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greenandsorrow · 9 months

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"Boytoy"

WARNINGS; 18+, shameless smut, ken x fem!reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, praise k!nk, size k!nk, virgin!ken, switch!reader, sub!ken, dom!ken, the plot doesn't connect with the movie, kinda slow burn, grammar mistakes

Part 1

"you're a doll, you are flawless"

~flawless, the neighborhood~

Y/n has finally graduated from high school. Not only that, but thanks to her hard work, she's been admitted to a prestigious university only two hours away from her parents' house.

Still, even though the distance between her childhood home and her new school is not that important, y/n is currently packing and will soon be moving into her new, small studio apartment.

It's late in the morning and she's going through her old toys, preserved in cardboard boxes at the back of her closet. Her y/h/c hair's on a bun and she's wearing sweatpants.

Earlier the same morning, with her mom's priceless help, she had managed to go through her desk, bookshelf and drawers, organising, packing or simply putting away all the stuff that has been collected in her bedroom the last eighteen years.

"A dozen Barbie dolls and only one Ken.", she thinks aloud as she's tackling the last box, filled with childhood memories.

Ken is staring at her from the bottom of the box and y/n almost feels guilty at how much she used to ignore him during her childhood play time.

In one impulsive motion she picks him up, while observing his perfect abs, blonde hair contradicting the tan colour of his skin and his cute set of beach wear (stripped shorts and open flannel in pink and blue pastels).

"Poor guy, I've been unfair to you, haven't I?", she chuckles mostly to herself.

At around six in the afternoon y/n's done with packing. She's actually driving to her new place as we speak. What's more, she unconsciously threw Ken in her backpack and is now carrying him along with her. Not that he would complain if he knew.

Y/n's Ken doll has been a part of her toy collection since she was six (she stopped playing with dolls at nine). Unlike her beloved Barbie dolls, Ken's never been y/n's favourite. He's always been just.... there. He was simply included in a Barbie set that her parents gifted her with, at her sixth birthday.

Back at Barbieland, Ken has been facing the consequences of his owner's ignorance for as long as he can remember. While all of y/n's Barbies are confident and spending their days living happily ever after (the aftermath of y/n's love and attention), Ken has always been the black sheep. He isn't exactly bursting with confidence. Neither does he own a Dream house. He's also never invited to the parties the Barbies are often having and to say the least, Ken is lonely. He wishes he could say that he enjoys being by himself most of the time, but without even another Ken, his existence seems pointless.

Ken used to cherish the sporadic attention he would get during y/n's early years in life. An outfit change, a walk at the beach or a small talk with one of the Barbies, guided by his owner was all he needed to feel somehow included (or that's what he always tried to convince himself).

Ken, with his limited knowledge regarding the real world, had concluded that the lack of what little attention he was receiving, was due to the fact that the little girl whose possession he was in, had now turned into a young lady. And having the Barbies as an example of how a lady is, he wasn't surprised that the girl had no use for him whatsoever.

Y/n wakes up in the morning, feeling groggy and disoriented. She wishes she could blame that on the environment change, but the truth is, last night she had a rather strange dream.

Y/n's pov:

She had reached her destination at about eight in the evening. After discussing some final details with her unexpectedly sweet landlady, she called her mom to inform her that she's alright and has settled in. Y/n had also managed to unpack most of her things, including her Ken doll that was laying on her desk when she changed into her matching pyjama set and got comfy in the warmth of her brand new, king sized bed.

After such a long day, y/n was equally drained both physically and mentally. The prospect of living alone, without the comfort of her parents' presence, was already enough to trouble her poor brain. On top of that, classes started tomorrow, leaving y/n no time to adjust to her new living conditions. And don't get me started on the actual unpacking and settling in process! All these heavy boxes, suitcases and IKEA furniture had gotten the best of y/n. Obviously, as soon as she found a comfortable position to sleep in, she immediately drifted off.

Y/n's sleep was disturbed by a shuffling sound, coming from the other side of the room. Normally, under any other circumstances, she would be terrified to spot the dark figure of a tall, strong looking man, staring at her in the middle of the night, after probably having broken into her apartment. However that was not the case. In her state of sleepiness and dizziness, her focus fading in and out of consciousness, her brain fuzzy and not entirely awake, y/n didn't feel any amount of fear but translated the image in front of her as part of a dream.

And what was this image in front of her, you may ask. Well, her previously unwanted Ken doll, was now at the feet of her bed, standing six foot tall, looking down at her with an adorably confused expression carved on his otherwise perfect features.

Ken's pov:

Ken was incredibly lucky that y/n thought she was dreaming, because not only didn't she scream at him to get the hell out, but she actually smiled at him. A small, uncertain and sleepy smile, no less a genuine smile. Even in his own state of confusion, Ken felt his insides melt at the sight of this small woman in front of him, smiling at him, actually noticing him.

He advanced closer to the head of the bed, so that he could take a better look at the girl who was sitting there. Ken sat at the edge of the bed and immediately recognised the person in question. She was clearly y/n. The girl who used to play with him and the Barbies was looking at him with intense interest and a glint in her y/e/c eyes that he had never seen before.

He took in her features. Ken had somehow expected to come face to face with a child, but obviously y/n was no longer a little girl but a beautiful woman. Sure, living in Barbieland Ken had learnt that all women were beautiful, however his old "owner" wasn't pretty in the sense a Barbie was pretty. Studying her features, Ken noticed y/n's hair wasn't neatly done like the Barbies', her skin dimpled and crised when she smiled, her teeth weren't the perfect shade of white or identical to one another, the apples of her cheeks were pinkish with sleep and her eyes held a warmth and complexity that made his stomach flutter. Ken was entranced by the simple image of this young lady, without any makeup or pretty clothes. He even felt like he had some kind of power over her, since she was so much smaller than him. He caught himself thinking that he could fit her whole face in the palm of his hand. The sudden urge to be the one to protect her and have the exclusivity of seeing her so unkempt and "naked" washed over him.

"Oh my!! You're actually Ken!", it was y/n that broke the silence, with her thrilled remark about the person who seemed lost in thought in front of her.

Ken was abruptly brought back to reality. How could something like this even happen? It should be practically impossible. One moment he was taking a nap at the beach and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair in a dark room he concluded belonged to y/n. He might not be the brightest guy (the Kens weren't supposed to be smarter than the Barbies anyway) but he realised something very wrong was happening. The dolls living in Barbieland weren't supposed to be able to come to the real world.

"Y/n! Hey! I never thought I'd meet you in person."

She simply giggled at that. Her giggle was spontaneous and made Ken blush, since he was so unfamiliar with women reacting to him in such a way. Her expression was so girly, almost shy, making Ken bolder than he felt. He climbed all the way onto the bed so that they were basically sitting next to each other.

Y/n felt her face growing warmer and not because of the sleepiness. "That's a very realistic dream", she thought to herself. But exactly because she had convinced herself that Ken was part of her imagination she was also about to act bolder than her usual self.

She turned her body so that she was facing him and not just sitting next to him. Y/n then extended an arm in order to brush away some stray hairs that had fallen in his face. That simple motion was enough to make Ken's heart beat as loud as a hammer and he believed y/n could actually hear it from where she was sitting, so close to him. To his utter surprise, she didn't retrieve her hand after making sure his (ridiculously soft) hair was back in place.

Maybe y/n would be intimidated by Ken's perfect posture and dreamy eyes, by his chiseled jawline and veiny hands or by the fact that his pupils were dilated more than was necessary for the dark around them (there were fairy lights all around the room) if she were to meet him face to face in real life. But y/n was in a dream (or so she thought). Her dream, her rules and she showed no sign of intimidation.

With the hand that had just brushed Ken's hair, she proceeded to cup his face, while caressing his perfectly carved cheek bone with the pad of her thumb. Ken closed his eyes at the sensation, since no one had ever showed him tenderness like that. His reaction to her touch only encouraged y/n to continue exploring this life sized Ken doll.

With nimble fingers that made Ken's breath hitch multiple times, she started caressing him, beginning with his collarbones and slowly making a trail over his toned chest to his lower abs. His skin was soft and warm to the touch and y/n's mind was quick to put together multiple ungodly thoughts.

Ken's hands had reached and grabbed the bedsheets as soon as y/n's teasing ones had started going over his abs, torturously slow. Of course he didn't know why he felt the way he did, she was just touching him (as a doll he never had been subjected to anything remotely sexual before this very moment), but he could feel a weird anticipation gathering at the pit of his stomach (and lower). Oddly enough, he didn't move, he didn't even speak, scared that he would destroy this peculiar situation he'd found himself in. He told himself that "You're a doll and this human girl is simply... playing with you?". It didn't sound right but it certainly felt good.

When she reached at his lower abdomen, just below his belly button, y/n drew her hands back. He had felt so real to the touch she started to question her previous belief that she was merely dreaming.

Ken saw her expression change from lustful (he didn't know that's what it was called), to a placated one. She searched his face for an answer, without realising how her doe eyes had captured every bit of Ken's attention.

"Y/n", he whispered under a shaky inhale, leaning towards her like a moth hypnotized by the flame.

"I'm sorry Ken, I really am."

"About what?!", he asked, generally confused.

"When I was little I-"

"Can I kiss you, please?" he knew that much. He had never given a real kiss back in Barbieland but at least he was familiar with the concept.

Y/n was lost for words. A sudden realization that this felt too real to be any short of wet dream had dawned on her (if that was the case she would have woken up by now). When she didn't answer right away, Ken turned his hot gaze on her parted lips. They were swollen from sleep and rozy but not in the manufactured way the Barbies' lips look in the morning. He had to fight back the urge to attack her mouth with his own, since he was still waiting for her consent.

Y/n finally gave the smallest nod, indicating shyness and reluctance, though her gaze was once again intense, making Ken's breath get caught in his throat.

He leaned in, gently but no less eagerly and was pleasantly surprised (not for the last time) when y/n, leaning towards him as well, connected their lips in a soft, slow and lingering kiss.

Y/n's hot breath on his mouth made Ken gasp and draw himself even closer to *his* girl, while his right hand, moving on its own, reached for her already messy hair, tagging at it softly.

Y/n was equally surprised by the kiss. Ken's lips were unbelievably soft and his body emitted a warmth that sent shivers down her spine. She rubbed her thighs together (a motion in which Ken was oblivious to for the time being) as she reached for his neck, taking the lead. She drew him even closer to her, their chests colliding. Ken gasped -again- at the sensation of her round breasts pressing against his mascular body and he reacted by snaking both arms around her narrow waist.

When y/n took Ken's bottom lip between her teeth, tagging at it softly, he let out the smallest moan. In return he drew back, only to smash his lips on her own once more, with a passion and an urgency that made y/n weak in his strong arms. Her tongue asked for access he happily gave and he found himself backing his hips against her as their tongues swirled around one another for the first time.

When they parted, they were both breathless and panting heavily. Ken looked at y/n with an adoration that made her short circuit. He had never felt that important to anyone, but the tight grip she had on his biceps was proof that she wanted him. Really wanted him, needed him, even. Ken was important to her, at least at that moment.

This blissful state of his was short lived, due to y/n standing up and turning on the big light on the ceiling.

After taking a moment so that his vision could readjust to the light, Ken's eyes found y/n again. She was standing now and he took a mental note to never forget how tiny and young, how vulnerable she looked in her gray pyjama set with her tousled hair all over, like a miniature lioness. To be honest, Ken didn't have the right words to describe what he was seeing, but the warmth in his chest (and an unexplainable discomfort in his breeches) was enough for him.

"Oh shit-

Oh my gosh....I wasn't dreaming, was I?"

Y/n looked shocked and Ken grew hot with embarrassment because of it.

"I'm just as confused as you are, y/n", at least he was able to say something. Because now the light was on, he could see her feminine figure and wanted nothing more than to squish her round thighs and then-

"I mean... you're actually Ken...like... HOW?!"

"Please don't be angry at me, I can't explain how or why, but instead of waking up in Barbieland I woke up here", he said with an apologetic look on his face, while standing up like a child that just got scolded.

Y/n took a deep breath in, deciding he was too damn hot to actually be angry at him. It also wasn't his fault and at the end of the day she liked the idea of having a "boytoy" so eager and sweet. She really hadn't done Ken justice as a child but thought she could pay him back now.

You see, y/n's father is working for Mattel and she knows some things the average person doesn't. For one thing, she's aware that Barbieland exists and that on some very rare occasions the dolls come to the real world.

"It's alright Ken. I know it's not your fault"

Hearing her voice was not only soothing to him, but his name on her mouth made him lightheaded.

"but you have to get back. I don't know what it could mean to my world that you're here."

At the sound of that final statement, Ken visibly frowned and felt a weight settling in his chest. He had just come to this world and on top of that he and y/n had shared enough kisses to be considered boyfriend and girlfriend according to Barbieland standards.

He reminded himself, as always, he's just Ken. He's always second, even if for a moment he felt like a ten, lost in y/n's tender but also hot touch.

"I understand, y/n. I'll leave then and get back to Barbieland", not that he knew how.

She too felt she didn't want him to leave just yet, the tension was so thick she could almost see it all around them. Nevertheless, it was past midnight and she had three morning classes tomorrow, so she let Ken go without uttering another word.

To say the least, Ken was heartbroken. In one night he had experienced so many new sensations and emotions and he knew he wouldn't be able to get y/n out of his head no matter how hard he'd try. He ended up dozing off while sitting on her doorstep, looking at the stars and imagining y/n's small hands caressing him lower and lower until...

notes~~

Hello beautiful people! I hope you enjoyed part 1 of my Ken smut fic :)

It's meant to be just spice but I wanted to add some context too. This is also my first time posting anything on Tumblr! I have many ideas regarding many different fandoms, but I also feel like most of these ideas have been done and that my fanfics are gonna be unoriginal.🥹

Byeeee<3

banners from; @cafekitsune

my masterlist

UPDATE!! THIS STORY HAS BEEN FINISHED, LOOK AT MY MASTERLIST FOR THE FOLLOWING PARTS!

TIPS; CLICK HERE(PayPal link)

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enamouredfae · 7 months

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little astro observations i've made based on my little chart collection and experience 🎀

honestly i've observed this only in myself but you have a natural pull to people who's sun is the same sign as your 5th house, mine is in pisces and my bf, my best friend and my cat are all pisces, not to mention that 90% of my crushes have been pisces as well.

there is something about pisces and bunnies, they will either love bunnies (have tattoos of them, make art about them, be their favourite animal), own or have owned a bunny or they look like one, (my bf is all of the above).

in synastry a north node over a person's mars may indicate the north node person taking the mars person's virginity.

in synastry a person's moon in your 9th house may indicate they understand/feel/empathize with emotions in a different way from you due to where they come from and how they were culturally socialized, i have this with my bf and he comes from a north american individualist country where your emotions are your responsibility and other's are theirs and i come from a post communist country where you are responsible for everyone's emotions, and ppl live for other people.

in vedic astrology i am a hasta moon, claire nakti made a video on hasta nakshatra and describes hasta natives as "fairy pretty" and i have a pair of dragonfly fairy wings tattooed on my back, plus ive been told (before my tattoo) that i give off fairy vibes.

saturn ruled 3rd house makes you have to spend a lot of time in public transportation, for example you might live far from where you need to go, for me it used to take me 1 hour at least to get to some places, sometimes i'd have to wait an hour just to then spend on hour on the bus. just overall imposes patience for transportation

a lot of astro observation posts say that an aquarius 4th house makes you feel like u dont belong in your family or that you're the black sheep of the family, but i dont find that accurate at all, i feel like it makes the native the one to challenge family values, they may be the one to make their family change for humanitarian reasons

idk if this is a real technique already used by astrologers but i have a wholesign MC theory. in wholesign the midheaven can fall in the 9th/10th or 11th house. my theory is that wherever it falls is the way you get ahead in life, the way through which u become publicly known or get your career. If it falls in the 9th your career is owed to ur studies/travel, 10th your hard work/experience/reputation, 11th your connections/social media/friends.

i think i have the most literal astrological placements being passed down from your parents example. obviously placements dont always get passed down, my sister has none of their placements, but perhaps being the first child may have contributed to this since the first child is when parents still have their personality not yet influenced by parenthood. so my moon and my sun, which we know symbolize the parents amongst other things, are at the same degree and they sextile eachother exactly, which I think is an indicator that my parents are very harmonious together; they are still together and in love even now. furthermore, my moon and sun are the same signs of my parents' stelliums, i have a libra moon and my mom has a libra stellium, and my sun is in leo and my dad has a leo stellium.

sibling's ceres in your first is feeling like a parent to them, i constantly tell my sister she's my daughter, we even have an inside joke that i gave birth to her at 5, and my ceres is in her fourth, the house of motherhood so she definitely sees me as a parental figure.

me and my bf have eachother's jupiter in our 7th houses, besides being in a serious committed relationship, we want to start a business together. so i feel this is a great indicator for great partnership in both regards.

i feel like this is also a technique but i haven't really heard much about it, generational planets affect us through societal conditions/problems whereas personal planets affect us through personal problems. for example: let's go with two malefics, i have pluto in the first house which i feel would be very different from having let's say mars in the first house. the first house is amongst many things our appearance which i am insecure about. i have never in my life been told i am ugly, i am actually constantly told i am beautiful, and yet it does not click. it isn't through personal experiences that i have problems with my appearance but through consumption of society ideals. this is of course an oversimplification but you get what i mean.

chiron retrograde in natal changes our perception on trauma. me and my bf have the same chiron, his is retrograde while mine is not. he constantly says he is not traumatized, whereas i can tell i am. he 100% has traumas, the thing is that it's like he's left them behind? he just says it happened a long time ago so it's done. my observation is that retrogrades in your natal may make u leave things in the past or have a "it happened a long time ago it doesn't matter" attitude towards trauma. the thing is he acts like a non-traumatized person which is crazy to me.

i have a skin condition called dermatographia, also overall very dry itchy acne prone skin, i also have scars. here are a few placements that i have that i feel may be an indicator for skin conditions: mars ruled first house (traditional rulership) mars is inflamation and scarring, saturn in seventh saturn is dry and some people consider that libra(7th house) rules the skin, saturn opposite ascendant, saturn square venus i see venus as clear skin due to its aesthetical perfection.

saturn in 1st, especially conjunct ascendant indicates identity issues. borrowing elements of identity from people you admire, not feeling like you identify with the gender assigned at birth, not identifying with your birth name, etc.

having a libra 12th house can indicate traumatic female friendship. the 12th house is the house of hidden enemies, so you perceive these people as your friends, sometimes even best friends, so when they betray you it is very jarring and traumatic. having female friends that are jealous of you, female friends that pretend to like you, female friends that talk shit about you and even sometimes lie about u, friends that purposefully hide information from you, that want what you have, sometimes sabotaging what you have or trying to make u lose the thing they want, etc. this is a very difficult placement, because you love these people so much that you would've given up things, changed things or shared things with them if only they were honest with you. in the best of cases the friendship is real and full of love but you grow apart, and this is also painful because you can't control it.

venus square ascendant is people telling you they love you and you not believing them. just overall hardships around love and seeing yourself as loveable. double points when it also squares saturn making u think that if u are loved it's hard work or that people had to convince themselves to, that you're hard to love.

people with venus conjunct mars in first are stunning and have an androgynous vibe to them. sometimes this is visual, strong muscular body with graceful posture, but it can reflect in their personality, just strength imbued with vulnerability, people that surprise you, that are balanced.

taurus 6th house can indicate finding romantic partners in the workplace.

having a stellium in the 4th and no planets in the 10th, can indicate a strong connection to your mom and a disconnect from your dad, especially when the sun is in the opposite sign of your tenth house(in your 4th) feeling like your dad is not the way he should be.

