#And it has been for a long time. It's just managing to rapidly get worse now. My mother has literally threatened to shoot me.

[puppysuh]

so… we all know how i feel about meanie!haechan, but what about nerd!haechan who’s never seen or touched a pussy in his life but is surprisingly really freaky?

if you’re wondering why i’m so obsessed with him, just watch a couple of clips of him from the university festival performance. those glasses… ouh get him in me NOW!

you approach him because you feel bad for him. he’s always alone, nose in a book or fingers tapping rapidly at his laptop, and whilst your girlfriends like to make fun of him for being such a loser, you’re surprisingly quite intrigued by him.

when you approach him the first time, you begin to see what your friends mean. he’s shy, his glasses falling down his nose as he avoids eye contact with you like the plague. he’s right to be cautious; what are you, the campus sweetheart, doing talking to him, the guy who’s rumoured to only shower once a week and lock himself in his room to jerk off to cheap porn?

you should be laughing in his face, ridiculing him for being such a freak of nature but no, instead you stand in front of him, voice sweet like honey whilst you twirl your hair and await his responses with bated breath. and when he finally looks up at you, into those beautiful eyes he spent so long avoiding, he’s completely gone, and he decides that he must have you.

nerd!haechan would overthink your interaction for the next week. seriously, why were you talking to him? did you like him? did you want to get to know him better? or worse… did you just want sex? that’s what most people are after nowadays anyways, so he begins to train himself up for the next time he talks to you.

instead of avoiding your group like a disease, he begins following you discreetly, taking note of everything you like. that coffee shop just opposite your dorm? he’s memorised your order. your seat in the library? he scares off anyone who tries to sit there by sitting directly opposite it, only moving when he sees you come through the door. and he’s stalked your social media too; all of your highlights are screenshotted and placed into a special album in his phone, reserved solely for you.

he also has another album, a hidden one, full of… other photos.

at first glance, it looks normal. a picture of you at the beach holding an ice cream, or another of you posing in a party dress. all standard highlight posts, posts nobody would suspect nerd!haechan would jerk off to almost every night, glasses fogged up as he memorises every curve of your body, toes curling as he focuses on the way your tongue flicks out to lick the top of the ice cream, a dribble of white cream running down your chin.

he doesn’t know how he manages to face you at school, but he does anyways, and when you finally ask him for some ‘tutoring’, he happily accepts, pushing his glasses up on his nose and trying to divert his eyes away from the cleavage displayed by your dangerously low cut top.

he’s surprised how quickly you jump on him the moment you get through the door of his apartment. you probably think you’ve caught him off guard, slamming your lips into his and grinding your hips forward against his crotch. you think you’re doing charity work, fucking the college loser so nobody else has to.

you couldn’t have been more wrong.

you see, along with his extensive jerking sessions to your instagram posts, haechan has been doing some studying, and not the academic kind. he knows how to make you feel good despite never having a chance to, and when he lifts you up against the door and presses your back flat against it, you’re nothing short of shocked.

“you thought i didn’t know?” his voice is quiet, and whilst his tone carries little to no conviction, it travels straight to your core. “i’m your little passion project, right? fucking the loser so you can feel less bad about yourself.”

before you can open your mouth to answer, he’s pushing his hips upwards into your clothed core, and any protests are replaced by a soft whine. “haechan, that’s not—”

“shut. up.” he thrusts forwards again, and the back of your head meets wood, arms wrapping around his neck as shocks of pleasure roll up your spine. “i’m not some fucking charity case.”

it’s safe to say he’s rendered you speechless. you look down at him, and where before you saw an unkempt loser, now you see someone hungry with lust, and you like it. “kiss me,” you breathe, and he complies, his mouth crashing into yours as he carries you across his living room.

you’d always wondered if he would keep his glasses on during sex, and that night, you got your answer. they slide down the bridge of his nose as his rams his cock into your cunt at a dizzying rhythm, one hand clasping your wrists together above your head, the other rubbing at your clit furiously.

“say you were wrong,” he grunts, sounding almost pained as he repeatedly bumps the tip of his cock into that spot that makes you squirm. “say i’m good, better than anyone you’ve ever had.”

“you’re s-so good!” you can barely speak— barely even breathe, not with the way his hand moves from your clit and to your throat, forcing your chin upwards to look at him. “f-fuck, ‘m sorry, haechan.”

and for the first time since you met him, he smiles a genuine smile, one that almost seems deranged, obsessive. “that’s right,” he says, “the best you’ll ever have.”

a/n : i’m so obsessed with the idea of him being borderline evil its insane. please feed me more haechan delusions guys i think i might love him 💔💔

edit : I MADE A PART 2 check it out if you love me (or nerds)

[fvaleraye]

limbus company is a wild game. you play as a nonbinary amnesiac who got their head cut off and responded by replacing it with a flaming wall clock, whose second job is to (ineffectually, at first) be the manager of a group of people on a bus and whose first job is to revive and heal them anytime anything happens, which is all the time. your party is comprised of a dour scientist who has a habit of speaking in poetry, a mysterious white haired genius implied to be in a constant mental discord call with different versions of herself across multiple universes, an autistic woman who named her shoes after a fictional horse and turns into an ancient and powerful vampire if they're ever taken off, a swordswoman who speaks a third of her mind in acronyms and loves to murder people "artistically", an autistic frenchman built like a fridge who refuses to be a person unless ordered to, a long haired rich pretty boy who accidentally pisses people off with his sheltered behavior half the time and pretends to be dumber than he is to purposefully annoy people the other half, a british thug whose entire plot could have been solved by just spitting it out and also turned into a wolf monster for a bit, a ginger who got bored of her office job and decided to get on a boat and hunt whales about it, a russian gambler whose mental health and self image are rapidly deteriorating while she is also getting progressively worse at hiding it, a young man who is really in over his head while also being very good at killing people who also is weirdly good at translating the earlier mentioned swordswoman's acronyms, a kiss-ass former military woman who would probably kill everyone else in the party if she thought she could get away with it, and a czech former-soldier who got a mutant bug arm and intense ptsd and depression. there's also the all powerful guide who tells you where to go who is legally not allowed to be too helpful and is also perpetually sick of your shit, and the strange girl who drives the bus you all ride in without a license or a lick of training. also the bus looks like a train. add onto the fact that most of the characters and their backstories are references to classic literature, and you have what is possibly the world's MOST dysfunctional dnd party.

we love this fucking game.

[p0orbaby]

Getting You Alone Isn’t Easy

summary: two reckless lovers, one ill-timed call, and zero chance of stopping

warnings: suggestive but not explicit

a/n: the length of time it took me to decide on a title for this was painful

word count: 1.5k

part 1

-

You’re draped over Alexia, straddling her in the faint, golden light that sneaks through the blinds. Her hands grip your hips in that familiar way, like you’re the last thing keeping her from floating off. You’re gasping, breathless, clinging to the taut warmth of her body beneath you as though the world is ending and this is your only way to stay grounded. Her hands, usually gentle, are digging in hard enough to leave bruises, but she’s sweet like that, knows exactly when you need to feel it. You can almost picture the bruises they’ll leave behind, thumbprints like violet ink smudged across your skin, each one a reminder that she was here, and that she wanted you badly enough to leave a mark.

It’s been a day, one of those long ones that started with a sun-blinded hangover, progressed into a searing headache, and then—once you forced yourself to actually acknowledge the calls you missed last night—moved rapidly toward near apocalyptic levels of panic.

Somewhere between the drink you had to “take the edge off” and the fourth one you drank without even thinking about it, Alexia texted you, and it felt like a solution, or maybe a distraction, though those two things are the same to you most of the time.

So here you are, in the thick of it, your bodies wrapped around each other, your mind slipping into that strange, dreamlike state where it feels like your skin isn’t your own. Everything’s heightened—her touch, her scent, the whisper of her breath on your neck. You’re right at the edge, teetering, and then—

Your phone rings.

Of course it fucking does.

At first, you ignore it. The vibrating hum is muffled against the sheets, barely noticeable above your own heartbeat, but then it rings again, louder this time, insistent. It’s like a drill sergeant at dawn, determined to ruin whatever peace you’d managed to find. You freeze, eyes half-closed, but Alexia’s hands don’t loosen. She’s looking up at you with an expression that’s half bemused, half annoyed, as if she’s only just managed to convince herself that you’re here, and now you’re about to ruin it with some petty, buzzing bit of reality.

You almost get through it, on the cusp letting it go to voicemail or hurling the damn thing into the bottom of your Birkin where it belongs. But something in you—a survival instinct, maybe—forces you to reach for it, fumbling as you do so. Alexia’s eyes follow your hand, then flick back up to yours with an exasperated look that says, Really? Now?

You manage to grab it without rolling entirely off her, though it’s a close call. Her hands move down to your waist, still holding you in place as you glance at the screen, and of course, it’s George. It’s always George. You swear he has some kind of sixth sense, an uncanny ability to detect the exact moment you’ve slipped into some semblance of happiness, so he can yank you back with some catastrophe or another. The man is a walking interruption.

“Don’t,” Alexia murmurs, pulling you back to the matter at hand, her voice soft but firm, her hands slipping up to your ribs with a kind of slow, determined patience. But you know better. If you don’t answer now, he’ll only call back five more times, and each time, he’ll sound more panicked, until he finally leaves you a voice note that’s somehow worse than the call itself.

“I have to,” you mutter, as you answer, attempting to clear your throat and sound like you weren’t just seconds away from giving in to everything she was doing to you.

“Hello?” you say, trying and failing to keep the breathlessness out of your voice.

George’s voice crackles through the speaker, shrill and brimming with that particular brand of theatrical urgency agents reserve for “crises.” He sounds faintly nasal, the sort of voice you imagine would belong to a man with an allergy to anything fun. You imagine him sitting in his cold, grey office somewhere in Soho, every surface immaculate and white, his expression permanently fixed into a grimace of perpetual disappointment.

“You need to sit down,” he says, voice pitched in that “I’m barely holding it together” tone that never actually means anything good.

“I am sitting,” you manage, though it comes out sounding more like a gasp than anything else, because Alexia—God bless her—is now trailing her lips along the column of your throat, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re very much occupied now. In fact, you’re convinced she’s doing this on purpose, her eyes meeting yours with that devilish glint that says she’s fully aware of what she’s doing. You pull back and give her a look—part warning, part exasperation—but she only grins, slowly, like she’s daring you to keep up the charade.

George doesn’t miss a beat. “There are photos,” he says, each syllable dripping with an ominous weight that would make anyone else think he was delivering news of a tragedy.

“Photos?” you ask, as Alexia’s hand slips a little higher, her fingers just grazing the edge of your panties. You’re barely holding it together, biting down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound. “George, there are always photos. What are you on about?”

He sighs, the kind of exasperated sigh he reserves for when he’s forced to explain the intricacies of your own life to you. “Not just any photos,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper that somehow makes everything sound worse. “These are… explicit”

“Explicit?” you repeat, your voice catching because Alexia’s lips are trailing across your collarbone now, her fingers dangerously close to places that make it impossible to sound remotely professional. “Define explicit, George”

He pauses, a beat of silence so thick with hesitation you can practically see his nervous, tight-lipped expression. “You and Alexia. On that yacht. Full-on… everything. Let’s just say someone with a very long-range lens took a rather extensive interest in your… activities”

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do, it’s like being doused in cold water. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the sweat on your skin, Alexia’s fingers toying with you, her mouth now having moved to the swell of your exposed breast. You can’t tell if you’re more annoyed or amused by the fact that, somehow, your most private moments have once again become public property.

Alexia looks up at you once more, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and enjoyment, as if she can tell exactly what George is saying and finds the whole thing hilarious.

“So you’re telling me,” you say, trying to sound casual, though it’s hard with Alexia’s hands and mouth all over you, “that someone out there’s publishing wildlife documentaries of my sex life?”

“Don’t be flippant,” George snaps, though his voice cracks a little, like he’s barely holding it together. “This is serious. The Daily Mail already has them. And they’re… well, they’re explicit. The kind of thing they’d plaster on the front page if they could get away with it”

For a moment, you consider the insanity of it all—your life, reduced to some tawdry tabloid spread, the kind of thing boring nosey housewives read in supermarket queues. You imagine the headlines, the breathless, shocked tones they’d use to describe “the scandal.” Never mind the fact that you’re not the first celebrity to get caught like this, nor will you be the last. But still, it stings in that strange, twisted way fame always does, a reminder that your life isn’t really your own.

“I’m sorry, George,” you say, barely stifling a moan as Alexia’s hand moves just right, making it almost impossible to keep up the conversation. “But I don’t exactly have a solution for you right now”

George lets out a strangled noise. “Well, you bloody well better come up with one. Unless you want the world to know what you look like without your clothes on. Which, I might add, is not exactly… career-friendly”

You stifle a laugh, more out of habit than anything else. Alexia’s fingers are moving with that slow, calculated patience she knows drives you mad, and you can feel your resolve slipping. “Look, George,” you say, your voice strained, “I’ll call you back. After I… handle things”

“What? You can’t just hang up on me!” he practically shrieks, but you’re already pressing ‘end call’ and tossing the phone aside.

The phone lands back somewhere on the bed, George’s panicked voice cutting off abruptly. For a moment, there’s silence, and then Alexia lets out a low, throaty laugh, her eyes alight with amusement. She reaches her free hand up, trailing her fingers along your jaw, and there’s something wicked in her smile that makes you forget the world outside the bedroom.

“Where were we?” you murmur, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else.

“Right here,” she whispers, her voice soft but possessive, and you can’t help but smile as she pulls you back down, your bodies tangling once more as you lose yourself in her warmth.

[orellazalonia]

Wherever You Are, I’ll Stay

Summary: You are a stealth-based Avenger with the ability to teleport, often the one pulling teammates out of danger. However, when you’re injured on a mission one day, you’re found by Bucky, panicking as he tells you that you could’ve escaped. You admit you stayed because you couldn’t leave him behind. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: Reader has the ability to teleport.

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: We are so back with a super powered reader! Ignore that it’s been a day or two. It feels like forever to me lol. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | Whispers of the Gifted Masterlist

You were the teleporting specialist on the team. A living escape route, as Tony once put it, even though you hated the way it made you sound like a tool instead of a person. Your powers weren’t eye-catching like Wanda’s or devastating like Thor’s, but they were precise, fast, and life-saving. You could vanish in the blink of an eye and reappear on the other side of a locked compound without so much as triggering a motion sensor.

What made your ability rare wasn’t just that you could teleport. In fact, plenty of enhanced individuals could, in theory. But the level of control you had was what made you stand out. You could take others with you. You could land in tight quarters without crashing into walls. You could sense coordinates by memory, not just by sight. And most importantly, you could stay calm under pressure, until recently.

Lately, your powers had started to falter under stress. It didn’t happen all the time, but it was enough to plant a seed of doubt in your mind that stayed long enough to hesitate.

You hadn’t told Bucky.

You weren’t exactly sure why. Maybe because he looked at you like you were the one person on the team he didn’t have to worry about. You were competent, quiet, and observant. When missions went to hell, you were the person he looked to and the one he trusted to get everyone out. You didn’t want to shatter that image. You didn’t want him to look at you differently.

Especially not when things between you had started to… shift.

It hadn’t happened in an instant. It was in the small things, the slow things. Like the way he stood a little closer when debriefings dragged too long. The way he always offered an extra water bottle during training without asking if you needed it. Or maybe it was the way his fingers brushed your shoulder when passing behind you, like he couldn’t help needing a point of contact.

You hadn’t talked about it and you didn’t need to. It was present in the silence, in the weight of his glances, and in the softness of his voice when he said your name. A voice so different from the clipped tone he used with everyone else.

You’d die for Bucky Barnes.

But more than that, you’d stay alive for him too.

One mission you were given was intel extraction from a dormant Hydra site outside Budapest. It was expected to have low resistance and a swift completion. You’d done dozens of missions like this, but something had felt off the moment you landed. It was too quiet, too clean. Bucky had gone to secure the east corridor while you took the west.

Then the ambush hit.

You’d fought back, ducking and teleporting rapidly, as you disabled guards as they came. But there were more of them than you had anticipated, and one of them managed to clip you. A messy shot to the side. It wasn’t fatal, but it was deep. And worse, it shook your focus.

The pain bloomed like fire in your ribs, radiating outward. You tried to port, but your vision blurred, your body trembled, and your power slipped from your grasp like sand through your fingers. You blinked out but not far enough. Just into another corner of a nearby room, a couple feet away, where you collapsed behind a half-toppled server bank.

You could’ve tried again. You could’ve forced it. But something in you wouldn’t let go of one thought:

Bucky’s still in the building.

You didn’t know where. You didn’t know if he was safe or had been ambushed too. You didn’t care that your side was soaked with blood, or that your head throbbed from slamming against the wall when you landed wrong.

You weren’t leaving without him, even if it killed you.

Your breathing had grown shallow by the time Bucky found you. You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, staring up at the flickering ceiling lights, but the moment the door slammed open with a crash of metal and rage, you knew it was him. You always knew.

“Hey- hey!” His voice was rough with panic, feet pounding across the broken floor until he dropped to his knees beside you. “You're alive-! Thank god, you're alive.”

You opened your eyes, barely. “I said I’d be,” You rasped, the words sticking to your tongue.

Bucky’s hands hovered over you, uncertain and frustrated. He was scanning for wounds, piecing together what had happened. “You're hit.” His voice dropped, the softness undercut by fury. “Why didn’t you teleport out of here?”

You winced, not from the pain, but from the question. “Tried,” You whispered. “Wasn’t focused, too much adrenaline… too much noise.”

“Still,” He snapped. “Still… you could’ve gotten out. That’s what you’re supposed to do. That’s what you always do.”

You looked at him, gaze resting onto his worried expression. And for a moment, he didn’t see the blood or the wound or the mission. He saw you. Pale, exhausted, stubborn, and still here.

“I didn’t want to leave you behind,” You admitted. The truth tasted heavier than blood.

Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed. He shook his head with a shaky breath. “You’re out of your mind,” He muttered.

You smiled weakly. “You’re one to talk.”

His hands finally stopped trembling enough to press against your wound in a gentle but firm way. “You could’ve died,” He reminded you again, his voice cracking. “I could’ve walked into this room and found your body. You ever think about that?”

You let your eyes fall shut for a moment. “I thought about how I’d rather die with you than live not knowing what happened to you.”

The silence was thick. Bucky didn’t speak for a moment, but when he did, his voice was low and nearly broken.

“You really are out of your mind,” He repeated, but softer now. “And I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone more because of it.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “That a confession, Barnes?”

He exhaled a laugh, but it was tight, like it hurt. “Damn right it is.”

Carefully, he pulled you into his arms, supporting your weight like it was nothing, like it was everything. You felt the metal of his arm against your back, cold and reassuring. The other arm was warm where it cradled your legs. You didn’t protest to either.

“You’re going to the med bay,” He said. “Then we’re having a long talk about you not being a damn martyr.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, eyes heavy. “I’m not a martyr.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

There was a pause before you murmured, “You would’ve done the same for me.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you doing it for me.”

Outside, the quinjet engines roared to life. The rest of the team was waiting.

But for now, in the middle of that wrecked Hydra facility, with dust still hanging in the air and blood soaking into Bucky’s shirt, it was just the two of you.

And you were both alive. Together.

-

The med bay was silent, dimmed for your recovery. The overhead lights were off, replaced by a single low lamp that cast long shadows across the room. The hum of machinery filled the silence with monitor beeps, IV drips, and the occasional hiss of an oxygen line. Stark tech kept everything sterile and efficient.

You hated it.

Not because of the pain, that had dulled into something manageable, but because you hated stillness. When you were still, you had time to think. And now that the mission was over, you couldn’t stop replaying it. The moment you failed to teleport. The cold bloom of panic. The blood. The look on Bucky’s face when he found you like the world had nearly ended.

You stared at the ceiling trying not to think about it, when the door hissed open quietly. You didn’t have to look to know it was him.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Bucky said, voice low, teasing in a way that didn’t quite mask the worry.

“I was. For a while,” You murmured. “You still pacing outside?”

He huffed. “How’d you know?”

“You always pace when you’re trying not to panic.”

Bucky stepped closer, the soft tread of his boots grounding. When he reached your bedside, he didn’t sit right away. Just stood there, arms crossed, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be here even though he’d barely left your side since you got back.

“I’m fine, Buck,” You reassured him softly.

“You’re not,” He finally lowered himself into the chair next to you. “You were bleeding out and couldn’t get out. That’s not fine.”

You hesitated. “It’s not the first time my powers have… flickered.”

His jaw tightened. “How long?”

“Couple months but only under stress. Usually I push through it.”

He was quiet for a long time before finally speaking, “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to be seen as a liability.”

His hand moved, not quickly but with intent. His fingers brushed your wrist, grounding you. “You’re not a liability. You’re you. And if something’s wrong, we fix it together.”

You blinked, throat tightening unexpectedly. “I didn’t want to lose your trust in me.”

“You didn’t,” He said. “You scared the hell out of me, but you didn’t lose anything.”

You let that sit between you for a moment before you whispered, “You said you loved me.”

He didn’t flinch and he didn’t deflect.

“I meant it.” He stated.

You turned your head to meet his eyes. “I love you too, you know.”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I know. I’ve known.”

You reached up, fingers threading through his as you held each other’s hands like none of you ever wanted to let go. “Stay?”

He nodded once. “Always.”

[moonstruckme]

hi !! i saw that your requests were open and i'd really love if you wrote something with james (or poly!m !!) with a gn!reader taking up literature in uni who tends to get back pains from being hunched over reading and writing almost all hours of the day (definitely not projecting, hehe!)

i love the stuff you write and everythings just so sweetly written and portrayed so lovely !! thank you for keeping the marauders fandom alive lol

Thank you ml <3

modern au

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 709 words

James plops down beside you on the couch, and when he pokes your spine you straighten reflexively. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, only half in the room as the rest of your brain continues working on your essay. 

“Are you really not done yet?” Sirius asks, putting a bag of popcorn in the microwave. You start typing faster. They’re going to want to start the movie soon, and then your laptop is going to be wrested away from you whether you’ve reached a stopping point or not. “I can’t remember the last time I spent more than a couple hours on an essay. You’ve been laboring over that thing all day.” 

“It’s a long one,” you admit, “but it’s hardly labor.” 

“Sure looks like it, when your back is hunched worse than a coal miner’s.” 

You give him a deadpan look. Sirius glances down at your fingers, still typing rapidly, and shudders. 

“Fucked how you can do that.” 

“Literature students might be the new coal miners,” says James.

You hum dubiously, looking back to your work. “Not sure that’s a super fair comparison.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t quite say that,” Remus agrees with you, “but it’s not like you’re not doing yourself any harm when you write all day like this, love. Your back is already hurting you—” 

“You’ll probably get carpal tunnel,” James adds. 

“—and I know looking at your laptop for this long gives you headaches.” Remus’ slow strides into the living room feel like a countdown clock. You manage to hammer out the end of your sentence just before he pulls your laptop out from under your fingers. “If you’re not careful, it’s gonna fuck up your sleep. That’s enough for tonight.” 

You sigh but don’t complain, rolling back your shoulders to ease some of the tautness there. Your spine crackles, quicker and louder than the popcorn popping in the kitchen, and James flinches away from you. 

“God, make it stop,” he pleads. 

You ignore him and roll your neck to the side, eliciting a series of cracks from there too. James makes a dramatically horrified sound and squeezes his eyes shut, and Remus grabs your head in both hands, restraining you. 

“Don’t,” he tells you severely. “We’ve been over this.” 

“Freak,” Sirius says lovingly as he pulls the bag of popcorn from the microwave. 

“It hurts,” you complain. 

“Sounds like it, fuck,” James agrees emphatically. Now the danger has passed, he leans towards you again, splaying a protective palm over your mid back. “Sirius, could you grab my icy hot from the fridge? Here, lovie, lie down.” 

Remus lets go of your face somewhat reluctantly, letting James help you lay across his lap. His hand smooths up and down your spine, pressing down lightly upon muscles rigid with tension. You sort of wish he’d just crush you. You’re sure he could, he doesn’t spend all that time at the gym for nothing. 

“I’m gonna get you a back brace,” Remus mutters, fondness under the veneer of resentment in his tone. 

