#I wait for you as well that song has me ripping my heart out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mulansaucey · 3 months

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Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts.

Azriel x Reader

Prompt: Rita has a new supply of Moonshine and gives a jar to the IC. This creates a blacked out drunk Azriel.

Warnings: alcohol use, flirting, suggestive, mentions of sex, drunken behavior. Let me know if I left anything out.

Note: Literally sitting in bed when I had this idea. This is just for fun and I hope you enjoy!

Music playing in the halls of Rita’s surrounds the Inner Circle as well as laughter. Shot glasses banging against their table, squeals of joy from seeing the glasses of those pretty cocktails that Feyre and Mor like so much, and the beautiful smile that graces my mates face. Tonight is for fun and bonding.

Azriel has been on a month long mission just returning to me a few days ago where we cooped up in our cozy home, enjoying the song of our mating bond before returning to society. When he’s gone, there’s a hole in my chest. Color, music, art becomes void. Life is not as exciting without him by my side. Even after decades of being married and mated the bond is still alive and thriving as if it was still the night he took a bite out of that meal I made him to accept him as my mate.

I’m an accomplished fae. I’ve strategized wars, wrote countless books on the plant life of Prythian that has helped healers cultivate new medicines, and have helped the Inner Circle for almost two centuries now. When he’s away, I keep myself occupied and have my job to thank for that but that aching feeling doesn’t go away.

That’s the strength of a mating bond, it brings males to their knees. It brought Azriel to his. Our souls submitting to one another and refusing to settle for anything less than each other.

“What’s so interesting, love?” Azriel teases as I can’t my eyes off him. Those hazel eyes trail over me, even in the haze of faelights it feels like he can see every inch of me. He bites his lip as if he’s recalling just a few hours ago when he was biting the meat of my thighs. I know I am. Heat rises in my cheeks as he laughs and leans down to the leg of my chair and pulls me closer to him. The bond between thrums with satisfaction that our beings are even closer now. His hand finds the back of my neck and he caresses.

“You, my heart. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you.” I tease him back.

The shots making my mind looser and my flirty tendencies arise. I’m a horny drunk when it comes to this male. Who wouldn’t?

Azriel raises his brows and smirks. He leans down to press a sweet kiss then pulls back.

“You are lovely in this dress. I can’t wait to rip it off you tonight.” He says as he presses sweet kisses along my cheek and jaw.

“Azriel you better not! It’s embarrassing having to keep going to the tailor because you have no self control.”

“Self control? We’ll see how much self control I have later, you’ll begging for me I promise you that.” He laughs.

Suddenly a heavy presence can be felt behind us. I don’t even have to turn to know it’s Cassian.

He slaps the back of Azriel’s chair and loudly yells, “Stop the heavy petting and come to the bar, Rita just got a new drink called ‘Moonshine’ it’s apparently a lot stronger than any wine or whiskey.”

Cassian doesn’t wait for an answer and picks me up while yelling over his shoulder, “If you want her, Az you gotta come get her!” We leave a trail of giggles as my grumpy mate follows.

Azriel trusts his brother and knows Cassian just missed him and wants to have fun. It’s why he doesn’t cut off his hands for touching my body.

Cassian drops me on a bar stool and leans over to drop a sloppy kiss to Nesta’s cheek as she bats him. From the corner of my eye though I can see her pulling him back to her to give him a proper kiss. I’m happy for my friends as they had a very tumultuous start to their mate ship. As I’m trying not to be nosy in my friends business Azriel comes to stand behind me, strategically blocking me from any other males or females view. Azriel is selfish when it comes to me. I can’t blame him, he’s waited centuries for me. And I him.

Rita walks up to us with a jar of clear liquid. It looks innocent, like water, but knowing her that liquid will make you regret ever being born. But that’s the appeal to Rita. She knows how to have fun and has quality supply.

“Alright ladies and gentlebats this is Moonshine. It’s technically whiskey but its process makes the alcohol stronger and you drunker quicker. I will give you a shot, on the house, if you like it I’ll sell a jar to you. This stuff is no joke and illegal in some courts. More recently our High Lord and Lady gave me the okay to produce it.” Rita winks to Feyre and Rhys.

We all look over them and Rhys shrugs, “Feyre wanted to try it, I couldn’t say no.”

We all laugh at the lack of ability our friend has to say no to his wife. I see Feyre eye the glass with excitement.

“Feyre you do the honors of first shot!” I yell out as she takes the glass and downs it in one gulp.

She freezes and we wait on bated breath. Her eye twitches and she gives a full body shiver. We break in laughter at her funny reaction as she immediately takes her fruity cocktail from Rhys, who was mid sip, and takes a few gulps.

Feyre’s face twist in disgust as she tells us, “That’ll definitely get you fucked up, I feel like I’ve grown chest hair.”

Laughter fills our area again. Rhys presses a kiss against Feyre’s head as he reaches for his own shot glass. Each of us besides Amren and Varian, who are currently in Summer, reach for our own. I clank my shot glass against Azriel’s and down my shot. I immediately regret this decision as pure alcohol burns my throat. It’s worse than the tonics Madja gives us. At least we get some what rewarded for that. I put my glass down and look over at my mate. His free hand softly rubbing my upper back, he downs the shot and smack his lips.

“It’s definitely strong but I don’t mind it.” Azriel says to the group.

I pout at him and say, “Of course it doesn’t bother you, Shadowsinger.” He rolls his eyes and moves his hand from the back of my neck to the front. Slowly moving my head back so far I have no choice but to look at him and only him.

“It’s Shadowsinger now is it?” He smirks down at me. Before I can reply peanuts that Rita supplies generously across her bar are being pelted at us. Azriel loosens his hold on me as we both turn to our family.

“You two are like bunnies, I feel like I need to spray you two with a bottle of water.” Nesta says.

I gasp and laugh out, “Like you have any room to talk! The House of Wind is contaminated with you and Cassian’s fluids.” All I get is more peanuts being thrown at me. The two of us dissolve into giggles as I throw them back at her. Cassian and Azriel having to take it away.

Cassian then turns his attention to Rita watching us in amusement.

“We’ll take a jar please, you always know how to make me feel good.” He winks at her. Rita rolls her eyes and passes him the jar.

“I’m charging you extra for that little stunt.” She says back to him.

“Oh c’mon that was a compliment! You’ve got the best stuff in the city.” He argues as Nesta shushes him. Nesta opted out of drinking, instead preferring to smoke mirthroot.

We all go back to our designated booth empty shit glasses in tow. We decide to play truth or drink. Azriel being the secretive person he is rather take the shot then tell the truth. I have a feeling he just wants to indulge the rare drink. I don’t blame him, he works hard for his court and he’s allowed to drop his inhibitions. Ever since we’ve gotten together I’ve taught him about self care and allowing one self to enjoy the moment. The centuries of training and spy work are still instilled in him, something even I can’t take away. But with the love of his mate and family he’s allowed himself to be happy.

I didn’t like the moonshine so I stuck to my cocktails then water, as I had a feeling someone needed to be more sober than the others. Azriel takes his eighth shot when he freezes. I still, looking around to see if anything was amiss. When I look back at him I see him smiling.

“You are a rare jewel.” He says so casually. Looking at me like I’m the only person in the world. He reaches over to brush my hair out of my eyes when instead he pokes me. This clumsy move tells me, he’s drunk. He giggles as I jump back slightly from a literal finger poking my eye.

“I’m so sorry love. Wow your skin is so soft.” Azriel starts touching my face in fascination. He then pulls me into his strong embrace. The awkward is angle but he just sighs constantly. Happy to be holding me. He starts petting my hair as if I’m a cute kitten.

The confused yet amused looks across the table have me pulling back from my mates embrace when he loudly says, “Noooooo, don’t leave me. I was so comfortable.”

I can hear and see Rhys and Cass laughing and clutching each other. Azriel RARELY gets drunk. I feel bad, maybe I should’ve limited how much he could drink since it’s not his usual stuff. Azriel has a fairly high tolerance for his usual whiskey or beer. Eight shots of his regular choice of drink would be nothing but him drinking moonshine has him reacting differently. I feel a little guilty but Azriel has carried me home and taken care of me plenty of times. Tonight I promise myself to return the favor.

“I know my heart, but I need a glass of water and so do you. I’ll be right back, I promise.” I caress his face and he looks at me with so much love I almost don’t want to go even if it’s a few minutes.

“Okay, hurry back. Take a shadow.” He says with a pout. A shadow always sticks with me regardless of his command or not. I shove my love down our bond for his thoughtfulness. Azriel gives me a goofy grin and pushes his love down to me.

“I need a drink, c’mon. Lover boy will be just fine.” Feyre says as she drags me away from my mate.

His eyes trailing after me until Cass and Rhys grab his shoulders to get his attention. Knowing my mate is in safe hands has me turning to Feyre. We talk a little about her art studio and Nyx. She confesses to having a bit of Mom guilt when she goes out. The alcohol making her a bit weepy from missing her son. I distract her by dragging her to the dance floor, after checking to make sure Azriel was still with the boys and has a glass of water.

After a few songs Mor and Nesta join us. I still keep an eye on my mate, making sure he’s okay and having fun. The next time I turn my eyes to him he’s gone. Panic fills my chest as I look around the bar for him. When I look up to the second floor I see him and his brother attempting to climb the rail. At that moment I decide it’s time to go home. I grab the girls and haul their asses the second floor before any of our mates cracks their skull open. The boys had way more moonshine than we did.

We successfully get them away from the railing, I grab Azriel’s face and he gently shoves me off of him. I frown at him, water lining my eyes at his rejection towards me. I go to ask him what’s wrong but before I do he tells me, “I am a mated male! You can not touch me.”

He sways a little grabbing onto Rhys for support. Rhys is already getting yelled at by his High Lady but she stops to turn to Azriel in amusement.

“What did he just say?” Feyre says to me. I stay silent for a moment realizing the situation. I slightly smile at my mates loyalty even though it is me who is touching him. I tell Feyre to grab Rhys and I can handle Azriel.

“Azriel, my heart. It’s me, I’m your mate.” I tell him gently helping him find his balance.

“I don’t want to go home with you. I want my mate. She will take care of me. I don’t need you.” As he’s still struggling to walk. I ignore him and help him down the stairs all the while he’s protesting insisting he has a wife and mate waiting for him at home. I roll my eyes fondly. Knowing it’s going to a rough walk home. He insists that I only touch his arm.

“I am a gentleman and my wife would be mad I let you walk home alone but I am not sharing a bed with you. She is only one I share my bed with. I love her.” He says to me, total seriousness.

I take a look at him noting his shirt is wrinkled from Cassian constantly grabbing onto him, his hair is wild, and his walk is staggered. I make a mental note to never let him drink Moonshine again. He trips slightly making me grab onto his back and front. He looks at me weirdly and takes my hands off his body.

“I don’t know youuuu. My body is reserved for my wife, I am fine with walking on my own.” His words are sloppy and he trips again. Laughing at him I ignore his protests and guide him to our shared home. The walk is a struggle as he keeps tripping yet insisting I keep my hands off him. I shove my love down the bond hoping he’ll recognize me that way. I feel more assured that even if I wasn’t with him and he was drunk he’d always come home to me. I hear him sigh with content and he lazily slaps his chest.

“This here, in my heart, she’s calling to me. I need to go home to her. I can feel her. I want to go home.” He pouts.

“Okay big guy, I’m gonna get you home to her. I’m sure she misses you.” I say, playing along. If I play along I’m hoping it’ll make him more amiable.

“She does! I can feel her even when I’m miles and miles away. I miss her too. Sometimes when I’m in the same room as her, I miss her. I just want her all to my self.” He confesses, I notice he’s started to slowly relax letting me guide him home. The thought of seeing me being his motivator. My heart is fluttering seeing him like this. Azriel is usually so smooth and calculated. His words to me sound like poetry, like a crafted song made just for me to hear. Now he’s confessing his love to, how he perceives, a stranger. Apart of me knows that he must know it’s me. Even if it’s deep down. But I can’t help but feel so special to him.

I finally spot our home, the sight of our porch makes me let an out a sound of relief.

Azriel looks to what I see and goes, “How do you know where I live? I don’t remember telling you. I wouldn’t have told you! I told you that I don’t want to go home with you.” He pushes himself away from me stumbling to our small gate. He struggled to unlock and me being exhausted from helping a 6’5 Illryian male slap his hands away and move to open it. He rubs his hand where I slapped and looks at me with a pout.

“Oh you’re okay! Stop being a baby and come inside please.” I tell him, laughing lightly at him. He moves to walk past me but turns before I can even take a step on the porch.

“This is as far as you can go. My wife will not be disrespected by having another female in our home.” He says with a serious face. The message isn’t as threatening since he’s still swaying and eyes glossed over. I smile at him and make a move to walk around him but he pushes his arms out, clumsily I might add, and repeats what he just said. I hold my arms up in surrender to this ridiculous statement.

“Azriel, my heart. I am your wife, you are mated to me. And I want to be in our bed and snuggle. Don’t you?” I ask giving him my best puppy dog eye. I don’t even know if it’ll work if the liquor made him forget who I was entirely. He goes to reply when he bends over to his side and pukes. I rush to his side and rub his back. He stand up again and leans against a pillar on our porch. His face smushed against it I can faintly hear.

“I want my mate…I’m not going home with you.” I roll eyes, trying not to get upset with him because it isn’t his fault and I know I’m not a doll to be around when I’m drunk. I walk towards our door, it unlocks automatically due to the ward Azriel insisted on placing. I try to gently push him inside. His wings knocking over a vase I was gifted from a past High Lord of Summer, I grimace as the antique lays broken on the floor. He looks around for what made the loud sound and he gasps loudly as if I was the one broken on the floor.

“My wife is going to kill me! Fuck, fuck, shit. Oh my gods I need to go to summer now! I need to go before she notices it’s broken.” He says making a move for the door. I immediately put a stop to that and drag him to our bedroom. I think he’s exhausted himself and flops down on the bed. Not making any moves. I start unlacing his boot and once I’ve got them off I go for his pants.

He slaps my hands away and goes, “I can undress myself. You have no right to touch me there! Go home before my wife finds you, she’ll kill you. My mate is verrrry possessive of me. She won’t like youuuu.” He sings at me.

He starts giggling and taking off his pants and shirt while moving to grab my pillow and holds onto it like it’s the answer of all his prayers.

“I miss her so much. I’m in bed but she isn’t here. It smells like her, I never want to smell anything again. Only her.” I make a face at him, I didn’t see how that makes sense but he’s drunk so I don’t question it. I make sure he has a glass of water and is tucked into bed before I make my move to join him. As soon as I start to move the cover he jolts back up, still clutching my pillow.

“Thank you for taking me home but I insist you take the couch. I will never share a bed with another female. I will not have our marriage bed tainted by a stranger.” He says eyeing me like I’m the King of Hybern resurrected.

“Enough, sweetheart. Tonight has been really funny and sweet but I want to sleep. Don’t you want to cuddle?” I say, I glance at the clock noting the late hour. He doesn’t make a move and stays silent. Giving me the answer I needed.

“As I stated you can take the couch as thank you but you have to leave before my WIFE comes home.” Azriel states, emphasizing the wife part as if I’m the drunken one.

“Okay I give up, I’m sleeping on the couch. Goodnight my love.” I say stealing a quick kiss from him that leaves him stuttering and blushing.

“Y-you just kissed me! That’s so rude, that’s-“ I close the door cutting off his rant. I go down the hall for our closet where we keep the extra blankets and pillows. I settle in our large and comfy couch that Azriel insisted on getting when we moved in. I’m now thankful he insisted. I start laughing recalling the night. Tonight was stressful but has shown me how loved I am. I have a male who’s loyal and kind. Even when he thought I was a stranger he wanted to walk me home so I wasn’t alone. I’m thankful to call him mine. I’m thankful to be his. I drift off to sleep with a soft smile, excited to tease him to no end in the morning for this stunt he pulled tonight.

——

Sunlight enters my home, the warmth of it caressing my cheek. I nuzzle closer to the warmth when I realize it’s Azriel’s hand. He’s sitting on the floor, his hair is a mess and he’s laying his head down close to mine. His eyes look groggy and I can tell he didn’t have a good sleep.

“Where were you last night? I couldn’t sleep without you.” He whispers gently, as if the sound of his own voice made his head ache.

I start laughing loudly, Azriel flinching back and rubbing his head. I start laughing so hard I start crying. My mate looks at me unamused.

“I’m sorry my love. But you literally kicked me out of our bed and made me sleep here. You insisted.” I tell him, laughter seeping through my words.

His mouth drops down in shock. He’s still rubbing his head and I feel bad so I start massaging his scalp the way I know he likes. I gets himself up off the floor and into my awaiting arms. Azriel secretly loves being the small spoon so I baby him and rub down his back and up into his scalp. The mating bond compelling me to make sure he’s okay and loved.

I start recalling the night for him. Apparently after that eighth shot he completely blacked out. He doesn’t remember a single thing from last night past that point. He grumbles and hides his face in my neck. His words coming out muffled.

“I’m so sorry. I hate not being in control like that. I’m sorry for treating you like that.” He says while pressing kisses on my neck and he squeezes me even tighter.

“It’s okay, you’ve taken care of me plenty of times when I’m drunk. I’m glad you were having fun and it was really sweet of you to defend my honor and our bond even if it was me. I love you so much for it.” I tell him making sure his eyes were on me. I cradled his face, caressing the scars and stubble that reside there. He leans down to give me soft kiss once, twice, three times before he nuzzles his nose against mine.

Azriel may be hard to read, stoic, and cold to everyone else but here, in the privacy and intimacy of our home he’s lovable and soft. A privilege to be able to see this of side. The decades of trust and memories helping him become a more loving person.

“How are you feeling though?” I ask him, he groans and lays his head down.

“I feel like absolute death. Actually death would be more merciful than what I’m feeling now.” My mate, the dramatic. I go to move to make him some tea and a light meal for his tummy but he just holds me tighter.

“Just stay for a little longer, I finally feel better now that I’m with you.”

Who am I to resist and say no? So I settle in and relishbeing with my mate and husband. Enjoying a quiet morning after such a loud night.

#azriel acosf #azriel fluff #azriel imagines #acotar funny #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel being drunk #inner circle #azriel acotar

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httpseiki · 8 months

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🪐 things bf!minho does:

a small blurt about lino!

note: I offer this as a piece offering since I didn't finish my promised work!! I'm trying to get it done, but it's tough with my college and my extra class lining up 😭 not do add that I have a major writing block rn😺 🔫

genre: fluff, boyfriend!minho, a little idol!reader au.

wc: not many, idk.

song choice: flower - johnny stimson

🪐: having the urge to tie anything around your finger

a piece of tissue, a string of grass, a flower's tulip, a stray string... literally anything he can find it's good material to wife you up. this was started by you, actually, getting bored in the waiting room. fidgeting with the tissue wasn't cutting it anymore, and when a long part ripped, you called over to minho, asking him to show you his hand. oh, that bubbling, sparkly, warm pink feeling that erupted inside him when he saw the small knot around his pinky made the tip of his ears turn red. since then, he wants to return the favor to you, tying your finger with anything he has around.

🪐: passing you little notes when no one is looking

being an idol steals a lot from you, a big part being privacy. with eyes on you at all times, even inside your own company, your bf never really gets to compliment you. so, he sticks to cute little notes. he gives you one under your water bottle that you somehow forgot in his practice room, "you're getting better at dance than me." another one when he randomly, very randomly, bumps into you on the hall "you were so cute on your livestream." and one more when you're sitting in the cafeteria with your members, "i can't wait to get home and kiss you." minho being minho, he's gonna jureumify every single note, and as a good gf you are, you pass notes back to him, folding it in shapes of hearts.

🪐: bringing you breakfast in bed

he actually made it a thing to bring you breakfast in bed every Saturday. usually, he makes you coffee, eggs, cuts some of your favorite fruits and brings you yogurt. that's why you're a bit surprised when you see him struggling to open the door with his elbow, a big, long wooden charcuterie board, full of light snacks, occupying his whole arms. you were sitting cozily tangled between the sheets when he sat next to you. "min, when I asked for breakfast in bed, I was expecting some eggs and potentially a coffee, not a whole ass five star boufet." you giggle, "really? because I can take it back if-" "don't you dare."

🪐: biting as a form of love.

you're doing your makeup in the mirror? well, minho will come behind you and pretend to back hug you. when you fall into his illusion of affection, his teeth will sink into your shoulder blade. and hard. hard enough to leave a mark, "min, what the fuck?" or when you're too cute for his liking, he just has to scrape the tip of his teeth against you. that, or you're just sitting together, boredom filling the air, minho just picks up your arm and bites, holding your flesh in his mouth as if he's some type of feline showing its prey. if you do it back to him, he'll short circuit, his ears burning hot.

🪐: communicating through blinks

it always intrigued you how minho's body reacts before his mind can. especially when something unexpected happens, his eyes close rapidly and repeatedly, as you finish telling him the latest gossip from work. or when he comes home and looks a bit more tired then usual, minho blinks two times at you. that's how you found out about the gone-wrong practice. and when you're in a room full of people and somehow, your bright smile and cheerful laugh erupts from the other corner of the room, your boyfriend turns his head in a second, in a search of you. your eyes immediately find his. you looked so ethereal, shining so much, that he couldn't help but slow blink at you, a silly smile on his face. that one means I love you. and you return it in no time.

back to surfing!

#pls forgive me #seiki's blurts🪐#skz x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know scenarios #lee minho scenarios #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #lee know soft hours #lee know soft thoughts

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fangisms · 5 months

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lady may

A/N: something ab writing for an angry hufflepuff really saved my soul. she is SO valid. maybe i’m her. (also this song eats away at my brain, so i had to write ab it… naturally) gif creds: @frodo-sam

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Grumpy!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Well, he’s not the toughest hickory that your axe has ever felled // But he’s a hickory just as well 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, cursing, two idiots very much in love, pining, angry hufflepuff, dumb/embarassed reader (lovingly), golden retriever cedric, quidditch injury mention

How could you look so beautiful drenched by the pouring rain, hovering ten meters in the air, goggles suctioned to your face, barking orders at the rest of the team like a drill sergeant? It’d always make him wonder. And midgame, that’s a silly thing to do. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.

