, and Yunho, upon hearing about it, had summoned him to his office and, without a word, shot him between the eyes with his own gun.

The only time Yunho wasn’t so nice to you was the few attempts you’d made to escape. As much as he respected you as a person, he’d forgiven a lot of transgressions and missed out on an awful lot of money to have you, and he wasn’t going to let you go. And in the months (you think, time moves strangely in Yunho’s house) you’d been in his possession, he had by his own admission, developed feelings that gave him another reason to want to keep you with him.

After a few failed escape attempts and quite severe reprisals, he’d settled on another way to keep you pliant. With your previous boyfriend you’d gotten heavily into alcohol and as Yunho quickly realised, supplying you with it was a good way to keep you happy and obedient. And to keep you safe by his side, anything that worked was worth it.

You’re a few drinks deep when he comes into your room, taking a seat on your bed, eyes on you. You’re at your desk and facing him, fiddling absentmindedly with an empty glass.

“Come here.”

You feel dizzy, and not just because of the alcohol. You see the small knife in his hand, dwarfed by his massive palms. You know what those palms can do to you. You’ve tried everything to avoid finding out about the knife.

“Are you going to cut me?” You try to sound as afraid as possible, knowing it softens him — not because he feels bad for scaring you, but because he likes it. You’re such a good girl, he’d say, being so afraid of me. He thinks it’s sweet. It makes him happy. And you like when he’s happy.

His face is blank. “Why would I cut you?”

“The knife.”

His gaze flickers to it, then back to you. “Ah,” he says, smiling slightly. “This isn’t for you.”

“Did you hurt someone?” You ask softly.

“I’m going to,” he says. He puts the knife down on the bed, behind his back where you can’t see it. But now you know it’s there and you guess that was his intention. Your time with this man has taught you that nothing, nothing he does is an accident. “Come here.”

His tone is harder now, on the edge of anger. Since becoming his prisoner, as he hates when you call yourself, you’ve learned that Yunho does not like repeating himself — a lesson that has been painfully delivered to you more times than either of you would like. Not wanting another, you scurry over to him, stopping short of settling on his lap, because he hasn’t said you can touch him, and you know not to do it without his permission. Nothing without permission.

He smiles, recognising your obedience and pats his lap. “Sit.”

You settle yourself in your lap, heart still racing slightly, but the feeling of his warm hands on the small of your back always calms you. He strokes up and down your back, humming softly with his gaze fixed on you. “Have you been good today?” He asks.

You nod. “I have. Thank you for the drinks.”

He hums, running his thumb across your plush lips. He pushes it in slightly, letting you suck at the tip while his other fingers stroke your cheek. “I wanted to check on you,” he says quietly, “before I leave. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” you say, smiling softly.

He narrows his eyes, studying your face for any signs of dishonesty, but you know better than to lie to him. You know that in less than a second, the soft, gentle touches on your back could turn hard, crushing and striking, and it informs every choice you make with him. He nods, apparently satisfied that you’re telling the truth, and presses a kiss to your lips. “Good girl,” he breathes.

You smile at the praise, out of relief as much as happiness. You’ve learned quickly that Yunho is very, very good at concealing his true feelings — a necessary skill for someone of his profession — so you never bank on him being satisfied with your behaviour until he confirms it himself. But today he is satisfied, and it fills you with relief. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Yunho smiles at you and pushes his thumb back into your mouth. Focused on the feeling, you don’t notice his other hand move from the small of your back to the top of your leg. The feeling of his hand on the sensitive bare skin of your thigh makes you jolt and he tuts, tightening his grip slightly. “Still,” he orders gently.

He lets his hand wander further up your leg, into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, dangerously close. Your breath hitches as his hand slowly approaches your most sensitive area. “Yunho,” you whisper, the desperation in your voice evident.

He smiles softly but shakes his head. “I don’t have time now, darling,” he says regretfully. “Just wanted to play with my baby a little before I go. Get her worked up and ready for when I’m back.”

The hand on your face moves to grip your thigh, holding you in place as the other pulls your tiny shorts to the side and presses a long finger into your hole. You gasp softly; it’s been a while since you’d started playing with Yunho like this, but you’ll never get used to his size, not just of his dick but of his entire body. Everything about him is large, strong, brimming with restrained power until he has a reason to unless it.

The finger reaches deep inside you, curling as he pushes another in. He starts to pump them slowly, quickly speeding up until you’re whining and squirming on his lap. A third soon joins and you almost choke. “Yunho,” you cry.

He hums, not acknowledging you further. You love when he plays with you like this, clinically and methodically pleasuring you but seeming indifferent to you or your reactions. He doesn’t care what sounds you make, how many times you come undone on his fingers. You’re his toy and he’ll play with you until he gets bored.

He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing in circles to drive you close to the edge. You’re babbling incoherently now, crying and gasping as he works you to your orgasm.

“Yunho,” you sob as his fingers speed up. “Yunho, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he says. He doesn’t look up at you, gaze still fixed in your gushing pussy.

You cry as you let yourself go, juices coating his entire hand. He chuckles at the sight, pumping his fingers a few more times before pulling them out, but you know that’s more due to his time constraints than any desire to show you mercy. Other than your worst misbehaviours, the only time Yunho shows the merciless, cruel side of himself with you is during sex. He’s in charge, and he loves the way you cower and come undone beneath him.

He holds you in his lap for a few more minutes, stroking your gently and whispering praises as you come down from your high, before he gets up, a sad look on his face. “I so wish I could stay, baby,” he says mournfully. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

“Me too,” you sigh. “Please don’t get hurt.

He tilts his head, lips twitching with an amused smile. “I never do that,” he says. “And I’m not fighting anyone tonight. Just teaching them a lesson. Be ready for me when I’m back, yeah?”

You nod and he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before picking up his knife and walking out of your room. You hear the lock click behind him, a reminder that as much as you love each other, you’re still his prisoner. But the ghosts of his touches on your skin make it so much sweeter.

—————

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #kpop smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #yunho x reader #dom yunho #ateez dark fic

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twinklecupcake · 8 months

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I know it’s no longer ‘cool’ to talk about/critique Frozen, but my friend Cait and I were talking about twist villains and how Hans was a bad example, and how he didn’t even need to be a twist villain for it to still work and yeah no I’m still thinking on it.

Because no, really… why did we need Hans to be a twist villain? Why did he have to actually be playing a long con and be all ‘muahaha, actually I don’t love you.’ We already had the threat of the eternal winter, the fracturing relationship between Elsa and Anna, and if you needed another outside force to be the villain, Duke Weselton was right there.

You wouldn’t even need to change much, really.

Instead, have it so Hans and Anna do kiss… and nothing happens. They’re both shocked and upset - not by the implications, those don’t hit them yet, but because they had an idea on how to save her, and it failed. Meanwhile, Duke Weselton is shit-stirring and going after Elsa.

You bring Olaf in at some point, and while he and Hans are trying to keep Anna warm, it comes out that maybe it didn’t work because Anna doesn’t love Hans. And, similarly, Hans doesn’t really love Anna - their ‘true love’ was based on infatuation after knowing each other for less than one night, while they mostly just goofed off and had fun, and neither of them actually know much of anything about the other.

(It wouldn’t just be Anna not knowing anything about Hans, you make it so Hans doesn’t know much about Anna either. Neither of them know each other’s favorite foods or colors or best friends or bad habits.)

Scene keeps going til it comes out that the one Anna really loves now is Kristoff.

And yeah this still raises a problem in that Anna and Kristoff didn’t know each other that long either, but it’s a Disney movie, people get married after three days, whatever.

So now the plan is for both Olaf and Hans to get Anna to Kristoff and protect Elsa from Duke Weselton. Make Weselton the guy about to cut Elsa’s head off.

The movie then proceeds like canon, up to the point where Hans is punched out. Now instead Weselton is publicly exposed for his shit-stirring, it’s declared they will no longer be in a trade relationship with his duchy, and Elsa instead turns to Hans and he’s made Ambassador of Southern Isles. Hans and Anna part on good times, agreeing to be friends, Hans and Kristoff are also friendly with one another, and the takeaway is “Sometimes relationships don’t work out and that’s okay, it’s neither person’s fault.”

And instead of “Don’t marry a man you just met because what if he’s evil?” it’s actually “One great date does not guarantee a great relationship, relationships/love is based on mutual experiences and trust, not a sudden burst of attraction and infatuation.” Which honestly is a much better message for the kids.

…why did Hans need to be the villain?

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thebestofoneshots · 3 months

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7 K Warnings: None Prompt: It'd just one more day before it's full moon again, you must make sure you've got the smell of the pack... This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 38: Let the Good Times Roll

Wednesday, December 22nd. 2:15 AM

When the party was over, you went up to your room alongside Lily to change. She wasn’t talking to you yet. You tried to give her some space, but you didn’t like not being able to talk to her. You weren’t even sure if you should apologise to her, and if you did, For what? For saying nasty things to Severus? You certainly weren’t sorry about that. Maybe for implying her in? That had been unnecessary, even if you knew it would spite him.

You sighed as you walked in, Marlene and Mary were fast asleep, and you cast a quick silencing spell over their bed so neither you nor Lily would wake them up. You looked at the redhead as you raised your wand and she walked towards the bathroom to change, avoiding your gaze altogether.

Your gaze fixated on the closed door, a subtle crease forming on your forehead, and after a brief, contemplative moment, you bit your lip and walked over to your trunk to find something to change into yourself, giving one last look at the door before focusing completely on your task. She was out while you finished putting on your socks, leaning down on the bed as you stared at the floor. You missed the way she looked at you, only for a split second, but it was a longing stare.

You also didn’t notice she had walked over to your bed until you felt it dip by your side. The feeling prompted you to sit upright, turning to look at her as quickly as possible. She seemed to be hesitant to speak so you broke the silence instead, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, love–” she said as her shoulders slumped. She was about to say something else, but then you interrupted her, speaking almost a little too fast as you attempted to order your thoughts at the same time as you spoke.

“I shouldn’t have implicated you in my fight with Severus. I was very mad at him for pushing you and James but using your name and his pent-up feelings for you to piss him off was disrespectful. To you more than him. And I did not consider how it might have affected you then, and I’m really sorry if I made you upset–”

“Hey,” she said softly, licking her lips before placing a hand on your arm, much like Remus did often. “I’m sorry too.” You let out a short, relieved breath at the contact, she doesn’t like it when we fight either. “James told me how hard he was shoved,” she explained, “He broke most of it with his arm and the door so I wouldn’t get hurt, but you and Remus must have seen it first hand, of course, you’d be mad.”

“It was pretty bad,” you agreed, if Lily had gotten the full extent of the blow, she might have been sore now.

“And I shouldn’t have lashed out at you either. I’m not excusing you for saying the things you did but I wasn’t just…” she seemed to hesitate for a second, as if she wasn’t sure which words she should use. “I wasn’t just angry at you, I was angry at Severus and at how much he’s changed through the years. He’s insufferable now, and I’m sorry you had to be the one defending me against him when I should be the one standing up for myself, but you didn’t know him then, he was different.”

“He called you a mudblood,” you said, “James a bIood traitor and Remus a–” You didn’t even dare to say it. “I shouldn’t have used you, but there will never be a moment in which I won’t defend my friends, Lily. Even if it’s from their own friends.”

It was her turn to sigh, “I know, it’s what I admire the most from you.”

You leaned your head to the side, a soft smile drawing itself on your lips. “I admire your noble heart,” you said. “And your ability to stay calm in these kinds of situations. You’re like Remus, all warm and calm and conciliating–”

“Oh, come on, you’ve seen me mad plenty of times.”

“Well yes, but you still manage to keep your head cool, I mean if Severus had–” you stopped yourself, you did not want to upset her further, instead you mumbled. “Might have punched him.”

“And be the aggressive Mudblood?” she asked you, your gaze almost fell at her words. She smiled bitterly, “I don’t have the luxury to retaliate like that.”

You swallowed thickly. “It would be more than justified I–” you sighed. And then gave her another worried look, reaching your hand to grab hers. “I never even factored that in.”

The weight of your privilege, the one bestowed upon you by your father who was keen on keeping up appearances of bIood purity, suddenly bore down on you. The privilege of not having to worry about your abilities, or having to prove how good you were simply to belong had never been more evident to you.

Of course, you had your own battles to fight, the world was still not fair for you, for any of your friends, really. But what Lily had to go through, the kind of bigotry she was exposed to and how she had to behave because of it, made you see her in a new light. Hours ago, if anyone told you, you’d admire Lily more than you did, you would have called them mad, and here you were, looking at your beautiful redhead friend and feeling nothing but utmost admiration for her.

She smiled at you. “Thanks for being my knight in shining armour.”

“Thanks for being the pure heart that holds me down when I’m about to go mad,” you responded with a smile.