“That'd be kind of hot.” Sirius lifts your feet, dropping down onto the couch before passing James the tube of cream. “Those are the strappy looking things, right? I’m for it.” 

“I do not consent,” you say clearly, then hiss as James applies the cool balm to your lower back. 

He and Sirius laugh. Remus reaches over to press your shoulders back down. 

“Easy, angel,” says James. “It’ll help.” 

“I didn’t know it’d be this cold,” you defend yourself, a little laugh tripping out of you as well. “You do this voluntarily?” 

“You’ll see why in a bit.”

“If I were spending all of my Saturday hunched over my laptop and a bunch of books,” Sirius says, “I think I’d at least use the right ‘your.’ What are they teaching you, babe?” 

You suppress a groan. You’d sent Sirius a grammatically incorrect text two days ago, and he’s yet to stop lording it over you. 

“That was autocorrect,” you tell him again. 

He hums noncommittally, tracing a path up your calf with his forefinger. “I’m just saying, can it really be worth it if we’re making those sorts of mistakes? Will they even still give you your degree?” 

“Sirius, their back is getting tense again. Knock it off.”

[hoonieyun]

now playing...

when the sun hits - slowdive

pairing: lee heeseung x reader x sim jaeyun

warnings: profanity, some really angsty shit, talks about mental health, reliving trauma, 18+

wc: 2303

pls ignore timestamps and possible typos lol - please make sure you read the written parts to fully understand the whole story!

you were more nervous than you thought, your leg bounced rapidly as you waited for heeseung as at your agreed upon location. 

the sound of your platform boots making a rhythmic tapping sound on the floor was all you could hear as you patiently waited for heeseung to arrive, you never even fully processed if this was a good idea but after talking with manon and jen; you were about 75 percent- wait no. 60 percent sure this was a good idea. the three of you weighed the pros and cons and ultimately you decided that you should meet with heeseung. if only they knew that you had also agreed to meet with jake later tonight but that was something you could just explain at a later time. 

so here you are now, staring at your cappucino that has long become cold, the ripples in the coffee nonstop as your leg continues to bounce and lightly bump the table you were sitting at. you chose a spot somewhere in the back corner of the cafe, for privacy reasons and just in case the conversation takes a turn for the worse; there was another exit in the back you could just run out of. 

you’re too focused on trying to figure out what you wanted to say to heeseung that you hadn’t even realized he was standing in front of you until he was setting down his own drink next to yours on the table. 

“hey, sorry did i startle you?” heeseung asks and you shake your head but you probably did look startled since you were so deep in thought you didn’t even notice his presence. you motion for him to take a seat and he gives you a tight lipped smile and a nod before pulling out his chair and sitting across from you. 

“you look good.” heeseung says just above a whisper; like he was testing the waters on what he could say without getting a reaction out of you that he wanted to avoid. 

“thanks, i’ve definitely looked better. you look good too!” you respond, trying to lighten the mood with a small chuckle to which heeseung returns with a laugh of his own. 

it’s felt like eternity since you heard his laugh and you’d be lying if you say that the sound of his laughter didn’t sting just a bit. it makes you think about all of the good times together and how those moments have now been shrouded by all of the toxic and emotional mess that you two got into the last few months of your relationship. you wished you could go back, truly. 

but you weren’t sure that the outcome would be any different if you did. 

heeseung clears his throat when he’s noticed you’ve begun to space out; “i see you still zone out pretty often.” heeseung mutters and you look up at him with wide eyes like you’ve just gotten caught. 

“sorry i just-” you begin to say but heeseung places his hand over yours on the table when he sees the tremble in your fingers. “it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize.” and the feeling of his hand over yours seems to bring you a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in so long, especially from heeseung. you manage to calm down and steady your breathing thanks to heeseung. 

“mind if i start first?” heeseung asks and you nod. 

“i know i can go on and on about how terrible of a boyfriend i was, hell, how terrible of a person i was truthfully; but i don’t think that’s productive. 

i’d rather tell you about how good i’ve been doing and that i plan to stay this way. i’ve only been in therapy for like a month or so but it’s really helped. honestly, i always knew that i was a little messed up here” heeseung says, lighty knocking on his head garnering a small giggle from you to which he smiles at when he hears your laugh. 

“therapy has helped me realize a lot of stuff i wish i knew sooner so that i could’ve been the person that made you happy instead of miserable and i can’t take back anything i said or did but i just want you to know that i’m not that person any more. 

sorry, i mean that i am that person and i will always be that person and i need to take ownership of my behavior but i refuse to be that person any longer even if that was who i was in the past. 

im really sorry for everything i did and i know i know a simple apology isn’t going to do anything but i hope we’re in each other's lives in the future so you can see how much i’ve changed because i couldn’t imagine a life without you. 

even if it’s just to admire from afar. i’d like to be in your life…”

a single tear falls onto the surface of the table and that’s when you realize you’re crying. you weren’t utterly sure why his words had this effect on you but hearing heeseung be this sincere, compassionate, and vocal about his emotions in a healthy way made you cry. you could tell he meant it because his eyes have become glossy and this was the first time you and heeseung had a conversation about your relationship and emotions without it instantly turning into a screaming fest. 

“thank you for saying that heeseung…” you begin to say, taking a deep breath before continuing. 

“i’d be lying if i said that these last few months haven’t been hard, because they’ve been shit. it wouldn’t be fair to put all of that blame on you so i’m sorry that i’ve made you feel like you were the root of all of our problems. 

i know i’ve said hurtful things in the past and i think- sorry i know that they were all from a place of hurt but hurt people shouldn’t hurt people. so im sorry that i didn’t do my part as not only a girlfriend but as your friend to be kinder to us both.

i’m so grateful that you care enough to articulate your emotions in the way that you did and if i’m being honest i’m pleasantly surprised. i can tell how much you’ve grown in this short time and i’m happy that you’re going to continue to grow and want to grow.

i think being in each other’s lives to witness our growth is a good idea…” you respond and heeseung’s eyes light up; like he had just heard you say you love him again and although you didn’t it was something. 

“really?” heeseung asks eagerly

“but-” 

“oh…” heeseung’s voice drops low at your response. 

“i think i still need time to myself. this conversation is making me realize a lot of things and even if it’s resolving some of our issues i don’t think it’s fixed everything. 

maybe in a few months from now when we’ve both gotten the chance to do some more healing, we can start over but not right now…” you explain and you watch heeseung’s eyes lose their shine. 

“i understand… i really do appreciate you coming to talk to me. i didn’t expect you to even want to see me in person.” he says. 

“yeah, i didn’t expect it either.” you respond causing the both of you to laugh. 

as you part ways, you take one look back at heeseung as he continues to sit at the coffee table in the back. a slight pain in your chest as you watch his figure, his leg bouncing similar to yours just moments ago. unbeknownst to you that heeseung was trying to hold it together and prevent himself from crying.

you thought that after the nerves from speaking with heeseung you’d be fine to meet with jake but you were wrong. you were just as nervous, maybe even more. you weren’t sure why; maybe it was because you’ve known jake less? you don’t fully know him as a person and that made you uncertain?

or maybe it’s the fact that you weren’t sure if the issues you and jake have would ever get fixed. you wanted to fix them but it seems like jake wants to fix them a lot more than you did. what problems you had don’t compare to the issues that plagued your relationship with heeseung but after speaking with heeseung you felt like it was salvageable. 

you thanked the host and gave her a small nod as she walked you to where jake was sitting. you stood right outside of a private room at the restaurant, you had told jake that this was your favorite place because they had really good steak and his ears perked up at the word steak like he was a puppy hearing the word treat. 

he always said he’d take you here on a date one day but you didn’t think this would be the circumstance for that to finally happen. 

you take a deep breath before knocking and pulling the door open, to which you find jake sitting at the table and looking at you with a smile. you return the smile with your own and he gets up to hug you and his embrace feels warm. a type of warmth you hadn’t received from jake since the start of your relationship. 

he pulls out your chair for you and helps you into your seat, muttering a small thank you as you watch him circle the table so he could take a seat of his own. 

“i hope you don’t mind, i ordered for us. i just asked the waitress to bring us what their special was if that’s okay?” jake explains and you smile and nod. 

“yeah, that’s fine. honestly i’m not too hungry-” you explain but jake cuts you off. 

“nonsense, you need to eat. i know how you get and i’m sure all you’ve had today are energy drinks.” jake says with a laugh and you can’t help but also chuckle. 

“as a matter of fact i also had a cappucino so there’s that” you respond teasingly and a smile breaks out onto jake’s lips. like he was relieved and glad you were comfortable enough to joke around with him knowing the seriousness of what this dinner was for and how things have been between the two of you for the last few weeks. 

the two of you silently ate your meal, occassionally breaking out into conversation to catch up and it was so hard to get through the awkward tension. 

“so-” the both of you say in unison after the waitress has come by to grab your empty dishes. 

“you can go first.” jake says and you nod in response. 

“i’m going to be honest jake… you hurt me… a lot. 

i wasn’t sure that i was ready for a relatioship after heeseung and i think this proved that i wasn’t. 

i’m sorry that i couldn’t be the girlfriend you expected i was going to be but i wish you’d understand that i wasn’t in the best place and i feel like it’s not fair to have treated me that way knowing what i was going through and had just gone through. 

i was still processing so many things and then you came into my life and i thought you were a sign that i was going in the right direction but i think it was more to let me know that i needed to keep going instead of stopping at where i was. 

i really did like you jake but i think this is as far as we’re going.” it felt a lot easier to vocalize your emotions to jake because it was so fresh that you were able to just say all of it without having too much time to ruminate on everything and make yourself overthink. 

“you don’t think we can start over?” jake asks, a slight tremble in his voice. 

“i don’t know. truly, i don’t know. everything is still too fresh and i haven’t even processed my past trauma to process everything that’s happening right now. i’m sorry but i can’t give you an answer.” your explanation leaves jake nodding in silence for a moment and you can tell he’s trying to come up with what to say; like your words aren’t what he was expecting and he thought this would go a completely different route. 

“i was going to ask you to get back together in hopes that we could fix this together and we’d be able to come out of it as better people but i respect your wishes. 

it was a bit foolish of me to think you’d take me back so quickly but knowing how i made you feel and the hurt i put you through i get it. i just hope you know how sorry i am. the way i acted was despicable and i don’t even recognize that person. i’m going to do better in the future… 

i hope that we can meet again later down the line? maybe when we’ve gotten some time to ourselves?” jake asks, hope coating his words as he looks at you with so much intention and regret. 

“yeah, later down the line.” you say with a tight lipped smile as you get up to leave. 

“yn…” jake says just as you’re about to walk through that door. 

“i’ll always love you. even if i only got to actually love you for a short amount of time, i’ll always love you.” he confesses and you can’t bring yourself to turn around as tears threaten to fall down your face. 

“goodbye, jake” you say, voice shaky as you sniffle your way through the door.

masterlist - back - next

hoonieyun notes: we love open communicators!! now lets just hope no one fucks up... now playing will return soon! ive got to write out the last five chapters then its... over..!! ahhhh i can't believe we're so close to the end wahh

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[kasagia]

Game of survival, final hunting...

Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!rebel! reader Summary: After he catches you, he tries to turn you into a lady who can stand by his side. However, you are not that easy to break... after all, a wild animal in a cage is still a dangerous animal. Warning(s): 18+; smut scene; Coriolanus Snow being Coriolanus Snow; blood; mention of dying; Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @divineidolatry @edb954 @missakward123 @blythlover @leclercsgirlshhs @squidscottjeans @theaaeht @yourmomsbjtch @lovelydoveval @staylowessafe @jeanscremebrulee Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

One step. Second. Third. Fourth. Keys jingling. The lock is twisted. Then the second one. You hear the door sliding open.

You manage to hold back a hiss as the door to your cell opens and light floods into the small, dark cell, blinding you for a moment. Your eyes, too accustomed to the dark, are watering and blinking rapidly as the light enters through your pupils.

"Rise and shine. I hope you're in a much better mood today." Coriolanus says, placing the tray of food on a small crate. He walks over to you and uncuffs your ankles and wrists from the handcuffs attached to the wall.

You fall into his arms after your aching, tired muscles from spending the night suspended against the cold wall of the cell can no longer hold you.

"I know, little hunter. This didn't make me happy at all. You know I don't like punishing you. But yesterday, you crossed the line. We're in the Capitol, not in the District. You can't cut off the fingers of my peacekeepers and expect not to be punished for it." He explains to you, scolding you like a little child as he gently sets you down on the makeshift bed. He runs a hand through your sweaty hair and reaches for your wrist to wipe away the blood that had flowed from the wound the handcuffs had caused.

"You… despise… them…" You speak in a hoarse voice. You hadn't had water in your mouth since last morning, but you weren't going to submit to him because of it and obediently listen to his lectures. You've been through worse, running away from him.

"True. But they are useful. And maybe you were right to cut off his finger for touching you where he shouldn't have, but it's my job to punish people for desecrating what's mine, not yours. We need to temper your thorns, petal, before I announce to the world that you will be my first lady. Next time, let's try to make it less gruesome, shall we?"

You would snort or roll your eyes if you had enough strength. Instead, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes, as you are letting him bandage your wrists and ankles. He gently wipes away the dried blood and applies some ointments to the areas of your skin that were most abraded—evidence of your feeble attempt to escape and break free from these stupid shackles.

This has become a routine between the two of you. He tried to turn you into his first lady, and every time you showed your true colours and tried to get away from him, he locked you in here. For a day, two, or a week. You will never be able to determine exactly how long you have been hanging on the wall.

And then, moments like these came.

"You know you won't make it? I am and always will be from the district. You should have killed me ages ago." You mumble as much as your dry throat allows. Coriolanus, however, as usual, doesn't care much about your sarcastic remarks.

However, he lets go of your wrists and reaches for the water bottle, pressing it to your lips. You drink slowly, keeping your eyes on his blue irises, which always seem to be watching you intently.

You had long ago stopped trembling under his gaze, but there was something about him that wouldn't let you take your eyes off him. You wanted to think it was caution—the hunter's innate, eternal vigilance. But both you and Coriolanus knew very well that the reason you couldn't tear your eyes away from each other just like that was something more than your distrust for one another.

"I would let you go for the names of all the rebels. You know it well." He says this, throwing away the empty bottle. He wipes away the drops of water that have trickled down your chin and throat with his thumb and traces the line of your lips for a moment, caressing them.

"Of course, Mr. President. You would surely let me go. By extending my cage's run to your gardens." You mock him, and he just smiles slightly. He huffs, shaking his head as he pulls you into his arms and walks out. You might have found it romantic if he hadn't trapped you in that small, dark room or forced you to play the role he had assigned you.

"The reason for all the problems we have, is that you can't trust me." He states it matter-of-factly as he helps you sit on the armchair in his bedroom.

He ignores your angry glare and takes off your sweaty and dirty clothes. He takes you in his arms again and carries you to the bathroom, despite your attempts to break free from his arms. He carefully lowers you into the tub filled with warm water and foam. It smells like roses. Damn bastard.

"Because what you're doing now is giving me a hell of a lot of reasons to trust you." You growl in anger, pushing his hands away from you. Coriolanus grabs your chin tightly, forcing you to look into his icy blue eyes.

"Behave. We're not in the district." He reminds you with a cool tone of voice.

If he thought for even a moment that you would take on the role of his obedient pet, he was very wrong. You would have bitten off his finger to prove your point, but the prospect of another few nights in the cell had effectively dissuaded you from that tempting idea. At least for now.

You glare at him with an equally stubborn gaze, pulling your chin from his grip by tilting your head back. Coriolanus sighs, reaching for the bottle of shampoo. Without taking his eyes off yours, he begins to gently wash your hair, which you reluctantly allow him to do. The bastard gave good head massages. You could have let him have that false sense of gaining a little advantage. After all, you had been hanging for God knows how long, chained to that wall... or rather, the devil kneeling next to your bathtub.

"Why did you do that?" You ask with a shaky voice, breaking the silence between you as he reaches into the water to gently pour over the skin of your collarbones. He strokes your neck lazily, making you shiver under the touch of his rough, large hands.

"Specify. You obviously hold a lot of grudges against me if you came here after all these years with the intention of killing me... however pathetic and false this reason for your arrival may sound."

"False? I intended to kill you." You say, more furious with the stoic calm he displayed than with the fact that he dared to question the reason for your fateful arrival at the Capitol. Although, maybe you shouldn't be surprised? After all, it probably wasn't the first attempt on his life...

"Of course, little hunter." He replies, amused, thoroughly rinsing the foam from your hair. As he gently runs his fingers through them, you wonder what he said.

He couldn't be right. You came here for one simple purpose: to kill him. So why did your heart skip a beat when he declared that you were bluffing and fooling yourself? It could have been because of his closeness, how he was overwhelming you, and how both his warmth and his scent made you crazy, taking you back to those peaceful days in District 12 when you didn't know what a monster he was. But everything between you and Coriolanus ended a long time ago, right?

"Why did you kill Sejanus and Lucy Gray?" You ask, trying to stubbornly focus on the reason for your anger towards him, trying to push away the poisonous thoughts this snake has put into your head.

"I didn't kill them." You shudder as he spreads cold bath liquid over your heated body while whispering his answer.

You frown and turn your head, looking at him willingly for the first time. His eyes are focused on your body, though, as he slowly explores your body with his hands, caressing your skin. You see in his eyes how he reminds himself of the times when you two used to wash each other more often and in... much better circumstances. At least for you.

"So what? You sent them to the bottom of the ocean for a vacation?" You ask mockingly, pushing away his wandering hand that started to move too dangerously down your stomach. His eyes meet yours. You flinch as he takes your hand in his and guides it to where he wants it as he continues to wash you.

"Why? You want to join them?" His tone is laced with amusement as you unsuccessfully try to resist him. He finally stands up, grabs a towel, and lays it out for you, waiting for you to get out of the tub and let him dry you off.

"I want you to join them." You say, turning your back to him and standing up. He laughs softly, steps closer, and wraps the towel tightly around you, pressing his torso against your back. You shiver as you feel his breath on your neck.

"Not going to happen, my little hunter." His soft whisper, combined with his tight grip around you and the scent of roses that fills the bathroom after your forced bath, makes you feel even more trapped than when you were hanging against the wall. It was a difficult achievement, but you should've gotten used to the fact that, for him, nothing was impossible.

"Just answer the question." You reply stubbornly, brushing his arms off of you and turning to face him, keeping an iron grip on the towel.

"Why? So you can be under the illusion that I am not a monster and that you can feel something for me without feeling guilty? Or perhaps to make it easier for you to kill me?" He asks, running his hands through your wet hair before cupping your cheek. His thumb collects the drops of water that fall from your hair onto your temple and cheek, caressing your skin tenderly.

"I feel nothing but hatred for you. And believe me, when the time comes, nothing will stop me." You growl at him, furious. You push him away and get out of the tub.

He clicks his tongue, displeased more with the way the water drips from you onto the white marble floor of his bathroom than with the fact that you are desperatly tring to oppose him.

"You've always been a terrible liar, my darling. You are a much better hunter... but as you can see, not all of your prey fall into your traps."

"A mistake I intend to fix."

"Are you under the illusion that I'll give you a chance to do this?" He aks, following you as you exit the bathroom. He is using a tone of voice that reminds you of the way parents are scolding their child. You hear how bored he is and you feel your anger grow even more as he doesn't even try to take your threats seriously.

You don't respond to his taunt. You push past him and go back to his room, only to stand frozen in the middle when you see a blood-red dress with red rubies sewn onto the bodice on the bed.

"What is it?" You ask him angrily, turning to face him, knowing full well that the bastard was standing leaning against the doorframe with that shitty, smug smirk on his face you have learned to hate with the time you have spent with him recently.

"A dress."

"That I can tell. Why are you ordering me to put one?" You fold your arms, making sure the towel doesn't fall off of you, as his piercing blue eyes are focused only on you.

"Ordering? I wouldn't order anything to my sweet fiancèe."

"What?" You ask in pure shock as he steps closer to you. You step back with every step he takes until you feel the cool window pane against your back. You curse under your breath as he walks over to you with a smirk and lifts your hand, slipping the ring onto it. A fucking gold ring with a big white diamond.

"You didn't understand?" He asks with a mocking, dark chuckle that makes you question how much you actually know about this man and the customs of the Capitol. You knew that if Coriolanus Snow planned something, there was nothing you could do to stop him. And when he became president... his room for manoeuvre only increased.

"You are mad to think that I will marry you and that society of Capitol will accept our sick marriage." You tell him, happy that he walks away from you, but only to grab the dress and hand it to you.

"Why? After all, you are Y/N Y/L/N. The long lost descendant of an important general who died in the dark days. I found you and took you from the district to the Capitol, I returned you to your rightful place. And now you are recovering from the trauma you experienced."

"Nice story. How many people did you kill or bribe to make people believe in this?" You look down from him to the dress you held in your hands to avoid meeting his piercing eyes. The bastard knew how much you fucking loved it.

By the way, you were surprised at how well he remembered your preferences after so many years... because you were absolutely convinced that the dress you were currently holding in your hand was one of Tigris' designs that you had praised when you exchanged letters.

"No one died. And no one will die if you will cooperate with me, my little doom." He says, cupping your chin between two fingers and making you look straight into his eyes again. You swallow, trying to bear his burning gaze. He smiles wolfishly and kisses your lips gently, unhurriedly. Savouring the win. At least until you push him away, to which he just shakes his head with a smirk. You hate yourself for wanting to straighten the strand of his hair that fell on his forehead. "Dress up. You have underwear in the dresser. Choose something nice. And remember. One wrong move, and you're back in your cage. And that would be a terrible pity. The chefs prepared your favourite dishes for our engagement party. I'm sure you'll also enjoy some of the delicacies from the Capitol. I'll be waiting for you downstairs, my darling."

"You can kiss my ass!" You shout after him as he walks towards the exit, giving you some semblance of privacy to change and get dressed.

"Later, little hunter." He replies, unfazed by your outburst, and leaves, closing the door behind him. Locked, of course. You were always in a cage. Either a cold, musty cell, an exclusive bedroom, or the arms of that slimy, poisonous snake. And the worst of it all was that it was the first option that started to scare you the most.

"Don't eat so quickly. They'll think we started trying for an heir too soon, my dear." Snow admonished you with a quiet whisper in your ear as he approached you from behind, gently pressing his chest against your back as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You almost spit out your food at the thought of giving him any heirs.

Although you had plans for it in District 12. Two boys and one girl. You even had names. Crassus Xanthos, Adeline Rose, and Cardan Xenos. How stupid and naive you were back then.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't locked me up without food, I wouldn't have to make up for God knows how much time I spent without it." You reply grumpily, but you listen to him and slow down your eating pace a little.

"If you behaved like a lady and not a savage from the district, I wouldn't have to do this. Besides, I thought you didn't believe in God?"

"I have to. What other explanation is there for why devils like you exist in this world?" You answer very seriously, obviously mocking him. He rolls his eyes at you and looks around, making sure no one is listening to your conversation. The last thing he wants is you, spoiling the picture of a perfect copule he made up for the Capitol masses.

"I don't think that's exactly the right thing to say to your fiancé, my lovely little rebel." He replies, adjusting the necklace around your neck. You shiver as his fingertips brush against the skin of your collarbone, hating yourself for how pleasant that small touch felt.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you hit him and whether the ridiculously large ring he gave you would accidentally gouge out his eye in the process. You have to test it someday...

"So suddenly you want to play the conservative, exemplary couple?" You ask mockingly, playing with the sleeve of your dress, trying to ignore the hateful glances the harpies were giving you for ruining their plans to settle down the great President Snow.

"I told you this before, Y/N. All that stands in the way of our happiness is your childishness, idiotic stubbornness, and lack of trust. I took care of you in District 12, I met your every need, and I protected you from every other man who tried to lay his finger on you, including the commander. I risked my future for you more than once. Do you think that I have suddenly changed completely? That I am not able to feel the same as before and take care of what is mine?"

"Wait... you killed Hoff?" You ask in shock, trying to hold on to that one sentence he had said. You won't let that bastard make you feel guilty. "I never asked you about any of these things. You did it all by yourself. Because you wanted to. Because you got something out of this. So don't try to pull the wool over my eyes and tell me that you're my hero, because even now, when you are trying to turn me into a Capitol girl, you are doing it only for your benefit and entertainment."

