#seamed bath towels what is the world coming to!!!

[viciousewe]

:D

My first project is on the loom!

(First REAL project I mean! I did do a sample warp as as a “make sure everything is working/ yarns play nice together/ I was scared” kind of thing)

I am impressed that I pretty much completely remembered how to warp a loom but also some what dismayed at the minor tension issues. But I do think it’s because I’m using a silk scarf as a warp separator and not butcher paper like I “grew up with” at least on the sides. But also…..I’ve been watching a couple of warping vids and uhhhhhh y’all put so much effort in. Like with raddles and stuff I never learned with all that. Which has been somewhat detrimental to me because I feel like nicely spaced warp is better with the soft heddles but also I’ve never used soft heddles and also fully warping the loom and then running all onto the cloth beam and then back again has been working ok in terms of spacing, tho it may be contributing to my tension issues.

Also do y’all like my shuttle? It’s the pickup stick for my tapestry loom that I kinda wanna use but the pickup stick is the perfect length to weave with on this loom imo and the small business I wanna get a decently sized shuttle from is closed for the tax season so I gotta make do ❤️

#this is gonna be a towel #a BATH towel that is #nothing against kitchen towels but I am chronically unable to make small projects #and b4 u say but that looks so thin! I am planning on seaming it lol #seamed bath towels what is the world coming to!!! #that said this yarn combo also looked pretty nice in plain weave so I kinda wish I did it as a double weave but also #if I wanna do plain weave I’ll get out the rigid heddle #(no I won’t I hate my rigid heddle and can’t afford a nicer one rn lol #sometimes I wish I could put up a pretty picture w an intriguing sentence below but #I have adhd and live in a cave and also this is my diary so…. #weaving #handweaving #loom #loomweaving #yarn #crafting

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sebastian convincing you to have another baby...

Pairing | Sebastian Stan x reader

Summary | Seb wants another baby, but he still has to convince you into wanting the same thing.

Warnings | smut, breeding kink, fluff, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of birth control, creampie, swearing, cockwarming

Requested ✖️

Y/e/d/n = Your eldest daughter’s name

Y/d/n = your daughters name

Y/s/n = your son’s name

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

The idea of pregnancy gave you many things to think about, the gruelling and simultaneously tiresome journey had been one hell of a rollercoaster. The countless times (approximately two) that you had endured the swelling of your feet, and the divine hunger for the strangest combinations of food, had left you with three beautiful children.

First you had birthed a little girl, that sparked a new light behind your husband’s eyes, and reinvented his world. She was the princess he adored, and the one that you loved to watch Disney movies with, even if she insisted on Frozen every singular time.

And then, after her, you had a pair of perfect twins. They brought sound and restlessness to the household, after your daughter demanding that she wanted a sibling. Deep down, you had wanted more at the time too, but now, you felt as though your life goal was fulfilled.

Your family was everything that you had ever wanted, it felt as though you had been taken off an idealistic screen and transferred into reality. And if that had happened, you wouldn’t be one to complain, for all your greatest wishes had come true.

But if you were to ask your husband, he would make it very clear that he wanted more little devils running around the house. There was a joke that Evans and Mackie had with you every time that they saw you on set, clothed in a tight catsuit to fit your role. They would act amazed at the appearance of you not bearing one of Sebastian’s gorgeous children, their false shock earning laughs from your various co stars.

It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t open to the idea of another child to grow within your womb, however, it was more out of fear. You were well aware that you had been blessed with the birth of your lovely twins, though you were scared that you would endure the premise of double labour again, and it wasn’t exactly the kind of pain that you were willing to experience for a second time.

Being practically split in half once was bad enough, but twice, one instance straight after the other was bound to be the worst torture that a mother could be provided with. As you stirred your evening cuppa, watching as your kids were all huddled playing a board game after their dinner, two arms found placement around your waist, lightly tugging you back into a strong chest.

“Look at our babies.” Your husband mumbled into the crown at the back of your head, his fingertips rolling circles beneath your shirt. “Aren’t they the sweetest?” He asked, pressing a delicate kiss upon the back of your neck. The feeling of his stubble making your body shake wantonly, but you withheld from making sounds, not wanting to draw the attention of your children.

“When they’re quiet.” You agreed, watching as your eldest helped the twins with beating her. “They’re the most important people in my life, and then, it’s my annoying husband, who cannot stop trying to get in my pants for five minutes.”

“That’s called love; your husband loves you.” Sebastian stated, nibbling on your ear lobe as you ushered a sound of approval, clutching onto his hand that was firmly planted on your side, as his tongue traced the shell of your ear. “And I’m sure he’d love to show you how much, if you stop being mean to him.”

“Mean?” You laughed, taking a sip of your drink before spinning in his arms, allowing him to push you flush against the counter. “I can show him mean.” Biting your lip, you traced the seam of his sweats, that appeared to be all that he was currently wearing, brushing your hands up and against his well attended to torso. “But later.”

Seb groaned, leaning his head back, as he moved closer to you, pushing his thigh between your legs, glancing over your shoulder at the kids. “We could put them to bed right now, and then go to our room, then, you can show me how much of a horrible wife you are.”

“As much as I love that idea bubs, the twins need to be bathed, and you have to help your daughter with her math homework.” Leaning forwards, you pressed a kiss on his bicep, moving out from the entrapment of his arms, and lightly patting his ass.

“You know I was joking about you being mean, but now I’m seeing some truth behind my earlier words.” Sebastian plodded away, and towards the open living space, plopping down on the sofa, as he watched his offspring on the floor, smiling at their kindness to one another, though he was sure that tomorrow would be another story.

With one last look, you headed upstairs, going to the main bathroom, and began to slowly the run the tap. During the time you allowed it to run, you grabbed some pyjamas for your babies, as well as a couple of towels and flannels. By the time you had returned to the bathroom, and put everything down ready, the tub was half filled. And so you stopped the stream, putting in a tad of cold water before descending down the stairs.

“Honey, help y/e/d/n with her school work, I’m gonna get these two trouble makers ready for bed.” Your husband nodded as he pursed his lips, trying to ignore how you leant down to pick the twins up, pretending as through the top of your breast had not been caught by his eyes.

And with that, you got the kids cleaned and ready for the following day, meeting Seb at the doorway of y/d/n’s and y/s/n’s room, giving them each a kiss on the forehead before tucking them in for bed.

As you were walking towards your own room, Sebastian lifted you from behind, carrying you the rest of the way. “You can’t keep it in your pants, can you Mr Stan?” You laughed as he dropped you upon your double bed, him instantly kneeling at the end of it to peel your shirt off.

He trailed kisses along your legs, humming from the much desired contact, as his blue eyes flickered up at you. “That’s your fault, you deprive me.” He muttered against your skin, reaching his fingertips up higher to grasp at the sides of your underwear, pulling the material down.

Your husband blew hot air upon your pussy, grinning to himself as it instinctively clenched around nothing. As he moved closer, he breathed in your scent, rubbing the tip of his nose along your clit, before diving in to feast, sneaking his tongue through your slit, instantly prodding at your entrance, causing your head to wind back, and your hand grasp his hair.

“We should have another.” He mumbled against you, and you were almost too delirious to complain, although a light groan emitted from you, as you fought with yourself whether to let him continue eating you out and not respond, or do the responsible, adult thing, and speak about it.

With much resilience, you pulled his head away, licking your lips at his slick stained chin away, tugging him to be laid beside you. “Is that really want you want Seb?” You asked, biting your lip, wanting to hear his thoughts in hopes that it would relax you for the possibility of you bearing more of his children.

“Of course it is draga.” He answered, his icy pools making your own freeze, he cupped your chin, bringing your lips to his own, placing a few pecks upon your lips, before continuing. “I know that you’re nervous, but I will look after you every step of the way, like I have done both times before. Anyways, I feel like directors take a kick out of challenging themselves with making their actresses appear not pregnant, look at both you and Scar through the years.”

You nodded, understanding that your career wouldn’t take the brunt of things. “I want another but... I’m scared. Just, what if I have two again?” You rambled with your hands, and he clasped them between his own, pausing your panicked hand signals, and rubbing his nose against each set of your knuckles.

“The chances of that aren’t very high my love. But if it happens, then maybe this time you’ll let us call them Wanda and Pietro...” his words earned him a light eye roll and a tender hit on his shoulder, as he rolled on top of you, causing you to squeal. “Remember, don’t wake the kids.”

“Kinda hard when I can feel how hard you are.” You retorted, moaning as he began to suck at the spot on your neck that made your knees shake, his hands drifting beneath your shirt, as he began to raise the material up your torso, and over your breasts. You whipped the material over your head, discarding it as his attention turned to your boobs. “I’ll never get tired of these.”

He hummed, before leaning down, taking a rosey pebble to be captured within his mouth, sucking on it as his fingers fiddled with the other. “Seb, I just need you in me.” You prodded his hips with the heels of your feet, pleased when he leaned back, pulling down his sweats, so that his erection bobbed upwards, the head already leaking precum.

“You want a baby that bad?” He asked in a brisk voice, clambering back onto your awaiting body once again, grasping his base with his heavy hand, dragging his tip to circle around your clit. “Want me to fill you up, so that you grow nice and full with my baby.”

A furrow made its way onto your brow, as you held onto his biceps, lightly rolling your hips up against his leaking head. “Honey.” He paused his movements, staring carefully down at you, reading your expression. “I’m still on birth control.” You informed him, watching as his eyelashes fluttered, and he pressed down unto you again.

“A little practise never hurt gorgeous.” Sebastian spoke, slipping his cock into your entrance, sinking into you as you moaned out his name. “Fuck, so tight, even after three kids.” He groaned, putting his hands either side of your head, as he began to thrust in and out of your pussy, breathing heavily through his nose.

“So big.” Your hands grasped at his naked back, casting down to grasp his ass, causing him to suddenly buck deeper into you, emitting another series of moans out of you. “Love your cock.”

“Yeah?” The romanian smugly asked, his lips drifting up the tip of your nose, before running them back down to your own, biting onto your upper lip, as one hand continued to brace his weight above, and the other moved down to fondle with your clit, causing you to tighten around him, your eyelids blinking repeatedly. “You love my fat cock inside of you, about to pump you full of my cum?”

“Yes Seb, love it.” Your eyes screwed shut, tears slipping out the corner of your eyes, as he made his administrations harder, hitting his hips languidly against your own. “Love it so so so mu- ah - ch.”

“Cum angel. Coat my cock, pretty girl.” You complied, reaching your high, as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as your essence pooled around him. “Want me to make you round with my babe, want me to make you full of my cum?”

“I do, I do, I do.” You squealed, your breath hitching as he stilled for a minute, filling you with seed. “Fuck.” You breathed, your chest rising and falling, as he remained in your for a moment, before pulling out, but you stopped him, clasping his back with your sweaty hands. “Stay.”

“Okay.” Seb said tiredly, his skin flushed as he rolled over, so that you were laid on his chest, your head falling to below his chin. “So beautiful, you know that?”

“Mmh.” You hummed, drawing circles upon his skin. “I’ll come off my birth control tomorrow, then, we don’t have to just practice.” He leant down to press a long kiss upon your lips, sneaking his tongue through their natural seam, gently sucking on your own.

“That sounds more than good to me darling.” He stroked down your back with his talented fingers, pulling you closer again. You felt his dick twitch within you as he felt both of your mixed juices trailed down his balls, that huffed from the sensation.

#sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fic #seb stan smut #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x you #sebastian x y/n #sebastian x reader #sebastian x you #imagines #imagine #xreader #mcu cast smut #mcucastxreader #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan au

[ezwhump]

Russell & Lennon - Bath  - pet whump, injuries, vague-ish nudity, trained response

Steam lifted from the water in the tub, cloying the air in the bathroom. Russell dipped his hand into the water to his elbow, testing the temperature at the bottom and pushing some of the hotter water to the other end. He didn’t want to add any bath salts or scented bubble bath to it just in case it irritated Lennon’s wounds. 

Lennon stood by the sink, eyes darting around the bathroom, chewing on his lip. He’d done a decent job getting from the car to the bathroom, only occasionally stumbling and whispering hoarse apologies. Russell was slightly taken aback when he heard the kid speak, and then again when he picked up on the soft southern accent. 

“Should be alright. There are towels in the cupboard, and all the soaps are in the wall.” He gestured to the row of bottles and pumps hooked into the tiling above the tub, searching Lennon’s face for any sort of sign that he understood. 

“Do you need help with anything?” 

Lennon shook his head furiously, swaying a little, seeming coltish standing on two feet, like he wasn’t used to it. His knees were a patchwork of fresh and healing bruises, and it made Russell's stomach turn just looking at them. It was tame, comparatively, to the angry red tearing at Lennon’s throat from the collar. Russell wanted to crush that thing under an anvil the second he had time to spare, but for now it was still sitting in the trunk of his car.

“Right. Well, I’ll be just outside if you need anything, my office is down the hall. Just yell.” 

Lennon nodded, his fists knotted into his shirt, twisting and pulling. 

Russell lingered.

“Are you sure?” Lennon nodded again, and Russell took that as a solid enough cue, leaving the bathroom door ajar.

“Thank y’sir.” 

--- The cursor blinked on the screen.

- No birth records / ID 

- Age: looks around 19? Not sure. 

- Diet: unknown. Not fucking kibble.

- Allergies: unknown

- Injuries: neck, knees, scarring, wrists. Haven’t checked anywhere else. Schedule a doctors visit. A vet? 

- Set up a bed. Probably in your room 

- Cancel tomorrow’s meetings 

- Show Lennon around 

- Double check legality/paperwork 

- Call Pete 

Russell wiped a hand over his face, pushing away from the desk. Listening. He’d left the office door open  so that once Lennon was done he wouldn’t have to knock or get the wrong room. Occasionally, he’d hear the echo of a splash, or water dripping into water, and it assuaged him some. He wanted to give Lennon privacy, but the paranoia was grating as the hour passed. 

Another hour went by, and around 8:30 Russell cracked, getting up from his chair and trying not to run the few feet to the bathroom.

The light was out. Russell searched for it, flicking it on. Lennon was shaking in the tub, his head tipped back against the taps, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut. The water was murky and cold, the soaps untouched.

“Jesus.” Russell pulled out the towels and held it up. “You can come out, it's okay. Shit, I’m so sorry. Why the hell were you in the dark?”

Lennon got up out of the water, practically falling into the outstretched towel, and Russell wrapped him in it, picking up another and palming it over his wet hair. It was still matted, reeking of the trailer. 

“Hold on, I’ll drain it out and run another one.” 

It took all of fifteen minutes, while the water ran and the tub filled, for Russell to cut out the mats in Lennon’s hair. He moved gently, carefully, sectioning each piece out, occasionally petting down the back of Lennon’s neck when he got too nervous about the noise the scissors made. Lennon seemed to like that, the petting. 

He probably hasn’t had a single kind touch in years. Especially not with that godawful collar on. Not in that trailer.

He also seemed more comfortable on the floor, Russell noticed. He’d dropped to his knees on the rug when Russell took a seat on the toilet and gestured between his legs for Lennon to sit. The easy obedience made Russell prickle.

“All done. Let's get you washed.” 

There wasn’t any room to be bashful, and Russell tried to take it in his stride, using a fresh cloth and soap to wipe most of the grime off the kid, visoring his eyes with a hand when it was time to wash and rinse his hair, and only using clean, colder water to clean the cuts and tears. After a few run-throughs, Lennon’s hair was clean, and when Russell dried him over again, he noticed it was wispy. Soft and downy like feathers. Other things came to his attention; moles dotting Lennon’s neck and chest, a few on his forearms. Piercing holes, two in each earlobe. A tagging number on his neck. 

Russell brought in clean clothes as quickly as he could, tugging an old college shirt over Lennon's head, finishing with the boxers and sweatpants. They were huge on him, puddling around his ankles, the shoulder seams half-way down his arms. Russell would take him shopping tomorrow, then. It was the easiest thing in the world to toss Lennon’s old rags in the trash.

“Looking good, kid.” Russell grinned, running his fingers through Lennon’s hair again, just to check for any more matted pieces. Just to touch it again, really.

Lennon pushed into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, and he made a soft, unwilling noise in his mouth. Russell dropped his hand and Lennon snapped to attention, automatically dropping to his knees and dipping his head till it touched Russell’s bare feet. Prostrated and repentant.

Russell took a few staggering steps back and knelt down in front of Lennon, checking his face. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? You didn’t do anything. Hey.”

Lennon was whimpering a little, shrinking into himself and breathing hard. Like he was bracing himself for something. 

I should’ve set that trailer ablaze. 

“It’s okay.” Russell took Lennon’s face, so small between his hands, and rested his forehead against Lennon’s, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing so the kid had something to focus on. 

Once Lennon was matching him, breath for breath, Russell moved back slowly, dropping his hands to his lap. Lennon stared at the tile, and Russell could see the pulse in the kid’s throat. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.” 

Lennon nodded solemnly, twisting his hands up into his shirt again. Clearly he wasn’t convinced. Russell couldn’t blame him. He stood up, helping Lennon up onto shaky legs.

“You hungry?”

“No, sir.” Lennon seemed resolute, grimacing slightly.

“You tired?” 

Lennon shook his head, but it was more sluggish than before. He wasn’t supposed to admit to it, Russell realized. 

“Christ, c’mon. You can stay in my room tonight, and we’ll figure something out in the morning.”

--

tags: @deluxewhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @highwaywhump

thank you for all the love on my last post, it means the world to have such talented people read my stuff ;-; <3 hope you enjoy this one!

#pet whump #collars #cw previous abuse mentioned #cw injuries #past whump of a minor #cw trained response #cw vague nudity #god i'm so bad at tagging so if i missed any im so sorry #whump #cw bathing

[pedrostan]

Quarantine, why do you hate me?

Summary: Being roommates with a guy is hard, being roommates with a man you will simp for is beyond compare.

pairings: Pedro Pascal x y/n

Warnings: smut ( masturbation ,showerhead, getting caught, fingering,nakedness)

word count:1.5k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hard to be roommates with a man like Pedro, the gorgeous Chilean became your roommate more than 6 months ago when you came across an Ad in the window of your local coffee shop, the AD was simple, looking for dog sitter, room available, rent paid, own necessities provided by yourself, contact xxx xxx xxx, you either got lucky by being the first to call or you were unlucky when you met the man you had being simping for since you saw him in game of thrones.

Thinking back, you can’t actually believe your luck, especially after having to endure the long days of Pedro walking around the house in nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, showing off his muscles that you wish to lick and that little happy trail going down to the one thing you have thought of most. Ever since the pandemic hit and you were put onto lockdown, there was not much else to do expect watch TV and dream about Pedro.

It didn’t help that he seemed to be teasing you every chance he got, walking around without a shirt, or in grey sweatpants, cuddling up to you the couch, giving you massages that had you nearly moaning his name and constantly teasing you and tickling you. It was normal and fun until you decide to try and tease him.

It started off simple really, all it was was you walking into the kitchen one day in nothing but a sports bra and a pair of tight shorts that hugged your ass perfectly, Pedro completely stopped eating his cereal, letting the spoonful fall out his mouth as he watched you tie up your Nike sneakers.

“where are you going?” he asked.

“For a run, Edgar needs the air” you simply replied, smirking at the feeling of his eyes trailing your ass as you attach Edgar’s collar to his lead.

“Ill come with” is his reply, you turn around to protest but see that he is already walking out of his room in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and his Nike boots. He smirks when he notices your gaze linger on his muscles, especially his neck. It causes you to blush when he simply says, “Close your mouth you will catch flies” and with that the dread of what this run will bring crushes you.

You had been running for quite some time now, deciding to run along one of the more scenic trails, where the sun shone down on Pedro and cause his muscles to glow some like Greek god and caused the wet patch in your pants to become bigger and making the heat in your core to become an absolute inferno.

Too busy in your thoughts to notice him suddenly stopping, you run straight into his back.

“are you ok?” he asks and turns to look at you the sun hits his brown locks causing you to forget everything in existence except his name, nodding your head you move to rock and decide to sit there and catch your breath during this impromptu break.

Noticing Pedro’s smirk at your longing gaze you decide to play dirty, taking your water bottle you take a huge gulp of water letting some of it “accidently” run down your chest and wet your sports bra. You smirk as you catch Pedro following a water droplet down your chin onto your chest and down your cleavage, you clear your throat and watch as Pedro jumps and quickly looks away, trying to hide his blush at being caught. Finally, having caught your breath you stand and simple say “Come on Papi, let’s go home” you start running back with Edgar following close to you.

You yelp when Pedro sprints past you, his hand having connect with your ass leaving you a wet mess, as you hope you can win this teasing competition.

You get home not long after that, you and Pedro are both flushed and you realise that it is not just from the run deciding to shower first you quickly rush into the bath room and make quick work of getting into the cold shower, after sitting in the shower for 5 minutes and it having done nothing to appease your hunger for Pedro, you decide to take the handheld showerhead to help appease your lust, after adjusting the water temperature and pressure you get it just right and aim at your throbbing clit, you nearly scream at the sensation and close your eyes imagining Pedro in the shower with you, pinning you against the wall and kissing you hard, his kisses moving down your jaw to your neck where he sucks a mark onto your pulse point and continuing further until he reaches your tits where he licks everywhere except your nipples.

Becoming needy you grab his brown locks and pull his head towards your nipple where he sucks it before alternating to the other. You feel his one hand on your hip the other moving between your legs where he slowly starts to pump to fingers into you, moaning at the sensation you enjoy the feeling of his large hands exploring your body and you nearly scream as his fingers brush on the one sweet spot inside of you, feeling him smile against your chest as he continues to suck on your nipples you moan loud and let him turn you around “are you ready baby girl?” he whispers seductively into your ear as he nibbles your earlobe, “si, papi” you say as he adjusts your legs separating them to ensure he has enough space to be able to pound into you.

You feel the tip of his large cock brush against you –

*knock knock*

“Y/n is everything okay? You were screaming and moaning? Rather loudly.” Pedro says through the door causing you to drop the handheld shower head.

“Y/n? what was that?” Pedro asks, worry can be heard in his voice as the doorknob twists and he slowly steps in.

You are a deer caught in headlights and do nothing to cover your body, instead blushing as you watch Pedro’s eyes rake over your body and his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he makes eye contact with you.

“baby girl, if you wanted me all you had to do was ask.” Pedro says, as he smirks and starts walking towards the shower.

“Papi, please fuck me” you manage to whimper out, too embarrassed about being caught and too needy to think about saying something else.

Pedro growls as he rips his shorts and boxers off, you watch him stalk toward the shower and your eyes never leave his long, thick cock. You gulp at the sight, but your eye never leaves the gorgeous appendage, and you can’t believe how pretty and well groomed it is. You look up Pedro just as he is stepping into the shower and you notice the smirk in his kissable lips and the hunger in his eyes. He pulls you into him and into a hot and rough kiss that leaves your head spinning as you feel his tongue ask for entrance, which you easily grant.

To distracted by the feeling of his lips and his tongue exploring your mouth, you fail to notice the hand moving towards your centre until two of his fingers enter you.

Pedro pulls away from the kiss to stare down at where his hands are, “fuck baby, you are soaking” he says as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace, your hands grip his shoulders as he easily finds your g-spot the moan you let out indicating that to him.

“Papi, I’m close” you manage to whimper and feel him smirk against your neck as he continues to mark.

All of a sudden, he is off you and turning you around to face the wall, “feet apart baby” he says, and you obediently comply. You wait a whole minute without feelings his hands on you and just before you turn around you feel the spray of the showerhead hit your clit causing you to scream at the high pressure, he has adjusted it to.

“come for me baby, let me make you come and then I can rock your world” He says as he groans watching you come apart at the seams. His other hand moves to your neck where he gently chokes you and this is what sends you over screaming “Papi” over and over again as Pedro lets you ride out your high with the showerhead aimed at your throbbing clit.

Your legs give out causing you to nearly collapse to the floor, luckily Pedro caught you, he took you out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy towel around you before turning the shower off. He then picked you up and carried you to his bed where he gently put you down and helped you into one of his shirts before putting on a pair if boxers and laying down next to you.

You roll over and stare at him “Pedro, I – “you start but he kisses you and simply says “I know, and I feel the same, but rest now and tomorrow Ill let you pleasure your Papi”.

You smile at his words as he gathers you in his arms and the comforting sound of his heartbeat helps you drift to sleep.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagine

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Prompt My Own Damn Self # :He’s Not the Guy You Marry, But He Is The Guy You [REDACTED] in the Night Club Bathroom at Two O’Clock in the Morning, Which is Also Important

Summary: Literally what it says in the title, except we find out what [REDACTED] means, which is very fun and exciting. That’s right, everybody, we’re 👏 going 👏 there 👏

Warnings: ‼️18+‼️ Extremely Explicit Sexual Content. Do NOT be uncool and read it if you’re not of age. Otherwise, there’s alcohol involved here (wow what a surprise 🙄), like one mention of drugs, and smoking. Aside from that, it’s pretty straightforward.

Genre: Mediocre Smut

Pairing: Hatter/Fem!Reader

Notes: There are two types of people in this world: people who are very attracted to the weird sexy hat guy who started a death-game pyramid scheme, and LIARS.

Real talk, though: this is pretty explicit. More explicit than I’ve gone in a very long time, so I’m a little rusty. It veers into “hate sex” territory, which was kind of fun to write, honestly. I live for the banter. (Also, the “you” character in this is kind of great? I like her.)

HEY! Just another reminder! This is 18+ so if you’re not of legal age, do yourself a solid and ditch this little thing, okay? Okay.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

It starts with tequila shots.

Salt licked. From your wrist. His chest. The hollow of your throat.

