#and lucy just waited and waited as the sun set | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercurycft · 4 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 — 𝐋𝐁

## lucy bronze x reader!

Hello everyone! I’ve been working on this idea for a little while.. its definitely not my best work but i really liked writing this! Enjoy! Love always- RG! x

part 1 of 2! read part two here 2,603 words - this part is mostly build-up!

MATURE CONTENT & LANGUAGE WARNING 18+

The final stretch of the last training session before a break was always the worst, ending with all the girls heaving and sweaty as they piled back into the team changing room. It was Friday, and plans for the evening were already being finalised by the time you entered the room and made your way to your usual spot. Tucked away into the corner, happy to sit down and take off your boots before you heard your name hollered from within the fuss of conversation.

"Oi! Y/L/N, drinks at 8. You get no input or choice..." The voice belonged to Mary and was followed by a hound of laughs from around the room. Drinks were never your go-to, much preferring a takeaway and crap tv in the comfort of your own home. The girls knew this, so instead of asking - they would tell. You knew better than to fight it, laughing with them and nodding before throwing the group a sarcastic double thumbs-up as you placed your boots into your kit bag.

"I'll be there, Pre-drinks at Tooney's I'm guessing?" That was always the plan, meet at Ella's and either walk or get an Uber to wherever the group had decided to spend the remainder of the night. Your question was met with a couple 'obviously's and 'you know it's from the girls, who had now dispersed around the room and started packing their belongings away. You were packed up first, as per usual, and were sat chatting as everyone finished changing. Once everyone had grabbed what they needed and conversations were stalling to a halt, everyone made their collective way through the hall and out towards the front of the building. You, Ella and Alessia led the way, arms linked and phones in hand, already discussing the 'dress code' for the evening.

By the time you had finally made it home, battling through the usual city traffic it was nearing 4pm and all plans for an unrushed evening of preparing were out the window - so after dumping your bag in the kitchen you headed straight for the shower.

_________

The next two hours were spent rushing around your bedroom and flat, drying and styling your hair before applying your usual 'going out' makeup. Next came the clothes and after 6 failed attempts at outfits you had created in your head and two stressed glasses of whatever wine you had in the fridge, you settled on wide-leg jeans and a strapless bodysuit paired with a pair of comfy heels which gave you an extra couple of inches. After packing the essentials into the ridiculously small-seeming bag you had chosen and grabbing a jacket, you were finally ready to head out the door.

The journey to Ella's house wasn't long, 10 minutes at most, and the weather was in your favour - the sun starting to set and a gentle chill creeping through your clothes just as you had arrived at her front door. Holding a bottle of cheap wine close to your side, you rang the bell and waited, soon to be greeted by Alessia and ushered inside - music was already blaring from the kitchen where a few of the girls loitered. Ella grabbed the bottle from your grasp, pouring you a generous glass and placing the remainder into her fridge. "You look fit, mate!" She exclaimed as she turned back to you and passed your drink.

"Oh stop it, look at you Tooney." You said, holding your hand out towards her and feigning a dramatic gasp, you both fell into a burst of soft laughter and moved to join the rest of the group. You said your hello's, exchanging genuine compliments and stationed yourself by the sink, bringing the glass to your lips as the doorbell chimed through the house.

"Fucking hell, Luce! Didn't want to leave the rest of us a chance to pull then?" Ella squealed exasperatedly, throwing her hands up in fake annoyance and stomping back into the kitchen. You straightened up at the mention of the older right-back, taking another sip of your drink as she emerged into the room and said her hello's.

By the time she made it to you, you were sure you could draw her from memory. Watching her closely as she worked her way across the room - you noticed how the white shirt she wore was clinging to her arms and chest in all the right places, tucked neatly into a pair of slack-like trousers which sat loosely around her ankles to reveal a pair of crisp airforce. Before you could react she was in front of you, pulling you in with a gentle hand on the back and a warm smile, giving you a friendly cheek-to-cheek kiss and hug then pulling away and moving back into the centre of the room and retrieving her own drink.

She looked good and she was well aware, which made it so much harder to look away. Having to try your hardest to remind yourself of where you are and who she was. Her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, with her hair pulled back into her usual bun. You had always found her attractive - how could you not? She looked as if she had been carved by the Gods themselves, with smooth olive skin and muscles that put everyone else to shame.

You had always gotten along well, laughing and joking across the pitch during training. Sometimes meeting her eyes for a moment too long during conversations or humouring the lingering touches when you brushed past each other in social settings. Though nothing had ever come of it, that didn't mean you didn't enjoy the warmth of her hands on the small of your back or the way you seemed to fall into her eyes and stumble on your words when she would catch you off guard and today was no exception. You couldn't help but watch her as she worked the room, engaging in conversations.

When the last of the girls had arrived, the house was buzzing with the type of giddy excitement only alcohol could provide - everyone was a few drinks down now and it wasn't long before you were sat in a taxi heading into town.

_________

10pm rolled around and the drinks were flowing, empty glasses scattered across the table which a few of the girls sat around. Some were stood at the bar, ordering the next round and a few more occupied a section of the dancefloor. You, however, found yourself perched on a bar stool with a drink in hand, ear forward as Lucy told you a story about one of her former teammates. Trying your hardest to pay attention, but too focused on how close together you were.

You could feel her breath on your ear as she tried to speak over the music that rattled through the room. Her hand was placed just above your knee for leverage as she leaned over you and it was all you could think about. The smell of her perfume flooded your senses, disorientating the logical side of your brain which tried to scream through the cloud of subtle arousal that sat heavy behind your eyes. 'This is so unprofessional!' you were aware and you knew deep down this could ruin you - but the sweet smell of her skin was intoxicating.

Your train of thought was interrupted as your eyes refocused, grounding you back into the moment. Realising she now stood away from your ear, instead looking at you with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk across her lips. shit. caught red-handed. You stiffened when she leaned back towards your ear, "Am I boring you Y/L/N? Did you even hear what I said?" You hadn't. but she wasn't asking, she was taunting.

She watched you struggle for an answer, pure amusement plastered across her face. Putting you out of your misery she leant back in, this time pushing you further into your pit. Lips pressed cautiously against your lobe, "Strike one, darlin'." She muttered and you were sure you could feel her smirk against your ear before she departed entirely and you lost her in the crowd of bodies around you. strikes? what strikes? You wondered silently to yourself, bringing your drink to your lips as your eyes scanned the dark room but she was already gone.

_________

An hour later you found yourself on the dancefloor surrounded by your friends, who were all individually butchering an Amy Winehouse classic. As the song wrapped up to an end, you were pulled into a loose group hug - maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just the love you felt in that moment, but you couldn't explain the warmth that coursed through your veins as you looked at your people.

Before long a new song began, a low beat bounced off the walls and wrapped around the bodies on the floor. You didn't know the song but remained with the girls, swaying to the beat and laughing at some of their horrific dance moves. As the song hit the chorus you and Mary gravitated towards each other, dancing and laughing as you stood in front of her and attempted an awful twerk and grind move to the beat with her hands placed firmly on your hips. Both of you played into your roles, spilling your drinks as you did so and adding to the already sticky floor.

It wasn't unusual for the team to dance like this and it was very rarely serious when one of you was pressed back up against another, but today it felt different. One specific set of deep eyes stayed locked on your movements as Lucy watched from the opposite side of the group, tongue rolling along the inside of her teeth when you finally made eye contact from your compromising position. Through the darkness you could see her lips moving; she was talking - or at least mouthing something towards you. You couldn't connect the dots until she lifted her hand in front of her, showing you two fingers. "Two strikes."

What would happen at three? And why were you excited to find out?

_________

It was nearing 11 now and you stood at the bar, almost too close to a woman you had just met - sipping the fruity drink she had ordered you. Normally you would think twice about talking to someone at a bar, but tonight’s circumstances made it a thrilling game and you couldn’t wait to play. You knew she was watching, feeling her eyes bore into the back of your head but paying little attention while you focused on the task at hand. Lucy was standing a few feet behind you, between Ella and Leah who were trying to talk over the music. Lucy wasn’t interested though, her attention fixed on you and your new friend. Gripping her drink so tight she was sure it might shatter as she watched you lift a sly hand up and rest it on the stranger's shoulder. Lucy couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, internally confused at the sudden jealousy that burned deep in the pits of her stomach. Just as you were starting to think she had lost interest, a body was pressed to the side of you, pushing a wedge between yourself and the woman whose name you couldn’t even remember.

The game was no longer fun when Lucy ushered you around the room to say your goodbyes, excusing you both from the function. A few of the girls started to protest but she was quick to respond with “Y/N’s not feeling 100%, said I’d make sure she got home okay.” And that was enough for them. She held you close as you walked out into the street, whispering a small but steady “Third and final.” as she pulled you into a waiting taxi.

_________

The pair of you didn't even make it through the front door before she pounced, your key still in the lock when she had you pinned between her frame and the door. Her hands sat heavy on your hips, eyes locked on yours. "God, you've been drivin' me mental all night.." she groaned, scanning your features.

"Do something about it then," You pushed. This was new but unbelievably exciting, you had never seen her like this. Before you could speak again her lips were on yours. Rough and urgent, like she was scared someone would rip you right out of her grip. "Inside," You managed to mumble against her lips, unlocking the door and pulling her inside - not wasting any more time to attach your lips together again.

This time was different, a rage of hunger alight in the depths of your stomach. Your hands sat on the nape of her neck, lacing through the small amount of hair that had fallen from her bun throughout the night. Her hands couldn't settle, exploring your figure and fisting at the fabric that separated skin from skin. Somehow during this you had travelled through the hall and were now fighting through your bedroom door, shoes and jackets kicked off and discarded around the flat - highlighting your erratic path.

Once inside the safety of your bedroom, things seemed to slow. The initial hunger and speed now dimmed into lust. Yearning. She pressed rough but calculated kisses down your jaw, lingering below your ear for a moment before moving across your collarbones. The feeling made you shudder, holding her head in your hands.

She had you stripped in minutes, now pulled tightly against her in your underwear. "Jesus Christ Y/L/N are you trying to kill me here?" She murmured, thumb caressing the lace across your chest, tracing the shapes for a second before her eyes met yours. A moment passed and you were growing impatient, inhaling deeply when the pad of her thumb found your nipple through the thin fabric and circled gently. You could tell she was enjoying this, watching you shift your weight from side to side as she slowly broke you down.

"On the bed." You were quick to obey, laying down in front of her - on display. She made her way towards you, situating herself above you and lifting your legs to bend and sit beside her hips. She kissed you deeply, hands latched onto your thighs. The world seemed to melt away around you and all you could think about was the throbbing between your legs.

"Need you," You managed to croak out, hands pulling at the fabric of her trousers - desperate for some form of friction. She let out a cocky scoff from above you.

"I'm not sure you deserve it, love. Haven't been behaving, have you?" She spoke rhetorically, tutting and raising her hand to toy with your bottom lip. "And only good girls get rewarded.." She added lowly as her hand travelled down from your face, tugging at your bra and moving to take your nipple into her mouth. You let out a small moan when you felt the warmth of her mouth on you, legs constricting around her and your back arching into her touch.

You writhed beneath her as she moved between left and right, her hand now finding its way to your underwear. She had two fingers pressed against your clit through the fabric, letting out a soft hum against you when she felt your arousal through the barrier. "Got you all wet for me, hm?"

"Please," You whimpered, lifting your hips up towards her hand. Desperate for some relief for the ache, eyes glassed over with desire.

"Begging for it already and I'm only just getting started. What a shame.."

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delfiore · 7 months

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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (4/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: your start at barcelona is rockier than expected. luckily, you have ona there to support you through it.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: we're almost at the end guys final stretch!! this series is ending at part 5

PART I, PART II, PART III, PART V

“I forgot how fucking dreadful press days are.”

You had just returned home from an entire day of cameras shoved in your face and smiling until your cheeks hurt. It didn’t help that you were nervous as hell at a new club and country. To say your battery was spent was an understatement.

“Well then don’t get used to it, 'cause I’d be happy not to do any of the work that got you here,” Toni answered on the video call.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “I wanna stay here for a while. So, no need to worry.”

“Good. You deserve it, Y/N. You’ll do great.”

“Thank you for all that you do, Tones. I don’t thank you enough for putting up with me and my bullshit.”

“You can thank me by becoming top scorer this season?”

You grinned, “We’ll see.”

There was a different expectation of being a Barcelona player. You were presumed to integrate yourself into a team of champions and help prolong the club’s success.

These were high expectations, and with them came intensive physical and technical training. You had to adapt to a new style of play, new players with different sets of skills, not to mention having to settle into a whole new footballing culture. But you were where you are because you never backed down from a challenge, and this one was no exception.

It certainly helped that there were people you have played with at the club—Lucy, Keira, and, of course, Ona.

You felt her eyes on you as you finished a sprint on the training ground, slightly self-conscious as you were already sloppy and perspiring just from the warmup.

“Need some water, Y/L/N? You’re not already sweating, are you?” Lucy teased as she jogged past with a ball at her feet.

You pointed at the glaring sun. “Just gotta get used to the weather.”

“Well, ya better get used to it fast ‘cause I’m not gonna wait for you to catch up,” the English defender said before nutmegging you with a cackle.

“Oh, you’re fucking on!”

The laughter caught Ona’s attention. She looked over and saw you and Lucy fighting the ball off each other, your giggles rolling like a child’s yet your movements were fluid and expertly as if you were on the pitch. She couldn’t help but smile as her eyes followed your form, energized and youthful, your skin glistening under the sun.

The ball rolled to her, and she stopped it when the sole of her feet, before passing it back to you. Your giggles died down as you took the ball in your hands and tossed it over to Lucy.

“Hey,” you said with a lingering beam.

“Hi,” she returned your smile.

She lingered, watching the smile never leave your face as you jogged—practically bounced—over to Coach. You were much happier here, it was apparent. How could you not, when there is sunshine all year round in Barcelona? She could only hope she wasn’t the one to rain on your parade.

During a physical training drill involving two people, you were paired with her. Something about similar height and body weight, but she could only think about the way you were panting from the heat, and how you chugged your water like a parched man in the middle of the desert.

“Ready?” She smirked, handing the elastic band to you.

You huffed with a grin and put the band around your waist. “Don’t hold back.”

“Not planning on it.”

Somewhere along the session, Ona had forgotten all about her worries. Something had changed in you, or maybe she had never known the real you at all; the playful and charismatic part of you that you weren’t using to charm her, but it was just the way you were with people. It made her rue not cherishing you as you were before, and letting you slip through her fingers.

You were sprawled out on the grass like a starfish, heaving from the strenuous session. Several of your teammates were also on the ground, some sitting, some lying down as you were, so you didn’t feel too bad about being absolutely destroyed.

“You getting up anytime soon, partner?” A figure blocked the beaming rays of the sun, a short relief from the heat.

“Keep gloating,” you groaned and stood up, pulling your shirt up to wipe the sweat from your face. You knew your plan was working when you spotted her looking at your abdomen, your skin glowing and contoured in the light.

Hardly hiding your smirk, you grabbed a bottle of water, feeling a strange tightness in your thigh just as the session was brought to an end.

“Everyone, gather around,” Mapi waved her hands. “We’re hosting a little party to celebrate a new season at ours. Saturday night, 7 o’clock, BYOB, and a potluck vibe. Whatever you can bring, okay?”

“As long as there won’t be another fire like last time, we’re all good,” said Rolfö with a smirk.

“That was one time, okay? And it wasn’t even that bad,” Mapi protested.

“It almost burned your pretty little face off,” Pina teased.

“Hey, you alright?” You heard Ona whisper next to you. She must have noticed the way you were grimacing and grabbing at the back of your leg.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just feeling a little tight right here.” It was the spot in which your hamstring was injured a couple of years ago.

“Okay, let’s go to the physio,” Ona offered you her arm.

“Oh, it’s okay. I can find my way there.”

Ona hesitated. She suddenly realized how this must have looked for her; either an overly concerned and attentive teammate or an appropriately concerned and attentive lover.

“Do you . . . not want me to come with you?” She asked, her voice quiet and almost inaudible over Mapi frantically defending herself.

“Well, I . . . I don’t want to bother you.”

“It won’t be a bother,” she was astonished to know you thought you could ever bother her. “Promise.”

You nodded and walked with her to the physio quarters. All the while, Ona was walking a step behind you just in case you needed her assistance. When you arrived, a couple of the physios greeted you heartily in Catalan, and Ona was quick to jump in and translate when you looked at her for help.

“We’ve got a feeling this might happen, given her history with that hamstring injury. Tell her to lie down, I’ll have a look.”

You grimaced as the physio felt your thigh, digging his fingers into your flesh, your soft groans stirring a hidden part in Ona. There was a time when she was the one to dig her digits into your thighs. She knew you liked it when did because you would always make your pleasure known.

“He said you’ll be okay, Y/N. Just have to remember to stretch thoroughly before and after physical exercise.”

You sighed and pouted, as you rested your chin on your folded arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I just came to a new club, I don’t want this to slow me down,” you blew air out of your mouth. “I just don’t wanna let anyone down.”

“You won’t, Y/N,” Ona took a stool and sat in front of you. “I know any club would be happy to have you at 70%, much less at your full capacity.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Is this your attempt at making me feel better after everything?”

Ona stuttered, gawking at your comment. Your grin never faltered, and you tilted your head, taunting her.

“I guess I deserved that,” she chuckled quietly, feeling warmth creep up her cheeks.

“I’m just kidding, Ona. I wanna get past it, really,” your eyes softened. “It was causing unnecessary stress and . . . I don’t wanna feel like that anymore.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“No, please. Don’t apologize anymore. I know you’re sorry.”

“Okay, sorry,” she cringed as soon as it came out. “Okay.”

“I want us to start over. As friends.” You said, extending a hand towards her, dangling it in front of her face. “After all, I feel like we should at least be friendly if we’re playing on the same team now, right?”

She wanted nothing more than to scream in your face and tell her how much she wanted you, how much she wanted to wake up in the morning and find you in the bed next to her, to make you coffee and hold you and kiss you and tell everyone on the team about it because she would be so proud to be yours, to tell you that there hasn’t been a day since she left Manchester that she didn’t wish she could go back and tell you how she really felt.

Instead, she nodded and took your hand. “Yeah, okay.”

It wasn’t just her decision anymore, it never was. And yet, she decided anyway and had to live with it.

As the season rolled on, you found yourself slipping sometimes. You would think about Ona and the time you spent together, but you also cherished what you had now. You were teammates, but you were also friends. You supported and helped each other during training and matches, just as good teammates should. Maybe it was easier that way, but you yearned to be close to her again.

Keira insisted that the best thing you could do was to go on dates and go on dates you did. You went on so many dates in the span of a month that all the faces seemed to have blurred together. A couple of them became one-night stands, but none turned out to be anything meaningful, not when you only had one person in the back of your mind, hard as you tried not to act on them.

They reminded you of Leena, how shitty you handled the situation by basically fleeing the country. You had called her a few times, and left a few messages, wanting to talk and apologize, but none of them were answered. You tried her Instagram, but she had blocked you on there too. You didn’t blame her, and maybe reaching out now was only giving you the closure you needed to move on, but you wanted to do it because you believed Leena deserved an apology for everything she’s done for you.

So you texted Gio, letting him know what happened. He wasn’t pleased when you told him, not exactly liking that you had disrespected his friend, but agreed to pass a message along.

“Hello, Coach. Tough loss today. What do you think was the main factor in Barça’s defeat today?” “Well, it’s never fun to go through a loss, and we all have a lot of work to do. I can’t comment as to why we’ve lost—I’d have to watch it back—but we simply were not the better team today.” “What do you think of Y/N Y/L/N’s performance? There were several chances that she’s missed today, and she hasn’t made an impression at the club quite yet. Have you had any reassessments about this signing at all?” “To evaluate a player’s performance this early is simply unfair. Some players hit the ground running right away, but some don’t. It doesn’t mean they are doomed. Y/N has shown time and time again that she is a world-class player, and I have full faith that she will become an integral part of our squad.”

Barcelona hadn’t won in five games. It was starting to worry the board. You knew it was a team sport, and that if you lost, it meant multiple people were doing something wrong. But you started all five of those games, and you missed a lot of chances and passes. It made you think it was your fault somehow.

You turned off the press conference you were watching of Jonatan’s. Even though he didn’t show it, you knew he was stressed, trying to find a fault in the system. You wished you knew the answer, but you didn’t, because you were trying your best and it still didn’t seem to be good enough.

“Alright, girls.” Alexia clapped her hands together as she stood in the middle of the dressing room. “We lost. Big deal. Feel the sting, and let it pass over you. If you don’t, we might as well just give up on the title now. We can’t do that. We’re champions. The reason why we are is that we are strong enough to get back up, time and time again. That’s what makes us champions.”

Your eyes darted toward Ona sitting across the dressing room with her head in her hands. There were two goals out of the four the team conceded that came from the right flank, where Ona was covering. The moment those goals hit the net, you had the urge to yell, but seeing the way her shoulders sagged as she dejectedly looked away absolved you of any anger you felt.

You remembered the nights you spent consoling her over losses that could have gone either way. She blamed herself for every defeat she had suffered, finding every fault that she had contributed to, and today was no different.

“Hey,” you knelt in front of her.

She looked up at you, and you knew she had been crying from how red her face was.

You offered her a sad smile. “Look around you. There’s something worse than being sad, and that’s being alone and sad. You’re not alone.”

Placing a firm hand on her knee, you rubbed her skin softly. She laughed quietly, and you remembered how it was to kiss her. It was so long ago, but the traces of it still haunted you before you closed your eyes at night. It wouldn’t be good for either of you now. Plus, everyone was here.

“Did you just quote Ted Lasso at me?”

“Yeah, but he ain’t wrong.”