You’re the angriest girl Cedric’s ever met. World class beater and a great captain, but you’ve got serious anger issues. The guys have started calling you boxer because you’re always on the verge of a scrap. Cedric has seen you chew out almost every position on the team. Except him. You’ve never yelled at him, you barely even look in his direction on a good day. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wants you to yell at him.

Well, not entirely inexplicable. Now would be the best time to mention he’s got a huge crush on you. In fact, he’s had a crush on you since you became team captain. You’ve always been pretty, but something about the title and the power really commanded his attention.

Which is precisely why he needs you to yell at him. He craves it. He’s been waiting all year for you to tell him he’s an idiot and that he’s doing everything wrong. But you won’t. And desperate times call for very desperate measures.

He’s barely dodging bludgers, not even trying for the snitch, doing party tricks in front of the stands, anything for you to glance his way. And then he goes and gets knocked off his broom. Luckily, he wasn’t too high in the air and he wasn’t flying too fast. The worst that happened was he got the wind knocked out of him. The best? You marching toward him like a sicced dog.

You kneel at his side, goggles loose around your neck as you coo, “are you okay?”

What? No, this is all wrong, you’re supposed to call him stupid, say that next time he’s off the team. Not ask if he’s okay.

Cedric nods and you help him sit up, signalling to the stadium that he’s alright. A cheer rips through the crowd.

“Can you play?” you huff, patting his back softly. He’s got butterflies.

“Yeah,” he says. When you get him on his feet, he almost wishes you won’t let go. And he suddenly remembers you’re much prettier up close, and his heart nearly gives out.

“Good sport, Diggory,” you tease, hopping back on your broom, “Back to work!”

It’d take a brain injury to get your attention.

The game goes off without a hitch: Cedric goes back to actually trying for the snitch and wins Hufflepuff the game. He’s a little disappointed he hsan’t given you anything else to be upset about. So once the celebration is over, he catches you outside of the locker rooms.

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” Cedric asks, jogging to catch you as you head back towards the dorms. You don’t respond, but he’s sure you heard him. So he nudges your shoulder. “Come on, boxer, I’ve seen you angry, I’m prepared.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he slows to a stop just behind you. Then you turn to face him, and he’s never seen your glare so intense.

“Listen, Diggory, you’re smart, you’ve got talent, and I trust you to perform well on this team. So I can’t for the life of me understand why you go out on that field just to dick around.”

You’re serious. Not angry, just serious. You’ve got this calm and collected tone that drives him absolutely up-the-wall insane. But he wants you to yell.

“You have plenty of adoring fans tracking your every move, you don’t have to pull dumb shit to get people to like you. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed, understand? So I advise you put your team and your safety before your reputation,” you say, storming off with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And it gets him kind of worked up because obviously, he wouldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for you. You and your stupidly selective anger issues. And your stupid smile.

“Hold on,” he hollers, still half drunk on the idea of being subject to your rage, “you think I don’t put this team at the top of all of my lists? Clearly, I love this stupid sport or I wouldn’t put so much damn time and effort into it!”

“If you love this sport, act like it.” Your jaw ticks before you march through the doorway, leaving him flustered in the mist of the courtyard.

…

He’s giving it one last go. If you won’t get angry with him, maybe he ought to just confess his feelings outright. This feels like the most rational he’s ever been. He even combed his hair extra carefully in hopes of you noticing.

Your friends quiet down when he approaches you in the mess hall, small flower pinched between his fingers, grin plastered across his face. You look a little annoyed but he’s pretty sure it’s just shock. And suddenly it feels like grade school when they all burst into giggles.

“This is for you—”

“Diggory.”

He cocks a brow. “Yeah?”

You grab the sleeve of his robes and drag him out into the hall, near slamming him into the stone wall. So much for his combed hair.

“What was that back there?” you hiss, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well. I brought you a flower. It’s from the field—”

“I can see that!”—you’re frenzied searhcing for any possible explanation other than he has a head injury from falling—“Explain to me why.”

He looks confused and presents the flower again.“Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at the flower. It’s small and white and looks so delicate in his hand. And you look at him. You suppose his pupils are a little extra dilated. “Are you poisoned? Or drunk?”

“No!”

You finally let go of him to gesture wildly. “Then what, Cedric—Merlin’s beard—What???”

“I brought you a flower,” he coos, tilting his head. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah, I got that part—”

“Hold on—hasn’t anyone ever given you something nice because… they like you?” Cedric hums, shuffling closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the tiny flower, but you won’t take it. Then you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke? Did the twins put you up to it?”

“No, just take the flower! I like you!” He sounds dastardly jovial, taking your wrist in one hand and presisng the flower to your palm with the other.

“What?” you scoff. Still staring down at the flower, making him wish his face was made of them so you’d look at him like that.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

And then you look at him. In the eyes. Perplexed, brows knitted, but you’re looking right at him and he could faint. Maybe it is a head injury.

“But I’m not… I’m not like…”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just—I’m confused because… you like pretty girls, and I’m not… that’s not what I do—am. What I am.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he huffs.

“Cho is pretty,” you state.

“You’re pretty.”

“No, Cedric, I play quidditch. If I was pretty, I’d have a boyfriend,” you reason, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a real run for his money.

“And those things are connected… how?”

You scoff and relax a little when he puts his hands on his hips. So what if he’s incredibly handsome. So what if your friends want to see you together. So what if he’s the one person you don’t want to rip to shreds. It’s not like any of that matters. Right?

“It makes sense!” you say.

“No, it doesn’t. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Diggory, don’t—”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, no! But you’re being rash! You’ll change your mind, and you’ll want your flower back!”

He shakes his head. “No. I gave you a flower because I think you’re very wonderful and very beautiful and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“But…”—he’s very amused by the fact that he’s made you flustered—“I sweat a lot!”

“So do I,” he chuckles, “we do play quidditch together, I hope you know.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We… argue!” you chirp.

“And you’re almost always right! Problem solved,” he says, “Now, would you be my girlfriend or do I have to get down on my knees?”

“No! I mean, yes! No, no, no knees, just… yes. I will be your girlfriend.”

Cedric smirks, taking the flower from your still open palm and tucking it behind your ear. Yesterday, he could barely say hello to you, and now he’s pulling you closer and tilting your chin up. His heart flutters when you palm his waist, and you smile when he leans a little closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you hum. He chuckles.

“Only if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Naturally.”

masterlist

#he fell first AND he fell harder #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x fem!reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory fluff #idiots in love #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x fem!reader #cedric #Spotify

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little-diable · 7 months

Text

Hair - Spencer Reid (smut)

This came to me as I was listening to "Hair" by Suriel Hess. I know this situation has been used numerous times before, but I felt like it fits the song just too well. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The team is sent to the place (y/n) had left about ten years ago, leaving all her trauma and sorrows behind. But as she has run ins with familiar faces, Spencer has to pick up the pieces, catching her before she can fall.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, outdoor sex, bits of possessiveness, colleagues to lovers, some angst (see summary)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (2.4k words)

“(Y/n), can I speak to you for a moment?” Hotch’s voice echoed through the morning, forcing (y/n) to slow down, watching the rest of the team disappear down the hallway. Wordlessly she followed Hotch into his office, arms crossed in front of her chest, waiting for her boss to start talking. “We’re going back to your hometown.”

“I know, Hotch, listen-“ he interrupted her with a raise of his hand, making her straighten her posture even more. For a few seconds neither of them said a word, clinging to the silence now engulfing them. She felt his intense gaze on her, felt him reading her every micro-expression, awfully aware of the tension holding her body hostage.

“I’ll trust you to be honest with me, you tell me if you want out.” She nodded her head, keeping her lips pressed together, till Aaron let go of a sigh, murmuring a short “I’ll be down in a few”, watching (y/n) leave the office.

With her heart pounding, and her mind racing (y/n) grabbed her go-bag, finding her way to the rest of the team. It’ll be alright, it has to be.

You're afraid, said people get too comfortable, need a change, said there's something else you're looking for

……

“(Y/n)?” Spencer’s voice ripped her out of her thoughts, hazy eyes finding his concerned ones. He was standing closer than she had anticipated, almost taking a step back. Her colleague stared her down, waiting for her to speak.

„I, uhm, sorry. What did you say, Spence?�� (Y/n)’s voice trembled, needing to clear her throat. He took a step back, turning to his bag, seemingly deep in thought. She watched him unpack, carefully placing his things down on the hotel bed they were supposed to share for the duration of this case.

“Just asked if you’re okay, that’s all. You know you can talk to me, right?” With a sigh leaving her (y/n) plopped down on the bed, groaning as she rubbed her eyes.

“I know, I promise I’m alright. It’s just been a long day.” Spencer watched her for a few more seconds before he placed the book he was now holding down, walking closer once again. He sat down next to her, hands folded in his lap.

“It must be hard being back here.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her groan from leaving her, angrily rising to her feet with her hands tugging on the roots of her hair. Frustration thumped through her veins, filling her body with every passing second. She hated being treated like this, hated being looked down on like a ticking time bomb about to rip them all to shreds.

“Not you too, Spencer, please. Just drop it.” Spencer had to watch her reach for her jacket, unable to stop her from leaving their shared hotel room, leaving nothing but a simple “I’ll be back later” to echo through the room.

He didn’t pick up on the shallow breaths leaving her, he didn’t pick up on the way she fumbled with her fingers, scratching the fabric of her leather jacket. Spencer didn’t pick up on the tears welling up in her eyes, and not even (y/n) did, at least not till she left the hotel with a tear dripping from her chin.

(Y/n) wrapped her arms tightly around herself, walking the streets she hadn’t walked in over ten years. A strange melancholic feeling flushed through her, a feeling so threatening (y/n) couldn’t stop her body from guiding her to the home she had cut ties with back then.

Her eyes took in the familiar walls, the windows she had once looked out of. Pain tugged at her heart, a sensation so blinding, (y/n) had to force her teeth into her lower lip. She couldn’t stop her eyes from focusing on the frame of people appearing in the windows, making her heart skip a few beats.

If you're bored to death with your hair, you can cut it, maybe you'll feel something new, change what you want when you want if you want it, I'll still feel the same about you

……

“Reid and (y/n), go back to the scene. I want you to talk to the neighbour again, she must have heard something.” Wordlessly (y/n) followed Spencer to the black SUV, watching him pull out of the station, eyes set on the road ahead.

“When did you come back?” Their eyes met for a few seconds, before Spencer switched his attention back onto the road, not picking up on the pained expression tugging on her features. She had a hard time speaking up, opting to take a sip of her coffee before she gave in.

“Around two. I’m sorry Spence, I didn’t mean to lash out on you.” A smile tugged on his lips, a smile so bright (y/n) couldn’t help but chuckle. The sound got stuck in her throat as Spencer’s hand found her knee, softly squeezing. He pulled his hand back within seconds, and yet her mind couldn’t help but focus on the tingling sensation the touch had left, a sensation so strong (y/n) had to avert her gaze, staring out of the window.

There had been something going on between the two of them for months, unspoken feelings, unfamiliar sensations, unaddressed longings. Whatever it was, it kept the both of them on their toes, wondering if they should do something about the way their hearts skipped beats whenever they were close, wondering if they should do something about the heat flushing through their systems whenever their eyes met. Both Spencer and (y/n) knew that they could easily lose their jobs, not daring to go against the laws they were supposed to follow.

“I just want you to know that I’m always here for you, that’s all.” His words forced her eyes back to his features, admiring the handsome profiler who was now parking the car. With a soft “I know” leaving her, (y/n) followed him out into the warm morning, standing a few steps behind him as he knocked on the red door, waiting for the witness (y/n) hadn’t met just yet.

(Y/n)’s breath got hitched in her chest as the door was pushed open, exposing a familiar face she hadn’t seen in almost a decade. The elderly woman’s eyes met hers, pupils dilating before a smile tugged on her lips, inviting the two in. Before (y/n) could even begin to speak greeting words, she was pulled in for a tight hug, a sensation so lovingl, (y/n) feared she’d break out in tears all over again.

“Oh (y/n), it’s so good to see you again.”

Sure, there's a chance that, one day, you'll regret it, and that day might feel like the end, your hair will grow back, honey, don't you forget it, I'll love you now 'til when it's long again

……

“Where are we going?” (Y/n)’s murmurs filled the car, watching the police station pass by. Spencer kept driving, not replying as a grin tugged on his lips. She chuckled his name, watching him shake his head. The familiar streets tugged at her heartstrings, wondering how Spencer knew how to navigate through the area, not seeing through his plan just yeet

Only as they entered a familiar area of the forest did (y/n) slowly realise where he was taking her. Her eyes snapped back to his, murmuring Spencer’s name.

“You remember?” Months ago, as they were trying to pass time on the jet, the two of them had played a game of twenty questions, learning more about one another. While he had told her about his mother, about his time in school, about the struggles he had faced, she had told him all about this very place, the safe spot she had ran to whenever things at home got messy.

“Of course I do, I knew it’d come in handy one day.” The SUV began to slow down, parked near the lake (y/n) had spent most of her summers at. He watched her get out, watched her walk closer to the body of water, soaking up the silence, the sunshine, the comfort now filling her body.

“Thank you, Spence.” Slowly he came to a halt next to her, sending (y/n) a smile before he forced himself to avert his gaze. But (y/n) kept looking at him, clinging onto the unfamiliar confidence guiding her on, reaching for his jaw, feeling the shadow of his beard scratching her thumb, tilting his head back towards her. There was no need to speak up, no need to explain what was about to happen, like two magnets pulled closer, they crossed the distance between them. Their lips met slowly at first, trying to adjust to the new sensation, trying to get familiar with one another’s lips.

A moan rumbled through (y/n) as Spencer pushed her against the SUV, nestling between her thighs without breaking the kiss once. She felt his left hand wandering down her back, pushing her even closer, not wanting to let go just yet. Both searched one another’s closeness, clinging to the racing of their heart, to the heat making them shudder.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop her hands from finding his shirt, toying with the first few buttons, popping one open before Spencer pulled back, desperate to catch his breath.

“We shouldn’t do this here, I want you to be comfortable.” She didn’t give him any time to inhale another shaky breath of air, only shaking her head.

“I’m as comfortable as I can be, I need you, Spence, please.” With a groan rumbling through him, he pulled her back down from the hood of the black SUV, toying with the button of her trousers. Their lips found back together once again, desperate to free themselves from the clothes keeping them separated. Without another warning, (y/n) found herself being turned around, front pushed against the hood she had been sitting on moments ago.

“We have to be quick, I don’t want to risk anybody seeing you like this. I don’t like sharing what’s mine.” Her heart skipped a beat at the possessiveness dripping from his words, making her walls clench around nothing. All (y/n) could do was listen to the sounds Spencer produced, giving room to a moan leaving her as the breeze met her now bare cunt, a sight that forced a similar sound out of Spencer.

His hand found her heat, finding her pulsing bundle of nerves, rubbing it just enough to heighten her senses, to make her toes curl. (Y/n) found herself struggling to hold on, needing to claw her fingernails into something, not used to her body reacting to these kinds of touches with a sensation this intense.

“I want to take my time with you, want to treat you just like you deserve to be treated, but fuck, I need to feel you around me, I’ve been waiting too long for this to happen.” The sound of his teeth ripping open a silvery foil packet echoed through the air, once again leaving her tensing. All (y/n) could do was moan a soft “Me too”, making a smirk tug on his lips.

Spencer pushed into her from behind, slowly, carefully, giving the both of them a few moments to adjust before he pulled back out – only to push back in with more force. He fucked her with calculated thrusts, knowing exactly how and where to touch her, disappearing inside of her deeper and deeper with every thrust. Spencer stretched her perfectly, making her squeeze her eyes shut, unable to hold back with the sounds clawing through her.

The sound of their bodies meeting could be heard from all around them, giving into the longing that has kept them awake for nights on end, guiding them through each and every morning. (Y/n) desperately wanted to see the pleasure tugging on Spencer’s features, needing to watch him slowly unfold, but the ferocious thrusts of his didn’t give her any time to ponder over her thoughts, forgetting her own name whenever his cock pressed against that one sensitive spot.

“Feels so good, Spence, so good.” His raspy chuckles left her walls fluttering, a sensation forcing a few moans out of Spencer. Both could tell that the other was close, unable to hold back after dreaming of this moment for so long. And yet neither of them wanted to give in just yet, holding onto the seconds fading by way too quickly.

“My pretty girl, so fucking tight, so perfect for me.” (Y/n)’s hand found its way to her bundle of nerves, rubbing it in sync with the pace of his ruthless thrusts, pushing herself closer and closer to the edge. Like a burning match alighting a fuel station Spencer set her body on fire, making her tremble and moan as she came with his name rolling off her tongue.

“Don’t stop, Spence, don’t.” Her murmurs guided him on, fucking into her for a few more seconds before he let go with a groan, forehead pressed against her clothed spine. Spencer gave it some more thrusts before he pulled away with a sigh, letting go of her to redress, throwing the condom into the close by trash can.

He pulled her in for another kiss, cradling her face in his warm hands. Both stared at one another, unable to bite down their smiles, at least not till the sound of his phone echoing through the air ripped them apart, realising how much time had passed since they’d left the station. And with a chuckle rumbling through them, they began to drive back, fingers interlaced, hearts intertwined.

Your hair will grow back, honey, don't you forget it, I'll love you now 'til when it's long again

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds

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vilhelios · 2 months

Text

— SWIM WITH ME / I THINK I CAN SEE THE BEACH;

( i need you here with me / but we're out in the open. ) ; romantic headcanons for abysswalker!rafayel ♡ more under the cut!

CW: spoilers for rafayel's "sea of golden sand" myth + general abysswalker rafayel lore ; fluff ; angst ; hurt/comfort ; mentions of blood, injury, and self-harm (rafayel plucks off his scales) : might feel a little ooc because it is abysswalker and not main story rafayel ; quite the word dump (bc i rattle my cage for him)

— as the morning light of the desert creeps into the dim of a tent, two bodies lay tangled in the warmth of each other. RAFAYEL sleeps light and wakes early—hours before the sun peeks over the golden dunes—and although the habit irks him, it does offer him a wonderful sight as compensation: the sight of you, bathed in the soft, rose-gold light of morning, hair a mess, marks littering your skin from where the sheets pressed up against you.

overcome with a love that warms him like molten gold, the young god cannot help but litter your face in butterfly kisses. two to the apples of your cheeks, one on the tip of your nose, the corners of your lips, the middle of your temple. when you shift in your sleep, groan at his ministrations, rafayel can only chuckle, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. he thinks he can hear amund yell for his presence. he couldn't care less.

— RAFAYEL sees himself as the sword at the hilt of your belt, the dagger in your hands that you should use as you see fit, the steady hand guiding your own, drawing your bowstring. he is your ever faithful shadow, always at your side, a watchful gaze always on you. it is only natural for one to protect the keeper of their heart... which is why you and the medical kit from the nurse's tent have gotten well acquainted with each other.

"one of these days, you're going to listen to me." you sigh, gently peeling aside the torn leather of his garb. rafayel does not wince; you don't think you've ever seen him do so, not when he ripped that arrow from his shoulder, or when he stumbles back to your tent with a bloody gash on his chest, or when he's brandishing new bruises on his knuckles. the royal guards seem intent on tracking you down, crossing all of philos's 30,000 zetameters of sand to lock you up in your gilded cage again.

rafayel seems equally intent to ensure that doesn't happen, even if it means throwing himself into their line of fire.

"if i listen to you," the lemurian starts, violet gaze trained on the gentle workings of your fingers, "they'll take you from me again, back to the palace." his breath hitches the slightest—at the thought of you leaving him again, or at the too-harsh tug of the bandage, you're not sure.

— some nights, RAFAYEL is awoken by dreams—horrible, lifelike nightmares. it's sudden, a jolt that has him taking in rapid breaths, a tremor in his hands. "a nightmare", he tells you, when you stir awake and ask him what's wrong in a groggy voice that makes his heart ache, "just a nightmare, sweetheart. nothing to worry about." he waits until he hears your breathing slow once more, pressing kisses to your temple all the while, before slinking out of the tent and into the cold desert air. he'll return to your side before the sun rises, but for now, with still-stuttering breaths, he just needs some time to clear his head.

in his nightmares, a butterfly flaps its wings just the wrong way and rafayel is landed in a world where he is as cold-blooded as amund wished he was. he is back in the ruins of the isle of songs, your hand guiding his own (white-knuckled, dagger brandished) to the place where your heart thrums beneath. and unlike himself, rafayel takes the chance: takes back what is his, what was never yours to keep. the god of the sea was a foolish, lovesick man. he would not make the same mistake.

the dagger sinks into your flesh, the ease of it wrong. your blood flows onto his palms, gets into all the creases of his gloves, spills onto the barren earth and dyes the returning sea red. it is so, so warm against his skin, warms the fire in him that threatened to fizzle out. (he has always been a selfish man, he knows. it is only right that he is no better than bloodthristy philos.) the look dream-you gives him, before he awakes from this cruel world, sears itself into the back of his eyelids. he can see it still, when he looks at the dark of the night sky: reverent, loving. (how could you not, when he has freed you yet again?)

— often, you ask RAFAYEL to tell you tales of the ocean; more specifically, its creatures! what were those rays he spoke of, or the sharks, or those star-shaped things? do the lemurians actually eat them? your lover finds your boundless curiousity incredibly endearing, chuckling whenever your eyes seem to light up at the mention of some new deep-sea fish.