"You could show some gratitude. If I wanted, I could easly have any woman here. And they would bring me much more than you."

"Would they? Would they be able to fill the void left by me? Because that was the point, right? You saw me everywhere. In everything. You couldn't get rid of the ghost of our past, and it made you feel crazy. Maybe even mad and lonely. I'm only here for your mental health. To tie up loose ends, right, Coriolanus?"

Your mockery finally throws him off balance. His calm, indifferent façade breaks before you. You see the burning anger in his eyes as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. However, he's still composed enough to remember that you're both in a public place, so instead of reaching for your neck, he cups your cheek, holding you tightly. He leans down, pressing his temple to yours to whisper in your ear.

"I could kill you so quickly, painfully and silently that no one would notice your sudden disappearance..."

"But then you'd also be burying your sanity with me, right? You know... I heard you screaming after me in the forest all these years ago. Your desperate pleas for me not to leave you. The only person who showed you warmth, compassion, and care, who wasn't related to you, who didn't have to do it out of any sick sense of duty or fear. Tell me, do you still have your mother's shawl that I dropped when I ran away from you? Does it still smell like me?"

You keep pushing him to the edge of his patience, hoping he'll break and show all these people who gathered to celebrate your fake engagement what he really is. But instead of causing a scene, he just growls into your ear before capturing your lips in a passionate, aggressive kiss. He takes advantage of your shock as you gasp, allowing his tongue to invade your mouth.

Kissing Coriolanus has always been like this. A passionate, possessive fight between you. Everything or nothing. Either completely gentle and tender or a breathtaking, mind-blowing experience. And you hated yourself for how easily you found yourself in his arms and close to his body as he pressed you to him, trying to vent the burning anger (that you aroused in him) on your lips. A clever bastard.

Before he pulls away from you, he bites your lower lip in some twisted act of punishment. You lick your lips as he pulls away, tasting your blood on the tongue.

"For your own good, you should learn when to shut your damn, pretty mouth." He growls, moving away from you. He discreetly wipes your lipstick from his mouth with a tissue and hands it to you, so you can also fix the makeup he ruined. And you try your hardest to ignore the looks other people give you. You're fucking blushing anyway.

"I am not a puppet you can control." You say, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation.

"I never wanted you to be one. It would be so boring… after all, it's so much more fun to break you down every time you're hoping you'll escape and have someone at your side who actually uses brain cells.. Nothing can tear us apart, Y/N. I won't let you run away from me again. The hunt and chase are over, my little hunter. Even death won't separate us, because I swear I will take you with me everywhere, even to my own grave." He mumbles, his nose brushing against yours. You feel his breath on your cheek as he places his hands on your shoulders, making sure you don't run away from him. You shiver when he touches the bare skin of your arms. He gives you a cocky smirk, well aware of what the closeness between the two of you is doing to you.

From the outside, to casual observers, it might have looked like an ordinary, loving conversation between two people who couldn't keep their hands off each other. You should get used to the fact that people's eyes will always be on you and that Coriolanus can whisper death threats with the most tender expression on his face.

You move away from him and reach for the champagne the waiter hands you. You take a sip, ignoring Coriolanus' glare, but as soon as the liquid slides down your throat, you feel like you've swallowed corrosive acid. You drop your glass in shock, shattering it on the floor, and you grab your throat, coughing.

Blood flows from your mouth, soaking the neckline of your dress as you lose control and spitting the red liquid onto the floor as you kneel, unable to steady yourself on your shaking legs.

Poison. Coriolanus poisoned you. He was planning your death all along. How wrong you were...

But why would he do it this way? Why now, in public and not in the privacy of his residence, taking his revenge? Why was he keeping you alive for so long, under the pretext of making you a resident of the Capitol and his polite, obedient little fiancée and future wife and First Lady?

And when he kneels next to you, taking you in his arms and holding you, as panic begins to form around you from the screams of the crowd and their chaotic footsteps, you become even more confused. His eyes are all you can look at when you are struggling for air.

The chandelier above him causes you to see a golden halo-like glow around his head. The thought crosses your mind that this is what Lucifer must have looked like before he became a fallen angel. This is how you were supposed to die. In the arms of the devil. The devil that you yourself allowed to get close to you.

"You did great, my love." You hear him whisper in your ear. Before you drift off into the darkness, you feel him place something cold against your lips, forcing the thick, bitter liquid down your throat.

The first thing you feel after regaining consciousness is a terrible pain in your throat. As if it had turned into a real desert. You are convinced that this is hell. It's only when you realise you're lying on soft red silk sheets, on the familiar bed that belonged to Coriolanus, that you realise you're still in YOUR hell. Unfortunately, you cannot say which option was worse: meeting the real devil or facing the blonde demon in a red suit again.

You open your eyes slowly, gratefully accepting that you are surrounded by darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of moonlight that filters through the half-covered windows.

You are hit by the strong scent of roses next to you. You freeze, feeling Coriolanus's arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Only now do you realise that he is lying right next to you, his face turned towards you. He breathes easily and calmly. His usually combed and slicked hair is slightly messy, which only adds to his charm and makes you want to run your hand through it and feel its softness (an opportunity you were deprived of in District 12 during his time as peackeeper). You almost forget that he poisoned you at the party. Almost.

You slowly try to slide his arm off of you and get out of bed. You manage to sit up, but when you gently push his arm off of you, he immediately wakes up. He automatically reaches for your wrist and locks it in a tight grip. He looks at you, blinking a few times before he wakes up enough to realise what's happening around him.

"You finally woke up. Dr. Gaul said it might take you some time. You're not as resistant to poisons as I am yet, my darling, but we'll change that soon." He assures you, sitting on the bed as well. He places his hand on your jaw and forces you to open your mouth so he can check your throat. You don't fight him for now; you are too tired from the events of a few hours ago to try to stand up to him like you always do. Besides, you'd rather have him checking and treating you than that crazy woman.

The concern shining in his eyes tells you that if he wanted to kill you, he wouldn't be giving you the antidote, checking your injuries right now, or sleeping and watching over you in his bed, playing the role of nurse to help you recover.

So you have no fucking idea why he let you drink the poison from the glass. Nor who put it there.

"What happened…" You try to ask, but as quickly as you speak, you feel your throat begin to scratch. A new wave of coughing comes over you. You cover your mouth with your hand, choking as blood sprinkles on your hands again. You feel like you're about to hyperventilate or have a full panic attack as you remember the situation from a few hours ago.

"Easy." He whispers, placing his hand on your back. When you finish coughing, he hands you a glass of water. You look at it distrustfully. He sighs, rolling his eyes, and takes a sip. You wait a minute, and when you see that nothing is wrong with him, you take it from him and drink. "This should explain everything to you."

He takes a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket and unfolds it. He places it on your lap. You freeze for a moment at the image of yourself.

"Wanted poster. District 13, as your little rebel group called itself, has put a large bounty on your head. And this evening, they carried out an attack on you. Something about getting to me through you. The peacekeepers couldn't get anything more out of the rebels they caught before... I think you know what happened to them. You have become their next arch-enemy. Almost as big as me."

"At least they did a better job with my portrait. What you told your dogs to show around the districts did not fully reflect my beauty." You wheeze as you try to speak. You see, he's not happy about you trying to use your voice.

Coriolanus sits next to you again, and despite your silent protests, he pulls you into his arms, making you lean against his chest. He puts his chin on your shoulder and shows you some portraits of some people. People you knew well, people you had fought with before against him and the peackeepers. People who poisoned you likely met their own deaths at the behest of a man who wrapped his arms around you, holding you hostage in his bed. Honestly, you'd rather rot in the ground with other rebels who wanted your death and be interrogated by peakceepers than be here with Coriolanus. Or at least, that's what you were telling yourself.

"I did it on purpose. Do you think anyone would believe that you suddenly went from being an enemy and a traitor to the nation to becoming the respected daughter of a general who died in the war?"

"Why are you doing this, Coriolanus? This whole fake performance and show for the Capitol. And that keeping me alive and scaring me with my people—what is it for? What do you want to achieve?" You ask, pausing to sip your water and turning in his arms so you can carefully analyse his face and his reactions to your questions.

"People like us should stay together."

"Like us? I'm nothing like you." You quickly protest, at which he just chuckles, shaking his head. He places his hand on your cheek and strokes it with his thumb, examining your face carefully.

"Now… don't insult my and your intelligence. I know when you're lying, so stop telling yourself these slanderous things, my lovely little hunter. Don't act dumb. You know why I want you. Here. With me on my laps and by my side. Right where you belong." Coriolanus holds you against him possessively, emphasising the validity of his words.

Apart from the delicate, intoxicating scent of roses coming from him and the warmth that emanates from his body, you can feel his heart beating calmly in his chest. A cold chill runs through you at the thought that yours might have stopped pounding like that long ago if he hadn't given you the antidote in time.

"If you really wanted and loved me so much, you would never have let me drink this poison today." You mumble into his neck as you let him hold you, even welcoming the way he lazily massages your scalp and plays with your hair. There is little you can do in your dazed state. You still feel tired from the whole day. Or rather, I spent weeks and months locked in this large villa.

"It's because I love you that I had to do it. If it weren't for that, you wouldn't understand how dangerous these people are. These dogs who chew on the hand of the Capitol that feeds them will do anything to overthrow us and destroy the peace we reached. And I won't let the dark days come again for the Capitol. Our children will not have to starve like we did. I had promised you that, and I intend to keep that promise." He says, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

You shiver at the familiar feeling of his lips on your skin and the seriousness of the situation this small gesture caused. Once upon a time, these promises seemed sweet to you; they were even a dream come true. Now he was only offering you your worst nightmares on a golden platter.

"I thought then that we would stay in the district. Away from the Capitol, away from the bloodthirsty ambitions of people like Dr. Gaul and the psychopaths who think that killing 24 innocent children every year in some fucking Games is a great idea for entertainment. I thought you were different, that you were capable of love, but now I see that you are a monster, just like they all are."

"Would a monster take care of you? Would I hold you close, try my best to protect you, and make you my First Lady if I were one? Would I forgive you for your escape and betrayal and welcome you with open arms, even after you tried to kill me? What do you think this is if not love?"

"An obsession. The sick desire to have control over another." You say with complete confidence, recalling 'the training' he gave you very clearly. Maybe for him, being locked in a cold cell for a few days wasn't a sign of cruelty, but a way to educate you to be an excellent lady from the Capitol. But you would rather die than become a pretty doll on his shoulder.

"Maybe yes. Maybe I'm obsessed with you. But that doesn't change the fact that you're mine, Y/N. You were always meant to be mine. You better get used to it. I wouldn't want to give you poison without an antidote."

You don't know what's colder, the tone of his voice in which he delivers his warning, or the emptiness you feel when his arms abandon you as he gets out of bed. Either way, you don't feel the sweet taste of victory when he leaves, dramatically slamming the door behind him and, of course, locking you in the room as you are left on your own.

You start to lose control. You can feel it. You were starting to become very attached to him, to his presence, smell, touch, kisses... You were starting to question everything you had ever believed in. He fed you lies that you wanted to believe, and that was the worst. You grab your arm, rubbing it, and the large diamond on your finger mocks you, as it is reflecting in the dim light of the bedroom.

You close your eyes, sighing shakily as you realise your fate. Today's attempt to poison you wasn't just an attempt to kill you or to get to Coriolanus. You knew it. It meant something more. It was a signal. You were supposed to move before they took matters into their own hands.

And for a brief moment, as you played with your engagement ring on your finger, you wondered what would have happened if things had turned out differently. What would life be like if you and Coriolanus ran away together? Maybe you could stop the carnage he caused? Spare human lives by keeping a domesticated Coriolanus on a leash? NO. You shake your head. A caged animal is still a dangerous animal. Not a home-pet. And even if you became his first lady, nothing would change. He won't change. Not like you.

Because the undeniable truth of the world of people who have high ambitions, the ability to carefully observe human behaviour and predict their movements, insight, and perseverance, is that they either live long enough to become a monster or short enough to become a hero. And you promised yourself a long time ago that you would rather die than ever become one of the Capitol's citizens.

One step. Second. Third. You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you sneak through the presidential palace, avoiding the peacekeepers.

You stop and hide behind a pillar, waiting for the two patrolling the corridor that led to Coriolanus' office to pass by you. You hold your breath, listening to a pair of footsteps approach and recede, leaving you alone in the hallway for a moment.

You remember the first night you entered the mansion—the night Coriolanus caught you. You promised yourself that you would not leave the presidential palace until you saw his dead body. And if there was one good thing you had in common with Coriolanus, it was that you always kept the promises you made to each other. Except for one.

You were both breathing heavily as you lay in the small bed in the lake house. Coriolanus held you close to his chest, placing small kisses on your bare shoulder. You sighed, still stunned by your activity from a few moments ago. You turned around, careful not to fall off the small mattress, and clung to his chest, ignoring the smell of the two of you's mixed sweat.

The rain pounded against the roof of the wooden hut, lulling you to sleep in your peacekeeper's arms. You buried your face in his neck, humming as he lazily ran his hand through your hair. You felt peace—a rare and very precious thing in District 12. Coriolanus' arms and his closeness gave you great comfort and a sense of security; it was a promise of a break from reality and entering your world, limited only to the two of you. You've never felt anything like this with anyone else. And you know, you will never be able to feel this way with anyone else.

"Promise that you will never leave me." His soft whisper snaps you from your half-asleep state. You lift your head to look at him, frowning at his strange request.

He had his soft moments, but he had never shown you such a... vulnerable side of himself. Even when you first saw the wounds on his back, or discovered how thin he was under his peackeeper clothes two weeks after he arrived in District 12. Coriolanus trusted no one. Except you. A gift that you valued more than his love, devotion, and desire.

So when you see the hesitation in his eyes and his attempt to retreat into his hard shell, you lean in, connecting your lips in a tender, gentle, slow kiss. You taste his lips as if they were the sweetest nectar; you savour them slowly, only becoming more and more addicted to him. You massage his scalp, pulling him closer to you and straddling him.

You reluctantly pull away from him and look into his eyes as you link your hands and place them on your chest so he can feel your heartbeat. He looks at you, stunned, waiting patiently to see what your next move will be.

"It's yours. It'll always be yours. You stole it from me the day you shot that guy who was trying to get to me and arranged for him to be hanged. You hold it in your iron grip, and you'll have it until the end of time. And I'd rather die than live without my heart, Coryo."

You see that he is touched and that you are slowly breaking down his walls. To avoid showing such weakness, he pulls your head to his neck. He plays with your hair and presses a long kiss on your temple as you lay on top of him. He covers you both with a blanket, and you fall asleep cradled in his arms, lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

And for a moment, being with him in the privacy of the cabin, you really felt like you were the lucky one.

You shake your head, and before the peacekeeper patrol arrives, you walk to the door of Coriolanus' office. You don't knock. You quietly open the door and step inside. The soft carpet that touches your bare feet is a nice change from the cold marble.

Coriolanus doesn't respond to your silent entrance at first, but it's only when you approach the desk that he senses the presence of someone else in the room. He looks up from the papers on his desk and frowns when he sees you in your nightgown (one of his sleep shirts, that is).

"What are you doing here? The peacekeepers were supposed to keep an eye on you so you didn't go anywhere." He says, pretending his heart didn't beat faster at the sight of you so homely. He's already replaying the fantasy in his head of this becoming your routine. You came to him late at night to distract him from presidential matters and drag him to the warmth of your shared bed. Later. With time. He will be there.

"I needed to talk to you. It was easy to avoid these two to get to your office. As for the remaining 20 in the building, it probably wouldn't have been so effortless to get out of here."

"35. There are also secret passages." He corrects you, putting down the papers he was looking at. "What do you want?" He asks, rubbing his eyes tiredly. You stop your curiosity from looking at the papers and focus your eyes fully on him.

"I was thinking about what happened yesterday… And I came to the conclusion that you might be right."

"Don't you say..." He mutters mockingly, standing up to pour himself some whisky from the bar. He comes back with two glasses, handing you one, to which you just nod politely. He shrugs and pours the liquid into one glass, not taking his eyes from you.

"Do not look at me like this. You know how hard it is for me to admit this. I... since then, in District 12... after Sejanus was hanged and... I could have been blinded by Lucy Gray's grief and resentment towards you. I could believe the picture of the monster she painted. After all, you've known each other longer. You, Sejanus, and her... But you can't blame me for thinking I'd be next." You try to explain your course of action to him. He seems uninterested in it; at least that's what you can tell from his body language. But the eyes... you had studied reading them long enough to be able to read his thoughts in them.

"I don't blame you. I would think the same. I blame you for actually running away with her. That you chose her instead of staying and trusting me." He says, not hiding the hurt in his voice. You lower your head in mock contrition as he downs his drink and places the empty glass on the desk.

"And I regretted it every single day, Coryo." You lie, trying your hardest to make him believe you. You even use his nickname and kneel next to his chair, taking his hands in yours. You don't meet his eyes. You focus your gaze and grap on his hands, knowing all too well that if you look at him, you will reveal your intentions. Because Coriolanus knew you as well as you knew him. "I know it's been hard for you without me... but I haven't had it easy either. I saw you... us... everywhere. I... I wished every day that I was in your arms. That I could somehow feel you next to me, talk to you. And that's why, instead of sinking into my growing despair and longing, I tried to turn this feeling into hatred, but... I can't go on like this anymore... I... I can't pretend that you are my enemy, that I hate you. Because that's not true. It never could be." Only at the end do you dare to look at him, trying to look as uncertain and contrite as you can. "You were right. All this time. I was... too proud to admit it, since I went so far in all of this running away from you and trying to fight you, but I can't do this anymore. I can't deny anymore what my heart wants."

"And what is it?" His whisper is hoarse, and his eyes are completely focused on you. This is a breakthrough moment. The course of events will depend on whether he believes you... but do you really have to put a lot of effort into lying to him?

"You." You confess, bringing complete silence to the room.

You don't know if he decides to ignore your bluff, or if he's fed up with this fight between you and simply needs your closeness, or if you've finally learned to lie so well from him that even he can't tell that you're entirely honest with him, or if you are trying to lie to yourself in an attempt to simplify your mission.

You don't want to know.

That's why, when he suddenly grabs you by the waist and sits you on his lap, you don't protest. Same when he captures your lips in a passionate kiss. The feeling of his soft, plush lips on yours befuddles you for a moment. You forget about your plan and let him caress your lips, giving yourself over again to that familiar, burning feeling that overwhelmed the two of you every time you gave in to your deepest desires.

When he bites your lower lip, demanding full access to your mouth, you remember what you came here for. You let your tongues tangle and sigh softly, accepting, after so many years of separation, that burning sensation spreading from your chest to his touch and closeness. You bite the inside of your cheek and deepen the kiss, your tongue fighting with his for dominance.

You give in, allowing him to place you on his desk. In one quick movement, he throws everything off it onto the floor. The glass shatters, but that's the last thing you notice as you melt into his touch and moan into his lips.

He pulls away for a moment, and you only see the smirk on his face for a brief moment before he dives down to your neck, marking you with his kisses and small bites. His hand slides up your bare leg, making you shiver as it leisurely reaches the hem of (his) shirt you're wearing.

"Coryo." You moan, tangling your hands in his blonde locks at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer to you. You sigh as he pushes his hips into yours at the sudden feeling of your fingers in his hair and tugging—something that was impossible to do in his peacekeeper days.

You hear him growl into your neck. He tries to position you comfortably on his desk so that he has adequate access to you, but suddenly he freezes, and you can see in his eyes that he's changing his mind. You're afraid he might have sensed your trick, but the moment you're back in his arms, you calm down a little.

Coriolanus from District 12 wouldn't care what surface he takes you to. It didn't matter to him at all, as long as you both could hold yourselves in the position he had imagined. That's why you're surprised when he carries you all the way through the presidential palace and into his bedroom, ignoring the brief glances he gets from the surprised peackeepers before they look away in confusion.

As he places you gently on his bed, you almost feel sorry for what you have to do. Almost. His lips on yours effectively drive any logical thought from your head. You can only feel, see, and hear him.

It scares you how much control he has over you and how much you've allowed him to control every little piece of you over the years, even though you were several districts apart. Your foolish heart believed his lies. That you belong to each other. And you're convinced that a few more weeks at his side would make your common sense stop protesting and accept the role he's given you.

But you won't admit to anyone that, in the darkest depths of your heart, you dream of the life he could have given you. About being his First Lady and about the selfish, luxurious life you could lead by his side. But you didn't want to be a monster. You didn't want to become one of them. The fear of this was greater than the fear of what awaited you at the end of the night when you carried out your plan.

But as long as he is with you, you can drown out your heart's cry for the future you could have if you were a little more like Coriolanus. You can pretend and deceive both him and yourself that this night is only the beginning of your wonderful, long future.

You gently push him off of you and onto his back. You sit astride him and lazily place a trail of kisses from his jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, and toned stomach down. Before you get to where he needs you most, he grabs your neck and pulls you closer to kiss you hard and possessively. He tangles his hand in your hair and moves to rest against the headboard of the bed.

You both moan, resting your foreheads against each other as you lower yourself onto his length. He holds you in a tight embrace, his breathing getting heavier, and you know it's not just because he's excited about what you're doing now.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him as tight and close to you as he is holding you. Your walls tighten around him as you slowly move, settling on a ridiculously slow pace compared to how you used to be madly chasing your peaks.

This is a completely different type of intimacy. You're glad he can't see your face, because he would definitely read the guilt and bitterness you feel when he moans your name and sweet words into your ear.

"I've waited so damn long to have you again. My little hunter. You will be a beautiful bride and a stunning First Lady. Nothing will stand in our way. My darling. My sweet poison. My greatest pursuit and reward. I will give you the life we dreamed about in District 12. All you have to do is stay and trust me."

You nod, moaning as he picks up the pace. You dig your nails into his shoulders as you feel how close you are to reaching your edge.

"Promise. Promise me it will never happen again. That you are mine, and you will stay with me, right where you belong. Promise me, Y/N." He grabs you tightly by the neck and forces you to look into his eyes. You shed tears that he licks away, mistaking them for tears of pleasure as he presses himself relentlessly into your most sensitive spot.

Little does he know that these are tears of guilt that you shouldn't feel. But you can't convince your foolish heart otherwise. Not when he's buried deep inside you and looks at you like you're his whole world.

"I… I promise, Coryo." You moan and tangle your hand in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss to take his burning, searching gaze away from your face. He pushes you onto your back and hugs you tightly as he pounds into you with newfound speed, aroused by the promise you just made to him. He sucks on your skin, littering it with hickeys, as if you weren't marked enough by him in his mind. As if he hadn't already completely penetrated your soul.

You scream his name, hugging him painfully tight as you come. You feel a great sense of bliss that you haven't felt in a long time. You're completely dazed, feeling nothing but the rapid thrusts as your lover and greatest enemy chases his orgasm to join you in the orgasmic haze. Coriolanus comes a moment after you, crashing into your mouth hungrily, making you both swallow each other's moans as you two are experiencing the greatest bliss in your life.

He pulls you along with him as he lays down on the mattress. He still holds you in a possessive, strong hug, afraid that you will run away from him or suddenly disappear at any moment. You bury your face in his neck and place small kisses there, drawing lazy patterns with your finger on his chest.

"I love you." He mumbles and presses a kiss on your forehead. You tilt your head to look at him briefly. Before he can read anything from your eyes, you lean in and connect your lips in a slow, tender kiss. You cup your hand around his cheek and stroke his skin with your thumb. You pull away from him. Coriolanus grabs your wrist and moves his head to kiss the palm of your hand and the finger on which you had his engagement ring.

"I love you too." You whisper and snuggle into him. Coriolanus holds you tightly, sighing with relief. Finally. The moment he had waited for since he saw you entering his presidential palace.

He begins to feel tired as the adrenaline wears off and his heart beats slower and slower. He shifts you off his chest as he finds it increasingly difficult to breathe with you on top of him, but he still holds you close to him, always having at least one hand wrapped tightly around you.

You stare into each other's eyes until he's so tired he can't keep them open anymore. He falls asleep, his face turned towards you, and you can't help but trace the line of his jaw with your hand, caressing him gently.

It was an equal fight and chase.

Coriolanus made only one serious mistake. Enough to seal the fate of the two of you.

