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consistencynevermether · 2 months

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Winter Nights (Vere x gn!Reader) (Touchstarved)

content: verex reader, gender neutral reader, I tried to write this so any origin will work with this fic, SFW but Vere makes his usual jokes, cannon typical swearing, reader bullies Vere just the smallest bit but he does the same.

summary: Vere has a horrible day, not enjoying the ice-cold weather at all. you decide to help out your favorite sassy fox boy.

word count: 5.5k

A/N: In honor of us getting VERE LORE i made this little fic of him. ngl i just saw how much he hated snow and ran with it. im so obsessed w this bitch yall i love him sm.

Vere had had a shit day. In your first few weeks of arriving in Eridia you probably wouldn’t have noticed it. That demon Fox was notoriously good at hiding his feelings when he really wanted to. He'd misdirect your attention, complaining about how shitty the drinks are in the Wick when he was really upset about something else entirely. Something deeper he didn't want you to know about. Honestly, in the first few weeks here you probably didn't care much to know what he was upset about anyways, you were too busy trying to survive. But life in Eridia had settled down a bit after the first month or so. You had stable lodgings, you had picked up some odd jobs, using your specific set of skills to give yourself some income. You even had allies of sorts.

Leander had shown you the ropes of the cities and how to fit in with his Bloodhounds, Kuras had welcomed your assistance at the clinic (even if your help just amounted to laundry or organization), Ais enjoyed your occasional company in the red spring, and even Mhin had gifted you a well made dagger, their face blushing red as they insisted it was simply so you wouldn't be as useless as you had been that night they had met you. You'd even consider some of them almost friends now.

Yet out of all the characters you'd met since entering this city, Vere had been the one you had chosen to align yourself with in the quest to cure your curse. There was something dangerous beneath the surface of all of your new acquaintances, yet with Vere it was different. He knew more than he was letting on. He was more than he was letting on. Vain people like him usually loved to flaunt just how wealthy, powerful or clever they were, but he had always slyly dodged the topic. He was putting on an act, a performance where he was simply a beautiful face, and you knew it was bullshit. You’d be lying if you said curiosity was not a catalyst for choosing Vere as your closest companion, but you also had the sense that staying close to him was infinitely safer than opposing him. Something about keeping friends close and enemies closer.

But that was the other problem. Over these months, you saw Vere as less of an enemy and more like-

-Well, Saying friend was probably inaccurate. You kept your secrets close to your chest and Vere was far too fake with you for you to assume he trusted you. Yet, you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. He'd try to get a rise out of you by being an asshole and you'd reply with something snarky, clever, or just downright outrageous and Vere would let out a surprised bark of laughter. Real laughter, a high pitched guttural cackle, not like the fake laughter he uses around most, that breathless smooth chuckle you'd quickly figured out was fake as fuck.

Getting closer to Vere also meant learning things like that, when he was being fake or when he genuinely meant something. And although you'd never admit it, you loved that. Getting to know Vere better and getting rewarded with a real moment with him was like having a stray cat you'd been trying to get to trust you finally approach and sniff your hand before hissing and running off again. You knew that cat would be an asshole the next day, but you also know you'd be back the next day to see if you could get that cat to trust you a little more.

Though said cat (or more accurately fox) had been in a worsening mood recently. The months were getting colder, and when the first snowflake fell Vere’s scowl became more frequent, plus leander had been trying to get closer to you lately, and that man's mere presence could put Vere in a pissy mood for hours. You didn't quite understand his hatred for Leander, but you also had the feeling leander was just a little insane, so it might be genuinely good judgment on Veres part instead of him just being an ass to people for fun, like what he did with Mhin and Kuras. The real icing on the cake to complete Veres' bad mood was his hunting session that happened today. The Senobium had dragged him out at the crack of dawn to kill monsters and only loosened his leash late into the night, after the light snowfall had become more of a brutal sleet, the ice cold rain coming down in sheets. The temperature in Eridia always drops much lower in the nighttime, so by tomorrow you'd put money on the outside either being a slushy mess with ice coating every road, or be covered in a dusting of snow. Though you weren't too sure how likely either of those realistically were to occur, it was your first winter in Eridia. You hadn't even realized that you'd been here for so long the seasons had begun changing around you, but it was clear Vere had hated the colder months.

Your persistence in getting to know Vere, for reasons even you couldn't really explain, along with all these reasons, was why you knew he was going to be in the worst mood yet when he got back. You were by the bar, nursing some hot mulled wine when the door to the Wet Wick slammed open, Vere stomping in (probably to knock some of the slush off his boots and also because he was angry) and taking a seat at the bar next to you.

He didn't say a word to you, silently seething as he gave the bartender a silent look that meant “make this drink strong or i'll make your life miserable”.

Thankfully, the bartender was as reliable and quick on her feet as ever, ignoring Vere’s death glare but pouring him some non-watered down liquor. You were ever grateful for her ability to deal with the people of this city.

Veres' long scarlet hair was slightly plastered to his cheek, wet and freezing, with snow and sleet mixed in, tangling the long strands. You wagered a quick look at his tail, and it was just as bad, if not worse. A bit of mud had caked on the bottom of it, along with the blood of whatever monster they had had him hunting that evening. And the fine fur was drenched to the bone. He looked absolutely horrible, and hadn't said a word to you the entire time, just bitterly drinking his liquor and motioning for another pour.

That's how you knew this bad day was different from the rest. Usually when Vere was upset he'd let you know somehow. Whether it was turning up his nose at you to let you know your presence isn't wanted nor needed, or sometimes he'd rant for hours on how much he hated the Senobium or whatever else was bothering him. And no matter how mad he was, he'd never let you see him in such a disheveled state. It was hard for you to remember even a handful of times where Vere looked less than perfect.

But now? Looked like an absolute mess, and even stranger, he was just-

-just quiet really. If you didn't know better you'd almost think he was a little defeated. Like a person at their breaking point.

You couldn't help but feel sympathetic. Not too long ago you had felt that way, the face he wore now was like the one you wore on the caravan on the way to Eridia reminiscing about how you were betrayed, how your former life and everything you had up until that point was basically nothing but ashes now. It was not a good feeling.

You wanted to do something to help. For some reason you really wanted to do something to help. Luckily you had an idea. Well, hopefully luckily. You knew people who looked like that usually wanted to be left alone to seeth for a while. Or cry, depending on the person. But you wanted to help. If he didnt like it, then he could always leave, it's not like you'd force him to accept your help.

While he sipped what must have been his 3rd or 4th strong drink, you quietly slipped upstairs to your room, and began filling up the tub. A while back you had splurged and purchased a small mesh bag of a few bathing items, all of them lavender scented. You dumped them out to see what exactly you had to work with

A small bar of lavender soap

A single vial of Lavender bath salts

Some lavender hair oils

Lavender shampoo

And a small white comb, most likely made of some mid tier material, enough to do its job, but nothing stunning. This seemed like a passible amount of stuff for Vere right? You knew he was fancy and he probably had much higher quality items in greater amounts back wherever he lived, and what if-

Wait a damn minute. You were doing this out of the kindness of your frickin heart. If it wasn't nice enough for his stuffy ass then you'd just use the items yourself. Hell you already were a bit disappointed you didn't get to use this stuff yourself, more for you if he decided he didn't like it.

With that settled in your mind, you turned towards the now full tub and a smaller basin next to it, both filled with clear water, and began to use a simple spell to heat the water. Almost all humans had some potential to learn magic, and being able to heat water to steaming hot was an extremely basic magic, almost anyone could perform it if they knew what to do. You finished it off by pouring the bath salts into the tub and grabbing two towels out from your closet, one large one and one suited for drying hair, and laid them to the side along with the assortment of small lavender products you had gotten out. You then lit a few candles set on the sink, considering it was dark outside, and candles were now the only source of light in the bathroom. With that prepared and the bath still steaming hot, you headed back down to the tavern.

Vere was still there, still drinking some strong amber liquid. At least he was no longer shooting them back, but instead nursing the drink with slow sips. He was definitely at least a little buzzed, judging by the way he slightly tilted off the barstool.

You walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Vere. Hey Vere, are you still with me? Or are you more drunk than you look?”

The fox glared up at you for a second before he fixed his scowl, a look of boredom and slight amusement painted on his pretty face in an instant.

Fake bitch.

“Well, well, well. Here to keep me company now? I'll be honest, my standards are lowering with every glass I down, so keep trying and maybe you'll get lucky.” a lecherous smirk spread across his face as he spoke.

Sigh. he was so going to take this the wrong way.

“Lets go to my room”

“W-” Vere momentarily stumbled over his response. Probably only because he was drunk. Any other time and he would have absolutely dominated this situation easily, poking and preening about how you were not immune to his charms. And yet up till now he didn’t think you were the type to fall for his flirty act so easily.

And he was right, you were smarter than that. If you hadn't been he probably would have killed you by now.

“Hey.” you practically scolded. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Not for those reasons. Come on, up we go.” you said while grabbing his elbow gently to steady him as he got off the stool, just in case.

Mercifully, he let you lead him upstairs without complaint, probably out of curiosity on what the hell you were thinking.

When you opened the door to the bathroom, Vere was momentarily stunned looking at the steaming bath, but quickly put two and two together. It seemed this unexpected scenario had sobered him up a little bit. He instantly became more alert and aware of his surroundings.

Fair. it's not like you two were very soft and caring to each other. If anything you got along best when you were trying to out-snark each other. This was definitely out of character. But regardless his mask of calm indifference didn't falter a bit.

“Oh I see” he drawled. “Set to join me in the nude aren't you? My goodness you could have just asked if you were this desperate to see me undress, I might have only made you beg a little.”

His smugness was palpable at this point. Why were you doing all this for him again? Bitch-ass sad soggy fox.

You pushed your annoyance to the side. If you reacted to his bullshit he'd get what he wanted.

“Actually yes I was planning on joining you. But not in the bath.” you responded.

“Oh? And what exactly are you planning on doing?” his questioning was genuine, as if he actually had no idea what you were thinking.

You held up the comb that came with the rest of the bath items you planned on using.

“I'm going to rip those knots out of your hair if it kills you.” you deadpanned.

The look of genuine fear on Veres' face for a split second when you said that was worth all the effort.

After assuring him that you wouldn't actually rip out any of his hair (on purpose at least) and then additional promises that you would be gentle, Vere finally relented and began to strip down. As soon as he did you turned around, waiting until you heard him submerge himself in the tub before turning back around. You knew he thought about making a comment about you turning around to let him undress, but thankfully he seemed too worn out to poke you any further.

He let out a slight gasp, and then sigh of contentment as he sank into the waters. When you had left to go fetch Vere from the bar the water was basically boiling, but it had cooled in the time it had taken you to get him up here, so it was just a little too hot to be perfect, but that meant a longer time in the warm water. Something Vere definitely needed, it was going to take a while to detangle and clean this mess.

You handed him the soap, then took the smaller basin and poured a gentle stream over his head before grabbing the shampoo and lathering it up into a froth in his hair. If there was one thing you had learned, it was how to make a little supply last a while, so you only used about half the small bottle on his hair, making sure to massage all the way down to his roots and ensuring every inch of dirt would be rinsed out. You also made a conscientious effort not to disturb the chains around his neck. Tonight was not the night to try to sneak a peek at them. Not that it would do much good with how low the lighting was in here.

True to your words, you tried to be gentle for the process, and you could feel Vere eventually relax under your touch, taking a break from scrubbing himself with the soap to lean back and close his eyes while you continued to work the shampoo into his hair. You were glad he was relaxed, but the last thing you needed was him falling asleep in the tub, especially after all the booze he'd had. You grabbed the basin and poured another stream of water on his head to wash out the shampoo, the water in the smaller container now closer to mildly warm than hot.

After the shampoo was out it was time for the oils. And the comb. As you Began to massage the oils in, you felt Vere tense up once again. It was like he was fighting between exhaustion and being on high alert. Was your presence really this stressful to him?

You leaned down right next to his velvety ears and tried to keep your voice as quiet and non-stress inducing as possible as you spoke.

“Hey. I promised I would be gentle. Relax” you whispered, the fur of his ears slightly brushing up against your lower lip as you spoke.

For some reason when you said that Vere went completely still for a second.

Seriously? Was your entire presence just so annoying to him that he absolutely could not relax around you? Honestly that felt a bit hurtful. You could be so nice when you wanted to! Just look at what you were doing for him now!

You shrugged off the sting of rejection at Veres discomfort at you and began to massage the oils into his hair.

First you gently felt out the knots with your bandaged fingers, taking care to rub the oils into each one and loosening the knot. Then you started to comb them out. Taking extra care to go slow and try not to tug too much, Vere eventually relaxed again and finished up using the bar of soap on his skin, saving his face for last so he could dunk his head under to rinse out the soap and hair oils in one go.

It took a hot second, but Veres' hair was smooth as silk once again. A selfish part of you wished you could run your fingers through it without the bandages, but that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon, if ever.

Satisfied with your work, you fully stood up and handed Vere the remainder of the shampoo, oils and comb.

“For your tail” you said as you passed along the objects. “Do not fall asleep”

Just before leaving you tested the waters' warmth. Lukewarm. You quietly summoned the magic needed to add a little more heat to the water. Just enough so he’d have enough time to properly wash out his tail. With that you gathered up his pile of clothes and headed out of the bathroom.

Usually you just washed your clothes in the basin in the bathroom with a cleaning solution and then left them to dry on the very, very small balcony your room hosted, but Veres clothes were of infinitely higher quality than yours, so doing that might ruin them. Not to mention your modest balcony was currently being blasted by the cold weather.

There wasn't anything you could really do, so you just folded up the clothes and opened your closet to see what other options there were. You could let him borrow something of yours, but something told you he wouldn't appreciate that, not even considering the fact that it definitely wouldn't fit him perfectly like all his outfits did. His clothes were definitely custom made.

Then, something caught your eye. Last time you were helping at the clinic, someone had kindly gifted some linens and basic white clothes to the patients who might need some (like you had), and in the mix there had been a few fluffy bathrobes. Kuras had kindly gifted you one considering there wasn't too much use for that in the clinic, and it had been sitting in your closet ever since. It wasn't fancy by any means, but it was good quality. And as long as you didn't tell Vere you got it from Kuras he probably wouldn't protest too much.

You walked back over to the bathroom door and rapped your knuckles on the door twice.

“Hey I’m going to hand you a bathrobe. Are you out of the tub?” You called through the door.

You heard the faint sound of bare feet on tile and the door open as vere stood before you, the smaller towel currently in his hands being used to dry his hair while the larger towel was draped over his now clean tail.

Needless to say, you kept very strong eye contact as he took the robe from your hands and slid it on.

You watched him feel the plush of the robe, a very tired but somewhat satisfied look on his face. The quality of the fabric had met his standards apparently (probably just barely). Then he turned towards your bed, walked over, and flopped down on said bed.

Well, you weren’t exactly expecting him to go back out in this weather, but still. You really wanted to sleep in your bed tonight.

Veres' muffled voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his words muddled by the pillow he was currently face planting into.

“What???” You responded.

“I said brush my tail” he huffed before nodding to the comb from earlier he left on the other side of the bed, which he had left untouched, seemingly content with just half the bed.

Well, this kinda meant he was willing to share right? No floor for you tonight, and all you had to do was preen this peacock of a Fox.

You situated yourself on the bed and began to gently brush out the mountain of damp fur in front of you. Luckily he had done a solid job of washing his tail, it was a lot easier to brush out than his hair had been.

He flicked it occasionally, the fur brushing up against your nose more than once. His normal spiced scent was now overpowered by lavender. You involuntarily inhaled the scent, remembering it was known to relax people into sleep. (Kuras had told you that once).

“Please, try to contain yourself.” He cooed at you before flicking his tail at your face once again. “I always smell incredible, no need to act all enamored”

You let out an annoyed huff.