And then, laughter rippled through the room, a shared moment of catharsis. You let yourself fall on the bed, both you and Lily now staring at the wooden headboards and red curtains surrounding it. “Lily,” you began, your voice carrying a genuine warmth, “I don’t want to ever lose you as a friend.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I’ll latch onto you like a leech, I’ll be worse than Sirius even, you cannot get rid of me that easily.”

“Not even if I hex Severus?”

“Of course not,” she said with a laugh, but she quickly turned to look at you. “You’re not planning to hex him though, are you?” she asked in a worried tone.

You just laughed in return. “Don’t worry about that, he’ll be suffering his own little issues tonight,” you said in a rather mysterious tone.

She gasped, “What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing.” You answered honestly. “In fact, it was he who stole the treat I was about to eat.”

She threw you a look, “And you had nothing to do with it?”

You shrugged, “Not my fault he and his gang are such gits.”

Lily shook her head disapprovingly even if she had a smile plastered on her face. You stayed next to each other for a while. Eventually, she yawned, and you followed closely after. “You can stay on my bed if you want.”

“Mhm?” She asked as she accommodated herself so her feet would be up on the bed and not resting on the ground like they had been previously since the two of you had been sitting on the edge, “You’re going with the boys? Because of the moon and the experiment Peter suggested, right?”

You nodded in response, and then realised her eyes were closed, “Yes.”

“Good night then,” she said and yawned again. You stood from the bed and brought over some covers from hers to place them on top of her since you had both laid on top of yours. As you did you leaned over to look at her and accommodated her hair behind her ear, you could see some of the freckles she always tried to hide with potions but that you found truly endearing. No wonder James liked her so much, your friend was gorgeous, but that was something you’d always known.

You were too emotionally stirred to see the difference, while you considered both Lily and Remus your closest friends, and while you were attracted to girls, you didn’t even once look at Lily the exact same way you had looked at Remus through the night. The hunger that you felt for the latter was nothing compared to the sheer love and admiration you felt for the redhead. Two very different emotions, and they were there for two very different reasons, but you were still too blind to see. The blindfold, although slowly becoming sheerer, was still there.

“I’m glad we’re still friends,” you whispered as you finished tucking her in. Then you made sure the rest of the girls were asleep before going back to the boy’s room.

Now, it’s not that you were eager to go back to Remus. In fact, you thought you had ogled him enough with the horny potion still running through your system throughout the party –and it wasn’t gone entirely yet– but, just like Lily had mentioned, tomorrow was full moon.

And while the couple of nights you had bunked with the boys had been enough, according to Remus who confirmed Vixen smelled like part of the pack, you had all agreed that the night before the full moon would be the most important. For a couple of reasons: first of all, the closer you smelled to the pack when Moony showed up, the more chances you would have to be accepted by him. Second, after the party, there was a high chance other people’s smells had been mixed in with your own, and thirdly, Remus said it would make him feel at ease knowing that Vixen smelled like nothing other than the pack.

You wanted Remus to be at ease, especially in the particularly complicated time he had just before the moon, so you had all decided you’d meet again after the party was over. James had even lent his cloak so you could sneak out of your room and into theirs quietly.

“What are you doing?” You heard someone whisper in your ear which had you jump a few feet back as you looked around. You had the cloak on, there was no fucking way… “Saw your door open.” The voice explained.

You frowned, finally recognizing him, “Richie?!”

“Boo,” he said as he became visible right in front of you, you stayed safely under the cloak.

“What– what are you doing in the Gryffindor tower?”

“Can’t a ghost roam around freely in the castle?” He asked, with a slightly dramatic tone, ever so characteristic of him. And then looked to the side pointing at the spot where your voice was coming from. “Kinda rude you don’t show yourself after I have.”

You rolled your eyes, even if he couldn’t see it. “Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m quite literally in the middle of sneaking out of my dorm at three AM, of course, I cannot step out of my hideout,” you whispered.

He hummed at that, “I still think it’s rude,” he said with a shrug.

“How did the portrait lady let you in?”

“She didn’t, I sneaked in. You’re not the only one with secret passages knowledge,” he said, a little haughtily.

You gave him an incredulous look, hardly remembering he couldn’t actually see it. “And you came over because…”

“I was bored, thought of giving the first years something to talk about in their Christmas break,” he responded with a shrug.

“Poor kids,” you said as you shook your head in disapproval.

“What about you?” he countered. “Why are you sneaking out at three in the morning? Are you planning a new prank with your boyfriends?”

You couldn’t quite tell Richie what you were going to do, let alone who you were going to do it with, so it was best to just lie. “Boyfriend, and yes, something like that.”

Richie gave the nothingness a look of incredulity, you thought it was funny that even though he was the ghost, he was the one with a slightly lost gaze as he talked exclusively to your voice. “You keep telling yourself that, little witch.” He said the last thing on purpose, he had heard Remus call you that, and he wanted to tease you over it. Maybe then you’d fucking realise what he had seen a while ago, but you and your stupid boyfriends failed to see.

You shuddered when he said your nickname, no one used that one but Remus. Not even Sirius that seemed to have about 10 different nicknames for you. You certainly did not like the way it sounded when Richie said it. Was it because it sounded a lot more patronizing rather than endearing? Or was it only you who perceived it that way? Of course, you weren’t about to tell him that you didn’t like it when he said it, he had already teased you about nicknames in the past. You did not want to give him yet another reason to be annoying.

You sighed. “Anyway, I’ll let you torture the poor kids, I have somewhere to be.”

“No, wait!” Richie said as he turned to follow your voice. “Where are you going?”

“Boys dorms,” you said honestly. He gave you a look, eyebrows raised and a suggestive smile. You would have nudged him if you could actually touch him. “For the prank you dirty-minded ghost!”

“Of course, of course,” he said as he moved his head from side to side, brows furrowed slightly, his voice dripping with playful condescence.

You huffed at that, worst part was, with the potion that was –now you knew– clearly not gone entirely, you had easily gone back to the thoughts of Remus and Sirius and the fact that you’d actually be sleeping next to the two of them. Your only hope left was that said potion did not emit any sort of effect on Vixen. And that your fox thoughts would be cleaner than your human ones.

“Don’t tell anyone you saw me here,” he whispered, “McGonagall has been getting on my nerves for sneaking into the Slytherin dorms last time. They think James convinced me to do it. As if.”

“See what?” you asked, a complicit smile etched on your features, “I’ve been soundly sleeping on my bed all night.”

He gave a pleased look at that. “Good luck with your boys. Have fun! Take your special teas and potions and all that.”

“Richie!” you admonished. As if you needed warmer thoughts to enter your head. Enough had been your ridiculous admiration of Remus’ torso with how tight the navy-blue shirt fit him. Enough had been the thought that you’d probably end up sleeping right over it. No, not me. Vixen, you corrected yourself. You almost regretted sacrificing yourself for James, but being honest, he would have had it much worse than you did. At least your body wasn’t going to give any physical indication of your thoughts no matter how far they escalated. And honestly, Lily did not need more emotional strain in one night either. You weren’t sure how she would react to a horny James on a normal day, but it would definitely not be positive with the toll of the night.

Richie just shrugged, gave you a wink, and disappeared through a wall. Your eyes trailed behind as you saw him go and then started to walk towards the boys’ dorms. The hallways were dark, and you had to be extra careful not to trip on your way down the set of stairs of the girls’ dorms and up the ones on the boys’. Thankfully you had already taken that same path a good deal of times and you knew how to get from point A to point B with relative stealth.

Once you were outside of their door you had to take a deep breath, forcing the image of shirtless Remus you had seen a while ago off your head, and walked inside. The boys knew you were coming later that night, so you trust they were all presentable. When you walked inside, you spotted James thrown on his bed, tie loose and shirt slightly unbuttoned, snoring just slightly as he was half-covered with the sheets. Peter was on his bed, perfectly tucked and with a Gryffindor beanie that clashed entirely with his purple striped pyjamas. He is cold, you realised, you were too. The cloak had never been that warm.

Then you spotted your boys, the boys, you corrected yourself. Fucking Richie and damn Ackley’s potion, they’d made your mind all wonky. “No use in hiding luv, we saw the door open,” Sirius said, he was on the bed next to Remus who was reading a book you hadn’t seen before. Sirius was sketching something in a small notebook. Both boys stood rather close to each other, but Remus kept his gaze on his book, respecting Sirius’ earlier wish of not snooping on his drawing, even if the temptation was gnawing at him.

You took part of the cloak off and placed it around your shoulders. “You’re drawing,” you pointed.

“Mhm,” Sirius said in response. “Just practising expressions.”

“How’s it going?”

“Surprisingly great, wanna see?” He asked. Both you and Remus looked at him with a rather surprised expression. Sirius had never allowed either of you to see his drawings, and he was now so casually offering it, that it had the two of you puzzled.

“Sirius, are you all right?” you asked as you stepped closer to the bed, letting James’ cloak fall over Remus’ trunk as you did.

“Did you hit your head?” Remus intervened.

“Or took a potion?” You added as you leaned over the bed and placed your hand on his forehead to check if he had some sort of fever.

“What?” The boy asked with a frown as he gently pulled your hand off his head. “No, I– You know what? Never mind.”

You let a disappointed “aw” in response. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to see it, we were just a little surprised,” you said, even pointing at Remus, to show it wasn’t just you that had been taken aback by his offer.

“You’ve never shown us your drawings. At least not the ones in your notebook,” Remus added.

Sirius seemed to hesitate at that, and they were right, he never showed his art to anyone. He had tried to show it to his mother once and she had berated him with it. Telling him it was a useless waste of his time and that he should instead be perfecting his charms, that Regulus was getting ahead of him and that he was lagging behind. That, if he continued, he would lose his chance to get into Hogwarts and would end up cast out of the family like a squib. He was only 8 at the time, and since that day, his drawings, other than the doodles on his notebooks, had been kept to himself.

Sketchbook after sketchbook, sent to him by Andromeda and sometimes even his cool uncle Alphard (who had never been too loved by his mother and who had at least kept in touch with Sirius even after he had been kicked out last summer). Sirius had kept them all hidden and lock-charmed so no one would be able to access his art. But of course, he continued on drawing, sometimes because he saw something he wanted to remember, sometimes because he wanted to get better at it, sometimes for the sake of it, and sometimes because he wanted to piss Walburga off.

Sirius had a rather specific way in which he would sit in the drawing room of his house, and while Regulus studied diligently, he would prop out his sketchbook and draw for hours, waiting for Walburga to come over, just to see her walk out of the room displeased, he enjoyed that look on her face so much that he would draw for even more hours, just to see if she’d come back and make it again.

At some point he’d even found some drawing books in the family library, he had taken all of them and hid them in his trunk, using them to improve his skill –not that the practice hadn’t already done that for him, but he learnt a lot about proportions with those. Later on owling them to James and asking him to hide them when things got rougher at home. That Christmas he’d gotten even more books, all thanks to the Potters who’d given him a few as gifts (he had stayed with them over the break while telling his parents he’d be at Hogwarts), James had given him a set of always-sharp drawing pencils that he still used to this day. James had also told Peter and Remus about Sirius’ passion for drawing. Peter had gotten him some colouring pencils while Remus got him a leather bound sketchbook, the same he was using today, in fact.

“Yeah I–” Sirius was hesitant, he didn’t even notice how easily it had slipped off his tongue. How he had just offered the two of you to see his drawing. The more he thought about it, the more he realised, he wanted the two of you to see it. He trusted you, unlike he’d ever trusted anyone in his life, and it was scary, giving someone so much power over him and his emotions.

“Hey,” you said softly, noticing his change in demeanour. “I’m sure both me and Rem would love to see your drawing. See what that pretty mind of yours came up with,” you reassured as you pointed at his forehead with one of your fingers as you mentioned his mind. “But neither of us is going to pressure you.”

“We’re okay if you keep it to yourself,” Remus added, for good measure. He was feeling all sorts of warm feelings as he saw you treat Sirius with such kindness, to touch him with such tenderness, Merlin knew that boy needed this kind of affection and he was thrilled, that even if he couldn’t give it to him himself –not in the way he wanted at least– you could still do that for him. You really were made for each other. And he really was in the middle of a tender moment and he wasn’t sure if he should stay in it, not that either of you seemed to mind, you never did, he realised.

“I want you to see it,” Sirius mumbled and he handed the sketchbook your way, one of his fingers in between the pages, to mark where the drawing was. You took it in your hands and opened it slowly when you realised what it was you gasped.

“It’s beautiful,” you said honestly. Both the drawing and the person he had drawn. Sirius swallowed thickly, he wasn’t insecure about many things, but he had never shown his art to anyone. “You’ve captured him perfectly.”

“Who?” Remus asked, now intrigued and leaning over to see the drawing as well.

“You,” you said as you tilted the sketchbook over so he could see it as well. Remus’ eyes opened wide with surprise as he saw himself sketched out in the notebook.