"this is a whale shark." rafayel says, and you watch as the scale in his hands transforms into a small purple apparition. it's as long as his pointer finger, heteroceral tail flicking as it swims in the flame currents, light purple spots patterning its black back. "they are gentle things, despite their size. they only ever eat plankton. i used to have one as a pet, long ago."

"how cute!" you laugh, waggling your finger in front of the shark and watching it follow. "did you have other pets?" and at that, he procures another silver scale, places it into your palms and covers it with his own. a barreleye manifests, and you grin when it's luminous purple eyes stare up at you.

(rafayel ignores the sting in his arm, pinpricks of blood soaking his garb from where he'd plucked some scales off. the wonder in your eyes is more than worth it.)

— helping the LEMURIANS with their daily chores within the camp comes like second nature to you. there is always so much to do: collect jars upon jars of water from the nearby oasis, prepare food, feed the camels, record the state of the camp's supplies... all the while, you feel RAFAYEL'S eyes on your form, your ever cautious vassal. with a little smile, you pretend you don't notice his lavender gaze, if only to spare him from the flushed ears.

it's surprisingly simple, making that lemurian cake: tapioca flour, camel's milk, a healthy dash of sugar, and citrus rind... when the sweet old woman you've spent the afternoon baking with feeds you a slice, you think you've simply ascended. back then, rafayel had fed you one that was cold and a little stale—probably as it was a part of his rations for long journeys. perhaps he'd like one that was far fresher, and baked with love?

... which is how rafayel found himself with a wicker basket full of cake shoved into his hands, and an awaiting you in front of him. "you've been training a while, haven't you?" you smile, taking one of the soft slices and bringing it up to his lips; "try it for me, please!"

and as obedient as ever, rafayel takes a bite, sweetness and citrus on his tongue. "it's good," he hums, kisses your fingertips, "tell me when you're making it next time, love. i'd love to help."

— the LEMURIANS, you remember, were masters of the arts: singing, painting, poetry... so it's no surprise, then, that they celebrate their craft almost every night: children crowd around a charming poet, hooked on every word of their newest bedtime story—his newest fable, that is (something about a fish and a bird, who wished to visit a bakery); the musicians have already begun their newest improvised song, a lively version of an old elegy, it seems; the bonfire in the centre burns high into the night sky like it was trying to reach the stars itself, and when the lemurians dance around it their shadows are long against the sands. you don't know how, but you're eventually dragged into the dance yourself. the glee is infectious, and you find yourself instinctively looking for your beloved.

RAFAYEL doesn't indulge in dancing often, as fun as it may be. he knows the steps, his feet still tapping to the rhythm of the tambourines even as he nonchalantly leans against the tent pole in the distance. it is second nature, now, but his eyes always find you, even in the crowd of people—you, laughing and twirling around without a care in the world. it makes his heart race, a smile creeping onto his own features. he watches you dance with his people, linking arms and being spun around; for a moment he wonders if he should join just to be your one and only dance partner.

... he doesn't notice when you've escaped his gaze, but before he knows it, you've snuck up on him and wrapped a shawl around his neck, dragging him towards the crowd; "dance with me, rafa!"

and how can he refuse a shared moment that transcends lifetimes—across shimmering oceans, and marble floor ballrooms, and golden sands? rafayel's stumbling forward into you until his arms take their rightful place around your form. his hands find the small of your back and yours hold onto his shoulders, shawl long abandoned on his neck. this is second nature, galaxies colliding, two souls becoming one.

— after all of the night's festivities are said and done—the musicians pack up their flutes, lyres, and tambourines; the children cover up their yawns with still-red palms from clapping to tonight's tunes; the remaining food is safely packed away for tomorrow—it's just you, RAFAYEL, and the dwindling embers of the fire he'd just stomped out. "i do believe even your highness is not exempt from curfew," he hums, takes your hand in his, and presses his lips to the knuckles.

and in the silence of your tent, coveted in the silver hues of moonlight, rafayel sits you down before him, your back leaning against his chest. his arms wrap around your frame, his chin resting on the crook of your neck. this is your ritual, on too-cold nights: rafayel lights a flickering flame in his palms, the black and violet embers cold as ever. you both stare into this dying fire—you both know what is to come.

sometimes, when the ugly concoction of guilt and sorrow prick at your very soul, your hand reaches up to entwine with his own, just as they did to guide his dagger to your heart. "i won't." rafayel says, and you know what he means. "i will never hurt you." he doesn't complete the sentence, the words dying on his tongue, but you know the rest (there is no other end to this story): i would rather die.

a/n : i need abysswalker carnally it's not even funny anymore 🤩 these were. not supposed to be this long (they are like little fics in themselves omg). but i love this rafa so much i think he deserves it. thank you for the love on the previous rafa content <3 it makes me so happy seeing people who also love this lil guy. the dancing with rafa hc is very much so inspired by "through heaven's eyes" from the prince of egypt! <3333

#love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel headcanons #love and deepspace headcanons #qi yu headcanons #love and deepspace fluff #qi yu x reader #abysswalker rafayel

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luvfy0dor · 6 months

Text

"We're gonna be timeless !!" ♡⁠˖ BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Chuuya Nakahara, Nikolai Gogol

Warning; Spoilers for mersault arc/Fyodors means of communication in his part, soft!Fyodor bc I am goin thru it, relationship intolerance, Nikolais bit isn't in exact correlation w/ the song

Description; Drabbles inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift

A/N; Writing this while trying to figure out what to do for another fic help I'm so nervous the person isn't gonna like it but we ball 🫡 in Nikolais part I tried avoiding saying balls like it was the plague but yk

Love Letters w/ Fyodor Dostoevsky

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “I would've read your love letters every single night, and prayed to God you'd be comin' home alright”

• His love letters are romantic and very detailed, making sure he conveys exactly how much he misses you. He likes to write you short poems, understanding how much your heart swoons at the sweet and romantic words.

• Fyodor writes to you while he's in Yokohama, telling you how his plans are going and his estimated time of arrival at home. He continues this habit, even when in Mersault. He sends letters to you via the manipulated vampire guards, instructing them to take great care of the thin envelopes.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Your heart beats quickly as you made your way to your mailbox to check for a letter from your lover; already prepared for the slight sadness you'd experience should the small compartment be void of a note, yet still excited for the possibility of receiving one.

You excitedly open the door to the mailbox, grabbing the numerous envelopes that filled it. Sifting through them, you start to loose hope before your eyes land on the slightly sloppy handwriting of your boyfriend. You drop the various other things on the table, including bills and junk mail in order to pry open the letter excitedly. You make sure to do it carefully though as not to rip anything.

Once you've successfully separated the paper from the envelope, you lay down on the couch on your front while giggling excitedly. You unfold the paper and start to read the comforting and familiar handwriting, feeling as though this letter was a warm and sweet hug from the Russian man.

“My dearest, Y/N,

I know I restate the same thoughts in every letter I send to you, but I truly miss you more than anything in the outside world, including my freedom. I am perfectly fine in captivity, but it truly makes my heart ache to be without my love for so long. I hope you are doing well and holding up without me, not because I doubt your individuality, but I know just how much you miss me. It is the same way for me in this prison. Even with Dazais company, my heart doesn't feel nearly as full as it does when you are around, my dear. However, when our plan succeeds, we will get the happily ever after we deserve. As for our plans, they are going as intended currently.

I cannot wait to embrace you again and to feel the reassuring sensation of your breathing against my skin and feel your arms wrapped around me so tightly and lovingly. Though I would have went about my plans regardless of your support or not, I still appreciate you staying and supporting this, although I can only imagine it has caused you much stress. No worries though, my dear, we will prevail in the end no matter the obstacles. In the meantime, here is an excerpt from a poem I memorized many years ago, I feel it may catch your interest and reassure you a bit.

Wait for me, and I’ll be back,

Disregard the fate,

In the morning with my bag,

Should you only wait.

They will hardly understand,

How I could survive.

Waiting me from foreign land,

You have saved my life.

Let them say that it’s too late.

What you feeling tells?

I’ll be back, because you wait

Like nobody else.

Again, I miss you dearly. Just in case I needed to rephrase it, my heart will not rest until you are back in my presence, for I feel our souls are intertwined. I cannot wait to reunite with with you, my love. I will see you soon.

Sincerely, Fyodor Dostoevsky”

Your heart couldn't help but flutter as you held the letter to your chest, having rolled over onto your back. Your face is warm with blush as you smile and laugh. It was beyond you how Fyodor could remember all of the information he knew, as well as numerous languages and poetry, but you certainly weren't complaining. After all, your boyfriends sweet sayings made your day every time without fail. With every letter he sent, you only became more impatient for his return.

Eloping w/ Chuuya Nakahara

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “And run away and left it all behind, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless”

• Eloping with Chuuyas is such a fulfilling act, especially when you don't have people whispering in your ear about how dangerous it could be.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Romantic relationships with port mafia executives as an outsider or regular civilian were frowned upon in the organization, meaning if you and Chuuya were going to be together, you needed to be sneaky about it. The port mafia had connections all over the city, which really limited your options for dates, but you were both content with just lounging in each other's homes.

You loved leaning against his chest on his couch, a movie playing softly in the background as you both cuddled together. You liked cooking with him in your kitchen, making a mess together while giggling and then having to clean it up together. Every time you would just sit in his arms in your back yard, watching the wind blow the flowers and leaves around, was a memory with Chuuya that you were grateful for.

So, when your lover proposed the idea of elopement to you, you were over the moon. You had always wanted to marry him, youve know that he was your soulmate from the get go. Even in a billion lifetimes, you felt as though you would find each other repeatedly. You said yes, ofcourse, and started planning immediately.

It had gone exactly according to plan, too. The both of you wore rather nice clothing for the actual ceremony, exchanging pretty rings and slipping them on to one anothers fingers. The kiss you shared, the first one of your elopement, was like no other. It felt sweeter with emotion and certainly tasted that way, too, because of Chuuyas cherry chapstick. You held each other's hands tightly as you quickly walked out of the courthouse, getting into the car that had been packed with as many necessary belongings as possible, including but not limited to clothing, legal documents, and money.

Sure, the luxury of a port mafia salary was one that would probably be missed by the both of you, allowing a nicer place to stay and finer wines to drink, but you could live with Chuuya in a rundown shack for all he cared. As long as he was with you, he would be perfectly happy. Chuuya is a romantic at heart under his tougher exterior, only letting bits and pieces of that romanticism slip through the cracks.

Chuuya drove with you down long and winding roads, the both of you deciding to end the day by stargazing while sitting on the trunk of the car. You sat on Chuuyas lap, his face pressed against your back. He drew soft shapes on any part of skin within his reach, even tracing out letters and words, spelling terms of endearment such as "my love".

"You know, I don't doubt one bit that mafia affiliates could be lurkin' around here, but it's much less likely. Something like this would be frowned upon real hard back home, which is why I feel I will never regret this decision." He says, speaking straight from his heart, not caring about vulnerability anymore. He had you, and you would be the very last person to take advantage of such a delicate thing.

A grin tugs at the corner of your lips with enough force to change your facial expression immediately. You leaned back into his touch, your hand caressing his that sat against your abdomen, hugging you closer to him. "I won't ever regret it either. I'll never regret any decision I make for you, my love." You softly murmur, looking up at the stars in the beautiful, blue night sky. The blue night sky filled with glamorous and shiny stars, yet they could never compare to the shimmery glint in Chuuyas eyes every time he came around you. The blue night sky that provided a calming darkness in the world, allowing you to further relax against your, now husband's, body.

"I'll always love you, darlin', I'm so happy I can openly have you now." He speaks quietly against your shoulder, almost whispering. You reach your hand back to gently touch his hair a bit. "Me too, my love. Me too."

Crowded Streets w/ Nikolai Gogol

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “In another life, you still would've turned my head, even if we met on a crowded street in 1944”

• Should you meet Nikolai during one of his street performances and accidentally fall victim to his juggling skills (or lack there of) , he would look forward to seeing you around the town and in the streets again to make up for his fumble with an entertaining mini-show.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Walking through the busy streets, your eyes fell upon a tall man, dressed as a jester while standing on the sidewalk. "A street performer." You simply thought, trying to discreetly glance at him without making eye contact and avoid the make believe obligation to give him money. You noticed that he was juggling, tossing three red balls in the rotational pattern while blabbering on about random things to passersby.

You lowered your head as to not look at him or make eye contact as you started to pass him, before you're head jerks right back up at the loud man's voice saying "watch out!". Right in front of your face was one of the red, foam spheres, kept motionless between two bony, lanky fingers covered in the cloth of the mans red gloves.

"Aw, I'm real sorry, darlin'! That sure was close, wasn't it?" He says, his bright, toothy grin glimmering in the sunlight. You nod, inhaling and steadying your heart rate.

"Yeah, no worries though, it didn't actually hit me." You say, a bit embarrassed by the situation for seemingly no reason. He slinks backwards into a completely upright position. "I wouldn't have let it hit you regardless, sweet cheeks." He says as he creates a portal and tosses his props into the yellow opening. He rests his fingers on his chin while examining you. "You've got quite a lovely complexion! You must be quite popular when it comes to romantic affairs, I'm sure of it." He compliments. The other people bustling by make you topple a bit as their shoulders bump into yours. Nikolai gently grabs your hand and leads you away from the crowd into a more spacious area.

"You're quite handsome if I do say so myself. Especially that scar." You say, pointing at the healed wound. He smiles. "Well thank you, how sweet is that." He excitedly beams. He removes his hat from his head and slightly bows towards you. "I have yet to formally introduce myself, I am Nikolai Gogol." He says, adjusting his posture yet again to be standing straight up. You smile. "Hello, Nikolai. My name is Y/n." You smile with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Well then, Y/n, can I ask you if you enjoy quizzes?" He asks, his head tilted, gravity dragging the long braid along with his movements. You furrow your eyebrows a little. "I'm not too fond of the academic ones, if I'm being honest. Silly ones I don't mind." You say with a small shrug of your shoulders. He laughs.

"Perfect! Let me quiz you then, Y/n." He takes your hands in his excitedly. "Are you aware of the difference between a jester and a clown?" He says, his face about the length of a outstretched palms thumb to pinky tip away from yours. You think for a moment before speaking. "Clowns follow a routine, whereas jesters are more spontaneous and satirical, no?" You say, gazing into his eyes, surprising yourself with your eagerness to hear words of confirmation or denial slip from between his crimson painted lips. He pulls back and claps a bit.

"That's right! Marvelous! How smart you are." He says, removing his hat and placing it on top of your head. "Not many people get that right, you know? Many peoples first answer revolves around a jester being a part of a royal court, but that is simply not their differentiating characteristic." He says, patting your shoulder with a grin. You keep eye contact for a couple of seconds before he erupts into a fit of snickers.

"I'm around this area often during the week. You should come see me, I can promise to give you the very best show I can muster." He grins and with that, he is gone through a portal. He has left you there, a bit flustered as you held onto the hat tightly. You suppressed the excitement in your heart before sneaking out into the crowded pathways once again. Maybe you would take him up on that.

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helloaugustmoon · 2 months

Text

this is so classic wattpad plot but I literally do not care

Michael Jackson x she/her!reader

·˚ ◌༘͙[Keep The Faith] ! ˊ

Fishing has been one of Michael’s favorite hobbies for some time. Not in the traditional sense - he cannot sit still for long enough to actually go fishing - but rather by his own definition. Whether it be peering at the faces in the crowd at a concert, seeing faces pressed against the windows of cars and buildings he’s in, fishing is a term that Michael dedicates to peacefully viewing pretty creatures that appear just to see him when he’s passing through. In no way is it dehumanizing; he views it as comparing people to other beautiful things in nature, and in a comical sense too, of course. By now, his team is well aware of his traditions when it comes to fishing, only laughing along and agreeing with his comments pertaining to ‘nice fish’, all in jest and never something he’d consider seriously pursuing; he’d feel he had too much power over a fan that it wouldn’t be fair or just, it would be taking advantage, and that’s not something that sits well with him.

That is, until your face catches his eye.

Fan after fan came and went, greeting Michael and taking pictures while he signed their copies of ‘Bad’ and gifted him their most sincere praises. It was certainly lovely, never something he takes for granted, but to an extent, the social scale of the event can become quite tiring. He’s grateful the line is nearing its end, hoping that soon enough, he’ll be able to rest. But when Michael lifts his gaze from the table in front of him and his eyes meet yours, when he sees your smile- he swears to every holy thing he’s ever known, his heart stops. You aren’t screaming or hyperventilating, but you are trembling in a way that stirs the gentleman in him, wishing the circumstances would allow for him to perhaps offer his jacket to you. The smile on your face as you look at Michael is reflected right back at you, and his previous idea of having any power over a fan is single handedly erased by the existence of you. In that moment, had you wished it, he’d have dropped to one knee and ripped his own heart out to offer it to you. One word from you, and he’d do anything for you. All you had to do, was-

“Hi, Michael.”

And he’s yours.

Your voice is the sweetest melody he’s ever heard, and he already knows it’ll inspire more songs than anything ever has before. You are the siren to lull him to sleep, to guide him to the pearly gates of heaven someday, and he is nothing if not a devout worshiper at the altar that is you.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time, you’ve already been here so long- but, I just wanted to thank you for the music you make and the message of love that-“

Is now and has only ever been meant for you, he realizes.

Words continue to fall from your lips like a steady stream, a peaceful and thought-out poem that touches every part of Michael’s very soul. And he sits there, smiling up at you as you stand before him, in absolute awe of you. The stars of the night couldn’t hope to hold a candle to the ones in your eyes.

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s my pleasure. It brings me joy to know that my music brings you joy, too.” He answers, his own voice softer than he’s ever heard it.

Your smile turns shy, then, and Michael wishes he had the kind of magic to seal this moment in a bottle, or lock it away in a drawer, so that on the lonely nights he foresees in his future he might gaze upon this moment again. You.

“What’s your name?” He asks you, the question feeling more like a desperate plea than a general curiosity, and when you do tell him your name, it’s immediately stitched into the very fabric of his being.

He wants to compliment your name for how pretty it sounds, how well it suits you, how he’ll close his eyes and whisper it to the sky before he falls asleep and wishes for you without being capable of waiting for a shooting star to do so. He wants to, more than anything. But for risk of seeming too forward, Michael only allows his smile to widen, tells you it was wonderful meeting you, that he hopes you’ll have a pleasant rest of your day, and then passes you back your copy of his album - signed with his name and a kiss that he simply couldn’t resist leaving for you.

Michael’s team exchange glances when his eyes linger on you, watching you leave until you are completely out of sight. At which time, he releases a sigh that is impossible to mistake as anything other than a swoon. With his longing being so obvious, a member of Michael’s team steps forward.

“Would you like us to ensure tickets for tomorrow night’s show, Sir?” The security guard offers, and is surprised when Michael only shakes his head, not offering a verbal answer as he turns his attention to the next person in line.

That night, Michael is ringing up an impressive phone bill from his hotel room, rambling to Janet about every shade in your eyes, every intricacy of you, every cadence you spoke in. After an hour, he finally leaves enough time for his sister to actually respond.

“So you made certain she’ll be at the show tomorrow, right?” It almost sounds rhetorical, not to mention sarcastic, coming from Janet - not that either would surprise Michael.

“No, no,” He shakes his head, leaning against the wall as he holds the phone to his ear, careful not to step too far from the cord. “I don’t want to enforce or engineer anything- that’s not love, that’s a script. If I’m meant to see her again, I will.”

Janet sighs at this, knowing Michael’s mind is set and that means he’ll be too stubborn to consider any alternative; his views on love and fairytales are so absolute, he’d rather spend a lifetime waiting for you and loving you anyway, than use the powers at his disposal to set up a meeting that could lead to a love story.

That said, Janet also knows that for you to have captured Michael’s attention so, you must be some girl. Women have thrown themselves at him from the moment he entered the spotlight - for him to not only notice one amongst the rest, but yearn for you so obviously and without any trace of hesitance, you must be something special. For that, Janet can only pray alongside Michael that somehow, some way, you will find your way back to him.

During rehearsals the following day, Michael finds himself envisioning you in front of the stage, using the idea of dancing to impress you, to woo you as his motivation for giving the performance tonight everything he’s got. No matter how bright the overhead lights of the stadium are, he can picture your smile widening when he dances around onstage, pointing at you as a means of dedicating the song to you, and you alone. He intends to do so regardless of the fact you won’t actually be there. Perhaps he’ll point at the stars, lest you see the footage and misunderstand that he’d ever point at another girl again.

The screams of the crowd do little to quiet the thoughts of you that continue to whirl around the mind of a lyrical genius, even when he runs out onstage to greet them. Breaking into the first song of the night, Michael puts his all into his performance as he always does, but can't help feeling that tonight he has a heavenly blessing in the form of your smile lingering in his thoughts, pushing him that little bit harder. It isn’t until the end of the first song that Michael stops moving for long enough to scan the faces he can actually see from where he stands, the distance from the stage to the front row being further than he’d like. Pausing only momentarily for a brief interval of fishing, Michael’s eyes trace over the front row. And then, he does a double take.

His heart must have been playing a trick on his eyes, surely.

He looks back again, feeling an irregularity in his own pulse when he struggles to find you in the sea of faces again, until whoever had been cruel enough to temporarily block the view of you happens to move just enough for Michael to see you again. Front row, clinging to the barricade like your life depends on it. And you’re smiling at him just the same.

His eyes lock with yours, the band behind him exchanging confused glances. By now, Michael should have given the cue for the second song to start, but the perfectionist has been entirely distracted by the very definition of perfect that he’s been waiting his whole life for. It takes several seconds for him to accept the reality that you really are right there, but as soon as he does, the smile on his face is so big he’s concerned it’ll split his face in half. Giving the cue for the second song to start, Michael points right at you.

“You knock me off of my feet now baby, HOO!”