He forgot himself, deeming you a non-threat, and left you alone in his bedroom. Exactly where he kept all the poisons he had already become immune to.

It was too easy to secure a few vials and send a message to the other rebels. And you had huge doubts as you implemented this multi-step plan, but you were there. You patiently made it to the end. His own and Coriolanus Snow's.

You bit through the vial of poison sewn into your cheek, drawing blood, and let it pass into Coriolanus' mouth as he kissed you hungrily in his office a few hours ago.

And now, you lay next to him, staring at him as he sleeps peacefully next to you. He was breathing evenly, like you; your pulse slowly decreased, as did the rate of your breaths. He looks like an angel with his hair spread out on the pillow. You were supposed to hand him over to the devil himself. Yourself too.

You closed your eyes as you started to feel the effects of the poison.

You nuzzle your nose into his chest, inhaling his scent. Roses overwhelm your senses. His scent and the warmth radiating from him lull you to sleep next to him. The last one, you think to yourself as he buries his nose in your hair and tightens his grip on you.

Hunters sometimes died in pursuit of their prey, bringing an end to both them and themselves. Both you and Coriolanus could have predicted that you would be each other's end. At least it wasn't as bloodthirsty and drastic as the outcome could have been, you think as you fall asleep cuddled together.

[horangare]

daddy dearest

pairing : dilf!jeonghan x collegestudent!reader

content : smut (mdni or else!!)

in which : meeting the father of your project partner and new friend didn’t go how you planned, but hey, you’re not complaining

warnings : age gap (jeonghan is in his early 40s, reader is in their early 20s), reader has female anatomy, cursing, dom/sub dynamics, (kinda? i think?) begging, oral (jh giving), teasing, (dirty talk, praise, degradation) pet names (jeonghan calls reader princess, baby, slut, good girl/reader calls jeonghan sir, mr. yoon), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap)

wc : 4.6k words

note : omg my first fic on here

part 2

You trudged into your last class of the day, completely exhausted and overwhelmed. The week has been full of nothing but exams, presentations, and essays. Midterms were even worse in college than they were than when you were in high school. Just thinking about it makes you wish you could go back to writing essays that were five-hundred words instead of five pages.

All you wanted to do was get through this class with a simple task, or, maybe if you were lucky, just a lecture along with some note taking. After all, for the past week your professor hasn’t made you write pages upon pages or cram weeks worth of information into your head for a test that he could spring on you at any day.

Unfortunately, luck has never been your best friend.

Your professor beckoned you to his desk where he was organizing various stacks of papers. “Good afternoon [Y/n]. Ah, here, take one of these.” He said, handing you a—somewhat thick—packet. You looked down and flipped through it, slightly dumbfounded with the amount of pages it contained.

“Uh, sir, what is this?” You asked. He chuckled a little and shook his head.

“Your midterm project. The packet contains all the details, now as for your partner…” The man scanned the still somewhat empty lecture hall before his eyes landed on someone sitting in the back. “Ah! You’ll be with the girl back there.”

You turned around, looking to the back to try and find the “girl back there” he was mentioning. Your eyes landed on a girl who you don’t think you be ever seen or talked to before with her attention completely focused on her laptop as she rapidly typed away at her keyboard.

“Um, okay, thanks,” You mumbled to your professor before making your way to the back of the hall and towards your partner. Now that you were close enough, you actually managed to recognize her.

Iseul was always a bit quiet. She always sat in the back of the lecture hall, always typing away on her laptop. She always wore clothes that fit loosely on her and kept her hair in a bun or a ponytail, which would have gotten old if the styles didn’t work so well to show off her gorgeous cheekbones. You wondered who her parents were, because damn those genes had to be strong. When you thought about yourself, the two of you were pretty much complete opposites. You got sat close to the front and talked to anyone that would bother to listen. You dressed up every day and spent careful time on your hair, and wow, you were really getting jealous of those cheekbones.

“Hi,” You greeted her with a friendly smile. “You’re Iseul, right? I’m [Y/n]. We’re supposed to be partners for this project.”

Iseul looked up at you, a faint smile on her face as she nodded. “Uh, yeah. Hi. Oh, sorry, please sit,” she grabbed her bag from the chair next to her and placed it on the ground. You sat down next to her, placing your bag down on the ground in front of you.

“So, have you looked over the project yet? Is it a lot? Please say no…” You asked her, mumbling the last part. By now, she had turned her attention back to her laptop, but she laughed when you asked that. If you were being honest, you didn’t think you could bring yourself to flip through all those pages without breaking down in tears.

“It isn’t too much. Just a powerpoint and a short essay to go along with it. I don’t think it should take too long…” Iseul trailed off, preoccupied with flipping through the packet and typing.

To your surprise, you got along with Iseul better than you thought. She seemed enthusiastic to hear your ideas and responded earnestly, the two of you bouncing your ideas off of each other until you finally came up with something you both agreed on. While she got started on the written portion, you had taken decided on doing the powerpoint. You got along with her so well that when class had ended, you couldn’t stop a pout from forming on your lips.

“Is something wrong?” Iseul asked, a slight look of worry showing on her face. “Is there a problem with the project? Should we revise?”

“No, everything’s fine. I just…” Still pounting, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “I need your number. So that we can keep up with the project and…‘cause we should be friends.”

And in an instant, Iseul’s face brightened, and she nodded. She typed her phone number into your phone and smiled at you. “I’ll..um, text you later. About the project, okay?”

You smiled back, picking up your bag and walking to the door before the two of you went your separate ways. As much as you had enjoyed Iseul and her company today in class, you really couldn’t wait to get back to your dorm to shower and get a little rest before the weekend. Oh, you couldn’t wait for the weekend

Right. You wouldn’t have time to even enjoy it because you would be working on that stupid project. Damn your professor.

The weekend went by in a flash, much to your disappointment, and the last thing you wanted was to return to your classes. Of course, the project for your early childhood development class—which was the class your project was due in—wasnt due until next week, but you had still been dreading it. However, when you got there, you were greeted with an empty classroom.

Confused, you called Iseul, who picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Iseul, where is everyone? Why’s the class empty?”

“Oh, didn’t you read the email? He said he won’t be there for a while. Something about the stomach flu, and blah blah blah, a bunch of other personal stuff.”

You smiled. Karma was real.

“By the way,” She continued. “I’m staying at my dad’s house this week. Do you think you could come here so we can work on the project today? I’ll send you the address.”

“Sure. I’ll be there soon.”

Iseul was outside before you could even exit your Uber, still in her pajamas and with her hair down instead of up. Now that you were seeing it like this, you were surprised with just how long it was. She greeted you at the door with a smile and led you inside.

You couldn’t stop your mouth from falling open as you took in your surroundings. “Woah, Iseul, you live here? What’s the deal, are your parents like…”

“Parents?” She asked. “No, no, it’s just my dad. And he’s a model, he has been since he was younger.”

This caught your interest.

“Who’s your dad?”

Iseul brought her hand to her mouth, nervously biting on one of her fingernails. “Well, he’s—”

In that moment, one of the doors opened to reveal possibly the most gorgeous man you think you’ve ever seen. He was taller than both you and Iseul, but there was a bigger gap between the two of you as opposed to him and Iseul. His hair cascaded down the sides of his face and down his neck. And he had the same gorgeous cheekbones as Iseul.

So this was where she got it from. Iseul was Yoon Jeonghan’s daughter.

“Ah..hey dad.” Iseul said, pulling her hand away from her mouth. “Oh, this is [Y/n], from school. She’s my partner for that project I was talking about.”

The man nodded at Iseul, shifting his gaze from her over to you. His gaze felt so intense, you couldn’t help but squirm as his eyes looked over you, taking you in.

“Hello Mr. Yoon.” You greeted him with a smile and a short bow, silently wishing he would take his eyes off of you because it was making you more nervous than you would’ve liked. He nodded slowly, looking you over one more time before turning down the hall and disappearing deeper into the house. Iseul grabbed your hand and dragged you to her room.

“Sorry about that, I was about to tell you, but he’s got this habit of just…appearing, so…” Iseul’s apology came out quickly and a bit hushed as she threw herself onto her bed. She sighed. “I should’ve told you earlier.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s really fine.” Iseul was relieved that you didn’t seem as shaken as she thought you would’ve been. With a nod, she smiled at you and patted the space on the bed next to her.

“Okay, we should get to work, we’re almost done with the project.”

With much reluctance, you settled onto the bed next to her and opened your laptop. Iseul may have been your friend, but you wanted nothing more than a break from this project. After this, you never wanted to hear or see the word project ever again.

God, you weren’t sure which you hated more, this project (honestly though, you really did hate this project) or your brain.

As much as you wanted to focus and finish as quickly as you could, you just kept getting distracted with thoughts of Jeonghan. It’s not like you wanted to keep thinking of him, especially when you were just meeting him for the first time, but he was just so much more breathtaking in person than you could have imagined. Those magazines did not do him justice. You got hot just thinking about it—about him.

You couldn’t take it any more. “Iseul, um…where’s the kitchen? I really need some water.”

“Oh, uh,” Iseul sat up, climbing out of the bed and walking to the door, “Right down the hall and then it’s through the first door on the left.”

“Thanks.” You smile before practically running out of her room to the kitchen. With a somewhat shaky hand, you pulled open the fridge and grabbed the closest bottled water before shutting the fridge, turning to leave when you froze.

Jeonghan was standing in front of you. And this time, he was closer. Much closer.

Slightly surprised, you took a step backwards. Jeonghan tilted his head to the side and mirrored your actions, taking one step closer. This continued for a short bit with him coming one step closer for every one step you took backwards until he had you backed up against the counter, caging you in place with both arms by your side on the countertop.

“Ah…Hi again, Mr. Yoon.” You said, feeling nervous all over again with how close he was.

“Mmm…you’re just making yourself right at home, aren’t you?” Jeonghan asked. “Taking from my fridge without even asking…”

Your eyes widened, worried you had upset him. “I’m sorry sir, I asked Iseul first, really I would never!”

Jeonghan smirked and shook his head. “Relax baby, I’m only kidding. You can get as comfortable as you want here.” He mumbled, one of his hands moving from the counter to rest on your hip.

You tried to back away, right now you wish that was an option, but between the counter keeping you from moving backwards and Jeonghan’s hand on you, it was a little hard to go anywhere. “Mr. Yoon, what are you doing..?”

“Just…looking. Why, should I stop?”

With every word he spoke Jeonghan inched his face closer and closer to yours until you were only inches apart. His eyes wandered down from your eyes to your lips. You were hoping he wouldn’t lick them, but of course he did.

God, this man would be the death of you.

You turned your head to the side, too shy to meet his gaze. “Sorry sir, I don’t know if…” Your words got lost in your throat as Jeonghan placed his hand under your chin and turned your head back to look at him.

“Now now princess, anything you have to say you can say it to my face.” He said as he ran his thumb across your bottom lip. “God, I really want to kiss you baby. Can I?”

You bit your lip and nodded every so slightly, feeling your heart betray you as it started to beat so fast and loud you would be surprised if it didn’t burst out of your chest right now. You looked down at his lips like he did to you just moments ago before. “Yes, please,” you mumbled. “kiss me.”

That was all it took before Jeonghan closed the last bit of distance between you two, attaching his lips to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you brought your hands away from your sides to tangle them into his soft black hair. Jeonghan lightly but your bottom lip, causing you to let out a moan which allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hand that was on your hip traveled up to hold your waist, while his other hand rested on the nape of your neck to pull you impossibly closer. It all felt so unreal, so intense, it made your head spin and your underwear slick.

Jeonghan pulled away and looked down at you with a faint smile. You looked up at him, still breathless and panting.

“Iseul will probably be getting worried about you by now, huh princess?” He asked, stepping away from you. “You shouldn’t keep her waiting. She tends to worry, you know.” You nodded, still a bit dazed from the kiss and started to walk away, but Jeonghan tugged your hand to stop you, slipping the bottle of water back into your hand with a wink and slipped out of the kitchen and once again disappeared into the house.

By Monday evening, you had said your goodbyes to Iseul (unsure of where her father had went inside that giant house of theirs) and hauled ass back to your dorm to try and get said father off of your mind—it didn’t work. Needless to say, you ended the night with your fingers buried in your pussy with the image of Jeonghan replaying over and over in your mind, you chanting his name like it would bring him out of your fantasies and have him ravage you right here in your dorm room.

By Wednesday morning, you had almost completed your part of the project. Iseul had been finished by Monday night and offered to help, but you insisted on doing it yourself. The more you thought about it though, you were starting to think you should have accepted it.

“You can come over again if you want. I won’t be there until later in the afternoon, but my dad will be there..if that’s okay with you. Once I get there I can help you finish the project.” Iseul said while you two were on the phone.

At her home? Alone? With Jeonghan? No way. Not when he made your heart race and your cunt throb. Not when he had your head spinning after one kiss. Absolutely not. Not happening. Never.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll text you when I get there.”

The Uber ride back to the Yoon house had you clenching your thighs together, recalling the events from Monday. You weren’t sure you could trust yourself to be alone with Jeonghan, but you were hoping you could settle into Iseul’s room and avoid him until she came home and then leave undetected.

You slipped out of the car and into the house with the spare key Iseul had given you and hurrying down the maze of halls and doors to Iseul’s room.

Or what you thought was Iseul’s room.

“Seulie? You’re back early, were your classes cancelled?” Jeonghan asked as he stood over the wide wooden desk in front of him. When he received no response from who he thought was his daughter, he turned around to face you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry sir, I thought this was Iseul’s room. I’ll leave, please forgive me.” Your blurted out as you tried to turn around and leave, but Jeonghan had gently tugged you back by your arm.

“Oh baby, why are you in such a hurry? It’s almost like you don’t want to see me.” He gave you a half-hearted pout. “Don’t you think that hurts my feelings a little bit?”

The look in his eyes and the pout on his face had you melting into his touch and feeling bad. “I’m sorry, Mr. Yoon. That’s not what I wanted to do at all.”

Jeonghan cooed at you and nodded softly, spinning you around and slowly walking you backwards until he had you pressed up against his desk.

You were starting to think he liked seeing you pressed up against random surfaces.

“So pretty, aren’t you baby?” He mumbled, leaning closer and trailing kisses down your jaw and your neck which had you moaning and whining as you reached up to hold onto his shoulders. “Truth be told, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since Iseul brought you over on Monday.”

You moaned softly. “Neither have I.”

Jeonghan let out a satisfied hum, rubbing his hands up and down your sides before he slipped them under your shirt and pulled it up over your chest and revealing your lacy white bra. He groaned at the sight and pushed his body closer to yours, bringing his hands to your chest to trace over the details.

“Wow, I didn’t realize my princess was such a little slut.” He said as he reattached his lips to your neck, peppering a few lingering kisses before bringing one of his hands behind your back to unhook your bra. “And who did you wear that for, exactly? Hmm?”

Truth be told, you hadn’t worn it for anyone—especially since you didn’t even plan on being in this situation to begin with—but if you knew how to do anything it was flatter people, so you decided to go with that approach.

“I wore it for you, Mr. Yoon.” You said, looking up at him and batting tour eyelashes. The action had Jeonghan swearing under his breath. He reached forward and patted the desk behind you.

“Lie back, princess.” He instructed. You did so instantly and Jeonghan chuckled at your obedience as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you. and pressed a chaste kiss to your thigh. When you tensed, he pulled himself back. “Relax, I promise I’ll go easy on you. For now.”

Without even giving you the chance to respond, Jeonghan tugged your shorts down, stopping to admire the white panties that matched your bra and the wetness that stained them. He gazed up at you with a smirk before pulling them down as well, relishing in the image of your soaking wet pussy on display for him. “Just as pretty as the rest of you, princess.”

A little embarrassed, you looked away from him and tried to shut your legs, but Jeonghan seemed displeased by that. He forced them open wider with ease and gave you a disapproving look.

“That won’t do. If I’m going to do this, you’ll have to be a good girl for me, understand?” When you nodded, Jeonghan shook his head “Use your words.”

“I understand, sir.”

The corners of his lips turned upwards as he brought his face to your core, kissing and licking gently while his hands soothingly ran his hands up and down the sides of your thighs, relishing in the way you moaned and whimpered and, occasionally, tugged on his hair.

“Oh, shit,” You cried when you felt Jeonghan slip a finger inside you, curling it upwards and hitting that one spot inside you over and over again. “feels so good, sir, please don’t stop.”

The man hummed against your skin, the vibrations making you moan louder than you would’ve liked if you weren’t so close already, and with him adding another finger inside you and sucking on your clit, there was little holding you back.

“Aww, is my princess about to cum?” Jeonghan asked, even though by the way your cunt pulsed around his fingers, you got the sense he wasn’t being sincere. When you nodded, he pressed one last kiss to your clit and pulled himself away from your core.

You whined. “Why..why’d you stop?”

“Believe me princess, I was enjoying myself too,” He muttered, bringing the fingers that were just inside you to his mouth and licking the remnants of your arousal off of them. “But I really don’t want you to cum unless it’s on my cock.” You exhaled shakily, reaching down to feel how hard he had gotten already. He moaned softly, quietly, so faint you wouldn’t have even heard it if you weren’t listening. If he really wanted, he would be fine to continue like this, maybe even get himself off rubbing against your hand, but there was nothing more he wanted right now than to bury himself inside of you.

A gentle push send you back into the once cool surface of his desk, now warm with your body heat and slightly damp with your sweat. Jeonghan wasted no time in ridding himself of his clothes, sliding a hand under one of your thighs and pulling you closer. His other hand held onto his cock, pumping himself a little as he rubbed it against your slick to coat himself with your wetness before he slowly started to push himself inside of you.

“Fuck, princess,” Jeonghan hissed once he finally bottomed out, feeling your insides squeezing his cock. “you can’t clench like that unless you want me to cum before I’ve even started moving.” He said, leaning down to your face and kissing the corner of your lips. He tried to pull away, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back down.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

His sudden gentleness shocked you, almost forgetting what position you were even in, but the need for him to start moving took over and you were right back in the moment. “I’m ready.”

His hands held your hips tightly as he pulled himself almost all the way out of you before thrusting back in, knocking some of the air right out of your lungs.

“So tight for me, aren’t you baby?” He groaned and buried his face into your neck. You nodded, albeit you hadn’t really been meaning to, you just couldn’t help your responses when the way he was fucking you felt so good.

“Harder, please. I need it. I need you, Jeonghan.”

Hearing you moan out his name stirred something in Jeonghan, something that had him snapping his hips harder and faster into you. Something that had him burying his face into your chest and sucking marks into your chest that you were certain wouldn’t fade for days. Something that had him bringing his mouth to your ear to whisper more of the filthy things you didn’t know he was capable of saying.

“Jeonghan? All it takes is me fucking you for you to lose all sense of respect, huh baby?” He asked, his breath becoming ragged and uneven as he continued to thrust into you with all his strength. “I thought you were my good girl, but I guess I was right before. Maybe you are just a little slut.”

“I am good!” You cried out, arching your back when Jeonghan continuously hit that spongy part inside of you. “I’m sorry sir, I’ll be good, I promise!”

Jeonghan chuckled, easing up on you a little bit but still continuing to fuck you with the pace he had already set. “Is that so? Does that mean you’ll do what I say? Will you be my good girl?”

“Yes, yes, anything you want sir!”

“That’s it baby,” He whispered with a tenderness that contrasted the way his cock was abusing your insides. “Be a good girl for me. Take my cock like a good girl.”

Shit, you weren’t gonna last much longer at this rate.

“Mr. Yoon, I’m gonna cum soon, please please please let me cum—” Jeonghan shushed your babbling by pressing his lips to yours, swallowing each whine and moan. While you were distracted with that, he trailed his fingers down your body all the way to your clit and rubbed it in fast, tight circles.

“Go ahead baby, cum whenever you want.”

That was all it took for the coil in your abdomen to finally snap, sending you spiraling over the edge. Jeonghan continued to thrust into you, though they started to falter as he got closer and closer to his own release.

“S-Shit, where do you—ah—want me, princess?”

“Inside me, please, sir.” You moaned. “I wanna feel you..need to feel you.”

With one final thrust, Jeonghan let out a final strong of curses before his hips stilled and he emptied himself inside you, painting your insides white. He hovered over you as the two of you caught your breath, eyes shut tight and lips slightly parted. After a few minutes like that, Jeonghan pulled out of you and mumbled for you to stay put there, fishing out his boxers and pants from the pile of clothes on the floor and pulling them on before slipping out of the room.

You sat up on the desk, allowing yourself to fully take in everything that had just happened. Did you seriously just let the father of your new friend fuck you? And enjoy it?

Yes, yes you did.

Jeonghan was back a few minutes later with a damp towel and a bottle of water. You eagerly took the water, drinking half of the bottle without a single break while Jeonghan wiped away the cum from between your legs and the sweat from your back along with the desk.

“I hope I wasn’t too hard on you.” Jeonghan spoke, picking your clothes off of the floor and handing them back to you. You smiled, slipping them back on and smoothing them out as much as you could.

“No no, it’s really fine.” You insisted. “It felt good.”

“Did it now? Should we go again?”

Jeonghan looked at you with a newfound hunger in his eyes that made you feel like you were in the kitchen pressed up against the counter all over again. You bit your lip and nodded, pulling him closer for a kiss, but at the sound of the door unlocking and opening you immediately jumped up and pushed him away.

“Dad, I’m home.” Iseul called out from somewhere further away in the house. You heard her footsteps coming, but you still jumped when the door to the room opened and Iseul stood there in the doorway, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, you were in here. I was wondering why you weren’t in my room.” She said, appearing completely oblivious to the situation that had just occurred in this room.

“Oh, yeah,” You laughed a bit fakely, taking a quick glance at Jeonghan before walking over to Iseul. “I got lost again.”

“Yeah, I get it. I still get lost sometimes too.” Iseul smiled apologetically, waving at Jeonghan before leading you out of the room. “So, did you finish the project? Or do you still need my help on those last few slides?”

As Iseul started to lead you out of the room, you couldn’t help but look back at Jeonghan one last time. He smiled at you, whispering something you almost didn’t hear before Iseul dragged you away.

“I’ll be waiting for you, princess.”

You smiled. Maybe this project hadn’t been so bad after all. Fingers crossed your professor would partner you with Iseul for the finals, too.

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 2 — 𝖕𝖙 1 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 5.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, smut, phone sex, wee bit of angst, brief mention of the word 'daddy'

notes - vibrating with both excitement and fear, but hoping y'all love this like you loved the last one!! also on ao3! ♥

Johnny was right to send you to bed when he did because you're already struggling to get through the day, and on any less sleep, you might have fallen asleep at your desk. Clearly, you're terrible at making decisions for yourself, if that wasn't already evidenced by the nearly empty fridge accompanied by the pile of empty takeout containers.

It's not even the end of the workday yet, and you're beat—except staying up with Johnny was so worth it, getting to hear his voice and everything he said was complete bliss. You only wish he was here now, whispering in your ear and making your day go by quicker. Unfortunately, the sad reality is that beyond your good morning text, you haven't heard from him since, and you hate that you already feel like you're suffering from withdrawals. 

Again, that could be the lack of sleep, or adequate nutrition, or the fact that lately you haven't exactly been the most social person, and you've definitely been missing social contact. All of that missing need you just want to be filled by Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—his name like a chanted prayer in your mind. 

You at least have the sense of mind to focus when you need to, but at any idle moment, Johnny crawls back into your brain. Your mind drifts to wondering what he's up to, wondering where in the world they've shipped him off to this time—what timezone is he even in? What hemisphere? 

5 p.m. comes round sooner than you expect, and you find yourself logging off from your work laptop with a relieved sigh. You might be exhausted from lack of sleep, but Johnny's arrival in your life left you energised in a way you hadn't felt in so long. Every part of you hums with excitement, thinking about what the future might hold. 

You have to keep snapping yourself out of getting lost in the fantasy, even as you find yourself rereading through texts and committing Johnny's words to memory. The last time you did this still sticks in the back of your mind, still stings—someone who came into your life and was everything until they were nothing. Someone who said they could be trusted as they broke down your barriers. 

The aching loneliness was too much, so you'd run from it straight into something worse, not even realising how easily you fell into the trap. 

Your thoughts were spiraling, and you needed a distraction, so you put on the TV in the hopes of getting lost in the shitty reality dating show you've been watching lately. 