🎀

please let me know what you think, im very curious how they hold up in other people's charts, critiques are welcome and invited.

#astrology observations #astrology #enamoured fae #astro tumblr #astro #astro notes #astro community #horoscope #birth chart

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misguidedasgardian · 8 months

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The Hour of the Wolf (1)

1. The wolf and the sheep

MASTERLIST

Summary: Cregan Stark takes the capital

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, threats of mutilation, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon

Wordcount: 2.2k

Notes: Sorry for the delay people jeje, anyways, this is a warm up for the real thing, this is and will be very political, I hope it can go smoother than this

King Aegon, second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, was dead

He had been poisoned by his own council

As Cregan Stark and an army of twenty thousand men strong, plus the survivors of the Riverlands, known as “the Lads”, and the Vale by the sea, all sieged the Capital in name of their late Queen Rhaenyra, he didn’t think of surrendering, he intended to keep fighting the war, killing hundreds of thousand more

He was never going to surrender, and he was going to get himself, and everyone else on the Red Keep, killed

The king had grown mad in the last year

How couldn’t he? he had lost his entire family but his daughter, and his dragon, and he was the cause for millions of deaths all over the seven Kingdoms

It had finally catched up to him

And he was going to harm the Princess, little Prince Aegon, and Baela Targaryen

Corlys Velaryon couldn’t let that happen

So in the crack of dawn, the servants found Aeggon dead in his bed, he seemed like he had perished in his sleep, but he was still holding a cup of wine in his hand

People celebrated his death

And now people could call him the usurper out loud

Because everyone knows the truth…

Cregan Stark was coming

They were dark weeks in which the wolf was looming over the herd of sheep

And the remains of the small council were still discussing what to do, Larys Strong, Corlys Velaryon, Maester Olwyle, who was let out of his imprisonment by Rhaenyra, and Aegon’s former King’s guard, Gyles Belgrave, and other Lords from higher houses, Borros’ younger brother

“Aegon the younger should be named heir”, said one

“King”, corrected another, “we are too late to name heirs, someone must sit the iron Throne”

“We have her older daughter” said Corlys, “if we don’t name her then all the war was for nothing, because we would be denying her in favor of the male heir”

“Let's marry them, they will rule together”

“Aegon is six, the princess is shy of turning eight and ten!”, fighted Corlys

“Aegon must marry princess Jahaera, to finally unify both fronts, and end this war once and for all”

“They are children”, fought another

“Addam Velaryon is alive, I will marry him to the Princess”, demanded Corlys

“Of course you will, so your bastard son will rule?”

“There is a inconvenience”, muttered maester Orwylde

“Which is?”, asked the Sea Snake

“According to the pact of Ice and Fire, a treaty signed by the late Prince Jacaerys and Cregan Stark, the princess is set to marry the Wolf of Winterfell”

“That was two years ago”, said Corlys, “many things had happened since then”

“Stark is marching on the capital in revenge for his Queen!”, the old man fought, “as said treaty dictated”

“When he arrives… who will he find on the Iron Throne?”, asked Tyland, “his betrothed? or her six year-old brother?”

“It is dangerous to have Cregan Stark as a King consort”

“I think it’s exactly what we need”, muttered Corlys

“You just now wanted to marry the princess to your bastard!”

“Where is the princess?”, asked Larys Strong, with a unsteady smile on his face

“She is her rooms”

“That girl is… she is not well!”, muttered Tyland

“She is traumatized…”, said another

“I checked her myself, she has no signs of being… unhinged nor unstable”, muttered Olwylde

“Aegon made his dragon eat her mother alive in front of her”

“Aegon, a six year old boy was also there present, the one you would prefer to sit on the Iron Throne, a child!”

“She will seat the Iron Throne!”, said Corlys, “we must agree to it, don’t we?”

“Yes we have to”

“Aye”, said Maester Orwylde

“Has anyone spoken to her?”, muttered Tyland

“No since Aegon died”

“The usurper”, called Corlys

“We cannot call him that, we served him…”, remembered the Lannister

“Cregan Stark, and the armies of the Riverlands are marching on the capital”, remembered the Sea Snake

“Do we know what his intentions are?”

“To take the capital for the blacks”, muttered Corlys, “and right now, we are all Greens”, the room was silent

“We have to please the wolf”

“We have the Queen”

“We have to surrender the city to Stark”

Lord Baratheon just watched, amused, Larys had his eyes on him, curious about what he wanted to say

“Open the gates, we receive Stark”, he demanded, and everyone looked at him

“He will kill us all”

“Not if we don’t put resistance”, he tried, “the girl or the boy, whichever we place on the throne, is from Rhaenyra’s blood, not our Queen, but our enemy, Stark is coming here to kill us, and make sure one of them sits the Iron Throne, if you want to survive this week, i say we grab the kid, send him to the wolf and the Lads as a sign of good faith”

“What about the girl?”

“The road is no place for a princess”, he continued, “she should stay in the Keep, safe”

“As insurance”, mocked Tyland, “in case something happens to the boy”

“We send Aegon to The Lads, not to Stark”, said Alard Baratheon, “see if the Wolf takes the bait”

“She can’t know”

So the council grabbed Aegon the younger from his rooms, gathered a large caravan and delivered him to the Tullys, and leader of an army

While you… remained in your rooms unaware of what was going on.

. . .

The realms had been submerged in chaos for the last two whole years, brothers fighted sisters, kin usurped kin, dragons danced with dragons, and the results where incalculable loss of people, the fall of the greatest dynasty in Westeros, and the death of Dragons, the most incredible and powerful creatures

because dreams didn’t make the Targaryen Kings, Dragons did

The Red Keep, House of the Dragon since a hundred years ago, had seen four monarchs in the last three years, people had come and gone, killed for their alliances, traded for others, like a mythological creature.

One man, with one monarch to serve lost his head, two more, following a different monarch rose on its place

Now the castle lay inert, quiet, those who followed Aegon had been decimated, those who had followed Rhaenyra were killed or chased away, now everyone who resided there seemed to be replaceable, taken for granted.

It wasn’t the home of the reigning family anymore

It was a carcass, waited to be filled by the next power who dared to take it for themselves, waited to be lived again by those faithful to the next Queen or King of the Seven Kingdoms

The castle was grim, silent, Viserys, Alicent, Aegon, Rhaenyra, and then Aegon again, all of them had tried to make his mark inside these walls, so now it had taken a form of some sort of Chimera, a monsters with a different head, body and feet, a part of each animal, a part of each monarch.

The colors gold, green, black and red, one started where the other ended, melted together sewing the bloody story of what it was about to be known like the Dance of the dragons, it was upsetting

Uncertainty

Doubt

Three survivors of what it once a big and powerful family

Three broken children

A empty castle

A divided Kingdom

An empty carcass, and no brave men left to fill it

None but one

Cregan Stark had come home after the defeat of the winter wolves, to gather a powerful army of forty thousand men strong.

The mission was to eliminate the remain of the Green forces, and strengthen the position of his Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen

Even though as he gathered his army, his Queen had been assassinated by her brother

That did not deter Cregan Stark, if anything, it made his mission even more imperative, now, he was up for revenge

He knew Rhaenyra had two remaining children, her oldest and only daughter, and her son Aegon the younger. The first one, two years ago, he agreed to wed, back when she was the second older child, behind Jacaerys, and a princess with nothing to her name but to make alliances

It was for her he marched south, to keep his word to her mother

He planned in taking the capital, no matter the cost, he planned on killing every single last green, even though The Lads had gotten ahead of him, eliminating Borros baratheon and the remains of his army, the Green army

As he had no news of the capital since he left Winterfell, he knew the Usurper sat the Iron Throne, no, he didn’t actually, he sat on a wooden chair at the feet of it, since he couldn’t even climbed up the steps for it

He was going to surrender the city or die at his hands

He was the late Queen’s biggest supporter, and he failed her, he took too long, he had to make amends, make things right

He, and his army, was going to mach to all corners of the Kingdoms, until everyone was accounted for their part in the usurpation of his Queen

A rider reached his army when he was passing through Harrenhal

King Aegon the usurper was dead, killed by his own men

But this did nothing but to disgust the wolf

Snaked inhabited the capital, no one else

His new Queen, and his prince were there, in midst of traitors and turncloaks, so the news of the Usurper being dead only encouraged him to march south even Quicker

The Lads were ruling those zones, assumed to ambush everyone who passes through the king’s road, but even though his scouts encountered men from the Riverlands, they did nothing to prevent him from passing

A silent truce, and agreement, they were on the same size

They did not join one another, but The Lads let Cregan Stark pass through the RIverlands uninterrupted

Independently from Aegon the younger traveling to Harrenhal to The Lads as a gesture of good fiat, even though the young prince was part of Cregan’s mission, his main goal was to bring justice to the realm

And to keep you safe

With prince Aegon in his power, and the main commanders of the Lads, Cregan reached King’s Landing on the twentieth day of the sith moon of the year 131 AC

He found the city gates wide open, waiting for him

He found the city completely ready for the taking, the people didn’t stop him, he couldn’t see soldiers anywhere, when he arrived at the Keep, the small council was right there, on the steps leading to the great Hall where the Iron Throne was.

“Lord Stark”, greeted Corlys

Cregan was still atop his horse, looking down at this.. things, more serpents than men

He dismounted, not even caring to respond to the calling, his household, his most trusted men entered the keep, swords in hand

“This city is now under my control”, he demanded, “I have taken it, in the name of Late Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen!”, he said out loud

The soldiers there did surrender their weapons, as the northerners spread all over the courtyard and the main streets of the city

A pack of wolves in a hunt

Cregan paid no mind to the weakened remains of the Green council, and he found no real authority there, Cregan Stark started to give orders

“Send word to Dragonstone, to send whomever is left from Queen Rhaenyra’s council”, he said to the maester Orwylde, who just nodded and limped away to fulfill the order. “Including a new maester”, he said with a demanding look on his face

Nobody questioned him

He was tall, and broad, long black hair secured by braids, two piercing eyes and a reputation in battle.

The wolf had come to the capital

He had taken the city without even shedding a drop of blood, without even unsheathing his sword

He entered the throne room, and he was not surprised to see it empty, The Iron Throne right there.

A strange wooden chair with wheels at the foot

“Have that burned in the courtyard, where everyone can see”, he demanded to his second in command, he nodded and took three men with him to fulfill his order, “For every green dragon banner that I see I will behead a Lannister, a Baratheon or a Hightower!”, he said aloud, and at least ten men from the Keep ran to get rid of the sickening symbol

He took only one step up the Iron Throne, he only needed the one, he turn around, to meet the council of traitors and cowards

“Where is she?”, he asked out loud

“Where is who, my lord?”, asked Corlys Velaryon

“Where is the Queen?”, his voice resounded en the entire Throne Room

taglist! <3

@lyannesworld @unlesshouse @mxtokko

#misguidedhour #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #targaryen!reader #house targaryen #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan #targaryen!oc

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thetriumphantpanda · 23 days

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Letting Off Steam

One Day I'll Fly Away - Chapter Two

Chapter Summary | A call from home makes you wish that all of this would go away, but until it does, you make it your mission to annoy Joel Miller as much as you can.

Word Count | 3.5k

Pairing | Joel Miller x Princess F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Mentions of alcohol, the British Royal Family, extreme wealth, food and eating, as well as mentions of body image issues and implied infidelity. Joel is grumpy as always, Miss Scandal is pushing his buttons. The sheep gang up on Joel. Joel is a typical man and can't help but take one (1) look at the princess' backside. Reader has very little description apart from her clothing. No outbreak-AU, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | Thank you for being so patient in waiting for this. I'm still SO excited by these two and their story and things will be hotting up soon, I promise! If you liked this then please consider commenting, reblogging and screaming along with me in my ask box!

Please note that I no longer use tag lists - please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Kofi | Series Playlist

A bowl sits on the edge of the desk, full of peaches, sitting in the sliver of sunlight that filters through the window, warming the fuzzy skin. You reach down, pluck the fruit from the top of the bowl and rub your thumbs over the skin, warm and soft. Bringing it to your mouth, you drag your teeth through the softness of the flesh, savouring the sweetness as it floods your mouth, but even warmed in the sun like they are, this peach still doesn’t taste like the one you ate at the farm, plucked only moments ago from the tree, sun warmed and sweet.

You’ve barely finished the fruit when the phone at the side of the bed rings. It makes you close your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose, and you think about ignoring it - there are very few people who know where you are, the Palace for one, on their insistence considering it was their security detail keeping an eye on you, your parents for another, but you doubt it’s them considering the shame you’ve apparently brought to their door. Tossing the stone in the bin, you walk the few steps to the phone and pick it up, but you don’t say anything, a trick you’d since learnt since the first headlines hit - remain silent, listen for a small click and wait to see who talks first.

“Texas looks like fun.”

There’s a wave of comfort that falls over your shoulders at the voice coming through the receiver. You check the watch on your wrist, calculating the time difference between Austin and London, shaking your head a little.

“Are you awake early, or up late?”

“You know me,” The voice chuckles a little, “Never one to turn down a party, and George was hosting at Claridge’s.”

“How many people took your photo?” You ask, sitting down on the bed.

“Oh honey, I’m going to splashed across every single newspaper come morning,” He laughs, “Throngs of them at the door and I’m sure someone has already sold the pictures of me drinking champagne from the bottle, stood on the table with some random woman holding onto my arm.”

You let your fingers tangle in the spiral cord, you know exactly what he’s doing, trying his best to make a scene wherever he goes in the hopes it drags the attention off you for just a moment. God, he’d always been the best friend you’d ever had. Sam. The only man who you think has ever cared for you.

“How is Texas?” You hear him ask, tone a little more clipped now.

“It’s…” You start with a sigh, “Fine.”

“I see they managed to catch you at dinner the other night,” You can hear some clattering in the background and the sound of liquid pouring, his nightcap no doubt, “Have they swarmed you?”

“I don’t think so,” You offer, “Not that I’ve noticed anyway, although now one paper knows I’m here it’s only a matter of time.”

“Any local talent?”

“Shut your mouth,” You laugh, “I’m here to escape the drama, not cause more of it.”

“So there is local talent!” He barks down the phone, “Go on, spill!”

Your mind flits to yesterday. To Joel Miller. The way he’d looked at you with contempt, clearly completely uncaring about etiquette, completely uncaring about you in general, and you understood. Small town, used to the small town dynamics day-in, day-out, about to be uprooted when the worlds media found out you were here. It only seemed to spur you on, much like everything in your life had. When your husband had turned his cheek to you and flashed his sparkly eyes at the girl sat to his left, that was a challenge you weren’t about you lose, and look where that got you. A scarlet letter, the words whore and slut banded around like they meant nothing. There was something in the way Joel Miller, with his rough and dirty hands, had looked at you like you were nothing but another customer that set you on fire in the worst way.

“It’s nothing,” You insist to Sam down the phone, “I think we exchanged less that four sentences with each other and I’m sure he already hates me for upsetting the small-town equilibrium.”

“It all starts somewhere.”

There’s a moment of silence, where the two of you just sit and listen to each other breathe. It’s a comfort, to know there’s at least one person on the other side of that ocean that still cares for you in some way, it’s just a shame he got caught up in the storm of shit along with you, but if it had to be someone, you’re glad it was him.

“I miss you.” You speak first.

“I miss you too, princess,” You can hear the smile in his voice, “It’ll all blow over eventually,” He soothes, “And then you can come back and George can host at The Savoy in celebration.”

You laugh at that, reminisce about all the parties you used to go to together, the harmless trouble you’d find yourself in more often than not, “Go to bed.” You insist.

“Yes, ma’am,” And you can perfectly picture the salute he’s just done on the other end of the phone, “Go and find your local talent.”

He’s hung up before you can argue with him, so you set the receiver back down on the handset, sit on the bed for a while, chin. resting on your palm, before you decide what to do. You lean your head out of the door and find Rob sitting in a chair at the end of the hall, when he notices you, he perks up a little.

“Can you drive me back to the farm from yesterday?”

Joel doesn’t really know why he does it, sat over his morning coffee, black and bitter, but there’s an itch in his fingers, so he pulls out his phone, slips on his glasses and opens up the Google app. He can hear Ellie laughing at him as he types with one finger, slowly typing her name into the search bar. He gets halfway through her first name when a slew of suggested searches pop up - the first one is her name followed by the word scandal. The next replaces scandal with affair. The further down he looks, the more pathetic the searches get, replacing the last word he reads with things like weight, depression and even nudes.

He sighs, shakes his head and just finishes writing her name before he hits the enter button. At the top of the Google page of results there’s a few images - one of her at her wedding, linked arm in arm with her ex-husband, smiles on both their faces. There’s one of her shaking the hand of some foreign dignitary, smiling as she does, and then another, grainy, clearly taken at night, as she sits at a restaurant with a man that isn’t her husband.

Joel knows the story, it was splashed across enough of his morning papers for him not to miss it. An affair with another man, caught red-handed talking to him on the phone about things Joel would rather not remember reading. There’s a part of him that feels sorry for her, that someone had managed to tap her phone and listen to her for long enough to catch her in the act, but he thinks more that it serves her right for being unfaithful. There isn’t a smile dazzling enough or a tip big enough from her that would make him think otherwise.

As much as he hates to admit it, he spends far too much of his morning reading about you on his phone. There’s an article he finds that tracks your ‘rise and fall’ as the British tabloid put it. There are dates, followed by photos and a little blurb for each moment in your life - from meeting the Prince at university, the whirlwind romance, the engagement, the wedding, the gossip about when you would start popping out children, right down to the photo they took of you running onto the plane to escape - grey English skies, some man holding an umbrella over your head to keep you dry as you turned your face from the cameras. He thinks it a little tragic really.

When he finally drags his attention back to the watch on his wrist, he sighs. The sheep are going to have his guts for making them wait for their food, and he can’t pick the peaches off the tree fast enough to stop the vast majority on them falling off and rotting on the ground. He downs the last of his cold coffee now, puts the mug in the sink and turns to head to his truck when he hears the telltale sound of the gravel on his drive crunching under wheels.

Joel takes a few steps towards the window and sees the same car as yesterday. You can’t possibly have run out of peaches already and there's no way his fruit would have rotted either, so he can feel his eyebrows furrow at what on earth you could want now.

By the time he makes his way to the porch, you’re already out of the car, taking small steps back and forth as you’re waiting for him. That makes his blood boil, that even though he doesn’t know you and certainly aren’t obligated for him to drop everything for you, you still expect it, and it makes his blood boil even more that he sequesters to it, walks out onto the porch like an obedient dog.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

You flash that smile from yesterday at him again, one he’s pretty sure has managed to get you exactly what you wanted every single day of your life. It’s not that different to the smile Sarah used to give - sometimes still does, even now she’s grown.

“Well, I was just wondering if you’d show me around?” You ask, “Visiting farms was never my role back home but I’m fascinated to see how things work.”

Joel takes a look at you, a long look up and down and he worries for a second that it looks like he’s checking you out, but he’s just fascinated by how your brain works, that you’ve turned up to his dusty ranch in the middle of Texas in long white slacks, sandals and a white vest - he lets a snort leaves his nose and he shakes his head slight, “Ain’t exactly dressed for ranching, Princess.”