“Sure you do.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Excuse you” Vere turned on his pillow to look at you through half lidded eyes. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” You quipped, focusing on his tail to look busy.

You were avoiding the question instead of bantering with him, that’s how Vere knew you were being honest. You actually thought he smelled bad.

“What?” His eyes narrowed as he spoke.

“Hm?”

“What do I smell like to you?”

You avoided eye contact and continued to really focus on brushing his tail.

“Hey!” He sat up now, and looked ready to wrestle the information out of you. “What do you think I smell like?”

“Well-“ you conceded, “you kinda smell like a Fox.”

Vere looked at you unmoving, mouth slightly open.

“It’s not like it’s super noticeable! Or like an inherently awful smell!” You assured him. “It’s just- once you notice it under all the fancy perfumes you usually wear it’s kinda hard to not pick up on it.”

Vere grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and smacked you with it. Hard.

“Hey!”

“How dare you!” He seethed. “I smell incredible all the time! Take back what you said.”

He finished his sentence by wacking you with the pillow again.

After receiving the second pillow smack, you gave Vere a quick glare, but your annoyance quickly gave way to amusement, and you were now struggling to hold in your giggles. A slight blush had graced veres normally stoic face, along with a look of affronted shock. He was embarrassed. Oh this was actually too funny.

Normally Vere would never let himself look embarrassed in front of anyone. But he had a shit day. He was exhausted, and his mask of arrogance had washed away with the lavender soap.

You began laughing. Quietly at first, but after those first few giggles an enraged, red-faced Vere had gotten up from his longing position and was now attacking you with your own pillow. The slight giggles on your part has turned into full on laughter, occasionally muffled by a repeated pillow to your face.

“Take!”

*Smack*

“It!”

*Smack*

“Back!”

*Smack smack*

You knew you would get noise complaints from the other tenants tomorrow, because you were absolutely overcome with laughter. Genuinely, you could feel your stomach start to cramp from how hard you were cackling at Vere.

You looked up at him, towering over you with a pillow at the ready. You could see the tips of his fangs. He was smiling too. He was so pretty when he smiled.

“Ok, ok” you conceded. “I take it-“

*Smack*

“Vere wait!” You squealed. “Wait, I said I take it back!”

“Not good enough anymore.” He responded. “You owe me a compliment, for telling me I smell like a wild animal.”

*Smack*

“So get with the complimenting asshole.” he smirked, readying his pillow for if your answer was not satisfactory.

“I’m not going to-“

*Smack*

“Alright, fine! Your hair looks great!”

*Smack*

“Your eyes are stunning!”

*Smack*

“Hey those were good! Stop attacking me!” Your smile was so wide you thought your face might split for a second.

“Try harder~” he cooed. “You’ll need to get creative in order to earn my forgiveness”

Right as he was about to bring the pillow down to your face once more, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards you.

He let out a yelp as you did so, but you knew he let it happen. The truth was if Vere didn’t want you to touch him, you’d never get close enough to even think about it. He knew the second you began reaching for his wrist, and he let it happen. He let himself fall against your chest, still heaving with laughter.

Chest to chest you looked at eachother, faces close enough that your noses nearly touched, both of you still smiling like idiots.

“Vere, You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Vere smile shifted at your words. He wasn’t cackling to himself anymore, instead he was looking directly at you. Studying you almost.

You didn’t mind. You knew he wasn’t one to trust. Neither were you. But at this moment you didn’t particularly care.

“I feel like it’s rare to see a real smile from you,” you continued. “It feels rewarding, knowing I can make you smile. I want to see it more, but-“

You couldn’t finish the sentence, but you knew what you wanted to say.

But I selfishly want you to look at just me like that. Not anyone else.

“Well. I like seeing it regardless.” You finished.

You saw the look on Veres' face. Most would call it indescribable, but you knew exactly what he was thinking. You had said something real just now. Real in a way he didn’t want to respond too or process right now, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“Was that a good enough compliment?” You asked, an easy smile falling over your face. One that said you were willing to brush off what you had just said as nothing more than a game if he was.

The tension seemed to melt from his face as he playfully rolled his eyes and flopped down next to you.

It amazed you how expressive he could be when he was exhausted.

“Fine, I suppose I’ll forgive you. Just this once.” He mumbled.

Speaking of exhaustion, sleep was overtaking him quickly now that the fun had died down. He turned around and pulled the covers up to his shoulders, fur and hair now dry. Despite this, you could tell he was still cold. It seemed this weather didn’t agree with him.

You pushed yourself out of the bed and went back over to your closet. In the bottom was a thick scratchy fleece blanket. Not comfortable, but great for keeping the heat in. The perfect blanket to lay over someone already covered in other blankets.

You walked back over to the bed and draped it over Vere before waking back to your side and getting under the covers yourself.

A few moments of silence went by, and you were sure he had fallen asleep, until you heard him whisper, so quiet you might have missed it-

“I hate the snow.”

“Mhm.” You replied. “One of my earliest memories was about snow.”

Vere turned to face you once again, barely still awake.

It was true. It definitely wasn’t your oldest memory, but you remembered being a child and seeing snow for the first time. The person who had betrayed you was there too. They had told you, “every snowflake is unique, no two are alike.” You had spent the rest of the day catching snowflakes and trying to look at the patterns before they melted in your palms.

“Is it a good memory?” Vere asked.

“I’m…not sure.” You responded.

Something told you Vere already knew that would be the answer, he just wanted you to know the same. Sly Fox.

“Goodnight Vere”

“…”

No response.

That night your dreams were filled with snow. And when you woke you saw it was already late morning. You had been out cold.

You looked over to the other side of the bed to see it empty. Not shocking. What was shocking was the items on the bedside table next to you.

You unfolded the note. It was undoubtedly Veres' handwriting.

“Mhin told me that bathrobe I used was given to you by that fucking doctor. I’m burning it. Here’s a replacement.

-Vere”

Sure enough there was a blood red bathrobe neatly folded underneath the note. It was definitely higher quality than the one Kuras had given you, but less fluffy.

Besides that, there was also a black wicker basket placed on top of the robe as well. Replacements for the lavender set you had given him last night. But these products were far nicer than what you had used on him, and far more greater in quantity.

You sifted through the many hair oils, heavily scented bars of soap, lotions, and vials of perfume. The whole set was probably worth more money than you had ever had at one point in your entire life.

You opened a bottle and inhaled, and immediately recognized the scent. This is what Vere normally smelled like. He’d given you some of his products. It was shockingly sweet of him to do so, you didn’t think he cared that you were basically dirt poor.

Speaking of, it was time to get up. You had odd jobs to complete and were supposed to help Kuras later today.

Over the next few weeks, what had become what you would assume a one time thing had now become commonplace. Veres work would often end in the lowtown in the winter months it seemed, the Senobium only leaving hightown after all soulless had been cleared out, then heading to lowtown to kill maybe just one for their reputations sake before letting Vere off his leash.

Sometimes he’d just flop down in bed and immediately go to sleep, other times he’d demand you pamper him a little. Sometimes with a whole routine like you had done before, other times he just handed you a hairbrush and his tail and expected you to get to work.

“Didn’t you say to me you’d never be caught dead slumming it in the wet wick like the first day I was here?” You teased him.

“It’s literally a blizzard outside shut the FUCK UP.” He replied, stealing all of your blankets as punishment. (After that you kept an extra one under your side of the bed just in case)

Over time you had to make space in your closet for a few of his outfits as well. He’d made a joke about how if you didn’t want his clothes here he’d gladly walk around in the nude, and you had agreed to let him keep some things here just a little too quickly for his liking.

You didn’t think it meant anything. Yes, if it had been anyone else but Vere you could see how people might perceive this as romantic or something but not with him. Vere would never see you as more than a means to an end, and you would never open up to him. That’s just how the two of you were

Or that’s what you told yourself, wearing the robe he had given you while wearing the same perfume as he did, as you brushed his tail in comfortable silence while the snow fell outside.

Vere hated the snow. He always would. But as spring began to arrive and he no longer had any excuse to spend the night in your room, he began to miss those winter nights. Vere still hated the cold, but somehow that time with you had been anything but.

#touchstarved #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved game #touchstarved vere #vere touchstarved #vere x reader #vere x mc #touchstarvedgame #touchstarved fic #touchstarved fanfiction #touchstarved fanfic #vere my beloved #touchstarved x mc

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lucysgraybird · 2 months

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part 2 of modern!uni!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 1 here, part 3 here. as promised, reader's a lil cuckoo which i hope yall are into because it's here to stay. on this, if anyone feels like offering thoughts -- would longer updates be preferable, or does it make no difference? the only tradeoff would be that they'd come out less frequently (once a week vs every 2-3 days). warnings: blood mention, minor suggestive material. this is not a healthy relationship but BOY is it fun

Coriolanus Snow, as it turns out, is wonderful to date, at least for you. You've been back from the winter holiday for a month, and though you've yet to make anything official with him, things are going very well. He doesn't text constantly, but there will always be a good morning text when you get back from the gym, and a good night text when you check your phone after hours at the library. He makes it clear that you're together when you're out with an arm around your waist or a hand over yours on the table, or with the faint bruises that trail across your collarbone and down your shirt. That's your favourite mark of your relationship: it's illicit, obvious. You know it makes other people a little uncomfortable, and you like that they can't seem to look away.

He's also fascinating. Orphaned when he was quite young and raised by his grandmother and cousin, you've learned that while he obviously has money now, he didn't always. He had a stint in the military to pay for school, and got a job for his best friend’s father as a thank-you for saving the boy’s life in battle. Apparently the friend had been court-martialed for something – Coriolanus wouldn't go into detail – and now they weren't as close. He now makes more money than most people would dream of twenty years out of school, and though it means he's almost always busy, you like that he's so dedicated.

Right now, you're bent over a sheet of stats equations at a table on the quad when Coriolanus sneaks up behind you. He drops a kiss on your head and settles in an open seat at your table.

“Hello,” you say, setting down your pen.

“Don't let me distract you,” he replies, pulling a book out of his bag. “I'll wait until you're done to talk.”

This is another thing you appreciate about Coriolanus. Besides that first date, he understands how much you value school and your grades – he actually seems to like it – and never expects to come first. You blow through the last few problems, check your work, and clip the paper neatly into your binder.

Coriolanus looks up from his book. “Finished?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he says. “How's that class going, by the way?”

You keep apprised of each other’s academic performances – you're both shooting to graduate valedictorian next year, so you've got a little bit of competition going. As far as you can tell, it only serves to push both of you further, as winning seems more of a reward if there's been a real challenge for it. This being said, he knows that your statistics class is giving you a little bit of trouble, just like you know that his Victorian literature class is driving him up the wall. You're going to win, but you'll let him hope.

“Not as badly as you might hope,” you tease. “I'm on track for a decent A. How goes the adventures in Victorian lit?”

He lifts his book miserably, revealing the cover of Middlemarch. You wince.

“Rough. Don't make winning too easy on me, though.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.”

You smile at the pet name, however targeted it is. “So did you come to make fun of my homework, or did you have something you wanted to talk about?”

“Right, yes. We've been going out for a little over a month now.”

“This is true.”

“And I think it's time we make some decisions. I'm not looking for something casual. Between school and studying for the LSAT and work, I don't really have the time to devote to something that's definitely not going anywhere.”

“I hope you're not proposing, Coriolanus.”

“Not at all. But I am asking if you would like to be my girlfriend, officially.”

“Oh! Yes.”

“Yes?” He seems surprised.

“I'm not particularly interested in anything casual either,” you say. “I’ve tried it and it doesn't work. I just get jealous.”

“I wouldn't have pegged you for the jealous type.”

“You haven't given me any reason to be. Believe me, if I'm jealous, I'll make sure you know.”

You regret saying that the minute you do – not because it's not true, but because it could be a little off-putting. But it seems to have the opposite effect for Coriolanus, who bares his teeth in a smile. The wider his smile gets, the more he looks like a wolf, the more you feel like he is waiting for the perfect moment to sink his teeth into your neck. Perhaps it should scare you, but it doesn't. It thrills you. It makes you want to tilt your head back and let him take hold, because you want to see your blood on his teeth and trickling down his chin, staining the starched white of his collar. You want to ruin this boy, which you would feel worse about thinking if you didn't get the sense that he wants to destroy you, too.

“I hope you would,” he says, lifting you from your reverie. “As long as it's okay that it goes both ways.”

“Of course.” Perfect.

“Are you free tonight?”

“I have a class that ends at 6, but after that, yes.”

“Would you like to meet my family? You'll love my cousin, and my grandmother…well. She doesn't like anyone, but she's interesting.”

“That sounds lovely,” you say, a thrill flooding you at going from occasional dates and make-out sessions to meeting his family in the course of an afternoon.

“Fine, then. I'll pick you up at 7.”

–

The Snow apartment is incredible. There's a sterility to its modernity that should be disquieting but isn't: you can't imagine Coriolanus growing up anywhere else. You're sitting with his cousin, Tigris, while he disappears to make drinks. The fabled grandmother was apparently refusing to make an appearance. Tigris seems anxious, fiddling with her floral skirt.

“So you're dating Coriolanus?” She asks finally. Your brows knit together – is she daft? Coriolanus introduced you as his girlfriend.

“Mhm. We've been going out for a little over a month.”

“Oh.”

When she doesn't say anything else, you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Coriolanus tells me you basically raised him,” you say, wanting to fill the silence.

Tigris nods. “He was such a kind little boy. I worry I didn't do enough sometimes, you know?”

What a weird thing to say. “I'm sure you did your best. I can't imagine it's easy bringing someone else up when you're a kid yourself. And he's turned out well, from what I can tell.”

“He can just be…intense. I'm sorry, I know this is strange, I just want you to know what you're getting into.”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I need to find someone to give him this speech about me. I'll be okay, Tigris. I can be a lot too; I think we'll be good for each other.”

Coriolanus returns just at that moment.

“I think we'll be good for each other too,” he says, handing you and Tigris each a glass of red wine. “I hope my cousin hasn't been telling you too many embarrassing baby stories.”

Something passes over Tigris’ face – grief, maybe, or fear – before she settles into a demure smile.

“Not at all, Coriolanus. Your girlfriend is so sweet.”

He sits next to you and puts his free hand on your knee. “She's perfect, isn't she? I knew you guys would get along.”

Tigris gives him a tight smile, then lets her eyes go unfocused into space.

–

The rest of the night passes with much of the same uncomfortable conversation, until Coriolanus finally decides that it'd be best if he drove you home before it got too late. It's the first time you've seen him drive, and you just enjoy the way the streetlights cast shadows on the angles of his face and the way his hand sits hot and heavy on your thigh.

“I'm sorry if Tigris said anything strange to you,” he says finally. “She's been odd ever since I got back from being deployed.”

“She was fine. I think she was worried you'd be too much for me.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “She doesn't approve of my job. Or my ‘work-life balance’, as she calls it.”

“Sounds like she cares about you.” It's hard to say more, because you don't really know what he does for work. Something with national security or defense tech, but beyond that, you're in the dark. It also seems like there was more to the way Tigris was acting than just complaints about Coriolanus working too hard, but it's not your place to pry. Nor do you really care.

“No, you're right. She does. I just wish she'd keep her opinions to herself.”

“That’s fair. I'm still glad I got to meet her.”

“I am too. And I'm always glad to spend time with you.”

To say that, he takes his eyes off the road for a moment and gives you a sweet, close-lipped smile. You return it and place your hand over his on your thigh. His fingers dig in a little too hard, and you curl your nails like claws into his skin in reply. He pulls the car into a parking space in front of your apartment.

“Here you are.”

You turn to him and take in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes have gone murky in the dark of the night and trail across the scooping neckline of your top. The skin on your neck is pristine again, and you need him to fix that.

