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m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.3

John having to get high out of his mind because he knows he's invited Paul to come play with him is so so sad. These are the same guys who used to sit facing each other on a bed playing guitars for hours, and now this is them?

Is John calling Paul “Jack Lemon” a reference to “some like it hot”? Because if so, I have questions. Anyway, when your estranged best friend shows up to hang out with you and a bunch of people, talking about being in love again and getting jizzed on is extremely normal and acceptable behavior.

This jam session is so fucking painful though. Paul's doing his best to just push through and get them to actually play something and John's just too far gone.

My theory: there's two reasons he did this. 1. He's avoidant and the last thing he's going to do is let on how bad he needs John in his life and how scared he is that if John gets back with Yoko that that'll be difficult. And 2. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't. If he'd kept it from John that Yoko wanted him back and later John cried to him about how much he missed Yoko or something? Paul can't have that.

John singing a snatch of Yesterday before a take of “Whatever gets you through the Night”??? Did either of them ever write a song where they weren't thinking about the other? Did they ever have a minute of peace without the other rattling the bars of the cage in his brain?

“Hold me Darling, come on, listen to me. I won't do you no harm.” Duh it's about Paul. Oh my gosh.

And with Bless You I'm always so torn. There are so many obvious references to Paul which the doc points out beautifully, but situationally it could also be about Yoko. Maybe it's about both of them in the same way that don't let me down is about both of them.

Anyway the cosmic visuals are gorgeous.

Why'd you have to phrase it like that though? Twice?

Hall of Fame moment. It's a high point for him career-wise and he chose to pull Paul into his spotlight. Not only to sing Paul's song, not only to name-drop him, but to publicly call him an official romantic title. Not “boyfriend” or “ex-wife” which both could've been much more mocking if that's what he was trying to do. But “fiance”. It's official and respected, but it's still got the lustful, unsettled, connotation that something like “husband” lacks.

Johann Weener, everyone. What a loser.

Everyone who still refers to Lennon Remembers like it's the fucking Bible listen to this. It doesn't go on for the next five years, let alone fifty.

John refusing to walk to blocks to sign the papers when George and Paul flew over the ocean. And only on the basis of astrology. He really didn't want the divorce. My heart aches for him. But he made his bed as they say.

I'm putting on my tinfoil hat again here, but I do just have to point out that one of John's first songs, “Hello, Little Girl,” has a line that goes, “you never seem to see me standing there”. And the earliest draft of WISHST, which was started soon after, answers that line. “I saw you standing there.” (Yes, it said you originally, not her). So maybe. Just maybe. That song wasn't just a Paul song, but a song that John knew Paul had put a message in for him. Okay, I apologize for the insanity. On another note, I do wonder if he ever found out what Paul thought of that.

Interviewer: ≈ at this point, do you like writing by yourself, or do you want to write with Paul again?≈ John: ≈well it's a bit of both. It's the same for Paul. We were talking about it a week ago. Okay, cool. So they definitely talked openly and honestly about potentially writing together again.

John, about their partnership, “There was always the feeling that someone was there if you needed it.” Paired with the gayest picture ever taken and then Paul singing “if I can do anything at all, let me help.” Thanks. I hate it.

John was so excited for New Orleans! What happened? I mean I have my theory based on May's book and the sudden shift in behavior. But it's pretty dark.

You know how crazy Paul is about John in interviews now? How he can't seem to keep John's name out of his mouth? John was worse in the seventies. He's promoting his Rock’n’Roll album, talking unprompted and romantically about how he met Paul, when the interviewer reminds him what relationship he's supposed to be romanticizing right now. So John remembers too and dedicates the album to Yoko who he's just got back together with.

Biconic quote.

Interviewer asks, after John's brought him up, if John's pleased with how well Paul's doing. John expresses his relief that Ringo has "found himself a niche" and then

I really do think that last bit sums up a big chunk of how John feels about Paul, and why he feels alright playing dirty against Paul or slagging Paul off. Why it would have been the furthest thing from his mind that Paul actually struggled or was insecure. Why Paul had to remind him, “I'm only a person like you, love.”

What an insane thing to think, let alone say. What if Julian had heard that? I'm pretty sure Julian and Paul weren't in contact, really at all, until the eighties, right? So John's doing better than he is at this point (I mean he's his dad, he should be). John is insecure about every possible thing and compares himself to Paul in every possible way.

Baby. He needed some serious help. The thing that sucks about being ahead of your time is that you also have to live in a world that's behind your needs.

And then. “There's always a friendly tv channel to turn to that's going to make you feel less alone.” I wonder if Paul “Call Me Back Again, John I know you're not that tired from the baby just let me in the fucking door” McCartney heard this? It's possible with how obsessive they were, but it's also impossible with how busy he kept himself.

Okay, here's the first story we've been missing about Paul experiencing negative emotions. And, of course, as always in this doc, it's paired perfectly with “Don't Let it Bring you Down” which is the musical mission statement of Paul's clenched-jawed smile philosophy.

"I tend to get a bit absolute in my statements." Yes, John. Yes you do. Another quote that Big Lennon fans should keep in mind.

John on the three weeks he took to decide if he wanted to continue the band after the first Hamburg trip: The others were mad because we could've been making money. Yeah, John, Paul suddenly had to work in a factory after he'd thrown away an educated, white-collar career (the first in his family) to be in your band. I'd be pissed too if you just didn't even bother to call. Anyway I just hate how casual John is about it. Someone who never had to worry about money is just never going to get that.

John doesn't even remember a ballpark number of how much they were making. Paul remembers exactly bragging to his professors that he was making fifteen a week in Hamburg. Sorry to go on and on about this right before Paris, but to me it's an important difference between them.

Anyway, the fact that Paris was more than just a vacation for them. The fact that – according to Stuart and John at least – they might not have come back. It's dizzying. They really thought about just running off together. I wonder what made them decide to come back and continue the band.

No offense if you do, but I don't personally believe in this stuff. What would the motivation have been for the tarot reader to tell him that? Either way, fuck him.

Gosh the live version of “Call Me Back Again”. You feel it, physically, how bad he wants this phonecall. And the desperation from such a successful man is fantastic. Literally, John, how did it feel to be the only man in the world that could get Paul McCartney to beg? “Pretty baby” “what can I do?” “Boohoohoo babe.” “I tried the operator, but I just can't get through.”

Reporter at the Wings over America tour: No John Lennon, no George Harrison, and no Ringo Starr, just Paul McCartney. And for everyone here tonight, that seemed to be plenty! Obviously he's loving this praise after all the negative press. Anyone would, and Paul needs it more than most people actually. But I bet part of him is like “stop. Don't say it like that, they already hate me enough as it is.”

How many times has John admitted that he finds Paul attractive? “It was no surprise, you know, when the kids – girls saw him, they go ‘ooh! Ooh!’ right away, you know?”

“I know it's true. It's all because of you.” Playing over this? Are you kidding me? Anyway I've never seen the picture version of this, so I thought I'd screenshot it.

But actually, in a way, the original written lyrics to Now and Then are less depressing than what he sang on the demo. “I know it's true, I'm still in love with you, and if I make it through, it's all because of you,” is obviously sad because they're both married to other people. But at least in that version, John's saying his own personal resilience to life's struggles comes from his relationship with Paul, which is nice. Whereas when John, who is sliding into a self-hating deep depression I'm comparing himself to Paul's phenomenal success, sings “it's all because of you” in a general sense, it almost feels like a callback to the ‘I'm shit and I couldn't do anything but be a Beatle (and ride Paul's boat)’ quote. Which is heartbreaking. I wish he could've recognized his own genius.

But yeah either way it's enough to make your heart heavy. If anyone needs a good cry, just go to the last five minutes of this. That should've been the now and then music video, but Paul's too scared of feelings. Which. You know. Considering how much it affects me, I can't even imagine how much it affects him. So he gets a pass.

“Why must we be alone? It's real love. It's real.”

#mclennon #paul mccartney #john lennon #the beatles #ringo starr #george harrison #understanding lennon mccartney #ulm

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anamenooneowns · 11 months

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Urges

Summary: Jennifer is always greedy for you.

AN: i rewatched jennifer's body last night so i wanted to make a spicy fic. its just our cannibal, succubus girlfriend loving up on her chubby girl. enjoy!

Pairing: Jennifer Check x Chubby black reader

Warnings: Dub-con (not previously consented demonic hypnotizing), no use of y/n (Angel isn't your name, it's a nickname), fucked grammar, degradation, biting, smacking (like once), cursing, almost caught, possible voyeurism (not really just tryna cover all the bases, these also sound like porn tags)

MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

This wasn't good. No- it wasn't good at all. This was terrible, in fact. What the fuck were you thinking? Anyone could see you here.

But as Jennifer's tongue slid up through your folds, parting them like Moses did the goddamn Red Sea- it was the best decision you've made in your life. Her plump lips pursed around your swollen clit, gathering spit to the front of her mouth to rub over the throbbing nub over, and over, and again. Your leg was thrown over her shoulder, and for a girl so skinny, it was surprising that she didn't falter at your weight pressing down on her at all.

It was your fault that you looked so precious wearing the crop top that you had taken from her closet. The spandex pressed your tits together while creating a delicious spillage she was quickly developing a taste for in Biology. And now she was having her fill in the gym locker rooms when you were both supposed to be practicing a new routine.

"Jen- Jen, fuck," you mewled. It was hard to focus on the door where anyone could come in when she was doing that thing with her tongue. "Any... anyone c'n come in."

Jennifer pulled away to laugh at your slurred words, rubbing your clit with her thumb to keep you just at the edge. "Oh, they can come in, can't they, Angel?" she mocked your moaning voice. "Then I guess the smart thing to do would be to shut your whore mouth, right?" the drop of her voice was cold and sudden.

Your sucked your trembling bottom lip into your mouth, stifling your tears at her nasty words even though your nipples were twisting into thick, hardened peaks against your cheer shirt. Her eyes locked onto your chest and she pushed your shirt up with her free hand, a dulcet noise coming from her throat as your heavy tits fell out of them.

"Fuck." she huffed out a laugh, rising from her haunches slowly as she pressed kisses up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. "For someone so scared they're gonna be seen, it feels like you're just getting wetter and wetter," she hissed in your ear like a dirty secret.

Jennifer punctuated her sentence with a sharp smack against your pussy, eliciting a squelch that sounded so nasty- so lewd that your knees buckled.

It took a moment to realize that you never hit the ground. Then another to register that Jennifer Check was holding you, above the ground, against the lockers, as if you were weightless. She dropped to her knees now, settling your legs over her shoulders to return to licking the honeyed sweetness you were dripping. All for her. The feeling of her mouth and fingers pleasuring you made your concern slip from your mind, head nodding off as the rise of your orgasm coiled and got hot in your belly.

"Ohgodohgod- wanna cum. Jen.. Jen, lemme cum, baby- please."

Collective laughter in the hallway almost distracted you. Almost. Jennifer's teeth sharpened and she moved her face away from your cunt to bite your thigh, smiling when you cried out in pain. "If you wanna cum, then you keep those eyes on me, Angel. Or maybe you want them to see us, see how good of a little slut you are for me, letting me eat your pussy out?"

It was adorable how you shook your head even though she could hear you chanting 'yes' in your mind. All the times she wondered where your head went off to before she was cursed had been answered. The scenarios of the salacious, perverted things you wanted her to do to you and vice versa made her write a checklist in her diary at home. This was just number five that you and her would both be crossing off soon.

It was when you started hearing the words of your fellow friends and cheerleaders that your diverted your attention again. Jennifer growled and pulled away, slick dripping down her chin, lipgloss smudged. "Angel. Look. At. Me."

Your pretty brown eyes locked onto hers and the sparkle in them started to fade as you fell into her hypnosis. Her demonesque eyes dilated at the sight of you, jaw half-open and eyes lidded as you looked down at her.

There we go, now you gotta work for it yourself, sweet girl.

You carded your fingers through Jennifer's hair before stopping at the back of her head, rolling your hips forward. Jennifer moaned as your eyes rolled back, riding her face at an angle where your clit bumped against her nose with every hump. She sucked your inner folds into her mouth, teasing their lineation with her tongue to scoop your cream into her mouth before letting them go.

The doorknob twisted and turned from across the room but it didn't open. A muffled collection of groans echoing in the hallway from sweaty and tired cheerleaders at the jammed door. It made her want to laugh at how you were getting a much different workout in here.

When your hips started stuttering and frustrated whines spilled from your swollen lips at missing her nose from rutting so desperately, she grabbed the undersides of your thighs. God, you were so warm and soft. The feeling made her hungry. And the second she felt her teeth shift and sharpen, cheeks thinning to accommodate an unhinged jaw–she slammed the door on the feeling. Looking back to your soulless, brown eyes she couldn't- wouldn't succumb to her newly cannibalistic urges.

Instead, she focused on how she could have cum alone from how sopping wet and sticky your pussy was as she pushed her ring and middle finger inside your walls. It felt like hot silk as she curled them inside of you, slowly letting go of her reigns on your mind. The light in your eyes flickered on and your brows drew together, a sob leaving your lips as you looked down at her glacier blue eyes. Did you black out?

When she put her mouth back on your cunt, you quickly agreed that you did because who wouldn't go unconscious from such good pussy eating?

"S'right there- stop, Jenny, wai-wait!" you babbled, trying to tuck your hips back, away from her dangerous mouth.

Whatever the noise she made though, something guttural and warning, stilled you as chills ran up your spine. Your body shuddered, head tilting against the lockers and eyes rolling back as you squirted into her waiting mouth.

She drank as if she had been deprived of water, refusing to waste a drop before crooning, "My pretty Angel," between breaths of air. She made out with your pussy as soon as she caught her breath, swirling her tongue through your swollen vulva until you were wet with her spit and whining.

"Alright, I'm done. C'mon, Angel-baby," her voice was softer as she lowered your legs to the floor, wrapping a thin arm behind your waist because she didn't trust you not to fall.

Your eyes fluttered open when she started peppering kisses over your neck, and the kisses stopped once your eyes latched onto hers. "C'mon, I'll walk you back home, s'not safe to be alone."

You didn't argue that she would then be alone, knowing that she'd brush your concerns off with a mind-numbing kiss. And you also didn't say a word when you watched her tuck your panties into her bag unabashedly.

When you walked into the hallway it was clear, and confusion clouded your face. Jennifer didn't have to look at you to know you were confused about what happened to your cheer squad coming toward the locker room.

"The door was jammed silly, duh." Jennifer said. "You know we always get lucky when we're in public like this," her hand crept up your skirt and you squealed as she squeezed the fatty flesh.

"Jenny, anyone could have seen my ass!" you whispered angrily, lips scrunching into a pout.

She stopped walking and grabbed your jaw, kissing you in the middle of the empty basement. Her tongue pushed into your mouth, impatient- everything was always impatient with Jennifer. Your gasp is swallowed as she presses her tongue against yours, the potent taste of you being dressed over your tongue. Pulling away, she swipes your bottom lip and collects the string of saliva connecting your mouths to pop it into her own. "They wouldn't live another day to even talk about my girlfriend's pretty ass."

You rub your lips together, moisturizing them with what was left of Jennifer's strawberry flavored gloss. Finally, you sweetly say. "Well then.. I guess it's okay."

God, you really were an Angel. Always willing and okay to let Jennifer do whatever she wanted.

