#Box Office Collection Day 7 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daisynik7 · 8 months ago

Text

Rub You the Right Way

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – oral sex (cunnilingus, fellatio), hand job, face-riding, face-fucking, use and mention of sex toys, cum eating

Summary: You've always been cordial with your shy next-door neighbor Choso. One day, you receive the package you've been expecting, finding out a little too late that it isn't your package at all; it's his. What you find inside makes you wonder that maybe your sweet and quiet neighbor has wild side, one you’re curious to see for yourself.

Author’s Notes: First Choso fic! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Consider this my unofficial return from hiatus. Enjoy! Divider by the wonderful and super talented @/cafekitsune!

part 7 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

The trek home from the office is especially grueling today. Your backpack is heavy with a clunky work laptop that’s been due for an upgrade along with a pile of documents that need to be reviewed ASAP. One hand carries the dinner you bought at the station while the other hoists a heavy bag of groceries you picked up during lunch, thinking it would be productive to get as much of your errands done today before hunkering down for the weekend to do a job that doesn’t pay you enough to work overtime.

You eventually arrive to your apartment complex, making one more necessary pit stop to the mail room. Inside, you recognize the distinct pink-hair of the boy standing in front of the lockers. He’s your next-door neighbor’s younger brother who visits from time-to-time. “Hi Yuji!” you beam at him.

He turns to face you, eyes crinkling happily as he smiles. “Hey! How’s it going?”

You drop your bags to open your own locker. “I’m alright. Got a busy weekend working. And you?”

He kneels down towards the boxes in front of him. “Same, except studying for exams.”

“Are you picking up your brother’s packages?” It’s a well-known fact by now that Choso isn’t fond of leaving his apartment or interacting with people in general. It doesn’t bother you though; he’s a great neighbor who barely makes a peep. Never has he ever rubbed you the wrong way, despite his reclusive nature. Sometimes, through his brother, he’ll give you an offering of cookies from the batch he baked that week. On the days you’re working overtime, he’ll send Yuji to check in on you, making sure you’re not too stressed or overexerted. And on the rare occasion that the two of you meet face-to-face, either entering or leaving the apartment at the same time, your heart skips just the tiniest beat at how his face softens when you greet him with a smile. From these tiny gestures alone, you’ve determined that Choso Kamo is a sweetheart. Quiet, but most importantly, a sweetheart.

Yuji slides the stack out from Choso’s locker, answering you. “Yup. I also had some stuff delivered here, so I figured I’d just grab everything.”

You stare at the small package in your own locker, evaluating how you’re going to carry it to your room in one trip. There’s no space in any of the bags and you’re almost convinced that you can balance it on top of your head as if you actually possess the proper skills to do so (you don’t). “Need help?” Yuji chuckles. Before you answer, he grabs it, placing it on top of a box similar in size on his stack.

“Thank you so much!”

As the elevator rides to the third floor, you continue to chat casually with Yuji. The two of you walk to your neighboring rooms and when he reaches for his keys, the stack topples over, the boxes now strewn across on the hallway floor. He blushes, collecting them hastily back into a neat pile. “I’m sorry, I hope there isn’t anything fragile in there.” He quickly slides you a box, avoiding your gaze to hide his embarrassment.

It's new office supplies you ordered for your workstation at home, so you hardly care even if there is a bit of damage done. “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good,” you assure him, using your foot to push it towards your front door. “Thank you for your help, Yuji. Tell your brother I say hi.”

“Will do. Have a good night.”

Finally home, you drop all your belongings, letting out a relieved sigh. One-by-one, you put everything away: the groceries in their appropriate places, your lukewarm dinner in the microwave, and all your work junk on the dining table, where you’ll be sat at for most of this weekend starting tomorrow. You save the package for later, planning to refill your supplies tonight so you don’t have to worry about it the next morning.

You soon find out that something even better is waiting for you inside.

~~~

Choso is sprawled on the couch, too lazy to cook dinner. He ordered delivery from Yuji’s favorite pizza joint a few blocks away, which should be arriving any minute now, according to his calculations. When he hears the door open, he sits up, watching his brother enter with a tower of boxes in his hands. “I don’t remember ordering that much stuff,” he grumbles, standing up to help him.

“Most of these are mine. I think only this one is yours.” Yuji passes him a small box, which Choso quickly grabs to toss into his room, hoping to avoiding any questions about it. Truth be told, the contents of that box is way too embarrassing to explain to his precious baby brother. Inside is the sex toy he recently purchased online. It’s essentially a silicone cock sleeve, open on both ends for simple clean-up, made entirely of pliable material for ease and comfort. To put it simply, it’s a fleshlight. A state-of-the-art, new and improved fleshlight, he would like to emphasize. He’s been looking forward to using it all week and once Yuji leaves tonight, he’s going to give it a proper test run until he’s a puddle in the sheets.

It’s been a while since Choso’s been intimate with someone other than himself. A few bad breakups and past betrayals have led him to distrust most people outside of his intimate circle. The unpredictable nature of people, strangers, is frightening to him, so it’s better to avoid them completely. He has the luxury of working a job that’s fully remote, and aside from his brothers and the few colleagues he is forced to converse with periodically, it’s easy for him to remain a recluse, and he’s perfectly content with that. As for his sexual needs, he’s managed to make it this far in this drought thanks to sex toys and pornography. And while he’s aware that it’s not the most glamorous lifestyle, it works for him.

“By the way, your neighbor says hi,” Yuji mentions, opening his packages one-by-one. “She came into the mailroom.”

Choso says your name in the form of a question to clarify, though he’s certain of the answer. The only other human contact he has outside his circle is with you, his next-door neighbor. He doesn’t leave the house much, but on the occasion he does, he always hopes it’s you he runs into. He often worries that one day, you’ll realize what a pathetic loner he is and stop showing him that gorgeous smile of yours. So far, that hasn’t happened yet, so he cherishes those tiny moments every chance he gets. Something about that smile, something about you, makes him feel good. Safe.

“Yup,” Yuji confirms. “She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.”

Before Choso can inquire any further, there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of their pizza. After thanking the delivery man, the two gather at the dining table, ready to dig into their dinner. Choso listens intently as Yuji laments on his weekly occurring university woes with a mouth full of pepperoni and sausage. As much as he adores his younger brother, he’s eager for his departure so he can have alone time to break in his new toy.

At eleven, without a crumb left of the pizza and the recycling bin filled with flattened cardboard boxes, Yuji finally announces that he’s leaving. He stuffs his newly delivered items, which includes textbooks, notepads, and a bunch of miscellaneous items, in his bag. “I’ll see you next week, bro. Take care of yourself,” he says, squeezing his big brother into a warm embrace. There’s always the smallest hint of concern in his voice whenever he leaves like this. Does he worry about him? For living a life of seclusion, constantly in fear of the outside world? Sure, it may sound lonely. In fact, it is lonely. But it’s easier to stay safe in the comfort of his own home than risk being hurt from the unknown. It’s better this way…isn’t it?

Choso muses on his brother’s parting words in the silence of his apartment for much longer than he intends to. He decides that the best way to keep him from spiraling further is a distraction, and that means fucking himself silly into temporary bliss until he knocks out for the night. Hidden away in various drawers of his bedroom are a plethora of options to choose from: vibrators, masturbators, cock rings, even the sex doll tucked deep in his closet. Tonight, however, is all about his shiny new toy. Pristine and untouched for him to ruin as much as he wants. He picks it up from the floor, ripping the tape off quickly, too impatient to inspect the exterior for any potential damage. When a stapler drops, almost hitting his feet, he stares down at it, confused. Thinking it’s a weird bonus item the sex shop has sent him, he chuckles nervously, still searching. Each item he uncovers leaves him more and more baffled: a container of paper clips, a wad of sticky notes, bundles of red pens, another fucking stapler. Finally, he checks the shipping label ripped partially from his haste, whatever color remaining on his face draining completely.

This isn’t his. It’s yours.

Which means…

By the way, your neighbor says hi. She came into the mailroom.

She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.

Oh fuck.

~~~

It’s near midnight when you’re ready to turn in for the night. You almost forget about the box sitting idly on the floor by your shoes, exactly where you left it a few hours ago. With your computer all set up for work tomorrow, you think it’s best to organize your new supplies before you actually do forget. At your desk, you open the package with a pair of scissors, excited for the new staplers you bought, a standard one and a heavy duty one. It’s surprising how neatly it’s wrapped, covered in tissue paper like some sort of gift. After removing all the extra layers, you finally get to the reveal, which renders you speechless.

Nestled neatly amongst more delicate tissue paper, the translucent material almost luminous against the dim glow from the lamplight, is a sex toy. Call it what you want: a penis stroker, a male masturbator, a pocket pussy. There’s absolutely no doubt in your mind what is before you. A fucking fleshlight.

Besides the obvious appearance, the dead giveaway is the user manual included with it, displaying in big, bold print “The Cock Stroker 3000 – New and Improved!”. Lifting the box up to inspect the shipping label, you notice that it says Choso’s name, not yours. If you weren’t so stunned by this unexpected discovery, you’d be giggling at the absurdity of it all. Instead, you’re gawking at the lewd gadget, unsure what to do next.

“Fuck!”

An intense shout from the other side of the wall snaps you out of it. That’s the loudest you’ve ever heard your neighbor, and you can only assume that he has also just realized this unfortunate mix-up. There’s no way the two of you can pretend this isn’t happening. Besides, the last thing you want is for Choso to think you have a bad impression of him after this. Because you don’t, not one bit. It’s perfectly normal for people to have sex toys. In fact, it’s healthy. Even the thought of him using it on himself intrigues you. The hungry expression on his face, tongue lolling out of his mouth, those usually pale cheeks blushing a deep red. The obscene squelch of the wet silicone surrounding his engorged cock, leaking with precum. Closer and closer to the edge, ready to burst any second with your lips near the tip, ready to swallow his load…

You almost curse out loud yourself, ashamed for having such lewd thoughts about your sweet, innocent next-door neighbor. But maybe he’s not as innocent as you think.

Ultimately, you decide the best way to move forward from this is to nip it in the bud. With the opened package in your hands, you walk over to his front door, knocking three times. You hear a faint, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” from within, then hurried footsteps growing louder. Without removing the chain lock, he answers, peering at you through the narrow crack, not saying anything.

Nervous, you greet him with the best smile you can muster. “Hi Choso. I think there was a little mix-up.”

He clears his throat before mumbling a short, “Yeah.”

You glance away from him, staring at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his gaze for this next part. “I opened it without checking the label first. I’m so sorry.”

He shuts the door suddenly, startling you. There’s the distinct rattle of the chain being fiddled with and the door swings open fully, Choso towering over you, a serious expression on his face. He shows you a box, revealing all the office supplies you ordered earlier in the week. Without saying another word, you do the exchange, anticipating that this will be the end of it.

It surprises you when he apologizes quietly, focused on the small space separating you. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” He hides it behind his back, as if doing so will erase the image of it from your memory. “You must think I’m disgusting.”

You shake your head, ignoring the instinct to step closer and comfort him with a hug. The last thing you want to do is cross even more lines tonight. “I don’t, not even the slightest. It’s okay, Choso. This is totally normal and totally fine.”

“You don’t have to say that – ”

“But I mean it! I really do! There’s nothing wrong with it!” Desperate for him to believe you, you confess, “I have sex toys too, plenty of them!”

This time, he actually looks at you with a mixture of intrigue and skepticism. “You don’t have to lie for my sake.”

“I’m not lying!” you urge him.

He retreats inside his apartment, speaking once again through the crack. “I appreciate you trying to make this better, but I think it’s best that we never speak again. Goodnight.”

With that, he shuts the door, leaving you with a lump in your throat, devastated. In your frenzied attempt to fix this, you return to your room, searching your bedside drawer for your favorite vibrator. If words aren’t enough to convince him, then maybe actual proof will. Without taking a moment to reconsider the hole you’re digging yourself deeper and deeper into, you pound on his door, the sex toy clasped in your other hand.

When he answers, you shove it in his face, vindicated that you can prove your point with physical evidence. “See? I told you! I have toys too, so there’s nothing for you to be ashamed about.”

He squints at the vibrator squeezed in your fist as if inspecting it like a foreign object. “That’s it?”

You glare at him, offended by his response. “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head to examine it at another angle. “There’s only one button.”

“One button is all I need,” you argue, defensive about your favorite being criticized. “Sure, it’s small, but that’s what I like about it. It fits comfortably in my hand and with just a single push of the button, I can experience three different levels of intensity. What more do I need?!”

He smirks, amused at your rambling. “I just don’t see how something this simple can be useful, that’s all.” It’s the closest to a smile you’ve seen from him; it has your belly fluttering.

You hold back a laugh. “I bet it packs more of a punch than that Cock Sucker 2000 or whatever.”

“3000,” he corrects, grinning, causing your heart to race. “I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s the best on the market right now.” He hesitates, his next words coming out of his mouth slowly, testing the waters. “Maybe you can show me what your little toy can do. Prove me wrong.”