“Would you like to come upstairs?”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 10

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 6.5k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12 A/N: a lot of yall are gonna be mad at me, but let me cook real quick. Trust 🙏🏾

Past (xi) - You

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

You tighten your coat around you, burrowing into the warmth as you walk.

To the left of you, dairy cows moo distantly, some grazing the open land while others stay tucked away in their barns. To the right of you, you pass empty victor houses. Once upon a time, District Eleven used to produce an immense number of victors. Certainly not as many as One or Two, but a strong contender right next to Four. It makes sense. Compared to what the citizens here have to face day to day, the arena is a welcome change. And tributes from Eleven develop a skill set that’s meant for survival at a very young age—one step away from being careers in your own right.

Eleven has always been incredibly rebellious. But after the Uprising a few decades back, which the citizens refer to as the First Movement, Eleven lost any good standing with the Capitol. In its place came droves of Peacekeepers and more oppressive rules than there were people. With them came the inability to train children, malnourishment, and conformity. They make sure to teach all about it in school, making sure students know just how far their district fell. Once a powerhouse worthy of rubbing shoulders with the best of them stands one of the most ‘primitive’ and militarized districts in the nation.

The remaining houses are left without any upkeep and are abandoned to fall apart.

As a victor, you're afforded some leniency by the Peacekeepers, but not much. Just enough that they won't find it suspicious that you’re carrying a blanket-covered wicker basket. Regardless, you keep it close to your side and it knocks into your calf with each step.

Winter is the worst time in Eleven, though it doesn’t last long. It doesn’t snow often, since it’s so far south, but the ice is just as bad—if not worse. Not many people can survive the subzero temperatures, let alone crops. So, though it seems impossible, what little rations they give the people are shortened even further. The only plus is that it isn’t harvest season—there are so many crops to collect that children are pulled out of school for weeks at a time to help.

You remember what it feels like to be hungry. To be forced into the orchards to harvest pears, apricots, and Mandarin oranges—some of the only crops that can weather the cold, small hands stiff and your stomach numb with pain as you endured the freezing winds. You had friends when you were younger, other children that worked alongside you. Very few of them survived through the winter.

They give victors more food and money than they have any right to. So once a month you pack up food that you, Chaff, and Seeder have gathered and journey to the poorest part of the district. You don’t take it all at once, that’s far too risky. You spread out the trips over several days at different times so the Peacekeepers on the clock don’t notice a pattern.

It’s not an easy walk by any means. You reside in the wealthy part of Eleven and you use wealthy in the loosest sense of the word. The mayor’s family, doctors, Peacekeepers, landowners, and victors. Your destination is almost on the complete opposite side of the district from the Victor Village. Far away so the rich don’t have to see the harsh reality that the citizens live in.

It’s never been explicitly said that you can’t give out food, but it’s certainly implied. You try not to think about what they’ll do to you if you’re caught.

You wave at the few people you pass and avert your eyes as you walk past the whipping post. There’s only one. The Peacekeepers line up anyone who’s committed an offense and thrash them one by one. Most of the time, the people are innocent. Everyone has to watch, no one can intervene. It’s stationed beside the deck they conduct the hangings on. People avoid the area if they can.

You pass open farmland and empty cotton fields. The further you walk, the more run down the buildings become. Until the houses aren’t much more than shacks guarded only by the hulking trees surrounding them. You relax. The Peacekeepers don’t patrol here. They’re certainly supposed to, but even they can’t stomach the squalor.

The kids spot you first, they always do. Little heads popping up from behind trees and shouting your arrival.

“She’s here!”

You laugh as they surround you, jumping up and down and shooting rapid-fire questions your way. You know that more would greet you if they could, but they likely can’t move. Huddled up in their homes and crippled by hunger or the cold, but probably both. The commotion draws adults toward you. An older woman with graying curly hair and sunspots on dark brown skin steps out of the gaunt-looking crowd. Elm, she's the de facto leader here.

A man, Maple, takes the basket from you with a smile and walks into one of the buildings in the far back to stash the food away. You pull more wrapped food out of the hidden pockets on the inside of your coat and hand them off.

You have a system in place. You’ve been doing these deliveries for a long time. You trust them to distribute the goods to those who need them the most. Everyone here looks out for each other. Even if the kids aren’t theirs, an adult won’t let them go hungry if they can help it. It truly takes a village. You would know. After all, you used to live here.

The Shacktowns mainly exist because there are too many people in the district, having reached overpopulation decades ago. Living here is preferable to having to pay for food, clothing, and a house that’s seen its fair share of price gouging. From what you’ve seen, the clothing in the Shacks is somehow worse than what Districts Ten or Twelve get to wear. It’s all ill-suited for the temperamental cold. So in exchange for working in the fields and forests under horrible conditions, the people get free housing and food. Clearly, both benefits are incredibly lacking.

It’s all the illusion of choice anyway. Only three percent of the population works outside of the fields, that’s including the Peacekeepers. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who doesn’t work on a farm, a grove, an orchard, or a plantation.

Elm pulls you into a hug once your hands are free and you lean into her warm embrace. She’s been as old as the dirt on the ground for as long as you’ve known her, but it feels like she’s rapidly declined every time you see her. She’s well and truly sick and she has been for a long time now. No one knows what it is or what effects it’ll have on her. Medicine isn’t readily available here. And you don’t think something that simple can help her anyway. Sadly, she isn’t the only one. You just hope this information doesn’t get out.

If anyone orbiting the elite circles found out just how many people were sick here, they wouldn’t send them to the Capitol to get help. They’d see it as a waste of resources. They’d let them suffer and die or have them put down if they’re feeling benevolent. Again, Eleven is heavily populated. The lives here have very little value outside their abilities to work. If they can’t do that, what purpose do they serve?

What use is a horse with a broken leg?

She pulls away, hands on your shoulders as she looks you over. “You look good, healthy.”

“I can’t say the same for you.” You raise a brow at her hunched frame. She’s a tall woman with the endurance of a mule. She’s a decade younger than Mags, but she doesn’t look like it. But, as you’ve learned after touring the districts, manual labor ages people.

“And you,” you lean back as she wags her finger in your face, “inherited that mouth from your daddy. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

‘’You’re getting worse.” You note, ignoring her attempt at diversion. The kids disperse, running back to the forest they were playing in. You know they won’t go far enough to reach the thirty-foot-tall fence, but you still worry. The gate is guarded to the teeth with trigger-happy Peacekeepers who won’t hesitate to shoot on sight.

“I’m fine, honey. Don’t worry about me.” She waves off your concern and you frown, stuffing your hands into your pocket when a breeze comes through.

“My offer still stands, Elm. There’s plenty of room in the house. Me and Mama would love to have you.” She practically raised your dad, and she even made the broom your parents jumped over at their wedding. Hell, when you were born, she was the first person to hold you after your parents. She’s family and it kills you to leave her out here.

She shakes her head and you know this argument is going to end the way it always does. “You know that’s not fair. They need me out here.” She pats your cheek and finishes with no room for argument. She’s stubborn so going in circles about this will get you nowhere. You shift your jaw, agitated.

“And while we’re talking, I think you should skip next month’s delivery,” your jaw drops. “Let me explain before you start assuming. You know we appreciate everything you do for us, but you need to lay low for a while. You’re pushing your luck coming out here as often as you do, and if you get caught, you won’t be any help to anyone .” She states, making a convincing argument and effectively cutting off your protest before you even start.

You sigh. Seeder and your mom have been telling you the same thing.

“Please? Do it for an old woman’s peace of mind.” She pleads, squeezing your shoulders.

“We can’t afford to just stop coming out here entirely, but I guess it doesn’t always have to be me.” Chaff had offered to start delivering in your place, or to at least switch off who makes the trip each month.

You’re barely able to make ends meet for the people here, and this is only one Shacktown of hundreds.

“Just start looking out for yourself more, alright?” She asks and you agree with a scowl, you refuse to call it a pout though Finnick definitely would.

You don’t stay for long. You need to get back before it starts getting dark out.

On your way back, you stop by the bakery like you always do. It’s a good halfway point between your two destinations—you’ll have something to show for your trip as well as an alibi, just in case you get stopped.

You order two loaves of seeded rolls, another loaf of sourdough, and a blueberry muffin for your mom. Sage, the worker behind the counter, wraps the baked goods and pauses. “It’s dangerous, what you’re doing.” He murmurs under his breath, so quiet that you wouldn’t have been able to hear him if you two weren’t the only ones here. He hands you your stuff, waving off the tip you attempt to give him. “But it’s good. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to take that kind of chance.”

“It’s brave enough that you offer me food to give to them.” You say and mean it. What you do is only a secret to the people who aren't supposed to know. It's not just you, Seeder, and Chaff who contribute. Sometimes people give you food, and clothes, to donate—among other things. Sage has spent many nights making extra bread and pastries just so there’ll be enough left over for you to deliver to Shacktown.

Most jobs In Panem are passed down through families. Such as Caesar Flickerman, who took his profession from his father, Julius Flickerman. And Julius inherited it from his father before him, all the way back to Lucky Flickerman.

Old Mr. and Mrs. Pitsone never had any kids of their own so the mayor allowed them to adopt one of the many orphans running around the fields to train in the art of baking. They picked Sage.

He’s a meek boy despite his height, skittish and paranoid, but very kind. With light hair and even lighter skin that’s rare to see in Eleven, it’s no wonder he stood out amongst the other kids. He and his parents live above the bakery in a small home, though luxurious by Eleven’s standards.

You used to have a crush on each other when you were much, much younger. A kiss on the cheek here and there as you worked beside each other. Nothing special, but the most childish you were allowed to be. You were so envious when they took him out of the fields, you all were. He wasn’t one of you anymore, he got to work on the inside. Nobody wanted to be around him, so he was ostracized. You, angry and young, wished it was you. But now, you only wished it had happened sooner. You wished you had kept in touch.

He rings you up and you gather it all in your basket before he stops you.

“Oh, wait here for a second.” He goes through a door behind him that you know leads to storage. You lean forward and hide a handful of coins on the little shelf under the front counter where you’re sure he won’t find them until it’s time to close. You hear rummaging and boxes moving before he comes out with a wrapped parcel tied with string. “I saved a few chocolate croissants for you. We usually run out of those in the morning, but I know you like them.” He gives you a closed-mouth smile. Small, but real.

You try to picture a world where the two of you ended up together, running the bakery until you’re old and gray—maybe if you hadn’t been reaped. But you can’t imagine a universe where you aren’t in love with Finnick Odair.

“Thank you, Sage.” The bell above the door jingles as you walk out.

“Be careful!” He calls from behind you.

Walking back is always hard, having to leave them all behind to suffer while you’re allowed to go back to your stupidly big house. With its giant pillars and long, stretching brick walkway framed by old willow trees that curve into each other and make an arched tunnel. And it’s in the middle of this tunnel that you see Peacekeepers guarding either side of your front door.

Your heart stops and then starts again at a runner’s pace.

Did they…find out? You were so careful, how did they—

One of them spots you lingering a few feet away and waves you closer. You walk forward, closing the distance. And then you take hesitant steps up the old stairs, tensing up in preparation for rough hands dragging you to the whipping posts. Instead, one just opens the front door for you. That’s worse. That means your punishment is on the inside . You’d rather take your chances with the whips.

They shut the door behind you, but don’t follow you. You place the basket of goods on a nearby hallway table and walk into the living room to see your mom sitting on the couch by herself, flanked by three guards, safe.

“There you are, baby.” She tries to smile at you, a play at normality, but it creaks and shakes like a house in a tornado. “We have a very special guest. He’s waiting for you in your study.” She nods to the double doors further down the hall with even more Peacekeepers. You know who’s on the other side before the doors even open and you really would have picked the whipping post over this.

Coriolanus Snow sits in your office. Your office inside your home that’s almost seven hours from the Capitol. Snow traveling that distance? That's nothing to scoff at.

He sits with his back to you and turns when the doors shut behind you. You feel like you’re a guest in your own home.

Seeing him sitting behind your big mahogany desk is akin to seeing a fox in a chicken coop. It’s dangerous— foreboding. Nothing good can come from it. And for him to be so comfortable in the spot where you write your letters to Finnick makes your skin crawl. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t be here, in the one place that's truly yours.

“President Snow.” You say in greeting. You wrack your brain for any mentions of him coming to visit you and come up empty. Maybe there was a letter you missed, but you doubt it.

It’s dusk, the setting sun shines through the windows behind him—bathing him in golden lighting that would have made anyone else look angelic.

“You’re back,” he props his elbows up on your desk, steepling his fingers together. “Your mother said you were off to the bakery. You were gone for an awfully long time. Is it far?” Nothing on Snow’s face gives away his true intentions. If he knows about your little escapade, he’s doing a very good job of hiding it.

“Yes, it’s almost a day's walk,” You reply truthfully. When he does nothing more than hum in return, you’re quick to fill the silence. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s no fault of your own, my dear. I’m sure if you knew I was coming, you’d have postponed your little trip, yes?” You nod like a bobblehead and he leans back, most likely confident that he has your full attention. Again, you can’t tell if he knows about the donations. If he does, he clearly doesn’t care enough to mention it. Surely, he didn’t come all this way just to sleep with you. But what else could he be here for?

“Your mother was a fantastic host in your absence.” He lifts his teacup in mock cheers to you and you clasp your hands together behind your back, nails digging into thin skin.

“I’ll…be sure to pass along the message.” You smile, pressing your nails deeper into your skin. Had they been any sharper, you would’ve drawn blood. It’s quiet as you silently observe each other. The only sound in the room is the tick of the grandfather clock and a few birds outside the window, happily ignorant of the cyclone forming inside.

He finally breaks and speaks, though break probably isn’t the right word for it. Rather, he allows you to breathe by saying something, “Do you know why I’m here?”

Under the weight of his unrelenting stare, you eventually shake your head no and it feels like admitting defeat. Like you’re not smart enough to catch on to his train of thought and you both know it.

“Of course, you don’t.” He tsks, disappointed. You lower your gaze, embarrassed. He stands and takes poised, measured steps to where your feet are rooted to the floor. He towers over you, literally and figuratively.

“I am here,” he circles you like a vulture, “to remind you of your standing. Hear me when I say this as there will be no room for misconceptions. You are incredibly privileged.”

You think you do a very good job of refraining from gawking at him like he’s grown a second head even though that’s definitely the reaction he deserves. What privilege could he possibly be talking about? You, who grew up in the poorest part of the most oppressed district. You, who’s been whored out for the safety of the people you love since you were sixteen. You, who’s lucky to see the man you love more than once a month.

You’re privileged?

"Now, I've allowed you a certain amount of freedom that not many are rewarded. Namely, your relationship with Mr. Odair," he nods to your desk where your letters from Finnick are hidden. Perhaps, not as hidden as you thought. "I’m sure you know communication between the districts is forbidden. You get away with it because I allow it. Because you are obedient, because you don't ask questions when given a task, because you have a value that many like to indulge in." Snow rubs his gloved thumb against your bottom lip. You know better than to flinch away.

"But you are not irreplaceable." He drops his hand and turns towards the room. Your lungs are cool with the breath you’re finally able to take. You should be used to his presence, and you usually are, but only when you can prepare yourself. He’s completely blindsided you.

You nod clumsily. “I know.” Really, you do. You knew Snow knew about you and Finnick, but not to what extent. You also wondered how long it would take until the both of you got pushback. You just—weren’t expecting it to happen like this.

He toys with the few picture frames you have set up on your shelf. He glances over the picture of your parents on their wedding day and a framed photo you took of Finnick in the Capitol, beaming a big grin at the person behind the camera—you. Instead, he goes for the magazine you have propped up. The first cover you and Finnick were on together. Life in the Spotlight as Told by Panem's Hottest Victors.

“Do you? It appears to me you believe yourself invincible. I assure you, you are not.” He turns to you, magazine in hand, and taps Finnick’s face on the cover. You bite your tongue so hard you taste blood. “And neither are the people you care about.”

