#also note that the wc is what i currently have not the goal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itadorey · 8 months

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𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 & 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

pairing: neuvillette x gn!reader summary: the melusines are on a mission, you just don't know what their end goal is. (hint: it's to get you and neuvillette together). furina may or may not be involved. genre: fluff notes: pls ignore the fact that melusines live in the water when it gets to the rain. i just thought it'd be a cute scene and i forgot that they would be fine in the water. we can pretend they just don't want to get their uniform wet. i'm also not sure if the cafe serves tea bc i know they sell coffee beans oops. wc: ~3.6k

A huff escapes you as you approach the doors to the Palais Mermonia, late for work and stumbling slightly as you reached for the handle.

"Please wait! Can you open the door for me?"

You pause when you hear Liath calling after you, and you turn to see the Melusine hurrying towards you. She's carrying two boxes in her hands, making it impossible for you to see her face until she comes to a stop next to you.

"Liath!" you gasp, holding open the door with your foot as you reach for one of the boxes. "Let me help you with that."

"Thank you! They are pretty heavy," she chimes, proceeding to stack the other box on top of the one you're currently holding. You're taken aback by her actions, giving her a confused look as she looks up at you and smiles. "I hope you don't mind dropping those off to Monsieur Neuvillette. I have some other duties to fulfill!"

Your eyes soften at her words, and you nod in agreement before shifting the boxes, making sure you have a good grip on them. The lid on the top box is askew, giving you a glimpse of some court documents sitting inside. You quickly fix the lid, glancing over at Liath to see her standing by the door, hands behind her back as she hums to herself. Your brows furrow when you notice that she doesn't make a move to leave, and you can't help but feel confused about her abnormal behavior.

"You should go before it gets too late in the afternoon to complete your other duties," you say softly, earning a confused look from Liath.

"What other duties?" she asks, a hand coming up to her cheek as she gets lost in thought. She gasps softly before meeting your gaze, her hand dropping to her side as she took a step back. "Oh! Yes, you're right. Thank you for bringing those to Monsieur Neuvillette. Bye!"

You watch Liath skip away, following her usual path around the Palais Mermonia. There's still a confused look on your face, and you merely shake your head before nudging the door open even further with your foot. You're still thinking about Liath's weird behavior when Sedene greets you.

"Good morning, Sedene," you greet in return, giving the Melusine a soft smile. "Is Neuvillette back yet?"

"Yes! He's been waiting for you!"

A stressed look appears on your face, and Sedene's eyes widen slightly as you glance towards Neuvillette's office.

"He has?" you ask, earning a nod from the Melusine in return. "Oh. I guess he really wants these court records huh? I hope he isn't too upset that I'm late."

"No, no," Sedene says, shaking her head back in forth to emphasize her words. She gives you a soft smile. "He's waiting for you, not the court records."

"Me?"

Sedene nods, and you can only hum in response before giving her a small nod and walking away. You pause as you reach the doors to Neuvillette's office, shifting the boxes so that they rest on your hip before raising a hand to knock.

"Come in."

"Good morning, Monsieur Neuvillette," you say as you slip into his office and shut the door behind you. Your head is slightly bowed down, the respectful gesture preventing you from seeing the way Neuvillette frowns at your words.

"Good morning," he says, setting his plume down before looking up at you. "I've told you multiple times already, there's no need to be so formal. 'Neuvillette' is perfectly fine."

"Pardon me, sir—" you pause when you notice the look on his face. "Pardon me, Neuvillette. I suppose I'm just not used to addressing my higher up that casually just yet."

"Higher up," Neuvillette scoffs, dipping the plume into a pot of ink before writing something down. "That's incorrect. We are equals, are we not?"

"The job description quite literally said 'assistant to the Iudex'," you tease, causing Neuvillette to pause. There's a small smile on your face when he looks at you, and he finds himself clearing his throat before responding.

"We both know you're more than a simple assistant, don't we? I got lucky considering you're ridiculously overqualified."

You deliberately refuse to respond, your heart beating just a little bit faster as you fully process Neuvillette's words. Instead, you glance at the boxes still in your hand, approaching his desk and clearing your throat to get his attention before you speak.

"Here are the court records you asked for. Should I just leave them on your desk?"

Neuvillette nods before giving you a confused look, his eyebrows furrowing as he shifts his gaze down to the boxes in your hands.

"Did something happen to Liath?" Neuvillette asks. Your heart warms at the concern on his face.

"No," you reply, shaking your head softly as you set the boxes down on his desk. "She mentioned she had some other duties to take care of."

"Ah, I was not aware she had any other duties," Neuvillette says, looking down at his desk. You pause at his words. "Perhaps I should have a talk with her and see if there's something bothering her?"

"I'm almost certain she's fine," you respond, unable to stop a smile from appearing on your face. Neuvillette is still lost in thought, wondering how to approach the Melusine. "Perhaps just make sure she's getting enough rest?"

Neuvillette looks up at you, nodding once before picking up his plume once again. "You're right. I'm certain she would've come to me directly if there was a problem. I'll make sure to speak with her later."

You nod at his words, bowing slightly before making your way back to his office doors. "If you'll excuse me, I must be on my way."

"You're not working in here today?" Neuvillette asks, sitting up even straighter as he watches you.

"I apologize Neuvillette," you say, smiling sheepishly before tugging the door open. "I'm afraid that Lady Furina requested my help for the day. I'll be back later to make sure everything is ready to go for tomorrow!"

Neuvillette nods, and he feels the paper on his desk rip slightly as he digs his plume into it. He slides the paper aside, grabbing a new one before speaking once more.

"I see. Tell her I said hello. Remember that tomorrow we meet directly at the Opera Epiclese, not here."

"Yes, I understand. Have a good day, sir," you say, giving him a wide grin before scurrying out of his office. You're gone before he can scold you for addressing him formally, the tapping of your shoes fading quickly as you rush off.

He wonders if there's a reason that Furina has suddenly decided to steal you from him. He decides not to think about it too much.

The tapping of your shoes is drowned out by the rain as you approach the Opera Epiclese.

You silently pat yourself on the back for remembering your umbrella, and you quickly sidestep a puddle before you hurry towards the Fountain of Lucine, stopping when you Veleda huddled next one of the trees nearby.

"Veleda!" you yell, gaining the attention of the Melusine. You wave her over, concern all over your face as you angle your umbrella to shield the both of you from the rain. "What happened? Did you forget your umbrella?"

The Melusine nods before shaking her head, trying to get rid of the excess water in her hair.

"Do you want to come inside with me?" you ask softly, holding out your hand. Veleda shakes her head again.

"No, I have to stay out here and finish my rounds!"

You bend down slightly, placing the handle of your umbrella in her hand before straightening up.

"Take mine. I won't really need it inside," you say, earning a smile from Veleda.

"Thank you! I really appreciate it."

You smile back at Veleda, reaching down to brush a strand of wet hair from her face before walking off. You hurry past the fountain, holding your bag tightly against you in hopes of keeping it dry. Aeife opens the door for you with a smile, and you quickly thank her before rushing inside, being met with smiles from Trow and Blathine.

"Oh no! Did you leave your umbrella at home?" Trow asks, tilting her head as she observes you. There's a trail of water behind you, and you cringe when you realize that you must look like a mess.

"No," you reply, shedding your coat and holding it away from you as it drips. "I lent it to Veleda. She was standing outside in the rain and she didn't want to come inside."

Blathine nods at your words, and it's only then that you notice the two umbrellas in her hands. "We had to finish our rounds but we got caught in the rain. That's why I came in to get umbrellas for both of us!"

"Oh, I didn't know that," you say slowly, watching as Blathine skips to the door. She's gone before you can even ask for the extra umbrella, and you can only hope that it's not raining by the time the trial is over.

"I can take that from you," Trow says softly. "You can head on in. Monsieur Neuvillette is waiting for you. Lady Furina will not be joining today."

You nod and hurry into the main room, grabbing your paper, plume, and a small pot of ink from your bag. Neuvillette watches you as you slide into your usual seat, eyebrows furrowing at your lack of coat and umbrella. It's common knowledge that it tends to rain during trials, and he wonders if you've had a bad morning.

The trial passes by quickly, and your page is filled with notes by the time it's over. Neuvillette looks down towards you and nods, silently letting you know that you should wait for him. You give him a small nod in return, quickly packing up your stuff and heading to the exit.

Neuvillette is already waiting for you by the time you reach the front desk, listening to Trow as she speaks softly to him. You approach them with a smile, digging out your notes once again and passing them to Neuvillette.

"Pardon me for interrupting, Trow," you say, smiling at the Melusine and receiving a fond look in return. "Here are the notes from today's trial, Neuvillette."

"Thank you," he says, taking them from you and putting them away. "I always enjoy reading your notes at the end of a long day."

"Now that that the trial is over, you should go get some food," Trow suggest, waving the two of you towards the door. She pauses briefly, returning to the desk to grab your coat. "Here's your coat. I'm sorry, it's still a little damp."

"That's okay, Trow. A little rain won't bother me," you say, smiling gratefully as you slip it on.

"Did you not bring an umbrella today?" Neuvillette asks, watching as you tighten the tie of your coat around your waist.

"I lent it to Veleda," you say, repeating your words from earlier. You smile sheepishly as he fixes you with an unreadable look, pulling your bag up higher on your shoulder as Trow nods along. "I didn't want her to get sick. Oh! But I noticed Blathine taking an umbrella out to her. Trow, did they bring my umbrella back in here by chance?"

"No, they haven't been inside since," Trow says, shaking her head.

"We can share," Neuvillette states. His tone leaves no room for arguments and you simply nod, keeping you mouth shut to stop yourself from objecting.

"That's a great idea!" Trow exclaims, clapping her hands at his words. Neuvillette smiles softly at her before offering you his arm. "I'm not too hungry, but I'd like to join you for tea, if that's okay?"

You nod silently, linking your arm with his and gently resting your hand on his upper arm. The two of you say your goodbyes to Trow, receiving an enthusiastic wave in return before you walk out the door. Neuvillette holds his umbrella out, swiftly opening it and making sure it covers the two of you before descending the steps of the Opera Epiclese.

The rain hits the umbrella with soft thuds, and you shake your other arm to try and get rid of the stray droplets that dot your sleeve. Neuvillette notices the action, and he simply brings his arm closer to his side, pulling you in and making sure you're completely shielded.

"M-Maybe we can pick something up and eat back at the Palais Mermonia," you suggest, hoping that he didn't notice your stutter. He smiles down at you, and your mouth goes dry as you try to ignore the way your heart races at the sight. You glance down at your shoes, frowning slightly when you step over a large puddle. "It doesn't look like the rain is going to stop anytime soon."

The walk to the aquabus station is relatively quick, and the two of you stand huddled close together as you wait for it to arrive. You're greeted by a happy Elphane, who seems excited to see Neuvillette waiting for the aquabus. She greets him with a grin before waving shyly at you, a small umbrella clutched in her hand in an attempt to keep her uniform dry.

The aquabus ride is filled with casual conversation, and Neuvillette takes the time to ask Elphane if there's anything bothering her or any of the other Melusines. He receives nothing but smiles and reassurances in return, and you can feel him relax at her words. The two of you wave goodbye to Elphane as you disembark, making your way towards the Café Lucerne in search of food and a hot drink.

"I can order for the both of us," you say once you're close enough. The two of you stop underneath one of the cafe's umbrellas and you finally step away from Neuvillette. "Is there a certain type of tea you'd like?"

"You can choose for me," Neuvillette replies smoothly, pressing the umbrella handle into one of your hands and a small pouch full of mora into the other. "I trust your judgement. Besides, Menthe has spoken about how good you are at choosing teas she likes. I'm sure you can do the same for me."

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, and you silently look around for the Melusine he mentioned, knowing better than to argue about the mora. "Menthe isn't around today, is she? I hope she finally got around to taking a rest."

"I hope so as well," Neuvillette agrees. There's a moment of silence before you spin on the heel of your foot, leaving him behind as you go up to the counter to order. You order your favorite tea, conch madeleines, and two servings of ile flottante, swiftly handing over the right amount of mora before returning to Neuvillette's side. He wastes no time before taking the bag of food from you, using his free hand to gently take back his umbrella before offering you his arm once more. You shyly slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, letting him guide you towards the Palais Mermonia.

"I ended up ordering my favorite kind of tea," you say eventually, breaking the silence. "It's a white tea with notes of peach and ginger."

"That sounds lovely," Neuvillette responds. "It's seems very fitting. A lovely tea for an equally lovely person."

You can't stop the grin that breaks onto your face at his words, and you glance at him bashfully only to find him already looking at you. There's a tiny small on his face as you meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he observes your reaction.

The rain falling around you comes to a stop.

"Oh look! The rain has finally stopped," you remark, looking around you as you approach the Palais Mermona. Neuvillette hums in acknowledgement as he shuts his umbrella, making no move to separate himself from you. "That's good."

"Do you not like the rain?" Neuvillette asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head.

"No, that's not it," you say, lost in thought as you speak. "It just reminds me of something that Lyney's brother told me once."

At Neuvillette's questioning gaze, you continue.

"He said that when it rains, it's because the hydro dragon is crying," you explain, laughing lightly to yourself. "Maybe it's only a children's story, but I don't like the thought of the hydro dragon crying. I think he deserves to be happy."

You turn to see Neuvillette staring at you with an unreadable look, his eyes shining as he hums.

"I think I agree."

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

The two of you look up, arms still linked together, to see Furina standing near the front desk. Her hands are on her hips, nose turned up as she taps her foot. You suppress a smile at the sight, instead deciding to greet the Archon.

"Lady Furina," you say, bowing to her before straightening up. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I need you to help me finish what we were doing yesterday," she states, hesitating slightly before sniffling. "Please."

"Yes, of cou—"

"Actually we were just about to have lunch together," Neuvillette says, sending you an apologetic look for his interruption. Furina scoffs, half-heartedly glaring at Neuvillette before crossing her arms.

"Fine!" she concedes, turning her back to the two of you before sending you a glance. "I guess you can come find me when you're done."

She starts to walk away, only to stop when Sedene speaks.

"Lady Furina?"

Furina turns, nodding at the Melusine in acknowledgement.

"If it's not a problem, perhaps I can help you," Sedene continues, smiling softly up at the Archon. "That way we don't cut their lunch date short."

There's silence as Furina sends a sly glance your way, her eyes taking note of the way the two of you are still arm-in-arm. She nods in agreement, walking off complaint.

"You're right. Come find me in a few minutes, Sedene."

The three of you watch Furina stalk away, and you're only snapped out of your daze when Sedene tugs at your coat.

"I can take that for you," she says, and you finally let go of Neuvillette to slide your arms out of the coat. Before you can thank her, she's ushering the two of you towards Neuvillette's office, wishing you a happy meal and shutting the door swiftly as she leaves.

A chuckles leaves your lips as you approach Neuvillette's desk, sliding into the seat across from him as he clears off the table. He unpacks the food carefully, making sure to spread them out before walking over to grab a tea set.

"Forgive me if I'm being too bold," you start, reaching over for the tea you had bought and placing it into the tea pot. You carefully fill up the two teacups, relaxing in your seat after you swipe a conch madeleine off another plate. "But it seems like the Melusines have been acting a bit suspicious lately. I think they might be trying to set us up."

You wait for Neuvillette to wave your words off, but instead you're met with a sharp inhale, a slight hint of pink tinting the tips of his ears. He straightens up in his seat, rearranging the plates on the table as he tries to gather his thoughts.

"Ah, yes," he finally says, clearing his throat before glancing at you. He averts his gaze immediately, choosing to bring his teacup up to his lips instead. He takes a sip before setting it back down, taking his time before finally looking up to meet your eyes. "Forgive me, I believe it's all my fault. You see, I may have let it slip to Sedene that you looked beautiful on a few occasions."

"Oh," you breathe, your eyes widening at Neuvillette's confession. You're frozen in your seat, trying to think of what to say when his eyes widen slightly.

"As I said, please forgive me," he says hurriedly. "I'll ensure this behavior stops immediately and I can discuss your transfer from my office to Lady Furina's if you'd like."

"No!" you say, wincing when you realize your words are louder than you meant them to be. You pause, looking down and clamping your mouth shut. You compose yourself before continuing. "I mean, um, you're quite handsome yourself, you know?"

You look up to meet Neuvillette's gaze, your breath hitching when you see the soft smile on his face. There's an equally soft look in his eyes as he observes you, and he nods to himself before taking another sip of tea.

"In light of this revelation, I would like to ask you if you'd do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner sometime this week," Neuvillette proposes, the smile on his face growing as you nod.

"I'd love to."

The two of you turn when you hear a soft slam, the receding footsteps letting you know that Sedene had returned to eavesdrop. You giggle at the situation, turning back to see Neuvillette staring at the door with a fond look in his eye.

"Something tells me she's going to go tell everyone what just happened," you say, earning a soft chuckle from Neuvillette.

"I get the feeling they've been plotting this for quite some time," Neuvillette admits. "There's been too many coincidences to count."

You hum in agreement, thinking about all the weird behavior the Melusines had been exhibiting lately. Without them, none of this would have happened, and you let out a soft laugh as you realize just how obvious they had been. Your giggle draws Neuvillette's attention back to you, and the two of you share another soft smile as you begin to dig into your food.

"I guess we'll have to thank them then."

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

#neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x you #genshin x you #neuvillette fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette #genshin imagine #neuvillette imagine #genshin

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princesssmars · 10 months

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unexpected

an ellabs x black!streamer!reader

some times your viewers expect you're in a relationship, and one time you spell it out clearly for them.

wc : 1.860

contains : reader is feminine ! the picture is more lightskin but all shades can read <333 ltlvc reference

a/n : coming up with chat usernames is so hard what the fawk??? but yeah while i ignore trolls the ones under these tags were pissing me off so i wrote this for my fellow black girlies <333 i hope u enjoy :)

lets get one thing out of the way, you loved being a streamer. now that you had a good following of a few thousand regular watchers, you were more than financially stable, got to do something you enjoyed as a job, and even made a few new streaming friends.

but when it came to those friends, every content creator knew simple friendships could stir up drama. you had heard of many cases of friendships being strained or ruined because of this job. more specifically because of the fans.

which is why you took an oath to leave finer details like relationships out of your work. if you did tell a story about that time you and your friends nearly got kicked out of a local mall's journey's, you would keep descriptions of friends brief and blank, even resorting to calling people "friend number one, friend number two..."

luckily most of your fans were more than understanding that you wanted to keep some of your life private.

most of them.

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case one : the first p.o. box

it was another po box opening stream you decided to start early in the day, wanting to show and appreciate chat with the things they got for you.

lululemonsz : babe i hope its a new keyboard urs is on a iv drip !

wariolover96 : open it open the box OPEN IT

shelovedantee : damn is there a bomb in it hurry up

you laughed looking at all the people in chat begging you to open the current package in your hand.

"everybody chill out. look, im gonna open the first one now."

you quickly got a pair of scissors to cut off the packing tape on both ends, hurrying to pull the cardboard from its place.

the chat started speeding up when your mouth fell open in shock, slowly reaching in and pulling out the keyboard. it was sleek, mechanical, and your favorite color.

biiiigpoo : omg isnt that thing like $250?

lululemonsz : this as the first gift is CRAZY

ilovestardewmc1237 : one of your viewers is in love with you

you couldn't even respond, turning the keyboard over and back again to admire the details of it. out of the corner of your eye you spot a little yellow sticky note at the bottom, bringing it up to read it without letting the camera see. once you got to the end, your eyes widened and you quickly moved on to the next gifts.

but the light reflecting from your window and monitor was enough for chat to see a few letters on the note. after that, your fandom quickly began talking of a person named "A" who had not only the money to get you crazy expensive keyboards, but was also able to fluster you with a small note.

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case two : the search history.

every so often, your mods would host little events on your stream. these could include giveaways, shitty chat therapy, and little games for everyone to play. today it was a challenege : the more bits people donated, the crazier stuff you had to do for them. it was all pretty tame, and the end goal was one you didnt think you'd manage to hit.

never doubt the power of charisma and a pretty face, because after only three hours you manged to reach that two thousand dollar mark, and chat was raving at what you'd have to reveal next : your search history.

ariagatorr : damn this lowkey invasive 💀

devonchcgo22 : and we dont give a fuck

plantsnparsnip : right open that shit up

"i hate yall, do you know that? like genuinely." you groaned, slowly movied your mouse to open your chrome history.

there wasn't much for chat to bully you about thankfully, just some light teasing about how much you use pinterest and asking what it was you bought on etsy. and just when you thought you were done, someone had to open their big damn mouth.

pian0picass0 : wait a minute why did you open ellies stream THREE times ????

chat started moving faster as they read the comment, everyone asking you to open the stream and show them what was going on. sucking your teeth and denying them as you had shown them what they wanted!

after quickly wrapping up the stream and giving your thanks and goodbyes, a portion of viewers went on a manhunt for any ellie who was streaming at the moment.

once clicking on the stream, they found it was just a casual stream with ellie. she was obviously pretty, but was super laid-back in her jeans and converse as she strummed some songs on her guitar.

"oh hey, welcome to the stream i guess. any requests? i was gonna practice some radiohead because my friend asked for it."

pian0picass0 : hey ellie! do you know who (y/u) is by any chance?

"'sup casso. uhhhh no i dont think i do. did she send yall over here? maybe ill check her channel out."

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case three : the enhanced dm's

"everybody shut the fuck up and lets start this stupid thing."

this was it, one of your biggest streams of the year. and also the most fun. and most aggravating.

the gist was simple. you and 5 other streamers were thrown into a discord call and whoever lasted the longest through the sleep deprivation and challenges won a heap of cash.

what the hell was it with you getting screwed over by challenges?

it didn't seem that bad. the host, a close friend of yours, told you to share your screen so everyone could decide something to tweet from your twitter.

now, your friends in the call didn't notice what was on your screen when you shared it, and if they did they didn't say anything. but never doubt the perseverance of your crazy ass viewers, because one took the liberty to see exactly what you were saying in that split second they could see your dm's, because they swore they knew that profile picture...

abby : don't worry you'll do fine

abby : you're not gonna get embarrassed by any of the challenges

abby : i hope

y/n : seriously

abby : come onn you know i'm rooting for you <3

y/n : aww thanks bee

abby : yup. for the whole event i'm gonna be your personal cheerleader ^3^

y/n : oooo you gonna put on a uniform for me?

abby : don't push it.

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case four : the voice chat slip up

at this point, there was no point in acting like you didn't know the two streamers.

the first was abby. mostly posted fitness, health, and lifestyle videos on youtube, but would occasionally go live on twitch to talk with her fans or stream herself working out at the gym.

(you may or may not have admitted live that you found her by watching a few of her workout streams. whoops.)

and then there was ellie, a gaming streamer who was known for being chill and quiet when playing music but as loud as a plane engine when playing cs:go. don't even get her started on cod.

but luckily you'd manage to convince her to play some games with you on your latest stream! some stardew, maybe some overcooked. even if she kept burning all of the damn food.

leave it to ellie williams to always surprise you, though.

when you hear the du-dum of the discord join noise, your face lights up and your mouth opens to greet ellie before she beats you to it.

"ok, babe, which game we playin first?"

to make a long story shot, your chat went ballistic and you gave a stern talking to the red head after the stream ended.

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case five : the instagram post

most of the time you leave most of your notifications off to avoid your phone sounding like a constant alarm. but you're guessing your recent endeavor of babysitting your cute but horrifically grabby nephew screwed you over, because before you know it the sound of dozens on instagram notifications are waking you up and pushing your bonnet from where it slipped down your eyes before unlocking your phone.

at first it seems like a normal picture abby posted, standing in front of a mirror in her living room , flexing her arm and covered in a thin sheen of sweat after an apparent workout session. ever the show off.

but when you zoomed into a blip of color in the background, your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see it.

its you and ellie, you sitting in her lap while she showed you some stupid meme on her phone she said reminded her of you.

the post was only thirty minutes old but already had a few thousand comments, the previes of 'OMG?????' and "no fucking way" giving you a hint to what people were thinking.

you turned off your phone, tossed it back on the nightstand and went back to sleep.

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case six : the joint stream

y/nsstan69 : not an unscheduled stream ??? is it judgement day ???

onlycuntz : "ft surprise guest" girl we aren't stupid

you had to hide the smile from appearing on your face as you read through the comments of your chat. you knew some of them were probably smart enough to know what was going on. the three of you hadn't really been discrete in the days following abby's slip up post, and viewers jumped at the chance to point you out in the background of some of her workout videos. and to point out how you were staring at her.

assholes.

so, here you sat in the comfort of your cute gaming chair ready to tell chat the big news with your special guest.