Looking around the room at the sullen faces of your teammates, you couldn’t help but feel grateful that they were all here, united by the same emotions. But you still couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling in your stomach that you might have been the problem. The moment you came to the club, Barcelona went on its worst streak in years? Was it the inevitability of a club’s success running its course, or that you had come in and fucked it all up? You knew the answer, of course, and you hated the anxiety that followed.

But you were Y/N Y/L/N, and you never backed down from a challenge, and it wouldn’t be fun if there were none.

It felt like everything you were doing, it was all wrong. Jonatan had sent you in to utilize your dribbling, but you felt like every time you tried, the opposition would mercilessly cut you off. You felt helpless, seeing the way your teammates attempted to hide how annoyed they were you had lost possession again, this time from a quick pass to the flank from Aitana. You were subbed off halfway through the second half to make way for Salma, who managed to salvage a point with an equalizer later in the game.

You sat on the bench, watching your teammates fight on, feeling dejected and trying not to cry before you could get to the dressing room. Patri, who had also been subbed off, put her arm on your shoulder and rubbed it soothingly.

Whilst you were coming off, you heard boos coming from the stands, from Barça fans, calling you names, telling you to go back where you came from. You bit your lip, and kept your head down, so people wouldn’t see your tears and make fun of them too.

You excused yourself at the final whistle to find a bathroom you could hide in. Why was it so hard for you to receive those passes? You had never had trouble with passing before.

Looking in the mirror, you saw a face looking back with pity. But it wasn’t you, not really. It was the insecure child you were years ago, the one whose ambitions were driven by fear of abandonment. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her bottom lip jutting out and quivering, her chest rose and fell like she awaited the world to close in on her and swallow her whole.

Your breathing picked up, and you started pacing back and forth, breathing heavily out of your mouth. Your hands shook as you mumbled to yourself to get your shit together. The breaths you drew grew faster and shallower until you sunk to your knees on the cold tiles and wept. You didn’t know how long you were there. It could have been minutes, or hours until two arms wrapped around you tightly.

You looked up, panicked, but it was just Ona. Still, you stood up and walked away from her attempting to hide your tear-stained face, but she insisted, pulling you into her.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” She said, over and over. “Look at me.”

So you looked. You were so tired of fighting, you just wanted to go home. Her eyes darted back and forth between yours, hard at first trying to get you to stop being stubborn, but then they softened, seeing you fall apart like this.

“This feels oddly familiar, doesn’t it?” She said.

You sniffled, and let out a tearful laugh before launching yourself into her arms. She stood there holding you while you cried until you were too tired to continue.

Winter could have come and gone in Barcelona and you would have never noticed. Still, the Catalans were big on Christmas, at least the ones you knew were. Everyone had been talking about their holiday plans, much of it involved big dinners surrounded by family and/or drinking until you passed out, but you thought about the vacation you would be taking somewhere warm. Mexico perhaps, the Maldives, or back to good ol’ Ibiza.

So when Ona invited you to come back to Vilassar de Mar to spend Christmas with her and her family, you had an important decision to make. You knew how it looked, but things were far from how they appeared between you. After that game away, you had found it easier to confide in Ona about things; little things, big things, it didn’t matter, Ona was always there to listen. In return, you lent her your ears and maybe a shoulder to lean on. You had almost become something like friends.

Ona’s childhood home was no grand castle, but it was warm and loving. Her parents and brother greeted you like you were family right from the moment you stepped through the door, taking your suitcase and jacket from you. Her father, claiming to be a big fan of yours, asked for your autograph and you could only happily indulge him.

“Please, our home is yours,” her mother said, leading you inside.

“Told you they could be a lot,” Ona murmured with a grin.

“What do you mean? I’m being treated like royalty! I’m not complaining,” you smirked and she rolled her eyes.

Her mother led you and Ona to her childhood bedroom, a small room littered with posters and trophies sitting on a shelf at the foot of her bed.

Just then, her mother gasped quietly as if remembering something, and spoke to Ona in Spanish. She stuttered for a few seconds, then turned to you. “My mom’s saying you could take this room and I’ll sleep in Joan’s. He’ll take the couch if that’s—”

“Oh, no, no, please. I feel bad enough that you guys are hosting me, I can’t just kick your brother out of his room.” You shook your head quickly. “I could sleep here if that’s okay.”

Ona nodded gingerly and relayed the message to her mother, who was fully understanding and left you both to unpack.

The door clicked shut, and you looked over to Ona, who had lifted the corner of her mouth looking back at you.

Aitana came to visit on the 23rd, claiming it was always a treat to hang at the Batlles because she always leaves well-fed. You could attest to that, as the dinners they served you were mouth-watering, and you found yourself thinking about the next one the moment you opened your eyes in the morning.

You had helped Ona’s mom with juicing some lemonade to bring out to everyone relaxing in the backyard or—in Ona and Aitana’s case—passing a football around. Quickly setting the lemonade down on the table—much to Mrs. Batlle’s dismay—you sprinted towards the girls and took the ball from Ona’s feet.

She stuck her tongue out at you and walked towards the table, taking a glass of lemonade for herself.

“Would it be so hard to admit to what you’re both denying yourself?”

You chuckled quietly at Aitana’s words. “It feels more like deprivation than denial.”

“Ona loves you, Y/N.” She said, watching Ona on the other side of the yard conversing with her brother.

“Did she tell you that?”

“I’ve known the girl ever since we were 15,” she shrugged. “And yes, she cried to me last year about you.”

You chuckled. “Well, the feeling is definitely mutual.”

“But . . . ?”

You glanced at her and sent a wordless smile, plopping your sunglasses back on before joining the Batlles for their daily lemonade. Aitana watched you to the table, picking up on Ona quickly handing you a glass, and brushing hair out of your eyes as you drank. Idiots, she thought, the both of them.

Looking back, there was not a single moment during your time in Vilassar de Mar that you weren’t holding your breath every time you were in the same room as Ona. It made you seek out her mom, and hang with her more than you did with Ona. You were also able to pick up some more Spanish, as it was the only way you could effectively communicate with her. You didn’t want to toot your own horn, but her mom did call you an aprendiz rápida, a fast learner.

“Your parents have outdone themselves once again,” you said, leaning against the window. “I wish I grew up with the stuff you guys eat here. Christmas would be so much more fun.”

“Did you like the caga tío too?” Ona grinned and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Best thing ever. It poops nougat!” You said excitedly and shook your head.

As your laughter died down, you could hear slurred singing and laughing outside the window somewhere down the street.

“I can’t remember the last time I was this happy,” you said, a ghost of a smile remaining on your lips.

Ona looked out the window, smiling too. “It’s why I always go home whenever I feel down. If I can’t go home, I’ll bring my family to me.” She was sitting next to you now, her arms folded and propped on her thighs. “You’re always welcome to visit. I’m sure they love you more than they love me now.”

“Well, I’d be surprised if they could resist my charm,” you grinned and pushed her shoulder. “I envy you, Ona. Your family’s fantastic.”

“You’ve never told me about your family before,” she said.

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” you shrugged. “Mom and Dad never really cared about me anyway. The only good thing they did for me was sign me up for football and let me leave home to go to my youth club.

They used to go to my games because they were obligated to. The moment I turned 18, they never felt the need. Sometimes I just want to win a game, then look into the stands and see them wearing my shirt, cheering me on, be proud of me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Ona offered, bumping her knee against your own.

“Don’t be. If they’re not, you shouldn’t be,” you smiled sadly.

Your gaze shifted to her face, seeing the way she studied you, just like that day in the tunnel. Ona was an observer, and it was apparent whenever she was. It was why she was so good at the game; she absorbed like a sponge and repeated what she learned like it was nothing.

Her eyes darted back and forth between your own, and you smiled, watching her nuzzle into her arm, yet leaning in ever so gently.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

“Is this wise?” You raised an eyebrow at her, grinning.

“No,” her voice came out as barely a whisper, “but I know it’s not wrong.”

She was right. It shouldn’t be wrong to feel the way you did. From the beginning, it’s always been her.

You were depriving yourself of the one missing piece in your life, but you were afraid of getting hurt again. But you wanted to be loved so badly, and you didn’t want anyone else.

#ona batlle imagine #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle angst #one batlle #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #aitana bonmati #lucy bronze #woso imagines

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runningfrom2am · 5 months

Text

leveling the playing field XIII

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: nothing much to say other than thank you guys and i hope you like it :)

series masterlist

You think you might die from this heat. The ice bag that Coryo brought you only lasted so long, especially when you shared it with the covey, which cut its window of efficacy in half. Both of you trailed behind everyone on the way to the lake, besides for Maude Ivory who found a very comfortable spot on Coryo's back. You should have thought to buy her some new shoes before the several-hour hike, but you didn't think that would be of consequence.

"How is Sejanus?" You ask, making conversation as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You'd like to gauge if Coryo knew anything more about your mutual friend's habit of hanging around with the wrong people.

"He's... yeah. He's fine." Coryo sighs, adjusting his hold on Maude Ivory's legs around his waist as he steps over a tree root.

"You don't sound so sure." You laugh, tilting your head up at him.

The bruise on your cheek wasn't red anymore, now healing into a yellowish hue that Coryo could hardly tear his eyes away from. He wishes you were still in the habit of wearing makeup every day, then he wouldn't have to stare down the result of his failure every time he looked at you. He shakes his head. "Well, I'll tell you about it later."

You just nod, looking down at the ground in front of you to make sure you don't trip. Now it was your turn to wish that the two of you could talk about what's going on between you. Whatever Sejanus is up to with Billy Taupe reminded you that even though you're far away from the chains of the Capitol, you still weren't entirely free. Even if now it was just free of the prying ears of a little blonde girl who loved to talk. "If you could change one thing about your routine right now, what would it be?" You ask, looking up at him again and squinting at the sun as it breaks through the trees above you.

Coryo draws his head back for a moment, confusion washing over his features at the seemingly random question. "Uh, everything. Next question."

"Ah-ah," You shake your head, hair falling into your face which you quickly pull back again. "Only one thing."

"Okay, fine." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Um... not sure, honestly. Maybe I'd have more success trapping those damn Mockingjays." He grumbles, looking up into the treeline.

You laugh, rubbing over the mostly healed scratches on your arms. "Nothing yet, huh?" Up until the point that you forgave him, you had gone out every night for almost a week, having learned a better system for opening the traps that didn't result in them cutting up your arms with their claws. Not so much as a thank you from the birds that apparently could speak, until you had started to thank yourself every time you reached around the side of the traps to open the metal, just so they would echo it back to you. You knew it was crazy, but it had become a fun semblance of a normal routine.

"Not one. Hardly any Jabberjays either, we think someone was setting them free in the night, they were easier to trap at first." He replies, smiling at you despite his frustrations about it. He couldn't wait until they could catch enough for Dr. Kay so he could start shooting them instead. "Rebels, most likely."

"That's annoying." You laugh, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. "Why would they care about some birds?" It was a stupid question to pose, to poke holes in his only theory when it didn't already point back to you.

"They're hardly more than animals themselves." He grumbles, shrugging. "No, actually, I'd probably spend more time with you, if I could." He changes his answer and effectively, the topic as well. At this, Maude Ivory lifts her head from his shoulder.

"Are you guys in love?" She asks, turning her head so she can look at you now.

"Oh, no." Your cheeks burn as you laugh, shaking your head. "It's complicated big kid business, Maude Ivory."

"That's enough." Coryo chuckles nervously, spinning her on his hip and carefully putting her down. "Go bother the others."

The girl giggles, walking backward in front of you with her shoes in her hand. "It's why, I love you, you're as pure as the driven-" She starts to sing a song you were writing with Lucy Gray, knowingly taunting you, but you're quick to cut her off.

"Hey! Don't!" You laugh quickly, pretending to push her forward so she'll run along. "They've got some thin walls in that house..." You chuckle quietly, avoiding his gaze as you watch her run up ahead.

After a few moments of silence, Coryo speaks again. "What about you? What would you change?"

"Can I be uncreative and say the same thing as you?" You ask, cheeks still red.

"Sure." He nods slightly, a small smile on his face.

"Great, because those birds are starting to get on my nerves." You joke, bumping your shoulder against his arm.

He smiles, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I hate you too."

"Oh, hush. You know I love you." You freeze up as soon as you say it, suddenly it holds a lot more weight to it than your typical friendly banter.

At that, Coryo drapes his arm over your shoulder with a satisfied smile, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Can you tell me about Sejanus, now?" You ask, head placed on Coryo's lap as you lay on the dock. You had been out of the water for a little while, now, utilizing the sun to dry your wet hair and skin.

He looks back up to the cabin, seeing Lucy Gray and the rest of the covey scattered and picking plants or lying in the grass. "Uh, he just keeps sneaking off, and I found a good bit of money in his locker, but he told me he was broke so... I don't know what he's up to."

You sigh. "I've seen him hanging around Billy Taupe a lot. They're a sketchy crowd in the nicest of terms."

"Well, he is district. It doesn't surprise me that he'd associate with them." Coryo explains, distracted in a weak attempt at braiding a small section of your hair.

"He's gonna get himself killed." You mutter, eyes closed to block out the sun. You couldn't tell Coriolanus about how you ran into Sejanus a couple of weeks ago, knowing he would ask questions about why you were out at that time too. It's easier to lie to Sejanus than to him.

"It's not our problem if we stay out of it." Coryo tries to ease your mind.

"We can't just stand by and watch, though. It'll eat my conscience alive if something were to happen to him."

Coriolanus looks down at you, watching your calm expression form into something resembling worry. He chews on the inside of his cheek and nods to himself. He would have to do something, if Sejanus ended up getting in some kind of trouble, the guilt of knowing without acting will kill you. "Okay. I'll figure something out. I'll get him to keep his distance." He promises.

Days had passed since that interaction, and Coriolanus is crippled by the fear that he made a horrible mistake. He got the full story from Sejanus, and it was worse than he pictured.

You liked Sejanus, at least you acted like it when he was around. Coriolanus could always see that the district-born boy meant something to you, even if it was unclear based on the way you spoke about him when he wasn't present. Him running off into the woods with a bunch of derelect rebels was far from a viable option, Coriolanus wouldn't have it. He couldn't risk your reaction knowing that he told you he would do something to intervene.

He needed to talk to you. You were the only one he could trust to tell about the Capitol-bound recording he sent off of Sejanus' confession, or the news that his family had been kicked out of their apartment back home. He wasn't even sure he wanted to tell you. Coryo had been fighting this internal battle for what felt like ages, so maybe he could just include the basics, leave out his actions, and let you lift some of the tensions from his shoulders by telling him it would be okay. That it would all be over soon, and that you're proud of him for passing his exam. He could get the two of you out of this dump by the end of next week, and he couldn't get you away fast enough.

Unfortunately for him, when he finally arrived at the Hob on his night off you were already on stage with the Covey. You were laughing, dancing and spinning, occasionally joining Maude Ivory on her hip drum while Lucy Gray sang. The crowd loved you, and you loved the attention. He'd be lying to himself if he tried to say he didn't love watching you so happy, but the timing was inconvenient at best.

Coryo found his usual spot against the wall, sitting down next to Sejanus. He wasn't about to let him out of his sight, not anymore.

"Give it up for our friends in the band!" He smiles at Maude Ivory's excessive spirit as she holds her arms out to encourage applause before her eyes lock on him. Her face lights up more, somehow, and he greets it with a nod.

She turns to you while music is slowly tuning out, and gives a slight tug on the bottom of your new dress. It had been scuffed up in your fight with Ash, but you had cleaned it up nicely- hardly a stitch was out of place.

You look down at the girl, who just gives a slight nod in the direction of the wall Coryo was sat against. "He's here, you gotta sing it now!" Maude Ivory says, loud enough so you could hear but not enough to be picked up by the mic behind her.

You look very briefly over at Coryo, shaking your head at her as your cheeks turn rosy. "He's never gonna hear it." You say, leaning down to her level. "Who even says its about him, huh?"

"You can't trick me, Sage." She giggles, pointing at your nose.

"C'mon, lets do it!" Lucy Gray chimes in encouragingly as you stand back up. "I'll play for you. All you gotta do is sing."

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head again. "No, I-"

"Now, welcome back for her second performance with us, Sage! She's gonna take us over for a minute here. I promise, y'all are in for a real treat." You're interrupted by Maude Ivory making the announcement for you. Internally you cuss, plastering on a nervous smile.

"It's beautiful, you gotta relax." Lucy Gray says in your ear, already adjusting her hold on her guitar. "If I can sing a breakup song to the whole country, you can sing a love song just to the folks in this room. C'mon." She smiles, nodding for you to take the mic as Maude Ivory bows you in.

You'd played this song a bunch back at the Covey's home after Lucy Gray caught you humming the abstract tune of a lullaby your mother used to sing to get you to sleep when you were little. You didn't remember a single word, but the melody was enough for her to recreate and embellish it into one of their songs, to which she insisted you help her write the words for.

Coryo is leaning forward, elbows rested on his knees as he watches you. From what he knew, you weren't much of a singer. The redness evenly spreading across your cheeks and nose in time with the intro music was evidence enough of that.

"Sing for us, sweetheart!" Someone from the crowd calls out, which is matched with whistles that force Coryo to sit up to try and get a look at who the hell is yelling at you. His jaw is seized until he hears your voice echoing through the large room, drawing his gaze back to you on the stage.

"I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary. It's why I need you, you're as pure as the driven snow..." You look over his way only briefly while you sing the first round of the chorus, trying not to let your voice catch from the nervousness still pumping through every inch of your body.

He knows it before you're finished, but the last word, the one you didn't let Maude Ivory get to on the way to the lake, makes his heart flip in his chest. The eye contact he made with you as you said his name was so heavy with everything you've ever wanted to say to one another but never had, and he completely swells with pride knowing that it was about him.

"Cold and clean, swirling over my skin..." The inclination, again, to shout to everyone that you were his girl was immense and overtaking. Just like the first time, but now he knew it for sure. He was positive."You cloak me, You soak right in, down to my heart."

By the time you render the final verse, his whole world has changed."It's why I trust you, you're as pure as the driven snow..."

I'm gonna marry her.

He's up as soon as the song is over, heading for the back of the stage as you take your bow. Your smile is wiped when you look up and he's no longer there, and neither is Sejanus. Worry pools in your insides as you scan the crowd, giving a rushed smile to Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory as you jump down. You hurry to the back of the stage, brow furrowed as you search for Coryo.

By some miracle, he's there. If you're not mistaken, he's got tears in his eyes as he strides up to you quickly, the stage lights leaking past the stage to illuminate him just enough. His pace and his intense expression only worry you more. "Is everything-" You ask frantically, only for your question to be disrupted by his actions.

Coryo takes a deep breath, and then, as soon as you're within reach, he cups your face in his hands and leans in. The world around you seems to fade as his lips meet yours in a passionate, long-awaited kiss.

Time stands still, and in that moment, everything falls into place. The worries that plagued him when he walked in completely dissolved as he felt your hair in between his fingers. When he finally pulls away, a small smile graces his face.

You're both breathing heavily as you stare at each other, and it's then that you realize he wasn't crying due to any kind of upset. He was crying because of you. With a smile so real that you could feel the sun on your back, even late at night in this dim building hundreds of miles from the comfort of your collective home.

"Coryo..." You say, smile fading as you regain perceptions of your real life.

"I know, and I have so much to tell you..." He grins, leaning down to kiss you again.

It was your turn to interrupt, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks. Tracks you so desired to follow, wherever they may take you, but right now you had bigger concerns. "No, no it's... where is Sejanus?"

He pauses, and it's like the spell is broken as he straightens his posture, looking around as if Sejanus should be right there. "Uh... shit." He had completely forgotten about his friend as he fell under the trance of your voice, of the song you were singing to him.

You're quickly out from under his arms, walking back around the side of the stage to go look for your friend.

"Coryo-" You stop, and he's right on your heels as you turn back to him, pointing toward the back wall. "Go check the bar. Keep an eye out for Billy Taupe. Obviously. He's probably with him." You instruct and he nods to you quickly before beginning to push his way through all the drunk people in the crowd.

You try and scan the sea of faces, but you don't see Sejanus anywhere. The music the Covey is playing is loud, drowning out any hopes you had of being able to shout for the boy. You could follow Coryo in the search, but that would no doubt just waste time. You groan, pushing your hair back out of your face in frustration. You shouldn't have stopped Coryo from kissing you again, if Sejanus wants to be reckless you should just let him. The two of you already saved his life once, was that not enough for him?

You glance down the deserted hallway to your right, and then your feet are carrying you toward the back room in an instant. You turn the corner and push the sliding door open when you hear shouting coming from the other side. "What the fuck is going on?" You ask, eyes flitting between Sejanus, and the two other boys in the room, alongside a girl who who you vaguely recognize.

"Y/N?" Sejanus asks, turning back to you quickly.

"Y/N..." The girl mutters to herself, rolling the name around in her mind and on her tongue. You can see it in the way she's looking at you. You ignore it, eyes locked on your friend now.

"I told you to not get involved in things you shouldn't, didn't I? Didn't Coryo?" You scold him, gesturing to the door.

"It's not- I didn't know they were going to buy weapons! It's not what I wanted, they told me the money was only for supplies, that no one would get hurt!"

"These are supplies." Billy Taupe's friend, Spruce, replies.

"Why would you trust them!" You spit, pointing vaguely at the other people in the room.

"Listen, Princess-" Billy Taupe starts, a bitter taste to his tone just as the door slides open again. Coryo's frame is blocking your view of the boy in a second, tucking you carefully behind his back.

"Talk to me. Not her." He hisses, and you grab his arm. The feeling of his skin under your palms is comforting, warm, and tense in your grip. "What are you doing, guns, Sejanus?" He turns his attention to your classmate.

"Coriolanus, I didn't know this is what they would do, they lied to me-" Sejanus starts his pleads for help again on a separate set of ears.

Unsurprisingly, his response is almost identical to yours. "You thought they would be honest? What are you doing? There are peacekeepers right outside!"

"That's what I said." You mumble in exasperated agreement "Why did you even give them money at all?" You ask, hoping to get some answers.