Your throat is dry, tongue fitting uncomfortably in your mouth. You swallow and it goes down rough.

“I don’t think that at all, President Snow. I apologize if my actions came across that way. If there’s anything I can do to remedy that…?” You trail off rather pathetically.

He chuckles and cracks the first smile you’ve seen since he’s been here and it’s almost worse than his scowl. "Always so eager to please. This is not a reprimand, just a reminder. You toe the line, but as long as you do not cross it, we shouldn’t have any problems." The heels of his sensible shoes click against the wooden floor as he comes to stand before you again. "So long as you keep up your streak of good behavior, you’ll be permitted to carry on the way you have.”

“Yes, sir. I…I understand.”

He hums and goes to walk past, but stops.

"Ah, I almost forgot," he pulls an envelope from a pocket on his waistcoat and you know who it's from by the color alone, the color of sand. "You have mail." He smiles again, sharp and cruel in its kindness. It's still sealed, held between his middle and pointer finger, but you're certain he knows what the letter says already. You take it hesitantly along with the magazine.

He walks out without any farewell. The doors shut behind you. You hear shuffling and steps, but you only untense once you hear the front door open and shut. You wait there for what has to be at least thirty minutes before you even think about opening the letter.

My Star,

At the time that I’m writing this letter, it’s been two months since I’ve last seen you. I think this is the longest we’ve been apart in the past seven years. Only two months and it’s felt like a century. It’s been agonizing. It makes me wonder how I was able to survive without you for sixteen years.

I got the picture you sent me. I worry I’ll wear it thin with how often I touch it. In the absence of having you near me, I trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the slant of your eyes. I carry you everywhere I go.

My hands should be in yours, fingers laced together. Instead, I use them to write to you now.

I hope I can see you soon. Dreaming of you can only tide me over for so long.

-With all the love in the world and beyond,

Finnick O.

You lean back and slide down the door. You groan, knocking your head against the wood. You never thought Snow would go as far as to threaten Finnick’s life. Especially with all the popularity he’s cultivated. It doesn’t make any sense.

You lift the letter to your face, tracing his signature. You glance at the magazine. You were both so young here, couldn’t have been more than sixteen and seventeen. Your youth is encapsulated forever on a teen gossip magazine.

You rest your forehead against his, the glossy cover cool on your skin. Your body is still trying to disperse the rush of adrenaline Snow brought with him.

“You and me.” You sigh. You’re going to need all the strength you can get. For him though, it’s all worth it.

Past (xi) - Finnick

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT FOUR

Ocean water burns his eyes as he swims to shore, his muscles strain and burn as he pushes against the current. The hot sand sticks to his wet feet as he walks up the beach and he waves to a few surfers that call out to him. It’s getting colder and everyone wants to get in the water while they still can.

Finnick has always believed that good things come to those who wait. And he prides himself on being a pretty patient man. But, and there’s always a but, that patience is as good as dust when it comes to you.

It’s been four months, going on five, since he’s last seen you.

He’s been seeing you less and less over the last two years and at this point, he’d be lucky to catch a whiff of your perfume. He doesn’t get it. It’s not like he’s lost any standing in the Capitol, and based on your letters, you’re still in high demand.

It’s not like either of you can request to come to the Capitol at the same time.

He drags himself up the stairs to the Victor Village, wood creaking under his weight. When he gets to the top, he turns left instead of right—actually heading back to his beach house for once instead of Mags’s. After taking a shower, he plans on going into town with Annie. She hadn’t asked him to and she’s been doing pretty well, becoming more lucid. Yet, there’s no telling what’ll trigger her—whether it be some kind of commotion that sounds too much like a canon or someone’s outfit that too closely resembles what she wore in the arena. He’d rather be safe than sorry.

Plus, he’s expecting a very important letter any day now.

When he finally gets to the sand road in front of the village, he hears the horn of a ship in the distance. He glances behind him and spots the biggest fishing boat in the district. The Cod Be Ever in Your Favor . He scoffs. That thing’s been around longer than he has and it’s a rite of passage for everyone to go out to sea on her at least once.

His father was a deckhand and he adored the job like it was his lover. He was rarely ever home—something Finnick was very grateful for. He never inherited that passion for the high seas and he had to learn the hard way that he’s much more adept in the water than above it. He’s crossing his fingers that the old relic capsizes one day. He’s not hoping anyone gets hurt or anything, but he will be celebrating the day that hunk of junk gets turned into scrap metal.

“On your right!” Finnick jumps to the left as a man on a bike zips past him.

Cars aren't driven down here. It’s too close to the ocean and the cars manufactured in Six aren’t built to handle the terrain. But they’re substituted by the electrical bikes fashioned specifically for the coastal towns of Four.

Palm trees sway in the stiff wind before a line of three-story buildings. He has no immediate neighbors, the beach houses on either side of his lay empty and desolate. Tributes from Four aren’t that rare compared to lower districts—the latest victor being Annie. But, with being a wealthier district, comes access to more substances. Morphling overdoses are the leading cause of death for victors in districts one through six. Followed closely by alcohol poisoning and, well, the Capitol itself. Just in the past five years, the population dropped from seven to three.

He remembers them.

Emilia Killroy, found washed up and bloated on the shore. Rían Hugh, struck by a car further into the city after stumbling into the street. He was so drunk, he wouldn’t have felt it.

Lottie MacHale and her son, Lukas. Lukas left the games mentally and physically disfigured. His game was a disaster that led to the untimely death of the previous Gamemaker and the implementation of Seneca Crane. A winter tundra that froze two-thirds of the tributes. The frostbite took the entirety of Lukas’s left leg and all the fingers on his right hand. He was found by his mother with a needle in his arm sans a pulse. Truly, it was a wonder he lasted as long as he did.

It didn't take long for Lottie to follow him. Drowned in her vomit after drowning in her liquor, but everyone always said she died of a broken heart.

He remembers them all.

He slams the door shut behind him, eager to take a shower. His swim trunks are laden with water, getting dragged down his hips from the weight. Saltwater drips between his wet feet on the hardwood floor and weighs down his hair. He slicks it back so he can see where he’s going as he walks past the living room.

He pauses, taking a few steps back to see…President Snow sitting on his couch? Finnick leans to the side to glance down the hallway and yep, Peacekeepers are milling around his back door. He bets as soon as he came in a few sprang out from wherever they were hiding to guard the front door behind him.

“President Snow. This is a surprise.” And far from a pleasant one. Finnick smiles, mask slipping into place, but Snow has unbalanced him. “What’s this all about?” It can’t be anything good. He can’t say he’s ever heard of Snow making a house call.

“I apologize for barging in on you like this, Mr. Odair, but this is an urgent matter.” He crosses his ankle over his knee and Finnick hedges into the room. Cautiously, feeling like a wary animal walking into a trap.

Briefly, he’s reminded of something you told him. You had mentioned off-handedly that you’ve eaten frogs in Eleven. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how you’d get it into the hot water while it was alive and you said you have to trick it. You put the frog in the water while it’s still cool and then slowly you raise the heat without it noticing. Eventually, the water is boiling and the frog is trapped.

“And what matter is that?” Snow stares at him thoughtfully for a moment and in Finnick’s experience, that’s never good. He hums before speaking and Finnick imagines steam rising around him as Snow cranks the heat up.

“Are you aware of what purpose keeping the districts isolated from each other serves?”

“No, Sir, I don’t.” He lies, but he’s sure Snow will give him his own twisted, convoluted reason. Finnick is well aware that Snow enforces this rule because it keeps the citizens ignorant. Ensuring they only really know about their district means there can be no real unionizing.

“Panem as a nation runs on a very delicate balance of hope. Too little and the people become despondent. Too much and the people begin to think—the people begin to rebel . For the citizens to see two victors from drastically different districts have such an intimate relationship, that complicates things.”

“...You think we’ll spark a rebellion? Just by being together?”

Snow releases a raspy breath that might have been a laugh once upon a time and the water is getting hotter. “I think it will lead to people envisioning a future where such things are allowed. I know you will cause a rebellion. You see,” he sighs, “the civilians are as subdued as they will ever be. But this will have them questioning their circumstances. It will take them out of the ‘us vs. them’ mentality they have against each other. It will make them wonder just how much they have in common and that leads to them seeing each other as people. It doesn’t help that you are both such influential figures. They will rebel, from One to Twelve, and they will all share the same fate as Thirteen.”

“Is this…because she’s from Eleven?” He knows, thanks to you, that the people of Eleven are particularly defiant in the face of the Capitol’s oppressive ruling and always have been. Understandably so considering no one feels it more severely than they do. He holds back a scoff. To think he thought Four was rebellious. At most, Four has the privilege of throwing temper tantrums knowing they’ll face no real repercussions. Eleven, on the other hand, riots knowing they’ll be punished grievously.

Snow, again, takes a moment to watch him. “Her being from that particular district does make a rebellion far more likely, yes.” He pulls a forest-green envelope from a pocket inside his blazer. The exact letter he’s been waiting for. He doesn’t acknowledge it, so neither does Finnick.

“Of course, you can continue as you have and I’ll take it upon myself to handle it. Though, I doubt you’ll like the solution I come up with. She's one of my most popular female victors. And I can admit, I've grown rather fond of her." Snow chuckles and Finnick feels sick. He looks down at the envelope clutched in Snow's hand and pictures your arm in its place. He doesn't want to think about what happened behind closed doors to make Snow grow so fond of you. "It would be hard to replace her," Snow nods along to himself, "but not impossible." The room is quiet for a moment before Finnick asks, "What are you saying?" After working so closely with Snow for so long, you learn his language of non-speaking. You hear the silent threats in between the carefully crafted rebuttals. You feel the weight of his deliberate silence. So, Finnick knows exactly what Snow's saying. Snow knows this too, which is why he says, "Don't act daft, Mr. Odair. It doesn't suit you." He's twenty-two years old—a grown man, but, suddenly, he’s fourteen again—sitting in that chair, backed against a wall as Snow forces him to sign his soul away. He’s still that scared kid. He’s never outgrown him, because he never got the chance to grow up. Not if Snow had any say in the matter.

“As I said, this can only end in pain. It’s up to you to decide who will end up bloody. The lives of thousands over the life of one. Surely, you understand that.” He doesn’t. Finnick doesn’t understand it at all. It doesn’t matter what the other option is, he’s picking you every time without fail. He can’t imagine doing otherwise, he doesn’t want to.

“Unless you can think of something else, I don’t see any other way for us to proceed past this.” Snow moves his hand in a sweeping motion, the closest thing to a shrug that he’ll do. Finnick doesn’t understand why he came to him . He clearly favors you, so why threaten your life?

“Why me? Why are you making me choose? Wh-why,” he looks down to the floor, to the space between his feet, “Why not her?” If there was a choice on who would survive between you and him, he wants it to be you. Is that selfish? To wish you were the one given the choice instead of him. It feels unimaginable to live in a world without you, so is that cruel to expect you to do the same?

To love is to be human. To be human is to be flawed. And there’s no one more flawed than Finnick Odair.

“You’ve been around longer.” He shrugs as if it’s all so simple. “It only seems fair.” Fair. When the hell did he start caring about what’s fair? He didn’t even think that word was in Snow’s vocabulary, and, honestly, it still might not be because he isn’t using it right. There is nothing fair about this situation.

Snow uncrosses his legs and leans forward, a glint in his ghastly eyes. He looks worse every time he sees him and Finnick wishes he could get any satisfaction from it but he just feels as sick as Snow looks.

“It doesn’t,” Finnick shakes his head, “It doesn’t have to come to that. I’ll…I’ll handle it. I–I’ll end it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can even comprehend them, mouth moving faster than his brain and by the time it catches up, it’s too late to snatch the words out of the air. They float between them and they are terrifying .

Snow nods at the idea and…and he realizes it’s over. It’s all over. It was over as soon as Finnick sat down across from him, maybe even before that.

“See that you do. I trust you’ll take care of this issue without my stepping in.” As Snow stands, he holds the envelope up to his nose and takes a long, obnoxious sniff. "Hmm, it even smells like her." His smile is nauseating, Finnick’s stomach turns at the sight of it. “Spritz of perfume? A nice touch.” His steps are unhurried, taking his time to approach Finnick’s tense form.

“And Finnick?” He pulls away before Finnick can take it from him, playing with him even now. “Go easy on the poor girl. I imagine she’ll be quite torn up over this.” The water is boiling. The water is boiling and it’s too late to get out.

Finnick says nothing, but it seems like Snow isn’t expecting him to. He hands him the letter and walks to the door without a backward glance.

Two Peacekeepers follow him out, the door shutting behind them softly, and that nags at him. How dare they ruin his life and leave like—like this was just a social call? As if this isn’t crumbling his foundations, the same foundations that support the home he’s built with you.

Snow handed him a box of matches and told him to burn that home to the ground.

He looks at the envelope, wet with his fingerprints, and Finnick…

Finnick rushes to the bathroom to vomit.

A/N: why'd y'all let me cook 😕😕😕 come yell at me in my inbox!!! damn y'all were Peeta and Katniss b4 Peeta and Katniss 🤭🤭 and sage is such a peeta variant, all these Peeta variants falling in love with you uh, an actual lil author's note moment: when watching Catching Fire, I noticed the people in District Eleven dress like black people did in the 1950s and 60s while incorporating elements from the Antebellum South. Since most of the people that live there are black and indigenous and Eleven is the most oppressed district, it makes sense. It’s interesting what the clothing the people in different districts wear says about the culture there and what kind of culture Suzanne Collins based that district on. The Shacktowns are the District Eleven equivalent to the Seam in District Twelve, but even Katniss was surprised by how badly the people lived. She basically said it made twelve look like a paradise in comparison. When I mention the rich elites in Eleven, imagine them being around the same financial standing as Katniss was before she was reaped. So…not much.

#and they'd find us in a week #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games smut #the hunger games #thg finnick #thg series #thg #the hunger games x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair smut #angst #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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discopaddock · 10 months

Text

SNOW, SNOW, SNOW - PIERRE GASLY

PAIRING: single dad!pierre gasly x polish!fem!reader

GENRE: angst

WORD COUNT: 2380

NOTE: im back finally!! sorry for absence yall i just had a lot of school and i was on a school trip so i wasnt using phone too much. hope you like this one, x.

WARNINGS: burn, missing child, my english, google translated french

If Y/N L/N had haters, Pierre Gasly was one of them. If she had only one hater, it was him. And if she had zero haters, that meant that Pierre Gasly was dead.

Y/N had no idea why Pierre didn't like her so much. If there was something which happened and it didn't have a good outcome, he would always blame her from their whole group.

And because of his father, Claude Gasly didn't like Y/N either. He was Pierre's mini-me so of course he was acting the same as his father.

I guess it was the 2023 winter break, when Y/N, Pierre, Claude, Max, Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo, Lando, Yuki and their girlfriends were together in the Alps and the little guy got lost in the woods, but I'll tell you about it later.

“Enzo, none of them like me so why should I share a room with them?” Y/N asked, when she heard that she was going to be roommates with the Gaslys.

“Come off it-”

“I'm fucking not, for fucks sake, I don't want to share room with them, they are going to kill me and I am fucking serious at this moment” she announced, making Lorenzo, Charles and Max laugh. “I can even sleep on the couch, just not with them,” she added, but then Max said that he can share the room with Pierre and his son, but she would have to share the room with Lando.

She had never felt so thankful in her life before.

Sure, Lando was pretty disgusting, but he was better than the Gaslys, who hated her.

“Hey, hey wait! Y/N!” Verstappen yelled to her, watching as she was running upstairs with her huge suitcase.

“Hey Lando! Guess what, we're sharing a room” the girl said, after entering the bedroom, where Norris was sitting on his bed, which was the one against the window.

“Oh, okay?” He said a little confused, but he didn't mind. He was actually best friends with Y/N, so he was happy about it.