When Sirius said he was “practising” his expressions, he really meant it, he had sketched out a perfect version of Remus’ side profile as he read a book, his brow just slightly furrowed as he was looking at a particularly intriguing section of the detective novel he’d been reading earlier. “You were… you were drawing me?” he stuttered, as his eyes widened and he drew in a sharp breath.

“You mind?” Sirius asked as he tilted his head slightly.

Remus wasn’t sure how to respond. Did he mind? No, if anything he was flattered, barely holding the blush starting to creep up his cheeks, he never thought he’d be the subject of one of Sirius’ drawings, let alone the many he had already been of and would be in the future. “No,” he said honestly. “I just didn’t realise.”

“You were very absorbed in your book,” Sirius said with a shrug. “Wasn’t even being careful about it.”

You turned to Sirius then, he’s drawn him before, you thought, it was in the way the lines were so sure, confident as if he knew exactly what he was doing and had to focus solely on his expression. But it made so much sense, they were roommates after all. You then wondered if he had drawn you too, was it possible that you too had been so engrossed in yourself that you hadn’t noticed?

The drawing of Remus was beautiful, it truly reflected him in every way, but Remus had never seen himself as beautiful as he had been plastered on the sketch. He was truly stunning in Sirius’ gaze, and if that was what he looked like to you, then perhaps it too made sense when you called him beautiful. You’d even called him beautiful when you’d first seen the drawing. Well, was that him or was it Sirius’ talent that you had been praising? He chose to think a little bit was because of him.

“Sirius it’s incredible,” you repeated as you gazed at the drawing again. “I expected you to be good but–”

“I’m always good with my hands,” he said as he threw a wink your way and you almost pushed him off the bed entirely. You did not need dirty thoughts added.

“My love you wound me,” he said dramatically as he let himself fall back onto Remus’ lap. Remus had reacted just fast enough to pull the sketchbook up, Sirius looked at him with a cheeky little smile. “Moony, you’re awfully comfortable,” he teased. The two of you praising his art had gotten him in a dreadfully good mood.

His two favourite people on earth had seen his drawing and they had both thought it was beautiful. Or at least been kind enough to pretend it was, he was pretty sure the two of you were being honest with him, though. He wasn’t always good at seeing through lies, but he was good when it mattered.

Wait– his two favourite people in the world?

Remus rolled his eyes as he looked down on Sirius, trying not to think of how beautiful he looked and instead of how annoying he was by taking up his personal space so brazenly. Problem was, even that he found endearing. The urge to brush his fingers through his perfectly chiselled nose was almost mortifying.

Sirius wasn’t in a much better position either, he had focused so much on his drawing that he had forgotten he had actual Remus Lupin –who for some reason he now considered insanely attractive– looking at him like he was the only person in the room. They locked eyes for a moment and Sirius swallowed.

You looked at the scene curiously and he seemed not to mind much the kind of attention Rem was providing him with, you already knew he loved being coddled. Sirius had always been touchy and cuddly, searching for the lack of affection his parents had given him wherever he could find it, but he and Remus had gotten a lot closer –physically at least– since you all started doing the pack cuddling thing this month. And while you found it endearing, that Sirius could find love not only with you but elsewhere as well in case you weren’t around to help him out, there was something about the way they were looking at each other in that particular moment that made you do a double take, or at least to stare a little closely. Have you missed something? That look was an awful lot like–

Suddenly there was a stir on the bed and the sketchbook fell from Remus’ hands. When he picked it up, the page had changed, and when he looked at it, he couldn’t actually hide the blush that crept up his cheeks, “Sirius Black!” he said in an admonishing tone.

Sirius, who had turned his gaze to you and was pulling onto your leg, turned his head quickly and gasped when he saw the drawing Remus was looking at, “Close it, close it!”

Remus did as told in an instant, swallowing thickly as he remembered the drawing. Sirius now was blushing as well. “What– what was that?” You asked with a small frown, completely changing your train of thought, now focusing solely on the sketchbook.

“Nothing,” Remus said simply.

“Don’t worry about it, Starshine,” Sirius said, but that was not his cool and controlled voice. You could see how nervous he was, whatever it was that Remus had seen in the sketchbook, he clearly did not want you to see it too, which obviously made you want to see it even more. Meanwhile, Remus was struggling not to think of the drawing now burned into his brain.

You scrutinised their reactions, the only sound in the room the gentle rustle of the fabric as you shifted on the bed. Your gaze darted between them, before deciding to focus on the latter. “Sirius?” He swallowed.

“You don’t want to see it, trust me,” Remus said as coolly as he could, but you could clearly see through his bullshit.

“Your lies only make me more curious.”

“I’ll show it to you later.”

“How will I know it’s the same?”

“Because you trust me?” Sirius responded with a shrug.

“Would you show it to me later?” You asked as you turned to Remus.

He cleared his throat, he really did not need to think of the drawing again. “Yes,” he lied.

“Okay fine,” you responded, and laid back for a second, Remus had the sketchbook still in his hands.

Sirius was looking at you attentively, not sure how you had let the subject go so easily when you jumped forward to try and grab the notebook from Remus’ hands. But Remus’ reflexes had always been faster and he moved the book out of the way as you crashed against him and caused him to fall back on the bed with you on top. You, being deterred not even a little bit, pulled your hand forward to try and grab it again when Sirius grabbed you by the waist firmly and held you from moving forward again.

Remus, meanwhile was trying not to think of the image, and now also your body pressed against him, and you, being so engrossed in your task, didn’t quite realise exactly what you were doing.

“Starshine please, I promise I’ll show it to you later,” Sirius pleaded as he held you back from reaching towards Remus’ long outstretched hand.

“Why not now?” you asked as you continued trying to move.

“Because!” he said. “You’re all over Moony, come on!” he added as he tried to pull you back.

You looked down, he was right, you were all over Remus, more specifically, all over the broad chest you had been thinking about all night, and you couldn’t help but think how firm it felt underneath you. But you still wanted to know.

“What was it?” you asked, squirming as you tried to get out of Sirius’ grasp.

“Anatomy study.”

Finally, you stilled. Looking up to see how red Remus’ cheeks had gotten, and how he swallowed thickly after Sirius’ words. Now actually noticing how close you were to Remus and the compromising position your legs had been in, and the way they had entangled onto Remus’ and how long you had been there and how Sirius had been trying to pull you back by the waist and how flustered the two boys looked and suddenly it dawned on you.

You scattered back in an instant, falling on Sirius’ lap as you did, he stilled you easily since his hands were still on your waist and you turned to him, your heart hammering on your chest. The thoughts currently roaming in your head weren’t making this entire ordeal any easier for you.

“Do you mean-” you swallowed. “That kind of anatomy study?”

Sirius sighed and looked at the side, before turning his gaze back to you. Remus was looking at the entire situation, at the position both you and Sirius had ended up in trying not to feel things, let alone imagine other ones.

“Yes,” Sirius answered, giving you a look. “You really want to see?” he asked. He was sure what your answer could be, that didn’t stop Remus from sending him a reproachful look, as if telling him what a terrible idea that was.

And if it had been any other day, you might have said yes. But after the potion, whatever and whoever Sirius had drawn, would probably be a terrible idea to look at, you already had enough heated thoughts as it was. Only made worse by the fact that you were now sitting on his lap and had been right over Remus earlier. Godric! How much longer for you to stop sexualizing your best friend?

A lump formed in your throat and shook your head. “Show me a different day,” you said as you stared at him. Sirius nodded as he looked at you and you missed the way Remus let out a relieved breath. “Let’s uh– Let’s sleep now.”

Neither of the boys argued, Remus placed the sketchbook on his night table and waved his wand to turn the lights off. You instantly turned into a fox and walked over to the end of the bed to try and clear your thoughts. Sirius extended his hand to pull you closer but ended up holding back and turning into a Padfoot instead. Then he walked closer to you and picked up Vixen carefully with his snout.

You stilled as he did and allowed him to drop you over Remus’ chest, as you accommodated you realised Remus’ heartbeat was beating abnormally fast and you couldn’t help but think of the picture again. What the hell had Sirius drawn to garner such a reaction? You shook your head then, don’t need to know, don’t need to know!

Sirius was getting comfortable on the side by now, and he placed his snout over Remus’ shoulder, close to Vixen’s, and closed his eyes. But even if the three of you had your eyes closed, and even if the three of you were really trying to fall asleep, you could not stop thinking about the fact that you were sleeping on Remus’ chest. He couldn’t stop thinking about the drawing he’d seen and Sirius could not stop thinking how adorable Remus had looked with the blush creeping up his cheek, let alone the compromising position you had both ended up in earlier. And it stayed like that, all of you attempting to calm your breaths, until at least half an hour later when one by one, you started to fall asleep.

The next day had gone pretty fast, you’d woken up and walked back to your room to get changed into your flying gear, meeting Sirius and James just outside of the common room for the last flight of the year, since everyone would be packing their bags for home the following day. Well, everyone except for Remus who’d go back home until after Christmas.

After flying you had taken the last few classes of the year, which consisted of some teachers actually trying to teach, some final project presentations and some others of teachers who just allowed everyone to do whatever they wanted during the class time. On charms, you spent almost the entire class playing Wizards’ chess with Marlene and Mary while James and Sirius spent the class writing his essays for potions. Both using yours and Remus’ as a guide.

On potions Slughorn had you present the essays and he congratulated everyone, even Sirius, got a slightly higher mark on that one than Severus, whom you’d heard had spent weeks working on, you couldn’t stop the slight mocking giggle that escaped your lips when he announced the grades. That was until you got yours and it was lower than Sirius’, who just shrugged awkwardly and gave you an apologetic smile.

Sure, your head had been a little muddled while you wrote it (which was at some point after the friendly game with Neil and Nox) but you still thought your argument had been solid, even if Slughorn said that you didn’t have enough sources to back it up.

“But where did you even get your sources? You literally used my essay as a base!” you asked Sirius as you read over his.

He just shrugged, “made them up,” he said honestly and proceeded to show you the page where he had added them, which contained all sorts of ridiculous names like David Bowie, Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Steve Walsh, Brad Delp and even some surreal ones like Moonsmus Lup and Vixenia Starr.

“Oh, so you even gave us credit,” you said as you hovered your index over the ridiculous names he’d invented based on your nicknames. “How on earth did he buy that?”

“Mom and dad used to have pretty rare books in the library,” he explained, “books rarely available to the general public…”

You nodded as you pursed your lip. Half surprised, half admired by his boldness, “Next time I’ll add some myself.”

“The weirdest the names, the more he loves it.”

Herbology had gone by like charms, Mr. Folly was talking about properties of some curative flowers with the students who were interested in them –and who wanted to go for either medical or herboreal careers– and allowed the rest to do their thing. You had spent the time talking to Beth and Tom, planning to get together in London after the trip on the train to get some gifts for your friends.

Remus had excused himself before the class was over and walked over to Pomfrey who took him straight to the shack. You had all agreed that you’d meet him there a little before 6 pm which was the estimated time for the moon to appear that night.

After changing into the same clothes you had been wearing the previous night, just for good measure and according to Remus’ instructions, he said it would be for the best, to “maximize the smell of the pack” but also –and secretly– for his very own enjoyment. Not that it didn’t also translate to your and Sirius’ enjoyment, the three of you rather liked the way you smelled when your scents were all combined with each other. From Sirius always smelling slightly like leather, added to the light notes of your perfume that lingered on each other, all the way to the faint smell of Remus’ aftershave potion and the ever-present smell of chocolate that seemed to surround him. It was certainly an interesting mix, but one you had all grown to love.

“You ready?” Sirius asked while Wormtail sprinted towards the Whomping Willow, they had told you that the tree had a secret branch that if you pressed it right, it would calm him enough to let you through, and Wormtail was currently working on making it happen.

You nodded in response, paying close attention to the way Wormtail walked and how after a small flick of his tiny rat-like hands, the Willow stilled. You looked marvelled at the sight of the usually bellic tree looking so serene. You let out a small scoff.

“What is it?” James asked.

You pointed at the tree, “A trick like that would have saved my Nimbus.”

“But we wouldn’t have ended up snogging under it,” Sirius said with a sneaky little smirk as he passed his hand over your shoulders.

“Is that why you were late after the race?” James asked with a gasp. “We were all mad worried!”

“We also had some things to discuss,” you said with a small shrug, “I thought Sirius hated me.”

James genuinely laughed at that, “He was bIoody smitten!”

“Yeah, I guess I should have seen the signs…” you replied as you turned to your boyfriend, “It was in those pretty puppy eyes of his.”

He pulled his tongue out and then started running towards the tree, you smiled and followed shortly behind. James, on the other hand, lagged back just for a moment, noting how you chased behind Sirius with a bright smile plastered on your face, filled with only blithe thoughts as you walked towards the wolf’s den; as if you weren’t even slightly worried for the outcome of the night.