"Sejanus wants to run off with these dimwits into the woods up north," Coryo explains to you.

"What?" You ask, shocked, looking past him at the boy you've known for years. The thought of never seeing him again pulls at your heartstrings in a way you're unfamiliar with. "You can't. Absolutely not."

"You're not my Ma, Y/N!" Sejanus spits.

"Wait, I know you." The girl cuts in, pointing at you. "You're that missing girl. From the Capitol. Y/N Y/L/N. My dad got a call about you!"

You freeze up at the accusation, biting your tongue as you look up at Coryo. A memory flashes in your mind, that's why you recognize her. She's the girl who Lucy Gray dropped a snake on in the reaping- the mayor's daughter. "Huh?" You ask, trying to look as confused as possible.

"Don't play dumb, we're past that." She scoffs and you just shake your head.

"Genuinely, don't know what you're talking about." You relax your posture, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Well," She sighs, shrugging sarcastically. "I'll go tell my dad where you are. Your family sure is missin' you..." She starts to take a few steps before the back exit and you clench your jaw at her smug smile. You want to rip the hair out of her head and throw her body in the lake to rot.

"Mayfair, you can't leave." Billy Taupe scolds her, grabbing her arm which she quickly yanks away.

"This is ridiculous and confusing, and you act like I don't see the way you still look at Lucy Gray! Why don't you take her with you instead, huh?"

"She is coming, isn't she?" Spruce asks, seeming just as confused as you in a completely opposite way.

"You were bringing Lucy Gray?!" Mayfair shouts, shaking her head at her (now presumably) ex-boyfriend.

"She said she wanted to come!" Billy Taupe defends and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Okay, so clearly there's some major communication issues in this gang of misfits you've found, Sejanus, so let's just go and leave them to it. It won't benefit you to be stuck in the wilderness with a bunch of starving idiots who will kill each other in a week if they get too lazy to hunt." You plead with him and he shakes his head at you.

"Y/N, wait-" Coryo says, looking back at you only briefly.

"Yeah, Capitol Princess is right. I'm out." Mayfair says, raising her hands in defeat and turning to leave. "You'll all hang for this!"

"This power trip you have about your father being the mayor pales in comparison to what my family has. You'll all be dead by the morning if you say a word." You tell her, voice calm as she freezes, turning to look back at you.

"She's all talk, she won't tell anyone." Billy Taupe tries to defend her from the tensions rising in the room. You were concerned about getting sent home, of course, but if she told about their plans to run, everyone in the room would be executed come the morning light.

"Oh, you think I'm scared of you, Sage? You think I won't tell? Ask Lucy Gray." She's right, Lucy Gray had told you about how this girl was responsible for the reaping being rigged to result in Lucy Gray's death in the games. What they never accounted for was her strength, her intelligence, and her having Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Y/L/N as mentors.

And how Lucy Gray became a victor, known initially to most of the Capitol for her similarities to you. Only, Lucy Gray wasn't bat shit crazy.

Coryo's mind is reeling at the threat made to you as the girl starts to walk away. Within a second, before you can even make a move to tackle her, he's reaching onto the table and grabbing one of the guns. He lines up quickly and squeezes the trigger, letting the bullet fly square into the center of the girl's back. His training had paid off sooner than he thought. Coriolanus wasn't about to have you caught, sent back to a home much worse than that safety hazard at the edge of the Seam where you're currently staying.

"Mayfair!" Billy Taupe is quickly at the girls side, but she's already dead. Sejanus is shaking, and you are fighting back the smile that threatens to form on your lips despite the stress of the moment. "What have you done?" He screams at your friend.

"She was gonna get us all killed!" You defend. "You should be thanking him! Trust me, she was nothing special."

"You've got something comin', Capitol boy." He says, shaking his head as he looks up at the two of you, hatred filling his eyes. "You think you're gonna blame me for this? That you'll never get caught?"

You resist the urge to just shrug, agreeing that no, probably not. Undeniably, your best move would be to blame him. "He was defending all of us, can you not get that through your thick skull?" You settle on, keeping your footing as level as possible as Coryo pulls you back closer to his side again.

"If I swing, for this you will with me!" He screams in anger, back on his feet and moving quickly towards you as Coryo shoves you back behind him, lining up again. He didn't have to shoot, though, because Spruce does. The boy's body flings into the wall to the left of you from the force of the impact, slumping against the floor.

Your heart is pounding as you look between your two friends. "Sejanus, are you alright?" You ask, trying to approach him as Coryo starts shouting orders at Spruce to get rid of the guns.

"Hey, he's fine." Coryo grabs your arm, pulling you close to him to look at you. "I'm gonna handle this. Get back out there and sing, play the violin, just do something, okay?"

You glance back at Sejanus again, who is clearly panicking so bad he looks like he might faint. "No, I'm not leaving you, and Sejanus-"

"Sejanus is fine." Coryo says again sternly, shaking your shoulders now as he looks into your eyes. "Go back out there. I will handle this. I'll find you soon." He promises, gently pushing you in the way of the door. "Go. Now."

You swallow the anxiety sitting uncomfortably in the back of your throat and nod, glancing only briefly at your friends before you leave, closing the door quickly behind you.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world @nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

i've closed my taglist for coryo now!! sorry to everyone who wanted to be added, but unfortunately there was significantly more demand than i expected and i sadly just can't tag everyone. BUT! if you still want notifications when i post for this fic, please turn on my post notifs!!

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #thg series #hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow #president snow

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avatar-anna · 7 months

Text

Picnic

Part of the florist!reader universe: part one, part two, bonus

You looked down at the sleeping form in your lap, fingers tracing delicately over sun-warmed skin. Harry’s eyes were closed, his long hair curling around his cheeks and temples. This close to him, you could see the eyeliner from last night he still hadn’t managed to wipe off smudged around his eyes. He looked calm, peaceful. So unlike the broody rock singer you’d come to know.

It came as a surprise to you when Harry fell asleep on your lap. Today was the first time in a while where you and Harry were able to spend some time alone together. Between your busy schedules and him having to care for his goddaughter often, there wasn’t much time left for just the two of you. You didn’t mind, of course, you loved spending time with Lucy and seeing Harry perform at his gigs, but you liked these stolen moments too.

And Harry could be so private sometimes, so quiet about his feelings. You knew he never meant anything by it, but he definitely held back when it came to physical affection. You respected his boundaries when it came to affection, but it was nice to see him take initiative, to know he felt comfortable enough to rest his head in your lap and sleep for a while.

You invited Harry to your little cottage for a midday picnic. He’d been busier lately, writing new music and taking care of Lucy, so you thought it would be a good idea to do something stress-free and simple—a small picnic in the field behind your house. You set up your soft blanket—the one you crocheted a couple years ago—under a tree, not wanting to completely bake under the sun. There was fresh bread, cheese, juice, and chocolates packed up in your basket to snack on; you used to picnic by yourself often, but you could get used to having company under the tree behind your house.

Ever so delicately, the pads of your fingers traced the angular planes of your boyfriend’s face—the bridge of his nose, his sharp cheekbones, all the way up to his hair so you could run your fingers through it. It was soft and silky, a sign that he took good care of it. Harry’s music and stage presence was on the grungier side with his chipped nails, ripped jeans and smudgy eyeliner, but he had very good hygiene. He even had his own detailed skincare routine (though you were pretty sure that his goddaughter was behind that).

Harry’s chest rose and fell heavily as he continued dozing, his nose slightly pinched with red from being in the sun for a couple hours. He looked so serene. Like an angel, you thought. Sun-dappled skin, a smattering of freckles, and eyelashes that curled perfectly and graced the tops of his cheekbones. Leaning down, you pecked Harry’s forehead, his skin warm. Your thumb brushed over the spot you kissed affectionately.

You left Harry alone for a while, reaching for the book you brought and read it as your hand continued to card through his hair. It was the perfect moment, and you weren’t sure it couldn’t get any better.

As you read, however, you spotted the small bouquet of wildflowers you picked as you and Harry walked out to this spot. Unable to help yourself, you set your book down and nabbed a couple flowers. You pulled off the stems one by one, nestling them into Harry’s hair as he continued to sleep, completely unaware.

By the time Harry blinked his eyes open, little wild daisies covered his hair. He squinted up at you, eyes still bleary with sleep.

“Morning, sunshine,” you said.

Harry’s nose scrunched up. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Maybe an hour?”

“Oh. Sorry. Was supposed to spend the afternoon with you,” he said. He began to sit up, but before he could, you put a gentle hand on his chest.

“Wait! You look so cute, let me take a picture,” you said, quickly looking around for your phone.

Harry grumbled, but stayed put like you asked. You were pretty sure he was saying something about not being cute, but the way he rubbed at his eyes made you want to pinch his cheek.

Not wanting to move him quite yet, but also wanting to be closer to him, you set your phone down. Harry met your gaze curiously, patiently waiting for you to speak. He did that often, letting a comfortable silence grow between you until you gathered your thoughts enough to say what was on your mind. And when you did, he mostly just listened, though you never got the feeling that he was ignoring you. “Sorry, you don’t have to listen to me ramble,” you found yourself saying once. But Harry simply shook his head, a small smile on his face. “You don’t have to apologize. I like listening to you.” And that was that.

“Can I join you?” you eventually asked him.

“Course. You don’t have to ask.”

Grinning, you shuffled until you were laying beside him on the blanket. You rested your cheek against his chest, which was warm from being in the sun for so long. You weren’t sure how he was able to stand the heat in all black, but you rarely saw Harry in anything else. It was always funny to you because he came off so cold and grumpy, but he was the biggest softie there was. He might’ve had tattoos running up and down his arms and on his neck, and his nails might have been painted black, but only because his goddaughter painted them while they played “spa.”

Your hand reached below his shirt, running the pads of your fingers along his skin gently. Harry’s stomach tensed beneath your fingers, but only a little. He hummed and settled deeper into the blanket, almost leaning into your touch. Scooting up until your face was in the crook of his neck, you began to pepper his skin with kisses. Your lips sponged against his skin gently; no nipping or pressing particularly hard, you just wanted to feel him.

“This is nice,” Harry murmured, his hand coming up to rub your back gently.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy,” you replied, not moving away from him.

“Try me.”

You took your time answering, preferring to just kiss his neck some more. From the curve of his jaw all the way down to the base of his throat, you kissed him, smiling when his breath hitched in certain places. Stoic as he was, you’d come to learn all of the little places that made Harry gasp and groan and arch. It was a treasure hunt you were happy to go on.

“Sometimes I just want to kiss you. Like all over. And I don’t necessarily want anything out of it, I just…want to kiss you until I can’t breathe. Is that weird?”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” he said. His eyes were closed as he spoke, but he suddenly tilted his head toward you, and you found yourself staring right into his eyes. His gaze was still a little sleepy, though they squinted the tiniest bit with mischief. “There are parts of me that are feeling a little left out, though.”

Harry ran a hand through your hair, his lips curving up into a smile as his eyes flickered down to your lips.

You knew that look. It was the one that always made you feel like you and Harry were on an even playing field. You were definitely more expressive than he was, which meant you vocalized and showed how much you liked him more than he did. You knew he cared for you, he just expressed himself differently than you did, which you were fine with. Harry often cooked for you, he always held your hand if you were on a date, he texted you first thing in the morning and right before you went to sleep—even when you had just been on the phone with him for hours—because you mentioned that your last boyfriend never did, and one time you caught a glimpse of his phone and saw that there were three heart emojis next to your name, even though you knew he didn't really use or like them.

But it was this look, the one he made just before he was about to kiss you, that brought you the most peace of mind, except for the excitement at what a kiss from Harry might lead to. To you, that look said it all. You felt it right down to your toes. I’m so in love with you, he seemed to say. At least that was how you interpreted it. You hoped that was how he read the look on your face.

Harry leaned in, and you were right there to meet him. His curly hair tickled your nose and chin, but the sensation was nothing compared to how his lips felt on yours. Kissing him felt like magic, like the first day of spring. It was true that Harry didn’t always express how he felt about you verbally, but when he kissed you, there was no doubt in your mind. He kissed you like he was desperate or starving, like the rest of the world fell away and you were the only two beings to ever exist. His hand gathered the material of your dress, bunching it at your hip in a tight grip, his tongue caressing your lower lip, eager to feel yours against it. He made you arch into him, wrap your arms around his neck before dipping below his shirt in search of warm skin.

After a few minutes, Harry tried to pull away, suggesting that the two of you head back to your cottage, but you clung to him even tighter, kissing around his jaw until you found the spot that always turned him to mush and sucking on it.

“No? You want me right here?” he asked, his eyes closed as you continued to nip and suck all over his neck. Your lack of response was answer enough for him. Grinning, you pulled him back down over you, and Harry was more than happy to oblige.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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alwritey-aphrodite · 4 months

Note

pookie first of all: CONGRATS ON 1K OMG!!! SO PROUD OF YOU🫶🫶

also: loving all the arranged marriage fics they’re all soso good I’m so happy and grateful ❤️

anywayss, I have a new idea!!

-either a new girl reader, and sejanus is immediately infatuated w her

-orr more of a peacekeeper!sejanus with a district/covey reader bc it’s literally stuck in my head so badly rn😭

thank you so much, congrats again🫶🫶

ps: wish me luck on midterms this week, I’m dying🙏

AHHH THANK YOU SO SO MUCH 🥰🥰🥰 im sorry this took so long, but im sure you did amazing on your midterms <3 also, peacekeeper!Sejanus and covey!reader mean the world to me (as does matchmaker Lucy Gray hehe)

The Covey are a flashy people, performers to their very soul and the most lively bunch you’ve ever seen. With a love of bright colors and music, it’s hard for any of you to fly under the radar when compared to the rest of the citizens of District Twelve, the people who will never claim you as their own but are happy to dance to your songs and send your cousin to fight to the death.

You, however, aren’t built for the stage. Your voice is better suited to singing lullabies than it is to performing on stage, and even the thought of that many eyes on you makes you feel like you’re on the verge of throwing up. Still, you contribute where you can, helping your cousins write their songs and being a willing audience when they need to test out something new, and you still work, sewing new clothes and patching up the old.

Lucy Gray is something of a momma bird, despite the fact that she’s only a handful of weeks older than you, and she’d rather see you set up and happy before running off with Coriolanus. Luckily for you, he has a friend who, in your opinion, is much kinder and cuter than his blonde counterpart. You’d tell him that, if only your tongue didn’t tie up in knots every time you made eye contact.

Walking towards the lake, Sejanus is sure to push any low-hanging branches out of the way for you, holding out his hand to help you over loose rocks and tangles of roots. The two of you talk the entire way there, almost oblivious to the people surrounding you and the feeling of Lucy Gray staring at you. If you turned around, you’re almost certain you’d catch her grinning.

When you finally make it to the dock, you try not to stare as Sejanus pulls off his shirt, turning away to pull off your own clothes, completely unaware of the way he blushes as he turns back towards the water, for reasons unrelated to the beating sun. No matter how obvious Sejanus makes his affection, it seems impossible to you that somebody like him could love you, and even just friendship seems a little unbelievable sometimes.

The two of you wait for your younger cousins to go splashing into the water, certain that if you had jumped in first, you would have gotten pummeled with water and flying limbs. Launching yourself into the water, you resurface with a giggle as you watch Lucy Gray leap into the lake with Coriolanus hot on her heels. Sejanus is treading water next to you, and the two of you share a smile as you watch Lucy Gray out of the corner of your eye.

“They’re something else, aren’t they?” You wish you were as trusting as Lucy Gray, able to just accept affection like you deserved it, but you’re too busy daydreaming to realize that Sejanus is looking at you like you’re something to be admired.

After about twenty minutes of Maude Ivory’s splashing, you grow tired and heave yourself onto the dock, drying off in the sunshine and dangling your feet into the water. Sejanus sits next to you, claiming that he’s never been the strongest swimmer and he’d rather sit with you on mostly-solid ground, but from the way Lucy Gray winks at you, you’re almost certain it’s just an excuse to sit next to you.

The rest of the afternoon is spent lying side by side with Sejanus in the sun, talking about whatever comes to mind and kicking at your younger cousins whenever they decide to try and tug you back into the water. It’s all sunshine and giggles, and there’s a strange feeling forming in your chest, right in the center of your ribs, a feeling that grows whenever Sejanus looks over at you, eyes half-closed from the sun but still full of a sort of adoration that’s completely foreign to you.

These are always your favorite days, your favorite moments, little pockets of sun dappled peace for you to hold close to your heart and revisit whenever you’re feeling down. The way Sejanus looks at you, smiles at you, laughs at your jokes, places a gentle hand on the bottom of your back to guide you over rough terrain, catapults today to the top of your heart, a precious little jewel to hold onto.

In those moments, replaying the day over in your head with a dreamy smile on your face, you don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or reading too much into the way Sejanus seems to orbit you like you’re the sun, you just get to smile at the memory of the way his eyes crinkle with the intensity of his joy and the ghost of his warm palm on your back. And, no one can scold you for replaying these moments over and over, even though you’re much too nervous to ever say anything to Sejanus about the way your breath catches and your heart constricts whenever you see him.

Tagging my beloved @beybaldes because it feels illegal not to at this point

#sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth fanfiction #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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cherubispunk · 6 months

Text

CHERUB (PART II) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: you will forever be his fallen angel. his cherub.

a note from Lucy: IT IS TIME! Now, I KNOWWWW i said that there woud be dp with tommy in part two...but that can wait until part three because this is just as disgusting as the last one hehehehe! Enjoy sinners, i'm off to bed. This is also unedited to just ignore any typos. I promise I’ll get round to reading it through later today. X

playlist | alternate banner by THE cherub @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

wc: 4088 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, porn with little plot, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Joel is in his late 50s), Smut, car sex, very dubcon in theory but both parties want it, smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl), oral - m reeiving, handjobs, Creampie, choking, orgasm denial, slapping, dom!Joel:/sub!reader dynamic, gagging , mentions of gagging with panties, panty sniffing, nipple play, biting, Smoking, use of pet names (baby, cherub, angel, good girl...etc), Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile porn I have written thus far...with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, a circle lower than the last. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

Lace. Pretty. Delicate and intricate.

Torn and tossed to grimy carpet. His trailer, his bed. Laying in his large warm arms for no more than a brief moment of afterglow. Then observed by his hawk eye while you were strewn naked about his sheets in a divine headrush of oxytocin, endorphins. And numb to all but the ghostly ache of pleasure within your belly.

Truth can be ugly. It can beat and maim even the strongest of heart and half of soul. It can dampen spirits, bash, batter and bruise a hope so bright to such a degree it is nothing but a mere flickering flame, awaiting its snuffing out from a final exhale of a familiar broken heart. It can go pummeling, plundering and pillaging a love you held so tightly to your chest, that once was so dear to one’s self, the mere idea of letting it slip through your fingers would bring on an agonising loneliness even death's pain could not compete or match with.

One night later was your time to face truth, the world fell dark again. The rain had subsided back to choking heat, summer’s final scorch before biting winter rolled in, icy and frostbitten on its heels. You were catatonic in bed from that day forward. Contemplated the end of it all. Then got up for work again when the sun peeked over aluminium trailer rooftops. All of this…just come back to your own bed again.

You belong to the ground now. Your purple knees might as well be caked in dirt. Each of your hairs stood on end in protest to your shivers, vexatious and unforgiving. And choked sobs suffocated you, face red, raw, puffy and salty. Everything seemed to hurt. The sound of humanity seemed so far away from you now. Even the crackling of TV static in the next room over. Nothing felt quite real. It was just…dull. Exhaustion ached in your bones, sinking in deeper - bone marrow level deeper - after twenty-four hours of little to no rest. You bit down on your bottom lip and scrunched your eyes closed as your fingers and toes curled in and you writhed in emotional pain inside yourself. Physically you were still. A weight had pressed itself into your chest, digging at you and carving a hole through your sternum. Your teeth were now gritted as you let out strained whimpers muffled by the pillow. Desperate for some form of relief, you were clasping at your upper arms, clawing your flesh until red lines rose

No one knew. No one could know. they did not have to carry the idea that someone, who roamed the halls of your mind peacefully, passively, vacantly, now rampaged through those same corridors with an iron fist and a burning torch, setting you alight, leaving breadcrumb trails for ravens to pick at and fragments such as that of sharp, cutting mirror glass for you to piece together with no map or original picture but your own memory. You tumbled, spiralling into a world of ‘was it this?’ or ‘was it that?’. And the line between each question soon grew thinner, smearing together like streaks of sunlight smudging in tears.

—

It was a slow roll of a shift. No one but the regulars on a quiet Monday morning. The bikers who stop for coffee. The business man here for the Bessy's Diner ‘premium’ breakfast before his day starts. Greasy and warm but with the crispy potatoes. Eggs sunny side up on two slices of golden brown white bloomer bread. The smell stuck in your hair.

You watched through the window as the world turned dark under bruising night sky. His name on your tongue at the back of your teeth. His handprint on your thigh under your yellow polyester skirt. It was the branding of him on you in the most achingly beautiful way you could imagine. You might not be bent in half any more but in your mind you are replaying each thrust that edged you over the side of harrowing oblivion. You were in his bed. Right there. You could almost feel him.

The ding of the pass bell made you blink once, twice, thrice, with a sharp inhale through your nose while you tuned in a daze to collect a cheeseburger and curly fries. You weren't much to look at by your standards – grease stains on your uniform, scuffed shoes and bruised knees; But the man you delivered the meal too had you for his appetiser. Eyeing you like a juicy cut of rump steak, plump and tender to sink one's teeth into. Your nostrils flared and you couldn't help but wonder what Joel would think of his roaming eyes as you gave the trucker a curt but saccharine ‘Enjoy!’ through gritted teeth.