As you both kept walking, Jennifer's hand rubbing your ass, she decided you didn't need to know that she literally would tear someone limb from limb for you. Or that the door to the locker room wasn't actually jammed and she had locked it from the start, the key shoved in her bra.

It was late when you and Jennifer finally got off of facetime, you insisting that she at least do this for you the moment she dropped you off so you could see her get home safely. You grabbed your pajamas which was really only panties and a tank-top you stole from your girlfriend before going into the bathroom.

You peeled off your cheer uniform, and that's when you felt it. Hissing, you turn to the mirror in your bathroom and raise your leg.

It felt like an icy hand clutched your heart as you looked at the ellipsis of small holes decorating your inner thigh. The oxidized reddish-brown blood was smeared all over it and there was only a one-word question that flitted through your mind.

Jennifer?

#jennifer check #jennifers body #demon lovin #demoness #x reader #x black fem reader #x black!fem!reader #x black reader #x black plus size reader #x chubby reader #fxf smut #fxf #jennifer's body #x black!reader #black fanfiction #fanfic

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vvagustd · 11 months

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✎ find a way - minho

[minho (tmr) x fem!reader]

synopsis - y/n runs into the maze after minho

warning! swearing outside of glader slang, mentions of death

is the tmr fandom still alive?? these movies were my whole childhood and i just rewatched the first one and needed to writeee

Something was wrong.

"Are they not here yet?" The entire glade was standing by the door waiting for Minho and Alby to arrive. They were never this late before, and it was almost sun down. The doors would be closing soon.

"Are they going to make it?" The greenie, Thomas, asked.

"They're gonna make it." Newt said.

"What if they don't?"

"They're gonna make it."

The sun was dipping lower below the walls with every agonizing minute. Your leg bounced anxiously, checking every shadow down the corridor for signs of Minho. The worst thoughts started to fill your head. What if you really lost you best friend? What if the person that means the most to you is lying on the concrete of this god-forsaken maze fighting for his life?

Newt's reassuring hand on your shoulder did very little to reassure you.

Another minute passed and the gladers were started to lose hope. They we're getting restless, some were already leaving. You knew, you just knew he was still alive in there. Your Minho was a fighter, fighter until the last second.

"There!" Someone pointed. Everyone held their breath, searching the shadows. Minho emerged, dragging himself along with every last ounce of willpower. Everyone erupted into cheers of encouragement, but you knew something was up.

"Is that Alby?"

He was slung, limp, over Minho's shoulder. They weren't gonna make it.

The ground started to shake, the aching rumble of the stone sounded as the doors inched closer.

"No!" you cried, as if your screams would reverse the doors. "Minho, you can do it!" You saw the pained expression cross his face at your voice, he knew he wasn't going to make it.

The doors were on the verge of closing as you took a step forward. This door was the barrier between your life and your death and you were right on the edge, deciding your fate.

Your time was running out as your heart acted faster than your head. The boys screamed after you as you pulled away from the gladers, ripping away from your life and throwing yourself into inevitable death as you ran through the narrow opening towards darkness. Towards your fate. Towards Minho.

You barely made it, collapsing on the floor as the doors shut behind you. "Congratulations, you just killed yourself."

"What?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/n?" Minho looked up at you with an unreadable expression. You stood up and dusted off your pants before taking in your surroundings. It just clicked how utterly stupid you are. You ran into a dark maze you've never even stepped foot in before, not to mention no one has ever spent a night in the maze and lived to tell the story. You must have been batshit crazy to run after Minho, that, or crazy in love.

"Minho, what do we do?" You asked, running your hand over some ivy that decorated the wall. It felt oddly.. fake.

"Nothing." He replied, letting his head fall.

"Are you serious?" You asked. You waited for him to give any sign that he was just joking, and that he had a plan.

"You did this to yourself, Y/n." He wasn't.

"I ran after you, Minho."

"No one asked you to do that." His voice was raising, yet he stayed calm and unwavering.

"You can't just give up, Minho!"

"Then what am I supposed to do, Y/n?" He looked up at you with tears in his eyes, his voice getting shakey. "I don't know what to do, Y/n. I'm scared. I'm scared, and lost, with no plan and no chance of surviving." He bowed his head again. "You ran after me and now were both here, both dead. You're dead because of me."

Your breath slowed as you approached him. "Living won't be living without you. We're not dead, and I will do everything in my power to get us through the night and out of the maze." You kneeled beside him and drew in a deep breath. "I ran after you because I love you, Minho. You being in here alone sounded like a nightmare, and I couldn't-" he cut you off by taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours.

You felt the pressure of three years in the glade, three years by Minho's side every day and three years of liking him wash away in one kiss. "We'll have plenty more time to do that once we get out of here." Minho said, standing up and offering his hand.

#minho x reader #the maze runner #tmr Minho x reader #tmr thomas #tmr newt #the scorch trials #the death cure #the maze runner x reader #tmr x reader #tmr minho x reader #tmr imagines

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taytrashmouth · 8 months

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Just finished rewatching game of thrones and the Jon snow obsession has been reborn.

This is a long one!

TW: rape, abuse, crying, murder, etc, all normal GOT stuff.

Jon snow x reader.

:readmore:

Looking at the empty walls of the stone cell I’ve been trapped in for weeks I can’t help but feel that these walls of winterfell that I’ve known for so long are no longer the walls I call home. This is a prison.

I pushed myself back against the furthest wall as I heard the keys rattle in the door. The chain around my waist felt heavier than normal.

As the door opened I felt a tear escape my eye…Ramsey

“You’re not excited to see me?” He pouted and wiped my cheek.

I tried to hide my fear and pain and sadness but I knew he could see through my act.

“I’m going to meet with lady Bolton tomorrow.” He sat down in front of me.

I thought about Sansa….I thought about when we were little, how we would sneak into the kitchens after everyone was asleep, how we’d laugh and talk, how we would dance in the snow outside and go for long walks in the snowy hills. She was bigger now, more mature. The last time I saw her was at the wedding…she got locked in Ramseys room and I got locked in a cell. I heard people talk of her escape through the small widow towards the top of my cell, I’d never been that relieved in my life.

Sansa never treated me as her handmaiden, only ever as her friend.

“Her bastard brother will be there too…” Ramsey spoke.

I couldn’t help my reaction, I let out a gasp and tears fell from my eyes.

Jon was alive.

“I want you to come with me to meet with them tomorrow…”

I looked up at him and frowned, there was a catch, Ramsey was insane, he liked to play games.

“You see… I know that Jon cares for you…and lovers should always be reunited at the end of every story.” Ramsey smiled as he touched my cheek, I tried to move away but he held me still.

“But I’m afraid this story doesn’t have a happy ending…” he pouted. “Jon will have to see what I’ve done with you.” Now he smiled.

He began to untie my dress, I tried to move away but he held me down and the chains were too heavy. After not being fed for a week I could barely have the strength to push him off.

He grabbed my hands and held them high above my head as he sucked hickeys into my neck, and put bite marks all over my skin.

Eventually I stopped screaming, I just accepted him inside of me, I cried and looked away, knowing there was nothing I could do. I thought of everything that wasn’t Ramsey. Then eventually I didn’t think of anything at all, I didn’t even feel as though I was in the room anymore. I was somewhere deep inside my own mind, somewhere I couldn’t even place.

I felt Ramsey hit me and become rough but I just lay there in the cold cell…hopeless.

When he was done he had his guards unlock the chains around my waist and wrists, and lead me to a room in the castle….Aryas old room.

They locked me in there for the rest of the night I had a bath and scrubbed my skin till it was raw and red trying to get Ramsey off of me…

I put on the dress that was laid out on the bed, it showed off my shoulders and my sides, exposing the bruises and scrapes all over my body. I brushed my hair that had grown a lot since I last saw myself. I tied it back into a braid exposing my face and neck like Ramsay instructed

I looked at my thin figure, I could see my own ribs. I looked awful. I drank the soup that was left on top of the dresser.

And I waited…to see Jon again, to see Sansa.

I walked out of the dining hall to see Jon hitting a training dummy repeatedly with his sword.

“I think it’s dead.” I smiled as he turned around.

He smiled softly, something he didn’t do often. “What am I missing?” He asked gesturing back into the hall

“Ned’s angry because Arya flicked food at Sansa.” I spoke. He laughed under his breath. “So nothing new?” He smirked.

I shook my head.

It was quiet for a moment, the music from inside distant. The air was cold.

I had liked Jon since I was about 10, he often caught Sansa and I in the kitchens late at night and instead of telling Ned, like Robb sometimes did, he would join us.

But I’d never say anything, I couldn’t…technically he was a stark, and technically I was a prisoner, a Greyjoy. Although the starks had never made me feel like a prisoner.

“Why so frustrated?” I asked him.

He looked down at his sword and the blisters he’d caused on his hand.

“A lot on my mind, my lady.” He replied.

“I am no lady….just a handmaiden, My lord.” I spoke back, knowing he only ever wanted me to call him Jon.

He smiled to himself. “Just Jon.”

“Okay….just Jon, may I have this dance.” I asked as the band began to play another song that could be heard vaguely through the closed doors to the dining hall.

“Anything for you, princess.” He spoke slowly and made his way over to you. Putting his sword against the stone walls of winterfell.

“I am no-“ you were interrupted when his finger pressed to your lips. “You are to me.” He whispered.

He valued me, always. He never treated me like less, in fact he always treated me like more, like royalty, like a princess.

I smiled up at him. He placed his hands on my waist and i put mine on his shoulders.

“I must warn you, just Jon I’m not a good dancer.” I spoke.

“I know, I’ve watched you dance with sir Cedric Mormont a few years back, and sir Jamie earlier tonight.”

I playfully smacked his arm and he smiled.

“I’ll tell you what princess y/n Greyjoy…I’m not that good either.” He smiled.

We swayed and laughed when Jon jokingly spun me around, or when I tried to lead. We ran around the castle walls for about 3 hours before lady Katlin caught us.

We both froze when she saw us.

“Sansa was looking for you y/n.” She spoke firmly. Glaring at Jon.

“My lady- I-“ you stumbled.

“It was me! I wanted to try on Robb’s armor, see what it was like, to be a knight. I had lady Greyjoy assist me putting it on-“ Jon interrupted. He never lied, but he was protecting me.

I glanced worriedly at him.

“Typical.” She whispered under her breath, and shook her head. My blood boiled. “Y/n get to Sansa’s chambers immediately, Jon… out of my sight.” She spoke loudly.

I quickly walked off to Sansa’s bed chamber, thinking about Jon the whole way there.

“Where we’re you?” Sansa spoke.

“I’m sorry, I-I was with Jon.” I blushed.

She squealed. “Tell me everything.” She spoke, handing me her hairbrush as she sat down at the dresser.

It was like having a permanent best friend, I was only two years older than Sansa.

I carefully undid the intricate braids in her hair and brushed her copper locks.

“We danced…sort of.” I smiled.

“Was he any good?” She frowned.

“No.” We both laughed.

We giggled and spoke until she had to go to bed. Laughing about Jon and how she was to marry prince Joffrey.

You walked along the empty passages towards the servants quarters. Through the snow covered courtyard.

I was pulled from the happy memory when the lock to the chamber rattled and Ramsey and two of his guards entered.

I dropped the soup onto the floor, my hands must have been shaking.

“Oh clumsy are we? You’ll need a new dress I suppose.” Ramsey pouted.

Tears filled my eyes.

“Luckily I have the perfect one for you.” He smirked and held out some purple material…open back.

He wanted Jon to see my pain, to see that I belonged to him. I shook my head and tears fell from my eyes.

His guards grabbed my wrists and shoved me onto the bed, i sobbed when they began to tie my hands to the headboard. They ripped away the gown I was wearing and I could no longer see Ramsey, and that scared me more than anything.

“This will hurt darling.” I could hear the smile in his voice. And I screamed and sobbed as a hard whip hit my back, digging into my spine, I felt blood pour down my back.

It hurt again and again, 20 times he hit me, 20 times I screamed and 20 times I did not prey for help, I wished for death.

He left me tied there, facing the wall, bleeding.

I cried for a long time until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Naked and beaten.

The morning was a rush, Bran had fallen from the tallest tower and hadn’t woken up. Lady Katlin was devastated and Ned had informed Sansa and I we were leaving for kings landing tomorrow. He had been offered the position of hand of the king.

He also informed me that Jon was to become a man of the nights watch.

I walked as fast as I could to his room, my dress blowing behind me in the wind. I tried desperately not to cry.

I shoved his door open and there he was packing his things.

As he turned to me I slapped him, hard.

“Were you not going to tell me!” I yelled, the tears began to fall.

He swallowed hard and looked down, and then at me…my face.

“I didn’t know how-“

“Lies!” I screamed, tears falling like snowflakes.

“I love you! And I didn’t know how to say goodbye to the one thing! The one good thing in my life! The only thing that matters!” He yelled too now.

You cried harder.

“You are the only thing keeping me from going! But I can’t love you, n/n….I can’t! I’m a bastard, and I refuse to force you to burden that name too. You are going to king’s landing tomorrow, you’ll meet a Duke of something there and you’ll grow old in a castle, and have beautiful daughters and strong sons.” Jon was crying too, he held my shoulders.

“No-“ I shook my head. “I don’t want that…. I love you Jon snow. I will never love anyone else. I want to run away with you, I want to carry your children, I want to grow old with you!” I sobbed.

He shook his head, and pressed his forehead to mine.

“I don’t care if you’re a bastard- it’s a stupid title. Like king or queen it’s just a name. But you’re so much more than that you’re brave and kind, loving, you’re funny and smart and-“ he kissed me, gently but passionately.

For a moment everything made sense. All the stars aligned and the puzzle fit together beautifully.

But then I pulled away.

“I love you.” We stated at the same time, we both laughed lightly.

There was a heavy silence after that. I knew I had to go to kings landing, and he knew he had to go to the wall, to make something of himself.

“Promise me.” I spoke slowly as he held my cheeks. “Promise me when I see you again you’ll kiss me, like you just did, promise me that someday we’ll grow old together. Promise me-“ I choked and he kissed my forehead. “Promise that I’ll see you again.”

He nodded. “I promise.” He knelt to the floor and kissed my hand, “ I promise I’ll come back for my princess.” He spoke.

I smiled through the tears as he stood.

“Promise you’ll write to me…every day.” He whispered as we hugged. I nodded.

“Promise you’ll write back.” He chuckled and nodded against my head.

That was goodbye.

I rode with Ramsey on his horse, my back aching and my lips blue. I was freezing in the revealing dress. Bruises, gashes, hickeys, scars and deep wounds covered my body.

We stopped after a long ride. I saw horses approaching in the distance. My heart sunk, I didn’t want Jon to see me like this. What if he had moved on.

I must have looked terrible because Sansa took in a sharp breath before demanding my release. There he was, Jon…my Jon.

I almost smiled when I saw him, almost.

He looked older, a fuller beard and darker eyes, he was taller. He was handsome.

He looked devastated when he saw me. I looked down at the floor, not seeing the tears fill his eyes.

They debated the war that was to come, tomorrow. And Rickons release.

I began to shiver.

“Give her a coat she’ll freeze!” Jon yelled. His voice was husky and sad. I looked at the anger on his face.

Ramsey smiled.

“Jon don’t-“ I tried to explain it was just one of his games but Ramsey hit me, across the cheek.

Jon’s horse jerked forward as he drew his sword but his men held him back.