Lime bitten. Held between your fingers. Between his teeth. Between your pushed-together breasts.

Music pulses. Lights flash. He’s got a hand on your ass. You’ve got your lips on his neck.

“Wanna go somewhere?”

“Yes.”

And he leads you, hand on the small of your back, away from the bar. People stare. You like it.

‘Somewhere’ is, apparently, a two-stall women’s restroom, tucked away in a narrow little hallway which runs to the left of the bar. A place for shooting up drugs. A place for scribbling on the walls with permanent marker.

A place for sex. Hot, sweaty, anonymous sex.

...Well, semi-anonymous, anyways. It’s impossible to live at the Beach and not know who the man in red is, the man who sells a shot at salvation for nothing more than a few playing cards.

You lean against the tastefully cream-colored counter which hosts, among other things: a sink stained pink with cheap soap; three forgotten tubes of lipstick; a small mirror, holding an abandoned credit card and two small lines of cocaine; a crumpled up hand towel; a half-finished bottle of Asahi beer; and what was probably once a wedding ring.

“Great ambiance,” you murmur flatly. The harsh light of fluoresent bulbs burn your eyes, diverting your gaze to the white floor, “Been ages since I got fucked in a classy place like this.”

“Ages?” Hatter flicks the lock on the door with a low thunk.

“Hours,” you answer, mournful tone betrayed by a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, “Had you not come along, my dry spell might’ve gone on through the morning.”

“Perish the thought.”

And he does not so much approach you as he descends upon you, mouth sucking at your collarbone and leg pushing between your thighs.

“Tell me,” he pants into you ear, breath hot and fingers deft as he unties the strings of your bikini top, “How do you want me?”

“Now,” you hiss back, “Don’t care how, just—fuck, just give it to me.”

“Then, if you would be so kind?” He holds a condom between his index and middle fingers.

In truth, you’re glad for it—you’d rather not deal with the mess after all is said and done—but there’s no way you’ll give him the satisfaction of a ‘thank you.’

“Fine,” you huff, snatching the foil square from his grasp, “Don’t suppose you have anything better to—oh!”

Hands on your hips spin you around so you’re facing the mirror. You grip the edge of the counter, knuckles straining, and watch as he reaches around to palm your breast.

“Apologies,” he makes eye contact with you in the mirror, “but I seem to have my hands full at the moment.”

And that’s when you feel fingertips slipping beneath the seam of your bikini bottoms, an insistent press against the slick of your slit.

You spit a curse and fumble with the condom, desperation setting in as his hands continued to dance across your flesh. After some moments (too many for your liking), you’re successful in your endeavor, and pass the unwrapped nuisance over your shoulder.

“Much obliged,” he thanks, removing his hands to sort himself out, “You know, I appreciate—“

“I didn’t come here to talk,” you snap. He laughs in response.

“Ooh, you’re mean!”

And he’s sliding the crotch of your swimsuit bottoms to the side, exposing only what is necessary and lining himself up—and, okay, that’s the kind of semi-impractical hotness you were looking for from this particular encounter. Your muscles clench involuntarily around nothing and you cant your hips back to get him to move it along...but nothing happens.

God, what is this guy’s problem?!

“But, I wonder,” he whispers into your ear, “are you desperate enough to say ‘please?”

Of all the guys to pull for a quick fuck, of course you get the one who’s a total tease. So smug, arrogance blooming as he presses a soft kiss to your left shoulder. There’s no way you’re giving in to this asshole, so you glare at him in the reflection of the mirror.

“Fuck you,” you spit, teeth bared and mouth formed into a malicious smile.

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Close enough.”

You both cry out when he fills you with a single, fluid thrust. And—fuck, fuck, fuck!—that is good. One of his hands curls around the jut of your hip, while the other splays across your collarbone, thumb and forefinger framing the base of your throat in a firm but gentle touch.

Otherwise, he remains still—perhaps he’s being gentlemanly and allowing you time to adjust? No, no, he’s definitely being a tease again.

Seriously, what is his goddamn deal?

Since he seems content to take his merry time, you take matters into your own hands, moving against him in a somewhat-awkward but still satisfying rhythm.

“You,” he says between heavy breaths, “seem eager.”

There’s something in his voice that seems amused, as if he finds your candor endearing. You lean forward a bit, angling your hips so his length is able to sink deeper and, oh, that’s much better.

“Want something done right,” you pant, “gotta do it yourself.”

“You don’t think I’d do it right?”

“Sweetie,” you coo with a condescending smile, “I know you wouldn’t.”

And you’re lucky that guys like him are all the same—arrogant, showy, desperate to prove their sexual prowess—because he finally (finally!) decides to get his sorry ass into gear and make something happen.

The hand that was around your neck gropes at your breasts, the cool metal of that stupid-ugly-tacky ring catching on your skin in an annoyingly tantalizing way. The other shoves its way between you and the edge of the countertop, deft fingertips circling your clitoris in a way that makes your toes curl in your sandals. You bite your lip to keep from crying out as he fucks into you, hips snapping hard but steady against the plush of your ass.

“You know, the people I fuck usually try to be nice to me,” he says, “nicer than you, anyways.”

The hand on your breast pinches your nipple, earning him a sharp gasp.

“Why be nice?” You clench around him, causing his rhythm to falter, “You’re just the means to an end.”

“And here I thought we were making love.”

Teeth scrape down the length of your neck, and fuck—you’re getting close. Your arms are shaking. Your heart is racing. You hate to admit it, but he’s good at this.

“Darling,” he growls into your ear, “I do believe you’re about to come.”

“Shut up,” you snap, trying desperately to sound cool and unaffected despite the fact that your composure is about to shatter and there is not a goddamn thing you can do about it.

“Well, go on then. After all,” he hisses, “I don’t have all night.”

What starts as anger is quickly overtaken by pleasure—white-hot and blinding, enough to make your knees shake and your eyes spring with tears. It’s exactly what you were looking for, exactly what you had been expecting from the most notorious sex fiend at this God-forsaken place.

Apparently, he must’ve come too, because he’s pulling out with a surprising tenderness—gentlemanly in one way, at least. He even makes sure to right your bikini bottoms, making sure that they’re once again covering you completely before turning his attention to himself.

“You know, I didn’t know people could glare their way through an orgasm, but you made it happen.”

“I’m a woman of many talents.”

Before you choose to look in the mirror, you fix the rest of your bathing suit with a tremble in your fingers. You can feel him watching you, and honestly, you’re not sure how you feel about that. Good, mostly, but tinged a bit orange with annoyance. You try not to think about that too much and, with a deep breath, look at your reflection.

The first thing you do to assess the damage of your little liaison is check your makeup—your eyeliner is a bit smudged, but that’s easily fixed with a few swipes of your littlest finger. Your hair, however, is another story, so you set to fixing it with a dissatisfied huff.

You hear the snick of a lighter behind you and the scent of fresh-burning nicotine hits your senses. You turn around to see him leaning against the tile wall with a cigarette between his lips and smoke curling in wisps towards the ceiling.

He raises an eyebrow when you approach him, then chuckles when you snatch the cigarette right out of his mouth and take a long, deep drag. It’s almost as good as the sex.

“You know,” he says, “I think you might be a bit in love with me after my spectacular performance.”

That makes you choke, your lungs switching from laughter to coughing and back again.

“Spectacular?” You quell your sputtering with a gulp, “You were passable. At best.”

“Careful, sweetheart. You’re getting awfully close to giving me a compliment.”

You take a step closer to him, shoulders squared, fingers ashing the cigarette onto the floor.

“Not your sweetheart,” you say, taking one last drag and blowing the smoke directly into his face. You smile when he flinches.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you say, pressing the mostly-smoked cigarette between his lips, “I have somewhere to be.”

You turn on your heel and begin to walk away, making sure to sway your hips just so as you do. There’s no way his eyes aren’t glued to your ass, and the thought makes you smile triumphantly.

“Until next time, then,” he calls—and it’s cute that he sounds so sure that you’ll come crawling back to him.

You exit the bathroom with a self-satisfied smirk, enjoying the thought of him lighting another cigarette and trying not to chase after you.

Three days, tops. That’s how long it’ll take for him to beg.

You can’t wait.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

also just in case you were wondering, he DID leave the sunglasses on—BUT they were on his head kinda holding his hair back because I truly believe he would do that. also the kimono has pockets and he thinks it’s very cool to carry around all his stuff in there (for example he keeps a granola bar on his person at all times because sometimes you just get hungry yknow?)

#spicy boy #writings and such #hatter #hatter x reader #danma takeru #danma takeru x reader #alice in borderland fanfic #alice in borderland #this took me WEEKS to write oh my god #I’m gonna convert y’all to hatter fans no matter what #it’s a thankless job but someone’s gotta do it #he’s got great hair and a weird outfit what more do you people WANT?!?

[alilbitofdoodles]

Red Silk & Nylons

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Rating: E Paring: Elizabeth x Meliodas Word Count : 2367 Warnings: Language, Suggestive themes Summary: Despite his inability to be coherent when his gorgeous girlfriend is dressed in only underwear and stockings, he somehow manages to mumble, "Did I mention how crazy hot you are dressed in red? Because you're absolutely breathtaking." A Christmas Special! Gratuitous domestic fluff for that warm cozy feeling~ Ao3 Link: 📖

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To be honest, he's surprised she puts up with him and his unbelievably tiny apartment.

Meliodas had offered to buy a full body mirror so she wouldn't have to deal with the cramped space that is his pathetic excuse for a bathroom ( He's pretty sure the maximum occupancy is like one person and a houseplant—it's an architectural feat that they somehow managed to squeeze in the claw tub, sink, and toilet ), but she insisted she was fine. Really, she was fine.

Still, he can't help but feel a little guilty. Especially now since Elizabeth has to apply her makeup while he bathes. He was considerate enough to run the water cold to not fog up the mirror, but even then he felt guilty about the situation overall.

As he gets out of the tub to dry off, wet flaxen hair sticking to the back of his neck, he sighs. He's never been in love like this before. Her happiness gives him happiness and he wants to do everything in his power to be able to provide for her and more. 

Elizabeth was born with a silver spoon in her mouth—no doubt used to a life of luxury. He’s so enthralled with her living with him, but she's almost out of place in his life with how radiant she is. 

Truthfully, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be enough, but admittedly, he's been getting better. Especially with her. Life seems a little bit easier to manage when you're not alone. Coming home to her warm hugs and bright smile instantly recharges his batteries and he feels like a better person when he’s with her. Someone he likes being, despite his messy past.

In his mind, he knows that his impoverished lifestyle isn't a big deal to her. Doubting her comfortability is just the same as being unable to trust her decision and it feels just as bad, if not worse. He can remember that determined look in her eyes, honest and full of warmth, when she had moved in and called it Home.

Their Home.

Malfunctioning air-conditioning and all.

With newfound confidence he snuffs out the negativity—vigorously fluffing out his hair with the towel as if to scrub the thoughts away.

"How much longer until the Christmas party again?" He doesn’t need to do much, really. Just dry off and put on some casual formal wear. His favorite part was putting on his tie, if only just because Elizabeth would insist on fixing it and he loved the extra attention. He’s guilty of maaaaybe not learning how to tie a windsor knot on purpose if it meant his adorable girlfriend fussing over his appearance.

He looks over to where Elizabeth is and it takes his brain a moment to remember that ‘Oh yeah’  his lungs need air to breathe, because he's sure his body forgot it's own autonomous functions when he sees her.

Elizabeth was leaning over the sink and applying makeup as she normally would, but this time around she was only partially dressed. Her underwear wasn't its usual practical white or nude, but a deep red silk with a sheen that faded to black around the edges. The two cups were edged with black lace woven in intricate scalloped designs. But the cherry on top was the dark pantyhose on her sinfully sexy legs.

Elizabeth tilts her head forward, brushing out her lashes with a little mascara wand, and regards her reflection for a moment before replying aloud, "Mmm...we've got around 45 minutes to get ready so no rush."

As she carefully sweeps the rouge over her lips, it’s color an equally deep red, he watches with heightened attention. The simple act draws his attention to her tulip lips in a coy act of seduction.

He walks over, leaning probably closer than he should, and his mind blanks at a loss for words. Meliodas wonders, always astonished, how perfect she is. She’s so captivating without even trying and Meliodas is just left speechless. His chest is a furnace of warmth and the feeling radiates through his body in little tingles.

Elizabeth spots him staring from the mirror and looks at him without turning around, "What, you think it's too much? I don't normally wear this shade, but Christmas, right?"

Despite his inability to be coherent when his gorgeous girlfriend is dressed in only underwear and stockings, he somehow manages to mumble, "Did I mention how crazy hot you are dressed in red? Because you're absolutely breathtaking."

Elizabeth turns to face him and shyly bites her lip. "O-oh, you like it? I bought it while I was out getting the ingredients. Normally I wouldn't splurge on underwear  of all things, but it came in a set. Plus it had a deep holiday discount..."

Meliodas swipes his thumb over her bottom lip, smudging her lipstick, and his dick throbs at the sight of her. Half-dressed wearing ruby red underwear and silken black pantyhose. He wants to ravage her. See how undone and desperate she looks while he's fucking her in front of the mirror.

"Ah, Meliodas, " Elizabeth pleads, a cute whimper of restraint, and it has his sanity hanging by a thread. "Mmm...w-we need to leave soon..."

"In a second, let me just—" Meliodas places a slow kiss, hungry and needy, upon the dip between her neck and shoulder and immediately he smells her warm perfume; the longer he lingers, the more he can pick up the notes of sweet, spiced vanilla from when they were baking gingerbread.

He slides his hand underneath her bra to palm at her left breast and god does it's pillowy softness fill up his hand just right. His fingers lightly sink into her flesh while the lace bites at his skin. Despite the slight pain, the reminder of said lace only sparks something hotter and deeper within him.

With skillful fingers he easily unlatches the offending material and Meliodas impresses his body against her. Fingers roam her body all slow. It's a careful exploration as he maps out all her sweet spots and judges her reactions. The slight graze of his nails against soft skin earns him a delicious little shiver; a firm grasp has her breathing hitched and heavy; a small tweak to her hardening nipples has her lower spine arching to the ceiling with silent, barely there moans.

Meliodas anxiously grinds his body into hers, his now stiff cock pressing against her ass, and he savors the intoxicating feeling. Another pump of his hips has the tip of his dick just barely reaching her clothed core and he makes it his goal to glide between it over and over again.

Elizabeth airly moans and her voice is heavenly music in his ears. He repeats the thrusting motion with more force and is again rewarded with her beautiful song of praise. He wants her to feel it too. The faster he glides, the more she reacts and it's like a continuous cycle of pleasure with both of them climbing higher and higher within their rapturous daze until—

RIIIIIIP

They both stop, eyes wide, quietly staring at each other for a couple of seconds.

Elizabeth is panting, slightly out of breath,  "Did you just..."

"Uh,  yeah I think I did…"

There's a small opening of torn threads stretching down her pantyhose. He's pretty sure he's stained her thighs with his precum and he can already see her soaking through her underwear more clearly now.

"You know, actually, your hole is kinda hot."

"D-don't say it like that!"  Elizabeth quickly defends in embarrassment, "Gosh, look at them. I don't think I have a spare. I mean, it's not like it'll be seen from underneath the dress so it should be fine...maybe it'll be okay?"

Meliodas hears her voice, but is only vaguely listening. He's far more interested in this little rip he's created. With careful focus he hooks his finger into the seam, playing around with the frayed edges, and something in him feels so strongly compelled to just—

RIIIIIIIP RIP

"Meliodas!"

The sound of thread snapping echoes in their little bathroom and Elizabeth gasps. The sheer material stretches over the fleshy skin of her plump butt as he tears apart the nylon even more. It’s not enough to pull it completely off her, but just enough to reveal more of her creamy skin. It’s like a flip is switched and he's, once again, rubbing his hardening dick across the wet spot on her underwear. Meliodas guides his dick along the slit of her panties, sliding the head along and angling it just right so that it tugs back at his foreskin with every thrust. 

It's miraculous how delicious it feels. Smooth and silky like water against his skin.

Meliodas sighs, breathing in ragged, hot breaths against her ear. "Close your legs a little bit." And she does, and the added friction and heat only spurs him on.

Meliodas felt that throbbing pleasurable ache every time Elizabeth breathlessly whimpered his name with every heavy stroke of his cock. It drove him to near madness. His actions became more urgent, more forceful, but it only had her moaning louder. Her nails dug into his scalp a bit painfully, but the pleasure made him blind to it.

He loved this. He loved her. She’s always beautiful, but there was something so thrilling and empowering to see her so immersed in nothing but the passion he could give her. He'd give her all of him and the world if he could, but it still wouldn't be enough. She compliments him and fits perfectly in his life.

"I love you." his voice rumbles between her shoulder blades while he comfortably nestles his hips between her legs.

"I love you too." She murmurs before placing a gentle kiss over his messy hair.

He pulls his face from her and has a wide, mischievous grin that exudes confidence. "So...do you wanna?"

As he strokes his still-hardening erection along her soaking arousal, Elizabeth gasps "Y-yes! Oooh, I-I need you. Please."

Without preamble, he uses two fingers to stretch the elastic band of her panties to the side, revealing her glistening folds bare to him. It’s almost a shame he's unable to take a taste of her sinful sweetness, but he has more pressing matters to attend to.

The tip of his dick is wet and his mouth slightly drops open at finally being inside.  As he slowly sinks further into her, he can feel his cock twitching in anticipation. It's a miracle he didn't just mercilessly fuck her into their bathroom counter right then and there.

With a gradually growing speed, he began plunging his cock in and out of her clenching body and it's almost painful how pleasurable it feels. Another thrust, quicker and harder this time, and Meliodas was rewarded with her sweet sinful, praise. Her back is arched so that the tip of his head is squeezed with every thrust.

It seems like Elizabeth had begun to lose herself to it all. Her insides stroked his shaft with every pass and she thrust her hips back in order to dig his cock in deeper. 

Meliodas firmly grasps her hip with one hand the best he can to anchor her as he begins to push his hips harder, thrusting into her at a wild and merciless pace. He was getting close, but he wanted to ride out the pleasure of being within her for as long as possible. He doesn't want to stop. He wants to come inside Elizabeth so badly, but he doesn't want it to end. The pleasure coils in his stomach as he strains himself from releasing inside her. 

"Elizabeth you feel so good. Everything is so soft .  ..Ah—ngh...I'm gonna...haa..I wanna come so badly."

"A-ahh, mmm! I-it's okay," her breath hitches as he nics a particularly pleasurable spot—judging by how she shudders beneath him. "Please, Meliodas, please...I'm so close.." 

The hot pressure of her tight core fluttering and enveloping his cock is consuming his mind and body in a blinding euphoria. His vision is starting to blur as his thrusts become more reckless. Pleasure singes his nerves and quickly he braces himself onto the counter. He picks up the pace, driving into her with long, intense strokes, and firmly clenches his jaw so hard that his teeth begin to ache. 

Her walls clench and constrict tighter and tighter and he knows she finally reached  her limit when she chokes back a pleasured sob. Her body deliciously shudders around his cock and immediately the unrelenting heat engulfs him and crashes down hard and unforgiving. 

The tension in him snaps and Meliodas buries himself harder and deeper, feeling his cock pulse whilst inside Elizabeth. He felt her body tightening on him as he continued to pump his hips repeatedly, intermingling their essences and slicking her plush walls with his seed and finishing inside her with thick, jerky spurts. As his release begins to taper off, he gives a few shallow thrusts while keeping a firm grip on her hips to fill her up as much as possible.

As they're coming down from their high, Meliodas flips her around and pulls her in for a languid, sloppy kiss. Sucking her tongue, then swirling and rolling them around each other until his head went blank and dizzy. 

He paused to pull away, licking his own equally swollen lips, with their mouth’s barely touching and breathing in each other’s air. Both of them dripping with sweat and Elizabeth’s body still trembling with aftershocks from her own release.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth I—" his voice is rough and breathless, "I love you so much, I couldn't resist."

"Mm...I love you just as much." She whispers, equally as tired. She brings her hand up to brush away at his sweat-slicked bangs to look more earnestly into his eyes. "But I have to say, we probably are going to be late for that Christmas party now."

Elizabeth gently laughs and it's like heaven sighing. It's so tender and infectious that he soon finds himself laughing along with her.

At least this time they could take a nice, long bath together. 

#Spicy Melizabeth #Let's see if tumblr gets my butt for that preview image lol #my fics #my art

[ilguna]

Lacuna - Chapters 1-4 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing.

wc; 14.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

– 

-- CHAPTER ONE --

The sound of screaming jolts you awake, enough to get your heart racing, and the grogginess of sleep is completely erased from your mind. Your eyes search the room quickly, looking for some sort of intruder, until you realize it’s just your sister again. Awake before the rest of the house, uncomfortable because of the silence, and probably starving.

You’re not sure how it’s possible to have the same exact reaction every single time she does it. But your brain thinks the same thing without fail, that someone has just broken into the house, and you’re about to get murdered. It’s ridiculous for a couple of reasons. The first, is that they would most likely not go for the back room first. And the second is that no one gets murdered here.

If anything, everyone huddles up together, protecting each other the best they can. To turn against someone else would be ridiculous. There is no reason for murder, when two of you get picked off every single year. If anything, you should be teaming up together to get it stopped. But that would cost thousands of lives, once again.

With a yawn, you push yourself off of the bed, dragging your feet when it comes to taking care of your sister. The second you’re in sight, she seems to calm down a little bit, holding her arms up to you. You scoop her up, holding her against your chest as you shush her slightly, bouncing your steps a little more as you head into the kitchen.

No one else is home except the two of you. Reed and Mox are most likely on a boat in the middle of the water, fishing to fill today’s quota. They’ll be saving a couple for you guys later tonight, and if they come back with enough, you’re sure they’ll send you to the square to trade for bread, and anything else you’ll need for today.

You can take a guess already. It’ll be soaps and shampoos, and if there isn’t a nice enough outfit that you can find in your mom’s old wardrobe, then you will have to go out to buy a hand-me-down from the square. Alyssum--your sister--will most likely fit in to her outfit from last year, she hasn’t grown much since then. Your brothers stopped growing a couple of years ago, and they fit into your fathers pants and shirts just fine.

As you set your sister up on the floor with a little bit of soft, fresh bread, you head to your parents room. Holding your breath when you open the door, because you only come in here once a year. This will be the one time you permit yourself to look over it again. You don't’ stay for very long though, you don’t want to kneel and cry on the floor like you did two years ago. You’re terrified of the never ending onslaught of tears again.

Reed doesn’t have the same reaction as you and Mox do when you come into the room. Reed has to be the strongest, in his mind. He doesn’t want to watch as his younger siblings collapse and crumble beneath him. He lets you guys use him as a platform, and only sometimes do you get to return the favor.

You open the creaky wooden door, looking over the dresses. A frown comes over your face when you realize that last years had hardly fit. And if last year was a bust, then that means that all the others won’t be big enough either, right?

Even though you’re sure that it’ll be impossible for you to fit into any of them again this year, you pick out the biggest one. It’s the closest to the end, one you haven’t worn before because it was too big beforehand. How the tables have turn.

After you lay it over your arm, you shut the wardrobe doors and leave the room. After, you quickly lay the dress on the desk in the corner of the room. Something your father used to sit at every night as he wrote up things for the peacekeepers to send. While you’re in your room, you open up the shutters to see that the sun is higher than you thought. You’d think it to be early morning, the sky not even turning blue yet.

Quickly, you place your black flats beneath the dress, and you also lay out Alyssum’s baby clothes. By the time you’ve returned to the living room, Alyssum is finished with the bread. She chews on her favorite stuffed animal, staring off into space. Not a single care in the world.

Just as you’re deciding to change Alyssum and maybe start up the first bath of many that will happen, the door swings open. Mox is the first to appear in the doorway, hauling the cooler in his arms. When he sees you standing by the couch, he offers you a tight smile, before heading straight for the fridge.

On the other hand, Reed has a basket of bread. You’ll take a bet right now, that Mox had lost whatever game they were playing on the boat, making him carry the heavy cooler, while Reed got the lightest thing in the world. Reed shuts the door behind with his foot, and then he shuffles over to the counter, clearing the cutting board and knife into the sink to make room, before he sets it down.

“I’ve fed her.” you tell him, “And I’ve picked out her outfit and everything. Do I have to run down to the square for anything? Soaps?”

Mox groans out a complaint as he struggles to lift the cooler again. Reed chuckles, smirking at him, before he turns to you, “No, I got them early this morning before anyone else could. Go ahead and take a bath first, I have to help him out.”

“Shut up.” Mox shoots at him, glaring.

You leave the room quietly, picking up the dress from the room, and whatever you’ll be wearing underneath. The bath is a blur as you scrub the salt scent from your skin. It isn’t until you’re nearly done, when you realize that the soap is going to definitely cover it, with the sickeningly sweet smell that comes from it.

You take your time to dry your hair, getting dressed slowly to ensure that you don’t accidentally rip the dress, only to find out that it slips on freely. It’s not tight on you as you expected, you could run and nothing would tear. Once you leave the bathroom, you take your towel and brush with you, going to sit in your own room while you do your hair.

Just as you’ve gotten your hair to stay in place, with it being pulled back as best as possible so that you can see, Reed hands Alyssum off to you to dry off a little more and get dressed. It’s too easy for her, she doesn’t have much hair, you gather it into a tiny ponytail that makes a palm tree on the top of her head. For a cute effect, you add a bow to it. 

Reed and Mox are ready faster than you are. However, just because they’re fast, doesn’t mean that they’re not dragging their feet when it comes to leaving the house. The second you leave, it’s straight for the stage, where you’ll watch this years unfortunate tributes get reaped for the hunger games.