Then it was back to staring out the window while more coffee brewed and the sky sunk deep blue, a rim of purple at the horizon. Like it had been beaten and left by the sun. Clouds murking the sky above like dried blots of ink. A heavy downpour to come and you hadn't bought your coat or umbrella. Headlights beamed through the window in the blue, sailing over your eyes and the wall behind you, making you strain and squint at the familiar number plate.

That very truck had been parked in the middle of your trailer and his. Taunted you now whenever you saw it. Reminded you that he had not come calling since a few nights ago. How long was it now? A week of no contact that made you claw at your skin and the marrow of your very bones ache with the pain as they hollowed out. Waiting for him to fill that place in you again with a sense of being needed. The place only he knew how to reach. It was pathetic and you knew it. But, oh, how you'd fall to your knees in the dirt each time to just see him. To have him call you Cherub. It felt like a dream no one would get to see or feel but you and him. A secret whisper of delight that had a pending knot of tension tighten and twist in your gut. Then a flutter when his truck door opened to reveal him in his usual wife beater tank and dirty denim combo. This time a leather jacket straining over his broad shoulders. Your mouth watered at the sight of his bulge. How, when he stood with the devils own smirk at the sight of you through the window, arm slung over the top of the drivers door, the tank rode up to give a tease of happy trail on his softer tummy. He was a man who could ruin you with a look; Have you pleading to be his anything.

He licked his lips at the promise of his meal. You. All you could do was stand with feet planted firmly to the floor in your frilly hemmed socks and patent mary janes. His picture of innocence dressed in a ditsy diner uniform. His eyes were dark and lit only by the inside glow. They snared you in ways you often found hard to elucidate to yourself. But you'd be a liar if you refused to admit the excitement your gaze held his with. The beaming toothy grin you shone at him as he walked through the entrance. A chilly gust of wind hot on his chunky book clad heels.

“Be right with ya!” You called to him as you took the coffee from its hotplate, unable to keep yourself from smiling. He was here. You would once again be his. Whole.

A girl could dream. Oh she can dream up to the clouds and pass the very sun. But, lord above, how calamity hits like a stone to a dove’s wing. Causing the fall to earth and the fire to consume. This time, Icarus waited for the night. Who knew Selene would give the same backhand as Apollo.

“No need.” He cleared his throat, ambling over in his swagger to slump over the counter against the bar stool. “Lookin’ awful happy, Cherub.” There it was. It had your eyes glazing over in a haze. The first man who gave you a reason. An ability to serve and care and be wanted. “Just happy ‘cause I'm seein’ you.” You sighed. His arms crossed over themselves on the counter and there was Lucifers smile to lull you closer.

“That so?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah.” It was ineffable to explain, really. The temptation. But it was so damn perfect you couldn't get enough of it.

“What time you get off then, Cherub?”

“Ten.” You replied instantly. A heat warmed your core. A fizzle of something, a cramping of a dull pleasure spasm in your belly. From there he leaned over, breath tickling your ear as his scuff scratched the shell of it. Made your pulse thrum under your skin. He could feel your supple warmth, noticed how your pretty round chest hitched at the feel of his words in your ear. He ogled you like a hunter would his prey. His next feast.

“Y’think you can help me get off?”

If you had it your way you’d trace each scar, pale of almost rare silver, raised upon his skin. Gnarled. But so unmistakably beautiful it takes your breath away for a moment. Born again, the first breath you take. Learning how to inhale, familiarise yourself with how his chest rises, to then fall with tumble of the exhale. But this was on his terms. It would do. Ideally you'd do it your way. However, he wanted what he wanted. He took. You had so much more to give him if you were just gifted the miracle of opportunity. Jeopardising this love now would be a foolish idea.

“Yes, Joel.” You whispered, though it caught in your throat a little. Joel pulled back to eye you. Chuckling at the sight of your open wide doe eyes. A pretty helpless fawn for him to scrape off the road after being crushed by a truck. Or a bird whose wings needed patching. Little did you know he wasn't mending your wings. Merely plucking feathers from them until you could no longer glide through skies. Only be dragged by him across the ground on a leash. Rubbing flesh raw to the point of bleeding.

“Then i’ll be waitin’ here for ya, Cherub.”

—

He had his eyes on you the whole time. In his stare you saw each scene of what could be play out. What position he'd fix you in before the descent of his hips into yours. The slap of heavy balls against your ass. The ripple of your skin while a hand clapped down on one cheek, then the other. Rendering you useless for the rest of the night. Unable to walk without legs trembling. Poor pretty Bambi. Poor precious Cherub.

You could feel the heat of his eyes lick up the back of your neck. Flushing bright colour into the apples of your cheeks. Each time you passed him, a silent glance from you. A primal, phallic stare from him. Cogs in his mind turning to see what scenario would take his fancy. The look from other customers didn't fall short on his attention. He noticed the way that trucker had eyed you upon giving him the bill. Jealousy curled in his gut because how dare another man so much as think about touching what is rightfully his. What you were so eager to please with. The plush of your breasts, the encompassing warmth of your slick wet cunt. Joel would remember that when you stumble home, his come dribbling down your leg in a thick, gluttonous rivulet. You, so ready to flay yourself open at his word and present all to him. Your broken ribs and beating heart. The blood that bled in vain for him.

At the end of your shift he waited while you got you things from out back, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Thick fingers plucking one ready to light.

“Can't smoke in here, Joel.” You pointed out as his lighter hissed under the roll of his thumb.

“Then hurry up ‘n let me get you outta here, Cherub.” He mumbled, eyes trained on the cigarette between his lips. You admired how the yellow hue of the lighter washed him a glow in brief flashes. The scruff on his jaw lighter. Greyer. Handsomer.

“Okay.”

He led you out with a hand to your back. Hoisted your bike into the bed of his truck and you had to hold your breath at the swell of his muscles under his leather jacket. Its dark shine scuffed and worn down.

He drove you back downtown with the cigarette lit in his mouth to puff on, a hand on your clenching thigh, inching closer up to dangerous territory. He felt how you squirmed inside yourself. As if your bones were begging to be rattled by him. Until the highway bled off into smaller roads towards the trailer park where he opened the window to flick his smoke out and then shut it. You weren’t expecting him to pull over in a lay-by. The trees skeletal as leaves had started to fall here.

The engine sputtered before shutting off with the twist of the key. You found yourself staring at your skirt, picking a loose thread from the hem of it before his finger hooked under your chin. Just like the first time. Still smelling of tobacco and something mustier. Something human. It was hard to see in the dark, but his shadow said it all. It was carved out by the backdrop of trees outside the window. It made a rattling burst of desire dart down your spine and fill the hollow slowburn in your womb.

“Look at me.” So you did. And his finger grasped your chin, almost embedding his touch into your with trembling tingle were he to ever let go. Like a solder’s phantom limb.

“What are we doing here, Joel?” You asked, eyes innocent. Begging to be corrupted and crying.

“Gettin’ me off, Cherub.”

His lips crushed yours like seeds of pomegranate. Chapped and split. The metallic taste of his blood on your tongue. Your lungs breathed him, absorbed him. What noise he gave you, nonsensical as it was, it was a relief there was something. Something you could do. Part your thighs.

While one hand stayed fastened to your chin in its vice grip, his other palmed himself through his jeans. Hips rolling into the heel of his hand and a groan departed from his chest heavily. One you happily consumed with a needy inhale. Desperate to feel something of him inside you.

“Gonna make me feel good, ain’t you, Cherub? My pretty little thing.”

It was hard to nod in his grip. But you managed with the aiding of a whimpering “Mhm!”

“‘M gonna let you feel it.”

The bulge in his jeans was straining at denim and suffocating him. You felt blindly for his erection, fumbling with the belt, button and zipper. Joel smirked into your mouth while his tongue trialled sloppily over your bottom lip, enclosing it between the prison of his gnashers. Biting down hard. The friction of his beard was coarse against the dichotomy of your soft, supple skin.

“Yeah.” He sighed, leaning back in the passenger seat, detaching his lips from you. “Jus’ like that.” You swallowed. Aching to feel him. To have him as a part of you again. But for now you'd settle with the steady dragging stroke of his thick heavy cock in your hand.

You watched him with curiosity, the way his eyes fluttered closed. It was more the way a child would observe a butterfly trapped in a jar. Even though he was anything but delicate.

“Fuckin’ angel aint ya, Cherub?” He swallowed, hips twitching and bucking up into your hand while your thumb rolled over the sensitive head of his dick, smearing a bead of precum over the delicate flushed skin. You salivated like a rabid dog at the sight. The smell of his sex thick on your nose.

You felt the curl of this large hand at the crown of your skull before he pushed you down. Pulling you with him to hell’s heat once more.

“Suck it.”

And you did willingly; Took him into the warm cavern of your mouth, swirling your tongue over the flushed red tip to have the heady taste of him thick on your tastebuds. His hips stuttered, meaning you had to hollow out your mouth and relax your throat to take him as far as he wanted. The ache in your oesophagus burned, bruising deliciously. Tears stung the backs of your eyes, heavy and wet and dripping over the threshold of your eyes, streaking clumpy mascara down your face like an abstract painting for him to smirk at later. His fingers twisted in your hair like brambles through hedgerows. His hands were being laid on you. More like beckoning you closer to being laid to rest in the dirt. Ready for that little death his anatomy promised. The lust between you heated the car, fogging windows slightly.

As you went a little further, and little faster, nails digging into his jeans to ground yourself, you realised you’d never rather be anywhere than with him. Saliva running from your mouth down his shaft, collecting in a shine around the base and rolling over his tightening balls. He chuckled when you gagged, spluttering and heaving on him. Begging for more, you dared to ghost a single finger over your dripping slit. Cunt twitching at the attention. An action that was far from lost on him.

“Did I tell ya you could touch yerself?” He hissed, ripping you from his cock as the heat of an orgasm started to bubble in his lower belly. You spluttered a no, holding your hands up in surrender to him. “Little minx.” He sneered.

You yelped at the grip on your thighs as he kicked your legs out from under you, tugging your underwear from your heat in one swift yank. He held the cotton up to his nose, taking a deep inhale. “Fuckin’ filthy. Just imagine what your uncle would think ‘bout this? Ruining your fucking panties for me.” Shame flooded your gut, but the clench of your tight, drooling hole told you otherwise about disliking the thought. A heat warming your cheeks once more. “Oh, you like that dont you, Cherub?”

“Yeah.” You owned up to the fact. There was no point in lying. He’d fuck the truth out of you one way or another.

With your hands still raised, you watched in fucked out awe of his tonge that darted out to taste your slick on your underwear. His eyes closed as he savoured the tang on his tongue. There was no need to commit it to memory. If he wanted it again all he need do was ask. Your legs would part open, panties in his hand again.

“Taste like fuckin’ honey, Cherub. All sweet and sticky.” His voice verberated in your chest and his and had your eyes blurring in a split of a second. Crawling back once again to the memory in his trailer. “What do you think? Should I shove these in your mouth instead of my cock? Huh, Cherub?” You swallowed at the thought. “Nah…” He cast the thought aside, tossing them in the backseat. “I might just go easy on ya tonight.”

That was a short lived promise, for he was sliding back his seat as far as it would go, dragging you into his lap, thick head prodding the weeping entrance of your cunt. Waiting deliciously for the stretch of him. Whole again. Make me whole again. You begged to the ears of your own mind. Please!

“Sit down.” He demanded. And you obeyed; Notching him between the slick lips of your pussy. He hands found grounding purchase on your hips, grinding you along the underside of his thick length. Smearing your juices over himself. Each time the tip so much as grazed your clit it had you whimpering his name. Had your brain scrambling to form a coherent sentence. It was sinful Disgusting. But the way it felt was enough to cast a shadow on those doubts. Turn out the light, and set them to temporary sleep in your head.

The roll of your hips worked in tandem with the taboo buck of his thrusts. His neck strained and veins bulged under tight tension knotted, gnarled skin.

“This pussy’s made for this, ain't it, Cherub? Made for makin’ me feel good.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled while two thick fingers slipped into your mouth. The rough pads of them pressing into your tongue. You pressed your lips around them, taking his digits down to the last knuckle. His taste was rich in your mouth. One you'd never even dream of forgetting.

Your humping got faster, more erratic and less careful. Big. Mistake.

“Don’t go getting sloppy on me now, Cherub.”

You whined. It was all you were good for. All you could do. There was only so much finesse you could master with the steering wheel at your back, digging into your arching, aching spine. You waxed and waned over him in more careful movements now. Made sure to press down with each roll back over his shaft. All while he had an open mouthed trained gaze on the way his fingers slipped in and out of your mouth. Slow. Setting the pace for you to mimic. Lips puffy, saliva slick.

From there, it was your dress. Greedy and heavy hands popping the buttons of it open and stripping you down to nothing but flesh. It crumpled around your waist. His lips pursed while suckling your nipples into his mouth until they were pert and erect on his tongue. Teeth sinking into tender flesh, jaw unhinged as he took a bite of their swell and mimicked it on the other side.

It was so bad. So, so, so bad. If there truly was a god you’d be signed over to hell. But you didn't care, how could you when you felt the burn in your belly of your orgasm. The stars sputtering over the backs of your closed lids in a hypnotic kaleidoscope image. Either way, you were damned. Icarus to Apollo’s heat. His heat was burning. Scalding. Making a sheen of thick, damp sweat accumulate over your skin. Chest heaving into his mouth while your back arched and held tight like the string of a bow ready to release.

“Fuck– please, Joel. Wanna– fuck– come. Wanna come!” You whined around his fingers. To which he replied by ripping them from your mouth and striking a heavy hand over your cheek. The sting was thrilling. It made the apples of your cheeks tingle, begging him to do it again. Abuse you in any way he saw fit because the pleasure burning, building in your core had your cunt clenching. Ready to let go at his given word. He bared his teats at you while he smeared his tongue and spit over your tits.

“No. You come when I say and only when I say.”

And with those as his damning words, he lifted your hips off his, using a hand to line himself up with precision, spearing into you in one fowl swoop. You bit back a scream on your bottom lip from the intrusion. But before you could let the pain sink in it melted into brain fogging pleasure. You had to clench your walls around his thick length, his cock hot and pulsing within your cunt that spasmed with the promise to unwind. Had you a babbling crying mess in his lap while he jackhammered up into you. Balls slapping your spread cheeks.

His palm closed around your pulse, the other in your hair as you held yourself just above him on trembling legs so he could have the room to thirst upwards, swollen cockhead nipping your cervix vigorously like the last time. Whatever broken thing inside you that made you yearn for this could rattle around within of you. It was nothing unless it got you here to the sheer pleasure you felt when in his unforgiving arms. You’d go easily like this. Tear stained cheeks as you babbled his name nonsensically. All for him to keep up the relentless pace of his hips. The coarse hairs at the base of his cock adding a friction to your twitching clit that wasn't needed. You were already on edge. God, how you lived for the little death.

“Please, sir!” If anything else you did didn't set him off, that did. The words sweetened by the whine that curled from the back of your throat and dripped into his ears like fine wine. High pitched needy for him to finish you off. Deliver the killing blow.

The hand tangled in your hair jerked your head back, leaving your jaw to hang open and your eyes to roll back in your skull. Your toes curled in their frilly socks and shoes, the tingle turning to numbness and then to an overstimulated pain that you couldn't stave off any longer.

“Gonna come ain ya, Cherub? After I’ve been so fuckin’ nice to ya. Let ya touch me. Feel me inside of ya.” He pressed a hand over your womb, feeling the bulge of himself each time he fucked up to meet that perfect spot inside you. “Feel me fuckin’ wrecking this cunt for anyone else?” And you nodded stupidly, finding it hard to breathe with his other hand still at your neck. He could feel the quickening of your pulse under your flesh. “Words, Cherub.” He growled with heat into your pulse. “Or have I fucked you dumb, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Yes, Joel, I'm yours! Yours yours yours!”

“The fucking come. Show me.”

And finally, the closing scene to this act of sin. The little death you had been waiting for swelled within you, sending you falling from the stars in your eyes and back down to earth – crashing into the wall of his chest. A string of curses from his sneering lips and he released inside of you, balls tightening and dick twitching sheathed within you. His thick, hot come dribbled gluttonously from your quivering cunt. And you were twitching uncontrollably against him.

Your chests heaved out of sync with each other. Him out, you in. You accommodated the invading rise of his chest with the crushing and concaving of your own. His cock softened inside of you and in the mess he had made of you cunt. You were well and truly wrecked for anyone but him. Your body, no matter how much you may come to hate this fact in future, belongs to his pleasure.

You will forever be his fallen angel. His Cherub.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 28 days

Text

Pretty like the sun

Previous chapter .

a/n This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. This chapter has both Azriel’s and Y/N povs. ✨

I have a feeling that this might just be the end.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Zofie’s pov:

She was sitting by the fire. A dog with chestnut fur had been looking at her ever since she spent a solid while scratching his ear. Legs dangling as she looked over the unfamiliar living room. Or what she assumed was one. “Here, drink this," her uncle said stepping into the doorway, a glass in hand. He had taken her to his, or more likely, Eris's, mansion. Why? She didn’t know. She wanted to go home. To mom and dad at least, but Lucien had made her stay.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked softly, kneeling in front of her as if she were some child. But then again... How was she feeling? Zofie tried not to focus on the emotions raging within her. One battling the other. Making her feel dizzy and nauseous. Because whatever was brewing deep within her chest felt more like a roller coaster than anything else.

“Flustered and uneasy”, it came out more as a question than a statement, but since she didn’t know any better, in a way she waited for a nod or an agreement that was exactly how she was meant to feel. “He’s probably clawing at the ground." Zofie’s head turned to Eris, who was swirling a drink in his hands. “Shut up, Eris," Lucien growled.

“Nyx?”, Zofie quickly cut in, “You’re talking about Nyx?” She wasn’t sure why, but even the sound of his name leaving her lips made her tingly. Lucien sighed hesitantly. From the way the grayish-blue tint painted his palms, he was nervous.

“Uncle Luci, is this an illness? He had a fever," Zofie cut in, a wave of anxiety slamming into her chest. “No, no, it’s...", Lucien ran a hand through his hair before twisting the ends. The sound of the glass being placed on the table was followed by Eris’s voice, “You found your mate, girl", "Eris," Lucien hissed.

Zofie shook her head, “We’re just friends." She had read about mates. How hard was it to find one. How long did it take. She had seen her married parents. The way Azriel understood Y/N without words. Images of the night Zofie had run away flooded her mind. How Nyx had found her. He always seemed to find her when she needed him most.

“Look at your cheeks, girl," Eris chuckled. “You blush at the thought of him. Not to mention that his scent is all over you; he sure as hell wanted you to be his." The lordling pointed his glass at Zofie before taking a sip. If she was blushing beforehand, now she had to be a deep shade of crimson. She didn’t know what she felt on her skin. The comforting scent. Whatever it was it was warming her from the outside. And she had no idea that it had anything to do with Nyx.

"Eris," Lucien hissed for what felt like a thousand times before turning to her. “Look, Zofie, nothing is set in stone, but..." he said softly, clearly trying to ease her daze. “You said he chased you when you ran,” Lucien asked after a heartbeat. Zofie simply nodded. “Mother, I can’t believe I’ll have to ask." He grunted more to himself as he ran a hand over his face.

“Was there a part of you that didn’t want to run or found that run thrilling?”, Eris’s words once again slammed into her. As if trying to break the glass, all the emotions were still simmering beneath. To let loose the feeling that was clawing at her from within. Lucien had turned to his brother so quickly that even Zofie felt the swoosh of air hitting her face. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel the way he was burning red, and the look was anything but pleasant. “What? I’m simply voicing what’s on your mind”, the oldest Vanserra shrugged. Whatever Lucien grumbled to him in return, she didn’t understand.

“Zofie, this can be overwhelming. Finding a mate…," Lucien had started, but she quickly cut in. “We can’t; this is not," she said, shaking her head. Yes, he has been there ever since. Yes, everyone had teased him about the way he had always been swooned by her. Yes, every memory she had was somehow interlinked with him. But…

“You need to breathe, hun; I already reached out to your mom." Zofie felt Lucien’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll do a much better job than us explaining this to you." He smiled softly at her, but she still shook her head. “He’s a prince, and I... I don’t have anything, and we never will. Never," she said, wrapping her arms around herself, frowning. "Zofie," Lucien called out sympathetically. “It’s a gift, girl; many die never experiencing a touch of their true lover," Eris cut into her panic, making it all halt for a moment as she stared at him and he right back at her. “Feel it out and then take control of it," he said firmly.

Nyx’s pov:

“Zofie”, he had been searching in the woods for what felt like forever. Dropping in the cold flow of the lake. Zofie was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Nyx couldn’t see her. He couldn’t find her in his consciousness. Couldn’t winnow to her. But every single cell in his body burned with her. Ached for her. Making him frantic and clumsy as he flew over and over the place she had just simply disappeared from.

"Zofie!" he shouted once more. "Nyx”,’the sound of his name made him turn around quickly, but the relief soon turned into anger. "No, you can’t be here," he hissed at the sight of his father. All dressed in black, looking down on him. No, he wasn’t going to share this with him.

“It’s okay, bud; we want to help," Cassian stepped from behind Rhys, followed by Azriel, and yet another wave of panic hit him like a stone. "No, you will take her away," Nyx hissed, pulling back. “Pull yourself together," Rhys snarled, his eyes burning holes in Nyx.

"Rhysand," Cassian warned as Nyx bared his teeth at his father. Panting frantically. “Hey, look at me," Azriel called out, but not in the way that Nyx was used to. A softer version of that. An understanding one. “I didn’t hurt her, I promise," Nyx muttered, shaking his head at the burn in his eyes. “I know, it’s okay," Azriel reassured him as he stepped closer.

“I need to find her. What if something happened?”, Another load of panic slammed into him, making Nyx cave into himself. "Nyx, she’s safe; we know where she is, bud," Cassian said softly, and while those words should have put Nyx at ease, he felt anger rising within him. Why did they do it? Why didn’t they tell him? Were they keeping her away?