And then we rode away, at the perfect angle for Jon to see my back.

Ramsey threw me back into my cell, I cried…I didn’t want Jon to fight- I feared Ramsey would win.

I felt my heart sink…I had imagined seeing him again for so many years and it broke me to know that might’ve been the last time.

Last I saw him he was 16, only a boy. I was 15, a young girl who knew nothing of the world outside winterfell.

I knew not of vicious fighters like sir clegane or horrible woman like Cersei. I wouldn’t have imagined such an unfair ruler as Joffrey. Or such an abusive leader as Ramsey.

I wouldn’t have ever imagined seeing Theon like that….like reek. Ramsey told me he’d to the same to me if I disobeyed him. Another Greyjoy to his collection.

I hadn’t looked death in the eye the last time i saw Jon and yet now I had seen so much of it, it all seemed insignificant.

I heard of Jon’s battles, I even heard of his death. Seeing him again was like seeing a ghost. I wasn’t the same girl he left at winterfell but I had the same heart.

“You’re going to take someone’s eye out.” I smiled across the courtyard as I saw Jon and Robb attempting to sword fight in the snow, they kept slipping on the ice.

“That’s the point my lady.” Robb smiled.

“It’s not that simple.” Jon huffed.

“Can I have a go.” I asked gesturing to their swords.

They both chuckled until they realized I was serious.

“The arena is no place for a lady.” Robb spoke, he looked a bit sympathetic though.

I frowned.

Jon was about to speak until Theon called them to lunch.

That evening when I was lying on my bed I felt something shake me awake.

“Jon?” I frowned in the dark. He nodded.

“Come on.” He pulled me out of bed.

“Where are we going?” I asked but he shhhhed me.

“You’ll see, it’s a surprise.” He whispered.

He dragged me out to the courtyard, where he lit a bunch of candles.

I smiled.

“Jon it’s beautiful.”

“Like you.” He responded, both our cheeks flushed.

“You sure you’re ready?” He asked me, changing the subject.

“For?”

“You’re greatest opponent.” He smiled and threw me a sword which landed on the floor in front of me. I smiled.

“Thank you.” I looked at him. He nodded.

He spent the rest of the night trying to teach me how to fight, and by 4AM I could have a basic spar with him.

He quickly blew out all the candles and lead me back to my chambers.

“Was I any good?” I asked.

He nodded as we walked.

“Are you just saying that?” I asked again.

He smiled. “You were better than Theon let’s put it that way.”

I smiled.

Ramsey chained me up and dragged me outside of winterfell with Rickon. We both got a bad hit when I hugged him, I was so relieved he was alright.

I watched as Ramsey explained the rules of his stupid little trick, how rickon had to run across the field to Jon. It was too easy. There was a catch.

I watched as he began to run and I watched Ramseys men began to load their crossbows.

I began to scream. “Nooo! Stop!” I screamed and they hit me, but I didn’t stop, I had to warn him.

Jon began to ride towards his brother… holding out his hand. But there it was, another stark gone.

My own scream was silent in my ears, I couldn’t hear anything as I watched him fall to the floor.

I sobbed. I watched Jon loose his horse and begin to take on an entire army by himself. I screamed again.

I felt Ramsey pull at my chains and drag me back to winterfell. Leaving the battle of the bastards. His war that he wasn’t even fighting.

Leaving the carnage. He took me to the courtyard. He put me on the execution platform and tied a rope around my neck. He explained how if Jon came to save me, the floor would disappear and so would I.

I waited, I saw the bodies pile up through the windows in the castle walls. I watched the giant break down winterfells gates. I smiled and cried when I saw him….just Jon.

“You’re too late.” Ramsey smiled and pointed at me. Jon’s face dropped he was covered in blood.

“No!” I yelled as I watched one of Ramseys men move to pull the lever.

Jon began to run towards me, as a red haired man threw an axe at the soldier. It killed him as he pulled the switch. I closed my eyes and took in a sharp breath.

I opened my eyes, Jon had caught me. I smiled as a tear ran down my cheek. He looked at me, examining my face.

His red hair friend cut the rope and jon put me down.

Ramsey began to load his crossbow.

“Jon.” I said and pointed at Ramsey.

His hands left my hips, and I almost missed his touch.

He used some debris as a shield as Ramsey fired arrows at him, he grew closer and closer to him.

I watched as Jon beat him up. A part of me liked that Ramsey would die here, today. A part of me knew it was wrong.

“Stop!” I let out. Jon looked at me and then at Sansa, still punching. And he did, he stopped.

He walked off into winterfell.

I ran across the courtyard to Sansa and we held each other. Tight.

“Are you okay?” I asked her. She laughed.

“Are you?” She scoffed.

We quickly decided Ramsey should be reunited with his pets. He didn’t deserve to live. Not even as a prisoner.

Later that evening I found myself in Aryas old bed chambers attempting to stitch up some of my cuts. I heard a knock at the door and looked up.

Jon.

“Hello.” I spoke.

“Hi.”

I slowly stood up.

It wasn’t long before his lips were on mine. We kissed for a long time, passionately. A kiss that made up for all our time lost.

We pulled away breathless, both crying.

“You stopped writing letters.” I spoke, he smiled.

“You stopped writing back.” He answered.

He hugged me, gently. I hugged him back as tightly as I could.

“You’re taller.” I smiled.

“You’re shorter.”

We both laughed.

He sat me on the bed and helped me stitch up my wounds. He held my hand tightly as he poured alcohol on my back.

We spent hours catching up.

We both sat on the end of the bed, my head on his shoulder.

“I thought you were dead.” I told him. “Twice.”

He chuckled. “You gave me a few scares too.”

“How was the wall?”

“Cold.” He looked down at me. I laughed.

“Is it true? The whitewalkers?” I asked more seriously now.

He sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“I’ve fought them, they’re too strong. I fear we won’t win this battle. But I’ll make sure you’re as far south as south goes-“

“No!” I interrupted, shaking my head.

Tears brimmed in his waterline.

“I’m not leaving again….I just got you back. We’re going to grow old together, remember?” My voice broke. “Even if you’ve found someone else-“

“There’s no one else.” He brushed his hand over my cheek.

“If you fight, I’ll fight.” I spoke.

“You did have a really good teacher.” He stated. I playfully nudged him as he smiled.

“I love you…just Jon, I always have.” I finished.

“I love you too, princess y/n Greyjoy.” He kissed me again gently.

“Snow.” I corrected and he frowned. “Queen y/n snow.”

A smile took over his whole face.

“If you’ll have me, that is? King Jon snow.”

#jon snow #jon snow x you #jon snow imagine #jon snow fanfiction #jon snow x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #ramsey bolton #sansa stark #winterfell

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starrysvn · 1 year

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married in vegas | choi san

pairing: choi san x gn!reader genre: exes2lovers synopsis: choi san had been your first true love and who you'd hoped would be your last. but things don't always work out. too bad your friends were his too, and jung wooyoung was hellbent on spending a long weekend birthday trip in las vegas. never mind your poor heart. warnings: drinking, swear words, a lil angst, dramatics, fluff, unedited word count: 5.2k author's note: fourth installment is here! hope you like this one, i recently rewatched that one episode of friends (iykyk) and just thought i'd put the final dialogue from it in here, kinda. ngl i feel like on the whole i could've done better but i hope you'll enjoy your read anyway! :3

series masterlist | regular masterlist

The breakup was amicable. You stayed friends and, sure, you didn’t hang out as much as you used to - for obvious reasons - and, yes, you did try to get out of any gathering that you knew he was going to be at. Still, you were civil. You could be in his presence.

And yet, all of that didn’t explain why the mere mention of him joining his best friend’s birthday trip to Las Vegas, had you circling around the room like a madman.

“I hope you’re fucking joking” you whine through the phone, earning a sigh from Yeosang.

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion”

“Am I?”

After talking your best friend’s ear off for minutes on end, that sounded wrong to your own ears.

“How did you not realize? San is Wooyoung’s best friend, of course he’d be there!” he reasons, as if you need a reminder that you are being ridiculous. “Plus, he’s taking a huge leap of faith in inviting you both”

“Listen, it was months ago, he didn’t use the group chat to invite us, I didn’t put two and two together. I had a lot on my plate! And hey, we’re civil!” The silence that meets you is so loud. You sigh. “Sorry for the dramatics, it’s been a long day”

After all, you are still recovering from having to dash home in a downpour. And having to stay after hours to have a long, unnecessary meeting with your head of department. Realizing your ex-boyfriend would also be joining your long weekend getaway was just the cherry on top.

“I’d say sorry for springing this up on you at the last minute, but then again, I could’ve just waited to see your face tomorrow” you hit him back with a real funny, Sang, smiling when you hear him snort. The line goes quiet for a second. “Do you want me to come over? We can head to the airport together in the morning” Yeosang says softly, a silent peace offering.

“Are you kidding? Have you seen the weather?” you look out the window, the rain’s still unforgivingly pouring down.

“Unlike you, I don’t refuse to drive in dire conditions” he pokes fun.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Kang Yeosang”

“I’ll be over in ten” you could basically see his amused grin. You let out a chuckle hanging up. Then you press a hand to your forehead, trying to soothe the headache starting to form.

Choi San is the boyfriend. The one you never thought would leave. The one parting from hurt like nothing you ever experienced. The one you eventually bounced back from, but did you really? Because it still feels as if he was a part of you, just as much as you are a part of him. And when he left, you had to re-learn how to go through life with a missing piece.

He’d been your best friend, the person you ran to for everything. Someone you loved so much that it scared you sometimes because you knew just how much it would kill you to lose him.

Choi San is the one that got away and took a piece of you with him.

But what could you do, after months of healing and avoiding him, when your friends were his friends too? Declining invitations got old fast. The first time you saw him again, you thought you could handle his presence for the night. And you did but cried the whole way home. After that, no more. With time, it got better. Seeing him no longer left you with a sinking feeling. Of course, it isn’t like before, but it never could be, and you made your peace with that.

Still, after one year, you microdose on San, afraid of what could happen to your heart if you spent too much time close to him. It’s for your own sake, your peace of mind. That’s why, when it finally clicked into place that you’d be spending a whopping four days in his presence, you flipped.

The doorbell pulls you from your thoughts, and a smiley Yeosang holding a bottle of wine greets you. You should have known better than to accept alcohol as a peace offering from your best friend. Most of all, you should know that it never really ends with just one bottle. Because now you are incredibly hungover, severely nauseous and totally late for your flight.

“This is all your fault” you hiss as Yeosang asks the Uber driver to please hurry. Both your phones are annoyingly dinging with unread text messages, not helping your headache at all.

“Excuse you?” he turns around, tone accusatory. “As far as I remember, you were the one who brought out the tequila”

“Well, you didn’t stop me”

“You were crying!”

“Even worse!”

Your bickering is brought to an end by the screeching halt of the car in front of the airport. You ignore the severe wave of nausea it causes and get out, Yeosang right in tow. Incessant teasing and half-hearted blame tossing accompanies your run through the airport.

With just five minutes to spare, Wooyoung’s screeching hyena laughter welcomes the two of you at the gate. Surely the matching sunglasses and coats thrown over your pyjamas are a sight to behold, you think as you hug your friends hello.

“Birthday boy!” you pull Wooyoung into a big hug, giggling when he sways you both back and forth.

“Thank you for coming” he already said that months ago, when he first proposed the idea, but right now - with San’s eyes on you - the sincerity in Wooyoung’s somehow shines brighter.

“Thank you for having me” you smile genuinely. The breakup put a strain on your group of friends for a little, and you wanted to make sure he knew how much you appreciated him wanting you here. He squeezes your hand, before moving to Yeosang.

“We need to go, you’ll say hi in eleven hours when we land. Chop, chop!” Seonghwa rushes everyone to join the last few people in line. You let go of Mingi, laughing, hearing Yunho say something along the lines of they literally just started boarding, and follow the rest. You finish saying your hellos through boarding, finally facing San.

As you always do when it comes to him, you push down whatever mixed feelings bubbled up in your chest and put on a smile.

“Hi, San," you wave, so you're stunned when he just spares you a quick side hug, smiling curtly after greeting you.

Your friends had long stopped holding their breath whenever you two are in the same room, but this feels off. Like a splash of cold water, it sends you back to the first, awkward time you met up again. Nobody seems to notice though, apart from Yeosang. Unlike the rest of your friends, his gaze still lingers on you carefully. You subtly nod at him, like you always do.

Sighing, you keep walking beside your best friend, not really able to shake the disappointment San’s cold greeting leaves you with. Despite your best efforts, you let it eat away at you during the flight, the car ride to the hotel and the moments you unpack. No amount of berating does it. Why would he behave like that? Is this all in your head?

It’s not like you two would usually have heart to hearts but you talked, at least. You were friendly. So you don’t get why suddenly San is being so distant. For Wooyoung’s sake, you promised yourself you’d do your best to ignore it all. Be the bigger person and not get involved with whatever bullshit had his panties in a twist.

A whole day into the trip and you had to resist the urge to punch him in the face for behaving like an immature teenager multiple times. But you keep contact to a minimum. Complain to Yeosang in the comfort of your hotel room. Take several deep breaths. You aren’t good at this whole maintain-inner-peace thing.

“I just wish he would stop ignoring me”

The view from the panoramic terrace of the hotel is breathtaking, but, margarita in hand and sunglasses on, you find yourself not fully appreciating it. Not when you are using your time away from the rest of the group to vent to your best friend. Again.

“Ah, so you do care” the way Yeosang wiggles his eyebrows makes you want to wipe off that smirk on his face.

“No, I don’t” he doesn’t look too convinced. “Seriously! He’s just making it hard to get along with him”

“Or is his distance making you think about stuff you don’t want to think about?” you hate how much your best friend knows you. You let out an exasperated sigh.

The last thing you should be thinking about was your ex, but you can’t help it. He wouldn’t usually behave like that and, you had to admit, it threw you for a loop. Not to mention how you despise the way you still catch yourself thinking about him. It’s subconscious at this point and it's been hard to accept. Had he finally moved on? Were you the only one left running in circles inside your head?

No matter how much distance there is between the two of you, he’s still there, in a corner of your mind. Like a phantom pain, he follows you in the most mundane of things. The frozen aisle at the supermarket still reminds you of his favorite ice cream brand. When buying Christmas presents, your brain immediately goes to the one thing he’s been obsessing over. The reminders zap you like an electric shock, bringing you back to reality. San is a friend now - they say. Nothing more, nothing less. And so you’d berate your heart for acting like he wasn’t. You’d put down the tube of mint-choco ice cream with a sigh, and choose fucking socks as a present.

“Promise we won’t change?”

It was hard to make out the look on his face through the tears in your eyes. You never thought breaking up would hurt this bad, like giving up a piece of you. It felt like the end of the world. Of your world. One where you could no longer navigate life with San.

“You’ll always be my best friend” he murmured, lips against the skin of your neck. You felt the wetness on his face, too. “We’ll go back to how it was before”

But how could it? Now that you knew what it was like to be loved by him, and what a thing it was to love him. Against all hopes, that night, you hoped he was right.

No amount of space was ever able to lessen the strain the break-up put on your already existing friendship. You keep it amicable, for everyone else’s sake, but it just isn’t like before. It could never be. You both broke that promise, one that perhaps you shouldn’t even have made.