You never expected this from him, but that’s what makes this exciting. All you can think of in this moment is showing him just how wet you can get. “Fine,” you agree, stepping towards him. “But only if you show me what your little toy can do, too.”

~~~

Never in a million years did Choso predict that this would be the outcome of your bizarre mix-up. You, his next-door neighbor, on his bed, naked from the waist down. Your t-shirt riding up your stomach with your legs split apart, the cute vibrator you love so much pressed to your clit. He kneels in front of you, too transfixed at the erotic sight before him to give attention to the erection strained in his sweatpants.

“You’re next,” you say, glancing at his lap.

He nods, all the confidence he had just a few minutes ago when he initially proposed this idea thrown out the window. Now, he’s back to being his nervous self, afraid to be vulnerable with someone he barely knows.

You set the vibrator beside you, closing your legs. “Are you okay?”

He’s frozen, tempted to call the whole thing off. Go back to being neighbors and nothing more. Go back to being lonely Choso and pathetic Choso, who’s scared of everyone and everything and –

“Hey.” It’s only now he realizes that the two of you are face-to-face, foreheads pressed, noses touching. Your voice is gentle, your palms soft on his cheeks. You smile at him, full of warmth and compassion. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone,” he admits. “I’m nervous.” A myriad of what-ifs play out in his head. What if he’s bad? What if you don’t like it? What if this ruins whatever sliver of hope the two of you have at being friends? At being anything more?

“We’ll go slow then,” you assure him, brushing your lips to his. That genuine smile of yours is enough to convince him that it’s worth the risk. That, and how fucking good it feels to have your mouth on his. He closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss, relishing the warmth of your breath. He finds himself gradually losing control of his inhibitions, his carnal instincts taking over, hungry for more of you. He slips his tongue inside, swirling around yours, kisses growing frantic and sloppy. You tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. His heart pounds in his chest as he roams your body, fingers grazing your perked nipples from outside your top. You whisper his name, so luscious and sweet in your voice. He’d be lying if he said he’s never imagined it before. How you’d sound whimpering from his touch. How you’d feel between his massive hands. How you’d look with his cock filling you up to the brim.

He can’t stand it anymore. He’s aching, begging for release from the confines of his pants. Quickly, he removes them, freeing his throbbing erection. You gasp, marveling at the size of it. “Oh fuck, Choso. You’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out, fumbling for the Cock Sucker 3000 beside him. He slathers a generous amount of lube on his shaft and inside the toy. Foreheads pressed together once more, you both focus on his lap, watching it sink smoothly down his dick. The coldness of the lube and rubbery flexibility of the silicone surrounding him is familiar, though having someone spectate makes this all the more titillating.

“Fuck,” you swear, amazed at how it covers his entire length. You ogle at him as he starts slowly, eventually increasing to a steady pace. Your pussy flutters, incredibly aroused to see this man pumping his cock in front of you. For you.

“Do it with me.” His gaze flickers to the vibrator beside you. “You should feel good too.”

You spread your legs, displaying your cunt to him, already sopping wet with arousal. His eyes follow your every move as you tease the tip slowly up and down your pussy lips. Finding the right spot on your clit, you place your finger on the button of the toy, bracing yourself for what’s to come. As soon as you press it, the vibrations from level one alone are enough to send you wild. Knees shaking, feet flexing, moans pouring out of your open mouth. He continues to watch you, restraining his grunts as he strokes himself faster. Desperate for more, you click the button twice, increasing the vibrations to the max level. Within seconds, you’re coming, back arched and head thrown into the pillows behind you. Tossing the vibrator aside, you stare up at the ceiling, dizzy and disoriented from your ecstatic high, pussy shiny with your orgasm. Choso’s voice is so faint, you don’t understand him at first. You sit up to face him, waiting for him to repeat himself.

“Can you ride my face?” he asks meekly.

More than willing to accept his request, you nod in response, grinning. His expression relaxes and when you lean nearer to him, palm pressed flat on his chest, he even cracks a smile as he’s lies down on the bed, eager to have you like this. You straddle him, facing away from the headboard while his head rests at the foot of the bed. Carefully, you lower yourself until his mouth is pressed to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit slowly and he releases his grip from his toy to hold onto your ass, squeezing the soft flesh firmly. You don’t take your eyes off each other as you rub yourself across his face, his mouth open, swallowing every drop of you. When you reach your second orgasm, you’re practically bouncing on him as he smothers himself deeper, humming in satisfaction as he sucks hard on your clit, flicking it with his tongue.

You lift yourself off him, spent and completely wrecked. Still, you want to touch him, treat him as well as he treated you, make him come as hard as you did. You position yourself between his thighs, admiring the silicone sleeve hugging his dick. “Your turn.”

Sitting up on his elbows, he watches as you grab hold of the toy, stroking him with it. He moans, tongue hanging of his mouth, drool leaking from the corners of his lips, eyes half-lidded. His moans turn into whimpers when you start cradling his balls with your other hand, his body twitching from the sensation. The tip peeks out from the other end, a thick wad of precum collecting at the slit, so enticing that you’re salivating for a taste.

“Your mouth,” he stammers, barely able to speak.

“What?” you ask breathily, inching closer and closer.

“Want your mouth.” He swallows hard, voice trembling. “Please.”

Excited, you remove the toy from him, in awe at the way his fat cock flops heavily against his abdomen. You take him in your fist, loving how hot and throbbing he is in your grip. He’s coated in lube and precum, so slippery with your fingers wrapped around his girth. Unable to resist any longer, you bow your head, licking the pearl off the tip, savoring the taste. He shudders, letting out a loud, “Fuck!”

It’s so much better than a toy. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him is better than any masturbator, fleshlight, pocket pussy, whatever silly contraption he uses to get by. The swirl of your tongue gliding along the shaft, the vibrations of your moans as you take him all the way to the back of your throat, the view of your pretty head bobbing up and down his lap. Nothing in his collection compares to this. This is real. You are real.

He fucks your throat, unable to resist bucking his hips against you, timing his thrusts to meet yours. It doesn’t take much longer for him to be pushed over the edge. You pull off for a brief moment to smile at him, pumping him fast. “Come for me, Choso. Come in my mouth.”

At this, he completely loses himself, muffling his incessant moans into his forearm, too shy to watch you guzzle down his entire load until he’s milked of every last drop. You scatter delicate kisses along the entire length of him, even down to his balls. Too sensitive now, he pats you gently on the head, making you look up at him, a warm smile on your face. He smiles back, caressing your cheek, thumb grazing your soft skin. You lie beside him, nuzzling into his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to a steady, relaxed pace. He slides his arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.”

This world is a terrifying place for Choso Kamo. But with you in his arms, he feels a bit braver. He’s safe with you.

#choso kamo #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #choso jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x you

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hidden-poet · 7 months ago

Text

Commander Snow; 8

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The door was fixed with great haste. Before you knew it, you were back in the apartment playing housewife again. Coriolanus’s distrust of you grew to a new level. He no longer trusted you to remain home by yourself. Edmund was still not found, and Coriolanus was certain he would reappear and take you away.

You now worked with him, slept with him, and ate every meal with him. The fence line seemed like an impossible goal with him being so suffocating. You were pretty sure the broken chain was not found. He would have said something, would have taunted you with how close your freedom was. It meant you had something up your sleeve against him.

But you had no way of getting to it. You had tried to disappear during his work hours, when he was most distracted, but the only time you seemed to be out of his sight was when you showered. If there had been a window in the bathroom, you were sure that he would have been in there too.

You tried your best to soften him with affection. When you had the chance, you baked him the oatmeal cookies he loves. He ate whole plates in one sitting.

But as his work increased, your work decreased. Long days spent at his office were hard to fill. He sat behind his desk and never seemed to stop working. Sometimes there was mending you could do, or shoes to shine but most of the day you sat on the couch reading what was on hand.

You had taken to organizing the books in alphabetical order, then grouped them according to color. You worked quietly and slowly. Careful not to make any noise to disturb Coriolanus from his work. You had taken them down again just moments ago to reorganize them by subject when Coriolanus' assistant came in carrying a tea tray and a large parcel.

She drops the parcel down on the table in front of you, amongst the books. You look over it to see your name neatly scribbled on the recipient's information.

The receptionist doesn’t look at you as she puts the tea tray in front of Coriolanus.

He thanks her but her response is drowned out to your ears by the opening of the box.

“Is it from Tigris?”

You wait until the receptionist shuts the door behind her to respond.

You confirmed it was, as you pulled a soft silk nightdress from the box. It was light pink which was uncommon for the districts. Dark pink lace trimming boarded along the bottom and top of the dress. You run your finger across it. It was the most expensive material you had ever felt.

Another dress was folded in the box and you take it out.

It was light blue with yellow birds flying across it, made of a soft cotton material that would fall around your ankles.

“You like them?” he asks.

“They are beautiful,” you admit.

You look in the box for more to see a small pouch filled with sweets from the Capitol.

Tigris was too kind. If things had been different, you would have been a good friend to her. But as her cousin's captive, you were now sworn enemies. The box of treats didn’t change that.

You return the items to the box and see parchment paper protecting soft material at the bottom.

“There's a shirt for you.” It was a long white dress shirt with gold stitching running in horizontal lines down it.

He comes from his desk to collect it. Taking it gently from your hands, he brings it up to his nose and inhales the scent.

“You really miss home,” you comment, watching him breathe in the scent the shirt carried.

“I do. More than anything.” He returns to his desk with it still in his hands.

“You’ll be home soon.”

“We’ll be home soon”.

You smile thinly at him. “That’s what I said.”

“You should see the Capitol. Clothing, culture. Actual buildings, not these pieces of tin. You’ll be able to breathe much better in the Capitol.”

The scratching of his pen picked up where his sentence had been incomplete as he began his work again. The shirt lay across his lap.

“I have the day off tomorrow,” he said without stopping his work, “I was thinking we could visit the waterfall again. It will probably be the last time before Ravinstill dies.”

The thought made your stomach drop. If you don’t make it beyond the fence, it would in fact be the last time you ever saw your favorite place. The time was better spent within the compound waiting for an opportunity. He would never let you get too far in the district.

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Why?” he questions with a hard tone. He continued to write but the pen pressed firmly into the paper.

“I am behind on my chores, and I haven’t made anything in a while. The food in the fridge will go bad if I don’t get to it soon.”

“Let it. The Capitol is full of food.”

You realize now that Coriolanus had already made up his mind to do the activity. You wondered why he chose it. He hated the heat and the bugs.

You walk over to the tray of hot tea and pour out a cup, making it to his liking and placing it down in front of him.

“We’ll go if you want to.”

“Why don’t you want to go?”

“Why do you want to? The walk up there will take us nearly the whole morning in the hot sun.”

“I thought it might make you happy.”

He was trying to win your approval before he ripped everything you had ever known from your finger tips. It was something to use against him. Coriolanus responded best when he was in a position to be a hero. He would do anything so long as he felt he was the only one who could do it for you.

You lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your face against his neck.

“You know what would make me happy? Some vanilla extract so I can send Tigris some shortbread cookies back”.

He responds positively by wrapping his hands around your forearms. He liked you looking out for Tigris.

“She’s been asking to meet you.” He says, his hand gently wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “I have a call with them next Friday afternoon. Maybe you’d like to come with.”

You retract your hold now that he was in a better mood.

There was only one answer you could give him when it came to his family.

“I’d love to”.

You had a deep hate for Capitol people but Tigris seems different. In any case, you were sure you could remain civil for an hour-long phone call.

Pouring yourself a cup of tea, you return to your spot with it and Coriolanus returns to his work.

��——-

You stood out in the sun with Coriolanus as he discussed the new recruits' performance with another high-ranking officer. They were splitting them up into areas of work. The strong and fast became foot soldiers, the slow were put on kitchen duty, and the ones who showed a inclination to aggression were watchmen. He spared a couple to the infantry to learn basic medic care and help around the hospital. You couldn't work out what sent those recruits apart. It seemed random but you knew nothing Coriolanus did was without great care and strategy.

All the men seemed equally angry and you wondered if Coriolanus was the same when he was a Peacekeeper.

The sun felt nice upon your skin after so long. It was late afternoon and it had just begun to set, leaving behind a nice cool breeze.

You thought about your mother and Edmund. Were they enjoying the sun too?

The sound of a vehicle approaching ruined the moment of reflection. Coriolanus took your hand in his as soon as the tires upon the gravel could be heard as if you were to be run over if he didn’t.

It surprisingly stopped in front of where you stood. A transport car with no doors and a large trunk carried two men. A younger man wearing a District 12 peacekeeper uniform and an older man who wore a Commander uniform set apart by its light purplish color.

“Commander.” The older man greets as he swings out of the car.

“Vongurt.” Coriolanus uses his spare hand to offer a handshake which is strongly and fervently taken.

Another Commander had come to see Coriolanus. You doubted he was any better than the last.

“This is my wife, Y/N.” With his hand, he leads you in front of him to show you off to the Commander.

You were stiff with shock as the man's disapprovingly raked his eyes over you. He too felt jarred at the label of wife. District women weren’t wives. They were barely considered human.

But he smiles nonetheless, something you couldn’t return.

“Pleasure.” With a kiss placed upon your hand, the Commander's attention was turned back to Coriolanus.

“Your compound is impressive, Commander Snow. It has to be the largest I’ve seen.”

Coriolanus seemed unimpressed by the comment. He turns back to the Peacekeepers watching them as they leap, and fight.

“A palace of scrap metal.”

He waves over a tall man in a high-ranking uniform, who quickly makes his way over from across the field.

“Your apartment is only slightly better. Sergeant AJ will take you there.”

“I was hoping that we could talk. I’ve come all this way from District 2.”

“Later, Commander. The conference room at 7. You’ll have my undivided attention there.”

The man nods back and follows his guide back into the car.

Coriolanus makes a comment to his officer about a recruit and the man jotted down all of his thoughts.

You wanted to get away. Break free from his hold and bolt to the fence line. His delusions had reached a new height, with him now openly telling lies to men with power.

Your body moves to your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized you were twisting your hand away from him until he tightened his hold.

He turns to you, asking if you are ok.

“I need to go home” you respond. Home to my mother. Back home to normalcy.

“Take whoever we missed today and regroup them tomorrow morning” he directs the man next to him. A whistle is blown and the recruits stop their training, instead they congregate in front of you.

Coriolanus turns as his officer begins to dish out instructions, taking you back to the apartment.

“The heat can get to you,” he says.

You had lived in District 12 all your life if anyone was to know about the heat it was you. But you verbally agree and apologize for taking him away from his work.

He hushes you and it ends the conversation for the walk home.

He lets you go as you enter your prison, and you take off without him to the bedroom.

You hear his voice wafting down the hallway telling you to lie down. You shove your boots off and get into bed. Every day your window closes. It won’t be long before either the broken fence is found or you are carted off on the train.

But he had called you his wife. Not just to anyone but a Capitol Commander. Even if you got away, the idea that he would leave you here for the presidency is just a fantasy.

How long would you need to live in hiding before he forgot you? Could you bear the costs of it for as long as needed? What work could you do in the mountains to support yourself and your mother?

Wife. Why did he have to say wife? You weren’t that. You were his captive, a victim of his need to be cared for.

Coriolanus enters the room with a wet, cold rag and runs it over your forehead. A victim of his need to pretend he was capable of caring for something.

He sits on the bed beside you running the cloth over your forehead and into your hair.

“Do you feel alright?” he asks as you take the cloth off him.

“I am fine. Just a little lightheaded.” You throw the cloth on the bed stand and he takes it as a signal to get up.

“I’ll get you some water.”

He disappears and you're thankful for the space to think. Could you tell him you just need a walk around the compound by yourself to think? No, he would take it as an insult.

You had to get out. The fence was so close.

You don’t notice him as he sits back down beside you. Only the glass to your lips made you see him.

“I won’t go to the meeting with Vongurt if you are unwell.”

You sit up straighter at his words, pushing the glass away from you.

“No!” you say harshly, “No, you should go. I am fine.”

“You don’t look well.” You were sure you looked terrible after you had the shock of your life.

“But I feel fine. Just too much sun.”

He looked annoyed that you were arguing with him so you switched tactics.

“We need his support to get back to the Capitol. Maybe you could just leave the door open for some fresh air?”

You had pushed too hard, and he got up

“If I am not here, the door is shut.”

“Of course,” you breathe with a soft smile at him, “I’ll be fine by the time you have to leave.”

Coriolanus hovered around you for the next hour and a half before he had to start getting ready for his meeting. He took a shower to wash the sweat off him from the day and changed into his official outfit. It fit snugly, his broad shoulders carried the uniform well.

He attached the dressings of his uniform as you watched him from the bed.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight. What if you feel unwell while I am away?” His fingers were still on the badge he was trying to put on.

“I am fine,” you assure him, “I feel fine.”

“We should invite him here. That way if you need me, I am here.”

You cringed at the thought of serving Commander Vongurt.

“I won’t need you. Besides the conference room is much nicer.” You get up to help him put on his badge and send him on his way.

“I haven’t felt unwell since dinner.” Coriolanus stood over you as you cooked, convinced that the heat in the kitchen would make you unwell again. With a knife in your hand, it was a dangerous time for Coriolanus to tell you what to do.