“Take me to her right now," he demanded, pointing his finger at them in a warning. “You need to calm down first," Azriel told him. “I'm calm," he reassured his uncle, even if he was practicing shaking. “Do you know what’s going on?”, Rhys asked. A mixture of sadness lingered in his eyes. “Nothing is going on," Nyx snarled back before adding, “I think I'm going to go mad." His hands reached up to tug at his onyx's hair.

“That’s the mating bond," Rhys said so casually as if this wasn’t a life-altering thing. Nyx’s eyes grew wide as he shook his head. “Don’t act like you didn’t know, you were enamored with her when you were kids," Rhys said firmly. “I found your sketchbooks; she’s all you’ve been drawing.”.

It felt as if Nyx’s chest was hallowed out and then forced full of rage. “You knew?”, he hissed through clenched teeth. “Of course I knew," Rhys groaned angrily, pulling at the collar of his button-up. “And yet you still threw me in the embrace of all the other girls?” Nyx was shouting now, ready to claw at his father’s face. But Cassian rested a palm on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“I was trying to distract you," Rhys replied, “You’re too young to mate; look at yourself." He guessed at him as if he were nothing. Nothing more but a mess. “I will kill you," Nyx shouted, ripping away from Cassian, “I will leave you in ribbons." Azriel hand caught him around his middle, his shadows wrapping him up in a cold blanket.

“Think about Zofie, Nyx," he whispered to the boy. “Pull yourself together for her." And even if he still looked at Rhys with nothing but disgust, the panting eased. “Leave Rhys," Cassian said with a shake of his head. The high lord was about to argue, but it was Azriel who had cut in, “Just go; we got this." Something like disagreement and guilt rushed through Rhys’s face, but he didn’t say a single thing. Casting one more look at his son before winnowing away.

“I need to see her," Nyx said as soon as his father had disappeared. “You will once you find control within yourself," Azriel muttered as he let him go. “I can’t breathe without her," Nyx admitted, his hands gripping at his throat as if he wanted to claw another air passage. The two males looked at each other for a second. “Even when she’s not with you, a part of her is always there," Cassian said attentively, motioning for Nyx to come sit by the river's edge with him. “That part is your leverage," Azriel added, also joining them in the grass. “Your northern star, if you will, it’s something that will always guide you." Nyx simply nodded his head as he listened. “And that’s the thing that will let you feel her when you’re apart," Cassian said, throwing a rock into the rippling water.

“But that’s been there for years..." Nyx admitted, placing a hand on his chest where that little flame had been sparkling ever since he first laid eyes on Zofie. At that time, he was too young to even distinguish between the emotions, but now he knew that it had been there all along. “You’re one lucky bastard to have found a mate before even reaching a hundred," Cassian chuckled, shoving Nyx’s shoulder slightly.

“I don’t know how to take care of her like that," he shrugged, the self-doubt nearly choking him. “Yes, you do," Azriel said firmly, “In your own ways, you’ve been taking care of our girl for years," Nyx felt at ease in Azriel’s words. A father had been protecting his daughter, and he could understand that. But knowing that a part of Azriel trusted Nyx enough to let him be close to Zofie was the biggest achievement in his books.

“This just adds extra spice," Cassian said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Cassian," Azriel growled in a warning. “What? They will fuck," his uncle shrugged. Both Azriel and Nyx turned to him with a growl. “My god, I will kill you," Azriel said, shaking his head. “Don’t talk about her like that, you pig," Nyx added with a snarl. But Cassian was grinning from ear to ear, “See, perfectly capable of taking care of her.”

Your pov:

You had been rubbing your palms together as you walked across the living room back and forth. If not for Novie, who from time to time demanded some attention, you would have probably walked a hole on the floor. You felt Azriel before he had even walked through the front door. Quickly rushing to get to the entrance. “And?”, you clasped your hands on your chest as you awaited your mate's words. “He’s okay; I’m confident that he can hold his own," Azriel said, shrugging off his jacket. “This is so exciting," you chirped, smiling from ear to ear as Azriel stepped closer, cupping your cheek.

“I mean, considering that she ended up in autumn, it’s not too thrilling," Azriel pointed out, leaning in to brush his lips over yours. "Oh, stop! Lucien is an angel." You hit Azriel’s chest softly. Lucien had been a big part of your family too. Azriel was the one who had wanted to burn any bridges that led to Elain, but you had been quick to remind him that Lucien had nothing to do with it.

“Eris is not." Azriel grumbled, but you brushed his words off, cupping his face in your palms, “Our girl found her mate." And even if you knew how hard it was for Azriel to let go of Zofie, he couldn’t fight the smile that crept onto his face.

“Madja said that it’s been over six hundred years since she’s seen a bond snapping so early on," Azriel said quietly, but his face soon matched the giddy excitement on your face. “Gosh, their wedding will be stunning. We can...", “Yeah, no wedding planning yet, don’t want to think about that," Azriel pulled you closer, clasping a hand over your mouth as you giggled.

"Mom," a quiet voice got you two pulling apart as you gazed at Zofie. Lucien right beside her. "Oh, my darling, my big girl," you sighed, closing the distance between you both and wrapping her up in your arms. “I didn’t...", she quickly shook her head apologetically. “Don’t you dare apologize for the gift Mother granted you?" You pulled back slightly and cupped her rosy cheeks. “Not all of us are lucky to find our other half so quickly." You could see the conflict raging within her, yet she still nodded before glancing to the side, “Papa…”

It was more of a whisper than a call. Yet Azriel’s eyes softened intensely as he opened his arms to her. You nudged her slightly. Her first steps were unsure, but then she practically ran to him. Azriel instantly wrapped her up. His wings followed the motion. Their happy little bubble. Like it had been from day one.

“As long as you occasionally come back for a cuddle and my pies," he muttered against her hair, making her chuckle slightly. “It seems like yesterday you were no bigger than my palm, and now look at you." Azriel shook his head, looking at his daughter. You could tell that he was fighting the urge to cry. Zofie had been one of the things that brought Azriel back to life. A big part of his demons died when she appeared. And knowing that for so long she had needed him like air and now she was able to stand on her own two feet no doubt felt bittersweet.

“You’ll always be my little star," he muttered, pressing his forehead to hers. “Even with Novie?” Zofie asked. That almost desperate plea to still be important enough is burning within her. “Especially with her," Azriel promised. “I’ll always be your wings, remember?” She nodded eagerly, warping her arms around his neck as he hugged him as best as her tiny frame allowed her. “Come on now; your boy is probably mixing sky and earth together," Azriel nudged her. Zofie’s cheeks grew red immediately. “He’s not my boy," she argued back. “Boyfriend?”, you chirped in with a smirk. "Mom," Zofie growled, “not you too.”.

Nyx’s pov:

Nyx had been walking back and forth for what felt like an eternity. His father. Rhys. Rhys had been the one to suggest that he should be separated from Zofie for some time. For caution, he had said. His mother had tried to interfere, but the high lord had decided. Nyx was prepared to rage. To fight, but it was Azriel who had stepped in. Azriel, who had disagreed with the decision, in that moment Nyx felt like kneeling in front of his uncle so he could say thank you. Zofie was under Azriel’s protection; she was his daughter, so his word in the matter was final.

And now here he was in the house of wind. Jumping up at any and every sound. He was also more than aware that Zofie had a right not to come at all. He knew that she very well might not want to do anything with him. She might just be terrified of him. He would be terrified of himself too. Maybe he even was. Never before had he completely let his feelings for her take over. Never had felt as if parting was a death wish.

"Hey," his whole world shifted, tilted, and tuned over with one single word. He wasn’t even sure if he could turn around. To look at her without wanting to hold her. Without wanting to touch her. "Nyx," Zofie breathed as if reading his struggles. She stepped around him to stand right in front of him. It felt both like a salvation and a curse to be so close to her. “I’m afraid to touch you," he rasped out, drowning in her golden eyes for a heartbeat too long. Quickly turning his head to the side. "Nyx," she muttered under her breath, stepping closer to him. “I don’t want to hurt you," he pleaded, stepping back.

“You wouldn’t, couldn’t, you've"—her voice was so soft and comforting, but he couldn’t let it take over. “I chased you," he said firmly. He lready hate that part of him. That moment. And she knew it too. Knew that he would use that to beat himself up. “You didn’t know... We didn’t know what that was," she said, stopping the emphasis on the word we, and something deep and primal flustered within him. “You were so warm, I thought it was a fever of some sort." There was so much worry in her voice. So much concern he wished he could chase away. But he just didn’t trust himself to move.

“Relax your fists," Zofie breathed, and only now did he realize that he had been clenching his hands so tightly that they were white. “I can't," Nyx muttered through clenched teeth. “Yes, you can. It’s just me," she said, reaching out to him, but Nyx backed away once again. Back hiring the wall. He brushed his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I don’t deserve you," he crocked under his breath. “Don’t be silly," Zofie said firmly, pretty much closing the distance between them.

He knew this was mutual. He knew that, in the same way, he would never touch her without her permission. She would never touch him without his. He knew the question was coming before it had even grazed her lips. “Can I touch you?" she whispered. Nyx could feel her eyes on him. "Zof." He wasn’t sure at this point who exactly he was warning. “Just your cheek," she pleaded, and he had made a mistake when he let his eyes find hers. The last strings holding him back snapped as he nodded. She smiled up at him, carefully brushing her warm fingers against his cheek. Nyx had never understood what his mother and aunts had in mind when they said that their partners purred. But he was a heartbeat away from that, as he leaned closer to her.

“Not so bad, huh?", Zofie teased with a smile, and the moment she had moved her palm away, Nyx grasped it in his palm, resting it back on his cheek. “Your touch is a heaven," he muttered, letting himself soak her in, “You’re so fucking pretty." Her cheeks bloomed with crimson at his words. "Stop!", she chuckled under her breath. “As pretty as the sun," Nyx whispered with so much love that his chest hurt, “You’re my sun. Chasing all the bad away." Zofie inhaled shakily, her bottom lip trembling as she watched him.

“Kiss me," she said all of a sudden, stepping on her very tiptoes so she could reach him better. "Sunny," he said, shaking his head. Having her so close was already too much. "Please," she begged, her big golden eyes leaving him defenseless. “I don’t know if..." Nyx had started to argue. But she killed the distance between them. She was the one kissing him. And it’s like the heaven gate has opened. As if someone dunked his head in the purest form of love. It felt as if tiny needles were prickling his skin. But most importantly, he felt as if he was alive—so alive. Alive like never before. “Do you know how long I wanted to do this?", Nyx pulled away sheepishly, licking his lips as he looked down at her flustered form. “Less talking, more action," Zofie chirped with a grin of her own as she held onto his neck, chuckling as he pulled her in by her hips. “Forever?”, Nyx asked, right by her lips, practically feeling the beat of her heart. "Forever," Zofie muttered breathlessly. She had barely touched his lips when Nyx scooped her up in his arms, making her squeal. She didn’t need to ask where he was talking to her when the air around her grew colder. The lake house had become theirs from day one. There were too many conversations. Too many memories. Too many lingering touches filled that space for it to be anyone but theirs.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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rainbowmilk · 4 months

Text

Don't Forget Me III

Warnings: Violence, Death, Language

Treech x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

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All you wanted was to get away from the people gawking at you, yet oddly enough, the Capitol boy and the rainbow girl were approaching the crowd. Hand-in-hand, no less. That's something you never thought you'd see: a girl from Twelve and a boy from the Capitol holding hands.

They started talking to a clownish-looking man. You couldn’t hear much, but you did learn their names were Lucy Gray and Coriolanus Snow. You couldn’t imagine a situation where you'd willingly talk to anyone from the Capitol. Lucy Gray, however, seemed to thrive under cameras.

Treech, also watching, said, “Y’know, I think I’d rather take my chances in the arena than have to talk to him.”

“Don’t be an ass! He doesn't look that bad,” you say while trying and failing to suppress your laugh.

He raised an eyebrow, staring at you as if you’ve just said the sky is green. “If you say so,” he teased.

The interview, or whatever you want to call it, was cut short when the metal doors swung open, and a group of Peacekeepers marched in, dragging Coriolanus out.

“Do you think he was even supposed to be in here?” You asked as you watched him get dragged out.

“Course not,” Treech smirked, “he looked ready to piss himself when he realized this was being recorded.” He said, once again making you laugh. For a minute, everything felt normal. If you close your eyes, you could pretend you are back home at the market laughing with your friends.

As the day went on, more and more people started showing up. There must’ve been a crowd of about one hundred people when you spotted the familiar red uniform. At first, you thought it was Coriolanus, but as he got closer, you saw that it was a boy with dark brown hair.

He was carrying a large backpack, which was full of food. The boy pulled a sandwich from the bag and tried to coax Marcus, the boy from Two, to take it. He wasn’t having much luck, though. Marcus wouldn’t even acknowledge him.

You were much more inclined to trust him than Coriolanus. Something about him seemed genuine, kinder even. Maybe if you approached him, he’d give you food. It couldn’t hurt to try.

Treech as if sensing your thoughts grabbed your arm. He shook his head at you, saying, “We can’t trust him. He’s Capitol.”

You wanted to argue but decided it wasn’t worth the headache. Treech could be painfully stubborn when he wanted to be.

Coriolanus came by later in the day and seated himself by the bars. A sting of jealousy hit you when you saw him hand Lucy Gray a sandwich. Why hadn’t your mentor shown up?

You didn’t have to wallow for long because Lucy Gray yelled, “You all should get one. They’re real good! Go on, Jessup!”

Her district partner, Jessup, slowly approached the boy with the sandwiches and took one from his hand. He waited until a plum followed and then walked off without a word.

Emboldened, you sprung up, pulling Treech along with you. Rushing to the fence where the boy gave each of you a sandwich and a plum. Satisfied, you walked back to the rocky patch you’d been sitting at. It’s a good thing you got there early because, within a minute, the backpack was almost depleted by the other tributes.

You had to resist the urge to devour the sandwich, forcing yourself to savor every bite. Who knew when your next meal would be? You had to enjoy it while it lasted.

As the sun set, the crowd thinned, and everyone started to settle in for the night. Most tributes opted to stay in the place they’d claimed the first day. Everybody was getting increasingly ill-tempered, yourself included, the more days you spent trapped in the zoo.

Almost on cue, two boys started fighting over a bale of hay, but Marcus broke them up. His display of strength unsettled you. How could you win against that?

I mean, you could handle an ax. Which already left you better off than most tributes. But you weren’t an expert by any means. If you had to face Marcus in the arena, you’d have no chance. Just thinking of the arena made you uneasy. Seeking comfort, you nestled up next to Treech. Letting his steady heartbeat lull you to sleep

The sun beating down on the enclosure stirred you from your slumber. Your eyes flickered open, but the influx of light has you snapping them shut again.

“Mornin,” Treech whispered, his voice still groggy.

“Mmm..too early,” you grumbled, burrowing your head deeper into his chest.

Running on a limited amount of sleep, you didn’t feel up to do anything besides stay curled up behind the rock. The morning passed by uneventfully, with few visitors stopping by. Until Peacekeepers came and corralled you onto a truck. They offered no explanation as to where you were going.

After a short ride, they unloaded all of you at a large building. You were escorted by Peacekeepers who outnumbered you two to one, which you felt was overkill, considering you had heavy shackles attached to your wrists and ankles. They led you to a table and then chained you with concrete weights, telling you to wait for your mentors.

Without much to do, you tilted your head back and surveyed the hall. It was a beautiful space with marble columns, arched windows, and a vaulted ceiling. You should feel awed, you’d never see anything like this in Seven, but it only made you miss home even more.

You glanced over to Treech, but before you could say anything, the doors opened, and twenty-four teenagers marched out. You wondered which one would be your mentor. You hoped they actually cared, but you doubted it, considering they hadn’t visited.

A tall boy who must be your mentor approached your table, sitting in the chair across from you. He introduced himself as “Pliny Harrington”. He seemed nice enough, if not a bit tactless. Maybe this won’t be that bad you allowed yourself to hope.

It was that bad. You were ready to tear your hair by the end of the session. You misheard one question, and Pliny spent the rest of the time talking to you like a toddler. The most infuriating part was his self-satisfied grin because he was so sure he was being helpful.

When the whistle blew to signal the end of the session, you could’ve cried with relief. Even as the Peacekeepers rounded you back into the truck, you were just glad to be done. You’d had enough interactions with Capitol folks to last you a lifetime.

In the truck, you find yourself sitting next to Lucy Gray while she stares at you with a unreadable expression. You are not sure what to make of her.

“Hi...you’re Lucy Gray, right?” you say, wondering why she’s staring at you.

“The one and only,” she quipped back.

Over her shoulder, you could see Treech watching you, his eyes flitting between you and Lucy Gray, unsure if it was a friendly conversation. You shot him a smile, letting him know you were okay.

Lucy Gray must’ve caught the interaction because she gave you a knowing look. She leaned in and whispered, “So, what’s up with you and your district partner?”

Startled, your eyes scanned the others to make sure no one had heard, “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, “You two seem very close, plus he gets this glint in his eyes when he looks at you.”

You glanced up, and sure enough, Treech was still staring at you. He looked startled to have been caught again and looked away. “He’s just—we’ve just been friends for a while,” you say, though your voice has an annoyingly hopeful twinge to it.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that…well, you at least like him, don’t you?” She asked.

The expression on your face must answer her question because she gave you a pitying smile. Are you really that obvious? You must be. Because it seems everyone, but Treech knew at this point. Even his brothers would tease you about it.

When you arrived back at the zoo, a crowd waited for you. Morning attendance was scarce, but now visitors were pouring in. Annoyed, you tried to hide yourself behind a rock to escape prying eyes.

“What were you and Twelve talkin’ about?” Treech asked, plopping himself beside you.

“It’s a secret,” you say, winking at him, hoping he doesn’t see right through you. Wanting to change the topic, you ask, “How was your mentor?”

He winced at your question “She was very irritating,” he replied. By the look on his face, he was clearly holding himself back from saying anything meaner. “How was yours?”

“God, don’t get me started,” you groan. “He talked to me like I was a five-year-old the whole time!”

You didn’t even think it was possible, but somehow, more people came as the day progressed. Unsurprisingly, Lucy Gray was by the bars entertaining the crowd. What caught your eye, though, was they seemed to be passing her food. The thought of begging for scraps made you flush with humiliation. But it was slowly becoming evident that if you wanted to eat, you’d need to perform.

Other tributes realized this as well. The girl from District 9 did a back handspring, which was rewarded with applause and a bread roll. You stared longingly at the bread, what you would give for a bite.

“Are you hungry?” Treech asked, his mouth turned into a frown.

“I’m fine,” you say, not wanting to worry him.

Treech stared at you blankly, making it clear he didn’t believe you. He stood up, fetching three walnuts off the floor, and marched up to the crowd. He made a good show of juggling the walnuts and keeping the crowd entertained. He was rewarded with a bread roll and an apple.

Once he’s finished, he tipped his hat at the crowd before rushing back to you. He looked pleased with himself as he offered the food to you.

You immediately protested, “No! Don’t worry about me. I’m not that hungry anyway.” In embarrassingly perfect timing, your stomach lets out a growl.

Treech face broke out into a smile, holding out the food again. Sighing in defeat, you ripped a chunk off the bread. As you sat eating, you heard the crowd laughing. When you turned toward the noise, you saw one of the mentors holding out a sandwich in front of her tribute to the girl from Ten, only to pull it away at the last second, much to the crowd’s amusement.

“That’s awfully cruel,” you mumbled, clutching your food protectively to your chest. You tried to block out the noise. No point in making yourself needlessly upset.

However, shrieks coming from the audience members had you snapping your head back towards the bars. You saw the girl from Ten holding a bloody knife. The Capitol girl's face was drained of color as she dropped the sandwich and clawed at her neck. Blood was pouring from her neck and down her fingers as the District 10 girl released her and gave her a small shove.

The Capitol girl stepped back, turning and reaching out, imploring the audience for help. People were either too stunned or too scared to respond. Many drew away as she fell to her knees and began to bleed out. You held no love for the Capitol, but you couldn’t help but pity the girl. It was a horrible way to die.

Coriolanus rushed towards the Capitol girl. Shouting for a medic. He must know her. Your heart dropped when you saw Peacekeepers shouldering their way toward the enclosure. The gunshots sounded almost immediately after. Bullets were fired into the cage without care of who they hit.

You sit stunned for a second as you watch the bullets pierce the District 10 girl's body. Treech practically throws himself toward you, pushing you behind the rock. The bullets continued firing, flying just past your heads.

Even when the gunshots died down, you and Treech remained on the ground. Both of you clinging tightly to one another. After enough time passed, you peeked out and saw soldiers swarming the place, clearing out the last remnants of the audience. Without warning, they swarmed the enclosure, dragging all of you to the back of the cage and lining you up with your hands on top of your heads.

As you stood there, you wondered if they were going to shoot all of you and get it over with. Maybe it would be easier if you died now. At least it would be quick.

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #treech tbosas #the hunger games #treech #treech x reader #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow

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zensations35 · 2 months

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It's Manual Fucking Labor (Luci/fer)

Been working on this one for a bit. I love the delicious rivalry between Al and Luci, so I toyed with that a bit and made it spicy with some snz. I also am really enjoying the text flair I'm getting to play with for all these characters, so I hope yall are liking that. Ahaha. Enjoy!!

“That one needs to go over here!” Charlie points as she heaves one of the freshly slated planks of wood for the hotel revamp. “Can you cut three more for us, dad?” she smiles sweetly at Lucifer who sits crosslegged in front of a pile of wood.

He nods, dragging the back of his arm across his forehead. “I, uh, I’ll go head and do that, sure.”

Her eyes are bright and full, like the sun he never saw. “Dad,” she beams at him, “thank you for this.”

He tilts his head, “For what, Char Char?”

“For helping. For putting in so much effort. For,” she pats one of the planks, “for wanting to do it this way.”