You’ve long realized that it’s closure that you need. Because the two of you healed separately, but never really talked about it together. It’s a conversation you need to have if you intend on being around each other. What scares you the most, though, is the possibility of something happening. Or rather, of you letting it happen. You aren’t so sure about San. If you truly want to let go, you need to know.

The dings of your phones pulls you from your thoughts.

meet in the lobby in an hour-ish? we’re going out!

You share a look with Yeosang, knowing birthday celebrations are due tonight, and Wooyoung isn’t about to hold back.

“Let’s go” your best friend offers an encouraging smile, walking back to the room with you.

The second you go down to meet with your friends, you feel yourself stumble on your heels and almost wish to find a way out of this dinner party. Now, you aren’t a stranger to San’s beauty, you never were. But holy fuck, how you wished that he was still yours. If he were, you could saunter up to him and tell him just how breathtaking he looked with his unbuttoned white shirt and slicked-back hair. The knowledge hits you like a train and leaves you breathless.

You need a drink.

And, boy, do you get one.

You don’t remember the last time you had this much fun. Wooyoung sure knows how to party. The dinner went quite smoothly - safely hidden between Yeosang and Mingi, you didn’t spare much attention to San, not that he spared you any - and soon after the birthday boy dragged you to a club.

“Sunshine!” Wooyoung appears out of nowhere, stealing you away from your impromptu dance battle against a buzzed Mingi. “Don’t you look stunning” he compliments, twirling you around, flirty as usual. You cackle, throwing your hands on his shoulders.

“Thanks Woo, you look dashing” you wink back, dancing with him.

“You shouldn’t be saying that to me,” he laughs. The confusion in your eyes must be enough for him to elaborate. “I noticed you’ve been eyeing a certain someone… who happened to be eyeing back”

“Who?” you’re going to fight this. No way.

“Don’t play dumb now” his face gets closer until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “If looks could kill, I’d be dust right now. So would be Mingi” you gape at him, watching as he smiles amusedly.

“Wooyoung, we’re not going to talk about me and him during your birthday party”

“Oh, please! My birthday wish is for you two to get back together already!” homeboy is drunk. Your jaw hits the floor, and you smack his arm. He just laughs harder.

“Wooyoung, what!? You can’t be serious”

“Come on! You’re both incredibly oblivious about your feelings. It's getting sad” he groaned in frustration. “You’re still obviously hung up on each other and I can’t take it anymore, it’s excruciating! Take me out of this misery”

“There’s a reason we called it quits, Woo” you deadpan, taking a step back from him.

“And it’s a stupid one,” he looks like he’s about to say more, but he can’t.

“Alright enough” because Yunho, your saving grace, intervenes. “We’re going back to our booth” he shoots you an apologetic smile, half dragging the birthday boy away and back to the others. You don’t know how much of the conversation he caught, but judging by the good-natured scolding he’s doing, it was enough. You sigh, deciding it’s time for your well-deserved drink. As soon as you reach the bar, you claim the last free stool for yourself.

Wooyoung’s words won’t leave you alone. They keep bouncing around in your head louder than the booming music. Was it really a stupid reason? But most of all, how drunk does he have to be to insinuate that San is still in love with you? That you are still in love with him?

You nod to the bartender when the drink lands in front of you.

The night you broke up is a tangled up mess of emotions and memories you rarely ever allow to resurface. At first, it hurt too much, and then, just like everything else San, you tried to forget in order to move on. But if you think long enough, you still feel him slip away from you, the hollow in your chest when you woke up the morning after and his head wasn’t resting on the pillow beside yours.

Lazily, you toy with the straw of your drink.

It was something about work and it keeping you apart that drove a wedge into your relationship. The nights when one of you would pass out waiting up for the other started to become the norm. The arguments that the lack of each other’s presence fired up outnumbered the sweet talks you used to have over dinner.

Bitter words were spoken, and everything crashed and burned to its fateful end. The mutual decision to break it off before you broke the other seemed the best option. You never truly gave yourself time to think if you regretted it, afraid that bringing it up would only prevent you from letting San go. So, you foolishly swept it under the rug.

And now, here you are, downing your drink in response to the wave of emotions Wooyoung’s words elicited in you. Trying to ignore how your skin crawls every time the man sitting beside you lays his eyes on you. Inching away every time he tries to talk to you.

“We’re leaving” there is no mistaking his voice, but it feels so foreign. You turn around, facing him. His unreadable eyes send a chill down your spine. You lift a brow in question.

“You’re drunk,” San shrugs. “I’m taking you back to the hotel”

Who does he think he is? Looking down at you from his high horse of righteousness, worrying about you like he cared. You scoff.

“‘M not and you most definitely aren’t” you turn around in your seat, facing away from him.

“Are too, come on” San’s hand reaches for your arm, turning you back around and trying to safely get you off the stool.

“And what’s it to you?” you finally snap, shrugging him off. “You haven’t spoken more than two words to me the whole trip, why do you care now?”

Despite your resolution not to cry, or not to care, you feel tears stinging in your eyes. So much for not letting him phase you.

“Yeah, let go man” all hopes of getting out of this situation are ruined the second the guy sitting beside you speaks. You roll your eyes, bracing for what’s to come and cursing yourself for not leaving the bar after getting your drink. “Who are you to ruin their fun?”

“I’m their boyfriend”

Of course.

But you can’t deny that the way he says it - like he very much believes it - moves something inside you.

San doesn't waste any time and doesn’t wait for a reply. His fingers wrap around your wrist delicately, making goosebumps cover your skin. His hold is familiar, warm and it makes you feel like crying. Too stunned to speak, you let him carry you through the stuffy club, not even bothering to apologize to the people you bumped into.

It takes way longer than you’d like to get out of the club, and the lump in your throat is getting harder to ignore by the second. Suddenly, you don’t feel like blaming San all that much for ignoring you.

Once the cold air of the night hits you, you free yourself from his firm grasp. San stops dead in his tracks, looking at you. You can’t do this right now. You worked so hard to keep things civil between you two, you can’t fight with him on Wooyoung’s day. Knowing that one more word from him would break you. You take a deep breath.

“You just had to do that, didn’t you?” Clearly, it didn’t work.

“And here I was, thinking I was going to get a thank you”

You point a finger at his chest. “I can handle my own, San” and there it is, that look on his face that tells you he knows better. He knows you. And for a moment, you hate that he’s right. For a moment, you hate him for fucking with your head. “And you know perfectly well what I’m talking about”

“Do I?”

“What do you want me to tell you, San? You’ve been acting all distant and righteous these past couple of days, and then you pull this stunt?” This is most certainly a conversation you don’t want to have in the middle of the street, but oh well. “You could’ve just asked if I wanted a ride back to the hotel, there was no need for all that”

A gust of wind blows by, making you shiver. When San moves closer, all traces of his anger gone, you stand still, holding your breath. Dumbstruck, you follow his every movement. San peels his jacket off, only to drape it over your shoulders. Something he’s done a million times before. A melancholy so strong pulls at your heartstrings. You didn’t think he noticed. His touch lingers a second too long, eyes looking into yours as if asking if what he just did was alright.

“Thanks” you mumble, watching him step back. The warmth melts your anger away as much as it messes with your head. You don’t like how the air shifts and becomes heavy with the weight of words left unsaid.

But what would you even tell him? That, apparently, for how much you tried, you can't move on? That he lingers in your mind, in your heart, your apartment. That he’s still all over you, and you don’t know how to shrug him off – you aren’t even sure if you want to.

“I miss you” the words leave your lips before you have a chance to stop them. You definitely shouldn’t have drunk tonight. San’s eyes are on you in a split second, but yours stay focused on the pavement. You can feel his gaze putting you on the spot, begging you to say more. You don’t.

“Me too” he speaks so quietly that his words almost get lost in the night.

San waves a taxi over and helps you in. The whole ride back is quiet; you’re a second away from bursting into tears, having finally realized the extent of your feelings for San. Only cursing Wooyoung for being right keeps you in one piece until you reach the door to your room.

You go to unlock it and turn around to give him his jacket back. Not being surrounded by his scent sends your heart to your feet. You can’t believe all the work you did not to feel like this anymore has gone to shit.

“Thank you,” you say once more, before turning to step into your dark room so you can cry to your heart’s content and pretend none of this happened in the morning.

San’s hand grips yours, stopping you in your tracks. When he whispers your name, you’re done for. One second you’re about to hide in your room and the other he’s turning you to him. You can see how he's looking for the words to say. You know that expression all too well, you recognize the furrow of his brow. Then e pulls you closer and the breath gets knocked out of your lungs. He’s closer than he’s ever been in a year and pressed as you are against his chest, you’re afraid he might hear the way your heart is furiously beating.

His sorry eyes are scanning every inch of your face, or so you think, blinking back tears. Under his gaze, you’re burning. Because you want him to let you go and hold you closer at the same time. His hands on your hips are still delicate, you can break free at any time, but you’re not sure you want to.

Your breath hitches when his forehead connects to yours, you can’t breathe, you can’t think-

And then he’s kissing you, and it’s like coming home. It tastes sweet like your drink and bitter like the whiskey on his tongue. You’re unsure if the saltiness is from your tears or his. It’s familiar and your gut tells you that it’s so right, so good that you push yourself closer, lose yourself in him. San’s hold on you is almost bruising, and he’s kissing you like you’re the only thing he’s ever known. Like he used to when he wanted to show you just how much he loved you-

You push away from him like you’ve been stunned. His confused eyes search your face, asking what’s wrong. You clear your voice, but no words leave your mouth. So, when he calls your name with a voice so fragile that it makes you shiver, it’s all you can do to bid him goodnight and finally lock yourself in your room.

Your lips are still tingling, you still feel San’s mouth on yours. In the darkness, a sob wrecks you. You’re supposed to be over him. You spent so much time trying to be. Your heart shouldn’t be breaking this way; for the time you lost trying to forget him, for how all your efforts were in vain.

“Let me in” though muffled by the door, his voice makes you jump. “Please”

Another loud sob escapes you, and you curse yourself for not stepping away from the entrance. Of course, he’d stay. Of course, he’d hear. Well, you can’t run now, can you?

When you open the door, San’s head shoots up. He goes to take a step but hesitates. You simply open the door wider, and he visibly relaxes. After letting him in, you close the door and turn on the lights. The silence is thick, and you almost can’t breathe.

“I’m sorry” he starts, catching your attention. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done a lot of things these past few days” despite your tears, you manage a scoff.

“Why?” it’s all that leaves your lips, but you know he’s caught on. You’re met with silence. Disappointment spreads like wildfire in your heart. He doesn't even have an answer - you bitterly think.

“So you’ve got nothing to say for yourself?” you push, starting to feel the anger bubble up inside. “You know how hard I’ve tried to make this trip work for Wooyoung's sake? For all our friends' sake? So that they don’t have to walk on eggshells around us, or invite us out one at a time?”

“And I haven’t!?”

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised, San!” you take a step closer. “We were doing alright, why’d you have to go and act like you have a stick up your ass whenever I’m around? Wooyoung’s your best friend, for crying out loud!”

“Don’t act all high and mighty! Have you ever considered, hell, even ever stopped to think-”

“Have I?” oh, if he only knew. “Have I? All I ever do is think, San! You’ve haunted all of my what-ifs ever since we broke up. So you can’t go ahead and pull shit like this when I’ve been trying my damn best”

Your voice is thick with emotion and your throat feels tight. The deafening silence that meets you makes your ears ring. San visibly deflates and the way he speaks is in open contrast to how you just did.

“Would you keep trying?” you don’t remember the last time you heard him sound so small. Still, his eyes are so full of determination.

“Why would I?” you ask, defeated. It’s like a flip switches inside him.

“Because I love you! I still love you”

Time stops, and for a moment nothing exists but you and your racing heart. It’s going so fast you fear it might beat out of your chest, or that he might hear it. It’s so loud that it rings in your ears. A surprised gasp escapes your lips: you understood perfectly fine, you just can’t believe the words he just so desperately uttered.

“I’ve been in love with you longer than I can remember. I loved you when I thought I’d never get to tell you again. I loved you when loving you quietly and at a distance was all I could do, but it was alright as long as I got to love you”

“San…”

“I’m sorry for earlier. I’m sorry for these last couple of days. There’s no excuse, but I just…” he sighs, closing his eyes. You go to take another step, but all determination to do so dies when you see him produce a little velvet box from his pocket. Your breath hitches and a sigh of his name leaves you. “All I could think about leading up to this trip was our first anniversary. You remember how we joked about eloping in Las Vegas?”

It seems your tears won’t stop flowing. You can’t believe he remembers. It was such a small thing, it takes you a second to connect the dots. It was a comment thrown around, something you said to make him laugh. Though you remember thinking that if he’d asked, you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.

“I’ve had this since then” hope sparks in your heart, though you’re not really sure you’re even breathing right now.

“San-”

“Don’t. I know this is so incredibly stupid, I don’t even know why I brought this with me-”

“Ask me” finally, finally he looks up at you and there’s no doubt in your mind. You still love him, you always have. You always will.

“What?”

“Choi San, ask me or I will” he’s blanking, frozen in his spot. So, you get down on one knee. His eyes widen and you hear sounds of protest. Suddenly it’s a race on who’s speaking first, both on your knees, face to face. You’re giggling like idiots, tears in your eyes.

“I thought that I could manage life without you” he starts, and you let him intertwine your fingers. “I thought we could go back to being happy without being in love. That we’d be better at a distance, but I was so wrong. The only thing that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be, and if you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. Fighting to make us work. I already made the mistake of giving you away once, I'll never make it again"

"Will you marry me?”

You waste no time in kissing him, big smiles barely making it a kiss, but you don’t care. You don’t care because San just asked you to marry him. Because he’s lifting you up and spinning you around and kissing you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. And for the first time in a while, you’re happy. So happy you could burst, laughing like you haven’t since you let him go.

“Do you think we should go get married?” he asks, swaying you around in his arms. You stare up at him, snorting.

“Maybe let’s wait till tomorrow, when our friends aren’t drunk off their faces, you know?” he chuckles, looking at you like you’re the only thing that could ever hold his attention. How could you ever convince yourself even for one second that you didn’t want to fight for him?

bonus:

Yunho’s slowly munching on a croissant, head resting on Mingi’s shoulder – who’s barely awake. You fear Wooyoung’s not even on your same astral plane right now, forehead against the table and hand gripping a coffee cup for dear life. Yeosang’s head is thrown back against the wall, he’s sipping slowly at his own coffee. It almost makes you think that you and San walking hand in hand could go unnoticed.

“Is that a ring?” you should’ve known Seonghwa’s sharp eyes wouldn’t miss it. After all, he’s the only one remotely awake. That, and he’s the only one not wearing sunglasses at the breakfast table. Lethargically, your friends’ faces emerge from behind the shades. Various sets of eyes squint in your direction as you come closer.

“Holy fuck you got back together” surprisingly, the voice is Wooyoung’s, though he sounds exactly like he just came back from the dead.

“Technically, we got engaged,” San points out. The words have barely left his mouth that suddenly his best friend is up and asking what, how, when, and why?! Eliciting various groans and shut the fuck ups.

“My birthday wish came true!” he throws himself at you both, squeezing you in a hug. Over his shoulder, you look at Yeosang. Despite his tired face, he smiles at you. So do the rest of your friends.

“Alright so, wedding tonight before we leave?” Wooyoung smirks all too enthusiastically, and you hear Seonghwa mumble as long as we drink juice, eliciting a round of quiet laughs.