“You’re sure?” he pokes.

You were tired of saying it so you just nodded your head.

“Go to the bathroom then.”

It was an odd request.

“What?” you question.

“Go to the bathroom and take a shower. Get changed into your night dress.”

He checks his watch once before motioning you forward.

There was no other option for you then to follow his request. You thought maybe he just wanted to complete the bed time routine. He wanted to know you were washed and dressed for bed for his own comfort. You never knew what made him tick.

You complete the tasks quickly and return to find he had placed a glass of water and a packet of dried mixed fruit.

You quiz him on it but he doesn’t answer. He takes your wrist in his hand and tugs you to the bed.

Taking out his handcuffs, he clips your wrist into the cuff, pulling it up to the headboard where he attached the other cuff.

You tug against it in protest. “What are you doing?”

“Just in case, Edmund comes back.”

“He won’t! Please unlock me.” you beg.

“I left your book there if you are not ready to sleep yet.” He stands tall and readjusts his uniform.

“Coriolanus!” You say in a serious tone, “Get this off of me.”

You pull against it brutally and he captures your hand against the headboard.

“I left you one hand so you can read. I don’t have to.”

“Please, don’t leave me here like this!” He ignores you, bending down once more to flick on the lamp.

“You’ve had a big day. Try and rest. I’ll be home soon.”

“Coriolanus!” you call out watching him leave. He flicks off the main light as he goes.

“Coriolanus!” you yell.

You had never felt anger as you lay trapped in bed. He dictated when you worked, when you rested, when you ate. Nothing was yours anymore. Every breath you took was only because he allowed you to take it.

There was nothing to tell the time on. It felt like years waiting for him to come back and release you. You didn’t read, only plotted.

Could you feed him something to make him sick? Surely he would request you to come see him in the infirmary. You could break away when returning from your visit. What if he caught you trying to poison him though?

Friday provided the perfect opportunity. While he was distracted with his family you could sneak away. The communication building was on the other side of the compound but at least you would be outside of the apartment.

But how would you get away far enough to make a break for it? You thought about what was in the surrounding area of the communications building. Nothing would be a reasonable excuse to pardon yourself.

Could you excuse yourself to the bathroom? Surely one of the surrounding offices would have one. Would he let you go alone? Sacrifice time with his family to take you. Would he even let you go or just expect you to make do until the phone call was over?

You came up with twenty different scenarios of escape routes, each one ended with Coriolanus catching you.

You wished you didn’t shoo Edmund away now. He could have got the door opened in time. It was only your fearfulness that stood in the way of your escape. You could be with him now, with your mother. Up in the mountains, safe and sound.

God, you hoped they were safe and well-fed.

You wished for nothing more than to tend to your mother, to ensure that she was alright.

The care that was supposed to go to her was now unjustly turned towards Coriolanus, who was adamant to wring it from your hands.

Edmund had always taken whatever care you gave him with great appreciation.

Never demanded more, and then took it with force.

He was kind and patient. Two things Coriolanus is not.

And now you have dragged him into this mess where his life is at great risk. Still, he had never demanded any more from you.

When his lips first met yours, they were placed almost in questioning. It was up to you to accept and beg for more.

You wished you had seen his affection for you sooner. But he was your brother's best friend, and the main protector of you and your mother. If Coriolanus never entered the picture you doubt he ever would have acted on it.

But he had, and you had returned the affection. It was the start of something new and beautiful or the end of years of friendship and familiarity.

Once Coriolanus went back to the Capitol, your new life would begin.

You hoped it would be alongside Edmund. You would pay him back for his bravery.

You would be a good girlfriend to him, then wife, and then mother of his children. You would never ask him for anything, and take great care of his family life. You would ensure his happiness, as he ensures your life now.

You almost forget you were chained to the bed of the Commander as you daydream of brown-haired babies. But the sound of Coriolanus arriving home was a solemn reminder. His boots against the hardwood floor soften as they reach the bedroom door.

You still had a great challenge before you got to nurse Edmund’s children.

You had to get away from Coriolanus, and the only way you could do that is if he had no idea that you planned to.

The door creaks open and you sit up straight to watch him enter.

“I am sorry. Did I wake you?” He places his coat on the foot of the bed and crawls over to where you lay.

“No. I was waiting for you.”

He smiles down at you as he unlocks the cuff from your wrist with the keys in his pocket.

“You seem happy,” you comment. You could smell the whiskey on his clothes as he leaned over you.

“I am. I have you. I have Commander Vongurt’s support behind me, and Ravinstill is not expected to last the winter. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Throwing the keys on his bedside table, he leans down to kiss you before resting his head on your collarbone.

“That’s not long,” you comment.

“Three months at the most.”

You drowned in your anxiety quietly as he rested.

Three months and your life was over.

He takes your silence as a quiet contemplation.

“Are you thinking of your mother?” he runs a curled finger along your nose.

“Yeah. I’ll miss her”. You hope to never have to know the pain of missing her again. These past few weeks have been unbearable.

“You’ll write. I’ll organize a time she can come to the compound for video calls.”

You were sure he was going to let you write and call. For how long was another thing. You could see it already, your calls being cut short, your letters ‘lost’ in the mail.

“Yeah,” you respond again.

Your mind races with ideas of escape. You could fake a sickness and be sent to the medical camp. No, he wouldn’t send you there. He panicked today over a supposed case of heatstroke.

He lowers his head down closer to you where you can smell the evening on him.

“You want to know what I was thinking?” he asks playfully.

You could start a fire during dinner time. He was sure to open the door to let you out before dealing with the flames.

“Yeah?” you entertain. Fire could go wrong for a number of reasons. Besides you would have to fight your way to the oven. Especially now that Commander Vongurt was here. Coriolanus would be too busy to wait for you to cook something.

“I was thinking I hope we have a boy first. Then two girls, then another boy.”

Your eyes shoot open as his hand reaches out across your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt and he lays a warm palm over your belly.

Then again, a big enough fire might kill him. Was it worth a shot?

“You called me your wife today. That’s not true.”

“What else should I have called you? We sleep together, eat together, wake together. We look after each other. The only thing missing is an official title but as soon as we get back to the Capitol, we’ll fix that.”

You turn away from him to your side. Now that the talk of the Capitol was becoming a more serious threat, you felt sick.

“Did I scare you with talk of babies? It wouldn’t be for a few more years yet.”

His rants did scare you. That would be your life if you didn’t figure out a way to the fence. Nursing Commander Snow’s babies in the Capitol. Away from your mother. Away from Edmund.

Still, you had to perform. You couldn’t let any more distrust between him and you grow.

“You didn’t scare me. I am just tired. I’ve waited up all night for you.”

You feel a soft kiss press against your ear before the weight of the bed was shifted as he moved.

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leans over you once more to flick off the light. You hear him walk out to the bathroom to take a shower.

Could you force him to give you the keys? The chain was still dangling from the headboard. If you could somehow get his wrist caught, you could threaten him with a kitchen knife. You shake the thought from your head. You couldn’t hurt him with a knife. You were sure even one-handedly, he could take it off you if you tried.

You just needed a distraction, just two seconds when his attention wasn’t on you to escape.

Wet, salty tears rolled down your cheeks as you lay in the dark, but you made no sound.

You were still awake when he returned from his shower, dressed in his pajamas. Thinking you are asleep he is slow and quiet as he rejoins you in bed.

He curls up against your back and rests his hand on your stomach as if there is something already inside. He wasn’t going to wait a few more years. He said it purely for your comfort.

He dreamt of being a young President with a baby on the way. And another one close after that, and another, and another. He would undo history. He would have as many baby Coriolanus’s and Tigris’ as it took to heal the past.

Watching you nurture, feed, and play with his children would overtake his memories of fighting for his life when he should have been nursed by his mother.

He felt as if he was in the area but soon to be crowned Victor. President Ravinstill just had to die before he could have it all.

His destiny that had been interrupted when his father died but was now back on track. From birth, Coriolanus Snow was supposed to be the man who had it all. Not some impoverished boy, hanging on to his father’s legacy.

When he died, he would be remembered as his own man. Not as the shadow of his father.

Coriolanus Snow; Beloved President of Panem, star pupil of the Academy, Plinth Prize winner, devoted husband and father, and Victor of the games. Coriolanus would be remembered as the man who had it all.

You lay awake under him. The smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of his soap. It burnt your nose as you inhaled.

President Ravinstill could die tonight. There was no guarantee that he would even make it to winter. You had to get out. If you made it to the Capitol, you would never get back home.

While he was intoxicated was your best chance. He seemed so still now, you could take the keys off the nightstand and go through everyone. You were sure he wouldn’t wake, not until it was too late. You remember when your father drank on special occasions, he would sleep for 14 hours at a time. Coriolanus was sure to sleep for at least half that.

You wait until you can’t feel him twitch before you rise from bed. Very slowly, very carefully, you peel yourself from him, shoving a pillow in your place. He doesn’t move from your actions so you continue over to his nightstand where his key ring is laid.

Rows and rows of keys looped together. They jingle as you pick them up. Panic runs like ice up your spin as you turn back to see Coriolanus; unmoved and unknowing.

You wrap your hand around as many keys as you can to stop further noise and make your way to the door. Checking every few steps to ensure he wouldn’t turn up behind you.

The floor creeks as you pass the hallways to the living room but no other sound follows as you cross the kitchen to the door.

You start at the very first key. It slots in but refuses to turn. Moving on to the next, and the next in methodological order, bypassing the ones that were too big or small to be entertained.

You try numerous times but the right key is buried among the many.

Feeling as if it had been hours since the first key, you felt confident that it was coming up.

You stuck a key in with no resistance. The hope that died in you reappeared as the lock turned with the key.

But all too soon it died again, as you felt a hand snake into your hair. It yanks your head harshly back and you find yourself pressed against Coriolanus.

“That key will get stuck in the door, and it’d be a great pain to get it out again.”

His hand in your hair pulls you back.

“I was just going to the kitchen to get some ingredients for a hangover cure. I was coming back.” His hand twists unforgivably in your hair as you make your plea.

“Don’t lie to me,” he seethes.

“I am not!” You protest, trying to break free from his grasp.

“You think I am some type of fool?”

Reaching over you, he takes the keys out of the door and leads you back to the bedroom.

“Coriolanus. Please just listen to me.”

“If I had listened to you, I would have left the door opened. You spoiled, deceiving, little bitch.”

He was still drunk. You could smell it from his breath.

You thought it would make him complacent but it instead made him more violent.

“I was getting you my father's hangover cure.”

You stumble as he pushes you over the doorway.

“You need to trust me, Coriolanus.”

He shoves you until you are back to your side of the bed.

“I don’t.”

He throws the keys hard across the room to free his hands.

“I trust you.” You don’t fight him as he recuffs your chain, instead you willingly go along with it.

For good measure, you place a kiss on his cheek which throws him off guard.

“I don’t trust you.” he reiterated softly.

“That’s ok,” you state, “One day you will. We’ll have a happy life together. You, me, and our children.”

He looks perplexed at your words but makes no further comment as he lays down by your side, resting his head on you.

“I’ve tried my best to take care of you. To make you happy.”

“You have.” you console. You were no longer worried about President Ravinstill lasting the night, but rather yourself.

“Then why-”

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to take care of you.”

His face turns into your skin. You bring your free hand up to his head and press it down.

“Everything is ok. Just go to sleep. You’re drunk. You don’t mean it.”

You run your fingertips up and down starting from behind his ear, down to the bottom of his neck, and up again. You do it until you feel his shallow breaths upon your skin, only then do you release the tears from your eyes.

When you wake the next morning, your wrist is free and Coriolanus is not in bed.

You rise to find him in the kitchen, frying bacon. Maybe he was too intoxicated last night to remember his anger towards you.

“Good morning,” you offer. He doesn’t return the greeting. Maybe he did remember last night, and you were in a lot of trouble.

“How are you feeling?” you try again.

“What’s your father's hangover cure?”

“Two eggs, hot sauce, milk, salt, pepper, and honey”. Your father did not have a hangover cure and it did not include hot sauce or honey, both of which were considered luxury items in the District.

He looks for the ingredients, slamming the cupboards he turns towards you. “All here.”

“Oh,” you comment, “That’s good. Did you want me to make you one?”

The bacon pops in the pan and you rush over to distract yourself with it.

“Sit down. I’ll take over cooking”. The bacon was overcooked to the point where it would be barely edible.

“So what did you need for the compound kitchen last night?”

“I didn’t know we had the items. It's been that long since I cooked, I just assumed we were out.”

“You assumed you wouldn’t get caught.”

You sigh. Coriolanus in a bad mood would only mean bad things for you.

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to help. Are you always going to doubt me?”

“Yes.” he answers, pulling the pan back off you.

He dumps the bacon onto a plate and takes it to the kitchen table. You begin to clean up after him as he sits and eats.

The plate is still full by the time he is telling you to go get ready for the day.

You put on the blue sun dress he likes which acts as a two-second buffer for his anger when he sees you.

He had paused in the middle of throwing his bacon into the trash. Such a waste of food. You thought.

But he was determined to stay in his mood. He slides the empty plate across the counter.

“I am late for work,” he says.

It was unusual for him not to hold your hand as you walked to his office. You would have to work hard today to please him.

His tea was already sat upon his desk when you arrived and you rushed to pour him one.

He doesn’t drink it. It goes cold as he does his work.

You try extra hard to be quiet. There was sewing left from yesterday which you begin to complete.

“We still haven’t found your mother,” he says out of the blue after a morning of not speaking or looking at you.

His words filled you with confidence. If you could get to the mountains, at least you knew you were safe.

He doesn’t look up as he speaks.

“Edmund hasn’t returned to his house but there was a rumor that he was swapping meat for medical supplies just yesterday.”

What would he need medical supplies for? You wondered. Was your mother okay? Was he okay?

You needed to see them to make sure.

“He’s probably hiding with your mother in what’s left of the forest. Don’t worry. We’ll find him and bring your mother home.”

It was a disguised threat. He was trying to get a rise out of you.

“Good,” you comment. Keep searching the forest while they remain safe in the mountains.

“Good.” he repeats back.

A comfortable silence returns as you both go back to work, but it’s interrupted by his secretary bursting through the doors.

“Sir! Sir!” she gasps. Coriolanus shot up from his chair.

“Commander Vongurt is angry!”

You follow him without a word out of the office.

“The courtyard!” the secretary directs.

You fall behind his fast pace and reach for him blindly to keep from falling too far behind.

A crowd had formed by the time you reached the courtyard. You could hear the familiar sound of flogging and painful cries.

The crowd parts as Coriolanus approaches. In the middle of the bystanders was Commander Vongurt and a young boy curled on the dirt floor.

Coriolanus looks upon the same boy who failed to hit the target on the hot day.

Grabbing the baton from the Commander, he throws it to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Commander Snow,” Vongurt was out of breath from exerting himself in his beating, “This boy is a disgrace to your legacy. I caught him passing scraps to the prisoners through the bars.”

With the protection of Coriolanus, you felt safe enough to speak out, “He’s just a boy.”

“Take him to the jail. He can sleep there for a week if he likes their company so much.”

“Coriolanus!” you take his arm and tug it. He gives you a harsh look and you know you won’t be able to persuade him.

The boy cries out and begins to beg as he is carted away by two others.

“Coriolanus, please!” You tug his arm once more and he hits you harshly across the cheek.

You stumble upon the impact. The men shuffle away from you as you try and regain your footing.

Coriolanus takes your arm in a harsh grip, pulling you back in the right direction but he is turned to speak to Vonngurt.

“District 12 is my district. Next time you feel like taking discipline into your own hands, don’t.”

The older Commander nods his head, but you can see he is displeased to have been spoken to in such a manner.

“Let’s go.” He was now talking to you and shoving you forcefully in front of himself back to the office.

You tear yourself free as the door shuts behind you.

“You don’t dictate my decisions.”

Your nose is clogged from your tears. You couldn’t tell if you were crying out of pain or anger. Your brain was still trying to catch up.

“Calling my name,” he says astonished, “It doesn’t matter if you disagree with my decision. Your job is to support me.”

He catches you as you try to make your way from him and he tosses you to the couch, where he stands over you.

“You embarrassed me. Vongurt already thinks I can’t control my Peacekeepers, now he thinks I can’t control my women as well.”

You cup your bruised cheek. This wasn’t about Vongurt. He was still hurting about your attempt last night. All day he was looking for a reason to lash out, Vongurt only provided the opportunity.

You were put back on defense. With only at most a month before you were carted off to the Capitol, mistakes couldn’t be afforded.

“I am sorry.” you choke out.

He squinted his eyes, bringing his hand up to his head before throwing it back again, “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t!” you spit. There is no sincerity in your voice.

“Look at me when I am talking to you.” He takes your chin into his hand and pulls it up to his eye level. “Ravinstill is expected to die shortly. This behavior of yours cannot be brought back to the Capitol.”

“It won’t be. I am sorry.” Your fists clench by your side.

He turns your chin to expect your cheek.

“I did it too. That’s the only reason I spoke out. I would have been thrown in jail too.” you contend.

He lets go of your chin and stands up to full height, “You think a Peacekeeper would get the same punishment as a District? No. You would have been hanged. Yet another reason to be loyal to me. I’ve saved you.”

“I am loyal to you. Grateful for you.” You get up and follow him as he makes his way to his desk.

“Coriolanus, please don’t be mad at me. I was only ever trying to help.”

You sob ugly causing him to spin around. Your cheek hurt, and you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders trying to get away within such a short time frame. You were overwhelmed with the whole scenario and the thought of dealing with Coriolanus as he looked for opportunities to lash out was too much to bear.