A few hours later, the buzz of your phone pulls you from the drama of the screen—your spirits soaring as you see the little icon you're rapidly growing attached to. 

Evening bonnie, hope you're not napping too close to bed time. 

hi!! no... for once, lol. how was your day? 

Long, but thoughts of you got me through ;) how was yours? 

The rapid responses mean your smile never has time to waver, as your eyes are glued to the screen watching as the messages are read, the app tells you he is typing and then another one of his messages appears. 

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you eagerly respond.

somehow managed to not fall asleep at my desk, i would've napped but... 

But? 

didn't want to risk missing any messages from you. 

Johnny heart reacts to the message immediately. 

Call? 

please!!! 

Mere seconds later, his face fills the screen once more, and your sheer excitement overtakes your nerves by far.

"Hi." You say shyly, as soon as you accept the call.

"Hi bonnie, gotcha on loudspeaker by the way." He greets you, his voice immediately sending warmth through you. 

You were rapidly growing obsessed with his terms of endearment, too. 

"Oh." You pause, suddenly self-conscious and hesitant. "Are you not alone?" Does anyone in his life even know you exist? You know you haven't really mentioned to your friends that you're 'dating' again.

"Definitely am, don't worry. Jus' need ma hands free." 

At that, your brow furrows, your voice filling with both mischief and disbelief. "What are you doing, Johnny?" 

He chuckles, before rustling some papers around. "Paperwork, nothing fun." 

Even hearing the word paperwork right now drains you, and can hear that Johnny isn't exactly pleased with the idea either. 

"Wishing I was under the desk again?" You ask, hoping your playful tone will make him smile. 

"Dinnae start." He groans. "What are you doing? Have you eaten?" 

"Not yet, I need to check my milk is still in date." You throw yourself off the sofa and make your way through to the kitchen—it's a good job Johnny actually poked you to eat. 

"Milk?" His voice is filled with confusion.

"For cereal." 

"Ach." 

"I can feel your disapproval from here." You can practically sense him shaking his head disapprovingly too. 

"Good, I see how this gonae be." He sighs, the disappointment evident, along with that sense of control, guidance. 

It just makes you tingle.

"Yes, daddy?" You giggle audaciously like you know exactly what you're doing, and hope it has the effect you want it to.

Johnny chokes, and then growls... and then sighs. "Away n bile yer heid." He whispers, yet he sounds anything but angry, his voice thick with arousal as he undoubtedly fights all kinds of urges. 

You want to take that step with Johnny, to dirty talk with him now that you feel comfortable, but you suppose now isn't the time—after all, he is still working. 

"I'm being mean now, sorry." 

"A right brat." He growls playfully. "Do something for me, lass?" 

The shift in his tone and the previous conversation topic gives you a good guess at what's coming next. "Is it cooking a real meal?" You groan playing into the role.

Well, admittedly committing to self-care tasks like cooking isn't the easiest thing in the world, and having someone to guide you in that is... a turn-on. 

"Knew you were a smart girl." He purrs, and those words turn your brain and your body to mush. 

You have to stifle a whine from leaving you, as your face flushes furiously. Oh, how you wish you could hear that over and over again—in that voice, with that accent, whispered right in your ear as he—

"What you gonna cook?" He asks, interrupting your rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

Staring into the fridge is a depressing experience—the shelves are mostly bare and there's a faint smell of something off. "Ugh, I don't have a lot in, to be honest." 

"Logging onto the Tesco website now, or maybe meal delivery service..." He muses, and you can imagine the smirk on his lips.

"Johnny!" Your protest is weak, as the coddling and infantalisation make you feel something you probably shouldn't. 

He snickers at your tone, but he knows now that if things are to continue, he won't listen to your objections. "Jokin'... for now. Talk me through yer fridge, lass." 

"Do you cook?" You ask, wondering if he's going to magically talk you through a recipe with the condiments in your fridge and the dried pasta in the pantry. 

There's a beat of silence. "Not often." 

You're overcome with a fit of giggles and a wave of faux offense. "Then who are you to lecture me?" 

Johnny meets your exclamation with a series of tuts, which already quiet your discontent, but you find yourself ruined when his voice drops and he delivers his next few words. "What happened to 'Johnny knows best'?" 

Fuck him, using his powers for good—and you can already tell he's getting off on it too. Today, you won't indulge him by submissively repeating it back, since he's making you face the horror that is cooking.

"Fine." You sigh, looking for what items in the fridge that are actually still in date. You pull open a cupboard or two as well. "I have... hummus and celery and uh, supernoodles in the cupboard." 

"Better than cereal." He waits for your response that doesn't come, as you pout on the end of the phone, and then he plays his next move flawlessly.  "For me, bonnie girl?" 

The plea in his voice makes you melt, makes you want to do just about anything for him. 

"For you." You say with a smile, grabbing the packets of noodles and a saucepan. "Have you eaten?" 

"A have, chicken tikka masala." 

You sigh, knowing that if not for Johnny you could've ordered a nice Indian for yourself—you get to work on the noodles anyway. "Kinda jealous now, if I'm honest."

His laugh is short but earnest. "Same, haven't had beefy supernoodles in an age." 

"Yeah, I would hope they're feeding you actually decent, nutritious food over there." 

He huffs. "I would hope you're feeding yerself decent food, but here we are." That playful judgement is back, lacing his words and making you crave his approval. 

It's a startling thought, that here you are, only a few days in and needing his praise, his encouragement—you suppose it comes easy as it plays into both of your natural instincts—his to lead, yours to follow.

"Less sass, more... paperwork." You grumble playfully, trying to cover up the fact that, maybe, you like being teased by him. 

"Aye." He laughs, and you can briefly hear him scribbling in the silence.  

For a few moments, it's just the sound of him writing and you cooking, but the quiet feels comfortable rather than awkward—strangely routine and domestic after such a short space of time. 

Your mind wanders back to what the two of you had discussed last night, about his day later in the week. "Have you thought more about Friday?" 

There's a brief shuffle and the sound of the call changes as Johnny seems to take you off the loudspeaker and moves around. "Meetin' you?" 

"Yeah." There's a sense of nervousness within you, a fear he's going to suddenly decide that he doesn't want to see you after all, that he doesn't see this going anywhere. It's so soon, and yet the thought seems crushing. 

"Haven't thought of much else." His confession seems to settle your rapidly beating heart just a little, the sincerity in his voice making your stomach twist and turn. 

Maybe you shouldn't push it, but you want to meet him more than anything, so you can make the first step toward all of this becoming real. "Would you be up for coffee? I can come to you!" 

"About that..." His sigh is weary, and panic overtakes you as the silence stretches on. "Am leaving for a week or so." 

It's not a total rejection at least, but somehow it still stings, still settles heavy and unpleasant in your gut. "When?" 

"Tomorrow." He falls silent, waiting for you to say something, yet you don't know what words to even summon right now. "'m sorry, lass." 

You take a deep breath for a moment, collecting your thoughts as you stir your noodles and try to put everything you feel into some sort of coherent order. 

There's no logical reason to feel rejected, as it's not that he doesn't want the date, but that he can't. Perhaps it's that lingering thought that this kind of thing will be a frequent occurrence—it's just a small taste of what's to come. But wanting Johnny means handling this, like he deserves. 

You push through the discomfort and force yourself into a more positive mindset.

"But... after that? Or is this just because you hate coffee so much you're fleeing the country?" You laugh softly, hoping the joke will lighten the thick atmosphere. 

"Now, if you'd asked me out for tea..." He laughs in return, before turning serious. "But... when I'm back, I'd love to see you. Have ta, really. " 

"I'm glad." The beaming smile on your face is ridiculous, and you're so thankful he can't see you grinning like an idiot at his words. He has to meet you. 

With your cooking complete, you take the saucepan off the stove and pour the noodles into a bowl, grabbing it before returning to the comfort of the couch. "Okay, noodles done." 

"Wanna call me back once yer done, or?" 

Fuck, he's so considerate. 

You hum negatively as you start to blow on the noodles to cool them. "I'll eat on the phone if you don't mind the sound of me slurping." 

Johnny chuckles, before making a suggestive noise. 

"The noodles, Johnny." 

He coughs, covering more juvenile laughter. "Aye, the noodles, of course." 

"So... going anywhere fun?" You ask, referencing his upcoming deployment. 

"Classified, I'm afraid." He answers curtly, but you know it's nothing more than his duty. 

No questions about that, then, you suppose. It's going to be a strange thing to adjust to, but it's another thing that comes along with accepting Johnny into your life. You change your line of questioning, hopefully to something he can answer. "Are you... scared?" 

"No." He answers quickly and firmly, in a manner that suggests certainty rather than bravado. "Don't worry about me, hen." He rushes to add.

"Kinda hard not to, even if we only just met..." You sigh, but you suppose you have to trust Johnny's skills and training. "I imagine it only gets more intense from here." 

The admission feels like a swift kick to the stomach. 

"Yeah..." You hear a knock on the door from Johnny's end, and he swears colourfully under his breath. "Ach, can I call yer back?" 

It's almost cruel the way such timing drives the point home. 

"Sure, things to attend to?" You ask absentmindedly, not really expecting an answer. 

He sighs, before trying to turn his tone more positive. "Aye, but I'll catch you before bed, yeah?" 

"Yeah. Bye, Johnny." 

"Bye, lass." 

He ends the call, leaving you with your meal and your thoughts. 

Maybe you aren't strong enough to deal with this after all, you think, trying to settle the ugly, gnawing feeling inside you. It already hurts, but maybe that's because you're trying to hold so tight onto something intangible. Maybe if you and Johnny become something, mean something to each other, it'll all be easier to deal with. 

It's an hour or so later when you're tucked up in bed that Johnny's call lights up your phone. You pick it up instantly. 

"Hey, glad you haven't fallen asleep already." He chuckles, his voice softer than before. 

"Mmm, still hanging on." You mumble, cheek pressed into plushness and tiredness lingering at the back of your mind, as well as the mess of feelings that still simmers within you. 

"Cuddled up with the big B?" He asks, voice cheeky and charming. 

You can't help the soft giggle at the ridiculous nickname. "The big B?!"

"Barnaby!" He clarifies with a hearty laugh, not ashamed at all of his goofiness. 

"The big B! That's so silly" 

The laughs quiet, and another silence falls, but this time you feel the discomfort that comes with it. 

Johnny is the first to breach it, his tone tinged with worry. "How are yer?"

"I'm fine." You sigh, not wanting to elaborate and get yourself upset again. It's not far from the truth. Nothing has changed, but this is something you have to learn to sit with, have to make peace with for both of your sake. 

Johnny cuts right through the noise. "Yer seemed a little upset earlier. Wanna talk about it?" 

Communication—the key to any good relationship, an essential to any kinky one, and one thing you think you really kind of suck at. 

It's a simple sentence with a simple answer, and nothing about Johnny suggests that his reaction will be anything other than supportive—but it's not Johnny's voice that whispers cruel things in the back of your head. And for now, Johnny's influence is not enough to quiet the storm. 

The fear grips at your heart, stops your words right in your throat, but your mind wars between the ghosts of your past and the duty of your present and future. 

Johnny waits quietly, not pushing you for an answer or assuming how you feel, and that small act helps pull you out of the fog and helps you force yourself to speak. 

"Reality setting in, I guess." The words don't come easy at first, your throat tight—but once you start, the rest just seems to flow, taking the weight of your burdens with them. "Like, it's not too bad right now, it's just... knowing what's in store? Assuming we keep talking." 

The opportunity to really put your thoughts in order and get them out actually does help, surprisingly.

Johnny goes silent for a moment, considering your words before he speaks. "If you wanna stop—" 

"I don't." You feel bad for interrupting him, but you already know that's not what you want, even if he sees it as a kindness. "Like I said yesterday, I'm not faint-hearted... the intensity just took me by surprise. All of this has, really." 

"I'm with you there. Sat here thinking about how I'm gonna be thinking of anything else when I'm on the mission." He laughs softly, the sound laden with emotion. "Lt's gonna have my head." 

The gravity of his job sinks in now, with the realisation that he will be busy and focused, and rightfully so.

"Will you be able to get in touch while you're gone?" You ask, more for informational purposes, rather than being unable to last a week without hearing his voice. 

"Not a whole lot, no. Sometimes no' at all, but I'll let you know when I can." He states plainly, and the honesty is so refreshing. 

"I'll try not to bother you too much then." You giggle, though you don't really mean your words. He has his mission, and you have yours—stay strong while he's gone. 

He scoffs instantly. "You? A bother? Never." 

You hum, continuing with your playful statements. "You haven't seen me when I'm clingy." 

"A like clingy, am clingy too." 

Ugh, just when you think he can't be more perfect, he comes out with that. The sweet smile on your face is relentless, and you just know the same is true for him too. "Oh yeah? So you won't be complaining when we meet, and I just take a hold of your hand and don't let go." 

His barked laugh is so genuine that it makes your heart sing. "Bold of yer to assume I'd be letting you go, lass." 

The thought of even his hand in yours is enough to send you into a frenzy—a simple, delicate, and chaste act, yet you crave it like nothing else. When your date finally does come around, you'll be able to touch him and see him up close. You'll be able to hear that voice and those words up close and unrestrained by the slightly shitty quality of the phone call—and that is a little terrifying.  

"I guess waiting isn't a bad thing after all, maybe I'll be less nervous by then." Because right now you know you'd hesitate to reach out and touch him, would struggle looking him in the eye for too long. Maybe if you wait, the radiance that is Johnny's warmth will wear off, but somehow you doubt it. 

"Why ya nervous?" 

You almost snort at such an oblivious question from such a seemingly smart man. "Have you seen you?" Have you talked to you? Been on the end of your affections? Your mind pleads. 

"See this ugly mug every day." He grumbles, though you can still hear the smile. 

"You can't see, but I'm rolling my eyes." You giggle. "But what if I just... can't resist you? Jump you right then and there?" Your voice takes on a more teasing tone. 

"In public?" He tuts, slow and sexy, his voice dropping low. "Naughty girl." 

You straight up whimper. "Needy girl, for you." 

A growl leaves his throat, along with a whispered "Fuck." 

Arousal floods through you, overtakes you, as you feel your mind slipping to a space of deep-seated need, all for him. You feel on fire, your skin hypersensitive to the brush of the sheets, as your lower body hums and begs for attention. No longer can you hold yourself back from falling under his sexy spell. "Your groans, your voice, it all drives me crazy." 

The laugh that leaves him is weaker, choked with arousal. "All wet fer me, bonnie?" His voice, now a touched graveled, wraps so wonderfully around every word. 

"Soaked." You squirm in place, not even needing to feel to know just how dripping you are—every time he teases you, you practically gush. Your spare hand dives below the sheets, tracing ever so slightly over your stomach as it crawls lower. "Johnny?" 

"Yes, bonnie?" It sounds like his control is wavering too. 

"Please can I touch? I need it so bad." You whine and plead, surrendering yourself to Johnny's command. 

"You don't—" Another growl leaves his throat, you hear him shuffle and when his voice returns, he sounds even more aroused than before—sweet, gentle domination drips from his tone. "Touch yerself, go on." 

You comply immediately, your hand diving under your waistband and zeroing in on your swollen clit—relief floods you the second you make contact, your fingers rubbing delicate swirls on your soaked nub as gentle moans force themselves free. 

"Oh fuck." Johnny's breathing is ragged between his groans. "Gonna have tae join ya." 

"Fuckfuckfuck." Your eyes slip shut as you imagine him reaching down to free his aching cock, all for you. Your thoughts center on conjuring up an image of how long and thick you imagine him to be. "Is... is your cock as big as the rest of you?" 

You squeak out your words while you still have command over the English language.

"Guess you'll find out soon enough." He chuckles breathlessly, some of the words catching in his throat as he clearly works himself. "But I don't think you'll be disappointed. I know how tae take care of yer, know you're already desperate for me." 

Your circles quicken, his words sending pleasure coursing through you in a way that almost feels better than your touch. You fill the air with breathy moans. "Need you, Johnny." 

"Need you too, pet." He growls his words over the building slick sound.

"Oh fuck." Your reaction is instant, the word sending everything in your brain into overdrive. Pet. Pet. You almost cum right then and there, but his assault on your senses and sensibilities continues. 

"God, thinking about you on the end of a leash for me? So fuckin' hard thinking about it." His voice modulates between and whine and a growl, his need growing furiously. "I'd be so fuckin' lucky." 

You imagine the collar slipping around your neck, imagine Johnny clicking shut a lock and attaching a leash—pulling you to him just as he is now with every word. 

"I'd be the most loyal pet ever, I swear." You start to babble, unable to hold back any longer on the wave of submission that overtakes you. "I'll Wait for you to come home, naked and kneeling with my leash ready." 

"Jesus, fuck." Each grunt that leaves him makes you shiver. Each word like its own bolt of electricity straight from his body to yours. "Yeah, my good girl would be so lost without me." He says it with such certainty, speaking the truth to life. 

"I get separation anxiety like mad. I'll miss your touch, miss your smell, miss your taste—" You cut yourself off with a high-pitched whine, your fingers working you so fucking close to the edge.

"Don't worry, I'd fuck you so good before I go bonnie, fill yer up and leave you dripping with me." His groans are accompanied by more of those slick sounds. "Mark that pretty neck o' yours, too." 

"I'm... I'm not gonna last." You admit, holding back even now from cumming—you crave his permission. 

"Me either. Go on, moan for me, let me hear you." He urges you gently, even if his voice is filled with need. 

You let all your noises flow freely as you teeter toward the edge and desperately try to please him with the sounds you make. It's all too good, too much, too overwhelming. 

"Johnny, can I—" 

His demand is out of his mouth before you can even finish your sentence. "Cum fer me, bonnie. Go on." 

You cum with a strangled cry, flying over the edge right as Johnny demands it. The build-up of the past few days along with Johnny's noises has you shaking in ecstasy—ecstasy that's only prolonged when he cums too with a long, drawn-out groan.

After a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, as you come down from your high. 

"Oh my god." You sigh, a silly, blissed-out grin overtaking your features.

"You okay, sweet girl?" His voice returns to that sweetness you're coming to know and love.

You nod mindlessly, even though he can't see you. "Better than okay, are you?" 

He hums in affirmation, before his voice turns a touch serious. "You did so good. Just want tae make sure you're good, and a didn't go too far." 

"Hah, I mean, nowhere near too far." You admit shakily. 

"Am glad, it's only early days, though. That trust..." He hesitates. 

"... It takes a while, yeah." The post-orgasmic bliss coupled with the feeling of that trust taking root and growing. "I'm glad you understand." 

And he understands perfectly, as you never feel pushed or rushed, only pampered and adored. 

"Of course... it's special, for both of us." He admits, and you know you're on the same wavelength when it comes to the bond and relationship between dominant and submissive. 

"Mhmm." You hum dreamily, wholeheartedly agreeing and yet not able to summon up something profound. 

"Already sleepy?" His laughter is soft and sincere. 

"I'd get so much rest if every night was like this." 

"Even more so when I finally get to fuck ya, bonnie." He whispers so casually, yet even after your orgasm your clit still thrums with interest—God, he has such a hold on you.

"Yeah?" You sigh, dreaming of the day you'll get to experience it. 

"Yeah." 

The line falls silent, and you feel yourself fading. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so... sleepy." You whisper while you still have the chance. 

"It's okay, sweet girl, close yer eyes. Am right here." Johnny's sweet voice lulls you closer and closer, and your phone falls free from your hand to your pillow, resting there with Johnny just on the end of the line. 

"Goodnight Johnny." You mumble, before sleep finally takes you.

"Goodnight, Bonnie." His reply is soft, carrying you off to unconsciousness as he drifts off too.  

-//-

Johnny practically vibrates where he stands—wired beyond belief. Part of it is his usual pre-mission adrenaline, but the events of the past few days especially almost have him climbing the walls. His energy is frenetic as usual but with so much more—lust, yearning, withdrawal. 

It's only been a few hours since he ended the call after waking up before you, and yet he finds his thoughts unable to leave you, even as he finishes gearing up. You'd love to see him like this, and an idea strikes him.

He pulls out his phone, turns to the man beside him, and hopes he doesn't regret asking. Then again, some ribbing from the masked man would be nothing compared to the floored reaction he'd get from you.

"Ghost?" He asks, piercing the comfortable silence between the two of them. 

"What?" Ghost turns, eyeing Johnny and his hand holding his outstretched phone.

Johnny doesn't waver, sure in his request, and eager to see your response. "Take a picture of me, yeah?" 

"Girl back home?" Ghost asks, cutting straight to the point as he takes the phone. "Is this the first time she's seeing you? Cause you look fuckin' rough." 

"No." Johnny frowns, and worry washes over him. Surely Lt. is just messing him around—he knows she'll be happy to see him either way. 

Ghost pulls off a glove and navigates to the camera before stepping back and holding up the phone in Johnny's direction. He might be giving Johnny shit, but he at least takes the time to angle and position the frame in a way that compliments Johnny's stature. "She like the tac gear?" 

Johnny sighs, wishing this was over already. "Just take the picture, Ghost." 

"Say cheese." Ghost deadpans, and the softest of smiles graces Johnny's features—for her, not for him.

Johnny practically snatches the phone back from Ghost's hands, checking out the photo immediately. "Thanks." 

He pulls up their messages immediately, firing off the picture with a kissing face and a teasing message just for her. 

When he locks the phone and throws it in his bag, Ghost's eyes are fixed on him, his blackened eyes narrowed.

"Mind on the mission, yeah, Johnny?" 

Johnny nods, doing his best to push thoughts of her away for now, and letting his inner soldier take over. He'll be back to her before he knows it. "Aye, Lt." 

Days later, and after a successful first phase of the mission, Johnny stares down at his phone. The signal is nonexistent and won't return for a while, but he misses you, his mind is itching with his need for you. In this shitty safe house in the middle of nowhere, while someone else is on watch, there's very little to do, and truly nothing else he'd rather think about. 

He scrolls to the top of your messages, rereading each message and reliving each conversation, experiencing all over again how each message made him feel. 

Your sweet texts, your copious use of emojis, and your cute little selfies—it was all so intoxicating to him. For a man who was so used to maintaining focus, you were a fucking curveball. Something about you just sends his protective instincts into overdrive, makes unearned possessive tendrils curl up through him and around his heart—calls out to his guiding, dominant, caring side.

He has to constantly stamp down the thoughts inside that called out to him to find you, scoop you up, and take you home with him. Luckily for you both, Johnny is a patient man. He spends time out in the field waiting days for anything interesting to happen, he's spent years waiting for his pet, his girl to come along—and you're right there. He can wait a little longer. 

He holds down the record button, intent on recording a message for you, and begins whispering into the phone.

"Hi, been sat on my arse for far too long with nothing to do but think of you. Dinnae think I'll get signal anytime soon, but I 'spose it'll send at some point." He feels himself relax just a little as he falls into Johnny, the man—rather than Soap, the soldier.

"Been thinking about our first date, since you mentioned coffee. Kinda had a crazy idea actually, but I need your input. What about a cat café? Has to be one in that city o' yours, and I figure you must like kitties."

"Won't be long until you might be one for me... or a bunny... or a puppy." He interrupts himself with a sigh.

"Need tae stop those thoughts and quit while I'm ahead. Let me know, yeah? As soon as I get my leave, we'll set it up."

"Talk soon, bonnie." 

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 2: The Heat of Battle

Summary: The mission continues even after Soap warns you not to engage.

The slow burn continues.

Word Count: 4,427

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, blood, violence, death (not main characters), Soap is still mean, angst

A/N: This seems to be doing fairly well on here, so I’m going to post a few more chapters that are out currently on Wattpad. If it gets a big enough following, I’ll keep updating. Just a reminder my Wattpad username is Emily7love, and you can find Bitter Allies there as well!

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Bitter Allies • Part 2

The rifle kicked back hard against your shoulder as the first bullet excited the barrel of the gun. The silencer on the end did its job at making sure the discharge was hardly heard. However, it became obvious very quickly to the group of four men that they were under attack. As soon as the first man had been shot, they were all alerted.

The first shot you fired was a direct hit to the man's head, and he went down quick. You quickly snapped over to the guy standing on the left, also hitting that target successfully. Already you'd proved Soap wrong. However, this was where things got difficult.