You could say a million bad things about the Capitol, and the games. But instead, you’ll keep it quiet this year. Because if there’s anything you don’t need right now, it’s being pulled in for the games. Your brothers can’t handle another death in the family, you know it.

Your mom had done enough damage on everyone, but your father was still around long enough to stay strong. Those are the only times you remember Reed still being so soft. Your mom had died giving birth to Alyssum, and no one had realized that she was bleeding to death until it was too late. Thankfully, you were too young, not allowed to be in the room until you were forced to say goodbye, before you were whisked away again. The next time you saw her after that was in the casket.

Your dad had done remarkably well when it came to keeping up with work, and juggling you and Alyssum. Mox and Reed were a year shy of not being in the reapings anymore, so they knew they would have to work harder, no matter what it took or sacrificed.

All that preparation had done Reed good, you suppose. Because only a few months later he would die in a fishing accident. Taking out District Four’s best fishers. For a while, there was talk that it was done on purpose, and the peacekeepers were tired of having to deal with every single person on that boat. But that wouldn’t add up correctly, because your dad was almost always a favorite of the peacekeepers, even the new ones.

In your opinion, your family has gone through enough. Too many have died, and honestly, you all were orphaned for a while, but under the radar. The second that Reed had turned eighteen, he immediately filed to be seen as the parent for all of you. Which stopped the community home from trying to snatch you up.

You guys stop to have the quick breakfast that was somehow skipped over by accident. Consisting of mostly bread, until Reed decides that it doesn’t hurt to have a little bit of fish too. When you’re all finished, the table is cleaned, and then you really have to leave the house.

The walk to the stage is mostly quiet. Reed will play around with Alyssum occasionally, but she mostly stares at the people around you. She hasn’t seen this many people gather together before, it’s mainly just you three, and then the neighbor kids. She wasn’t old enough last year to fully realize what was going on around her. Curious, for sure, but not really caring.

On the way, you manage to catch sight of one of your friends. The second that she turns her head in your direction, you wave. It takes her a moment to realize who you are because of the distance, but soon enough she buddies up next to you.

“Hey, pretty dress.” you tell her, and she beams a little bit.

“Thanks! That one’s new on you, did last year not fit?” she asks, she knows that this is your mothers dress no doubt, but she doesn’t bring it up. Instead, she alludes to it.

“It was tight enough last year, so I was sure it would rip by the seams this year. I found this one at the end.” you tell her, and she nods lightly.

The both of you go on like that, going back and forth talking about what you had done today. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to fill the silence, and suppress the sickness that’s beginning to rise in your stomach, like it does every year. You’d call it intuition if it weren’t so common.

She’s a year younger than you, so she has to move to her age group, fourteen. While you on the other hand, move to be in fifteen. As everyone slowly files in to the sections, you look to find Reed and Mox again, to see that they’re standing off to the side. Alyssum is on Reed’s shoulders, making him very easy to spot. He holds onto her hands tightly, not risking the chance of her falling. With them is one of the neighbor’s sons, Caspian. 

Soon, you turn back to look at the stage again to see that the governor is helping Mags up onto the stage. She’s the only victor of this district, and she’ll be the only help to anyone going into the arena. You really wish that the main career districts would stop being so prestigious, and allow others to win too. That they’d stop training their kids illegally and actually have a sliver of a chance like the rest of you.

They must have so many of their victor houses filled, that they’re always creating more. One new one every year, just in case they win again, which is hardly ever not the case. Instead of a single dozen, they must have four or five. 

Soon, the shuffling of feet has stopped, and the anthem plays. You watch for the fifteenth time as they play the same video. Listen as the same speech is given. That this is what the districts have earned, and being descendants from the originals that had thrown the revolution, you’ve automatically been given the same burden. Being alive is simply offensive to the Capitol.

And then the governor closes his speech, and your districts Capitol representative heads up to the microphone. Elysia Fardust--you really can’t believe that they have ridiculous names like that, as if the body modifications weren’t enough--is looking a lot more humble this year. Last year she had outdone everyone, wanting at least one year in the spotlight, you guess.

She wears a blonde wig, you can tell by the way it shines in the sun, reflecting the light off of it. They could have done their very best with it, trying to make it look realistic, and it still would have turned out looking cheap. Her theme this year seems to be blue and gold, since that’s what the frilly dress she wears is made up of. On her feet is also a pair of gold heels. They look like they would be trouble to walk in, but she moves around just fine. Around her wrists are bracelets that jangle and shine the light back into your eyes at the wrong angle.

There’s a huge smile on her face as she stands tall, “Good afternoon, citizens of District Four.” Unlike other representatives you’ve had, her accent doesn’t stand out as much, it’s a subtle thing, almost as if she’s ashamed of it, “Happy Hunger Games.”

You roll your eyes involuntarily, letting them land on the ground as you shake your head softly. Because only to the Capitol people, is this entire event amusing. Watching others fight to the death so that one may be the winner, win his life back. While everyone back home is forced to watch it in agony. A few will take bets, as their hopes for winners sink each year when all they get are dead bodies in the end.

“We’ll start with the ladies.” she chirps, and you feel the swarm of butterflies first, and then the disgust of her tone crushes all of them at once. Except for a few, which cause more harm than good, as they fly around. 

You can’t help but to turn to look at Reed and Mox, hoping that they can see where you’re standing. And miraculously, you’re able to catch Reed looking at you at the same time. Mox catches on eventually and looks over too. He also mouths for you to breathe.

The faint clinking of rings makes you look towards the stage again to see her pulling out the white paper slip. Butterflies swarm, and the only thing you can relate this feeling back to, is when you have those rare presentations in school. The type that means a lot on who you are, and the grade you recieve.

There’s a pain in your chest as you hold your breath to make all those butterflies stop flying and die from the lack of air. You’re not the only one though, you can feel every single girl that’s eligible to be put in the games, collectively hold their own breaths. Eyes wide and staring just like you are, hoping and praying that it’s not going to be you.

Elysia takes her time, unfolding the paper. She reads it to herself first it seems, before a wide smile spreads over her face, and she looks out to you girls, “Our girl tribute is (Y/n) Gallows.”

-- CHAPTER TWO --

You feel lifeless. As the blood drains from your face. As the wind leaves your lungs. As all the strength you had minutes ago suddenly diminishes. Standing is a hard thing to do. You feel like you should collapse, head aimed toward the sky as you stare. Leaving people to wonder if it’s the shock, or if it’s refusal to go up to the stage.

All you can do now is stare straight ahead at the stage. Feeling all the eyes bore on the back of your head. They’re all giving you away, and if they’d just look somewhere else, then they would have absolutely no clue that it was your name that was called. Elysia wouldn’t be able to spot you so easily like she is now, and the peacekeepers wouldn’t have started their march.

You swallow down the vomit, gritting your teeth as you clench your fists tightly at your sides. Robotically, you turn your body, being gentle on your feet as if you’ll fly into the air if you’re light enough. On the way to the walkway, you get a clear look at Reed and Mox and regret it immediately. You didn’t need to look at them, not yet.

Reed’s face is hard, straight and angry. He looks like one of those tributes that get thrown in once in a while. The type that fight really hard and nearly win every single year. Until some brat career district comes around and kills them off. Reed’s lips are pressed in a thin line, and his eyes stare into yours.

Mox isn’t as stoic. His eyes are glossy, you can see them from where you’re standing. You can also see how red and blotchy his face is getting. He’s already been crying, the tears must have burst right after your name had been called. But you don’t remember hearing the sound of him crying.

You could have easily missed it while your brain threw you in a surprised mindset. It would have been easy to miss the sounds of everyone around you--although you’re sure that there wasn’t much noise in the first place--as you were suddenly clouded by your thoughts. Different escape plans had come to mind, but all of those would have been foolish. You would be laughed at later on for being so cowardly.

When you make it to the walkway, you clear your face as best as you can, standing tall and squaring your shoulders. You force yourself to look tough, even though every single part of you is screaming. As long as you don’t look vulnerable on the outside, you’ll be fine. 

Elysia’s eyes follow you up the steps, taking your hand when you’re within length, and stopping you in front of the girls bowl. From here, you can see everyone, especially your brothers who aren’t looked so hot now. They must be envisioning it now, seeing you in the games. They must be seeing all of the scenarios, knowing that you’ll end up in at least one of them.

Elysia doesn’t waste any time, moving on to the boys bowl. She takes her time like she did the first time, reaching for one of the top ones, instead of digging her hand in the bowl like she did before. Had she plucked one from the top, you wouldn’t be where you are.

Suddenly, you’re glad that Reed and Mox are too old to be placed in the games. Too old to volunteer over some random boy that will be picked. They need to be here for Alyssum, and you know that very well. You’re sure that if it were possible, Reed would most definitely volunteer, so that he would be able to protect you in the games the entire time.

Mox wouldn’t be able to stomach it, being in the arena. He would last only so far, because he can’t kill people. He can hardly stand fish being killed so that you guys can live every single day. So that you can provide for the Capitol. Killing people is absolutely out of the question. But Reed would do it if he could. He’d do it for you because he knows that’s what an older sibling is supposed to do. Protect the younger ones.

Elysia unfolds the second paper, “Finnick Odair.”

You have to stop yourself from opening your mouth when your eyes land on him. And you know that you’re utterly screwed, because this is not an older boy that would take pity on you and hopefully keep you around in the arena because you’re from home. No, this is Finnick, fourteen, handsome, a year younger than you.

You will be expected to look over him, since you’re the older one now. The only experience you have when it comes to fourteen year-olds is the girl that you’re friends with. Who is staring at you with big eyes still, like she can’t believe she was just talking to you, and now you’re going to be sent into the games. She’s also thinking of all the possibilities.

Finnick comes down the aisle with the same hard look on his face that you had. Elysia doesn’t hold her hand out for him. Instead, she lets him walk in front of his bowl, and she turns to everyone that’s waiting below.

“May the odds be ever in your favor.” she says again, the first time was before it had started, “You can shake hands, now.”

She backs up, allowing you to get a look at Finnick. 

You’ve seen him around school, and you’ve talked to him plenty of times. He’s smart, he’s as knowledgeable with knots and fishing as you are. He’ll be a good swimmer, and he’ll know a few plants that are edible. And if he prefers spears rather than the actual fishing pole, then he’ll be able to throw well too. 

There’s got to be some hidden skills in there. But all you know for the most part, is that you’re even on some playing fields. You’re coming from the same district, you’re going to have the same skills. It won’t be like people coming from the main career districts, because they have years of training under their belt with so many things. It won’t be like the outsider districts like ten, eleven and twelve.

You’d consider Finnick a friend at this exact moment, with all of the times you have talked and all of the things you know about him. He’s your friend, and you hope that he considers you the same. Because in the arena, you’ll hope that he’ll consider an alliance. He’s from home, he’ll share the same memories, and he’ll make you feel safe again.

You take Finnick’s hand in yours, shaking it a couple of times. 

And then, you’re ushered off of the stage. You and Finnick are separated from each other as you’re guided and then locked into a room. Here, you pace the room back and forth, because it’s beginning to sink in. You’re going to be sent in an arena with twenty-three other teens your age, and you’re going to be forced to kill them. You’re going to have to survive the best you can, no matter how hard that is.

The door opens minutes later, and you look up to see your three siblings. You only have a couple of minutes to talk to them, says the peacekeeper. Then he shuts the door, and you’re engulfed in arms.

“Remember all the knots I taught you,” Reed tells you immediately, “How to prepare the fish properly, cook it thoroughly. Boil the water at least before you drink out of it. If they have iodine then that’s what you need to put in it, only a few drops.”

Between gasps of air, Mox begins to give his input, “If you can, make a spear. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just sturdy enough to throw. A strong stick, and sharpen it to a tip with a sharp rock.”

You suddenly know why they’ve been teaching you this information all these years. And you know why your dad did the same to them when the time came. It’s because if this had happened, you would be very good at all of the things that they had taught you over the years. There would be no time for hesitation inside of the arena, and there would be no possibility of that if you were so good at everything that would be used inside of there.

They’ve been preparing you this entire time.

Alyssum reaches for you, and Reed passes her over. You bounce her in your arms lightly, hugging her to your chest as you press a kiss to her forehead. This might be the last time you get to hold her. The last fuzzy memory she will have of you.

Mox must remember the same thing at the same time you do, because his arms swarm you again, and Reed follows. You stand there quietly for a long moment.

“Win, (Y/n).” Reed tells you, “Do everything you can to win. Don’t fall to the obvious things, you know how well you are. Don’t mess it up in there.”

“I know.” you whisper, and just before the doors open, Reed presents you with a freshly polished ring.

It takes you a moment before you recognize it, and that’s when your eyes go wide. It’s your mom’s engagement ring. Your mother hadn’t wanted something big on her finger, and so your dad got her something small. Something that represented the district, while also being a very beautiful ring.

It’s a silver ring, with one lone wave in the middle of it. You take it in your fingers, turning it over for a moment before you slide it on your ring finger with shaky hands. By the time you’ve looked up to thank him, there’s tears gushing down the sides of your cheeks.

Then, the door opens and Reed and Mox are scrambling to give you the last bit of affection they can afford. You kiss Alyssum one last time, before Reed carefully takes her from you. And the last thing you see are a fresh wave of tears on Mox’s face. The door shuts heavily after that, and you have to force yourself to sit down, as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You have a chance, you know that. There’s a chance that you will make it out of this, and you have to hold onto that. You can’t accept defeat just yet, because that’ll ruin your entire mindset. You’ll go into the games thinking you’re going to die, and it’ll take away all your fight. You’ll be weak, useless and depressed. Even the most incompetent fighter will be able to take you.

The doors open again, taking you by surprise as you look up to see Capsian. You and him don’t talk much. In fact, you two hardly get along because he’s always picking on you, and Reed won’t tell him to knock it off. You eventually started a grudge on him, and the resentment just grew from there on.

“I’ll take care of your brothers,” he tells you, “I’ll stay with them to help out around the house. My entire family wishes you good luck in the games.”

“Thank you,” you say, curling up on the couch, he takes this as an invitation to sit on the other end.

“You’ll be good at the games, I can feel it.” he tells you, nodding to himself as he stares out the window, “We’ll be cheering you on from here.”

You don’t say anything to this, and the rest of his few minutes is spent in silence. He wishes you luck once more, before he disappears out the doors, and then just like that, you’re left alone again. It isn’t for long, as the peacekeepers escort you to the train station, where you see your brothers standing there for a final time, since they have to see you off, no matter what happens.

You know that you’ll be on camera again here, and so you stop to stare off at the district. Then, you raise your hand to wave, eyebrows drawn together as you’re thinking.

Farewell District Four, you think, it’s been fun.

The second after you’ve stepped inside, the doors shut behind you. The train starts moving, and you can feel the shift in the air. You don’t stumble like Finnick, who has to put his hand on the wall to get a hold of himself again.

You stare at Finnick for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Because you want to have him as a friend now, and have his back for as long as it will last. Which will hopefully be up until you’re bet against each other.

“Allies?” you ask hopefully, “Until we have to kill each other?”

“You’re start awfully early, don’t you think?” he doesn’t answer you initially, but he doesn’t waste too much time, “Yes, until we have to kill each other.”

“Glad to see you two are friendly,” Elysia says, interrupting us, “Your rooms are ready for you.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, beginning to walk towards yours, but Finnick doesn’t let you go so easily.

“You want to stick together?” 

The last time you’ve talked to Finnick had to be at least a couple of weeks ago. When you have the time, it’s normally clipped, little things. Passing conversations, because there’s never enough time to have full ones. It’s during school, and hardly after unless you accidentally run into him in the square or something.

You and Finnick spend your time doing different things, sometimes. You have been trained in all things with water, with the best of Reed’s knowledge with only Mox to back him up on things. You’ve been tying and retying knots. Throwing spears, and harvesting water plants.

It’s required that Finnick do the same, but he has his own preferences. You see him with his favorite trident all the time, playing around with it. There was only one time you had seen him throw it, and when it had come out of the water, five different fish were speared. You’re not sure about the plants, but he has to know how to cook at least. And he has to know his fair share of knot tying, but you’re not sure what he knows. 

Reed tried to cover every single one that he had heard of, and even went as far as to seek out the elderly in District Four to learn how they do things too. What they remember from the times when they had to fish for the Capitol. And then he would take that information, come home and teach it all to you. You weren’t expected to know all of it, but to absorb most of it.

While Finnick probably didn’t have to deal with that almost every night. You partially know this, because you’ve seen him around with the girls in his class. Finnick looks old for his age, which means that he’s growing into his face. He’s more attractive than all the boys in your grade, at least.

The sponsors will love him, and he has to know that somewhat.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“At the training, and stuff like that.” So, he means besides the arena.

“I don’t see why not.” you tell him, stopping in front of your room, your fingers find the ring and you fidget with it slightly, not used to the feeling on your finger, “Wake me for supper?”

He nods, giving you a big smile before he goes to his own room. You walk inside, listening as the doors shut behind you. The second that it’s gone, you head for the bathroom, sliding off the ring and placing it somewhere safe on the counter. Just for an extra measure, you pull up the tab that blocks water, so it doesn’t fall in and go down the drain.

You peel off your clothes, before hurrying inside of the shower that you started. You pull out your hair, letting the warm water wash over it. And while you’re standing there, you realize just how weak you feel from the entire thing. You can’t help but to sink into a sitting position, pulling your knees to your chest as you stare off at the wall for a while.

It must have been an hour you sat in there, just thinking about what it’s going to be like for the next couple of days. You’re not going to be thrown in just like that, you’re going to have to be presentable to the Capitol. You’re going to have to earn sponsors, and look like you have a chance at winning the games. You’re going to be forced to grit your teeth some more and smile. Tough it out until you’re finally inside of the arena.

You brush your hair carefully again, pulling it out of your face again. You look over the drawers carefully, and then you decide that a tank top and shorts will do you good. You want to feel comfortable here, for as long as possible. You want to hold on to what you would be doing at home. And then you grab the ring, putting it back on your finger.

Finnick comes to knock on your door, telling you that it’s time to eat. This is when you see he’s changed into something more comfortable too. He’s doing the same thing you are, because both of you are kids. You shouldn’t be thrown into the games, because you guys are so young. People under the age of sixteen hardly win.

Twelve and thirteen are the death years. If you get picked at those ages, you’re dead, there’s nothing you can do. Your body is so small, and you have no clue what to do still. They don’t have those years under their belt, they’re still struggling with the complicated knots.

Fourteen it gets better, but only by a little bit. No one has won at the age of fourteen, the youngest it gets is fifteen, and that year was a miracle. You weren’t able to see it, but Reed had explained it to you, that it was a particularly hard game. But the boy had won by waiting it out, and found a way to make the food and water last long. He killed only one person that year, and it was the girl that would have won

Sixteen and up, they have the best chances. They’re even better if they’re careers, which makes them deadly. If you run into anyone above the age of sixteen you can consider yourself dead, because they’ll overpower you so easily. The only chance you’ll have, is if there’s distance between the both of you and you have some sort of long-range weapon.

In the diner cart, sits Elysia and Mags. Mags watches as the both of you come into the room. Elysia looks over you guys with a squint, like she can’t believe that you’re dressed like that, and then she smoothes over, relaxing her face. Probably afraid of suddenly getting wrinkles. 

The second you two have sat down, the food arrives. And it starts off slow, and all that Elysia has to tell you, is that more will keep coming, so eat slow and don’t take too much. 

You follow just that, taking in all the different flavors, and how it’s so much more different than fish and bread every single night. With the occasion fish stew if the neighbor next door invited you over for dinner if you had brought her family a lot of fish that afternoon. Those nights, you’d think of them as feasts, because you would bring over more food to share and go around if you had it to spare. Eat like kings and queens, even if it was once a month.

After a certain amount of time, Finnick is tired of the silence, “Mags, when will you begin to mentor us?”

Your eyes drag across the table, landing on her. She struggles for a moment, and then she speaks. But the words are garbled, and it takes you a second to decipher them. 

“Tomorrow morning.” 

Finnick seems to understand as well as you have, so he nods and you guys go back to eating. Somewhere along the way, your stomach starts to feel upset, but you keep eating anyway. The more food you eat, the more pounds you’ll be able to tack on. More weight you’ll have on the others that will be thrown in the arena.

Once you’re done eating, Elysia brings you to the couch to watch the recap of the games. As much as you don’t want to watch all the children get reaped—and the rich kids volunteer—you know it’ll help you in the end. Let you size up the other tributes without being there in person. When you do finally get the chance tomorrow or the day after, you’ll see how tall they are and just how screwed you may be.

The girl that’s volunteered has clearly been training for a while. You watch as the muscles in her arms tense, and then release like she’s purposely flexing to show off her strength. She’s taller, and because of how strong she is, it’s made her look bigger. However, that doesn’t stop her from being pretty. You mark her in your mind immediately, Trink is her name, she’s from District One. 

With her is a boy that isn’t as impressive, most boys who volunteer are normally tall and muscular, so nothing stands out about him. For girls, it’s just not the same. They’ve been training for just as long, but most of the time they look harmless. It isn’t until they’re thrown into the games, when they show off their true nature.

The boy’s name is Lennox, and he’s definitely taller than you, because he easily towers over the girl next to him. If you’re taking guesses on ages, then the girl is sixteen and he’s the same age or seventeen. He looks older, but then again, so does Finnick and he’s fourteen.

You look at Finnick to see how he’s accessing this entire thing too. He’s thinking, staring at the screen with a straight face, and then he laughs. When he turns to look to you, he shakes his head, “Careers.”

He says the word as if it explains what he’s laughing about, and you turn to see just in time that Trink and Lennox are grinning at each other. Arms locked around the other, as they turn to their district to wave. Clearly they’re proud of where they’ll be coming from.

Another district to watch out for is the following, two. Another part of the careers, people that you’ll be expected to team up with to hunt and kill.

The girl is taller than the boy this time, and she holds her chin high. There’s this sickening grin on her face as she bares her chest out for everyone to see. She wants them to know that she’s just as proud. Her name is Eytelle, probably stolen from one of the Capitol people. Since two is one of the favored ones as well. 

The boy looks strong though, his name is Allio. In his hand he holds a stick that he’ll turn over in his hand every now and then. You have to focus to see what he’s doing exactly, but when you catch the glint of the silver, you realize it’s not a stick. He’s playing with a knife.

“Are we allowed…?” you don’t finish the question, but Elysia picks up.

“No.” she says gruffly, shaking her head, “It’s supposed to be for safety. What is he thinking?”

You’re not sure if she’s referring to the male Capitol representative, or Allio. Who’s still playing with that knife, and you watch as it gets faster in his hand. Like it’s building up a climax, and then it cuts.

Three is technology, and it looks like the program hurries that up a little bit. Certain districts are going to be expected to do better, this will be one of them. They make the technology, they’ll know how to build weapons. They should do exceedingly well, and if the careers think any one of them have potential, they’ll be called on.

Next, it flips to your district, and this is when it slows down again. You watch as Elysia perks up, and Finnick leans forward, suddenly entranced by the sight. Again, you relive the moment when Elysia calls your name, and you watch as a couple of seconds pass, before you’re heading down the aisle.

What felt like an eternity to you, was only a few seconds for them. You thought that you had frozen to your spot while you were debating the chances of you running. To them, they thought that it was you realizing it was your name that was called or something. You watch as the emotion is cleared from your face the second that you begin walking and realize that there’s cameras.

On that stage you felt so small, but on the camera, you can clearly see that it’s not too bad. You look better than what you thought you would. Four is also part of the careers, but it’s very shaky when it comes to volunteers--hence why you nor Finnick got one--and they hardly ever team up with the pack as far as you’re concerned.

Four is a rich district, so hardly anyone starves, but you’ve had your own months when you were struggling to get used to the fact that it was only you and your brothers that were capable of gathering food. Eventually, you got very good at it again, and there’s always food stocked in the fridge. But you’ve felt starvation. Despite all that, you look healthy and well-fed. There’s no doubt that a few districts are going to be jealous of that fact, especially in the poorer parts.

There’s not much you know, you’re not allowed to talk to neighboring districts at all. But you do know that most live in poverty. And things like starvation aren’t so uncommon.

You hadn’t noticed this before, but your hands somehow found their way behind you, in the time that you had found where you needed to stand, and when Elysia went to call the boys name. Subconsciously, you were also baring your chest, almost like you were proud.

You laugh when you watch Finnick walk down the walkway again. He looks to you, to see what’s funny, “Do you always walk like that?”

Elysia must have lost focus somewhere along the way, because she blinks quickly and focuses her eyes again. Then she also laughs, “You’re almost strutting.”

He grins, face turning a little red as he shakes his head, “Does it look tough enough?”

“You look ridiculous.” but he makes up for it when he stands at the stage right next to you. That’s when the two of you look like real competitors, with you standing tall, trying to make yourself look capable. And Finnick, not even trying and he still looks intimidating.

The rest pass like a blur. District Five fuels the power, so they’re only a little favored when it comes to things. They’re healthy looking too. District Six is transportation, no one stands out. Seven is lumber, which is when you start focusing again. When you see how big the two tributes are again. You mark them off too, Cass--the girl--and Mac.

Eight is textiles, nothing interesting. Nine is grain, which means that the poor districts are starting. Ten is livestock, eleven is agriculture, and twelve is mining coal. None of them had sprouted any interest in your mind, they don’t look threatening to you. In particular, twelve is the worst. With wobbly knees and pale faces, they look like they’re going to pass out at any minute.