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faghubby · 2 months

Text

FEELING LEFT OUT

"Paul, i have to ask you something" Kourtney said softly as she stroked my dick. She didn't wait for a response.

"Kelly, wants to have a threesome" she said. Kelly was her best friend. She looked like a blonde version of Kourtney with bigger breasts.

"Well" I said trying to act cool about it. "What does John say?" I asked John her husband of 4 years.

"He is excited about it" she told me. Teasing the head of my cock.

"Really?" I said surprised.

"Sure he has always had a thing for me. I am just not sure how me and Kelly would feel after" she stated.

"Wait, what?" I said. Sitting up. "John and you?" I was confused.

"Of course silly. Who did you think?" She stated then smiled. Her hand cupping my balls.

"Paulie, you can never get it up after you spurt. How would you be with two women?" She teased.

"So you want me to let you have a threesome with Kelly and John?" I replied.

"Yes, do you think I should or will it ruin mine and Kelly's relationship?" She asked.

"Kort, I don't want you sleeping with John" I wimpered.

"Don't worry baby, he has a big cock, and can go all night" Kourtney informed me.

"Kort, it's not that, I mean you be cheating on me" I almost cried.

"Don't be silly, that's why I am telling you" she replied her hand now stroking me again. "You do seem to like the idea" she giggled.

"Maybe we could put it video so you can watch" she suggested. I moaned.

"Do you want to cum, or fuck?" She asked. "Think of me and Kelly licking each other" as she said that I came all over her hand.

She was right no matter what we tried I wouldn't get hard again tonight. She made a cute pouting face.

"I mean how can I say no to you" I told her, she leaned in and kissed me. We didn't discuss it again until Saturday evening I walked in the bedroom to see Kourtney trying on new lingerie.

"What's this all about" I smiled excitedly.

"Going over to Kelly's" she said. "This one or the red?" She said pointing to another set of lingerie on the bed.

"What do you mean?" I asked half forgotten about the threessome.

"Well I want John to be excited" she stated.

"The green works with your red hair" I said absently.

"Baby, are you okay. I mean I don't want you to be upset" Kourtney said her brand cupping my face.

"It's just" I fell silent

"Baby I really want to try this. But if you are unsure" Kourtney said. I shook my head no.

"It's okay I just" again fell silent

"You feel left out?" Kourtney smiled "let me do this and I will let you forfil any fantasy you have" she promised. Her hand ran down and felt my erection. She smiled.

"Besides you secretly want this, don't you?" Kourtney giggled. I watched as she finished getting ready. She kissed my cheek before she headed out.

"are you going to play with yourself tonight?" She asked.

"I had not thought about it" I responded. I had been hard for the last hour watching her get ready. She wouldn't be home till tomarrow.

"It's okay if you do" she told me. Like she was giving me permission. As she said good night. I tried not to think about what she was doing. As I played a video game. But about an hour after she left I got a video from her phone of her sucking John's cock. He did have a big cock I thought as I watched her try and suck it all. I watched it a dozen times. It really turned me on watching her sucking a big cock. Then I got another video of Kelly sitting on her face. And as Kourtney licked and teased her clit. I jerked off watching it. I came rather quickly. I got cleaned up and got a third video of John shoving his cock deep into her pussy. As she continued to orally please Kelly. I got hard again. I spent the next hour rewatching them all hoping for more. But no more came. I went to bed and jerked off again.

I woke late, just as Kourtney got home. She couldn't stop smiling.

"How did you do?" Kourtney asked grabbing my crotch.

"You played with yourself?" She smiled.

"Twice" I blushed.

"Really, so you really liked watching me" she said kissing me.

"Yes" I admitted

"So if I wanted to do it again?" She asked. My body responded before I did as I got hard in her hand. She pulled out my cock and stroked me. I felt embarrassed. John was obviously so much bigger.

"What is it?" Kourtney said sensing something wrong.

It's, well John is well" i mumbled.

"Does that bother you?" She asked continuing to stroke me.

"Well I mean how can i" I almost wimpered.

"Well" she stopped and let her dress fall and pulled off her panties. She got on the bed and spread her legs.

"Your tounge is much better then his" she teased. With that I crawled between her thighs and licked and sucked her clit. She was red and sore. But came quick. Once I made her cum she sat up grabbed my cock that was still out and with a few quick stokes I came all over her leg. She seemed to drift off to sleep. I got up and decided to clean up. I tossed her dress and panties in that hamper. Then grabbed her overnight bag. I pulled out her clothes. I found the green panties she had worn last night. They where covered in dried cum. I held them staring at them.

"What are you thinking" Kourtney asked as she opened her eyes looking at me. She got up and took them from me. She held them to my nose.

"Does it excite you to smell him on my panties. She teased I stepped back. But couldn't deny that it made me hard yet again. Kourtney smiled and tossed the dirty panties in the basket. She grabbed my hand and led me to the bathroom. Where we showered together. She kept me hard but didn't let me finish. We got dressed and she continued to flirt and tease me all day.

"Did you realize that you haven't been inside me in two weeks." She teased. "Do you prefer my hand" she asked smacking my butt as we walked into the grocery store. "John was inside me twice last night and once this morning" she told me as she picked out cucumbers. Picking what seemed really big ones as she did.

I was worried someone would over hear her. As we got back in the car.

"What if we go the rest of the month without you inside me?" Kourtney teased.

"Kort you are killing me" I whined. She pulled out my cock as I drove but didn't play with it she took a pic and sent it to someone.

"Leave it out" she told me as I tried to fix my pants.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Sent pic to Kelly" she giggled.

"Drive me to Kelly's " she said reaching over and teasing the tip of my cock. We pulled up and I saw Kelly come out. I tried to put my dick away again.

"Leave it she already has the pic" Kourtney said. Kelly ran up reached in my window and teased my cock.

"John needs Kort again" she said. Kourtney kissed my cheek and rushed in their house as Kelly teased my throbbing cock. She opened my pants more.

"Cute little balls too" she teased. "I bet John has all 8 inched buried inside Kort. Think she let him take her ass? She promised it to him last night" Kelly told me keeping me on edge. Kelly only stopped to get in the car with me. It seemed like hours. But sure it was 20 minutes before Kourtney came out. As the door opened Kelly leaned over and took my dick in her mouth her tounge swirled once before I pumped my seed in her mouth. She sat up and kissed me. As Kourtney watched. She pushed my cum into my mouth. I tried to pull away but she held me tight. Forcing me to swallow. Kelly got out of the car. And without a word Kourtney kissed me as well. I could still taste my cum in my mouth. Or was that John's as well. As Kourtney fed me her lovers cum as well. I moaned as she grabbed my balls and squeezed softly. Before she let me go.

"Don't even try and tell me you didn't enjoy that" Kourtney said as we pulled away. I had in some strange way it was all so wrong so taboo I loved it. Kourtney kept me on edge the next two weeks, she did give me two hand jobs but mostly just teased me. She met up with John and or Kelly what seemed like every other day. It didn't take much convincing to get me to suck John's load out of her used pussy. And once I did it the first time. She had me do it everytime. There was no more videos. She would tell me sometimes about what they did to her. She told me John had taken her virgin ass. And I sat at the door of out room one night and listened to her and Kelly have lesbian sex. It was obvious that Kourtney was the submissive of the two.

on the first of the month Kourtney let me have sex with her. She was changed. She seemed stretched. I felt like I slid my dick into a warm glass of water. I couldn't finish. I felt inadequate and stopped. Having lost my erection. Kourtney held me told me it was okay.

"What is your fantasy, we can do whatever you want the month is yours" Kourtney told me.

"I don't know how to tell you this" I said almost in tears from the stress of it.

"Shhh, whatever it is baby you can tell me." She assured me.

"I have had alot of time these past weeks, and did some research. "Would you want to keep cuckolding me?" I asked

"Is thst what it's called" she giggled.

"Well you know maybe not just John, but other men as well" I stumbled over the words.

"You be okay with that? And how about you. You couldn't even" she started and realized I was hard again. She reached down and stroked me. I shifted so she had a better angle. She was naked and waiting I could of just had her but instead I wanted her hand. I wanted the denial.

Kourtney asked more questions. Even had me show her what I had been reading. I read her a story from Literotica about a wife cuckolding her husband as she teased my cock. I read how she milked his prostate with her fingers as she had him locked in chastity. Kourtney wasted no time in grabbing lube and working her fingers in my ass. I came all over her stomach. I bent down and licked it all up.

We spent the next two hours talking about. What we both wanted. Kourtney would continue to Cuckold me. With whoever she wished. I would be denied. But no chastity. She would help me explore pleasure from being penatrated, and see where that went. I couldn't deny that I loved to clean her. So she would make sure I had a steady supply of fresh sperm to consume. She even asked about making me wear her panties. But for now we would explore and see how far it went.

Jump ahead 2 years.

Kourtney has found she is very submissive, often being forced to service several men in one night. She has also found she loves Black men. She has had at least two gang bangs. But always comes home to me. She does give me the occasional hand job, bit mostly leaves it up to me to pleasuremyself. She does enjoy watching me struggle to maintain myself with a plug buried in my ass. Often I will cum in my pants while wearing one. She bought a strapon but it is for special occasions birthday, anniversary. She even went away for a long weekend with a guy. And I was forced to stay at John and Kelly's. Kelly made sure I didn't touch myself all weekend but took me out in public with a large plug inside and watched me cum my pants as I walked around a Walmart. One of my duties is to buy sexy lingerie for Kourtney to wear. Although Kourtney teases that I want to wear girlie things. She insist that I don't because if I did I would never want to take them off. Although I have to admit I am. Intrigued by it. I obey Kourtney's wishes.

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 9 months

Text

Note: request by @bubblyabs! thank you so much!! I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: SKMD SPOILERS. fluff/smut 18+, a lot of fourth wall breaking and my infamous attempt at humor.

pairing: SKMD!Sihtric x Modern!You (f)

summary: The fictional man of your dreams was suddely not so fictional anymore.

wordcount: 5,2k

'You looked really hot there.'

There you were again, wrapped in a blanket on your couch, ready to once again finish another binge rewatch of The Last Kingdom. You just couldn't stop yourself. Ever since you became obsessed with the show, you could watch nothing else. No other series appealed to you anymore, and you kept going back to the very first episode, pathetically anticipating the second season, because that's where your favourite character comes in; Sihtric Kjartansson. The man needs no introduction, if we're honest.

You don't know what exactly it is about him, but you were smitten. Each time he appeared on screen, you needed a glass of water and a cold shower afterwards.

You thought the actor who played him was cute too, you just couldn't really recall his name, you only remembered he had some complicated last name, Federsomething. However, cute or not, nothing was better than the rugged look of that pretty Danish rat boy in that medieval Netflix show. And so, only several weeks since your last rewatch, you were watching the movie again, which was the very last taste of the entire show you would ever get. Until they'll make some lousy remake in 10 years or something, which you would obviouslly not watch because you couldn't stand the thought of all those actors being replaced. Not on your watch.

Anyway, you had cried your absolute eyes out during the movie when you saw it the first time. But more importantly: whoever was responsible for Sihtric's haircut in the movie, was an actual blessing from the lord. Every time you saw his very first scene in that movie, where he walks up to Uhtred, with that long, loose hair, you simply just slide down your couch, being a whole hot mess. The things you would do to get that man in your bed, and the things you would do to him… oh, if only he wasn't fictional. You'd let him rail you, but alas.

And that made you groan each time. The most beautiful and perfect man you had ever seen was freaking fictional! It seems ridiculous, but Sihtric just ticked all your boxes.

He was funny, brave, loyal, adorable, hot, sexy, maybe not the smartest but you had no problem taking care of that man, he was good with weapons, he was protective and a real family man. What else could a you possibly want? You cursed Bernard Cornwell for coming up with the character and whoever casted that actor, as they are clearly responsible for you being forever single. Because you would never settle for anyone who was not Sihtric Kjartansson; fictional character and the goddamn love of your life.

And just like two weeks ago, you finished the movie and switched off your tv, while being a sobbing, snotty mess once again. Your three week holiday had just started, and your initial plan was to stay up late each night, but you had a headache from crying, so you decided to go to bed when it wasn't even close to midnight.

The next morning you woke up early because of some loud banging. You figured the toddlers of your upstairs neighbours were at it again, banging their fists on the wall, running through their apartment. You could hear their little gremlin claws stomp and scratch everywhere they went. But you had to admit, they were louder than usual today, and it actually sounded like they were kicking and stomping at your front door.

You groaned and got dressed for another day of simply doing nothing. You started your coffee machine and opened the door to your little hallway, which led through the front door. You hadn't checked for any mail downstairs in a few days, and it was time to leave your cave for that little adventure to the main hall of your apartment building.

But you would not get there, at least, not any time soon. No. You were about to get the biggest jump scare of your life, to which you would scream so loud, it would without a doubt wake up the entire city. And after that, everything would turn black in front of your eyes.

During your unconscious state you had the weirdest dream. You had opened the door to your hallway and found the cause of that weird banging noise. The noise came from your own apartment. The noise was created by a man, kicking at, and rattling your door, in a pathetic attempt to open it. And it wasn't just any man.

You recognised him from the back within a split second. It was the fictional man of your dreams, dressed in the red-brownish leather armour he wore when you last saw him on your tv, his hair braided and his face bloody and bewildered. You screamed so loud when you saw him, that someone probably called the cops, because it was a horrible, distressing sound. And it also scared the hell out of Sihtric, who turned to face you while reaching for the hilt of his sword as he stepped closer. But after a second, his expression changed from anger to astonishment, and he stared at you, all confused and wide-eyed. You stared into his mismatched eyes as he was merely two paces away from you.

'Lady?' he said, with the voice and accent that simply set your body on fire whenever you heard it.

And you randomly thought how Sihtric looked taller on tv than he did in real life, in your hallway, and then everything just turned black.

And it turned out that it wasn't a dream. But it all had actually happened before you passed out, in your hallway. Sihtric had been quick to catch your fall and caught you in his arms. While still completely confused, and in shock, he had carried you into your living room and carefully laid you down on your couch. And as it would take a good five minutes before you regained consciousness again, Sihtric took a quick look around your apartment, growing more confused and concerned with every passing second.

And you suddenly opened your eyes again as he had his back turned to you.

You blinked rapidly, your eyes trying to focus on the backside of the man in armour, which you recognised all too well. It hadn't been a dream, it all actually happened. And it was still happening apparently. How the fuck was this possible? Did someone prank you? Did someone pay a ridiculous amount of money to hire the actual actor, just to scare the shit out of you and to mess with you? Breaking your heart in the process as you could never be with the man of your dreams? What a sick joke.

While that medieval looking hunk stared at your family pictures, you quietly took your phone from your pocket and opened instagram. Your eyes grew wide when you saw that the actual actor, who you knew played Sihtric in the show, had posted a story just a minute ago, announcing that he was currently in some country, far away from yours, at a comic con.

'No way,' you whispered, 'but then who the fuck-', you looked back at Sihtric again, who had made his way over to your Last Kingdom book collection.

He stared at it, but as you couldn't see his face, you had no idea what he was doing because you remembered he shouldn't be able to read. You followed his movements with huge eyes, completely in shock, and without realising it, your phone slipped out of your hands and dropped on the floor with a loud thump. You spooked Sihtric, who slightly jumped, and was quick to turn around, again ready to draw his sword.