"so, i bet some of you are wondering why im streaming off schedule, but i had something big in my personal life that i wanted to tell you guys! in a few minutes my gest should be here..."

your voice trailed off as you kept your eye on chat, seeing a bunch of comments that you werent expecting from this big announcement.

motionpickers : lmaooooo are they serious

lululemonsz : she's gonna be so pissed

you begin to turn around in your chair when two pairs of lips press a kiss to each of your cheeks.

"you guys are so unserious."

"and you are so bad at hiding things." ellie pulls up and extra chair and rolls it up to yours so her knees touch yours. she tugs your hand into hers to sit on her lap, ignoring when you pinch her with your nails.

"ignore her. we could tell what you were doing and figured we should all do it together," abby is on your other side, resting her hip on the arm of your chair. "so, go ahead. it's pretty obvious already."

"wow, thanks for the support you guys."

"anytime, hun."

uhuhstasia : i literally cant tell whos luckier

niatargaryen : IS ANYBODY ELSE FREAKNG OUT

ilovestardewmc1237 : is it appropiate to say i called this

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby x reader x ellie #ellie x reader x abby #abby #ellie #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #tlou #tlou 2 #tlou x reader #fem reader #streamer reader

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bambisnc · 1 month

Note

WHAT WE DONT WANT PART 3 WE NEED ITT!!👺👺🔥

with the setting moon [ft. j.wy]

-> here's pt.1 and pt.2 <;3

pairing : wony x reader genre : fluffyy/angstish + fake dating trope! (but its not fake anymore?!?) cw/tw : dying mention + kissing + ik this is actually not accurate fr but wikihow said this so i js ran w it -> i do suggest looking at it b4 u read! wc : 1 ish page ehe

"the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

“not as beautiful as you darling~”

wonyoung, your fake girlfriend, obviously refuses to leave a single opportunity to make your face flush delicately with her subtle remarks, teasing comments or scattered suggestive touches. you need practice, she insists, if anyone is to believe the two of you are dating.

but it’s been months since that one wednesday afternoon when she’d roped you into her plan to make her ex jealous. it’s been months and you can’t help but feel shocked as you compare the wonyoung of then - focussed on her goal of showing up her ex and his new girlfriend and rigidly following the rules she’d set between the two of you; to the wonyoung of now - who seems to have zero inhibitions when it comes to you, breaking rules one by one until you're not sure you can even recall there being any in the first place.

it’s killing you. and you’re sure she’s completely unaware.

it pains you how the practice sessions always escalate to various heights of intensity. it pains you how she still manages to weave in adoration and care in every single action of hers.

exhibit a : she currently has you in her car; one hand carelessly resting on your thigh as the other scrolls through her phone looking for a playlist she liked.

also notable is that her car is parked in the most gorgeous setting you could ever imagine; fairytale-like in all its essence with a view of glimmering city lights and quiet grassy land behind you.

you allow your head to lean back on your seat, and bask in the starlight through the sunroof with your eyes fluttering shut.

… you won’t deny that your seemingly nonchalant remark about the moon was more to scope out her thoughts. about this situation. about you. the japanese legend was rather popular but it wouldn’t be right to assume she did know about it.

she probably didn’t know about it.

but if she did, would she have answered it the way you hoped..?

wonyoung’s grip tightens on your thigh ever so slightly, in a playful manner but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart run laps. her phone now abandoned, she allows herself to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

it’s like she can always sense when your mind wanders away and is more than willing to bring it back to the present, back to her.

as if you could ever bring yourself to leave.

“hey. earlier what you said about the moon..,” she places a light kiss right at the corner of your mouth, “i actually meant to say that, yeah it is. and now, i can finally die happy..”

oh.

notes : ANON ILY FOR THIS ! ! + sighs </3 i think this is the end of wony chronicles </3 + [m.list] + [series m.list] song rec : off the record c'mon now it's the official theme song 4 the series .. <3

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hyuckbeam · 1 year

Text

hit or miss

you’re given a bet by your own best friend to finally earn you some kissing experience at the ripe age of 18, but what if he’s the one you’ve been wanting to kiss all along?

pairing | bff!haechan x reader

genre | fluff, just a bit of angst

warnings | y/n uses she/her pronouns, both y/n and hyuck are dumdums! kind of slow burn, curse words are explicitly mentioned, cousin!winter, i think that’s all but lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 4.3k words

note | this is pretty inspired by the webtoon “the kiss bet” because i currently have a hyper fixation on it and i absolutely love all the characters ;0; this is also way longer than intended but anyways,, i hope u enjoy! all rbs and likes are appreciated, thank you <3

D-15.

“in three, two, one, happy birthday, y/n!” your best friend, haechan announces aloud for everyone in your apartment complex to hear at 12 in the morning.

“come on! make a wish before the candles blow out!” winter, your cousin, urges you with a big smile on her face.

having just finished your night time routine and prepared yourself for a night's worth of sleep, you were rather shocked to see them with one of those trendy bento cakes and rainbow colored party hats adorning their heads.

despite your confusion, you walk up towards them with a grateful smile resting upon your lips. “seriously, when did you guys plan this?”

“oh, it was all my- ow, hey!” haechan gets cut off midway through his statement because of a nudge from winter’s elbow.

“what he was trying to say was it was all my doing. you’re welcome bubs!” your cousin beams, eyes creasing into crescents. “though i’d wish you’d hurry up. this cake isn’t holding itself up for you, y’know?” she adds on rather playfully but you can tell she truly meant it.

gathering a deep breath, you blow out the candles and cheers erupt from the people you deem closest to you. winter then sets down the cake on your coffee table in relief as your best friend slings his arm over your shoulder.

“sooo y/n, got anything planned for the year? a small resolution or something like that, i don’t know.” he rambles off, suggesting the idea of having a goal to work towards now that you were deemed an adult (though, haechan kept referring to this as the year that marks your jail-ability era).

you feel a little tingly from his touch, even when you know the two of you are just friends and nothing more. what you’re feeling is probably just a phase. it’ll go away.

“i’m not really sure, got any ideas for me?” you ask the two instead, eyeing them both in a back and forth motion.

“we can always work on that dating experience of yours- last i remember, it was up to the high number count of… zero.” your cousin chips in from the side as she slices the cake for the three of you to share, her tone sarcastic while she teases you.

it’s true, you didn’t have a lot (re: any) of experience in the dating sector, but perhaps that could change starting this year. “that… might not be such a bad idea.”

haechan’s interest seems to have been piqued — he’s making that look. that specific expression where the corners of his lips turn upwards, a brow raised, and that glint in his eye. oh, you know it all too well.

“come on.” you urge the boy. “start sharing your idea. i can practically see your mind ready to explode.”

“well, since you’ve asked me ever so kindly. how ‘bout a bet?” he starts, taking a few steps towards you with that cocky expression of his. “i bet you 10 dollars to kiss someone in two months. not that hard, right?”

“what- you want me to kiss some random person for 10 bucks?” you gawk out in surprise.

he only shakes his head, “i never said it needed to be a stranger. just, someone in general.”

you processed the idea thoroughly, running all sorts of possible scenarios in your head. wouldn’t it be much easier to kiss… haechan himself? that just seemed like the most plausible approach for you.

he wasn't a stranger — the furthest from one. you were comfortable with him. the kiss didn’t have to mean anything (though it might mean a tiny bit more to you), and in addition, you’d be making some cash.

everything seemed to check out. the only problem was that you had to ask him to kiss you. still, surely this was better than any other alternative, right?

“i’ll do it but… can’t i just kiss you and get it over with?” you finally voice out your thoughts, pretending to make your question sound playful in case the request backfires on you.

“you’re my best friend, that’s a little odd, don’t you think so?” haechan replies in the same tone, lightly ruffling your hair before going over to retrieve a slice of cake from winter.

ouch. way to have your first bit of “dating experience” be your best friend… friend zoning you. what a lovely start to your 18th birthday.

D-13.

a few days had passed since the bet you made with haechan had been established, but not one ounce of progress had been made.

to be fair, how were you supposed to kiss someone else when all you’ve ever wanted was for that kiss to be with your best friend? that’s tough luck.

you attending classes today doesn’t really help with your thoughts either, especially when both haechan and winter had been asking about said progress one after the other.

you’d be lying if they weren’t starting to give you a headache.

as if on cue, winter approaches you, some lecture books in hand and her bag slung on her shoulder. “y/n! how’s your progress?” here we go again.

“just as i told you yesterday, nothing yet.” you reply with a small sigh.

winter senses the frustration behind your words, encouraging her to suggest ideas to help you. “how about finding someone you like? it might make it easier for you know… to kiss them.”

“i don’t think that’s still a good- actually, you might just be onto something, minjeong.” your gears start to churn in your mind. in order to wash haechan off your mind, you might as well find someone else and maybe get an actual relationship out of it.

the idea was just perfect for you.

“have i ever told you how much i love you? i gotta go but i’ll see you after class, winter!” you excitedly bid her a goodbye, rushing to your classroom so you could better plan out your new gameplan.

though the most ideal situation was long gone, you now had a back up plan and you weren’t going to back down so easily from the bet.

you were now busily scribbling on your notepad, forgetting that a new student was to transfer into your class today. the teacher calls upon your attention and as you look up, your eyes land on a boy with great resemblance to a cute bunny.

apparently he’s the new transfer student.

the teacher gives him a moment to introduce himself. “hello everyone, my name is na jaemin. i hope we all get along!” so that’s his name, you thought to yourself.

surprisingly, he was told to take the seat in front of yours, offering you a small smile and a curt wave, one that you gladly return, before he takes his seat.

actually, maybe you really could forget haechan for just a teensy bit.

D-6.

a week goes by without haechan seeing you once. an entire week. was he always this eager to see you? to bask in the warm sight that is you? he thinks he must be going crazy.

the only time he ever gets updates about you is through winter which aren’t much to go on. he does remember a key detail she mentioned previously about how you’ve been spending time with that new student, jaemin.

what was so special about him anyways? well, he was surely going to find out soon.

as the bell rings to signal the start of recess, he dashes out of his classroom, taking big steps towards yours.

there, haechan finds you in his seat and he’s about to approach you until he sees you’re in the middle of a conversation with the one and only, na jaemin.

“this is how you do this, right?” jaemin asks you, directing your sight to a piece of paper that has a bunch of math formulas written on it.

“yeah! i’m surprised you got that rather quickly.” you compliment the boy in front of you with a small laugh.

your thoughts on jaemin have changed drastically since the first time you met him. he’s a sweet boy, someone you could never take advantage of. it just felt wrong to you so you just dropped your entire plan as a whole.

it was alright to lose the bet. at least you kind of made a new friend out of it, right? you smile to yourself at that thought.

to haechan, however, your smile is so bright in jaemin’s presence, it’s practically blinding everyone in sight. have you ever smiled at him like that? wait- why does that matter?

he doesn’t like you, no way.

you’re best friends, yeah. his love for you is as platonic as can be — at least that’s what he tells himself.

for someone as bold as haechan, he can’t seem to find the confidence in him to walk towards your table and steal your attention. instead, he steps out of the classroom, unnoticed by you.

D-5.

“JAEMIN DID WHAT!?” haechan yells into his phone, winter being on the receiving end of the call.

the girl tuts, “scream one more time and i’m hanging up on you. and yes, i heard he confessed to y/n. i don’t think she gave him an answer though.”

“sorry, look, i was just really surprised.” a deep sigh comes out from haechan before the call goes silent. he takes the time to process the situation, but the idea of you and jaemin being together just rubs him off the wrong way.

“doesn’t she see how bad he is for her?” he finally reasons out.

“uhuh, in what sense exactly?” winter retorts.

“he’s probably just using her to gain attention or something! can’t i look out for my own best friend?” the response is laughable, even to haechan, but he goes along with it.

winter laughs into the call, “are you even hearing yourself? that’s pretty baseless, even for you haechan.” she replies shortly afterwards. “seems to me like you’re jealous.”

“are you hearing yourself, winter? no i’m not! get your head screwed on properly!” haechan answers back in the same incredulous manner as she did to him just a few seconds ago. “who would i even be jealous of?”

“jaemin. who else? i think it’s pretty clear to most. you aren’t that great at managing your feelings, y’know-” the girl’s voice cuts off for a second, “-oh, i’m being called to dinner now but seriously, get yourself together haechan. i know you like my cousin. bye!”

the line goes beep and haechan tosses his phone onto his bed. she really did just leave him hanging like that. how could she after bringing that idea up?!

jealous? not a chance. haechan never gets jealous.

D-4.

haechan wakes up the next day feeling tired, having not slept a wink after winter’s words kept replaying in his head.

i know you like my cousin.

you like my cousin.

you like her.

and these same words follow him as he makes it all the way to school. perhaps seeing you in school would help him understand his feelings better.

he really just wants this to be over with.

with trudged steps, he makes his way to your classroom and luckily enough for him, there you were already in class before the first bell rang.

he blames it on the lack of sleep but you look so ethereal sitting down in your chair as you bop your head lightly to the music that’s presumably playing on your earphones.

the sight is something to behold- that is until he pivots his head ever so slightly and sees jaemin accompanying you. god, why does he have to be there.

so maybe haechan does get jealous. sometimes.

maybe that’s why he acts without thinking, swiftly dragging you from your chair and out to the school courtyard despite your protests.

“hyuck let me go-” you grumble, tugging on your arm but he doesn’t budge one bit. it’s only when you reach a bench in the furthest part of the courtyard he decides to get go of your wrist.

“seriously, what is wrong with you?” you scoff out in disbelief. “this is the first time we’ve spoken in days. i think you could’ve just asked me if you really wanted to talk.” with the addition of those words, haechan finally realizes what he’s done. he knows it was wrong but he isn’t going to back down from the argument that was brewing between you two.

“me? how about you? you’ve been so lovey dovey with mr. perfect all this time! don’t you have yourself to blame on why we haven’t seen each other in so long?” he spat out coldly.

your heart sinks, and yet, you can’t help but feel even more enraged. its true, you’re part of the reason for the lack of communication between you two. after all, communication is a two way system. but doesn’t that also mean he’s also to blame?

“i enjoy jaemin’s company a lot! is that so wrong?” you shoot back, biting your bottom lip before mumbling the latter part of your statement. “at least he isn’t as grumpy as the person standing in front of me.”

ouch.

the boy hears this and gets ticked off even more. maybe it really is the lack of sleep but he seriously can’t understand her reasoning anymore. instead, he assumes she’s just doing all of this for the bet.

“do you really want to win the bet so bad? if that’s what you want, just kiss me and be over with it. i’m literally letting you win. you can stop seeing jaemin now.”

and that’s when it hits you a little.

why is he bringing the bet up all of a sudden when you just want a genuine relationship with jaem- oh. he couldn’t possibly see you as someone like that right? he said it himself! he doesn’t like you and even denied your request to kiss him a few weeks ago.

but, if that were all true, what other explanation would there be to his actions?

he takes your silence as a no, prompting him to leave you in the courtyard all alone.

you couldn’t seem to understand him at all no matter how hard you tried.

as soon as you got home from classes that same day, you rushed yourself back home and into the comfort of your bed and pillows — treating them as if they were your closest confidants and cried while you shared your troubles.

it wasn’t productive on your end but it was much needed for you to at least think straight. you’d been bottling your contemplations all day long after all.

here you are laying lifeless on your bed, using all your braincells to dicern what the fuck happened earlier this morning.

you know haechan doesn’t like you. you’ve said it to yourself so many times now.

maybe he’s just jealous you’ve been spending more time with jaemin because, although you have different intentions before, you realized you couldn’t see him in that way nor had the heart to just use him for your own gain.

haechan was a different story though. you feel flushed just thinking about him, knowing full well the both of you are in the middle of an argument between each other.

remembrance of the frustration hits, making you groan at the thought of having to remedy it. if you and haechan had anything in common, it would be the stubbornness you both share.

the last time you both got into an argument this big was back in junior high. neither of you spoke to the other for an entire month. it got so bad that both your parents had to call each other up to devise a way to get an apology out from the both of you.

though it would make the entire situation much easier, your parents no longer delve into these types of problems — and neither do haechan’s. you’re both all alone to fix this one yourselves and you wish you’d been more grateful to your parents for mending your relationship with haechan.

deep down, you already know the both of you will struggle to find the right timing, but you certainly hope that day would come soon. you didn’t exactly like being away from him either (even if he made you feel like shit for the rest of the day).

you decide to sleep off your worries for the night, hoping and praying that tomorrow would be a better day for you.

D-3.

tomorrow is not any better of a day.

jaemin and haechan both invited you to eat with them for lunch which quickly escalated into a light argument between the two. you couldn’t even bring yourself to butt into their conversation, seeing how they were fighting over something so silly.

“i’m her best friend, we do this pretty much everyday!” you hear haechan yell at jaemin, his frustration for the other getting the best of him. “plus, i need to talk with her. without you.”

“if the two of you are just best friends, then what gives you the right to dictate her answers?” jaemin fires back, keeping a calm and collected appearance throughout.

this shuts haechan up and the entire cafeteria goes dead silent. oh boy, did you want to curl up into a little hole. everyone was staring and you didn’t like that one bit.

nevertheless, you decided to be the bigger person — uttering a small apology to jaemin before walking off to the table you usually sat at with haechan — the latter following you a few steps behind.

neither of you speak as you begin to eat your separate meals, another sign the relationship between you two was starting to fade out into dust.

winter joins your lunch table shortly after witnessing the drama unfold, she looks at haechan with an unreadable expression and the boy stays quiet during the whole meal.

didn't he say he wanted to talk? an apology for the day before would have been nice.

you get fed up by the silence, placing your food back on the tray before picking it up. you mutter a quiet “i can’t seem to understand you at all.” directed at hyuck before leaving and switching over to the table where jaemin and his friends are sitting.

it all happened too fast and haechan didn’t realize you were leaving until you already did. he really did want to talk but how was he supposed to do that after having that situation with jaemin?

he wanted to calm down first but you had other plans. you really left him in shambles this time.

winter can’t help but sigh at the ongoing conflict. she silently wishes she wasn’t involved this much if it was going to turn out like this.

D-2.

haechan knows he truly has to make it up to you (including a long overdue explanation of why he’s been acting weirdly the past few days) but doesn’t know how to do that. apologies never came easy to him. his mind couldn’t help but go blank everytime he tried thinking of a way to approach you without making things more complicated than they already are.

the sheer amount of times he’s hit a brick wall has him calling the only person who probably knows more about you than he, himself, does.

he picks up his phone, searching through his contacts before landing on a single person, now waiting for the phone to ring.

“hello?” winter’s voice reaches him through the call. “i knew you’d call after what happened at the cafeteria.”

it takes a moment for haechan to answer, “maybe if jaemin wasn’t so aggressive–”

“you both were. now spill, have you gotten your feelings sorted yet?” the girl pushes his dramatics aside, getting straight to the point.

“i… think i do. you were right all along.” haechan finishes. although it was hard for him to admit at first, now that he’s actually said it out loud, it might be the first time he’s been feeling a sense of clarity after so long.

winter hums at his confession. “at least you’re finally taking a step in the right direction. now, to win her back…” she smiles to herself, already having a plan in mind.

you, on the other hand, have been seeing haechan and winter together often for the past week. naturally, your mind begins to wonder if your own cousin is the reason why haechan rejected you way back during your small birthday celebration.

the evidence matches up pretty well — he probably couldn’t reject you directly because she was in the room with the two of you that day. he isn’t spending as much time with you anymore because he’s spending time with her.

they look good together.

those words linger in your head more than you’d like to admit.

you feel cast aside by the people you’ve known practically your entire life but you don’t have much of a choice but to return to jaemin’s company. after all, you chose to eat the rest of your lunch at his table instead of the one that brought familiarity to you.

D-DAY.

day after day, the two of you just seemed to grow even more distant and you wondered if the end of your long-term friendship was nigh approaching. you barely saw him roaming through the halls of campus anymore, much less your cousin.

you didn’t dislike the new friend group you had (jaemin introducing you to his friends after you finally told him about your situation with haechan, but you couldn’t help but feel… dissatisfied with your current situation.)

as your class ends, you prepare yourself for another silent walk home. despite having those new friends, you felt lonelier than you ever had. you missed them. you missed him. and yet, life seemed to have other plans for you.

even trudging down these halls filled with other students made you lonely.

truthfully, you would do anything to have them back- a pain to your forehead snaps you out of your thoughts. you had bumped into someone. well, not just someone, but the person you’ve been longing for the most.

haechan. he was right in front of you after who knows how long it’s been.

you felt like crying on the spot but held in your emotions to appear like your life was anything but lost. haechan knew that look on your face, presuming you haven’t been well ever since the two of you have spoken. he takes your hands that have slumped to your sides into his, and the small gesture reminded you of the warmth he’d bring into your life.

“are you up for a short conversation perhaps?” you only nod and he takes that as a signal in the right direction, though, he isn’t used to you acting around him like this. oh boy, this was going to be more than a short conversation.

haechan leads you into the gymnasium and the two of you sit down by the bleachers with no sight of other students in the area.

“before you get mad- i wanted to apologize first. i shouldn’t have acted the way i did. i was childish.” he begins, holding eye contact with you to show his sincerity. “frankly, i was jealous. jealous you spent more time with jaemin, and you seemed to enjoy you time with him more than the times we hang out together. i shouldn’t have made you feel sad in any way, but i did and that’s completely my fault. i’m sorry.” you know his words hold both his feelings and the truth.

he wasn’t going to lie to you. he never once did during the time you knew each other.

however, what he admitted to had you flustered.

he was jealous of you and jaemin? it was a little hard to believe until you remembered the latter confessed to you the past week. oh god, did word of that spread out? nevermind that, what happened between you and jaemin was the least of your worries, the boy in front of you was. what if haechan got the wrong idea from the rumors?

“it’s not completely your fault. we both were pretty stubborn.” you reply, a soft chuckle leaving your lips to ease the tension between you two. “and if… if you’re curious, i never returned jaemin’s feelings back.

haechan gets pretty taken aback by your statement, now wondering why you brought it up. “oh… i know.”

“you knew? did winter tell you?” you question in anticipation. “i guess the both of you are pretty close now.”

“she did but i swear our friendship is nothing like that!” it was his turn to get flustered. “she could never replace your spot in my life.”

“i’m a little confused though after all of this…” you gesture out, referring to the situation that has just recently moved past you two. “what spot do i even have?”

he pauses, taking his time to think of the right words he wants to tell you but they all get stuck in his throat. the expression on your face showed how you took his silence negatively, prompting him to speak. “i like you. i couldn’t admit it even to myself for the longest time and-” having enough of his rambling, you inch a little closer and give him a kiss on the lips.

it’s brief, and yet, it continues to linger on his lips. “you kissed me.”

“why do you think i never gave jaemin an answer to jaemin’s confession?”

“so you were really saving it for me? i’m honored.” he chuckles out, playfully holding his hand to his chest.

“well, you should be.” you add on with the same bright smile he’s seen you flash at jaemin, except this time, it was absolutely for him.

“i guess that also means you won the bet?” he recalls, a brow raising at you.

you give him a light nudge on his shoulder while suppressing a giggle, “oh, shut up and just kiss me. you owe me 10 bucks by the way.”

tags !!

#—hyuckbeam #nct fluff #nct angst #haechan #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct #nct aus #fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct x reader #nct dream drabbles #nct dream aus #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst

776 notes · View notes

riaspeaks · 11 months

Text

ALL MINE e.w.

as promised here is part one of my streamer ellie fic all mine!!! pls note the second part of this will have smut so it won't be out fo a while until i feel comfortable enough to post it!!! also very sorry it's short but when summer comes expect all your request to be answered next week is my last week of school so very very soon

cw: sulky jealous gf,slightly toxic ellie, domestic ellie, hinted smut but not any actual smut

wc:901

You had grown very patient with Ellie over time but the truth was part of you still wanted nothing more than to have her attention 24/7. However, you knew that wasn't possible so here you were sat in the living room with your shared cat while Ellie on the other hand was in her “office” basically just where she streamed from. You could hear her shouting about whatever video game she was currently playing.

Over the past couple of months, Ellie had grown quite a lot. She deserved these followers and more. she had grown to almost one million followers on Twitch and had a few thousand subs. From this, she started to gain more money which she was more than happy to spend on you. She had always loved to spoil you but now it was like times ten.