“So um yeah, bye Lando” Max announced after taking his valise and he left the room.

And then the Gaslys had arrived. Claude was an energetic boy. He was full everywhere. And as I said, he was his father's mini-me, so he looked exactly like him; the same ice-blue eyes, brunette hair, a gap between the teeth. As if you did copy paste in real life.

And Pierre liked to have matching clothes with his son, so it was even more copy paste in real life.

And again as I said, Claude was really energetic. And because of that just after taking off his winter clothes and shoes, he ran to his, Pierre's and Max's bedroom, not looking around, so he collapsed with Y/N, who was carrying a mug with a hot tea. This story for little Gasly had a happy ending, unlike L/N, who burned herself with the tea and broke her favourite mug.

“Kurwa mać” she cursed in her native language with teary eyes and a red hand. She quickly picked off parts of the mug and ran to the kitchen and put her hand into cold water. “I'll clean it up in a moment!” she announced but Colette, who saw the whole incident calmed her down, saying that she would do it for her. Fucking hell

“Do you need anything?” Augustin asked, after she entered the kitchen and saw Polishgirl, who still had her hand in the water. “Could you bring me my makeup bag? I have ointment for burns and frostbite in it” Y/N answered and Colette only smiled, nodded her head and went to the room of L/N and Norris.

“How bad does it hurt?” Lando asked, when he entered the kitchen with Y/N's makeup bag.

“Really bad? I guess” the girl answered, wiping her hand with a paper towel. “I don't have any bandages, damn it” she announced, rummaging through the makeup bag.

“Lorenzo's must-have” and with that, Lando ran to the eldest Leclerc's bedroom. “Enzo said if your hand won't stop hurting at night, he will drive you to the hospital,” Norris announced, putting the bandage on his friend's hand. The girl nodded. Her hand was hurting like hell, but she was hoping that she wouldn't have to go to the hospital.

“Fuck, I don't have any mug now” she said after a moment of realization. “I need to go to the town” she said and started walking to their room. Lando followed her, saying that he could go with her. “Be careful with your hand” the boy said, which made the girl roll her eyes. They were almost ready to go, when someone knocked on the door. “Come in!”

“Y/N, I know someone that wants to tell you something” Collette announced after walking to the bedroom. The little boy stood in front of the Polishgirl and mumbled: “Je suis désolé d'être tombé sur toi” I'm sorry I ran into you

“Je ne suis pas en colère, mais fais plus attention la prochaine fois, d'accord?” she answered, crouching, so she could look at Claude's face. I'm not mad, but be more careful next time, okay?

“Je suis désolé pour ta tasse” the boy added. I'm sorry about your mug

He actually felt sorry for that situation.

Sure, he didn't like Y/N, because of his dad, but still she was always kind and nice to him and it was his fault that all of this happened.

“Je ne suis pas en colère, ne t'inquiète pas” she said with a smile on her face and Claude hugged her. L/N had no idea what to do. After a while she hugged him back and because of that, he gripped her even tighter. I'm not angry, don't worry

Finally the boy moved away from her, so she could go with Lando.

“Bye!” the boy waved at them, so did Colette, who had a warm smile on her face.

“I don't remember if little Gasly had ever treated you like this” Norris said, when they finally sat in the girl's car.

“Same, Lando. Like I- fuck, he never liked me” Y/N announced. “Like his dad. Because they act the same but you know. I didn't even think that he would apologise to me”

“Yes, yes, same. Like he never wanted to play with you when we were hanging out, he was just mean to you like Pierre” Lando agreed with her.

“Do you know why Pierre doesn't like me so bad? Because for four years since I met him he always treated me like shit and never told me why” she asked, but her best friend didn't know.

“Since Claude was born he became really protective over him. So maybe it's because he didn't know you before C was born? Like he considered you as an enemy because he thought that you would hurt his beloved son? Like the female defends her young” Lando explained and the girl had no choice but to shrug.

“I don't want to think about them, just let me buy a new mug” Y/N said and got out of the car, so did her best friend.

They came back to the house after two hours, because they also went to the bookstore just to watch some books because they felt the vibe.

“You two were on a date or something?” Charles asked when they entered the living room.

“Who knows?” Lando moved his eyebrows in a suggestive way with a smile on his face. Y/N only shook her head, also smiling.

“Good luck on your new way of life!” Yuki yelled at them, when they were walking to the kitchen. Everyone laughed.

Well, everyone except Pierre who shook his head with a disgusted look. How old were they? 5?

“Oh, Pedro, stop being so boring,” Yuki told his best friend.

“You act like you were five,” Gasly said, which made Yuki laugh even more.

“Why are you laughing?” asked Claude, who just woke up from his nap. His English was broken but as a six year old bilingual boy it was really good.

“Because of your dad, C” Tsunoda answered, sitting the boy on his lap. “He's really jealous, you know” Yuki whispered to the little brunette boy's ear.

“Why is he jealous?” Claude asked, also whispering. “Y/N and Lando,” the Japaneseman answered quickly and quietly.

Well, yes, Pierre was jealous about Y/N and Lando. He was jealous of their relationship. In his opinion, they were together, like they were dating and did all that stuff, which people in love do and he used to do, when he was in a relationship with C's mother, Héloïse.

He was also jealous because he didn't spend as much time with Lando as they used to before the Brit-Belgianman met the Polish Girl during her Erasmus in France.

Plus, Y/N was really attractive, like she had catched a lot of women's or men's eyes, so did he. He wanted to date her actually, but he was at lost point; he fucked up at beginning of their acquaintance.

So Pierre thought that there was no other option, than just pissing her off for the rest of their lives.

On the next day, the whole group went skiing. Some of them like Lando and Arthur were snowboarding also.

It was a fun day. It was the only time when Y/N liked being in the mountains the whole year. Because she was a sea person (just like Pierre).

At twelve, they went to eat lunch. L/N was sitting with Norris, Charles and Colette at the table, while Pierre and the rest were sitting at the other one. It was only because the big table where Pierre was sitting was too small to accommodate them all.

After lunch they went for a walk in the woods. It was fun, relaxing and the trees were looking amazing covered with the white snow.

Everything seemed to be a dream until Pierre realised that he lost his son. They were at the car park, when Gasly realised it.

“No Pierre, you're staying here with Yuki, you're panicking and you won't be helpful in this condition” Lorenzo said, looking into the Frenchman's eyes.

“We should start looking for him as quickly as possible, let's go” Y/N said and ran into the woods, so did Lando, Arthur, Carla, Max, Gabby, Charles, Colette and Lorenzo.

“They'll find him, don't worry” Yuki tried to calm down his best friend, who was crying.

“I fucking lost my son, I'm a horrible father” Gasly scoffed and rested his head against the car seat.

“No, you're not! You raise him on your own, he doesn't have a mother, so you have to be both for him and you are doing it really well. And it is common that kids are lost, when they are small like C” Tsunoda handed the brunette man a tissue, so he could wipe his tears.

“Yes, but in markets not in woods!” Pierre cried out. “I'm so awful. Like fuck, I treated Y/N like shit for these four years and now she was the first person to ran into the woods to look for my son. That fucking hilarious!” he said.

“You should apologise to her” Yuki announced, which made the other man take a deep breath before he started talking again.

“It's too late”

“No, it's not! Y/N is the kindest person I've ever met. Like if you tell her the whole truth that you like her in this romantic way, she will definitely forgive you” the man announced.

“Yeah and that's the problem. I'm grumpy and she is sunshine. I won't tell her that. She doesn't like me back. She's dating Lando” Pierre said.

“You're such an idiot, they're just friends”

And while Yuki was giving Pierre a lesson about Y/N, she was running in the woods just to find the little Gasly. It was getting dark so she was worrying even more about the little boy.

“Claude!” she knew that she shouldn't scream in the woods, but what could she do? She repeated the boy's name a few times, walking deeper into the wood. “Claude!” she yelled again and she was losing her hope, but then she heard a small voice on the left. She quickly ran there and found little Gasly, who was sitting under a tree with blue lips and red hands.

“Oh, Claude” she said and picked him up from the ground. The boy only hugged her and covered his head in her neck. The girl pulled gloves from her jacket pocket and gave it to Gasly to wear them.

She was terrified of his condition.

“I want Papa,” he cried. He was hungry, terrified and frozen. “I know, you'll meet him in a moment, I promise” she announced and kissed his head. “I was chasing a squirrel and then no-one was around” he said, which broke Y/N's heart. He was only six years old and it definitely was a huge trauma for him. “You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you” she told him. “I think I know why my papa thinks you're pretty,” Claude whispered. “I heard when he was talking about you with Yuki in our living room. I think he likes you, but he doesn't know how to tell you” he added.

Y/N was shocked.

Pierre fucking Gasly was thinking that she was pretty.

“Do you like my papa too?” the boy asked and Y/N had no idea how to answer him.

“Well, he's nice” she only stuttered and started walking faster. It was already dark and she was worried that she would get lost too.

“We're here, Claude” she announced when they were ten metres from the whole group.

Y/N was the last person to show up (as always).

“Is Papa here?” little Gasly asked, but the girl didn't answer him, because both of them were hugged by no-one other than Pierre. “Papa!” Little Gasly gasped after he recognised his father by his smell.

“Je suis tellement désolé, Claude” the man said. “Et merci, Y/N, merci beaucoup” he added. I'm so sorry, Claude. And thank you, Y/N, thank you so much.

The talk with Yuki gave him a lot to think about himself, her and how he treated her and how he wanted to treat her.

#formula 1 #discopaddock #pierre gasly #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x slavic!reader #pierre gasly fanfic

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a-libra-writes · 11 months

Note

Imagine being in a polyamorous with Zib and Mitzi while they were still traveling musicians

I have so many thoughts about this it's insane

Anon ur brain is so big ... ..... i also have thoughts, pls tell me your's

So there's a few ways you all could have met, and it probably involved alcohol and a late night many years ago. ... Maybe that's why neither of you can remember it. After joining the traveling band, it's tough to say if you were Mitzi or Zib's friend first, and you vaguely recall there being a running bet between the two over who you liked the most. Sure, you could be with one of them, but the other would inevitably show up. Mitzi and Zib both have a way of finding excuses to be around you and getting your attention without outright asking for it, because that would be embarrassing. They had a lot of funny similarities like that, back in the early days.

Being together as a trio and not just some open relationship happened weirdly naturally. Again, it was one of those things no one could pin down when it started, because there was always affection and touching and kisses and being veeery comfortable with each other. The rest of the band didn't think much of it either, grateful there was minimal drama and more than happy to rib you, Zib and Mitzi about being so 'bohemian', and of course when everyone's drunk and rowdy there's lots of whooping and cat-calling.

As far as actually talking about this arrangement? Well, there wasn't a whole lot to say; you three were young and more than a little infatuated with each other. And it was working, so what was there to talk about? Right? Well, sometimes Mitzi got jealous if you messed around with anyone but her and Zib, even in the band. That surprised you. It was more pouting than real jealousy, but still. She got the same way when she felt you were taking Zib's side or doting on him too much over her; which you and him just found endearing at the time.

If you're femme, there's plenty of teasing from the band about Zib having such cute lady cats with him all the time, and you know he's more than smug about it. He likes being intimate with both of you at once, the hedonist. You and Mitzi know how to take him down a peg, though. On the other hand, if you're masc, you know Mitzi loves having two boys look after her. That's what she calls you, "my boys", with equal levels affection and exasperation. She prefers being with each of you individually. Her flirting is much more effective that way, not that you mind the attention.

The cuddle pile in the evening is non-negotiable. If you aren't a touchy or snuggly person, I'm sorry to inform you that you're stuck with two very clingy, very heavy sleepers. It's fantastic in the winter when yall are staying in a shitty and freezing boarding house, but the summertime? It can be unbearable, especially if you're trapped between them (though Zib usually rolls off the bed at some point). If you're a fluffy cat, Zib loves to bellyache about how you and Mitzi's fur gets all over him and his clothes. She just laugh (You think she likes to mark her territory, whether it be with stray fur or lipstick stains). Even when passed out in the park, one of them will inevitably drag stagger their way to you.

(And look, three people sharing a room every time is just economical, okay? The other guys share a room - granted, they don't all try to pile onto one shitty twin-sized bed because Zib and Mitzi refuse to take a couch or the floor and if you take it they both feel bad and try to drag you back and desperately try to make room on a mattress that's probably not fit for a dog).

Good luck trying to write music or practice (God forbid) or even get ready because these two can be so clingy. Zib will confess to it, Mitzi denies it. They just have different styles of cling. Zib's the one lazily leaning on you, falling asleep in your lap, always resting a head on your shoulder. Always having to be touching in some way. Mitzi is wanting to touch and fuss with your hair, give you kisses, hold your hand and get your attention. She wants to go places, and keep your arm in her's. She's movement, he's sedentary.

There's been times when Zib and Mitzi butted heads, and guess who has to be the tie breaker? Because taking one side over the other means dealing with a huffy Mitzi or a sullen Zib (you can just duck your head and stay out of it like the rest of the band does ...).

A drinking competition between these three is a lost cause because Mitzi can throw them back like a champ and Zib can get really wasted without passing out. Either you're the no-drinks chaperone or the one passing out first, sorry fam. Also, there's the usual drunken escapades. Public tomfoolery, skinny dipping, getting way too hanky panky, public indecency -

You may have one or two charges of that on your criminal record

Getting that first job at the Marigold Room was a big deal. This was a fancy place, not some regular tiny juice joint. And then it became a steady gig, and that was even better, right? The travelling band thing couldn't have lasted forever, good as it was. Good and steady pay, with a roof over your heads, that's good. It was definiately good, you told yourself, and Zib. Mitzi didn't need to be told, she believed it. You knew she loved the lights and glitz of the place, even if she wasn't always happy about the music and performances being controlled.

One night it was just you and Zib, and you asked him if Mitzi seemed different. Specifically, you asked if she was upset with you.

"Did I say something? We don't spend time together like we used to, me and her, have you noticed? Is it the same with you? Did I do something?"

"No, don't worry so much about it," was all your boyfriend said, the only thing visible in the dark was his cigarette. He wasn't looking at you. You weren't sure which part he was saying 'no' to.

It made sense when Atlas came on the scene. When he all but swooped in and swept her away. You were all performing at this Lackadaisy club now, because Mitzi wanted to. And Zib would follow what she did, and you'd follow both of them, and the rest of the band fell into place. There was never any words said about it, no fight and no discussion. There was just the knowledge that she was unavailable now, and whatever you two - you three had - that was history. If you're masc, you had a feeling you ought to avoid Atlas and just pretend you were only ever friends with Mitzi. Nothing more.

(As cynical and flippant as he acts, you know it hurt Zib too. Sometimes he gets more morose than usual, and rarely sleeps without you. You'd tease him for the extra clinginess if you weren't feeling it, too.)

You know Zib was with Sy a few times (maybe you'd already been there too), but you noticed he really wasn't interested in others much anymore. He'd flirt with a pretty face now and again, especially when sloshed. You could still do whatever you pleased, of course, Zib was never jealous about it. He might get antsy, though, if you don't spend time at his place for a while. Starts to get lonely and then self-loathes about his clinginess and not wanting to ruin your fun. At least you two can talk about it, though it's a lot of untangling your boyfriend's drunken, philosophizing emotions.

God he is so much more emotional than he wants to let on

Oh, and fun fact - you're the one who asked Zib to take a chance on Rocky. The kid just seemed so eager and sweet, and hey, he was clearly a good violinist.

"C'mon, Zib, we need a fiddler. He's a good kid. Please?" You wrapped yourself around him, nuzzling into his neck.

"Right when I think I've got your type nailed down, you throw me a curveball ...."

"It's not like that! Okay, he's cute, but seriously - he needs the job, and -"

He waved his hand. The cheap drink nearly spilled out of his glass and onto the sheets. "Alright, alright, do whatever you want. You know we don't make decisions around here." Well, that was true ...