He watches as you shrug, letting your fingers grip at the hem of your vest, holding it up slightly so he can see a slip of skin underneath, “This old thing?” You say, “I don’t mind if it gets dirty.”

“It ain’t your shirt I'm worried about,” He points to your shoes, “You’ll break your neck walking around in those.”

Joel watches intently as you look down at your feet - perfectly pedicured toes peeking out from the hem of your trousers, “You don’t have anything I can borrow?” You ask softly, then, “I’m going out of my mind cooped up in that hotel room.”

For a second, he considers saying no. He doesn’t want you here, not really, you’re just going to become an even bigger pain in the ass if he lets you hang around, and he has no interest in getting caught up in whatever it is you’ve got going on, but the softness in your voice makes him crumble a little. He knows that if he were resigned to four walls he’d be going crazy too.

So he rolls his eyes, and disappears into the house, roots around on the shoe rack until he finds Ellie’s beat up boots, it’s the best he’s got, knowing by the look of her that they’re probably going to be a little tight. He doesn’t know why he does it, but he runs upstairs and grabs a pair of his thinnest socks - he certainly doesn’t want to be responsible for giving the princess blisters.

“Put these on,” He’s gruff with it as he hands them over, “Probably a bit small bit it’s all I got.”

He watches intently as you slip your sandals off slowly and hand them over to the man who gets out of the car and follows you everywhere. You struggle to get the boots on but eventually they end up on your feet. He can’t help that his eyes wander to your backside when you stand up, Texas dust settled on the creased of your trousers.

“If you’re comin’ with me you gotta do exactly what I say, when I say it, understood?”

You bring two fingers up to your temple and salute him, “Yes, sir.”

Joel's ranch is huge, is the first thing you realise. There’s an expansive orchard full of his famous peach trees that he drives you up to first. He’s silent, brooding in the drivers seat, scowl across his face. You can’t help but bring your hand up, settling your pointer finger into your mouth and biting down to stop your laughter from bubbling up and over.

He pulls the truck up at one edge of the orchard and steps out so you follow behind him. You meet him at the back of the truck as he reaches over and picks up a stack of wooden crates - the same ones you’ve taken back with you the last few times, overflowing with fruit. He hands the stack to you, which you take.

“You’re gonna earn your keep if you’re gonna annoy me.”

You chuckle, “Sure thing,” You say, following behind him as he walks towards the first tree, “I’m not work shy, you know.” You call after him, running slightly behind him to catch up.

“Course not,” He grumbles, “Years of shakin’ hands is great work experience for this.”

You roll your eyes, setting the stack of crates on the ground, deciding it’s probably best to let him say what he wants - it’s nothing you haven’t heard before anyway.

“This is easy,” He starts, gripping one of the lower branches of the tree, pulling it down so it’s in your eyeline, “Grip the fruit in your palm and twist it until it comes off.”

You do as he says, letting the bottom of the fruit sit in your palm, delicate fingers gripping at the sides, and you twist gently, feeling the branch tighten and the a snap when the fruit comes free in your palm.

“Just like that,” Joel muses, “Now just put it in the crate and move onto the next.”

You continue like that for a while, Joel pulling the branches down so you can pluck the fruit off and into the crate, until the first tree is bare as far as you can reach and you have a crate full of peaches.

“How do you get the fruit from the top?” You ask, raking a hand over your forehead to try and get rid of the sweat that’s gathering there.

He doesn’t reply, he merely steps closer to you, puts one of his palms against your stomach and pushes you gently back out of the way, then he turns around, puts both hands on the trunk of the tree and gives it a shake. You laugh as some of the fruit from the top tumbles down and hits the ground.

“If it ain’t falling then it ain’t ready.” Joel murmurs, starting to bend over to pick up the fruit from the ground to put it into another crate.

Joel leaves you to it from there, moving onto his own tree so you can divide and conquer, but somewhere around the third crate that you fill, your interest wanes. You can hear soft bleating coming from near the barn that you can see in the distance, so you walk that way, leaving Joel and the peaches behind for what sounds like something much more interesting.

When Joel stands up from his filled crate and looks around, you’re nowhere to be found. Panic sinks in. You’d insisted that whoever was looking after you didn’t have to come with, that Joel looked more than capable of looking after you for a few hours, and now he had no fucking clue where you were. That would make a mighty fine headline in any newspaper.

He rushes back to the truck, hand resting on his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun when he spots you - a white silhouette stood in a mass of his sheep. God fucking damn it, he thinks, abandoning the crates of fruit to get into his truck to drive over to you.

“What the hell’a you doin?” He calls out of the window when he pulls up near to you.

You turn around, one hand resting on the head of one of his sheep who seems to be enjoying the attention, “I just wanted to know what the noise was,” You shrug, “I’ve never touched a sheep before.”

“Will you-” He sighs, slinging open the truck door, “Get away from them, they’re dirty.”

You look down at the sheep that’s leant against your lower leg, tipping its head so you scratch it again, “Did you hear what he just said about you?” You ask the animal, who he swears looks right at him and bleats, “Exactly, he’s not very nice is he?”

He spots another sheep heading straight for you just a little too late to catch it before it’s reaching up with it’s teeth to take hold of the hem of your shirt. It tugs a little, not enough to do any damage, but enough to make you lose your balance a little. Joel steps forward, his muscle memory kicking in from all the times Sarah and Ellie had been in this exact predicament, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you steady, whilst his other hand waves to make the sheep move away.

When he’s sure you’re not at risk of toppling into the dusty ground, he looks down at you, slightly tilted in the way he caught you so you’re looking up at him, wide-eyed, one of your arms fisting at the flannel to keep yourself steady. He coughs, clears his throat and lets you go like you’d just burned him.

“They’re unpredictable,” He chastises, “You’ll get hurt if you wander off like that.”

“Sorry.” Is all you say, but he feels like it’s genuine, “Why sheep?” You ask to his back as he walks away.

“They’re quiet, and they do what they’re told.”

There’s a brown stain on your pristine white shirt now, to match the dust that had settled across your backside from earlier, and he can’t help but smile to himself as he turns back towards the truck, pristine little princess getting herself all dirty on his ranch. He shakes his head, banishing any thought that isn’t his distaste for the way you’re going to continue uprooting everything with your presence, motioning his head for you to get into the other side.

The rest of the afternoon goes off without a hitch, you help him with the feeding and finish picking the rest of the peaches. He lets you eat one of the fruit on the way back to his house, listening as you slurp at the juices.

“Well, thank you for that,” You say as you get down from the truck, “It’s so interesting to see how things work.”

“You’re welcome,” He grumbles, not sure he can say the same, “Hey, wait!” He calls as you start walking away.

He picks up a crate of peaches from the truck, walks it over to you and plops it into your open arms, wordlessly walking back to pick up another.

“Is this my payment?” You ask, with a smirk on your face.

“No,” He says simply, “It’s you finishing a job, that first crate is for Nancy at the hotel, don’t steal any, you hear me?” You nod in understanding, “And this is for the grocery store in town.”

“So I’m a delivery girl now, am I?”

“Too right Princess,” He’s got a smile on his face now, but it’s not unkind, “You wanted to see how things work, you’ve gotta do it all.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, but there’s a laugh at the end of it too as he walks you back to the car. Rob steps out, clearly questioning you with his expression.

“Looks like we’ve got a delivery to make, gentlemen.”

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demonioenelespacio · 8 months

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I really love how s2 of Good Omens is written, because you have so many clues about what is going to happen at the end, the offer, the motivations behind the choices of all the characters… You have everything on the plate to cook an amazing recipe.

You start the season with them as angels and end it with an offer to be both angels again (just like s1 started and ended with a Garden). You get a brief glimpse of The angel who became Crowley, we get to see how they were so passionate about their work, you can see their joy. I mean, look at them

Can you really blame Aziraphale for thinking that the offer is amazing? When that could mean that Crowley is this happy again.

But… The spark that our demon is missing is innocence, and that’s something Crowley can’t get back, ever (unless they delete his memory??).

Crowley is bitter and angry and anxious, but we know he can experience that joy from Before, because we can see that when he is making it rain for Maggie and Nina. We saw a real smile.

Aziraphale didn’t.

But the offer is not because he wants to change Crowley, because he knows who Crowley is now and loves him as he is. And because he knows that Crowley is still the same caring and kind being he was Before.

“I know you”

“You do not know me”

“I know the angel you were”

“The angel you knew is not me”

Yeah, it’s true, but that scene is to show Azira that he is still kind, he didn't kill the sheep, he is not going to kill the children. So, yes, Crowley isn’t that Angel, but the core is the same in the end.

There is also the fact that… Do you think Aziraphale ever thinks about how he planted the seeds of Crowley's Fall?

This is the face of an angel who is going to end the career of another angel WITHOUT REALISING IT.

That Angel didn’t know about Earth, about humans, about the Great Plan, they were busy making stars. If Aziraphale had never told them that, would Crowley have thought of asking questions?

First offence and all of that… How unfair. How could Aziraphale make it right again?

The “Exactly” scene is so important. They are so stupid (affectionary).

They mean the same thing (We can be together) but saying different things; a phrase (Nothing lasts forever) meaning different things for each of them. They don’t talk, they don’t really speak each other's language.

Also, the final scene is more painful, but we have the same argument in ep1:

“Oh, right, this is how you wanna do it?”

“No, I would love you to help me! I’m asking you to help me take care of (Heaven). But if you won’t, you won’t”

*Crowley leaves*

How can they have broken up so many times without ever being together (screams).

In ep1 we also have the two little mini half-miracles. And I have read some people take that as how powerful Crowley is, but come on. This Big Miracle is clearly because they are working together, the two of them together are more powerful than anything else. And boy, that rang an alarm in my head when I first watched the season, because… Crowley said in s1 that they will be waiting for the next Big Thing, this war "Heaven and Hell vs. Humanity". You want the best in your team, right?

Because if they are not… they can be against you.

So, yeah, I saw Metatron and was like “ok, here we go”. And look, his offer is to Aziraphale, because he is an angel, but Metatron doesn’t blink an eye before mentioning Crowley too. He wants both. But whatever, if Crowley doesn’t want to go to Heaven, if Heaven only gets Azirphale, well, success either way! Because if you separate the two of them, they are no longer a threat .

Also the fly, flying around very very noisy. You have Beelzebub saying they want Gabriel surrendered to them and acting a bit weird. All the clues there (I must confess I didn't expect the ship to be canon, I just thought they might be talking more lol. A nice win).

All this just thinking about episode 1.

The last thing I want to touch is Maggie and Nina talking to Crowley before the confession. Because… They told us what was going to happen.

They can’t be together, because Nina has to get over her previous toxic relationship before she is ready, and then, only then, they can try, if Maggie waits (she will wait).

Aziraphale has to get over his toxic relationship with Heaven before he is ready, and then, only then, they can try, if Crowley waits (he will wait).

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens analysis #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #metatron #good omens s2 spoilers #my stuff

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haunting-venus · 3 months

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wolf in sheep's clothing ↳ jake sully x fem!omatikaya!reader

content warnings | smut ( minors dni ), predator / prey play ( but pretty mild ), oral ( m ), masturbation ( f ), dirty talk, praise, knife play if you squint, facial, accidental stimulation

word count: 3587

notes | here i am for day four of romancing pandora: predator / prey ! first time writing for the man who got me into this fandom and who doesn't love some 2009! jake. these just keep getting longer, its a blessing and a curse

na'vi dictionary | ikran — banshee ; mawey — be calm ; pa'li — direhorse ; tewng — loincloth

Jake’s breath came out in shallow pants, calves burning with exertion as he carried himself as quickly and quietly as he could through the dense foliage of the forest. It was nearing eclipse, the shine of the sun becoming dimmer through the canopies of the massive trees, the more obscured fauna already beginning to glow lightly with bioluminescent colors.

He was a bit embarrassed of how winded he was, taking a pause to put his hands above his head and inhale deep breaths. He did his best to keep in shape after his discharge, but there was only so much cardio you could do while you were planted in a wheelchair.

Luckily, his avatar was quick to build stamina, the lean body adapted to the harsh climate and terrain of the Forest Na’vi. The pads of his feet were rough and strong, thighs tight with muscle to plant himself firmly while climbing trees, lats and biceps sturdy and taut in preparation to swing across vines or scale mountainsides. It was new, weird, and ultimately awesome.

Still, all his physiological adaptations of his new form (his body, he reminded himself, this was his body now) did little to ease the burn in his chest. He’d been running for a while now, ducking down and between trees and vines in ways that his mind remembered but his body was still slowly readapting to.

It was a simple exercise, really. A test to make sure he had adapted to moving and hunting like a Na’vi rather than a Sky Person. He’d become better—learning to quiet his steps, hear the sounds of nature and the wind that could carry his scent and sound, and he was at least trying to feel the energy of the world around. Still, you had wanted to be sure before you brought him on an official hunt, to prevent him from embarrassing both you and him.

You’d begun right after lunch, riding Jake out on your ikran to the far reaches of the forest, miles from Hometree. He’d gotten a head start of about thirty minutes and directions to the general location of Hometree before you’d sent him away with a pat on the back and a knowing smirk.

The task had two rules—1) make it back to Hometree before the eclipse set fully for the night, and 2) don’t get caught.

He’s beginning to recognize the landscape surrounding Hometree, bark marked with knife symbols and stray arrows that preceded the training grounds. He couldn’t be far now.

He knew firsthand how many predators lie in the forest, and they all seemed hell-bent on getting a chunk of his tasty blue flesh, so he wasn’t eager to see one of them again. Then again, there was little in the forest that set his nerves on end more than you.

Your relationship was strange, dancing between the line of ‘absolutely hating each other’ and ‘begrudging friends due to circumstance’. It seemed like you teeteered between them each day depending on your mood or how shitty he was doing in his training.

You’d taken up the mantle of helping Jake with extra training whenever Neytiri was pulled away for her duties as tsakarem, something that was becoming more and more common with the steady invasion of the Sky Demons. You were a strong hunter, more patient than Neytiri was but also twice as demanding. You knew what you wanted done and how, and knew exactly how to get it, even if it meant keeping Jake awake all night practicing his bow stance.

There were times you looked at Jake like he was the scum that stuck to the bottom of your shoe (well, if you wore shoes), like he had single-handedly arrived to make your life difficult. Then, there were the other times. The times when you let your gaze soften as you taught him the words of your people—words like love, and hope and friendship that felt like more than just words when they passed your lips so sweetly. The times when your grip tightens on the bulge of his muscles to adjust his stance, or when your eyes linger a little too long on the exposed skin of his stomach.

It was in those times he felt his mind wander somewhere beyond the defined boundaries of your relationship, to slip into something a little softer, a little hotter. It was starting to become a problem, how ingrained your moods and touches were into the etches of his being, how he was becoming more and more certain that you wanted him just as bad.

Fuck, he could be imagining it, probably was imagining it, but it didn’t matter when you wouldn’t get out of his damn head. You were steady, and tough and so fucking sexy it made his head spin.

He couldn’t help the wandering thoughts as he trailed through the forest, body and mind exhausted from the hours he’d spent watching his every step, craning his head to every sound. His ears twitched up and out, picking up on the low hum of insects and scuffles of small game across the forest floor. He’d been antsy for a while now, the skin rising on the back of his neck and blood thumping through his veins. It felt like he was being watched, that strange dread of being small and targeted creeping up his spine.

The tackle takes him by surprise, the full weight of your body emerging from a low-hanging branch to throw him off balance. He’s a lot bigger than you, stronger too, but this was your terrain and you were definitely in control. He stumbles over vines and rocks as he tumbles back, the impact of the hard ground knocking the breath from his already exhausted lungs.

You’re able to roll off him with grace, readjusting your stance to crouch lowly over him with a mild hiss. Your knife is at his throat before he even has a chance to get his bearings.

“Dead.” Your hot breath hisses over his ear, the cool edge of your knife pressing lightly to his carotid artery.

The blood pounding in his head quickly rushes elsewhere when he’s finally able to take note of your positions. Your face is close enough he can feel your lightly heaving breaths next to his ear, your tail flicking mildly against his thigh as you hold your barely covered sex just above his own. It’s dumb and wrong and he can’t believe he is sporting a halfie right now because what the hell happened to him in life that this gets him hot?

Your gaze softens as he struggles to catch his breath, relaxing your crouch position into a sit on the area just above his loincloth, making him huff. He hopes to whatever god there is on Pandora that you take his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing as anger at being caught and not the mind-bending arousal that was flooding his system.

“You did well, Jake. Most children don’t get nearly this far on their first trial.” You lean back on his lap, knife still dangling from one hand. You clearly don’t seem too bothered with the proximity of your ass to his cock, giving him a teasing look as you praise him. He knew the Na’vi were more open with their sexuality, more casual with touching and feeling than humans but this had to be raising some kind of flags for you.

“Yeah, well, maybe if I had a better teacher…” His voice sounds strained to his own ears, desperate to move the conversation to something, anything, to distract him and get that damn sexy look off your face, like you’ve just won a prize.

Your grin is wide and teasing, easily brushing off his jab. You let your sharp-edged blade trace precariously against the skin of his stomach, voice thick in accented English. “Oh, don’t be a sore sport, Jake. I’m being nice, even though your footsteps are like thunder.”

"Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.” He huffed, leaning a hand behind his head to catch his breath and avoid your piercing gaze.

“Oh, it was. You were moving around like a baby pa’li, just stomp, stomp, stomp.” Your giggles were relentless as you teased him, thumping your feet and tail in loud smacks to drive home your point.

Jake usually would have found it childish, just pushing you off himself and brushing off his shame. Except, your hips swayed dangerously low to the tent in his loincloth with each of your stomping movements, eventually brushing against his sensitive skin and causing heat to shoot through his stomach and up his spine.

“Fuck, don’t move, darling.” His voice was heavier than he meant it to be, his hands instinctively grasping your hips to stop you from moving any further.

Your eyes trail from the flush high on his cheeks to the twitching of his ears, a slow realization coming over your face. Your eyes dilate, tail twitching behind you as you purposefully push your hips back against the growing bulge of his cock. He lets out a groan, fingers tightening against the curve of your hips as he forces his own to stay still.

“I did this to you?” Your expression is unreadable, eyes darting over his face in question.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Jake rubs a hand over his eyes, obviously embarrassed. You tackled him, got on his lap and put a damn knife to his neck, and he popped a boner like a goddamn teenager. Grace is gonna murder him when she finds out this is what gets him finally kicked out of the village. “You just looked so pretty, and my adrenaline was going. It-it’s really natural-”

“Mawey, Jake, it is ok.” You grasp one of his hands, your fingers soft but insistent as you lead him to the dip between your legs. He looks up with questioning eyes, waiting for your permission, before dipping his fingers underneath the soft fabric. He bites his lip as he lets his fingers explore the valleys of your pussy, coming away hot and slick from your arousal.

Your eyes are still focused only on his face, moving your hips idly against his exploring touch as your breath quickens. “It is the same for me. I want you, Jake, all of you, if you will have me.”

He sits up at the waist, letting the fingers from his free hand trace along the edges of your hips and the base of your tail, relishing in the shivers you let out against his chest. He thinks for a moment he must have hit his head too hard since there was no way this strong warrior, this beautiful being so far from anything he had ever known, was offering herself to him.

Except he can feel every breath that huffs from your chest, each twitch of your thighs against his hip, each tremor that wracks your frame when his fingers roll your clit. It makes any rational thought in his head sweep away, pushing his forehead to yours to breathe in this moment.