You grabbed your phone lifting yourself in the slightest trying not to disturb the cat.9:48 Ellie had been live for the past three hours. you decided to be a little nosy by opening the Twitch app and clicking on her stream. She was talking to someone more specifically a girl. You usually weren't the type to get jealous but you could tell by just hearing the way she spoke to Ellie that she liked her or more likely wanted to fuck her.

“Ellieee” the girl whined. They were playing Minecraft and you immediately recognized this as the world she would continuously stream on. “We have to put our beds together,” she said with a hint in her voice you understood as infatuation. This was your final straw. Ellie wasn't even saying anything at this point she just continued building the girl's house while humming in response to her. Her camera showed her with a slight smirk.

She knew you were watching. Ellie always loved it when you got jealous. You didn't have it this time you knew how this would end if you stormed into her room and acted like a brat. It would end with you bent over her desk while she fucks you and reminds you that she only wants you, And in all honestly you would love that but you wanted more this time you knew you were being greedy but you didn't care.

This time she was the one jealous. So instead of storming into her room and interrupting her, you walked over to your bedroom. Taking out a pretty flowy dress that had a nice flower print on it. Slipping out of your PJs you let your pants fall to the floor while slipping on the dress and also putting on some shoes. Grabbing your phone off the counter you quickly texted Ellie “60k viewers congrats babe” This way she would know you were watching.

Taking the pasta out of the cabinet you began preparing dinner for your girlfriend. Your phone is abandoned on the kitchen table. After around 15 minutes you heard your phone buzz. Usually, she wouldn't take this long to answer even if she was streaming. Grabbing it you quickly opened it “Didn't know you were watching” You could practically read the smug look on her face.”. You quickly type back “I tuned in for a little “It was a simple message but Ellie got the tone understanding that you had heard her and the girl talking.” I can end it now if you want?” she said. At this point the food was ready you took the spoon stirring it for a moment thinking of what to say.

Suddenly you heard the door open. Turning your head in the slightest trying to seem casual you untieing your frilly apron that you had put on earlier. Your goal of feeding into Ellie’s fantasy about you being her housewife seemed to be working.” you ended already” you said with a small pout on your lips. Ellie wasn't gonna fall for this she could tell that pout was fake you were happy she had ended her stream earlier than intended. She had been on hour four by the time she ended and you weren't very happy about so you intended to do something about it.

You whipped yourself so you were pressed against her with your hands on her chest looking up at her with innocent puppy eyes.” it's not my fault you were too busy flirting with some girl” you huffed dropping your shoulders. Trying your best to not let the tears welling up in your eyes show themselves. Ellie took notice of this snaking her arm around your waist and pulling you closer if even possible.” was my baby jealous?” she questioned with a smirk that made you feel even more stupid for feeling like this.

Suddenly the tears started spilling out and you tried to push yourself out of her arms in embarrassment. Ellie didn't like this so she pushed you back into you. Lifting your head by your chin she looked you in your eyes “Babe it's not my fault she wanted me” She said you knew it was true ever since you had met Ellie girls had been all over her always managing to make you jealous. Ellie knew this and she always reminded you that you were the only one she wanted. Sometimes she liked to have a little fun with it though because honestly what's more fun than making your girlfriend jealous than fucking her senseless?

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #tlou #ellie x y/n

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chiffiorra · 7 months

Text

₊❏❜ ⋮ Dos Fleur + More

Kinktober Day #12

Prompt: Restraints Characters: Nico Robin This Work Contains: fem!reader, restraining and gagging, consent, fingering, inappropriate use of devil fruit, overwhelming pleasure, possible ooc robin WC: 467 Note: y'know, it was only a matter of time before i started writing for robin Taglist: @enchantedforest-network, @nanamis-wifey-reye

Perhaps this is what you should’ve expected from Robin, and you did agree to this beforehand. But you did miss the sly smile she was failing to hide as you said yes.

Currently, you lay on her bed on your back, restraints holding your wrists together and your legs and ankles separate from each other. Or more specifically, restraints from her own devil fruit power. It felt strange having hands holding you down, even more so when it was like she was touching but not exactly.

“Tied up and nowhere to go right? That means I can do whatever I please with you and you can’t do a thing about it,” the tall woman teased, circling around your nude bound figure. Your eyes followed after her figure, eager to see what she was planning on doing. After all, you enthusiastically agreed to such a thing.

A hand, one of her real hands and not from the hana hana no mi itself, rested itself on your thigh before slowly trailing her fingers up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You shivered, her touch not being close enough to satisfy you.

Ever so perceptive, she took notice of your reaction, smiling down at you. But her smile was not innocent, no, she was well aware of what she was doing.

One hand that had held your also trailed its way up to your other thigh and reached your opening and slowly up to your clit, rubbing it slowly.

You bit your lip to keep any sound from coming out, but a small whine still managed to escape. This made Robin grin. “So responsive and I barely touched you. Don’t hide from me, I can tell how excited you are already. So… let it all out for me, ‘kay?” She leaned down to whisper the last sentence in your ear, the hand rubbing your clit gradually picking up speed.

Following her advice, you decided to no longer hold back and decided to open your mouth moaning, growing louder as another hand came into play, trailing fingers around your opening and slicking up its fingers. Before you could even tell what was happening, a finger slowly pushed into you, moving in and out, as if to prepare you.

The pleasure felt overwhelming but in the best way possible as Robin herself would join the fray, using her real hands to pinch and pull at your nipples. You never thought that you would feel like this, but you were very wrong. It felt as if more than one person was here with the same goal as Robin.

You almost missed the giggle that Robin let out as she leaned down to kiss your cheeks, a sweet action in contrast. “Maybe, I should use my ability on you more often, right?”

#candy uploads 🍭#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #one piece #one piece x reader #nico robin #nico robin x reader #lemon pastries 🥐

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angst-in-space · 5 months

Text

november '23 writing progress

words written: 25k

most words written in a day: 2k

least words written in a day: 0

current yearly total: 167.8k

projects worked on:

ya sci-fi book revisions

planning/zero drafting adult sci-fi wip

misc. other projects

works published in november:

none

november goals:

write as much as i can for nanowrimo (at least try to get to 50k?)

actually enjoy writing again? :’)

FINISH MY YA SCI-FI BOOK REWRITES I STFG

work on outlining/zero drafting adult sci-fi wip

finish writing edit letter for friend

work on fics??

update one of my multichap fics??

december goals:

write ~1k a day (except on holidays)

write like 100ish words of other projects a day (fics, planning projects, etc.)

write about 33k total (to meet my yearly wc goal of 200k)

finish.....ya sci-fi book rewrites... please....

finish editing ch 10 of sylvix dreamscape (idk if i'll be able to post it by end of the month/year but... maybe lol)

finish edit letter for friend

notes:

WTF IT'S DECEMBER ALREADY??? this year has flown by.... seriously what the hell.

okay well anyway. so... nanowrimo was a bit of a bust for me. i hadn't really expected to reach 50k, but i had hoped to get a biiiit more done. unfortunately the second half of the month was...not fun for me, so my motivation really tanked.

however! my more important goal this month was to just enjoy writing again since i'd been feeling quite burned out—and i would say i did succeed at that. i started planning a new wip which i'm really excited about, plus i got to rewrite one of my fave arcs of my ya sci-fi book which i had a lot of fun with!! so in that way, i would say i had a successful month and i am feeling a lot more motivated now. :)

that said...i do still have a good chunk of my book left to rewrite. i was really hoping to finish by the end of the year and now of course i only half one more month to do that. *gulps* but, by my calculations, i think i have about 30k left to rewrite aka about 1k per day which is not toooo bad—and if i succeed at that, i should also be able to reach my yearly word count goal. so i am gonna try!!

as has been the case for a long time, i've neglected fic a lot lately and i miss it. :( i did at least wanna go back to revising the last chapter of sylvix dreamscape fic and maybe pass that along to betas by end of december. aaand maybe work on writing/editing some of my other fics if i have time??? but my book is my big priority right now... i'm hoping once i finish this draft, i'll have more time to return to fic again.

so yeah, last month of 2023 I'M GONNA MAKE IT COUNT!!!!

#brigidposts #writing updates #monthly writing updates 2023 #text

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felixantares · 1 year

Note

11 22 19 ayo

omg some of those are so fun!! 💚

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

I have such a hard time killing my darlings 😭 I never want to. But I do it!! even though it’s hard! I did it not even like a week ago. There was a whole severitus plot line in build me no shrines that I was super attached to and I cut it, because it wasn’t working. I was crying the whole time and now I have a separate severitus fic that is in no way related. But yes I have a darling graveyard, usually they don’t stay dead long and get turned into new fic ideas

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I mean, I’ve been doing creative writing forever it feels like. I wrote little short stories as a kid and drew really terrible comics. My mum got me this novel writing program that had a code for an online forum when I was around 12, and so I started writing a novel (I finished it too! I was 13 and it’s actually insane, the plot makes no sense, but like!! I did it, 45k of nonsense. my mum was so proud) but I joined the forum and it was a bunch of other kids all 12-17 who wanted to write books too. I kinda stopped for a while in high school and uni because I’d been told I couldn’t do anything with writing, that it was too hard to make a career out of it and I was better off doing something practical (haha jokes on them I went into art). Then in like… 2016? I had a brief little period where I wrote a couple Merlin fics, they didn’t do super well and I got a couple nasty comments that kinda put me off writing fanfic at all. Then in uhhhh August last year I got really into Harry Potter again after I broke off a toxic friendship with someone who said I couldn’t be queer and also like Harry Potter, so as a giant fuck you to them I joined the first HP discord server I found — which I kinda found my people right away and now I’m quite happily inhabiting my little corner of the internet and writing my stupid little stories.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

Okay I don’t think I’m crazy organised but then I’ve been told I am, so idk make your own calls. I’ve got 2 physical notebooks, one for my two long WIPs and I just kinda put a coloured sticky note in the pages whenever I switch the fic I’m writing for, and a second book for random ideas and notes and stuff that usually gets transferred to the appropriate document later. The idea notebook is very small and lives in my pocket in case I’m out and need to write an idea down. But I don’t really take a lot of physical notes. My docs and folders though are perfectly organised. Docs are put in folders with their fic (or in the case of one shots, a folder for that) or like my general writing folder if it’s a resource, but I have a naming system that I use for all my projects, based on what kind of file it is so they get tagged with like [OUTLINE] or [WIP] or whatever is relevant. There’s a colour coding system within the documents (so like as I’m writing, notes to myself are always blue, notes on a character are green, sections that need editing are highlighted in red, sections that I’m currently working on are orange… and a few other colour keys that I won’t bore you with) and then I have a spreadsheet I use to track wc goals and overall progress and stuff. I’ve thought about using that “make your own wiki” site that was shared with me a little while ago (or I’ve got a subscription to WorldAnvil for my D&D notes, so maybe that) to start organising my lore notes a bit better, but that’s a fairly large project and I might just stick to what’s working for me.

#felix talks #ask game #harry potter #on writing

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junova · 3 years

Text

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞.

notes: howdy guys, it's been a while. i've been taking a break and finally starting writing again, yay. it's been a rough few months and still treading through it, but i hope you enjoy a piece of my heart with this one.

if it's any consolation, my heart broke while writing this. </3

pairing — boxer!steve rogers x fem!reader

concept — steve has to come with terms of you not wanting him just as much as he wants you.

wc — 6.7k+ [yeah...]

warnings: 18+, themes alluding to sex, emotional cheating, soft!steve, heartbreak, kind of unrequited vibe going on, over all ✨ angst ✨

Even if it was the thousandth time to watch his body move in the ring, you still were memorized by the way he moved. You were in complete admiration of how his hips flowed so fluidly through his punches. Just like always, he was aware of your presence as you stood next to Sam and Wanda, both of them with proud smiles on their faces as he defeated yet another opponent.

Watching as they raised his arm, declaring him as the champion, something he’d been striving so intensely for, the past few months. Even if his body was bruised and littered with the hits Rumlow had been able to mark his body with and not to mention the busted lip, making him taste the blood with nearly every swallow.

It didn’t matter because he had followed through with what he had set his mind out to do. The looks Rumlow was giving him after all the smack talk he had served him was satisfying enough. Even if he didn’t think you did, he saw you standing there alongside his friends, celebrating the win of his life.

He couldn’t but smile proudly at your presence, even if the disapproval you have against his lifestyle was well known between the two of you and everyone else in your friend group.

Steve knew you weren’t a fan of the injuries you brought home in your shared apartment, the nights you actually stayed there. With Jordan’s absence from New York, you’d been staying there more consistently than ever.

He would never admit it out right, but it made his heart full. With you home, he could protect and he worried wherever you weren’t there. Even if he knew you were fully capable of defending yourself if need be, it would always make him feel better when you were close to him.

Just like him, you could confess it even to yourself, but when you were back in the apartment you shared with Steve, you’d always felt safer.

He went straight to the locker room, to clean himself up as best as he could without making his friends and Tony wait too long. He’d usually go straight to them but the group took notice he held himself back when you were around.

The first match you went to and he came up with bruises running along both rib cages, a bloody nose accompanied by a busted lip, he immediately took notice of the way you cowered away from him. Barely even looking at him as you congratulated him. From then on out, he realized how much it bothered you to see him physically injured.

When you’d come, he’d always make sure to clean himself up before. It really worked out on the days he didn’t want to be around many people. Only the stragglers from the crowd would be left, and his friends who supported him nearly every time.

As soon as he made his way over to the group, he was met with Sam’s warm smile pulling him into a warm hug. You found yourself wincing as soon as Steve did. “Easy there big buy, bruises are still fresh.” Sam let up just a tad, before everyone was congratulating him. You stood back with Tony, watching the proud smile grow on his face as he watched his prodigy surpass his monumental goal.

“You should think about coming to more matches. He fights better when you’re here watching him.” You twisted your neck so you could see his coach more clearly who was standing right beside you. “I’m sure he plays just as well when I’m not here. I still watch them everytime, just from home when it’s too much for me to stomach.”

You looked forward away from Tony, Steve coming into your line of vision as Sharon, his ex who had surprisingly shown up to corral by his side, someone you’d hadn’t seen near him in the past few weeks since she’d been out of the country for work.

“His technique and endurance is the same, but his intensity always rises higher when you’re here. I’m not the only one who notices, maybe the only one bold enough to say it to you.” Tony spoke as watched the man he took in when Steve was just sixteen.

Truly, it made his heart swell with pride to see him reach the level of success he had been dreaming for him since the pair had met. Knowing Steve for the past five years, also made him hyper aware of the girl he never seemed to shut up about, not that you’d ever find out.

No matter how much Tony was dying to let the words slip off his tongue.

“I’m just happy to be here for him.” Keeping your words short as you watched Sharon move closer to him, her hand resting on his chest and he didn’t even move away from it. You tried to ignore the ugly shade of green rising in your chest, but with him it always seemed to show.

Not that you’d had a right to, you weren’t single or emotionally available by any means, but the thought of him being with someone who had hurt him so much made you more protective of him than you had a right to be.

“C’mon little dove, have you thought about why you’d rather stay in the dinged up apartment with Steve than be with your boyfriend of three years across the country?” He pressed harder, making sure you were careful of your response. “My friends are here and so is my family. I can’t just leave everyone I love behind.” Your gaze never left Steve’s as he finally was out of Sharon’s grip.

“Steve’s here, too. You sure it has nothing to do with him?” Part of you couldn’t stand there with Tony and lie to him because you weren’t sure what was the nature of your relationship with the boxer.

Thankfully, you were saved from responding by the devil himself as made his way over to the two of you. Much to your dismay, he had to get in a few more words before Steve was in earshot. “Just think about why Steve lives with you when he’s had more than enough to move out for a while now.”

Before you could even process the words leaving his mouth, your favorite man in the ring immediately has you wrapped up in his arms. Holding you so close and so tightly, not even caring if it put more pressure on his lungs than he wished.

“Congrats on the win, Champion. I’m so proud of you.” The arms you had around him were placed gently, too afraid to put any weight on the new bruises. Not to mention the old ones which were still healing.

Once he pulled away from you, just enough so you could look at him. He hummed at Tony and with one nod of his head he knew when the young boxer wanted to be left alone. More times than not, it is usually with you.

“I thought you weren’t coming tonight. Isn’t Jordan in town?” Not even when it was the biggest moment of his career thus far did he care to indulge in his victories. Always it seemed to be looking after you.

“Stevie, this is your night. We don’t have to talk about me — we’re always talking about me.” For a moment he almost bought your act until he looked into those dazzling eyes of yours, ones he never seemed to grow tired of in the past few years.

“I’m not happy unless you’re happy. So, if you need a night where we just watch romcoms and chow on cookie dough ice cream, you know I’m all yours.” Unknowing to the two of you, everyone of your friends was watching the encounter and still couldn’t believe you still were with your current boyfriend.

Or that Steve was just waiting for you patiently. Something that didn’t come easy for him around women. Before you, he didn’t really do relationships with women that didn’t end with him in their bed at some point. Somehow, much to everyone’s dismay, he managed to keep his interactions platonic with you.

At least in their eyes.

“No, Stevie. I’m fine. He just didn’t follow through this time. It’s not the end of the world, I’ll be fine. Tonight, I just wanna be by your side and celebrate you.” Although, he didn’t really believe you Steve decided he would let it go.

“Regardless of it, thank you for coming tonight. Means the world to me.” It really did. Even more so, when he felt like he was one of the reasons you were still in Brooklyn and not in California living with your boyfriend instead.

“Oh, hush bubba. You’re getting so soft on me and you haven’t even had a proper drink in you yet. Let’s just celebrate with our friends, yeah?” You kissed his cheek sweetly, before you were off to Bucky and Nat’s place to get properly fed and surely get Steve drunk off his ass.

It really was the elephant in the room you were choosing to ignore. The fluttering feeling of adventurous butterflies traveling to spaces you didn’t know existed. Everytime he pulled you close to his side or kissed your temple.

When Bucky would do something monumentally stupid, he would whisper a line in your ear humorous enough to hear you laugh. Even right now, when you knew he was exhausted, muscles sore and aching — Steve was still tending to whatever you needed.

In this moment, your body nestled between his legs as he draped his arm across your chest, letting him hold you close was exactly what you needed. Even if you tried to remove yourself several times because of the new injuries, he would never let you.

“What’s next, Rogers?” Steve watched as he craned his neck towards Sharon. You’d almost forgotten she was here, she’d been so quiet most of the night.

“A whole lot of rest and then in a few weeks, right back into training.” He spoke with pride because winning the title went hand and hand with defending it. “You should come to the club. Danielle’s been itching to see you, again.”

Steve grimaced, not just as Sharon’s words, but with how stiff your body became. The way you rubbed back and forth with the tip of your fingers against his forearm came to a halt.

You weren’t really sure what to do because now you felt horrible for even feeling like you had a right to be upset in the first place. Because you didn’t. You weren’t single and Steve was. In this space in time, he did nothing wrong.

When you followed Nat back into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine, away from him, it felt like he had made a mistake.

Just watching as you followed Nat up the pathway, in your pretty green dress, as you messed with the necklace adoring your neck. Something he learned you did when you were anxious.

“Why would you bring that up now? In front of her?” He was slightly pissed off she had driven you away and out of his arms. Steve would have you within his grip constantly if you would let him. Not that you did, but it was still a certain something he found himself wishing for. More than not though, someone else always seemed to hold your attention whenever he wasn’t in the ring.

Jordan. Tony. Sam. Natasha. Bucky. Wanda.

Tonight had seemed it might go in a different direction, until Sharon steered your mind elsewhere. One where you were a girl who missed her boyfriend. Or at least that’s what he thought.

Unknowingly to Steve, Jordan was the last thing on your mind, which allowed the guilt to settle in. Maybe, just this one time it was rightfully placed. The thoughts you were having scared you senseless — making you want to do something you knew you shouldn’t.

You just sat there on the padded bar tool as Nat grabbed a bottle of white with a bottle of red. Like time and time again, Nat read your mind just as she often did. “So, why couldn’t he come this time?” She drilled into you, her iridescent daggers as piercing as ever.

“He said he forgot his mother asked him to help her move out of the house. He said he’d make it up to me some other time.” Just like always.

But you held your tongue before voicing it to anyone other than yourself. It’d been months since you’d seen him in the flesh, and it was the first time he spoke to you in days when he informed you he’d been unable to spend any of his time off with you.

“He’s just never here and he keeps asking for me to move to Los Angeles, but my whole life is here. Before, he never seemed to really pressure me. He was always patient with me to travel at my own pace but I think he ultimately thought I would eventually go there with him.” You breathed out, scared of the truth dripping right out of you.

“I just-, you know what? Nevermind. It’s isn’t important.” She was never one to bite her tongue, but she found herself trying to when your feelings were involved.

“Tell me. What is it?” Your curious, bambi eyes peering into your soul, dying to pull the confession right out of her.

“Do you even miss him when you’re apart for so long? I’m not judging but it just seems like you’re okay. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, but why don’t you ever go to him or Jordan to you?” Natasha spoke softly, afraid she might be poking the bear just a bit.

“Of course I miss him. I would see him if I could. I’m just a little too busy right now with work and my family.” You attacked back, feeling the need to defend yourself.

“Are you really going to make me say it?” With both bottles of wine on the counter, she went to grab three more wine glasses — for Sharon, herself, and you.

“Say what? What the hell are you talking about?” You pushed her as she put out the bottles of wine as she managed to link the three vines of the glasses in her left fingertips. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She was regretting it now, because maybe you weren’t quite ready to hear the words everyone else knew to be true. Anyone who was around the two of you could see it.

Perhaps, Nat never spoke a word of it because at the very least, she thought you wouldn’t be as naive to see his feelings. The ones he seemed to offer you on a silver platter, whether you wanted to reject or accept the offering, giving it to you wholeheartedly.

Following her out the patio door where the two of you stopped, not moving a step further. She didn’t really say anything either. Letting you bask in the glow before the fall.

He was laughing so hard, his hand clutching his chest as him. Golden hair shining bright by the fire pit, almost as

lively as his smile. Even if it looked like his spirit could have been beaten out of him tonight, he’d never show it.

When he had trouble keeping his eyes open, he’d force himself to stay alert because moments he could spend with ones he loved seemed too precious to pass up. Especially over the past few months — he didn’t even have to think twice about it.

Through the schedule Tony had him on, his life was eating, breathing, living boxing. Training every day in the gym, whether it be furthering his techniques in the gym to Tony making him regret any mistake he made in the ring.

Even some days he was just weight training when Tony told him he could rest. He couldn’t though. Not when he could taste the sweetness of his dreams on the tip of his tongues.

Every day, dawn till dusk, training consumed every moment of his time. Steve thought his body was restless before, but now? Nothing came even close to this.

Leading Steve to be blissfully unaware of what was actually going in that fantastically bold head of yours.

“Just spill it, Romanov.” You pressured her, but your eyes were too weak to redirect your directions elsewhere. Only Steve holding your attention at one.

“Remember when Steve left for Spain for three months with Tony?” Your body stilled, having a feeling you knew where this was going. Regretting you told her what had happened with Steve in the first after promising him it would just stay between the two of you.

“It was the year Jordan and I had split for two months.” The memory of what happened always clouding your better judgement. The way his eyes shined still haunted you. “Steve had already been there a month when it happened and the second I told him he insisted on flying me out.”

Looking at him fondly, across the greenery before speaking so softly as if he was right next to you, “I could never say no to him. I still can’t.” Nat tried to ignore it but she could see through the fog of your first love fading even if you were trying your hardest to avoid the inevitable heartache.

The care you held for him was oozing out of you, bursting and breaking at the seams. When you kept thinking of him more than a roommate, more than a friend.

“Dove, you can’t just keep pretending your feelings don’t exist. The more you try to bury the root deep the more it will grow.” You knew she was right, but you really didn’t want to hurt anyone.

You supposed you were already causing pain unintentionally. “His biggest insecurity is him. Jordan thinks I’m still here because of him.” You confessed, the ongoing fight no secret to anyone, really.

“Aren’t you?” Maybe if you had been a better liar, you could’ve convinced her but everyone could read you like the back of your own hand.

You hated the spotlight she was putting on you, but even more so because she was right. Moving forward with Jordan meant leaving someone else behind, something you couldn’t seem to prepare yourself to do.

“I love Jordan. He’s my first love and I thought he would be the greatest one, too.” You really want to stop the love and admiration flowing out of you, but you couldn’t choose who you love and maybe it was time for you to stop fighting it.

“Then, I met Steve. He responded to the ad I put out for the spare room in my apartment and we met for coffee.” If you had listened to your mother, her wishes of you not to be in the company of a man who was a complete stranger, you’d never meet the most important person in your life.