He softens upon your unraveled composure, taking you into his arms.

“Stop crying. It’s okay”. You feel him rest his head on top of yours. “I am just a little wound up trying to get everything in order. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I am sorry.”

You smile slightly, he is back on defense.

—------

Friday came quickly. The call wasn’t until the afternoon so you spent the whole day as a ball of anxiety.

But at least you had a plan. On evening walks you took more notice of the building surrounding the communications tent, and saw a nurse carrying a load of blankets into a building of washing machines.

There were few things Coriolanus let you do alone, washing was one of them.

The washing machine in the apartment would need to be dealt with. But the long hours spent in his office meant that the dirty clothes were piling up. He would demand a fresh uniform for work. If you left it close to his phone call with his family, he was sure to let you go.

You push it out for as long as you can. He had wanted to leave ten minutes ago but you kept pressing him for one more minute.

You had taken small rocks from the ground during your afternoon walk, telling Coriolanus you would like to take a part of home back to the Capitol with you. He had allowed you to collect a small jar, you picked the biggest rocks you could find.

Big enough to jam the pipes of the washing machine.

“Darling, please. We have to leave.” He bangs on the door of the washing room.

You finish shoving the rocks as far as they would go down the pipe. It made an awful sound as the washing machine ate them up causing the water to rise.

“Coriolanus,” you call. As soon as you open the door, he grabs your arm, ready to yank you out.

“Coriolanus. The machine is broken. Look.”

He barely glaces at it, “ I’ll send someone to fix it. Let’s go.”

“I need to do the washing,” you pick up the basket as he pulls you from the room, “Can I use the compound washing machines?”

“That’s fine. Just move, we are late.”

You struggle to keep up with him as he rushes along the compound. He hated it if his phone call was cut short by even a second. Now he was two minutes late and he was almost running to make up time for it.

You reach the building in record time. He lets go of you to pick up speed, leaving you by the door as he hurries.

He rushes to the small screen, not bothering to sit down on the wooden chair as he twisted the knobs. “Tigris, Tigris? Can you hear me?”

He must have heard a voice on the other side as he broke out into a smile. It was a pretty, genuine smile that you had not seen before.

“Hey,’’ he laughs. You watch from where you stand by the door. He seemed almost unrecognizable. A young boy sent away to a summer camp instead of a ruthless and ambitious Commander. “I am sorry. The washing machine broke. How are you?”

His tone is light and happy as he talks to Tigris. You wonder if he had forgotten he even brought you. He didn’t glance at you as he spoke, giving her his full attention.

You wonder if it is best to make your exit now but his words stop you.

“She’s here.” he waves you over. You drop the basket in coming to him. You wondered what Tigris would look like. What she would sound like.

Coriolanus holds out the receiver for you. You peer at the screen to see a blonde girl in colorful clothing before you put the receiver to your ear.

“Hello,” you greet.

“Oh!” Tigris croons. She pulls the receiver away from her mouth to lessen her shout, “Grandma’am come see!”

She smiles as she turns her attention back to you, “Oh, Coryo has talked so much about you.”

“What is she saying?” Coriolanus places his hands on your hip and pulls down so you are sitting on his knee.

“She’s said you’ve talked about me,” you answer.

He smiles gently at you, turning the receiver in your hand out between you.

An older woman comes too close into the frame and Tigris pulls her back.

“Is that her?” the old woman asks Tigris who nods.

“Girl-Girl.” she talks into the speaker.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“You must be grateful he is sending you back to the Capitol. Don’t ruin it like the last one.”

Coriolanus snatches the receiver away from your ear to soften her words but you heard them any way.

“Grandma’am is unwell,” he tells you, “Pay her no mind.”

Tigris takes back the receiver and positions it in a similar fashion to Coriolanus.

“Did you get the dresses I sent?”

“I did. Thank you. I was hoping to send you back some shortbread but Coriolanus has been busy with work.”

“He was saying you cook. Grandma’am and I are so excited to meet you!”

“Me too,” you lie. “I hear the Capitol is wonderful. I look forward to exploring it with you.”

Tigris laughs. She was beautiful, you thought. Perhaps too popular to be showing you the capital. You felt foolish for even lying about it.

“We’ll have a ball. I’ll show you all around.”

“In time,” Coriolanus interjects. The chains around you would not loosen just because you were in the Capitol. “The Capitol is big. There’ll be time to see it all.”

You let Coriolanus take over the talking. Only offering agreements or soft smiles as the Snow women talk.

The family soon falls into a comfortable way of talking. You had said next to nothing for the last 10 minutes, and it had gone unnoticed. It was time to make your way.

You slowly rise from Coriolanus who latches out on your arm.

“I’ll just put the washing on. That way it will be done by the time we finish.”

He tugs you back down causing you to fall into him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Tigris almost cringe.

“We’ll do it later,” he demands.

“We’ll be washing well into the night if we leave it any longer. I’ll just pop it on. I’ll be five minutes.”

His face twisted with his words but you kissed him to stop them from leaving his mouth. It was the first time you had ever kissed him on the lips. You could tell by the way his mouth stilled that he was surprised.

“Five minutes.” You kiss his bottom lip to quell any fight he has in him. Grabbing the phone in the meantime.

“Tigris. Grandma. I’ll just be 5 Minutes to put the washing on”.

Tigris smiles at you, letting you know that it is fine. You could just barely hear Grandma’am make a comment about how the people in the Capitol don't do their own washing but it is cut off by you shoving the phone back in Coriolanus's hand.

He cups your face to bring you down for another kiss.

“Five minutes,” he repeats.

You smile at him as you pull away. It was too easy, You had won.

It felt like victory as you picked up the basket and placed it on your hip. You turn back halfway out the door to see he has gone back to talking to his family.

You don’t make it to the tent. Five steps away from the door and you had dropped the basket and taken off at a fast pace.

You walk to try not to draw attention to yourself. It worked for the most part. Hardly anyone gave you a glance. You could see the bins coming into sight. Your freedom is just behind them.

“Hey!” you hear someone call out. You ignore them at first, not thinking they could mean you. But a harsh hold on your arm spun you towards a Peacekeeper.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? Nothing”. Your freedom lay not ten feet away but was hindered by a zealous guard.

“Where’s Commander Snow?” He held you too tight. It interfered with your clear thinking.

“The communications tent.”

“Is that where you should be?”

“No,” you try and tug your arm away from him but his nails dig in. “Let go of me. Let go!”

“Let’s go ask Commander Snow what you should be doing.” The man starts to drag you along as you dig your feet into the dirt.

“Let go!” you shout. He was sure to notice you gone soon if he hadn’t already. Time was running out.

In frustration, you slap the Peacekeeper across the face.

“How dare you touch me. I’ll tell Commander Snow about this. You’ve hurt me.

You feel his grip loosen on you but he doesn’t let go completely.

“No, I haven’t!” he says somewhat fearfully,

“Commander Snow has asked me to get something for him, and not only have you stopped me from doing that but you hurt me in the process. How do you think he will react to that?”

You manage to tear free from him and give yourself some distance.

“I am going to do as he asked me, and you are going to do your duties like you should be doing. Otherwise, I’ll report you to the Commander."

The Peacekeeper mulls over his course of action before raising his hands.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Excuse me.”

You turn your back on him and quicken your steps to your destination. Making sure the coast is clear, you crawl behind the large bins. You couldn’t see any broken fence behind it.

Did they find it? Have you just made a fatal mistake?

You continue to crawl, placing your hand on the metal for any movement.

The chain bends showing cut wire as they bend. Relief washing through you.

It digs harshly into you as you pull yourself through.

You could have kissed the dirt on the other side. Freedom. Edmund.

The guard in the tower above you looks out across the field. You keep under his eyesight as you slide across the fence as quietly as you can.

It runs out, leaving ten feet of open field before the safety of the forest. Ten feet and then you were free. There was no cover, meaning that the guard could easily spot you if he was looking.

You say a silent prayer that the guard will keep his focus straight before you take the chance of discovery.

You leap across the field, throwing yourself upon the first tree you touch. The bark smashed your bruised cheek as you waited for the sirens to sound.

He mustn’t have seen you. You had got away.

You take a second to laugh as quietly as you can. Run, a voice in your head told you. You regain your breath and do. You run as fast as you can, taking the backroads back to your home.

Your lungs burn, willing you to stop but you keep going until your house is in view. You only slow down to stop drawing attention to yourself.

People had started to return home from work. You could see them as you walked along the back of their houses. You're careful not to be seen.

The back steps of your place come under your feet, and your caution disappears as you fling yourself into your home.

Edmund was sitting at the kitchen table dressing a rabbit he caught.

He stood up. Turning his knife towards you thinking you were an intruder.

You knew he would never hurt you so you throw your arms around his shoulders despite the threat.

The knife drops and he takes you into his arms.

“I was so worried.” he breathed.

“We have to go. We need to leave,” you state but make no attempt to pull away.

He does pull away, throwing the rabbit into his hunting sack and picking up his knife. You take his bloody hand and he leads you back out the back door and into the forest.

The walk to the mountains takes well into the night. You both do it silently. What was there to say? There was still a long road to safety.

You stay as close as you could to him. Always holding his hand or latched onto his arm.

The mountain trail is tough and you wonder how he made it up with your mother on his back. He knew the way well, having worked in the mines nearly all his life. He warned you of which boulders were loose, and when you tripped over he caught you as if he almost expected it.

You were worn out by the time you reached the campsite. Rows and rows of small wooden houses for the miners. All were empty this time of year as it got too dark too early and not light enough too late for the hours they worked.

You saw a freshly put-out fire and knew that your mother was close.

“Your mothers in that one,” he pointed to the right cabin, “My family’s in the next one.”

For the first time in the hour's walk, you tore free from him and ran into your mother's cabin.

It was a relief to see her sleeping figure. You throw yourself on top of her and begin crying.

She wakes in fright but knows the figure of her daughter well. She throws her arms around you and joins you in crying.

You were home. You were safe.

—---------

As soon as the door closed, Coriolanus felt as if he had made a mistake. He trusted you.

You were better now. Doing well. He could trust you.

But Tigris’s words made no sense to him. You were coming back.

He tried to focus on his family but he eyes the door expectantly.

Dread fills him. How long did it take to put on washing?

“Coriolanus?” he hears Tigris call.

He dashes out of his chair. He had made a very big mistake.

“Coriolanus?” the receiver resounds.

Upon opening the door he is met with his washing by his feet. He takes off running to his apartment. You were sick the other day, maybe you had fallen ill again and taken to bed.

He pushed past Peacekeepers as he ran to his steps. Taking them two at a time he reaches the top and pushes open the unlocked door. It was only ever locked to keep someone in, never someone out. He calls out for you but is met with silence.

He opened every door along the way to the bedroom, hoping you were just hiding.

He calls your name again and again until falling silent upon the empty bed. You weren’t here. Coriolanus had made a big mistake.

Clicking the radio built into the collar of his shirt, he demands that the compound is shut down.

“Has anyone been through the gates?” Both leading officers of the two entryways confirm that no one has. The Peacekeepers are diverted into searching the compound for you.

Coriolanus joins too. He didn’t trust the ability of his Peacekeepers. He searched every nook and cranny of every office and building he could find. His temper flared the longer the search went on.

You had to be in the compound. How could you have got out?

He returns to his apartment. Maybe you had returned upon hearing the sirens.

A cat catches his attention as it sits meowing and eating bits of food from the ground that the birds had managed to pick out.

He had never seen a cat in the compound before. Could it have got in the same way you got out?

He walks over to search it for any clues it might have but it runs off as he comes closer.

He chases it behind the bin where he watches it slip through the bent wire in the fence.

You had got away. Now at large in the districts.

He sighs deeply before taking his rage out on the back of the bins, bashing and kicking at it until he is forced to lean against it to catch his breath.

A search party would be sent out, interrogations would be issued. Someone had to have seen you along the way. He would find you and he would bring you home to him.

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#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #commander snow #dead dove do not eat #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #hunger games

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cumikering · 3 months ago

Text

F1 John Price x reader 7 (end)

3.4k | fluff, suggestive John has been doing a lot of yoga (part 1)

“No, JP’s not charbroiled to oblivion,” you said with a laugh.

John had asked what had become of JP the bear as the lift shot up, streets under growing smaller by the second.

“Oh, good.” He breathed a relieved sigh. “I was going to be really sad.”

There was a ding before metal door slid open to reveal his penthouse. You stood in his open kitchen as he fixed you a drink, admiring the spotless marble countertops and the expanse of his living room. To the side, in front of the floor to ceiling windows, he’d set up his gym. He handed you your drink and gave you a tour of his home.

There’s a room for his racing simulator setup, next to it, a memorabilia room with his office in the corner. Shelves lined the walls displaying trophies, medals and awards along with a line of customised helmets and boots he’d acquired over the years. Lastly, the hall led to the master bedroom.

“The place is massive, John, and the view is gorgeous.” Your hands rested on the railing of the lengthy stretch of balcony, overlooking London at night.

“It’s too big. For one, at least.”

You bit down a smile.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head against yours. “You should come over as much as you can.”

You didn’t leave his apartment until when he drove to yours Sunday night. But when he helped you unlock your door, he decided he didn’t want to part yet and buried his face in your hair for another night.

As usual, he dropped you off for work before tending to his own routines. But this time, before noon, he had lunch delivered for you and your girls. On Tuesday morning, the familiar smell of coffee and cookies greeted him as he pushed the doors to your shop open.

“The boyfriend is here,” Sophie called out from the counter with a giggle.

Heat crept up his neck. He couldn’t hide now without his mask. What did you tell her?

“A bit flashy just to pick up cookies,” you teased as you strapped yourself in his McLaren.

“And my favourite woman.”

The engine roared to life before he zoomed away, taking you to the factory to finally meet his friends. When he told Kyle on the phone, he sounded so excited to see you again he sounded like he was going to puke as he listed off restaurants you could go for lunch.

“You told your girls about us?”

“Oh my God, please ignore that. Sophie was just teasing.”

“You can call me that, if you want.” He glanced at you, failing to hide his grin. “I’d like that very much in fact.”

You smiled to yourself. “Okay, papaya boy.”

At the next red light, the car behind him honked when he kissed you a little too long. John pulled away, but knowing him, the grin he wore only told you that it wasn’t long enough.

Of course, John would have preferred if he didn’t have to leave you, but having gained your full support, he flew to his next race in Japan with no weight on his chest.

The next day, he sent you a bouquet of your favourite flowers to the shop. You sent him a selfie with it, your smile as brilliant as ever.

Thank you for the lovely flowers <3

Only for my favourite x

Weeks flew by approaching summer. He’d got lunch delivered for you and your girls at least once a week. You displayed the beautiful flower arrangements he sent each time he was away next to register. He didn’t forget the postcards he promised, although he’d always be at your door before they arrived. You collected them in a small tin box.

You’d warned John about being clingy. If any, he felt he was the clingy one as he always looked forward to calling you at the end of the day to look at your pretty face, even if only on his phone. He wasn’t sure it helped curb the longing though, because he kept getting reminded of exactly what he left in London.

Especially the night before each race when he was jittery about the coming day. You’d stay up to be with him, only for your eyes to flutter as your cheek pressed against your pillow. It was a look you’d wear in another circumstance, one where he could be as loud as he wanted, groaning and panting into your ear, feeling all of you.

When the heat rose to his cheeks and his voice deepened a touch, you’d smile sweetly at him the glint in your eye unmistakeable, prompting his mind to drift further. As he palmed his pants, you’d show him where you needed his kisses, telling him how much you needed him. He’d try his best to bite back the noises that threatened to escape as his body shook at the sight that always made his head spin.

He’d drift to sleep with a grin on his face. Helps me relax, he’d said.

“John, you’ve been a lot calmer on the radio lately,” one of the interviewers said after the race.

“Yeah, been doing a lot of yoga,” he answered without missing a beat.

“In bed,” Kyle whispered behind him.

When John turned, he had taken off cackling.

His lips twitched into a smile. His teammate could run all he wanted, but he’d smack him upside the head later, as if they didn’t share the same bloody flight back.

“You know you don’t have to keep getting me flowers,” you said, arranging the bouquet he’d got from the airport in the vase. “Or sending me lunch so often.”

He draped his jacket on the back of the dining chair and looked up. ”You don’t like them?”

“I love them, but it’s just unnecessary. And… well I can’t return the same.”

“Oh, love. I never expected anything back.” He strode over, rubbing the small of your back. “I just enjoy… pampering you, like driving you around.”

“Thanks, John. I appreciate it, but please don’t feel like you have to. You’ve always been so thoughtful, but I’m just happy to see you.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss.

He always admired that about you: your independence and tenacity. As much as it made him proud, he, too, wanted to spoil you a little. You were his sweetheart after all, and he could never get enough of the smile on your face.

“You know, I was thinking. How do you feel about having my car while I’m away? Makes it easier for you to get around, yeah?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. My house keys will be there too, so you can go whenever.”

“You’re too good to me.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, head resting against his chest.

At the end of the week, with your consent, he posted a captionless photo of your joint hands – the very first public confirmation that there was someone. Within a minute, Kyle commented a full line of emojis: intense eyes, 100, confetti, fire, cookie and fist.

At this point John was convinced his teammate had his post notification on.

He’d also offered to stop wearing his mask in public if it bothered you, but since more customers recognised you as John Price’s woman, you too, stared wearing one.

When he’d cut his engine off, he turned to you as you pulled your mask on. “Are you going to keep wearing one?” He mirrored the action, covering his teasing smile.

“Maybe.”