“Yes, I want you, of course I want you.”

You reached a hand to his face and he could smell the hot musk of your arousal so strongly it made his hips twitch. He leaned his face into your hand, feeling the soft touch of your fingers before pushing his lips to yours impatiently. You sunk into his embrace as he pulled you close, chests brushing one another as you explored the feel of each other for the first time.

Your tongue slipped between your teeth, teasing the edge of Jake’s lips as you opened yourself up to him, letting the sensations of his fingers dipping into your cunt roll over you.

You’d had a few lovers before, fleeting encounters in the night throughout your life, but none had lit your skin aflame like Jake. He was different and a little forbidden, a strong man who threw himself wholeheartedly into the ways of your people and, fuck, you wanted him like no one before.

His hand trails up the length of your ribs, feeling each dip and curve of your figure as your body moves into him. You let out a shaky gasp that borders on a moan when he grips your tit, thumb moving teasingly along the stiff bud of your nipple. You’re trying so hard to keep yourself together, to be the one in control, but can feel yourself crumbling at each press of his fingers against your hot flesh.

Jake groans against your lips, keeping his thumb rubbing against your tit. “Fuck, I love that sound. Let me hear it again, sweet girl.”

“Me first.” You trail your fingers under the hem of his tewng,pulling the fabric down with a tug to the strings. Jake can see the focus of your eyes, almost grounding yourself like you’re trying to regain some sort of control over your body.

Jake’s touch made you feel like you were falling, an exhilarating and nerve-wracking loss of control that had you shaking. You let your fingers slip over the head of his cock, already wet with precum and decorated with little tanhì on the lavender skin. Jake grunts as you let your fingers slide repeatedly over the wet slit, the confident look from earlier returning to your features as you drink in the sounds he makes with each pass of your hand.

“Oh, come on, darling, let me make you feel good. I was just getting started.” His grin is wicked sharp, as dangerous and enticing as he is, his alien fingers rubbing firmly over your clit to prove his point.

“Come now, I successfully got my prey. Shouldn’t I get to reap a hunter’s reward?” Your lips are swollen as you pant the words into his mouth, moving both your hands to twist around the length of his cock. He hardly muffles a moan at the overwhelming stimulation, brows furrowed in pleasure as you let a grin sneak over your lips.

And fuck that shouldn’t make heat run through him like it does, setting his ears aflame as his hips twitch unwittingly into your grasp. Your prey. He certainly felt like it with the coy way your fingers grasped around his cock, each muscle in his body plying to the sweet friction of your touch.

He lets himself relax back against the dirt and moss of the ground, feeling a pang of need go through him at the look in your eyes as you run your fingers along him, imprinting yourself onto him, declaring him as your bounty in the depths of the woods. “God, darling, you look so pretty, wanna feel your lips on my cock so bad.”

“Being quiet was never your strength, was it?” You tease, flicking your tongue out to run along the bumps on his shaft. They glowed lightly in the dim evening, pulsing a bit as he leaked precum onto your tongue with hitched breath.

“Yeah, well, we all have our flaws.”

You hum against the shaft of his cock, vibrations making his thighs tense under you. “Not a flaw, let me hear how good I make you feel.”

With that, you wrap your lips around the darker tip of his cock, letting your mouth fall over the tip and running your tongue along the sensitive underside of his head. Jake leans up on his elbows to get a good look, pushing stray strands of hair from your face to admire how your lips stretch around him.

Your eyes are glassy as you take what you want from him desperately, tongue playing on each edge of his cock you can reach to see what has him keening into your touch. His cock is wide enough to stretch your lips, a bit of drool edging from the corner of your mouth.

His tail flicks frantically behind him, restless against the dirt ground before coiling itself around the top of your thigh. He struggles to keep his hips still, near panting as you ease your lips down his cock, taking a little more each time your head bobs. Your throat spasms a bit as you get halfway down his length, muscles tightening around his cock as you breathe heavily through your nose.

He lets out a startled grunt, brows pinched in pleasure as he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, shit, just like that, darling, doing so good.”

You look almost proud as you gaze up at him from between his legs, leaving one hand at the base of his cock to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth. He vaguely notices your other hand moving between your legs.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself? All wet just from sucking my cock? Fuck, I bet it’s so pretty, all stretched out around your little fingers.”

The moan you let out reverberates up his cock and into his spine, making his fingers clench in your hair. He can hear the wet slide of your fingers now, rolling inside yourself at the same pace your mouth is falling down his cock. He wishes he could see better, the way your cunt stretches around your own touch, how you stroke yourself in the ways that make you feel the best, he wants to learn it all and ingrain it in his memory forever.

“Fuck, I wanna feel you moan on my cock when you cum, don’t stop-”

He groans as your fingers increase their pace between your legs, your body swaying with each of your thrusts into yourself, pushing your mouth back onto his cock with each movement. He can feel his resolve running thin, mouth lulling open in panting breaths as he lightly moves his hips to chase the movement of your tongue.

You breathe heavily through your nose as the pace of his hips increase, restless against the ground as you suckle hard at the head of his cock. Your moans are incessant now, high and vibrating against the sensitive skin of his tip as you ride your own high. Your eyes are glassy with tears, tightening your grip on his cock as he feels you tremble against him.

He’s still getting used to the whole idea of this Eywa thing, but fuck, the way you look on your knees has to be some kind of divine omen if he’s ever seen one.

He can barely see your body from here, the peaks of your breasts barely poking from the decorative weaving of your top, but the feeling of your hard nipples brushing against his thighs as you move against him has him reeling. He can’t help every little thought he’s had of you in that moment surface—of his cock between your tits, teasing the hard nubs until you're shaking under him, of the look on your face as you ride him relentlessly for your own pleasure, of your eyes rolling as he fucks his cum back into you.

He can feel his self-control slipping, hips inching up into your throat and causing it to spasm around him. You let him move his hips against you, looking up with teary eyes as you run short on breath. After a few strokes, you pull off his cock, panting and shaking with need.

“Jake, Jake, I-yes, yes” your grip on his cock is messy and wet, slick with his own precum and your saliva. His hips jump at the rawness of your voice, breathy and wanting just for him. It’s been a while since he’s been in the game but fuck, he knows you’re close, whining and grinding against your own fingers as you struggle to keep your hand on rhythm.

“Oh fuck, that’s it, come for me baby, I’m almost there-”

He can feel the moment you fall apart on your own fingers, breath catching as you still yourself at the head of his cock, suckling hard as your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You end up easing yourself off to pant into the meat of his thigh, chest panting and fingers quivering as they work his cock.

“Cum, Jake, let me have it.” Your lips ghost over his length as you move both hands to grip tight around his cock, twisting your fingers at the base as you rub at the sensitive spot below his head. The grunt he lets out is near animalistic, hips pushing desperately up into your slick grip as he chases the edge of release.

The vibration of your voice and the haze of pleasure in your eyes has him hurtling over the edge, stars painting the blackness behind his eyes. Thick strands of cum paint your cheeks and lips, streaks of pearly white on your beautiful blue-skinned complexion.

A sense of pride and possessiveness swells in him at the sight, like he was the one who got to claim you now, covered in his scent and his seed so everyone would know just what happened in the woods. The idea of you flaunting around, a strong and capable warrior, reeking of the alien intruder as you went about his duties had the dimming heat in his loins flaring as he came down from his high.

He pants as aftershocks thrum through his muscles, exhaustion seeping into his bones as you cradle up beside him. He can vaguely feel a contented purr coming from you, tickling his ribs as he pulls you close to put his nose in your hair. “Next time, I’m the one doing the tracking.”

tags: @eywaite @tallulah477 @neteyamsoare @torukmaktoskxawng

#romancingpandora2024 #avatar 2009 #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut #jake sully x you #venus writes #avatar x reader

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harufluff · 5 months

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enhypen on your bday /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

warnings - mentions of food, lots of skinship :))

genre - fluff, enhypen x fem!reader, established relationship au, non-idol au

wc - 3.9k words

happy birthday to me and sorn 🥳💕

lee heeseung

honestly he wanted nothing more than to make you feel special. he had a hard time figuring out what to do with you cause you’re never specific about what exactly you want.

hee ends up making you a cute handmade card with a bunch of kisses that he used your lipstick to make 🫠🫠

ends up accidentally sleeping over at your place the night before and having to run back to his apartment before you wake up, to which you thank him for when he comes back :))

more undercut !!

park jay

another who just has a need to make you feel special. but jay’s love language is gift giving, so obviously he was a little flashier.

wakes you up in the morning with breakfast in bed and cuddles with you until 1 o’clock, when he makes you get ready and go shopping with him. he gets you everything that you are even remotely interested in cause he wants you to have everything you want :DD

at the end of the night, jay takes you to a nice restaurant and you end the night with a movie night together in the comfort of your shared home 💕💕

sim jake

wants you so see quite literally everyone who you care about. jakes such a sweetheart that he plans everything and anything for the day months ahead of time.

he makes all the calls to your family, friends, and even just the girl at the grocery store you like talking to lol. the entire day gets him kinda stressed out, but he’s just happy you’re having fun and enjoying your special day.

the two of you end up just laying in bed and falling asleep at 9 o’clock to some old movie in the background 💞

park sunghoon

another one who thinks a handmade gift and a good meal are the perfect thing ⭐️⭐️ he gets to your place around 9 o’clock cause he wanted to let you sleep in, but he also wanted to be the first person you see when you woke up.

he made you one of those cute little ‘boyfriend coupons’ that you see on pinterest, and was considering putting his on pinterest himself.

sunghoon spent the whole day with you in his arms and he quite literally would not take his hands off you urgen after both of you were sleeping peacefully in bed with the love of your lives.

kim sunoo

more shopping to make his birthday girl feel special!! his main focus of the day was just to spend as much time with you before you were whisked off by your friends at night time (that he planned to have them do)

he made sure that you were having fun every second of the day, to which you answered with yes every time. sunoo with his fluffy personality shinning through, pre-ordered cute matching hoodies with his and your own initial ❤️❤️

after picking you back up from hanging out with your friends, he drew a bath for you and you ended the night with some good snacks and your perfect boyfriend.

yang jungwon

also wants your birthday to be perfect, but also wants to be a little selfish for once and keep you to yourself. he had asked you what you wanted to do weeks prior and you had both agreed that you wanted to just stay at home together on the day of, and then have some fun the day after.

he was completely ecstatic. he started off the day with waking you up with sweet words in your ears and a cute stuffed animal given to you by wonnie. throughout the day you lounged around the house together, in the kitchen, living room, bedroom, honestly even the bathroom.

a calm day with your sheep was all you wanted and much more needed for your special day :))

nishimura riki

part of him wanted to stay home and cuddle with his birthday girl, but the other side of him wanted to have a cute little date day. he decided that he wanted to bring you to pottery studio and glaze some cups. he had jay help him plan the scheduling

if he’s being honest, he thought you looked adorable focusing on painting with your tongue poking the side of your cheek.

when you got home, he literally tackled you into the couch, which is where you stayed for hours and letting some show fade into the background as you basked in each other comforting presence.

©️harufluff 2023

hope you liked it!! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated.

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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3 Times Eddie has a Secret + 1 Time Steve Does

Erica Sinclair wants to throw a Valentine's Day party, and woe betide anyone coming between Erica and an idea. Eddie's happy to show up, spend some time with the kids, Robin, and Steve (though he's with the latter pair all the time), and mostly doesn't think much about it. That is until, two weeks out, Max shows up at his trailer with that look on her face, and he knows he's in for it, though he's not sure why.

He gives her a little bow. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Max?"

"You're going to Erica's party, Munson." Her hands go to her hips and her brow pinches. It's such a Steve Harrington pose it knocks something loose in Eddie's chest. "And you aren't going to say one word about conformists and sheep."

He rolls his eyes, sighs hard. "I'm surprised at you, Mayfield. Didn't have you pegged as a candy hearts type of gal."

"It's for Erica." The tip of her sneaker scuffs at the earth. "And Lucas likes it."

Eddie bites his lip to stifle his smile. They're so fucking cute.

"I suppose I can put in an appearance."

"And be on your best behavior?"

"Scout's Honor."

"You weren't a scout," she grumbles.

"Nope. But still. I'll do it for Little Sinclair."

It shouldn't bother him, the assumption that he'd be a shit about Valentine's Day. He's worked really hard to cultivate an image and it doesn't exactly scream "Be Mine." And yes, yeah, sure, the Munson Doctrine doesn't go in for the holiday, and his cynical heart blah-blah-blah. It's just that. Well, he sort of enjoys the love part.

And later that night, in the safety of his dark bedroom, he acknowledges that he wouldn't mind having a date on Valentine's Day. It would be--well, it would be nice to have someone buy him flowers or chocolates, or even--ugh--a gross, sappy, sentimental card. He wants to have reservations at Enzo's, wants to go see a terrible romcom after, wants to go home and fall into bed with the person he loves. And it isn't metal, or even very cool, but he wants to be showered with affection, celebrated, fucking loved.

He wants so much his entire body aches with it.

II.

Eddie's at Family Video, rifling through the candy that he knows Steve just reorganized.

"What are you looking for, Munson?" Robin asks. She's half-engrossed in the paperwork in front of her.

Eddie's half listening, watching Steve re-shelve New Releases. He's focused on the VHSs in his arms, so Eddie has ample opportunity to admire the bunch and stretch of his shoulder muscles as he reaches to the top of the wall.

"I don't know," he nibbles on his lip. "Something that's not so," he wiggles his hand through the air.

"Romantic?" She guesses.

"No," he shakes his head. "I mean--"

"You mean?" She's focused on him now, must have caught him watching Steve, and he hopes she doesn't make it a big deal.

"Something," he says. "Um. Just something different."

And what he means is a movie for a guy like him where love doesn't have to be a distant dream. Where he can have feelings for someone and it isn't potentially dangerous.

So, he smiles and shrugs. Grabs the tape closest to his hand. "Guess I'll just take this."

"Well, this is definitely different, Eddie," she says. She narrows her eyes at him, like he's a new language she's learning, but he scampers out before she can say anything.

The movie he grabbed without looking is Cocoon and he can't even pretend interest, so he's not exactly disappointed when someone knocks at his door a few hours later. He's expecting Max, maybe Steve, but startles a little at Robin. She pushes past him and into the trailer.

"Good to see you too, Buckley."

She ignores him. "I have something to tell you. You and Steve are the only people who know."

"Okay?" His eyes are so wide it kind of hurts.

She takes a deep breath. "I'm gay."

"What?" He shrieks, doesn't know why. He's always kind of known.

Robin responds by swatting at him, and they bat at one another with the tips of their fingers.

"Nancy?" He asks once they calm down.

"Shut-up," Robin flushes a dark red.

"It's the guns right?"

It's her turn to shriek, and she gets a solid punch in on his shoulder. They wrestle around, until Eddie pulls away, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead.

"I'm--" he's never said the words to another person. Uncle Wayne just sort of knew and you don't really have to talk at any of the bars he goes to in Indy. "I'm gay too," he tells Robin.

She beams at him. "Cool."

"Cool." He fiddles with his rings. "Harrington knows about you?"

"He was the first person I told."

"You aren't going to tell him about me?"

She leans her head on his shoulder. "Of course not. But he'd be okay, if you wanted to tell him."

He can't help but scoff. "It's different for lesbians, Buckley. Straight guys can be into that."

She scoffs right back. "Steve isn't like that and you know it."

She's right. He does. But the fear runs deep. Especially especially because it's Steve. And Eddie couldn't handle any of things that might happen if Robin is wrong.

"Thanks, Bucks," he says. He leans his head against hers, hugs her close.

III.

Erica's party is happening at Steve's and Eddie shows up at the appointed time, with the appointed cupcakes (baked from a box, frosted from a can).

The kids are shouting in the living room, but his eyes automatically find Steve in the kitchen. He has a a towel draped over his shoulder, hair disheveled, and is mixing Tropical Punch and Sprite into a serving bowl.

"How'd you end up hosting?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles, a bashful little thing. "Erica called me this morning and yelled until I agreed."

"Pushover," Eddie teases.

"Oh, and you just made those cupcakes for fun, Munson?"

"Shut-up, Harrington." Eddie knocks their shoulders together. "They're ugly as shit. Didn't know there was an art to frosting cupcakes."

"I think I can help. You mind?"

Steve grabs some plastic spatula looking thing, gets to work with a focused determination that has him biting at his lip. Heat kicks in Eddie's blood, makes it so he can't watch. Instead, he slides a finger into the icing.

"Hey! What--? Munson!" Steve yells, as Eddie brushes the pink frosting onto Steve's cheekbone.

"Got ya!" He dances out of reach.

They bob and weave and dodge through the kitchen, laughing and yelling, until Steve has Eddie pressed against the cabinets, no escape. They're close, breathing hard and pink-faced. He can't help glancing down at the plush softness of Steve's mouth, can't help noticing Steve's eyes track the movement. Time pauses, stutters, and the distance between them closes.

"Steve!" Dustin shouts. "What's taking so long?"

The tension breaks and Eddie escapes into the living room, desperate to convince himself it wasn't a moment, that Steve isn't interested. Wishes his heart was a little more cynical, after all.

The party is fun. There are games and snacks and crafts. He gets roped into playing Mystery Date and tries and fails to not notice Steve bent over, playing Twister, left hand on red, right hand on green.

When they start doing crafts, Steve is hard at work on a Valentine.

"What you making, Stevie?" Eddie asks. He cranes his neck to see.

"Back off, Munson."

"Got someone you've been admiring, big boy?"

Steve goes pink and Eddie can't tell if it's the nickname or his question.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

And since Eddie really, really would, he jumps towards Steve, trying to sneak a peek. Steve laughs, hard and kind of surprised, before hunching over the card.

"None of your business, Eddie." But Steve is flushed and smiling.

Eddie pouts. "You know how much I love knowing things."

Steve looks at him. Like, looks at him, and Eddie goes warm all over.

"Maybe if you're a good boy today, you'll get to know later, yeah?"

Good boy does things. It makes Eddie's heart stop, his breathing slow, re-routes all the blood in his body south. He can only gasp and nod, sure his eyes are weirdly glazed.

Good boy. He's not sure if he hears another word spoken to him for the rest of the day.

IV.

The party draws to a close. For once in their lives, the actual parents are driving their kids around and Robin hitches a ride with the Hopper-Byers, leaving Eddie and Steve on clean-up.

"Wanna stick around, Munson? Watch a movie? Think I have a joint leftover from last week."

"Course, Stevie, how could I say no to such a generous offer."

"I think you're making fun of me, but I don't understand why."

Eddie laughs. "Totally genuine, sweetheart. Cross my heart." Steve smiles at that, his eyes turning the color of honey.

Eddie is so, so fucked.

They get situated on the couch and Steve says, "Have you been good today?"

"Huh?" Eddie can't breathe.

"I said you could see what I was making if you were good today. Were you?"

Eddie can't speak, can't think, can't move. His brain is throbbing. This has to be a dream. No way Steve is actually asking that.

But Steve is looking at him and somehow he has the presence of mind to fucking nod, and then Steve is handing him a red construction paper heart and a rose with petals so purple they're almost black.

He's hallucinating. That's what this is. He got some laced weed and now his wildest fantasy is playing out in his head.