“He looked more like a boy back then. Clean shaven. No beard. Steve was still muscular, but not nearly as toned as he is now. But his eyes? They pulled me right in. Still do, every damn time.” You should have held some sort of shame, but you didn’t.

“You should do something about it, Dove. He isn’t going to be single forever.” Nat questioned as you followed her lead, back to the roaring fire.

“Nat, I love Jordan. I could never do that to him.” You really couldn’t, but you also couldn’t find it in you to move with him either. “I know you love him, but you aren’t in love anymore.” Growing closer and closer, back to the group, you saw him clearly.

“What do you mean?” Trying to ignore the pain in your chest as Natasha spoke. “I think you’re scared of ending it with Jordan. Dove. I’ve known you for a long time now and I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you do with Steve.”

The words spilling out of her lips left you a little broken — the truth spearing you through. She wasn’t wrong, not one bit. Nat never nearly was, especially when your feelings were involved. Steve had become such an enigma to you in the past year.

The line of platonic friendship and overflowing emotional intimacy was becoming too entangled for you to even comprehend.

“Just think about it. I just want you to be happy.” The rest of the night, it’s all you could think about. A few days passed and it was still in the forefront of your mind.

When Steve was walking home with you this week, you couldn’t stop wondering all the hypotheticals swarming inside your dreams.

He could tell, too.

You’d never been so quiet, not ever. He’d like to hear you, especially when you were drunk. Like you seemed to be now, at least to him but tequila that lit a fire in your chest a few hours ago was beginning to wear off. Just when the feelings you kept trying to avoid would seep there way back in like your furry, fat cat Thor when he wormed his body through the gate into the apartment.

“What’s wrong? You’ve seemed off this week.” You felt his hand kiss yours, but he didn’t bother to find it’s home. He’d been keeping his distance or at least been trying to. You'd been so vulnerable lately and the last thing he wanted to do was exploit that.

Ever since Sharon had made a comment about Danielle, and you escaped with Nat, something changed. You more guarded around him, more than you'd ever been since you met.

Steve knew there was a reason for it, but he didn't want to push you — not when it looked like you would combust into a breakdown at any given moment.

“I’ve just been thinking about where my life is going and where I want it to go.” You confessed, letting your words linger. “Jordan wants me to move with him to California and I’m running out of reasons to say no.” In perfect harmony, your eyes met his at the same time.

They weren’t joyful what his bright blues usually possess, but this time they were indifferent. Not even you could read them.

“Do you want to move there with him?” Steve asked you, his heart on the verge of dropping into his stomach. “If it will make you happy, you should.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, you watched him drift away from you.

“I don’t know. It might.” Both of you coming to a halt, walking up to the apartment the two of you shared.

“He’s insecure about you. It’s why he’s pressuring me.” The two of your bodies so close but so far away as you stood in the doorway. With a confusing gaze and pouty lips, practically guiding you into temptation.

“He used to always tell me you were in love with me. He was fully convinced, still is. I never thought so. You were just my best friend, that was it. I just never really thought about it unless Jordan brought it up.” You would have loved to blame your sudden outburst on the alcohol, but it was something you'd been dying to do.

Before you never had the guts, but you a felt a pull towards Steve lately, like maybe there was something more trying to burst under the seams.

“I thought Tony was bullshitting me, fucking with me, but I didn’t ever give it a thought. Then, Nat brought up Spain.” Nights you told yourself were a mistake, but deep down it was the probably the safest you felt in a long time.

“What are you talking about? What did Tony say?” Fetching for the key, he slid it in before opening the door for you and following you inside. “Steve, why do you still live here?” Blushing cheeks and a string of incoherent words was all you could make out from him.

As he headed for the small couch, trying to make up an excuse good enough. One which you’d actually believe, he hoped.

“You make four times as much as me, if not more. For some reason, you’ve decided to stay in this shithole apartment — it doesn’t make sense.” He wished you would make sense of it, that way he didn’t have to say a word.

“Do you want me to move out?” He questioned, watching your movements. If you wanted him to move out, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

It was the last thing you wanted, but the line between your friendship with him was always blurred. Only now, when it was vaguely pointed out by the two people close to the both of you — it became more apparent than ever.

“No, I just, I guess I’m asking why. You know you’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you’d like, but this place is a dump, Steve. Why on earth would you wanna stay here?” When he looked up, where you stood above him having a hard time biting his tongue.

Because you’re here.

It’s what he wanted to say, but he didn’t have the right and he would just be an asshole if he put you in a compromising position. He already felt guilty enough with his feelings in the first place, he didn't need to pile on.

“I guess it’s just easier to stay. It’s so close to the ring and I’m maybe a tad too comfortable.” You sat next to him on the couch. Finding yourself trapped in the green of his eyes. “Don’t you want something better?” Maybe it was him or maybe it was you. Neither of you could tell.

The two of you inched closer until Steve was caressing your thigh, just with the tip of his thumb. “I’m more than happy with where I’m at.”

“Well, I’m asking because I need to go to California. Just for a bit. I need to see Jordan, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen him.” He didn’t stop touching, not even with the mention of his name.

Even if it pierced him every time you talked about him. Or when Jordan came to town, he felt like he didn’t exist to you.

He didn’t blame you, not at all. Jordan was your highschool sweetheart, and you wanted so badly for it to work but something was holding you back. Something you were trying to let go of.

“He loves me so much and wants to start building this whole new life, but how am I supposed to tell him?” Steve said nothing, letting you sink into the ground.

“He’s been nothing, but kind and loving. Always there, always supportive. The best partner I could have asked for.” Steve laced your hand in his like it was the most natural thing in the world, making butterflies erupt at full speed.

You couldn’t really pinpoint a moment when he started, but all you knew is how safe his warm, calloused hands made you feel. Since the moment you met, never failing to comfort you when needed.

“Then what’s the problem, Dove?” Steve questioned you, untangling his body from yours.

If he was going to help you, he needed to think and being so close to you wouldn’t get himself where you needed. Above all, you didn’t make any easier when a small whine left your throat — tugging at his heart strings.

“We never talk about what happened in Barcelona.” You watched his body tighten, muscles in his arm constricting.

It made him feel just as uneasy as it did to you. At least you could find comfort in that.

“Dove, there’s a reason for it. You and I both know it.” Steve was right. His self righteous sense of nature always kicked in when you wanted it the least.

“You don’t think about it? Because I do.” Pushing weight on his heart, you were very aware you held. You weren’t too naive to know just how much he cared for you, but coward enough to try and make him admit it first.

“You were broken up, things are different now. We’re home where you have a boyfriend and I have boxing.”

“Yes, where I have a boyfriend who wants me to abandon everything I hold close to me to join him without even bothering to ask me what I want.” You puffed out, exhaustion coming in overflow. “The past year, he hasn’t once asked me what I want.”

The boy with golden locks found himself wanting nothing more than to hold you in his arms, nurse you back to health with all the love he could offer.

But even he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep on spreading himself thin over a woman who was so conflicted, so distraught she was collapsing within herself. If he wasn’t too careful, he might fall right beside you.

“Before we got back together, he asked me.” You confessed, feeling better as soon as the secret flew from your mouth. “He asked you what?” Steve pressed on, a bit terrified of it truly, but even he had to know.

“He asked if anything happened between us the months I was there and I lied. Ever since we met, he’s been insecure. He thinks I’m going to leave you for him and it wasn’t the first time he asked either.” You wish you hadn’t dealt with the two of them so poorly, but with the expression on Steve’s face you knew you had.

“He knows I lied and it hurts even more he stayed with me anyways.” Steve didn’t move, his fear keeping him still.

“I don’t know how to be his after you, but I don’t know how to let go of my high school sweetheart either.” You felt trapped, in between an impossible decision. An old love, who loves you past your mistakes, past the hurt and a soulful heart admiring you from where you’re at and nothing less.

“Those nights don’t have to mean anything if you don’t want them to.” He spoke softly, his beautiful orbs catching yours in the moonlight peeking through the window.

“They mean too much to me, that’s the problem.” If he didn’t move as you inched closer to his body, planting yourself in front of him, you could tell he was straining himself.

“Do you remember the first time?” He looked confused, wondering if you truly were bold enough to speak of something you shouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. Your hand found his chest, feeling the pulse of his rapid heart beat. “I was so shy and timid the first time with you, but you guided me so well.” Too fond of the memory of him worshipping every part of your body.

The very thing he wanted to do since the moment he met you, but Steve wanted more than that. Now more than ever.

“You don’t have to remind me, Dove. I remember.” He swallowed deeply, trying to erase the permanent memory of your body writhing beneath him, moaning out his name, begging him for more.

He still found himself thinking about it. Those two months with you had just amplified what he felt even more because now he knew what it was like for you to wake up in his arms, bare skin against his own.

The way you curled into his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist for optimal comfort.

Or when he’d wake up before you, which was most days, he’d find you murmuring his name in your sleep while soft fingertips caressed your skin lulling you into a more peaceful slumber.

“I never forget, Dove. That’s the problem.” With one finger, he pushed back the hair falling in your face tucking it behind your ear. “I tried to move past it, I went on a couple dates with this woman, Danielle.” You already felt your heart clench at the thought of him with someone else.

“She’s kind, smart, and beautiful and she seems to like me. Sharon keeps bugging me to take her out again since she set the two of us up.” Steve was trying to talk calmly, but he couldn’t ground himself. Especially when you only seemed to pull back further from him.

It was weird that Sharon set the pair up, considering she dated Steve not too long ago but it seemed she could put her feelings inside if it was for your despair.

In her daunting eyes, you were the reason her and the promising boxer broke up in the first place. As cliche as it was, she offered Steve an ultimatum after six months of dating — her or you.

Steve picked you.

It wasn’t like he loved her at that point. He did care for her, but you just meant too much to him. When kind, iridescent eyes met his own for the first time Steve never was able to stop thinking about them. Or you for that matter.

Carefully calculated as Steve could be, he managed to trap you between the closed door of his bedroom and his toned body.

“But I want to hear you say something before I do.” His gaze never faltered for a moment as he played with the hem of the short slip dress adoring your taut figure.

Half of your mind was begging you to retreat into your room and forget the last time you’d been pressed up against him like this. The other half wanted to see what he would do once he knew you were in the palm of his hand once again.

You had a feeling he already did.

His beard was grown out and his silky, golden hair that almost reached his shoulders make him look even more deliciously sinful.

“What’s that?” You tried not to gulp loudly, but if you even made the slightest movement, he would notice. “Tell me you’re in love with him.” His soft thumb caressing your side, not sure if he was trying to soothe himself or you.

“Just tell me five years down the line, you see him right there with you. Just say it, so I can move on.” He couldn’t even look at you, he couldn’t take the inevitable. “Tell me we’re just friends and Jordan’s your future.” You met his eyes, the prettiest blues you’ll ever see.

Commanding your attention without even trying — every damn time. You weren’t sure what you wanted, but you knew seeing him hurt was chipping a piece of you away. Watching his arched eyebrows furrowed in distress, fine lines being made in the middle for proof.

Soft fingertips met his skin, smoothing out his furrowed brows, closing his eyes trying to remember what you smelled like. Just like Sharon reached her breaking point, he had too. Steve couldn’t watch you any longer without being the one you wanted without a doubt.

“Stevie.” You softly whisper, before pulling him into your arms.

Even if he was double your size, he let you hold him as best as you could. Comfort him even if you were the reason he’s breaking.

The strong, persistent boxer had been transported back to the sick and thin kid he once was before all the guns and glory came. Steve was right back to where he got rejected by anyone and everyone. A time and many places where no one gave a damn about Steve Rogers, not anyone he wished for.

You watched him untangle himself from you, but you weren’t sure just how much time had passed. A few minutes? Thirty? An hour?

Only time could tell and she wasn’t really on your side at the moment.

“I’ve only found love once. Back in high school, there was this girl, Hazel. She was kind, sweet, eyes that shined like fresh honey. The first person to ever show any interest in me and I was in love with the fact that someone actually wanted me.” Steve felt his heart clench at the memory he wished to forget.

“I truly believed I loved her with every fiber in me and I thought she cared about me too, until I realized she was just using me to get to Bucky.” You watched the distress wash over him again and you wanted nothing more than to make him feel appreciated and loved. Not rejected and forgotten.

“It broke my heart for months because I truly believed I was in love with this girl who I hardly knew.” He sighed deeply, like he somehow already was aware of the soft whisper of goodbye.

“It always kind of stayed with me, not ever feeling like I was good enough for anyone until Tony found me. Graduated high school and I started training dawn till dusk until I couldn’t anymore just to start all over and do it the next day.” He was looking everywhere but you. Even if there was not a thing in this damn hallway, but two pressured hearts.

“Not too long after, I met you and I remember thinking this is the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met in my life.” Now, feeling like an absolute dick because you truly didn't deserve for this wonderful man to be in your life.

“You were so kind to me and you had no reason to be, but I learned it’s just who you are. This amazingly bright full beam, shining their light on everyone else — not paying attention to how much they give even if it’s everything they have.” Your skin felt hot beyond comparison, the passion in the words he spoke deeper than the memory of his skin against your own.

“I always tried to ignore it, how stupidly kind and thoughtful you are. How much you take care of me when you don’t have to. You cleaned my wounds for months without even asking me what I was doing.”

“I already knew you had a boyfriend, one you love very much, but I couldn’t stop myself from being around you. Now, I have to leave. I need to move on for me because I know how this ends for me — how it always has.” He sighed before walking away, leaving you hanging in every conceivable way. You didn’t notice the suitcase by the door before. Until he was walking out of the apartment with his possessions in hand — out of sight and out of mind.

“Wait!” He was already making it to his car, the old beat up pickup truck he couldn’t seem to get rid of when you reached him. “I just need time, Steve.” You’d been sprinting after him, until you caught up to him, making his attention fully focused on you.

“Jordan’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had — I don’t know how to let him go.” You were crying because maybe, deep down you were hoping you could have your cake and eat it too.

“And you’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with, Dove. I can’t keep sticking around hoping you’ll wake up one day and feel the same.” He emptied his belongings in his truck before returning his attention towards you.

“Steve, don’t do this. Please. Don’t leave me.” You’d become so dependent on him, more than you realized. “You’re the only person who truly loves me and not for who they want me to be.” Trying to plead with him, but it felt like you were only pushing him even further away.

“Then tell me I’m the only one you want.” But all he was left with silence because you couldn’t and he already knew what you didn’t. He knew you hated change more than anything, that you’d rather stay in what was comfortable even if you were presented with a different option.

Someone you wanted more.

With tears in your eyes, you looked up at him like he was crushing you and there was nothing to stop the numbing feeling. He sympathized, maybe more than he liked to admit, it’s what he chose to live with over the past year. It started the moment he met you if he was truly being honest.

He knew there was nothing left for him, no matter how much his heart clenched at the sound of your cries. He couldn’t be the one who was always taking care of you, loving you, when you didn’t feel what he felt. It was splitting him open, and you just kept taking pieces of him away — parts of him you would hold forever.

He let you cling onto him one more time, begging for him not to leave you. He let you believe he wouldn’t as he calmed you back in a false sense of security. Until you were asleep in his soft sheets later that night, leaving you lonely in the home you’d been sharing.

With only half of his belongings with him, he pulled up to the project he had just completed. Even now, with not a single hope you would ever see it after he just abandoned you, there was still a light hope you’d be able to at least see it one day. If Steve was ever strong enough to face his heartbreak again.

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jotunn-loki · 3 years

Text

no penance due to innocence

FANDOM: tom hiddleston rpf, mcu rpf PAIRING: tom hiddleston/reader RATING: explicit, NS// FW!! WC: 4,544 WARNINGS/K¡NKS: female!reader, professor/student, daddy k¡nk, praise k¡nk, schoolgirl fantasy, age difference/age k¡nk, voice k¡nk, degradation, spanking, dom!hiddles, sub!reader, pain k¡nk, not a warning but hiddles in suit/glasses/beard

SUMMARY: Despite your best interests, you can't help but fantasize about your classics professor, Tom Hiddleston. But as it may seem, your thoughts may not be so fruitless after all...

NOTE: the title is a line from John Donne's poem "to his mistress going to bed" which is partially quoted in this fic--you'll see! imagine Hiddles reciting it hehe. also, i typically don't use "y/n" in my fics, but this fic does use "Miss Y/LN" (your last name) thrice! not in the heat of the smut but near the beginning and end:) enjoy!

It was nearly seven p.m.

Tom Hiddleston, your classics professor, stood at the front of the lecture hall, one hand wrapped elegantly around a remote clicker and the other adjusting his glasses as he spoke.

You loved his voice; everyone in the class did—the smooth richness of it, the authentic Britishness that was so short in supply at your American university, the elegance and intent he put into each and every syllable. He obviously was quite passionate about his subject, which made not only for a fascinating class, but an attentive group of students. You were sure that there was no one in the section who ever dared to not pay attention to his lectures, much less skip it completely. Why would anyone want to miss the crisp tightness of Professor Hiddleston’s custom-tailored suits or the soft unintentional growl in his voice when he read aloud a section from your readings? He was a talented actor in that regard, but you were glad he had never gone into such an industry...otherwise you wouldn’t be able to watch him in class now, listen to him, soaking in every bit of his perfection.

And that, truly, was the reason that you loved this class most of all. While you were ashamed to admit it, after the seventy-five minutes you spent in the Intro to British Literature lecture, your underwear was always slightly damp as you rose from your seat and tried to ignore your mortification as you passed by the man you couldn’t stop thinking about on the way out of the door, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you, Professor.”

It was the same now, and you could barely focus on the class’s content while Professor Hiddleston turned from one completely filled up white board to the next, giving you a splendid view of his glorious tight ass. You shifted in your seat in what you hoped was an inconspicuous way and turned away. This was getting out of hand. You almost were wondering if you needed to drop the class altogether, purely for your own sanity.

But then again—if every student in the class did that, there would be no one left in the section.

Now Professor Hiddleston was running a hand over his beautiful dirty blonde beard, thinking for a moment before he wrote the next name upon the board. John Donne, it read, and you suddenly remembered the poem you had been assigned to read the night prior. It was short, less than one hundred lines, which had lent for easy reading, even for the turn of the sixteenth century. But that wasn’t, of course, what had drawn your attention. The poem was unashamedly erotic, a scene about undressing, a mistress and her lover, vulnerability between them both.

And now, to your absolute undoing, Professor Hiddleston had decided that it was a good idea to read it aloud. You could barely breathe as he spoke, as he again, acted, the poetry, each line sending you further into a frenzy. Around you, the class held its collective breath as well, creating an unnatural silence. Not even a paper moved, nor did a pen drop.

“...shew / thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence / there is no penance due to innocence / to teach thee, I am naked first; why then / what needst thou have more covering than a man,” Hiddleston finished with a flourish, a slight smirk on those perfect lips. His eyes roved around the room thoughtfully, that smirk dissolving into an unabashed grin. “Quite the charmer, Donne thought himself to be,” he added with a laugh. “We can thank him for that.”

Suddenly, his eyes locked with yours, and you could have sworn that he swallowed as he looked at you. Or perhaps that was just a stupid hope. You twisted your lips and looked away abruptly, missing the narrowing of his eyes and the way his hand ran down his tie and fiddled with its tip.

Soon enough, class was over, the hour just passed, and you gathered your things, stuffing the poems you had printed out into your bag and rising from your seat with a grimace. Your body had found itself aroused. Again. Thankfully, now that your day was finished, you’d be able to make it back to the dorms with minimal consequence, and you knew it would be a few hours before your roommate to return, so you’d have a solid amount of time to...get your professor off of your mind.

But as you turned the corner from the descending steps between the rows of chairs towards the door, a voice cleared itself behind you. Heart pumping, you pivoted to find Professor Hiddleston standing there, one hand rolling up the sleeves of his crisp shirt up to his elbows, revealing lean but corded muscle there under smooth pale skin.

“Y-yes, Professor?” you asked him, trying not to let your voice shake. It was almost as if he could read your thoughts, sense that you were clearly horny and in need of leaving the fucking lecture hall.

“I need to speak with you privately,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help but clench tightly and swallow.

“About what, sir?” you asked.

Hiddleston smiled. “Just grades. Your recent performance.” Seeing your confounded face, he added, “Nothing serious, of course.”

Slowly, you nodded. “When should I come?”

You didn’t miss the slip there, the unintentional double-meaning, but as it would seem, neither did he, as Hiddleston’s pleasant smile slid into a heavily lidded smirk, one eyebrow raising.

No. It couldn’t be. Professor fucking Hiddleston—into you? Just another one of his sophomore students who was most likely taking the course solely for a humanities credit? Granted, you were not one of those—you loved classic English prose and poetry, but it was such a large class that most of them were not that into the subject.

“Right now,” Professor Hiddleston said then, gesturing for you to follow him. Eyes widening, your hand tightened around the strap of your bag and you waited for him to gather his teaching materials before you both left the lecture hall promptly.

His office was not far, only a few floors up. Luckily, you did not have far to go, as it was in the same building, and so you did not have to dwell in the anxious interim stage for long.

The office itself was spacious and graciously private, with a large modern window that looked out onto the urban campus of your university, and a shade that was currently rolled up to the top. There was a large mahogany desk as well, old-fashioned as you had expected, and a luxurious chair that sat behind it. A plush violet-colored rug laid on the floor as well, completing the look.

You had been purposefully avoiding office hours for this class all semester, unable to trust yourself in such close proximity to your professor. It seems that your goal had now been foiled by the man himself. Oh, well. Hopefully this would be quick, and you wouldn’t have to endure this torture for long.

Sighing, Hiddleston sat himself down behind his desk and rolled the chair away from it, hands steepled with his elbows on his thighs. His thighs... which were currently separated far apart in the most attractive manspread you’d ever seen, no matter what an oxymoron that may have been in any other situation. But not in this one. Not here, with Professor Hiddleston, alone.

This man who you could guess was around forty years old. This man who was probably over twenty years your senior. Unwittingly, the thought sent another stroke of heat down to your pussy. Oh, god. Biting your lip, you waited for him to speak.

He seemed to enjoy holding you in suspense for a moment, that infuriating grin still plastered across that handsome face. “You must have wondered why I called you here.”

“Yes, sir.”

At that, his grin disappeared, and something else crossed his face instead, something much darker, much hungrier. “I do love it when you call me that.”

You gulped. “What’s that, Professor?”

“Either of those,” he replied, that familiar growl filling his voice. “And you must know by now that I don’t give a damn about your grades. That is your own business...besides, you are doing excellently in my class.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say, so you just smiled and crossed your hands behind your back.

“No...you’re here because you are far too distracting. It’s causing me problems during lectures. That is an issue,” Hiddleston said, spreading his legs even wider.

“I...hadn’t noticed that, sir.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he replied simply, that prim accent making it all the better. “I wouldn’t be a good lecturer if I allowed myself to be easily affected by a student...even if you are as stunning as you are.” His eyes flashed. “I wonder...are you doing this on purpose, darling?”

Mouth parting, you shook your head.

“Mm,” Hiddleston murmured, scratching the side of his beard slowly. “I don’t know about that. Are you sure?”

“Why would I be so willing to entice you, Professor?” you asked him, willing yourself not to collapse where you stood.

Hiddleston dropped his hand and ran it instead along the inside of his thigh. Your eyes widened and you had to avert your gaze. “Because you want me as much as I have lusted after you,” he said huskily in reply.

When you didn’t respond, throat too tight to speak, he stood, edging around the side of his desk. “Admit it, Miss Y/LN,” he said sternly.

He was so close to you now, just an inch away. You could barely intake breath—no, scratch that, you couldn’t breathe at all.

After a painful moment, you nodded.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“Yes,” you squeaked, eyes flitting to his, a bright, intense blue.

“Yes, what?”

Steeling yourself, you brought your hand to his chest. “Yes, Professor Hiddleston.”

“Good girl.”

You clenched again, barely withholding an audible moan. Still, Hiddleston had spotted your near slip, and he grinned, bringing one of his large hands to cover yours where it was placed on his chest and entwine both of your fingers. “Say yes to me, then. And I will give you what you so crave.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. “Yes, Professor Hiddleston. Please.”

“That’s my good girl,” he said again. “Now. Undress.”

You gawked at him. “Excuse me?”

Hiddleston snatched both of your wrists then, pulling you right to his chest so that your bodies were pressed together. “You do want me to fuck you, Miss Y/LN, don’t you?”

Quickly, you nodded.

“Then do as I say,” he hissed.