In any kind of armed combat, seconds greatly mattered. Eliminating two targets was easy as long as you could land the shots. By the time the second guy realized something was up, only one second has passed, and by then he was mostly likely already gone. The third guy, however, had a lot more time to react, and the fourth even more so.

Two clean head shots, but by then, the other two had reacted. One was moving to cover and the other stood his ground, weapon raised right at you. A trigger pull away from death, but in this profession, that was always the case.

Their movement disrupted the zig-zag pattern you had hoped on making, forcing you to take additional seconds when aiming at the third guy. You originally had gone for the one running for cover to stop him from alerting other troops, but then your attention shifted to the guy who was looking at you from down his own barrel. That now became your top priority and costed you even more seconds due to switching targets.

You were pretty lucky. You managed to fire before the guy's finger could put enough pressure on the trigger. The shots were sloppy, but three clean hits to the torso did the job.

Once he was downed, you did a quick scan of the area, looking for the fourth guy. He'd no doubt already contacted someone else, blowing your cover. Your heart had already been hammering away in your chest but now it seemed to thump even harder at the realization you'd just completely screwed up this mission.

You keep your weapon raised in a firing position but allow your head to hang down, eyes squeezed shut. Your grip on your gun tightens, prepared any second now to hear the alarms go off, signaling something was wrong. The mission would just have to go on though. Albeit much more dangerous now, but it still needed to continue.

"Fuck, (y/n)..." You mutter to yourself. "Just find Soap and get to cover... You've survived worse-"

Not even ten seconds after you dumped the third target, you heard a soft thump and saw the fourth target laying dead up ahead. A knife was embedded into his neck, blood pooling rapidly in the dirt. A split second later, Soap emerged from behind the cover, ripping his knife from the target's throat with a swift, practiced motion. His icy gaze locked onto you, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent a spray of blood across the dirt. He sheathed his knife and strode toward you, each step radiating fury.

Before you knew it, he was grabbing a fist full of your uniform and slamming you back against the vehicle you'd been using for cover. You hoped the sound of your back hitting the metal door didn't attract any attention.

"What the fuck was that, States?!" He yelled at you as loudly as he dared given your current location. "The fucking hell were you thinking?? You nearly just blew our damn cover! Are you that much of a pure hackit that you can't follow fucking orders?!" He was seething mad, his accent noticeable thicker. This is probably the worst you've ever seen him, and you've seen Soap mad a lot. Still, you had some venom of your own.

"You are not my superior. You can't give me orders." You growl, hands coming up to grip his as they kept you pinned. You kept your eyes on his, refusing to break eye contact with him.

"Oh, can't I? Last I checked you weren't even a permanent member of this team." He smirks back, voice quieter now, but still just as dangerous.

"Still a member of this team, dumbass."

"You think you will be after this?"

His words hung heavy with you. Would Price really kicked you off the team for this? Nothing happened, you and Soap were alive, and the mission hadn't been compromised. Still, taking on four men by yourself when your field partner didn't want to wasn't exactly working as a team. Then again the same could be said for Soap not being willing to go with your plan.

"Nothing happened. I landed two perfect headshots and took down the third all by myself. We were fine." You try to defend yourself, foolishly getting caught up in trying to prove Soap wrong and forgetting about the fourth guy.

"Doesn't matter if you landed three perfect fucking head shots if the fourth one fucks us over, now does it!? What about the fourth guy, huh? What about him, States?! He was a second away from radioing for help. You almost cost us the entire mission and put us both at risk! You're up a pure dafty." He was still gripping your vest tightly, keeping you pressed back against the vehicle.

"Well that wouldn't have been a problem if you had just trusted me, and if we took them out together like I wanted to." You bite back. "And you were wrong. You said I couldn't land those headshots, and I did."

"You still on about that? So you got lucky! You're still bloody inconsistent. You make one half decent shot and then fuck up the next ten. Just like you did on that third and fourth target."

"Well that's what I have a teammate for! To help me take down targets! And you got him, so what's the big deal?"

Soap laughs at you then, a stressed and angry laugh. His head tips back slightly, and he shakes it. "That's your idea of teamwork?" He laughs, meeting your eyes again. "Forcing me to have to rush into a kill? How the hell did someone like you ever pass selection? You are horrible at this job, States. Just pack up and go home before you get actual good soldiers killed." With that, he finally releases you, roughly letting go of your vest but still remaining in front of you.

His words hurt. They made you tremble with rage. Your hands were balled up into fists at your side as you held back the urge to punch him. "You'd like that very much, wouldn't you?" You growl back to him, standing your ground as Soap takes two steps closer to you, his face practically inches from your own.

"Very much so." He nods, a little intimidating as he looked down at you.

"Well it's not going to happen. You are never going to make me leave. So get used to me being around, you hackit." You weren't even really sure what that word meant, but if Soap called you it, you knew it probably wasn't a nice thing to say.

Soap scoffs at you as you say the Scottish word. "You are the most stubborn and-"

"Bravo 7-1, Bravo 7-4, this is Bravo 0-7, give me sit rep." Ghost's voice crackled in your ear, and Soap's as well, cutting him off. You'd been quiet for too long.

Right as you brought a hand up to your radio to answer Ghost, Soap grabbed your wrist. "This isn't over, States." He warns, his voice filled with promise as he pushed your hand away from your radio. He then brought his free hand to his radio and answered Ghost.

"Ran into some trouble thanks to States. We're clear now. Still need to make entry."

"Copy," Ghost answers. "Got word there's some Russian vehicles about ten clicks out. We've got about fifteen minutes before we need to get off the mark."

"Shite." Soap curves. That wasn't going to be enough time. You still needed to make entry and disable their security. Even if you and Soap were quick and ran into no problems, that didn't leave enough time for the Alpha teams to come in, secure General Azamat, and leave before those Russian vehicles showed up.

"Ghost, that's not gonna be enough time." Soap tells him, backing away from you and pacing a little. His face was concentrated, forgetting about everything that happened earlier and focusing on the mission now.

"If we pull out now, we miss our chance," Ghost warns, his voice low and steady. "They'll know someone messed with their generators, and security will tighten up. Next time will be a hell of a lot harder."

"Then what's the plan?" Soap asks, sounding frustrated. This mission was going belly up very quickly.

Then you got an idea. "Ghost, send Alpha team to the front to draw their attention. That will pull most of the men in the camp to that area. Meanwhile, Soap and I will infiltrate the building, disable security, and secure General Azamat. You mentioned he'd most likely be inside this building, right? Once we have him, we'll need an exfil ready at the back of the camp. Disabling the main building's systems should open the back gate. Once we're out, Alpha team can pull back."

Without even giving Soap the opportunity to input his feedback, Ghost approved your plan. "Solid Plan B. Sending in Alpha Team now. Russian vehicles are nine clicks out. Move fast."

"Copy." You nod, glancing up at Soap. He still looked at you like how he always did, but something was different. You didn't know if it was a good or bad different though. It only lasted a few seconds before his usually hard and familiar expression returned.

"This doesn't change anything." He growls, as gunfire can be heard behind you, near the front of the camp.

Instantly, shouts can be heard from the West Building, and the quiet camp became alive. The area with all the tents where Soap wanted to cut through earlier start to rustle as men wake up to join the fight. In an effort not to get caught, Soap quickly runs over to one of the parked vehicles and pulls the door open.

"Inside! Now!" He hurriedly tells you, standing out of the way so you could get in first. Moving fast, you jump inside, feeling Soap give up a push to help boost you into the vehicle before getting in himself and closing the door. He pulls out his pistol, and you do the same, making sure to cock it.

"Get behind the driver's side seat and stay low." He tells you, wiggling a bit to try and fit himself into the same position behind the passenger's side. Him being bigger and more bulkier than you made it a lot harder for him to wedge in there comfortably.

A few seconds later, two men are getting into the vehicle from the driver and passenger side. You and Soap both duck down further once you hear the car door's open. The second they shut, you're moving. Like you'd been fighting together for years, you both wordlessly spring up and shoot the men in the side of the head.

From inside the vehicle, you can see and hear the others driving off, as well as see the area clearing out. You try to wait it out for as long as you can until the door by Soap open up. Another solider just thinking the vehicle was waiting for more passengers and trying to get in. He lets out a surprised yell at seeing Soap there, but is quickly silenced. Soap shoots him, shoves the dead body back, and then closes the door.

"Out your side!" He says, knowing that was going to attract a lot of attention from the few stragglers still trying to wake up and join the action. You quickly do as he says, pushing the door open and tumbling out with Soap right behind you. Without looking back to see how many enemies are in pursuit, you sprint for the West Building, focusing solely on reaching cover. Though how much safety and cover you'd find in that building, you didn't bank on it being much.

Surprisingly, there aren't any bullets being fired towards you as you run. Either the men hadn't seen you somehow, or they thought you were on the same side. Regardless, you weren't going to question it as you burst through the door with Soap, weapons raised.

The hallways were empty aside from two men, which Soap quickly took out. Once somewhat safe, you radioed in to Ghost. "Bravo 7-1 and 4 inside now. Heading to main security room to disable it."

"Copy. Seven clicks." Ghost updates. "Give 5 minutes for exil."

"Roger," Soap confirms before moving to the stairs. "Behind me. I'll take point." He tells you, starting up the steps with his weapon raised. You follow behind him closely, watching your six and trusting Soap to guide you up. The security panel you needed to access was on the top floor of the building, which was the third floor.

The stairs were clear, which made sense. Most of the men were probably filing down the stairs near the front since that's where all the action was. The security room, however, was not empty. As you approached the door, you could hear voices speaking Russian on the other side.

"I hear at least five." You say, making Soap give you a look as he position himself on the other side of the doorframe.

"There's no fucking way you can count how many there are based on voices." He claims, pulling out one of his flashbang grenades. "Flash out." He opens the door a crack and tosses it inside, waiting for the loud bang. As soon as it goes off, he kicks the door open and pushes in. He takes on the targets more directly in front and left while you focus on the ones to the right and to the far side of the room.

The room was clear in seconds. "Clear." Soap confirms, lowering his gun and making his way quickly to the panel. "There were more than five." He mutters, pulling out some bombs and securing them to different places on the panel.

"I said at least five." You point out with an eye roll, keeping your attention on the door that lead into the room.

"That just sounds like a lucky guess then." He claims, backing away from the panel. "Clear out. Charges are set." He tells you, pulling your attention over to the flashing red lights of the bombs he's just placed. You were about to do what he told you before your attention was pulled to the screen.

"Wait. Look." You tell him, walking over to the screen and pointing to it. "This is a map of the building. Look at this room down here. It's a bunker. I bet that's where our General is." You say. "Bet it's locked up. Hold off on blowing the charges until we're down there. Once the power goes out, the doors should open and we can take him by surprise."

Soap is hesitant, his jaw tight before he finally mutters a, "fine." Then instead of talking to you further, he radios in to Ghost. "Bravo 0-7, charges are set. We suspect Azamat's holed up in a bunker in this building. Moving to position by the bunker doors and then we'll blow the charge."

"Roger. Five clicks."

With that, you and Soap quickly make your way back down to the first floor to locate the bunker. Time was not on your side, so you needed to move fast. You of course ran into more resistance along the way. That was to be expected. Soap though, ever true to his callsign, breezed through it like it was nothing. It was like he'd gotten to practice and memorized the course ahead of time. He looked so in his element, almost like he was having fun. It was a nice change from the usual sour attitude he had around you. And for once, you were actually sort of working with him like you would Ghost or Gaz. Given the chaotic nature of the mission probably had a lot to do with that, but you hoped this would finally mark a breakthrough point with the Scot.

Once you'd gotten to the room where the bunker was supposed to be, all you needed to do was find it, blow the charges, and get the General. To your utter joy, the bunker was the most obvious thing in the room. A big metal door with a flashing red light above it. You took up the same positions you did last time at the security room as Soap pulled out the detonator.

"Bravo 0-7, we are outside the bunker and getting ready to blow the charges. Send in exfil." Soap updates Ghost.

"Done. Take the General the alive. Three and a half clicks."

Soap looks to you then. "When I blow this, all the lights are going to go out. Once I get the door open, throw a flash in. And for the love of sweet Jesus, do not kill Azamat."

You scowl at him, irritated that he was talking to you still like you were some lousy, trigger happy marine. Guess things haven't changed too much. "Yeah. I went to all the mission briefs and literally heard Ghost say that three seconds ago. I haven't forgotten."

"So she does listen. Shocker." As he speaks, he holds the detonator up and then presses the button, not giving you the chance to reply. There's a loud explosion upstairs, one that makes the building shake a little bit. The lights immediately power off, and you lower the night vision goggles attached to your helmet.

The red light above the door flickers a few times before going out, and the locks click loudly as they release. There's shouting heard from inside as the people in there start to panic. You ready a flashbang as Soap heaves the door open, and once there's a crack big enough for the flashbang, you toss it inside. There's a loud pop as it goes out and a bright flash of light. It causes the people inside to scream and spew out what you can only assume are curses in Russian.

As Soap finishes pushing the door open, you take point, able to see the room and the people inside thanks to the night vision goggles. You identify General Azamat instantly and work on taking out anyone in the room who posed a threat.

You aim at the heads of the men inside, but they were wearing helmets, making it more difficult to land decent shots. The flashbang had made them all very disoriented, buying you more time to actually line up the shots.

Soon, all the guards around General Azamat were downed, and Soap charged the General, who was pulling a pistol from his holster. You hear the grunt from Soap as he rams the General against the wall. There's a struggle as Soap forces the gun to point upwards and six bullets are rapidly discharged from the pistol. Once the gun is only making clicking sounds, signaling an empty clip, Soap punches the General, sending him to the ground.

"Stay the fuck down!" He growls at the General as he goes to restrict his hands behind his back. The voice he was using sounded familiar to the one he used with you when you argued.

The General curses Soap out in Russian, and you go to help him secure the target. Right as you kneel down to help though, Soap pushes you away.

"Cover the door in case-"

The room is filled with the sound of gunfire, and bright flashes come from the doorway. Soap gets hit and falls back, gasping, as you quickly raise your gun and return fire. The guy shooting hadn't been wearing any chest plates and went down with a few shots. As soon as it was clear again, you grab at the General, who was trying to get up now that Soap wasn't holding him down.

"Soap! Oh my God, are you ok?!" You ask, wanting to check on him, but you couldn't let go of the general. You see him from the corner of your eye, lying back, and can hear him gasping still. You worried his injuries were fatal. Sure, you couldn't stand Soap, but you didn't want him to die either.

Then, he leans forward and grabs at General Azamat. "Hit... the plate.." He gasps out, getting his breath back slowly. A second later, he'd pushed through the pain and pressed his pistol into Azamat's head.

"Stop moving, fucker! Get up!" He commands, hooking his free arm around his restrained ones and hauling him to his feet. "Walk!" He shouts once the General is up, giving him a harsh push and keeping the gun aimed at him.

"Who are you?" The General asks, his accent heavy as Soap pushes him out of the bunker. You take point, still a bit shaken up from Soap being shot.

"Shut the hell up and walk!" He growls, opting to grab a handful of the back of the General's suit and push him along instead. It was faster that way. While you make your way out of the West Building back the way you came, you radio to Ghost.

"Bravo 0-7, this is Bravo 7-4. Target secure. Repeat, target is secure. Heading to exfil now."

"Ah. An American." You hear Azamat say, earning a rough shove from Soap.

"I said shut up!”

"Copy that 7-4," Ghost replies. "Exfil in two minutes. Russians are one click out. Move it. Alpha team is pulling back."

"This is gonna be close." Soap mutters under his breath. He begins to pick up the pace a bit, or as much as he can while dragging along a General who didn't want to go with you.

Once outside, you're practically running to the gates, shooting at anyone you can. There was hardly any cover and more and more men seemed to be popping up. About halfway to the exit, you can see bullets hitting the dirt by your feet and hear them wizz past you. This was definitely the most dangerous position you'd been in during your whole career. At least in the other firefights you'd been in, you had your entire squad behind you. This time, it was just you and Soap.

A gargling yelling sound makes you look back, and you see the General is hunched over and falling to his knees. Soap is trying to get him back up, but he's not moving.

"Fuck! He's been shot." Soap notices, seeing red begin to stain his tan uniform. "States, keep moving!" He shouts over the gunfire, hoisting the General over his shoulder and continuing the run.

Your heart is pounding loudly in your ears, adrenaline the only thing keeping your legs moving. Before you know it though, you're through the gate, and you can see your exfil vehicle ahead.

"There it is!" You shout to Soap. "Almost there!" You push harder, your lungs burning. Someone from the passenger side of your exfil vehicle jumps out and opens your door. You pile in first and then help drag the General in as Soap gets him in the car. As bullets start to spray against the side of the vehicle, Soap jumps in. He is practically on top of the General, and slams his door shut.

"Go, go, go!!" Soap yells to the driver. You hear bullets showering the side of the vehicle, and the driver floors it, making you grip tightly onto the handle on the ceiling.

Once you can't hear the bullets hitting the metal doors of the vehicle anymore, you sigh a breath of relief. This mission had been a lot harder than you thought it was going to be. And it wasn't even over yet.

"States, help me sit him up." Soap says, getting your attention and pulling you out of your daze. You do as he asks, moving Azamat out from under Soap to the seat in the middle. Once he's sitting up, you can see his face has paled significantly and there was blood all over the seat and his suit.

"Shite.." Soap cures as you instantly start to apply pressure to the man's stomach. "Ghost, we have General Azamat and are on our way to the rendezvous. He's been shot though and is losing a lot of blood."

"Copy that. Keep him breathing. I'll have medical on standby. What about you and States?"

"We're good." He answers, turning his attention on the man's wound now. "Aside from feeling like I took a bullet to my chest. Oh wait, that did happen." Soap mutters, looking at you angrily.

You look up from where your hands are currently placed on the General's side, blood gushing out from between your fingers. You meet Soap's gaze and glower at him.

"Seriously? You're going to blame me for you getting shot in the plate?" Though of course he was going to blame that on you. Cause why wouldn't he?

"It's one hundred percent your fault! Someone needed to cover the door!" Soap was grabbing a med kit from under the seat and violently opening it to get some medical supplies.

"Are you fucking- you know what? No. I'm not doing this with you right now. This dude is bleeding out, and I'm not going to have you distract me and then blame this dude dying on me! Give me those fucking bandages!" You rip them from his hand and start stuffing the wound, making the General moan in protest.

"Whatever, States. Fuck you too."

You don't say a word to each other after that. The only words spoken are by you trying to keep the General awake, Soap talking to Ghost over the comms, or the occasion word or two from the guys in the front seats, talking to the other teams.

You couldn't wait to get to the helo, hand General Azamat off to the medical staff, and then get away from Soap.

[bumblebeehug]

Home

Summary: Natsu has found his home. Notes: At the end. Ao3

***

By the first week into October, Natsu had managed to change his temper completely. Lucy wasn’t surprised – she had seen it before, after all. But it happened, and she was as impressed as she had been the first time she saw it. Natsu was the most energetic, crazy and loving person she knew. He ran around going on missions, planning elaborate pranks, he talked loudly, and he fought at every change – and he always dragged Lucy along to play. She loved this side of him. He gave her energy, his happiness spread to her like wildfire – ironic, considering that he’s a fire mage. 

So, when the leaves on the trees became orange, red and yellow, she was surprised every time she saw his energy mellow out slightly. He still acted roughly the same, and he did what he usually did: missions, pranks, fights and hanging out with Lucy, but now with less of that extra stuff – shaking his legs, poking her thighs under the table to annoy her, carelessly interrupting people when they were speaking. She notices him taking the occasional pause whenever they’re outside, to take in the rapidly changing view and to take deep, calming breaths of the smell of rain and decaying leaves. It was clear as day: he really liked autumn. 

“Whatcha doing?” Natsu was surprised to see Lucy digging around in the flowerpots at her apartment complex’s entrance.

“Huh?” Lucy looked up. She hadn’t been expecting him to arrive just yet. They agreed earlier today to hang out, but since Natsu had to stop by the tailor she thought she would have time to prepare the flower pots for winter. She usually did this early in the morning, so Natsu didn’t know she was the one fixing the nice flower beds every spring, or that she was the one who cleared them when they died. 

“Oh I’m just doing some chores, you go ahead and make yourself comfortable inside,” Lucy encouraged, waving her tiny shovel. Natsu squatted down beside her, still visibly confused.

“Why are you digging everythin’ out?” Lucy was taken slightly off guard with this unexpected interest. After all, she was only digging dirt in a pot, nothing he would be interested in normally. But then again, he was quite on theme with his newfound tranquillity.

“I’m really only making space for new things to grow, I was thinking that I’d like to plant azaleas next year,” she told him.

“Are azaleas flowers?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you a picture when we go inside – I’m almost done anyway.”

Natsu waited patiently. He couldn’t help but wonder how those flowers would look – would they be some sort of flamey variant, or would they be cute and fluffy? Or maybe those were the wrong sort of words to use to describe flowers. Round or sharp petals? Thorns or no thorns? And then which colour? Could they pick and decide that themselves? Or had Lucy already picked? He was surprisingly interested – uncharacteristically so, even he was aware of that.

Lucy almost worked up a sweat, Natsu observed, taking his time to soak up the details. Her hair looked soft and light from the sunny summer, but her tan had started to fade. She was wearing gloves, the ones with a little pink detail, and her jacket was on the thicker side. Maybe that’s why she was getting hot. She didn’t wear any makeup today, he noticed. He liked it when she wore her face bare – not that she didn’t look good all dolled up as well, but he just appreciated the way she looked when she was just being her. She didn’t try to look like anyone else, like Cana with her dark eyelashes or Mira with her fair skin – she just looked like herself, light eyelashes and some freckles scattered across her cheeks.

It didn’t take long for Lucy to give up her efforts. The weather was getting worse by the second, and the warmth she initially worked up was gone as soon as the wind picked up. Feeling goosebumps up her arms and her neck, she soon turned back to Natsu, who was still keeping his eyes glued on her.

“Maybe I’ll leave it here for today, it feels like it’s going to rain,” she said, putting her tools away. “Do you want some tea?”

Natsu nodded, not really feeling bothered by the change in weather. Though, he didn’t exactly love seeing Lucy shiver. And he really liked the way she made tea – she always added a splash of milk and a lemon slice or cinnamon stick, depending on the flavour.

As they entered Lucy’s apartment, Natsu took a deep breath. It smelled like freshly baked bread, cinnamon and smoke from the fire she made when he wasn’t around. Underneath those tones, there was this homey scent of Lucy. The mixture of her hygiene products, her fabric softener, the subtle tones of wood and leather from different pieces of furniture, and then there was her scent. He had never found any other way to describe it. It wasn’t like normal body odour, like sweat or skin, it was something else completely. Like he could smell her DNA, or her very soul perhaps.   Well, whatever the scent was, he loved it. For him, being in Lucy’s apartment was equivalent to therapy. He didn’t even like his own home as much as he did hers – it didn’t have her flair.

Lucy broke their silence.

“Will Happy be coming over later? I got a new board game, I thought we could try it together.” She took off the boiling hot kettle from the stove. Natsu had taken a seat on the couch, still lost in thoughts.

“Yeah, he’ll drop in in time for dinner,” he told her. “He’s been at the river tryna catch tiger trouts all morning. He’s just been gettin’ carps though.” A low chuckle escaped his lips.

“Well, at least he’s got a food supply!” She chirped from the kitchen. “Look what I bought at the market yesterday.”

Lucy was balancing a wooden tray, filled with all kinds of snacks, plus some of that bread that had been cooling off. Some snacks looked like glistering jewels, others looked like they could be cursed meat disguised as small, wrinkly sausages. She put the tray down onto the coffee table. Just as Natsu had predicted, the two mugs each had a cinnamon stick in them. Natsu leaned over in intrigue as Lucy plopped down beside him.

“I couldn’t identify half of this stuff at gunpoint,” he mumbled. As he got a whiff of the smell coming from the mixed assortments, his nose scrunched. “Smells weird.”

“I’ll tell you what it is! First we got our drinks…”

She handed Natsu his cup, a dark murky orange one, rough and handmade, with little yellow flames painted in the glaze. He’d gotten it from Lucy a Christmas a couple of years ago, and ever since then it had been his designated one. As he held it he smelled a mix of spices from the steam.