And you really weren’t, as far-fetched as it was, you thought Peter’s idea of using scents to trick Moony into not wanting to eat you, made sense. You had been sneaking into the restricted section to look up some more werewolf-related tomes, sometimes with Sirius and sometimes by yourself, all in the hopes that you’d find something to back your claim up –and rip some more of those murder pages off of them– and even though you hadn’t found something that confirmed it, you had found some text that talked about how heavily werewolves leaned onto scents to hunt and track humans down.

You had also taken some other “muggle animals” from the muggle studies section of the library and read about the normal wolves, and while you hadn’t found any stance in which they did something similar to what you had planned, there were some stances in which packs of wolves adopted stray and small dogs and raised them as their own. Now Vixen wasn’t either a stray, nor a dog, but she was canine, so that must atone for something, right? Either way, you had built a pretty strong case for Peter’s theory in your head, and while you couldn’t actually ask a teacher about it, you were about to do something that Lily had taught you was “the scientific method” in muggle terms. It was simple, you got a theory, and you tested it out to see if it would work. Now, according to Lily, the testing was in a controlled setting with proper security, your security would be Prongs, Padfoot and how fast you could move as Vixen, but you were still optimistic enough to go through with it. It had to work, otherwise, things would only get harder.

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A/N: Hey everyone? How is it going? Hope you enjoy this chapter, it's one of the fluffiest we've gotten in a while hehe You guys were asking for a new Q&A so I'm working on it at the moment, send all the questions you may want to be added here, or directly on asks. Love, Lils xx

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 10 months

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Hi there! I saw requests are open so can I ask for HCs of the First year gang (Adeuce, Jack, Epel, and Sebek) with a fem mc / crush (maybe mutual? Or dating? You choose, it's fine!) that loves to bring blankets to class and puts it in her lap to cover the legs because she gets cold very easily? Maybe she asks them to share the blanket with her too during breaks or something? Idk this is a cute prompt that popped into my head thank u ❤️❤️❤️

Ace Trappola:

Ace always teased you about how cold you got, saying it felt like touching an ice block when your legs would bump in class. You’d pout about it but Ace always agreed to sit a little closer so you could share the blanket, and you think he’d bring a blanket to class too if he wasn’t so tuck in his own head about what others might think of it. You don’t mind being the prepared one of the bunch though, and Ace soon started relying on you to keep him warm; sometimes when you hugged after getting a moment together, he’d wrap the blanket around you both to cocoon you together.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce is prepared! Ever since you started dating he’s chosen to carry the blanket around himself, unbothered by the people who might call him weak-willed or act like he’s just your servant. He doesn’t think it’s an unusual for a boyfriend to want to do something for their loved one, and he knows how much your mood can plummet when you’re stuck in class without your blanket. While embarrassed by it, he does think you’re extra sweet when you offer to keep him warm during class as well, and he always agreed even in the sweltering heat.

Epel Felmier:

Epel didn’t really think anything of it, seeing you with that blanket was just like seeing you in your uniform; it was just normal and he didn’t even notice after a while. Now inviting him under the blanket would get his face red as an apple, that providing more than enough warm to get him through class in one piece. He cared about how others saw him and tried not to get hung up on how he might be perceived by having a cute blanket like yours thrown over his lap during class, but you seemed so disappointed… He’d much rather make you happy and then throw hands with anyone who had something to say to him.

Jack Howl:

Jack normally runs hot so he doesn’t need the blanket for the most part, rejecting your invitation without thinking about the implications of you wanting to be close. Unfortunately, many advances would go over his head so it’s best for you to get used to him not realizing until much later what you wanted, but he was sweet otherwise. Once when you forgot to bring your blanket to class he offered to run to your dorm and get it, knowing he’d be faster than you, and when you had told him he’d be late to class his mood deflated at not being able to help. Instead he offered you his jacket, and if that didn’t work, he’d sit closer to you than normal so his natural body heat could help hold you over until class was over.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek doesn’t know if it’s appropriate for you to take your blanket out of your room and scolded you occasionally as it could be a distraction for others in class. You explained to him that if you were cold you’d be distracted so he came to terms with your need, but he did still consider doing some research in his own time to get you socks or pants you could wear under your uniform that would provide the same warmth. He does always pick your blanket up when you’re walking together and it starts trailing on the ground, even having it washed daily for you as he worried about the germs it might pick up from being on the ground so much.

#Twisted Wonderland #Disney Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Disney TWST #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Epel Felmier #Jack Howl #Sebek Zigvolt #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #epel felmier x reader #jack howl x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

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3d-wifey · 6 months

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And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 11

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 8.3k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn A/N: LADIES N GENTLEMEN, THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! there are multiple POV changes in this, I'm training yall for the arena and Mockingjay. FYI: I was so disheartened bc this felt like the worst past I've written for this story :(((

Past (xii) - Finnick

[ 21 & 22] - DISTRICT FOUR

Finnick is sitting at his desk, probably looking as worn out and exhausted as he feels. It’s the early hours of the morning, and he hasn’t slept for the past two days. He’s been writing for hours, trying to find the right words to say. The sun had just set when he poured himself into the seat, and now, he glances to his left, the first tendrils of sunlight are peaking up.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of Finnick's labored breathing. His hands are shaking, a side effect of the stress that has been building inside him like a pressure cooker. Snow's visit has left him reeling, unable to process the implications of the deal he's been forced to make. He knows he has to write you a letter, but the thought fills him with a sense of despondency. Something that normally fills him with insurmountable excitement and anticipation fills him with devastation. It feels like, like…there’s nothing he can compare it to. Not everything feels like something else and Finnick knows this kind of grief is very rarely experienced.

What is he supposed to do? He hasn’t opened the last letter you sent, knowing it will be the last one that won’t carry the weight of mourning. He knows that you'll write to him again, that you won’t take this lying down. You’ll write and write, and he will...he will do nothing.

It sits in front of him, innocuous and unassuming. Something devastating folded in a green envelope and wrapped in your scent like a well-dressed bomb. Does his fear outweigh his longing for you?

He picks it up, holding it gingerly in his hands.

No, he realizes, it doesn’t.

He’s careful to tear the seal on the flap and your perfume wafts up like a surprise. He takes a deep breath, savoring the scent, trying to steel himself for what comes next.

Dear Finn,

I feel like I’ve missed you longer than I’ve had the chance to know you. It's been three months now, but maybe by the time this letter gets to you, we'll both be on our way to the Capitol. I'm working on being more optimistic, but that uphill battle is becoming steeper the longer I'm away from you.

I keep thinking about when I first met you. When I looked into your eyes, I didn't see fireworks exploding or any of that other shit they depict in those gaudy Capitol romance novels. I looked into your eyes and saw you, something far more breathtaking than fireworks. And what a sight you were.

Three years back, you said something I never agreed with, that it was hard to love you. At the moment, I didn’t get to say what I really wanted to because I was eighteen and the thought of being so emotionally vulnerable made my teeth itch.

I wanted to say that you aren't hard to love. I wanted to say loving you has been the easiest thing I have ever done. And that's why it was so difficult. I could never let myself love you—let myself have you because how could I possibly deserve to? But that’s the kicker. It’s not hard to love you, Finn, it’s impossible not to.

Something happened recently that made me realize that I’m not the most forthcoming person when it comes to my feelings. But, Finn, know that my love for you is never in doubt. How I feel about you may be complex, but it’s not complicated. I love you desperately, humanly, simply. Without even trying, you peel me back to my core, but if you only dug a little deeper you’d find your picture framed and hanging along the walls of my soul.

I miss you, more than I was prepared to—and I was prepared to miss you considerably.

We may not be next to each other, but we’re under the same sky, and each glowing point on that backdrop of black is a star—a sun at the center of someone’s solar system.

In some other universe, on a different Earth, there’s a girl in love with a boy whose freckles run like constellations. On another, there’s a girl who’s in love with how her boy’s eyes squint when he smiles.

That's the one constant. There are billions of stars, billions of universes, and I love you in every one of them.

Tears are blurring his vision before he can read how you close the letter and he has to sit back as the full weight of what he’s about to do hits him all at once. Your words are like a balm to his soul, but they burn him just as much as they soothe him. A reminder of what he’s losing just as much as a reminder of what he’s fighting for. There was never a need to put a label on what you two had, what you were to each other, because it would never be replicated. It had always just been ‘yours’ . Now, with a flick of his pen, it’ll be nothing.

Maybe , he thinks, maybe there’s a way I can explain why I’m doing this, some kind of code or something. Maybe I can still meet with her, just in secret. But Snow …It always comes back to Snow.

Snow reads these letters, and surely he'll be more vigilant of Finnick to make sure he keeps his side of the deal. Besides, if you knew the real reason he’s doing this—that it’s against his will, that he wouldn’t even think to do this in his worst nightmare—you’ll latch on, consequences be damned.

He’s doing this for you. He has to remind himself that it’s your life on the line here, not just his heart.

Still.

He's careful when folding the letter back, only bending it along the preexisting lines. He sets it beside himself.

He picks up a piece of paper from the stack in front of him tucked against the wall, twirling his pen along his fingers. His leg bounces, nails tapping on the desk.

He writes something down and comes to a stuttering halt. It isn't good enough. He crumbles it up, throws it in the trash, and picks up a new one.

Write, crumble, trash, repeat.

He's stuck in a loop, unable to find the right words. The pressure is building, and he can feel himself starting to crack. He needs to get this done, needs to find a way to say goodbye.

Write, crumble, trash, repeat.

He's lost track of time, doesn't know how long he's been sitting here. The words are eluding him, and he's starting to feel like he's lost his grip on reality.

Finally, he puts pen to paper and the words flow out of him like a dam breaking. He writes about his love for you, about how much he misses you, about how impossible it is to imagine a future without you. He writes about his fear and his grief, about the weight of the world on his shoulders. He writes you goodbye.

When he's done, he holds your letter carefully, tucking it back into its envelope. He knows what he has to do, knows that there's no turning back now.

With trembling hands, he picks up the tan envelope and slides his letter inside. He seals it with a kiss, feeling the weight of his decision like a physical burden.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and places the letter on the stack in front of him. It's done. The words are written, the decision made.

He sits back in his chair, feeling numb and hollow. He doesn't know what comes next, but he knows that he'll face it head-on. For you.

Past (xii) - You

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

Finnick's reply came faster than you expected it to.

You plop down in your office chair, giddy as you rub at your sore cheeks. You've been smiling like an idiot since you picked up the letter from the Mayor's office. You tear into the envelope and pause.

The words are kind of smudged, dried drops of something smearing the ink. Luckily, you can still read it.

My heart,

My moon and stars.

I must have rewritten these words at least a dozen times by now. You should see the pile of crumpled paper next to me. You'd call it wasteful, but I'm sure you'd be secretly charmed by how nervous you make me after all these years.

There's no way to dance around it, and I know how much you hate when people mince their words.

It pains me to think it, let alone write it. This will be my last letter to you.

I know you have a hundred and one questions bouncing around that beautiful brain of yours, you'll want to know why. And the answer is, there is no why. I've decided that it's best, for both of us, to stop. Stop the letters, stop the meetings.

It ends here.

I don't want you to hate me. But if that makes it easier for you to stay away from me, then despise me. More than the Peacekeepers, more than the Capitol, more than Snow. Take that loathing and hold onto it like you used to hold me.

But, selfishly, I want you to know what I'll be holding onto.

Those little moments outside of time where you and I were the center of each other's universe, two stars orbiting each other. The balcony of my room, the floor of yours.

I want you to know this because I don't want you to doubt that I love you.

Because I do. I love you. I could say it a thousand times, and it still wouldn't be enough. I could say it until my tongue falls off and I'd find a way to sign it to you.

I could live a thousand lifetimes, be a thousand different people, and I will never love someone like I love you.

I think of your smile and I fall in love again. I think of your touch and I fall in love again. I won't leave you without you knowing this. I'd sooner stop breathing.

There are plenty of things I should be thanking you for, but if I tried to make a list, I'd run out of paper.

I felt...free with you. As free as anyone can be in our situation. I've never felt so close to another person before—I never let myself.

I thought it would pass eventually, like a sand castle when it's high tide. Noticeable, beautiful, but temporary.

But I can tell you now, that was such bullshit . Since that first dance, there was never a moment I wasn’t in love with you. I loved you before I knew I was capable of it, before I knew I had it in me, and you had my heart before I even knew it was there. I saw the thorns of your past and held my hands out, ready to bleed if it meant I could touch you.

And that scared me. The very thing that gave me strength was my biggest weakness. That’s a hard pill to swallow at sixteen and it’s just as daunting at twenty-two.

Years ago, you asked me if I could wish for anything, what would it be. I still wish I was a different person, someone you could be proud of. And I wish that person got to grow old with you.

God, you don't know how badly I want to grow old with you.

I have no doubt that there's a planet out there under a different sun where we end up together. Hand and hand with the two kids we always talked about. A little girl that'll have me wrapped around her finger because she'll look just like you. And a little boy that'll drive you up the wall because he's a little too much like me. That universe is where my heart lives.

We'll find it someday, just you and me. Until then, they'll find our love written in the stars. In every constellation.