You complied easily, removing first your bag from your shoulders and then your light jacket. You hesitated only a moment before sliding your fingers under the hem of your shirt and lifting it from your head, exposing your skin to the slight chill of the room. Still, everything inside you was fire, and it only burned hotter as Hiddleston inhaled deeply, taking in the sight of your breasts, hidden only by the bra that cupped them gently. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “Just like I imagined.”

Your breath quickened at that. It was terribly gratifying to know that he had fantasized about you, his student, just as you had fantasized about him, your professor. So you smiled at him through your lashes, putting on a facade of demureness.

“Now, don’t give me that,” Hiddleston automatically smirked, grabbing your jaw and holding it tightly. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I know how dirty your thoughts have been, my dear, and it would be a lie for you to pretend otherwise, wouldn’t it?”

Unable to help yourself, you whimpered. Beside your ear, Professor Hiddleston laughed. “Whore.”

You held your breath as he then unbuckled your bra, the garment in his hands looking like it belonged there—and leaving your breasts bare. “Professor,” you murmured as he leaned forward, cupping both of them in his large hands and placing a kiss to each nipple. “Professor—fuck—”

CRACK.

There was a sharp stinging feeling on your ass, and you realized that Hiddleston had just spanked you—actually spanked you—and was now leaning onto his desk casually again, this time with a stormy expression on his face. His chin tilted upwards in disgust as he said, “Such foul language. When have I ever tolerated that, little one?”

When you didn’t answer, he raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t rhetorical.”

“You didn’t, sir,” you said meekly, grimacing from the pain. You could only imagine what it would have felt like without clothing to cover the sensitive skin of your ass.

“Hence why I needed to punish you,” Professor Hiddleston said matter-of-factly, which somehow only turned you on even further. His confident nonchalance made you want to kneel before him and unbuckle those perfectly-pressed trousers, but you managed to hold yourself together.

It wasn’t long before you were standing before him naked, trying fruitlessly to hold in a tremble as Professor Hiddleston circled your body, eyeing every part of you. “So,” he said when he’d finally turned to face you eye-to-eye again. “You not only are extremely intelligent, but you are a goddess among humans. You look so innocent, but I know you aren’t. Not with those eyes.”

It was true. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from looking at him the way you had been doing all semester.

“Intelligent, sir?”

Hiddleston smiled gently and stepped toward you, finally encircling you in his arms. His hands, placed firmly on your upper back, slowly slid down to cup your ass, pulling you against his form. You could feel the strain of his crotch there, and your heart pounded at the thought. You still couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Yes, intelligent,” Hiddleston murmured, brushing a light kiss on your cheek, your jaw, your lips. “Your textual analysis of Much Ado About Nothing a few months ago was one of the best interpretations I’d ever seen.”

Had it been? You’d only been commenting about the way that it had impacted modern fictional tropes and set up socially acceptable gender roles in romance, but you supposed that it had been written in such a way that had greatly pleased Professor Hiddleston.

“Do not be so hard on yourself,” he said then, as if he could sense your thoughts. “Truly...you are a pleasure to have in class.”

You felt your body tense at the way he said ‘pleasure,’ for he certainly knew what he was doing. “Even if I am distracting to you?” you asked.

“Especially when you are distracting to me.”

With that, he pinched your ass firmly between two large fingers and you yelped, flinching into his arms. You felt the outline of his hard cock in his trousers again and squirmed against it, desperately needing friction. “P-Professor—”

He tsked quietly. “Such a cockslut you are, my little schoolgirl begging for me,” Hiddleston tutted. You felt your arousal even stronger as your mind filled with the fantasy he had planted there, imaging yourself in high stockings and a short skirt, a pure virgin teenager with no experience.

Luckily, that was not the case, but he was your professor, and if anyone found out that he’d fucked you, you’d both be in serious trouble. It only made the whole thing more exciting.

“Please, fuck me,” you whimpered. “Professor, I need you—”

“What did I say about foul language, little girl?” Hiddleston said sharply. “Or do you think yourself above such formalities and rules now that you are standing naked like a filthy whore in my office?”

You moaned, and without warning, Professor Hiddleston threw you against the dark mahogany desk so that you were facing away from him, clapping a hand across your ass again. Your eyes watered from the sudden pain, but you only bit your lip, loving every bit of it.

Hiddleston leaned over you so that you could feel his hardness against your body again and tilted your tear-stained face towards him. You watched him remove his glasses silently and place them beside you on his desk, smirking all the while. “You are going to count for me now, alright, my dear?”

You nodded, tensing your body in preparation.

And then it came without warning, his hand on your backside with a sharp cracking sound, leaving the feeling of fire against your skin. You cried out in pain, and Professor Hiddleston cleared his throat.

Oh. “One,” you whispered quietly. “But, Professor Hiddleston, won’t anyone hear?”

He let out a soft laugh at that. “I’ve been tenured here long enough that no one else of importance is in the vicinity, little one. But who knows…”

With a self-satisfied laugh, he spanked you again.

“T-Two,” you said.

Crack. “Three.”

Crack. “Four.”

Crack. “Five.”

With each spank, your voice grew stronger, more sturdy, and you relished in the sting of your ass stuck out behind you and caressed by your professor’s hands. He was rubbing it now, a gentle reprieve before he hit you again, this one harder than the rest.

You shrieked and gripped the edge of the desk, feeling the wetness of your cunt moistening your legs. “Oh, Professor Hiddleston,” you moaned. “Hit me harder, please, Daddy—”

The word slipped out of your mouth without expectation from either you or him, and you immediately stilled, feeling embarrassment cloud your senses.

“You are a kinky bitch,” Hiddleston murmured softly, and he ran a hand along the top of your head, even as you lay panting over the edge of his desk. It made you feel lesser, somehow, and you wanted that. You needed it.

“Be a good girl then, and take what Daddy gives you.”

The spank following was the hardest of them all, making you buck into the desk in all its force. “T-Tom!” you cried. You needed release, now, and him building you up was starting to irritate you.

“One more,” he said through gritted teeth, and you tensed as a final slap hit your backside, causing your eyes to water in pain as you heaved against the desk, nearly bringing you over the edge in and of itself.

“I can’t wait to see that bruise up nicely,” said Professor Hiddleston smugly, flipping you over as you let out a pained hiss. “And now that you’ve been adequately punished, I will give you what you’ve been longing for.”

You let out a long sound, something that was a mix between a contented sigh and a broken moan, and watched as he tore off his belt buckle and pulled out his cock, hard and weeping and flushed a very eager red. “Ready, darling?”

You nodded quickly before your nerves could get the better of you.

He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly.

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmured, still feeling the familiar tendrils of embarrassment creeping across your neck.

Professor Hiddleston—Tom—smirked and spread your legs with each of those gorgeous large hands, gripping the flesh of your thighs. Between them, you were on fire, evidenced further by the wetness dripping from your core.

“Oh, my dear,” Tom whispered with an air of disappointment, though it was impossible not to see how pleased he was. “You’re so wet.”

“Mm—” was all you could say. With him standing over you, eyes boring into your pussy and flitting back to your face every few moments it was all you could do not to scream.

Suddenly his fingers were upon you—within you, and you let out a long moan as he pumped them deftly, the other hand gripping his own cock. As you panted, completely at his whims, Tom grunted, his eyes fluttering closed.

But then, just as you felt yourself reach your peak, body begging to throw itself off into the abyss, he stopped. “Daddy,” you whined, pouting at him. “Why did you stop?”

“I had to, little one,” he murmured gently, running his hand along the inside of your thigh and sending shivers across your skin. But though you bucked your hips forward into his touch, Tom didn’t continue, only let out a smug chuckle. “I want this to take a long time, my dear. I want every part of your body to remember that I was here. I want it to know—I want you to know—that it belongs to me. Understand?”

You swallowed. “Yes, Professor Hiddleston.”

“Good.” The word was sharp, succinct, radiating with pure dominance. You clenched at the sound of it.

And unfortunately for you, your professor had witnessed that with his very own eyes. Immediately, you felt a sharp sting against the same spot on your thigh where he’d just been caressing, and you squealed. “Professor!”

“Whore,” he spat, pushing your upper body flat onto the desk. “I told you that you needed to be patient, didn’t I? Didn’t I?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy…”

“And you disobeyed me,” he replied calmly. “So you deserved that, little one.”

You let out a small sound of assent and he kissed your lips softly. “Now, let’s continue. You’re doing so well, my darling.”

He slid those fingers along the inside of your thigh and caressed the sensitive skin where your legs met your cunt, tickling your skin. You tried to hold in a laugh and failed, a small hiccup escaping your lips. Tom glanced up at you and smirked. “My poor little girl,” he teased.

You smiled at him and bit your lip. “Daddy?”

“Yes?”

You couldn’t help the whine that slipped into your voice. Honestly, it awed you. Less than an hour ago you were afraid to even make eye contact with Professor Hiddleston for fear of your own sexual desires; now you were sitting on his expensive desk bare naked with your legs spread for him and pussy dripping with unquenched arousal. Still, he refused to bring you release.

“Will you please fuck me?” you asked him softly, sweetly. “I need your cock, Professor.”

You could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he tried to hide the way your words affected him, So you pushed out your bottom lip and bared your breasts forward to him for good measure. “ Please.”

Where he had been gentle and sensitive a moment ago, Tom was no longer holding back. “What happened to ‘you need to be patient?’” you hissed as he flipped you over, bending you over the desk as he’d done before.

“Hush, my little whore,” Tom grunted as he shifted behind you, and you could feel the head of his cock nudging at your entrance impatiently. Hypocrisy at its finest, but you couldn’t care less. “You’re going to take all of me, and I will be merciless,” Tom whispered as he took your hands and pinned them beneath his own on the desk. “Do you understand?”

You nodded, difficult as the action was in your current position.

“No,” Tom said softly. “I don’t think you do.” He sighed dramatically as he pinched the spare skin on your hip, making you squeak in pleasure. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, gravellier...that same cadence he had when he’d read some of those poems. “You’re going to take every inch of my cock, and it’s going to be painful for you, my dear. But I’m not going to go slow, not going to rest and wait for you to adjust. And only when you’re begging for me, crying for me like the whore you are will I finally let you come.”

“Oh, Tom,” you moaned and he chucked. “Yes, that’s right, baby. Moan my name. I haven’t even entered you yet.”

You couldn’t even feel the embarrassment hit your mind; you were too fazed over with the anticipation of him fucking you. “Please—”

Then he was pushing into you, and you groaned in pain. He had been right—this was unlike any other man you’d previously fucked. He was large, but just perfectly so; you felt as if the pain inside your cunt should live there forever. His hips snapped as he thrusted into you again, and you pushed your ass into the air to get more friction. “Oh, Professor Hiddleston—”

“Yes, fuck yes,” he panted as his thrusts sped up, and he moved one hand off of yours to finger at your clit. Sensation flooded you, and you cried out again. You could feel the warmth and power of his body behind you, even through the now-sweaty formal shirt he wore. And you could feel the coolness of the desk against your skin, and the rising pleasure throughout your body. “Tom, fuck—”

“Remember what I said?” he growled. “Beg.”

You couldn’t resist. “Please, Daddy, let me come! I want to come so bad around your cock, Professor. Fill me up—please—”

He grunted in pleasure at your words, and you ground into his fingers where they worked at your clit as he continued to pound into you. Each thrust sent you higher, hitting your g-spot just perfectly. “That’s my good girl,” Tom cooed gently, such a contrast to the violet strokes of his body. “You’re doing so well for Daddy. See how well you take my cock? That’s right, little one. Keep grinding into me. Such a good whore—”

At that, you moaned, grimacing in pleasure. “Can I come yet, Daddy?”

“Not yet, my darling,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I need you to be louder for me. I need everyone to know that you belong to me. That you’re my little cockslut who’s only taking this class so you can fuck your professor like a filthy whore.”

“Please let me come, sir!” you cried, bucking into him. You let out a loud cry as he nipped at your shoulder, teeth digging into your skin. “Yes, my good girl. Scream for me.”

“Tom!” you shouted. A shudder coursed through you at the possibility of someone hearing you, but in your haze of pleasure, you could barely notice. “Professor, please—”

Finally, he chuckled, and his thumb pressed tightly into your clit. “Come,” he commanded in a low voice, and you did, gasping as you rolled against his touch and felt his cock find release within your walls and he cried out your name.

“ Tom ,” you moaned, eyes rolling backwards. “Oh, Tom… ”

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, caressing your neck with his free hand. “My sweet darling.”

You were both breathing hard, covered in sweat, and an utter mess against the rich wood of Professor Hiddleston’s desk. “I’m—I’m sorry,” you stuttered, coming back to your senses. “I...didn’t realize. This all happened so fast…”

But to your surprise, Tom only chuckled, helping you to stand and wrapping his arms around you. “No, my dear. This isn’t over yet.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he repeated. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily.”

You swallowed, feeling a pleasant flush spread across your body as you met his gaze. “So…”

Tom smiled. “I will see you on Tuesday, Miss Y/LN.”

As disheveled as you were, and most likely smelling of sex as you left his office, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling that had risen within you. You would see him again, and soon.

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A/N: thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, likes - all appreciated! this fic is also posted on ao3 under the same name (via my username MavenMorozova). give it some love there if you’d like!

TAGS: let me know if you want me to make a taglist!

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x ofc #hiddles #tom hiddleston fanfiction #hiddles fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfic #hiddles x reader #tom hiddleston smut #professor hiddleston #fanfic by maven #mine #mcu rpf #tom hiddleston x yn

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transmasc-wizard · 2 years

Note

question question question question

how in the literal fuck do you work on more than one wip at a time???? like do you have a schedule like one day u work on this, the next u work on this, etc?? or????

this is a plea for help lol because i have too many ideas but do not know how to work on more than one at a time

answer answer answer answer !!

So. it is sort of scheduling! And now I will actually explain! Because you asked!!

yeah yeah. anyway

I have a folder of all my ideas (not the work, just ideas) that's colour-coded by genre. I do not work on two of the same colours at the same time, that's how I become an unproductive puddle of sadness. It's organized so that if I'm working on Secret WIP, I am not working on any other grand epic fantasy. If I'm working on Death and Taxes, I am not working on my other sci-fi ideas.

So, let's take my current example: Out of all my WIPs, I'm working on Rose Librarians, GFW1, and Death and Taxes the most right now. Urban fantasy with 2 narrators in the first draft stage, dystopian fantasy with 5 narrators in the rewriting stage, and sci-fi/tragedy with an omniscient narrator in the planning stage. They're different enough that I can easily categorize their information separately in my head.

The differences don't have to specifically be genre, POV, and status, but those are what work for me. Hell, sometimes their main difference is "vibes"--as in, their Pinterest boards are as opposite in aesthetic as Antarctica and Egypt are in weather. I don't know why this works! But it does! And I will not be questioning it!

So once you have your wips categorized by difference in your head, then you pick a main one.

"But Nico!" you cry. "This is about working on more than one at once!" and yes, it is. But you are almost certainly going to have one that takes up most of your time--probably a first draft or a wip with a deadline. For me, my main wip is the Rose Librarians right now. I focus on it the most, and the others are all in second place beside it. Basically, I have to hit my daily wc goal for it (1000) before I can work on any other WIPs in the day. Exceptions are on specific WIP days, which I'll talk about later.

You might also find you have a wip you fall back on, but this isn't certain. For me, mine is GFW1. What this means is basically that when I have writer's block, or I'm bored, or I don't know what to write, I open up the doc and start writing there.

Another thing: it's very helpful to keep your notes close. Character sheets, random rambles, worldbuilding, etc. Notes make it easier to distinguish the stories in your head, and honestly, that's like 90% of handling working on multiple WIPs.

As for actually writing them: like I said. Pick a main one, so you know where your focus goes. Work on that one first; it should be your default mode. Then, if you really want to consistently have multiple projects, pick days for the other ones.

For me, Death and Taxes is planned on weekends. I can spare mental energy and focus to plan it on Saturday and Sunday, but the week is focused on Rose Librarians. So, yeah, it's kind of a schedule, but it's not limited. It just means the default switches--e.g., my goal is to plan a chapter of DaT every day that I work on it. Once I do that, then I can work on whatever project I want.

TLDR: make your WIPs distinct from each other, pick a main/default one, don't be surprised if you have a "fallback" one, keep your notes close, and pick days specifically for your non-main WIPs so they still get some love and affection.

I hope this helps! a bit! or is at least comprehensible! I just got back from school and i am So Tired but yeah. this is what i do, no i do not understand it either, but it works

#asks #bat wherearetheplants #nico yells writing advice into the void #sorta. kinda. whatever #wips

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pleckthaniel · 3 years

Note

Tell me more about Lovecraftian horror in Warriors it sounds very interesting :O

Okay so like, honestly WC invokes cosmic horror fairly often. Quick terms clarification: cosmic/lovecraftian horror has become kinda popularly synonymous with 'Big tentacle-y gods with hard-to-pronounce names,' but the original meaning and the one I'm using here is 'horror which emphasizes fear of the unknown and the unknowable.' I think with this definition you can kinda see where this tends to crop up: when the cats are dealing with humans, when they're dealing with the dog pack or Sharptooth, arguably also with the smart rats in Firestar's Quest, and to some extent when they're dealing with StarClan (though the Erins tend to downplay the cosmic horror of StarClan lol). But the biggest and most obvious place they invoke it is with Scourge and BloodClan, which is also why those elements have had the lasting power they do.

Let me actually backtrack a little bit here and ask a very relevant question. Why did the Erins get away with having Scourge kill Tigerstar? No other childrens' series that I can think of has done something similar. Can you fucking imagine if halfway through Harry Potter book 7, JK Rowling had been like, 'psych, Voldemort just got hit by lightning and fucking died'? People would have rioted in the streets tbh. And rightfully so! * In the children's adventure genre, which is where both HP and WC fall, as soon as you give us a relatively likeable, easy-to-root-for protagonist (Harry or Fireheart) a reasonably cruel and powerful archnemesis (Voldemort or Tigerclaw) to fight, you have promised the audience a showdown between them. You can't get out without giving them a satisfying resolution to that conflict. So how did the Erins manage to fully avoid doing so?

As far as I can tell, there are two major reasons that it works. One is what I'm going to call the Matt Arnold School of Avoiding Writing Set-Pieces (side note if you're a writer please listen to story break lol it's a good show it makes me think about shit and it indirectly prompted this post by making me think about TDH again). Basically the idea is that if you promise the audience an explosion, you can only substitute that explosion with an equal-or-greater-sized explosion. For example, in Star Wars, the beginning of the movie promises the destruction of an entire planet when the Death Star is introduced. So in order to get away with not blowing up Yavin-4 or whatever the rebel base is called, the planet-sized Death Star is blown up instead. You get to both see the explosion and have the good guys win; a fully satisfying ending for an adventure story. The Darkest Hour does the same thing. It sets up an ultimate showdown between Good and Evil that will determine the fate of the Clans themselves. When Tigerstar is killed, he is literally instantly replaced by another evil cat who also wants to take over the forest. So while the most surface-level expectation that the battle is going to be Firestar vs Tigerstar is subverted, the promise of the premise is still fulfilled.

The other reason is that BloodClan doesn't come out of nowhere. No their existence was not hinted at in previous books, but that's because they don't really come out of the world, they come out of Tigerstar's arc. In short, Tigerstar is an incredibly effective villain; he's incredibly charismatic, has no short supply of honor to his name to lend him a lot of credence in the eyes of the general population, and is completely ruthless in his pursuit of his goals. BUT, he has an ego on him. An ego that gets significantly worse over the course of the series. When it starts, he's just making derisive comments about kittypets. But by the time The Darkest Hour starts, he has tried to take control of a feral, vicious, barely-restrained dog pack and is also currently plotting to make himself the new god-king of the forest.

So BloodClan? They're just an escalation of the same internal tendency the dog pack represented. Tigerstar is so driven to succeed that he is willing to meddle with forces that should not be meddled with. Forces that are almost unknowably powerful compared to the Clan cats... forces that one could call... cosmic? So even though we don't get our classic Good-Vs-Evil showdown with Tigerstar, his arc still ends in a satisfying way, and honestly in a much better way than just fighting Firestar would have been, because we see that he planted the seeds of his own destruction with his hubris. He's transformed into the classic Level 1 human villain in cosmic horror, the cult leader who summons the actual tentacle-god and is promptly destroyed by it.

And BloodClan themselves, the reason they stick out in so many kids' minds as the most iconic part of the series, the reason Scourge is one of the few characters from Warriors to transcend fandom spaces and become semi-recognizable in his own right, is because they are goddamn scary, not in an edgy or gory sense, but because they are the cosmic horror, because their power is presented to us as beyond comprehension, to the point where they wear the teeth of the last cosmic horror in the books (dogs) for fun decoration. To the point where Scourge literally eviscerates the villain that had been built up to for six books at this point in one fell swoop, while also personally undermining the only piece of magic that currently canonically exists. To the point where their forces are presented as essentially infinite and undefeatable unless they are first demoralized by the death of their leaders. None of those things are traditional horror (even other horror scenes within the series or book itself, like the Bonehill scene, rely more on traditional horror elements) but they are instead about the terror that is inspired by encountering something that can literally crush you like a bug and might not even notice doing it.

Incidentally, this is also why I really don't like Rise of Scourge. It's a good standalone, I know it's a lot of people's favorite WC graphic novel. But when you tie it back to Darkest Hour, it completely undermines what that book was doing. I think what the Erins were trying to do was the classic like, tyrants are just humans too, type of theme. And I'm all for that! It's a good theme, normally. Obviously it worked really well for Tigerstar in arc 1. But it doesn't work for Scourge because Scourge isn't the tyrant archetype. He's not an evil dictator like Tigerstar was, he's fucking Cthulu.

* some have argued that the way the final battle between harry and voldemort in HP book 7 is kind of a cop-out ending, but i would point out that while it isn't great, it still isn't random nor out-of-character; it fulfills the promise made at the beginning of the book, that there would be a showdown and one of them would be defeated; my point is that the lightning scenario would not.

#scout talks #anonymous #wc meta #warrior cats

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dubsxreader · 3 years

Text

worship the king //.o1 // shigaraki tomura x female!reader

summary: after the soul crushing realization that you're not meant to be the Hero you've spent your life training to be, you hunt down the most indiscriminate killer you know: Dabi. his man-child of a leader being there only makes the task easier, right? too bad Shigaraki has a knack for seeing things in others they don't see themselves. wc: 3,312 playlist: here!

rated: M for dark and mature themes; future lewd tw: suicidal ideation (seriously don't read if you're in a bad mindset this probs won't help), depression, toxic thoughts, manipulation, the start of a v dependent, idolizing relationship ie "worship" in all definitions of the word haha. Shigs taking advantage of a mentally vulnerable hero basically; dead dove do not eat for that reason.

a/n: this is something I wrote almost year ago now, when I first fell head over heels for Shigs and really felt like bnha was saving me from insanity haha. I have 15 pages of notes for this fic, but for now, for the King's birthday, this is my thank you to him and a year of loving Shigaraki Tomura <3 also to the xreader community for being my gateway into every fandom that takes over my life haha. will be posted to ao3 later

You stand on a cracked, littered rooftop, sullenly looking over the calamity you figured would be destroying the lives of every day, happily unaware citizens tonight. A slight sigh of relief leaves your chewed-to-hell lips, hidden to your own addled mind but glaringly apparent to any of your fellow heroes who’d commented on your state of mind the past few months.

You appreciated their care, you really did—for all the surface level care it could give, that is. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t understand. They were simply more Heroic than you, official capital and all. More driven, stronger, faster… But you’ve been doing the absolute best you can, and you were sure of that. Days–weeks months?–of harshly honest self speculation assured you of your failures and of the fact that, simply put, you weren’t cut out for shouldering multitudes of lives every time you stepped out your door. Heroism didn’t just end when you took off your costume; no, it was an ideology that should be ingrained into the soul of the costume wearer, and you’d come to the jarring conclusion that, after all your special training, you just weren’t up to snuff.

You couldn’t even save yourself from your own demons. How the hell were you supposed to save those more deserving of life if you couldn’t cope with your own shit?

A small, condescending snort leaves your nostrils as you observe the blue flames engulfing the area below you. Fucking worthless. What was the point, then? Hours of support Hero's work on your items, costume—wasted. The countless words of love and support from friends and family. Ha. Your eyes track the small movements of the current chaos’ perpetrators with a keenness you've found twisted comfort in recently. A familiar, all encompassing fixation gears up that brings you out of the cloud of self-doubt, hate, and deprecation that was so, so wrong to feel as a Pro-Hero in today’s society. In this bubble there's a solution, so it's okay. You let out a numbing breath.