“It’s a masala chai, it originated in Bellum over a thousand years ago! This mix is made with cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, nutmeg, black pepper, cloves and black tea leaves from the area, but the seller told me that the recipe can vary. Then there’s just some milk and sugar as well, but I thought you might like it.” As Natsu listened to her listing up the ingredients, he finally found some sense in the jumbled combination of mixed spices. It made the drink feel more appetising. 

“Taste it!” She urged, Natsu seeing an intense glimpse in her eyes.

“Kay… You better not have put somethin’ weird into it…” he warned her before putting his cup against his lips, taking a small mouthful of the lightly tanned liquid into his mouth. Before Lucy could counter his rude claim, Natsu lit up. “Hey, that’s actually good!”

“Is it?” Lucy excitedly turned to her own cup, the one she had bought from the same pottery artist as she got Natsu’s. Dark blue with yellow stars painted where Natsu’s cup had flames. A matching pair, despite the themes being completely different. He liked the way it contrasted her pale hands, and he liked how she held it delicately with both hands so she wouldn’t drop it. “It really is!”

She turned to smile at him proudly, not containing her joy in the slightest. He could always tell when her happiness came from her heart – it showed in her eyes, in the fact that they squinted so hard that her eyes looked like two slits, resting on her pillowy cheeks. If he didn’t have his hands full, he would have reached out and pinched them. Test if they were as soft and plush as they looked.

“Right, so that’s the tea,” Lucy continued, not paying any attention to the intense stare that was coming from the mage beside her. “Then there’s this, it just looks like normal candy cane pieces to me, but the woman who sold it said that the people in the northern parts of Seven eat it traditionally towards winter.” The hard candies in the bowl made a jingling sound as Lucy picked it up. As she said, they tasted pretty much like normal candy canes. Natsu didn’t care for it all that much – the minty flavour left a cold feeling in his mouth, and he didn’t love to be reminded of a grumpy stripper every time he had a sweet. Still, they seemed delightfully handmade, and Lucy mentioned something about them being called polka pigs in a rough translation of their native language, and Natsu loved pork, so he took another piece in solidarity to its name.

As the two of them continued to taste test the different snacks from around the world, Natsu noticed Lucy edging closer. It seemed she hadn’t realised it herself, as she still was talking about the long, complicated production of those sausage-things that tasted much better than they looked (apparently there was beer involved? He didn’t really follow). Her position had changed from sitting on the opposite side of the couch to now sitting shoulder against shoulder. Every now and then she would lean closer, like she was searching his touch as much as he always searched for hers.

“Oh that’s right!” She exclaimed, suddenly diving under her coffee table. Natsu didn’t hide the confused look on his face when he hunched down with her.

“What?” He asked, trying to figure out what she was rummaging for.

“The flowers! Azaleas, I was going to show you a picture.” She crawled up into the couch again, her hair slightly messy this time, holding a small book. A Flower Encyclopedia was written on it, and she immediately started browsing the chapter index.

Struggling to see the contents inside the book, Natsu hoisted Lucy into his arms so he was looking over her shoulder. She seemed unfazed by his action, but her accelerated heartbeat begged to differ. Natsu couldn’t help but smile at her from behind. Her feelings could be so transparent.

“There it is,” Lucy mumbled, very aware of the blush on her cheeks. The page she held open showed a plethora of deep, pink flowers, sitting against a dark greenery. Natsu leaned a bit forward so he could see the book closer, letting his chin rest on her shoulder.

“They look kinda nice.” He tilted his head against hers, their cheeks squishing together with the motion.

“I thought you’d like them,” she whispered.

Natsu dug his face into the crook of her neck and took a deep breath. He couldn’t help it when the source of the smell he loved more than anything was right under his nose.

“Read to me,” he begged, hugging her closer. As his mouth was pressed against Lucy’s shoulder, she immediately felt his hot breath against her skin, earning a shiver. Still, she complied. Reading the pages went quickly as there were mostly pictures, but she knew he didn’t ask her to read in order to hear about flowers. She knew that he just wanted to hear her voice, so when she finished the thin book, she started talking about anything that came to her mind. Dreams, memories and things she had to do the upcoming week.

Natsu had dozed off after just ten minutes of reading. His soul felt fulfilled as he laid there, breathing Lucy’s air, hearing her calm voice, feeling her body heat pressed against him as they cuddled together. The tranquil air around the two of them acted as a perfectly curated space – he swore he could feel their heartbeats match up.

Life felt perfect. Soon Happy would arrive, and the three of them would share a delicious hot meal, listening to the cat’s fishing adventures – not before said cat teased the pair a little for acting all cuddly of course. Then they would take turns to wash up before playing that new board game long into the night.

But right here, right now, there was only Natsu and Lucy, and a comfortable couch in a warming embrace. The rain that Lucy had predicted earlier that day was smattering against her window, and before she drifted to sleep herself, she remembered thinking that this was what life was about.

_______________________

oops. i became possessed by a fic-writing fairy? so here's another fic lol. since it's the season and all. also i put in a surprising amount of research into this fic, looking at fairy tail maps (Bellum is basically the equivalent to India, Seven is north of Fiore - the candy cane stuff being called polka pigs is basically just a nod at the swedish "polkagris", same with the sausage - "ölkorv" or beer-sausage) hope you enjoyed this fluffy stuff! next on the agenda is angst! as always, thanks for reading<333 xx

[welcometowhore-rrorville]

𝒲𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒲𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

Featuring: Jason Voorhees

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings: horror content, canon-typical violence, swearing, mean friends are mean, edited but i make mistakes

-

You never should have trusted your so-called friends when they suggested sneaking up to Camp Crystal Lake. It was a stupid, stupid, stupid idea. But you could never find the courage to stick up for yourself, and thus were always involved, and mostly blamed for, any chaos the group of rowdy 20-somethings got up to. You were barely old enough to drink and hated the taste anyway, which led you to be the only one not hollering drunkenly as you sat in the back of the crowded Jeep. Your friend raced down the dirt roads, tires squealing as mud flung everywhere. It looked like it was about to storm, but obviously the group didn’t care.

By the time the car stopped right next to the batterted sign, you were aching to get out and stretch your legs, even for a moment.

You quickly popped open the door, hopping out. 

“What’re you doing?” one of your friends called. “Tryna go for a swim?”

“I just wanted to stretch, is all. . .” you began, but of course someone cut you off. 

“Ha! Wait, baby (Y/N) wants to hang out in the big bad woods all night? I dunno, sounds awful dangerous. . .”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, watching as someone shut the door, leaving you outside in the dirt. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Go and face your fears,” one called. “C’mon. Everyone knows you’re a total pussy. We’ll pick you up in the morning!”

“Don’t leave me here!” you cried, suddenly realizing what they intended to do. You pulled uselessly on the locked door. “Guys, seriously! This isn’t funny!” 

“See ya tomorrow!” 

The tires spun rapidly, flinging dirt onto your bare legs. You flinched, letting go of the handle as the group drove off, still hooting and hollering as they snickered. 

You let out a sigh, trying your best not to fall to your knees and cry. You looked up, watching as the rumbling clouds began to precipitate. A drop landed on your head. Your shoulder. Your nose. More and more came down, and before long you were soaked to the bone and freezing. 

You couldn’t just stand here all night. At this rate you’d get hypothermia.

You grit your teeth, hands gripping your arms as you cautiously began your trek into the woods of the camp. You just hoped those stupid rumors you kept hearing about weren’t true.

By the time you spotted your first cabin, you were shivering and wobbly as you walked. The rain had gotten progressively worse the more the day wore on, and now it was almost dark and you felt like a kicked puppy. 

You reached the front porch of the small place, placing a shaking hand on the handle before opening it. You noted the puddles of water everywhere, but a leaky roof was better than no roof. 

You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you to block out the storm.

It was dark, and you fumbled around before feeling a lantern. It took a few minutes of struggling, but you managed to light it, and let out a sigh of relief when you could finally see again.

It wasn’t much—one room with a few bunk beds, couch, and a kitchenette, but you were thankful for anything. You placed the lantern on a hook jutting out of the wall, lighting up the space. 

You spotted a towel thrown haphazardly on one of the bed posts and grabbed it, drying yourself off as best as you could. 

You paused in your actions when you heard something from outside. It sounded almost like footsteps. Did your friends come back?

Not wasting a second, you scurried back to the door, flinging it open.

No. It wasn’t your friends. It was a man. A giant, hulking mass of a man with sopping wet clothes and a machete bigger than your arm. He donned a white hockey mask, weathered and worn like it had been attached to him for years.

He stood just a few feet away, watching.

You let out a scream, scrambling out the door and shooting towards the woods. Your shoes splashed in the muddied puddles, leaving your body slick with rain, sweat, and mud as you ran. 

You didn’t dare look back. You just kept running, hoping to make it back to the road. Or to anything besides more dense forest.

You could barely move, and brambles scraped against your flesh. Your whole body stung, small rivulets of blood pooling out of every small nick and scratch.

It didn’t stop you. You had to keep going. Keep running. Running away from—

Your foot caught in a root, and with a sickening crack you collapsed to the forest floor, screaming. Your foot erupted in pain, and you stared at your ankle, bile rising in your throat as you saw the odd angle it stuck out at. 

You clambered backwards on your hands, pressing yourself against a particularly large tree trunk. You cried softly as you forced your broken ankle to move, pulling your knees against your chest.

Everything was wet and dirty and dark around you. Everything looked the same, and even if you could still run, you had no idea where to go.

So you sat. Waiting. Sobbing. Trying your best to stay quiet despite your throbbing ankle.

“I don’t wanna be here,” you whimpered to yourself. “I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home.” You were pleading to nobody, childish cries leaving your lips. “Please. I want my mom and my dad and my bed and I wanna leave here.” 

You suddenly fell silent at the snap of a twig nearby. You shoved a hand over your mouth, stifling your heavy breaths and cries. Is this it? How you died? All because you were too cowardly to stand up to your friends.

Your eyes darted around, trying desperately to spot your pursuer. He was close. But where?

You finally spotted him, walking swiftly towards you, his blade still clutched firmly in his hands. He walked like nothing stood between the two of you. Like nothing else mattered but seeing your head on a stick.

“No,” you begged, pulling yourself away from the tree and crawling desperately away from him. “Please, no. Don’t kill me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” 

You’d only made it a few pathetic feet before he stood right next to you, heavy boots sunken into the muddy ground. You fell onto your back, tears streaming down your face. You shook your head, holding your hands out in a useless attempt to shield yourself. “I didn’t do anything!” you shouted. “I don’t wanna be here! Please! I just wanna go home!” 

He didn’t raise his blade. He didn’t move at all. He just stared down at you, eyes behind the mask analyzing your injured form. He listened as you pleaded. You begged for your life. That was nothing new. Jason had heard those words many times before. But what did you mean when you said you didn’t want to be here? He saw you at the sign. He saw your friends. Your broken expression as they left you. He saw the way your lip quivered as you stood there. It had been a long time since he felt anything but rage. But looking down at you. Your twisted ankle. Your dirtied clothes and scratched flesh. He only saw himself. That same expression of terror as nobody came to his side. His throat burning as he tried to gasp for air. 

A voice whispered to him. A soft, familiar voice. ‘Keep her, Jason.’

You let out a hoarse scream when he finally moved, bending down to stare into your petrified eyes. He tucked his blade into a pocket, both hands now shuffling underneath your body. You shook your head violently. “No, no, no, no,” you repeated, trying to stop him as he lifted you up and pressed you against him. 

He walked back through the woods, you still floundering in his arms. You punched your fists against his chest, but he didn’t even pause in his gait. He was something else. Unhuman. His skin was an unnatural greenish-pale color, like a dead frog sat out in the sun. His mask dug into his skin so deep it looked like part of his very being. His hands were cold against your flesh, and inside his chest you heard no beating heart. Just heavy breathing.

You let out a whimper. What was going to happen to you? 

[yeetus-feetus]

👀 hey uh, fic idea from my bestie for anyone who's interested.

We've had an ongoing discussion about how Tim would usually be on blockers that cover his scent (and considerably dulls his heat to easily managed tummy cramps). Anyways because Robin has to be an alpha (because the prev robins were alphas).

Heads up, most of the bats know. Jason doesn't because he was dead, and when he came back he's only ever known Tim as the alpha who replaced him and stole his territory. (He's been working on it tho, he knows Tim isn't a threat now. It's been a very long time since the Titans Tower Incident™.)

But Tim somehow gets hit by an airborne toxin from some villain (because it's Gotham) that has a side effect of cancelling out his blockers and stops them from working. Except, Tim doesn't know this because it's a delayed effect.

So Tim is taking his blocker meds everyday, unbeknownst to the fact they're no longer working and his scent is coming through more and more everyday. Thing is, nobody's really noticed, Bruce and Alfred are betas (can only smell the much stronger A/O scents), Dick's in Blüdhaven, and Tim's been too busy to catch up with the girls or visit his old YJ buddies. And, well, Jason can't smell anything- not that anyone else other than Dick and Cassandra actually know that (Dick because he found out on a team-up where there was a glass leak, and Cassandra because, well y'know).

Fast-forward maybe 4 or 5 days and the side effects of his blockers not working finally catch up to him. (Just so you know going off your blockers cold turkey without very slowly easing off triggers a really intense heat- or rut, that lasts longer than usual because of hormone imbalance. Basically the whole body is going "what the fuck!?" and needs to catch up to restabilize).

Tim wakes up with tummy cramps, a little more intense than usual, but still manageable. He goes on patrol, but the cramping gets worse and worse, his forehead feels hot, and he thinks he must be coming down with something until the smell hits him-- suddenly it clicks and he realizes he's in pre-heat, rapidly approaching a full heat way too soon.

He can feel the sweat beginning to build up and trickle down his neck, the cramps are making him want to curl in on himself. Except he's on rooftop, alone, in the middle of Gotham. So he can't exactly do that right now. The only hideout close enough is 10 minutes away, but last he's heard, Jason had started crashing there.

Tim thinks fuck it and decides that's his best bet, definitely because he knows Bruce is busy with a case on the other side of the city, and not because he knows Jason smells like freshly-washed warm blankets and a gentle pinewood fire; both things he knows will make his cramps feel better. Warm. Warm things always ease the cramps away.

Tim is only just now realising how cold it is outside, and he shivers in spite of the sweat beading on his skin and clinging to his hair.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Anyways Tim goes to Jason, finds out Jay can't smell him. ("You can't smell that?" "No? What is it? It's not another gas leak situation again is it?" "What?... No it's- ..." "It's what?" "You stink, have you showered recently?")

Basically Tim finds out Jason can't smell anything and lies to Jason, telling him he has a fever and must be coming down with something. Jay makes Tim warm suit and lets him borrow some clothes, letting him sleep on the couch for the night.

But Jason wakes up cold to find Tim stole all his blankets and burried into his side, fast asleep with his face nuzzled into the soft fabric of his hoodie, curled up and making small, quiet sounds of pain.

Jason is confused, but feels his forehead with a frown. Tim is burning up. Whatever but he's caught that's causing this fever must be serious. He gets up carefully, careful not to disturb him or wake the poor guy up.

He goes into the kitchen to get some ibuprofen, heat up some soup, and get a pot of coffee ready. Depending on how Tim is when he wakes up, Jason is considering calling Alfred. He's not about to babysit a sick Robin for the Bat and risk catching whatever he's got too.

But then he hears loud whining coming from the bedroom, a muffled "Jason!". It sounds like Tim's in pain, like he might even start crying, and Jason rushes back to the room. Only to freeze in the doorway.

Tim has untangled from all the blankets and somehow lost his clothes, rolled into the warm spot where he was laying before Jason got up, nuzzled into his pillow and is squirming against the sheets. Next to him, where he had been laying before Jason left, is a wet patch that looks...

"Tim, what-?"

"Jason! Need you!" Tim whines. "Please it's too hot, it hurts, Jason", he sobs as he calls his name.

"shit Tim is this- are you? You're an omega!?" Jason feels like his worldview just got tipped upsidedown.

Tim whines again and lifts his ass into the air, face down in the pillows that smell like alpha. Warm. Safe. Jason. "Yeah. Yes. Catch up already." Another whimper of pain. "In heat. Need your knot. Now. Please. Jason!"

"fuck, Tim I don't-"

"please. Need you. Promise I'm in a- shit- right enough mind to consent. Please, Jason", Tim pleads.

Jason takes two steps forward then swallows. "Are- are you sure Tim? I don't want to hurt you-"

"oh for fucks sake! Jason please. Knot me, don't make me beg for it even more. If you could smell me right now you'd already be inside m- oh fuck. Alpha please, I need it!"

"shit babybird, I don't need to smell you". Jason leans over the bed and gets up behind him, getting a better view of his needy hole and glistening slick-wet thighs. "Just look at you", he rumbles, low in his chest.

It makes Tim shiver, another gush of slick slides down his thighs. Jason runs his hands through the slick and let's himself growl at the sight, a sound that makes Tim heat up from the inside out, like his gut is pooling with hot magma ready to erupt. Or maybe he'll just explode, because Jason still isn't inside him yet.

_-_-_-_-_-_

to be continued ( I guess. Idk if I'll actually come back to this or fix it up to be a proper fic. Me and my bestie will just keep daydreaming about it lol)

[melleonis]

list of worm characters and how good they would be at force fem

beware spoilers

UNDERSIDERS Taylor (Skitter): unless there's an estrogen spider somewhere in the world, no shot Taylor (Khepri): unfortunately, unlimited power comes at the cost of a rapidly-dwindling understanding of gender Grue: lacks both the ability and the inclination. his fragile masculinity makes him a fine target, however. Tattletale: you'd think she'd be good at it, or at the very least sufficiently-advanced egg detection, but she also believes everyone on the team is straight, so this is gonna be a blind spot for her. Bitch: shockingly good at it if the end goal is puppygirl, stone useless otherwise. Regent: i mean. he could, but what's in it for him? easily bored, no patience for process. at best he could manage getting someone into a tutu for a lark before losing interest. Imp: gaslight girlboss of course she's gonna be great at this. what's this? all the contents of your underwear drawer replaced? you didn't do that... did you? who else could have? so you must have wanted this...right? Parian: if you will not wear the dress, the dress will have to come to you. Foil: nah

EVERYONE ELSE Accord: ugh who wants a tidy feminization? Bakuda: hey maybe you'll get hit with the fem grenade! probably you'll just die, or worse. Bonesaw: oh now we're talkin. unparalleled biomech horror force fem game. the mechanical spider tapped into your spinal column decides when it's time to get you prettied up for a tea party. Canary: shania twain karaoke incident feminizes twelve, birdcage for sure. Cherish: trivially easy to set up an emotional conditioning system. wearing skirt? dopamine hit! wearing pants? kill yourself - whoops. well, she'll have a lot of time at the bottom of the ocean to figure out correct feedback intensities. Clockblocker: in theory one should be able to get up to some mischief while someone is frozen in time, but i'm not sure dennis has the ability to freeze someone without also freezing their clothes, which means this has limited utility. could play a support role for someone else. Contessa: effortlessly trips you into a chain reaction that completely reshapes your life as part of a twelve-thousand step plan to improve humanity's long-term odds of survival by a fraction of a percent. thank you for your service. Echidna: all your evil monster clones are girls for some reason. whether this works depends entirely on how you respond to awkward post-incident questions your friends have about it. Eidolon: yeah i mean he could. but it doesn't make him feel globally, historically important so he's not gonna. Gallant: is "feminine" an emotion he can inflict? girl feelings beam attack? shame we'll never know, RIP. Gregor the Snail: nothing in canon says he can't secrete a mildly acidic ooze that turns you into a slime girl. Jack Slash: broadcast shard should in theory mean he can easily manipulate other capes into getting feminized, but that's less time spent on self-aggrandizing mass murder, so. Marquis: bone structure matters less than you'd think in the grand scheme of things, but yes he can reshape your jawline and cheek bones, give you those child-bearing hips. pros: he doesn't kill women, so you're that much safer. cons: it is going to hurt like a motherfucker. Number Man: oh no your company has fallen on hard times and you've been laid off! and how peculiar that the only business hiring anywhere near you is the maid cafe. it says they're very strict about their dress code but that's probably fine. and food's gotten so expensive but wait these odd imported protein shakes are absurdly cheap... Panacea: you know what the joke is already, come on. Scion: has Path to Victory and would never in a billion years think of using it for anything fun.

and finally,

the Simurgh: best in show. sure, it'll take four years for the triggers and conditioning to work their way through your subconscious but when they do...

BONUS Simurgh/Dragon double-team: Defiant probably never spent enough time close to the Simurgh to get affected, plus he had those high-tech earplugs he designed himself, so surely he's fine. nevertheless, his focus wanders during a critical moment while editing Dragon's source code, and now she's bossier, maybe even a little meaner, and the prosthetic parts she's making for colin's cyborg body are... different. curvier, softer. and every time he tries to find the problem in her code he gets distracted, and she gets more and more imperious. can he find a way out of the Simurgh's conditioning and his AI lover's domination? will he have to seek help from Saint - or worse, Teacher? surely they wouldn't take advantage of him in his vulnerable cyberdoll state?

[ladytauria]

Please…I’m dying for the next chapter of the sweetness of honey…it’s so good and I can’t wait to see Tim’s POV of their first time

haha, i’m glad you’re enjoying it!! (also dw abt the mix up; the titles are intentionally similar but also that makes them easy to mix up)

the next chapter is already written technically—and i believe so is the chapter after it. it’s just a beast of a chapter to edit ahskdj especially bc my editing process is slightly different with indulgence

hopefully i will have the energy/brain to tackle it soon!!

in the meantime have an (unedited) preview~ (my italics didn’t copy over bc mobile and this is a large enough chunk i don’t feel like copying them over. apologies!)

Tim has always been a light sleeper.

At first, he’s not sure what woke him. Then, he hears the soft squeak of his door opening. His mind races. Who—

The pup.

Jason.

Tim stays still, faking sleep with slow, even breaths. His eyes are open just a crack, giving him the barest glimpse of Jason’s silhouette. He doesn’t want to scare him, especially if he just wants to make sure that Tim isn’t going to prey on him.

Jason steps inside. He doesn’t fully shut the door behind him, leaving the barest gap between it and the doorway. On tiptoes, he makes his way to the edge of his nest. Even with Tim’s eyes still mostly shut, it’s one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. Jason kneels before parting the canopy and scooting close, until his knees hit the edge of the nest.

Tim shifts, making a soft little chirrup as if he’d just been disturbed from sleep. He wrinkles his nose, furrows his brow, scrunches his eyes—and then his eyes open, darting around the room before he allows them to land right on Jason.

Jason freezes.

Tim always had good night vision, and it’s even better now, after his brief dip in the Pit. The pup’s eyes get big and round, nearing the size of saucers on his face. He looks—worried.

But…

There’s wanting, too. Tim sees it, recognizes it as a mirror of the want he’d felt all of his life. He simply can’t do anything other than lift his blanket up and chuff in invitation.

The pup doesn’t even hesitate.

He scrambles forward, a needy sound burbling in his throat. Jason curls up against him, as close as he can, his head tucked under Tim’s chin. Tim drops the blanket around Jason’s shoulders, wrapping both arms snugly round him.

Jason…

Jason seems to just melt, his nose buried in Tim’s collarbone.

“Hi, puppy,” he murmurs. “Everything okay?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jason tenses again. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice small and cracked through with a whine. He freezes in Tim’s arms; more statue than pup.

Tim holds him closer, tucking his face in Jason’s curls. “Shh,” he soothes. “You haven’t done anything wrong, puppy.” He sweeps his wrist down the path of Jason’s spine, coating him in keep-you-safe and care-comfort-love.

Jason tips his head back. His eyes shine slightly with a thin sheen of tears. “I haven’t?” he asks, voice small. “Th-then… why…?”

“Why what?” Tim asks gently, settling his hand in the small of Jason’s back.

The pup sniffles, blinking rapidly to keep his tears from falling. “I was alone,” he manages finally, his voice breaking.

Tim’s heart breaks too. He sits up, never once letting go of the pup, tugging Jason into his lap to cradle him close. A rumble starts in his chest, low and comforting, and—the pup melts, fisting a hand in Tim’s shirt, turning to bury his face in Tim’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, puppy,” he whispers, nosing his temple. “I didn’t think you would be comfortable having me with you.”