Throughout ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’, Michael’s gaze connects with yours, and he doesn’t shy away from devoting the song to you in every way he can. If it weren’t for the rehearsed role of the woman onstage that he’s barely even noticing, he’d have pulled you up here with him. Instead, Michael settles for pointing at you, winking at you, and holding your gaze while singing lyrics and dancing in ways that leave no room for misinterpretation.

He continues this for the remainder of the setlist, a plan forming in his head over the course of the next few songs. Because now that divine intervention has resulted in you being right here with him again, who is he to stand and do nothing in the face of that? Of you?

With the instrumental for Liberian Girl beginning behind him, Michael sets his plan into action. Against the better judgment of his security, he jumps from the edge of the stage, making a beeline for where you stand in the front row, every face except yours blurring into his peripheral vision, the increasing volume of the screams of the crowd fading into nothing with the way your smile brightens, the closer he gets to you. Realizing how disastrous this could be, Michael’s security lunge forward to lift you over to the barrier, holding back the other fans that try to climb over with you. And then, Michael’s hand is taking yours, holding it so gently, his free hand bringing his mic back to his lips.

“Liberian girl, you came and you changed my world, a love so brand new…” He sings, eyes holding yours with reverie as he guides you by the hand until you’re standing onstage with him.

The very second there’s enough time in between lyrics, Michael lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles, and that shy smile he’s already dreamt of appears on your face again. With the gentlest movement, he pulls you closer to him, inviting you to erase the distance that he’s desperate to be without, and you’re hardly going to hesitate. You let go of his hand to instead wrap both of your arms around his neck, and Michael has never cursed not having a headset more than on the occasion that he can now only hold your waist with one arm because he’s required to use the other to hold up his microphone. Sometimes, the world is too cruel to comprehend, he thinks. Still, a man can't complain about getting to hold you in any capacity.

“More precious than any pearl…” Michael sings, his voice soft in your ear, intimate despite the scale of the concert itself that surrounds you.

Unable to resist the urge a moment longer, he starts to sway with you in time with the music, melting into the most perfect slow dance on a stage with an audience of thousands, but feeling like the only two souls in the universe.

When the song draws to a close with notes that have you ascending to an astral plane, the crowd screams with enthusiasm like never before, and Michael lowers his microphone. Wrapping both arms around your waist at long last, he leans to your ear to ensure that you can hear him.

“I prayed I’d see you again.” He tells you, his voice so sincere.

“You must be on pretty good terms with God, then.” It’s all you can do to prevent yourself from collapsing in his arms at words like the ones he just spoke.

“I think I must be.” Michael chuckles. “Now, I owe him more than ever.” His arms tighten around your waist, and your heart splutters in your chest.

Knowing that this moment is one that needs to be put on hold for now, Michael sighs, moving one hand to hold the back of your head.

“Would you mind waiting for me, backstage?” He wonders, and when you shake your head into the crook of his neck, his entire body relaxes with relief.

“See you after. Break a leg.” You wish Michael luck, surprising him with a kiss on his cheek and then stepping away from him.

His hand trails down your arm, to your wrist, and holds your hand for every microsecond he can until you slip from his grasp, but his smile is unwavering. Michael watches you leave, waiting until you’re safely situated backstage with his best security guard at your side, and then he blows you a kiss that you catch in an instant. With an effortless, expert kick in the air, Michael breaks into his next song. And he cant help looking over at you longingly every so often, just to check the perfect vision of you is still there, still waiting for him. Still smiling at him.

#michael jackson x reader #michael jackson imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #imagines #x reader #headcannon #headcannons

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cuntycheol · 9 months

Text

To You :)

Happy Birthday Seungcheol!!!

WC: 744 words. We must protect this man :(

Hand in hand, you sat comfortably on the couch with your beloved baby Kkuma, and your husband, Seungcheol. Time usually races to midnight, but when you're eagerly awaiting its passage, it seems to drag. Nonetheless, you embrace the virtue of patience and immerse yourselves back into the movie that both of you had been thoroughly enjoying. The silence and occasional glances to the clock from Seungcheol made it evident he's anticipating something. It's hard for him to remain discreet about something he's excited for, or he's eagerly waiting. However, you pause the movie because of how boring the plot gets, and switch off the TV. "Kkuma's asleep, so is my leg" you whine. Seungcheol grabs her and lays her comfortable on her bed, while you slowly get up and get in the kitchen.

"Where to?" He inquires, voice deepening with the amount of seriousness in his tone. "Oh just for some water. I'll be quick" you take out a bottle from the fridge. He stands for a while, as you glance his figure from the corner of your eye, hoping he goes in the room. Soon he does, and you quickly take out your prepared cake, with the candles and lit it. Unable to control your ecstacy, you hold your gift, and party caps, and slowly get in the room. Seungcheol, who was seated on the bed with a huge pout, legs crossed by the ankles, immediately lightens up in a huge, huge smile.

"Happy birthday Husband! Looks like another year of putting up with me is in the books" you chuckle. He laughs a little, and you proceed to sing him a birthday song. Kkuma who tends to be awaken by slight disturbance, rushes into the room and jumps onto her dad's lap. You put the cap on his head, and take some pictures to capture this simple moment. Calm has always been the aesthetic of the two of you.

"Well, they say practice makes perfect. Thanks for giving me so much practice then! But seriously, I wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you so much, love" he pulls you on the bed, and blows on the candle. You rip out a piece from the corner and feed it to the birthday boy himself and he swipes a fluffy peak of cream on your lips to help himself on the sugar rush. He couldn't be more happier.

You pull out the gift you've prepared for him; the perfect watch for a man who holds luxury. "Hopefully you'll keep track of time when you're late" you sneer. He holds the watch in his hands and thanks you, "oh darling I have all the time" and you share a chuckle. Smiling, you look in his eyes and ask him, "what did your dad call your grandfather?" He looks at you, confused but proceeds to tilt his head and say "well he'd call him dad or father"

"And what did you call your dad?"

"Tch, Aunty" he scoffs "ofcourse dad"

"And what if someone else calls you dad?" You ask, your heart now racing in your chest.

"Honey, who would call me da-" he stops mid sentence, to look you. He raises his eyebrows, surprise all over his face. You finally take out the ultrasound sonogram and hand it to your surprised husband. He puts Kkuma on the bed and gets up, pacing back and forward in the room, texting his friends in his groupchat, absolutely frenzy with happiness.

"I'm going to be a dad? Me? Father? Oh my god" he picks you up and twirls you around. "Oh my- Cheol stop I'll fall!!" Laughter filling the room, he's on the moon right now. Nothing could bring him down from his peak of excitement.

"Thankyou so much for giving me the BEST gift ever" he slowly gets teary-eyed, hands on your belly as he hugs you from behind. You hold his hands, feeling every inch of his warmth onto you.

"You know how you're always worried about being late? Well, get ready to be 'late' for diaper changes and feeding times"

"Wait, are you saying we're starting a new trend of fashionable lateness?"

"Exactly! Our little one is going to set the trend for parents who arrive fashionably late to everything."

"I guess I'll have to update my wardrobe to match our baby's schedule then!" Seungcheol laughs. Safe to say your child will have the best parents in the world, and quite an interesting father.

════════════════════

Thankyou for reading this and giving so much love to my fic!!

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whorediaries-09 · 2 months

Text

heartbeat;

pairing- fwb!sirius black x reader warning- hurt/comfort, 18+ content, substances, cheating. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- also this has so much sex for no reason at all-

little train. masterlist of 'the seven lives' series

' you thinking that the songs coming on to tempt me i need to be alone like the way you left me '

heartbeat;

the waves scandalised on his feet, the sand running through the gaps between his toes. the sun hung low, a strange crimson glow bathing through his features. salty air blew into his hair, scents of burnt leaves tantalizing his nostrils as late july crept around. the cigarette burnt through his puffs, the burnt ash flying with the air, leaving the roll with an orange glow. the dusk of the twilight enamoured him. he took another puff from his cigarette, letting the burnt feeling settle on his tastebuds.

‘hey,’ your touch was all too familiar on his skin. from feeling his skin to touching his skin, he’d grown to like your touch. it didn’t shudder his thoughts or nerves. it was familiar, a burn that he liked.

‘hi,’ he said, as you pulled the from cigarette between his lips. wrapping your lips around it, you pulled in the tobacco, letting it intoxicate your lungs. he watched the tip glow red, the smoke leaving your lips as he wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

‘never took you for a beach kinda guy,’

‘no?’

‘nah. with all those abs and all. more of a mountain and trekking guy i guess,’

‘well i have surprised you then.’ he said pulling your body closer. his finger slid between the strap of your bra through the t-shirt. he drew faint circles on your shoulder, enjoying the goosebumps that arose on your skin, and how your shook under his touch.

‘or maybe you have your fantasy with a beach fucking gateway. you do, don’t you?’ he chuckled, a deep rumble from his throat. hiding his face in the crook of your neck, he blew a breath of warm air on your skin, letting the wind cool it.

‘you really know me don’t you,’ he whispered. he heard your heart beat, growing its pace.

‘honestly, i don’t know what you’re waiting for,’ you replied, your tone low, laced with a veiled hunger. your hand crept around his neck, pulling him closer by the black t-shirt he was wearing. smiling against his mouth, you crept your hand into his locks.

‘in public?’ he smirked. you laughed, hitting his chest with a light blow.

‘no,’

but when his lips met yours in a fanatical frenzy, you found your mind reeling, pressed against the cold wall of his hotel room. it was numbing, as his lips bit all over your skin, marking you all over, his touch spreading a blossom of lust within you. you arched your hips, as he carried you to the bed, throwing you on the mattress.

pushing back a moan into your throat, you gulped as he tore your shirt off, ripped off your pants. your hands slid down to the zipper of his fly, but he slapped your hand away, his fingers circling your clit.

‘did i say you could?’ he said against your mouth. you could see the clouds of lust hidden in his gray irises. he increased the force of friction upon your clit, circling the sensitive mound more aggressively. you breathed heavy.

‘n-no’ his fingers met the warmth of your cunt, his rings cold against the heat of your throbbing hole.

‘so wet, just for me huh?’ he teased, sinking his teeth in the nape of your neck.

‘it’s never dry when you’re around, black,’ your chuckle was caught halfway with a whine as he slid his fingers into you. he curled his fingers into you, pressing onto your sensitive spot. you arched your hips, trying to get more friction.

‘that’s right sweetheart, ride my fucking fingers. cum on them. let me have a taste,’ he said, watching you unravel on his fingers. he liked the control over you, how you turned into putty just into his hands. he liked you to see you melt, to watch you become breathless, surrender to him. he liked how he knew your body like it was his. as if he could sculpt you out pore by pore with his eyes closed.

‘fuck,’ you whined as he latched his tongue onto your clit, sucking on it, letting you closer to the release. you were feral, breaking through the latches of your sanity as his tongue lapped on you, your thighs shaking around his head, pulling him closer. he could feel the clench of your walls around his fingers, the shaking of your thighs as you pulled him closer, letting him consume you.

he smiled against your cunt, devouring every bit of your sanity as you unravelled on his tongue, letting your orgasm paint his tongue and fingers. when he got up from between his legs, he pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting your taste fuse with your tastebuds.

‘you taste so good, you know that?’ he said, adjusting his torso between your thighs. you smiled, wrapping your hands around his neck as he pushed into you.

‘i know,’ you said, your tongue slipping into his mouth, as he gasped into your mouth. your walls stretched around his neck.

‘you better fuck me like you mean it, black,’ you demanded, as he groaned, pulling his cock out and thrusting into you again.

‘trust me, i always fuck you like i mean it, sweetheart,’ the way the nickname rolled off his tongue had you clenching your walls around his girth. he rammed into you, his hand meeting your throat, feeling the beat of your cunt and heart under his control.

‘sucha dirty girl,’ he moaned, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. you arched your hips, as he pushed the back of your head into the mattress. through the constriction, you felt the numb whiteness of pleasure consume you, your over sensitive cunt throbbing as you felt his pubic hair rub rough against your skin.

‘just for you, black,’ he smiled, running his fingers through his raven strands.

‘yeah? just for me?’ you nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to your body. his hand left your throat, pinning your hands over your head. he enjoyed the look of your breasts bouncing before latching his mouth on your nipple.

‘fuck-black, just like that,’ you groaned, as he pushed a rather rough thrust into you. the hoarseness in his voice was laced with a low growl paired with a rhythmic thrust brought you over the edge, as your orgasm unravelled and you painted his torso with your juices. he craned his neck at the sight, releasing himself into you, painting your insides with his cum. panting, he fell onto your body, his cock still buried deep inside you.

‘sweetheart, you get me so soaked,’ you tease, enjoying the soft bliss of his warmth.

‘always my pleasure, sweetheart.’

‘always my pleasure, sweetheart.’ the bartender said, pushing the glass of his drink towards him. he wrapped his lips around the glass, drowning the bittersweet drink down his throat. in the crevices of the dim light of the bar, he could see you, pushing your hips against the crotch of your new boyfriend. it was disgusting, how his hands roamed all over your body, his lips latched onto your neck.

he should’ve seen this coming. he should’ve believed james when he told him about the bastard. he should’ve seen past the barriers of fucking, the barriers of sex in hidden hotels, seen past the potential of rendezvous affairs in parking lots. he should’ve seen it earlier.

but sirius black was a stubborn man. he would get anything he wanted. so, he found himself at the bar, when your glass was empty with a loser of a boyfriend. he found himself on the edge of breaking his jaw when his hands crept on your thigh, tantalizing over your core. he could see it on your face, even if you were hidden in shadows. he could read it in your expressions, the little breathes that left your lips, the way you gulped, the curt curl of lips on your face.

he tapped his finger on his thigh, bouncing his leg. the bartender was fluttering his eyelashes at him, his sandy dusty hair falling in front of his eyes. he could see the honey glazed irises through the strands, as he licked his lips. sirius wasn’t foreign to such attention from women and men alike. it came with him being dashingly attractive and more than just a hollow shell to look at. his charisma could break through a brick-wall, if he wanted to.

but what he was foreign to was the fact he had somebody else on his mind. he didn’t have a subtle history of one-night stands or flings. it was raunchy, and he had left the culture for good, having unintentionally broken many hearts. but sirius black’s sex drive wasn’t to be extinguished so fast.

a stupid drunken night he’d hooked up with his best friend, you. he’d fallen into a void he thought he could escape. but he’d already fallen down the rabbit hole of madness, a stupor of lust, greed, and highness you brought down from heaven. it was a promiscuous affair, and neither of you backed up, and it became more than just a stupid hook up ‘accident’. it became an arrangement of sorts, a clandestine affair hidden within the darkness of parking lots or scabby motels. it was inescapable, and soon he found himself reminiscing the touch, the feel of your skin.

but even through the feelings he’d tried to ignore, he felt himself drowning into the need of your touch. in this drunk stare, he took the bartender and the girl who’d been practically eye-fucking him, to his flat it was angry and frustrated; he needed those feelings out his system. so, he found himself between a guy and girl, in a haze of lust. it was lore to be kept hidden when the girl scratched her nails deep into sirius’ back, her red lipstick marked all over his torso. the bartender took sirius from behind, stretching him out, as sirius rutted the girl’s guts into his mattress. his hand wrapped around sirius’ neck, placing his mouth on his, retching him with bruised lips.

he felt his orgasm tug low at his stomach, as the girl’s walls clenched around his cock. sirius dug his fingers into her waist, drowning in the high of alcohol and lust that wrecked his system. he missed your touch, your feel, your nasty words that helped him crawl down the euphoria of pleasure. in the distant cacophony of the low moans and skin-slapping, he found himself emptying into the condom.

‘fuck,’ he whispered as he felt the warmth flood behind his back. he felt the liquid slide down his thighs, lips latched onto the skin of his neck. it brought him a strange sense of discomfort. it wasn’t the first time he’d had a threesome, but somehow, he found himself hating it.

‘i need to go clean myself,’ he whispered. they nodded. sirius stood there, lingering, his waist uncharacteristically swaying.

‘you guys can clean yourself in my bathroom - and stay here for the night if you’d like. i-um i’ll sleep outside,’

he saw the girl giggle and wrap her arms around the bartender before wrapping her lips around his waist before he walked out into the hallway. he’d have to change the sheets the next day, he decided. even burn that were about to be stained with the deeds of strangers. it felt like a backfire of his plan but he was too tired to fight it.

you knew better than to respond to sirius’ text. you’d seen him bartender and a blonde girl home. it was a ploy, to make you jealous. you could read it in his face. but you were so tired of being the chase, of being the prey. you needed him to hunt you down, make you his. perhaps all he needed was a little push. so, you’d decided to the guy at work a chance. he was cute-physically at least. as the evening went on you realized he was nothing but a hollow shell, just a pretty thing to look at.

internally you cursed marlene who’d given you this ‘awesome idea’ to woo sirius and make him jealous. sirius black was a stubborn man and he’d make anything his if he set his eyes on it. all he needed was a little push over the edge to pursue his interests. a little push for him to set off the ticking bomb that was his anger issues. he’d bash out and admit his feelings any day. but it was the push he needed. so, you’d tolerated the guy throughout the evening hoping the sex wouldn’t be half as bad.

how wrong you were. his touches were rushed. but it wasn’t a sensual rush that led you into a headspace of arousal. it was a rush to see you naked. there was no foreplay what so ever, neither was there an effort to make you feel good. all he wanted to do was explore his pleasure, let down his high of euphoria. you didn’t even feel yourself close to the edge when he pulled out, chasing your lips with a bruising kiss.

you groaned, as he fell near you, panting slowly. his hand wrapped around your waist and he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. his beard tickled the skin, and you found yourself hating it. it wasn’t like sirius’ soft stubble. it was scratchy, raising the sensors of your comfortability.

it was rabbit hole of fucking madness. you’d found yourself falling deep into the grave of lust and greed when sirius had hooked up with you on a drunk night when the summer air was humid. you found yourself filling the void of his heart without realizing it. you found yourself gaining a power, a control over him nobody else had. you found yourself falling with him, deep into a dorm of madhouse. it was inescapable, and somewhere along the clandestine rendezvous in hotels and parking lots, you allowed yourself to not escape.

you had messed with sirius, and you knew it was a bad news. and now he was messing with you. so, you turned around your screen of your phone on the nightstand.

‘had a threesome after so long.’

it was vulgar, short, yet enough to set you off the edge. even if you knew it, the confirmation made it worse.

‘why don’t i fuck you good enough?’

‘well, you’re fucking some loser from work.’

‘i’m fucking him, that’s not my boyfriend.’

‘big talk sweetheart, you went on a date with him. he’s your co-worker. as good as a boyfriend.’

‘he’s as hollow as your mother’s fried brain.’

‘rude.’

‘you agree with it.’

‘i do.’

you let out a short breath.

‘so…’

‘meet me in five.’

‘right.’

‘right,’ he said, munching on a fry. you chuckled, wiping a stripe of mayonnaise from the side of his lips.

‘that bad of a fuck huh?’ he teased, even though you could hear the bitter tone laced in his voice. sipping on your milkshake, you shrugged.

‘sooo bad. he didn’t even last like…10 minutes.’

‘i mean he must have never had sucha good pussy before,’ he whispered, leaning closer to you. it was a vile thing to say in public, but you were guarded by the windows of his car. you chuckled, throwing him a nervous blow of your tongue.

‘i’m not wrong,’ he winked.

‘i mean i must believe you. you’ve your experiences.’ you said, a stern tone in your voice. throwing the plastic cup into the polythene, you climbed over the seat, straddling his hips.

‘fuck,’ he groaned, arching his hips. when you unbuttoned your skimpy blouse, shoving your breasts into his face, he latched his mouth onto your nipple. you moaned, craning your neck, and hiding your fingers into his silky strands. this wasn’t a part of your plan…but how could you resist his mouth upon your body, his teeth marking spots on your skin as he fervently kissed you into a stupor till your mind went numb.

still, this felt different, when his finger explored your cunt through your underwear, rubbing soft on your clit. there was something in his eyes, a fire of agony, a fire of desire. something more than just lust. he unzipped his pants, letting out his cock.

‘fuck me,’ you said, your mouth against his. he raised an eyebrow.

‘no foreplay?’

‘oh, fuck you, black, it’s so wet already,’ you groaned, rubbing your cunt against his skin of his girth. a devious smirk tasted upon his kiss bitten lips.

‘it’s so wet for me, isn’t it?’ he said, positioning the tip of his cock at your core, teasing your slit.

‘yes, yes,’ you groaned. when he entered you, it was a delicious stretch that burned through you. he grabbed your neck, pressing so slowly on your artery.

‘look at me, look at me, sweetheart,’ your eyes glazed over his, and you found yourself lost into the crevice of madness into his gray eyes. he rammed his hips into you, your thighs shaking as he did so. he brought your face closer to his, and licked over your lips.

‘you’re such a sweetheart for me. such a slave for my cock, even though you’ve got a stupid boyfriend at home,’

when sirius dropped by your office, he didn’t expect you to be… for a lack of better words, making out with your co-worker. the heat from the coffee he’d been holding seeped through his fingers. he felt his brain sizzle with emotion, an anger that soaked his nerves with a nausea an overwhelming desire to fucking bash that bastard’s head. his heart pounded threateningly against his ribcage, his feelings swallowing him whole. his eyes burned from unshed tears. he saw red, fucking red when you slipped your hand into the bastard’s pant, going down on your knees, licking your lips.

in the middle of the fucking day, in your office cabin you were ready to offer head to that excuse of a boyfriend. it was disgusting, gross- it made him feel things he’d never felt before. he felt obsessive, as a strange sense of possessiveness took over his senses. he felt his blood boil, his head reeling with viciously violent thoughts.

he stood there, watching through the curtain of his unshed tears as you felt somebody who wasn’t him. his hands shook as he walked out of the office, throwing the cup of coffee into the bin. truth be told, he wanted to ask you out, ‘gain a pair’ as james told him, since ‘it wasn’t too late’. he wanted to take you to dinner, a proper date with all the ‘gentlemanly shit,’ as marlene suggested.