'Where am I?' he asked, trying to sound calm.

'W-what… uh, England?'

'England?'

'E-England,' you said again.

'What is the year, lady?'

'2024.'

'What?'

'No, sorry! Sorry, I- I mean 2023!'

Sihtric stared at you, and you thought if he wouldn't blink soon, his eyes would dry out.

'H-how did you get here?' you asked.

'How did you get here?' he asked cautiously.

'I… live here?' you frowned.

'Why?'

You blinked. 'Because… I… pay to live here?'

'Oh,' Sihtric said, then nodded, 'that seems fair. What is that?' he asked, pointing to your tv.

'It's a t- uhh,' you figured that if for some reason this really was Sihtric, the medieval dude from your favourite tv show, he would not know what a tv is, so for the sake of playing it safe, you lied, 'it's a… art.'

'Art?'

'Yes, like a drawing,' you panicked.

Sihtric looked at the tv, then back at you, and said, 'but it's all black?'

'Well, it's… modern… art? It's really expensive,' you said, hoping he would not try to break your tv for whatever reason.

'Expensive?'

'Yes,' you said, 'it's, uh, over a six hundred poun- pieces of silver.'

Sihtric looked back at your tv again, scratched his forehead, and then locked eyes with you again, 'Lady,' he snickered, 'I think someone has fooled you. That drawing is not worth that amount of silver.'

You smiled, simply agreeing, while anticipating his next move.

'Is that,' he squinted his eyes and walked over to your kitchen, 'Uhtred?' he frowned, looking at your coffee cup which had a picture of Uhtred's face on it, 'why?' Sihtric asked as he looked back at you.

'I, uhh…' were you going to tell him they didn't have a cup with his face on it, and that you had sent an angry email to the company? Maybe not. You cleared your throat, but before you could speak, Sihtric's eyes found the large framed poster of him, Finan and Uhtred on your wall. And his eyes grew wide.

'Where did you get that? Why am I… why are… wh-,' Sihtric stopped talking, then eventually said, 'who made this painting?'

'... Google?'

'Who is Google?'

'It's, well, so,' you stammered.

'You paid six hundred pieces of silver for this too?'

'Wha- no, more like…seven.'

'Seven hundred?' Sihtric gasped, 'lady,' he smiled, clearly flattered.

'No! I mean like seven pou- bloody pieces of silver!'

'Seven?' he frowned, suddenly offended, 'only seven? Yet you paid six hundred for that?' he pointed at your tv.

'Sihtric, look,' you sighed.

'How do you know my name?' he asked, frightened.

Okay. This had to stop, right now. What the fuck is going on?

You told Sihtric to shut up, a little harsher than you really meant, but so be it. You took his hands and sat him down on your couch. For some reason he kept holding your hands, which you obviously didn't mind, and you tried to explain how you knew who he was while desperately not trying to get distracted by his appearance. Those tattooed fingers, the tattoo on his neck, and all those scars. He was even more handsome in real life. If this was real life, of course.

'You… you have seen my life?' Sihtric frowned, 'on… the black painting?'

'Yes, it's called a tv. Here, I can show you,' you took the remote, and Sihtric gasped when he suddenly heard noise and saw moving images on the previously black screen.

'Sorcery,' he whispered with big eyes, squeezing your hand.

'No, not sorcery,' you said, remembering how awfully superstitious he was in season 3. And how cute he looked in season 3. Well, he was cute in every season.

'The… the people,' Sihtric suddenly said, 'are they s-stuck?'

'Stuck?'

'Are they stuck in the painting?' he asked, concerned.

'What? No… no, it's… oh god,' you sighed, 'the people are fine,' you smiled.

You quickly switched on Seven Kings Must Die, and you thought Sihtric was going to pass out. He jumped up when he saw Finan and Ingrith, near the beginning of the movie, in Uhtred's hall, your favourite scene, and he ran to the tv.

'Finan!' Sihtric yelled, 'is he stuck?' he looked back at you, worried, 'can he… can he hear me?'

Sihtric turned to the tv again and pressed his fingers against the screen.

'No! Don't touch the screen!' you yelled, worried he'd damage it with his rough fingers, and Sihtric was quick to pull his hand back with a flinch. And you felt horrible for making him flinch, but before you could apologise, Sihtric had composed himself again.

'But… F-Finan?' he asked, 'is he okay? Where is he?'

'Finan is fine! He's not stuck! This all already happened… right?' you grimaced, hoping you were right somehow.

Sihtric looked at you, confused, then back to the screen, and he stumbled backwards when he saw his own face appear on the magic painting. He watched the scene unfold, and he didn't know what to say, he just stared at the screen as he reached for your hand again.

'You looked really hot there,' you blurted out, and you felt yourself blush.

'Hot?' Sihtric frowned, 'I wasn't hot, lady. It was a cold night! Can't you see the furs?' he scoffed.

'No, I mean, you- … no, you're right. It must've been… really cold that day.'

'It was,' Sihtric said sternly, and looked back at the screen again, 'I remember this,' he gasped, 'Finan said he only fell asleep once,' he said, just seconds before Finan said the line on tv.

'See!' Sihtric gasped and looked at you again, 'he actually has fallen asleep many times, lady,' he grinned.

Holy fuck. You didn't even think about that. Sihtric obviously knew everything that had happened, the whole story, not just the bits and pieces you saw from their lives on tv.

'H-has he?' you asked, cautiously.

'Yes, lady,' Sihtric said, 'it often happened because he had too much ale the night before. And because he's old,' he winked with a grin.

'Oh,' you snickered, 'I see. And… you never fell asleep?'

'Me? no, never,' he said with confidence.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, lady.'

You hummed and skipped to the scene where both Finan and Sihtric had fallen asleep, while Uhtred was awake.

'So…' you smiled, pointing at the tv.

Sihtric gasped, 'No, that… see! See, I'm awake. I was merely resting my eyes, I was… in deep thought,' he lied.

'Okay,' you laughed, 'if you say so.'

You watched Sihtric's face, which went from mildly ashamed to a light chuckle, and soon he laughed softly along with you. He still had no idea how it was possible that he could see his own face on your expensive painting, but Sihtric was a simple guy; he saw a pretty lady and he was smitten, not caring about much else anymore, except for winning your heart. He clearly didn't know you were basically ready to marry him on the spot. And for some reason you both just seemed to accept the situation, no questions asked. You watched the rest of the movie together, and it was surreal. Sihtric remembered everything, told you little anecdotes and simply seemed to enjoy seeing his friends on your screen.

'So… did Uhtred die?' you asked when the end credits were shown on screen.

'Uhtred died?!' Sihtric gasped.

'What? No, I mean, I'm asking you!'

'Uhtred was alive when I last saw him!' Sihtric said, and so you found out Sihtric had ended up in your world only hours after that heartbreaking last scene in the movie.

'Okay, then I'm sure he's, uh, fine,' you tried to convince yourself as much as you tried to convince Sihtric. 'Also,' you cleared your throat, 'what happened to your wife and kids?'

'Oh,' he said, 'we had a rough divorce. She broke my heart and took the kids,' he shrugged.

'Oh,' you blinked, surprised, 'I'm… sorry?'

'Are you married?' Sihtric blurted out.

'Uh, me?' you chuckled, twirling your hair, looking the handsome Dane up and down, 'n-no, I'm not. Why?' you kicked your feet.

Sihtric stared at you, he just couldn't believe his luck after being strangely teleported into a different year and world, ending up with a beautiful lady who wasn't married. But then he thought that was odd, because why weren't you married yet? A pretty lady who was clearly rich, at least that's what he thought, who lived in a nice home, was of marriage age, who was also very kind and funny, and with a body which he would undoubtedly be thinking of later that night. Why has no one married you yet, he wondered.

'Are you cursed?' he said without thinking.

'What?'

'Cursed,' he said again, 'you're not married. Why?'

'Uh, well,' you cleared your throat, 'I'm… picky.'

Sure, picky. You were simply in love with the medieval, fictional man on your couch, and you would never settle for anything less.

'Picky?' Sihtric frowned.

'Yes,' you replied, 'only a certain kind of man could win my heart,' you grinned, mindlessly twirling your hair around your fingers again.

'Oh?' Sihtric raised an eyebrow and smirked, clearly intrigued.

And he thought of it as a game now, a game he desperately wanted to play, because he wanted to know if he could win. And gods, how he wanted to win you and take you back home with him. Or stay here with you, he really didn't care, not after you just batted your eyelashes at him. No, he would do everything for you now.

'So,' he cleared his throat, shifting a little closer next to you on the couch, 'what kind of man would that be?'

'Hm,' you hummed, thinking as if you weren't looking at that specific man, 'a man who is… kind,' you said, 'loyal and brave,' you smiled at him.

Sihtric hummed and licked his lips as he gave you a playful look. He knew he was kind, loyal and brave, so he figured his chances with you were pretty good right now.

'And… someone who is not afraid to take charge,' you teased, seeing if he's willing to take the bait.

Sihtric grinned and slightly adjusted his position.

'He also has to be protective,' you said, 'and strong,' your eyes trailed down to his clothed biceps, knowing very well what's underneath all of that fabric he was wearing.

'Well,' Sihtric smiled, a little cocky, 'I might just be the man for you then.'

'You think so? I'm not sure…,' you played it cool, but inside you were going stark raving mad, this surely had to be a dream.

'I think I am,' he gave you a smirk and winked.

You were absolutely ready to pull that man in your bed, but it was only noon, you had just met him a few hours ago, and everything was just really freaking weird. So you held back. You told him you'd think about it, to which he frowned, playfully offended. You bickered a little and eventually ended up discussing what on earth you two were going to do now. He had nowhere to go, and you didn't want to kick him out, but he was still a stranger. Even though he had lived in your head rent free for years already. You told him first things first; he had to get into different clothes. Which he agreed to. You did some digging and found some sweatpants you had bought online years ago, which turned out way too big for you, and you had forgotten to return it, which came in handy now. Unfortunately, the sweatpants were pastel pink, and Sihtric clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply as he grabbed them out of your hands. You snorted, and to make it worse, the only thing you owned which he would possibly fit in, was a matching sleeveless crop top.

'No,' Sihtric said sternly, looking at the top you held in your hands.

'Guess you're not brave enough for me then,' you taunted.

Sihtric huffed and snatched the shirt out of your hands. You pointed him towards your bathroom, where he stayed for quite a while, simply admiring every foreign object before he even thought of changing clothes. And when he finally walked out, you thought you were going to pass out again.

He had untangled his previously braided hair, wearing it down now, which you loved so much, all while wearing that sleeveless crop top, which barely covered half of his insanely toned upper body. And the matching sweatpants hung on his hips, low enough to reveal he wasn't wearing any underwear, which made sense, as you had no underwear that would possibly fit him.

He raked his fingers through his hair, exposing even more of his trained torso when he did, and every single filthy thought you ever had about that man crossed your mind at once. You desperately tried to shake your thoughts and took him back into your living room, where you sat down and simply talked. He wanted to know all about you, and even though he didn't understand a lot of the things you mentioned, he knew he was going to marry you. Somehow.

Later you made him dinner and as promised, Sihtric slept on the couch. And you had to fight the desperate urge to find him in the night and lure him into your bed, which Sihtric would have gladly allowed to happen.

A few days passed and Sihtric seemed to adapt decently. He was not as dumb as Uhtred and Finan always made him seem, but he was definitely as clumsy as expected. Knocking over drinks, breaking small objects which he wanted to look at but his hands were too rough, things like that. But you couldn't give a shit, you were madly in love with him, and you couldn't wait for him to break you-... your bed.

Sihtric was very flirty too, and loved brushing his fingers over your face, arms, or well, anywhere he could really, whenever he could. But he was also a true gentleman, and slept on your couch each night, for nearly a week.

One evening he asked if he could see one of those Last Kingdom episodes you had talked about, and you agreed.

It was still unreal to watch an episode with the one and only Sihtric Kjartansson next to you, and it still felt like a dream. You switched on a random episode, and it happened to be the one where his father, Kjartan, ends up getting killed. At first Sihtric had been watching in awe, amazed that he could relive parts of his life like that.

But when he realised where it was going, his face became more and more deprived of emotions. You noticed it quite late and wanted to switch the tv off once you saw it, just before Kjartan got killed, but Sihtric stopped you by taking your hand in his. And he held your hand tightly as he watched the scene unfold. He showed no emotion, which told you he was more or less at peace with it, but it still was a rough moment to sit through.

When the episode was over, Sihtric looked at you, and you could finally do what you had always wanted to do after seeing Sihtric in that terrible scene; you pulled him in your arms and held him tight.

'Are you okay?' you asked after a moment.

'Yeah,' he said quietly, enjoying the feeling of having his arms around you.

He softly hummed as you brushed your fingers through his long, wavy hair, which was simply another dream come true, and he held you tightly for a long time.

'Can I stay with you?' Sihtric suddenly asked a few evenings later as you had just watched another episode.

'What?' you asked.

'Can I stay here? With you? I mean… I- I like you. I like being here,' he said, 'and, unless we find out how I got here, I have nowhere to go.'

'Y-you want to stay here? With me?' you frowned.

Sihtric wasn't wrong, he truly had no place to go and you also still had no idea how on earth he had gotten here, which you both quickly stopped questioning as it drove you mad. And naturally you wanted him to stay, but it would be a hard thing to explain to your friends and family, who knew all about your (unhealthy) love for Sihtric, who was, until last week, non-existent in the real world.

'I'd like to stay,' Sihtric smiled sweetly at you, 'with you, lady.'

And you just couldn't resist him anymore. With his long, wavy hair, those mismatched eyes, that smile, and the pink crop top he kept wearing once he realised you liked it on him. He did swap the pastel sweatpants for a black one, after you had bought it for him a few days ago. He was simply the most mesmerising man you had ever seen, and before you knew it, your lips crashed together into a heated kiss. And you tore each other's clothes off as fast as you could. You've been waiting years for this dream to become a reality, and you absolutely would live your fantasy to the fullest right now.

Sihtric seemed just as desperate as you, but before he pulled your panties down, you ran to your bedroom. He was still a medieval man, who knows what he caught in those days and you wanted to limit the risk of catching something as much as you could, and also you did not want a baby, yet, so you grabbed a condom. Sihtric frowned at the package, and you quickly understood he had never seen such a thing. You chuckled a little awkwardly and opened the package.

'It's protection,' you explained, but you didn't want to spook him by talking about STDs, knowing he would probably think it's a curse, so you simply said, 'it's so you don't put a child- I mean, pup in my belly,' you frowned a little as you said the ancient words.

'You do not want my pups?' Sihtric asked, and he almost sounded hurt.

'N… I… well,' you cleared your throat, 'not yet,' you admitted.

Sihtric started to ramble and question you, and you politely asked him to stop talking. You asked if he was okay with everything, to which he then nodded with a smirk, and he allowed you to put the condom on him. And the low hums he let out when you did so, were enough to turn your insides into jelly, and the pressure between your thighs was immense and unbearable. And as you wanted to take your hands off him, he quickly held onto your arm, keeping your hand in place.

'Please,' Sihtric said with big, darkened eyes and a sly smile.