And then just like that Elysia snaps the tv off, and you’re left sitting there in silence. She waits for a moment, before jumping up, “I suggest you two go off to bed, tomorrow will be very important.” 

You and Finnick watch as she leaves the room, and right on cue, you two turn towards each other.

“The boy and girl from one are definitely problems,” you begin, and he nods, agreeing, “The girl is bigger than usual, which means that she’ll pose a bigger challenge.”

“They should be the first to go if we can make it possible.”

But how would that be? They’re one person of course, but they’re as good as three. They make up for the districts with people that don’t know what they’re doing, that get killed in the very beginning. In order to get them off, that would mean that a lot of people would have to band together.

“Are you suggesting we gather other tributes?” you ask, almost baffled by the idea. The more people, the more tension and fear that someone will betray the other.

“No, not too many.” he says, straightening his back, “Enough to help.”

He must see potential in the districts you saw nothing in, “We’ll have a better chance at looking them over later.”

He nods, he knows this already, “One, two and five.” 

“Maybe three,” you get up from where you’re sitting, feeling the weight of today suddenly pressuring your shoulders.

“Maybe three,” he repeats, standing up too, “Off to bed so soon?”

You roll your eyes a little bit, “Yeah, I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

“I couldn’t feel more awake.”

-- CHAPTER THREE --

The morning comes before you’re ready for it. You drag your feet when it comes to taking a quick shower, and you throw on the nearest outfit that makes sense. It won’t really matter once you’re inside of the Capitol. You’ll be torn to pieces and then rebuilt at first chance.

You shouldn’t be too far off now. In fact, you probably should have made it there overnight, District Four is one of the closest districts to the Capitol. The only thing between you and them is District One. That one isn’t very surprising, they should be in the Capitol for a day now. The train goes so quickly, there wouldn’t be a reason to keep them from going.

You’ll probably barely have enough time to eat breakfast before you’re being shoveled off the train. 

With that thought, you place the ring back onto your finger as you head out to the dining car, or room. Once you make it there, you see that you’re not the last. Finnick and Mags are still nowhere to be seen. However, Elysia sits at the table, a black coffee in hand as she looks over something in her hand. She pays you no attention when you sit at the table.

Immediately, you’re served food. Most of it you recognize because of the special days the district gets to eat well on. Not like you don’t get to eat things like this all the time, but the special foods like pancakes are something you haven’t seen in a while. You carefully eat like you did yesterday, trying not to overdo it, but also get a good amount of food in you.

Finnick comes in not too long after, taking his seat as he also starts to eat. However, he’s basically inhaling it, as if he hasn’t eaten in days. You’re impressed for a while, until he starts to turn a little green. Only then do you begin laughing at him, and he offers you a sheepish smile.

“Hungry?” you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ve been up for hours waiting to eat.” he tells you.

So he didn’t sleep last night, and that’s going to show. It took you a couple hours of tossing and turning, trying desperately to just get a little bit of time. Eventually, your body had decided that it might as well. You’re not in any danger just yet, you’re on a train to where the danger will start, but until then you’ll be fine. 

“You need your sleep,” Elysia beats you to it, “But your stylists will cover it for now.”

Finnick offers her a small glance, and then he turns to you as if he’s disinterested with everything she has to say. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not staring at you exactly, it’s past you. You turn to look over your shoulder to see that Mags is coming in now. She’s slow, and she looks like she’s struggling even with the cane she’s been provided with.

The peacekeepers take a step to help her, but you jump up before they have the chance. The mere thought of them touching her is disgusting to you. They work for the Capitol. They’re hugely ignorant and arrogant. They stand by and let all of this happen, hell, they’re coming from the districts around you.

Mags gives you a smile of appreciation, and Finnick helps out a little bit too when he sees how much trouble it is. With the help of you both, she gets seated and begins to eat. What you didn’t see before, is that she has a pad of paper, which she’s using one hand to write with, and the other to eat. 

Her neat handwriting covers the paper, in a small paragraph. She turns the paper to you, and you tilt your head to read it. For a second, your mind blanks because it believes you’ve never read cursive before, but then it slowly comes back to you. You’re mouthing the words, picking up the paper as you take your time to hand it off to Finnick.

Lesson 1: Sponsors. Looking presentable for the Capitol people will be your greatest chance at survival. In order to do that, you’ll have to play up the act a little bit. Who are you?

It’s a simple question, but you find yourself struggling to answer. When you pass the paper back to her, she writes down one word beside it.

Personality?

Oh.

“What does it say?” Finnick asks, tilting his head, but he can’t see it anyway, he’s on the other end of the table.

“Personality.” you say for him, looking to Mags, “You mean like clever, smart…?”

She nods a little, and you look to the window for a moment, thinking. Allowing Finnick to get the chance to answer before you. What is your personality?

“Well, we have the same personality for the most part.” Finnick starts to answer for the both of you, “Smart with the basic district stuff, strong.”

“Deadly.” you add, and Mags raises her eyebrows a little bit, so you elaborate, “I throw spears, and I’ve seen Finnick with a trident.”

Finnick flushes for a second, but it clears out, “The trident is on special occasions. Mostly spears.”

You sit in silence, she writes, “What else?” you shake your head for a second, trying to come up with the adjectives, and then it comes back to you, “I’m considerate and kind. I have well manners.”

Mags writes all of this down, and you can see the word ‘humble’, and then she writes down damsel.

For a second, you’re not sure what you think of it, but you see it soon enough. Playing the innocent, damsel role and having everyone underestimate you. If they overlook you, then that gives you a better chance at winning.

“I can’t play that up,” you tell her, because you remember seeing yourself on the screen again, how you stood strong, “The reaping--”

Everyone looks like that, she writes, No one wants to be targeted.

And she’s right. All those people you had seen last night were trying to look bigger than they were. Except for the kids, when their shoulders would hunch in on themselves, trying to disappear. As much as possible, you’ll all try to look strong to be picked for an alliance. Those who aren’t picked are left to suffer.

This will throw Finnick’s entire plan off course. If you play damsel, then that means you have to downplay all your skills. Make it look like you’re incapable of winning. No sponsors, no alliance. The only person that’ll be able to save you is Mags and yourself. Maybe your brothers back home will somehow afford to send something your way.

You’ll have to purposely score low in training, to really lower the expectations. Mags might even go as far to tell your stylists not to do too well on yours and Finnick’s matching outfits.

Mags writes again while you’re thinking, and you read it so you can look to Finnick, “She wants to know about you.”

Finnick looks like he’s been waiting for his turn, “Strong, tall. Almost all the girls at school love me, so attractive--”

As he’s listing what he’s made of, you see one word for him. Cunning. He’s going to be playing up the tough arrogant act. He’ll be purposely showing off, he’ll be the one that gets all the sponsors. The alliance he proposed will be his, the careers will be tripping over their feet to get him in their pack. 

Suddenly, you can’t help but to feel a little jealous, and detached.

Finnick is the boy, he’s going to be expected to win. But you have the age advantage, so they’ll also be looking to you to win. At least for some people, for others it doesn’t matter at all. Back home, they’ll be hoping that only one of you comes back in a casket.

“What’s my word?”

“Cunning,” you tell him quietly, invested in your food again. Your stomach has managed to settle, so you try to stuff it again, the more the better. You’re not sure when you’ll be able to eat after this.

The train car blacks out for a couple of seconds, and then light fills it again. Elysia looks over her shoulder, and then her face lights up as she hops up from her seat, “Home sweet home.”

You and Finnick move to the window, looking out it for a moment. Bright lights fill the car, blinding you. When you’ve blinked away the lights, you can see just how many Capitol people have come to the station to greet you two.

A sigh leaves you and for a moment you want to move away. And then, you realize that if you’re going for that damsel type, you have to look clueless. Like you’re always in a daze or something. So, you begin to wave the exact same moment Finnick does. And even through the thick walls of the train car, you can hear the roaring of their cheers.

--

Your stylist’s assistants are very nice, and they try to be as gentle as possible when it comes to what they have to do. For a minute they just stood and stared almost as if they had no clue on how to start with you. And then, they went straight to work. Removing every inch of hair from your body, besides what’s on your head. 

Your hair is now silky smooth, and smells of strawberries. Your body is sore, but soft from how many bathes they’ve made you soak in. Your nails have been cleaned, filed and they have a very thin layer of nail polish on them. Only a little bit, because they were afraid that your main stylist would want to change that later.

Your eyebrows have been plucked, leaving you sculpted. They’ve applied some sort of teeth whitener, trying to make it scary white like theirs. A couple of times they’ve told you to straighten your back to stand tall. Only then did you realize that they were taking measurements, and after that you stood very still to allow the to. 

“I think we’re all done now.” Cleo says, taking a step back to access you one last time, “Laurel is going to love you.”

She says nothing else, grabbing onto the arm of the girl that she was working with. You hadn’t heard much from her, she mostly listened as Cleo babbled on. With the occasion prompt to keep her talking. It’s almost as if she didn’t want to do any of it herself.

You rock on the table, back and forth as you stare at the wall ahead. Trying to imagine yourself winning the games. All that it’ll take to get to that point too. You find yourself regretting how you described yourself, even if you were being honest.

The door opens, revealing a very tall woman. Her hair is held back by a simple hairband, trying to keep it from her face, you’re guessing. It’s the same thing you do when you know it’ll be an irritating day. However, with these people it’s never irritating, they live in luxury. They’re all brightly colored and rich and they never have to worry about going hungry, ever.

She wears a white shirt, and a black blazer. Her pants are ironed nearly, and she has a pair of black heels on. The second she steps into the room, she slips them off though, only lowering her height just a little bit. She’s naturally tall it seems, and she seems proud of it. Not afraid to get bigger.

“I’m Laurel.” she introduces herself, “(Y/n), right?”

She has to know that it’s you, “Yeah.”

“Stand up for me?” she asks, and you slip off the table, standing in front of her. She walks around you, looking at your body, taking all of it into consideration. Laurel will stare for a moment, and then she’ll move your hair. She checks your nails to see that they’re very neat, and she seems pleased with that, “Take your robe.”

You reach over for it, slipping it on and then folding your arms over your chest anyway. You almost want to hunch in on yourself like you saw the kids doing at the reaping. But then, you remove your arms and make yourself stand a bit taller. Reminding yourself that you need to have more worth, carry that energy until it’s not carrying anymore. Until it is you.

“Mags tells me that you’re going for a more subtle look.” Laurel sits down on a nice couch, you make sure to tuck the robe beneath you as you sit, “Humble?”

You nod lightly, “I think she’s going for an underestimated look.”

“And do you feel the same?”

You dodge the question a little bit, “Finnick is going for cunning, isn’t he? I want to be presented the same way he does, but I wouldn’t mind if we did something along the lines of humble.”

She takes this into consideration, nodding lightly, “How would you feel about a two-piece? Almost like a bathing suit?”

You really hope you don’t end up in some skin-showing outfit, “Sure.”

She nods to this, looking pleased, “Blue, definitely blue.”

It’s only a couple of hours later, when you’re standing side-by-side with Finnick. He looks like he’s more in a bathing suit than you do. They’ve completely taken his shirt, and just put on a tunic almost, for his lower half. His designer has gotten him covered with vines, some drawn on and some of them real. It’s supposed to look like he’s came out of the water, like he’s been there for a while.

As a joke, you suggested dying him a blue-green because of how copper fades. His stylist considered it for a moment, even turning to Laurel to ask if it were possible to do it in an hour. But then Finnick piped up that he did not want to be a shade of green, and glared at you. It was all in good fun and he knows that. Didn’t stop him from jabbing you in your ribs when he had the chance.

You and Finnick are wearing nearly the same pair of leather sandals. Yours only goes up to your ankles, as his surrounds his calves, stopping just a little bit below the knee. He has that tunic around his waist, which wrinkles in all the right places, and it’s pinned to keep from falling.

Laurel had already built off of the bathing suit idea, deciding that you were worth more than just a pair of half-naked teenagers. She kept the aspect, but added a couple of things to it. On your upper body, your hair is curled to look more natural, going for the beachy-type but not exact. Macara, blue eyeshadow, the works go on your face. They’d outdone themselves with the white eyeliner, purposely tying to give you a goddess aspect, you guess?

You definitely know they were going Roman, even if it’s just a little bit.

They secured a bracelet around your upper arm, it’s a couple of waves. On your upper half of your body, you have a bra on almost. But the straps are thick, and the padding pushes it all up. It’s tight around the ripbs, keeping it from lifting off your chest, as they tried to show off some curves. It ends somewhere in the middle of your ribs.

And as for your waist, she decided for a high-waisted short bottom. Attached to it is a train almost. The flaps are attached to your left hip, giving it a sort-of leg slit. But the fabric is see-through, so it’s not much. The entire color scheme is a muted sea green. On your wrists are silver bracelets, on your neck is a lone shell necklace. Laurel had successfully acquired your ring, adding it to the outfit, even if the people from the stands won’t be able to see it exactly.

Laurel and Finnick’s stylist have you and Finnick walk around. Making small adjustments to everything so it flows better. In no time, you’re told to get onto your chariot with the blonde horses. Before you guys take off, Laurel makes one very last minute change.

She makes you wrap your arms around Finnick’s left one. Your right arm goes under, closest to his body. That one will stay permanently, and your left arm goes over, which will be the one you wave with and such.

“This is so exciting,” Finnick chirps, a smile already coming over his face, and then, “Oh!”

He reaches into a pocket that you didn’t know he had, and he pulls out a small sugar cube. You laugh, taking it with your left hand as you turn it over for a second. When you look over, the both of you share a look, before popping the sugar in your mouths at the same time. 

The sweet taste takes over your tongue immediately, and you can’t help but grin. As you turn to look off to the ground, you watch as the audience turns to see the newcomers coming in.

The cheering gets louder, and then there’s pointing. You smile with your teeth, giving a wave, while also trying to think of embarrassing things. It takes a moment, but it all comes rushing back, and you find your face heating up very quickly.

“She’s blushing!” one of them yells, there’s a series of screams and ‘awing’ that follow after, and Finnick laughs.

“You play the act well.”

“For you it’s not even an act.” you say through clenched teeth, making sure the smile reaches your eyes. 

Every single time you hear someone yell your name, you turn to look in that direction. If you’re going to get sponsors, you’ll want them to each every single bit of this shit up. You make surprised faces, cover your mouth, cower into Finnick and let him pretend to coax you out. The cheering only gets louder, until their attention is turned back to the newcomers.

When the chariot stops, you feel your face cooling considerably, and you sigh in relief, because it’s hard to keep thinking of embarrassing things. Once you bring up the effect again, it’s almost as if it’s useless. All those memories are so faded, that it’s hard to even think of them anymore. You hardly ever make bad mistakes like that.

You wait patiently as Snow makes his appearance and says his piece about everything. The anthem plays, you guys show up as you watch the flag. And then, there’s one final lap around the little circle, before you guys have vanished inside of the building.

There, Laurel and the other stylist are waiting for you. Laurel nods at you approvingly, probably glad that you still held on even though it wasn’t really necessary anymore. You slide off of the chariot with Finnick, stretching your arm. You cross them back over your chest, as you look around.

Soon enough, your prep teams are slowly distancing themselves, standing off to the side. Which offers a perfect opportunity for the others to see, measure you and Finnick up. You do the same, because the only other times you’ll see them is for training, and then later for the interviews. These moments where you over or underestimate them are crucial.

District one has a clear eye on you and Finnick.

“Trink and Lennox are staring.” You tell Finnick, trying not to look over, but he looks them dead on, almost like he doesn’t care.

He waves for a second, beckoning them over. You’re about to tell him that it’s a really bad idea, but they start their way over. So, you place the mask back on, and take a step back, allowing Finnick to do whatever it is he thought he wanted to do.

“Finnick,” He introduces himself, offering his hand.

Lennox looks to Trink for a moment, almost impressed as he takes Finnick’s hand, shaking it a couple of times, “Lennox.”

Of course, you know their names already, so it seems a little useless to introduce yourselves. But then it dawns on you, that they probably don’t know your names.

You make a feeble attempt to do the same, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Oh, we know.” Trink’s smile transforms into a smirk, “Gallows, huh? Like getting hung from the gallows…”

You hate her already.

You laugh lightly, trying to bring the smile to your eyes again, “I guess! I never made that connection before! It’s only fitting now that I’m in the games, huh? Do you think I have a chance?”

What if you play damsel until it comes to the private session with the gamemakers. What if you show off your skills then, score high, and then see what happens to the tributes around you. See if their sudden interest sparks and they want you on their side after all.

You wonder how Reed would feel about you teaming up with the careers. If he would be telling you to steer away from them, because they’re hostile, and vile and sometimes a little messed up in the head from all that training at a young age. It makes them want to volunteer, no sane person could truly want that unless they’ve been brainwashed.

Trink shares a look with Lennox for a second, and then behind her you see that the crowd is about to have two more people added to it, as District Two comes over here. You slump your shoulders slightly, tilting your head at the newcomers. Eytelle and Allio, the tall girl and the boy who spun the knife in his hand during the reaping.

“Are these four?” Allio asks, you take the guess now that he’s going to be the chattier one.

Eytelle is… the only comparison you can make with her, is that she’s shorter than Laurel, but not by much. Her parents must be giants, because if she’s only sixteen or so she’ll keep growing for a while. The height will give her an advantage when it comes to running, but she’ll have trouble trying to hide so easily.

“Clearly.” Trink mutters, looking over you a little more, “So what’s your skills?”

“That’s for us to know and for you to find out.” Finnick answers for both of you, “We don’t give shit away so easily. What are we getting in return?”

Trink measures this, but Allio speaks first, “Maybe a friendship if you play your cards right.”

A smile spreads over your face, as you try to look excited, “Wow! An alliance, that’ll be helpful!” 

Lennox looks pleased at the suggestion, “Only if you want.”

Finnick offers you a glance, and you bob your head, trying to urge him to agree but not look desperate. This is what he wanted after all, and if you careers band together, then there’s no doubt that all of you will get a good portion of the population inside of the arena down before you know it.

You’re already forming a plan in your head. Team up with the careers, get to know all of their skills that they’ll show off inside of the training center. There, you will memorize everything, while also learning new skills. Then, when it comes to the arena, you’ll plot their murders very carefully. You’ll pick them off very carefully, space them so it doesn’t look like your fault.

But this would all work so much better if only one of you were in the pack. Finnick lures them to you, you kill them, injure him a little bit, and send him back to get the others riled up.

It’s not a bad plan, you’ll just have to work out the kinks, and present this to Finnick.

He is your accomplice.

-- CHAPTER FOUR --

This morning, Elysia had come to your room to wake you up. For a second, you thought she was doing it so that you’d be early to the table like you normally are. But she was kind enough to inform you that you had slept in past what she wanted already. Mags has been the only reason you’ve been allowed to stay in bed for so long.

As you got ready, you were a little confused on how you’d managed to sleep for so long. You're normally one of the people first awake, especially here. Once your body decides that it has enough energy to run off of, it sort of just wakes you up. You’ve been sleeping soundly every single night, as far as you know. So the exhaustion is coming out of nowhere.

It wasn’t until you had brought it up to them, where Finnick had informed you that you hadn’t slept as soundly as you thought. After you had eaten dinner last night, you’d stayed awake a little while to bring up the plan to Finnick, to get his opinion about luring them to their deaths. He seemed to like it, and then you went off to sleep in your own room.

He says that it must have been a couple of hours before the screaming had started. The first to the room was Mags, but she wasn’t able to get you up, since speaking is difficult for her. Instead, Finnick had to shake you awake, coaxing you out of whatever nightmare you had been trapped in. 

You don’t remember any of it, it’s impossible for you to recall what happened. Elysia says that you must have been asleep still, but Finnick and Mags says you were coherent. You could hear them, and you listened to them try to calm you down from hyperventilating. Once you were in a good enough state, Mags went back to bed, and Finnick stayed a little while.

He just wanted to make sure that you would go back to sleep, but it had taken a while for you to calm down enough to get your heart to stop producing the adrenaline. Finnick tried to sit in the silence, but he wanted to know what the nightmare was about. What had gotten you to the point of screaming and hyperventilating.

You can’t remember it now, even though you’re awake and most of the time can relive the dream a little bit. It was apparently about you drowning, and that was all that you’d tell him. There had to be more though, because you’re not afraid of the water, you live in District Four. To be afraid of drowning would be so fucking ridiculous.

You have a feeling that it was about you taking your father's place in the accident, again. It’s a common nightmare you have. You’ll be on the boat with your brothers, and everything will be going good. But the boat will rock when one of you try messing with the other. Mox gets knocked off, you scramble to save him only to fall off the side. In the water, he’s nowhere to be seen. And then Reed will turn on the boat, leaving you in the middle of the water. The water only gets colder the more time goes on, and your joints will freeze in place. Swimming back to shore is impossible and you die out there, every single time.

You didn’t bother to explain all of that to Finnick, because you’re not looking for pity, it’s no point for him to know your life story. Instead you nodded along and went back to eating, because you then knew why you had been so exhausted. All it takes is one nightmare and a couple of shots of adrenaline to keep you going for a long ass time apparently.

Mags then transitioned into the training that you’re actually in right now. She pulled out her paper and pen and asked if you guys would want to train together. You told her that you’d already formed an alliance with him, so it would be pointless to hide anything. Finnick agreed, and then Mags went on to explain to hide most of your skills.

Just as you predicted anyway. She had wanted you guys to keep it low on the profile, especially you. Mainly she wants you to play dumb and go around with the stations, fumble with most of the things you do but take your time with learning them. She also knows of the career pack proposal, so she reminds you to keep friendly with them too, if that’s going to be your goal.

Of course, she doesn’t want you guys to get too attached or close. Don’t trust them because the chances of them turning on you at first chance is a little too easy. It will only be a matter of time in the arena before the tension snaps at they make a jump to kill any of you. You already know this. If you go through with the plan, then that means that they're going to be suspicious of everyone in the pack anyway. 

Finnick is supposed to be good at everything inside of the training center. But as you watch him circle and go around the stations with Allio and Lennox, you can’t help but to think he looks like an idiot. Allio is more skilled in combat than you guys are, he can throw just about anything a good distance. Lennox seems to be the same.

You’ve watched as they make him throw spears, knives, axes, swords, just to see how good he is at it. They’re looking impressed, but you’re starting to see through Finnick’s facade. He keeps making a wince face each time he thinks he’s thrown it too terribly, his confident mask is falling too easily.

“Wow, look at her.” Trink says, you look up from the fire that you’re trying to start to see that they’re staring dead straight at the girl from District Eleven. You squint for a second to see what she’s doing, and then you smile.

“Thyme, right?” Eytelle asks, her arms are crossed over her chest, and she hunches over like she’s trying to make herself look like you’re all in the same height range, “She’s showing off.”

“Aren’t we all?” you ask, turning back to the fire, getting it started this time. Trink turns over, and you clap quickly, the smile turning to a grin as you look to the other two girls, like a proud kid, “I did it!”

“Took you a while.” Eytelle mutters, “What are you actually skilled at?”

“Besides fires, and knot tying.” Trink adds.

You have to show off at least one skill to get these people interested, “I can show up Finnick with the throwing.”

Trink perks up, “Show us.”

You push yourself up from your knees, starting your way to where the boys are. On the way, you make eye contact with Thyme. She has dark hair, brown-black it looks like. She’s tan, fairly tall, green eyes. She’s got to be the same age as you, because she looks young.

“I hear that District Eleven and Twelve have the skilled hunters--or at least they know what berries and leaves are safe to eat.” you tell them, “Thyme will be very useful.”

Eytelle scoffs, “Who says we can’t hunt actual food? Like meat?”

“What happens when there’s a storm, when all the fish and forest animals are out of the question? Berries, leaves, bark and all of that will save your lives instead. Turning someone like her down simply because she comes from a poor district is…. Stupid.” you tell them, and then you stalk off to join the guys for real.

“Hey Finnick!” he turns while he’s about to throw a knife, Allio and Lennox give you a quick look up and down. You haven’t really talked to them this entire time. Over your shoulder, you can see Eytelle approaching Thyme, while Trink bounces over.

“Well, go ahead.”

You hold out your hand for the knife that Finnick is holding. He gives you a warning look almost, like you don’t know what you’re doing, before handing it over. You give him a cheeky smile, “Watch and learn.”

You flip the knife around to hold it by the blade. Taking in a deep breath, you slowly let it out because you can’t fuck this up. And then, you draw your arm back, before throwing the knife forward with all the strength possible.

The knife covers the twenty feet in less than three seconds, hitting the dummy square in the head. You tilt your head slightly, “It’s a little off center.”

“Off center? You hit that thing….” Allio trails off, and you turn around to see Finnick with a smirk on his face.

Thyme is standing with Eytelle, and she claps a little bit for you, “Can you teach me to throw like that?”

“Sure!” you turn to look at the others, letting Trink narrow her eyes on you. She might be seeing through the act a little bit, “It’s the one thing I’m good at, I’ve had so much time to learn in District Four. I’ll teach Finnick too if you guys wanna go off by yourselves.”

They agree, heading off to some sort of other place they can show off at. Once they’ve gotten out of earshot, the smile on your face drops and you mock them for a second, grabbing the nearest knife. You throw it, and it hits the chest this time, “Thinking I can understand them just because--god are they annoying.”

Finnick snorts, before turning to look at Thyme, “Finnick, this is (Y/n).”

“I’ve heard.” She chirps happily, picking up one of the knives before turning to you, “When do we get started?”

You spend the next hour or so showing your new friend how to throw. Finnick isn’t so bad, it’s just the doubt that gets him. You tell them both that the less confidence they have in the throw, the worse it’ll turn out. Plus, throwing the knife is better than nothing in most situations anyway. If you have more tucked away, then it won’t hurt.