“I love showing you off. Love when people look at how pretty your smile is.”

“But kisses are better when they’re stolen,” you said, your voice teasing.

He didn’t disagree. You didn’t mind the kisses that followed in that deserted parking lot. Dinner could wait.

John meant it that he loved showing you off. Of course he’d invited you to come to his races, but with your commitments in London, understandably, you’d turned down the trips halfway across the world, including the Canadian GP. He had been looking forward to taking you there very much since the first time you mentioned wanting to go.

But it’d been months now since he laid all his cards on the table, and you’d accepted what life could look like if you were to be with him. While he didn’t push, you also said no to weekend trips to his European races. He wasn’t entitled to you attending them, of course, and knowing the paparazzi, it was a huge ask to take you out of your private life. But admittedly he wanted people to know who his heart belonged to, that it was never anything short of serious with you.

Later in bed as he lay facing you, his fingers trailed down your arm.

“At least… Would you consider Silverstone? My parents go each year. It’s quite special to us, you know, home race and all-“ His eyes flicked to yours before he quickly added, “Unless you’re not ready. There are other races-”

You smiled. “John, are you asking me to meet your parents?”

He averted his gaze as heat crept up his neck. You’d joined in on the brief video calls with his parents, but meeting them was something else entirely. Was it too much to ask?

“Yes,” he muttered. “My mum’s been wanting to meet you.”

“I’d love to.”

“You’ll be my lucky charm?” He grinned, pulling you in by the waist. “At my home race? I’ll make you proud, love.”

John Price secured a win in Silverstone, making it his second consecutive home victory. Still with his bright orange helmet on, he sprinted to you on the sidelines. He crushed you in his embrace and lifted you off the ground before giving you a spin. The next second, Kyle and Simon joined in on the hug, the crowd cheering all around them.

He didn’t know he could get any happier, but seeing you next to his parents, beaming up at him on the podium made the butterflies stir. Today was more than just you being at his home race, but also the day you declared publicly you were his someone, and he was enjoying every second being yours.

You still had your pretty smile when he got off the podium, and with his cap and suit still dripping in sprayed champagne, in front of all the cameras, he pulled you into a kiss. The movement knocked the cap off your head, the same papaya one he gave you all those months ago. You laughed as you wiggled in his arms, a futile attempt of getting out of his drenched embrace.

When he finally pulled away, he looked you over, your front soaked now. You smiled up at him and cupped his cheek, making his heart flutter.

Could he have this with you forever? Could he have his career and a normal life with you after all? He would certainly die trying.

At the end of the night, Kate relayed that he was invited to a photoshoot in Liverpool. When John thought out loud that he might as well send his parents back home and spend some time there too, you said you could take a few days off. He grinned. He’d always wanted to show you where he grew up.

John took you on a ride around his hometown. He showed you his old school, the field he used to play football in with his friends and the karting track where it all started all those years ago. For dinner, he took you to the neighbourhood park where his favourite kebab shop was.

The next day, John left for the shoot after breakfast. At the door, he gave you a peck on your forehead before hopping into a taxi.

“I hope everything is to your liking, love,” Mrs. Price said as she plopped teabags into the pot. “The room isn’t too small, is it?”

“No, of course not. Everything is fine.” You smiled.

“Oh, good. I just wanted to make sure you have a good time here.”

“I promise everything is perfectly fine, Mrs. Price. You have a beautiful home.”

“Please call me Eleanor.” She patted your arm. “You’re family.”

Your gazed dropped as you tried to hide your smile. His parents had always been welcoming, but hearing that from his mum made you melt. You knew how important family was to John.

Perhaps you’d been overly guarded, that you didn’t want to go to any of his races and have your relationship exposed, not wanting to be accused of having any ill-intentions with him. But most importantly, you didn’t want his parents to.

Evidently, your worries had all been worries. You spent the rest of the morning chatting with her over tea before she tended to her colourful, blooming garden.

Footsteps and cooing came from outside before the front door swung open.

“I got his favourite blueberry loaf,” the guest said as she and Eleanor rounded the corner.

“Thank you so much. You’re too kind.” She placed the gift on the table. “Love, this is Claudia. John and her grew up together. And this is John’s girlfriend.”

You smiled. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“I’ll get an extra cup.” Eleanor turned to the kitchen.

“New girlfriend, huh?” The brunette looked you over with a sneer. “Can never keep track, he has a different one every time I see him.”

Your brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Was expecting him to call. He usually would for some late night-fun.” She laughed. “Can’t forget his first time, I guess.”

Your fists balled under the table.

“Don’t take it personally when he ditches you, sweetheart. You know he can’t commit.”

Eleanor placed a teacup and a plate of your cookies on the table. “Claudia, these are from her shop. They’re lovely, please do try.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll go now.” She smiled, not even sparing you another glance. “I’ll drop by again some other time.”

“Oh, alright, love.” Eleanor walked her to the door. “Please say hi to your mum. I haven’t seen her in forever.”

Your stomach churned. You shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions. You didn’t know who the woman was nor her past with John, but judging by how friendly she was with his mum, they must have had history. You trusted John - he had been nothing less than transparent since the day you decided to make it work, but her words rubbed you the wrong way nonetheless. They made your skin crawl. The exchange only reminded you that you and John came from two different worlds.

When his mum returned to the table, you tried to not let your voice crack when you excused yourself for a stroll in the neighbourhood.

John arrived home sooner than he expected, but much to his disappointment, you weren’t there. She went to the park a few hours ago, his mum said. He called you to offer to pick you up, but you said you’d walk home.

He opened the door for you and kissed your cheek before leading you to the dining table.

“Oh, Claudia dropped by and gave you a blueberry loaf,” his mum said at dinner.

His fork froze mid-air. “Who?”

“Claudia, Charlotte’s girl.”

“What, again? How did she even know I’m here?”

“Her mum saw, probably.”

He pursed his lips. “Right, okay. Well, thanks, but please tell her she really doesn’t have to.”

You and John helped to clean up after dinner, but you were quiet and wouldn’t look into his eyes. Wouldn’t even smile when he wrapped his arms around you.

Had he done something?

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” he asked carefully when you were in the privacy of his room. “Talk to me. Do you… not like the place? It’s not too late to get a hotel-“

The last woman he brought home over three years ago was the same one who threw a fit about the house being too small for her liking and demanded a room at a luxury hotel.

You turned to him. “What? No, John, it’s not that.” You sighed. “Who’s Claudia? Do you have- did you use to date her?”

“No. She lived down the street. Why?”

“She said you bring someone new every time you’re home.”

His brows furrowed. “That’s not true.”

You hung your head. “She said you call her when you’re back. For fun. That you can’t forget your first time.”

“First time?!” His face twisted. “Fucking hell this woman. I don’t even-“ he sighed. “Before I moved to London, I told her I had a crush on her, but she called me fat and made fun of me in front of everyone at school. We never spoke again until my parents moved back here.

“She said she wanted to catch up, and summer last year I finally gave in. Thought there was no harm because well, kids do silly things and my mum’s friends with hers – well, were. I took her to a chippy and she got so upset. She said my mum raised a cheap bastard and left, so I don’t know why the bloody hell she keeps showing up.”

You blinked. “And your mum knows?”

“I never told her. I didn’t want to ruin her friendship with Charlotte.” He pursed his lips. “You know what, what she said to you is out of line. Fuck that, they’re not friends anymore anyway.”

Before you could say anything, he marched out and into his parents’ room. His mum was at the vanity combing her shoulder length hair, smiling at him from the mirror.

“Mum, I don’t want Claudia dropping by anymore. Tell her to piss off next time she shows up.”

She lowered her comb with a frown.

“You remember when you told me to take her for lunch last year? We went to a chippy and she said you raised a cheapskate who didn’t know how to treat a woman right.”

His mum gasped, turning to him. “How dare she! I always thought she was a nice girl. Is that why Charlotte stopped talking to me?”

“Probably, judging by the lies she told her this afternoon. Said I always bring someone new when I come home, that I call her at night-”

She slammed her comb down and strode to her phone on the nightstand. “I’m going to tell Charlotte and her scheming cow of a daughter to go to hell.”

When he returned to his room, you had your hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh. He closed the door behind him.

“Oh my God, John. Scheming cow?”

“Nobody messes with my sweetheart.” He grinned, sitting next to you on the bed before reaching for your hand. “But most importantly, no one fucks with my mum.”

“Go Eleanor.”

In the Canadian sun, the cerulean water glittered. Under the infinite blue sky, the clear lake stretched far and wide along the rocky mountains in the distance.

“The view is amazing, John. It’s so perfect it looks fake.” You huffed, but the grin remained as you caught your breath at the top of the hiking trail where the wind toyed with your hair.

He tucked back the loose strands behind your ear. “I’m more than happy to be sharing this with you.”

You turned and pressed your lips against his before a dog barked far off. You turned to the man with the large yellow Labrador.

He cupped your face, turning you back to him with an amused smile. “I mean it, if you want a dog, feel free.”

That morning, you’d cooed at each and every one of the Newfoundland puppy you met at the breeder. He was convinced you were going to take home the litter in your backpack.

You shook your head. “You know my place doesn’t allow pets.”

“Mine does.” He kissed your cheek. “I’d love a dog, with you.”

“Who’s going to take care of it when you’re away?”

“Can it be your reason to finally move in?” he asked hopefully. “You know I always love having you over.”

You smiled. “That’s a very tempting offer.”

“You can say no, of course. I wanted to let you know it’s something I want with you, so whenever you’re ready. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you.”

You took a seat overlooking the lake and rested your head against his, his fingers laced with yours. He let out a content exhale as he soaked up the view, savouring your presence. He kissed the top of your head.

Later, you took out the thermos from your backpack and poured yourself a cup of coffee.

“Sweetheart, remember when you made my double shot americano? I couldn’t sleep for two bloody days.”

You laughed.

“Well, I’m really glad I went.”

“Me too, Jean-Pierre. Me too.”

Masterlist

Hi hello, thanks for reading everyone! I hope you enjoyed the story bc I loved imagining Price in orange while writing :D I was wondering a lot of you are into F1 too? If yes, who’s your fave driver?

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @kyletogaz @its-me-mila @msluccapotato

@s-rinaldi-18 @izzybmep @the-darling-fishy @rowanyaboats @dirtymana

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@praying-for-the-sun @shinymriver @redzscare @dwaekkiiiiiiiiiiai

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mariacallous · 11 months ago

Text

On Boxing Day pro-Palestine demonstrators met customers at the Zara sale in the Westfield shopping centre, in Stratford, east London. They were not there to wish them the compliments of the season.

‘Bombs are dropping while you’re shopping,’ they chanted, as police stood by to make sure the protests did not turn violent. ‘Zara is enabling genocide,’ their placards read.

Quite what they wanted bargain hunters to do about the Israeli forces bombing the Gaza Strip, they never said. Lobby their MPs? Politicians are on their Christmas holidays. Join the Palestinian armed struggle? It was unclear whether the shopping centre had a Hamas recruitment office.

But on one point the demonstrators were certain: no one should be buying from Zara. Even though the fashion chain has not encouraged Israel’s war against Hamas, earned income from it, or supported Israel in any material way, it was nevertheless “exploiting a genocide and commodifying Palestine's pain for profit”.

Zara, in short, has become the object of a paranoid fantasy: a QAnon conspiracy theory for the postcolonial left.

The Zara conspiracy is an entirely modern phenomenon. It has no original author. Antisemitic Russians sat down and wrote the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in the early 20th century. There was an actual “Q” behind the QAnon conspiracy: a far-right activist who first appeared on 4chan message boards in 2017 to claim that a cabal of child abusers was conspiring against Donald Trump.

The Zara conspiracy was mass produced by social media users: an example of the madness of crowds rather than their supposed wisdom. The cause of the descent into hysteria was bizarre.

In early December Zara launched an advertising campaign featuring the model Kristen McMenamy wearing its latest collection in a sculptor’s studio. It clearly was a studio, by the way, and not a war zone in southern Israel or Gaza. McMenamy carried a mannequin wrapped in white fabric. The cry went up that the Spanish company was exploiting the suffering of Palestinians and that the mannequin was meant to represent a victim of Israeli aggression wrapped in a shroud.

The accusation was insane. No one in the photo shoot resembled a soldier or a casualty of war. Anyone who thought for 30 seconds before resorting to social media would have known that global brands plan their advertising campaigns months in advance.

Zara said the campaign presented “a series of images of unfinished sculptures in a sculptor’s studio and was created with the sole purpose of showcasing craft-made garments in an artistic context”. The idea for the studio setting was conceived in July. The photo shoot was in September, weeks before the Hamas assault on Israel on 7 October.

No one cared. Melanie Elturk, the CEO of fashion brand Haute Hijab, said of the campaign, ‘this is sick. What kind of sick, twisted, and sadistic images am I looking at?’ #BoycottZara trended on Twitter, as users said that Zara was ‘utterly shameful and disgraceful”’.

To justify their condemnations, activists developed ever-weirder theories. A piece of cardboard in the photoshoot was meant to be a map of Israel/Palestine turned upside down. Because a Zara executive had once invited an extreme right-wing Israeli politician to a meeting, the whole company was damned.

Astonishingly, or maybe not so astonishingly to anyone who follows online manias, the fake accusations worked. Zara stores in Glasgow, Toronto. Hanover, Melbourne and Amsterdam were targeted.

What on earth could Zara do? PR specialists normally say that the worst type of apology is the non-apology apology, when a public figure or institution shows no remorse, but instead says that they are sorry that people are offended. Yet Zara had not sought to trivialize or profit from the war so what else could it do but offer a non-apology apology? The company duly said it was sorry that people were upset.

“Unfortunately, some customers felt offended by these images, which have now been removed, and saw in them something far from what was intended when they were created,” it said on 13 December, and pulled the advertising campaign

That was two-weeks ago and yet still the protests in Zara stores continue. On 23 December activists targeted Zara on Oxford Street chanting , 'Zara, Zara, you can't hide, stop supporting genocide', even though Zara was not, in fact, supporting genocide. On Boxing Day, they were at the Stratford shopping centre.

Zara has apologised for an offence it did not commit. There is no way that any serious person can believe the charges against it. And yet believe them the protestors do. Or at the very least they pretend to believe for the sake of keeping in with their allies.

Maybe nothing will come of the protests. One could have argued in 2017, after all, that QAnon was essentially simple-minded people living out their fantasies online. Certainly, every sane American knew that there was no clique of paedophiles running the Democrat party, but where was the harm in the conspiracy theory?

Then QAnon supporters stormed the US capitol in January 2021. Will the same story play out from the Gaza protests? As far as I can tell, no one on the left is challenging the paranoia. I have yet to see the fact-checkers of the BBC and Channel 4 warning about the fake news on the left with anything like the gusto with which they treat its counterparts on the right.

To be fair, the scale of disinformation around the Gaza war is off the charts, and it is impossible to chase down every lie. But when fake news goes from online fantasies to real world protests, from 4chan to the Capitol, from Twitter to the Westfield shopping centre, it’s worth taking notice.

Sensible supporters of a Palestinian state ought to be the most concerned. No one apart from fascists, Islamists and far leftists believes that Israel should not defend itself. And yet the scale of its military action in Gaza is outraging world opinion. Mainstream politicians, who might one day put pressure on Israel, remain very wary about reflecting the anger on the streets.

They look at the insane conspiracy theories on the western left and see them as no different from the insane conspiracy theories that motivate Hamas, and they back away.

The Palestinians need many things: an end to the Netanyahu government, and an end to Hamas. But they could also use allies in the West who do not discredit their cause with dark, gibbering fantasies.

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intimidating-fettuccine · 7 months ago

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Toby's hoarding habit

Sometimes you look at your relationship with Toby and wonder if he must be part squirrel the way he hoards things in secret. He was never allowed to have anything at all growing up, and so it’s given him insecurities that anything he gets will be taken away from him, but even as he starts to recover from said insecurities over the many years he’s been at the mansion he can’t seem to break the habit. The habit started with food items but has progressed to random things that make him happy. The following is a list of items that you and other creeps have found hoarded by Toby.

7 unopened boxes of Fruit Gushers, hidden at the very back of his closet where he keeps his empty shoe boxes.

20 different single-wrapped Rice Krispies treats that were hidden at the very bottom of his sock drawer.

3 (thankfully sealed) boxes of chocolates hidden underneath your bed around Valentine's Day that he forgot to tell you about until you found them several weeks after. In addition to the chocolate he bought you that he had just handed to you.

About 40 different rocks that he had found outside and thought were cool stashed at the top of the downstairs coat closet in the mansion.

38 more rocks that were hidden under the sink in one of the downstairs mansion bathrooms.

And, if you'd believe it, 56 more rocks hidden in the back of Tim's closet. Why specifically Tim's closet? Toby didn't have a good answer to that question.

A collection of about 150 very tiny ducks he ordered online that he thought to stash in your own sock drawer for safekeeping. The ducks are still there.

20 unopened Gatorade bottles hidden at the very back of the kitchen sink. He had to relocate these pretty soon because Tim thought they were somehow misplaced during a grocery unloading and put them in the pantry. Toby moved them to his pants drawer to later be found by you when you were looking for a pair of his comfy pajama pants.

2 giant lollipops that he hid behind your cups and promptly forgot about until you discovered them one day while he was over. He began to eat one of them and offered the second one to you, and of course, you accepted it.

10 copies of the movie Cars that were hidden under your bathroom sink. Toby couldn't remember purchasing them or why he put them there but he thinks once he was really tired and wanted to do a funny joke with them at some point so he hid them, but he cannot remember what the joke was.

127 differently sized and colored shirt buttons that were discovered in the top drawer of Toby's desk. None of the buttons go with any of the shirts he owns.