Lucifer’s brows rise. “Th-this way?”

Charlie strides off before he can ask her to elaborate. His eyes flick back to the uncut wood and his lips tip down in a pout.

“Problem?” A staticky trill sends Lucifer’s hackles up.

“What?” Lucifer snaps, grabbing one of the slabs of wood, dragging a sharp claw deftly down the middle and cutting it as if it were a razor saw. Small fluffy flakes snow the air around him, making his cheeks fuzz. “Hhhfff…” his brow scrunches and a flush spreads from the circles on his cheeks. “Hieh--HiSFFH!”

Alastor skips over, peering down in amusement as sawdust skitters all around the fallen angel.

“Hm, quite shoddy,” the Radio Demon observes, tapping his cane against the plank with a squeal of feedback.

Lucifer finishes cutting the planks and coughs, wringing out his hands. “It’s manual labor, Alastor. I doubt you’d understand how to even do it.”

“Ooooh I see.” Alastor leans dolefully on his cane, “bonding with our dear Charlie with handmade projects?”

Lucifer sniffles, scrubbing his face with his whole fist. “Mh-hyep.”

The smugness surges by 60%. “Ohh, are we having trouble??”

“No! Of hh-c-course n--” Lucifer’s voice starts to pitch higher and higher, “Hig’Sshieu!”

Alastor lets out a keening laugh.

“Fuck off, Alastor, before I make you,” Lucifer growls.

Alastor tuts at him. “No need to be cranky, your highness.” He pulls out a red and black handkerchief, but Lucifer waves it off with a cool huff.

“I don’t need your hanky panky.”

A whistle of radio silence whines in their ears. Lucifer cocks a black eyebrow.

“What? What’d I say?”

Alastor sighs and tucks the cloth back into his suit pocket. “Not that you’d use it without a nose, anyway.”

“Hey!” Lucifer snaps, fangs glinting. “It’s complicated!”

“Far be it from me to inquire how your…extremities manifest.”

“You--snf--you--hieh!”

Alastor cups a hand over his ear, patiently waiting for the rest of the sentence, nothing but sass in his daggerlike smirk.

“I-I’m gonna--hhg’HGx’SHIeu!” This time, several puffs of flame escape from between his fangs, and Charlie finally realizes something is going on with her dad.

She hurries over after setting down what she was working on. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

Lucifer palms the spreading flush on his cheek and gives an unconvincing bray of a laugh, “Noh-huh-thing! Nothing at all! Perfectly fine!”

Alastor hums, lifting one of the smaller slabs of wood, his stance casually askew. “Of course he is, Charlie!” he saunters toward Lucifer, ever the helpful little elf. “He was just about to get started on--oh, my, let me just…” the Radio Demon scrapes his hand across the wood, brushing the powder from the last sawing off of it and directly into Lucifer’s fucking face. “There we are! Oh dear…” Alastor feigns concern as small spirals of smoke begin to coil out of Lucifer’s snarled lips.

That fuck! He did that on phhh-pur-hhh!

His face scrunches, fangs peeking, rimmed by an orange glow as he lets out high pitched whines, “Ieh hiiih! HIP’CHSS’IEψ!” flames mist like aerosol, catching the flakes of wood shavings and motes of dust in its heat, cooking them into flakes of gray ash. The hellfire rejoices but the King sighs.

He wipes away fresh tears and lets a vague chuckle out. “Ah, Charlie, sweetie, perhaps we could speed up the process? I could just, ah,” he angles his elbows and dances his arms, “Zap a bap!” he does a little finger gun shot. “Yeah?”

“Ah, poor, Charlie,” Alastor clucks his tongue, fingers drumming across her shoulder, “I know how excited you were to do this by hand with your father--what was it you said? A bonding moment?” his voice is anything but altruistic. “But if he can’t handle it, I suppose it would be best to do things the easy way…” his teeth clack caustically.

Lucifer seethes. his teeth warping and curling. “I’m fine,” he decides, fighting back a throatful of air.

“A-are you sure, dad?”

Lucifer flaps his hand dramatically. “Absotively! Don’t w-Huh! Worry!”

Charlie doesn’t look one hundred percent convinced but if he says he’s fine, and wants to continue, then they’ll continue. She gives him two more boards to cut and hurries off to work on another section.

Lucifer turns back to the unfinished planks, his shoulders simmering with translucent fog. Alastor continues to observe in silent amusement.

“Are you going to help at all?”

“Maybe.”

Rrgh. Lucifer throws himself to a standing position, muttering under his breath. I swear to me, if Charlie didn't like that guy I would…

Well, there’s a lot he would do. Especially if he were…”Hiiet--”

Fuck me to here!

He needs to get a handle on the fucking fire. “Hgk…” Lucifer gulps the throatful of heat, his body taut with a shiver. His fingers squeeze the plank he’s holding and… ”Hi-ih-IEH⛧GHSHHIEUψu!”

Instead of flames, five feathers pop out and flit around the short King, catching the breeze and running off into the wind. A couple of them float near Alastor who looks irritated at them, waving them away with a chop of his hand and a staticky, “How very uncouth…”

Lucifer’s pride flares and his grin grows wicked.

“Weelllll,” he unfurls his six wings, exaggerating them with a flex. “I better get this installed up there.”

Lucifer quakes his wings and smacks them down, clouding the ground below his knees with dust and shavings. He shoots into the air, spinning away from the source of his allergens as he rubs at his teary eyes and flushed cheeks.

Fuck Alastor, that prick. He deserves a bit of karma. Would Lucifer really be at fault if he were flying and he just happened to lose a few feathers? If they just by chance were to fall into that jackass’s face??

As Lucifer flies, a few feathers wilt from his wings--by accident of course! And, as predicted by divine oracle, they just happen to float down near the red haired Radio Demon, currently distracted while helping Charlie with something frivolous, Lucifer is certain.

The feather drifts…soft downy catching the dying light in a soft pink glow. Slow, deliberate. It coils, totally by accident of course, right down beside the Radio Demon, and nudges the left side of his nostril. He blinks, now distracted from his work. His crimson eyes flit up but another brush of the cottony down makes his lids ripple shut.

“Hh-hh!”

His shoulders spike and he thrusts a hand up to shoo away the feather, “Ss٨ﮩﮩZH! Hgk٨ـﮩﮩ”

“Alastor!” Charlie spins in surprise when his mic clatters to the ground.

He gives a feeble attempt to wave her away but she puts an arm around him comfortingly.

“Are you alright? Maybe you should sit down. You just recovered after all--”

Lucifer watches with an indignant pout as his daughter comforts the wrong person. He doesn’t miss the not-so-subtle flash of Alastor’s smug grin as he allows Charlie to lead him away, leaving Lucifer to finish the rest of the work by himself.

God fucking dammit.

#I haven't done sawdust allergies like EVER #and it's been on my mind since hubby did some manual LABOR AHAHA #so yeah i had to do this #next fic will likely be my ocs because i'm very nearly done with that LSSR fic #but for my haz/bin fam thank yall for pushing me to finish this!!#what a ride!!#snz #snz fic #zen fanfic #haz/bin #luc/ifer #al/astor #allergies #sawdust allergies #snzfic #zenfic

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luvendiary · 1 month

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of moons and gowns / r. lupin

remus lupin x reader; royal!au

part 1

a/n: here´s part 2!!!! this is the end of this specific storyline, but if you're interested in deeing specific scenarios in this au, send in a request! i hope you enjoy this! i had a lot of fun writing.

tw: mentions of abuse and torture.

summary: the life of a servant in the palace was hectic. the life of a servant in the palace who so happened to get along with the princes, was even more so.

In the days that followed your encounter with Prince Remus in the palace corridors, life took an unexpected turn. The upcoming royal ball was now tinged with the prospect of attending as Prince Remus's guest. You tried not to dwell on it however, as you knew it was probably an attempt to get on your nerves or play a light joke on you as James and Sirius often did.

Still, not much energy was left to dwell on the invitation as the palace was a hive of activity and you were at the center of it. Chores multiplied, and you found yourself engulfed in a whirlwind of tasks, leaving little room for leisure or the company of your royal friends.

The days blended together in a blur of scrubbing, polishing, and arranging, all under the watchful eyes of strict supervisors ensuring perfection for the impending event.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the palace grounds, you finally trudged back to your modest chambers. Your limbs ached, and weariness clung to every step, but the promise of rest spurred you forward.

Upon entering your room the crowd of maids gathered near one of the beds caught your attention. And as you started to unpin your hair you approached them.

“What are you lot staring at?”

Your presence took them by surprise, as they all rapidly turned their heads toward you with huge grins.

“You may not want to settle down just yet”, Lucy said with a mischievous tone,

You raised an eyebrow as you realized they were all huddled around your bed, and that there was something laying on top.

“It looks like you’ve caught the attention of yet another prince”, she said as you inspected the beautiful blue, silk dress that had been left extended neatly on your bed.

Your mind was racing at a thousand miles per minute as you reached for the small piece of paper that sat neatly next to the dress.

You opened it and felt as the rest of the girls peered over your shoulder.

In the chaos of these hectic days, I thought a respite might be in order. Please consider this an invitation (rather than a command) to join me for dinner. I promise not to bore you with tedious tales of courtly affairs or James and Sirius’ latest plan (unless, of course, you insist).

I’ll wait for you at the gardens at 8.

Yours sincerely,

Remus

You could feel your cheeks warm up. Dinner with Remus Lupin had been the furthest thing from your mind when you started your day of chores. Yet, as you slipped into the dress laid out on your bed and your hair was once again tamed into soft waves by your fellow maids, you couldn't suppress the flutter of excitement in your chest.

The evening air was crisp and scented with the fragrance of blooming flowers as you strolled through the garden. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the way, casting dancing shadows on the cobblestone walkways.

You fiddled with your fingers as you made your way towards the center of the garden where you found a picnic set up, and sitting on a nearby stone bench was Prince Remus with a book in his hand.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. A picnic seemed almost too mundane for a prince. But in a strange way it made you feel comforted. You would rather have this than a big elaborate dinner.

As if on cue, Remus seemed to notice you. He closed his book and set it down quickly as he stood up. He was wearing a loose white shirt underneath a blue waistcoat along with some trousers and boots. He looked terribly handsome.

“There you are”, he said as he approached you with a gentle smile. “I must admit, I wasn’t sure if you were going to come”.

You said nothing and offered him a sheepish smile instead. You still weren’t sure how you were supposed to behave with him.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he offered you a hand, which you took and allowed yourself to be led to the blanket laid out on the ground.

“Thank you, your majesty. I must say that I’ve never worn a dress like this”, you replied. “Besides, if I may be so bold, you look rather dashing yourself”.

He sat next to you and smiled. “Please, just call me Remus”.

You remained quiet for a second before daring to look up at him with the smallest of smirks. “Is that an order?”

He bit his tongue, trying to suppress the smile that crept onto his face, but failing. “It’s a request.”

“As you wish then…Remus,” you said as you tried to suppress a teasing smile of your own.

With that settled, a satisfied Remus reached out for the basket as he began unpacking.

You sat down along with him; your flowy dress falling around you.

"I hope you like strawberry tarts," Remus said, holding one out to you on a small plate. "They're my favorite."

You accepted the tart graciously, taking a small bite and savoring the burst of flavor. "They're delicious," you remarked, genuinely impressed.

Remus smiled warmly, pleased by your reaction. "I'm glad you think so. I had to ask Euphemia for her recipe. But, I must admit, I had a bit of help from the palace chefs. They insisted after seeing me covered in flour."

His revelation made you laugh. It was endearing to think about the crown prince of Crescenwatch flustered in the kitchen while covered in flour.

“While I do appreciate the intention, next time let me stick to the baking”, you said amidst a fit of giggles.

He lowered his head slightly and with a soft smirk peered over his lashes. “So there will be a next time?”

You worried at your lip and stared at him contemplatively. “That’s not really up to me”, you replied with a soft smile while raising your eyebrows.

He made a soft sound of understanding before changing the topic once again. The conversation flowed effortlessly as both of you made your way through the food Remus had prepared, and exchanged stories about your respective days. His down-to-earth demeanor put you at ease. In no time you were as comfortable with him as you were with James or Sirius. And as the night passed, you found yourself laughing freely at Remus's witty remarks. The initial awkwardness between you, now gone.

Remus joined in on your laughter, and he tried to suppress the pride he relished in whenever he managed to make you smile and giggle. Still, the twinkle in his eyes was not easily hidden.

The sound of chirping birds brought you back to reality after a long while. It was then that you realized that you had spent all night out with Remus. What was supposed to be a small dinner, had turned into a full evening with the prince.

You looked at him, lying down on his side, supported by his elbow as he stared at you. You couldn’t help but laugh with slight delirium. The lack of sleep had started to get to you, and the situation you were in (which in normal circumstances would have frustrated you with the thoughts of the day ahead), humored you.

He seemed to share your amusement as he laughed along with you.

“I have to get going,” you said finally as you stood up and patted down your wrinkled dress.

Remus hurriedly stood up. He tried to fix himself up, his waistcoat had long been discarded and his white shirt had been untucked.”Let me walk you back”.

You smiled as you slipped your slippers back on. “That’s alright my prince. You don’t need to do that.”

Remus tilted his head and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t tell me you’re going back to formalities now. Besides, I insist”.

You chuckled. “Sorry, force of habit. If it makes you feel better, I still call James and Sirius by their titles sometimes”.

He chuckled. “But I’m not Sirius, or James, am I?”, he said, trying to get you to look at him.

Your cheeks warmed up. And in your flustered state, you could not muster up a witty answer. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach, making you feel all tingly inside.

He seemed to relish in this small victory. Whilst in your flustered state, he offered you his arm, which you took, and with the picnic basket in his other hand, he walked you back to your chambers.

The path to your chambers had seemed to become shorter than you remembered it. On a usual day, they seemed to be impossibly far from where you needed them, but as of right now, they couldn’t have been far enough.

“I had a great night, thank you for inviting me,” you said as you stared up at him.

“Thank you for coming,” he replied.

A brief moment of silence passed between the two of you , trying to make this moment linger as long as possible. Still, you knew it couldn’t.

“I should…go…” you breathed out with a sad smile. You turned to open the door and walked in with one final smile. However the calling of your name made you stop in your tracks.

“I…I just-”, it was the first time you had seen Remus this nervous. His usual calm and composed demeanor was what you’ve grown accustomed to, and to a certain extent, it seemed weird for a prince like him to become this speechless, especially with a servant such as yourself.

“I don’t mind being called a prince…”, a small pause. “Your prince.”

A smile broke out through your features, it seemed that you couldn’t stop yourself when you were around him. You stood on your tiptoes and lightly kissed his cheek.

“Thank you for such a wonderful evening, my prince”. And with that, you turned on your heels and walked into your chambers.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Unfortunately, your dream-like evening had to remain on the back of your mind the next few days. With the ball approaching, the bustling around the palace had increased. Young yourself running around more than usual, so much so that you barely had any time left for meals or even alone time. You were currently occupied with the flower arrangements in the main ballroom. A calming chore like this was a nice change of pace from the usual, more strenuous things you had to attend to.

You were lost in your thoughts as your fingers danced along the stems of various sorts of flowers. Either cutting leaves or thorns. Despite the enjoyment of preparing the flower arrangements, you had to make them with certain speed and agility, which is why various small cuts littered your hands.

“Ah, here she is,” a voice echoed through the room, followed by the sound of tumultuous footsteps.

“Good morning Sirius”, you said without taking your eyes off of your task. “Good morning James”.

“And a good morning to you too!” James yelled back, as if he was saying something threatening.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes actually,” said Sirius. “You can start by telling us what enchantment you have placed on our Moony”.

You chuckled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe this will ring a bell. Tall, charming, handsome, dorky man with a lovesick smile that was previously not there?” James said as he peeked over your shoulder looking at the arrangement of flowers.

“He is quite handsome”.

“Yes well, we all know that already. What we want to know is why is he acting like a teenager all of a sudden?” Sirius pressed.

“He is?”

“Well, if talking all day long about the pretty girl he asked to ball, and how he loves how she rebukes every flirty commentary he throws at her isn’t acting like a lovesick teenager, I don’t know what is”, James replied.

“He thinks I’m pretty?”

Sirius sighed in exasperation. “They’re both hopeless”.

“Yes yes, you’re pretty, I’m impossibly charming,” James jumped in. “Setting the obvious aside. Will you tell us what has been going on between the two of you?”

With a nervous smile you finished with the arrangement and finally turned to face them. You realized that this was uncharted territory for you. Sure, your friendship with the princes was very close and you could tell each other almost everything (they surely took advantage of that). However, you had never talked about other boys with them.

With trembling hands you lowered your gaze and twisted your fingers before supplying them with the answer they had been bugging you about. “We sort of went on a date. At least, that’s what I think it was”.

Silence.

And then raucous, ear-splitting screams of what you hoped was joy.

James was jumping up and down while Sirius ran his hands through his hair and paced around.

“And?” James said with a huge grin as he approached you like a madman.

“And what?”

“And how did it go?”

With a grin of your own, you explained how your date had gone. However, you kept the specifics to yourself, relishing in those hidden moments that no one had been witness to.

As you spoke of your date with the prince, you couldn't help but notice the eager anticipation in James's eyes and the barely contained excitement in Sirius's demeanor. Their enthusiasm was infectious, but you knew better than to let it sway you. After all, you were just a servant, and the idea of something more with someone like Remus was not in the cards for you.

“So you’re coming right?” James asked. You could practically see the cogs working in his brain.

“What do you mean?”

“To the ball, of course”,Sirius replied.

Your heart sank. The prospect of attending such an event seemed like a cruel joke, a reminder of the gaping divide between your world and theirs. You knew they meant well. They often ignored the blatant divide between you, how scandalous it would be for someone like you to be seen with someone like them in an event of that magnitude. Their words were a painful reminder of the barriers that stood between you.

You looked at them with a sad smile. “You know I can’t. For all I know that night was a one time thing. I’m a servant, we don’t get to mingle amongst royalty”.

As Sirius's expression soured and he began to voice his objections, you felt a pang of frustration building within you. Him out of all people should understand. His anger only served to fuel your own, and before you could stop yourself, you interrupted him, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

"Please don't," you pleaded, your words a whispered plea. "I've made my peace with it. It's been hard enough."

With a heavy heart, you gathered the discarded stems and leaves in your basket, your movements automatic as you sought solace in the familiar routine of your duties.

Leaving behind a perplexed James and an angry Sirius, you made your escape, the weight of your conflicting emotions pressing down on you like a burden too heavy to bear. As you walked away, the echoes of their voices faded into the distance, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the ever-present reminder of your place amongst their world.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a couple days now since your small fight with the royals. You had been avoiding them -all of them.

You had asked one of your fellow maids to take your turns in tending to their fireplace or taking the breakfast, in exchange for other duties. She had happily done so, despite her brief worry for what must have caused such a request.

You could not say that you did not miss your friends. Your life at the palace was made fun by their antics -even if they did stress you out sometimes-. But the thought of facing them, of being reminded of your place in the hierarchy, was enough to keep you away.

As the night of the ball arrived, you found yourself busy with other chores, anything to keep your mind off the lavish event taking place in the ballroom. You scrubbed floors, dusted shelves, and tended to the gardens, the rhythmic motions a comforting distraction from the festivities happening just a few corridors away.

It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t specifically requested to not attend the ball, and instead you had taken on double the amount of chores you usually did to compensate for that.

So, after a long day of work, you sought refuge at the library. A place you were sure no one would come in, especially not tonight, when everyone wanted to mingle amongst the princes. You, on the other hand, had decided that it was better for you if you maintained your distance.

However, a certain chocolate-eyed man did not think so.

“You’re avoiding me”, a voice came from behind you, making you freeze in your steps. The pile of books on your hands seemed impossibly heavy now.

You remained in silence, hoping -praying-, he would leave. But luck was not on your side today.

“Why?” he continued. This time his voice was impossibly soft. Your heart sank, hearing the sadness it carried.

You turned to face him then, and you thought that you could be strong enough to tell him the truth. But as you looked at him, you realized that you couldn’t.

“Shouldn’t you be at the ball?”, you said in an effort to avoid the topic as you set down the pile of books and pretended to skim through one of them. “I’m sure there’s a lot of disappointed girls out there right now.”

“Maybe. But the one girl I’m interested in decided not to show up”.

You had to remind yourself that to him, you were probably just a fun time. Someone he might never see again. But to you…

“I’m certain that you have a bunch of beautiful girls lining up to take her place”, you replied.

If you weren't so busy trying to avoid his gaze, you might have noticed how his expression seemed to morph into that of disappointment. And quickly into one of frustration.

“I talked with James and Sirius”, he said. His voice is now much more sharp.

“Well, Sirius has a lot of experience in that department. James might not be that helpful, he’s pretty hung up on Princess Lily-”

“They told me that you had made ‘peace with it’”, he said, cutting sharply into your sentence as he took a step towards you.

You faltered for a moment, before trying to hold on to the unbothered front you had been trying to put on. However, he didn’t give you time to recover.

“That you don’t get to ‘mingle with royalty’”, he continued as he approached you, making you take some steps back. “And that it was a ‘one time thing’”.

Your back hit a shelf, and before you knew it, Remus was looming over you. His hand reached for your book before setting it on a higher shelf. He then gently took a hold of your chin, and he forced you to look up at him. “You’re a smart girl. Don’t tell me you actually believe that”.

You caught how his eyes softened for a fraction of a second. Still, that wasn’t enough to stop the small burst of anger that bubbled up inside you.

“You’re a smart prince,” you said, your words now had an edge to them. “Don’t tell me you’re unaware of the repercussions this might have”.

“To hell with the repercussions-”

“That’s because you can afford to do that Remus!” you retaliated. He seemed surprised by your outburst, as he took the smallest of steps backward. “I’m a servant, and if they were to see us, do you know what they’ll say about me?” you continued as you jabbed your finger in his chest.