If the person is within your range, then the best you can do is at least try. It could turn out really well and you end up nailing them like you should. Or it could be horrible, land somewhere close to them. But you could call that a warning and say you did it on purpose later on.

Thyme turns out to be really nice, and she explains how Eytelle approached her. This is when you inform her that it was your idea, no matter what Eytelle had told her. To have her with you guys could put her in danger, but you’re all going to die anyway. She’s an outlying district, the chances of her winning is already slim. You basically just gave her a chance.

She’s already picked up on your act the second that the others come back around to check up on you. This is when Finnick lets them know that you’re really skilled at it, despite failing in all the other stations you’d managed to hit while walking around with them. Except for the obvious ones with knot tying, starting the fire and all of that. 

Lennox jokingly asks what rock you’ve been living under for these past years, as if he can’t believe that you have no clue what you’re doing at all. But you just offer him a smile and shrug, saying that you don’t really have time for other things like that. You muse that if it weren’t for the fact that they’re agreeing for an alliance that you’d probably die in there alone.

They seem satisfied with that, and even though you hadn’t thanked them by any means, they say ‘you’re welcome’ and move on. This is when you and Finnick hang back. 

Soon, you get bored of training, and you’re about to wave Thyme off, before she asks if she’s really included in the alliance. You tell her that it looks like it, and they wouldn’t have let her tag around, much less offered if they were kidding. She looks pretty satisfied, and you tell her to make friends with the others too. If this this fails then she’ll want an escape plan.

After that you leave the training center with Finnick, take the elevator up to your district floor, and go in to see that Laurel is showing off designs to Mags. 

“Oops, are we walking in on something?” you ask, and Laurel looks over with a smile, “Not at all, welcome back.”

“Dinner will be served in an hour.” Elysia mutters, looking over from the tv.

“She’s telling us that we think and should probably shower.” Finnick whispers to you, Mags hears this and laughs.

She nods slightly, before shooing the both of you out the room as soon as Finnick’s stylist shows up behind you guys. It looks like they want to keep your interview outfits a surprise. It makes sense, they’re all about surprises and being prestigious. They think the outfits matter--because they do--but you don’t have that same taste. Neither does Finnick.

Back home you two would probably settle for a shirt and a pair of jeans. The occasion jacket, a nice pair of comfortable boots, and then that would be it. There’s not much to do around four, so there wouldn’t be a reason to dress up besides reaping day. You spend most of your time in a boat or in water.

Which means that you’re not even wearing boots, it would be a pair of sandals. If it’s cold in the morning, then your toes freeze and you just have to deal with it. Either you tuck your feet beneath you or shut up and just be cold. There’s a good possibility that you get thrown overboard by accident or on purpose. Or you’re spearing fish in the shallow, jeans being pulled up to your calves as you wade through the water.

You and Finnick stop outside your doors again, and he leans up against the wall.

“Allio and Lennox are annoying.”

“Stuck up?” you ask, a smile spreading over your face.

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t even think that word fits them. They think everyone inside of the arena is going to be easy to kill. That I’m probably going to be the only one who poses a threat.”

Your eyebrows raise, “They’re buying my act?”

“They don’t even think it’s an act. They think that you’re geniunely stupid and you’re just getting lucky with some of the things you know.”

That’s fair, you’re trying to play up the dumb damsel thing. You have to have one skill that will impress the gamemakers, and that will be just about it. If they keep you around for your skill to kill people, then that’ll be good enough. As long as you’re around.

“That’s good.”

“Anything about the other two? Trinket and Eyeball?” he purposely gets their names wrong.

You snort, “They’re buying it as good as the other two. I managed to convince them to invite Thyme, which I think will turn out handy.”

“How did you do that anyway?”

“Simply told them that if we run low on food and can’t find any animals, then berries and leaves is gonna be all that we have. So, she’ll be our best bet.”

He’s impressed, “Smart.”

“Yeah, I know. Any of the others show potential?”

“The boy from three, he’s been making things in the corner. Saw him make a knife from a stick, some vine and a rock.” Finnick tells you.

So he’ll definitely be dangerous. He’ll know how to make his own weapons from absolutely nothing. You wonder what else he knows how to make. If he can make knives, then there’s a possibility for a bow, spears, axes. Just depends on what setting you’re all going to be placed in.

“The others seem pretty reserved, or they’re not showing off what they can do.” Finnick yawns.

“Finally tired?” you tease.

“After sitting with you all night? Hell yeah I am.” he stretches, and then relaxes, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yeah,” you wave him off, before going to your room.

You sit on the floor mainly, staring out the window, watching as the people below celebrate the games already. All you can think about is your family back home, and how they’re all holding up. You hope that Reed isn’t being too hard on Mox. You’re hoping that Mox hasn’t been crying this entire time, because there’s nothing to be worried about. You wonder if Alyssum notices that you’re gone.

You have a greater chance now. With an alliance forming, with learning all the new things that Thyme had taught you when she brought you to her special station. Showed you all the berries and leaves she could afford to before the others had come around again.

It’s almost like she didn’t want to show them, which is really fair. She doesn’t trust them as much, and you don’t either. But it also doesn’t make sense because technically you and Finnick are careers anyway. It could be because of the fact that you’re playing two different personalities, that you’re actually not stupid and just using them. Or it could be from a different reason that you don’t know.

She’s really nice though, and you’re glad that you suggested her. She shows promise, she learns really quickly. It took only a couple of minutes for her to learn to throw properly. It was just her doubt that was holding her back for the rest of the time.

When you disband the careers, you hope that she’ll stick with you. But when it comes down to the end, you don’t want to be the one that kills her. She’s too nice, she even told you a little bit about her family back home.

The more you get to know someone, the less you want to actually kill them, and that’s the painful part. If you were to get to know everyone that’s going to be thrown in, then you’ll feel bad. Except for Trink, Eytelle, Allio and Lennox, though. They volunteered and they’ve been training for this their entire lives.

It’s hard to feel bad for them. They leave everything they have behind just so that they can get the glory of a victor house. Infinite amounts of money, even though they basically already have that, since they’re rich. They just want to have their names be known for the generations to come. Be the ones to train the next pair of tributes that come on the train.

You don’t know how they’d want that at all. All they do is get the pain of watching the tributes die after they fail to do it properly. Then again, career. Volunteering. They almost always win. The works.

This really is going to suck.

--

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR 

//MASTERLIST//

#ilguna #finnick odair #lacuna #lacuna chapter one #lacuna chapter two #lacuna chapter three #lacuna chapter four

[thewildomega]

Second Chance Ch.9

Holding your face in your hands you tried to even out your breathing. "How is this even possible?" you asked to no one in particular. How the hell did you get sent to another world, his world. "I am so incredibly fucked." you grumbled. You had nothing, you were here with nothing. No money, no clothes, no knowledge of anything other than what Ed had told you. Not to mention from what he had told you you would be lucky to survive a week in this world. You were going to die, no doubt about it. "What the hell am I going to do?" 

Standing there he watched her bury her face in her hands. She was mumbling to herself and while he couldn't make out exactly what she was saying he did catch a little of it. He understood what she was feeling, what she was thinking and he only furrowed his brows when he saw her shoulders curl up. Sighing he moved to crouch down in front of her. "Y/n." he called but she didn't look at him. "Lass look at me." When she only peeked at him from between her fingers he dipped his head some. "It's going to be okay." when she only groaned and covered her eyes again he reached up to take her slender wrists and pull them away from her face. "Darling I am not going to let anything happen to you." 

Looking down at his large hands holding your smaller ones you started to feel a little more calm. Closing your eyes you sighed softly, "What am I supposed to do now?" 

Hearing how soft her voice had become he gave a gentle squeeze of her hands. "Well the first thing we are going to do is let you get cleaned up, Zella did the best she could but I know you would probably like a hot shower. Then once you are all clean we are going to get you something to eat." 

Raising your eyes back to his you saw those warm yellow eyes looking at you like they always did. There was a strong feeling in you, a feeling to do something but you quickly shoved it back into the corner where it had came and simply nodded. Standing was a little shaky at first and your head throbbed but Ed had been there to hold you steady and help you to his bathroom. He had grabbed a towel for you and placed out a pile of clothes for you on the vanity. 

"Zella washed your clothes and managed to get the blood out of them but your shirt wasn't worth saving so you can just wear one of mine until we can get you some."

Nodding and thanking him you saw him give you another soft smile before he left you to bathe, telling you to call for him if you needed anything or felt lightheaded. Left alone in the bathroom you looked around and saw it had much of the same look as the bedroom with wooden ceilings and plaster walls. The floor itself was made out of grey stone. There was a large soaking tub on one wall and a huge shower on the back wall made of the same stone as the floor. The vanity was wood with the sink stone as well. Overall it was very cape cod slash rustic looking but in a way that looked homy and warm. You were surprised even more to find it clean, you had always heard men were messy, even the toilet was clean. Then again you shouldn't be surprised while living with you he had kept everything clean. Taking a deep breath you walked over to the shower and turned on the water. Removing the shirt that you now knew to be his you saw a bit of blood on it and knit your brows, you would have to try and get that out later. Finding your underwear had been removed you felt your cheeks heat up but blinked and reminded yourself that this Zella had washed them for you. Hopefully she had been the only one in the room when you had been stripped. Removing your bandages you winced at the sight of the stitched up wound on your chest, how appealing. Sighing you stepped under the hot water and started your routine. 

Getting out and dressing in your clothes with Ed's borrowed shirt you looked down and saw how large the thing was on you. Biting your lip you tilted your head and and buttoned it down to almost the end, leaving the first two undone. Twisting it up some you tied them into a small knot and gave a nod. Wasn't necessary your style but at least now it didn't look like you were wearing a sheet. Running your fingers through your hair you took a deep breath before walking out of the bathroom. Glancing to the bed you saw it had been stripped and looked down, you had seen the blood on it and felt guilty you were causing him so much trouble. Hearing a little movement you followed it out to the what looked like living area. Looking around at his home you saw the same style carry through. There was a large stone fireplace on one wall with bookshelves on either side that were filled with books of many different colors and sizes. A long navy blue couch set in front of it with grey colored chairs on either side and wooden side tables. There was even a thrown rug on the floor making the place even more cozy. Pictures were on the wall of many different people. Walking over to them quietly you looked up to some and saw they were of many different men and a few women. All of them were smiling and when you saw a large man in some of them that favored Ed you knew it was him. He was different ages in different pictures. In all of them however he seemed to be sporting a large white crescent mustache and it pulled the corner of your lips up. The ones when he was older, ones where he no longer seemed to have his long blond hair, when he had more wrinkles and scars made your chest warm. So he had been an old man. Still though you didn't find him any less handsome. He still had his looks even with age... like Sam Elliot, you thought with a smile. 

Walking out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom to go check on his lass after she had been in there for a while he stopped and snapped his eyes over to the far wall when something caught his eye. Seeing her standing there looking over all his pictures that he had hanging up he felt his nerves eat at him. While he was sure she would eventually see what he had looked like he was still nervous about it. She was used to seeing him in this younger body, what if when she saw him how he had been, when he was old and sick if she thought less of him. What if she viewed him differently? Noticing the one picture she was currently looking at he swallowed hard as he moved up behind her. "That one there was taken just after Ace joined up with us." 

Hearing his voice you broke your eyes from the picture of all the smiling crew and towards him as he came to stand beside you. Grinning you looked back to the picture, pointing to the one with black hair and freckles you looked to him. "This is Ace?" hearing him hum and listening as he named off all of his sons and daughters in the picture your smile grew more and more. "Then this is you, right?" 

"Yes." he said simply and heard her hum. When she stayed quiet for a few seconds he felt his heart begin to drop. 

Tilting your head up and towards him you rose a brow, "You know, I still don't see a beard." 

Out of all the things he had been expecting her to say that was not one of them. 

"They ought to just call you White-mustache." 

Hearing the tease in her voice he huffed and felt his lips turn up into a smile. "Doesn't have the same ring to it darling." seeing her smile and noting that shine in her eyes he placed his hand on the small of her back, "Come on time for lunch." 

"Wait a second, how tall are you? How tall am I?!"

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

Finishing up lunch you had helped him clean up even though he had on more than one occasion tried pushing you to go sit down. "I'm fine."

"You have a habit of saying that lass." he had grumbled. After everything was cleaned up he had grabbed her boots and carried them over to her. "Here lass put on your boots." Watching as she put on the first he knit his brows and grabbed her wrist to move them away from her boot. 

"What's wrong?" 

Looking to the seam saw where it had been worn out, the sole pulling away from the side. In fact now that he was actually close to her feet he could see her sock through the side. "I think you are in need of some new shoes darling." 

"Nah these still have a little while left in them." you told him putting your foot down to lace it up. When you went to reach up to take the other from him you saw him looking to the thinned out soles on the other one. Reaching up to take it from him, you slipped it on your foot. "They're okay..." Seeing him go to speak you stood and looked him in the eye. "I've made due with less." 

Seeing her small grin he kept his brows lowered and looked down to her feet. Now he understood why she was always wincing after wearing those things all day. Sighing he said nothing else for now, he knew well enough she wouldn't listen anyways.

"So where are we going?" you asked him with a smile. 

"Well thought I'd show you around the island some. We don't have to go far and if you get tired or anything you let me know and we'll come back. I don't want you pushing yourself." Seeing her go to brush him off, noticing the slight roll of her eyes he raised his own and looked down at her, "I mean it lass. I find out you overdid it and I'll make you stay in bed for the three days." 

"Rude." you gasped. "I didn't threaten to hold you captive." 

Seeing her slight smile he huffed out. "At least you didn't wake up strapped down to the bed like I did." 

"That's your fault, if you would have played nice they would have taken them off." 

"I'm a pirate, I don't play nice." he told her, enjoying their little playful banter. "You don't play nice and I'll go find some rope." he threatened with a grin making her stick her tongue out at him. Chuckling he again placed his hand on her lower back and led her to the door. 

Walking out of his home you looked around at the breathtaking land. Bright green hills went on and on and in the distance you could see the tall grey mountain. Above was a cloudless blue sky, the weather warm and sunny. You could see the trees and shrubs he had spoke of along with the other homes and what you assumed was the town. Now that you knew that you had in fact grew, being somewhere around fifteen feet in height while you had found out that Edward was a whopping twenty one, almost twenty two. You understood why the houses seemed smaller. Still though, it was all very stunning. "Your home is very beautiful." 

Shutting the door behind them he heard her speak and smiled softly, giving the island a glance over. "Yes it is. Most don't see the value of it because there is no big city or things other islands have to offer but personally I find that to be the charm of it. When I was sailing around and well being a pirate it was refreshing to be able to come back here every so often for some peace and quiet." 

Nodding you looked up to him. "I get it. I never much cared for the city life, I find it too loud with no privacy." 

"You lived in the city before?" he asked, raising a brow as he placed his hand on her lower back to start leading her along.

"For a time." you answered with a downward look. 

Seeing her shutting down he decided not to push he subject but he did ask one small question. "How many places did you live before you moved to the house you were in?" 

Humming you thought of a way to tell him, you could lie some but you didn't really want to. "Mmmm, many, eight maybe nine... then I....well then I didn't really live anywhere for a while." 

Furrowing his brows at this he saw her looking away from him, keeping her eyes out on the land. Did she mean what he thought she meant? Had his lass been homeless? He had been so busy thinking on what he had learned about her that he didn't even realize she was no longer beside him until he looked down and saw her gone. Quickly stopping he looked around him and then behind. Seeing her standing there staring out at something with wide eyes he too turned his eyes that way and when he saw what had caught her attention he smiled. He had been keeping his eyes out for him but wasn't expecting to find him so soon. 

"What is it?" you asked.

"It's a Sphinx, hence the name of the island lass." he chuckled. Seeing her smile he rose a brow and let out a loud whistle. Seeing the creature look to him, it's head perking up before it was running towards them at full speed he stepped in front of y/n. "Careful he's a hyper rascal." he warned her as the Sphinx got closer to them, when he saw it not slowing down he tensed. "Cain.. Cain calm, slow down...." 

Watching as the large creature jumped through the air and knocked Edward to his back you tensed but then smiled when you saw it just lay on him and give a long lick up his face.

"Agahh Cain." He said in a scolding voice as he tried to whip the slobber from his face. Looking up to see the sphinx smiling down at him he grinned. "It's good to see you again too old friend." Glancing to y/n he saw her just standing there with the same soft smile on her face he loved. When Cain followed his eyes and saw the strange woman he felt the beast get off of him in favor of investigating the new person. "Now Cain you behave yourself." he spoke, sitting up and pushing himself to stand just for some unlikely reason the sphinx didn't like his y/n. "This here is Y/n she's my... friend." he said, quickly catching himself before he could say soulmate.

Seeing the giant creature come over to you you looked up a tad bit to smile at it. "Hello." Standing still but not stiff as Cain went about sniffing at you and looking you over you, you took the chance to also look him over. It resembled a grey lion with a humanoid like face, sharp fangs, black feathers along its back and arms, and a white bushy mane. You had never seen anything like him. He was also huge, taller than you but shorter than Edward by about a foot or so. When he rounded you again you saw him look to Ed who you noticed nod but say nothing before Cain looked back to you and smiled, it's head dipping down to nuzzle your upper body. 

Hearing her giggle as Cain accepted her, nuzzling her chest and face he grinned. When she reached a hand up to begin rubbing his mane he saw Cain close his eyes. 

Scratching behind it's ear you heard a loud purr before it rolled to lay at your feet, it's large tongue hanging out. 

"You overgrown dog." he huffed, shaking his head at how easily y/n had turned the large creature to putty. Being smacked in the face with the bushy end of it's tail he sputtered. 

Laughing you looked up to Ed and smiled, "You never told me him." 

"Well they are kind of hard to explain to someone that had never seen them before."

"Them? So there are more like him?" you asked. 

"Oh course darling. Sphinxes are domestic animals on this island." 

"So they are pets, is he yours then?" 

Seeing the child like wonder in her eyes he couldn't help but smile. "Sure is. He's been mine since I was a boy. Back then he was about the size of your common deer and now well... let's just say he eats too much." 

Giggling as he chuckled you saw Cain give his owner a annoyed look and smiled. "Well I think he's cute." 

Watching as Cain smiled  and curled more towards y/n he rolled his eyes as the creature started letting out small noises of joy. He should have known she would have no problem gaining his pet's trust. In fact he'd go as far to say the sphinx was already more contempt with her than he was with some of his sons. When the large creature rolled to it's belly he rose his brows, now there was a sign that Cain trusted her. Sphinxes were very intelligent creatures, when Cain had looked to him earlier he knew what his old friend had been asking, what he wanted confirmed. Cain already knew y/n was his soulmate, he had picked up on their connection. He only wished she would soon see the truth as well. Remembering what else it was he wanted to show her today he walked forward. "Alright Cain I'm stealing her back now." Hearing the creature let out a whine he pet his back. "She'll play with ya another day. Right now I got something I got to show her."  

Looking to him curiously you saw him grin and hold out his hand. Smiling you gave Cain one last rub, "I'll be back." 

'Damn thing is going to get more of her time than me now.' he thought to himself with a chuckle. Feeling her place her hand in his he smiled and started leading her away. He was surprised when she continued holding his hand throughout the walk but he wouldn't dare say a word. 

Walking along the path you admired the beauty of the land, the flowers on the bushes and the deep green trees. "Is the weather always like this here?"

"For the most part. We get storms and such but the weather is mostly warm and comfortable."

"You said that every island is different right, so is there islands where the weather is just hot or cold?" 

"Oh yes. Some islands there is nothing but snow, others deserts, each have their own climate." 

"So what's the strangest one you've ever been to?" 

Humming he thought for a moment "Well I'd probably have to say Raijin is on the list."

"Why? What's it like there?"

"Endless lightning." 

Raising your brows you hummed, "So rubber clothes then." you said and heard him laugh loudly. Talking about some of the other islands as you walked through a hidden pass which you turned and saw was actually behind a waterfall you smiled largely in amazement. When he asked you to close your eyes you gave him a suspicious look he only responded with a challenging look of his own. 

"Don't you trust me darling?"

A little stunned you thought on his words. You had never trusted anyone, not for a long time anyway but for some reason you trusted him. You had since the first time you had met him. Closing your eyes you felt him grab hold of your wrists and lift your from the ground. 

Spinning her around to his back he wrapped her arms around his neck and felt her tense. 

"Ed...Ed wha... no you can't carry me...."

"Why not, how are you supposed to walk when your eyes are closed?"

"Well I... I don't know, you can just lead me."

"Easier this way." he told her, continuing to hold her when she tried wiggling down. "Quite wiggling around will ya lass, you're going to rip your stitches and then Marco will have a fit." 

"You can't carry me... I'm going to hurt your back." 

Letting out a bark of laughter he moved his hands to her thighs to hoist her up and hold her with his arms looped under her knees. "I can promise you lass that a little thing like you isn't going to hurt my back. Pretty sure my coat and boots weight more than you. "Now..." letting go of one knee to move her arms back around his neck he gave her arm a gentle squeeze before moving his arm back to her knee. "..hold on and keep your eyes shut." 

Sighing out you did as he said and closed your eyes, giving up and laying your chin on his shoulder. His muscled. Warm. Bare. Shoulder. At least he couldn't see how red your cheeks were.

Carrying her along the grass covered hill he couldn't help but grin at the feel of her on his back. He couldn't explain how right it felt to have her so close to him. God he felt like a damn teenager again. 

"Are you going to thrown me off a cliff?" you asked and heard him chuckle. 

"Yes." hearing her giggle lightly he smiled. Yep just like two damn teenagers.

Turning to lay your cheek on his shoulder you felt his hair brush your neck and face. Breathing in his scent which smelled like cedar and his own manly nusk mixed with something else, something salty you forced yourself not to sigh. Feeling that warming in your chest again, that fluttering in your belly you bit the inside of your lip. It was getting harder to push away these feelings that seemed to be growing inside of you more and more everyday. Before you could think on it any longer though he was grabbing hold of your hands again and gently easing you down to your feet. 

"Keep em' closed for just a few more seconds." he said. Licking his lips he grabbed ahold of her hips and turned her the right way. Moving to stand beside her he looked out in front of them and grinned before looking towards her face. "Alright lass you can open your eyes now."

Hearing his low, deep voice you obeyed and opened your eyes, what you saw made a small gasp leave your lips. 

Watching her face show true amazement he smiled, "Now you can cross it off your list." 

Nodding your looked to him and smiled before snapping your eyes back to the open sea. 

A/n: Sorry for the late update but on a side note, Happy Birthday to me! 

#Whitebeard #whitebeard one piece #one piece whitebeard #whitebeard x reader #edward newgate #feedback would be appreciated #edward newgate x reader #soulmate au #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hey we talked earlier. I just wanted to send my request before I forget. Can you write a fluff piece where the reader has an emotional break down and Arthur comforts her? One day it gets to be too much. She screams and starts to cry. Arthur comforts her, helps her get a bath and cuddles in bed with her. Thanks so much ❤️

Hi, my love! Yes, I remember asking you to send this in to me so I didn’t accidentally forget about it - it’s so hard to keep track of DMs and I really appreciate you taking the time to send this in to me.  I’m really sorry that I wasn’t able to get this out to you in time, life has been... quite difficult lately and it’s gotten in the way of things I want to do. I hope you like this, darling, and that things get better for you!💚

TW; dissociative tendencies, general sadness, non-sexual nudity (Arthur gives you a bath), ONE reference to being suicidal right at the end of this piece (Arthur’s thoughts; canon). If you think that any of these warnings may negatively affect you in any way then please consider skipping this piece. Take care of yourselves, loves!

Word count: 2, 874. 

You could feel how close you were to breaking down. It was approaching you a little bit closer every single day and at this point, there was little to nothing which could be done to stop it from happening. You were too far gone and, if you were really being truthful with yourself, you didn’t want to even try to stop it from happening. What was the point? It would happen whether you wanted it to or not, such was the stage you had reached within yourself. You didn’t have the time to break down emotionally, but that was the difficult thing about feelings. They demanded to be felt and you could only wait it out and hope that the resulting destruction wasn’t the wrong kind of chaos.

You knew not when the oncoming storm would become the incoming storm, but you knew, somewhere deep inside your tormented soul, that it wouldn’t be long. You could feel yourself beginning to crack around your rough edges. You could feel the world becoming both too loud and yet too quiet. Everything was muted by the roaring of blood in your ears and yet heightened was it in sound by the pounding in your head, which only made you more susceptible to headaches caused by stress. When Arthur touched you, it was like electricity was crawling across the surface of your skin. You were hyper aware of every moment during which his arm brushed against you when he walked past you in the apartment; the touch both accidental but also something which Arthur needed so that he knew you were right there beside him. When someone spoke, it was too loud and yet too quiet. Whenever you had a moment to yourself, you became aware of how desperately you needed to cry, to scream out to the world about your pains.

You felt invisible...

... But not alone.

Never were you alone when you were with Arthur. You had known great loneliness in your life, and horrible bouts of isolation when situations and circumstances bigger than you had taken your loved ones away from you for who knew how long, but since the day you had met Arthur, a seemingly ordinary way which had witnessed the very birth of serendipity, you hadn’t ever felt truly alone. Even in your perceived invisibility were you seen by him, just as you were the only one to see him when he, too, thought himself to be invisible.If anyone understood what you were going through, it was Arthur. He, who had been so abused, neglected and mistreated in multiple ways across his three decades and some of life. He, who had been tried and tested, used up and left for dead. He... who held your battered heart in the palms of his weathered hands and desperately tried to help you with the strength of his death defying love for you. There was nothing which Arthur wouldn’t do for you, just as there was nothing which you wouldn’t do for him, and each and every day did the two of you prove this depth of love to the other person.