-Yours until words lose meaning,

Finnick O.

You reread the letter. Then reread it again. You keep rereading it until the words refuse to sit still, letters blurring together.

It ends here? What’s he talking about? He can't possibly mean the two of you. He can't.

But he’s ending it. He ended it . Why would he—? He said there’s no reason, but…but there has to be.

You try to think of anything you did—anything you said that could have led to this but you're coming up blank.

This doesn't make any sense. It doesn't line up with the Finnick you know.

The letter says that he loves you, and you thought you knew he loved you, but it’s pretty hard to believe that when he’s leaving you.

He promised he'd stay with you, he promised , and Finnick doesn't break his promises. Not with you. No. Not after everything you've been through together. You only have each other.

The paper falls from your trembling hands to the desk.

No . You only have Finnick. But, Finnick—he doesn't want you anymore, right? So, where does that leave you? What else do you have?

A grandfather clock ticks in the background, though it sounds muted to your ears.

You look down at the paper and find wet spots, ink more smeared than it was before. Your cheeks are wet. Are you crying?

Stupid. You wipe at your cheeks roughly—angrier at yourself than you are at him. There are a million and one reasons this could have happened and they all begin and end with you. You have no one to blame but yourself.

You know what it feels like for your body to break. What it feels like to be drained down to your skin, nerves, muscles, and bones. You've come eerily close to knowing what it feels like to have your mind broken.

But this is new. This is what it feels like to have your heart broken. It's sudden, and it rips you apart on its way in. Not an arrow, but a knife. Quicker than you thought it'd be, but it hurts just the same.

You’re so cold. You don't think you've ever been this cold before. Not even when you were nine and you got such bad hyperthermia that you couldn’t work for the rest of the winter. He always ran hot, you think distantly. And all his warmth has left you.

You hold on to yourself because no one else will. You would have preferred your body breaking. At least that heals.

“I can’t,” you weep, stuttering over betrayal and loss, “I can’t do this on my own.”

You press your forehead into the desk, your body shaking with the sobs you’re holding back. It hurts so bad. Pain sitting rooted in your chest, sharp and rigid like a peach pit. Your heart doesn’t beat, it throbs . Throbs like a festering wound, irritated and infected.

You pull at your shirt and dig your nails into your chest. Maybe if you press hard enough through the skin and fascia and muscles you could pull out the problem.

But that’s impossible. There’s nothing there. It’s the absence that hurts, that gaping Finnick-shaped hole. You wanted to give him your heart, but not like this.

Did you get ahead of yourself? Thinking anything could last with someone who shines as bright as him? Maybe…maybe if you were a little more like him, if you shined just as bright.

You scoff.

You’re not a star, you’re not even the moon. How can the sun love the same darkness it chases away?

He described the ocean to you once. Vast and endless, like it could go on forever. And he told you about all the people who get lost at sea. Now you’re one of them.

You have capsized, water rushing up past your neck and into your mouth and nose, just as salty as your tears. Your lungs burn from the lack of air, you can’t breathe and no one will come for you because you're as good as dead.

Here you sit in your study in your home that isn’t really yours, far away from any ocean, but you're drowning anyway.

You drown and you drown and you drown and you do it alone.

Present (X) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL

It’s a last resort, a unanimous choice between them all. A wordless decision that the victors made to appeal to the Capitol citizens. Though they’re all using different means, it’s all for the same result. That’s what Finnick has to remind himself when he’s called on stage after Beetee.

The crowd screams at his entrance and he locks his hands behind his back. He smiles while nodding to his adoring fans as he stands beside Caesar.

“Finnick, I understand that you have a message for somebody out there. A special somebody.” The crowd hoots and hollers at the dramatics of it all and the idea of one of them being the special someone close to his heart. He chuckles and looks down. The Capitols being painfully predictable is finally paying off. All according to plan. “Can we hear it?”

He could spew some generic flowery shit that could apply to literally anyone he’s come in contact with, but…

He looks at the camera. There will be fourteen victors coming up to perform before you, so you should still be in your dressing room. Are you watching? Watching him?

"My love, my star . My heart is yours. And…and if I had to pick a place to die, it would be in the warmth of your arms. Your smile, the last thing I see and your lips, the last thing I taste. Everything I have ever done, I have done for you.”

Caesar pouts at the audience as they coo at his love letter and he wishes they never heard it. He wishes he could have said it to you directly. Those words, they’re yours and they should have been for your ears only. And, yet, here he is, relaying his heart to you through a screen. Look how far we’ve fallen, Star.

“Oh, my. That’s very touching, Finnick. Isn’t it? I’m sure whoever it is, is listening and feeling truly loved.”

“I hope you’re right, Caesar.”

They allowed Mags to opt out of her interview on account of her not being able to speak. How kind , he scoffs. And as he settles on the raised platform beside her, he briefly squeezes her hand.

You okay? He mouths and she nods with a smile.

One by one, each victor comes with their own approach to sway the masses. Oh, he knows there's no way they'll be canceling the games. Finnick is more likely to drain the ocean with a teaspoon before Snow even considers stopping this cruelty. But it’s worth a shot, he supposes. It can’t possibly make going into the arena any worse.

Besides Johanna's impassioned speech, nothing the other victors do stands out to him. Then, you're called out.

He sinks his teeth into his lip as the audience applauds at your entrance.

From what he can recall, your outfit is a remix of the dress you wore in your first interview as if it has aged and matured with you. It’s gained a long train and the hip-high thigh slits that your stylist is known for.

You blow kisses to the crowd and they, understandably, go wild. You turn to Caesar with a smile and the overhead lights shine on you, painting your skin in soft lighting like a blanket. He takes a breath. And another, until he notices he’s breathing in sync with you.

He blinks when the crowd breaks into raucous laughter and he realizes he’s missed something.

"Oh, we all know just how shy you are." Caesar smiles, holding his laugh behind clenched teeth in that way of his that reminds Finnick of an overachieving beaver. The crowd laughs with him and your cheeks must hurt from holding that coy smile. "Now, the last time we talked, you said you were composing a new piece." Caesar pulls a violin out from…somewhere behind him and presents it to you like a gift. Finnick doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he didn’t think you’d use the violin as your strategy. Mostly because of how much you hate it. Or maybe you don’t anymore. Maybe you’ve grown to love it and he’s none the wiser. “Can you play it for us now?" The crowd clamors in ooohs and ahhhs at the idea. It has always been a privilege to hear you play. Finnick watches your face closely.

It wasn't your favorite thing to do, by far, but you took to it like a fish to water. Usually, Snow would have you play at the more "personal" get-togethers. But every once in a while, you would compose a song for Finnick . And when it was just the two of you, you'd share it with him. He'd sit in front of you in awe as you played. He doesn't have a musical bone in his body, but he can hum every piece from memory.

“You’re kind of putting me on the spot here, but, sure. I would love to play it for you all.” You laugh. You place the instrument under your chin and position your fingers and bow.

And you play .

It's not showy like the pieces you usually play for the public. Not grand or performative, but soft and soulful. Melancholy. It feels nostalgic almost, like something you would write for him.

The haunting melody carries throughout the silent room as if everyone is breathing with the lilting notes. Everyone but Finnick—who holds his breath.

He looks down, squeezing his eyes shut, nose scrunching as he fights back tears. Because as much as you may hate the instrument, you play it as if it's an extension of your body. And you've always been better at showing how you feel than saying it.

It sounds like a goodbye.

You come to a stop and Finnick's lungs stop constricting with your movements.

When you finish, it’s quiet before Caesar clears his throat and gives you a small smile that almost looks genuine.

“That was marvelous , my dear. Truly moving—wasn’t that moving?” He asks the audience, and Finnick will be surprised if there’s a dry eye in the crowd. Even their applause sounds sad.

“Thank you, Caesar.” You nod at the praise. “You taught me so much—all of you. If I had known this would be the last time I got to play for you—” You trail off into a sob and the crowd coos. The words may be fake, but he isn’t too sure about the tears. He wonders if you think you won’t make it out of the arena alive—not that he would let that happen. If he could just talk to you, and have an actual conversation, he could know what you’re thinking.

Caesar pats your lower back and Finnick’s eyes narrow. “And you played beautifully.”

You hand the violin back with a watery smile and, fake or not, Finnick hates to see you cry.

You’re met with a standing ovation as you climb to your place on the platform. With the way the victors are positioned, he stands directly behind you. Or, well, strictly speaking, he’s more diagonal than directly behind you. Still, how lucky is he? He could, theoretically, lean forward and catch a whiff of your perfume—

He gathers himself, straightening up and lacing his fingers behind his back. He squeezes the space between his thumb and forefinger.

Katniss spins and her wedding dress transforms in a flurry of fire before their eyes.

“Again with the fire.” He mutters under his breath.

The crowd is in awe as she spreads her wings, but he isn’t so easily cowed. Though, he might not be the target audience. Finnick’s never been particularly fond of birds, even if they are mockingjays.

"You know Katniss and I, we've been luckier than most. And I wouldn't have any regrets at all if it weren't…if—" Peeta stops himself, glancing around nervously.

"If it weren't for what? What?"

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Now, that catches his attention. Gasps echo throughout the room at Peeta’s revelation. Finnick’s eyebrows almost touch his hairline with how high they raise. Caesar tries to do damage control, but the situation is quickly escalating.

“Call off the games!”

“This is cruel!”

He purses his lips around a growing smile, but he can’t hide it for long when the crowd starts shouting. That’s…that’s certainly one way to get the audience riled up. He catches the slight smirk on Peeta’s face as he watches the commotion he caused and Finnick’s a little jealous.

Chaos unfurls in a way he never thought the Capitols were capable of. They’ve always been so docile; sheep shepherded into any direction Snow leads them. But it makes sense. The romance act was meant to fool the Capitol and fool them it has. He hides the vindictive glee he feels at the riot breaking out in the name of the victors, but only barely. He would kill to see Snow's face right now.

How does it feel, he wonders, to see your people rebel in support of the savages you tried to paint us out to be?

He looks over, brows furrowed, as Mags takes his hand with a proud smile and he glances down in time to see you take Chaff’s hand. He pauses for a moment before taking the hand the woman from Five offers him. In sync, the victors all raise their hands in a show of solidarity.

“Stop the games!”

“Call them off!”

Finnick grins big at the mayhem unfolding before him and they keep shouting long after the lights cut out.

Present (X) - You & Finnick

[23 & 24 ] - THE CAPITOL

“Star!”

It didn't take long for the tributes to be escorted off the platforms and as he chases after you, Finnick realizes that he vastly underestimated just how many people stood between you and him. He isn't sure if he's too far away for you to hear or if you’re actively ignoring him.

”Star!” Finnick pushes through the crowd of victors and stage crew to get closer. Chaff glances at him and now he knows for sure that you’re ignoring him.

“Stubborn.” He mutters as some of his fellow victors let him pass, glancing at him before continuing their conversations. But, as he’s said before, he’s just as stubborn as you. He racks his brain for something that’ll catch your attention before he loses what might be his last chance with you. “ The message was for you! ”

You pause at the entrance of the elevator at Finnick's shout. You're so close to getting away, so close. Your escape is a hair's breadth and a footstep away, but you remember how you felt sitting in your dressing room watching Finnick's interview. Was there a pang of jealousy over the possibility of the message being for someone else? God , it couldn't even be categorized as jealousy.

You look over your shoulder and his lungs stop constricting. He’s got you. Now, for the hardest part: keeping you.

There are dozens of eyes on him, people milling around as if they aren’t honed in on whatever this is. He can’t blame them for being curious, he’s a little confused himself. He went into this with no plan, not that he would have been able to stick to one with how you’re looking at him.

“What?” The lingering crowd fully parts for him as he approaches, and you regard the gathering audience warily.

“What I said, the message—it was for you.” He repeats.

He can’t afford to be coy, that hasn't worked the last dozen times he's attempted a conversation with you and it definitely won't work now. He knows if he doesn’t catch you now, there won’t be any more chances.

Peeta dropped a baby bomb, and, somehow, this is the most dramatic thing to happen tonight. His eyes are locked intently on you, either unaware of all the attention he’s captured or just uncaring.

You look over to Chaff for some kind of help and he smirks at your growing embarrassment. You watch in disbelief as he walks away using the excuse of finding Seeder to escape.

“Finnick, this isn’t the time.” You glance between him and the floor, tracing the threading in his boots instead of the desperation in his eyes.

"Can you please just,” he shifts his weight on his feet, "can you look at me, Star? Please, just look at me." He lifts his hand like he aims to reach out to you, but hesitates.

This situation is developing into something far more intimate than your current company should allow. More intimate than you should allow. You can always just walk away, turn your back to him and get on one of the idle elevators—let it end here once and for all. The only thing stopping you would be the completely unfounded guilt.

You don't owe him anything, let alone your time.

And, yet.

Maybe you can get some kind of closure and set clear boundaries before you go into the arena—and that reasoning sounds weak even to you.