He’d been in the care of strange alphas for who knew how long, having who knows what done to him. Tim has seen their other victims. He knows all of the things that could have happened, all the horrors they could have subjected Jason to. With how scared the boy had been…

The last thing Tim wanted was to make it worse, no matter how close he wanted to keep the pup.

Jason sniffles. “Den with me?” he asks, voice muffled against Tim’s shirt.

The words, the simple question… It nearly brings tears to Tim’s eyes. His rumble gets deeper, and he rubs Jason’s side, getting more of his scent onto the pup, claiming him—however subtly—as his. Of course I’ll den with you, he goes to say—and then he scents it.

Heat.

His breath hitches. He scents the air again, deeper, and sure enough—

The pup’s clove-honey scent is nearly drowning out the milk of him now. Honey is the strongest; mouthwateringly thick and sweet, a sure sign of an omega in the throes of heat.

“You’re in heat,” he says quietly.

Jason shudders, burying his face further into Tim’s shoulder with a whine. “Alpha. Please.”

The pure desperation in his plea has Tim’s instincts screaming. He hushes the pup, nosing into his curls despite the way that makes his scent even harder to ignore. “Shh-hh.” He rubs Jason’s side, swaying them slowly. “I… shit. I know, puppy, I know. But— you don’t want me in your nest. It’s just… It’s heat talking, sweetheart.”

The words are for himself as much as Jason.

Tim makes himself push Jason away—gently, of course, the last thing he wants to do is hurt him. Jason resists, clinging tighter, a desperate keen in his throat. “Please,” he begs, tipping his head back so he can meet Tim’s eyes. Fat tears roll down his cheeks, and still yet more cling to his lashes, clumping them thickly together. His sclera is veined with red, making the blue of his irises all the more pronounced. “Please. I’ll be… I’ll be so good for you, Alpha, please—please don’t leave me alone, please.”

Tim crumples like a wet paper bag. He hushes him gently, cupping the side of Jason’s face and pressing his head back against his chest.

The ache in his voice, in his eyes… The way he promises to be good…

It reminds Tim of begging his parents to stay, please, just a little while longer. He wanted them, and their comforting scents—not his nanny, or a pack nest that lost more and more of their scents as time went by.

“Oh, puppy. It’s alright. You don’t— You don’t have to beg, pup. I would be… I’d be so honored to nest with you.”

[soyscoutsmasher]

Let's play again (Prologue)

This is a prologue to a story I intend to write once chapter 5 has actually been released, im waiting until then in case there is some plot twist like Poppy was the Prototype the whole time.

This prologue contains the initial run through the actual game, minus chapter 5, and a brief moment after the time rewind.

——————————————————————————————————

What would happen if you got a chance to try the whole thing again, from the moment you entered the decrepid toy factory?

Would you be able to remember enough to change things, would anyone else remember at all?

When you first returned to the toy factory, you didn’t have any idea what was waiting for you. The letter you were sent wasn’t exactly informative, but still, your curiosity was piqued enough for you to at least see if that dreaded building was still standing.

It was, of course, and when you decided going a little further wouldn’t hurt, you entered the main lobby for the first time in a decade. You didn’t realise that was the point of no return, you wouldn’t ever be stepping out of those doors again.

Progressing through the top floor of the factory was a quick process, the puzzles which were apparently the factories security system were a breeze. It didn’t take long for you to realise something else was going on though, the various notes and VHS tapes you found made that clear.

Huggy Wuggy disappearing and later chasing you also made it clear there was more to this place than you initially thought. When you finally managed to rid yourself of the murderous toy a pang of regret filled you. Huggy wasn’t your favourite toy by any means, but seeing him tumble down into that dark abyss was enough to make you question if what you did was the right choice.

You moved on quickly regardless, eventually finding yourself face to face with the toy who, unbeknownst to you, brought you here in the first place. Opening her box was an instinct, you just wanted to get a closer look at the doll, having never seen her so close before. The fact she was alive and had been trapped this whole time was just a secondary benefit.

Of course, no good deed goes unpunished, and you quickly fell to the red gas which filled the room. Waking some time later and seeing the doll gone you briefly considered the idea that someone else had taken her, that was quickly debunked when you ran into her in another room and she spoke to you. Apparently Huggy wasn’t the only toy which had some semblance of life in them.

Following your meeting with the face of the company, an alliance was made, with the goal of helping you escape this hellhole of a factory before things went from bad to worse. Not that you knew things were that bad to begin with, your discovery of the horrors lurking inside had only just began after all.

So when your newest companion was snatched up by the pink hand of Mommy Long Legs, you quickly followed, determined to save the porcelain doll and hopefully get some answer to the quickly building questions.

This led to a trip to the fabled game station, a place you had only ever heard of through co-workers. It was an interesting place, filled with play areas and games. Not long after you entered the place had you run into Mommy again, Poppy held in one of her hands, bound by web.

And thus, the games began. Musical memory being the first, a Simon-Says kind of game, with the caveat of a murderous bunny, Bunzo, slowly approaching with the promise of an immediate demise if he caught you. Luckily you managed to keep up with the rapidly increasing difficulty, until Mommy decided to cheat of course. At which point you managed to find a fail-safe to let you escape, much to two of the three watching toys disappointment.

Wack a Wuggy followed that, which you also managed to get through, with some more difficulty than the previous. Dexterity was not your strong suit. You also felt some pang of guilt upon seeing the miniature versions of a toy you not so long ago sent down into some dark void.

The last game was statues, featuring the adorable yet somewhat creepy PJ Pug-A-Pillar. This game was the hardest of the three, the constant feeling of the dog caterpillar hybrid breathing down your neck, the fear that any time you had to stop he was mere moments away from catching up, only to be avoided once the lights turned off again.

Once reaching the end, you once again realised that Mommy had cheated, there was no way out of here. At least there wasn’t until you smashed through a window, making your own exit.

Mommy had been very angry with this fact, calling you a cheater, it taking all your willpower and a smidgen of fear to not retaliate calling her the cheater. Not that it mattered in the long run anyway, and boy was it a long run. The chase with Huggy barely lasted a third of the time you were being pursued by Mommy.

A dead end was where the chase reached its conclusion, though not for you surprisingly. The lever you pulled in a hurried state once entering the room did not open the doors like you expected, it started the industrial sized grinder. It just so happened to be the same grinder Mommy had gotten her arm stuck in, upon entering the room.

Her screams echoed through your mind for a while after that experience, watching her slowly be mulched by the shredder, ranting and raving about someone making her part of him, whoever him was. Well that question was quickly answered when a metallic hand reached out from under a door and snatched up Mommy's corpse.

Deciding you had enough of whatever this place was by this point, you reached the train in record time and quickly inputted the code to activate it. Unfortunately, this place clearly wasn’t done with you as Poppy apparently decided you were too perfect to lose and derailed the train in an attempt to make you stay.

Attempt isn't the right word, since she succeeded in the end the train being an unfortunate casualty of the whole thing.

When you woke up, it was to the sensation of being carried and subsequently dumped into a trash chute. Once you managed to get out of it and make your way through the next couple rooms, you eventually made your way to the wreckage of the train, which clearly told you that it was not going to be the way you got back up.

It was at that point when you met Ollie, a new supposed ally to your cause, what cause was that? Killing something called the Prototype. You weren’t sure when you had been enlisted to this cause yourself but you were too sore and tired to argue at this point. You were also pretty peeved at Poppy by this point, if she needed you to stay surely she could have just talked with you and not wrecked the only way out of this hellhole to trap you here.

Not long after this, you made your way to Playcare, another part of the factory, if you could even call it that anymore, which you had never visited before. It was pretty awe inspiring when you first saw it.

You continued making your way through the area, eventually leading you to home sweet home, which despite its name, was not very homely. The broken down area inspiring a whole lot of fear and a whole lot of tripping hazards. Luckily you didn’t have to stay there too much longer and you managed to activate a generator and get your relatively quickly.

Following that expedition you made your way to the school, which apparently was something they just had down here. Honestly the whole idea of this place being an orphanage was very freaky to you. Keeping kids down here indefinitely, waiting for supposed adoptions which in reality would never come. Thanks to some more notes and VHS tapes you discovered the disturbing fact that these toys in reality were children, transformed by some sick science.

Suddenly the deaths of Huggy and Mommy haunted you immensely more.

The school housed another horror for the collection in the form of Miss Delight, apparently she was the teacher of this place. There had been more at one point, but thanks to some dire circumstances, the rest were gone by now. Unfortunately for you, the generator in the school was destroyed, which meant you had to go to the only place you hadn’t so far. Not before having to commit another murder obviously, Miss Delight falling victim to a safety hazard of a door.

Playhouse had a similar aesthetic to the game station, though clearly more aimed at smaller children, and made singularly for fun and not testing. Unfortunately this place also housed much more hostility than game station, and that’s saying something. The Mini Smiling Critters were vicious and relentless. A flare gun being the only thing keeping them away long enough to keep going.

Eventually you managed to reach a prison of some kind, its single inmate being half of a DogDay. After listening to what ended up being his last words before he was used as a puppet by the mini Critters you made a dash to escape, barely managing to get away this time. The effects of this whole night were taking their toll, you soldiered on regardless. Your previous mindset of just wanting to get away from this place being replaced with a desire to see this place freed from the tyranny which apparently was running rampant.

Next came your trip to the councillors office, where unfortunately you ran into CatNap, who stripped you of your only protection from the dreaded red gas, leaving you to face nightmares of the guilt eating away at you. Why he kept toying with you instead of just killing you outright was a mystery.

Eventually you managed to get out of the office and continued trying to return power to the facility. This errand led you to another encounter with CatNap, whom you barely managed to escape, before being cornered in a safe-room, though the safety of the room was very questionable.

This led to your final encounter with the Cat, culminating in the beast being set alight by the violent shocks of the green hand. Following what appeared to be his impending demise, a hand reached down from a hatch above, the same one which stole away with Mommy's corpse, the Prototype, Catnaps god.

You hadn’t expected his god to pierce his head with his razor hand and lift him away and out of sight. Not sure what to think of all that, you decided not to. Simply moving on and continuing with your mission of liberation and revenge.

It was only when you reached the elevator which would supposedly take you down further into the facility, further towards the Prototype, that Poppy decided you deserved some information. The Hour of Joy was what they called it, the moment in which the toys of this place rebelled, killing almost every human in the facility.

To say you were shocked would be an understatement, but honestly at this point with everything you knew about this place, you didn't know if you could blame the toys for what they did. Not that you think it was justified, even if they only killed the guilty ones it wouldn't be right, but the fact they killed everyone. Well your feelings on all the toys you had inadvertently killed were getting more complicated by the moment.

There wasn’t any time to ponder though, you had to keep moving, lest everything that has happened so far catch up with you and finally make you break. Unfortunately as usual it wouldn't be easy, As you and Poppy rode the elevator down you heard the sounds of a fight and the screams of Kissy.

Upon reaching the bottom of the elevator, Poppy elected to go back up to help and instructed you to keep going, the plan couldn't stop. And that’s what led you to what seemed to be a dumping ground for the Mini smiling critters, thousands of corpses littered the whole area. Paying them as little mind as you could, you kept on moving entering the apparent prison this place had, cause why wouldn’t it.

Making your way through the prison was a very unnerving experience, it just so happened to be the first place you actually saw human corpses, something about seeing someone just like you, dead, was more unsettling than the toy corpses you'd seen previously.

Meeting the doctor was also not exactly a fun experience, he was a horrible man in life from what you could tell, and whatever he was now clearly made it worse. Even worse yet was the fact that he clearly had no intention of getting his own hands dirty and instead set his attack toy on you, Yarnaby. A toy who would otherwise be absolutely adorable, but considering he was trying to kill you, that cuteness was much harder to appreciate.

Luckily you also started to meet someone else, someone more helpful. At first it was just hands without a face, helping in small ways like telling you where to go and what to do. And finally he gave a real helping hand when you almost met your end against Pianosaurus. Doey was an interesting guy from what you could tell, his personality was very mixed, likely from the fact he was made up of three separate children, a fact you only found out later on as you continued to explore the facility.

As you followed Doey to a supposed safe haven, with Poppy and Kissy following, the latter being injured from her encounter with whatever attacked her. Safe haven was an interesting place, mainly due to the amount of toys which were passive towards you, previously the amount of passive toys could be counted on one hand, and now there were more than thirty of them. Still not a lot but considering the circumstances, you'd take it happily

It was once you were inside the generator room with Doey, you realised the different ideas of what has to be done to the factory. Poppy wanting the whole place gone while Doey is much more considerate to all the toys remaining in the factory.

You decided that choosing who you wanted to help more could wait, you had to deal with the doctor first anyway. Everyone agreed that he had to go, regardless of what came afterwards.

After leaving the safe haven and going to continue with your journey to find and defeat the doctor, you found yourself moving through the vast caverns, and oh so luckily for you, you got to have Yarnaby for company during the whole thing too. At least you did, until the chase out of no mans land. Unfortunately Yarnaby was a lot more flammable than he thought he was, and that was his eventual undoing, as a chain hung him above a pit, his yarn fur searing him alive as it burnt.

Unfortunately Yarnaby being gone didn’t stop the doctor being a nuisance, his next inconvenience for you was a series of tests, more like lectures, as you slowly went through the last section of the lab. Having to destroy a set of human organs held in odd chambers, at one point there was even a live critter in the chamber, though luckily you didn't have to kill that one to progress.

All this eventually led to your confrontation with the doctor, where he showed that Yarnaby wasn’t his only muscle, strange robots with TVs for heads filled the underground chamber, as you slowly managed to move power around to different terminals to make your way back up to the doctors physical form.

A brain in a jar was the only thing left of the original doctor, and upon reaching the culmination of his being, a terminal lay just before him. Knowing what had to be done, you overloaded the system, destroying his life support system and gifting him a swift death. Perhaps too swift for someone who did as much evil as he did.

Following his defeat, you managed to acquire the omni-hand, a key upgrade which was needed to fix safe havens generator and to continue through the facility.

Luck wasn’t on your side though. Upon reaching safe haven again finding yourself in the generator room, ready to fix said generator, there was an alarm and a frantic call from Ollie. The prototype had found safe haven, Doey had to leave to keep him away. Poppy had to leave to try and gather the survivors and keep them safe. Leaving you to fix the generator, with Ollie’s help luckily.

Fixing the generator didn't take long, but any moment where it was off meant safe haven wasn’t safe. Nothing seemed to go wrong at first, Poppy returning to you and congratulating you. Doey was nowhere to be found at first, and considering time was likely of the essence, Poppy instructed you to go down to the foundation and plant some explosives.

At first you weren’t sure if it was wise, especially without first talking to Doey like you wanted to. But Poppy reassured you that the explosives didn't have to be set off immediately, and a discussion with Doey about if it was truly a good idea could still happen, and with that in mind, you quickly moved down to the foundation.

Planting the explosives and making sure to correctly mix the compounds you finished your work and quickly moved to return to safe haven. Running into Doey on the way back, who had the very unsettling news that he didn’t know where the Prototype was anymore, having lost him in the tunnels.

That’s when an explosion went off, shocking the both of you. It wasn’t from the foundation, it was from safe haven. Both of you made your own ways back, Doey through a pipe and you through an elevator.

Everyone was dead by the time you got there, somehow the Prototype had gotten into the area, despite everything done to try and keep it out. To say that Doey didn’t take the news well would be an understatement. It was at this moment that it truly became clear that he was an amalgam of multiple people, the different voices fighting with each other about who’s fault it was. Jumping between blaming you and blaming himself.

Eventually it’s clear the voices blaming you won over, and he lost control of himself. His form becoming monstrous as he chased you throughout the caverns. Eventually finding yourselves in a very large cave, clearly meant for mining. Equipment laying around, fortunately for you though, it could be repurposed to deal with Doey, more now than ever you didn’t want to kill the toy, but he was giving you no choice.

It all culminated as you tried escaping through a door, the scanners not working fast enough as Doey catches up to you, grabbing you and clearly having murderous intentions. Leaving you with no choice but to put him down. The large mining bore digging deep into his frozen body.

It was only after you managed to catch a breather that you stopped, sitting down to get your bearings, before realising you didn’t even know if Poppy had survived. You began to search around, finding yourself going through an air vent, just so happening to run into Poppy and Kissy.

At first she blamed you for what happened, yourself having no energy to fight anymore. It was all interrupted by the phone ringing. And that's when it unravelled, Ollie had been the prototype the whole time. To say that you were all scared would be an understatement, especially Poppy, when she realised what was in store for her, another box. Clearly it was too much for her, as she decided to run. Abandoning you and Kissy.

All that your remember after that, is an explosion and Kissy trying to save you, unfortunately her arm clearly wasn't up for the challenge, breaking away from her body.

You found yourself even deeper in the Factory, apparently there existed even deeper labs It was only here that you finally started seeing where the name Poppy came from, the flowers being seen all over the place. Despite your injuries you kept moving, eventually finding yourself in a room with heavy bulkhead doors on both sides, and a VHS player with one lone tape.

The contents of the tape were once again something which would not bring you any rest. Talking about how you were not meant to be here, and how security had been alerted to your presence.

What that security was, quickly revealed itself.

Huggy Wuggy himself. At least now you didn't have the conflicting feelings about killing him by accident.

*Will be continued when Chapter 5 is out lol*

It happened so suddenly that you almost fell flat on your face, stumbling forward and barely catching yourself. Taking a moment to get your bearings and push down the nausea plaguing your stomach, you look around. You’d just been down in the deepest parts of the factory, how did you manage to get back to the lobby. Confusion wracked your brain as you looked around, suddenly your head hurt and everything felt so foggy you had to sit down.

What happened? Why were you here?

The letter, that’s why, you’d come back to investigate what happened to your co-workers over a decade ago. Right, you were here to find out what secrets this factory held, but wait. No you’d already been here, you’d already gone through the whole factory. Why couldn’t you remember, you were so certain this had already happened, the deja-vu making your head pound.

Surely you hadn’t imagined it all, everything that happened, all the death all the pain you’d gone through. Why was it like you were back at the start. Why couldn’t you remember what happened before.

Slowly standing, you make your way through the lobby, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Finding yourself back in the room which was meant to hold the Huggy Wuggy statue, but he wasn’t there. He was there before wasn’t he? Maybe you weren’t back at the start, maybe you'd just come back up here without realising. Then why was the security room locked again, why was everything locked again.

This couldn’t be the first time you’d been here, you remembered the code to the door, opening it immediately. The grabpack was there though, the same place you vaguely remember it being before.

What was happening, why was everything so familiar, why did you feel so strongly that you’d already done this.

You should just leave, you knew what horrors awaited you in this place, the hell you’d have to go through again. But was any of that real, was it all a bad dream, did you imagine it all. No surely not, but did it really matter? Either none of it was real and this place was actually just an old abandoned factory, or everything was real.

That meant all the toys were still down here, suffering, everyone you’d met was still stuck here, Poppy was still in her box. Safe haven was still on the brink of collapse. DogDay was still being tortured by CatNap.

The prototype was still running the place like a tyrant.

No you couldn’t leave, you knew what you had to do. You had to do it all again, you had to save these toys, these kids.

But you could just leave, the exit wasn’t out of reach yet, you didn’t owe anyone here anything, you’d already gotten your answers, you knew everything that happened.

But could you really believe yourself, what if it was all in your head, a defence mechanism to stop yourself from diving down the rabbit-hole.

The nausea returned, alongside the headache, and you found yourself sliding down to the floor, curling in on yourself.

“What do I do?”

Breaking down into sobs as your vision darkens and a restless sleep takes over your body.

——————————————————————————————————

A blue figure curls in on itself, silent cries leaving its body as it shakes relentlessly. What was happening, why did everything hurt when they were completely fine, why did it feel like they’d been tortured again, why wouldn’t the pain go away.

They’d ran away from where they’d woken, in the main lobby, it wasn’t like anyone was coming, no one would know.

No one would come for him.

He was alone.

——————————————————————————————————

A doll stands perfectly still within its box, though its mind is anything but. Thoughts of the last moments before now rushing through its head. What happened, why were they back here. Everything was going so well, they were winning. Then something went wrong, and the next thing they knew, they were back here.

Was it all a bad dream, a hallucination.

They had to calm down.

She had to calm down.

If she was back in the box, that meant nothing had changed, it was back to how it was before.

It meant she had time, to think, to plan.

So that’s what she’d do.

——————————————————————————————————

Frantic breathing came from the pink creature, their elongated limbs carrying them through the vents of this god forsaken factory. They had to see, what happened, the world was black for so long and then suddenly they were back.

They didn't want to be back, they were happy it was over, the nightmares the torture.

Why was it happening again, what did they do wrong.

She knew some of the things she did were cruel but it was all for their benefit, the children wouldn’t learn if they were coddled.

She had to be strict, she had to be.

She was a good mother, she was.

——————————————————————————————————

Unlike the others, this creature felt no fear, no desperation.

But confusion did wrack their brain, why were they back here.

Had their god granted them a second chance, a chance to right the wrongs it had done before. Yes that must be it.

The Cheshire grin grew, this time it wouldn't make the same mistakes as before.

His god would smile upon him, he would act out his will perfectly this time.

Though he did wonder, if he was granted this second chance.

Why hadn’t he been told about it, why was he being left in the dark, surely he would act better if he knew what had happened.

It must have been a test, to see if he would be able to enact his gods will properly this time, to make sure he wouldn't hesitate to do it all again.

——————————————————————————————————

Red seeped from the open wounds of the brown creature. Their breathing was ragged and laboured.

Why, were they back, why couldn’t they be allowed to rest.

Had their tormentor brought them back, had he not decided that they had suffered enough.

But that would mean that their Angel had failed.

That couldn’t be it, he couldn’t let that idea enter his mind, something else had happened, he had been granted a second chance, whatever happened before wasn’t real.

He knew their angel would find him again, he knew they would free everyone.

He had to believe it, because if he didn't, he wouldn’t last much longer.

——————————————————————————————————

The multicoloured beings mind was in a state of chaos than before, their thoughts were jumbled, shouting over each-other.

All trying to be in control, all trying to find out what happened.

Hadn’t they died, hadn’t they been killed, hadn’t everyone been killed?

Then how was everything alright now, how was safe haven, safe?

He can’t think about that now, it was safe, it was back to normal.

He had a second chance, to right what he did wrong.

And he wouldn’t let anything go wrong ever again.

——————————————————————————————————

The organic machine whirred to life, it couldn’t feel drowsiness, yet somehow its thoughts felt sluggish.

What was wrong, what had happened.

Luckily this creature, being machine in nature, did not share the same limitations as organics.

It had access to files, to records, to solid concrete data.

But if it was solid concrete data, why was it missing.

Nothing had happened, nothing of note at least. Years of a stalemate, years of no change.

But that couldn’t be right, he knew something had happened. He wasn’t a foolish organic who dreamt, he didn't hallucinate.

Something happened, and yet it didn't.

Fascinating.

Perhaps the other one would know.

…

…

…

Strange, no response.

Usually it would respond within seconds, it was linked to the communication device it used after all.

But even after hours, nothing.

Strange, but no matter, he had no need for that abomination anyway. He was smart enough to figure it out on his own.

——————————————————————————————————

The sleep you fell into on the flood was not as refreshing as you’d hoped it would be.

Waking up in pain, aching joints and still a pounding headache. But no nausea, so that was a plus.

Standing up, you see that you’re still in the security room, the same place you were before.

That meant this wasn’t just a dream you could wake from, this was real. Whatever happened before was still unknown, perhaps it was real or perhaps it was all in your head.

Regardless, your mind had been made, you couldn’t leave this place, not yet.

There was at least one person you knew you could save, after that, it was anyone's guess as to what happens.

This place had chewed you up and spat you back where you started, whether it was a good or bad thing, it happened. And you wouldn’t squander this second chance, a chance to do better.

With that last thought, you strap on the grabpack, and begin your descent back into the depths of the factory.

Not seeing the beady eyes watching you fearfully from the dark corner of the room.

——————————————————————————————————

Hopefully you enjoyed this read because I enjoyed writing it.

It's gonna be a while before I can actually continue this, waiting for chapter 5 after all. But I may write some other Poppy Playtime stories in that wait, time will tell.

Hope to see you in the full story If I manage to keep my inspiration til then.