And you understood he seemed to like the feeling of your hand working his length. You had to admit, all those fanfic writers did not lie about his size; you had nothing to complain about here. God, the way you enjoyed having this man on your couch, completely naked, except for the Mjölnir pendant around his neck, with his head thrown back as he smiled while soft moans escaped his slightly parted lips, enjoying the way you made him feel. And it didn't take long before Sihtric came, and the sound of his low groan was pure bliss to your ears, and even more arousing than you already had expected it to be.

After a short moment, Sihtric was quick to push you up and make you sit back against the couch. He kneeled down in front of you, on the floor, and he carefully spread your legs with a smirk. He threw one leg over his broad shoulder, and before you could grasp that your wildest fantasy was coming true, his face was already buried between your thighs. He nipped your sensitive skin with his lips before he softly kissed your wet folds, followed by running his tongue over your core, making you exhale sharply as your hands found his hair. Your body trembled in no time as he sucked, kissed and licked your clit, as if you were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life. And just like Sihtric, it didn't take long before you came with a desperate moan, pulling his hair to which he groaned.

You both ended up laughing softly as Sihtric sat back next to you, giving you some time to recover, while you both realised how insane this was. But in less than a minute he already took your face in his hands and pulled you closer, wanting to kiss you like there was no tomorrow. And as soon as you felt like you could take him again, you climbed on his lap, to which Sihtric smirked. He watched you with half open eyes as he bit down on his lip. His hands settled on your hips while yours found support by holding onto his muscular shoulders. His body was even more impressive than you imagined, and you cursed Netflix for never giving the audience a shirtless Sihtric scene.

And then you finally sank down on his cock, you both gasped at the feeling, hands desperately squeezing and scratching each other to display pleasure. And Sihtric was vocal, moaning and cursing with a smile as he enjoyed the way you were riding him, his eyes fixated on you, darting between your eyes, your lips, your breasts and down to your core, loving the view of how you took his length.

'Gods,' he moaned, out of breath, and then he hummed with a light chuckle.

'Fuck,' you muttered under your breath, digging your nails in his shoulders as you tried your hardest to not finish right there and then.

'Hm, I want to fill you up,' Sihtric whispered with ragged breath, and your attempt to not finish before him was to no avail, as his words were enough to make you cry out his name while your walls clenched around his throbbing cock.

'Fuck, sorry,' you said, panting, riding out your own high while feeling a little embarrassed you finished so fast.

But to your surprise, and pleasure, you felt Sihtric's grip on your hips tighten up and he let out another hard, deep groan as he threw his head back, finishing only moments after you, just as he had hoped he would. You both tried to catch your breath as you embraced each other for a little while. Then you took a shower together and dressed in some comfy clothes. You grabbed a few drinks and some snacks, and made your way into your bedroom, telling Sihtric to come with you. And on your bed, you'd talk and joke around for hours, if you weren't too busy kissing each other or cuddling that is.

'If you had the chance,' you asked, hours later, as Sihtric held you in his arms, 'would you go back home?'

'Only if you'd go back with me,' he said, without any hesitation or doubt, and he squeezed you a little tighter against his chest, 'but if you wish to stay here, then I will stay here, even if I could go back.'

'Why?' you asked, surprised but happy to hear his answer, and you felt a little emotional all of the sudden.

'Because,' Sihtric smiled, moving up a little to look into your eyes, 'because I like you,' he lovingly brushed his fingers over your cheek, 'I have lived my life there, back home,' he said, 'there's not much there for me anymore. I would rather stay here and have you, have someone to take care of and to provide for, then going back without you and just… feel alone again at night.'

'I love you,' you suddenly blurted out.

Sihtric's jaw dropped slightly as he looked at you with big eyes, and then he smiled softly, 'I love you too,' he said, 'and I just want to be wherever you are.'

'Sihtric,' you whispered, cupping his cheeks as you stared into the warrior's vulnerable eyes, 'I will simply follow you anywhere you decide to go.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305

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kairiscorner · 8 months

Text

never feel ashamed that you're feeling. — miles 42 with an emotional!adopted!younger sister!reader

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

summary: some kids at school just really won't leave you alone and stop teasing you for things you didn't want to be reminded of, but your big brother miles isn't gonna let you dwell on those sad, painful thoughts any longer. pairing: earth 42 miles with an emotional!adopted!younger sister!reader genre: platonically angsty, fluffy, and comforting !! word count: 745 request: miles with an adopted!sister who is very sensitive.(12 yo) so like, someone was making fun of reader and then miles saw a readers eye starting to tear up. what will he do?🤷🏻‍♀️ thanks you 💋😘 (you're the reason why i watched atsv) author's note: i need a kuya miles in my buhay i swear (ALSO I'M SO HONORED TO KNOW ANON WATCHED ATSV ALL BC OF ME, WHAT ... i'm cryin rn fr and in the mood to rewatch itsv since it released on netflix for us again FINALLY) i hope ya like this anon 🫂

miles came home to the sound of his darling little sister bawling in her room, the door slightly ajar, allowing for her cries to be heard all throughout the house. neither uncle aaron nor their mom was home yet, and they wouldn't be home until later that night–miles was the only one there right now, and he was worried sick about what was happening to his little sister. he climbed up the stairs and called out to her, gently asking her if she was okay or needed help, but all he was responded to with were muffled cries of 'get out of here, miles' and 'leave me alone'.

"hey... is everything... are you..." miles stuttered, unsure of how to approach you because it was usually rio or aaron tending to you and comforting you ever since. miles had known you were a little more emotion than most kids your age, but he loved you dearly and wanted to help, but he... didn't know where to start, because he knew that from how you looked now, you clearly were not okay. miles placed a hand on your shoulder and looked at you with a sympathetic look. "come on, please, look at me?" miles asked you as he offered you a handkerchief from his jacket's pocket, which you weakly took and blew your swollen nose with. your eyes were puffy and had tears relentlessly flowing from them, and your sniffles got even louder as miles wrapped his arm around you, moving closer to you and letting you know through his gestures and actions that he's listening, he's gonna help you, any way he can.

"the... kids at school..." you began, blowing your nose into the handkerchief and sloppily wiping away at your tears as miles hung on to every word you uttered, determined to figure out why you were crying. "...they kept... they kept teasing me, saying mamí wasn't... wasn't my real mom. tió aaron, he... he looks nothing like me... i'm not... i'm not part of this f-family..." you stuttered out, your voice faltering as you sobbed all over again, painfully reminiscing how you began to tear up when those kids kept pestering you, saying you weren't a real morales.

miles looked at you with a look of shock, he was undoubtedly angry at those kids that tried hurting you, thinking their joke was any funny to tell anybody—let alone you, you who was easily swayed by the winds of emotion, easily hurt, easily excited; the you who was vulnerable to many things. you were already insecure ever since you were welcomed into the morales' family ever since you were a young girl, you were always told you were part of the family, and as much as you wanted to believe them... you were so used to being rejected by people you hoped to love you, hoped to give you a home that would last forever and a family that would unconditionally be yours and you'd be theirs until the end of time. the morales family was just that family, but no matter how much you wanted to believe you were a part of their family... you were always reminded that they weren't originally yours, you were adopted, welcomed in, not made in the family.

miles didn't care if you looked slightly or greatly different from him and his family, he didn't care if you had completely different biological parents nor if your name wouldn't have 'morales' in it if rio and aaron didn't take you in; he didn't care if you didn't have a drop of their blood in you, miles loved you as his dearest little sister, no matter who you really were or who you came from. "no... don't listen to that, it... it doesn't matter if you didn't come from mamí or don't have a drop of our blood in you... we love you all the same, i love you all the same." he muttered, kissing the top of your head and squeezing you tight ever so often as he wrapped you in his embrace, shushing you and telling you that you were a morales, you were one of theirs, through, and through, and through. you sobbed even more as miles reassured you that, no matter whose blood coursed through your veins, no matter how differently you two may look, or if you carried the surname 'morales' with you or not—you were his little sister, from now, until the end of time.

tags !! @q2ie @conitagray @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless @euphovlq

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okay-j-hannah · 1 year

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Hear My Words

Doctor Who : Fic

Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2352

Warnings: I’ve had to rewatch Doctor Who to get back into writing for the characters and... of course I’m swooning left and right. I need to watch everything David Tennant now 🤦‍♀️

Request: “Hi! I wanted to request a fluff hurt/comfort John smith/10th doctor? Like the reader has a crush on the doctor, and during the events of Human Nature, they get really sad seeing John fall in love with Joan, but when he’s the doctor again, he tells the reader it’s always been them? Thank you and hope you’re doing good!” Anon

A/N: Using the chameleon arch meant putting you in charge of John Smith, but it also meant the Doctor was free to fall in love much to your dismay

The tardis was quaking beneath their feet, parts exploding in showers of sparks. Fireworks of brilliant gold and fiery orange cascading until burning out against the grated floor. The erratic flying sent the Doctor and (Y/N) tumbling against the railing.

“Did they see your face?” the Doctor yelled over the steaming console.

“No, I don’t think so,” (Y/N) said frantically, “Doctor, what are we going to do?”

He paused his searching to look at her. Between the smoke and the sparks, she looked frightened – really properly scared. And it broke his hearts. He wanted to take her by the hand and whisper sweet words of endearment and comfort. He wanted to let her know that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

His fingers itched to reach for her. His legs begged to run for her. His hearts pleaded to embrace her.

But he couldn’t. Not when he’d played the façade so well.

She had no idea that he was completely smitten by her.

“We’re going to have to disappear,” he finally breathed. Yes – disappear. If he could conceal them from the hunting party then no harm would befall her.

“Alright,” she said shakily, though relief painted her tone. There was always relief when the Doctor had a plan. “How are we going to do that?”

His hands clenched, “I’ve got to stop being a Time Lord.” His eyes flickered up and down her frame before pouncing to the console. He frantically continued his search for an object.

“I’m sorry, what?” (Y/N) cried, “How is that possible?” Her heart was in her throat, “Doctor, you’re frightening me.”

He clutched at a silver fob watch, running for her. “I’m going to rewrite my biology. Can’t do the same to you, I’m afraid. You’ll have to improvise.” He tossed the watch into the air, catching it to gain her attention. “Rewriting means my memories too. You’ll have to be in charge.”

“I don’t understand.”

He cursed himself – urged himself to speak slower. “I have to completely conceal myself. To do that I’ll have to become something else. I’ll have to become human. And I’ll need you to look after me.”

His arms felt warm and heavy as he kept them from holding her. In times of panic, when the adrenaline was high, it was always harder to keep his wants under control.

“I don’t…”

“I need you to take care, (Y/N). Can you ensure that I don’t open this watch until the most dire of circumstances? Can you make sure that I believe myself human until we can escape?”

Her eyes were beginning to water at the sight of his begging.

“Doctor…” she breathed, “I…”

~~~

John shot up in bed, gripping his blankets and chasing the last images of the dream. Of the angelic look on the girl’s face.

He rubbed at his eyes, “Gracious…” he sighed. “I’m getting that one more often than I like.” Of the catalogue of dreams that plagued him at night, the one about the kitchen maid became more and more frequent.

And it always left him with a race in his chest.

He would spend the morning teaching his classes and reading his books and seeking a glance of Nurse Redfern. But by the end of the day he sought a glimpse of the kitchen maid, (Y/N). He yearned for a bit of conversation with her – a much needed reprieve on his ever consumed mind.

His head always felt stuffed, as if a dense volume of water filled his cranium to the brim until the pressure was too much. It somehow felt lighter after an evening with Miss. (Y/N).

He found his wandering footsteps descending the stairs to the kitchens, running into a few flustered maids.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Pardon me, sir – are you lost?”

He’d wave them off, “No, I assure you I know where I’m going. Good evening.” The stone corridors became second nature as he found the staff room beside the bustling kitchen preparing dinner.

“Ah, excuse me,” he’d gesture to a lady’s maid, “Where might I find… oh, there she is, never mind.” And the sight of (Y/N) made his heart tug in a way that felt overwhelming, as if it tried to consume his entire chest.

“Sir,” she muttered, sounding surprised even if her eyes spoke otherwise. John always found his way downstairs at the end of the day, “Do you wish to have your dinner in your quarters? I could bring it up personally.”

“Lovely idea,” he said, “But I would rather enjoy a meal here with you, if you were agreeable.”

She urged the warmth from her cheeks, “That’s rather improper, sir.”

He shrugged, “I’ve found my quarters rather suffocating as of late.”

“Very well, sir,” she curtseyed, “You can find yourself comfortable in the staffing quarters and I’ll be there momentarily with supper.”

(Y/N) scurried to the kitchens with a squirming stomach, always worried that the reason John sought her out was because he finally remembered who he was – that he was becoming himself again. But as always he just took comfort in her familiarity.

There was something about her, he would say, that would put him at ease. As if they were companions in another life.

But she knew their coming conversation would be of dreams and fantastical stories and the possible future with other staff members. Inevitably they would dwell on the topic of Nurse Redfern.

And it would hurt her to encourage him to speak with the nurse, to befriend her and see what would grow.

“Here you are, sir,” she said, placing a delectable dish in front of him. She personally chose his favorites from the serving platters about to be sent up. “Will there be anything else?”

He snapped his head towards her, “Surely you’ll stay. Please, sit beside me.”

She held back a retort, already hearing the gossip jumping between her coworkers. “If it please you, sir.”

“It always has, (Y/N). I want to speak with you about an interesting dream I had last night.”

She nodded, retrieving her meager servants stew and sitting beside him. “I figured as much.”

“What do you mean?” He was amused.

“Just that you normally come knocking when you’ve had a funny dream or some peculiar thought.”

“Well, you’re right.” He forked around his supper, “I dreamt that we were on another one of those adventures.”

(Y/N) kept her eyes down, pondering her stew. She wondered what memory was forcing its way to the surface of his mind.

“You were so terribly frightened about something chasing us,” he chuckled, “And I told you I had to become a human to hide us.”

She stilled for all but a moment, containing the inflection in her voice, “I hadn’t realized you weren’t human in these adventures.”

“Neither had I,” he laughed, eyeing her simple supper. “Would you care for a bit of mine?” He gestured to the seasoned chicken and roasted vegetables and rich sauce.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chortle, “Sir, there are rules between kitchen maids and professors.”

“Rules about a bit of chicken?”

She gave him a look, “Are you like this with any of the other staff? Do you blur the lines with them too?”

He cleared his throat, using a teacup saucer to give her a portion of his meal, “You cooked it, you should be able to eat it too.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, “But that didn’t answer my question.”

John swallowed a mouthful, “Has she asked about me at all?”

(Y/N) burned her tongue on the stew. She knew he was going to say Nurse Redfern, but it didn’t make hearing it any better.

“Once or twice.”

“And?” he pressed, abandoning his knife and fork.

She shrugged, “Joan’s always been cautious of her feelings. She keeps asking if you talk about her at all. I suppose because she wants to know if you’re interested before she makes a move.”

“And what have you told her?” he asked, leaning forward, wide eyed at her words.

“That she should go with her instincts,” (Y/N) said quietly, “That she should stop doubting herself.”

John positively beamed, “Oh, now that’s brilliant.” He fell back in his chair, grinning, “Well done with the spy work.”

(Y/N) felt her stomach squirm again, pushing her food around. She couldn’t help but feel special that John sought her out for company – hopeful that it was because his human self took an interest in her unlike the Time Lord version. But he still couldn’t fathom a future with her, fake life or not.

It made her queasy.

“Are you alright?” he asked, digging into his food once more.

“Fine,” she said warily, “Just fine.”