The Valentine has a white lace doily thing glued to it and it says, in glitter:

"Roses are red,

Violets are Blue;

Eddie Munson,

I really like you"

His eyes fall on Steve. He perceives him, the way a pink flush sits high on his cheekbones, the shine in his eyes, the tremble in his hands.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Eddie isn't hallucinating. He's not dreaming. He's--

"Steve," he sounds a wreck.

"It's--Eddie, it's okay if you don't like me back. I just--I've liked you for a while and Robin thought I should tell you, and--"

"Steve," he says again, stands this time. "Can I kiss you?" It's a miracle he gets the words out.

"God, yes, please," Steve nearly whines.

Eddie pulls him in close, slotting their mouths together. Steve tastes like Tropical Punch and frosting and he makes a little noise as Eddie nips at his lip.

And that's it, that's all it takes. Eddie is gone, ruined, Valentine's celebrator until the end of time, lost forever to Steve-goddamn-Harrington.

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cosmicstarlatte · 1 year

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Reality Show: Dateables (Obey Me!)

Diavolo and the others agreed to become a part of a new demon reality show that revolves around their lives.

»Characters: Dateables // ->[Click here for Part 1: Demon Bros]

»Tags: Shitpost/Humor, Bulleted Style, Solomon On His BS LMAO, Slight Mentions of MC

»Notes: Now I do, thanks for asking Anon!♡ // CM= Crew Member

Diavolo:

"Haha! Make sure you get my good side yeah!?"

He was ecstatic, this was the most exciting thing he's done in a while

His camera crew was nervous at first but then relaxed when they saw how easy-going the prince was

Then got nervous again when Barbatos threatened them to remind them who they're in the presence of

Filming him kept them on their toes, it was either going to be an easy normal day or a chaotic one

[Camera zooms in on Dia's photo album and zooms out to an excited Dia]

"Oh, oh! And this is me and Lucifer at the carnival! And this one is me and MC! And here's us all together!"

CM: "My lord may we ask how you feel about MC?"

[Camera pans to Dia reaching for a journal titled MC Fanfiction ]

"I'm glad you asked."

Barbatos shut that down real quick and made them cut that last part that day

[Camera cuts to Dia doing selfie POV and running from Barbatos and the crew] "-AND LUCIFER HAS THE MOST OUTRAGEOUS B-"

[Camera cuts momentarily, flashes of Lucifer and Dia struggling]

Naturally, the demons loved the prince even more after filming ended, it was nice to see another side of him

Barbatos:

"Delete that. Understood? 🙂"

Hated the entire show idea and tried to talk Diavolo out of it however he lost that battle

His camera crew was scared the entire time but filming him was easy for the most part

Viewers liked seeing the day to day things the butler did for the prince like preparing meals and organizing events

[Camera shakes as they trail behind Barbatos]

"You can't follow me into my room."

CM: "But the contract states-"

"🙂"

(nervous) CM: "Wow what's that!?" [Shakily zooms in on a clean empty corner]

[Distant camera keeps panning between Barbatos and a rat having a stand off just outside the castle grounds... it runs at him]

"TELL THE YOUNG MASTER IT WAS AN HONOR-"

CM: (Scares the rat in the opposite direction)

[Camera cuts to a disheveled Barb up in a tree]

"...Do you like pastries? Luxurious rare teas? How do you like to be rewarded?"

Simeon:

"Um...hello. I'm Simeon, an exchange student from the Celestial Realm."

Didn't mind being filmed but wasn't sure how to act so:

Main Character energy, he talked like he was on livestream, very show and tell; exactly what the show needed

His crew had a pleasant time with him and viewers loved the angel

[Camera zooms out and pans around his room, focusing on a sheep plushie]

"So this is where I live...and these are my things. I love to write in my spare time!"

[Camera pans to him looking out his window]

"You can see the House of Lamentation from this spot. Always seems to be on fire on Thursdays. Explosions are Saturdays. (BOOM) Ah, right on time. (sips tea)"

[Camera quickly zooms in on his shoulders and hips losing some focus] He's unaware of the fanservice he provides

CM: "Do angels ever get crushes, are they allowed? There's rumors with you and MC-"

"Um, well, you see, oh HEY LUKE! Sorry guys I promised I'd help him with baking!"

[Camera cuts to him pulling an annoyed Luke out the room]

CM to CM: "Can angels ever lie!? Is that allowed!?"

Luke:

"For the last time, I'm not a chihuahua!"

(whispering) CM to CM: "Heh, the rumors are true. He's got a little bark in him!"

Luke was nervous about filming but Simeon helped

His crew had a hard time with him; not that Luke was difficult but more so the crew had to watch what they say or how they act around the young angel

[Camera zooms in through the kitchen door and catches Luke dropping a whole bowl of batter]

They caught him saying his first bad word

Demons liked this 👍 Simeon did not 👎

CM: "That's too high, let me get that for you."

"I can do it myself, thanks!"

[Camera pans to Luke falling, scraping his knee and tearing up]

(sighing) CM: "Come here, I got a band-aid."

Solomon:

"Is this for a cooking show?"

Would not listen and made it a cooking show

His crew rolled with it anyway since it was easy to film him

"Welcome to Solo Cooking!"

Viewers were a little confused but continued watching

[Camera tries to focus on the fresh dish he made]

CM: "Oh that looks good can we try it?"

"By all means!"

His crew had to take a few days off from nearly dying so production moved slowly

One of the CMs ended up quitting and suing but Barb took care of it

[Camera catches Solo calling & inviting MC for dinner]

Out of good faith, one of the crew took his phone and chucked it

"...You could've just said you and the crew wanted an invitation? There's enough-"

His entire crew: (start running)

Viewers were a little disappointed, they thought they'd see more of the sorcerers life

There was one clip though

[Camera catches Solomon and the rarely seen Levi hanging out and laughing]

For some reason that clip became popular and was deemed precious

⬦You might also like: MC's Livestream

#OUTRAGEOUS WHAT DIA!? BOOBS? BOOTY? BODY? BODACIOUS BODY!? 🤨#Solomon: I finally made it 💯#Angel Smut/Kink tags shot up LMAO #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me shitpost #obey me crack #obey me humor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me dateables #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹#✩ — the star: anon!#shitpostcifer

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qinluofu · 11 months

Text

sae & rin itoshi with a neglected reader part 2 / part 1 ! ✧　　⁺　➥　heavy themes, gn!reader dies, delusions, bad writing, death is accidental, not proof read

"a weird one - unlike any of the brothers" "i agree, they seem desperate" "must've been hard to be overshadowed" "hush !! if you say it that loud they might h-" SLAM

it was so bad that many people were gawking at the sight, the troubled child of the itoshi family had just punched someone. straight in the face - your knuckles where white as you kept clenching on them, shaking and their face was red. it was so bad that many people were gawking at the sight, the troubled child of the itoshi family had just punched someone. straight in the face - your knuckles where white as you kept clenching on them, shaking and their face was red.

your parents were disappointed. they gave you everything you had and you had the audacity to harm someone over some small words? maybe you are the black sheep of the family. "You need to learn how to control your anger and ..." the tears prevented you from hearing properly, words igniting a deep fire in your heart. you wanted to run away, so fast, away but something was holding you back. your neck felt like it was pinched by thorns - your eyes were hurting. "we're off." your parents stood up and walked to the door. was this abandonment? why was this scene so familiar before? it was the same hair color, walking together out of that damn door and leaving you behind - for a moment you manage to raise up your hand and tried to call out to them. "sae....rin" where are they?

life was seemingly getting better, you wore the same clothes everyday, looked at the same things everyday, ate the same things everyday. walking along the grassy fields, you don't know where you were, your legs hurt and you were dazed, the fire in your heart growing more larger by the second. it was a hot day. water. you needed water. where's water? those words seemingly registered in your brain and your exhausted legs took you to a place where it felt oh so similar. oh. it was a public pool, how nice - exactly where water was. the sounds of whirring were surrounding you. in the middle of the pool, was sae and rin in their floaties. wait. sae and rin ? really ? they looked at you with warming eyes and waved their hands at you - beckoning you to come over. you jumped into the pool. so this is where they were. you don't even question it, you were happily playing the water with your brothers - when has life ever been this relaxing? for some reason, it felt truly good to be in the water this time - that fire in your heart has been such a bother, the water in the pool dimmed it immediately.

sae never thought he was a bad brother, he just thought he had too little time. he saw your texts, saw your glances, saw you liking his every post on social ( wait he knows your user ? ) but tough luck - he doesn't know how to respond to all of this. he was devastated when the awkward relationship with rin started, he just never thought caring for your feelings.

sae doesn't know anything but football. he wants to tell you he cares and that you will always be the very best sibling he could ever have, even up until now he collects and favourites every image of the two of you together, some with rin too maybe.

to properly explain his love for you, is like this : he loves you, he really does, and he wishes he could have more time for you.

rin is so not aware of his actions - he thought that sae was being a good brother to you so he automatically assumes you have an awkward assumption about him too.

rin thinks, that sae is doing the part of brother and sister with you, without needing him. and it hurts him, he wouldn't admit it though. it hurts to have sae throw their dreams out the window and now he wants to hog all your attention too.

he thinks he's doing the most, sae has your time and he will never be able to fit in the picture. after all - only the best footplay player can properly protect such an innocent person.

it was when sae and rin walked to the beach - not expecting to see each other. oh well, they could just do a mean little bump, a hi and walk along.

when their shoulders were about to meet each other, sae suddendly stopped walking which makes rin glance over and sae tugs his arm - tightly. what? "there's somebody jumping off the bridge." sae said, a bit shakily. rin turns his head back. "is that-" rin stops. and the both of them dashed. sae called the ambulance and rin went over to the edge of the beach, trying to figure out what he just saw. he was so certain it was you, but why would it to be you? you had no reason too, right? "..." your body was gently carried out of the dark sea, not very hard to find you considering all you did was plunge down into the water. rin's body was numb, he couldn't control his limbs, he fell down. sae tried to dash over to your cold body but the authorities stopped him and told him to back away. never has he ever felt so desperate, such want for something. but.. don't you look a little weird? your clothes were tattered, rashes and bruises were placed all over your body, it was like you were abandoned on the streets. "i thought you were looking after them" rin stated - not questioning, just a statement. "isn't it the other way around?" sae replied back, wanting to push the blame onto rin. there was no way this had happened. he refused to admit that his lack of attention to you caused this. it had to be someone, rin maybe. "there's no point in being the best at something, if you cannot bested your feelings" rin spat out, pushing the blame back. sae is the oldest, right? he should have taken care of you. both of them stared at each other's gazes you were playing water with them, with cool floaties the blame wasn't pushed anymore, it was divided within their hearts you went to get a hot chocolate with marshmellows, rin and sae having energy drinks the blame was so heavy they felt the sting, feeling the coldness of your body on their faces you went home with sae and rin, hand in hand

sae and rin never recovered. the nights were as cold as a dead body. sometimes sae cried and cried, rin suddenly sharing a room with his brother again, cried too - never stopped until the morning where the sun rises and dries off the water. was this also how you felt? texts were answered years later but no responses. "i thought you were looking after them." "i thought i did enough." "what if-" "there are no what ifs anymore." silence followed. then sniffles and tears.

your room collected dust overtime, the curtains covering up your window perfectly - to block off any nosy people. sae sometimes goes inside your room, sits on the floor. rin would silently knock on the door, hoping someone would open it. sometimes, rin would find sae sitting on the floor and joins him too - as they dream of another day

a/n : for further explanation - reader was abandoned by their parents and they left reader alone, thus why eat drink and wear the same thing. they were in a state of delusion and their legs instinctively took them to the sea where they often gazed with sae and rin. even at their last moments they really loved sae and rin so ya & i found a nice discord username finally omg im happy w this one

#sae itoshi #rin itoshi #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock angst #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x y/n

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 9 months

Text

All Good Things [a Joel x f!reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/cishet female reader explicitly over 50.

Tags/warnings: This takes place after season 1 but nothing bad happens, everybody's fine, Ellie and Joel are cool. Teasing, Joel is a soft sub/switch, Joel and reader have aches and pains, vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction mention, cunnilingus, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, Joel is a master of vaginal health.

Summary: You and Joel may be middle-aged and sex may be something of a challenge sometimes, but all good things come to the ones who wait.

Words: 4,768

My masterlist

”I hate that fuckin’ rooster.”

You agree with Joel’s throaty mutter as you blink your eyes open against the first light of day. It’s nice and warm underneath the covers, and Joel’s got his heavy, thick arm thrown over you, but just as you’re about to fall back to sleep, the obnoxious cock-a-doodle-doo from next door rouses you enough to fully open your eyes.

”It’s effective, though,” you yawn before stretching until several joints pop. Joel only grunts, sprawled out on his belly, face buried deep in the embrace of the pillow, arm around you. He’s not a morning person, and here in the safety of Jackson, he can afford the moments of laziness before taking on the day’s chores.

You turn towards him and press a quick kiss to his forehead before inching out of bed, Joel keeping his hand on you for as long as he can before you get up.

”Get back here,” he grumbles, but you just smile on your way to the bathroom for a quick shower. When you reemerge, Joel’s sitting up, feet planted on the floor, scratching his neck with one hand and his soft belly with the other.

”Leave any hot water for me?”

”Don’t I always?” You give him a playful little slap on his ass when he gets up and drags his feet past you to the bathroom. He glares at you, but you’re already on your way to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee lies strong when Joel comes out of the shower, a towel around his hips. He putters around the bedroom, picking up his clothes from yesterday, turning inside out and then back again, sniffing the armpits, discarding something to the laundry basket, deciding something else is okay to wear. You watch him quietly through the open door, thinking how very normal and domestic this is. How long it took you to reach this. How lucky you are to have Joel.

He arrived in Jackson with the girl barely a year after you. You had settled quickly, he took his time. He was difficult to approach, and he mostly spent time with Ellie and his brother. You worked a lot with Ellie, taking care of the sheep, and once she seemed to decided that you were trustworthy, she started to open up a little about what she and Joel had been through. At Maria and Tommy’s place, you had seen the little memorial to Maria’s kid, and Joel’s.

You didn’t have a plaque like that yourself, for which you were thankful. Had the outbreak not happened, who knows, maybe you would’ve had a family. As it was, you and your boyfriend got separated two days into the catastrophe, and you never saw him again. Since then, you had focused on survival. Sure, there had been comfort sex, a couple of times. It was never good, but it had provided escape, if only for a moment.

It was different with Joel. When you started hanging out with him, sex was the last thing on your mind. You had accepted that you’d probably go without for the rest of your life, and you were okay with that. You barely even masturbated: it took too long for you to get off, it wasn’t worth the loss of sleep. Then Joel came along, and you found that your interest in sex awoke again when he kissed you the first time.

Turns out, you were both old enough and damaged enough to find sex difficult. Joel’s knees are bad, your back is shot. Even without those problems, your first time sleeping with each other had been such an embarrassing experience that the only thing that kept you from never looking at each other again was exactly the thing that caused your complications: your age. You had been able to laugh about it, what little there is to laugh about vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction, and then talk about it. Because lube and Viagra were luxuries of the past, you just had to make it work on your own. You may not enjoy sexual penetration as often as you’d like, but you had a good life together, you and Joel, better than you thought was possible, considering the circumstances.

Joel’s cute little ass disappears into a pair of boxers, and he pulls on a t-shirt. You feel something stir inside of you, and you put down your coffee mug, instead going straight to the bedroom to embrace Joel from behind. Hugging him tightly, you inhale the scent of clean man, and sawdust from his t-shirt.

”I love you,” you tell him quietly. Joel finds your hands on your chest, and take them into his own. His big, strong, capable hands that have hurt and killed countless people but are now callused from building futures for the community.

”I love you too, darlin’.” His voice is still raspy but there’s no mistaking the sincerety. When he turns around in your arms and faces you, you see a soft smile on his lips.

”Hi.”

”Hi,” you reply with a similar smile before leaning in and nipping at his lips. The taste of mint lingers on his lips: he brushed his teeth before breakfast, like he always does. You sometimes wonder about these small things: what in his early life made him take to this habit? To you, brushing your teeth before coffee makes no sense. Joel doesn’t seem to reflect on it, and you don’t bring it up, because it doesn’t really bother you.

His lips are soft, and they part willingly when your coffee-soaked tongue gently prods in-between them. You slowly move your hands over his back, then down to his ass, and his hands mirror the flow of yours. The kiss deepens, as does the tingling sensation in your core.

You break the kiss just as Joel lifts his hand to the back of our neck to bring you in closer. Stepping back, you throw him a teasing smile.

”Plenty more where that came from later tonight, cowboy,” you tell him, and Joel chuckles.

”Is it gonna be like that, huh?”

”You’re damn right it is.”

You return to the kitchen and finish your coffee. It’s time to go milk the goats.

///

You don’t see Joel again until lunch, which is taken in the communal dining hall. You and Ellie have been tending to the animals and arrive to eat together, finding Joel already inhaling the food on the plate in front of him. You set your tray down across the table from him, and Ellie takes the seat next to you. As you sit down, he throws you a warm smile.

”How’s your morning been?” you ask. He stuffs his mouth and nods, humming approvingly. You taste the soup, finding it heavenly, and tear a piece of the breadroll to dip into the bowl.

As you, Joel, and Ellie enjoy small talk, the tip of your boot touches Joel’s considerably larger footwear and moves up his ankle and calf. You haven’t played foosie since you were twenty or something, and doing it in boots isn’t maybe as arousing as slipping you bare foot between his thighs, but you do your best. When Joel realizes what you’re doing, he falls quiet and stares intently at you while chewing.

”Hey, are you even listening?” Ellie demands his attention, and without breaking eye contact with you, he nods.

”Sure.”

Ellie looks from him to you and shakes her head. ”Whatever, man.”

He gathers the rest of his soup broth on a piece of bread and pops it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. A drop of brown broth gets stuck on his lower lip, and you lean over the table to wipe it away with you thumb. Your heart is beating fast, and when you sit back down and put your thumb in your mouth, you see his nostrils flare.

”Gross,” Ellie mutters, takes her tray with her now empty bowl, and gets up. ”Get a room, you two.”

”Sorry,” you shoot after her, your eyes not leaving Joel’s.

”No, you’re not.”

When you’ve finished up as well, and have left the dining-hall, Joel pulls you in behind the building. Pressing you gently against the fragrant timber wall, he covers your mouth with his.

”You make me weak at the knees, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You taste the same garlic on him that you know is on your breath.

”You mean weaker than they already are?” you smirk, and Joel punishes you for your jab at his bad knees with a little bite of your lower lip.

”Bad, bad girl...”

You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him like a teenager, enjoying the rather tame excitement of making out in a place where you could be seen, but nobody would care. The community is loving enough not to give a damn if two consenting adults are kissing each other in the middle of the day.

When you finally part swollen lips, both panting and like jelly in each other’s arms, Joel leans his forehead to yours.

”You wet?”

”You know I am.”

He places a little kiss on the tip of your nose. ”Hold that thought ’til tonight.”

”What do you think I was doing?”

He chuckles, warm eyes soft as he looks at you.

”I gotta go back to work.”

”Yeah, me too,” you nod, and both of you start a slow, unwilling detangle from each other.

”Don’t work too hard,” you tell him before parting. ”You’ll need your strength tonight.”

///

A few hours later, you take a break from your own work, and take some coffee and snacks to the building site Joel is on, along with a few other men. You stand for a while and admire the confidence with which he, board by board, erects a home for someone else. When he takes a step back to inspect his work, you step forward. His critical gaze turns soft the second he sees you.