‘you won’t break your heart,’ a famished lily had told him as sirius fondled with his godson’s cheeks. remus agreed with her, giving him a piece of chocolate as encouragement. and for the first time in their life, sirius thought, they were wrong. they were wrong. you wanted nothing more than sex from him. your heart wasn’t his, even if his was yours. you didn’t wear your heart on a sleeve like he did. you weren’t his to lose. but it still hurt.

it still pitied a fire into his stomach. a fire of agony, a desire. a fire which was fuelled by the diesel that was you. by the diesel that was your touch, your feel, your scent, your smile, your words, your body. by the diesel that were you. he decided perhaps, it was time to go. even if he wasn’t ready to go, perhaps he was. perhaps that’s how he’d be healed, if he ran away from you. from the ecstasy that you brought him. if he fled his thoughts that were full of you.

sirius wiped his hands on the side of his apron. as someone who’d never baked a day in his life before, peter’s advice helped him to make a darn good cake. it came out as a regular sponge, but he had an eye for decorations. from a boring old sponge cake, it was transformed into a beautiful cake. now he could only hope harry would like it.

he took a picture and sent it to you. he didn’t ignore you, as he thought he would, but he certainly never met you physically. he never met you alone in shabby corners or was left alone with you. perhaps you were done with him. but you were his friend, a damn good one at that, and he couldn’t let that bond break just because you didn’t want anything to do with him. perhaps he’d never be good enough for you.

‘you going today?’ you texted.

‘no i made this cake for myself.’

‘just answer the damn question god damn.’

‘obviously i’m coming.’

‘that’s what she said.’

‘middle school boy humour.’

‘hmmm… i know.’

the bubbles appeared and re-appeared on his screen. he didn’t text you back until you got off whatever you had on your chest.

‘can you… come over?’

he found himself questioning the text, instead of replying right away. he wasn’t ready to go, not yet. but he didn’t want to leave with a broken heart either. luckily for you, he was damn good at making bad decisions.

‘yes.’

‘yes,’ your moan muffled against the pillow as his cock plunged into you, his finger tips sinking into the soft flesh of your ass. the dress you were wearing for the party had been long discarded on the floor. you could hear him whimpering as your finger bruised circles on your clit. your walls clenched deliciously around his cock, your orgasm at the brink of your sanity.

sirius’ tatted hand wrapped around your neck as he brough your shaking body closer to his. he pushed his slender fingers into your mouth, as you gaggled around them, spit drooling around his fingers. the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping and guttural moans. it wasn’t a drunk accident. the both of you were very sober when you decided to ravage each other.

‘you’re sucha nasty-’ he moaned, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as you clenched tighter around him. he was feral, as he hit a particularly deep spot inside you at this position. it made you see fucking stars, and you practically screamed as your thighs shook.

‘i’m sucha nasty girl, no? just for you black,’ you whispered, your throat raw with the guttural moans and screams that emitted out of your lips.

‘that’s right sweetheart,’ he said, his voice low and rough. you nodded, as you broke the sweat, your orgasm escaping through your body as he licked a filthy stripe from your neck to your ear.

‘fuck,’ he gasped, as he emptied into you, his seed filling into you like white ropes. he pinched your skin, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he came down from the high of the pleasure you brought him.

your weak body fell slump onto the bed, and you turned around on your back. you brought him down by looping your finger through his silver chain. you slipped your tongue into his mouth, teeth sinking into his lips. he twisted his fingers into your hair, hungrily consuming the saccharine taste of your lips.

‘stay?’ you asked, breathless. sirius could feel a pool of anger pit into his stomach.

‘no,’ he on your lips. he could read the hurt in your eyes but he thought he just imagined it. obviously, he did. he had to stop falling into the spectrum of your attraction. he had stop being there, hanging in there just to be your little sex toy.

‘why not?’

‘i- i can’t,’ he said, getting up, distancing himself from you. he could feel his heart break as you covered yourself with the sheet under you.

‘you’ve a boyfriend.’ he whispered, as he put on his clothes.

‘that didn’t stop you from brainfucking me the other night-‘

‘i-i was out of my mind.’

‘i- i want you to stay.’

‘no.’

‘please.’

‘i’m sorry.’

‘why?’

because i don’t recognise you anymore. i don’t recognise the girl i once had. the only thing i recognise is the not half as bad sex. i’ve lost you.

‘i- i want you to know, i’m ready to go.’ throwing you a sad look, he left without giving you an explanation.

sirius had found you sitting at the bar. you weren’t expecting him of course. you hadn’t reached out to him ever since he’d left. he hated to say it, but he missed you. incurable was the void his heart had created. he missed something that wasn’t him, someone who wasn’t his. he had boiling anger surging within him, but he wanted to see you. his heart overruled his brain, so he approached you.

‘hi,’ he said. he half expected you to bash out at him. but you didn’t. instead, you gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

‘hey,’ you said. taking a sip of your drink. i’ve missed you.

‘so alone in a bar? on a thursday night?’

‘yep,’ you said, a little too cheerfully to be honest. his hand gripped yours. your heart broke. he wasn’t ready to go, not yet.

‘are you okay?’ he asked. you crept your hand around his neck. there was something in your eyes. something he’d never seen. something too pure for it to be just lust. something of an unreadable lore.

‘can we talk in private?’ he thought about your question. the last time, talking in private turned into a fuck session where he’d realized he didn’t recognise you anymore. but he was damn good at listening to his heart when you were around.

so, he agreed which resulted him taking you home. your hands wrapped around his waist as you held onto him. the skimpy dress you’d been wearing didn’t provide much of a coverage through the cool air. the engine of his motorbike died as he stopped it at your house.

it was a quiet feeling that submerged the both of you. your minds and hearts were full of unsaid words. a seething rage of desire settled deep into your nerves. you wanted nothing but to grab him and kiss him stupid. tell him how much you loved him. but you needed to talk. talk about your feelings and his. talk about the mad rabbit hole you’d fallen into.

‘hi,’ you said, unlocking the door. he smiled.

‘so, what did you want to say?’ you twiddled with your mouth. now that you had him, you didn’t know how to say anything. you walked towards your table, and poured a glass of water for yourself, a fake liquid courage. he stood on the other side, waiting patiently for you to say something.

‘for a lack of better words, i have no idea how to say this. but i still will. because i can’t go long without getting this off my chest,’ you voice broke, and you felt your cheeks heat up as the words left your mouth.

‘in simple words, the guy i was dating was a ploy, to get you jealous. i thought a little push would get you to admit how you felt. i- i’m in love with you.’ you said, whispering the last part. you met his eyes, hoping he’d say something. but there was nothing. a pregnant silence where none said anything.

‘so you’re telling me you’ve loved me for all this while?’ he spat, exploding into a fume of anger you’d never seen seethe within him before. you nodded.

‘i- i’m in love with you, sirius.’ sirius felt his heart explode. anger spilled into every crevice of his heart and he felt his words spill before he could control himself.

'fuck this! what even are we? are we best friends? are we fucking? are we dating? something in between that?' he said, slamming his wrist on your table. his eyes wandered over your body, taking in your features through the silky skimpy dress clad on your body. he stopped at your lips.

you could feel the heat radiate off his body when walked towards you pinning your body to the cold wall behind your wall. his hand crept on your cheek, finger stroking at your mouth. he leaned closer, brushing his nose against yours, his hair tickling your face.

the fury agonized a fire within him which only you could extinguish. it spread into his gut, crawling out with an intensity of lust. he could feel you melting into his touch, like you always did.

'i wish we never fucked, and i mean that.' he said, a cold threat laced into his voice. even in the spiral of lust or greed, you'd never seen his eyes so dark. you'd never seen the pure genuine anger which crumbled him into shattered pieces. still, you felt his touch ignite your skin, melting into the tension, the diesel of desire. it was the fire you liked playing with. gripping his t-shirt collar, you pushed his mouth near yours,

'do you mean that?' he brushed his lips against yours, taking your lower lip between his teeth.

'no, not really,'

a deep rumble held onto his chest when you pushed your mouth onto his lips, converging your feelings deep into his brain. he felt his heart thump angrily against his ribcage as he held onto you. in the mist of the clouds, he found you to be his muse. he found himself seeing nobody but you. you’d gotten him hooked.

when you parted, he was breathless, a stupid smile plastered on his face. his cheeks were dusted pink. he leaned his forehead on your temple, as you chuckled. your arms wrapping around his waist.

‘tell me you love me too,’ you said, a tone of insecurity laced into your voice. he crept his hand on your cheek, stroking his finger onto the skin.

‘look at me, sweetheart.’ when you met his eyes, an unfamiliar shyness took over you.

‘i’m yours. you’re mine. i love you too. let me take you out tomorrow?’ he said against your mouth.

************************************

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oneatlatime · 3 months

Text

The Crossroads of Destiny

Strap in folks it's finally finale time!

I'm getting a bad feeling from the 'previously on' segment.

*gasp* Song's bird horse!?!?!

Toph gets some serious speed with that earth tongue walking.

Ty Lee's flattery gets less and less subtle. I get the feeling that a lot of Azula's more worrying tendencies could have been curtailed if someone had stuck her on stage as a child.

Is Zuko taller?

The cuts between these scenes are getting ridiculous. Some of these scenes are maybe 15 seconds long.

Zuko knows what's up. He and Iroh have teamed up on that particular fire breathing party trick before.

"It's time I face Azula." Buddy. No.

"You're so dramatic." POT. KETTLE. BLACK.

The last time Iroh and the Aang Gang teamed up, it was also against Azula. She has a way of uniting enemies.

The longer I stare at this the more I giggle.

"Good inside him isn't enough. Why don't you come back when it's outside him too, ok?" Congratulations to Sokka for articulating one of the fundamental human truths. Intentions can go take a hike when all that's visible are actions.

I love that! Iroh says he brought someone along in a tone that very much implies that he asked for help from a friend! Then you go outside and see he kidnapped a dude! And then they just leave him there!

I see your fake meditation. No one as rotten inside as this guy actually meditates properly.

The Dai Li be like

Katara? Why are you ripping into Zuko? Why is Season one bitchy Katara back? I don't want season 1 bitchy Katara to come back.

"No offence." "None taken." Iroh loves his nephew, but Iroh knows his nephew.

The one time Iroh's advice is explicitly solicited is the one time his advice is corny crap. That sucks.

Ba Sing Se is a tel? That's neat.

Hey Toph? Now would be a great time for that new metal bending trick of yours.

Avatar inadvertently validating my fear of subway grates.

I know this is life or death serious and all, but isn't the Sokka and Ty Lee dynamic cute?

MOMO!

This episode's thesis statement boils down to "what happens when you cancel arts programs and theatre kids don't get a chance to monologue in controlled conditions."

Honest question: Is Azula actually so deluded to believe that Divine Right of Kings crap she just spouted, or is she saying what the Dai Li needs to hear to side with her? Usually I think everything out of Azula's mouth is a calculated statement for manipulating others, but the way the show framed that monologue makes me think she actually believes what she's saying.

This conversation between Katara and Zuko, aside from showing that Katara is as capable as Sokka at sticking her foot in her mouth, is actually showing Zuko's growth well. So many of the things that he waves away with an "it's ok" are things that would have made him explode back in season one. It's about time he redefined that scar of his too.

"Aang! I knew you'd come!" "Uncle! The fuck?" Zuko truly has a way with words.

Hey Iroh maybe save your heart to heart until after you've exited the prison?

Wait so this episode is named after Zuko's arc? It's Zuko's destiny this finale is dealing with? Poor Aang's not even the main character in his eponymous show's season finale? Dang.

What was I saying about waiting to chat until you're outside the prison?

So every word out of Azula's mouth here is definitely a lie. She doesn't need Zuko at all. She's got a whole army and already has possession of the throne. What does she need with someone she considers to be an inferior firebender?

Father's love? That guy who burns off faces? The audacity.

"You are free to choose." Is it really freedom of choice if choosing the answer Azula doesn't want to hear ends with Zuko in a crystal cage?

Gotta say I'm intrigued by how quiet Zuko's being for this whole episode. Compare it to the volume of his confrontation with Azula at the Spa place at the beginning of the season.

This is so awful. This is so skin crawly. This is so going to end badly.

Toph can turn doors into ping pong balls. I like that. And what does she need Sokka scouting for Dai Li agents for? She can sense people for miles.

I love the line read on the "I'm not leaving without Bosco!" But does this guy really think he's in a position to make demands, after all the stuff he's ruined in the last, what, two days?

This is a cool move. Full body air bitchslap.

Katara cut her hair! That's kind of like what she did to Pakku with the ice disks.

How has no one been knocked out yet? Everyone in this fight should have at least 5 concussions by now.

I don't know what to make of it, but when Zuko says "I have changed" he sounds more calm and confident than he has all season.

I love the dynamic between Sokka & Toph and Mai & Ty Lee. Everyone involved knows they're second string and no one's really that invested. So they're all kind of chill.

I don't know what's going on in this fight, but Zuko is far too talented and Katara and Aang are both going down too easily.

And this right here is why this fight is only going to end badly for Aang. As soon as Azula's tired of playing, she'll call in reinforcements. Aang doesn't have those.

I hate Azula so much, which means I'm very annoyed to say that she and Zuko actually make a good fighting team. Did they practice drills together or something back in the day? They way they tag out and back in, and exchange fights, flows so well.

Jesus

Crap ok

She nerfed him in the power up sequence! That's not allowed!

So help me god if the writers hook these two up after pulling this crap I will riot.

Iroh could have been helpful if he'd been there earlier. Guess it takes a while to break out of crystals. Although I do like the detail that he stops fighting as soon as Aang and Katara are out & safe.

I was wondering why the magic water was randomly brought up earlier after disappearing for the entire season. I figured it had been lost in the desert with the rest of the stuff on Appa's saddle.

I'm so sorry, but the way Aang's arrow flashes once to confirm that Katara's saved him makes him look like an external USB device confirming successful connection.

I'm loving how immediate the regret from Zuko is. Proof that he has learned over the last two seasons.

"The Earth Kingdom... has fallen." AND WHOSE FAULT IS THAT? This King rubs me the wrong way. Consistently.

I'm fascinated by the fact that they managed to securely transport a bear on Appa's back.

Final Thoughts

Poor Aang has been demoted to secondary character in his own show. This finale was all Fire Nation.

Well done Azula. No matter which way you look at it, she won. If Azula was the main character, this episode would be the crowning glory series finale.

Sokka and Toph spent the whole episode running around putting out fires, only for five more to spring up in their place. I honestly don't know how they and Appa reconnected with the rest of the Gaang to fly out at the end. There's this feeling the whole episode of being consistently one too many steps behind, and I think it's most obvious in their incessant side quests.

Poor Katara went through about seventy billion emotions this episode. I take back my anger at her bitchiness. She deserved a vent session, although I don't think Zuko quite deserved to be the recipient of it. But he took it well.

Congratulations to Zuko for falling backwards into the only right choice for all the wrong reasons. This episode was only going to end with Azula victorious. She recruited an army and successfully executed a coup without breaking a sweat - that is not a level of enemy that Aang and friends has ever faced before, and not one they can realistically win against. Like with Long Feng, this is not a threat you can hit. You can't bend at ideologies and loyalties.

Zuko was going to end this episode siding with the Fire Nation as a free man, or in Fire Nation custody. This way, someone with an actual semi-functioning conscience now has access to the upper levels of the Fire Nation. This could be really interesting.

To be clear, I fully believe that Zuko chose to side with Azula because he swallowed her offer hook, line & sinker. For the guy who invented "Azula always lies" he sure does fall for her lies a lot, especially when she's saying exactly what he wants to hear. I believe Zuko believed her about getting his honour back bla bla bla, chose to follow her because of that belief, and has already realised at least some of what she said was lies by the end of the episode. Which is promising! It looks like there's potential for a Zuko mole next season!

I'm worried for Iroh. Firelords who burn their children's faces off with no shame don't strike me as the type to shy away from executing their brothers.

The Aang fakeout death at the end was not remotely believable unfortunately, mostly because kids' cartoons don't ever pull a Psycho and kill the nominal main character half way through. It probably would have freaked me out if I'd seen this episode as a kid though.

Azula hitting Aang during his power up sequence was inspired. A very well done subversion of expectations, which finally validates my frustrations with the concept of power up sequences in general. Few things bug me more than the mooks politely waiting their turn while the good guy does a quick wardrobe change.

So... is the war over? The Earth Kingdom's fallen, the Southern Water Tribe have been functionally out of the game for a while now. There's only the Northern Water Tribe left, which are only still standing because of a Hail Mary that I very much doubt Aang can pull off twice. So is next season's focus going to be defending the Northern Water Tribe from a final Fire Nation push? I think that's the only place that isn't conquered by the Fire Nation in name at least. On the bright side, this means the Gaang won't be returning to Ba Sing Se. Good riddance. I hate that place.

I've never seen a show with a finale that focuses so intensely on the conflict of someone other than the main character. I don't really know what to make of this episode. I think I liked the one before it better. To be clear, everything that happened made sense - characters were in character, events unfolded as expected (if you handwave an elite force of earthbenders preferring a 14 year old over their seasoned leader), but something about this episode is just a bit boring to me. Maybe they telegraphed it too hard in the previous episodes? I don't know. I'll have to chew on this one a bit.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the crossroads of destiny #a resounding meh

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dbnightingale24 · 2 months

Text

Fog In The Mind, Desire In The Heart

A Dark Curtis Everett Love Story

Surprise! I decided to take a small break from the three novels I'm writing (I promise that your updates are coming!!), and finish the damn Curtis Everett one shot I promised you guys years ago. It may take me forever to get to the point, but I do eventually get there, in my defense. Anywho, this is a lot shorter than what you all are used to, but I hope you all enjoy it just the same! As always, thanks to the amazing @fuckingbyefor the moodboard! Here we go!

Word Count: 9911 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+), Slight Snowpiercer AU, Slight Age Gap between Edgar and Reader (work with me people), Curtis Everett, Daddy Kink, Non Con/Dub Con, Drinking, Plotting, Self Hate, Loathing, Betrayal, Swearing, Angst, Mild Violence, Anger, Pining...I think that's it?

Songs That Inspired This Story: I'd Walk Through Fire For You, Just Let Me Adore You

Summary: Everyone stuck in the tail section dreamed of a better life for themselves. Everyone except for Curtis. For him, his better life would start when you were happy and by his side, no matter who he had to force out of the way.

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted/published elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

For as much as you hate Curtis, he lives rent free in your head all day. You sit at the bar that Nam so lovingly bar tends day in and day out, listening in and out of the conversation he makes almost every night.

“Right now isn’t the time, but you’ll see...the world will be livable again. Maybe another year or so, but we’ll be able to get off of this fucking train,” he tells you tonight, an echo of the same thing he’s been saying every night for the last two years.

“What did Curtis say?” you snicker, putting your empty glass down as he reaches for your favorite poison: whiskey.

“He’s busy,” Nam simply shrugs, refilling your glass with ice and the dark brown liquid.

“When isn’t he?”

“Y/N, you know what happened to Edgar-”

“He’s gone, Nam,” you snap unintentionally. “Whatever the hell Curtis meant to happen, didn’t. Edgar has been dead for two years and all the while we wait for the great Curtis Everett to come up with a fucking plan to make all of this not seem so shit as it is,” you sigh before downing your drink.

Your reasons for hating Curtis are very simple and clear for everyone to understand.

Everyone except Curtis.

You remember when you first boarded onto the stupid train that “saved” your life. You remember them ripping you away from your Mother, who sacrificed herself so you could have a chance at life, and her promising you that she’d meet up with you later on in the train.

She never did.

You know she only did it because she knew it was the only way you’d board the train, but the anger feel towards her never leaves.

It never has and it never will.

That was the first time you saw him.

You were put into a group of young teenage girls, a place you barely belonged since you were almost 17, and you felt a pair of eyes on you.

It’s not like that was uncommon, but it didn’t help anything. In fact, as time went on, on the train, you found that a lot of men had their eyes on you. You were beautiful, soft spoken but also opinionated, and kind. You were so understanding and helpful, unlike almost everyone else on the train who gave up hope as soon as the doors closed.

They all did their best to make you notice them, Curtis more than most, but you were more than happy to keep to yourself.

At least, that’s until Edgar came of age. While he was younger than you by a few years, he was persistent and the only one who could truly make you smile and laugh. For as tense and gloomy as things could be, Edgar always found a way to soften everything. The first few times he asked you out (well, too hangout on his bed), you said no because of the age difference.

“Who cares?” he laughed as he followed you to the little hospital section they had set up in one of the train cars.

“Clearly I do!”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Edgar-”

“What could it hurt? We’ll split a protein block, a cup of water, talk a bit, and I’ll walk you back to your bunk. It’ll be fun!”

“Edgar-”

“You know you want to, I see it in your eyes.”

“No Edgar,” you smiled softly before making your way to the children’s bunks to read them a story.

“You’ll say yes, you’ll see!” he called with a soft smile, before he turned and made his way back to his bunk.

After that, he didn’t let up. He asked almost every day until you finally caved and said yes. From that moment on, you two inseparable (after you both finished your daily chores). You loved to spend time reading to the children and he was more than happy to accompany you. The kids loved him anyway.

“What do you think about us having one?” Edgar asked one night as you two laid together after sex.

“Having one what?”

“Child?”

“Fuck no!”

“Shh,” he laughed softly, stroking your hair. “Why not?”

“You can’t be serious, babe. We live on a fucking train, the shittiest part of the train I might add, the world is frozen, the front end comes and randomly takes children whenever they please-”

“It won’t always be like this, plus, Curtis has a plan.”