~~~

It was later in the evening, an hour past the usual time for dinner, and (Y/N) was ascending the staircase towards the professor quarters.

There was a request from John Smith: a bowl of soup and crackers. There was a report of an upset stomach and slight fever, meaning he would take supper in his room.

He asked that she deliver it personally and it was almost hilarious when she told the lady’s maid that the assistant cook was to leave the kitchens.

It was foreign walking the halls of the school, but she felt a thrill of excitement at seeing John again. As always she couldn’t help but hope he wanted to see her because he finally realized he liked her.

And as always she was disappointed beyond belief.

She knocked on his door and nudged it open with her hip, tray of soup in hand. She was able to catch the last second of Nurse Redfern kissing John’s forehead.

Of course Joan was there. John was sick.

“Oh, goodness,” Joan gasped, “The kitchen maid.”

“(Y/N),” John said warmly, flushed at having been caught in an intimate moment. “You’ve brought my supper.”

(Y/N) bowed her head, refusing to look at him, and she hurried to place the tray on his side table. She could see Joan holding her stethoscope tersely from the corner of her eye.

In a small voice (Y/N) asked, “Might I inquire after the patient?”

“He’ll be alright,” Joan replied, “Just a tinge of the flu.”

John smiled, “I’ll be right as rain in the morning.” He spotted the way she refused to look at him. “Thank you, for answering my call.”

“Always,” she said instantly. “I’ll always answer.”

She stood there rather awkwardly for another minute, Joan clearing her throat to excuse the silence.

“That’ll be all,” the nurse said.

(Y/N) curtseyed, scrambling to get out, “Of course, sorry. If there’s anything else…”

“Thank you,” John said again, his voice quieter.

She didn’t dare look at him to see if his face matched the sweet sound of the thank you. She instead ran to the nearest stairwell and found refuge in the staff quarters.

She felt the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver in her pocket, a little reminder of the mission at hand. A small part of her chest began to hurt as she clutched the short piece of metal. It grounded her with thoughts of distant planets and endangered people. Of quick breaths stuck between a tight space.

It was easy to fend off her affections when the Doctor was too busy to look on anyone else. But with the steady pace of a human life, he was falling for another. And that realization pained her like nothing else.

She could only wish the three months went by quickly.

~~~

The Doctor stood outside the tardis, framed by the grey hills of 1913 England. The wind was whipping his coat about, sending his hair into a frenzy.

It was so him, it was making her sigh with relief.

“Hello there,” (Y/N) said, climbing the hill, “Feeling more like yourself?”

“Yes, well…” he shook one of his legs, “The right foot still feels a bit like John Smith. But the rest of me is one hundred percent the Doctor.”

(Y/N) laughed, looking at him fondly, “You sound like yourself again.”

He returned the soft look, “Thank you – for taking care of me.”

She cleared her throat, “You’re welcome.” But there was another unspoken question on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t want to sound too curious but she whispered, “How was Joan?”

“Fine,” he answered immediately, “She’ll be alright.”

“Right,” (Y/N) said, “I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy to… to say goodbye. You were so fond of each other.”

“John was,” the Doctor said, “And he is a part of me. So by proxy I suppose I am somewhat fond of her.”

(Y/N) nodded to herself, taking a step towards the tardis door, but the Doctor blocked her way.

“But a life with her isn’t possible,” he said softly. “It’s not a life I want.” He so desperately wanted her to look up at him. The way she avoided his gaze was sending that familiar ache through his chest.

He hadn’t realized that his human self would pursue another woman. He could imagine how difficult that must’ve been for her to witness – encourage even.

“That was a fake life, (Y/N),” he urged her to hear his words, “The life I have now, with you, is what I want.”

She tilted her head up towards him. “That’s kind of you to say, Doctor, but you don’t have…”

“No, you’re not hearing me,” he said, taking her hand. “I love my life because of you. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You are who I’m fond of. You are who I trust. It’s always been you, (Y/N). Long before this adventure.”

She still had disbelief in her eyes but a smile was growing on her face, “Really?”

He laughed, “Quite a pair, aren’t we?”

“I adore it,” she laughed along, “All of it.” She clutched at his hand, “I love you too.”

“Now,” he kissed her knuckles, “I don’t believe I said love.”

“Yeah you did,” she mused, leaning into him, craning her neck to reach.

He eyed her lips, speaking in that quick, eccentric way, “Yeah, well… let me say it with less words then.” And he kissed her against the tardis.

~~~

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sunniskyies · 3 months

Text

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚, 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐚, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧 || 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Finnick has been taken from the arena of the third Quarter Quell by the Capitol, and all you can do from District 13 is wait 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Finnick Odair x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Violence, mentions of drugs, symptoms of abuse 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Very AU’d, reunion trope, fluff(?), angst, mentions of abuse, violence 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k 𝐀/𝐍: (I still don't know if I like this???) I was never going to write a Part 2, but I had this image in my head of the reader going to District 13 and Finnick replacing Johanna at the Capitol, and it had to happen. As with the last one, this story is based on the song ‘Georgia’ by Phoebe Bridgers, please go have a listen to the lyric references <3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

Your fingers twist themselves around the soft blue fabric, causing your knuckles to go ivory white. Your eyes are trained on the screen, watching Finnick stumble through the jungle with a terrified expression on his face.

"Help me, Finnick!" You scream —or your voice does at least. "Help me! They got me, please Finnick!"

Finnick's eyes dart around, wild and crazed. "Y/N? Y/N, hold on!"

He staggers around, with Katniss Everdeen right behind him. Soon the canopy is saturated with piercing shrieks and wails - a mixture of your own screams, Gale's, and a young girl's who you presume to be Katniss's sister.

Finnick and Katniss have established the cries are caused by the ebony Jabberjays in the trees, but after Finnick explained that the birds must be mimicking from somewhere, the two tributes had fallen into a frenzy.

You yourself don't know where the Gamemakers got their hands on your voice, but all you are focused on is the sight of your golden boy, scared and alone.

"Finnick," you breathe through your tears. When the recording flicks back to a view of Cashmere and Gloss, you scramble desperately for the remote control. You press the 'rewind' button hard, watching as Finnick once again hears the Jabberjay's cry.

"God, if I see you rewatching those recordings again I'm actually going to burn the tape," a voice groans from the door.

You whip around to shoot a glare at Johanna, who is slumped up against the doorframe.

"Shut up, Mason," you snarl, focusing back on the screen. You've rolled it too far, back to the poisonous fog, and Finnick's cries for Mags echo out of the tinny speakers. "You don't get it."

Johanna rolls her eyes, pushes herself off the doorframe, and walks over. She plops down on the cot beside you and grabs the remote control from your hand.

"Seriously stop that, Fish-face. You're not helping Finnick from in here," she snaps. "They need you down in the infirmary, if you can pull yourself together."

Johanna, always the abrupt one, rips off your 'Mentally Unstable' armband and pats you on the back, hard.

"Johanna. I can't— what if Snow brings Finnick on for an interview instead of Peeta? I can't miss that!" You sniff, fresh tears welling up in your bloodshot eyes.

Johanna sighs, but just gently pulls the hair scarf from your vice-like grip and begins finger-combing your hair out. "You really are the one, aren't you Fish-face," she murmurs.

You sniff again. "The one?"

"Yeah, the one. That sappy shit you find in those romance books." Johanna fidgets in her seat. "Finnick's been with a lot of girls. But he wouldn't go tearing through the jungle—knowing it's futile—for any of them."

For the first time since District 13 had liberated you the night before the games, your heart felt warm. Looking back at the screen, which had now reached the Jabberjays again, you don't feel the usual pang of guilt at his reaction to your cries. You feel a rush of affection.

The one.

"Back in the arena, was he okay?" You often ask this question, even though the answer is always consistent.

Sighing again, Johanna ties up your hair scarf. "He was brave. Strong. What you'd expect from an ego like his."

You hum in acknowledgement. Same answer.

But Johanna continues, "But we could all tell he had a girl back home."

You turn to look at Johanna with raised eyebrows, encouraging her to keep going. She shuffles again, as if awkward talking about topics such as 'love'.

"The way he stared into the sky every night, the way he talked in hushed whispers when he thought no one was listening. I always thought it was that Cresta girl," she admits.

"But now I know he needs you. You're all that he sees," she says simply, ending the conversation at that.

"Hush, sweetheart. It's okay, it's not real," you soothe, rubbing circles on the red-haired girl's back. You've given up trying to coax medicine into the girl, instead settling on trying to prevent her from bashing her skull in.

She's moaning incoherently, and would be tearing at her hair if it weren't for your steady grasp on her wrists.

"Annie, calm down. Breathe with me," you say, kindly but firmly. You take long, deep breaths. Annie's breathing gradually slows, and her glazed eyes begin to sharpen.

All that is thrown out the window when the infirmary's television flickers on, a mandatory viewing from the Capitol.

President Snow, puffy-lipped and menacing, stares out at Panem smugly. A white rose is pinned firmly to his lapel.

"Good evening, Panem. Today we interrupt you for another message from our Victors," You deflate. Peeta. Poor Katniss, you think to yourself.

You turn back to Annie, once again trying to coax the medicine into the mad girl's lips.

"The program shall be carried out by a special new guest of ours," Snow continues. You pause, colour draining from your face, and stare up at the screen.

"He is a fine new addition, enjoy," the president's lips curl back in a sly smile, showing too-perfect veneers and blood-stained gums.

And then Finnick's face replaces him. Golden hair styled but limp, a tight white suit clinging to his form.

"Is that... Finnick? My mentor?" A shaky voice whines. Annie. You have to get her away from this.

"You. Girl," you order, pointing at a small, blonde intern nurse. Must be around 12 or 13. "Take Miss Cresta back to her quarters. Turn off the broadcast. Write her up for a rotation of one hundred milligrams of Methylphenobarbital every six hours. Do you understand?"

Nodding, the young girl wheels the cot out of the room while you stare desperately into the dull green eyes on the television.

"Hello Panem. My name is Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th Hunger Games," he states flatly, voice hoarse. No amount of powder and colour correction masks the dark circles beneath his eyes and the bruises that peek out from his collar. Your heart clenches.

"Hello, Finnick! Now, I think I can speak for all of us when we say we didn't expect you with us today!" The reptilian voice of Caesar Flickerman slithers out from behind the camera. "Peeta's always been happy for talking, but you don't seem to be one for cooperation, am I right?"

Finnick nods tersely, "Well Caesar, sometimes there's people worth talking for."

The breath leaves your body, and you have to sit down on an empty cot before your knees give out. He's talking about me, you think dizzily. God how you wish you could tell him that you are unharmed and in District 13. That he doesn't have to cooperate to buy your safety.

You watch raptly until the program ends, obsessively studying Finnick's face and movements. Even after the broadcast cuts out, you sit numbly watching the black screen.

You want to run into Command, and demand Plutarch and President Coin to hold back the rebel forces. You fear that if District 13 so much as breathes, they'll kill him.

You're standing on the shoreline, watching as the figure of a young boy begins sinking through the water, silently.

It's the same dream every night, the same outcome, but regardless you still shed your clothing and dive into the cool water.

You push through the rough waves, and like always, the water stretches and distorts, 14-year-old Finnick always out of reach no matter how hard you swim.

The roaring surf deafens you as you watch the boy sink into the depths without a sound.

When you wake up, jolting upright with cold sweat trickling down your spine, you find the deafening roar not exclusive to your nightmare. Outside your bedchamber, you can hear dozens of people shouting and running.

Frightened, you stuff your feet into the papery slippers that District 13 has provided. Automatically, you pull back your hair into your blue bandana as you open the door. The hallway bustles with activity, people rushing in all directions, and you feel your nerves spike.

The air is thick with the smell of disinfectant and sweat, and you're quickly overwhelmed, so you take a deep breath to try and steel yourself as you join the throng of residents. You make your way towards Command, hopefully someone there can explain what is going on.

"Y/N! Hey, Fish-face! Over here," Johanna's familiar voice cuts through the crowd. You scan around until you see the woman, also pushing through the swarm to get to you.

"Johanna! What's happening?" You fret, clasping her arm. Her hair is still plaited from sleep, and she wears an identical thin nightgown.

"Don't freak out," she warns, slowly guiding you towards the infirmary. "But I just talked to Plutarch. Apparently, they arranged a mission to the Capitol without anyone knowing!" She growls.

You freeze. "The Capitol? Why?" Your voice comes out sharp, frantic.

Johanna grins. "To liberate the Victors."

You rip yourself free, hurtling through the crowd as if they are nothing but air. The infirmary is loaded, and people are running in and out.

"I'm a nurse! I'm a nurse," you gasp to the guards at the door, who swiftly let you in.

"Finnick? Where's Finnick?" You choke, pleading at anyone you pass. But they all seem to be distracted by something happening between Katniss, her guard and a very sick-looking man.

"Please, someone tell me where he is!—" You stop, eyes snagging on a tangle of bronze hair.

A thunderclap of relief pierces through you. Finnick is sitting on a gurney with his head bowed and his hands clasped tightly together. He looks worn and defeated, and your heart breaks at the sight of him.

You don't remember pushing through the thick crowd, but you do remember grasping his clasped hands with your own shaky ones.

"Finnick," you breathe. His head jerks upright at the sound of your voice, and when he sees your eyes the defeated boy is replaced by the King of the World.

"Y/N!" He cries, arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him. Your face burrows into his neck, your hands never satisfied, constantly moving and grasping a different spot on his shirt or his hair.

"Finnick are you okay? Please tell me you're okay!" You sob, pulling back to look at him briefly before slamming into another tight hug.

"I'm here, it doesn't matter," he whispers into your hair. Disbelief and gratitude has sunk into his tone. "I can't believe you're here. I thought you were back in Four, I thought they had you after the Jabberjays..." His voice is choked out by emotion, and you lean back to show him that you're okay.

Tears well up in your eyes as you take in his exhausted appearance. His golden hair is matted and dishevelled, his skin pallid and marked with bruises. You reach out to touch his cheek gently, tracing the contours of his face. God, how many years you've imagined being able to hold him like this.

"I can fix this," you smile, tapping lightly on his bruised skin. He smiles back, weak but full of warmth.

How could Snow hurt him? This gold-hearted man, how could he take him and tear him apart?

"Do you hate me?" You whisper, fingers stilling from where they were tracing his jaw. Finnick's brow furrows.

"Of course not," he replies. Gently —whether for your sake or his, you're not sure— Finnick pulls you into the narrow mattress next to him. You remain holding each other, but now he's cupping your head, thumb rubbing over the blue fabric of Georgia's scarf as he stares into your eyes, and you stare into his.

"I wasn't sure if I would ever see those eyes again," he murmurs. You giggle, a melody to his ears.

"My eyes? Why are they important?"

Finnick smiles shyly. "It depends. Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Your heart flutters. He said it. He said how you've been feeling towards him for ten years. And he said it about you.

"I do. Because I've loved you ever since I pulled you out of that stupid ocean."

The grin that Finnick shines at you could rival the sun in brightness. "All that time?" You nod. "Well, will you still have me?" He murmurs. When confusion shines in your eyes, he gestures to his condition, scabby cuts and bruises, hollow skin and boney ribs.

A smile, pure and angelic, splits your face. "Of course, Finnick. Will you have me?"

"Over anything."

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #finnick odair x reader #hunger games fic #one shot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick odair #the hunger games #blurb #fanfic #fanfiction

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