”Time for a break?” you suggest, holding up the basket. He wipes his palms on his thighs and turns his broad frame towards you.

”You’re really butterin’ me up today, aren’t you?”

”Tryin’ my best.”

You put one arm around his waist and give him a quick kiss.

”I missed you,” you murmur into his good ear as he slides his hands over your waist. ”Missed your hands, your mouth...”

”Baby...” he breathes, but then his head jerks up as his fellow builders show up.

”We interrupting something?” Charlie grins.

”Yes,” Joel deadpans, but you turn around to face the men unphazed.

”I brought coffee and cookies.”

”Much obliged, ma’am,” Sam nods, and you hand him the basket. Hand on Joel’s back, you steer him after the men. Knowing how hard he works every day, you’re keen on him taking a break. Soon, all of you are sitting on the porch steps, drinking coffee and eating butter cookies. The men are talking about this and that, and you have found a knot in Joel’s shoulder and are carefully working it open. He doesn’t say much, but you can see from the relaxed line of his jaw and smooth forehead that he’s enjoying himself. When the men are getting ready to go back to work, you lean into Joel and whisper:

”You like my hands on you, don’t you?”

He exhales audibly, eyes flickering to your face after a quick glance at the men. His eyes under the eternally knitted brows are smoldering, and they set off the pull in your core.

"You're gonna make me take a long break, sweetheart," he tells you in a low voice. "Take you home and bed ya."

"In the middle of the afternoon, Mr Miller?" you grin, and close your eyes when he leans closer to nuzzle your neck. His bristles scratch the sensitive skin, and you shudder.

"Like we had no responsibilities at all in the world..."

He doesn't take you home and bed you, of course, but goes back to work after a kiss and another look that just about consumes you. You return to your own chores with a damness in your panties.

///

"Are you two gonna be gross again?"

You laugh at Ellie's question as she stands by the table holding her tray. Joel, who is next to you, keeps his dignity.

"Most probably."

She takes the risk, though, and sits down with you. Tommy and Maria join you as well, Tommy carrying their one-year-old Samuel. You all enjoy dinner and the conversation, Joel's hand only sporadically rests high up on your thigh, hidden by the table. After you've eaten, you take a moment outside the dining hall, talking and laughing until Samuel grows fussy and needs to be put to bed. Maria and Tommy excuses themselves, Tommy asking his brother if he's up for a drink later on.

"Nah, long day," Joel shakes his head, as his hand slowly moves from your lower back to your ass. "Early night for me."

Tommy and Maria wish you all a good night before walking away, and Joel's hand finds the back pocket of your jeans, sliding in and cupping your ass. You smile at him and put your arm around him, cupping his flat ass with your hand inside his back pocket.

Ellie looks from you to Joel, and shakes her head.

"You're not 14 years old," she grimaces.

"Neither are you," Joel reminds her, "so act your age, and deal with it."

"You telling me to act my age?"

"Whatever." The discussion is over for Joel's part. "We're callin' it a night."

"Good. I'm going to see a movie, and I don't want you two kissing in front of me."

"Good night, Ellie," you smile at her, knowing that Ellie's just ragging on you out of love. When you turn around and start to walk home, she calls out a Good night, and you hear the affection in her voice.

"Messing with teenagers is fun," you giggle, and Joel pats your ass.

"They're easy to upset," he agrees, pulling you closer. "But I don't wanna talk about Ellie anymore."

As soon as you get home to your little house, he pushes you up against the door, chasing your lips.

"Been thinkin' about this all day..."

You'd reply something sassy, but he has your mouth covered with his, tongue plunging in greedily, and you put your hands on his cheeks and slide your fingers through his hair, tugging at it at the back of his neck. He crowds you with a gentle urgency against the door, kisses the breath out of you, his own hot breath disappearing into you. His facial hair scratches and burns the skin around your mouth before long, and you savour that burn.

His lips are swollen with kisses by the time they leave yours, and he cups your cheek and strokes his thumb over it as he looks into your eyes, like he's trying to remember the shape and color of them. You smile, making him smile as well, and then you put your hands on his shoulders and start to walk him backwards towards the bedroom.

You turn on the bedside lamp for soft light. Joel tries to unbutton your plaid, but you shake your head and catch his wrists in your hands.

"Let me, baby."

Exhaling deeply, Joel lets his arms hang down and watches you as you start to pop open the buttons of his denim shirt. When you lean in to caress it off his broad shoulders, you press your lips to his in a kiss that you let bleed onto his cheek when your lips continue their soft brushing along his jawline. You sneak your hands underneath his t-shirt, caress the soft swell of his stomach before running your fingers up his sides. Joel nods his head down so that you can take the shirt off, and as soon as his head is free from the garment, you press your lips to his again. It's more playful now, the way you fondle different parts of his naked upper body and pour your smiles into the kisses, and he smiles back and tries to cop a feel of you.

"You in a hurry there, cowboy?" you tease him between the kisses, and Joel hisses softly when you pinch his nipple.

"Just want you so badly."

"I know, I want you too..."

You unbuckle his belt and push down his jeans and underwear, ghosting your hand over his still soft cock. He doesn't want too much attention to it, that only stresses him if he can't get it up, so you go back to kissing him while squeezing his ass.

"I should be doin' that t'you," he grunts between kisses.

"But now I'm doin' it to you..."

He ends up sitting on the bed, and you untie his shoelaces and take his boots off, then pull his pants off. You then push him down on the bed, take a step back, and start to slowly unbutton your shirt.

Joel sighs deeply.

"Is that how it's gonna be?"

"It is," you acknowledge with a smile. It's not going to be a sexy You can leave your hat on striptease, you're too old and jaded for that, but you're going to get undressed in your own time, and Joel can only watch.

And he does watch. He watches your every single move, mouth open and eyes slightly glassy. Each revealed inch of skin is noted, and by the time you're taking your panties off, you can see that he's getting hard. He doesn't like too much attention on his cock before he's fully hard, it stresses him, so you keep eye contact, and crawl into bed. You straddle his hips, settling your warm, dripping core over him.

Joel groans and his hands come to a rest on your thighs.

"Darlin'..."

You put your hands over his and make him squeeze your flesh.

"You wanna touch me?"

"Want nothin' else."

"You can, but I get to choose where."

You have to smile at his frown. Joel doesn't appreciate not being in control. His love for you and trust in your capability to make him feel good makes him accept your terms, though.

You guide his hands up your sides and under your breasts. Having passed the age of 50, you're secretly thankful you didn't have to age in a world of glossy magazines telling you the various ways in which your body is wrong. You don't have to compare yourself to lingerie models or the neighbor's young hot wife, who has a better job and tighter tits than you. You are alive, you are doing your part in Jackson, you are valued, and you are loved. Sagging tits and excess fat mean nothing, especially to Joel.

You let him cover your tits for a second before moving his hands to your hips, and his subsequent whine of frustration almost makes you feel sorry for him. You lead his hands back to your chest and let him fill his hands with your tits as you bend down to kiss him. A muscle in your back twinges, making you hiss.

"Babe?" Joel is immediately concerned.

"My back," you hurry to reassure him, "it's fine, I'm good."

"We could switch," he offers, "before you hips start to act up too."

You're already feeling a strain in your hips from sitting astride him. Getting older sucks.

"And what would you do to me if I agreed?" you smile sweetly, feeling his dick twitch underneath you.

"Treat you right," he replies a little inelegantly. Joel's not good at the talking bit, but he tries.

"Yeah?" you prompt him softly, touching your lips to his. "How?"

"I'd eat that pretty pussy of yours..."

You clench around emptiness. "Yeah...?"

He kisses you softly as he bends one knee, lifts his hip, and very gently slides you off of him. You rearrange yourselves, intertwining arms and legs as he rolls onto his side, facing you, and your lips meet again. You can feel your pulse in your core by now, a long day of anticipation finally catching up with you.

"Will you let me?" Joel now breathes against your lips, and you hum your approval. He immediately gets up on one elbow and starts to kiss his way down your body, pausing around your breasts to gently fondle and bite.

"Pretty," he murmurs, mouth full of soft flesh, sending heated tingles through your body and making your pussy clench. You thread your fingers through his hair until he takes your hand and holds it down on the bed. When he finally has had enough and moves down to the apex of your thighs, his breath on your folds alone makes you chew your lower lip.

"God, Joel..."

"Like it when you sound like that," he lets you know, his arm sliding around your thigh. "Now, just lay back and take what I have to give you, darlin'..."

The first lick melts you immediately, the second stokes the fire within. When you're fisting your hands into the sheet underneath you and moaning his name, he slides two fingers inside your dripping pussy. Your hips twitch at the intrusion, and he soothes you with broad, slow laps of his tongue at your clit, his fingers crooking to touch you just right.

"Joel..." you keen, "yes, there, please..."

He massages that spongy spot inside you, slowly and steadily, knowing that he can't rush this if he wants you to orgasm. It's difficult for you, maybe from the many years of living in fear, maybe from the same amount of years of no sex, sex drive, or romance. When you and Joel started exploring sex together, you were astonished by how horny you could be for another person while simultaneously finding the mechanics of sex so difficult. It surely hadn't been this complicated twenty years ago.

But both you and Joel were adamant to make it work, and that's what he's doing now. Your mouth is dry from panting, your thigh muscles are tensing up, your mind is going blank as you let his ministrations take you higher and higher. Painfully near the final soar, your hands clamber for Joel's at your hips, finding them and holding on tightly as you let go, your legs stiff as a board as your hips jut up, your thighs pushing shut, Joel's scruff suddenly too much on your sensitive skin. Your blood rushes and you let out a long, moaned sigh as your legs tremble before relaxation floods your muscles. Joel places one final, soft kiss on your clit before dragging his lips over your thighs, up your hip and over your stomach where his tongue dips into your navel. You hum, almost purr from his care, and when your eyes blink open, you find him smiling up at you.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. You release one hand from his and pass your fingers through his hair, then cup his cheek. He turns his face a little so that he can kiss the palm of your hand.

"Perfect," he whispers against your skin before your hand sneaks behind his head, and you pull gently to beckon him up, to you, to your lips.

His lips are covered in your slick and you lick at them, suck his full lower lip into your mouth, let your hands get lost roaming his broad shoulders. His cock is heavy and stiff against you, and you feel a surge of yearning within your core. The day of teasing, the foreplay, his service to you worked as it should: he's fully erect, stiff as a board, and it's so sexy that you think you're going to go crazy just from thinking about it.

"I need you," you whimper, pulling him down over you as you spread your legs to accomodate him. "Joel, I need you inside me."

"Can you take me?" he asks hoarsely, fingers running down your body to your weeping sex.

"Won't know for sure unless we try," you manage to quip, and he grins at you before pressing his lips against yours again. Kissing you deeply, he nocks his cock at your slick lips, rubs the head against your clit, then starts to push it in. The kiss is filled with moans, yours and his mingling with tongues, and despite your wetness, he's a lot to take. Still, you encourage him to fill you completely, your arms around him hugging him in, in, all the way in until he bottoms out, and stills. He breaks the kiss and draws back to gaze into your eyes. You smile, blissfully full.

"I'm okay, baby, I'm okay, you feel so good," you reassure him, words coming out breathlessly. Joel groans, head dropping to your shoulder.

"Darlin', you're killing me..."

He starts to slowly move his thick cock inside your embrace, lips open against your shoulder, teeth scraping without biting. You answer by wrapping your legs around him, left hip protesting a little but you don't care, you need him deep inside, need to feel that tight drag, need him to understand just how good it feels when he loves you like this.

"Harder," you beg, "take me harder, Joel, I want to feel all of your big cock."

He moans at that, his hot breath burning your skin.

"Can you take it?"

"I can take it."

He thrusts hard into you then, making you catch your lower lip between your teeth, your chin rising and one arm coming loose from him to brace yourself on the headboard.

"That hard, huh?" he smirks with his lips against your ear, and you chuckle breathlessly until he starts to fuck the smile off your face. Shifting his weight, he reaches for your hand braced against the headboard, and you let go to instead clasp his hand as he continues to steadily chase his release with one deep thrust after another.

"So good, darlin'," he gasps, "you're so good to me, fuck, I wanted to do this to you all day, wanted to bury myself in your warm pussy..."

You're all his when he talks to you like this. Joel finds the words when he's drunk on you, not before. Grinding into you with purpose, he keeps moaning out filth like this into your ear until his breathing becomes too laborous and his movements too irregular.

"Come," you beckon him as he crashes his mouth to yours to swallow your words, "come, baby, come, I want you to come."

His moan when he empties himself deep inside of you is a helpless sound of surrender. You wrap your arms around him and hold him tight, forcing him to lay all of his weight on you. His quick heartbeats echo against your own ribcage, but slow down as his breaths become deeper and more controlled. You stroke his hair, thinking briefly how extraordinarily lucky you are. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you rouse him from his rest.

"Go piss," he murmurs, and you have to laugh softly.

"Is that the first thing you tell me after sex?" you tease him. His lips quirk before he presses them to your cheek.

"I love you. Now go piss."

"You're on top of me, Miller."

"Hasn't stopped you from knocking me on my ass before..."

He does, however, roll over, freeing you up to find your bearings and get out of bed. After having used the bathroom, you return to bed where Joel is waiting for you underneath the covers. You turn off the bedside lamp and join him, letting him gather you into his arms and sighing deeply once the two of you are settled.

"Okay?" he asks quietly.

"M-hmm," you yawn, nuzzling his neck. "Sleepy."

"Me too."

Silence descends along with the darkness, and you're almost asleep when Joel speaks again.

"Hey?"

You murmur to let him know you're listening - just barely.

"I'm still standing."

You murmur again, not understanding. Joel takes your hand and leads it to his crotch, closing your fingers around his thick, sticky shaft. That makes you open your eyes.

"Oh..."

"You did that," he groans when you start to rub him slowly.

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, you did. All that waiting all day..." He moans when you drag your thumb over the head. "Baby, can you...?"

You smile at the wonder and anticipation in his voice. Twice in one night has happened before, but never this soon, never like this. You grow wet and heavy in an instant. To hell with sleep deprivation and sore joints.

"I can."

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

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what-fandom-again · 3 months

Text

What your favorite Hazbin Character says about you

Charlie- take this as you will but your favorite Disney princess was probably Rapunzel. You also chose the safest route. A little basic but still a good one

Alastor- you are a wolf in sheep's clothing and not everyone fully trusts you and you like it that way. Your other favorite cartoon character is Bill Cipher

Vaggie- So far a lot of these are "Your favorite character is this" and this one is no different because if your fav is Vaggie that you also love Ragatha from TADC lesbian wine aunts are just your type.

Angel: You either are or have been in a toxic amd abusive relationship and relate to him. Or your horny. Or your both

Sir Pentious- You probably didn't have a lot of friends as a kid and you were also probably bullied and you may not be doing to well now a days either but just know that you'll find your people someday little sunshine it gets better

Cherri- You're either a lesbian or you love her accent. Or both.

Val- As far as I know there are three types of Valentino enjoyers. 1 Finds him as an intresting character and a well written villain. 2 Finds him to be somewhat entertaining but hates what he does to Angel. 3 Simps for him and doesn't care what he does to Angel. Not much to say about the first two but if you're the third one WHAT THE HELL? I get liking villains and not caring for characters BUT SWEETHEART HES A FUCKING RAPIST!

Vox- You're addicted to TV shows/social media.

Velvett- You love her accent and your favorite song from the show is "Rsspectless"

Egg bois- There's not a single thought in your brain

Nifty- Everyone around you is both concerned and afraid for you and you either don't know or you DO know and just don't care.

Lucifer- once again bringing back "if you like them you also like this" and the "this" is Crowley

Husk- Take this as you will but I feel like you always choose a kajiit when playing the Elder scrolls games. Not saying you're a furry, but you don't want to be human

Adam- You either have dated or are dating someone exactly like him and frankly I'm concerned for your standards

Emmie- I've done this several times already but you also love Charlie I mean COME ON THEYRE LITTERALLY THE SAME CHARACTER

Lute: Hello lesbians or boys who like being stepped on

Sera: I don't really know how to say this but her character is your type. That's it.

Comment if you want more

#hazbin hotel #fictional characters #what your favorite says about you #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #vaggatha #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel valentino #death to valentino #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin adam #hazbin lute #hazbin lucifer

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lis-likes-fics · 3 months

Text

Music to My Eyes (Part 2)

Pairings: Finnick Odair x def!fem!Reader Word Count: 9.2k words Warnings: Mentions of the games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, mentions of forced prostitution, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I know it took sooo long for me to post this but it is finally out! I also know I said it would be a two parter, but I have decided to start writing a third part to this series. I have literally no clue when it will be released, as I have even begun to work on it yet. But I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you and happy reading! <3 Also A/N: Anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen. She's so amazing! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You glance over the papers Hecton splayed out over the table, an itinerary for your next trip—a list of the people you were meeting, the districts you were attending, and other things you weren't exactly looking forward to.

You laid your head on the table and sighed, stroking a piece of paper hidden from his view. A new letter came in today from District 4. Most of the ones you received were from District 1 or the Capitol. But since you met Finnick a couple months prior, the two of you had been writing back and forth as much as you could.

You found that you missed his company far more than you expected to. You've been trying to get Hecton to plan a visit to Finnick's district, but there's always something else to be done…

Hecton's hand comes into view as he slides it across the table to grab your attention. You look up at him quickly. You see him sigh, his intense brows furrowed.

/Are you even listening?/

/Sorry,/ you reply, sitting up a little straighter and looking over the details again.

He softens. /I know you hate doing these,/ he starts, /but knowing what you're going into before you go into it is much safer than the alternative. Especially with this. So you have to be present./

You nod, looking down at your lap as you sigh. /Sorry, Hecton./ He watches you sign "friend" in place of his name and smiles.

He signs softly and mouths the word as he does it. /Thank you./

You move to get back to work when Hecton's focus shifts behind you, in the direction of the front door. You turn to look. /Must be a supervisor./

You watch Hecton sigh, rolling his own eyes as he massages the bridge of his nose. Standing, he made his way to the door in measured steps. Whoever it is can wait.

You rise to your own feet, trailing after him and leaning on the door frame of the foyer with your arms crossed over your chest. He pulls open the door, his frame blocking out your view of your “guest”. You try to look past him, to catch sight of the ambassador or peacekeeper or whoever else must be coming to checkup.

You watch him talk, one hand holding the door as the other gestures with his words. He's too used to you.

You take a step forward, and then over to the other. And then over again. And then one more step to take in the sight of a woman you know from the district. She and her family run one of the little ranches that raise the sheep.

She glances at you, smiling gently before her attention is caught by Hecton once again. He says something, she gives an indifference shrug. You read her lips.

“They asked to see you, I brought them.” She steps to the side.

A smile splits your face, the excitement building in your chest. You rush to the door.

Finnick smiles wide at the sight of you. “You're here!” he exclaims. “I was starting to think I got the wrong District.”

You laugh as you hug him, accepting the warmth of his arms. His arms wrap tightly around you, holding a fifth of a second too long before letting you go. The woman nods and takes her leave.

He motions to a woman next to him. She's small, with bushy white hair and the kindest smile. “This is Mags,” he says.

You take her soft hand in yours, returning her kind grin. You look over at Hecton, and he looks back at you with a raised brow. He stares back at you, stubborn and waiting for you to let him handle this.