Both of you could die tomorrow and truthfully, you don't want to walk away from him; you've never wanted to.

Besides, it's not like he can hurt you any worse than he already has.

Finnick jolts when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, a sensation he should be accustomed to but has grown foreign.

You pull him aside away from eavesdropping ears, but not from nosey eyes. You feel like a spectacle, with how front and center Finnick has made this, but when haven't you?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You question him in a harsh whisper. “I don’t know what this is or what you think this is, but it is not the place for it. What if this gets back to Snow—”

“I don’t care.”

“—There’s already so much…what?”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, and for once, he’s not lying. “I don’t care if they hear us, or—or if this gets back to Snow.”

Your jaw shifts as you narrow your eyes up at him and there’s that anger he’s been expecting.

“Please, Star. Just…just let me speak.” He begs. Your face goes blank, a mask slotting into place like a lock with a key that Finnick has long since lost the right to. He blocks out the chatter around him.

“Not here.” For a moment, he thinks he’s being rejected until you grab his wrist and drag him behind you. The elevators are filling in droves and you just so happen to pick the one housing some of the last people he wants to witness this.

Haymitch takes one look at your faces and the grip you have on his wrist and raises his hands in defense.

Haymitch turns to Katniss and Peeta. “Nuh-uh, believe me. You do not wanna be locked in here with them.” He shakes his head and steps out without a backward glance and you contemplate going with him. “I’ll meet you guys up there.”

Johanna steps on in his place, elevator doors closing behind her. She looks between the four of you and whistles. Finnick sighs.

“There’s the happy couple.” You glance at Peeta and Katniss because she certainly isn’t talking about the two of you. “You caused quite the stir out there. Why didn’t you tell us you were expecting? We could have thrown you a baby shower.” You sigh through your nose. You don’t even have it in you to intervene in this conversation.

“What the hell is a baby shower—”

“We didn’t know how everyone would take it.” Peeta cuts Katniss off. “We’re already the newest victors. The baby might’ve painted an even bigger target on our backs.” He says without stuttering once.

“That’s a fantastic answer, Peeta.” Johanna crows sarcastically. “Did Haymitch prep you on that one or did you come up with it on your own?”

“No. No, it’s all me.” He assures with a downward smile. It certainly is all him. He’s the mastermind behind all of this, right? Ironically enough, Finnick doubts Katniss had any real part in making this ‘baby scandal’.

Finnick opens his mouth to make a quip but thinks better of it. You’re already aggravated at his presence and he honestly doesn’t want to remind you that he’s here. His only consolation is that you’re still holding his wrist, all five pads of your fingers are searing points on his skin.

Peeta gives you an imploring look, eyebrows raised as if to ask if you’re alright and you nod and—when did that happen?

It’s quiet, with no other sound than the nearly inaudible woosh of the elevator going between floors. No one makes an effort to break the steadily growing awkward silence. Finnick does, however, make the mistake of making eye contact with Johanna. She mouths you’re dead at him over your head and, yeah, that definitely fills him with much-needed confidence.

Present (X) - Finnick

[21 & 22] - THE CAPITOL; TRAINING CENTER; ELEVENTH FLOOR

“Alright. You wanted to speak.” Your dress flutters around your legs as you settle into a big green chair. That same giant green chair you sat in three years prior. You’ve both grown considerably since then. Just in two completely different directions. What a juxtaposition. “Speak.”

He stays where he’s standing a couple of feet away. He probably should have figured out what to do on the elevator ride, but, again, he’s without a plan. “Did you hear my message? When I was up there with Caesar? I know you were still getting ready—did you hear it?”

“I might’ve.” You shrug and cross your arms, still so stubborn. “Great strategy by the way. I’m sure you’ll reel in plenty of sponsors.”

“God, Star, it wasn’t for them. It wasn’t even for the fucking movement.” You raise a brow at his words but give no further outward reaction. He moves to stand before you, each step more unsure than the last. Your glare is scorching, but there’s been enough space between the two of you to house the sun. “Do you remember when you said my poetry was a gift? And—and that I shouldn’t waste it on them? You said you would never be tired of anything I do. Do you remember that night? What I said?” He implores. It was a special night full of promises and you gave him more than he deserved.

You look him over with a critical eye long enough that he’s sure you’re just not going to answer. Especially when you turn to stare off to the side before sighing out of your nose.

“My heart, who am I to deprive you of what's yours by right? The air in my lungs, I breathe for you. The blood in my veins pumps for you. A leaf can’t stop itself from falling and neither could I. Everything I do, I do for you.” It only takes him half a second to recognize the lines and he’s stunned, transported back to that garden under the stars. “I remember all of them…I remember everything you’ve made for me.” You give him fleeting peripheral glances and avoid his gaze like you’re ashamed of that.

He nods, frantic and eager. He’s making headway. He honestly didn’t think you’d let him get this far. Your eyes widen when he drops down into a kneel before you smooth your face into a blank mask. “They’re all yours. And they’ll keep being yours even if you still hate me when I leave this room. Everything I’ve written since I met you has been for you.’’ He confesses, hands moving to grip the arms of your chair, but is it really a confession? The Capitols love his poetry because they adore the idea of Finnick Odair being devoted to them, longing for them and, for that, you’ve always been his inspiration.

You stare down at him, giving no indication that anything he’s said has swayed you. He grits his teeth through the sting of rejection and sighs, arms falling to his sides.

“I can’t tell you how sorry—”

“Why now?” You cut him off. “It’s been two years. You don’t owe me anything, Finnick, so if this a guilt thing—”

“I–It’s not. I mean, it is, but it’s not…it’s not why I’m here.” He sits back on his haunches, running a hand through his hair. “We could die tomorrow. And I don’t want you going into that arena thinking that I don’t love you or…or that I wanted to leave you.”

You squint at him, face twisting into a sour scowl.

“You said,” you drawl, slow and drawn out like you’re explaining something fundamental to a child, “you thought it was best if we ended it.”

He shakes his head. “I lied. I had to and I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know I hurt you and I know saying sorry won’t be enough, but please know sending that letter was the last thing I wanted to do. Leaving you was the last thing I wanted to do.”

“What? What are you talking about? You said—”

He holds his hands up, stopping your completely warranted stream of questions.

“I know. I know what I said and I never would have said it if Snow hadn’t shown up at my house—”

“Snow showed up at your house?” Your arms unfold and you lean forward so suddenly that he almost flinches back. “When?”

“Uh, a few weeks before I sent the letter. He’s the only reason I even sent it.” He scoffs, remembering the state he was left in after Snow offered the ultimatum. He doesn’t need to try to remember the words written in the letter he sent you because he’s never forgotten. They’re tattooed on the back of his eyelids, seared into his memory every time he blinks.

“What did he want? What did he say to make you…” He watches you try to articulate your confusion. What led to this ? What could have possibly been worth giving you up?

“Snow he–he was convinced that our relationship would somehow lead to—civil unrest. His solution was to get rid of one of us, get rid of you . I couldn’t let that happen. He never explicitly said it, but you know how he is, how he speaks …I was scared. I was. I didn’t—” His voice cracks and you stare down at him with stunned, wide eyes. He wants to shuffle closer. He wants to sway into you and take some kind of comfort. But he doesn’t. “I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t just tell you because you would have tried to find some kind of loophole and we couldn’t afford to make him more hostile than he already was.”

You look to your left out of the wall-length windows and smirk, completely throwing Finnick off.

"Star?"

You stand. He watches as you pace the length of the room before turning on your heel and walking onto the balcony. He can do nothing more than follow you.

“He came to my house too, you know. Around the same time, I think. He wanted to remind me about how privileged I am.” You snort and that sick feeling is developing in his stomach, organs twisting to make room for the settling dread. He isn’t sure what he thought you’d do in light of the revelation, what he expected you to say, but it’s not this. “Went on about how thankful I should be that he was allowing us to be in a relationship and…and that as long as I kept myself in line, I could keep you.” You sigh, propping your elbows on the railing and placing your face in your hands.

He doesn’t know what to do. Speechless doesn’t even cover it. His anger is there, and he doesn’t see that ever leaving him...but he’s been angry for so long and he’s been tired for even longer.

“We played right into his hand, Finnick. He gained something from this, bastard that he is.” You scoff. You turn and sit with your back against the glass railing. "That's all that matters to him."

Finnick stews on it and many things are starting to make sense. In the months leading up to the event, the two of you started seeing each other less and less. Long periods where all he had was your perfume and words to keep him company. And considering Snow was the only way either of you were allowed to come to the Capitol…Of course. It all seems so fucking obvious now .

"I should have known better. Snow was never gonna kill you, he's too fucking— God .” He stops and shakes his head. All of the lost time, the unnecessary pain.

“Come sit down, Finn.”

Finn.

He hasn't been called that in a long time. He takes a second to stare unseeingly at the stars before sliding down beside you.

It's quiet. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if there's anything he should say, and he's sure you feel the same. But he does know if it was up to you, you'd both sit in silence for the foreseeable future and he has two years' worth of confessions to make.

“The mo—” he stops, overwhelmed by how much he wants to say, but nothing feels good enough, “I loved you the moment you laughed at my stupid joke the first time we danced together and I have loved you ever since. Even when I wasn’t there to show you, even when I—I left you. I’ve loved you the entire way, Star. There are billions of suns out there, billions of universes, and I love you in every one.”

Your head whips up.

“I remember everything you’ve made for me too.” Your mouth twists, brows furrowing as you stare at him and he can’t express in words how good it feels to be seen.

"I don’t hate you.” You shrug a shoulder, smiling small and quick. “You said ‘even if you still hate me’, I don’t hate you.”

“...You don’t?”

“I tried to. For a while, I thought I did." He shouldn’t be surprised by that. He shouldn’t be hurt by something he explicitly told you to do in his letter. Finnick shouldn’t be a lot of things that he is. “But I just… couldn’t . I didn’t even want to, after a while. I was just tired.”

His head thumps against the railing. He closes his eyes. There's a question on his tongue, an answer he shouldn't need but wants regardless.

“Is that why you stopped sending letters?” When he opens his eyes again, he’s relieved by the fact that you’re still facing him.

Your face twists like you’ve tasted something sour, something rotten. “I just…I was fine waiting for you, Finnick. It was hard, but it didn’t hurt. Not too bad, at least. I would’ve waited a thousand years because it would have been worth it to hold you for a second. And I could get through that because I knew you were waiting for me too. But, I realized you were never coming. And, eventually, I realized…you weren’t waiting either." You whisper, wrapping your arms around your legs as you pull your knees up. He stiffens, freezing in place as he tries to slow his heartbeat.

He drops his head, brows furrowed as he tries, and fails, to stop tears from forming. It's just, it's cruel . The one thing he promised himself he'd never do—leave you, hurt you—he had to do for you.

He wipes his face, pressing the base of his palms into his eyes.

"Star, I…I would never…It killed me to write that letter, you have to know that, right? Right ?" He implores, voice rough while his breath hitches repeatedly. His throat feels tight and swollen as he stutters over the words in his chest. The words you have to hear, the words he needs you to hear. You stare forward, refusing to look at him anymore and he turns to face you full-on, refusing to look at anything but you. "How can I let you know that? What can I do—to prove—that I'm sorry ?"

He thought you both had changed, changed too much to be fluent in what you two used to have. He thought it was a different language, but here, up close, he can see that it’s not so much a new language as it is a cipher. You just had to let him get close enough to understand again. He had always thought you had such an open face, it was a wonder to him how you were able to lie so eloquently when you could never lie to him. But it wasn’t until he was shut out that he realized you were letting him read you, subconsciously or otherwise. He reads you now, eyes tracing your face eagerly—hungrily, and finds…remorse?

"I know you’re sorry. I know. And logically, knowing the truth should make it easier to get over it.” Your mouth opens and closes, hesitating. “But you left me." He nods hard enough to hurt his neck. "I did." And he's sorry, he's sorry, he's so sorry. He doesn't think there's enough air on the planet for him to tell you just how sorry he is. "You left me, Finnick. I know it isn’t rational to feel this way knowing you didn’t want to, but…” You lick your lips, resting your cheek on your knee. When you look up at him, actually look at him and not somewhere over his shoulder, the glossy state of your eyes has him digging his nails into his hands to ground himself. "It’s just—it’s more than a little hard to dissociate you from that hurt." I’d take that hurt from you if I could, he thinks. I’d grit my teeth through the pain and wear it proudly if it meant you’d have a moment of relief. He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says, "I'm sorry, Star." Because, really, what else is there to say? There’s no way to describe everything he’s sorry for.

"...I'm sorry too." You say and he wants to tell you there’s nothing to apologize to him about, but you lock your pinky with his and it’s entirely unexpected and truly enough to make his throat tighten, and all he can manage is a wistful sigh at the feeling of coming home.

Far below them, the sound of the city is dampened by the distance but no less heard. He goes to speak but spots a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. It’s your ankle. Or specifically, what’s on your ankle.