16 different opal stones hidden in an old box you don't use anymore. You only discovered this because you caught him in the act of trying to hide the 17th stone. However, you allowed him to keep doing this, and the last time you counted the updated stash it was up to 33.

And, finally, his most recently discovered stash, 58 uniquely colored marbles, hidden in the bottom drawer of Slender's desk in his office that he had been keeping empty in case he needed to use it for something. Toby decided it should be used for marbles.

Of course, these are just the stashes that have been discovered. There could be many, many more yet to be uncovered.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #slender mansion mayhem #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanon #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby x reader #tim wright headcanons #slenderman headcanons

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amethystwrytes · 30 days ago

Text

Safe. (Part Six)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. Legal inaccuracies. 18+ Only MDNI

Chapter WC: 8k

AN: If I were to debate any more over this I just wouldn’t ever post it so F it, it’s out there and now I can’t take it back haha

~ PART SIX ~ (Series M. List Here)

“Is something bothering you lately?”

It’s seven in the morning and you’re tangled up with Minho in bed. After days of being apart, you were relieved to have him next to you. Though Hyunjin was more than able to keep you company (on nearly every surface in the house, no less). But now, Hyunjin is working, or rather has been working. Doing weapons and ammunition deliveries and collection always ends up being a graveyard shift activity, the dark of night used as a cloak to do bad things with bad men. Though you don’t quite understand why they think it’s beneficial, police work at night too, and you often think that doing these weapons deals would be more effective mid-afternoon in the plain of day where no one would expect an arms deal to be taking place, but what do you know?

“What do you mean?” Minho asks, setting his phone down on the side table and rolling over into you.

“You’ve been so restless lately, I barely see you sleep, it’s been quiet I thought, since all that happened with Taehyung. Are you uncomfortable sleeping here? We could stay in your apartment,” you suggest, holding his head into your chest, sleepily stroking his hair.

“My apartment is in the city, loud and lit up 24/7. It’s barely big enough for me, stuffed with boxes and boxes of shit I don’t need, and I can count on my fingers how many times I’ve actually slept there and not just at my office. It’s much better here with you,” he explains.

“Then why so restless and fidgety?” you wonder.

“It’s like you said baby, it’s been quiet since the Casino fiasco with Kim, in fact it’s been too quiet. We murdered one of the men who attacked you and I expected that to ignite a whole blood bath, and yet nothing, nothing has happened,” he says, his hand sliding under your nightdress and fanning out over your tummy, tracing gentle circles all over.

You suppose he’s right. If you had one of those “There’s Been [this many] Days Without an Incident” signs, you could put double digits in the number slots. You haven’t even had to nurse anyone back to health lately. Jisung tripped a few weeks ago walking down the stairs outside his apartment and rolled his ankle. Seungmin got into a bar fight over a girl he’d just met - you cleaned up his face but he didn’t even need stitches. Other than that it had been unusually quiet in your house.

“Maybe nothing will happen, maybe Kim doesn’t care that you killed the guy,” you say, though even you have to admit it makes zero sense.

“Mmm,” Minho shakes his head across your chest, “That’s not how it works Love, not by a longshot.”

“What can you do?” you wonder.

He braces himself over you with one of his arms and kisses your lips, “All I can do is wait for his next move. If I send my guys after him then all I’m doing is risking their lives for something I’m not even sure of, so I wait, and waiting is sometimes excruciating,” his fingers slide up to one of your breasts and play at your nipple, stiffening the bud of nerves and sending signals between your legs, your lips part and a relaxed breath escapes, “In the meantime, I quite enjoy killing time with you,” he grins.

He moves on top of you, slotting himself between your legs, you feel his clothed erection press against your cunt as he ruts against you, his mouth exploring your neck, jawline, and lips.

“Flip,” he growls, his hands heavy and pressing against your hips. You flip onto your stomach, lifting your ass off the bed, pressing yourself against his aching length, you know exactly what he wants. You hear him shuffling, shoving his sleep shorts down and your night dress up your back. You feel him line himself up with you, dragging the head of his cock through your slick.

You brace yourself, digging your fingers around the thick comforter as he slams into you. You let out a gasp at the sudden roughness, but just as quickly your gasps turn to heady moans, wordlessly pleading for more, for harder thrusts. Minho gives them to you, his fingers impossibly tight around your hips, pushing and pulling himself in and out.

“Minho…” you say his name, barely a whisper but also a warning. Your fingers move between your legs, rubbing yourself in soft circles so your orgasm explodes around him. He slows his thrusts, allowing your spasming cunt to milk his own high.

He finally collapses back down on the bed next to you, chest rising and falling heavily as his breath returns to normal.

“Can I ask a favor?” you open one eye and stare at him.

“Anything.”

“I want to learn how to shoot,” you say and he looks at you with a raised brow, “a gun, that is.”

“Well yes,” he chuckles, “I didn’t think you meant a bow and arrow. I’m just a little surprised I suppose, but I think that’s a good idea,” he nods.

“Something small, nothing that will knock me off my feet or send me reeling back,” you continue.

“Mm,” he thinks, “I’ve got a .22 at the office that would be perfect for you. I have a meeting with Hyunjin and Felix this morning, to see how the evening collections went. I’ll send Hyunjin over with the gun after, once he gets some rest he can take you to the range, maybe tomorrow, that sound good?”

“Mmhmm,” you yawn, your morning excursions leaving you sleepy again.

“Go back to sleep baby,” he leans over and kisses you, “I’m going to get dressed, Changbin will be here until Hyunjin arrives later, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, you feel him shift and scoot to the edge of the bed. Maybe it’s because you’re still half asleep, maybe it’s because he fucked you so good, but without really thinking you call to him, “Minho?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

It doesn’t surprise nor bother you that he stays quiet as he rises out of the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, you don’t really care if he feels the same or not, don’t really care that he doesn’t seem to want to comment on your confession. At the moment you just sink back into the mattress, letting the warmth of the blankets overtake you and drift off again.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Alright Doll,” Hyunjin stands behind you at the gun range, Changbin and Seungmin have tagged along, evidently this is one of their favorite pastimes. “What you want to do above anything else is relax.”

You snort, “You hear how absurd that sounds, right? Nothing says relaxation quite like being in a situation where I need a loud, dangerous gun.”

“I meant you need to relax during practice,” he smirks, “If you relax while you’re practicing and get used to hitting your target, it won’t matter what kind of situation you’re in when you need it. You’ll be used to it.”

“Okay, okay,” you grab the gun and aim at the target, closing one eye and trying to line the barrel up with the big black circle on your target dummy.

“Why are you closing one eye?” Changbin asks, the three men looking at you puzzled.

“I…don’t know? That’s how they do it in movies?” you say sheepishly.

“If you close one eye you’re only going to see half as well, that’s dumb,” Seungmin says.

“Fine, okay, both eyes open, got it,” you look forward again, your eyes trying to line up the little nub thingie with the target.

“You’re relying too much on the front sight,” Hyunjin chuckles, “Your eyes look crossed.”

Changbin and Seungmin giggle and you huff in frustration.

“You know what I think would be helpful? If I actually got to shoot the damned thing. Let’s start there and then you can give me your critiques, okay?”

Without giving them an opportunity to answer, you look back, close one eye, try to line the sight up with your target and pull the trigger…and you can’t even see where your bullet went.

“Alright, so let’s start with number one: you weren’t relaxed whatsoever. Number two: you closed your eye again, and number three: you weren’t even focusing on the target, you were too busy relying on your sight, which is useless if you’re not looking at the target.”

“Try again,” Changbin smiles enthusiastically.

Seungmin cocks his gun and points it at the target then unloads several rounds, you look at the end of the range and see he’s hit the dummy multiple times in the head and center of the chest. All fatal wounds. He looks at you smugly and winks.

You take a deep breath and turn your body towards the target again, picking up your gun and aiming. This time you take a deep breath, you keep both eyes open and pull the trigger. And again, your bullet has flown off into God knows what dimension.

You look at Hyunjin in frustration and he cackles.

“Sweetheart you’ve only shot it twice, don’t look so sour. That stance was much better by the way,” he stands behind you again, his hand gently bringing your arm back up to aim at the target. “Keep your other hand under the grip, to keep it steady, okay?” his lips are a little too close to your ear, and you feel his warm breath against your neck.

“Okay…” you whisper back. Suddenly aware of the warmth. You side eye Changbin and Seungmin, who seem to be having a totally separate conversation as they clean their other guns.

“Just like sports, you want your body to be facing the target at first, it takes a lot of practice and skill to be able to hit something that you’re not facing head on,” he puts his hands on your hips and lines it up with the target down the range.

“Now, take a deep breath…just like that…and look at what you want to hit,” he says. You nod and stare at the big black circle in the center of the dummies chest. “Pull the trigger slow and steady while you exhale.”

You do as he says, you repeat the steps a couple times actually, then finally pull the trigger slowly.

You don’t hit the circle, but you can see the bullet hole has hit the lower right hip area of the dummy. You’re on the board, so to speak.

“Look at that,” he whispers in your ear, his hand giving your hip a seductive squeeze, “that’ll do some damn good damage. Good job baby.”

“Thanks,” you breathe, staring at his lips, “I need to go to the restroom, excuse me,” you say, your hidden fingers dancing across the zipper of Hyunjins pants. He bites his lip and looks down at you wantingly.

You set the weapon down and dust your hands off on the side of your jeans, then walk out of the shooting range, down the narrow corridor to the rest rooms. You stand in front of the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror, wondering if Hyunjin picked up on your very telepathic message. You’ve got no Earthly idea where this horniness came from, if maybe shooting a weapon is evidently a turn on for you, or if it was the way he was so close, pressed against you, teaching you - either way, you need him, and you need him now.

You wash your hands, straighten out your hair and just stare at yourself some more. You’re about to give up - it would probably be better to wait until you get home anyway - when the door to the bathroom swings open and Hyunjin barrels in, locking it behind himself.

“Naughty little girl,” he growls before pressing his lips to yours, immediately pushing you against the sinks, lifting you up to set you on the questionable countertop. “Getting me fucking turned on,” he continues, his mouth trailing down your neck.

“Fuck me, please,” you whisper.

“Really?” he looks around, “Here?”

“Yes,” you start undoing his pants.

“Shit,” he moans when your hand wraps around his throbbing length. “Yeah, okay, okay, just…here sit on this,” he drags you off the counter and removes his shirt, spreading it over the surface.

You shimmy out of your jeans and hop back up, pulling him back in and capturing his mouth with yours.

“God you are dripping wet,” he groans, teasing you with his cock, “Feels so fucking good.”

“Please,” you beg, your nails digging into his skin.

He pushes into you and you both gasp.

“Fuck!” you cry out and he chuckles against you.

“Shhh, you’ll get us in trouble,” he whispers, his hands holding the sides of your thighs to keep you steady.

“Feels so good,” you whimper, quietly, into his ear.

“You’re killing me today…fuck…”

“Shit…like that…oh my god…”

“Hey,” Hyunjin grabs your chin and forces your gaze to his while he continues fucking into you deep and heavy, “I love you, so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” you pant, “I love you too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, your cries getting lost in his mouth while you cum for him.

He frowns at his shirt as he shrugs it back on, “A shooting range bathroom is not as romantic as your book, but I hope I got the point across, and I meant it, by the way, I love you.”

“It was authentically us, and I meant it too,” you squeeze his hand.

“I do not accept this dingy ass bathroom is authentically us, I am an artist god dammit,” he teases and you laugh.

A knock on the door startles both of you and you scrunch your nose as Seungmin hollers, “If you guys are done fucking can we go get some lunch? I’m starving!”

“Everyone knows, don’t they?” you smile at Hyunjin.

“Yeah, you’d think it would be a cone of silence but these mother fuckers are nothing but catty gossips…and I suck at keeping my feelings for you hidden,” he says.

“Good.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Mornings that you get to spend with both Hyunjin and Minho are your favorite. They typically follow a steamy night of unimaginable pleasure, for one, but you also enjoy the peaceful safety you feel when you’re all sitting at the table drinking coffee and chit chatting. It’s comfortable, much more comfortable than you ever imagined it would be. You know that Minho is still struggling with it to some extent, struggling with the relationship. He never commented on your profession of love for him, never brought it up again. It’s confusing, since he never seems to have a problem when all three of you are piled in your bed, limbs tangled, lips everywhere. He’s more than happy then, and more than happy when you’re alone with him. He also doesn’t seem to mind the morning banter over coffee, even now as you watch him talk shop with Hyunjin, a pleasant expression on his face, it all seems fine.

Yet there are these moments sprinkled into the mix where you can feel his hesitation, feel the withdraw. You don’t feel it with Hyunjin, he’s all in, all the time. Happy as a lark as he sits on the opposite side of the table, sketching something in his notebook, laughing about something that happened on a collection run with Jeongin. You’ve noticed his sketches include a lot more Minho lately, and the expression he draws on him isn’t as dark and dangerous as it once was.

You decide that in this moment it doesn’t matter, eventually you will have to speak on it, eventually you will have to get Minho to dredge up his feelings. Not right now though. Right now you’re going to drink your coffee and laugh with them and watch Hyunjin draw, and hold Minhos hand under the table. Right now you’re going to enjoy this moment.

Because unbeknownst to any of the people sitting at the table, the calm before the storm is about to be over.

It starts with Minho’s phone ringing. He puts it on speaker so he can set the device down and still hold your hand and sip his coffee.

“You’re on speaker,” he indicates to the caller.

“Boss,” it’s Changbin, he’s breathless, and sounds as scared as he did the night Hyunjin was stabbed. “We’ve got a problem.”

Minho lets go of your hand and Hyunjin sets his sketchbook on the table, a serious look on his face as his eyes meet Minhos.

“How big of a problem?”

“A really big fucking problem,” Changbin answers.

Minho knits his eyes closed, “Did we lose anyone?”

Your very breath leaves your lungs and you could hear a pin drop from two houses down. You try to remain calm as the faces of the men you’ve come to care about flash in your head. You have to force yourself to stop asking if you’ll have to say goodbye to one of them, to more than one…

“No, nobody’s dead,” Changbin pants into the speaker, and the three of you let go of the breaths you’ve been holding, “but Boss…they blew up the fucking warehouse. Jisung and I pulled up after we heard the explosion, Jisung ran in like a fucking idiot - I guess to be sure no one was in there - he burnt his hands and I have Chris driving him to ___ right now but he said it’s all gone, the guns, the ammunition, all of it,” Changbin explains.

Hyunjins eyes widen, but Minhos expression distorts into such a dangerous anger that it petrifies you. It’s only when his fist comes down hard on the table that you move, running towards the stairs to get dressed and ready to treat whatever burns Jisung has.

“That’s not all,” Changbin says and you pause.

“What else?”

“I’m a safe distance away at the moment, but every fucking emergency vehicle in a 100 mile radius is there. Local, federal…every type of investigator you can think of or imagine is over there snooping around what’s left of the building.”

“God Dammit!” Minho yells so loud it shakes the china in the cabinets. He picks up his coffee mug and throws it with brutal force across the room and it shatters against the wall, leaving a hole in its wake.

“Get the fuck out of there and meet me here at the safehouse, if you smell like fire go shower first and destroy the clothes you’re wearing so no one can link you to the area. I’m calling my lawyer.”

Minho disconnects the call and slams the phone down on the table.

“FUCK.”

You try to stop your body from shaking and continue upstairs to get dressed.

There’s Been Zero Days Without an Incident.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Minho’s lawyer is a sharp dressed man with thick black glasses named Kim Namjoon. You watch him sip his coffee, a fresh batch you made once you and Hyunjin cleaned up the broken mess from the cup Minho threw against the wall.

Jisung sits in a chair in front of you as you apply some antibiotic cream to his burns. Nothing too damaging, but his palms will be tender for a week or so, you warn him.

“As much as I love watching you enjoy your coffee, I’ve got a smoked warehouse and every investigator about to descend on my front door, so let’s just get to it Kim, how fucked am I?” Minho asks after the silence becomes too loud. “Am I looking at prison time?”

Your hands freeze over Jisungs, “Ouch,” he hisses and you realize you’ve squeezed too hard and look at him apologetically.

“Actually,” Namjoon sets his mug down, “the silver lining here is that whoever blew your shit up cleared you out of your illegalities. Meaning that as investigators comb through your warehouse, and trust me they are, they aren’t finding anything incriminating. Old slot machines and Casino junk, nothing that can’t be explained since you do in fact own a Casino. Kim Taehyung did you a favor without realizing by stealing the weapons.”

“Well aren’t I the lucky one? I’ll have to send him a fucking fruit basket then,” Minho seethes.

“Do whatever you need to do, but we can work with arson and keep the investigators out of your ass as long as the guns are gone, I know that fucks up your other business,” Namjoon raises his brow, “but you know I can’t help you with that.”

“Yes, well, when I’m dead because I’ve got a target on my back - since six fucking organizations aren’t getting their ammunition and weapons from me on time - you’ll be down a shit ton of money without that cushy retainer I keep you with.”

“Stop,” Jisung whines and you realize you’ve squeezed his hands again.

“Sorry,” you hiss, and start bandaging his hands.

You watch as Minho paces the sitting area, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We’ve got to get those fucking guns back,” he growls.

Namjoon interjects, “I can’t be a part of this conversation, but I’ll tell you this, the District Attorney wants your head on a silver platter. You may not officially be charged with anything Lee, but it’s no secret in this city that you’re more than just a Casino owner. So I suggest laying low until this arson investigation is over, they’re going to be on you 24/7, regardless of whether or not they find shit at the warehouse,” Namjoon warns.

“Do we have anyone in that office?” Minho asks.

Namjoon shrugs, a smug smile on his face, “Not officially, but I have it on good authority the DA himself gets his dick sucked by a sweet little twenty-something who teaches tennis at the country club he tells his wife he’s golfing at every weekend.”

Minho chuckles, “Well, hold that dick sucking thing over his head like your life depends on it in exchange for not serving my head on a platter, if we’re lucky maybe Kim Taeyhyung hasn’t got to him first.”