Maybe you could give the Villains +1 morality in the eyes of whatever twisted being rested on their laurels, idly watching as you drive yourself insane.

A swift gust of wind knocks the empty cans and bottles from their peaceful resting places as you leave your perch, descending into the empty alley below to begin your last stand against yourself. Resolute and heavy steps echo in the widened, deserted streets of the city you vowed to protect—a small, still aware part of you thankful it’s so late at night that most would be sleeping. Your targets (saviors?) usually moved when they would make the most social impact, but you’d been tracking a certain member that didn’t seem to adhere to their strict schedule.

Whoever they were behind the obvious moniker, they seemed to kill liberally. It should be easy. You take a numbing breath.

The stench of burning flesh and ash is suddenly all too pungent, assaulting your senses enough to kick your mind into another, more logical plane and question how stupid you’re being. How disappointed everyone who knew you would be. Izuku and Hitoshi, especially, had been trying their hardest to devote extra time to you recently, you knew that—fuck, how selfish were you to bring their attention away from a goal they’d fought so hard to achieve?

The flames are smoldering char on concrete when you arrive at the end of another alleyway, just as dirty as the one you’d come from… But the incineration just seemed to have cleansed the way of its trash. You nearly sigh again in morbid relief when you see two men still standing there in the aftermath. You can see from behind that the man you’ve been tracking, Dabi, still has his left arm extended, as if relishing the memory of his flames destroying the ones he deemed unworthy.

Hands in your hero costume’s pockets, you steel yourself in your usual Hero emotions: indignation, conviction, disgust at the idea of them feeling they had a right to do anything going against the grain of the society you were indoctrinated into. You clear your throat with the last of your practiced confidence, bringing the sights of the two Villains to your own frame shadowed by the bright street lamp at your back.

“You two aren’t planning on getting away with this, are you?”

Your simple, deadpan drawl has both men scoffing to themselves and sharing a look of exasperation and annoyance. They clearly want nothing more than to be done with whatever the hell they were doing; your gaze sharpens in acknowledgment while their own take note of your hero costume. This is it. This is really it. You’ve done it. Is it really what you want?

Your eyes ice over, hardening to protect your vulnerabilities when they meet those of the second man’s own carmine flecks, so unflinching and so, so bored from behind his trademark hand.

Yeah. This is it.

Resignation freezing the rest of your visage and nothing left to say, you dash forward with simple physical speed, locking onto the Villain you recognize as the leader of the League of Villains himself. Sure, Dabi was a proven relentless killer, but you figure if you go after the leader himself there would be even less hesitation or time to think on either side. They were both reportedly unflinching, ruthless, uncaring and absolutely evil, but Shigaraki’s devilishness was practically beaten into you at this point. He was the obvious candidate, the oddness of his presence meaningless yet welcome at this point.

Your eyes never leave his as you take those last three lunging leaps, your arm cocked back in a hopeful show of some impressive power you might possess, in a display grand enough to paint yourself as a threat if not at the very least an annoyance.

Blue flames lick at the back of your costume. You’d somehow been faster than Dabi’s flames, which made no sense at all—you weren’t fast in any capacity if you were to judge yourself. It must’ve been a misfire. Lucky you’ve targeted the faster acting Villain.

Something distinctly odd flashes in his previously disinterested eye as you rush him, your Quirk barely powered yet still reflecting in his observation as you aim for the mask. Your own, in contradictory spite, slows as your mind races, brushing the hand enough to feel the inexplicitly soft and leathery texture, knocking it clean off the face of the man you’d targeted. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's the anticipation of the end, but you don’t feel anything near what you thought you’d feel when his living hand grazes your outstretched arm. If anything, it feels like an angry wasp had come at your elbow in some sort of misguided revenge attempt. Bearable.

Fucking livable.

You skid to a shaky stop feet behind them, your glare going to the small hole in your costume’s arm where he’d made the briefest of contact. The skin had only begun to crack and decay from a central point; nothing near the scale and intensity you’d been warned about by your superiors and peers. What the fuck gives?

A desperate rage threatens to erupt at the lack of damage. You feel cheated. Your eyes shift from the minimal damage to the apprehensive yet notably curious eyes of your chosen euthanasist. Was he just not taking you seriously? You didn’t blame him, but…

“I thought the League was the best of the best?” The sting in your arm is mockingly there and you scoff, barely hiding your indignation at his unfulfillment of the role you’d forced upon him. You take it and use it to fuel the crumbling foundation of your resolve, ashing it to the ground yourself and focus on the slightly slumped figure topped with white-blue hair.

His eyes are now magnetized and piercing, never wavering from your own, adding to your rage and confusion. Just what is he getting at, looking straight at you in the fucked up state you’re in and just–just fucking seeing–?! You aren’t looking for pity, fuck all if it's from the person you’ve deemed would have the balls you didn’t to end this shitty nightmare you live in. With a primal, anguished and utterly guttural scream you dash forward once more towards Shigaraki Tomura, hand erupting in a more accurate show of your true power.

Once again, he simply guides your attack away from him into empty space, this time with a deft shove of his index finger. Silent and calculating. You stumble on your feet as you land, ignoring the insulting sting, and turn to face them at a pace you know isn’t up to Hero standards but unable to even fake it anymore. Your eyes, though.

They fucking call to him.

How could he dust you? A Pro-Hero, coming at him alone, a deadly ally at his side, with what he knew from his research to be nowhere near their quirk’s power and potential?

Nevermind the look in your eyes he’d recognized immediately—this Hero was asking to be killed. Cracked lips twitch to grin at the situation. His mind works at full throttle to balance the possibilities.

“Heh…” The small breath leaves him, a smirk winning out and pulling at already taught skin, “You’re looking to die, aren’t you, Hero?”

Your brows furrow in… Fuck, you can’t identify your feelings at this point–they shouldn’t matter–they’d become obsolete the moment you took a swing at the supposedly impulsive and irrational Villain in charge. All you can feel is the overwhelming sense of weight, of pressure, of absolute and total CHAOS destroying any semblance of unity you’d pulled together to end this.

“What the fuck does that matter to you, Villain?!” Your glare is full of a rawness you can’t recognize, let alone mask, “Fucking fight me or die!”

His smirk, now fully on display, stretches to the smuggest of smiles as he takes his experimental first steps forward, casually retrieving the hit hand and placing it safely in his trench coat pocket. You weren’t immediately attacking him—hell, you weren’t even defending yourself! You’d only be more obvious if you’d delivered yourself to his doorstep tied in a bright, blood-red ribbon labeled “do what you want, I don’t care anymore!” It made his blood simmer, his skin itch in excitement at all the optional routes opened up before him.

Quickly, too quickly to deploy your defense {even if you wanted to}, he’s in your face and encircling your neck in a four fingered grasp. Your eyes vaguely mark Dabi looking on with a detached interest, and you can’t help but mirror his lack of understanding—your emotions and thoughts unfortunately too far past controllable to be hidden behind the usual Heroics.

“You could still serve a purpose, you know.”

Narrowed (e/c) eyes meet piercing, analytical rubies set to freeze and crumble enemies. You have no answer to that, none at all—if you hadn’t come across another anything while you’d been searching in earnest, how could it be tossed into your lap from the hands of a Villain? Your clear disbelief doesn’t deter him in the slightest. It only gives him the subtle signals he needs to ensure a dedicated new member of his team. This situation could only go well for him and the League, if he plays it right, and he’s thankful Dabi knows when to shut the hell up and take the back seat when he truly should.

He’s never seen Shigaraki’s version of recruitment before. After Dabi's climate destroying display, he could use a lesson.

On the edge though this Hero is, the line is thin and the touch needed is delicate and calculated.

“You can make a real difference in this rotten world,” Shigaraki slowly lowers his defensive arm and loosens his grip on your neck, conveying his intentions to calm you. He notices this strikes an especially sore nerve that you’re too unhinged to recognize. You’re taken over by your emotions, unable to distinguish that you’ve offered your weaknesses to your enemy on a silver platter. Disgusted rage he’s now certain is self-focused meets him, only bringing him a step closer to your frozen and highly panicked figure. His free fingers fidgets on the clammy skin of your neck, tapping a pattern across your throbbing pulse, expectant and soft while the other stays loosely, carefully, against your clavicle.

It's constant.

It's… calming?

No, it's fucking overwhelming and uncomfortable and— As if your body’s acting on the last vestiges of your studies, you struggle in his grasp and pull your dominate arm back, channeling all your sadness and panic you’d been unable to expel into the attack you hoped would just fucking end this fucking end this it’s done—

Another four fingered grip captures your wrist, directing your power away from anything important and only ruffling Dabi’s clothes as he watches on. You choke on a cry, near your mask’s end with Shigaraki’s unexpected patience. You’d been told this was nothing more than a spoiled, raging, calloused young man entirely unable to connect with any feelings other than his own selfish need to destroy all Heroes he came in contact with. The only conclusion your racing mind can come to is that he doesn’t even view you as a Hero worth destroying. Thick and torrid tears rush from your eyes, betraying your need to be recognized and being denied that luxury in your final moments.

“I can’t even get what I need from you fuckfaces—!” Your cry rings out, eyes shutting tightly, shaking with the force of your emotions finally finding the breaking point they need to crash through into the real world, “What the fuck can I do to make a fucking difference?!”

Shigaraki pauses to assess your sobbing. You’ve all but folded into yourself; you would’ve disintegrated against his hold on your neck if he hadn’t been paying attention. No… he sees you. He sees you. His fingered grip on your neck slides up to force your head to follow, meeting his sure gaze. You’re lost. You’re anxiously grasping at anything you can to stop the burning, itching need to destroy your own mind… And he gets that. He knows what it took to hook him tightly into his own mindset. He knows of seeing a seemingly impossible goal set before him, of feeling unworthy and needing to prove himself to his peers and himself. If anyone could reshape you... it would be him. If anyone were to reshape you... it should be him.

“It isn’t fair, is it…?” He starts slowly, voice dripping with cooing understanding, gauging your expressions and body, “You work so hard to be what others want you to be… And never feel enough, even when you put your all into it.” Your whole being shudders at his words, breaking down and melting into the pressure of your expectations for yourself. You choke on another messy sob, tears blinding you, snot nearly reaching your lips, a trail of drool unknowingly slipping from the corner of your grimacing lips.

“We’d never expect more than you can give, you know,” He all but whispers into your ear, his words echoing with staying power. You miss the tiniest bit of excitement he lets slip into his tone at the thought of corrupting a fairly strong Hero to his cause with mere psychological one-upmanship. The power over your entire existence is an intoxicating prize and he’s not about to let go of it if he can help it.

A sad cross between a whimper and a cry escapes you as you crumble even more into a hold you’d only come to for annihilation. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why weren’t you dead? You’d wanted to die, needed to just stop everything and just—just STOP, finally, just stop. He was a hardened criminal with no need for heroes, what the hell kind of use did he see in you? You still the tiniest bit. You just need a use, a tangible use, is that what you’ve been missing? A clear direction set before you by an overwhelmingly liberating, intelligent, capable force… Could he see it through all the absolute shit you covered yourself in?

A tentative spark lights the furthest parts of you as you finally meet his confident and knowing gaze. Fuck if you don’t feel seen for the first time in your life, finally seen and accepted for the absolute mess you see yourself as. The conflicting, philosophical doubts you’ve had about Heroism, and your own heroics in the existential race you call a life, find a peaceful place in Shigaraki Tomura’s vision.

It's an alien calm, a powerful sedative on your mind, leading you to melt into his look—telling him all he needed to know and more. The grin he sports widens and his eyes shift to give a silent command to Dabi, still (surprisingly) observing quietly, before changing your life indefinitely, “Follow me, little hero. You'll never be lost again.”

A deep, swirling purple warp gate you’d only seen in footage appears at the entrance to the alleyway.

The loose grip on your neck finally leaves completely, giving you ample room to escape up and out across the rooftops. You’re frozen in your battling thoughts at the suddenly very real decision in front of you.

You knew you weren’t good enough to be a Hero. You’d been struggling with the core beliefs on what the word even meant, if the world you’d been taught was even so black and white. Did you even want to die or did you just need someone to come and give you a purpose, some great refocusing direction? Someone to swoop in, recognize and acknowledge your pain before wiping it away and giving you something definite to live for? You knew you couldn’t make it as a Hero. You were nothing in that world. But maybe you could make that nothing existence, doomed to the weaker, better…?

Eyes nearly blinded before blinking down more streams of tears, you sniffle and take a tentative step towards the man looming tall over you, an umbrella shielding you from a brightness you couldn’t stand to be seen in. You harshly wipe your falling tears to watch Dabi walk swiftly into the portal, an unlit cigarette of some sort dangling from his patterned lips. Shigaraki steps to it much slower. He stops before he reaches it, twisting subtly to look at you from over his shoulder. He shouldn’t have to say anything more for you to follow, if his assumptions are correct—

They are.

Your first steps are slow but pick up speed quickly, feet nearly throwing you into his right side, at the mouth of the portal to a place described by your thoughts as no return. His eyes widen in delight, a manic grin following as he places the fingers of his left hand onto your head in a semblance of comfort. More than he ever got. His right arm wraps confidently around your waist, absurdly consoling to your rapidly evolving morals and needs.

It allows you to let it all go, though. It tells you someone more capable, more prepared is there. That he sees you and is keeping you alive because you’re useful to him. You can’t seem to care why when the overwhelming realization that such a powerful man saw you as you were, truly were, and still found a profound use for you in a world you were dying in takes a strong hold. You’re practically weightless as he guides you into the inky blackness of his caretaker’s portal, mind clicking into place and recognizing the distinct choice you’re making with a calm acceptance of this development in your life.

You were a useless hero. Perhaps this is your chance to prove you could make a difference to someone as a villain.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! :) hope you enjoyed~ happy birthday, Shigster! maann I wish he'd take me away ;w; drop of a hat, I'm gone lol. the ultimate escapism... yandere!Shigaraki! xD annyway, I hope you have a wonderful day~ <3

#shigaraki tomura x femaie!reader #shigaraki x reader #tw sucidal ideation #tw depression #tw manipulation

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bbyboibinnie · 3 years

Text

two of us

synopsis: love is hard to come by, especially when the boy you’ve been pining over is already taken. pairing: reader x jisung genre: fluff, angst, romance, college au warning: explicit language/cursing wc: 2.8k

one

It was halfway through your senior year in high school when you two had met. This was unexpected to say the least because it was the last semester of your last year; you had no intentions of making any new friends, considering you already had a handful of people you were close with and stuck by for the last three years. It was Chan that introduced you to him. You had known Chan for awhile–he was your lab partner for two consecutive years now–and although you considered him as a friend, you had never actually hung out outside of school before, unless it was for a group project of course. However, one day he had invited you to his birthday celebration and that was the day when you met his other friends, one of them being Jisung.

“Woah, slow down there.” His word caught you by surprise as you were stuffing cupcakes in your mouth. You didn’t really know any of Chan’s friends at the time and socializing with new people didn’t exactly come by easily for you, so you had opted to linger around the snack table instead.

Hastily dusting the crumbs off your face, you introduced yourself, “Oh, hey. My name is y/n.”

“I’m Jisung. I think we have calculus together right?” You looked at him closely; with black hair, deep brown eyes, and round cheeks you couldn’t lie–he was pretty cute, but you shook your head in response as you didn’t recognize him.

“Ya, Jisung! Come help me set up the cake!” Another one of the boys had called out, cutting your conversation with him short.

“Keep an eye out for me in calc.” He said as he was dragged away into the kitchen.

two

Sure enough, he was in the same math class as you. Honestly, besides your best friend in that period, you really didn’t pay attention to the other people. After all, the class was impacted and half of them were underclassmen so why bother remembering all the names and faces?

It was the day after the party and you looked around at everyone in the class; it only took you a moment before you spotted him in a seat two rows over. The lecture hadn’t started yet so he was talking to his friends. You didn’t feel the need to get up to go over and spark a conversation or anything, but when you two made eye contact, you gave him a quick smile before turning back to face the front board.

For a while, you two would occasionally spare glances at each other and wave or smile if you locked eyes, but there was nothing more. It wasn’t until after the latest exam when he approached you again.

“Hey, how’d you think you did?” He asked, waiting as you finished packing up your belongings.

“Could’ve done better. What about you?” You made your way to the door and he followed suit.

“Just hoping for that passing grade. Anyway, Chan and I were going to meet up to grab food after class today, wanna come?” You debated going with them for a second but ended up agreeing anyways.

You didn’t know what to make of Jisung at first, considering you had only exchanged a few words, but after hanging with him, even if it was just for a few hours, you found him to be quite likable.

From then on, he stuck around and you didn’t mind, in fact, perhaps you enjoyed his presence a lot more than you were willing to admit.

three

High school came and went but you were ready to face the new challenges and opportunities that college presented. Most of your other friends had been accepted to places further away, but you had settled for community for the time being. For the most part, you were an independent person; therefore, you tried to not be clingy when your friends left to reach their own goals–you’d see them soon enough again–but you had been worried about starting this whole new chapter of your life alone, luckily for you, someone by the name of Han Jisung had enrolled right alongside you.

As days went by, you two were seen together more and more. Of course he met new people, and so did you, but it was always nice to have someone familiar to go back to and for you, that familiar face was Jisung, and for him, that person was you.

Your majors were completely different and so were your classes, but you still spent time with him studying, ranting about professors, and passing out in each other’s rooms after staying up to finish assignments.

“Hey, Jisung,” you whispered, trying to not startle him awake, “it’s almost midnight. You should probably head back to your place before it gets too late.” He was slumped over your desk, fingers lifelessly placed atop the keyboard of his laptop, already drifting into a deeper state of sleep. “Jisung.” You tried again, only to have him groan in response. Shaking your head, you draped a throw blanket over his figure before returning to your workload.

It had gone on like this for weeks, months, nearly a year. One night he’d sleep over at your place and the next you’d be at his. Both of you had been accustomed to this routine now and you thought nothing of it, however, the more time you spent with him, the more you found things to like about him, and that’s what you were afraid of in the beginning–falling for him.

four

You were never the type to fall head over heels for anyone, all throughout elementary, middle, and high school, you only had occasional crushes but nothing significant. Yet,

there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was the way he always made stupid jokes that you couldn’t help but laugh at, or perhaps it was the way he played his guitar and share the new songs he wrote with you first before anyone else got to hear them. It was the smile that reached his eyes and the way he knew you so well, like the back of his hand. It was everything.

You didn’t expect anything more out of the platonic relationship, but you couldn’t just get rid of the feelings on demand, so you had to let them settle and hope that they’d go away eventually, of course that didn’t work.

five

Just because you saw Jisung differently, didn’t mean he would have the same outlook on you.

“What do you think would make a good first date?” Jisung had asked casually over the counter. You were currently on shift at the local boba shop and Jisung often tagged along; typically he just sat there and did his homework as he waited, but on days where store traffic was low, he would ease your boredom by talking aimlessly. This particular caught you off guard though.

“Um, I’m not sure. Why do you ask?” You said, trying to sound casual, while restocking the ingredients.

“Well, I finally managed to receive a ‘yes’ after I asked someone out earlier today.” He said, smiling to himself in satisfaction. You were shocked, but at the same time, not at all. During the twelve months or so that you’ve known him, relationships weren’t a common topic of discussion. Yes, it did come up a few times but college and just life in general was already too time consuming so you didn’t bother with relationships, and neither did he.

“Wow, I’m impressed Jisung. I didn’t think anyone would fall for a clown like you.” You teased him, hoping your disappointment wasn’t showing. You knew that it was a platonic relationship and had set no expectations, yet you still felt a wave of sadness wash over.

“Oh, haha. Seriously though, I only prepared on how to ask them out, but I didn’t think past that because I wasn’t sure I’d even make it this far.”

“In that case, why don’t you consider what the person likes and try to set up something that you both would enjoy? Personally, I don’t think you could go wrong with arcade, pizza, and boba though. I could even hook you up with a discount on the boba.” You said jokingly in an attempt to lift your mood up.

“What would I do without you? You better keep your word about that discount though. Oh shit, I gotta head back and finish my essay, see ya y/n. Also, text me when you get back to your place!” He shouted the last part as he was in the midst of exiting and the door jingled as it shut behind him.

six

So his date had gone well and now his status went from ‘single’ to ‘taken’ while you were still struggling to manage your unrequited feelings. You had accepted the situation for what it was but that didn’t make it any easier.

Naturally as he began to split his time between his new relationship and you, the time you spent with him dwindled down. Weekly study sessions became bi-weekly, which turned into monthly events. You didn’t hold this against him though, you were glad he found someone to connect with.

“Hey, sorry I’m late… again.” Jisung said sheepishly as he entered your room, with a backpack slung over his shoulders, messy hair, and pink marks peeking out from under his t-shirt. You were flustered at the sight, knowing that he had just come back from being with his significant other, doing who knows what.

“Uh, it’s okay. Just–let’s just get to studying.” You preoccupied yourself with your various notes and textbooks and tried you best not to be distracted. Suddenly, somewhere along the line, tension began to build. Maybe you were just imagining it but something had shifted between you and Jisung these days, and it gave you a sense of hopelessness because there was nothing you could do about it.

seven

More time had passed and your friendship was still afloat, but it definitely wasn’t the same as before. It seems like everything has its peak and you two have surpassed that; what goes up must come down, so it was all downhill from there.

As his relationship became more unstable and doubts, he slowly began to make his way back to you. You should’ve been happy, even elated at this fact, but you weren’t.

“I don’t know what happened. One minute we were fine and the next we were arguing. It’s like I am dating a different person now.” He expressed to you, once again at the boba shop you were still working at. It had actually been awhile since he came.

“Mmhhm.” You nodded wordlessly as you continued to spray down the tables with disinfectants.

“The argument was so petty, I should’ve known better than to engage in it.” The rant continued on and on and you had mindlessly agreed with everything he said, until he noticed you weren’t even paying attention.

“Y/n, are you even listening to me?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, then will you give me your entire life savings?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n!” He shouted, getting up from his seat to stand directly in front of you on the other side of the counter. His loud voice startled you and you looked up, only to face a boy who was seething in anger. “Why are you blatantly ignoring me? I’m trying to rant to you and you’re not even helping.”

That was the last straw.

“Listen, don’t come in here asking me to be your guidance counselor after cancelling our plans on dozens of occasions. Also, how could you really expect me to give you my time when you can’t even spare me a minute on any other day. You’ve been a real jerk lately and you haven’t even noticed it! I can’t believe I ever liked someone like you!” The indirect confession left your mouth before you could stop yourself, and he stood there absolutely dumbfounded.

eight

That night, you immediately wanted to hide in the back of the store and hope whatever happened never happened, but you were tired of miscommunication.

“You like me?” Between the two of you, he was the one who had the courage to break the silence.

“Liked. I liked you. Past tense.”

“Do you still like me? Present tense.”

“No, I don’t–or maybe. I don’t know right now.” You had mentally convinced yourself that you were over him, but trying to admit it out loud proved otherwise.

“Y/n, I–” He started but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Maybe you should just go home now. I need some time to think.” He had hesitated for a moment, but eventually, he respected your wishes.

nine

It had been over a week, nearing two weeks, since you’ve talked to him. You already had so much on your plate with finals coming around and constantly having to work, so this was not something you wanted to deal with now, or ever actually. But closure was necessary, for you and for him, so you decided that once finals were over, you’d set things straight.

Grabbing the phone off your nightstand, scrolled through your contacts to find his name.

(11:57 PM )

[ you ] hey, we should talk after finals r over

You sent the text, hoping he’d want closure as well, but minutes passed there was no response. Just when you were about to sleep, your phone vibrated.

(12:05 AM)

[ jisung ] okay, see u after finals then. gn

ten

You had just gotten out of your last class of the day when he came into view. Frankly, you hadn’t expected to meet up with him until later on in the day, but that was your own mistake for not specifying when or where to meet in the text. Although this had slightly caught you off guard, you couldn’t put this off forever so you made your way towards him.

It was a relatively cold day; he stood there bundled up in his hoodie and a beanie atop which tamed his hair from the strong winds.

“Hey.” You said as you stood face to face with him.

“Hey, it’s been awhile.” He responded, eyes softening when he saw you.

* * *

Together, you ended up walking back to his place to talk. Nothing much was said during the trip back, besides the occasional polite small talk like “how have you been?” and “how were finals?”

When he opened his door, you entered wearily; although you had visited his place numerous times in the past, the last time you actually came by was months ago so it felt odd to be back to place so familiar, yet foreign again.

You were grateful for the fact that it was so warm in his apartment because the weather outside had left your body feeling numb.