But when you obviously choose not to, he glances away and huffs. You turn back to Mags triumphantly.

/Hi, Mags,/ you sign slowly, spelling out her name. Hecton translates accordingly. /I'm glad Finnick brought you. I've been looking forward to meeting you./

She nods, glancing at Finnick and making a gesture of her own. Finnick is the one to speak, “She says ‘thank you’.”

Your smile widens and you turn toward the door, waving them inside. They gladly follow.

As you go to bring them into the living room, Hecton lays a hand on your shoulder to get your attention again. He licks his lips, exasperation in his face as he turns you so his back faces your guests still walking inside.

/We should finish talking first,/ he urges, his movements small in order to talk in secret.

You offer a reluctant look. /Can we talk later? We have guests./

/Yes,/ he nods. /District 4 Victors./

You sigh. /Friends./

/Since when?/ He glances over at them, and then back at you. /We don't know these people./

/I know him. He's a friend. And she's his friend and mentor./ You tilt your head, setting a hand on his arm gently. /I trust them./

Hecton sighs, looking past you, contemplating.

/Are you sure?/

You nod, your gaze unwavering. He pinches the bridge of his nose and you know he's given up. /Fine./

You smile wide, giving your many thanks as you turn to go. He takes your arm again. /Keeps your aids close./

You wave dismissively, shaking your head. /I don't need them./

/Y/N./

But you're already gone, turning away from him to go rejoin Finnick and Mags. You rest your hand on Finnick’s forearm as you grab his attention. His smile is charming, as in meant to charm you because he winked at you when he did. It isn't just you finding him charming.

Which you don't.

You point to your wrist, and then down at the floor. “How long are we here?”

He's learning quickly.

You nod. “A few days,” he says. “Before we have…other engagements.” He glances at Mags, who just nods back to you, still smiling, though there's something else in her eyes.

Sighing, you nod as well as you point to yourself.

“You, too?”

You nod again, before quickly changing the subject by making another sign. He furrows his brow, admitting confusion. “What's that?”

You think for a moment, trying to find a way to illustrate what you're asking. You lift a cupped hand to your lips.

“Thirsty?”

You nod, making the original sign again to confirm. He shrugs, glancing at his mentor. “Why not? Mags?”

She nods as well.

The water shimmers in the sunlight like the lake is filled with a thousand thousand crystals. Finnick had suggested you all go out to the lake, have some fun. Plus, it would give you an opportunity to help teach Mags your language—you'd decided Hecton would also have to help teach her, as well. He could probably get it across a little clearer than you, since he could actually speak to her as he taught her and she would understand.

He’d agreed to help you with Mags. But, as you suspected, he immediately refused to help Finnick. But that's fine. He was learning well from you anyway.

Of course, Hecton wouldn’t let you be alone with them. He’s somewhere along the treeline of the small woods near Victor’s Village, tucked in the cover of the trees with a book and some water, perfectly prepared (by his standards) to sit there for hours surveillancing you. Whether he knows that you’re fully aware of his presence there, you’re unsure, but you are. You always know when Hecton’s around, even with how stealthy the man can become.

As you sit at the shallow end of the waters with Mags, showing her your alphabet as you'd done with Finnick before—only this time, without paper—he comes up from the deep waters with a smile. She looks at him, just as content.

“Can you swim?” he asks you. You nod. “Join me then.”

You gesture toward your new friends. /Mags?/

She just shakes her head, waving her arms gently before she gestures for you to go on. “I'll be fine,” she seems to say.

You accept as you stand to your feet, walking out with Finnick to trudge the depths. The water is cold, icy against your skin as it becomes deeper and deeper, until you have to use your arms and legs to keep your head above water. You welcome the chill. It means you’re alive.

Your eyes fall on Finnick, watching you closely as though he’s standing by in case you need his help. You give him a sweet smile, trying to ease the nerves you can see simmering there. When he winks back at you, you roll your eyes as you splash water in his face.

His mouth parts in a laugh. When he whips his hair back, tiny droplets spray over you and you wipe your face. He surprises you with a splash in return. One, two, three, four. The laughter that must have been coming out of you vibrated in your chest, splitting his grin to be wider than before as he eased up on you.

You sink into the water, swimming past him with more efficiency than he expected. You surprise him when he feels your hand grab at his ankle, letting go immediately. You don’t try to pull him underneath, you don’t tug, you simply grab him. He appreciates the courtesy, laughing as he joins you underneath.

You swim blindly, feeling the shift in the water at your left as he swims next to you. You dive deeper, deeper, deeper, until your hands brush the sandy ground of the lake floor. You let your fingers card through it: the sand, the pebbles and rocks, the stray growths of plants, the shells.

You let your hands smooth over the smooth surface of one, curling your fingers around it and coming back up as your lungs beg for air. You take in a deep, joyful breath as soon as the opportunity is given, filling your lungs with the gratifying air.

Finnick is waiting for you, treading carefully as he swims toward you. You look at him, smiling as you show him the shell you’d collected. He takes a look at it as you hold it in your hand, the top of the shell dark and dull, its ridges smooth going one side and rough going another. As you place it in his hand, turning it upside down, you smile at the iridescent underside of it.

“It’s nice,” he smiles, moving it around in his hand to see every little detail of it.

You nod, /Shiny./ Then you spell it so he understands. He mimics you, his smile widening when he gets it right.

But then he starts swimming away from you.

You gasp lightly, chasing after him. But he’s faster than you, evading every attempt you make at capturing him and the shell. You stop, ignoring the laughter you feel bubbling in your chest as you smack the water, pouting. “You want it back?” he asks, raising his brows as he taunts you.

You nod.

“You gotta catch it,” he shrugs, swimming back again.

He hears you whine, making a sign he’s unfamiliar with. He just keeps making you chase him.

You pout again, ducking under the water once more as you swim down, down, down. He looks around, staying afloat and watching the water carefully. You stay down longer than he expects you to. And even longer after that.

He starts to get worried, looking around and muttering your name under his breath as though you can hear him as he wonders if he should go down and look for you.

But then he feels your hand on his shoulder as you start to climb up his back, wrapping your body around him and snatching the shell from him before he can drop it out of shock. He panics for a split second before reminding himself that it’s just you. Safe and breathing.

His hands instinctively find your legs, his arms wrapping under his knees to keep you secure on his back. He starts to carry you around, letting you have your victory as you giggle above him. You smile wide, holding on tight to him. This is the most fun you’ve had in a long time.

Taking you by complete surprise, Finnick throws himself backwards as he dunks you. You let yourself fall back, being engulfed by the water as you sink. Slowly, the water takes you farther down into its depths as you admire the stillness.

You always feel nice when you go to the lake. You feel safe, still, understood. Under the water, enveloped by its mass, you feel like, for once…you’re not the only one. You feel like everyone else would know, just for a moment, what it was like in your mind. So silent. Just for a moment.

Your beating heart slows with the calm. It gives you time to think.

You’re not used to genuinely smiling this much; your throat and your chest feel weird, a good kind of achy. Even before the Games, before the heartache and the trauma, you never had much to smile about, living in one of the poorer Districts with nothing but the rundown house you grew up in with your parents until they died of an illness and you landed in the orphanage in even worse condition.

After that, you didn’t really have anyone until Hecton came by the orphanage to give food to the starving children, under the radar of the Peacekeepers of course. He came across you, a poor girl with no hearing, completely alone because she could not communicate. He began to frequent the orphanage much more, teaching you the signs he’d learned after his mother—she lost her hearing during the long war when she was five.

Then you were selected for the annual Games, where Hecton became your official mentor. And you survived, but it was hard to live after that. Because you could never just win the Game—no, you never win the Game. You just play a different one now.

And then there was the business with Snow.

So, no, there wasn’t much time for joy.

But with Finnick, everything feels lighter. You feel like maybe…maybe you could do this. Maybe you can go another day, smiling for people who don’t care about you, giving to people who wouldn’t give back. With Finnick, you can take the pain. Because he makes you smile. Oh, you think you could go through anything if it ended with Finnick making you smile.

Your lungs burn.

Coming to your senses, you swim up for air as you feel the need to gasp, to breathe, to inhale all of the water in search of even a sip of oxygen. You claw your way to the top like you're crawling out of a grave.

You fill your lungs as soon as the chill of breath teases you. You soothe the ache, overreaching as you feel your chest heave. But it’s okay. Just breathe.

Finnick won’t admit the relief that washes over him when you resurface. He won’t admit that he felt far too much panic when you stayed below the water way longer than he was anticipating. He won’t admit that he thought, for a moment, that he’d hurt you…or worse.

Instead, he swims toward you a little too quickly and makes sure you’re alright as you catch your precious breath. “I thought I was going to have to come down for you,” he sighs, forcing a chuckle at the end so he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels.

You steady yourself, your tired arms keeping your head just above the water as you return your body to the calm. You’re tired and your stomach feels a little achy. You slowly press your fingertips together and tap your lips twice. /Hungry./

He takes your hand in his, smiling gently and easing his worry. “Well, come on then.” He pulls you gently with him back to the shore, where you spy Hecton standing at the treeline and looking like he was going to jump in at any moment to save you.

The sun is hanging a little lower in the sky now. The sky is painted a beautiful fade of orange and blue and pink. Sometimes it's hard to remember that a world as solemn and barbaric as Panem can be so beautiful.

E-F-G

You all have been at the lake all day. It's peaceful out here. Mags sits on the blanket laid over the sand with you right next to her. Finnick is sitting closer to the water, his arms wrapped around his knees. He's at an angle, always aware, always ready. The water is still.

K-L-M

Finnick shifts a rock in his palm, rearing his arm back to toss it at the water. It skips, skips, skips.

Q-X— Q-R-S

You point your stick, which you found nearer to the treeline a while ago, at all the letters you'd drawn in the sand. Mags studies them with you.

W-R— W-X-Y-Z.

You nod emphatically, a wide grin on your lips. /Yes! Yes!/ She's just as excited as you.

You'd both been going through the alphabet a few times, teaching her the signs of each letter just to get through with the basics. She's a fast learner, just like someone else you know…

Mags’ sweet smile spreads a bit wider. Thinking quickly, she turns to you and starts signing something, not quite sure of herself.

T…H…A…N…K…

You smile, lifting your hand to your chin and then gesturing to her in a slow, fluid motion. She repeats it. /Thank you./

You take her hand between yours. It's a little cold, a little shaky. She smiles fondly.

Taking her hand back slowly, she begins again. H…A…P…P…Y. You sign “happy” for her. She points to Finnick, then to you.

You try to hide your bashful grin. /Friends./ You spell it and then point to all of you.

Her smile is almost sly now. She shakes her head. /Him happy you. You happy him./

/Make. M-A-K-E./

She nods.

You look her way almost suspiciously. /I make him happy?/

She nods. /You make him…smile./ In an attempt to find a substitute for “smile”, she chose the right gesture for it.

You glance at the sand, your eyes slowly trailing up and up until they find Finnick, still staring out at the gleam of the water.

You turn your gaze back to Mags. She's all smiles. You lift a hand to your forehead, swiping it off into the letter “Y”.

Her brows furrow, a little confused. You remember yourself and spell it out. /W-H-Y?/

She contemplates, turning toward Finnick. Raising a hand high, she waves it a little. He sees it instantly, standing to his feet and making his way toward the both of you. At the sight of your faces, the corner of his lips raise curiously.

“You called?” He almost bows dramatically. Mags pats the empty space in front of her. He sits obediently.

Lifting her hands, she presses them gently against his chest and yours. She looks between the two of you, lingering and waiting for you to get it.

You look down at her hand on your chest, you look at his. Letting your eyes wander upward, your eyes meet and you pretend you're not affected. You look back at Mags. You just nod to her, halfway understanding what she means.

Finnick, not understanding at all, chuckles. “What are you two gossiping about?”

You laugh—or, rather, you assume you laughed. Mags’ silent laughter joins you as she drops her hands. You shake your head at him. /Nothing./

Hecton's heavy fist knocks lightly on the door of one of the spare bedrooms. He waits patiently. The door opens.

“Leary,” Finnick greets, smiling gently.

“Mr. Odair,” he responds. He almost adds an extra emphasis to “mister”. “May I have a word?”

“Of course,” Finnick, understanding what was being asked, says. He looks over his shoulder at Mags on the second bed—Finnick insisted they be put in the same room, and you all were fully aware of the reason why when there were plenty of rooms to choose from, so a second bed was moved into this one so they would both be comfortable.

“Mags,” he smiles reassuringly. “I'll be back.”

She nods.

Finnick steps out of the room and closes the door silently behind him. The two walk slowly through the halls, side by side with considerable space between them. Hecton holds his hands securely behind his back. Finnick’s own hands are clasped comfortably in front of him, his thumbs tapping one another as he waits for Hecton to begin.

Hecton stares at the ground, watching each foot pass the other with every step. He counts it silently in his head. One…two…three… One…two…three…

“I've been wanting to speak with you,” he finally says.

Finnick lifts a brow, “About?”

“About this…” Hecton glances up to slowly meet his gaze, “unusual relationship with Y/N.”

He chuckles lightly, shrugging his shoulders. “What's so unusual about it? We're friends.”

Hecton pauses on his next step, turning to face Finnick as the crease between his huge brows deepens. “And is that your only intent with her?”

Finnick’s own brow furrows this time.

Hecton continues walking again. “I also participated in the Games and won,” he says. “I know what it was like in there, and I know you do, too. People who went through what we went through don't go around making friends with one another. Not like this.”

When he stops again, they're in the living room and his back is facing the direction of your room. His face has fallen from any pleasantry and any distaste he holds for Finnick is clear across it. “What is it you want from her?”

Finnick notices the way Hecton speaks. His back (metaphorically) to you, his hands held tightly behind his back, his lips under-enunciate his words but he doesn't care to whisper. He's so used to talking only with you, even his way of “talking in private” is different. He keeps his back toward your direction to prevent you from reading his signs, and he holds his hands behind his back for the same reason. He speaks so closed-mouthed because you can read lips. Most of—if not his whole—life is centered around you.

You mean so much to this man. Finnick can't mistake his words for an insult because it isn't one. He's just looking out for you.

And that's all Finnick wants to do for you as well.

“All I want is her friendship,” he says, plain and simple. He doesn't sugarcoat, dress up in fancy language or strange little riddles. He just says it.

But Hecton is insistent. “Why?”

“Like you said,” Finnick continues, “you know what it was like. Well, so does she. All I want from her is to be friends with someone who knows.”

“And that's all it is?” he asks, urgent. “There are no other feelings involved?”

Finnick shakes his head slowly. “No.” At least, he's pretty sure of that.

Hecton stares at his face, thinking, searching his face for any kind of lie. But there isn't any dishonesty in his eyes. Or, at least, he can't find any. With a sigh, he relents.

“Good.”

He holds out his hand, his face watching Finnick straight on. He grasps it. There's a moment of silence as Hecton's hand begins to close around Finnick’s, squeezing tighter and tighter to ensure his threat is thoroughly felt. Finnick is unfazed.

“Mr. Odair…” he says, his voice low and his words leaving slowly through his lips, “I never had children. But you should know that Y/N happens to be something of a daughter to me. If you hurt her, in any way…” He takes a step closer, increasing the tension between them, “It will be the last thing you do on this earth.”

His face is stern, void of leniency or mercy. Still…Finnick has faced worse.

“Am I clear?” Hecton questions.

Finnick squeezes back. “Crystal.” Letting his lips part in a small grin, he tilts his head very slightly. “And, please…call me Finnick.”

“Thank you for welcoming us into your humble abode.” Finnick bows theatrically, smiling like an idiot when you wave him to stand.

/Very funny,/ you roll your eyes. You try not to let on how much you'll miss him. You don't know when next you'll see him. /Next time, I visit you./

He's getting better, but he doesn't know that word. He looks to Hecton, he translates briefly before returning to his goodbye to Mags. It's become a routine. But he is getting better.

He turns back to you. “Looking forward to it, sweetcheeks.” He winks at you as he clicks his tongue.

You scowl playfully at him, turning your nose up in feigned disgust. /Stop!/ Your hand lands on his shoulder, lightly shoving him away from you as he relents to the motion. /You're annoying./

His hands fly to his chest, over his beating heart as he closes his eyes in “pain”. “You wound me. Really, you do.”

/Clearly not enough./

He chuckles lightly, rolling his eyes. Like an idiot. He takes a step away when Mags comes forward. She smiles warmly. /Thank you, sweet girl./ Her signs are a little choppy, but they're heartfelt.

You return her smile. /You're welcome./ You take both her hands in yours, squeezing oh, so gently. /Come again soon. Please./

She takes one of her hands from yours and closes it around the others.

Hecton, his voice gentle and his hand on your shoulder even gentler, steps behind you. You turn over your shoulder. /You should be getting some rest now. We have a busy day tomorrow./

Your lashes flutter and you nod. You hug Mags, and then you hug Finnick. With Finnick, the hug lasts a little long…

He pulls away, his hands still on your arms. /See you soon./

You nod. Your hands create a sign he doesn't know. He looks to Hecton.

“Be safe,” he says.

Finnick smiles, a soft thing on his face as he nods. “Always.”

The walls are cold and sterile but still, contrastingly, just as grand and lavish as the rest of the Capitol. There are two Peacekeepers at your sides, one behind you, one leading you through familiar but winding halls. Hecton left you at the door. Only because he had to.

Their heavy footsteps pound in your ears in a maddeningly steady beat. There are people in the distance speaking over other people in the distance speaking. The sound of clothes rubbing against more clothes and skin and metal and whatever else there is to rub against is so unsteady that, that drives you madder.

A lady in extravagant professionalism walks toward you; a clipboard in her hands, manicured white nails, tiny circle glasses on her dark nose, her straightened blonde hair done up in a ridiculously lavish bun. She's in sterile white, with thin heels that make her a head taller than you. The tip-tap, clip-clop of them will finish out the last ounce of sanity you've managed to keep tight in your fist.

She smiles plainly at you as you get closer. The Peacekeeper in front of you breaks away to give her his former place. “Welcome back,” she says, her back to you as she walks. You keep up. “I trust you had safe transport?”

Her words are so strange in your mind. Knowing the words are one thing, hearing them are a completely different issue. This “eloquence” is ineloquent and, quite frankly, grating against your senses. Her S’s are sharp, her T’s are crisp, even her R’s cut your ears in twos and fours and on.

You don't find it pleasant.

You raise your hand to your left ear, tapping the tiny device once, twice, three times in an effort to soften the blow of each sound scraping your brain.

She seems to remember you can't respond to what she's saying and glances over her shoulder. You nod. She nods back.

“Very good,” she says, turning back around again. “You know the drill. Follow me this way, and we will get you in your proper attire before we take you to House.”

You nod again. She says nothing more.

You do as you're told, following her through the building until you reach the Sanitation Chambers. It’s a large room with a row of doors lining one wall, numbers above each highlighted red or green. Two Peacekeepers stay by Door 5, she gestures toward the door. “Your clothes are already inside, along with your robe. When you are ready, you will go through the other door and another guide will be waiting for you.”

If you're being completely honest with yourself, you have hardly understood a single word to come out of her mouth. You can read lips all day, you read someone's signs all day. But seeing words and hearing them are two completely different areas of understanding for you, and you've just been nodding and agreeing this whole time. But you've done this before. You just trust that you understand what's going on and move on from there…

You nod, turning toward the door. With a sigh, you open and close it behind you. The 5 clicks red. The room, sterile again, is small, closet-sized. There's a cubby with your clothes, shoes, and jewelry. Your robe is on a hook next to it.