“You wore it?” He asks, touching the fraternal twin of his own bracelet. He appraises what he thought was lost reverently. Tracing the grooves of the shells, the divets in the charms, the rough twine of the rope—it all feels like a live wire under his fingers.

“I never took it off.” You slip your heel off, loosening the straps of the bracelet and wiggling it down your foot. “I just thought it might be a little sad to parade it around when you didn’t want me.”

“There will never be a moment on this Earth of me not wanting you, not while I still have air in my lungs. Not even after.”

“And how’ll you manage that?” You ask, your eyes crinkling in that old mirth you used to wear around him like a beauty mark.

“For you? I’ll find a way.” He promises.

You hum, appraising the jewelry for a second before passing it to him. He can’t help but smile when you lift your hand, silently prompting him. He places the bracelet on you, tightening it on your wrist. It feels like muscle memory when he lifts your hand to place a kiss on the center shell.

The corner of your mouth twitches up and you nod. “Okay.”

He leans in, placing a hand on the base of your neck and pulling you towards him and he’s still in awe that you actually let him. He holds the back of your head as you bury your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his slender waist.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness, it wouldn’t be fair to.” He murmurs into the crown of your hair. “But after we do this, I want the chance to make it up to you." He'll spend the rest of his life mending what he tore apart if you let him.

“I think…I’d like that.” You speak into his chest and he feels your voice more than he hears it. “It was for you too.”

“What was?”

“The song I played onstage. I wrote it after it all happened. Honestly, I couldn’t touch the violin without thinking of you, Finn. You were the only person I ever wanted to play for.” You whisper and it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Finnick’s taken by the sudden need to look in your eyes more than anything, to see and know you and be seen and known in return. He pulls back enough to look down at you.

“ Star .” He begs you beseechingly, and there’s no hesitation when you look up at him and he grins. It feels like it’s been years. “There you are.”

You smile. It's small and heavier than he remembers, but it's there and he is as whole as he will ever be.

A/N: IMAGINE POURING YOUR HEART OUT AND EXPRESSING HEARTFELT INTIMACY TO THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE JUST TO GET DUMPED yeesh. fun fact: "...but if you only dug a little deeper you’d find your picture framed and hanging along the walls of my soul." I actually texted this to my beta reader about Finn from Adventure Time after seeing an edit bc I love him so much, but then I converted it into Finnick love. also, Finnick's letter was one of the first things I wrote for this story months ago. That balcony talk was inspired by Hozier's Unknown/Nth WE IN THE ARENA NEXT CHAPPY

#3d wifey talks #3d wifey answers #finnick odair x reader #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair #and they'd find us in a week #finnick #finnick odair fanfic #catching fire #the hunger games x reader #hunger games smut #hunger games fanfiction #finnick fanfic #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick imagine #hunger games finnick #the hunger games

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tyunkus · 6 months

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these days i’m thinking about … fwb service dom tyun… finals week has been kicking your ass, and all of the stress from your different courses and whatever workload you have has been taking a toll on you mentally and physically. and everyone can see it - especially taehyun, who refuses to let you off the hook, and wants desperately to take your mind off of it all.

so he makes an offer.

let me take care of you. he says it when you’re both drunk on the floor of your apartment, trying to take the edge off the upcoming weeks. you had been whining about it all night, how stressed you are, and now he’s looking at you so soft, so serious, you’re taken aback.

obviously, you refuse. you know what he means by taking care of you - you’ve slept with him before. but you don’t need dick to get through finals season, you can handle it perfectly fine on your own!!! and you tell him this, and he nods, shrugging it off, but the air is so thick between you two you know he’s just itching to prove you wrong.

& he does. there’s this party you attend, the night of your last day of exams - it’s like your reward after so many nights of frustration and cramming. letting yourself loose, getting some drinks in your system, dancing away all your stresses, and taehyun’s there, of course he is, hand placed casually on your waist while you two eye the crowd, holding your drink for you when you slide over to the dance floor. taehyun takes care of you, watches over you like he always does. he even humors you, getting a whole bottle of alcohol and holding it barely above your lips while you tilt your head back and he pours it down your throat. holds your chin after and wipes off a drop from the corner of your mouth. you know, that sort of thing.

but then somewhere along the way it gets too much - the lights, the music, the heat. somehow the same feeling you came here to avoid - that sense of guilt, self-hatred, anxiety - bubbles up in you and robs you of all your energy. taehyun notices, probably from the way you stumble a little bit, and when he holds you close and your face is pressed close to his neck all you can muster is, “can you—can you take care of me now?”

and before you know it you’re locked in a random room with him and you’re on your knees. he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, peering down at you while you sit all pretty between his legs, and you can’t quite tell why or how it happened, not exactly. and now… now you don’t know how to feel. certainly the random surge of anxiety that had hit you earlier has disappeared, and now taehyun doesn’t look too worried anymore - but maybe that’s more concerning, his strange look of relaxation. like he has no care in the world.

then he leans over a bit, closer to you, and he cups your cheek, so gentle, so sweet. “you finally agreed,” he murmurs, his thumb sweeping over your face. “you don’t need to worry. you’ve done so well. you can relax now.”

you believe him. you really, truly believe him. you think about the past few weeks and suddenly none of it seems all that important anymore, not when taehyun’s holding you like this. like you’re precious. you melt a little into his touch and he just smiles, his dimples showing. “you’re ready, then? finally had enough? couldn’t take it anymore?”

you’re breathless, flushed, almost ashamed at the implication. sure, you’ve slept with him plenty of times before, but that doesn’t mean you need him, it doesn’t mean you-

“relax, baby,” taehyun interjects, breaking your train of thought. “let me take care of you, alright? just like i promised. it’s all that i want. it’s all i ever wanted.”

me & my obsession w transactional sex w taehyun that actually has feelings and both of u r too dumb to realize

#in honor of finals week #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #taehyun hard hours #taehyun smut #taehyun hard thoughts

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gaysindistress · 5 months

Text

Связи (n.) connections - three

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: mob!bucky x reader

Summary: “Did you think you could hide from us? That’s adorable, little one. There’s no where on this planet where you could hide from the Shostakov Bratva and even if you did manage to evade us, the Barnes Bratva would find you. Your связи, your connections, will always come back to haunt you, Y/N.”

Warnings: cursing, I know I know it’s pretty mild but it’s getting there

Word count: 2.6k

part two | series masterlist

taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @unaxv @identity2212

A/n: I already know this weekend is going to crazy for me and many others so I’m posting part three early as an early Christmas present. Enjoy!!

I don’t know who I should shoot first; Bucky or Carol?

Both are looking like good options at the moment.

“So let me get this straight, the FBI needed help getting shit on my family and the Barnes Bratva just decided out of the kindness of their heart to help? Oh and somewhere there needed to be a marriage between the Barnes and Shostakov families?”

Carol is quick to correct me, “wait no. We found a way around the marriage so that won’t be necessary anymore.”

Sam makes a surprised noise and Bucky shoots him a death glare. This interaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Carol and she questions them.

“There was a change of plans,” is all Bucky offers.

“What the fuck could’ve changed that much?” Carol sneers as she steps in front of where I’m sitting at her kitchen table. Bucky rolls his eyes at the display of dominance and possessiveness over me.

“Alexei was the one who suggested a marriage and he was adamant that it was the only way to solidify the merge. With Nat gone and Antonia lurking around, he wasn’t going to let it go so I decided to not fight him on it.”

“That’s not what we agreed to.”

“We agreed that I get you whatever information you ask for by whatever means I see fit and you don’t get to ask questions about it. You wanted an insider and that’s what I gave you,” he says in a low voice that’s edged with brewing anger.

“That didn’t mean marrying my girlfriend.”

Bucky looks at me from over Carol’s shoulder and holds my eye contact as he says, “she’s my wife and Sovietnik now so whatever protection our agreement offered is extended to her too.”

Carol scoffs, “she was always going to be safe. You had no right to do…”

“Your word means nothing, Danvers. You have no way of protecting her and you know it. Like I said, she’s my Sovietnik now. No one can touch her even if her father tries to pull her down with him.”

My eyes widen at his words and I’m quick to avert my gaze when Carol turns to me. We both know that he’s right, she wouldn’t have been able to do anything if Alexei implicated me when he’s arrested. I would’ve been as good as dead but now that I’m (maybe?) married to Bucky and apparently his newly appointed Sovietnik, I’m untouchable.

Sam clears his throat, “Welcome to the family, Y/N. Looks like we’ll be working closely.”

I smile at Sam, “I’m assuming you’re his bookie then?”

“Obshchak, I’m his Obshchak,” Sam says in an annoyed tone.

Carol is still fighting with Bucky but she stops to start arguing with me.

“No you will not be working with him. You’re not going anywhere.”

Bucky stays quiet and waits for me to say something. His sharp eyes cut into me and make my body stand on high alert as he stares expectantly at me.

“Carol, honey, I don’t think I have a choice,” I begin as my gaze darts between her and him. “Alexei will get suspicious if I’m not with Bucky and if you expect me to be able to get anything useful out of him, then I have to play his game. This is the way it has to be.”

The hurt is clear in her eyes and it pains me to have caused it but I’m backed into a corner. There’s more going on, more at stake than I originally thought and I’m starting to realize that if I want to make it out alive, I have to keep my head down.

“It won’t be forever. After Alexei is behind bars, I’ll get a divorce and we can wash our hands of this entire mess. It’s not like we have to break up.”

“No, you have to,” Bucky breaks our bubble of honest devotion and we both snap our eyes to him. “If anyone were to see you together, the entire operation would be blown. Even getting a divorce is out of the question for the time being.”

“And why is that?” Carol snaps at him as her hand finds mine and takes it into a crushing hold.

I whimper at the pain she’s causing me and Bucky tenses before nodding to Sam. He steps towards us and Carol’s grip intensifies. Standing, I try to hold it together and gently ask her to let go but she doesn’t hear me.

“Carol let go please. You’re hurting me,” I try a little louder and only when I say it again while pulling away does it register with her. She looks at me confused as I step away and rub the hand she’d been holding. Sam gingerly pulls me into him and leads me to Bucky’s side.

“From this moment onwards, you will treat Y/N like she’s my wife. You will not touch her, speak to her, or even fucking think about her. Any communication will come from Wanda and go directly to me as it should anyways. Until this operation is over, you will forget who she is to you and pretend that she doesn’t fucking exist. Do you understand me?”

Carol opens her mouth and I step forward to interject as well but Sam holds me back with a shake of his head.

“Nat’s blood is on your hands and I will not let you spill Y/N’s too.”

I freeze.

What did he just say?

“She left our custody. What happened afterwards is not our fault.”

“You both have 4 seconds to tell me if either of you had something to do with Nat’s death,” I mutter, completely still in Sam’s light hold.

Carol has the audacity to look upset and Bucky keeps his usual cool.

“The Feds had her in their custody after the first threat was made. They were supposed to keep her off grid until either Antonia or Alexei were arrested or one of them was killed. Carol was the one assigned to her when she went missing and later turned up dead,” Bucky tells me and my mouth falls open in shock.

“How long?” I ask Carol.

“I…”

“How long have you been lying to me?”

“Babe…”

“She’s known the entire time,” Bucky answers when Carol drowns in her own lies and deceit. “I’m guessing it’s the reason why…”

“No,” she interrupts him and looks at me. “Babe, I promise everything about us is real. None of it was a lie or a trick.”

Her bullshit isn’t worth listening to. Even if she had truly liked me and asked me out because that’s what she wanted, it all started as a plot to get closer to Alexei. I started as a plot to get to Alexei. To make matters worse, she was the one responsible for my sister’s death and forced me to take Nat’s place.

Sam leads me out of the apartment and back to the car as Bucky and Carol no doubt continue to argue. Once in the car, I finally find my words but they feel useless in my mouth. I want to know why I was brought here. What was the point of bringing me here only to lay out betrayal after betrayal? What was the purpose of telling me any of this if I’m expected to keep up appearances and play my part?

The only word that does come out is why and Sam almost breaks his neck to look at me, apparently shookes that I’ve spoken.

“He wants you to know the truth.”

“The truth? All he’s done is break any trust I’ve built with anyone and made it so I don’t know what truth even looks like anymore.”

Sam sighs, “but at least you’ll know that he will always be honest with you. Even if you don’t trust him or me, you’ll know that we’ll tell you the truth.”

“How did she die?”

He takes in a sharp breath and hesitates. I know he doesn’t want to tell me but he did just vow to always be honest with me.

“Gunshot wound. She would’ve died instantly.”

“She felt nothing,” we both whisper to ourselves.

Bucky climbs into the passenger seat and briefly glances at me in the back before giving Sam the go ahead. He doesn’t say anything to me but reaches his hand back and gently clasps my leg. It’s something he used to do to Nat when she was nervous. She would always bounce her leg when she was nervous and he was always right there to ground her. The action hurt because I knew it was subconscious. He didn’t do it because it was me, he was doing it because he was thinking of Nat.