You were this close to breaking down emotionally. You both hoped that you were alone when the storm tailored to your experiences hit, and wished that Arthur was there to see it happen so that he could be there for you. All, if not most, of the old wives’ tales which you had been raised on had even a small amount of truth to them, and so you should have known to be careful what you wish for. 

In the end, all it took was for Arthur to look at you.

There was nothing... special about the look on his face. He just glanced over at you from where he was stood in the living room, his sea green eyes sought out your own and... you lost the fight. Your breath caught in your throat and you coughed a little, as if to clear your airways. But there was nothing to be cleared. Your breath caught again and your sharp inhale made Arthur’s gaze sharpen as he looked at you, as he really looked at you. He had known that something wasn’t right, he had known that you were suffering, but he also knew you well enough to know that he couldn’t push you to tell him. With patience and persistence and a great deal of worry had Arthur simply waited for the inevitable, just as you had. All at once did everything come crashing down and Arthur saw the precise second that your ceramic mask, the one you put on every day before you left the apartment, slipped off your face and shattered all over the floor into a thousand pieces. A scream had an ice cold grip around your tried heart and it clawed its way up to your throat, up, up. It was right on the tip of your tongue and you clamped a hand down over your mouth to muffle the desperate noise which escaped you.

Arthur’s dark brows were furrowed and almost touching, so deep was his concern for you, and he cooed in understanding. “Oh, Y/N,” Arthur opened his arms, ready to welcome you home. His tone was soft and his words were gentle. Arthur was everything you needed in this moment but his sympathy, as warm as summer, only made you feel worse, somehow. You took one step forward, and then another, and a paragraph from a page in Arthur’s journal which you had accidentally read once slipped into your mind just as you fell into Arthur’s arms. Step step step step step. “Come here, darling. I’m here. Not going anywhere.” You remained in Arthur’s arms for only a few moments, tears beginning to blur your vision. The urge to scream was still there, but you didn’t give into it. Instead, you found yourself wanting to cry. It was a more peaceful mode of self-expression and you tried to be casual in the way you swiped a hand over your face. But Arthur knew you like he knew the backs of his veiny, weathered hands, and he saw you. “Why don’t we get you a bath, hm?” You nodded, your breaths coming faster now, and quicker. Arthur shushed you gently and his thin lips, cool to the touch, pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your temple. 

You closed your eyes to fully enjoy and to take in Arthur’s gentle, tender affections, and the man cooed in sympathy once more as he walked with you to the bathroom. His steps were slow and measured and you thought that you picked up on his humming of Slap that Bass, though you were unsure due to how beautifully off-key Arthur was. Your own mind seemed far away and yet so close to you and through a television screen did you watch Arthur turn the taps, the tendons in his wrists so prominent as they seemed to almost protrude through his skin. Oh, how badly you wanted to press a kiss to his pulse point. To feel his heartbeat against your lips, to feel the most real proof of his existence right there. You wanted Arthur in the most emotionally intimate of ways and you knew that Arthur knew exactly how to give that to you. The bath filled quickly with water and you got yourself undressed. You were shy about your body, especially in front of Arthur, but you were too emotionally distraught to do much about it. The gentleness with which Arthur took care of you as he washed your hair only caused tears to come into your eyes and Arthur shushed you quietly. He meant not to tell you to be quiet, he meant not to tell you that you couldn’t cry, but he was meaning to tell you that he was there with you. That it was his deft fingers in your hair as he used the right amount of each of your products. Somehow did he know that you liked to leave your conditioner in while you washed yourself over to give it time to work with your hair, and Arthur kept you focused on him and on his actions. He refused to let you sink deep inside yourself, knowing was he that what you needed right now was some tender loving care.

You needed him and Arthur felt a secret thrill run up his back. He loved how much you needed him and, truth be told, he needed you just as much. Soon were you physically taken care of and Arthur helped you up and out of the bath, wrapping his best towel around you. It only had two holes in it. He felt a stab of guilt that he didn’t have any towels which weren’t falling apart at the literal seams, but he reminded himself that you wanted him for all that he was and all that he would ever be, and the love which swelled in his frail chest at the thought brought a smile to his face. 

Love.

“What do you want, Y/N? Dinner or cuddles?” Arthur’s quiet, soft rasp broke through your silent reverie, shattering it much like your carefully applied mask every morning had broken when you had finally laid eyes on your Arthur less than an hour ago. How time flew when you were with him. 

“’M not hungry, Arthur,” You dashed a hand over your face and roughly dried yourself off. Arthur frowned in disapproval. Didn’t you have any patience with yourself? He wondered how you could treat yourself so awfully but be so tender with him, but he knew the answer already, for he did the very same thing. “Can’t we just go to bed? Please?”

Oh, help him. Arthur cupped your face in his cool hands and used the calloused pads of his thumbs to wipe your tears away. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you bit back a sob. Fuck, you loved him. He was always so good to you. You could only hope that you were just as good to him. He deserved nothing less. “Yeah,” Arthur nodded, granting you what you wanted easily. It was only early evening, not yet nine, but he was exhausted, too, and all he wanted was to climb into bed and cuddle you until the world melted away and all he knew was the two of you. On this night were your wants and needs aligned. “We can do that.” Anything for you, sweetheart. Arthur choked on his next words and so he was unable to finish his sentence, but you heard them anyway. You would always hear Arthur, just as he would always hear you.

Arthur headed out into the living room, subtly leaving you to get dressed into the clothes you preferred to sleep in while he cleaned up the mostly tidy apartment. The man of the house took care of messes, he never created them. Dirty plates were piled in the sink to be washed tomorrow. Overflowing ashtrays were emptied and the ashes which were spilled over were deftly swept into his hand and put into the rubbish bin which sat underneath the coffee table. Everything was taken care of with hasty movements, rushing was Arthur to be with you, his one and only who understood him. After he was done, Arthur retreated back into the bedroom and the door shut behind him with a quiet but firm click. You could wholly let go, now. It wasn’t that you couldn’t have let go before, but there was something about cuddling in bed with Arthur, your nightly ritual and your most favourite tradition, that made it easier for you to be your entire self.  Lying in bed were you, the duvet pulled up to your chin and Arthur’s side of the bed was pulled back. You were waiting for him. You teared up again at that thought, so sensitive were you in this moment that the smallest of things were setting you off. You had been waiting for Arthur for your entire life, it seemed. No one comforted you like Arthur did. No one made you laugh like Arthur did. No one soothed you, encouraged or supported you like Arthur did. No one motivated you like Arthur did. No one was there for you like Arthur was. You had been waiting for him for your entire life. Arthur had been waiting for you, as well. The both of you had been so alone without each other, but now did you have everything you had ever needed or craved within another person, and never again would either of you be alone.

Arthur cooed to see you curled up so cosily in bed, to see that you had pulled back the duvet for him, so considerate were you, and to see you crying. “Come here, Y/N. I’m here.” He crossed the room in a few easy strides and slid easily beneath the duvet, pulling you towards him. He was rarely this confident in his movements, but you needed him and that worked miracles on the things Arthur could do. He knew exactly how to comfort you, intuitive and perceptive was he, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you. “Not going anywhere.” Those same words had been spoken earlier that evening and you curled in on Arthur, your tears flowing freely now as they poured, hot and fast down your face. You choked on another scream and Arthur rested his head on the pillow beside you, his mahogany curls mingling with your own hair as every part of your bodies intertwined. You pressed yourself into Arthur and he hummed in thought, letting you arrange yourself as you wanted to before he got comfortable, too. The both of you were settling in for the night, now. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I get it...” Arthur sighed. The sound was heavy in untold truths and even in your own distress did you feel your heart breaking for him. “It’s hard. I know.” Arthur’s nose, cool to the touch - always so cold was he, warm was his soul - nuzzled against your cheek and you pushed into his touch, trying to shuffle even closer to him even though you were already pressed together. Arthur chuckled and rained kisses down upon your face, his lips drying out your damp, tear stained cheeks. 

You nodded, clamping your lips together so that you couldn’t scream or cry. You weren’t sure what was building in your throat but you knew that it would be a loud noise. You just wanted to sleep now. You just wanted Arthur.

“I want you, Arthur. So much.” Your bottom lip trembled, still so overwhelmed were you, and Arthur could only love you more. You were always so honest in your feelings for him and it was something he had always admired within you.

Another coo, another kiss, and his arms squeezed around you. “You’ve got me, Y/N. Always. Won’t let go, okay?” His voice was quiet, his words full of a future you had always dreamed of, and his tone was kind. He was your everything and that had never been and would never be any different.

“Promise?” Your voice was so small, defeated but not defeated were you by the world, and Arthur felt his heart break. What had the world done to you? Bitterly did he know that it had done the same to him, and though he was already falling, too late was it for him, it wasn’t too late for you and he would be damned if he took you down with him.

“I promise. You’re my one and only. I’ll do anything for you.” A Joker though he would one day be, that was a vow which he would take seriously.

You shut your eyes, nuzzling into Arthur, and he only managed to hold you tighter despite how physically and emotionally close you were together. “Thank you for taking care of me, angel. It means a lot to me. No one’s ever...” More tears soaked into Arthur’s bare chest and you kissed the evidence of your own pain away from his skin. “No one but you.” Was all you could stomach to say. You had had enough now and you just wanted to sleep.

Arthur nodded knowingly. He always knew what you were trying to say, even and especially when you didn’t. “You’re welcome, darling. I love you. So much.” With another kiss, a tender squeeze and a gentle smile, Arthur helped you to put your mind to rest as finally, finally... did you sleep. He wouldn’t sleep much this night, haunted by insomnia and nightmares was he, but with you beside him did he think that perhaps he, too, would get some rest. You were his one and only, his reason and his purpose and the one reason he didn’t cash in on his refund for life itself, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

You were his Y/N, and he would always take good care of you, just as you always took care of him. It was what you deserved and Arthur was beginning to think, thanks to your reverent love, that so did he.

AF/J @impulsiveclown   @astheworlddturns @fluffedstar @jokersqueenofchaos @germansarechill @tsukiakarinobara  @lynnesm @sagyunaro  @greghouse  @flowerglitterwoman @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokers-doll @arthurjokersgirl @antonija89 @lilliryth @hotpacino @obsessedandthirsty  @call-me-harley-quinn  @cacklinghyena @arcanealaanais

#nonnie #requests closed #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck x y/n #joker #joker x reader #joker imagine #joker x you #joker x y/n #joker 2019 #joker 2019 imagine #joker 2019 x reader #joaquin phoenix #Joaquin phoenix joker #joaquin phoenix x reader #joaquin phoenix imagine #joaquin pheonix joker #phoenix!joker #phoenix!joker x reader #phoenix!joker imagine

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Last Christmas

Word Count: 2372

Warnings: Mild violence and blood some angst or is it whomp?

A/N: This one was a fun write. I need to thank @robertsheehanownsmyass for being my sounding-board, always, and for helping me with ideas!  Chapter 1: God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman can be found here

Chapter 2: The Fairytale of New York

It's not that Violet meant to kill Nathan. Yet here she was, at 4:30 in the morning holding him on her apartment floor while he bled to death. Her lips brushed his freezing forehead as she adjusted his head in her lap.

Not very long before the murder, Violet woke with a start when she heard a door slam. She was drunk still from the never-ending fishbowl drinks bestowed upon her after the win. Brain fuzzy and the room spun as Violet got to her feet and rummaged through the nightstand.

She desperately searched for a missing piece and her kitchen knife. Was someone meant to be with her? Her body screamed with booze and adrenaline as she held the knife aloft venturing into the hallway.

Violet made her way to the living area. A throb grew in her ears that deafened the silence of her apartment. The night flashed before her eyes as her head swam.

How the liquor filled her goblet with just a point of his long finger. Which he told her wasn’t necessary. Just thinking about it often worked. Like how he thought the scantily clad shot girl could use bigger tits, so they inflated a size or two. The dude bro that wolf whistled at Violet and slapped her ass as she walked passed, his tongue literally fell out.

“It's MY job to sexually harass women, NOT yours!” he yelled over the techno. Then casually tossed the body part in the horrified man’s direction. “What's a matter,” he pouted his lips in a kiss, “Sexy bitch got your tongue?!”

Violet furrowed her brows now as she rubbed her pulsing temples. Had they danced? Out in the middle of the crowd, his hands on her waist as she leaned back into him. Both gyrating rhythmically to some rave remix of an 80s song.

“You are the weirdest shaped guy I've ever met!” Violet had shouted. “Like a muscular-armed stick bug”

The strobe lights flashed across his face as he strained to grasp this as an insult or compliment. Instead he took a chance and kissed Violet's neck. She let him.

There was, Violet remembered now, flirting in the back of a cab. She told him drunkenly he had Irish eyes and a green smile.

“No,” she shook her head and laughed. “Green eyes and an Irish smile?”

He laughed but smashed his face into Violet’s. His kisses were wet, sloppy. Too eager and childlike for someone in their twenties. Violet pointed that out as she wedged a hand between his face and her.

“Christ who taught you how to kiss?!” her hand squeezed his cheeks so that his mouth formed an O shape.

“M’maffs teach-a in yee-ah four,” he muffled.

“Your fourth grade teacher French kissed you?!”

“No!” he giggled “Year four, it’s. I was fifteen.”

“That's sexual assault!” Violet cried.

“Aww only if you don't want it to happen.” He tried to push his mouth into her again, but she literally ducked out of his way. Defeated, he gave up and the rest of the ride was silent.

Back in the present. Out of nowhere from behind, “Hey do you have any blank-”

It was quick. Shocking how easy it was to stab Nathan through the heart. How fate helped Violet sink the knife so deeply into him that her breasts met his bare chest before either understood what was going on.

Nathan’s lower jaw hung open as he started to grunt in pain. A dark pool of blood poured around the weapon. Stark contrast to his pale olive skin. He swayed but steadied himself on Violet’s arms. His demeanor changing instantly from panic to acceptance and his body relaxed.

Violet’s hand still around the knife as a lump formed in her throat. She scrambled out of his grip, sobs and pleas of forgiveness wracked her body as she struggled to find her phone.

“I've got.. to.. to.. to.. Call 9-1-1. It was an accident. Nathan. I'll get someone here-”

“NO!” he bellowed. “No, it'll be ok. I'll..” he winced. “Come back.”

“From what?! I STABBED YOU!”

“Death, sweetheart.” His Irish accent makes the A R sound like the word “Air.” “I've been stabbed in the heart (h-air-t) by women before, but I've never been..” Nathan gesticulated to the knife in his chest.

“ARE YOU MAKING A FUCKING JOKE?! YOU'RE DYING! Oh my God,” Violet’s knees began to buckle but she caught herself on the counter.

“I'm immortal. Christ t’is fucking hurts.” Nathan struggled to breathe. “Was impaled twice. Beat t’death once. I'll be good.”

He continued, “C’mon Vi, give us a hand,” he instructed. His shaking hand unable to grip the hilt of the knife protruding from his chest. “I'll die quicker this way. be back half past or so”

It was so matter of fact. “Pride goeth before the fall” Violet thought.

A cheeky grin deepened the dimples in Nathan’s cheeks as Violet took the carving knife out of his chest. Blood had spilled unexpectedly down the corners of his lips while he slid down the wall. Violet tried her best to catch him. To soften the blow between man and hardwood, but Nathan folded like the scarecrow coming off his pole.

Even more present:

“Joyeux Noël, Violet. You've Committed your first involuntary manslaughter.” Warm tears poured down her cheeks onto Nathan’s face.

Her legs were sticky with his coppery blood, but she kept marveling when her world soon grew quiet without his smart mouth and witty retorts. There was only a faint gurgle of blood that filled his mouth and lungs. How beautiful Nathan would always be to her in this moment because immortality was for vampires and mythology.

She would never forgive him either. It took longer than Nathan insisted, heart still pumped dark crimson into her hand used as a piss-poor tourniquet. But the beating slowed to a stop as Violet absently combed her fingers through his thick hair to soothe her exhausted body into a fitful sleep.

This time it was the heady smell of eggs and sausage that roused Violet from her sleep.

There was humming and singing in a language she didn't know as someone rattled about in the cupboards.

One hand over her eyes, head felt like someone bashed it repeatedly with a drumstick, she came to life. Her mind grabbed at flashes of kisses and a knife and Nathan being dead. The hallway, but this was her couch?

Suddenly she sat straight up, “OH MY GOD!! OH MY GOD!” Violet's hands and bare thighs were caked in dry blood. She flew off the couch and went to Make it down the hall to the guestroom. But instead she slipped and fell in the coagulated mess on the hardwood floor

“Aw yep,” a harsh Irish lilt quipped from the kitchen. “I meant t’clean that up before ya woke, but I wasn't sure where the supplies were.”

Violet simply laid down on her floor, defeated. “I killed you,” she whispered.

Nathan appeared above her. His shaggy hair fell across his forehead and the goatee and mustache Violet swore he had shaved was back. He consciously fumbled to button his dress shirt that she was certain he wasn't wearing as he lay in her arms.

“You were in your underwear. You were bleeding to death last night in your underwear only,” she sat up grimacing at her blood caked hair.

“I cleaned up the best I could. Told ye it would be half five when I came to. Didn't wanna leave ye on the floor, so I carried ye t’the sofa. Sorta did a bit o’the whore’s bath in your sink.” Nathan mimed washing his body, “Not really comfortable with the whole showering in a strange bird’s gaff without permission.”

Violet stumbled to her feet with Nathan’s help. His reflex to catch her as she slid again in the mess was quick. Their chests pressed together again. His skin against hers as she clung to the seams of his shirt to balance herself. Violet's face flushed. From a hangover or how warm Nathan was. Alive.

“I ran you through with a carving knife. You died in my lap. You turned ice cold and had purple lips and I thought to myself how many times I asked you if you ever shut up.”

“Only when I'm dead,” Nathan absently stroked her hair. Large hand gently rubbed her back and took a chance at getting a squeeze of her ass.

Violet ignored what Nathan did and refused to look at him. Not in those ever changing eyes anyway. Instead she placed her hand flat on Nathan's smooth, if not slightly stained, chest. No gaping wound, heartbeat steady.

Violet's own heart pounded in her ears as the adrenaline from touching him raced through her veins. There was no denying that he was just as beautiful alive.

And no denying that Nathan eagerly tried to crash his mouth into hers, but Violet swerved. “Are those my underwear!?”

Nathan stepped back to pop his shirt up and push his own backside in her direction. “Mine were ruined,” he rubbed himself and bit his entire bottom lip. “Oi they're soft and make my ass look great.” He slapped it for good measure.

“I like you better dead"

Nathan sneered sarcastically and rolled his eyes. His lips moved with no sound coming out but baby babble. "See if I make YOU breakfast again!”

A hot shower and clean clothes later, Violet climbed onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. Her houseguest sat a plate of food and a mug of tea in front of her

“Found some peppermint. Mum says that helps with a hangover.” Dimpled grin before he turned around to finish cleaning up her kitchen.

“Oh,” Violet was taken aback by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” she meant it. “Hey! You’re not using magic.”

“Nooo. I'll use it sparingly until I have to give it back. Been right fucking fun while it’s lasted.”

“You’re cleaning my kitchen.”

“Yeah? If you tell us where some brushes and such are, I'll clean the floor next.”

Violet felt a pleasure seep into her bones as she sipped the hot tea. It was nice to have someone to look after her for once. She had time to really watch as Nathan scrubbed the pans he used. She took notice of him biting a cuticle or chewing skin off his lip as he carefully searched her drawers for a towel. He flitted about kind of like a hummingbird; never staying still long enough between tasks.

“Nathan you don't have to do any of this. I know it's just a layover until you're back in London. I The situation isn't exactly ideal. Now that I murdered you, isn't it fucking weird?” Violet questioned around a mouthful of food.

He faced Violet while drying the dishes. “Nah. Been killed loads of times. Impaled twice. Sewer pipe. Metal picket fence. Then had my head bashed in. Stabbed in the heart by a beautiful girl who is a bit dodgy about me kissing her is tops now!” A bright smile crept across his face.

“why are you cleaning then?”

Nathan scratched the back of his head in thought, “Well, so ye don't have t’remember I was ever here.”

Violet’s mouth hung open but she closed it quickly. “Who the fuck would ever want to forget you?” She started to laugh, “I watched your anger literally explode in hundreds of rabbits. I probably drank a hundred bucks of liquor for free. You took a guy’s tongue out for slapping my ass. And you're..”

Nathan leaned on the island top with his chin in one hand, “Immortal?” He wiggled his eyebrows seductively.

“An Irish prick,” Violet cocked her own eyebrow in return. Nathan pouted.

“I've gotta go to the casino. I know someone in the back of the house who found all of your shit. Please just stay here. Can you do that?” She got up to get a bucket and cleaning supplies from the closet.

“Do you know how many movies start with someone saying don't move?!” There was a gleam in his bright green eyes.

“Nathan, I mean it!” she commanded from the bedroom. “I have to go Christmas shopping too. Jesus it's Christmas eve.” She hobbled back into the living room trying to pull a shoe on.

“Fine. But if I find porn anywhere and have a wank out of boredom, that's on you lady!” He mimicked masturbating in her direction.

Violet’s face contorted in disgust as she threw on a leather jacket. “Grow up.”

“Tried that. She ran away with all the money, and I went to prison. When do I meet mum and dad?” shit-eating grin

“They're dead.”

Nathan’s face fell. For once he was momentarily speechless. “My step-dad’s a dog.”

Violet's hand was on her doorknob, but she paused. “Wait.. Like cheats on your mom dog?”

“More like turns into a naked Jack Russell at night with his massive cock out all over town.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“So much. T’anks for asking!” Nathan grabbed Violet by the wrist. He spun his finger in a circle ever so slightly. “Just a bit o’ Christmas magic before you go?”

Violet gasped as a sprig of mistletoe manifested itself above them. A bough of pine spread on either side of the doorway wrapped in tinsel. Little white lights started to twinkle from inside.

“Nathan, it’s beau-” but Violet was interrupted by his mouth covering hers again.

He was softer this time as his hands gripped her waist. His tongue gently slid into her mouth and Violet accepted it. Her body relaxed into him as their lips moved on instinct. But she found herself as quickly as she had gotten lost. She managed to wedge her hands between their bodies so she could push herself away.

“No. Nope. We can't do this. You're leaving the day after tomorrow, and I'm not a fucking Hallmark Christmas movie.”

Nathan brushed his nose against Violet's forehead, “I think it's too late for that.” But she turned abruptly and left him cold by the front door.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” Was all she shouted from the other side of the door.

#robert sheehan #nathan young #nathan x violet #lord of chaos #robert sheehan character fic

[sazc94]

If These Sheets Were States

Chapter 2

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: A bit of violence, swearing lots of sickly sweet fluff.

A/N Anything Blue, Bold and Italic is a flashback,

Chapter 3

…Collisions of a finer love, I'd kill for one more way To tell you how you make me better every day

22:30 New York

You padded out of your en-suite into the bedroom your fluffy warm towel wrapped around you, your hair was hanging loose around your shoulders, blow dried just enough it would not soak your pillow in the night but still slightly damp. Steve may be an Avenger, but he was also pretty good with his hands. He had ripped out your old bathroom after a year of dating, he had completely done it up installing a new bath with jets, a shower that had different settings. He had done it up with help from Bucky and Thor when you were back in England visiting one of your closest friends for their wedding. Steve had been unable to attend with you as he was on a mission with the Avengers when you had left. The mission had ended early when a suspect had made a stupid mistake allowing the Avengers to sweep in and capture him. As a result of the mission ending early Steve had decided to surprise you with the bathroom renovations. You chucked your hair up into a messy bun so you could do your skincare routine, grabbed one of Steve’s T-shirts and a pair of boxers from his draw. You had lots of cute sets of PJs some a bit more lingerie than PJs but as you’d had one hell of a day and were missing your boyfriend you decided to wear these as it made him feel closer. “F.R.I.D.A.Y engage intruder alarm” you said “Alarm engaged miss L/N” the AI replied. You grabbed the giant stitch plus sat on the chair in the corner of your room. Somehow it always smelt like Steve. He hid his aftershave whilst he was on missions because he knew you would always use it up when he was away spraying it on your pillows etc. Unbeknownst to you he had worked with Bruce in Starks lab on putting a scent disperser of his aftershave in your Stich this one slightly more high-tech then ones you could get in Build A Bear. He had enlisted Natasha’s sewing skills to ensure the seam wasn’t noticeable.

It was Natasha who had introduced you to Steve. Natasha had been undercover in your old Law firm in the UK investigating some ties between your old boss and Hydra. During her 6-month mission she had gotten close to you as a way to gain access to your boss. The pair of you ended up hitting it off as friends outside of work. She was actually the only one there for you when your mum died suddenly. It turned the whole company came tumbling down after it turned out at least two of the named partners of your old law firm had ties to Hydra so the whole company collapsed. Natasha returned to NYC but stayed in touch. After a year She got word of the opening at Nelson and Murdock Attorneys at Law (due to ties she would not disclose) she told Matt Murdock all about you and sent across your CV.