(And yes he looooves giving you A Look whenever Rocky does or says anything ridiculous. That's your frantic grinning blue-eyed grey-furred problem, not his)

Then there was the whole, your-boss-whose-also-a-terrifying-businessman-who-also-took-your-girlfriend getting killed. And maybe said former girlfriend did it. Maybe. You and Zib really don't like talking about it. He's always been avoidant of hard conversations, but ...

You know he and the rest of the band were tired of being here. The sudden murder spooked them, and then the customers stopped coming. So did the money. Only Rocky was chipper, and for once you found it hard to share his enthusiasm.

Maybe you wanted to leave, too. Maybe you wanted to reconnect with Mitzi. She was still mourning (right ...?) But you could still be friends, right? You two were friends before being anything else. Maybe Rocky had the right idea. With that shadowy cat gone and Viktor out of service, maybe you ought to help with other parts of the business.

... or maybe you shouldn't at all. It would upset Zib, it might actually piss him off. Or maybe he'd give you that resigned look that you catch him giving to Mitzi. Nostalgia and sadness tinged with some resentment. You know he wants to skip town, but he wants the whole band to come, like it used to be. He wants that so badly. If you scrapped some money together ... .

Well, the good times as the 'golden trio' couldn't last forever. At least you still have one of them.

#sorry not sorry i ended it this way i just kept THINKING ......#now im thinking more about it damn u anon (affectionate)#lackadaisy x reader #zib zibowski x reader #dorian zibowski x reader #mitzi may x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #((kinda))#((i couldnt resist the rocky brainrot never ends))

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flovoid · 4 months

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THE ORIGINALS!

yes it has been 10 years for me with sims 4 and here I am recreating my four favorite sims that have put an impact on me ngl- I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THE FIRST OF JANUARY TO UPLOAD THEM :D

it’s funny because for me I have THOUSANDS of screenshots and nice memories of them that I never upload in social media, but to yall its new faces n new personalities you ran into, pretty wild.

from here imma go ramble a little about their characters and who they are:

KIM : he is pretty straightforward guy cuz he is LITERALLY the first sim I made in sims 4, he is goofball, bro, and an outgoing guy, he dreamed to be a joke star and I believe he did! its was sooo old, all I remember is that I used to do all the goofy insane stuff with him, he might sometimes dress as a gentleman but he is just a silly guy, he used to have a blonde wife that i dont remember n two kids that i didnt really cared about lmao

LEVI : the only reason I made him is to try out more male cc that I downloaded (that was literally when i started to download good male cc) AND ALSO when the vampire pack released I believe… yep he is a vampire! but he dies to the sun because i kept spamming the weakness thingy thinking it is a strength- he used to live in san my with his little toddler sister; he is a musician and omg he did have a beautiful voice i could never get tired of him… into guitar mostly and wrote so much songs! with him I was literally just trying so much new stuff since we bought some DLCs, also the toddlers update dropped, vampire, city..etc.

DANTE : he is literally the most sim that had an impact on me, not just to me! also my siblings they all know him n never forgot him, he used to be a sim in a save where I did play with a rich family who live in the city, dante was a loner guy live in a small apartment with his big bro who was literally the most extrovert sim alive- he is an athlete guy and really healthy! dante did pumped into the blonde women from the rich family, they both kinda fell for eachother and became endgame! the women is a future president and she did! miss her :( and dante is just a househusband dreaming to have a simple live BUT what’s funny to me is that he never had a normal live literally all the crazy stuff happen to him lmao, anyway he is into jazz so much- lord I remember spamming the jazz station ALOT while playing with him, he have a puppy & a cat they were iconic, and he lived a long life really, had four kids, had so many grandkids, had so many winter fests, celebrated so many NYEs, to the fact his eldest son died before him crazy… but he was indeed an icon.

THEO : yall this boy… he was literally the first sim that i had who went thro a trauma like i didnt even plan it technically a daddy issues, theo used to have the perfect family; mom, dad, and a baby boy, but his dad became a famous actor, and the more fame he got the more he became a narcissist, he legit didnt care about his love live n only cared about himself; he became arrogant too and in that point is were theo’s parents got divorced and everything got complicated, after the drama he got a new brother an adopted one! theo were close with his bro, but theo grew up getting rebellious, was cutting lots of his hair because it reminded him of his dad, he looked so much like him, when he became a teen the boy dyed his hair all black not kidding he stayed like that forever but in my remake version i wanted to show his real hair hehe, he was into metal genre and yep his favorite color is black too, likes wearing chokers n piercings, he used to be friends with max villareal (love him so much n him n theo were so dang similar) and he was a HARD CORE GAMER yall not kidding he used to play alot in tournaments n always win to the fact he started to become famous like his dad he hated that, theo was mean af he was brutal honest yall dont joke with him, and even tho he was acting like an asshole sometimes but love was his weakness… he become surprisingly quiet. he was like the protector with his loved ones.

#the originals #dante queen #theo wood #kim lider #levi hill #sims 4 #show us your sims #ts4 #my sims #simblr #ts4 cas #sims 4 portrait #cas!#the originals facts

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you-show-me-love · 1 year

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Can I tell yall my new headcanon?

So I was thinking about Mickey's outfit choices throughout the seasons and I'm only recalling a handful of times he really wore a short sleeve shirt. He is usually in shirts or jackets with the sleeves cut off or tank tops and even in fall he often wears a cut off jacket over long sleeves.

So here is the headcanon: imagine little Mickey Milkovich hitting puberty and not getting much taller, not getting much harrier, not developing an interest in women. He's feeling confused and self conscious when he hits the baseball field with his bat, thinking less about hitting balls with it and more about beating the shit out of the chain link fence or something, but he stumbles upon a couple older kids playing catch and ends up hitting a few balls with them using his bat. And one of those older guys is stirring something up in Mickey he doesn't really understand, and they're having fun and swinging the bat and the guy making Mickey's stomach feel like its trying to turn itself inside out tells him:

"You got great arms Mickey!"

And maybe he even grabs his sweaty, growing bicep and squeezed playfully and now Mickey's heart is doing weird shit as well as his stomach and he's feeling like he's got to run home before someone notices. So he bolts, leaving the bat behind.

And so he cuts the sleeves off his hand me down shirts and Goodwill hoodies because a guy complimented his arms and he may not be tall or clean or nice, but he was strong. And a boy, a boy, liked that about him and maybe another boy will too.

And then Ian comes along and he never covers his arms unless its winter. You can see short sleeve tan lines on his arms so he does wear them but around Ian? Hell no, his guns are out and ready to be admired, squeezed.

Now for some arm iconic arm moments™

Mickey "my arms make you want to take me into the freezer" Milkovich

Mickey "let me get a good pump going then you can fuck me again" Milkovich

Mickey "omg don't call me Ian's boyfriend I'll for real headbutt you" Milkovich

So yeah, I like to think one genuine compliment gave us the fashion choices Mickey made because we all know how that boy changes his whole life when he's shown genuine kindness.

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless #ian x mickey #chaos speaks #gallavich headcanon

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bratshaws · 10 months

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through the hourglass 169. brb x oc

a/n: had a bit of a weird day...but, you know, im glad you are still here <3 (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!! <3)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fLUFF because i need to mentally prepare yall.

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

116/117/118/119/120/121/122/123/124/125/126/127/128/129/130/131/132/133/134/135/136/137/138/139/140/141/142/143/144/145/146/147

/148/149/150/151/152/153/154/155/156/157/158/159/160/161/162/163/164/165/166/167/168

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @genius2050

She does cry after the call is finished, but she’s happy. She’s happy and she’s smiling with her eyes hurting just the tiniest bit because of crying, but she was okay and so was he. He did look a bit tired, the bags under his eyes were more prominent than normal, but he still looked absolutely breathtaking.

It was like he was the most beautiful sculpture she’s ever seen.

However, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to show up dressed up like that, the way he looked at her was like he was eating her up with his eyes. Beatrice chews her lower lip as she recalls every single flick of his eyes down her body, the way his mouth sometimes parted and no words came out and how he just looked smitten. He was smitten and she knew he wanted to see her like that in person.

“Aaa!”

Nicole’s sudden vocalization snaps her out of it, looking down to her little girl who was staring right back with those big bright green eyes, chewing her hand, ‘Oh!Sorry Nikki, you need to eat.” she coos, kissing her daughter’s cheek before getting up. She didn’t know if Nikki…understood the situation, but she didn’t cry this time when the call ended. She doesn’t know if her brain already connected the dots on how the laptop dada isn’t the real dada.

She should ask her doctors about that.

But at least she was okay, with her pigtails and her cute cheeks. Beatrice looks down at Nicole’s legs and she pauses for a second, because her feet were now almost reaching her hip bones, “...you are really growing up fast.” of course that the obvious need for new clothes showed that yes, she was stretching up but that was the first time she actually noticed for real.

Nicole gurgled, kicking the said legs happily and completely unaware of her mother’s inner turmoil “Aaa! Mama!’ followed by a gentle slap to the cheek. Beatrice sputters, pulling Nicole’s hand away and laughing as she meets her light green eyes, holding her small fingers with her hand and letting her brows furrow.

She’s going to be so big when Rooster comes back. She hopes, truly, that Rooster comes back for his birthday, she hopes that at least he’s able to do that and so they can have something for Nicole as well, she didn’t know…but she hoped. “Come on,Nikki, lets feed you and then get ready to buy some stuff for aunt Ev,hm?”

“Aaa!”

“Yeah!I’m excited too!” she walks around Jack, more like steps over the sleeping dog to the kitchen, grabbing Nicole’s things and setting her up on the high chair. Her daughter taps her hands on the tray - Beatrice pauses because it really sounded like she just made a little rhythm, but Nicole is just too young…right?

“Are you musically talented like dada?” Beatrice asks while laughing, opening the container that had cooked vegetables. Nicole loves vegetables and she honestly hopes she stays that way. Beatrice smiles, reminiscing the first time she tried it and Rooster was still at home.

Nicole looked at the green paste with her eyes crossed on the spoon, then moved her eyes up to her mother, almost in suspicion, “It’s good,Nikki, look,” and she takes a bite herself - shit that was really good - “See? Yum!!” Nicole does not seem convinced, in fact it looks like she’s raising her brow with clear disinterest, “Oh come on,Nikki, you love carrots. Carrots are a vegetable.”

“Is she not eating?”

Beatrice turns her head to the door only to see her husband’s shirtless body appear, holding a towel on his neck by its ends. She tries not to follow the happy trail because her job now is more important - even though her eyes do sneak a quick glance - but she nods, “I think she’s just not used to it.” she comments, pouting a bit, “It’s just um, mashed cauliflower with zucchini. My mom used to give me this all the time.”

“I mean,I didn’t eat vegetables when I was growing up either.”

“Yes you did,” she mutters, “Your mother would never do that.”

“I mean, true.” and he shrugs, stepping closer, “But I still hated it. I mean,I was a kid, what kid likes broccoli?” Beatrice moves her gaze away almost guiltily, earning a shocked stare from her husband, “...you did?”

“It is one of my favorite veggies…” she murmurs, “Still is.”

Rooster pursed his lips briefly, only for his mouth to curl into a smile and his lips lean down to kiss the swell of her cheek, “You are cute.” he coos, hugging her from behind, propping his chin on her shoulder so his eyes were on Nicole as well, “I think she’s just…weirded out by it. It is a pretty shade of green.”

“Yeah, but I think Nikki likes reds and yellows…and oranges more than greens.” she comments as she mixes the mashed veggies in the bowl.

Rooster chuckles softly, his arms wrapped around Beatrice, their bodies pressed close together. "Well, we'll just have to find the veggies that Nikki likes. Maybe she takes after mein that regard."

Beatrice smiles, feeling comforted by Rooster's presence. “You mean she’s a bit fussy when it comes to green stuff?” she teases and her husband just pokes her side, making her squirm and avoid his touch for a brief second, only for her to try one more time.

Beatrice doesn’t see it, but Rooster opens his own mouth in front of Nicole so she, hopefully,mimics him in some way. Nicole blinks at him, flicking her eyes from the mashed veggies to her father, slowly opening her mouth - that made Beatrice squeal happily- and chewing the new concoction. It does take a while for a reaction to happen, but her little smile eases Beatrice’s worries and she leans back against Rooster, “Thank God.’

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she hated it.”

‘Well Mister ‘i could live off of chocolate and be okay with it’, I have to disagree with that.” she looks back at him with her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her husband smirks right back and both of them laugh together, foreheads touching and so much love that would give anyone cavities…because they were so sweet. “But at least she liked it.”

“She did.” he turns back to see Nicole was now reaching for the spoon, “She liked a lot.”

Rooster chuckles, reaching over to take the spoon from Nicole's hand before she makes a mess. "Easy there, birdie," he says, gently guiding her hand away from the bowl. "We'll give you some more in a moment."

Beatrice smiles at the sight, her heart swelling with love for her husband and their daughter. It's these simple, everyday moments that make her feel so grateful for the family they've created together.

As Rooster sets the spoon aside, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to Nicole's forehead. "You're doing great, Nikki," he praises, "You're so smart!"

Nicole giggles in response, her eyes sparkling with joy, tapping her hands on the tray repeatedly, little legs kicking in the air. “Let’s not hold her back, she still needs to finish all of this.” Beatrice says, looking up just in time to see Nicole grab one of Rooster's finger, giving it a playful tug and keeping her hand there.

Her husband inhales, “...looks like I’m not moving from this spot.”

“Looks like it,” Beatrice laughs, watching Rooster move his arm and body in such a way so Nicole wouldn’t let go of his hand, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he crosses his free arm under the one being grabbed at so he could bring a chair close, dragging to Nicole’s side and sitting down, “There.” he smiles, “Let’s go on with this.”

Beatrice sniffles, quickly wiping her eyes and shaking her head, looking back at Nicole just in time to see she was finished already - completely covered in baby food, but happily full. She smiles back at her mother, those tiny teeth reminding Beatrice of tiny pearls in the ocean and her heart hurt again, “You know, your dad.” she begins, wiping Nicole’s face with a napkin, “He’s one of a kind. He’s special like that.”

“Aaa?Dada?”

“Hmhm,dada.” another sniffle, “He’s…just special, you know? He’s great, he’s funny, he’s so sweet it really makes you melt and you are just like him.” she wipes her eyes again, fanning her face as she stands to her feet, “Anyway, let’s get ready for shopping for some stuff,hm? I know aunt Shells is going to come over and join us, isn’t that fun?”

Nicole babbles something, gurgling in response as her mother takes her out of the high chair. Beatrice had to keep herself together, she repeated the same breathing exercises as before, she maintained that her mind was clear and her heart wasn’t heavy.

Rooster was okay and he was coming back home in six months, he was okay. He was okay.

She didn’t know why it was being so hard to do this right now.

As Beatrice gathers herself and focuses on the present moment, she takes a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions.”I’m okay.”

And she had things to do, so she shouldn’t stall too much. Beatrice carries Nicole to the bathroom to clean her up and get her ready for their outing. She sings a lullaby, which not only makes Nicole giggle and clap her hands but it calms her heart too. At least a little bit.

As she finishes getting Nicole dressed and ready, which honestly just meant changing her diaper and fixing her hair, Beatrice can feel a sense of calm settling over her, well, at least for now. Her heart feels light and heavy at the same time and she had to distract herself or else she was going to lose it.

She pulls out her phone to send Shells a message, ever since her friend climbed over her fence she was now paying more attention every time she texted or called. The worst scenario would be if she did that again and someone called the cops.

How would Beatrice explain to the cops that her friend wasn’t really dangerous and was just…specific?

Thankfully, Shells was on her way over.

Beatrice's fingers tap on the screen as she quickly types out a message to Shells:

Bea (11:10)

Hey, Shells! Nikki and I are ready to go shopping. See you soon!