They’d been dating when I was kidnapped but our lives didn’t leave room for romance or love. I can only imagine that it was a matter of time before the demand of their families became too much, forcing them apart. I stare at the hand clasped around my calf and I want to ask about her but I can’t do it. I can’t think about her or how I’m now married to the man that was definitely the love of her life. I can’t think about how he is definitely thinking about her as he tries to comfort me. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better that I let him love a ghost and I pretend to not notice it. Or maybe it’s not. I don’t know what to think anymore.

Instead I look out the window and watch the city pass by as I think back to when we first met. I think I was maybe 9 when we met and I was scared to death to meet the famed Barnes family. My own family was infamous, sure but there was a dark air to the Barnes boys. Bucky and his older brother, Joseph, were always moving in the shadows of rooms and slipping in and out without notice. Yelena and Natasha told me enough stories about them that I was convinced they were the bougie man’s henchmen.

Joseph scared me the most. He was taller and leaner than Bucky but a thick beard covered his jaw and it hid any emotion or expression on his face. Bucky was no more than 19 and he had been the one to approach me first. He made a joke at Nat’s expense and earned himself a playful shove but that small introduction told me enough that I knew I could trust him. If he could make Nat smile and make her trust him, I could do the same. Joseph rarely came around after that, too busy being groomed to be the next Barnes Pakhan so that left Bucky to entertain us girls.

Nat and him grew the closest being that they were only a few years apart but I always had a crush on him. I never did anything about it because well he’s ten years older than me. I made a promise to myself that when I got older, I would tell him but that never happened. I disappeared from their lives and besides, he loved Nat and I wouldn’t want to or be able to compete with her. Though, now it seems that fate wants to be cruel and gave me what I wanted but took something of equal value in return. I could have Bucky but my sister would be payment.

The thought is too sobering and I subtly move my leg out of his grip. He gives it a squeeze before retracting his hand.

—-------

“Sam?”

He hums in response as he sits next to me scrolling his phone. Bucky had left us in the waiting room of what I imagine is his attorney’s office and ordered that we stay put.

“Why did you kidnap me?”

He blinks up at me and gives me a deadpan look, “maybe not say that in a law office.”

“Maybe don’t do it then. Oh wait you already did and I want to know why.”

“You’ll have to ask Buck,” he says as he returns to scrolling tiktok aimlessly.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Why?”

“Are you six or something? Enough with the why bullshit.”

I smirk, “why?”

He lets out a dramatic sigh as he digs into his pocket and pulls out his airpods. He makes a point to make as much movement as he can so that I see him put both in.

Standing up, I walk over to his couch and plop myself down next to him. He looks at me from the corner of his eye and turns away from me. I scoot closer until our thighs are touching and he takes out one airpod as he stares at me.

“What?”

“Why?”

“Oh my fucking god.”

Just then Bucky walks out and gives us a confused look before saying goodbye to his attorney, Mr. Murdock. The man is wearing sunglasses and it takes me a second to realize that he’s blind and not a douchebag.

“Everything okay?” Bucky asks Sam who is acting like an annoyed older brother.

“She’s about to get punched.”

“Are you threatening to punch my wife, Wilson?”

Both of our eyes widen and Bucky makes it worse when he starts laughing. He shakes his head as he starts to walk away and gestures for us to follow behind. Sam whispers to me that he is not afraid of Bucky and he will fight me if I keep being annoying. I giggle which causes Bucky to glance back over his shoulder at us and we straighten up.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” I whisper to Sam and he rolls his eyes at me.

“What did you ask?” Bucky pipes up from in font of us. Before Sam can warn me to keep my mouth shut, I blurt out the very same question that started out bickering.

“Why did you kidnap me?”

“I’ll make you a deal. For every question you ask me, I get to ask one of my own.”

I weigh my options carefully. At this point there can’t be any secrets between us and if there were, I’m sure he would find them out in seconds. If he’s anything like my father, he would have ways of knowing them before I even did and the shit he pulled at Carol’s is evidence that he doesn’t give a single fuck about exposing them.

“Okay, you have a deal. Now tell me why you, Sam, and Joseph tried to kidnap us that night.”

Bucky’s jaw feathers at the mention of his brother and Sam tenses ever so slightly as well.

“She didn’t trust your father to be able to protect you after Dreykov so she found a way to do it herself.”

I stay quiet, waiting for him to finish but he doesn’t.

“You better not be done talking,” I say and he just looks at me through the rear view mirror.

I curse under my breath and cross my arms as I slouch against the seat. Of course he was vague. Why wouldn’t he be? It’s not like I specified that his answers had to be full and clear.

Sam seems to sense my frustration and lets more spill before Bucky stops him with a glare, “she set it all up; the fake kidnapping, the trust, living with Eve. She had it all figured out so that all three of you could disappear together.”

“What changed?”

“No,” Bucky mumbles. “One question at a time.”

I roll my eyes, “fine. Ask yours.”

“In due time.”

Sam snickers to himself and I sigh dramatically.

I’ve made my decision. Carol is getting blocked and I’m definitely shooting Bucky and Sam the next chance I get.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #mob au #mob!bucky barnes imagine #Связи (n.) connections #Связи (n.) connections bucky x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #marvel #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader

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coloursflyaway · 19 days

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Won’t Fear Love (2/6)

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.500

Read on AO3

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment. If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him. or: Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

tagging all the lovely people who wanted to give this fic a read: @itsablueberrycow @piristephes @assignedpeanutallergyatbirth @mylu @oneweirdbean @lifeinvirtualreality

“A movie?”, Edwin asks, and Charles nods, almost a little too enthusiastic. He is aware that Charles enjoys movies quite a lot, and Edwin has to admit that there have been those that also captured Edwin’s imagination, but…

“Is that not quite antithetical to the idea of a date?”, he asks, slightly puzzled. Granted, he doesn’t have much experience, but it seems like a pastime that decidedly doesn’t invite conversation. “I was under the impression that dating was mainly about getting to know someone, not sitting next to them in silence while being entertained by something external from both of you.”

His confusion is obviously highly entertaining to Charles, who starts laughing even before Edwin has finished speaking. “Edwin, mate. That’s the most you thing you could have possibly said”, he explains while still chuckling, and Edwin would be miffed, if Charles didn’t sound so fond while saying it. “I’m pretty sure the point of it is to talk about the movie afterwards. And, you know. Maybe hold hands in the dark or something.”

“But I will know what you will think about the movie”, Edwin answers, still befuddled, and resolutely ignores the implication of holding hands, because even if it is, of course, impossible, he feels like he is blushing just thinking about it. On cases, they have held hands before, for spells or as not to lose each other in the dark, but that was before. Now, it would mean something, and now, he cannot even consider it without wanting it with an intensity that is almost frightening.

“Oh, I know”, Charles replies and he’s still smiling, still sounds fond. “That’s exactly why I want to take you to see one.”

Charles, of course, takes him to see a movie. He is excited about it, too, to the point where Edwin cannot even pretend to mind it, because his eyes are glowing with joy when Edwin eventually agrees to it, because he talks Crystal into getting them physical tickets (“So we can keep them, of course! I think that would be nice, having something to remember our second date by, don’t you, Edwin?”), because he dresses up nice again, as if his state of dress could ever matter to Edwin. And, of course, because of one very simple reason: he genuinely seems to want to take Edwin out on a date.

Although he tries his best not to take it too seriously, since Charles just gets like this sometimes, excited and almost overwhelming in his happiness, it’s difficult not to when it’s this. Because the thought that maybe, just maybe, Charles thought the first time he took Edwin out was a success (he cannot bring himself to call it a date, not now, maybe not ever), is almost too much to bear.

The thing is, Edwin never expected Charles to reciprocate his feeling.

Looking back, he isn’t even sure if it was part of his thought process, if he considered the possibility before he was standing on the steps to Hell, looking at Charles and thinking, I’m so glad he knows he’s loved.

So, the thought that Charles is considering it, giving it a chance, giving Edwin a chance, is almost unfathomable.

And yet, Charles is standing in front of him, the biggest smile on his face, because he gets to take Edwin out again. It’s very difficult not to hope at least a little.

“You alright there, mate?”, Charles asks, brows furrowed, and Edwin realises he must have spaced out for a few moments. He should say no, be honest, but instead he nods so he can watch the smile bloom again on Charles’ face. “Aces”, Charles says and he is right, it is aces, it’s magnificent, it’s brills, it’s every other positive adjective Edwin can think of, because they are on a date together and Charles is looking at him like he really wants to be here.

In the end, Edwin can’t even remember the title of the movie, nor the contents of it (there were explosions in it, he’s fairly certain, one or two scenes that made Charles chuckle), and not for not trying, either. It’s not his fault at all, in fact, that he hardly paid attention to any of it, but Charles’.

For not even five minutes into the film, Charles had taken his hand. Not to show Edwin something, not to drag him somewhere, but just sitting there, Charles had taken his hand and woven their fingers together like he didn’t mean to let go and then he just… hadn’t. Instead, he had held Edwin’s hand for the entirety of it, sometimes squeezing it, presumably if something exciting was happening on screen.

Which Edwin wouldn’t, couldn’t have noticed, because, well. Because Charles had been holding his hand. It had been the strangest thing, because it had felt so natural, like something they had been doing for decades; because it had felt like the single most thrilling thing to happen to Edwin in the entirety of his existence.

Of course, he couldn’t really feel Charles’ fingers in his, but he knew them to be there anyway, like he could feel Charles’ energy brushing up against his, and it had been… glorious. It had been warm and familiar and electrifying, and more than enough to make focussing on anything else impossible, lest he miss a second of it.

Which poses one unfortunate problem: Charles asks him about the film when they are leaving the theatre amidst the crowd, a stranger’s arm phasing through the graceful arch of his shoulder.

“Well”, Edwin starts, certain that if he had the appropriate anatomy still, he would be blushing. “I am not entirely certain, I’m afraid. It seems I was a little… compromised during it.”

He cannot say it out-loud, so instead, he just raises their hands, because their fingers are still intertwined, and Charles stops moving in the middle of the hallway to look at him. Edwin stops, too, can’t really do anything but that, unless he lets go of Charles’ hand.

“You don’t know if you liked the movie because we were holding hands during it?”, Charles asks to clarify, sounding amazed and slightly disbelieving still. And Edwin has to nod, and although it should be humiliating, it isn’t, because Charles’ fingers tighten around his reflexively, almost like he doesn’t want to let go, either. His lips part as if he wanted to say something, but then Charles just ducks his head, smiling, before he looks up at Edwin a few seconds later.

“That’s pretty cute, actually”, he states like it’s a confession of some sort, and Edwin’s very soul seizes up, curls around that word. Cute. “And, like. I enjoyed it, too. It’s nice, feeling that you’re next to me.”

And when Edwin doesn’t answer, because how could he, when he wouldn’t be able to remember how to breathe if he still had to do so, he squeezes Edwin’s hand again, deliberately this time. “But don’t worry, mate. You would have hated it anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking, maybe we should make this a more regular thing”, Charles says when they are walking home, because Charles is still insisting on this, and if Edwin is honest to himself, he finds that he doesn’t mind. It’s a nice thought that Charles might not want to let the evening end, because Edwin feels the same, and not only because they are still holding hands. “What do you mean?”

Charles grins and Edwin is so weak around him, it’s preposterous. But then again, maybe it’s not his fault, maybe it’s just Charles, maybe everyone around them feels like their knees might give out under them when Charles smiles at them like this. He’ll have to ask Crystal about that in a quiet moment.

“You know, give it some regularity. We could do every second Wednesday of the month”, Charles replies easily, “Gives me a bit of time to plan and you won’t have to look like a very frightened deer every time I bring it up.” Again, that smile, so bright it almost lets Edwin forget to be offended.

“I absolutely do not look like a deer in any way whatsoever”, he still shoots back, even if a moment too late. He has a reputation to uphold after all. “You kind of do, though”, Charles tells him, his nose scrunching up a little. “It’s cute. But I would rather have you not scared, so what do you say? Monthly date nights?”

There it is again, that word. Cute. Edwin tries his best not to think too much of it, lest he stop thinking about anything else.

“That would be agreeable”, he replies. Cute. “Is there a reason for it to be the second Wednesday?” And Charles reacts like he has been shot, putting one hand across his unbeating heart and pulling a face, eyebrows drawn together like Edwin has wounded him deeply.

“Edwin”, he all but whines, looking at him with wide brown eyes, glittering with mirth in the glow of the street lights. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our first date already! That was on the second Wednesday. As is this one, actually.”

And he’s right; it’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for him, and Edwin grips Charles’ hand as tightly as he can, and tries his best to think anything but please, let me have this. I’ll never ask for anything else. Just this.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #yes my plan for this whole thing #is simply to make edwin's brain leak out of his ears because charles is showing him some good old-fashioned romance #and i think i am succeeding

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