“Oh? What plan is that?” you scoffed

Edgar had always been Curtis’ biggest supporter.

“Why don’t you believe in him?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in him, but I’m not willing to follow blindly behind him. Everyone else is, and I just don’t see a reason to,” you shrugged.

“Y/N-”

“You asked me a question and I gave you an answer. It’s not my fault that you don’t like the answer, baby.”

Curtis had always been the one thing that got in the way of your relationship with Edgar. Edgar would willingly follow Curtis, no matter what he said or what he did, and you weren’t buying into any of it. Sure, Curtis seemed nice enough and he was kind when he wanted to be, but there was also a silent anger to him. A silent anger that always seemed like it could go off at any time.

Plus, it’s not exactly like he was thrilled when you and Edgar started seeing each other. Once again, a lot of the men weren’t, but everyone could see how happy you were. How well you and Edgar fit together. Curtis, on the other hand, rolled his eyes whenever he saw the two of you together.

“Why don’t you come and help us tonight? You always have an idea-”

“No,” you laughed and Edgar scowled. “That’s your thing, not mine.”

“If you’d come, you’d see there’s nothing to hate about-”“I don’t hate Curtis!” you snapped softly and he rolled his eyes, “I just...something isn’t right there. You all just follow and believe everything that he says, and that’s not okay.”

“You always find a reason to doubt him and hes never given you a reason to.”

“And hes never given you a reason to trust him so much!”

“I’m not having another argument about this-”

“Good, because I’m tired of him somehow always becoming the center of our relationship.”

“Y/N-”

“You’re gonna be late. Go.”

You hated arguing so much with him about Curtis, but he didn’t know the things that you knew about him. Besides the fact that his eyes always lingered on you for far much longer than they should have, you knew about the things that Edgar was too young to remember. You knew what happened to his Mother, you knew what almost happened to Edgar, and you knew that Curtis would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Besides, by the way he watched you like you were his prey, you knew he’d stop at nothing to get you. So, when it was finally time for the “great uprising” you begged Edgar to stay behind with you.

“We’ve spent too long planning and plotting for me to stay behind-”

“You can stay with me!” you sobbed and he shook his head.

“Trust me! Believe in me! I can do this!”

“Edgar-”

“We’ll have a future, children, space-”

“I just want you! Please-”

“I’ll come back to you and you’ll see. I promise you, it’ll be okay. I love you.”

That was the last time you saw him alive.

When word got back to you how he’d been killed, and who let it happen, something inside you snapped. You became violent, you lost all patience, you attacked anyone who got in your way as you started on your own journey to the front, and you led everyone who had stayed behind to the front of the train with you. By the time you got there, Wilford had been killed and Curtis was the new leader. Of course, no one noticed all of the changes in Curtis’ attitude, as if you all owed him your lives, because he’d apparently made your lives better. He made changes that made years of suffering finally seem like they had been worth something.

Everyone except you.

“Curtis wants to see you,” one of the girls tells you as she approaches the bar.

Sansa, who’s his regular girl.

“Just give him time,” Nam repeats softly, filling your glass one last time.

You roll your eyes and down your drink before you follow Sansa to the very front of the train.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been called to his bedroom. Hell, it isn’t even the 100th time. Not long after the battle ended and changes were made, Curtis Everette made it very well known to everyone on the train, that you are his absolute favorite. Not so much with his words, but with his actions. He’d made it seem as if it were out of honor for Edgar, but the way he watched you let you know that, that was bullshit. No, he never called you into his bed, but he also made sure to never let you get close to another man again.

He made sure you never had to work, you never wanted for anything, you always had fresh clothes waiting for you, and you had one of the best rooms on the train.

“Edgar sacrificed his life so you could have a better one. It only makes sense that you have the best of everything,” he whispered the night that he’d helped you settle into your new room.

In return, you’ve made it known that you’ll always despise him.

“What?” you snap the second you step foot inside his room.

He looks at you with his bourbon shot eyes, and you scoff. He’s in one of his moods.

“You could be a little nicer to me, Y/N.”

“Everyone on this train is nice enough to you. Now, what do you want? What’s the point of giving me a room if you never actually let me stay in it.”

“What’s wrong with you today?” he sneers, pouring himself another drink.

“You’re still here and Edgar isn’t.”

“Edgar made his choice-”

“Edgar worshiped you and blindly followed you into battle, and you couldn’t give less of a shit about what happened to him.”

“That’s not true!”

You scoff and narrow your eyes at him, “then why do you call me here every fucking night?”

“I’ve never done anything-”

“I know you’re not drunk enough to lie to me,” you warn with a snarl.

No, technically Curtis has never done anything to you, but hes found ways to...mess with you.

He’s had you stay in the rooms while hes fooled around with other women, sometimes multiple at once, if he gets drunk enough, he watches you bathe and get dressed, hes gone out of his way to show you just how badly he wants you, and he never lets you stay away from him for too long. No, he’s never forced himself on you and taken you, but hes always been just a few steps away from doing so.

With Edgar out of the way, he’s free to do whatever he pleases.

However, the problem is, Curtis wants you to want him. He wants you to burn for him just as bad as he burns for you. At one point, that would’ve been possible. It was never that you found him unattractive or unapproachable, something just always seemed...off. Now that, that’s been confirmed, you’re repulsed by the man.

Even if you do still find him painfully attractive.

A sick smirk comes to his face as he makes his way over to you, “I’ve never done anything that haven’t found yourself enjoying.” “Yes, because I love spending my nights watching fuck other women.”

“Could be you.”

“You can let go of that dream. If it never happened before, it sure as fuck isn’t gonna happen now.”

Without warning, he’s gripping your neck tight and forcing you against the wall, and you do your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“You can pretend all you want to, but I know how bad you want it. I hear you at night when you think I’m asleep. The pathetic little moans and whimpers, and your desperate begging.”

Your eyes go wide and he chuckles darkly.

“You’re not as slick as you think, honey.”

“It’s not for you, so don’t go getting a big ego.” “It sure as shit isn’t for Edgar, even when you were fucking him regularly. He could never truly satisfy you. Not in the way you needed.” “You’re a bastard!”

“How many times did you picture me every time he fucked you, hmm? How many times do you picture me when you’re alone in that cozy little room of yours?”

You don’t know what the hell has gotten into him, because he’s never been this forceful with you before.

“Never!”

“You should be thanking me,” he growls, his grip on your neck getting tighter as he leans in close. “Maybe I should stop being so fucking nice to you and just take it.” “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“What will you do, huh? The only crying you’ll be doing is when I’m done with you and you’re begging for more of my cock.”

Of all the fucking times to be turned on.

“Curtis-”

“You fucking want it,” he continues, “even now, I know that little pussy is crying to be touched. To fucked until it’s ruined!”

You push him off of you and glare at him.

“Admit it! You orchestrated all of this so you could-”

“He knew what he was getting himself into! He knew the chance he was taking-”

“He trusted you!”

“That was his fault!”

There it is.

“So you admit it!”

“I’d do it again! Why did he deserve you but I didn’t?! I still don’t?! After all I’ve done for you?!”

“You’re monster!”

“Sticks and stones,” he smirks before pressing you against the wall again. “Maybe I should show you just how much of a monster I am.”

His lips are on yours and when you try to push him off of you, he doubles down on his efforts. Squeezing at the stitches in his other arm, he hisses in pain, dropping his glass and backs up for just a moment. He slaps you hard before going in for another kiss, but you’re quick to knee him in the groin.

“Bitch!”

You’re quick to run out and make your way to room, not sure of where else there is to hide, and before you can slide the door close, he’s pushing you in and slamming it shut behind him.

“Get out!”

“Get on the fucking bed!” “Curtis-”

“Fine, you want this to be rough? I can be as rough as you want me to be, baby,” he promises as he locks the door.

“HELP!”

“No one is going to go against me, no one is going to save you, and no one is gonna feel bad for you. Scream all you fucking want, they’ll know you’re just enjoying it,” he promises with a sinister smile.

Seeing no other way out of this, you rush him against the wall and just start hitting him with all the power you have in your body.

“I’ve never had to work for it,” he taunts, easily pushing you back. “Never had to make a bitch admit just how bad she wants me!”

“I hate you! I want nothing to do with you!”

“Is that what you’d tell yourself every time you’d make eye contact with me while he was fucking you? Looking down at me as he fucked up into you, telling you just how much he loves and adores you?” he counters, easily wrapping an arm around your waist, easily throwing you down on the bed. “When you knew I was getting off to your hushed moans? You didn’t want anything to do with me then either? You didn’t want me making you scream?”

You hate that he has a point because, to an extent, you did want one him at one point. You wanted him bad. It’s part of why you’d turn down Edgar so many times. No, you never had any intention of pursuing Curtis, but you were attracted to him. Far more than you were to Edgar, and you felt incredibly guilty about it. You would’ve been content to be alone, but Edgar never relented and you eventually found it cute.

Of course you knew what Curtis was doing whenever the two of you locked eyes, but you truly never thought he’d let Edgar get killed so he could get you. The worst part of it is, even now that you know the truth of it all, you still want Curtis. In some sick way, the fact that he did something so horrible just to have you all to himself drove you insane in the worst way. You aren’t losing the fight because he’s overpowering you, you’re losing the fight because you’re tired of fighting it.

“Don’t get quiet on me now,” he snickers as pulls his top off and throws it across the room. “Don’t tell me that you’re a filthy little liar,” he presses as he rips your top open.

“Leave me alone!” “No, I’m done waiting around,” he husks, pulling your bra down. “Fuck!”

“Curtis-”

“You’re gonna shut the fuck up and you’re gonna enjoy everything daddy has to offer you,” he warns before dipping down and enveloping his right breast in his mouth; lewdly licking and sucking on it in the most depraved way.

“O-oh! Curtis!”

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone else.

“That’s right,” he mumbles before nipping on your nipple, while his other hand works on undoing your jeans, “I know exactly what you need, you little bitch.”

Your breathing comes heavier as his hand makes its way down into your panties, finding your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“You’re fucking soaked!”

“Stop-”

“Stop fucking fighting me!” he warns, his other hand making it’s way around your throat. “You fucking want it! You’ve always fucking wanted it!”

You’re not sobbing because he’s doing something wrong, you’re sobbing because he’s right. Edgar would probably be alive if you’d just kept saying no to him.

“That’s right, baby. Just let me take care of you,” he moans, easily sliding a finger into you.

“Curtis,” you moan, bucking your hips forward.

“So beautiful, baby,” he coos, finally giving your other nipple attention, “waited so fucking long!”

“Oh fuck!”

You do your best to block out all images of Edgar and every feeling of guilt you felt. For whatever reason, Curtis wasn’t letting you go tonight and you didn’t want him to.

“You can barely take two fingers,” he groans, adding another thick finger to your sopping cunt as you rake your nails across his back. “Gonna have to get you ready for me. God, these fucking tits!” he husks.

“Please!” you whimper, feeling both pleasure and pain at the way he’s pulling you apart, “don’t fucking stop!”

“We’re gonna be at this a while,” he promises with a smirk as he picks up his pace.

He resumes his assault on your left nipple for just a bit longer, before he finally starts leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your body, pulling your pants down along the way.

You’ve never had a guy go down on you before. Before you’d been put on the train, you’d only had sex twice and the both of you were inexperienced. When you were with Edgar, you two weren’t free to explore much. The most you’d been able to do was give him a blowjob, even that was uncomfortable.

“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” Curtis purrs against your pussy lips, “been waitin’ for me.”

The first lick is just a tease and you whine in protest, the second is right against your clit and whine his name as you dig your nails into his shoulders, and with the third he’s finally diving right in and claiming you as his own with his tongue.

“Oh God! Don’t fucking stop!” you beg pathetically, your legs starting to tremble as he massages your clit with his thumb. “Fuck!”

The sounds of his of his pornographic moans and roughness of his beard on your thighs somehow make you even more feral, and you can’t resist looking down. The sight of him buried between your legs has you biting on your bottom lip to keep from screaming. As if he can sense your feral gaze on him, you he looks up with a devilish glint in his ocean blue eyes, which have now darkened with twinges of desire and lust, as he starts fucking you faster with his tongue.

Your mouth hangs open and you’re right on the edge when he removes his tongue.

“What the fuck?!” you cry out and he chuckles darkly.

“I shouldn’t fucking let you cum at all,” he bites as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, causing you to buck your hips forward, “but I’m gonna get this tight little pussy ready for me,” he promises again.

The intrusion of a third finger has you throwing your head back in both pleasure and pain, and you try to push his hand away.

“None of that, fucking take it! Take it and then you’re gonna take my fucking cock,” he demands gruffly, applying more pressure to your clit with his thumb.

“Ngh- too much! Curtis please!”

“Then fucking cum! What, you don’t know how? Was it really that bad with him?” he taunts with a condescending chuckle.

You shouldn’t clench around his fingers the way you do at that.

“Not such a fucking saint after all, huh? Just a hungry little cock whore. Say it,” he demands lowly.

Biting down on your lip to keep quiet, you shake your head ‘no’.

Slapping one of your tits hard, he repeats, “say it!”

“ ‘m a cock whore!” you cry out, squirting hard and coating his wrist.

That’s new.

“Jesus fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you through your high, lapping up the mess you made, while you try to come down from your high. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know how wrong all of this is, but you can’t focus on that right now. The pleasure is all consuming, and you can’t think on anything other than how much you want Curtis.

How, in some dark and twisted way, you’ve always wanted Curtis.

The sound of him unzipping his pants brings you back to reality, and you know you’re going to hate yourself in the morning. Hell, you hate yourself now.

“Don’t ever make me fight this fucking hard for you again, you understand me?” he warns, kicking his jeans and boxers off of him and your bed.

You watch him with wide eyes and it’s as if he can read your mind.

“Don’t you dare try and fucking run from me now. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and you’ll always be mine.”

He takes his angry red cock in his hand, stoking it a few times, before dipping down and kissing you like you’d finally been returned to him after years of being held captive. The taste of you and whiskey mix together perfectly, intoxicating you, and you moan into his mouth, as both of your tongues fight for dominance.

“You are mine,” he broods once you two break apart as he spears himself inside of you.

“Shit!”

He lets out a strangled groan, “gonna make you feel better than you ever have before!”

He’s relentless as he fucks into you, knowing exactly what you need as you trail kisses down his neck.

“Y/N,” he whines when you find that spot on the crook of his neck, biting down on it hard before using your tongue to soothe the pain. “Fuck! What a good girl,” he praises and you flutter around his cock. “My pretty girl likes that? Being my good fuckin girl?”

You’ve never been so full in your life and the only response you can muster is a pathetic moan, sucking even harder on his neck.

“That’s right, baby. Mark me up...make sure they know I’m yours,” he growls, using one hand to pin your waist down, while the other pins your hands down to the bed above your head.

You don’t even care that he’s using you as his own personal rag doll, because you need it. You both need it. So many years of anger, frustration, and denial have finally come to a head, and it feels good.

It feels so fucking good.

“Oh God! Daddy!” you cry out, wrapping a leg around his waist as he finds a spot within you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Fuck, there it is!”

“Too much!”

“No it’s not, you’re gonna make a mess for me again,” he demands as his movements start to become erratic.

The hand he’s using to pin your waist to the bed travels down between the both of you, and you let out a choked sob as he starts to massage your clit.

“So beautiful, baby. Love you so fucking much,” he grunts, and you’re not sure if he means you or your pussy.

Your mind is so full of fog that you truly don’t give a fuck.

You turn your head away as you feel the knot in your core tighten and he whines, “look at me...waited so long, let me see you, baby. C’mon...let daddy see you come apart.”

Forcing your gaze on him, there’s something equally soft in his feral blue eyes, and you know you’re done for. No matter what you feel in the morning, you’ll want this again and again.

You’ll want him again and again.

A silent scream leaves your mouth as your orgasm washes over you, the leg around his waist falling to the side as you make a mess between the both of you.

“That’s a good girl...milk my fat fuckin’ cock, baby,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he paints your inner walls with his love.

Well, you’ve fucking done it now.

He peppers soft kisses from your forehead to your cheek, as he rides out both of your highs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he finally releases your arms. When he finally stills within you, half hard, you let your arms fall to your sides and close your eyes, feeling more full and desired than ever before.

Feeling more guilt than you ever have before.

You’re almost asleep when you hear, “clean daddy off, honey. We’re just getting started.”

He chuckles when he looks down at the confused look on your face.

“I told you: we’re gonna be at this for a while.”

You’re not sure what the hell has gotten into him, and why he’s so forceful tonight, but he keeps you up for hours in positions you’ve never even dreamed of. Exhausting your body over and over again, his lips covering every inch of your body that they can, and his hands exploring every part of you. It feels like heaven, and there’s a pitiful shame that washes over you with each orgasm. You lose count of how many times he tells you he loves you, and how perfect he thinks you are for him, and soon you’re just a mindless doll ready and willing to do anything he wants. You’ll give him anything as long as he continues to lessen the embarrassment that’s come with you finally giving yourself to him.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts from behind as you lull your head back, “ride daddy’s dick just like that. Like a fucking cowgirl!”

“Ngh!”

“I know you’re tired,” he coos against your neck, his beard making you shutter as he strarts groping your breasts with both hands, “gonna fill your perfect little pussy one more time, I promise!”

The thought of you leaking with his release again has you clenching around him.

“You love being so full of me, don’t you?”

You just nod as you grip his thick thighs, digging your nails into them.

“I know, baby. Just needed daddy to show you who’s boss, didn’t you? Too ashamed to accept what I was so willing to give you,” he moans, kissing your neck as one of his hands travels between your thighs.

“DADDY!”

“So loud for me and I fucking love it! You’d never be this fuckin’ loud for him, would you?”

You lazily shake your head ‘no’.

“Didn’t deserve you...he couldn’t make you happy like I can. Like I always will,” he promises as he slaps your cunt.

That’s all it takes. You scream his name as your body spasms and you make a mess for what feels like the millionth time. He pulls you close, filling you to the brim, as your body relaxes against his.

“What a good girl,” he praises softly, his own breathing shallow as he guides your waist to ride out both of your orgasms.

You’ve never been so exhausted in your life.

You honestly have no control over your body at this point, so Curtis has to guide you off of him and onto the bed. You flinch when you feel some sort of fabric between your legs, cleaning you up.

“I know you’re sensitive, just a few more moments, baby,” he coos.

Well, he’s certainly much happier now that you’re a useless and mindless mess.

You feel the bed dip from behind you as he gets in, pulling the cover over the both of you before pulling you close to him. The fight that’s left in you isn’t enough to kill an ant. Instead, you just relax against him as you drift off into unconsciousness, hoping that all of this is just a very strong dream crafted from loneliness and desire.

The last thing you hear before you succumb to darkness is, “I love you.”

“Y/N,” a soft voice calls as a pair of hands shake your gently.

You blink a few times, coming back to reality and trying to separate your dreams from reality.

“Y/N? Curtis wants to see you in his room.”

Curtis.

All of a sudden the pain in your face and body catapult you back into reality. Shame washes over you, as well as an intense amount of guilt, and you curl into yourself. God, how could you give into him? How could you get off to some of the cruel and lewd things he said? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Y/N? Did you hear me? Curtis-”

“No,” you respond softly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“He told me not to take ‘no’ for an answer,” the woman responds mournfully.

You say nothing, silently crying to yourself and wishing you were anywhere else. Wishing you could get away from your one true forbidden desire.

“Y/N, please,” the woman begs.

It’s not lost on you that she’ll more than likely have hell to pay, but you can’t face him. The more memories come flooding back, the more you want to the train to swallow you whole. To add insult to injury, arousal pools between your legs as desire takes over your body. What the hell came over the both of you last night, and why did you let it win? There was a time that you would’ve fought till the last breath in your body to keep Curtis off of you, but last night, you barely put up that much of a fight. You didn’t want to.

You hear your drawers open and what you assume are clothes landing on your bed, and you just pull the cover over your head. He got what he wanted out of you, so why can’t he leave you alone? What else could he want from you?

‘I love you.’

There’s no possible way he could’ve meant that. He was drunk. He treats every other woman on this train like his own personal pleasure toy, so what makes you any different? So special?

“What did I tell you last night about making me fight for you?”Curtis sighs as he walks into your room, closing the door shut behind him.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even heard the woman leave.

When you say nothing, he pulls the cover from you, “come on, Y/N. Don’t make me get forceful.”

You just pull your legs tighter to yourself and cry harder.

“What?”

“Please...just go away.”

“Y/N-” “You did it on purpose, Curtis. He loved you and you just...”

“You didn’t seem to mind that confession so much last night.”

“Which makes me just as awful as you if not worse,” you sob, once again realizing just how terrible you are.

Edgar loved you unconditionally and you let the man responsible for his death fuck you like a beast, willingly giving him orgasm after orgasm.

“Honey,” Curtis tries to reason, going to touch your arm, but you pull away.

It’s insane how you can long for and hate someone’s touch so much at the same time.

Letting out another frustrated sigh, he pulls the cover back over your body and steps away, “fine.”

You can hear the pain in his voice, but he should feel like garbage. You both should. The sliding door to your room opens and closes again, and you’re finally on your own again. As you continue to cry, you if you’ll ever know peace again. If you aren’t, how long will it take you to allow yourself the comfort of Curtis?

Curtis’ P.O.V.

What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s not the first time I’ve gotten drunk and tormented you, but to attack you like that? Confess the truth in such a condescending way? Of course you want nothing to do with me now that the fog has cleared. Yes, what I did was fucked up, but I’ve been right about you since day one.

You wanted me all along.

It’s not like I didn’t care for Edgar, and he deserved more from me, but he didn’t deserve you. Watching him with you was like a knife to the chest every day. Hearing your moans and whimpers every night that he was inside you? Those were mine. They were for me. That’s why you always kept your eyes focused on me. You knew it just as well as I did. Maybe you’re the real monster in all of this, because you used him just as much as I envied him.