“Do you have any idea how I was treated back on Blackhaven?” you debated for a moment if this was really worth telling, but you quickly decided that if he wanted to know about the repercussions, you would tell him about them.

“After enduring Orion’s punishments, befriending Sirius was the most wonderful thing that happened to me. But rumors started spreading on how I was his slut. On how I ‘kept him satisfied’ in exchange for protection!”

Remus kept silent. His hand held on your arm gently, trying to keep you close.

You slumped against bookshelves, and looked up, trying to keep the tears at bay. It wasn’t like you had forgotten it. It plagued your nightmares. But it had been years since you had to purposefully remember the punishment that made Sirius decide to get you out of his kingdom.

“Orion found out,” you continued, this time your voice much softer. “So he decided that his normal branding wasn’t enough this time. He said that I would not taint his bloodline -that a servant would not ruin his bloodline.”

Remus’ eyes searched for yours, trying to find a hint that it wasn’t true. That somehow you got saved from being punished. He was familiar with the king’s punishments. He remembered a particular night in which Sirius had not been able to handle it anymore, and he broke down in James’ room.

“So he branded me in the usual place…and then on my hip. And then, he had me lashed…while Sirius watched.”

You could feel how his fingers tightened around your wrist, but you avoided his eyes. In a brief moment he pulled on your wrist and dragged you to a dark corner of the library where he pulled on a book and a part of the wall popped open, revealing a small room the size of a maintenance closet.

The sound of a click brought you back to reality. And the small warm light that followed it revealed that the ‘maintenance closet’ was not that at all, but rather a really small study.

You sighed and turned to face him. He dragged you a few paces up until you were next to the desk. He took you by the waist and hoisted you upwards, so you were sitting on it, before prompting you to continue.

With a shaky breath you went on.

“I tried not to make any noise for Sirius’ sake. But Orion decided that he wouldn’t be satisfied until I screamed my throat raw,” you had started untying your apron. “ So he didn’t stop, not even when I passed out. Sirius’ pleads and screams kept waking me up, until Orion got tired.”

Remus watched you carefully, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain. He could see the turmoil in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to speak, and his own words felt inadequate.

As you untied your apron, he noticed the tension in your shoulders, the way your hands trembled slightly. Without a word, he moved closer, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached out to help you.

His fingers brushed against the fabric of your dress, the gentle touch a silent reassurance of his presence. With practiced ease, he located the ribbons at the back of your dress, his touch feather-light as he began to untangle them. You tensed at his touch, a shiver running down your spine as the faint outline of the lash scars hidden beneath your dress were revealed.

But he didn't look away. Instead, he continued to untie your dress, his movements slow and deliberate as he revealed more and more of your scars to him. With each inch of exposed skin, his heart broke a little more, but he refused to let his own emotions show.

Finally, the ribbons completely untangled from your corset, and your dress hung loose around your shoulders, the scars on your back fully revealed to him. Remus felt a lump form in his throat as he took in the sight, the raw brutality of your old life laid bare before him.

But he didn't turn away. Instead, he reached out, his fingers tracing the contours of your scars with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.

He had tried to avoid it at first, but the Blackhaven crest that was engraved into your skin screamed at him for attention. The crest was jagged and uneven, the lines distorted from where you had thrashed in pain during your punishment. It was a brutal symbol of the cruelty of the Blackhaven royals, and a mark that would forever brand you as a victim of their tyranny.

Remus felt a surge of anger rise within him as he looked upon the crest. You felt as his gentle fingers made its way up to it. His touch was feather-light as he traced the outline of the crest. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his fingertips, the scars rough and raised against his touch.

“That was what he was most proud of,” you said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between you. “It made me his property. He tried to make the lash marks disappear later. He said they would just ruin a pretty thing. So they mostly healed. But I guess my body wasn’t able to erase that memory completely.”

More silence.

“The crest on my hip was a final gift. Something about how if I wanted to be a slut, people should know who I belong to. I woke up in the infirmary days later, to the news that Sirius had ‘gifted me’ to Noblehaven”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air. But then, without a word, Remus leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to your back. And then another. And another.

His lips moved reverently over the scars. As he trailed kisses along the jagged lines of the crest, you felt a rush of emotions wash over you—pain, sorrow, but also something else. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you felt his lips press against the scars.

The contrast of the tender action amidst a place that had been ravaged by brutality and cruelty was devastating.

His hands slowly snaked their way to your cheeks, and as they softly made you turn to look at him they wiped the tears that had escaped your eyes. Without a word, Remus pulled you into his arms, holding you close as though trying to shield you.

“Be my queen,” he whispered tenderly, out of the blue. His pain-stricken eyes reaching for yours.

“Remus-”

“No harm will ever come to you”.

Your words caught in your throat as you gazed into his earnest eyes, the depth of emotion swirling within them almost overwhelming. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heartstrings, and for a moment, you were lost in the intensity of his plea.

"Be my queen," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, yet it echoed loudly in the silence between you. His fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring.

Your breath hitched as you searched his gaze, seeing the raw sincerity etched in every line of his face. The weight of his request hung heavy in the air, the gravity of his words sinking deep.

"Remus..." you began, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "I'm just a servant."

He whispered your name, but his gaze seemed to be undecided on whether it wanted to fixate on your eyes or your lips. “Please…” he begged as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning your lips.

“Please,” he whispered again. This time the plea seemed to weigh so much more.

Ever so slowly, you pressed your lips to his.

His arms encircled you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, and you melted into his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency, a silent plea for you to say yes, to choose him, to become his queen.

When you finally pulled away, a soft smile graced Remus' lips. “Is that a yes?”

You smiled up at him, and tilted your head slightly. “It depends. Was that a command?”

Remus chuckled and cupped your face with his hand as he pressed your lips to his once again. It was soft and desperate at the same time. So much longing in one single action.

“I think you know I’m in no place to give commands when it comes to you,” he whispered as he trailed his kisses up to your ear.

Remus’ hands snaked in between your dress, softly caressing the scars on his way down. The piece of fabric now pulling at your waist.

“Say it,” he pleaded as he trailed kisses down your neck and back to your mouth. “Say you will.”

“I will,” you breathed out.

He pulled away slightly, admiring you for a second before wrapping his arms around you once again.

tags:

@lovelyygirl8

#remus lupin x reader #marauders #remus lupin #x reader #remus john lupin #sirius black #remus x reader #remus john lupin x reader #marauders royal!au #marauders au #marauders royal au

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bronx-bomber87 · 2 months

Text

Good evening Fandom :) Gonna try and be more concise and mini this time haha Wasn’t so mini last time. Imma really try LOL Also the gif library just refuses to pull anything that's new and its driving me nuts. Guess all the pretty gifs will have to wait till summer when the library gets it's act together and I can be more in depth. LOL This is supposed to mini anyways. I'll do my best to make this brief but impactful haha This is a new gear for me.

6x02 The Hammer

Their first interaction is fraught af. Tim is radiating hurt still not that I blame him. He is trying to sweep it under the rug but the man is hurting. I do love Lucy trying to let him know not how healthy communication works. heh She's not wrong. You know I was so Tim in this moment before therapy. Surprise surprise right?

Deeply hurt but when it gets brought up I shirked it off. Try to put it in a box and bury it. Lucy is right it’s not healthy. But he isn’t in the place to receive that right now. I do love her saying they have stuff to talk about if she ever goes under. Yes.... yes you do. Lucy seems to have calmed down at this point and Tim isn’t there yet…

Credit to This post for this image

Lucy getting roped into the ring thing LOL Their tension is immediate as they sandwich Angela in their fight. Angela is the fandom as she watches them bicker. My goodness not hiding how they feel whatsoever….Tense af while they’re fighting. Could cut it with a knife. Sniping at each other. Tim saying he knew she wasn't really over it.

Which kills my 'calmed down' theory for Lucy haha Even though they're at odds Tim still offers his help because it's his girl. Lucy saying she will accept it even if she doesn’t need it. These two.. Angela's final words had me laughing. Wanting to come and enjoy their fight with popcorn. Tim saying she’s not funny on the way out hahaha Not in the mood for his bestie either.

Love Lucy reaching out to touch him and make a joke bout Hammer's real name. Tim full of sass asking if he can finish? Well I never Timothy. LOL He has a warrant out and it’s outstanding that'll make this easy.... Even worse he loves to fight cops. Oh boy. Ladies first lmfao oh Tim I love you so. Putting his hand on her back. She’s smiling though.

OMG I can’t believe Tim tried to get her to fight the Hammer. My love no.... Her argument is solid af that she has to look amazing. That no one cares what he looks like. I mean I care what he looks like but it’s true she needs to look hot at haha Tim caving because well it's Lucy. Like fighting the sun right now. heh Lucy telling him he’s got this. Oh my lord it's so cute.

Lucy wanting to jump in but Tim stops her. My heart. He’s getting his ass kicked at first oof. Tim launching off the bed to kick Hammer into the closet. Holy shit that was sexy. I hope this fight gets gif'd it was great. He wins though. Well done Tim that was fine as hell. Got my motor revving.

Oh my goodness him bending on one knee and looking at her. The looks are LOADED here. Especially on Lucy's end. Getting me all in my feels goodness. Especially Lucy’s face. Myriad of emotions going on there. Foreshadowing at it's finest Oh my. I have a feeling when do the summer review I'll have a novel on this. Tim passes the hell out shortly after. Getting asthma attack just looking at him.

Love the set up girls night/boys night and their talk bout their relationship. Celina asking Lucy to have less baking at her party HA! Naww love Celina thinking in those terms. Lucy saying that's way off. Seeming worried it’s not in their future. Heart clutch. Adore this back and forth between Lucy and Tim at the parties LOVING Chastity telling Lucy like it is. Calling her out really. Even she can see it. I mean feel like Lucy is scared and just won't back down from this path.

It's not just Tim. It's her too but she is digging her heels in. I can’t say I don’t agree with Tim on the projection. Lucy using Isabel as an excuse for that. I think she is using it more than he is IMO at this point in time. She usually is right on the money with Tim. This time doesn't feel like it. Almost as if she’s using Isabel as a scape goat for being scared more so than Tim. Lucy saying she’s fine. Lying liar my love lying liar.

Poor Tim wanting to show he’s not the problem my love. That he's not the only one. There is clearly still a lot to sort through for them. This scene is proof of that. Lucy gets a call from Tim to meet at the station. This has to be the lie detector test. Harper telling her to run I was dying.

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How cute is Tim in his black shirt all wired up for her? I'm dying how precious it was. The way she crosses the room sweet lord. Eyeing her prey. She basically is straddling his thigh. Imma pass out. Getting as close as she can to him. Basically hugging his thigh with hers. I’m getting hot under the collar already. She is so ready to ask him anything but UC questions to start this off. Clearly wanting to ask him specific things on her mind since he's hooked up to the machine.

The bug question LMAO. The most Tim and Lucy thing ever. Of course that man doesn't release the bugs haha. Very her to ask him to do it though. God this was so cute I cannot. Small little insight to their relationship we don't usually get to see.

Then she went right after it with asking if he loves her? A question I think has been weighing on her mind for awhile. Knowing she can immediately see if he's lying. Gah look at him light up. The way he leans into her. Reminding of his posture in 5x09 when he asked her out again. Just as serious now as he was then. Saying he loves her ugh my heart. Our big softie in action in this moment.

Lucy couldn’t be happier with this answer. Same look she got whenever he complimented her in the past. They be beaming everyone. Then he get’s a big fact lie with the UC question crap. Now I feel this isn't fair. Because the man LIVES to support her but he is a struggle bus about this path. To me that 'lie' wasn't because he doesn't support her. To me just those damn demons that won't rest for him.

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Tim looking fine af. Looking for his girl of courses sigh. Cool cool cool fun angsty glances. Damn you gif library was primo angsty looks. Even though they’re sitting next to each other it’s the most physical distance seen between them really in ever. Yeah their arms are touching but not much else. More angsty looks between them at the reception. Gah they’re intense as hell.

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Tim coming to find her my heart. Being the one to break the distance. Asking her to dance and confronting this issue. So proud of him and what he tells her. What a man. He's owning the trauma he still carries. Which is HUGE for him. Lucy thanking him and saying they'll make it through. I love this. Always love us touching back on. 'Unless it is.' moment. Because yeah this is hard but they're worth it and they continually see that and show it.

Now do I love it squarely being just on Tim this UC Fight? No I don't. I do think she is still having doubts but love him laying it out there. I think the issue's Lucy is having just haven't been confronted yet. Their fight from 6x01 was about Tim's issues for most part. Her's were for sure in there just not as prominently. I'm hopeful we touch on her's later this season.

This still feel unresolved to me and imbalanced. Especially now that Tim has admitted some fault to their problems as of late. I feel like I have a really good grasp on these characters. To me my gut is telling me Lucy is scared, having doubts, worried about a long term assignment. What it'll mean for them. Her side of it still needs to be delved into. 5x20-5x21 shook her more than she is letting on. Truly think this just hasn't been explored yet. Because they both have things to resolve with this career choice.

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Also wanna note in this lovely scene. Lucy has her hands all over her him and I’m about it my god. The intimate swaying and leaning into each other. That magnetic force of their's bringing them back together. Their bodies relaxing for the first time in this entire episode. Just happy to be near one another. They're glowing when they come back together in this moment.

Gah their chemistry is out of this world. Her hand on the back his head too phew lord and we get a return ILY. *heart clutch* Lucy's eyes searching his face hoping her saying as such soothes his wounds a little. The cute lie detector line I cannot. It’s was so precious. Their smiles have me on cloud 9. Couldn't be more in love if these two tried. *happy sigh*

Lucy and Tim leading the charge hot damn they pretty. Tim in formal wear and his badge? Lord help me. Phew this was a HEFTY one. So many things to sort through. Like I said in my OG post these are first thoughts. Should be interesting to see how they change come summer and we're in the hiatus.

Thank you to everyone who liked the premiere post. These are a different gear for me glad they're liked ha Imposter Syndrome is real ya'll lol Feel free to comment your thoughts I love chatting about them and this season best part of going through it together for first time. See you all next week!

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Side notes-non Chenford

Lmao the cold open. Daddy cop was always a fav one of mine.

Hey Henry is back sorta. ha

Love Luna checking in on Aaron. Then having a little ptsd poor love.

Oscar is back too LOL

‘Miss Cleo' nickname LMAO

Poor Aaron having a rough time of it. I was worried he was leaning on Celina too much tbh. Also that kiss yikes my man yikes...

#Caitlin's Mini Reviews #chenford #s6 #6x02 The Hammer #the rookie 6x02 #otp: doing my job #otp: you know me so well. too well.#otp: some things matter more #otp: you did good #otp: you're nothing like him.#otp: unless it is #tim x lucy #tim bradford #lucy chen #the rookie #lucy x tim #eric winter #melissa o'neil

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 9 months

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hi!! i thought i'd send in a request for lucy gray baird! i was thinking maybe hurt/comfort set in the arena, where reader gets injured and either lucy helps them or has to leave them alone for a bit for whatever reason? gn reader preferred but i don't mind too much!

can't wait to read your writing in the future! no pressure to write this specifically though, of course <3

— @aubeystawby

I'm so excited to write about Lucy Gray, she is such a cool character. And thank you for reposting my requirements list! Also, I'm sorry if she's OOC, I've never written for her and haven't read the book in a couple of months.

Lucy Gray Baird x Gender neutral! Reader (hurt/comfort)

Warning: mention of murder, blood, description of wounds, spoilers for The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, and hand-holding!

Keep in mind: the story can be taken in a platonic or romantic way. There are no kissing or romantic gestures but the way it is written can be taken either way.

Gliding one hand along the arena wall, you covered your eyes from the sun. The sun beamed down onto your skin, bathing you in warmth, but it wasn't pleasant. The midsummer heat and the humidity in the arena made it unbearable. It felt disgusting being in the sun from how little you had eaten in the past couple of hours.

When was the last time you had eaten a full meal? Maybe the night before reaping day. You couldn't have eaten anything the actual day from nerves. Your mentor barely gave you food from the days in the monkey house. The closest semblance of food you had received was from Capital citizens, which was minute and didn't help your appetite. You just had to hope your mentor pitied you enough to feed you now.

Hunger pains washed over your body, climbing through your body in waves. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, hoping the pains wouldn't last as long as the last time. Your prayers weren't answered, rather, the pains lasted nearly twice as long. Loud and deep breaths were heard coming from you as you keeled over.

When the hunger pains had left, you glanced around the dirt-covered arena, wanting to find any semblance of food. Perhaps another tribute willing to trade food for something. But what would you give? The only thing you had was a roll of bandages and a small knife. You could always threaten them. But it probably wouldn't have worked, the other tributes presumably had more than you. No point in that option.

You reminded yourself to stay focused, being in your head was not somewhere you wanted to be, especially in this place.

Your eyes glide over the surrounding area. The walls looked the same, a beige and dirty tone, it seemed to suck life from the already lifeless building. But the vibrancy of the six flags of Panem hung on the walls brought it back. Or rather five flags. One was gone and laid over several bodies in a large area of the arena.

Reaper’s graveyard. It brought a sense of disgust to you. The idea that they will always have Panem over them, even in death, made you pity them.

You didn't feel to count the bodies, rather, your eyes were drawn to a body in a small corner of the arena. It was a male tribute's body, several water bottles lay next to his body. You gave up discerning the identity of the tribute at the sight of a handkerchief over its face.

Buzzing sounds filled the silence as you looked up at a drone slowly flying toward you. It held a bread roll in its metal claw. A grin crossed your face as you reached your hand for the drone. At the sight of the bread in its metal hand, your mouth watered. Thank god your mentor had mercy on you. You held your hand out before it dropped the roll into your hand. It left as quickly as it had come but you didn't pay any mind to it.

You were swift as you took large bites out of brown bread. The stale, crumbly bread fell apart in your mouth but you kept eating. It didn't matter that the food wasn't the greatest, it was good you were even given food at all. Your fingers tore the bread apart rapidly. The feeling of hunger made the bread taste twice as good.

You were barely three-quarters through the bread when the small sound of metal hitting concrete filled the air. Your body stiffened. Silence filled the emptiness as you looked around quickly.

Your eyes trailed over the walls of the arena, then to the tunnel entrances. Your grasp on your knife tightened as you listened for anything else.

You were expecting one of the tributes to come running at you with a blade or an axe. Hell, you were expecting Reaper.

But the idea of someone getting their hand on a trident wasn't something that crossed your mind.

Heavy footsteps overtook the quiet and they grew closer. You didn't take a chance to look at who was running after you as you run for the channel entrance. A boy's voice yelled for another tribute, the boy calling for Coral. It must have been Mizzen. He was the only tribute that was allied with the girl tribute. And he was the only other tribute with a trident.

It took barely a second for the trident to be thrown through the air and hit your leg. Your body hit the ground roughly as you cried out. Pain flowed through your body as you reached back for the weapon. You peek at the boy running for you, and you were correct. It was Mizzen. You pull the trident from your leg harshly.

The pain grew worse as the air touched delicately at your bleeding wound. You got up and threw the weapon in another direction. It wouldn't be smart to take the trident with you. The situation was already bad but it would be worse being hunted for taking someone's stuff.

The trident hit the dirt-covered ground loudly. Mizzen was quick to rush for the skewer. It gave you little time to run since it seemed he wasn't willing to leave you alive.

Your footsteps were heavy as you dash through the flickering tunnels. Reaching down to hold your wound, you turned corners swiftly and continued running.

Agony crept up your leg and sprouted in your nerves as you ran from the boy. Mizzen’s shouts filled the flickering channel as you rush past corners. It took everything in you not to scream and wail from pain.

Hot pain wafted through your body as you limped through the tunnels. You took swift turns around the corners, wanting to get rid of your attacker. Heavy gasps left your lungs, not only from running but also from agony in your leg.

The lights shine down onto your blood-covered limb. Your face contorted in agony as you held your leg with one hand. Mizzen’s footsteps slowly quieted as you ran deeper into the dark tunnels.

When you were sure Mizzen and Coral had given up their chase, you finally stop running and slow to a walk, a slow and painful walk. You ground your teeth as you took in deep breaths. Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts. You reminded yourself.

You ultimately looked down at your wound, taking in the damage done to your limb. It was far more disgusting than you had thought. Blood ran down your leg, soaking your socks in reddish-pink tones. The trident had torn the muscles in your leg and putting any pressure proved painful.

Blood ran down your ankle and gradually covered the dark cement floor. Your breathing was heavy as you tried to unroll the gauze from your pocket. Tears cascade down your face as you hurriedly wipe dust and dirt from your wound, pain welling from the scratchiness of your clothes and the dirt.

You take deep breaths, trying to think happy thoughts so you can continue. You knew you couldn't be in the same spot for long. Another tribute would find you fast, and they wouldn't have mercy on you.

You looked at the remnants of the bread roll in your hand. The deep brown crust had become maroon from the blood it soaked up. Its insides were a pinkish hue. You cursed to yourself and threw the bread angrily at the wall, it hit with a soft ‘splat’.

You rigidly reached back into your pocket, withdrawing a small hunter's knife. Reaching for a piece of clothing, you cut at the fabric quickly. Threads came undone as you slash hastily but it didn't matter. You needed to make a tourniquet.

The soft clicking could barely be made clear. The tapping of shoes. Looking around the dingy hall, you're quick to grab your knife. Your breath is rigid as you give your best effort to stand. The pain in your leg seemed to claw at your body and nerves. You whined in pain but kept standing. Your good leg held most of your balance, while you kept your free hand against the curved wall. Your exhalation came as a pant.

You glared at the figure, guiding your knife to the woman in the dark. “Stay back!” You screeched, jutting the knife at the girl. She held her hands up, as though she was getting caught for something. You were still on guard when you started to piece together who the girl was. Her dress was vibrant, contrasting her tan skin. Oh, you knew who this was.

Lucy Gray.