With the message sent, Beatrice sets her phone aside and focuses on preparing for their outing. She gathers the necessary items—diaper bag, wallet, keys—and double-checks that she has everything they'll need at least twice because ever since they had Nicole this was now part of her routine.

Minutes later, the doorbell rings, and Beatrice rushes to answer it while holding Nicole close to her chest. She snorts when she sees Shells’ face pressed against the glass, nose bent back and nostrils fogging the surface.

When she opens the door,Shells straightens herself and gasps, “Oh my Gosh, look at you.” she props her hands on her hips, giving her friend an appreciative nod, “Damn,girl, where are you going with all that ass? Is Rooster coming home sooner?”

Beatrice’s smile drops for a second and she rubs the dress’ fabric, “Is this too much?”

“Um,no???Babes, you should definitely work that body. If you are happy then what the hell am I to say???” she looks extremely proud however, even tilting her head to have a better look, “You look stunning, you should always look stunning,babes. You are stunning.”

“Thanks Shells…”

“Now,” she grabs the bag from Beatrice’s hand, “Can we go? We need to buy stuff for Evelyn’s baby.”

Beatrice's smile returns, she steps out of the doorway and closes the door behind her, locking it securely. "Absolutely, let's go," she replies, adjusting her hold on Nicole "Oh,damn, the seat–”

“Babes,I got you.” Shells open the back door to show a brand new booster seat, “Ta-da.”

“Oh my God, you bought one?”

Shells leans on the open door with a smirk, “Yes, because you bet I’m going to take the kids out on fun rides every now and again. I mean, you and Rooster need your alone time, don’t you?”

Beatrice blushes but says nothing, just dipping her head in thanks.As they walk towards the car, Beatrice glances down at Nicole, who's happily babbling in her arms. "You ready for a little adventure, Nikki?" she asks, nuzzling her daughter's cheek. Nicole giggles in response, her tiny hand reaching out to touch Beatrice's face before her mother leans down to set her in the seat.

Nicole stills a bit, her head moving around in hopes she can identify whose car is this, she does spend a little while analyzing it, even babbling to herself as if questioning what was going on.

Once they're all settled in the car,and Nicole is finally okay with the situation, Beatrice latches the seatbelt on and leans back on her seat as Shells turns on the engine.. She's grateful for the distraction of shopping and spending time with Shells. It's a chance to focus on something other than the ache in her heart and the longing for Rooster's presence.

During the drive, Shells keeps looking over at Beatrice, pursing her lips, ‘You good?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Shells licks her lips, ‘Funny, you don’t look that good. Looks like you cried a bit?”

Beatrice lets out a sigh, knowing she can't hide her emotions from Shells because her best friend knows her too well. The blonde has always been perceptive, and Beatrice appreciates that about her. She glances out the window for a moment, collecting her thoughts before turning to face Shells.

"It's just been a tough day," she admits, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I miss Rooster a lot, you know? Sometimes it hits me harder than others." she pauses, “It’s only been a week.”

Shells reaches over and places her hand on Beatrice's arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I understand, Bea. I’m like that with Bob too." that does make Beatrice give her a weird look, one that Shells scoffs at, “What? Just because I don’t show it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”

“Right…sorry about that.” she feels so bad because she…rarely asks Shells how she feels with Bob’s absence, her friend always appears so happy she just goes along with it, “How are you feeling though? You okay?”

“Sometimes it hits harder than the others.” she repeats Bea’s words, her blue eyes darkening and her smile dropping, “But it’s alright. I can manage it, I can handle it well.” and she leaves it at that. She knows that Shells doesn’t like opening up too much and she won’t prod either.

Beatrice offers a small smile, grateful for Shells' understanding and support. "Thank you, Shells. I appreciate you being there for me. And I hope you know you can count on me as well.”"

Shells nods, her smile returning. "I know that babes. That's what friends are for. And remember, Rooster will be back before you know it. In the meantime, we'll make sure to keep you occupied and have some fun."

Beatrice chuckles, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. Shells always knows how to lighten the mood. "I'm counting on you for that."

As they continue their drive, Shells starts playing some upbeat music, singing along and encouraging Beatrice to join in. Beatrice can't help but let loose a little, her voice mingling with Shells', and even Nicole starts giggling from the backseat.

By the time they arrive at the store, Beatrice feels a bit lighter. Shells' presence and their shared laughter have worked their magic, easing the weight on her shoulders. She's grateful for this moment of relaxation, and she’s so thankful for Shells’ upbeat attitude so much.

Together, they enter the store, their chatter and laughter filling the aisles as they browse through the baby section. Nicole is clearly interested, sometimes grabbing something that her mom hadn’t seen yet, or being distracted by the bright colors and the decor that surrounded them.

Beatrice decides that she could take something home for Nikki, it wouldn’t hurt.

They carefully select items for Evelyn's baby, tops,onesies, shoes….hats. She doesn’t know why but Shells is obsessed with the idea of Evelyn’s baby looking like a mini Tommy Shelby, “That’s worrisome.” Beatrice laughs, flipping through each hanging outfit in hopes to find something else, “Especially knowing who he is.”

“I mean, think about it, wouldn't it be nice to have something like that? They’d be the coolest kid in town.” and she picks up a newsboy cap, showing Bea, “Look how cute this is!”

Beatrice chuckles at Shells' enthusiasm and takes a closer look at the newsboy cap. It's made of soft fabric in a houndstooth pattern, and she has to admit it does look adorable.

"You're right, it is cute," Beatrice agrees, holding the cap up to Nicole's head playfully. Nicole giggles and tries to grab the cap, clearly intrigued by the new object.

"Well, I guess we can't resist this one," Beatrice says, placing the cap in their shopping cart. "Evelyn's baby will definitely rock the Tommy Shelby look."

Shells grins, pleased with their find. "See? We're making this little one the trendiest baby around. Just wait until Evelyn sees all the cool outfits we've picked out."

As they continue to browse the baby section, Beatrice finds herself getting lost in the joy of picking out tiny clothes and accessories. It's a welcome distraction from the longing she feels for Rooster's presence. She knows she can't change the circumstances, but she can make the most of the time she has with her friends and her daughter.

After selecting a few more items, including some cute socks and a soft blanket, they head to the checkout counter. Beatrice places the items on the counter and smiles at the cashier, all the while Shells is giving her a look.

Shells looks at Beatrice with a mischievous glint in her eyes,tapping her nail on the counter "You know, we've been shopping for everyone else's babies. How about we treat ourselves a little too?"

Beatrice raises an eyebrow, intrigued by Shells' suggestion as she is bouncing Nicole on her arms. "What do you have in mind?"

Shells grins and gestures toward a nearby clothing store. "Let's go check out some new outfits for ourselves. We deserve a little retail therapy, don't you think?"

Beatrice hesitates for a moment, thinking about her budget and the practicality of buying new clothes…when was the last time she bought clothes for herself?

“And…you can surprise Rooster when he comes back.” Shells waggles her eyebrows, “What do you think?”

Beatrice’s cheeks turn red, her eyes moving nervously from Shells to the cashier, who just ignored the statement or didn’t care to hear it at all, “...well…alright.” she whispers, “I think it’d be fun.”

“Nice! And don’t worry,’ Shells winks, “We won’t go over budget.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #cccc

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orchidbreezefc · 5 months

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reposting my old twitter thread regarding venom (2018), which a friend once said should be printed on the back of the dvd case. screenshots aren't working but they'd be redundant with the image ID anyway. if you want the 🌟Full Experience🌟 the original thread is [here].

[1/10] ok i just watched the venom movie for the first time and yall? let me level with you. real talk. full frontal honest hot take.

shit was amazing.

[2/10] like you know that whole shit with video games where people just get so into it and the completionism and the competitive scene and the graphics and whatever and youre like yeah ok but is it like. fun

thats me with venom vs mcu

[3/10] like goddamn. i had fun. i loved it. i saw it and it was an enjoyable experience for me and i liked watching it.

with mcu im all no i get that this is an installment of a series that has a greater overarching plot and shit but like.... am i gonna enjoy it? at all?

[4/10] me looking at mcu movies like am i gonna feel an echo of an iota of entertainment anywhere in my being at any point during this movie or nah?? and most of the time its a solid nah!!! but tom hardy just showed me a good goddamn time!!!!!

[5/10] like man. you talk about disaster characters? i thought i had seen disaster characters. eddie turbofucks his life into the ground with great prejudice. he makes dysfunction an art form. he hits rock bottom and pulls out a jackhammer and thats BEFORE the alien

[6/10] like i spent the front half of the movie going dude. who even allowed this dude to be a protag of anything. who said yep lets make this guy the main character, that seems acceptable

and then around the climax i realized that they HAD to for the plot to work

[7/10] like just imagine how shit wouldve gone were eddie not an eighteen wheeler fucktruck tire fire. if the man were capable of catching a whiff of a phantom of the dessicated corpse of his own common sense none of this would have worked

[8/10] like any human being who is even .0005% more functional than eddie (i.e. anyone on the planet) would not have responded like 'hey actually? i LIKE having this cannibal monster alien controlling my body. i think this is GOOD. im gonna KEEP IT.' like eddie what in the whole fuck.

[9/10] this guy is not even there!!! the whole time!!! nothing behind this dude's eyes. he started dissociating shortly before meeting the scientist lady and he just never fuckin stopped. the lights are all off upstairs. this dude is checked out and he is NEVER coming back.

[10/10] final point the dialogue was just fucking phenomenal start to finish. just absolutely batshit nuts what was coming out of everybody's mouths. and the delivery was stellar, like the wack shit they were saying was completely normal and fine. i'd like to shake that writer's hand

BONUS:

[ID: a graphic that reads, in all caps: "disclaimer: black panther and thor 3: ragnarok are exempt from this statement" and in lowercase: "(captain america 2: the winter soldier you're on thin fucking ice)". end ID]

#venom #venom 2018 #mcu negative #feel free to use that graphic. credit would be keen i guess #might crosspost some more of my twitter threads #ive done some absolute bangers on there if i may say so myself

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athynathens · 7 months

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨.

“bet on my amno that Daryl will kiss her.”

PAIRING. Daryl Dixon x You/Reader.

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. This oneshot covers the Walking Dead AU. It will take place during the Prison Era before everything went to shit because of the Governor.

SYNOPSIS. You are considered reliable when it comes to important things such as killing walkers outside, joining a raid party, and others. So why exactly is Daryl suddenly forbidding you to join a mission to act as a bodyguard for Rick?

AUTHOR’S NOTES. Yalls i know walking dead is like years ago, but I am back at my Daryl Dixon era so liek why not make a fanfic to satisfy my heart ukuk? There are mentions of kissing, but not those steamy scenes you guys will expect.

Daryl is many things — he’s rough, skilled, reliable, considerate and many other things. That’s why you would never understand why he would suddenly suggest for you to not go to the place where the Governor and Rick will speak. He was never like this before, well maybe the first time you met the group. The first time you’ve met them was during Winter. You were camping alone in a house when you saw them barging into the house you were camping in.

Let’s just say there was a lot of integration.

But the point is, you never thought Daryl would be this paranoid again for him to not allow you to join the talk between Rick and the Governor. Is he cautious of you again? Just like before? You understand why he would be paranoid before, but why did it happen again now?

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” Maggie suddenly appeared on the side, holding her rifle down as she slowly walked towards you.

You looked at her squinting eyes due to the blazing rays of the sun. All you could do is nod at her question. “I just don’t know why he would do something like this….are you guys wary of me again?”

Maggie didn’t want to assume it, but she can’t also believe that you would be this blind. The farmer has seen the way Daryl would follow her like an animal with his gaze. Heck, everyone in the Prison — even Carl, noticed the way Daryl would just stare at you.

Maggie decided to give the poor oblivious girl a hint. “We aren’t wary of you. Rather, your presence alone has made someone extra attentive.”

“You’re saying Daryl hates me, that's why he’s like this?” You concluded, pupils tearing up at the thought.

OPPOSITE OF THAT! Maggie wanted to shout that, but she stopped herself from revealing Daryl’s secret crush.

“Oh good heavens no! He doesn’t! Try to think! C’mon! You can do it!” Maggie was practically begging to use all your smartass braincells to see right through her.

“Maggie, what are you even talking about?” You began to ask her, getting a bit frustrated that she’s giving you some riddles instead of getting an answer.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Daryl l—Maggie!! Please help me with this!” She was interrupted by Carol holding a heavy box.

Maggie was never this annoyed at Carol before. But because she’s older than her, she had to obey which leaves you confused. The farmer jogged towards Carol while holding her rifle properly. “Carol, why did you have to call me? I was about to—tell her that Daryl’s puppy love with her?” Carol smiled, finishing Maggie’s sentence.

Maggie’s annoyed expression diminished a bit with her playful tone. “So why did you stop me then?” She had to ask with a hint of irritation.

Carol playfully grinned. “C’mon now. It’s been a while since something exciting like this happened!! To think it’s even about Daryl’s love life! It’s like those shows I used to watch whenever Ed’s not around!”

“Except this show is happening in real life,” Maggie smirked in astonishment.

Carol smiled. “Now you’re at my level! Now just stay quiet, and just let him…” The latter turned her head to the tower to see Daryl watching you like a hawk. “…do all the talking.”

Maggie chuckled, turning to the direction of where Daryl is currently staying. “You know. From this perspective, he looks like a creep,” She pointed out.

“If there was no zombie apocalypse, Daryl might be mistaken as a pedophile because [name] looks really young to be in her late thirties,” Carol added as she started walking back inside with Maggie.

“I know right?” Maggie smiled, walking with Carol as she turned her head to still see the archer following you with his eyes.

As the two women are laughing at their jokes, Daryl can hear every word they are saying. He couldn’t get annoyed at their jokes because their words spoke facts. The hunter tilted his head a bit, following your movements as you stab the walkers through the fences.

Months ago, Daryl knew something was wrong with him. Deep down his rough personality, he knew that you have some kind of effect on him. The moment he saw you for the first time was something he will never forget. Your entire body glowed under the moonlight passing through the window of the house. He remembered how he lowered down his bow as he noticed a shimmering flame from the camp fire through your eyes.

Therefore ever since you came to the group, his eyes would always find you. Sometimes, he didn’t even notice that he was staring at you — it’s almost him staring at you is a habit for him to do so.

At first, he didn’t know what this feeling was till his buddy, Rick, pointed it out. He remembered how Rick kept giving scenarios he witnessed to prove that Daryl likes you. Rick’s most favorite memory was when Daryl was cleaning his dagger as he walked while staring at you intensely. He looked at you with such eyes that he bumped into the wall, dropping his dagger to the ground.

Everyone in the prison witnessed this so it was hard to hold in their laughter. They almost even let it out when you saw the entire bumping scene.

“Daryl,” Someone from behind him called him. The hunter turned his face around to see Glenn.

The archer can only lift his head in a fast motion as he said, “Sup’ China man.”

Glenn rolled his eyes, feeling offended. “I’m Korean.”

Daryl chuckled, looking down on the ground for a moment. “Mhm. I know. Just bringin’ the good ol’ days, ya know?”

“Yeahhhh,,,being called China man is not exactly in my good old days book,” Glenn pointed out, walking towards him as he leaned his elbows onto the railing — copying Daryl.

“I’m guessing the reason why you are here is because of her, right?” Glenn asked, looking around the prison field as he felt Daryl stop moving.

“Ya knew?” He asked.

“Did I—?!?! Glenn scoffed playfully, “OF COURSE I KNEW!”

Daryl was taken back by his sudden outburst, genuinely not expecting the fact he got angry like this.

“You know, the fact that you’re giving me that confused look is pissing me off even more,” Glenn angrily confessed.

“…what?” He asked in bafflement.