You weren’t happy, you were never going to leave him, so I took charge. I didn’t expect for any of it to work out like it did, but it did nonetheless. I figured if I gave you enough time and space, you’d come to me, but my patience could only last so long. Venting to Nam night after night only helped so much.

Two fucking years.

Two years of me watching you, two years of me making every other man on board afraid to get close to you, two years of me being a lesser version of myself...two years and you still never cracked. I have a fucking train to take care of, I couldn’t keep spending all of my time and energy just trying make you jealous enough to give him.

I was all set to let it go and let you do whatever the hell you wanted, until I walked past your train cart yesterday morning.

“Fuck Curtis...fuck me just like that,” you whimpered so softly, I thought I imagined it.

Looking into your room made me cum instantly. You were completely naked, eyes closed, head lulled back, and riding your pillow. You’d never looked so fucking hot before, and that was my name leaving your mouth. Not Edgar’s, mine. I no longer needed you to fucking say you were mine, but you’d just confirmed it.

“Gonna cum so soon, daddy! Fuck!”

I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and my frustration wouldn’t leave my body. Why the hell were you fighting something you so desperately wanted?

Because you’re not a monster at all.

Even without my confession, you’d always known the truth. I could’ve saved Edgar, but I didn’t. I made a million excuses as to why I couldn’t, and everyone believed them. Everyone except you. Of course you wouldn’t allow yourself to be with me. Not without force. So, after I finished up everything I needed to take care, I got drunk. I had planned on being level headed, but you came in with that fucking attitude, and I fucking lost it.

How the hell were you annoyed with me? I made sure you had the best life, and you were still ungrateful. Once again, I could’ve saved Edgar, but you wouldn’t have left him. You would’ve married him and had his fucking his kids, and what right did he have to you? What right do any of the guys on this hell hole have to you? None of them will ever love you like I do, they’re not gonna satisfy you like I do, and they’re never gonna care for you like I do.

You just needed to be shown, so I decided that I was done waiting. I knew you’d put up a fight, but I didn’t expect it to get me so worked up. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you were being difficult. Squeezing the stitches in my arm? You knew better than that. It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped, but when you finally surrendered, it was more than worth it. You were a fucking dream, better than anything I’d ever had or imagined.

How could I feel bad about Edgar when I finally had you right where I wanted you? Where I’d always wanted you. I didn’t have to say all of things I did, but we both knew they were true. You’d always wanted me, he’d never truly satisfied you, and you’d always wanted me. Whatever your reasons were for choosing him over me didn’t matter anymore, because you finally admitted everything. Yeah, it bothered me that you never said ‘I love you’ back, but I also know I can’t have everything I want at once. I know you do, and when you’re ready, you’ll admit that too.

“She’s not here,” Nam says softly, pulling me out of my thoughts as he enters.

“No, she’s back to hating me,” I mutter with an eye roll. “I did everything wrong.”

“Did you explain?”

“Nope, I did the exact opposite. I took what I wanted and expected her to fall in line.”

He lets out an irritated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, “Curtis.”

“Yeah, I fucking know, alright?”

“What now?”

“I’ll go back and see her tonight. I’ll talk to her. She loves me, she just needs some encouragement to see it. To admit it.”

“Be gentle, Curtis. You get angry and you don’t think.”

He’s not wrong.

“Did you hurt her?”

“We both hurt each other, but it’s not like she didn’t like it.”

“Is that what happened to your arm?” he asks, pointing to the bruise.

I scoff with a nod, “yeah, little devil.”

“She’s tough, I’ll give her that,” he laughs, taking Kronole out of his pocket.

“Will you stop with that shit?!”

“You beat women, I get high,” he shrugs.

“I don’t beat women,” I quickly counter, trying to keep a lid on my anger.

I really didn’t mean to hit you so fucking hard. Fuck.

He just rolls his eyes, “Should I send Yona to look after her?”

“No, we have work to do and we need Yona and her ability. I’ll send one of the girls to check on her and give her food.”

I know I should be the one to do it but with how you were this morning, I know we’re basically right back where we started.

“Curtis, should I send for Y/N again?” Sansa asks, poking her head in, disdain dripping into her words.

I can see the pain in her eyes, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad. She may be a regular, but she always knew she wasn’t permanent. All of them know.

“I’ll see to her later. Make sure no one comes in except Yona,” I instruct dismissively.

“Yes sir.”

Yeah, I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole who’s in love with and made better by you. The sooner you see that, the sooner things will be as they should. In time, you’ll see.

In time, you’ll understand.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Here, take mine,” a deep soft voice told you.

You looked over to your right to see that Curtis had taken a seat next to you, and he was holding out his protein block.

You shook your head and pushed it away, “oh no, it’s perfectly fine-”

“You’re hungry-”

“What will you eat?”

“I don’t like the way they taste,” he shrugged.

You laughed to yourself, “no one likes the way they taste.”

“Won’t haunt you like the taste of human flesh though.”

He had a point there.

“Go on, take it,” he offered again.

“You have to eat something. We’re all barely hanging on as it is.”

“Y/N-”

You offered him a half smile, “we can split it.”

He contemplated your offer before he nodded, “deal.”

You miss that Curtis. The one who showed remorse for his actions, cared about those around him, and was actually trying to help everyone and not just himself. Ever since Gilliam took him under his wing, there was an heir of arrogance to him, and it made you want him that much less. It got worse after Edgar got killed and Gilliam soon followed.

God, how could you still fuck him after his confession? If anything, that should’ve made you fight harder. Instead, in a sick way, it turned you on even more because it showed you just how much he wanted you. How much he’d do to make sure you’d always be his and his alone.

Maybe being on the train for so damn long that it’s fucked with you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just that awful.

The servers have been trying to feed you all day, but the only thing you’ve consumed is alcohol. It’s the only thing that’ll keep demons and thoughts of self-hatred at bay. Plus, for as much as you shouldn’t, you do feel bad for Curtis. The man told you he loves you a handful of times last night, brought you to euphoric bliss time and time again, and you let him hold you close last night, just so you could ice him out today.

As much as you don’t want to believe that the mad man loves you, somewhere deep down inside, you know it’s true. A man doesn’t let the closest person he has to a best friend die over someone he doesn’t love. Yes, you knew Edgar could get on his nerves sometimes, but never enough for Curtis ever want something truly awful to happen to him. It’s not like you ever meant for things to become a sick and twisted games, but they had and the end result was the sweetest man you’d ever known getting killed.

All of this was your fault.

“You haven’t eaten today,” a soft voice rings out, stepping into your room.

“Please go, Curtis. You got what you wanted. Just go, I’m sure Sansa and the others will be happy to keep you company tonight.”

He sits down in front of you and takes your face in his hands, “I don’t love Sansa and the others.”

“Curtis-”

“Why have you been crying all day?”

You’re more than sure the look on your face screams, ‘really?’.

“It’s not like it was something you didn’t already know-”

“Stop being so fucking callous about it!”

“Why? I’d do it again, honey. I have no problem admitting that. If I had to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

“I love you, Y/N. I think I’ve made that pretty clear for some time now, and I’m not going to watch you be with some other man. I don’t give a fuck who that man is.”

“You can literally have whoever else you want-”

You yelp when he effortlessly picks you up and pulls you into his lap.

“The world could be the way it’s supposed to be and I still wouldn’t want anyone else. You were meant for me and I was meant for you. If people have to die for you to understand that, then so be it. I will never love anyone the way I love you, so stop thinking that this is just some fling to me,” he warns, his gaze on you tense and serious.

His words should make you afraid of him but, instead, they make you want him more than you did the night before.

“You don’t-”

“Who else do you want me to make disappear, hmm? How do I make you believe me?”

“Curtis...stop.”

“I love you.”

“That’s not love-”

“Why should I go about this the normal way? We’ve all had to fight to stay here, and I’m willing to fight for you. I will always fight for you because you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I love you.”

For now, you’ll just blame the alcohol as you lean in and kiss him softly. Just like the night before, he runs one of his hands through your hair and grips it tight as he deepens the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close as possible.

He broods against your lips once you two break apart, “that’s right, baby. You’ll always be mine.”

“This isn’t right-” “Who gives a fuck about right and wrong when it feels this fucking good?”

“Curtis...”

“Just give into me,” he pleads before kissing you again, “give into me because you love me just as much as I love you.”

Once again, the fight leaves your body and you’re just giving into what you want. You kiss him deeply as your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against him.

“That’s it honey,” he breathes with a moan, the tip of his nose ghosting over the outline of your cheek. “I won’t take anything you don’t wanna give me. Just like last night.”

You know good and damn well he’s saying that because last night he did force himself on you, but you both knew you were desperate for it. You both know you’ve been desperate for him for a while. It’s evident that he wants you to acknowledge that, but he’s gonna need to work a little harder for that.

“If you truly love me, then show me,” you sigh as he bites and sucks on your neck. “Show me how much you need me to be yours.”

You must have awakened something feral in him because, instantly, he’s picking you up and standing up with almost no effort at all, and carrying you out of your room, quickly make his way towards his. Part of you wants to protest, because you’ve seen what he’s done with other women in his bed, but another part of you is desperate for it because it is his bed. Anyone else who was on it before you won’t ever matter again, because you’re all he needs.

He growls as he tosses you onto his bed, “take your fucking shirt off before I rip it off.”

You honestly don’t need much prompting. Between the amount of alcohol coursing through you, and the desire that you’ve been suppressing for years, you’re once again willing and ready to do anything that he wants. You whimper when he pulls his off and tosses it to the side, quickly getting to work on undoing his pants.

Yeah, you’re still sore from yesterday, but the pleasure always outweighs. You’ll take aspirin after.

“I thought I already fucking showed you,” he husks roughly, fitting your legs around his waist once on the bed and on his haunches. “I didn’t get my point across last night?”

You bite your lip and shake your head no, holding his gaze as you wrap your arms around him.

He smirks as that devilish glint comes back to his eyes, “let me be firmer this time,” forcing you down on his cock.

“AH SHIT!”

He keeps a firm hold on your waist as he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock, “you’re mine, Y/N. Always have been and you always will be!”

You cry out as you lull your head back, “oh fuck, daddy!”

“Eyes on me, baby. Gonna make sure it sinks in this time,” he chuckles darkly.

Honestly, all you can do is hold on to him, and he doesn’t even make that easy. He spits on your cunt a few times before easily wrapping one arm behind your waist to keep you in place, and shamelessly slapping your clit with the other hand.

“Please....please!”

His condescending chuckle only makes you clench around him, “fucking pathetic.”

He dips down, the tip of his tongue lightly licking between your breasts and moaning as he licks up the sweat, before latching his mouth onto your right nipple and sucking on it as if it’s his favorite lollipop to exist.

You whimper, feeling safe in his strong hold, as you run a hand through his buzzed hair, “feels so good, daddy! The way you love me feels so good!”

Releasing your nipple with a ‘pop’, he looks up with brooding dark eyes, “and no one else will ever make it feel this good,” he promises.

Without warning, he starts massaging your clit with more pressure than you’re prepared for, and you’re screaming out his name as you make a mess between the both of you.

“So messy and all mine,” he praises, his voice strained as continues to fuck up into you. “Always been all mine, haven’t you?”

Once again, you’ve been turned into a mindlessly babbling toy.

“No answer?” he taunts, his breathing as he stops all together, laughing sadistically at your pathetic whimper. “Guess daddy still hasn’t made his point clear.”

He drops you down onto the bed, flips you over with ease, fixes your knees so your ass is propped in the air, before thrusting himself inside of you again.

“Aht!”

“You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?” he growls, fucking into hard and fast.

You just whimper into his pillow as claw at his bed, but he isn’t having that. Wrapping one arm around your waist and snaking it up between your breasts, he grips your throat while the other hand grips your hair tight, and he pulls you right.

“Use your fucking words,” he demands gruffly, fucking into you harder, “you’ve always been mine?”

“Y-yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Y-yes...y-y-yes daddy!”

“Always gonna be mine?”

“A-an-anything you w-want!”

He growls into your neck as you feel him spill into you, “fuck baby!”

Once again, there’s nothing going through your mind but fog and your body is exhausted. If he wants more from you, you’ll give it to him, but you can honestly fall asleep in his hold right now. He loosens his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, not even realizing how tight he’d been holding onto you. Lazily fucking you both through your high, he presses small, wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck.

His breath comes heavy and he sounds just as tired as you feel, “get the message this time?”

You nod as weakly attempt to fight off sleep, “mhm, you love me.”

The next question comes with a hint of fear, “do you believe me?”

“Mhm, yes.”

“Do you love me?”

The answer comes effortlessly, “yes Curtis.”

He’s gentle with you as he pulls out, growling as he watches the mix of your juices run down your thighs, and he lays you down. Once again, you wince when some fabric gently wipes over your extremely raw and sensitive flesh, and he gently hushes you. This time, when he gets in bed with you, you’re pulling him close and resting your head on his chest.

You’re too tired to fight it.

“I love you,” you repeat before effortlessly falling asleep.

Once again, when you make up, you need a moment to adjust to your surroundings. The soreness is quicker to make your acquaintance this time, and you remember that you’re in Curtis’ room.

The very front of the train.

That’s when you realize you’re alone in his bed, and you’re slow to sit up and look around.

“I’m here,” he calls softly.

You look to the side and see him sitting across the room, sweatpants on only, hunched over, and resting his head on his hands.

“You should lay back down, I’m sure you’re sore.”

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lay back down, “what’s wrong?”

He’s not wrong about you being sore.

“Nothing-”

Scoffing as you prop yourself up on your elbow and rest your head on your hand, “you’re gonna start lying to me after the last two days we’ve spent together?” and he laughs softly.

“It doesn’t matter right now-”

“Curtis, what’s wrong?”

There’s a softness to his features, and it’s a softness you haven’t seen in a long time.

“I love you.”

You look down and play with the hem of the bed sheet.

“That’s the problem right there.”

“Curtis-” He sighs as he sits up, “I’m not complaining.”

“It’s not so easy for me, okay?”

“It was last night when you were drunk, and I fucking knew better. I knew better, but my emotions...” “There’s a lot that I have to come to terms with, and I’ve only had two days to do it.”

“Well, do you?” “Curtis-”

“It’s a simple yes or no question-”

“It’s not simple! I was with Edgar, and no matter how I may or may not have always felt about you, I did love him and you let him get killed. No, I’m not innocent in all of this, but he loved and trusted him and you betrayed him.”

“That was different-” “How? How am I supposed to know you won’t ever do something like that to me?”

“Because this is different! This isn’t even remotely close...since I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were meant for me, and I for you. I may have been 17, but I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. I still haven’t been,” he states, slightly hurt that you would even make a claim like that. “I know what I did was fucked up, that’s not lost on either of us, and I’ve done my best to show and prove to you that I’m sorry, because it wasn’t right. Edgar didn’t know, but you did. You knew and you felt the same for me.”

“Curtis-”

“Well you did, you can deny it all you want, but we both know it’s true.”

“It doesn’t matter-” “Well, why you’d pick him?”

You scowl and lay on your back, “you don’t want the honest answer to that question.” “I can handle it.” “Lets not-”

“Just tell me!’

“I really don’t think I need to, Curtis! There’s something wrong with you! Something in you is unhinged and it shows!” you snap, sitting up and facing him.

He sits back and lets out a heavy sigh, and it breaks your heart, but he’s the one who wants to know so bad.

When he says nothing, you continue, “there’s something that flips a switch in you, and this darkness comes over you. You’re moody, argumentative, and violent. Anything can set it off and, while I get it to an extent, enough shit had happened and I didn’t want to deal with it. You would be so soft with me at times, but you could easily lose your temper with anyone else...with the exception of Gilliam. Edgar was kind, funny, and sweet. No, it wasn’t ideal, but I felt safe with him and I didn’t have to worry about him losing his shit on me. So yes, I had feelings for you, but I chose him. I know you took him under your wing out of guilt, but you were also jealous. The more he trusted you, the more you took advantage of that. It made me resent him. Then, when he went off with you for the uprising, I knew he wasn’t coming back. You wouldn’t let him.”

You can see the anger in his eyes, but he knows that he can’t call you a liar. Everything you’re saying is true and he’s not about to try and make a fool out of you.

“I did it for you,” he responds after a moment. “You don’t have to believe it, and I know you didn’t see it, but I did it for you. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, take care of you, and have you by my side. Everything I’ve done has been for you, and while some of it has been less than humane, I’d do it again if it meant you could be happy. If it means you can have a better life, I’ll do it, and I don’t care who I have to hurt.”

“Curtis-”

“I don’t care how crazy any of it sounds, because you have to be crazy to survive in this world. I’d do anything to give you a better life and see you happy. I love you, Y/N,” he tells you softly and sincerely.

You shouldn’t feel an overwhelming amount or love and joy for him, but that doesn’t stop it from washing over you. Is there a shrink on this fucking train, because you both need your fucking heads examined.

“I’ll ask you again, do you love me?”

Slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, “yes. Yes Curtis, I love you.”

Your heart swells at the small smile that comes to his face, as he finally gets up and makes his way back to the bed, and gets in next to you. You ignore the shameful amount of guilt that overcomes you, because what happened in the past can’t be changed. All that counts is right now and the future you and Curtis will create together.

You rest your head on his chest and make little circles it, “how are you so sure, Curtis?”

“So sure of what?” he asks, stroking your shoulder and finally relaxing.

“That you love me. How do you know it’s not just an overwhelming sense of lust?”

He laughs to himself and kisses the top of your head, “because when all the fog in my mind settles, there’s still a burning desire for you in my heart. A burning desire to protect you, make you happy, hear your voice, see you smile, and to love you until there’s no breath left in my body. When the fog clears, there’s always a desire to love you with everything I have in me.”

Pressing a soft kiss to his chest, you look up at him, “I’m sorry it took me so long to finally get here.”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, just promise to never leave.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, Curtis.”

81 notes · View notes

erin-bo-berin · 2 years

Note

ok ok I just randomly had another thought. Reader and Steve have always known they'd have kids eventually, but Steve's been trying to convince her to start trying for ages and she keeps being like yeah soon soon just not yet. so Steve's casually mentioning it the morning of his X birthday as he and reader snuggle in bed, and she's giving him the same old story later later--they've developed this whole routine so it's not a big deal when it happens. he has such baby fever it just comes up at any opportunity these days.

so they have his birthday party with the whole gang. and I don't know how you're going to do this but maybe Robin brings her niece?? and we get to see Steve interact with this little baby and his baby fever is just getting worse. and obviously he's adorable and so good with this baby and doesn't want to give her back.

and after everyone finally leaves the party you have two presents for him. first, some very sexy lingerie (you've never worn anything like this before and Steve is going to have to work very hard not to tear it to shreds when he rips it off of you) and so you're getting busy and you're about to really get into it but you have a second gift for him... you're finally ready to start trying for a baby so you give him something that signifies that. I like the idea of giving him your IUD in a velvet jewelry type box but maybe that's anachronistic? I have no idea I just want him to look up into your eyes and know exactly what that is and be like babe? are you serious?

and then we watch this poor boy lose his fucking mind going to town on you (opportunity for breeding kink but not necessary)

I know you have lots of other fic ideas you're working through Erin. I mostly wrote this bc I thought you might like it--no pressure to actually write it if it's not interesting to you!

ok love you bye 🔥🏀

YES HOLY YES. I love this so much I can’t wait for you to read this. Just IMAGINE the disbelief and happiness!

Yes, I’m using another gif of him shirtless in the upside down. Am I sorry? No.

Birthday Wishes

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Smut

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to yoooouuuu!”

Steve groaned, opening his eyes, seeing you laying next to him, head propped in your hand. You were beaming and singing at the top of your lungs.

“Happy birthday dear Steeeeeve,” you continued.

“You’re a horrible singer, you know,” he mumbled sleepily.

You didn’t let that deter you from finishing the song.

“Haaaaappyyyy birthday toooo youuuu!”

He chuckled, amused by your performance.

“Thank you, baby,” he smiled, kissing your nose.

“Did you like the song?” you beamed.

“Eh. 5 out of 10,” he joked.

You gasped dramatically.

“Five out of ten? You hurt me.”

You knew good and well that you couldn’t carry a tune to save your life, so you didn’t take the teasing to heart.

“The look on your face when you woke up was priceless though. You looked like you were in pain.”

“I was. At least my ears were,” he grinned.

“Asshole,” you laughed, hitting his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer to him.

“So, are you looking forward to your party today?” you asked, laying your head in the crook of his arm.

“I am,” he said, “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have such great friends and a girlfriend to throw me such an extravagant party.”

“Only for the best birthday boy,” you beamed.

“You know what would really make it the best birthday ever?” he asked, nosing your cheek.

You had an idea where he was going with this and you snickered.

“Hm? What would that be?”

“If you finally agreed to start trying for a baby.”

You felt his pout against your collarbone and you laughed inwardly.

Starting a family was something you and he had discussed many times before. It was something you wanted to, but you’d been putting him off, telling him soon. At first, it was because you wanted to wait a bit, but for last few weeks, it had been for a different purpose.

“Soon,” you promised.

He frowned, though didn’t look upset by your answer, just looked like a puppy trying to convince its owner to drop a piece of meat. He was literally giving you puppy dog eyes.

“You’re going to deny me on my 21st birthday?”

His pout deepened and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

“What’s so funny?” he huffed a laugh, all smiles again.

“You just look so cute when you give me the puppy dog eyes,” you smirked.

“Cute enough for a baby?”

“Ah, nice try,” you grinned, wagging your finger at him, “Someone better be a good boy if he wants his presents later.”

“Like at the party later?” he questioned, brow raised.

“Like in private, later.”

Your smile was devious; his interest was piqued.

“I like the sound of that,” he hummed, leaning in for another kiss.

You stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“You need to get ready for your party, big boy. You can’t be late for your own birthday party.”

He relented, sitting up in bed. He threw you a smirk as he headed to the bathroom.

“Who cares? I’m the man of the hour anyway.”

•

“I don’t know which birthday song was worse, yours or all the kids’ screaming version,” Steve muttered to you, taking a bite of his cake.

“You love them,” you laughed softly.

“I do,” he grinned.

“Look who I brought!” came a singsong voice.

“It’s about time Robin showed up,” Steve rolled his eyes, “Always late for something.”

“This time you’ll be thrilled when you see why,” you said, pointing over his shoulder.

Robin had brought her niece, Anna with her. The little girl was just barely six months old, full of curiosity and spoiled rotten already by her auntie Robin. You and Steve absolutely loved Anna.

“Better go get you some baby cuddles,” you told him, “Before Joyce spots her and hogs her for the rest the afternoon.”

Joyce was so maternal and a great mom to her two boys, Jonathan and Will and her adopted daughter El. She loved deeply and fiercely, willing to go to bat for her kids at any time. She was starting to get anxious for grandkids though and you were positive whenever you and Steve had kids, she was adopting them as her own grandkids.

“Already on my way.”

You laughed, watching Steve make a beeline for Robin, taking Anna in his arms. He smiled at her, talking to her and booping her nose with his finger.

Seeing Steve with the kids and babies especially, did weird things to you. You felt a bit of a longing, wanting that to be your own baby. You felt love, seeing how good he was with them. You felt desire, the desire to want to have his babies.

You took a sip of your drink, eyes still glued to your boyfriend.

All in due time.

•

“I’m not sure who spoils her more, you or me,” Robin watched Steve with a grin.

“Definitely me,” he affirmed with a nod, “But she’s just too sweet not to.”

He pretended his hand was a tickle monster, it attacking her tummy making her squeal with laughter.

“Is that funny, is that funny?” he cooed to her, kissing her head, “Uncle Steve loves to make you laugh.”

“You have such baby fever right now,” Robin shook her head.

He groaned.

“I know. I can’t help it.”

“Y/N still hasn’t changed her mind?”

He frowned, shaking his head no.

“She says she wants to. At least she has before, but she just keeps saying “later” or “soon”. What if she’s changed her mind and doesn’t want kids? Or worse, doesn’t want kids with me?” he frowned, brows furrowing at the thought.

“I think you’re just overthinking it,” she said plainly.

“Why do you say that?”

“One, she’s crazy about you Steve. She loves you so much. I doubt she doesn’t want to have kids with you. Two, it’s a big deal, Steve. It’s a big responsibility and maybe it still scares her. Just give her time. Although,” she smirked, peering over his shoulder, “The smolder of her gaze is enough to set your entire outfit on fire, which I’m sure she’d welcome right about now.”

He turned around, seeing you staring at him. You smiled, waving at him innocently before turning to a conversation Max and Dustin were having.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, bewildered.

Robin was just giving him a knowing smirk.

“Just the way she was staring at you just now, while you’ve been holding Anna? She’s practically screaming “let me have your babies!” Steve.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“And I think you’re blind,” she retorted, “I’m telling you, all you gotta do is seduce her a little cause she looks ready for it.”

“Ugh, ew, Robin. I am not discussing my sex life with you.”

“Thankfully,” she shot back, dryly, “All I’m saying it that you should keep trying. I think you both are going to make great parents.”

Steve smiled, handing Anna the toy that had fallen out of her grasp.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

•

Before the party wrapped up, you’d excused yourself claiming you had to prepare Steve’s present from you. Technically, you were.

You left specific instructions with Robin to let Steve know where to find you when the last person left. You squirm anxiously when you hear his footsteps coming down the hall.

You sit on the end of the bed, waiting anxiously, chewing on the bottom of your lip.

“Babe?”

“In here,” you called back, sweetly.

The door opened and he froze in the doorway, jaw practically on the floor. You hadn’t done anything like this before, so you were a tad nervous at his silence.

You’d bought a matching lingerie set—rose red. It was a sexy, lacy bra and panties set that you felt extremely self-conscious when you’d slipped it on earlier, but his reaction looked promising.

“Damn,” he breathed, “Happy birthday to me.”

You giggled.

“You like?”

“I love.”

He was already pulling his shirt over his head and it was left on the floor by the time he reached you, hand sliding into your hair, kissing you roughly. You moaned appreciatively as his other hand squeezed your breast through the lacy thing, so thin he could feel your nipple pucker through it.

“I’m gonna…” he managed between kisses, “Rip this…” Another rough kiss. “Fucking outfit off you.”

“Please don’t,” you grinned, tilting your head, eyes closing as his lips feasted on your neck, “It was pricy and I was hoping we might be able to use it again.”

His teeth sank into your neck and you gasped at the sensation, his tongue licking over the bitten area, soothing it.

“Hell yes. You’re never getting rid of this.”

Your laughter turned into moans as his hand dipped into one cup of your bra, fingers pinching at your nipple. The slight pinch sent sparks of electricity straight to your clit that had quickly began throbbing, your need for him multiplying in every passing second.

His mouth was back on yours, as you fell back on the bed, him hovering over you. His knee was situated between your legs and you subconsciously ground against his thigh as his tongue moved with yours.

“So needy already baby?” he whispered, hands gliding over your stomach, hooking it into the waistband of the red, lacy panties then snapping it gently against your skin.

You didn’t care that he’d hardly done anything to you and you were already moaning for him as you answered him.

“Yes,” you groaned, “Need you so bad, birthday boy.”

You bit your lip at the growl came from deep within his chest. His hand rubbed over your now dripping pussy, positive he could feel just how wet you were through the material. Somehow, he also managed to unhook your bra with one hand, nimble fingers hard at work.

You slid the straps down your arms, slowly, seductively as he watched you with desire heavy eyes. You tossed it across the room and he took you in with an approving moan. He was hard and throbbing, you could feel it against your hip.

“Get those off,” you ordered, nodding to his jeans.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbled, standing up long enough to rid of them, returning to hover over you in just his boxers.

“As much as I love these,” he said, leaning down, his tongue trailing over the skin right above the band of your underwear, “They’re gonna have to go.”

“Unwrap me, big boy,” you taunted.

You pretty sure you heard a tiny rip in the underwear as he practically clawed them off like a wild animal. His finger circled your clit, as he kissed your hip bone tenderly before sucking harshly on the area.

You arched in reaction, nudging him with the side of your knee.

“Steve,” you breathed, “Before I become too far gone. I have one last present for you.”

He looked up at you, heat in his eyes.

“What could be better than this?”

“Just wait. I think you’ll like this.”

You sat up, leaning over to pull open the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a velvet jewelry box.

“Aw, you got me jewelry? You shouldn’t have,” he quipped sarcastically, sitting back on his ankles.

“Shut it butthead,” you laughed, “It’s what’s inside. Open it.”

You handed it to him and he opened it.

“Um your birth control pills?”

“Look closely,” you murmured, bringing your bottom lip in between your teeth, “I haven’t taken it for the last two weeks.”

His eyes snapped up to yours.

“What are you saying?”

He had an inkling of an idea, but he had to hear it come from your mouth just to be a hundred percent sure.

“I want to have a baby. With you, Steve.”

That was all it took. He disposed of the case on the nightstand, not caring if it made it to the surface or fell to the floor—although it was a thoughtful and a gift he loved, he had more important things to take care of in the moment.

His hands cupped your face as he kissed you hard, passionately, full of the fire and longing and happiness he felt. You were already tugging on his boxers, pushing them down as you kissed him back.

“Let’s put a baby in you,” he growled against your lips.

“Yes sir,” you teased.

The teasing lilt didn’t last long though when he thrusted roughly and deeply into you, making you moan in an unusually wanton way. His mouth found your pulse point, sucking on it. You were sure he could feeling your racing heart beneath his lips.

It’s like you’d unleashed something wild in him tonight as he thrust into you roughly, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises on them from his fingers.

His hands snaked under your ass and lifted your hips just enough that with every thrust his pubic bone hit your clit, making you see stars behind your eyes. Your legs were wrapped around his back, hands grabbing his own ass as you tried to push him deeper into you.

It was rough, sweaty and passionate sex. In fact, it was the most intense sex you’d ever had with Steve and it was hot. There was something primal about it as you let your body be completely lost in his, moaning without abandon.

Your moans had become a chorus of Steve, oh god and yes. His usually perfectly swooped hair now fell into his face, giving him a sexy, rugged look, the ecstasy written into every micro expression on his face.

His hips tilted the slightest, hitting a delicate spot so perfectly, it made you arch into him with a whine. Your body was buzzing and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“So good, baby,” he groaned, eyes falling shut, “Gonna fill you up until you’re leaking my cum.”

His words were as good as giving you an electric shock and your pussy clenched around him, your orgasm coming dangerously close to unleashing itself throughout your body.

“Steve,” you whined, chest heaving as you reached between your connected bodies to rub your clit.

With a growl, he knocked your hand away, replacing it with his own. Your mouths met in a sloppy kiss as you both got closer to undeniable bliss.

His mouth attacked your neck, sucking hard enough that you knew there’d be bruises left later. His moans were muffled by your skin, but somehow that made it even better as he worked you until you were trembling.

“Cum for me, baby,” he uttered just as you could no longer hold back.

He was throbbing inside you and the feeling became too much as you squeezed around him again, fireworks going off in your head, whole body arching into him.

You cry was pleasure filled as your fingers and heels of your feet dig hard into his skin, the orgasm powerful and swift as it swept through your body. Within a few more thrusts, he was following you, his eyes squeezed and lips parted in such a beautiful sight.

Your soft moan was met with a kiss as you felt the warmth of his release dripping down your thighs. You loved feeling him cum within you, but it was even more special tonight after your gift.

He thrust a few more times, pushing his cum back inside you and smirked against your lips as you squirmed at the sudden sensitivity.

“Gotta make sure it keeps, babe.”

When he pulled out of you—even as sensitive and sore you were—you missed the fullness, the stretch and kinda immediately wanted him back inside you.

He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed, sliding it under your hips and elevating your lower half. You watched, amused, even in your half dazed and sated state.

“I read somewhere to keep your legs propped up for at least half an hour after sex if you want to get pregnant,” Steve explained sheepishly.

You grin, obliging him as he settles next to you.

“You know, it’s a lot more fun if we don’t get pregnant right away,” you pointed out.

“Jesus,” he breathed, “You keep doing that to me and I just might die.”

“Well, people always say trying is the fun part,” you smirked.

“I’m definitely not denying it,” he laughed, rubbing a hand over your stomach, pulling you closer for a kiss.

“Thank you for making my birthday wish come true,” he smiled, his forehead resting against your own.

You had a devious smile on your lips as you pulled back so you could look at him more clearly.

“Oh honey, we’re only just beginning the celebration.”

He groaned as he captured your lips with his, once again climbing over you.

The birthday boy was going to be in for a night of celebrating, that’s for sure.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things smut

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sunniskyies · 3 months

Text

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚, 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧 || 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Finnick has been taken from the arena of the third Quarter Quell by the Capitol, and all you can do from District 13 is wait 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Finnick Odair x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Violence, mentions of drugs, symptoms of abuse 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Very AU’d, reunion trope, fluff(?), angst, mentions of abuse, violence 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k 𝐀/𝐍: (I still don't know if I like this???) I was never going to write a Part 2, but I had this image in my head of the reader going to District 13 and Finnick replacing Johanna at the Capitol, and it had to happen. As with the last one, this story is based on the song ‘Georgia’ by Phoebe Bridgers, please go have a listen to the lyric references <3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

Your fingers twist themselves around the soft blue fabric, causing your knuckles to go ivory white. Your eyes are trained on the screen, watching Finnick stumble through the jungle with a terrified expression on his face.

"Help me, Finnick!" You scream —or your voice does at least. "Help me! They got me, please Finnick!"

Finnick's eyes dart around, wild and crazed. "Y/N? Y/N, hold on!"

He staggers around, with Katniss Everdeen right behind him. Soon the canopy is saturated with piercing shrieks and wails - a mixture of your own screams, Gale's, and a young girl's who you presume to be Katniss's sister.

Finnick and Katniss have established the cries are caused by the ebony Jabberjays in the trees, but after Finnick explained that the birds must be mimicking from somewhere, the two tributes had fallen into a frenzy.

You yourself don't know where the Gamemakers got their hands on your voice, but all you are focused on is the sight of your golden boy, scared and alone.

"Finnick," you breathe through your tears. When the recording flicks back to a view of Cashmere and Gloss, you scramble desperately for the remote control. You press the 'rewind' button hard, watching as Finnick once again hears the Jabberjay's cry.

"God, if I see you rewatching those recordings again I'm actually going to burn the tape," a voice groans from the door.

You whip around to shoot a glare at Johanna, who is slumped up against the doorframe.

"Shut up, Mason," you snarl, focusing back on the screen. You've rolled it too far, back to the poisonous fog, and Finnick's cries for Mags echo out of the tinny speakers. "You don't get it."

Johanna rolls her eyes, pushes herself off the doorframe, and walks over. She plops down on the cot beside you and grabs the remote control from your hand.

"Seriously stop that, Fish-face. You're not helping Finnick from in here," she snaps. "They need you down in the infirmary, if you can pull yourself together."

Johanna, always the abrupt one, rips off your 'Mentally Unstable' armband and pats you on the back, hard.

"Johanna. I can't— what if Snow brings Finnick on for an interview instead of Peeta? I can't miss that!" You sniff, fresh tears welling up in your bloodshot eyes.

Johanna sighs, but just gently pulls the hair scarf from your vice-like grip and begins finger-combing your hair out. "You really are the one, aren't you Fish-face," she murmurs.

You sniff again. "The one?"

"Yeah, the one. That sappy shit you find in those romance books." Johanna fidgets in her seat. "Finnick's been with a lot of girls. But he wouldn't go tearing through the jungle—knowing it's futile—for any of them."

For the first time since District 13 had liberated you the night before the games, your heart felt warm. Looking back at the screen, which had now reached the Jabberjays again, you don't feel the usual pang of guilt at his reaction to your cries. You feel a rush of affection.

The one.

"Back in the arena, was he okay?" You often ask this question, even though the answer is always consistent.

Sighing again, Johanna ties up your hair scarf. "He was brave. Strong. What you'd expect from an ego like his."

You hum in acknowledgement. Same answer.

But Johanna continues, "But we could all tell he had a girl back home."

You turn to look at Johanna with raised eyebrows, encouraging her to keep going. She shuffles again, as if awkward talking about topics such as 'love'.

"The way he stared into the sky every night, the way he talked in hushed whispers when he thought no one was listening. I always thought it was that Cresta girl," she admits.

"But now I know he needs you. You're all that he sees," she says simply, ending the conversation at that.

"Hush, sweetheart. It's okay, it's not real," you soothe, rubbing circles on the red-haired girl's back. You've given up trying to coax medicine into the girl, instead settling on trying to prevent her from bashing her skull in.

She's moaning incoherently, and would be tearing at her hair if it weren't for your steady grasp on her wrists.

"Annie, calm down. Breathe with me," you say, kindly but firmly. You take long, deep breaths. Annie's breathing gradually slows, and her glazed eyes begin to sharpen.

All that is thrown out the window when the infirmary's television flickers on, a mandatory viewing from the Capitol.

President Snow, puffy-lipped and menacing, stares out at Panem smugly. A white rose is pinned firmly to his lapel.

"Good evening, Panem. Today we interrupt you for another message from our Victors," You deflate. Peeta. Poor Katniss, you think to yourself.

You turn back to Annie, once again trying to coax the medicine into the mad girl's lips.

"The program shall be carried out by a special new guest of ours," Snow continues. You pause, colour draining from your face, and stare up at the screen.

"He is a fine new addition, enjoy," the president's lips curl back in a sly smile, showing too-perfect veneers and blood-stained gums.

And then Finnick's face replaces him. Golden hair styled but limp, a tight white suit clinging to his form.

"Is that... Finnick? My mentor?" A shaky voice whines. Annie. You have to get her away from this.

"You. Girl," you order, pointing at a small, blonde intern nurse. Must be around 12 or 13. "Take Miss Cresta back to her quarters. Turn off the broadcast. Write her up for a rotation of one hundred milligrams of Methylphenobarbital every six hours. Do you understand?"

Nodding, the young girl wheels the cot out of the room while you stare desperately into the dull green eyes on the television.

"Hello Panem. My name is Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th Hunger Games," he states flatly, voice hoarse. No amount of powder and colour correction masks the dark circles beneath his eyes and the bruises that peek out from his collar. Your heart clenches.

"Hello, Finnick! Now, I think I can speak for all of us when we say we didn't expect you with us today!" The reptilian voice of Caesar Flickerman slithers out from behind the camera. "Peeta's always been happy for talking, but you don't seem to be one for cooperation, am I right?"

Finnick nods tersely, "Well Caesar, sometimes there's people worth talking for."

The breath leaves your body, and you have to sit down on an empty cot before your knees give out. He's talking about me, you think dizzily. God how you wish you could tell him that you are unharmed and in District 13. That he doesn't have to cooperate to buy your safety.

You watch raptly until the program ends, obsessively studying Finnick's face and movements. Even after the broadcast cuts out, you sit numbly watching the black screen.

You want to run into Command, and demand Plutarch and President Coin to hold back the rebel forces. You fear that if District 13 so much as breathes, they'll kill him.

You're standing on the shoreline, watching as the figure of a young boy begins sinking through the water, silently.

It's the same dream every night, the same outcome, but regardless you still shed your clothing and dive into the cool water.

You push through the rough waves, and like always, the water stretches and distorts, 14-year-old Finnick always out of reach no matter how hard you swim.

The roaring surf deafens you as you watch the boy sink into the depths without a sound.

When you wake up, jolting upright with cold sweat trickling down your spine, you find the deafening roar not exclusive to your nightmare. Outside your bedchamber, you can hear dozens of people shouting and running.

Frightened, you stuff your feet into the papery slippers that District 13 has provided. Automatically, you pull back your hair into your blue bandana as you open the door. The hallway bustles with activity, people rushing in all directions, and you feel your nerves spike.

The air is thick with the smell of disinfectant and sweat, and you're quickly overwhelmed, so you take a deep breath to try and steel yourself as you join the throng of residents. You make your way towards Command, hopefully someone there can explain what is going on.

"Y/N! Hey, Fish-face! Over here," Johanna's familiar voice cuts through the crowd. You scan around until you see the woman, also pushing through the swarm to get to you.

"Johanna! What's happening?" You fret, clasping her arm. Her hair is still plaited from sleep, and she wears an identical thin nightgown.

"Don't freak out," she warns, slowly guiding you towards the infirmary. "But I just talked to Plutarch. Apparently, they arranged a mission to the Capitol without anyone knowing!" She growls.

You freeze. "The Capitol? Why?" Your voice comes out sharp, frantic.

Johanna grins. "To liberate the Victors."

You rip yourself free, hurtling through the crowd as if they are nothing but air. The infirmary is loaded, and people are running in and out.

"I'm a nurse! I'm a nurse," you gasp to the guards at the door, who swiftly let you in.

"Finnick? Where's Finnick?" You choke, pleading at anyone you pass. But they all seem to be distracted by something happening between Katniss, her guard and a very sick-looking man.

"Please, someone tell me where he is!—" You stop, eyes snagging on a tangle of bronze hair.

A thunderclap of relief pierces through you. Finnick is sitting on a gurney with his head bowed and his hands clasped tightly together. He looks worn and defeated, and your heart breaks at the sight of him.

You don't remember pushing through the thick crowd, but you do remember grasping his clasped hands with your own shaky ones.

"Finnick," you breathe. His head jerks upright at the sound of your voice, and when he sees your eyes the defeated boy is replaced by the King of the World.

"Y/N!" He cries, arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him. Your face burrows into his neck, your hands never satisfied, constantly moving and grasping a different spot on his shirt or his hair.

"Finnick are you okay? Please tell me you're okay!" You sob, pulling back to look at him briefly before slamming into another tight hug.

"I'm here, it doesn't matter," he whispers into your hair. Disbelief and gratitude has sunk into his tone. "I can't believe you're here. I thought you were back in Four, I thought they had you after the Jabberjays..." His voice is choked out by emotion, and you lean back to show him that you're okay.

Tears well up in your eyes as you take in his exhausted appearance. His golden hair is matted and dishevelled, his skin pallid and marked with bruises. You reach out to touch his cheek gently, tracing the contours of his face. God, how many years you've imagined being able to hold him like this.

"I can fix this," you smile, tapping lightly on his bruised skin. He smiles back, weak but full of warmth.

How could Snow hurt him? This gold-hearted man, how could he take him and tear him apart?

"Do you hate me?" You whisper, fingers stilling from where they were tracing his jaw. Finnick's brow furrows.

"Of course not," he replies. Gently —whether for your sake or his, you're not sure— Finnick pulls you into the narrow mattress next to him. You remain holding each other, but now he's cupping your head, thumb rubbing over the blue fabric of Georgia's scarf as he stares into your eyes, and you stare into his.

"I wasn't sure if I would ever see those eyes again," he murmurs. You giggle, a melody to his ears.

"My eyes? Why are they important?"

Finnick smiles shyly. "It depends. Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Your heart flutters. He said it. He said how you've been feeling towards him for ten years. And he said it about you.

"I do. Because I've loved you ever since I pulled you out of that stupid ocean."

The grin that Finnick shines at you could rival the sun in brightness. "All that time?" You nod. "Well, will you still have me?" He murmurs. When confusion shines in your eyes, he gestures to his condition, scabby cuts and bruises, hollow skin and boney ribs.

A smile, pure and angelic, splits your face. "Of course, Finnick. Will you have me?"

"Over anything."

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #finnick odair x reader #hunger games fic #one shot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick odair #the hunger games #blurb #fanfic #fanfiction

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