“I don’t know Nat. I mean its NYC I would have to relocate my whole life across the world for a job” you said. “Listen Y/N, you said to me yourself just last month how the pay in this new job is almost half of what it was at Lawson LLP, you hate working there. Your ex-boyfriend Tim is engaged, and you don’t have any family ties. This could be a new start at an amazing job in an amazing city with an even more amazing Best friend” She smirked. Natasha had face timed you after Matt had informed her that he was offering you the job after you had wowed in the interview (even if it was by zoom). “Besides Wanda wants to meet you too. And you know your accent will get all the boys” Natasha said. Natasha made a point, there wasn’t really much keeping you in England. You didn’t talk to your dad and your mum had been cremated, her ashes scattered in one of her favourite natural beauty spots. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding. “Okay, okay you win. Ill accept the job” you laughed “But, you have to help me find an apartment and go to the viewings for me and show me them by video chat” you said. Natasha agreed and 6 short weeks later you arrived at JFK airport greeted by Natasha and two of her Avenger “colleagues” Thor and Wanda.

“Y/N this is Thor, and you’ve spoken to Wanda” Natasha said. You were not prepared to meet Wanda let alone Thor, so you just stood there like a deer in headlights. Wanda, oblivious to your anxiety over being in the presence of a literal god, threw herself at you in a welcoming hug. “Y/N!!! its so good to finally meet you in person” Wanda exclaimed. Natasha informed you she was throwing you a small and lowkey welcome to your new home party the coming weekend where you would be able to meet some more of her team, Steve, Bucky and Clint were all intrigued by the infamous Y/N Natasha spoke so highly off so were more than happy to come to Natasha’s little get together.

“Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y, play if These sheets were states by All Time Low would you?” I’m lost in empty pillow talk again

You crawled into bed, whilst All Time Low played, you always found yourself coming back to this one song when Steve was on a long mission, you smiled to yourself knowing that Steve didn’t really understand your love for Pop Punk, but you had played this song enough that he had started to learn the lyrics. You took out your messy bun, turned out the lights and curled up with your kindle and personalized, Steve smelling Stitch.

22:00 Texas

“Well, I think that went about as well as anyone could have hoped for. Miss Lewis, nice to make your acquaintance, but do you mind telling me what the fuck was so important to fury that I had to leave Pepper and Morgan for almost 8 weeks? Said Tony. “Oh sure, I don’t mind, but Mr Fury told me not to tell anyone and he kind of scares me, when someone pisses him off” Darcy Replied. The mission was a success. Clint had hightailed it out of there and now Steve and the rest of the mission crew were on the Quinjet. Steve made his way to the front where Natasha was piloting. “Hey Nat, thank god that we managed to get out of there relatively unscathed” Steve said. “You’re only saying that because Y/N can hold a grudge, she almost killed you last time she thought something had happened to me on a mission I wasn’t even on” Nat chuckled. “Oh god, don’t remind me” Laughed Steve. He thought you were mad when he did something reckless, but when it came to Natasha you were fiercely protective of the Avenger who had essentially changed your life, everyone found it funny that you felt the need to protect a former Russian spy. One who was more than capable of taking care of herself, and half the team.

#steve rogers #captain america #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x yn #avengers #captain america fluff #captain america x reader

[timexistsnow]

my baby (oh my pup)

Chapter 5: a flower (for us)

Techno and Tasha go on a walk and have a pleasant couple of days.

Techno’s hands were ruined for the time being. A while back, maybe two hours ago, he had made the wise choice to wrap them but even that hadn't saved him from a day of hoeing. This was not what he had planned to do in retirement, becoming a farmer, but then again, he never really had a plan. The whole idea was to escape L’Manburg and their governmental control, so farming was close enough.

When he wiped the sweat from his brow he hissed. Even in a biome like this, he was still getting sunburnt. Later he would have to rub some magma cream on it. Either it soothed or burned, he would find out.

Tasha was lying by the fire, leg muscles destroyed from all of the crouching. Techno grumbled, he could relate.

He helped her up, ignoring the tingling in his fingers. The bandages were useless by now and would infect his wounds if he didn’t change them. Just as he had with the potatoes, Techno switched had off of hoeing to planting, cacking his pants, hands, and fingernails in dirt. And Tasha… was not much better off.

Her already clumsy movement coupled with the unsteady ground led to many spills. She got the job done, but it wasn’t a very clean job.

Bath time.

He warmed the water in the fireplace and brought the buckets back upstairs. He needed a better system for bathing and water if this was to happen often. He did have a spare room now, the bathroom could go down by where the dining table used to reside. The purpose of the small cabin was to use every space, and the little alcove was just a place to put a tall bookshelf right now.

Techno… shelved that thought and helped Tasha into the bath. The few inches of water were already turning brown with the clumps of dirt falling from Tasha’s fur. The soap came out, lathered all over the pup. She scooped up a handful of bubbles, watched them pop, and shoved them into her mouth. “Gross.”

“No kidding,” Techno laughed. He couldn’t blame her, when he was a kid he had taken a bite out of the first bar of soap he had come across. And then the next. And the one after that. Okay, it took a while for Techno to figure out that the reason why soap tasted so bad was because it wasn't food. So what if he was dumb, sue him for being new to the world.

Techno… he needed to know, “Did you have fun?”

“Soap? No.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “The potatoes, Tasha.”

“Oh. With. You. Yes.” She averted her eyes, clapping bubbles into the air.

Techno watched the bubbles float around the room, his scrubs paused. “You don’t- We can stop next time. Tasha, you can always tell me if you get bored,” Tasha still didn’t bring her gaze back up to Techno, “I won’t get mad.”

She caught a bubble in a soapy hand and brought it to her face, blowing it off, “Together. Make. Worth. It.”

Techno- he supposed that made sense. He just didn’t think that Tasha would have the same idea. His scrubs resumed, focused on her fingers. The other hand continued to play with the bubbles.

“Missed. Together. In. Nether.”

Swallowing, he tried to say lightly: “You had a together? I… assumed your family-”

“You. Killed. Family.” She said family like it had hurt her. Hmm, maybe not the best simile.

“Oh,” he said. Was he supposed to say sorry? He wasn’t, not even a tiny bit.

In the silence, Tasha chose to barrel on, “Me. Had. Friend,” she tugged on her ears and tusks, a piglin then. “Run. Around. Ride. Hoglin.” Her hands mined two pairs of legs scampering along the lip of the bath. “Miss. Them.”

That… was not good, “Do you want to go back and visit them?” How: he wasn’t sure, but for Tasha, he’d make do.

“Dead.” One of the hands fell off of the lip and into the water, splashing around.

Oh. “What was their na- their word?” There had to be a way to save the conversation. Neither of them needed to deal with all of this angst.

“Never. Told.” The clean hand was put into her mouth but she continued to talk around it, “Scared. Them,” a hand fell into the water, “Warned. Them. In…” she waved at Techno, “Speak.”

“You said something in English. Kiddo, that wasn’t your fault.”

She protested, hand falling, getting back up, and falling again and again. “Should. Known.”

Techno grabbed both of her hands, “No, Tasha, the piglins- they don’t deserve your time. You are so different from them, so much more,” she tried to wiggle her way out, so Techno switched gears, “It was just a mindless mob. Sure, for a moment it might have felt pain but not like you did-” Techno slammed his mouth shut, Tasha clearly being able to pick up what he was referring to and flinching away. He tried for a third time, “You are better than them.”

That was enough, Techno guessed, and Tasha wiped away the stray tear that had escaped. He helped her out and dried her off with a soft blue towel. When she stood awkwardly, he patted her on the head, “Try to not let it bog you down. You don’t want things like that to ruin your fun.”

He let her walk off and refilled the bath with clean water. He always figured that Tasha would have her own trauma, but he never got around how he would fix it. His methods were proven to be… lacking, at the very least.

Spending nowhere near as long as Tasha had, Techno scrubbed himself raw. He might be a pig but he did not like being dirty. With dirt. The blood of the people who had wronged him- he might be able to compromise.

Stepping out of the lukewarm water and into the frigid room, he grabbed the other towel on the rack and dried himself off. He didn’t have any clothes so he opened the door a crack and strained his arm to grab something out of the chest of clothes next to it. It was one of his less frilly white button-downs and a pair of thick pants. Techno was always tempted to get some thigh-high leather boots to complete his outfit, but his hoofs would never allow it.

Leaving the bathroom, Techno realized that in his vanity he had caused the chest to spill out. Tasha, who was seen wiping her snout and eyes in a hurry, sat down at the foot of the mess and started sifting through it. She ended up settling on some of his spare blue wool and fabric.

“Favorite. Color?” All of it was blue, so perhaps…

“No, I like pink.” He sat with her and studied the weight and feel of it. Thankfully it wasn’t all one shade but an array of hues ranging from baby to royal blue. From wool to cotton to silk, from thick yarn to thread, he had quite the collection.

Techno chose the yarn, digging further through the pile for some needles. He had a book hidden somewhere in his library, ah, there it was. The bounty was dropped down in between the two. Tasha flipped through the pages, letting out an oink at the pictures.

She stopped at the first set of instructions and did her best to replicate the hands displayed on the pages. Techno… had no idea what the book was talking about, even as he read the captions. Sewing, he could manage. Knitting? Making something out of almost nothing? Unless it was a war effort, it was far out of his grasp.

All Techno did from there on in an attempt to help her was getting her to a page that told of a simple child’s sweater. She patted his face and set off to work.

That left him to his own devices.

The pile of blue was tempting Techno. “I never planned on getting this much stuff in the beginning,” Tasha nodded absently, “Uh, I guess my… interest in fashion started back when I began fighting.” He ran a finger over his cloak, a staple he had taken from his first win in the Area. “When I would win, I got the first pick of the losers' loot- including their clothes. It was just supposed to be a gag, something stupid I could do to make fun of them, but the pile grew and I wasn’t doing anything with it.

“Throwing it all out felt wrong, like I wasn’t winning for a reason. Eventually, I figured out that I could take the things I liked about each piece and put them together into something decent.” The cloak was a cape an opponent had dropped and the fur came from someone dressed as a sheep. Strange, but look at him now.

Tasha was trying her best to pay attention, but her pace had crawled to almost a stop, so Techno let her work in peace.

Instead, he took out the dress he had taken for Tasha and started hacking at the seams. He had learned a trick where you trace the different pieces of cloth, improve the design, and cut new ones. Techno was relieved to be getting rid of the old villager clothing, and the dress wasn’t that pretty to start with, so Techno got to have some fun.

Out came the ink and light blue cotton, Techno added a waistline and some frills to the bottom edge. A couple of times, Techno stabbed himself with the needle, but he made sure to not get any blood on the new dress.

He must have spent hours on it, because when he looked up, Tasha was done with a sleeve. There were a few stitches that looked a little wonky, but, “That looks really good!” Tasha startled and smiled back at Techno. Her smile was a little lackluster, her eyes drooping. “Come on, it’s bedtime for us.” Techno didn’t bother with staying up, his eyes were starting to itch and the strain the farming had put him through made him almost weep at the thought of staying up any longer.

When he woke, the day started just as the last had, Tasha tucked against his side.

Gathering up his gear, the flower resting on his journal wasn’t abandoned any longer, Techno couldn’t bear to let himself lose it. Into the ender chest it went, filling up the last slot.

“More?” Tasha asked upon seeing him put the dandelion away.

Techno sighed and smiled, “Sure.”

“Get. More. Today.” she decided, nodding to herself.

They did need more wool if Techno wanted to keep making clothes, so, “Whatever you say.” A walk would be a good way to spend outside time without doing labor.

He grabbed his armor after a second of thought. There was a good chance that it was unnecessary, but not a one hundred percent chance.

The food was handed out, Tasha getting the last potato in the chest. Her carrot- Techno paused: did she need gold? He wasn’t planning on taking it away from her, don’t get him wrong, but she was progressively getting more and more aggressive with her chomping as the days went on. Maybe it would be a good idea to get her something more permanent. Something she couldn’t eat.

The first option was a crown- Techno scratched that off immediately, he had earned it. Perhaps a trinket or jewelry of some kind?

As Techno helped Tasha into a clean coat over her new dress (which she liked very much) and got her down the porch steps, he kept thinking it over.

“Techno. Okay?” Tasha pulled on his cloak. She was having to rush to keep up with Techno’s pace. He slowed, allowing her to match his strides with less of hers.

He ruffled the fur on her head, “Yeah, just thinking,” at another tug: “What do you like?”

Tasha grabbed a bundle of his cloak but stopped her tugging. “Techno. Snow. Yellow… Flower?” He supplied her with dandelion and she nodded. Hmm, those were pretty generic things- the voices started screaming at him in rage, appalled at the mere suggestion. Okay! Not generic. If they made Tasha happy, that was all he needed.

Techno… wasn’t used to such simple needs. As different as Tasha was, she was still just a child.

He wasn’t exactly feeling snow or potato, which left yellow flower. Yellow: that was convenient. A little gold dandelion. It could be a pendant on a necklace or bracelet. Techno looked down at her, she was stumbling through the snow, scanning the horizon for a flower patch.

“Up you go,” he warned, scooping her into his arms. After a moment, he put her on his shoulders. Her hands tugged on his ears like they were reigns on a horse.

The needles on the spruce trees were already imposing on Techno’s personal space, so when Tasha was added to his height, she got a mouthful of pine. She sputtered and Techno chewed on his lip, he would try to avoid the overhanging branches. Mostly.

A sharp tug and Techno was about to scold her, even more so when she tugged again. “There!” Tasha squealed. Oh, she was treating him like a horse, steering him to the right. He grumbled but followed her directions.

Through the forest they went, Techno still not knowing how Tasha could see. Of course, she did have the height advantage, but she was only a block tall, if that. Even combined, they weren’t impressive.

Or, just possibly, Techno realized, it could be the fact that he broke his glasses in the process of destroying L’Manburg. Huh. That… could be it.

“Stop! No. Step. On. Dandelion.” Techno halted, seeing a patch of yellow spread out around him. Yup, it was time to fix his glasses.

Tasha shimmied down from his shoulder once Techno crouched down low enough. Nearby, a baah echoed through the forest. “Tasha, find yourself a good flower, I’m going to find the sheep. I’ll be back, I promise.” Tasha scrambled back to Techno from the flower patch. Techno smiled, “Pinky promise, no one can break those,” he held out his finger and waited for Tasha.

A piggy finger wrapped itself around his.

Tasha turned back to the flowers. Techno wandered off.

There were only three sheep when Techno found them. They were hiding around some bushy fur trees and grazing on the exposed grass protected from the wind and snow. Trying not to startle them, Techno placed his ender chest a ways away from the three and brought out his lapis lazuli and iron. A second later and he had dye and shears.

Techno didn’t want to leave Tasha for long, so he only waited around enough for the sheep's wool to grow and be sheared three times each. The blue was a little conspicuous, Techo gnawed at his lip. As long as Tasha didn’t see him killing them, he figured.

He brandished his axe, one mighty swing taking out the first. Then the second. Then-

“Techno!”

Techno abandoned the last sheep and sprinted through the forest, Tasha coming into sight around the branches and trunks. She was- not fine, but alive. “What’s wrong, Tash?” he grabbed her up. She struggled, trying to get out of his grip, “Tash!”

A hiss.

Techno twisted around, shielding Tasha with his body. He held her tight and the explosion blasted snow and pine needles onto his back. His ears rang. After a moment of piercing silence, Techno rolled to his side, still curled around Tasha.

“Came. Back,” Tasha whispered.

Techno scooped her up. It was home time, their walk was over. “The pinky promise never fails.” She stayed in his arms, Techno didn’t want to risk another creeper or an arrow from a skeleton hiding in the foliage.

She shouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Techno shouldn’t have left her, actually.

But, still, piglins were supposed to be neutral with hostile and other neutral mobs. Hoglins were an exception, but creepers? Tasha should- Tasha was different. With it being so soon after Techno had insisted it, he should have listened to his own advice. Even Tasha looked a little… skeptical when he made the claim, he supposed.

They hurried- or rather, Techno hurried- over the roots and fallen tree branches. The forest thinned and the clearing their cabin resided in stuck out over the horizon. Up the stairs, and they were safe.

Tasha’s dress had picked up a bit of snow, so Tasha batted it off before entering. Both of them wiped their hoofs off on the rug and set themselves up at the table. The flower, Techno thought she had dropped it, was set in the middle.

Techno brought down Tasha’s knitting and his notebook and ink. When he came back downstairs, Tasha greeted him with a rumbling stomach. Out came her food: two carrots, as the potatoes were still growing. Just as he had expected, she gorged herself on them.

Into his notebook, Techno went. The page titled with Tasha’s Needs was in need of some updating. Food was checked off, they had finished the farm, all they had to do was regular maintenance and weeding. Clothes for Tasha were not yet completed, but he did want to add a new idea: ,i>matching/blue for Techno. Yes, it would add extra work, but imagine the absolute adorableness… or style that would seep from their very beings. A quick gold dandelion pendant was scratched in at the bottom, almost forgotten. He ignored the rest of the list.

Across the table, Tasha was getting through the second sleeve of the sweater. Her face was screwed up, tongue sticking out and flickering around her tusks.

Techno put a hand to his own tusks, an extra set growing out of his upper jaw. They had always been a point of embarrassment for him, clearly belonging to a feral wild pig rather than the preferred barnyard pig. People always looked between him and the pigs they had in pens, comparing the two and trying to find similarities. The tusks had been a saving grace in those scenarios, functioning as a barrier from him being mocked.

The two tusks poking out of Tasha’s mouth had come from her ancestors, though piglins now used crossbows and swords instead of tusks and hoofs for fighting.

Techno shifted in his seat, running a hand over his list and the matching/blue for Techno. They weren’t that different, he supposed.

Tasha was an innocent version of Techno.

Techno would keep her that way.

#technodad au #c!techno #technoblade #timexistsnow #my writing #ao3 #dream smp #myct #my baby (oh my pup)

[consumedkings-archive]

John/Elliot + Fluff + 1

Asjhsdkfsd my lover my life my shawty my wife!!  (❁´◡`❁) It was such a nice change of pace from my Angst Express to let these two be cute!

John/Elliot + “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?” Just past 1k words!

Cavity-inducing fluff and gentle tyranny set in the Ancient Names universe under the cut. Taken from this prompt list; send me more while I’m bored at work!

“Is that my shirt?”

It was. He didn’t need to ask. But despite the innate knowledge that Elliot Honeysett, vitriol-extraordinaire, was sporting one of his button-ups, the words came out of him anyway.

Elliot glanced at him only briefly. She was tucked up on the twin bed they’d been sharing—a crime in and of itself, John thought, if ever there was one—and he recognized the dark blue article of clothing almost instantly. It was barely on her, all things considered. A few of the buttons haphazardly thrown together; one bare leg stretched out over the edge of the bed, brushing the floor; the elegant jut of her collarbone and shoulder exposed where the stiff collar of the shirt shied away from her skin and tried to slump over her shoulder. Late-afternoon light slanted through the curtains hanging on the windows, bathing the room in an amber glow.

Oh, yes, he thought absently, that is my shirt, and that’s my Elliot sitting in it. It was a terribly domestic thing, if he considered it very much—like they had been dating for a while, like the world wasn’t trying to fall apart around them, like she hadn’t two weeks ago promised to rip his eyes out. Treacherous, but only for a little bit.

The blonde glanced up from where she had been reading to regard him with a look of feigned innocence. 

“Your shirt?” she replied, chin lifted defiantly as he crossed the room. “You mean our shirt?”

“I don’t remember that being a communal shirt,” he said amusedly, tugging the towel wrapped around his hips absently as he walked across the room to lean down and planted one hand on either side of her.

Elliot tilted her face so that when he leaned down, their noses brushed. “Well,” she murmured, “clearly it is.”

“Can’t believe I’m gone for a twenty-minute shower and you missed me so much you put my shirt on.” He reached up and thumbed absently at the seam of the shirt where the first button was actually done-up. “It’s cute, hellcat.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she replied without any heat. “That’s not why I put it on. If you guess right, you can have it back.”

“Wanted to smell like me?” he offered. John brushed his nose along her collarbone; she did smell a little like him, like shampoo and a bit like his cologne, thanks to the shirt.

“Try again.”

“Desperate to get my attention,” John suggested, enjoying the way her pulse fluttered under his mouth. “It worked, if that’s what you were doing.”

“Still wrong.” She squirmed back a little bit so that she could look at him, her gaze sharp and playful, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Compelled to have me with you, always.”

A quick laugh swept out of her. “Wrong again. You’re really bad at this, aren’t you?”

He arched a brow loftily at her and said, “Tell me, then.”

Elliot pressed her lips together, almost like she didn’t want to tell him—and maybe she didn’t; she’d always liked these moments that she could lord something over him, really dangle it just out of his reach, and he didn’t think that he’d have complained about it too much anyway.

As she regarded him admiringly, she said, “So you can’t put it back on,” so lightly, so without intention, that if John had not been zeroed in on her, the flirtation would have gone straight over his head.

When it did finally stick, he grinned wickedly, and she looked so pleased with herself that he couldn’t have imagined the revelation coming about any differently.

“Sneaky,” John purred, leaning down and kissing her. “You don’t have to abscond with my clothes if you want to get a good look at me, you know. You only have to ask.”

“I like this better,” Elliot replied lightly as he pulled away. “I might consider letting you have it if you ask me nicely.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded sagely; as soon as John opened his mouth to cloy her with a dramatic rendition of a “please”, there came a hefty knock at the door. 

“John,” Jacob said through the door, his voice edging on something dangerous, “I hope you’re dead in there, and not just keeping us all waiting.”

John exhaled a sharp breath. He reached up to tug at the buttons of the shirt, but Elliot swatted his hands away.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. “Jacob’s going to come storming in here.”

“I said,” Elliot replied, “ask.”

“You—” He stopped, hearing Jacob’s impatient muttering on the other side of the door, and then turned his gaze back to her. “Please give me my shirt back.”

“Hm.” The blonde cocked her head. “No.”

Jacob banged on the door again.

“Fuck off,” John groaned, coming to a stand. “I’m coming, Jacob, just hold on one second—”

It took about fifteen seconds, not one, for John to frantically dress himself as much as he could, all while Elliot spent that fifteen seconds leisurely in his shirt. Was it less cute when she was being a little tyrant? He couldn’t decide.

John said, “You’re going to regret this little trick of yours,” as he yanked one of her sweatshirts over his head. It barely fit.

“I don’t think so,” Elliot replied amusedly, watching him squirm around in the sweatshirt that was probably a size or two too small for him. “It’s the trick that doesn’t stop giving.”

“Fuck. You,” John said, even if the sight of her curled up in his shirt made something possessive and warm bloom in his chest.

When he opened the door, Jacob was standing there, arms crossed over his chest. “Ah, well, the prodigal son finally—” The redhead's eyes first took in the too-small sweater, and then over John’s shoulder, Elliot: swallowed up in his shirt, and snuggled up half-way beneath the blanket of the bed with her book.

Jacob’s gaze returned to his. He barked out a short, sharp laugh. “What the fuck is this?”

“Well,” John began, prepared to fully detail the torture that he had just been subject to, “it’s really—”

“Stop.” Jacob lifted a hand. “I’m already tired of it. Just—whatever, just what the fuck ever, let’s go.” He gestured for John to go on ahead of him, glancing back into the bunkhouse and drawling, “Deputy.”

John heard her call, as the door closed, “Bye, boys,” and he thought maybe she was just a bit more treacherous than she let on after all.

#ch: elliot honeysett #my writing #ch: john seed #writing prompts #gosh this was so fun #ily chey!!!! my babes #in my head this after the next chapter but like prior to the end...... so like. things are ok #lol #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy

[shitpostsfromtheinvisiblelibrary]

Day five: Palace

Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, body dysmorphia, PTSD

Rating: T

Pairing: Kai x Irene

Irene slowly trailed a finger down the small scar on the back of her hand, before another, and another. They crossed over and blurred together until her skin was splotched peach and silver, broken up by the scars that she’d ‘earned’.

And it wasn't just the ones on her hands either. The gouge into her arm from Nemo’s island. She touched that one too, it was all rough and jagged at the edges from where that glass had cut her, and then from it being torn even further when Indigo has dropped them all into the shark tank.

There was bullet scar on her chest, the exit wound in her back.

A burn from Alberich’s Library.

The traceries of frostbite around fingernails that she was very lucky to not lose.

She hated them all.

They were awful to look at.

They were a constant reminder of her mistakes. Of all the things that she had done wrong. She had deserved each and everyone of those injuries, a punishment for her own stupidity and shortcomings.

She sometimes wished that she could just… rip her skin off. Be done with all of them. She wanted to forget. She didn't want to remember laying in the snow, thinking that she would die. She didn’t want memories of a bullet hitting her chest, or of peeling skin and flickering flames.

Her body was scarred through and through.

And she feared that her mind was too.

She wasn't sleeping well, she hadn't been for months.

It hadn't been too bad to start with, but since getting a new student, she had been unable to share a room with Kai, and the nightmares seemed to creep back in without him there to keep her safe. Or at least, make her feel safe.

She was aware that safety was very much an illusion, but it was an illusion that she wanted to believe in. And it wasn't like Kai wouldn't try to keep her safe, she knew that he’d try his hardest, just like he had always done. But they had powerful enemies, and he was only one dragon.

Irene reached out and touched the mirror, hoping that the cool glass would help soothe her somewhat, but it didn’t. So instead, she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, and shut her eyes, trying to take as deep of a breath as she could manage with lungs that suddenly ached, reminding her of inhaled smoke and the tang of her own blood.

She pressed her hand to her lips as she coughed, and kept coughing up she had to grab a hold of something to keep herself upright.

This had been a terrible idea.

They’d all decided that they would meet several of the signatories of the treaty, so that they could try and learn a little more about why each of them had signed, and what they wished to gain.

It was one of the last ones of these visits, and they were in one of the many homes of Ao Shun. A gorgeous palace somewhere in the middle of nowhere, France. In the same world that she had first met him in, in fact, the opposite of a pied-à-terre she guessed from the brief tour of the frankly massive place.