“Here, I know you get cold easily.” Jisung handed you an extra sweater he pulled from his closet and you thanked him before sliding it over your shoulders.

The both of you just stood in his living room, no one knew what to say or how to start the conversation, but you were here now so it was time to say everything you’ve felt. With a deep breath, you began.

“I thought I could let go of my feelings for you, but I couldn’t.” You said, focusing on the floor as you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “And I’m sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable or jeopardizes whatever is left of our friendship, but I can’t keep lying to myself anymore. If you don’t like me, then I’ll have to accept it and move on but I just had to let you kn-”

Your spiel came to an abrupt stop when he drew you into his arms. Not knowing how to react, you were frozen from confusion and shock.

“Y/n, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” He held you at arms length and gently titled your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “If I had known you liked me, I would’ve never looked at anyone else.”

His words were forming incoherent sentences in your head. Was this his confession? Did he feel the same way?

He must’ve sensed your puzzlement because he smiled at you and said, “Yes dummy, I like you too.”

Your immediate response was to smile, but then something dawned on you.

“What about your current relationship?”

“I’m no longer in a relationship. We have been broken up for nearly a month now.”

“So what does that mean for us?” You say, almost too optimistically. And his response was to pull you in close, so close to the point where you could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks and your noses were barely touching, before closing the gap between your lips and his.

a/n: honestly, this piece is kind of all over the place since it’s my first one but hopefully more practice will make my writing better! also, this is not proofread so my apologies for any grammatical/punctuation errors.

also here it my masterlist in case you want to read my other works!

#skz au #stray kids au #stray kids masterlist #skz masterlist #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids oneshot #jisung x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #han x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #skz fluff

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ilguna · 3 years

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Six (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE, brief hint of prostitution.

wc; 10.2k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

It turns out that you’ve worked yourself to the bone all these years. Day after day, you woke at seven, left at eight, and stayed in the betting room until late evening into the early morning. You didn’t realize just how taxing it was until now. For the first time in a long time, you’ve gotten more than just a couple of hours of sleep. You slept into noon.

This must be how Finnick felt for those years. He could, more or less, go to bed when he wants and wake well into the afternoon. And although the whole day isn’t up to your interpretation, you’ve had your fair share of evenings with friends. To think that he used to live like this every day, while you were busy worrying over tributes, or pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion is unfair.

And for a moment, you can allow yourself to be upset at him and yourself for letting it go on for so long. Finnick’s time in the Capitol is far from fun and perfect, but you still hate how he wasn’t required to do all the same things you are. That he didn’t put in as much effort as you have. Even if you two weren’t talking…

You count to three and let it go.

You think you can stop being mad about this now. To you, it looks like things have changed. Of course, you can keep your guard, but you can stop talking about it. You already know all the shitty things that he’s done, he knows it too. With that acknowledgement, you can save the thoughts for a rainy day.

You get out of bed at noon, dragging your feet around the room. It’s funny how you’ve kept that wake, eat, watch, sleep schedule for this long, and it was so easily broken. You thought that you’d have to fight with yourself to sleep in past seven, considering that some habits are hard to break. Yet here you are, sluggish. You suppose that more sleep doesn’t automatically mean being more energetic.

Not trying to be too slow, you only take a ten minute shower instead of your normal thirty. Finnick’s been in the betting room since midnight last night, it’s going to be a full thirteen hours by the time you go to switch with him. He’s running on fumes, he hasn’t slept in a day, if you remember correctly. The sooner you get down there, the better.

Not to mention, like nights, the mornings are extremely boring. As you’ve observed for the last couple of days--and years--the tributes are up to nothing. In the morning, they’re either still sleeping or getting ready to spend their day doing mundane shit. At nights, the careers might go hunting for obvious tributes, or they’re all going to bed.

On one hand, you think that this is good for Finnick. Like you’ve said before, he’s not as practiced during chaotic situations inside of the betting room anyway. The last time he saw anything remotely close to that was maybe yesterday, when you were going around talking to Capitol people. But that wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

You’re talking about the times where you’ve been in full-blown mentor mode. Quick on your feet, even faster problem solving, a silver tongue that easily has mentors falling on your feet. The only times you’re like that is when there’s an unpredictable fight that includes your tributes. You’re here for damage control, so anything that your tributes do inside of the arena, you’re going to be there to try and clean up what they can’t. Whether that be injuries, them losing all of their stuff, sponsoring weapons in the midst of a fight, whatever.

But on the other hand, he’s just out of practice. If he took afternoons instead of you--fat fucking chance--he would be able to go right back to how he was before. It’s like flexing a muscle, all your instincts are still there, you just have to relearn a few moves to make the whole job easier.

And you’re all about easy.

You go for black skinny jeans and a yellow-orange shirt with a breast pocket, and then slip on a pair of tennis shoes. As always, you’re the only one in the dining room, so you’re free to watch the television as you eat lunch. The avox serves plum and lamb soup, with a side of jasmine rice to make it more filling. You thank him quietly, already distracted by what’s going on the screen.

Without any context, you slowly put the pieces together by yourself. Starting with your tributes, Annie and Marsh are already off near the snares. They’re currently having lunch too, eating the sponsored food that you gave them yesterday. The gamemakers are allowing you to hear their conversation for the first time in days.

The gist is that Annie wants to go up to the dam. Like, follow the stream of water to the top and inspect the dam for herself. The condition of the cement will hopefully determine when they should leave the shack and head towards the village. But they’re working through one step at a time. Getting to the village is a whole new problem, as far as she’s concerned. Marsh agrees.

The Seven tributes are at the stream getting water, with the boy cupping his hands and bringing water to his lips that way. They’ve still got no supplies from the cornucopia, looking pretty dirty from sleeping in leaves and dirt for the past couple of days. They still look healthy though, so that’s a good sign. They’re getting all the nutrients that they need, to a certain extent.

Five boy is still on the edge of the woods off to the left, far away from the rest of the tributes. He’s not as close to the treeline as he was yesterday. If he keeps there for a while, you’re sure that he’ll surely be overlooked and hard to find like Nine girl. Who, speaking of which, is actually on the move today, instead of just sticking around in the grass and bushes.

She’s got her hair tied out of her face, any loose strands are tucked behind her ears if it can reach. She’s walking through the grass, heading towards the cornucopia. You think it’s a stupid idea, that surely she’s going to get herself killed for being so calm about walking straight into a wild pack of careers.

Until you look to see where the careers are this morning, and find that they’re inside of the woods. The cornucopia is completely vacant, all their supplies are there for a tribute’s taking. Nine girl saw this and decided to take a chance and grab what she can. Which means that she’s been camping out in the grassy hills the entire time, or she was in the trees after all. Either way, she’s kept a pretty low profile since the beginning. This is going to give her a new spotlight to work with.

She heads right inside without hesitation, not even waiting to hear if there’s any voices. Yeah, she’s definitely been keeping track of the tributes in the sky, and even going as far as to watch the cornucopia in her freetime. Especially if she’s so forward and confident. Considering she’s spent the last couple of days cloud gazing, this is fairly impressive.

She grabs a backpack, vaguely going through boxes and only stopping long enough to grab handfuls of items. She moves on quickly, eyes sometimes flickering to the mouth of the cornucopia. At least she’s not stupid enough to entirely rely on what she saw a couple of minutes ago. She knows that going inside is completely risky.

By judging what you can see with the careers, she has nothing to worry about in the end. The careers are far into the woods, and they’re only getting farther. In fact, the only tributes you think that have to worry about what they’re doing is the Seven tributes. In your opinion, they could be moving a little quicker.

If the careers do run across District Seven, this’ll be the first real conflict since the bloodbath. Of course, Sanguin killing Three boy yesterday was an event, but he didn’t really stand a chance against her in the first place. That was banking on false hope. With the Seven tributes, they might not have weapons, but they’re also two people. Just like Annie and Marsh. They have a chance, you always have a chance with bigger numbers. Where one person fails, another will prevail.

Nine girl grabs a knife on her way out of the cornucopia, officially heading towards the woods. She should’ve just went straight towards the village, that way she wouldn’t have the chance of running across the other nine people that are currently in the forest. This is all dependent on her goals, you suppose, but no one willingly tries to pick a fight unless they’re a career. It’s just the truth.

The last tribute that you haven’t mentioned is Bauhinia, Cecelia’s girl. Bauhinia already has a backpack of her own, courtesy of the raid she had conducted on the cornucopia by herself on the second day of the games. She’s got a bottle full of water, so that means she’s found her own source by now.

Actually, she’s been up against the dam for the past couple of days. Which means that the dam is leaking from some area, otherwise she wouldn’t have the water up that high. Not without a second stream, and from all the time you’ve spent watching the tributes, she hasn’t been to the original water stream.

Well, the dam is certainly more dangerous than you originally anticipated. It’s only the fifth day of the games and it’s already leaking water. You give it a couple more days until the entire thing blows. You keep saying a week and a half, you’re not sure it’ll even last the half part. The gamemakers are impatient this year. Or maybe they have no control of it. Either way, everyone is going to be going home sooner than usual.

With the hopeful exception of District Four, of course.

At any rate, Bauhinia is moving through the trees too. She has a knife in hand, which means that she’s looking for something or someone in particular. You’d say she’s just hunting, but there’s an edge to her steps. You bet that Cecelia is on the edge of her seat right now. Her only tribute is up to no good.

You finish up lunch, go to the bathroom to brush your teeth, and leave the apartment. On your way down to the betting room, you hope that whatever Bauhinia is planning, she’s not going to act on it just yet. She needs to wait a little longer. If something does happen, Cecelia’s going to need a shoulder to lean on.

When you enter, you see that Finnick sits on the couch, elbow on the arm, leaning against his fist. Gloss and Enobaria are with him, with Gloss leaned forward onto his knees and Enobaria with her arms crossed. The only person that seems to be standing in your bizarre group, is Cecelia. Who’s swaying from side to side, hand on her mouth.

Looks like they’re all just as captivated as you were when you were watching. You check up on the Morning Line Odds, which might as well be known as the Afternoon Line Odds, with the times you’ll be showing up from now on. Annie and Marsh still hold their odds at 6-1, they haven’t moved since the first day, that's just fine with you. As long as they don’t drop lower, they’ve still got the interest of the Capitol.

As for the only group that actually poses a meaningful threat, Sanguine has moved up. From a 4-1 to a 3-1, she’s now tied with the boy from Two. You’re not surprised, it was only a matter of time before she went up—before any of them moved, actually. It’s worrying, though. No matter how many times you’ve seen it before.

You stop next to Finnick, staring up at the screen. In the time it took you to brush your teeth and get down here, things have changed. The gamemakers have focused on Bauhinia and the careers, so it explains why everyone—with the exception of Finnick, who sounds like he’s sleeping—is on edge. Doesn’t mean you have any clue what's going on.

You take a moment to analyze what you see. Bauhinia still has her knife in hand, moving through the trees. It looks like she’s trying to be quiet, carefully placing her feet in spots that shouldn’t be possible. All to just narrowly avoid a stick that might give her away. Give her away…

The careers are also going through the woods, but their camera is angled weird. Instead of watching them from the front, so that you can see their faces. Or from the back, allowing you to see where they’re going exactly. It’s at a diagonal, barely catching One girl, who’s leading the pack through the woods. The main is One boy, who’s in the middle, but even he’s a little blurred.

Oh.

Oh!

“Oh!” You let out, causing your friends to jump at the sudden voice. They’ve been quiet for so long, you just snuck up on them, “Is Bauhinia stalking?”

Stalking, a term mentors use when one tribute is following another. Normally because the stalker has ill intentions, or they’re observing for future reference. It’s like when the Seven tributes followed the careers all the way to the stream of water and didn’t attack. Observing.

But Bauhinia isn’t observing. She’s got a knife in her hands, she’s making an extra effort to be closer, to hear their conversations. She’s moving right along with them, waiting for a perfect moment to strike. Bauhinia isn’t stupid enough to attack all three of them, she’s waiting for an opportunity to pick one off.

You wonder what got her to think like this, to suddenly get up and decide that she wanted to risk her life. She isn’t specially trained in any way regarding fighting, Cecelia said it herself. And if you remember correctly, she only scored a six. The Morning Line Odds say that she has a 14-1 chance. She’s going to get herself killed.

“Yeah, she has been for a while now. She only just got closer.” Gloss says, looking over you, and then his eyes land on Finnick, “He’s been out cold since nine.”

Well, you more or less called it, even before you got down here. She looked slightly more relaxed the last time you saw her, but now she has to be more careful with how she’s putting herself in danger like this. One bad move can be the cost of her life, unlike before when she had a little bit of breathing room. She must’ve been loosely following.

As for Finnick, you’re not at all surprised. You gently place your hand on his back, rubbing slightly to wake him up. It takes a moment, reminding you of the last time you woke him up like this. He doesn’t stretch this time around, mostly makes a noise and raises his head.

“What time is it?” He yawns, and sinks into the couch, “Is she here yet?”

“A little after one.” You answer.

Finnick looks up at you, and lets out a sigh of relief. He must be exhausted, probably won’t even last a minute on his bed before he’s knocked out. You give him a smile, pat his shoulder, and take a seat between him and Gloss. There’s not much room, but you can imagine that Finnick won’t be staying here much longer.

“Annie and Marsh are doing fine.” Finnick yawns again, crossing his arms and staring at the tv, “The last time I checked, anyway. Which was…”

Enobaria lets out a laugh. Gloss snorts and finishes his sentence; “Five hours ago.”

Finnick vaguely motions to Gloss. “What’s happening now?”

“Flower girl is looking for trouble.” Enobaria says, “She’s like, ten feet from them at max.”

Finnick squints, humming slightly, “I’d head up but I have a feeling I should stay down here.”

“Probably.” You agree, “You can use my shoulder as a pillow if you want.”

Without missing a beat, he takes you up on your offer. He places his head on your shoulder, and only lifts it once to readjust. You smile a little to yourself, but it quickly fades when the betting room is suddenly filled with unfamiliar voices coming from the speakers.

Two girl--Vanilee--has a kama in her hand, which is surely a unique choice of a weapon. It’s not chosen often, mostly because of its range. Think of a scythe, with the curved blade and all, just with a shorter handle. It’s much better for hand-to-hand combat, you think. It’s not going to be much use for long distances, unless you were to throw it. Then again, you’re no expert. You don’t even remember seeing that in your cornucopia.

The sixty-fifth Hunger Games had all the classic weapons. Spears, tridents, bows, axes, swords, scythes and knives. You chose a knife and a sword, obviously. As most careers do, since they’re the easiest things to figure out. The only problem is trying to find a sword that isn’t too heavy, a knife with a blade that isn’t too short, bullshit like that.

Anyway, Vanilee is stopped, eyes searching the woods around her. Bauhinia is perfectly hidden behind bushes, not only crouched but also blending in. It’s understandable why the careers haven’t seen her by now, even with their experienced eyes. At least they caught on that the air was weird or whatever, but you can’t give them that much credit in the end, especially if Bauhinia has been following them for a while now.

Yeah, for a bunch of people that have been practically trained to think a certain way and catch onto situations, they’re not very in-tune with their sixth senses. Literally, even a hint of a gut feeling and you’re going to be searching around. Hell, you even did that yourself! The pond on the first day is the perfect example of this.

“What is it?” Sanguin asks, impatient.

“I swear that there’s someone following us.” Vanilee says, moving her hair behind her neck.

“Like who?” her district mate, Geare, asks.

Vanilee shrugs, not giving it up. She ventures out a little bit, squinting and searching. She won’t find anything, you’re sure of it. With the way that Bauhinia has placed herself, she’s in the best position she can be in. Except for the part where one career has caught on to her stalking. That’s the only bad news. Where one will go, the others will eventually follow.

“She’s just paranoid.” Sanguin says, stabbing her sword into the ground and leaning on it like a cane, “I think I would know if we were being followed.”

Vanilee’s eyes land on Sanguin, “Okay, genius. Don’t you think that it’s weird we haven’t run into any tributes yet?” she raises her eyebrows, shakes her head like she’s waiting for an answer, neither Geare or Sanguin says anything, “That’s what I thought. Maybe my paranoia will do something for us.”

Sanguin sighs, eyes rolling into the back of her head like a teenage girl. She runs a hand through her hair, and then slaps her thigh when she lets it fall, “Fine, let’s take a break. Whoever it is will have to move at some point. We’ll hear or see them, problem solved.”

Hypothetically, yes. But you watch as Bauhinia slowly sinks herself to the ground, crossing her legs. She’s lucky that her backpack doesn’t make any noise, otherwise she definitely would’ve been found by now. For a while, the careers all sit there, drinking water and eating a small portion of food to keep them going. So far, their hunt for other tributes has been a bust. What a surprise.

However, Vanilee signs her own death certificate when she says that she’s going off to pee. She’s told to stay nearby in the case that someone is around them. Sanguin even offers to go with her, it just leaves Geare by himself, though. It still leaves a problem, two of them can go one way, the other can stay back, or Vanilee can just go by herself. In the end, one person will get picked off.

The moment that Vanilee heads off, Bauhinia slowly and carefully begins to follow her. Cecelia has finally taken a seat on the edge of an armchair, fingers intertwined and pressed against her lips. Enobaria is shaking her head, upset that Vanilee can’t just pee in front of her alliance. It’s a stupid situation. And it’s almost rightful what Vanilee gets for it.

The good news is that Vanilee isn’t stupid enough to get out of earshot. If she were to scream, the others would hear. It would take them a moment to get to her, but at least they’re close enough if the situation were to arise. The bad news is that it doesn’t matter, not with the way that Bauhinia springs on Vanilee.

Really, Bauhinia doesn’t fuck around. She wraps her arm around Vanilee’s neck in an armlock, and then uses her other hand to tighten the hold. She has the same face of determination that everyone else gets when they’re trying to kill and survive in the Hunger Games.

Vanilee digs her nails into Bauhinia’s tan skin, hard enough to draw blood. This is the reason why Bauhinia lets go, clutching the spot. She lands a kick to Vanilee’s back, making her trip and go sprawling in the dirt and grass. Vanilee opens her mouth, drawing in a long breath of air, clearly going to scream.

Bauhinia’s on top of her, disregarding the blood running down her forearm. A squeak leaves Vanilee’s lips, just before Bauhinia’s fingers are tight around her neck, squeezing hard. Vanilee’s eyes widen, face quickly turning a shade of red as she struggles to breathe. First her fingers try to wriggle their way beneath Bauhinia’s hands, but then they settle for scratching down her neck and face, trying to inflict enough pain to get Bauhinia to get off.

It’s hard to watch, you can feel the pressure on your own stomach and hips, hands growing harder and tighter around your neck as you give up. As you slowly stop coming up with solutions to get out of the hold, as you forget the one way the training expert told you to leave a situation like this.

You reach for your throat, rubbing the spot where Lennox was sure he’d be able to cut off your air supply. You swallow thickly, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

You get a confused glance from Gloss, and Finnick hums quietly.

It’s the sensation of being trapped, not being able to escape. This happens all the time, especially with people hovering over you, even if it’s a joke. If you can’t have an easy escape, then it’s a cause for trouble. Even watching people not be able to leave, especially in a situation like this--

You take a deep breath through your nose, and hold.

Vanilee is turning blue, still fighting to escape. Bauhinia’s got red scratch marks all over her, some even bleeding slightly, blood running down her skin. She’s patient, and doesn’t at all seem to be concerned about the other careers. Not even worried that they might come looking for her if she doesn’t make it back soon.

You let out your air slowly, feeling nauseous.

“Are you alright?” Finnick asks.

“Still not over it.” is all you say, Finnick lifts his head up. You glance over to see that his eyes are open now, staring at the screen.

“Yeah, I can see why. Look away, I’ll tell you when it’s done.”

“Thanks.” you breathe, placing your head on the couch, staring at the sky. Well, the sky through the glass ceiling. There’s no way that the architects would ever let a place like this fall victim to something so heinous like rain.

“You went through something like this?” Gloss asks.

“Something similar.” Finnick says, he lets out a sigh, “And then got stabbed right after. To be fair, she was beat to hell in that fight. It was hardly fair.”

“But she got revenge, if I remember right.” Enobaria says, “(Y/n) single handedly killed three out of four of the career tributes.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t even count one of them, that was mostly mutts.” you say.

“It counts. I remember it counting.” Enobaria says.

It’s quiet for a moment, “Okay, it should be done.”

Right on time for you to look at the screen, a cannon blasts. Bauhinia releases Vanilee, stretching her fingers outwards, staring at her hands for a moment, like she can’t believe she’s done it. The moment that Vanilee’s name is yelled, Bauhinia is up and off of her, sprinting up towards the dam. It’s not very smart of her, she should be going downhill, or at least running the way she came for a while to put distance between her and the others, and then move downward diagonally.

Finnick goes back to putting his head on your shoulder. Enobaria has her jaw set, shaking her head. You can’t blame her, Vanilee was a trained volunteer. She got a nine on her training score, while Bauhinia landed herself a six, if you remember correctly. Even Vanilee had the feeling that there was something wrong, and she still went out by herself.

Two careers left in the game, though. It’s satisfying to see a second name greyed out on the Morning Line Odds. One less career for Annie and Marsh to worry about. If they were to go out and try and attack them now, you’re sure that it would be more than a fair fight. The only threat left is One girl. Sanguin.

Speaking of which, she’s running up towards where Vanilee lies in the dirt, red-purple hand marks bright around her neck. Geare is right behind her, weapon already displayed. At the pace that Bauhinia is going at the moment, you don’t think that he’ll have the chance to use it. But then again, the careers always bounce back in some unpredictable way.

Sanguin is quick, leaving Geare completely behind her, “Vanilee?” she yells.

She’s more or less making the same mistake that got Vanilee killed by leaving Geare behind her. Although, you all know that she can take care of herself in a fight. In fact, unlike Vanilee, Sanguin probably would’ve found a way to get out from underneath Bauhinia. Whether it be from the same way you did it, through momentum. Or some other unique tactic.

You’re not saying that Vanilee didn’t try, she definitely did. The marks up and down Bauhinia’s face and arms says so. The problem was that it wasn’t enough. But to be fair, there’s not much you can do in a situation like that in the first place. She was underprepared, caught off-guard without the opportunity to catch her breath and evaluate the situation before Bauhinia was back on her.

However, Bauhinia’s quick movement saved her. Just before Vanilee went to scream, Bauhinia cut off her vocals to make it impossible. And it’s not like she could’ve done much to stop the scratching, she needed both hands and all of her weight to put pressure on Vanilee’s neck.

Anyway, you think you’ll stop now. You’re beginning to struggle again.

All that matters is that it’s one less career in the arena, one more rung up the ladder. Gloss and Enobaria both have one tribute left before they’re sent home, which is actually pretty good news. It’s only been five years, but that’s ten tributes dead from District Four. Annie and Marsh can turn the tide, create a new era for Four in this decade.

Gloss is sat back now too, his hands resting on his thighs. Cecelia is digging her thumb nail into her other palm, clearly worried over Bauhinia. The clock is ticking down for Bauhinia, she got a headstart away from the remaining two careers, but now she’s started a real hunt for herself. The careers will either give up, or work themselves to the bone for revenge. And they never let anyone off easy.

Sanguin slows down when she sees a body, she doesn’t stop until she’s standing over Vanilee. Her sword was originally raised, now it’s tip-down into the grass. She sighs heavily, “Motherfucker.”

Geare appears behind her a couple of seconds later, paling immensely when he sees what used to be his district mate. He freezes in place, Sanguin shakes her head, points the tip of the sword at Vanilee’s throat, “She was strangled.” and then looks up to the woods around her, “Whoever did it has to be nearby.”

“Not if they ran.” Geare manages.

“Then we fucking chase them.”

Gloss breaks the silence between you guys, “Sanguin is an excellent tracker. All she has to do is find Bauhinia’s trail.”

Spells for even more trouble, more than just for Bauhinia. Annie and Marsh have been walking the same path everyday for five days. By now, they’ve stomped their schedule into the grass and dirt. If the careers were to just barely run across their shack, all they’d have to do is follow your tributes’ path to their snares. After that, their field of snares is gone for.

You let out a breath, running a hand through your hair before sinking a bit.

“The careers won’t wander upstream.” Finnick murmurs.

“They will if Bauhinia leads them up.” you whisper back, “You think that they’ll head back down?”

“If they’re smart they’ll leave the woods after they find her.”

“Fat chance, the careers are hound dogs. They caught the scent of one tribute, they’re going to be bloodthirsty for more.” you close your eyes, “I think it’s time for another sponsor gift.”