You strip, letting your clothes drop carelessly to the floor. You stare at the white button above the hook. The word above it reads, “SANITIZE”. You take in a breath, hold it, and press the button.

The sound is harsh and sharp and hissing. It sucks into your skull and the pain rages in the valleys of your mind. Your mouth parts and a shout falls from your tongue as the white gas shoots out from spouts all around the room. Your hands fly to your ears, covering them as your nails just nearly scrape at the flesh. You dig your fingers into your ears, fishing out the tiny devices lodged in the drums.

The sound stops all at once.

You stand there, clutching your ears as your wide eyes stare at one corner of the floor. There's a tiny pebble there. It's brown, barely the size of a pea.

The gas has already stopped. But your heart is beating so fast, heavy in your chest as it beats against your ribcage like a wild animal in a crate.

You close your eyes, take in a deep breath, hold it for a few counts, and then let it out. Steadied and recentered, you look down at your two hearing aids scattered on the floor.

You promised Hecton you would wear them, but you don't think you could put those back in and continue on with the grating way of the world. You fold your discarded clothes, setting them on the shelf and placing your hearing aids in your shoe.

After you dress yourself again, you wrap your robe tight over your body and open the other door. It locks when you close it behind you.

Another guide meets you, just as the first said she would, and walks you into another room. She's saying something, but you don't understand. She walks in front of you. But you know the drill, and Hecton went through everything before you left.

You're taken to a waiting room, but you don't spend a lot of time there before your guide is taking you again to another room. This one, however, is the room you're most familiar with. It's the room you'll be practically locked in for the next week. A bedroom, with a joining bathroom completed with another sanitization chamber and a large closet pre-filled with more outfits than you'll have to wear all week.

Five minutes and the door opens again. And a familiar face walks through. Like a switch in your brain, your face is molded to the kind, friendly girl you're used to showing on stage.

This man is one you see often. Whenever you're booked for this kind of business, he's likely to be there. You don't like him. He feels loud. He's rough and kind of mean, and he's hard to understand because he doesn't speak visibly enough.

He smiles at you and your skin crawls. Like clockwork, you let your robe fall from your shoulders and he starts circling you. Like prey.

It feels like being in the arena again. The hair on the back of your neck stands on edge, the tips of your ears burn like they've been lit on fire.

When he's finished circling you, he begins walking toward you until you have no choice but to look up at him so much your neck hurts.

The bedroom falls away when you look at his face, at his eyes, burning. The anxiety is beginning to rise in you again but today, he isn't just hungry, he looks primal. He looks more dangerous, he feels more dangerous.

He's going to hurt you. The way he stares at you, the way he circled you, he's hunting you. Your heart picks up, your breathing quickens.

You take a step back and he takes a bigger one closer. You take another, and another, and another. You need to be away from you, your head spins with the fear replacing your nerves.

He's angry now. Why would you run from him? You aren't supposed to run.

He grabs your arm, his grip strong and crushing. You panic. Turning your arm from his grasp, you struggle away from him. He scowls.

You back up to the wall. He rushes toward you. Just as he's holding out his hands, he seems to grow bigger and bigger.

With quick reflex, you grab him just as he grabs you and turn around. You shove him up against the wall. His head smacks against it, hard, but he doesn't wince and his head doesn't move from its place.

His hold on you has completely loosened. You let him go and stumble back. Your eyes are wide, your heart doesn't feel like it's beating, everything is suddenly so still.

You take a step to the side, slowly, slowly taking one more as you peer behind his head. You can't scream, the sound doesn't leave your throat, it doesn't even rise in your chest, the shock and fear was too strong at the sight of his head stuck on a tiny hook in the wall. The blood streams down the wall, down his neck. It stains his clothes.

You breathe in, in, in, filling your lungs, filling them to the brim, rearing up for a scream—

A thumb strokes your cheek and your eyes flutter before snapping out, wide. He stands in front of you, having not moved from his original spot even once as he looked expectantly at you. One hand is on your cheek, the other is wrapped around your waist. He's saying something, his lips poorly forming the words.

“What's the hold up?”

It wasn't real. You were just imagining things. You aren't in the arena anymore, and you aren't in danger. You sigh and uneasily slip back into your act. You set your hands hesitantly on his shoulders and smile. You just nod.

A week. You can take a week.

Icy tremors sink into your flesh and bone as you shake. You clutch your hands to your arms, desperate for warmth in the damp cold.

Palms scrape against rocky ground as you struggle to escape the stalking beast created from the Games, not Mutt but Man.

His fists are clenched, his teeth are sharp, his smirk is primal. Just when you think he's going to kill you, he's knelt in front of you and sunk his claws into the flesh of your thigh. A soundless scream tears from your throat. His other hand wraps around your throat, and you claw at it in a desperate attempt to tear it away—

A hand on your shoulder shocks you awake. You bolt up, hands flying and eyes wild with fear and adrenaline. More hands find your face, but they rest with the softest touch on your cheeks and hold you gently.

A pair of lips come into view, forming words you can't hear and struggle to decipher for the moment. The hands move away from you and begin to form letters. O-K-O-K-O-K.

You finally look up and recognize Finnick’s worried eyes. You breathe quickly, moving your hands to communicate back.

/Slow down,/ he signs. “I can't read that fast, sweetheart.” His hand comes to rest on your cheek again, he holds it gently and brushes his thumb over the skin. You lean into his hand. “C’mon, breathe.”

You follow his head, breathing in…out…in…out. You close your eyes, resting your head against his palm. The world around you seems to still. You raise a hand to cover the back of his.

You steady yourself with another breath, reminding yourself once again that you are no longer in the arena. You're in District 4, visiting Finnick just as you promised you would. And everything is okay.

You open your eyes, a new calm settling over you as you circle your fist over your chest. /Sorry./

He shakes his head. “Don't apologize. It's not your fault.” He strokes your cheek again before slowly pulling his hand away and sitting next to you on the bed. “Nightmares happen, that's all.”

He holds his hand out toward you. You take it, holding his hand between both of yours. His other one covers yours as his thumb brushes them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head gently. You don't meet his eyes. /Personal./

“You don't have to,” he assures you. “I'm not going to make you.”

His words mean so much to you. They warm your chest, make you feel so special. He gives you a choice. He makes it your decision on whether or not you want to talk to him, to share with him something so secret of yourself.

You glance up at him, then away at the desk in the corner of the room as you think. You shrug. /Just the Games…and things./

He asks softly, not pushy but curious. “What things?”

You shake your head gently. /You wouldn't understand./

His body shifts with a chuckle. “Try me.”

You sigh, your heart beating too noticeably in your chest at the idea of telling someone. Revealing this part of yourself to someone who wasn't Hecton, to someone who didn't know…it felt so vulnerable.

You go slowly to make sure he understands.

/After Games, it didn't stop for me. Even with my disability…/ you pause, taking a breath, /I was…/

He tilts his head. Suspicious but not wanting to get ahead of himself. “You were what?”

/Hard word,/ you explain. You don't know the sign for this one. /They said…/

You start to spell it, slowly as he voiced each letter. “D…E…S…I…” You keep signing, but he goes silent. You stop two letters later, dropping your hands and looking up at his crest-fallen eyes.

He shakes his head, a frown set deep in his face as his eyes seem to lose their light. “No,” he whispers.

Confused, you raise your hands hesitantly, rethinking multiple times before you finally continue on. /What?/

It takes him a moment to reply, though his lips twitch as they form the words. He shakes his head again. “Not you.”

/What do you mean?/ you ask slowly. When he doesn't answer you, he watches you sign ‘river’ and take his hands.

He looks away from you, clenching and unclenching his jaw. A deep frown is etched into the structure of his face, and he shakes his head as frustration joins his mixture of emotions.

Finnick closes his eyes when he turns his head to you next, taking a breath and hesitating before he speaks. “You won the Games, and Snow labeled you an object of…attraction. And he…” His eyes open again as he trails off.

Your hands shake. Leaning back, you try to understand what this means, but you find yourself too hateful of the truth to be able to come to terms with it. You move slowly, lethargically, as you continue. /He sold me./

He sighs, shutting his eyes again. His frustration melds into something more sullen, something sadder. He shakes his head, muttering to himself about the injustice, the unfairness.

“Not you.”

You set your hand on his shoulder to get his attention again, making him look at you as you struggle to understand. You swallow thickly. /How did you know?/ Your eyes sting with your desperate plea. /Finnick. How?/

He just looks up, his eyes landing on your face.

You bite your lip, his face becoming blurry as the tears build in your eyes, the tension high as they threaten to spill over your waterline.

/No./ Your hands, though trembling, are firm. /Not you./ He turns away, but you catch his cheek and turn him back to you. He almost seems to lean into your palm as you do. /Finnick, not you./ A single tear slips down his cheek. As if on cue, a tear of your own mirrors his.

/How long?/

He licks his bottom lip, sighing. “Since I won.”

Your throat is hot, it's a struggle to get fresh air down to your lungs as you shake your head. /Not you./

It's hopeless. Every time you get your hands on something good, Snow takes it away. Finnick wasn't supposed to know that world. He was supposed to be done. Sure, he had tours, he had appearances.

But not this.

You stare down at your hands.

He stands quickly, saying something you don't catch because he's turned away from you. He faces you again, motioning toward you. “And you're much better?” He covers his face with his hands, pressing his fingers against his eyes. His chest deflates as his hands sweep down, and he watches you with his head tilted to the side like it was too heavy to carry.

“He can't keep getting away with this.” He shakes his head again, forever denying the injustice. “Not with you.” This one was said softer, coated in the hopelessness twisting in his gut, in his chest.

You stand to your feet, walking over to him as you take his hands. You stand close to him, sighing. You try to reassure him. /I'm okay./

“It's not fair,” he says weakly.

You drop your head onto his shoulder, and his hands instinctively come to settle around you. You breathe in deep, closing your eyes. You don't want him to worry about you.

/It's okay./

There's a long silence.His arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you in close as your bodies provide a comfort you hadn't held in a very long time. His chin rests atop your head. He holds you for perhaps too long as he soaks in the feeling of your warmth.

He pulls away, but only enough to look at your face. You look up at him, content with his arms around your body and his eyes on you, if nothing else.

There's another pause. “What were you dreaming about?”

You let a gentle breath blow through your nose as you take a step back from him, sitting back down on the bed and giving him plenty of space to join you—and he does. /As I said, just the Games./ You pull your knees onto the bed, turning your body to face him as you communicate. Your brows furrow, /Only different./

“Different how?”

You shrug. /Both nightmares at once./ You lick your bottom lip, thinking out what you're going to say before saying it. You'll have to spell out a few words as you go, but he's never minded.

/I'm running through the mountains and go to hide in the caves, when someone finds me. No one is around to hear me, I don't even know if I'm making sound./ He struggles to keep his face partial to empathy and concern. He can't help the tightening of his jaw at the way you describe it. But you know the frustration isn't directed toward you.

You don't realize how your hands have begun moving faster, so fast they seem to flap around as you continue on. Your eyes burn with unshed tears, they burn with the quickening of your heart and the tightness of your chest. /He pushes me to the ground, pins me down. The cameras… The cameras point to me when…/

He watches two tears slip down your cheeks and immediately sets his hands on your shoulders. He holds off on hugging you so you can see him tell you, “Hey, it's okay. You're safe with me.”

Almost desperately, he pulls you into him another time, petting your hair slowly and carefully. He shushes you gently, though he knows you cannot hear it. You hold him close, though the tears have already been sucked back in and become reduced to a harsh ache in your throat.

You've had practice in hiding that pain…

Somehow, you feel lighter. With the burden of that secret, which lay so heavily on your shoulders for so long, finally lifted, you feel like you can breathe just a little more. And, selfishly, you're relieved. And you hate this simple fact, but you are. Because he understands. He knows what it's like, even more than other tributes may have after coming out of those Games without the added shame of selling their bodies for the cruel manipulations of President Snow.

He understands.

Finnick suddenly pulls away from you, and you miss the warmth of his chest on your cheek. He takes a moment, thinks, and then moves his hand with the words he speaks.

/No one will hurt you here./ Your heart aches with the affection that takes root there. /I promise./

You bite down hard on your lower lip as the lump in the back of your throat rises with a fury. You swallow thickly, forcing the fierce feeling inside of you down so you can properly breathe. It hurts, but you welcome the pain because it's the result of something special, something so uniquely Finnick that all you can do is cherish it forever.

/Don't leave. At least tonight?/ Your hands tremble with the emotion welling inside you.

He smiles. “I'll stay right here,” he promises. “Keeping you safe. You don't have to be alone.”

His words hit right where you're most vulnerable. /Thank you, Finnick./

His lips tug at the corners into a tiny smile. “You keep using ‘river’. Why is that?”

You look down at your lap in an effort to hide your small grin, shrugging gently. /Easier,/ you finally answer after a moment too long. /And more…special./

When he grins, it's that type of grin that you know is usually followed by something sarcastic or funny. It widens the span of your lips. “I'm special?” he asks, pressing a hand to your chest. You glance away from him, nodding a little but not wanting to give him the full pleasure of knowing so. He looks pleased. His trying to cheer you up has lifted his own mood tremendously. “Why, thank you, sweets.”

You wave him off, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers. You like the way his hand fits with yours…

“So why river?” he wonders.

/Water doesn't work as well, but you remind me of water. Like lakes or rivers./ You smile sweetly. /Very good swimmer, green eyes like lakes sometimes./

He seems proud now, and you almost regret telling him—except you love when he acts like this, simultaneously the cockiest and sweetest person you know. “I should call you…” He thinks for a moment, and then begins to sign something. “Music.”

Lightly smacking his shoulder, you shove him away from you. That feeling that bubbles out of you, that feeling you know is a laugh, rises in your chest and falls from your lips as you sign exaggeratedly. /That's mean!/

“No, it's not!” His own laughter rises from within him as he can't help himself. You're just so sweet. “Your laugh, it's like music.” You feel heat begin to pool in your cheeks, in your face. “Your name is gorgeous,” he continues. His hand rises and he crooks his finger, tucking it under your chin gently just to brush it there.

He smiles, and the way he does lets you know that he tries to be funny with it, but he's too sincere as he watches you closely. “You're music to my eyes, sweetness.”

You shake your head, hiding your face from him because you're too shy to face him after he's said something so sweet. /Crazy./

He does the chin thing again, mostly because he wants to see your pretty face again but also because he wants to tease you. You look at his mouth to see him speak but nothing else. “You’re crazy,” he accuses.

You smile, and—for once—you feel like you can do it shamelessly. You look up at him, looking at all the details of his face: the greens of his eyes, the subtle point of his nose, the couple of freckles here and there on his cheeks. You lick your bottom lip.

/How do you say you or name?/

He points to his chest, raising his brows questioningly. “My name?”

You nod. Unsure of what to say, he just says it. “Finnick.”

Your lips part, and you're suddenly incredibly self-conscious as you move your lips to form the name. You feel sound rise in your throat, but you don't know whether or not the right one came out.

He smiles. His name had been garbled in your name, muffled with the inexperience of using your own voice instead of your hands to speak. Your voice is hoarse, quiet and sticky with disuse. You must feel it, because you clear it right after as you raise your hand to feel your throat.

“Close,” he says. “Watch.” He raises his finger underneath his bottom lip and speaks again, slower this time. He over-articulates, speaking as clearly as he can. “Fin-ni-ck.”

You press your bottom lip to your top teeth, mimicking the placement of his own mouth. When you add sound to make the ‘F’, it comes out as a ‘V’. “Inni-ck.”

His smile widens, though he isn't taunting you. He holds out his palm. “Gimme your hand.” You do. He moves your hand into a fist and then raises your index. Then he pulls your finger to his lips and mouths the ‘F’ of his name, blowing on your finger and playfully rolling your eyes when you squirm. “Feel that?” he asks gently, patiently. “F-innick.” He spends extra time on the beginning once more.

He lets go of your hand and you bring it to your own lips to try, doing as he did and making sure you feel the air of that ‘F’ as you try again. “Fff-inni-ck.”

He smiles, a huge thing of a smile that shows you just how proud he is. “Yeah! Now put it together.”

So you say it again, and again, and again, repeating it over and over until you get it right. You watch Finnick's face, bright with wonder and amazing, shining with pride and triumph as he watches you attempt his name. And when you say it like you've spoken it a million times before, he feels a lump in his throat and a warmth in his chest. He thinks you're amazing.

“That's it,” he nods, swallowing thickly. He hopes you miss the way his eyes glittered. But you don’t. “That's my name. Finnick.”

“Finnick,” you repeat.

He smiles. “Y/N.”

Tilting your head, you raise your hands again. /How does mine sound?/

He's excited. He has quickly found that he loves doing this with you. “Let's see.” Just as he begins to speak, you stop him.

/Wait./ You think for a moment, making the decision with a final nod to yourself. /I…brought my hearing aids./ His face shifts slightly, a quiet realization. You go to your bag, digging through it to fish out the little box holding said devices. /I do not like wearing them, but Hecton hates when I do not have them close./ You sit by him again.

His hand sets over your own, stopping you gently. “You don't have to.”

/I want to,/ you promise. /I want to hear you./

His eyes flit across your face for a moment before he slowly withdraws his hands. You open the box and take a breath of courage before you pick them up one at a time, pushing them into your ears one at a time, ignoring the discomfort it brings the farther it goes one at a time. Another breath of courage and you switch them on.

It's not what you expected. Usually, the world was so loud. So relentlessly full of noise. But right here, right now… it was still. Still enough to take a breath and only hear the strange sound of the air passing through your nose and into your lungs.

You have to take a moment to adjust, even still, and Finnick understands this because he doesn't say a thing. He hardly moves to avoid the potential rustling of his clothes from bothering you. When you're ready, you turn your gaze to take him in.

You clear your throat as gently as you can, adjusting your volume accordingly. You let your lips part, take a moment, and then speak. “Hi, Finnick,” you speak. He notices how your ‘H’ doesn't quite come through, and it only makes his smile wider.

You pause, your lips parting just a slight at the sound of his name in your own, strange voice. “Finnick,” you repeat, as though you’re tasting the name. It’s like music, you think.

He takes your hand in his, squeezing as softly as he physically could as he smiles. “Hi, Y/N.”

Another pause. So that's what people heard when they heard your name? That's what you sound like to others?

Slowly but surely, you let your mouth form the letters of your name before, hesitantly, you replicate the sound. When you say it the first time, it doesn't sound quite right. Finnick repeats it again, encouraging you with the squeeze of his hand. And then you say it, feeling that same lump rising once more like a reoccurring pest.

“Y/N,” you smile, biting down on your bottom lip to contain your joy at achieving something so…so nice. Something as simple but as special as saying your own name. You giggle a little, your eyes widening at the sound as you suddenly become addicted to it. You do it again. /Pretty./

“Pretty,” he voices.

With a little more confidence, you repeat it. “Pr-etty. Prett-y. Pretty.”

He nods, and a chuckle of his own slips from him. You like the sound of his laughter even more than the sound of your own. “Yes, it is pretty.” He still speaks slowly, wanting to make sure you're still properly understanding him. “You’re very pretty.”

You feel like he's going to make you cry again, but you just look down at your lap and let yourself feel and hear the chuckle that escapes you. Lifting your chin again, you bashfully smile. /Thank you./

“Thank you.”

Slowly and surely. “Th-ank you.”

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