She had taken along a few of the more appropriate dresses that she’d collected, plain but beautiful ball gowns that she rarely had the chance to wear. And looking at them now, she wished that she’d bought something knew. Something that hid more.

Her hands could be hidden with gloves, and the bullet scar was rarely visible unless just in her underwear or less, but the burn was on her shoulder and the dresses all had thin straps suitable for the warm weather.

Kai was the only one who’d seen that one.

She lay her hand on her shoulder, the skin feeling wrong to the touch, and she very slowly and very carefully exhaled.

It wasn't like she had much other options, right now she only wore her dressing gown and whilst it was a very private dinner, less than a dozen in attendance, it was still just her dressing gown. She touched the skirt, before huffing and carrying it into the bathroom, hoping that the steam of her bath would draw out any creases left in the silk.

The bathtub was practically a swimming pool with three steps down into it. Irene was grateful for this, being on the tall side of things, she was rather tired of baths that did not allow her the opportunity to fully submerge in the water. She had her own bag of toiletries, but things had been left out on the side for her and upon seeing what they were, added a generous handful of Epsom salts to the water, hoping that the smell would soothe her nerves somewhat.

Kai laughed when he came into Irene’s bathroom to see her sat on the steps to the bath, kicking her feet in the water. He stopped when she looked up though. “What’s wrong?” He dropped to his knees, ignoring the cracking pain of them hitting marble (black and seamed with silver,) and grasped her shoulder. “Irene, what’s happened?”

She waved her hand toward her dress, and hiccuped. “I can’t do it.” She whispered. “There’s just so many of them.”

“So many what?” Kai asked, frowning.

“Scars.” She said, staring at her hand. “I… it’s so bad.”

“They are just little scars, Irene.” Kai said, trying to insist that they were fine. Irene just shook her head and swallowed down a sob. “What is it? Tell me.���

“How…” Her lower lip wobbled. “Can you look at me and not see it?” Kai exhaled and cupped her face, feeling sticky tears on her cheeks. “I can’t not see it.”

“See what? Irene, I don’t understand, what am I meant to be seeing?” Kai said. He was getting more frantic, searching for something that was wrong, there weren't new injuries, he’d have heard an attack anyway. As far as he could see, there was nothing physically wrong with her. “The scars?” He said slowly. “That’s what’s wrong?”

“I am… in bits.” She said. “I don’t know how you can look at me and not hate me.” His fingers pressed into her cheeks and he leant forward and kissed her forehead.

“Irene. You are always going to be beautiful to me, scars or no scars. I do not care about them, and I can promise you that anyone who is worth it, won’t care either.” He leant his forehead against hers. “I would never hate you. Why would you think that?”

“I am in bits.” She repeated. “I deserved all of them. I was stupid, and I got hurt and I deserved all of it.” Kai nearly scoffed.

“You are being stupid right now.” He said before thinking that was probably not the correct thing to say. “Irene, yes you make mistakes. We all do. It happens. But that doesn’t mean that you deserved to be hurt the way that you have been.” He ignored the fact that he was dressed, he planned on getting changed anyway, and sat side by side with her, lukewarm bathwater seeping into his clothes. “How long have you been sat here? The water’s cold.”

“I don’t know.” She mumbled.

“Let’s get you dry and warm, and then we are going to have a talk about all of this then.” He said firmly, getting up again and hauling her to her feet, not gving her the chance to argue no. He wrapped a towel around her, and then another one for good measure and pushed her back to the bedroom.

Irene crawled underneath the covers before he could stop her. “I suppose that works.” He muttered.

He’d been creeping down the corridor to sleep with her most nights that they had been away and he had done that the night before, when they had arrived at his uncles palace. He sat cross legged on his side of the bed. “Now,” He began. “I am going to talk, and you can lay there and listen.”

“In the past eighteen months or so, you have repeatedly put your life on the line for others, for me, and for the Library and even more than that.” He found her hand underneath the duvet and squeezed it. Her fingers were cold. “And in doing so, you have been hurt. You have been repeatedly injured, and this has left you with a lot of physical scars that we took the time to treat and heal.”

He slowly exhaled. “I wish that I could fix the scars that it has left on your mind. You did not deserve to be hurt, no matter your mistakes. You did not deserve any of it. Your scars are a part of you. And I know that you hate them and wish that you didn’t have to see them every day, but that isn't something that can be easily done and the sad reality is that you are going to have them forever.”

“They are hideous.”

“That is just the way that you see them.” Kai replied. “You see them as your punishment. I wish you could see them the way that I do. You are beautiful Irene, even with the scars, you are.” He carefully pulled the covers back and slid underneath them to curl up against her side, still tightly holding her hands. “There is no easy fix for the way that you feel, but I want you to know that you will always be able to talk to me about them if you want to. If you feel like this again.”

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” Her voice was hoarse. “I’m tired.”

“I know you are.” He said, slowly moving to embrace her. “I know, it’s so tiring feeling like this, you need a break. You need that time to heal. Talk to Coppelia, I am sure we can manage without you. And if you need me to make excuses for my uncle, you don’t have to come down to dinner. I’ll make sure that everything is smoothed over.”

“Thank you.” She croaked. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

Kai returned to her room late after the dinner had ended, he’d told his uncle that Irene was simply exhausted and in no fit state to be joining them, it wasn't too far from the truth, she’d been exhausted when they had arrived and it wasn't hard to believe that she simply needed rest. She was only human after all.

She’d moved from her bed to sit on the stone window ledge, draped in blankets and staring out onto moon-soaked fields. She still looked tired and rough, but somewhat more relaxed. He did note that she’d turned the mirror to face the wall.

“I’ll talk to Coppelia in the morning.” She said when he locked the door. “About some time away from work. I need to rest.”

“Thank you. Maybe when you are a bit more yourself again, you’ll see what I do. But I think time and rest are exactly what you need right now.” He touched her shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend to be perfect all the time.”

“I am ninety percent flaws.”

“Yes, but they may you, you, which, I suppose, is perfection in it’s own right.”

#ilshipweek #The invisible library #fanfiction

[artemuerto]

Selfish— or Part 2 of another Mob Boss with another moodboard.

original moodboard here

Part 1: On a Whimp—

Read on AO3

Selfish—

He rose up still drunk on sleep. Peter wasn’t used to yet but enjoyed it anyway. Whether was dark and warm past midnight or the early cold mornings, he found peace in it.

Shoeless feet brushed gingerly on the soft rug while the small click of oxfords were heard in the room. The door opened to the spacey bathroom and Peter was soon surrounded by floral essences of Lavender and Lillies.

A smooth and caring touch was left in his hair and Peter couldn’t help but sigh lovingly, not in all his short time living this live he could get used to the alluring promises of forever.

Mister Stark was still on his working clothes. The only clear difference of his appearance was the lack of a tie and the golden twins at his sleeves, in fact, the white of his sleeves were now slightly pink and splashed over, rolled up so Peter had a view of his bare forearms and the pulsing veins flooding with rage.

He wanted to comfort while the other man had other plans. Striping Peter from his nightgown in sweet touches. First the silky pristine top, the spaghetti stripes rolled down his shoulders bringing tickles and making the boy chuckle loud enough to be heard in the room. Stark leaned over to smell the scent of apples from Peter’s hair and a tint of his own shampoo; Peter started to crave his smell the nights Tony spend too long out from the state.

“Mister Stark—“ Peter tried again to gain his attention but the man shushed him sweety with a kiss on his forehead, a silent order to let him be. Both would find peace afterward. Peter nodded wordlessly and took a step forward. Stepping on Stark’s shoes, Peter went up to his fingertips by the time Stark sank his fingers on the hem of his frilly shorts and pushed them down.

Peter hid his face in the man’s neck feeling shy.

“You’re Perfecto, Bambino.” Stark praised him and reassured him. To him Peter was an angel.

His underwear for the night were simple white panties that hugged his cheeks to roundness and was soft to his fingertips, he almost felt disappointed at the lack of sweet patterns, feeling accustomed to the tiny details the made the clothing purely Peter.

“Grazie.” Stark felt his heart soared in a sense of pride as Peter talked, the boy had taken a liking for learning Italian so he could understand Tony at random times when the words would escape him.

The undergarments went down and promptly Peter was moved to the bathtub.

The water was warm but he still felt the change in his skin giving him goosebumps, Tony had him siting at his chest so Peter couldn’t see his face. Mr. Stark’s hands went to his hair, getting it wet and ready enough for shampoo. Peter melted under his touch trusting him with his soul, the man would never hurt him.

He lashes became sparkly with water as Stark cleaned him and only then Peter notice the different coloring he was sitting on. Long lost was the clear and bubbly seam of water, left only a not so strange but still not familiar pink hue. Mister Stark had his hands dirty.

The man was kneeled in front of Peter, his gaze was still dark and controlling and now the Peter knew what to look for, he could see the lonely drops of blood under his nails.

Peter turned to face him and taking his rough hand in his, the boy cleaned Stark earnestly and was rewarded with a slow smile.

No. Peter wasn’t used to be awaken at odd hours, hours where mr. Stark would have been working. And that meant, screaming, threatening, hurting and punishing other people, people who deserved it.

The hours where the man was drained to exhaustion and one of his ways to coping with the murder thoughts was to touch him, to bath him and clean him as if that way the man stripped down his own sins.

And Peter would gladly drink them all only to see the man smile again.

Tony wrapped him in a fluffy towel and carried him to his room. Out were expose three different pajamas Peter could choose from before going back to sleep. Tony was going to dressed him careful and thoughtfully, spread him in his sheets and let him take as much space as the boy wanted, which usually meant staying nested near his body even when the bed was big enough to fit four to five people.

Peter let the Mafia Lord rest between his legs and hugged him to his chest, he would never say it aloud but he worried for the older man. An older man carrying the weight of the world in his shoulders ready to do the impossible for his family and the people he cared about. Peter was lucky to be one of those now.

Tony could drown in his need for revenge, pride and lust for blood anytime, but one look at Peter and everything else would ease into background. Tony wanted only to see Peter.

Tony wanted to give him the world.

And of that meant tearing the world down. So be it.

—

‘Jasmine’ was still the same but also different. Soon the place had become a safe space now that they knew they could trust each other.

Stephen was always glad to see Peter once again even by the hand of Stark, but soon any dark thoughts were forgotten with one of Peter’s smiles.

Bucky saved him a place next to the bar, Peter no longer was a simple ornament, a pretty bird to fawn over. Now, he mixed and served next to mr. Barnes with the only unusual outcome of having pats on his head by the people who knew him.

Natasha was delighted to see him again. Gushing how much ‘Jasmine’ wasn’t the same without his lithe flower. The woman was there for business, someone had required her services and she had to touch point. Get to know her client even before considering the offer.

It was a really good fucking offer.

Peter giggled attracting some attention. Some expected, some unwanted; he had grown up accustomed to the demeaning stare and bland comments about his mere existence. How much he was nothing but dirt underneath their shoes not even worth cleaning.

He never really paid attention. Peter knew he was in safe hands, Dr. Strange —as he liked to refer himself— never left him out of his sight, Bucky was near him all times and misses Romanov tucked him under her wing before he was even conscious.

He was in safe hands.

Now, to those hands, he could add some more. A pair of hands that he could love, caress and admire.

Tony’s hands were made of iron. With a clenching fist and a deadly grasp, everybody feared for his life pending within those hands. Anyone but Peter.

Bucky let him know it was time for him to serve drinks at the upper state. The hidden floor used only in special occasion.

His shiny shoes squeaked against the floor forgotten to the soft lullaby of music, a tray rested on his hand, careful walk and timid steps leaded him behind a heavy curtain and wood double doors.

Knocking smoothly he waited for instructions.

Mr. Rogers opened the door for him, nodding in silence Peter greeted the man and gazed over the room to know their occupants. Dr. Strange was sitting far from the window, legs crossed in a comfortable sofa, mr. Rogers kept his place close to the door. There was a man sitting on the other sofa next to Strange, a man he didn’t know.

The unknown face was serious. Short and well-kept hair, the beard wasn’t long but thick, Peter question if it would feel as smooth as Mr. Stark thrim one underneath his hands however any second thought was soon forgotten as Mr. Stark himself caught his attention.

“Please, come in.” Peter held his need to smile feeling pleased and after a second or so, left the tray in the table by the man.

“I gotta say, this was not what i expected.” Said the man as Peter served four cups of tea in pearl white cups decorated with hand painted drawing of living flowers. Peter kneeled fully in the soft rug and for moments his movement was in doubt, had he understood wrongly? Those were not his orders?

Strange came forward and patted his head to ease his worries.

“I know it’s unconventional although I personally taught Peter the art of Japanese tea parties and is as important as the discussion we’re having.” Peter nodded along the doctor’s words and continued to serve each cup with care and love.

Peter felt the weight of a stare, so curious as always, he looked up thinking he was going to find Mr. Stark eyes but instead he took in a pair of interested piercing blue eyes.

“How silly of me—“ Mr. Stark roamed shortly as Peter walked to give Steve his cup. The smiled grateful, they had been drinking most part of the evening and his stomach was glad of a changed. “Please, let me introduce the new member of the Stark Industries.” Tony circles his desk and stayed on top of it with a loose grin between his lips. “Quentin, meet Peter.” The boy stopped his actions to stand and come closer to the man whose eyes sparkled with an upsetting glamour.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Quentin smiled with a short nod and repressed a twitching eyebrow from going up in interest. So this was the mysterious boy he had heard before.

A well-hidden boy who had stolen Stark’s heart. Some say the man let the boy rule on top of his shoulders.

Well, at least the boy was easy on the eye so he could sympathize with the older one.

“Peter, this is mister Quentin Beck.” Peter grinned looking pleased like a cat who almost got the cream and went back to attending the men around him. Now going step by step on what he was doing and why. Strange looked proud.

“Usually the head of the family would be the last person to be serve.” Stealing a amuse smirk to Mr. Stark, Peter went up to the man and left his cup untouched on the desk. “But today we are here to celebrate you Mr. Beck.” Quentin wasn’t going to lie, he felt a tingle of arousing glee at being addressed in such ways by the little beauty.

The sound of pouring tea was heard with such clarity that Quentin should have been more worried about it rather than staring at Peter as the boy opened the kettle’s lid to extract fresh petals of flowers and served them gingerly.

Steve look at his empty cup, did he just—?

“Tonight we honor you with a special infusion to make you feel comfortable.” Peter placed the cup in the man’s hands and waited for him to drink bits. The soft and sweet floral scent had a taste of honey. “We have to treat you like you are...” Quentin finished his drink in short soundless sips. “The man who’s trying to steal from the Stark Family.”

Beck’s eyes went wide and his hands trembled slightly, short after his heart started beating fast and his breath was unable to even out. One of his bands rose to his neck useless. The cup rolled down the carpet.

Peter caught Tony’s eyes almost guilty.

“I’m sorry.” Cleaning the rug was going to be a pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Steve will take care of it.” Speaking of Steve—

The poor man was petrified in his place, his eyes never leaving the lifeless corpse of Beck laying in the sofa, from outside nobody would have thought the man was dead, only comfortably sleeping if you didn’t notice the lack of movement in his chest. Steve has also finished his drink and sure was waiting his turn.

Peter moved closer to Steve and took both of his hands into his own.

“You’re okey, Cap. Nothing is going to happened to you.” The man released a heavy breath he didn’t know was keeping in and his legs failed him for seconds, leaving him kneeling in front of the boy with his forehead against the soft clothed tummy. “I would never hurt you, Cap.” Steve laughed in guffaw and finally relaxed his shoulders.

“Please, don’t ever do that again, Boss.” He was talking to Tony but gazed up to find Peter. “It’s not good for my health.” Peter giggled in content and caressed the man’s hair as an apology.

Mr. Stark moved from his seat and thought what to do now.

They had work ahead.

By the time Jasmine was close and the body was being moved Peter came close asking for time to see the man better and touched his beard. With a displeased disappointment he realized it was not even close to the feeling he had when closer to Mr. Stark.

Tony lifted a brow questioning and Peter shrugged.

“It doesn’t feel the same.”

“To what?” Peter hugged himself to Tony’s waist and hide a shy smile.

“To you.”

Peter watched as the body disappeared in Bucky’s hands.

“They should know better than to touch what’s mine.” He breathed easily as all trail of Quentin Beck began to erase there in the middle of nowhere, hidden in open landscapes.

Back at the manor Peter stood half naked, only a robe covering his body as Tony applied lotion to his legs.

“And tell me master Peter. What’s yours?” The tint of amused sarcasm was not invisible to Peter and for moments he had the decency to look embarrassed, his cheeks lighting up in color. “The money? Or is it the gun? Are they yours baby?” Tony left the robe on the floor and started to slowly dress the boy in delicate silk shorts.

Peter rose up to his tippy toes and hugged Tony by his shoulders.

“The money is yours. You made it. You earned it. You bled it out.” Peter wanted nothing more than kiss the man in his arms. “Your guns are yours, your designes, your ideas.” Tony held the boy closer and kissed his neck. Peter standing on the bed while he stayed with his feet on the ground, the boy seem taller. “You wanted to know what’s mine...”

Peter could have said so many different things. Jasmine, the club. The house Strange had given him, the car Natasha gifted him for his birthday, so many other material things he had over the years. Yes, Peter had other things but worth killing for was only one.

“You. You are mine. And I won’t let anyone take you from my side.” Good answer.

If Peter was selfish for wanting to hurt anything or anyone who could take Tony away.

He was a madman willing to destroy the world only to see him happy.

“Don’t touch what’s mine.” Said the clever boy once pointing a pristine gun to a man’s forehead once and pulled the trigger the second Tony was to his side.

#starker #pro starker #starker moodboard #another mob boss au #Mob Boss Tony #Well-kept boy Peter #mis escritos #in english #arte muerto

[writemarvelousthings]

Home Comforts

Name of Piece: Home Comforts Square Filled: Comfort Clothes Rating (General / Teen ) Warnings: Insecure Bucky, lots and lots of fluff! Summary: You’re a witty, charming and brilliant writer at the peak of your career. He’s a slightly overweight kindergarten teacher who has to pinch himself daily that a guy like him landed a girl like you. Especially when you insist on wearing his oversize sweatshirt. Created for @buckybarnesbingo A/N: I have a secret confession in that I love love LOVE Chubby!Bucky and the idea of him as a kindergarten teacher has me swooning! So I thought this square would be perfect for me to indulge myself, I hope you all enjoy! Tagging those who might like this! @bucky-plums-barnes @cametobuyplums @propertyofpoeandbucky @abovethesmokestacks

Gif not mine!

Bucky didn’t think he would be as lucky a second time around, after the fiasco with Dot. Bucky had resigned himself that he would live the rest of his life out in solitude, convincing himself he had some of the greatest friends a guy could ask for. That he loved his job, like. Seriously loved it, each day Bucky looked forward to the eager faces of his class. The amusing questions he would later tell Steve and Natasha over a beer on Nat’s balcony. That those kids didn’t care that he had a little extra around the middle, not when he brought in a large box of doughnuts on the last Friday of every month. No, Bucky had convinced himself that he was happy with his life. Then he met you.

Younger, talented, with a carefree breeze and a dazzling smile that left Bucky breathless and slightly weak at the knees as you grasped his hand in yours shaking it firmly. It took everything he had not to crumble into a stuttering mess in front of you and Principal Hill. You were there to write a piece on the school and its achievements and contribution to the community but all Bucky could think of was you in that damn sky blue dress. He tried to focus on his day, trying to convince his class that subtraction wasn’t that difficult than addition, then you wandered into his classroom with a warm kind smile that ignited a fire in his belly and the rest was history.

A first date that had him sweating in anticipation, the cold tendrils of self doubt curling around his mind like thick molasses. Waiting outside your apartment door clutching the bouquet of sunflowers, second-guessing the brightness of the petals wondering if roses would have been more appropriate. But the pure joy that bloomed across your face when you saw him snuffed out any negative thoughts Bucky had. One date turned into two, then three. Soon Bucky found himself waking up with you beside him more often than not, pet names like sweetheart and babydoll poured from his lips freely and unabashedly.

“You’re smitten with her” Nat commented one night, he had brought you over to meet his two closest friends and to get their support and, admittedly. To show you off, you had bonded with Steve over an artist Bucky had no idea about but it caused Steve to light up like a Christmas tree causing Natasha to grin fondly at her fiance. You insisted to help Natasha in the kitchen, questions of how the other woman had started up her own self-defence gym and that you’d love to write a piece about it and the importance it was that woman knew about the small little gym in queens cause Natasha to gape at you. It was a rare treat to see the red-headed Russian lost for words. One that Bucky watched with amusement from the kitchen bench.

“I’m not smitten” A perfectly plucked red brow arched back at him, the two of them stood side by side in the kitchen clearing the last of the dishes away as you and Steve stood out on the balcony red wine swirling in crystal glass as the sunset bathed you in an ethereal glow. Clearing his throat he looked back at Natasha who pursed her lips in amusement.

“Right, you just give her long wistful looks. Smile when she laughs and constantly look in her direction when you think no one notices. But sure, not smitten at all”

“Fuck off” he gruffed, throwing a tea towel at one-half of his best friends to distract her from the growing hot redness spreading across his cheeks.

“Nice, you teach those rugrats that kinda thing. But seriously James, I’m happy for you” Bucky arched his own brow back at Natasha.

“You haven’t been this happy since you got that teaching job and I can tell she brings out a confidence in you that we all thought was long gone. She’s a great girl, don’t let your insecurities get in the way”

Don’t let his insecurities get in the way, easier said than done. He was thirty-six, unmarried slightly overweight kindergarten teacher and you. You were like sunshine, blazing bright and free, unencumbered with any thoughts of doubt or self-consciousness that he experienced. Bucky often looked in the mirror and wondered what you saw in him, why you chose him. But he tried to do as Nat told him, he adored you and he was sure you felt the same way. Why else would you elect to stay at his apartment while he was at work?

The day had been long, filled with moments of laughter at the sight of Peter and Ned trying to build a spaceship out of small building blocks. And fondness as he graciously accepted a drawing from Michelle who had depicted him on top of a mountain with the words “Gratest techer in the wowld” The spelling needing some improvement but the sentiment made Bucky’s heart sing. He was eager to share the drawing with you and place it with others littering his study walls from students from of the past. Wanting to tell you how small little Shuri was one, if not the smartest little girl he had ever met. Slipping his key into the lock he was about to announce his arrival but the sight of you made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

You were sat on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you absentmindedly chewed on the end of your pen. The mundane innocent position shouldn’t have made Bucky's head spin, but everything about you made Bucky weak.

“Hey there Mr Barnes” the smirks on your lips and the light suggestive tone almost made Bucky’s heart give out, but there was one detail on your body that he couldn’t get past.

“Is that my sweater?” he all but yelled at you, taken aback you looked down at the navy sweater. The sleeves were pushed up to your elbows, there was a hole in the seam of the collar exposing the patch of your skin beneath it. Bucky winced at just how old that sweater was and the multitude of stains down the front of it. A flash of hot embarrassment coursed down Bucky spine as he realised that it hadn't been washed in an embarrassingly amount of time that he would never admit too. Bucky was suddenly torn simultaneously wanting to burn that god damn sweater and see you wear nothing else ever again.

“Oh yeah, it was on the back of your desk chair and I got cold. You don’t mind do you?” Did he mind? It took all of his self-control not to drag you back to the bedroom to pick up where he’d left off this morning before you had reminded him he had twenty little people he was responsible for today.

“Nnn..no it’s just... I would have washed it if I’d had know..” rubbing the back of his neck trying to push down the hot flashes of embarrassment.

“I don’t mind, it smells like you” a simple statement, an innocent declaration that caused you to push up from the couch and into Bucky’s arms. You hands pressed gently against Bucky’s soft middle, an action that would have made Bucky squirm and shy away. In the fading days of his and Dot’s relationship, she would never have so readily sought out affection. Bucky always found himself chasing the redhead like a lost puppy, one of the many reasons she called it off between them. Along with his physique and lack of self-confidence the catalyst for their broken relationship. But here you were, in his arms. In his sweatshirt, in his apartment.

“How’d I get so damn lucky?” Bucky breathed, nudging his nose against yours gently earning a soft giggle as you press yourself into him more.

“You’re lucky you have such comfortable clothes Mr Barnes” a flash of remembering Bucky thrust the piece of paper into your hands. Biting his lip as that bright joyous smile spread across your face.

“I take it back, those kids are the lucky ones. They do have the greatest teacher in the world”

“Only cause I have the greatest girlfriend to come home to” a sharp snort of laughter through your nose followed by the words suspiciously sounding like ‘smart ass’ causes Bucky to grin. Dipping down he presses a firm kiss to your lips, then two more for good measure. The burst of affections makes you giggle, squirming in his hold slightly. Causing one of the sleeves of his sweater to fall down over your hand as you push against his chest.

“Alright Romeo, why don’t you hang this up with the others and I’ll get dinner started”

“You really are the woman of my dreams” A swift shove to his chest has him chuckling as you retreat to the kitchen throwing a smirk at him, the sweater slightly falling over your shoulder adding another reason Bucky wanted to chase after you. But he didn’t, there would be plenty of time for that later. Smoothing out the piece of paper Bucky makes sure it can be seen in the ever-growing wall of pictures and letters he had accumulated over the years. Each one reminding him that he was worth the happiness he felt, the biggest remind currently humming a nameless tune in his kitchen and for the first time. In a very long time, Bucky felt loved.

#buckybarnesbingo2019 #bbb19 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #chubby!bucky #teacher!bucky x reader #chubby!bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #winter solder x reader #my writing