“The gamemakers will get suspicious. You’ve said so yourself a long ass time ago.”

He’s right. Annie and Marsh aren’t hurt or starving, sending another gift out of the blue would turn heads. Either you start hoping that one of them gets injured badly enough to need something other than healing cream, or you just have to let fate have her way with the arena. Which is hard to do, considering all the other times she’s screwed you over.

“This is their games.” Finnick reminds you, “Not ours. We’re in no control here.”

“I just want to help.” you say.

“I know. We just have to wait.”

Even though Gloss didn’t directly predict it, Sanguin goes around looking for a path to follow and finds the way that Bauhinia had run, “Grab her kama, let’s go.” she says, and then starts walking down the path.

Geare lets out a shaky breath at first, uttering out an apology. He takes the weapon and heads off after his only ally. It’s only slightly funny how Vanilee was the one acting a buffer between them, and now they’re having to work together. They start off walking, but end up jogging the longer they go on.

“I will not lose them.” Sanguin snarls.

Bauhinia isn’t running anymore, there’s sweat running down her face, she wipes her forehead to get the sweat from going into her eyes, and ends up smearing blood. She’s near the top of the hill, you can see the dam through the trees. She’s going to corner herself, there’s no doubt about it.

If she’s not careful, you think she could actually end up running the careers straight into the Seven tributes. It’s unlikely, you think. But if she runs along the dam, maybe a little downwards, it’ll bring her to their huts. They’re not at them right now, you don’t think. They do have to come back eventually, though.

Bauhinia huffs, sucks in air through her nose heavily. She winces when she stretches the skin in her neck and face, gently pressing her hand to the marks as if it’ll magically relieve the pain. She closes her eyes, takes another deep breath, and then takes off running again, not heading uphill, off to the right side.

Oh, that’s not good.

“She’s going to lead them to Annie and Marsh.”

“You don’t know that.” Finnick says, but he’s lifted his head.

“She leads them to the stream, all they’d have to do is head half a mile down and they’re at the shack. They take up home there, and District Four is fucked.”

“She’s bringing them into uncharted territory. The careers are going to be more apprehensive--”

And all at once, you, Gloss and Enobaria answer the same way; “No, they’re not.”

On any other day, the unison would be funny. But Enobaria just lost a tribute, Gloss is worried about Sanguin heading in recklessly without thinking first, and Cecelia might lose her second tribute. The stakes have definitely risen today.

The chase continues for hours. You watch as people come and go out of the betting room, all wary about leaving when something so important is happening. None of you move from the couch area, except to stretch your legs if they fall asleep. Finnick dozes on and off, waking on his own every now and then.

Bauhinia is running them in circles at this point, zig-zagging. She ran towards the stream for a little while before heading straight down the hill, then decided that was an easy way to catch her, so she took a sharp right to head back to where she killed Vanilee. The body has been collected already, it was collected as soon as they had all cleared out of the space.

Annie and Marsh have just now started their way back, thankfully. It’ll be sundown in two to three hours, which will then give Bauhinia better cover. Gloss said that it’s going to be shitty to try and track in the dark. It’ll definitely slow Sanguin and Geare down, and by then Bauhinia will be long gone.

“It won’t last that long, though.” Gloss said, “Bauhinia’s getting tired. Sanguin and Geare have been forced to work hard like this for hours. It’s only a matter of time.”

He was only saying what all of you were thinking.

Finnick goes from his head resting on the back of the couch, to placing it on your shoulder. You reach up and behind to rub his hair slightly, “You’re going to have a kink in your neck if you keep this up.”

“I’m literally exhausted.”

“Then go up to your room, you’re going to be miserable tonight.” you say, he hums.

“You think Annie and Marsh will be fine?”

“I can take care of them, if not.”

He sighs, “Okay.” Finnick gets up from the couch, yawning loudly and stretching his arms above his head. He gives one last look to the screen before looking at the others, “Good luck.”

“See you later, Finnick.” Gloss nods. Enobaria waves, Cecelia thanks him for his company.

Just before he goes, he leans on the arm of the couch, staring down at you, “I might sleep through dinner.”

“I’ll go and get you, don’t worry about it.” you smile, “Go sleep.”

“Thanks.”

He leaves, and as soon as he’s through the door, Enobaria snorts slightly. You and Gloss look at her, “There’s totally a thing between you two.”

“Okay, fuck off.” you wave your hand, “You have other things to be worrying about.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?” Enobaria’s amused.

You raise your eyebrows tauntingly, “My tributes are going to kick Geare’s ass.”

“Ha!” Enobaria laughs, “He scored a ten!”

“And Sanguin scored a nine, yet your little boy in there’s a sheep.”

“Oh, that’s got to burn.” Gloss smiles, Enobaria socks his upper arm, barely earning a look of pain out of him.

Half an hour later, Bauhinia’s running on fumes. She’s inhaled all of her water by now and sweated it out. Every step she takes, she grimaces as if she’s got scabs on the back of her feet. It’s probably her calves burning from all the exertion. She’s completely out of breath, her face an underlying red color.

Bauhinia slowly comes to a stop, walking a little off to the side by a giant tree. She leans against it for a moment, you can imagine how awful she’s feeling at the moment. She lets go of the tree for only a moment, sways, and collapses in the grass, struggling to breathe. In a little less than two minutes, she’s hyperventilating, and it’s not exactly quiet.

Game over.

Sanguin and Geare are close behind her, both experiencing their own unique versions of exhaustion. Geare complains at least once every twenty minutes, while Sanguin just continuously hydrates, pauses, and keeps going. She might have scored a nine, but she’s got the determination of an eleven. Sanguin’s a fucking trooper.

There’s no way that Bauhinia is getting up from her spot in the grass. She has half the mind to clutch onto her knife though, knuckles a pale color from her hard she’s gripping it. It’s only ten minutes later when Sanguin and Geare are almost on top of her. Bauhinia falls silent, eyes slowly moving to where she had stopped running.

“Fucking hell.” Geare says, his voice is quiet, getting louder as they come to the spot, “Can’t fucking believe this.”

“It’s impressive.” Sanguin admits, “But they’re stupid. They could’ve at least tried to hide themselves. It’s like they didn’t even care.”

Bauhinia moves the knife around in her hand, Sanguin uses the sword to poke around at their surroundings, “I’m not seeing a path.”

“Which means?” Geare asks.

“Either they scrambled up a tree, or they’re right here.” Sanguin turns, looking at her ally, “Don’t kill them.”

“Yeah, I don’t plan on it. Not after all of this.” Geare says, they split, going two ways.

Bauhinia slips out of her backpack straps, which is smart. There’s a sick feeling in your stomach starting to arise, though. You know exactly what she’s planning, and she’s not going to get very far. She’s not the only one that can ditch a backpack and go running.

Bauhinia tucks her knife in the leather belt, turns over onto her knees, watching through the bushes for the perfect moment to run. Geare has backtracked slightly, wanting to be thorough, just in case Bauhinia didn’t drop off there, and created a second, more invisible path. Sanguin turns her back.

You’ll give Bauhinia some credit, because not only is she arrogantly stupid, she’s also resiliant. One second, she’s standing over her black backpack, the next she’s twenty feet away from the careers already. All she had to do was quietly sneak away, but with the way she’s whipped through the bush leaves, she’s caught their attention.

“It’s a girl!” Sanguin shouts, shedding her backpack, “Give me the kama!”

Geare’s ripped it off of the backpack, completely destroying the strap that was holding it in place. Sanguin must run track in high school, because she moves through the trees like she’s running on solid ground. She doesn’t look where she’s stepping, just keeps her eyes on Bauhinia, tracking her every movement. Bauhinia moves upwards, Sanguin pushes for a diagonal path. There’s no getting out of this one.

At least Bauhinia’s running on adrenaline, otherwise you’re sure she would be some form of a corpse by now. You can’t imagine that all of this running is good on her heart. Especially when she’s probably not used to running for long periods of time.

Sanguin gets right up on her, but she knows that she won’t catch her exactly. It was smart of her to ditch her sword, since that’s heavier that shit. But it raises the question of the kama, because there’s no way she’ll know how to wield it… right?

Wrong.

Sanguin comes to a full halt, nearly throwing herself forward from how hard she stops. She draws her arm back quick enough to be a blur, and then whips it forward, the kama disappearing from her fingers. Sanguin is strong, because that fucking weapon flies through the air at twenty-five miles an hour at least. The curved blade goes right through Bauhinia’s back, sending her sprawling into the trees.

Sanguin is breathing heavily, continuing up the hill to her prey. It’s the same predatory look in her eyes that you saw in Lennox’s. The desire for sweet revenge, or the sadistic mindset of murder for enjoyment. No one who volunteers for the Hunger Games is in their right minds. You’re surprised that the districts don’t require them to go to therapy after shit like this.

Bauhinia is sobbing into the dirt, hands balled into fists. Blood has seeped through her shirt where the kama has stabbed her. Only a couple seconds later, Geare is coming up behind them both. Sanguin isn’t concerned, doesn’t even look to check. Instead, she leans down and grabs the handle of the kama, and without a single hint of remorse, yanks the weapon out of her back.

You cringe, a gag rising in your throat at how much blood comes gushing out. Bauhinia’s scream of agony is nightmare-inducing, making goosebumps raise on your arms and a chill go down your back. Forget watching her strangle Vanilee to death. This is worse. Much, much worse.

Sanguin’s covered in rich colored blood, little specks across her face like freckles. The kama is quite literally dripping in Bauhinia’s blood, landing in droplets in the dirt, grass and weeds. Bauhinia’s scream-sobbing, her back is a giant open wound, you think you can even see her spine. How the fuck is she still alive?

“Oh my god.” you breathe, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. You feel hot, and your mouth is watering more than usual.

The Capitol finds entertainment in moments like these, and even worse, tributes like Sanguin long for murders that keep everyone on their toes. Cecelia lets out a shaky breath, sniffs, and then stands, “I can’t do it.”

“Cecelia, I’m sorry.” Gloss says.

“I’ll see you next year.” is all she says, and then she’s gone too.

A giant puddle is forming beneath Bauhinia, the stench of metal and dirt has to be strong enough to bring tears to your eyes. You remember when you cracked a head open, and immediately puked after. It’s the same thing, only yours being slightly worse.

“You’ve trained a fucking psychopath.” you get up from the couch to have something to do to take your mind off of the rising vomit in your throat.

“Yeah…” Gloss’ voice is distant.

It’s hard to watch the rest of what happens to Bauhinia. Like promised, Sanguin doesn’t let her get off easy. Bauhinia should be dead already, and yet the hits just keep coming. Sanguin’s so ruthless that Geare doesn’t even feel the need to step in, leaning against the tree with a dead-straight face, arms crossed.

Sometimes Bauhinia is able to grasp a few words, always a plea for Sanguin to stop. Otherwise, she’s gurgling blood when Sanguin hits harder. Just this morning, Sanguin’s odds had already boosted from a 4-1 to 3-1, but now they’re 1-1, Geare is 2-1. And your tributes are fucked if they ever run across these two.

By the time Bauhinia does finally die, it’s almost an hour later, Sanguin and Geare weren’t even done with what they wanted to do. They pick up their shit, and on the way out, Geare lands a particularly hard kick to the side of Bauhinia’s head. They don’t look back when they walk away.

The show is over. They grab Bauhinia’s backpack at where she’d collapsed and set up camp right there. Sanguin grumbles about how Bauhinia probably stole the backpack from the cornucopia a while ago. They raid it, toss the remaining stuff into the bushes, and start a fire. They have enough water to drink and take their time to catch their breath. But they’re not planning on doing anything else today. They’re at least a mile away from the stream, as far as you can tell.

Annie and Marsh are almost back at the shack. They’ve already eaten their dinner on the way, from what you remember. And if they’re hungry later tonight, they agreed to just eat it cold. They don’t want to take any chances when it comes to being caught at their homebase. You appreciate the both of them.

Five boy, who was on the left side of the arena, has now migrated almost all the way to the right side of the arena. The gamemakers were all so caught up in showing the chase for hours that they weren’t able to show what the others were up to. The boy moving from one end to another is actually pretty impressive, but you’re starting to worry. The right side is becoming crowded.

Your two tributes, the two careers, and now Five boy. District Seven is three miles away at most, the only person who’s on the other side is Nine girl. There’s eight people left in the arena, and more than half are too close to your tributes for comfort.

The evening goes too quickly for your liking, you just spent hours feeling nauseous for Cecelia, and now that it’s over it’s almost forgotten completely. Annie takes watch in the shack tonight, Marsh falls asleep next to the wall, one arm bent above his head, the other resting on his stomach.

Five boy travels for a little while longer before making his home. He picks leaves off of bushes and chews them while making a bed of grass comfortable enough to sleep on. Nine girl looks like she’s found herself a hiding spot under a rock that’s behind a fallen log. The log is a home to bugs, so you’re not entirely sure if it’s a good spot to stay for the night or not. And District Seven is comfortable in their huts near the middle-top of the arena.

With the sun setting already, and the betting room mostly cleared out, you feel comfortable enough to get up and try to eat dinner. You’re not exactly hungry, especially not after all that you’ve just watched, but you know that you don’t want to be ordering food in your room in the middle of the night. Or gorging yourself in the morning.

“I probably won’t come back down here. I don’t think another fight’s going to break out tonight.” you briefly twirl a strand of hair around your finger before letting it go.

Gloss gives you a hug, bidding you a good night. Enobaria says the same, you wish her good luck when it comes to breaking the news to Wade. She rolls her eyes, “He’s going to be dramatic about it, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be awful. The real fun here is going to be telling Cashmere what Sanguin did.”

You both look to Gloss, “Yeah, she’s not going to be thrilled. You think the gamemakers will kill her?”

“If she starts licking blood off of her fingers, definitely.” you say, which earns a laugh out of your friends.

The second you step out of the betting room, you start feeling better. It’s fresh air from what you’ve been breathing for the past hour. While the hallway smells like stale concrete, it’s also more moist than it is inside, but not moldy. The inside of the betting room is dry, mostly because of the fact that it’s underneath the glass ceiling. If you were to describe it; dirt, sunlight, and dust. And if it’s particularly hot: sweat.

You don’t head straight up, opting for a few minutes to yourself before you ultimately have to explain what happened in the arena to Finnick. You’re sure that you won’t have to get into the gorey details, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t know the severity of it. Every couple of years, tributes like Sanguin come around, and it’s always a bloody ending. They always get stuck with some title like ‘Ruthless’ and take pride when other mentors steer clear.

Sometimes, you hear people debating whether or not you fall under that topic. And honestly, sometimes it’s hard for you to know, yourself.

You take the elevator up to the Four floor, holding onto the railing. You’ve seen more than your fair share of gorey moments inside and outside of the arena by now. At this point, you’re sure that you’re being tested to see how far you can be pushed before you snap. The truth is that you have an immeasurable amount of patience. It’s going to take a while.

The moment you get upstairs, you go ahead and turn the tv on and wait. Finnick had only come up here a little while ago, it wouldn‘t hurt to give him some more time before he’s subjected to a boring night. He can always just sleep down there, of course. But it’s more comfortable to sleep in your own bed, even if it’s just for a little while.

You take a seat on the couch, untie your shoes, and watch Annie. She’s talking to Marsh at the moment, mostly speculation on who died. Two tributes is a lot, considering all that’s happened. It isn’t until the anthem comes on, do they realize that they can just look into the sky and see who it was for themselves.

They both slip out just in time to see that Vanilee is one of the dead tributes from today. Annie grins slightly, elbowing Marsh. He elbows her right back, looking just as happy. And with Bauhinia showing up next, they head inside right after.

“Two careers.” Marsh whispers, “We ought to take them on ourselves.”

“Us and what army?” Annie asks.

They’re both quiet for a couple of minutes, until Marsh speaks again, “I think we could do it.”

“It’s a risk.”

“The entire Hunger Games is a risk. We knew that and volunteered anyway. What’s the harm in a little more?”

Annie doesn’t answer him, he drifts off to sleep. The truth is that if you’re not ready to go at it with a whole heart, you shouldn’t go into it at all. Annie is conflicted, you hope she doesn’t buckle just because Marsh is applying pressure. All it takes is one moment of hesitance with the careers now, and your tributes are screwed.

Still, you sit and watch for an hour or so longer, as the tributes settle into their spots. The moment that Sanguin says that she doesn’t want to take watch tonight, you’re at ease. You pick up your shoes by the back, and head up towards your room, right after telling the avoxes that you’ll be out to eat in a moment.

You drop your shoes off in your room. On your way over to wake up Finnick, you can hear the door close. It’s Elysia, dressed in sunshine yellow and pink. She gives you a slight wave before sitting down at the table. You continue on your adventure to Finnick’s room, gently knocking on the door before you open it.

Finnick is passed out on the bed, anyway. You stand there for a moment, hesitating on whether or not you should actually wake him up. You think that you’re just fine to keep going in the betting room for a while longer. If you take it easy after dinner, you should have loads of more hours in you. And you’ll actually get to see Cashmere and Wade for the first time in a couple of days.

However, it doesn’t work out like that. You go to turn and leave, but Finnick inhales sharply and sits upright on his bed, “Fucking Christ, you scared me.” He lets out a small laugh, and rubs his face, “That’s one way to wake me up.”

“Through your sixth sense?” You joke, Finnick snorts.

“Something like that.” He looks at you, “Anything wrong?”

“Just dinner time. And I should probably catch you up on what happened after you left. Get dressed, Elysia’s out here.” You flick on his lightswitch, since the room has grown dark without any natural light, and then you leave.

Elysia is at the table, food displayed all across it. She helps herself, giving herself small portions. Knowing her, she’s planning on trying everything at least once to try and not seem rude. You take your regular spot, and start out pretty light, not wanting to push yourself. You don’t know how much you’re going to be able to tolerate.

Finnick comes out a couple of moments later, wearing jeans and a black shirt. He sits beside you, but stares at the tv for a while, probably trying to figure out what happened exactly.

“Today was… eventful.” Elysia says, there’s a hint of distaste in her voice. You’re so glad that you got stuck with an escort that’s some form of sane. If you had one of those Capitol people that act like your former prep team when something bad happens, you would’ve murdered her by now. It makes for hard conversation when you’re at opposing sides.

“Finnick missed it.” You tell her, “Do you think there’ll be a recap of it?”

“Do you want to watch the recap?” She asks, face twisting, “Does he?”

You both barely glance at Finnick, who’s not very entertained by all the vagueness. It doesn’t even cross your mind that Elysia might be right and he wouldn’t want to watch someone literally get their back ripped out. You’ve seen the shit that Finnick has done, or watched when he was bored.

“Finnick’s got an iron stomach. Your back is to the tele anyway, you should be fine as long as you don’t turn around.” And you should be fine if you don’t watch the particularly bad parts. In the end, Elysia helps you rewind to when Bauhinia collapses in the bushes.

“This happened thirty minutes after you left.” You say, deciding that you should eat while you can.

Finnick doesn’t seem bothered at first, watching as the careers come around and start looking for her. It’s only their natural instinct, and it’s the same thing for when Bauhinia pushes herself to her feet. Finnick does react when he realizes that she’s going to run.

“Wow.” He says, pulling apart a honey roll, eating it in bits.

“It gets worse.” You say.

Elysia barely glances over her shoulder, apprehensive, “Much, much worse.”

Bauhinia runs, Finnick exhales. Sanguin shouts, collects the kama, and leaves Geare in the dust. He’s moving behind her, but not as quickly.

“She’s fast.” Finnick sounds impressed, “And so is Bauhinia.”

“Not fast enough.” You find your fingers twisting the ring, anxious.

Sanguin catches up, and the moment she comes to that quick stop, you hold your breath. The kama flies through the air, lodging into Bauhinia. Finnick tilts his head. The room falls silent, Elysia finishes her meal just in time for Sanguin to reach Bauhinia.

You turn your head away, but you’re still stuck with the sound of squelching and blood-curdling screaming. Finnick’s face twists, eyebrows pushing in, “How did Cecelia take it?”

“Left before this happened. Gloss tried to apologize, but she said she’d see us next year.”

“Probably not.” Finnick shakes his head, “And this went on for how long?l

Elysia turns the tv off, “Practically an hour.”

You two go back to eating, Elysia’s space is cleared. “Anything else happen?”

“Nine girl got a backpack this afternoon, just before I went down to see you. Her pick of the litter since the careers were absent from the cornucopia. Five boy is almost on the right side.”

Finnick chokes, “Already? When did he start heading that way?”

“Sometime during the great chase, the gamemakers showed all the tributes after the fact. Also, Marsh has proposed the idea of him and Annie going after the careers since they’re down a tribute. Annie doesn’t think it’s a great idea.”

“That’s because Annie has some common sense.”

“Yeah.” You agree.

Elysia stays out with you guys just long enough to pass on a few messages from Laurel and Pleurisy. It’s not anything important, just meaningless facts about their progress, they want to know your opinions on if your tributes still have a chance. Your answer is yes.

She goes to her room, Finnick finishes eating. You tell him that he can probably sleep for a while longer without having to go downstairs. You got confirmation from the careers that they weren’t going to try and go night hunting after what they’ve been through today.

“What're you going to do in your free time?” Finnick asks, you shrug and jab your thumb down the hall.

“Go outside and try not to puke.”

“Did it know you were so squeamish.” There’s a cheeky smile on his face.

You give him a look, and then disappear down the dark hallway. Your fingers find the doorknob, twisting it. The summer air is surprisingly cold, but surely refreshing. You take in a deep breath, and feel like an idiot almost immediately after. It’s air.

Finnick comes out right behind you, shutting the door. The city is calm, no one is in the streets celebrating an exciting day. You lean against the railing and take in deep breaths of air. It wasn’t a good idea to rewatch the recap, you’ve decided this now. Even if you weren't watching it directly, you still heard it all.

“Annie and Marsh are going to be okay.” Finnick says.”

“I think so too, as long as they don’t go running towards the careers. That’s a fight I don’t want to watch them lose. If you thought Sanguin on Bauhinia was bad, imagine what she’ll do to Annie.” You look at Finnick.

He hadn’t considered that, you can tell by the look on his face. He sighs, which turns into a yawn, “Well, Annie Can take care of herself.”

“Hopefully.”

“There’s no hoping, she can take care of herself.” Finnick pauses for a moment, “Imagine having Annie or Marsh in Victor’s Village. One of them could be our new neighbor.”

You snort, smiling, “Talk about a nightmare. My house already hosts practically everyone during the dinners, adding Annie’s family on top of that means we’ll have to get a bigger table. Or worse, build one ourselves.”

“Reed is handy!” Finnick laughs.

“He’s not handy, and neither is Mox.” You shake your head, the ide app either of them attempting to build a table is stupid. You’ll just have to find some sort of carpenter and hope that the dining room is big enough.

“How many people do you normally have over?” Finnick asks.

“Think you have a table?” You joke.

“Maybe.” He grins, “I’m just curious, honestly. Last time I went to one of your dinners, I was sixteen.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my entire family, which is four. And Caspian’s family, which is seven.” Finnick laughs, you chuckle slightly, “Sometimes Mayor Burrula and his family, which is four. Definitely Anchor…” you trail off, counting, “Sixteen people, give or take.”

“You’ll invite Anchor but not Mags?”

“Oh! I forgot Mags. She comes to our dinners every night, though. Guess I should count her as family at this point.”

“Anchor isn’t?”

You look at Finnick again to see that his eyebrows are raised, “Still curiosity?”

He shrugs, “Are you still dating?”

“No, not anymore.” you follow a car until it turns a corner, “We were only together for a couple of months… last christmas through August.”

“Huh, felt like longer.”

You give him a look, “How’d you even know?”

“I pay attention. Why’d you break up?”

You hum, “Well, for starters, he’s like five or six years older than me. He’s worked through all of his problems, and I’m not even done yet.” you pick at your nails, “He didn’t like seeing me stressed out all the time, either. He was there for me when I needed him but he thought that I was dragging him around like a weight.” you look back at Finnick, “Partially your fault, mostly mine because I don’t know how to chill out apparently.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Finnick says.

You make a face, and then punch his arm as hard as you can. Finnick’s still rubbing the spot when you go back to where you were standing before, “Anyway, asshole. Him and I still hang out when we can. I take care of Mags, he takes care of Luther.” you snort, “You and Scotch have something in common, can you guess what it is?”

“Fuck you.” Finnick’s laughing, “I’ve done my part this year!”

“After I nearly killed you three times.” you run a hand through your hair, getting it out of your face, “But yeah, Anchor and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Seeing someone else?”

You look at him, “Are you?”

Finnick shakes his head, “No, not yet.”

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

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