It was obvious the arena warmth and stress had affected her. Her dark hair was tangled, and her forehead was sweaty, though her dress stayed vivid. You were slightly surprised she hadn't been killed yet, her dress could have given her away. But it must have been her sneakiness that kept her alive.

Even if she was a nice person, you knew not to back down. No matter how nice she was, you knew her survival was always number one for her. No matter how sweetly she spoke, you didn't want to look away from her out of worry she would attack.

Lucy Gray stepped into the light, showing herself fully. There were no noticeable weapons on her. The only thing pointing out that she had something on her would be one side of her rainbow ruffles hanging lower than the other. Something was in her pocket.

“(Y/n), I know how scared you must be. I saw your interaction with Mizzen, it didn't look too pretty,” Lucy Gray spoke, acknowledging the gaping wound on your leg with worry. “Yeah, no shit,” You retort, keeping a hard expression as you exhale through your teeth.

“I can help you, I have water to clean your wound. Plus, I want you to be my ally for the rest of the Games. I lost my District partner and you're just as alone as I am,” Lucy Gray seemed saddened at the mention of her District partner. Wasn't it Jessup? You couldn't remember properly. You stared daggers into her wordlessly. The only sound that could be heard was your loud breathing.

Your brain gradually shifted from her hurting you to the idea of partnering with her. Lucy Gray was popular in the Capital, everyone knew that. Partnering with her would have a lot of benefits since she has a lot of sponsors. Which meant food, lots of it.

Blood dripped onto the floor in large droplets, but you didn't pay attention to it. The only thing you were worried about was Lucy Gray. “(Y/n), if you don't let me help you, you're gonna bleed out,” she muttered and took a step closer. At the small action, you slashed at the air in front of her. You blinked lazily. Your breathing grew staggered as you slowly became lightheaded. You swallow thickly as you fall over onto the hard concrete.

Your body hits the ground with a thud. Silence follows as Lucy Gray peered down at you. She is quick to get closer, reaching into her rainbow ruffles to grab something. As you recover sluggishly, you immediately swing your knife at the closeness between you and the girl. Seeing her reach into her pocket, you sliced at the air near her with more intent.

You pointed the knife at Lucy Gray, giving her an angry yet weak stare. “Get away! Stay back!” You exclaimed as you used your free hand to trudge your body along the dirt floor. The dirt gradually covered your clothes as you tried to move away from the girl. You groan as the skin near your cut got dragged along the cement flooring. Tears ran down your face from the pain but you kept going. Pushing yourself farther from Lucy Gray, even if it was only a couple of inches.

Your body grew weak as the soreness in your body grew. Lucy Gray watched you closely, acting as though you were a hurt animal. You used your free hand to wipe the tears

Yet, she didn't try to hurt you. She simply gave you a saddened look as she tried stepping closer. “I'm not going to hurt you,” Lucy Gray spoke in a soft tone.

“How... How should I know you won't?” You bellow, your words coming out slowly from the pain of your wound.

Lucy Gray expressed her tenderness with a slight smile. She calmly reached into the ruffles of her rainbow dress. Your eyes stay fixed on Lucy Gray, the knife never pointing away from her. She didn't mind the knife and your angry gaze. She must have understood your fear, this was the Hunger Games after all, and you couldn't trust anyone. She finally pulled her hand out of the ruffles, attaining a clear bottle of water and a dark compact. She shook her colorful skirt, hoping to prove she had nothing else.

“I don't have anything else, see?” Lucy Gray smiled graciously, putting the compact back in her pocket. Her movements were slow and steady. She kneeled, laying the clear bottle on its side, and rolled it to you.

You eye the bottle and Lucy Gray, looking between the two swiftly. Your body grew weak as your arm holding the blade faltered. “(Y/n), I don't plan on hurting you. I know you don't trust me and I respect that, this isn't the place to trust anyone,” Lucy Gray took a step closer.

The lights in the tunnels flickered as you gaze up at her. Each second gave the impression of hours. Each time you blinked, it felt like a day. You lowered the blade bit by bit until it rested at your side. You placed yourself against the wall and grabbed the water bottle, acting as though you were reluctant. Lucy Gray looked pleased by you wordlessly accepting her offer, so she sat down next to you.

Some part of you wanted to push her away, maybe even point the knife at her but you were too weak. Instead, you held the bottle to Lucy Gray, letting her take it from you. She took it from you carefully, as though the small action of taking it too fast would hurt you.

You kept your focus on her, even if your vision was dazed and a bit blurry. The girl poured water onto her dirt-covered fingers, washing the soot off before turning the bottle to your wound. You braced yourself as you felt the lukewarm water run against your injury. Waves of discomfort washed through your body but you didn't try to stop Lucy Gray from helping you.

Her touch was gentle, her fingers caressing the skin around the bloody injury. The blood stains on her fingers greatly contrasted with her tan skin.

Every touch on the sensitive skin and flesh was painful. Lucy Gray was careful, her touch was only uncomfortable. She took the knife from your grasp and brought it to finish cutting the clothing you had started. But she didn't use it immediately. She set the cloth onto her vibrantly covered lap, reaching for the roll of bandages.

You were somewhat faster to grab the knife from her, not wanting her to change her mind about helping you. Light glinted off the dirty blade, shining a small light onto the floor. It brought a small ounce of happiness to you. It was childish but it was nonetheless fun to move the reflected light. You twisted the handle and the reflected shine glided over the cement. Even if the blood loss was causing your change in mood, a smile crossed your lips as you moved it again.

Lucy Gray looked between taking care of your injury and at your complexion. The smile brought a small sense of comfort to her. Knowing that you were able to keep your mind off the wound, even if it was childlike, brought Lucy Gray a kind of reassurance. She didn't stress to take the blade from you too.

She instead focused on your leg. She wrapped the bandages tightly around the bloody wound, which caused you to wince. Lucy Gray shushed you calmly. “Take deep breaths, think happy thoughts,” she muttered as she kept up with her care. You nodded. Instead of going back to distracting yourself, you took in the details of her corset.

It was beautiful, the corsets design drew you in. Two snakes tied as a bow, a beautiful primrose in the center, and katniss flowers painted around it. A lovely primrose protected by katniss, ain't that sweet?

When your attention was led back to your leg, Lucy Gray had already finished. Your leg was covered in stained bandages, your thigh tightly wrapped with a tourniquet made from a part of your clothes.

Lucy Gray held the bottle of water to your mouth. You didn't reach for it but accepted her help with drinking from it. There was little left for you but you needed it, your mouth dry from drinking nothing for days.

When the bottle was finished, Lucy Gray smiled and set it to the side. She took your hand and encouraged you to move when she wanted you to. Lucy Gray wanted to move you like a puppet but you obliged. Her hands moved to your shoulder then your back, pulling you gently to face away from her.

The small action made you worry but you were too weak to ask her what she was doing. But your thoughts were answered fast when Lucy Gray pulled your head into her lap. The rainbow ruffles that decorated her skirt tickled the back of your neck.

You could feel Lucy Gray holding you close, yet her arms loose. You watched her as she smiled down at you, your head in her lap. The lively shades of red and purple made you feel as though you were in a flower bed. Lucy Gray’s voice came out quietly, it seemed she still thought you were weak. You were but you wouldn't admit that to her.

“I can get us food when we go into the arena again, but not now. I want you to rest, ok?” Lucy Gray said softly. Her hands were gentle as she touched you, her fingers gliding over your skin.

Your eyes fluttered as you stared up from her lap. The want to show that you didn't want to rest was prevalent in your head, you knew it couldn't be seen on your face. You wanted to grab your knife and force her to take you to get food but you realize it was a bad idea. Lucy Gray has the power in this situation. She could kill you if she wanted.

Your thoughts came to a stop as Lucy Gray started to sing, murmuring the words. The words were difficult for you to hear but it nonetheless brought comfort. She kept your head propped up on her lap. Her fingers traced an indiscernible pattern on the back of your hand. It was calming. And Lucy Gray was so sweet. As you had thought before, she could have murdered you with your weak stare, yet she took care of you.

Lucy Gray kept serenading you in a soft voice. The sound of her voice didn't carry far, it only carried to you and her. Lucy Gray sang for comfort, not only for you but for herself. Lucy Gray’s fear and stress were distinct. Her voice was slightly shaky and so were her hands. They kept grazing your skin, trailing her fingers along your arm. At her evident stress, you shifted your hand to intertwine with hers.

Lucy Gray’s voice somewhat faltered, not expecting your touch. But she didn't pull her hand away. She squeezed your hand and continued to sing. Her voice is stronger now.

Each touch comforted you, it almost made you feel like you were in an entirely different place. You weren't in the arena, you were in her comforting arms. You didn't feel the pain in your legs or the fear of the other tributes. You only felt Lucy Gray’s warmth.

Your eyes fluttered shut as the hymn made your fatigue grow. Your body loosened in Lucy Gray’s arms. She kept you close as the song she sang ended but continued to another. She belted out the tune with sympathy and kindness. Her voice brought so much comfort, the meaning of the song wouldn't have mattered to you. Lucy Gray could have sung about murdering people but it still would have carried a sweetness.

Exhaust filled your body but Lucy Gray spoke again.

“Good night, (Y/n). Sleep well,” Lucy Gray’s voice whispered with the evident sound of a smile. The words conveyed something to your mind, permission to sleep. Her words gave you acceptance to be weak (or weaker than before) with her.

And you finally slept. You slept in her arms, your head against her rainbow ruffles. You imagined you were in a field of beautiful flowers, rainbow flowers. Some part of you hoped that is where you would be when the Games are over.

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wheatnoodle · 11 months

Text

this has been rolling around in my head for weeks and i need to at least express it so i can maybe get motivation to write it in more detail LMAO

night shift by lucy dacus but steve getting over nancy and being able to move on.

failed relationships and rebounds because he can’t even kiss someone else without gagging. he’s on first dates with heidi or sara or payton or becca or whoever it is this time that never make it to a second because he probably calls them by her name at some point.

scrolling through old texts and love letters and her social media even though he knows he’s just going to find things to hurt himself more than he already is. he wants to scream out loud what a bitch she is and how much she hurt him, but he resists and instead keeps scrolling. he wants to shout at her and leave before she can respond.

steve keeps finding himself in places where he ends up seeing nancy and jonathan together, happy. you’d think with everyone in the city instead of a small town now, they wouldn’t run into each other so much, but the universe seems to just have it out for him. it’s killing robin seeing him so heartbroken too.

it’s only about two months later when he gets a text from nancy asking to meet for coffee so they can talk, even though it’s 6pm so it won’t be light for long.

but, he agrees and she’s sitting at a table by the window in the corner and she looks…beautiful. like she always has. she looks up when he walks over, standing in what looks like a “going for a hug” pose. she stops though when he seems to hesitate and gives a polite smile, holding out a hand to shake instead.

nancy’s already ordered their drinks and someone places them on the table right when he sits. of course she remembered his order.

“so…” he says, a bit awkward, a lot quiet.

“…so…” she responds, except now she won’t look away from her lap. steve waits for her to say something, anything. maybe an explanation as to why she wanted to see him, why now, why here, what did she need to tell him?

so he waits.

and he waits.

…and he waits…

and she still wont say anything. so he puts down his mug, and he does.

“am i just supposed to sit here and watch you stare at your feet?”

she looks up then, eyes wide like she’s been caught. she looks nervous. it almost makes him feel bad for speaking up.

“steve-“

“what was the plan? to what…absolve your guilt? shake hands again?” she doesn’t respond. steve sighs and shakes his head.

“you cheated on me. that’s just how it is. i feel no need to forgive you, but i might as well, because i just want to move on.”

he doesn’t want to be here anymore. he can’t breathe. they only last a bit longer of light chat before he’s checking his watch (it’s only coming up on 7) and rising from his chair. she does too and asks if she can kiss him one last time. he just pays for his coffee, says a quick goodbye, and leaves just as the sun sets.

steve cant see her anymore. never again. never again. he’s so stuck in his head he doesn’t notice it’s coming on 11pm and he’s been walking the whole time until an owl in a tree has him looking up at the now dark sky and street lights. he’s back home around midnight and instantly has robin wrapped around his middle, rambling about how worried she had been. he went to talk to nancy, then just disappeared for hours. not answering texts, calls.

he tells her about everything. what she had said. how she seems to show up everywhere he goes. she holds him close, his head on her chest as they lay on their couch.

he quits his day job, robin does as well, and they end up working overnight shifts at a bar/restaurant. depending on the night, they’re either bartending or waiting the table in the bar area. they sleep during the day, go out at night.

steve stops bumping into her everywhere he goes. they’re on different schedules now. he’ll never be up to a read a sunday paper with her name on it since he’ll have just gotten into bed after a long shift.

a couple years down the line, there’s a band that starts playing at their bar, every friday and saturday nights.

they play a heavy version of california dreamin’ that suddenly throws steve back to kissing nancy in the backseat of his car to this song when they were in high school. steve needs to excuse himself for a smoke break, needs to calm his nausea and his nerves.

he’s out back for about five minutes when the back door opens. he flinches at the sound and backs against the wall, though the man quickly raises his hands up.

“sorry! didn’t mean to scare you. uh, i was lookin’ for a place to smoke. you mind if i join you?” the man says, an apologetic smile playing on his lips. steve’s brain short circuits at the sight of him. this man is GODLY, bro, okay, he’s HOT. AWOOGA. he’s all wild, dark hair and big brown eyes. a smile that has something wicked and sweet hidden in it. he’s tall too, only about two inches taller than steve, but still.

steve’s eyes catch on the light reflecting off his rings. he knows his cheeks are burning. “yeah, yeah that’s um…yeah, that’s fine.”

“cool,” the man says and lights his cigarette. steve goes back to leaning on the wall and sucking his own cigarette. “so, what’s got a pretty thing like you out here all on your lonesome?”

steve may or may not choke on his smoke a little. “needed some air. started…thinkin’ too much. what about you?”

“also, needed a breather. worked up a hell of a sweat up there.” and then it clicks and steve is smacking himself in the forehead.

“you’re in the band!”

“i am! you’re in the bar!”

“i am!”

and steve learns his name is eddie, and eddie starts coming in more than just fridays and saturdays. he won’t even drink, just get a water and stare at or talk to steve.

it takes almost 9 months before they start dating and another few after that before eddie practically moves in with steve and robin.

and he has never felt more loved. eddie who sings in the shower too loud and gives the crispiest bacon strips to robin. eddie who holds him during movies on the couch and covers steve’s eyes if he knows a scene in a horror movie might be too much, even though robin will narrate the whole thing. eddie who strokes his hair and rubs his back until he falls asleep and brings him everywhere he goes.

and songs that he once dedicated to nancy are now for eddie and all the new ones that come along are all for eddie too.

and he moves on, and he never sees her again.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #steddie au #steddie #steve harrington au #robin buckley au #eddie munson au #stranger things au #stranger things fic #steddie fic #stobin

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bloodynereid · 27 days

Text

Correspondence

part 2 of Those Sunlit Kisses ! read part 1 here, part 3 here & part 4 here

pairing: robert 'rosie' rosenthal x oc (lucy everett)

tw: mentions of war, bomb bunkers, love letters, general fluff, mentions of kissing

description: the love letters between a young couple eager to see each other again.

a/n: whooo part 2!! this part was always in the works ever since i wrote part 1 and even if it's wayyy shorter than the first one i'm still proud of it. ALSO i would strongly recommend you read part 1 before starting this or else you will probably understand nothing that is going on. i hope you enjoy and lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

My dearest Rosie,

I realized you didn’t get my address the moment your train was pulling out of the station, and so I hope this letter reaches you safe and sound. I already miss you more than I thought was possible. What have you done to me, Rosie?

The sun is setting and that Artie Shaw record you love is playing and my thoughts are just filled with you. I finished packing a few minutes ago, I’m all ready to leave for London in the morning. And I seem to already be regretting my decision to leave this place. I feel such apprehension towards my job and my life there.

One small consolation is that you, my dear, will be closer to me. I eagerly await your response and remember you will always have a place in my heart. I love you.

Yours,

Lucy XXXXX

My darling Lucy,

You cannot imagine the joy that went through my body when I received your letter. Oh my dear how I miss you so. I want to go back to those days on the beach.

The summer sun here is almost stifling, it makes the oil pungent and the heat seems to be strangling me. I am currently hiding away in my bunk, trying to read your letter in peace but Croz keeps sending me these glances. It’s like he knows I’m writing to you and not my Ma, but that might be because of the stupid grin that appears on my face whenever I think of you. You are also plaguing me in every way.

I imagine that you are in London now, just hours away from me… I could easily just hop on a train and go see your beautiful face again. Or maybe you can come here soon. Just say the word, my love.

Tell me all about work and your new article! I searched for your paper this morning and imagine my surprise to find your name inscribed there in neat ink. They just published that article you were telling me about a week ago. It was truly incredible, darling.

I can hear Crosby calling, so with lingering thoughts of you I sign off.

All my love,

Rosie XXXXX

P.S. - Crosby says hi!

Dear Major Rosenthal,

Well isn’t that an official way to start my letter to you. Don’t worry you’re still my Rosie ♥. I’m sorry the heat is horrid over there, if it makes you feel any better I have to sleep with all my windows open because I feel like I’m about to collapse whenever a new gust of heat hits me.

It is dreadfully late to be writing to you but I am too excited to wait until tomorrow. It was wonderful to get your letter as well, my dear. You have been on my mind a lot today, what’s new about that?

I was sitting on my little kitchen table while the sun was starting to rise and it felt like your arms were around me once more. Maybe I am becoming delirious with my yearning for you or it may just be the heat, but oh I miss you so much, my darling.

I do not know when your next mission is but know you’re in my thoughts and be sure to come back to me.

I am so very glad you read my article, and enjoyed it. I am also grateful you didn’t sing my praises too much, I truly do hate compliments as you know. My next assignment is very exciting. I feel like an actual journalist for once! I’ll be getting to do some field work and interviews so I’m very much hoping that this signifies some kind of turning point.

I wish I could go visit you and see that beautiful plane you were telling me about. When do you have leave again? Or maybe I’ll just take some time off to see you one weekend. Let us meet soon, my darling. Thoughts of seeing you again have me going all giddy inside.

Tell Crosby I say hello! I’m glad you have someone there for you, my darling, when I can’t be. I hope I can meet him soon! I sign off with a kiss and will now go to sleep, awaiting dreams filled with you.

Only yours,

Lucy XXXXX

Dearest love,

Hello my darling. It truly feels like an eternity since we last saw each other, that house by the beach seems so far away. If you’re becoming delirious with thoughts of me then I’m inclined to say that I’m feeling the same way about you. I have just gotten back from a mission and foregoing any details, it did not go well.

However, I did seem to feel your presence surrounding me while I was up there. Maybe it was because I was so close to death a few too many times and you steered me away from the edge. It was as if you were next to me and whispering sweet things in my ear.

Oh I am so proud of you, my dear. And I will now sing more praises about you because you deserve them and more. I will be eagerly awaiting your article and I hope you aren’t overworking yourself.

My next leave is in about two weeks and then I have a few sparse weekend passes. Things are amping up over here… I can’t say much more but it’s going to be an important day. I would love it if you came up here but only if it works for you. I am sure I can find some halfway decent jazz clubs in London, so don’t worry yourself too much about that. I just want to see you again.

Crosby read the last part of your last letter and now has been harassing me to meet you. Apparently I look like a love sick idiot while reading your letters and I do have to admit that’s probably true.

I cannot wait for your next letter, sweetheart. I hope you slept well and know you have been in my dreams since the first night we met.

Always and forever,

Your Rosie XXXX

My dear Rosie,

I am beyond glad and grateful that you are safe, at least for now. This may be short as I’m in one of the bomb shelters at the moment and there is limited light, but I wanted to reply to you as soon as possible.

I am sure that I can get some time off to see you in the next few weeks. I finished my article and it’s currently being revised, which is exciting. Would next weekend work for you? I could come down there and you can show me around the town, I’ll need to find some place to stay but other than that I am beyond ready to see you.

Do tell Crosby to stop harassing you since I will most likely be there soon to meet him. And do let him know that he is welcome to come to London with you at any time as I have a spare room which I’m sure you wouldn’t be using if you ever came to visit. I love you and I miss you.

Eternally yours,

Lucy XXXXX

Darling Lucy,

I hope you’re alright and this letter finds you safely. Next weekend would be perfect, Crosby somehow made arrangements so you have a place close to the base to stay at! He seems more excited to finally meet you than I thought was possible. Of course, I am beyond happy to finally see you again.

It has been a long few weeks without getting to see your face, my dear. I don’t know if I could survive another month without kissing you and running my hands through your hair. I go up again in a few hours and wanted to write this before I left. You should know that the note you gave me before I left on that Sunday afternoon has become my good luck charm. It sits in the pocket of my jacket as of this moment.

Maybe sometime soon I can go to London and drag Croz along with me. And that bed sounds more inviting than my bunk…

I love you my darling, and I cannot wait to see you.

Sending you all my love,

Rosie XXXX

BOARDING TRAIN. ON MY WAY. SEE YOU SOON. LOVE. LUCY.

part 3

so... little notes about this part: i actually wrote all of the letters except the last one by hand in one of my notebooks before transcribing them and changing a few details. i just felt like it would make them more real idk, if anyone wants to see pictures just like lmk haha.

a few other details of the letters: i have a book of like a collection of letters from wwi and i used some of those as a reference point. i also looked up a bunch of stuff which was actually a really nice self indulgent research project.

crosby was always meant to make an appearance but i ended up toning it down from the original plan.

next part will be the reunion fic and then there's going to be a time jump which will be fun. i'm really just playing with the timeline at this point don't think too hard about it.

taglist: @justheretoreadthxxs @callumsgirl <333

#rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #masters of the air #mota #mota spoilers #mota fanfic #mota oc #masters of the air oc #masters of the air x oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie x oc #robert rosenthal x oc #my ocs <3 #harry crosby #nate mann #maria writes

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