“Oh for fuck’s sake—! You better tell her how you feel! Oh don’t get me started on the I’m afraid she’ll not accept me or the She deserves better than me lines! What gives you the right to assume what she wants, huh?!? That’s why you better man up, and fucking tell her how you feel! We’re already in an apocalypse as it is! So might as well live the best time of your life! That’s why tell her how you feel right now,” Glenn panted heavily, saying all the points he’s been wanting to say this entire time.

Daryl only stared at him with a numb look. The hunter already knew that — it’s just that what scares him right now is he might not be able to give you what you want. Even if you like him back and start a relationship, how can he ensure that he is doing well as a lover? All his life is about abuse from his father; thus, he did not grow with and out of love.

With his brother, Merle, it’s a different type of love — a brotherly bonding is maybe what you call it. But Merle has never given him the love you see in siblings. The douche left him to join the military to get away from their father for fuck’s sake.

In short, he never knew what it’s like to love someone. Therefore, he is scared that he will do something wrong when he’s in a relationship with you.

So before Daryl could reply to Glenn’s opinion, a sudden voice interrupted him. “Hate to break it to yall, but Rick needs us in the cell for some kind of meeting,” Maggie said, arching her brow at the tension between the two.

“Darly. Please don’t mind, Glenn. He’s just sexually frustrated at the moment since you took the only make out spot we’ve got where no one can interrupt us,” Maggie playfully teased, causing Glenn to blush in panic as he began to stutter for a bunch of reasons.

Daryl can only chuckle lightly, leaving the couple alone with their moment. He exited the tower quickly, making his way to the cell to see everyone in their place. Of course, the hunter spotted you first — you were sitting down on the stairs that connects to the second floor of the prison cell.

Minutes later, Glenn and Maggie followed; the two stayed standing with their arms linked together. This sight alone caused Daryl to feel a bit of envy since he also wanted to try doing that with you.

“As you all know, Andrea has called for some kind of meeting, a peace treaty to ensure there will be no fighting. All this to keep our people safe,” Rick reminded the group, crossing his arms as he walked around to build that momentum.

“Daryl, Hershel, [Name], I need you three to come with me to the place where Andrea told us to meet.” Those words alone caused Daryl to ignite in fury.

The hunter walked towards Rick with his frowning eyebrows, getting annoyed by the minute. “Didn’ I said that the girl stays here?” Daryl screamed in anger, walking away from the wall he was leaning at.

“Daryl, you need to cal—don’ tell me to calm down! You fucking promised!” Rick’s collar was grabbed by an angry Daryl.

Now, it was your turn to blaze in anger so you stomped your way to Daryl. You didn’t hesitate to push him, causing him to let go of Rick in shock. “What the damn fuck is your problem, huh? Why are you suddenly so wary of me? The fuck did I ever do to you?”

The hunter realized what he did so he composed himself first before speaking. “If I said yer stayin’, then ya better keep yer ass here,” Daryl spat out harshly, not holding back his emotions right now.

Your eyebrow twitched in anger. Your head tilted to the side as your jaw clenched in rage. “The fuck you said?”

Meanwhile, their audience just watched in amusement, waiting for the moment where one of them will just confess out of the blue. Turns out, the group planned this to happen with the help of Carol’s creative plan. The group knew that they wanted some entertainment before the storm. So they decided to trigger something in the tension between Daryl and you.

“Bet on my canned foods that [name] confesses first,” Carol whispers to Rick, causing him to smile.

“Bet on my amno that Daryl will kiss her,” Rick cockily grins.

“You’re on!” Carol laughed.

“I’m just here for the drama,” Hershel just adds with a chuckle.

“I still can’t believe that you guys find this amusing,” Carl says with a hint of confusion.

“Why can’t ya just listen to a word I just said, girl!” Daryl screamed, getting frustrated at why you can’t just listen to him for once.

“What about you! You don’t even answer my fucking questions! Why are you like this? Can you just tell me where I went wrong so we can fix this?” You spoke back, hoping to hear answers.

“For fuck’s sakes, woman! Why are you so complicated for me?” Daryl snapped, silencing everyone with his tone.

Your pupils widen as they quiver, feeling them getting wet by the second. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Daryl.” You sniffled, fighting yourself to hold back your tears.

“You’re the one that’s complicated! I can’t fucking believe I like you!” You suddenly screamed, not realizing you already confessed. Meanwhile, Carol nudges Rick with her shoulders, signaling him to do his side on the bet they made together.

Daryl couldn’g believe his ears. There’s no way you said that. T-There’s absolutely no way… “W-Whatchu just said?”

After what just happened, your brain finally processed what you did. You mentally cursed at your mouth for slipping the one secret you didn't want him to know. The flames on your cheeks started to increase as the minutes passed by.

Suddenly, Daryl called you. Your body hair just jolted up when you heard how fucking nice yoor name sounds out of his mouth. And fuck, he’s staring at you intensely — just like those other moments you accidentally caught him staring at you. That intense gaze of his is making your legs wobble a bit as you begin to shake for some reason.

It’s like a predator eyeing its prey.

“U-Uhhhh,,,I still stand what I said! I’m going Daryl! And you ain’t stopping m—” You stopped talking when he grabbed your face harshly and crashed his lips into yours.

A series of gasps mimicked in the background as you and Daryl were stuck in their own world, not caring about anything else except each other's warmth through their lips. You were definitely shocked, hence why you stood there like an idiot. However, his lips moved with so much passion so it snapped you back to reality.

The kiss was messy, but the fact that it was coming from your crush makes your legs begin to wobble at the pleasurable sensation. His hands held your face tighter and closer to his face, feeling the warmth of his body even more. Due to the height difference, him pulling you closer to his face is causing you to tip to your toes.

Daryl would continue to go on with this, but his lungs scream of oxygen so he sadly needs to pull back. With a heavy pant, he connected his forehead to yours as he stared down at you. He waited for a moment to catch his breath again then spoke, “Yer staying here, girl. You ain’t comin’ with us. I can’t afford to lose you.”

With his hands still on your head, you brought your hand up to place your hand on top of his. You leaned towards that hand as you rubbed his rough skin in circles, causing his stomach to feel things.

“I ain’t stayin’ here cuz I can’t also afford to lose ya, lover boy.”

“YES! WE GOT OUR MAKE OUT SPOT BACK!”

“Glenn. I swear to bacons. Shut your mouth.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝙣𝙤 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl oneshot #zombies #puppylove #first kiss #intense confession #prisonera

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jovenshires · 4 months

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9, 10, 28, 29 bestie !!

tyyyy bestie <3<3<3

9. What fic meant the most to you to write?

my wife, my best friend, the project i will always carry with me, dancing on my own. nothing like dealing with your own issues through the lens of a gamer boy who lives off of mountain dew kickstart and jurassic park movies <3<3

10. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

if we keep score was so so so much fun!!!! it really took on a life of its own and i LOVE to worldbuild so even though it was Stressful, i had a good time writing it for sure <3<3<3

28. How did you recharge between fics?

as i told you specifically i literally took like. a work week off. i listened to music, i binge-watched an anime, i went back to work after winter break, i read some of a book. it was great! back to the grind now though <3<3<3

29. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

i was gonna answer this like a joke but it made me emotional so here are my genuine very real thanks KLNFKNFKLNFKNL

i'd like to thank smosh first and foremost for getting me through what has objectively been one of the most difficult years of my life. the company's been through ups and downs, but so have i, and i find a real genuine comfort in these guys playing board games and making memes so truly thanks so much to them. especially tommy and spencer bc where would i be without them KDNKLSNFK

thanks of course to soupy for being the second person to post a spommy fic and co-pioneering this nation with me. i am so honored to have her as a mutual, a friend, and a peer. her works are incredible and she jumped into the deep end with me when no one else would. and to add onto that i'd like to thank every spommy writer for sharing all of their incredible works, and every spommy nation member for commenting or giving kudos or coming into my askbox. genuinely you all made my year so much better and inspired me to keep creating and keep growing. i love you all so much, there are no words to describe how grateful i am for you <3

thank you to julie, who accepted every insane stray thought, text message, and rambling fic plot. she sat there as i described iwks in detail in my car on the way to the mall. god's bravest soldier. she's truly a real one for that, i might have stopped talking to me by now LMAO. thank you to mauricio for entering back into my life, validating every insane thing i've ever said, and just overall being an amazing friend. we have been through so much together you and i and im honored to be on this crazy journey with you now. shoutout too to snel and baflegacy who have also gotten a TON of my insane ramblings via dms, i adore yall and im so honored to have gotten to know you. <3<3<3

i cannot stress enough how HUGELY thankful i am to stella. when i tell you none of my works would be where they are today without her. she does the very stressful and tedious task of reading over my works for me, and i am forever grateful. like almost none of the fics i've written would be even half as strong as they are without her help. not to mention she's just one of my favorite people on this planet in general; i love talking to her and being in this online space with her and creating with her and yeah. my partner in crime, thank you so so much.

and finally: all of smoshblr in general. i have been here for six years now, and i've never had a fandom feel so much like home. all of my friends and mutuals, new and old, and every other follower of mine to boot. you all know who you are - i adore each and every one of you. thank you for everything. <3

send me fic writer asks!

#long post #fic #mauricio #damn...... tearin up over here bro KNDKFNFKNF #ask #asks #shaynetopps

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harcove · 2 years

Text

One More Moment - B.H.

a/n: here's a little angst one shot for you guys as an apology for how slow I'm being rn with requests and a lil something while yall wait. I was super depressed and just couldn't help and couldn't write requests it I needed to do something so I wrote this instead. I hope y'all like it ilysm 💗

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Length: 1.3k

Warnings: Depression, grieving, death mention, Billy is dead in this, mention of suicide, suicidal thoughts lowkey.

The air is cold. It's the end of fall, and winter is rearing its head. Ready to take over and cover Hawkins in snow and ice.

Two things he hated.

He hated colder weather. He hated Hawkins.

Yet he's stuck here now, forever.

You blow some air onto your cold hands, stepping in front of the tombstone.

William Hargrove.

No one ever called him that. Not one person. Except maybe his dad sometimes. But even then, it was a word used to show hate.

To tie him down.

You always wondered why they wrote William, not Billy on his grave.

Maybe it was because it was his legal full name. Or maybe it was because his father never knew his son enough, loved his son enough, to write the name he always went by. Billy. A way to dehumanize him further than he had already done for eighteen years.

You didn't know. But anyone who knew him knew he never answered to William.

No one used to go to the cemetery. You used to never go to the cemetery. It's mostly older graves for older people. People who were at an age that they were ready to die. But more recently the cemetery started to fill with people who were too young to be here. People who still had lives to live, had people to love, had a chance to be happy. To change.

People like Heather Holloway, Barbara Holland...

Billy Hargrove.

Max had been there recently. You see the remnants of an empty cassette beside the stone. She had started bringing them.

No music on them. His cassettes were too precious now. Too raw to give up, even to his own grave. But music meant something. Those cassettes meant something.

It sort of felt like a connection between herself and the dead brother in the ground- one they didn't get to grow before he died.

Maybe one day Max can let his real cassettes go.

You hope so. It's what you're here to do.

To let go.

To try to let go.

You crouch in front of the stone on cold and dying grass. The fallen leafs from trees skitter around with the wind, performing a weird dance together. It breaks the silence in the graveyard.

"Hey Billy..."

Your voice is soft. So quiet, it's almost as if you didn't speak at all. His name sounds foreign on your lips, but all to familiar at the same time. His name is like a curse and a blessing. You could hardly stand to hear it, but the longer you didn't hear it, the more the boy behind the name really faded away.

He was fading.

And eventually, one day in the future, his grave would be another grave with a name no one recognized; one that no one visited.

You clear your throat, suddenly it's gone dry; it feels like you've been in the desert for months, no water in sight.

"How are you?"

He doesn't answer of course. He's not really there. Yes, the body six feet under is his but its not him. Him is somewhere far away. A place you can't reach.

But this is as close as it gets.

Be always hated small talk like this. But he doesn't have a choice but to listen in silence now.

"I'm..." you want to say you're good, but you're not. You aren't sure you'll ever be good again- it's why you need to to this, "okay."

Okay was safe. It was a non-answer. A lie but not a lie.

You dig your hand into your coats pocket, looking for the rectangular item in your pocket; when your fingers touch it, it burns- it hurts. But that's why you're here. To stop the hurt. To...

"I'm leaving," you say it like you're breaking the ice to your boyfriend.

In some way you are- he was your boyfriend. Is... Was. You can't date a dead man.

"I don't think... I can't stay in Hawkins anymore," you miserably offer to the grave in front of you. You're speaking to dead space- but you need to do it.

Leaving and not telling him feels like a betrayal. Even if it's a stone in the ground- it's... He's...

"I'm sorry," you pull your hand from your pocket, a cassette held tightly in your hands, fingers digging into it- you could break it if you're not careful, "I know Max leaves you empty tapes sometimes. But I thought you might like one with music for once."

It's a tape with a dozen songs. One that you had made with him long ago, in the beginning months of your relationship. Back when things were brighter, when the world around you was colourful and when life seemed to have some hope within it.

Back before Hawkins took everything you loved.

"I can't keep it anymore," the air leaves your lungs shakily- you can feel the emotions building up in your chest, begging to be let out. But if you did that now, you know you won't be able to do this.

And you need to do it.

At first you couldn't. Couldn't listen to it, couldn't look at it. It held all your favourite songs and his favourite songs which would subsequently also become your favourites. You couldn't even listen to music for a while after because it stung. It hit too deep, bled too much. It was something you enjoyed doing with him in his room, in his Camaro. Anywhere.

It didn't bring you happiness anymore; it only deepened the gaping wound that he had left when he died.

But over time you listened to it again. One song a day. Till you listened to it all. And then you listened again, and again, on repeat. In your car, in your room, anywhere.

The songs became an escape. One where when you closed your eyes and blocked everything else out, you could imagine in those minutes that he was right there. That he was laying with you. Or standing behind you and putting his hands in your jeans pockets pulling you close.

Sometimes you swore you could feel him. Feel his touch. Smell is cologne. Feel his love.

But then the songs would end. And your eyes would open and everything was grey again.

Everything hurt again.

Because he wasn't there. And he wouldn't ever be there again. You were only fooling yourself; using this tape as an escape from a reality you needed to face. You were fading away, just like he was, but you were still living in all ways that mattered medically.

Beating heart, pumping blood, functioning limbs, warm skin.

The other half of you was dead.

It would kill you.

He would kill you, even in death, Billy Hargrove was your greatest weakness. And he'd kill you if you didn't stop.

Maybe you should have let him. But he'd be angry. So, so angry. And Max too. Your family. Friends.

At what point did you stop your own hurt instead of stopping others hurt?

Closing your eyes as tight as you can, you place the tape onto the grave in front of you. It feels like a weight is lifted, but at the same time, like a new one has arisen.

It is pain. It is hurt. It is agony. It is a love that you can't ever express the way you want to because he's not there to recieve it. It is a darkness that threatens you and tells you this is the wrong choice.

But you need to. To let him go, to get away. Before Hawkins (and the ghost of a dead man) swallows you whole. Drowns you.

"Take care of it, please."

You know the weather will destroy the tape. Maybe it will find its way back to him wherever he is- wherever death takes you. You can't say where, you don't know where. Anything could be possibly considering all Hawkins had shown you.

When you stand and turn away, hand still burning metaphorically from where the tape had been, the wind blows a harsh gust. It goes through you like you're a rickety old house, holes and all, just a skeleton.

It's cold. But it feels like you're being wrapped up by the wind into a hug. For one moment, a single, fleeting moment, you aren't alone.

Then it's gone. Just like everything else. The wind dies down as quickly as it came, and its quiet again, the leaves settling. You're alone.

Hawkins couldn't have you. You wouldn't let it. No matter how much part of you wanted it to take you.

All you needed was one more moment with him. And that was it.

#billy hargrove x reader #mine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader angst #amy writes #my writing

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