“Will do, but it does pose a risk, we could just piss him off and he’ll try to work you harder,” he explains.

Minho shakes his head, “I don’t have anything to lose at this point,” he says, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flick over to you momentarily, “I can’t lay low when I’ve got three quarters of a million dollars in weapons missing.” You’re not sure if he’s explaining himself to Namjoon or you.

“Alright then,” Namjoon stands and sees himself toward the door, “I’ll play a little dirty for the moment and keep you posted on the investigation. Good luck with that target-on-your-back shit.”

“Thanks,” Minho deadpans and locks the door.

Everyone from Christopher to Jeongin sits around the room waiting for Minhos instruction. You busy yourself by cleaning up first aid supplies in the background, totally unsure of where you should be or what you should be doing. Judging by how quiet the rest of them are, you definitely know you shouldn’t be talking.

“We’ve got to steal those guns back,” Minho repeats himself.

“It’s a suicide mission,” Hyunjin says with a sigh, folding his arms, “That’s exactly what he wants us to do and he’ll be waiting to take us out.”

“Yeah? Well what about all the organizations who have already paid for their weapons and ammo this quarter? We might be able to talk some of them into waiting, but Min and Jung are ruthless sons of bitches who will kill us all for not delivering what we already collected on,” Seungmin argues.

“Now hold up,” Changbin interjects, “We have never lagged on business with them, not even when-” Changbin stops and looks at Minho and you know, not even when Minho was mourning his wife, but he doesn’t say that, “Not even when we’ve been down on our luck. So why would they not be understanding this one time?”

“Sorry, are you new here?” Seungmin laughs darkly, “You think sending them a ‘Thank you so much for your business, unfortunately we’ve hit a snag’ note is going to matter to them? Why don’t you spray it with your perfume before you send it by doves-”

“Enough!” Minho thunders and the arguing comes to an abrupt halt. “None of you are wrong, there are no options that don’t pose a risk, I don’t want to do this in a way that gets anyone killed.”

“How much would it cost to just go back to the source, to Jiyong? Ask him for a new supply of weapons?” Hyunjin asks.

“On such short notice?” Minho laughs, “Millions. Plus we’d be on our own smuggling them in, which I’m sure would make our friends at the DA’s office happy since they’ll be watching us so closely - all of us in prison for life? No amount of blackmail could stop the DA from bagging such a big break, especially over something like dick sucking, every politician in this city is getting their dick sucked by someone who shouldn’t be sucking it,” he sighs, “But even if we could find a way to do that, Jiyong is a loose fucking cannon as it is and I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, the man is psychotic. He may fuck us over just to watch us go down, even if it means he’s out millions of dollars, he doesn’t give a shit,” Minho drags his hand down his face.

“We have to steal them back from Taehyung,” Seungmin mutters from the corner.

Hyunjin sucks his teeth, “If we do that, at least one of us will die doing it,” he says.

“So we die stealing the guns back, or we die for not delivering the weapons, or we go to prison smuggling replacement weapons in,” Felix outlines, “Is that where we’re at?”

“We vote then,” Minho stands, “We vote, because Felix is right, your lives are all on the line here, there’s not a single option we have that doesn’t end in potential death or prison. However, Jiyong isn’t an option, we just can’t trust him in a situation that’s already fucked to begin with. So, what’ll it be boys? Steal the guns back and take out as many of Taehyungs fuckers as we can, or plea for mercy from our clients and hope they’ll be gracious and not kill us where we stand?”

“Steal them back,” Seungmin raises his hand, followed by Jeongin, Jisung, Felix, Christopher and reluctantly, Changbin.

Minho looks sympathetically at Hyunjin who sighs, nods, then raises his hand, “Steal them back then, we don’t plead for a goddamn thing.”

Minho smiles, “Then let’s go to work.”

The small group disperses momentarily, probably so they can take a moment to digest the situation, something you’ve been trying to do all day to no avail.

Minho walks over to you, “Well, I think we can agree that your term to be trusted has been met,” he laughs softly, but for whatever reason you find that his words have struck some deep emotional string and your eyes blur with hot tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he puts his hand on the small of your back and guides you towards the spare room you use for your medical supply storage. Hyunjin locks eyes with you and sees the tears, he shuffles over to join the two of you.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“I’m trying to figure that out myself,” Minho replies, rubbing your shoulders.

You don’t really know why you’re crying so hard, but at this point you’re audibly sobbing.

“Babe?” Hyunjin tilts your face up.

“I just…I don’t want anyone to get hurt…” you admit. “I’m sorry,” you gasp between sobs, “I don’t know why I’m crying so hard, it’s not like I don’t know what happens out there…”

“It’s alright Love,” Minho pulls you into him, which for some reason only incites more tears, “this was the first time you’ve really heard us talk about things, the first time you’ve really been able to understand how deep in this we are, so it’s not shocking that it hit you hard, the reality.”

You nod, trying to compose yourself. You take several deep breaths. What the Hell is your problem? Are you truly shocked to know that these men risk their lives? As if you’ve not had them bloodied, shot and stabbed on your kitchen table?

You seem to get past the hiccuping sobs and right yourself, “Sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just worried about you, all of you. How will you do this? How can I help?”

Hyunjin smooths your hair and kisses your forehead, “The best way for you to help is to be ready for anything medically speaking, making sure you have everything you need for any possible situation, that’s how you help baby.”

You nod, and look around the room, “I’ll take inventory, make a list of the things I can’t get at the pharmacy, Christopher and I can run out later this week to stock up on trauma supplies.”

Hyunjin kisses you gently and squeezes your hand, “I’m going to go start strategy talk, our next deliveries for the quarter are due in just under a month, that’s not a lot of time.”

You and Minho watch as Hyunjin leaves the room.

“He really is the best I’ve got,” Minho sighs.

“But you don’t like the situationship we’ve got going, do you?” you ask, which comes as a surprise to you. This isn’t the best time to be talking about relationships, not with everything that just transpired, and yet it fell out of your mouth anyway.

“What are you talking about?” Minho asks, looking genuinely confused.

Fine, you guess now is the time, “There are moments, not often but enough that I notice, where you get so quiet, where you feel so distant. I assume that’s because you’d rather it just be you and I, just the two of us together.”

“I suppose that would make things simpler,” he says, “and it’s true that the moment you said you had feelings for both of us it hit me hard, it was a blow to my pride, but then your face flashed in my head, how you looked that day that I threatened you, how you had just asked me not to give you a reason to be scared of me and I realized that I love you, ___, and I love you in whatever way that comes as.”

You smile, “You love me, huh?”

“Yes,” he pulls you into him and kisses your cheeks and nose, “I love you, it’s not something I take lightly and it’s hard for me to say the words because now it’s real, now you know, and now I can actually lose you and if I do I think I might lose myself too.”

“You won’t lose me,” you whisper.

“Mm,” he nods, “Just promise me you’ll always be careful, always keep an eye over your shoulder.”

“I promise.”

“I need to go back to them,” he gestures towards the door and pulls away.

“That still doesn’t explain the way you get so quiet sometimes, so contemplative, like you’re questioning it,” you call out to him.

“I’m not questioning our arrangement Love,” he answers.

“Then what?”

He looks toward the sitting area, then back at you, “I guess I just didn’t expect to start caring about him in a different way, that one took me off guard, and yes it does pull me out of the moment sometimes thinking about it.”

You nod with a smile, “I see.”

“Yes, so don’t worry baby, okay? I’m just getting used to this new part of me.”

“Okay.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“So that’s the thread for the stitch kit, the gauze, the wound care kit, I’d like to get an extra pair of clamps and some sort of disinfectant, iodine if they have it but I suppose alcohol will do if they don’t,” you tell Christopher, tossing a few extra things in the basket.

“I dropped your medication list off with our guy, I’ll know what he can get us and what he can’t by the end of the day,” he shares.

“Miss ___?” a voice calls your name and you turn towards it. A man in a cheap suit smiles as he walks up to you in the aisle.

“Don’t say anything,” Chris mutters under his breath before distancing himself from you.

“You are Miss ___, are you not?” the man produces a photo on his phone of you and Minho, it’s from the night at the Casino.

“I suppose I am,” you shrug, plastering a casual smile on your face. You can feel your pores opening from the impending sweat and your heart begins to race.

“You’re familiar with Lee Minho, the man in the picture?”

“I know who he is, obviously,” you look at the photo, unable to deny that it’s you, “and you know who I am it seems, but I didn’t catch your name?”

“Beg your pardon ma’am, my name is Jeon Jungkook, I’m the lead Detective on an arson case we’re working at a warehouse Mr. Lee owns,” he smiles and shows you his badge.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, yes, I think I heard something on the news about an explosion outside the city yesterday morning, it was Mr. Lees, you said?” you try to feign surprise but this Jeon guy doesn’t look amused.

“It was, and I was hoping maybe you’d be willing to come into the station sometime to answer some questions about the, uh, possessions Mr. Lee seems to have lost in the fire,” he grins smugly.

“Well I’m not sure why you’d think I’d know about anything he lost. That seems like a conversation to have with him, or perhaps the insurance company,” you say.

“The possessions I’m speaking of aren’t ones that are likely covered by insurance ma’am, and I bet you know that,” he replies.

You shake your head, “Then you’d lose your bet, Detective, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right, I see,” he sighs, disappointed, then digs in his back pocket and leans in closer, “Here’s my card, if you decide you’re done protecting the bad guys then give me a call,” he looks over your shoulder, “Don’t think I don’t see you Bang, be sure to be a good lap dog and carry Miss ___’s medical supplies to her car for her,” he looks at you, “wouldn’t want you to forget anything then not be able to patch up Lee’s boys,” he winks then walks off.

He knows. He knows who you are and what you do. He knows everything. Or maybe he doesn’t but obviously he suspects or he wouldn’t have said any of that.

“Hey, are you good? You look pale as fuck,” Christopher asks but you don’t answer him, suddenly you’re stomach is churning, acid and bile and the iced coffee you drank on the way here bubbling and lurching up, “Hey, ___?”

“I’ve got to get out of here,” you rasp, no matter how deeply you breathe it feels like you’re not getting enough air, “I need to get out, get me the fuck out of here!” you yelp.

Chris nods and sets the basket on a shelf, “Okay, okay, come on,” he ushers you toward the parking lot.

It’s no use, even though the breeze is cool and soothes your skin, your stomach still twists and the nausea is too much, you brace one hand on the side of the car and bend over, vomiting all over the parking space, your shoes, and the rear tire of the car parked next to Chris’s.

“Fuck…” Chris gags, he opens the door and leans in, plucking left over restaurant napkins from his center console and handing them to you.

“Thanks,” you say hoarsely, wiping your mouth off, then bending over to wipe your shoes. You walk over to a nearby garbage bin and toss the napkins in. You feel better after puking your guts out and finally take a breath.

Chris holds the passenger door open for you, “Well, good thing you didn’t overreact or lose your cool or something,” he laughs and so do you. “Do you want me to go back in and buy all the shit we came here for?”

“Yes,” you sigh, resting your head on the seat, “Please. Can you get me a lemonade or something as well?”

“Yeah, be right back.”

“Thank you Chris, and, I know we’ll have to tell Minho about the detective but for the love of God can you please keep your mouth closed about me having a nervous puke session after? He already worries too much about me. If he thinks I’m going to barf every time I leave the house then I’ll be trapped like a rat.”

“I swear.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Like the lawyer said baby, investigators are going to be watching, but they don’t have jack shit on us, I’ve spent my entire career ensuring that anything they have is circumstantial at best, completely inadmissible, you are fine,” Minho soothes.

“I’ve never been on that side of things before,” you say softly, “I’ve never really been on any side of the law, I guess, but being the one approached, being asked questions - God that was awful.”

Hyunjins hand grazes over your hip, “They’ve got nothing on you baby,” he kisses your bare shoulder. “Don’t let it bother you. Don’t let him get to you.”

“He knew exactly what I do for you, he said it plainly,” you point out.

“So he knows you’re a nurse and made an educated guess that you use that knowledge to help people, big fucking deal, that’s nothing, certainly not a crime, and neither is being in a picture with me, you’re safe baby,” Minho continues. “I protect my people, I would never let anything carelessly slip through the cracks, would never let anything happen to you, to either of you.”

Hyunjins hand stills on your hip and you can feel him staring at Minho from behind you. He clearly wasn’t aware of his upgraded position in Minhos emotional capacities and you grin in spite of the shitty day. Especially when you feel Hyunjins erection growing against your backside.

“Shower?” he asks the two of you.

“You boys go,” you sigh, “I took a shower this afternoon. If my hair gets wet I’ll kill you and I am not fucking anyone in a shower cap,” you laugh, though if you’re being honest your stomach is still queasy and while the thought of getting fucked out in the shower is always appealing, you don’t need the shaking and bouncing right now.

“You usually shower at night though,” Minho pouts, rubbing his nose against yours.

“I…” you don’t want him or Hyunjin to know that you got so nervous after talking to the officer that you puked, you do not need them fretting over you, “I spilled something on myself earlier and wanted to clean up after. Besides, I feel like crap today, I’m no good,” you chuckle, stretching out on the bed with a yawn.

“Then we’ll stay here until you fall asleep,” Minho scoots in and tucks you under his chin while Hyunjin presses himself to your back, and you instantly feel the hardness again.

“Be right back,” Hyunjin squirms off the bed and trots off toward the bathroom.

“What’s his problem?” Minho looks at the door.

You giggle, “Our Hyunjin is feeling a little stiff, if you catch me, I think he went to go fix that.”

“Oh…” Minho trails off, but you catch the way he keeps his eyes fixed on the door.

“Go,” you nudge him a bit.

“Without you?” Minho raises his brow.

You cock your head to the side, “See, unlike you, I’m not possessive,” you smile and kiss him, giving his bottom lip a little bite, “Go.”

Truth be told, the scene playing out behind the bathroom door entices you, you can feel the wet pooling between your legs, feeling uncomfortable and slick, and you think of pulling yourself out of bed to join. However, the weight of the last few days seems to be catching up to you, the level of tiredness you feel rivals the way you felt after leaving your third 12hr night shift of the week back at the hospital. You haven’t felt this sleepy in so long that not even the two men getting busy in your bathroom, wishing you were in there with them, could stop your eyes from fluttering shut and immediately going to sleep.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

The full night of sleep doesn’t seem to even make a dent in your exhaustion. The following day you still drag your feet, unable to do anything productive despite the growing to-do list you’re making in your head. Not to mention that your stomach still doesn’t feel quite right and you begin to wonder if you’ve eaten something or caught a bug.

When your phone rings, waking you from your second nap of the day you want to toss it into the toilet.

“We’re about five minutes out,” Jeongin yells into the phone.

Fuck.

“Who is it and how bad?” you ask the same question you always do.

“Seungmin got shot in the leg,” he answers.

“Okay, I’ll be ready.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Seungmin sits on the kitchen table, his foot propped up in one of the seats as blood drips down his calf. His face contorts everytime you press the gauze to his wound and you only take a tiny smidgen of satisfaction from that.

“It grazed you,” you squint, “but it grazed you deep. I need to flush it with saline and clean it up before I can decide if you need stitches or not,” you explain.

“Well do that then, it hurts,” he whines and you roll your eyes.

“I’ve got to get back to Lee and the others, tell them what we found before you got sniped in the leg,” Jeongin says, pacing back and forth.

“What did you find?” you wonder out loud.

“Why do you need to know?” Seungmin snaps but rights himself when you and Jeongin both shoot him a look. “Sorry.”

“Taehyungs front business is all in hotels, that we knew, and we also know his actual business is heroin, we’ve never known where his storehouse was though, until now. We just found it,” Jeongin says proudly, “that’s got to be where he’s keeping our stolen guns. He couldn’t keep that much hardware hidden in a hotel.”

“Go,” Seungmin says but looks behind him at Christopher who sits in the living room spectating, “take him with you, no one goes anywhere alone, you heard Lee.”

“You two good to sit here together?” Jeongin asks with a smirk.

“I’ll be nice if he does, and if not then I’ll just go in a little deeper with those stitches,” you smile up at Seungmin.

“Just go, I’m fine,” Seungmin huffs.

Chris and Jeongin leave and you continue to work silently on Seungmins leg, trying desperately not to think about how sick your stomach feels.

You clear your throat after several moments, “You know, asking people to stop getting shot so much is a request I never thought I’d have to utter so often,” god your stomach is killing you - banter with Seungmin? Ugh. You are off today.

“Mm, so sorry Princess, that I inconvenienced your day of doing absolutely nothing. You’ve still got pillow marks on your face for Gods sake, have you just been asleep all day?” he retorts.

“Yep,” you say, swallowing hard, trying to keep whatever is in your stomach from coming up.

“Makes sense, you look like absolute garbage.”

“Feel like it too,” you agree, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Well fuck __, it’s not fun being an ass to you if you just sit there and take it,” Seungmin scoffs, “What the Hell is wrong with you anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you frown, pulling your hands away from his leg, “I just…” your hand flies up to your mouth and you run across the kitchen so you can vomit into the sink.

“Ughhhh,” Seungmin groans, “are you sick or something?”

“I don’t know,” you pant, gripping the edge of the counter, “I think I ate something I shouldn’t have,” you say.

“Oh sure, that’s what they all say but really you’ve probably got some disgusting, contagious bullshit,” he covers his mouth and nose dramatically with his arm, “stay away from me.”

“Are you going to stitch yourself up then? Besides, the only people I’ve been around are you guys, are any of you sick? Hm?”

You pluck a paper towel off the roll and wipe your mouth.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” he laughs and puts his arm back down.

You freeze, falling back into the chair you’ve been stitching him from. Your eyes go wide as different numbers matrix-drip down your brain. You don’t remember how long it’s been since your period, but you know you’ve had multiple since you started working for Minho, was the last one at the last house? This house? You can’t remember. The realization that you haven’t remembered to get a Depo shot since you were working at the hospital, however, is a much more violent intrusion, hitting you like a semi truck barreling into a brick wall. You told Minho the first time you’d ever been together that you were good, that you were on birth control, and at the time it was true. In the chaos of everything though, you’d not been back to the doctor, you hadn’t even thought of it. How could you not have thought of it?

You look up at Seungmin, body numb and eyes wide, unspeaking.

He lets out a windstorm of a sigh and rolls his eyes, “Oh for fucks sake.”

Endnotes:

1. Ooofffff. Don’t hurt me

2. I will do tag lists this evening 😘

#skz fanfiction #hyunjin fanfiction #lee minho fanfiction #skz smut #hyunjin smut #Lee know smut #skz romance #hyunjin romance #lee know romance #hwang hyunjin x reader #lee know x reader #Hyunjin #Lee Minho #stray kids

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undercover-smutlover · 1 year ago

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Multiple Characters x Reader...

main masterlist📌

*·˚Don’t forget to reblog, follow, like, and comment on the authors’ or artists’ pages. Show them some love!

*·˚Broken link or @? Pop a note in the comments or my ask box.

Works by @miniwheat77

Sizes. 141+Alejandro x Reader: Who has the biggest dick?

By Nature, She’s Naughty: Y/n was a wild one

Works by @mistydeyes

Hunk-o-mania Pt.1: The boys thought wrong, now they’re performing

Playboy Bunny Pheonix Edition Pt.2: The boys are very pleased with the solution

Opposite Occupations Pt.1: They realize that all the long hours are worth it

Take A Walk In My Shoes Pt.2: A day in your life

Almost Military Wives GC Pt.3: What goes on when the boys are deployed

Works by @sprout-fics

Afterburn: Just 6 dudes taking care of their girl

Poly 141 x Reader: It takes weeks, month for you all to put the place in order, and by the end of it all, you’re exhausted

Works by @loveindefinitely

Need To Listen To Me: that was a flaw. A genuine character fault, and Price was cementing that fact in this very room

Lust for Life: You’re suddenly all too desperate to get back at your father and experiment a thing or two

Works by @the-californicationist

They Help You Practice: You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons.

The Window, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7:

Works by @charliemwrites

From SpecGru With Love

Men at Work

Works by @tojisun

Nosy Neighbours

Sugar, Spice, Everything on Ice

Keeping Him Quiet

141 + König First Word Reactions by @starstruckmiraclekitty: Reactions to their babies’ first words

Be Gentle Man Pt.1 and Be Gentle Man Pt.2 by @rileyslibrary: Etiquette training

Breeding Team by @sirenmoth: AU where reader is an omega who took suppressants

Strip Poker Pt.1 by @catsnkooks: Soap’s CO brought out some cards

Cachorrita Pt.1 and Cachorrita Pt.2 Los Vaqueros x Reader by @lxstfathier: Caught in the middle of narco violence, you are taken in

Four Big Guys by @antigonusyuki: And oh, all the blood rushes to John’s cock

Civillian Asset by @cuckoo-on-a-string: There’s blood under your nails and a threat to your life

Price’s wife = the wife of 141 by @ghosts-cyphera: and you managed. of course you managed. you were price’s good little wife

Sparrow by @diejager: Their tense shoulders slouched, finally knowing where you went

Mafia!141 by @groguspicklejar:

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star by @vellichor-of-the-solivagant: Now, he made music out of you

Home is Where You Are by @1-ker0sene-1: "Taking good care of our boys John…You always do…Making sure you all come home to me again”

Cook!reader x 141 and The Assistant by @bookbrokelibrarian:

Lift Me Off My Feet by @lovifie:

Cherry Bomb by @swordsandholly

FFS Riley Collection by @dozeydaisy

Dad!141 x Mama!Reader by @baduzzxy

Mafia!141 AU, Ext. by @ghouljams

Suite 141 by @mangowafflesss

Contractors!141 by @kyletogaz

Down the Hatch by @syoddeye

Frozen Hearts Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7 by @lushrve

Can’t Stop Thinking About Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Pt.8, Pt.9, Pt.10 by @a-b-riddle

Free Use by @bzurk

Really Good Neighbours by @dragonnarrative-writes

Whole Other Notebook by @auspicioustidings

Retired!141 x Rancher!Reader by @purple-moonbeam

Lifeline by @indigosunsetao3

Ranking by @gardenthatneversleeps

You’re Only Sixteen by @siddyyyyyyyy

On The Run by @devil-in-hiding

Hair Series by @kyletogaz

Secret Baby by @gloomwitchwrites

The Office AU by @flowerfreya

Loop by @eevee-of-eternity

Restaurant Au! 141 by @disgustingtwitches

Blue-Collar!141 x Reader by @xo-codbby

Naps to Lovers by @i-love-you-just-the-same

Y/N Being Feral for Her Future Husband by @feralgoblinqueen

Mafia!141 by @cordeliawhohung

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#undercover-smutlover #call of duty #modern warfare #cod smut #favorite fics #fic recs #fluff #slow burn #smut #angst #x reader

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earlycuntsets · 7 months ago

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"your star

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

The Black Parade is Dead!

At this point, MCR needs no introduction. The band led by Gerard Way is an icon of current punk-rock and every day thousands of fans around the world join their "carnival". The good news is that the quintet will release The Black Parade is Dead! this month and we will invite you to its launch!

BY: XABIERA SAN MIGUEL B.

When My Chemical Romance visited South America with their world tour last February and we learned that Chile and Argentina were included in the tour, we perfectly understood that thousands of fans would fulfill their dream of seeing their favorite band live, however, not all of them could attend the event, and for that reason, when we found out that the CD+DVD The Black Parade is Dead! would be arriving in record stores on July 5th, we got our act together and got ex-clusive tickets for the launch. Yes, just as you read it, we will invite you to the premiere of My Chemical's new material…, but first things first, you should first know what all the musical fuss is about.

Why not miss The Black Parade is Dead!

To begin with, this is the second live DVD in the career of the quintet from New Jersey, which began its history in the winter of 2001. The first was Life on the Murder Scene and was released in 2006.

The dual-format material includes completely live images and sounds, and compiles two concerts from The Black Parade World Tour, but they are two completely different concerts from each other.

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

DEAD

The tour, which began in February 2007 and ended on May 9 at New York's Madison Square Garden, included 138 dates of electrifying concerts, in which Gerard Way, Ray Toro, Bob Bryar, Frank Lero and Mikey Way

they gave their best.

On the one hand there is the CD with the complete recording of the show that the band offered last October 7 at the Palacio de

www.theblackparadeisdead.com"

[next page]

The boys performed on October 24, 2007 at Maxwell's Club in Hoboken, New Jersey, in front of about 200 people.

The DVD was directed by Adam Rothlein, an expert in the field, who had already worked on DVDs for Green Day, System of a Down, All-American Rejects and Disturbed.

As this is a limited and collectible edition, edited especially for fans, the material comes in a digipack (cardboard box with two compartments, one for each disc) and includes a booklet.

20 pages with exclusive photos from both concerts.

The second envelope of the packaging includes a sheet printed on both sides, with thanks from the group and photos of the merchandising available online.

Mexico City Sports. On this occasion, MCR reviewed its entire album The Black Parade.

The album will be available at the Record Fair the first week of July and its reference price is $15,000. Both materials will not be sold separately.

On the other hand, there is the DVD that rescues the very intimate concert that

If you were one of those who attended the show that MCR offered in Santiago de Chile, you probably remember that on that occasion, unfortunately Frank Iero, the band's guitarist, could not be present. Well, this is your chance to see it in all its dimensions.

We invite you to the launch of The Black Parade is Dead!

For the only time in history, Warner Music has organised a DVD Avant Premiere as a DVD release, so you can watch the concert on the big screen! So pay attention and come get your tickets. Tú Magazine and Warner Music invite you to the DVD Avant Premiere

The Black Parade is Dead!

To attend the Avant Première, redeem

Free! This coupon for an invitation

for two people in our office,

Located at: Rosario Norte 555, 18th Floor.

Neruda Building. Las Condes, Santiago.

The function will take place on Tuesday

July 8, 2008, 7:00 p.m.

at Cinemark Alto Las Condes (Kennedy Avenue 9001, Las Condes. Santiago, Chile).

Don't be left out: We have 40

double invitations.

We will be open between 10:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m.

Promotion valid until Friday, July 7, 2008, or while supplies last

invitations.

On the day of the event, The Black Parade is Dead! will be sold prior to the performance."

tu mexico 06/2008

link to the black parade is dead full show with the mentioned maxwells hoboken nj 10/28/2007 show

#my chemical romance #frank iero #mcr #gerard way #not my scans #mikey way #ray toro #the black parade is dead #2008 mcr #black parade is dead era #2008 #mcr scans #interviews #mcr scans spanish

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djarshaddj · 4 months ago

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Bad Newz global box office collection day 7 (1st week): Vicky Kaushal's film accumulates ₹ 78.30 Cr gross within the healthy opening week!

Bad Newz global box office collection day 7 (1st week): Anand Tiwari directorial much anticipated Hindi entertainer “Bad Newz” debuted at global theatres on July 19th, a week ago, with the ensemble featuring versetile Vicky Kaushal, Triptii Dimri, and Ammy Virk in the central roles. According to the latest update coming out from the makers, Dharma Productions, it has racked up an undoubtedly…

#Ammy virk #Bad Newz #Box office 2024 #Global Box Office Collection Day 7 #HIndi #Triptii Dimri #Vicky Kaushal

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himbos-hotline · 20 days ago

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Baby au outline: AKA I have shrunken your favourite wresters! send me asks please

under the cut cuz its BIG

Madelyn "Maddie" Orton

AGE: 5

Adopted by triple H/shawn micheals after Her, Randy and Seth's biological parents die in a car accident

autistic and dyslexic

If she has to have her hair up, she will have it in different colour ribbons

None of her clothes fit her- either cuz theyre a size too big or Randy's handmedowns

Finn Balor:

AGE: 6

Biological child of Leona and Finntan Balor

A child of chaos- its a fight to keep his clothes on most days

constantly covered in bruises from his midadventures

isnt allowed near plastic food or things that smell like food

likes to be labelled as irish

has once stuck lego up his nose

Samuel "Sami" Zayn:

AGE: 5

Edge and Christians child

Offical Generico translater

Doesnt sleep enough for a child

Pokes people when he introduces them to Generico

Believes the young bucks are a collective and cannot tell them apart

Likes apple slices

always has his hands in his mouth

Generico:

AGE: 4

Looked after by Excalibur

Speaks in small vague spanish phrases- only Sami and Danhansen can understad it other babblings

believes that Maddie and moxs coats are magic due to them hiding their hands

sleeps up on top of tables

the quiet kid- nobody sees or hears him enter or leave a room, maddie makes jokes that he flies

never seen without his lucha mask

Likes to sleep in the art room

Kevin Owens:

AGE: 7

parented by Chris Jericho [this was funny to me and sibling]

doesnt really like to share anything he has

That kinda bully who would push you in the mud but then when nobodys looking help you up

Also responds to bear

likes to stand on the slide and scream at people

Malakai Black:

AGE: 6

parents are AJ lee [we needed someone, there no thought behind this]

Speaks very clearly for a child- knows a lot about many things

A bit of a creepy cursed child

Likes to paint and sleeps in the art room under tables

wild child whose missing a tooth

is somehow a calm child around the others, gets upset when things go really wrong

Aleksandra "Aleks" Page

Age: 5

Parents are Micheal and Orla Page

Does not like naps because she has constant energy. The child will not chill tf out and we love her.

Does bendy shit, gymnastics kid.

Becomes convinced that she and Adam Page are related because they have the same last name.

Polish-British

tries to drink her weight in juice boxes

Likes outside time and nothing will stop her

Balor:

AGE: 7 1/2

Parented by Brody King

nobody actually knows where he came from

has little devil horn hair that will never flattern down ever

always warm but always wears his little leather jacket

Says concerning things for children

Randall "Randy" Keith Orton:

AGE: 10

adopted by Shawn/Triple H

Hangs out with the "big kids"

Eats bugs and tries to get Maddie to do the same- thinks it makes him look cool

over protective big brother

has anger issues

likes to jump off things

Seth Rollins:

AGE: 4

The youngest orton child

has asthma

doesnt eat bugs but does jump off tall things

Him and Mox were in the same care home-

seth always asks if him and mox are still friends

literally the pickest child

shawn dresses him

has unlimited power, the LOUDEST CHILD EVER!

bites his nails

keeps asking his dads for a dog

Jonathon "Jon" Moxley:

AGE: 5

Fostered and later adopted by William Regal

Allergic to cats but pretends that he isnt

always covered in bandaids

isnt excited about joining a new nursery school

Regal teaches him originami

Calls regal dad

gets nosebleeds and is way to calm about it and thus has a change of clothes with him always

plays in the mud

has ADHD

wears his shirts inside out and mismatched socks

rides his bike fast with stabalizers

totallyg gets braces when hes older

never feels cold

likes frogs

Rhea Ripley:

AGE: 8

daughter of lita

is tall for her age

likes hanging out with the big kids

has her ears peirced

spooky child and likes to talk to malakai

Darby Allin:

AGE: 4

son of sting

paints his face with the poster paints

learns to skateboard

is artsy and crafty

breaks his arm by the first chapter leaping off things

Adam Page:

AGE: 4 [nearly 5]

lives with his "auntie" beth pheonix" on a farm

little farm guy

carries around his horsie plushie

has resting sad face

quiet and anxious and shy

compares kenny to a lamb at least once

wears patterened clothes

Maxwell Jacob Freidman:

AGE: 4

has an asshole personality that streches way past his height

the not nice bully

has hayfever and hates it

likes singing and choir

refuses to play with the other kids

wears his scarf all the time and refuses to take it off

has ADHD

Matthew "Matt" Jackson and Nicholas "Nick" Jackson:

AGES: 7 and 5

sold as set do not seperate- do everything together

Matt needs special food due to glucose and lactose intolerent

Matt wears braces

theyre both autistic

Matt gets the zoomies

Nick likes birds

Matt doesnt mind being called matthew, Nick hates being called nicholas

Nick is a haunted child

Matt likes shoes, nick loves birds

Nick falls over a lot

Kenneth "Kenny" Omega:

AGE: 7

A little older than Matthew

Don Callis kid

abused by don and shows reactions related to that [cries if he thinks hes in trouble, flinches if someone moves too quickly, has issues with wetting himself and bed wetting]

has a tiny ponytail

friends with the baby bucks

little and blond and curly

has a bunny rabbit that he loves more then anything

jealous that the older kids have a gaming system

Edward ‘Eddie’ Kingston:

Age: 9

Parent: Mick Foley

Is friends with Bear because they’re both tiny and filled with rage

Tiny new york accent

Friends with Mox.

Raccoon blanket.

The kid that wants to see injuries and gross stuff because it’s cool !

Always wears a backwards hat

Plays baseball

Wheeler Yuta:

Age: 2

Parented by William Regal, baby brother of Jon moxley

He is the baby of the entire group.

Is really left at the daycare because his dad needs to work.

Does Not speak, like at all.

Communicates through noises

Can Laugh and giggle and make sounds like screaming and crying

Maddie teaches him sign language

Toddlers around and finds the world very very cool

Shares a blanket with his foster brother Mox

Has his own little blanket to cuddle with.

Daniel "Danhausen" Hausen:

AGE: 6

son of excalibur

plays dolls with mlp with hangman

also friends with little darby

always calls kids by their full names ir makes up their own not quite right names

understands what generico is saying all the time

keeps his baby teeth as well as other kids teeth on him

has once eaten an entire stick

Likes magic

Hook:

AGE: 3

Son of Taz

chip addiction

doesnt know what to do with danhausens avances of friendship

just really fucking loves dinos man!

Karl Anderson and Luke Gallows:

AGES: Luke 8 | Karl 7

two half of a whole idiot

Karl has esxma

Charles "Chuck" Taylor:

AGE: 9

Raised by tony schiavone

yes he knows the shoes share his name, he KNOWS!

breaks his ankle at the bucks birthday party

also tall for his age and hates it

looses his name- comes in every week with a new one

Trenton "Trent" Baretta:

AGE: 8

Sues son

gets convinced once that he also looses his name

mamas boy

chucks next door neighbour

the dunce of the group

Orange Julias "Orange" Cassidy:

AGE: 4

Also raised by excalibur

the chillest toddler ever

wears sunglasses all the time

Adam Cole toddler! Adam cole tot [maybe an evolution of the character]

AGE: 5

Raised by RJ city and Claudio castiagnoli

Pagent queen

IS NOT A BABY

likes the swings

always cold

Jungle boy:

AGE: 3

raised by edge and christian

ALSO really loves dinos- carries around a "wrestling dinosaur" called luchasauras that he SWEARS is alive

likes classical music

climbs trees and just falls out of them and never takes fall damage

Julia Hart:

AGE: 2

Raised by brody king

also a haunted child

does cheerleading

likes wearing her big hat

#au: the baby au #send me asks about this omg

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artistactorathens · 3 months ago

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Netflix being a bitch and canceling Every Good Queer Show Ever is absolutely not going to stop me from posting about DBD, so if you’ll allow me I am going to be so incredibly normal about my fanfic naming system for @painlandweek a couple of weeks ago (which was a wonderful event full of insanely talented fan works, go check out the collection on AO3 when it’s back from the dead)

This is more for me than anyone else, and it’s going to be a long one — incoming Overly Complicated Naming System under the cut

So, here are the names of my Painland Week fics:

1. Phantom Chills (sickfic)

2. Ghost Stories (myths/legends)

3. Spirit Moves (confession/first kiss)

4. Shadow Boxes (domestic au)

5. Dead Letters (canon divergence/casefic)

6. Vision Boards (free day)

7. Soul Searching (soulmate au)

They’re all [synonym for ghost] [plural noun], which started as an accident; I named Phantom Chills and Ghost Stories, realized the pattern, and ran a marathon with it. They also all have double meanings (a literal meaning and a figurative one) and I wanted both meanings to apply to each fic to the best of my ability. I think I did pretty well tbh, I’ve outlined the meanings/how I applied them as well:

- phantom chills: chills that aren’t real (i.e. as the result of a spell), can also be a ghost feeling cold (Charles relives the symptoms of his death)

- ghost stories: stories meant to scare your friends (like the one Fraser tells Charlie), can also be ghosts telling each other stories (like the ones Charles and Edwin tell each other)

- spirit moves: from “as the spirit moves” aka bring spontaneous (Edwin asking Charles to kiss him), can also be a ghost shooting his shot (also Edwin asking Charles to kiss him)

- shadow boxes: fighting inner demons (like Edwin’s internalized homophobia), can also be a ghost with a lot of boxes (Edwin and Charles had a lot of collectibles to pack before moving into the office)

- dead letters: letters you can’t deliver or return to sender (like Uncle Francis’s letter to Kit that can’t be delivered any more bc they’re both dead), can also be a ghost’s writings (Edwin — he wrote the poem)

- vision boards: pasting up ideas for the future (like what board games to play? Or just how nice it looks), ghosts playin board games (they do in fact do that this one was a bit of a stretch)

- soul searching: doesn’t end in an s, means finding yourself (like Charles and Edwin) and finding each other (like Charles and Edwin)

Alright that’s it lol sorry for the long post. SAVE DEAD BOY DETECTIVES!!!!

#payneland week #payneland #dead boy detectives #save dead boy detectives #athens rambles

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eksvaized · 11 months ago

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[ Previous ┃ Next ] part 7

After coming home, Simon headed straight to his office. It was the only room in the house that he locked. He rarely had guests, but just in case someone came over, he wanted to stop them from snooping around. His office contained not only important work documents, but also his secrets — all the mementoes he had collected over the years during periods when his obsessions consumed him.

He retrieved a black box from behind the books on a tall shelf and sat at his desk. The box, although small and a little old, contained a plethora of items. Carefully placing the lid on the table, he reached for his notebook and began perusing its pages — he had nothing to add to it yet. His eyes skimmed over his own handwriting as he examined your schedule once again, which not only encompassed the things you liked, and your behaviour patterns, but also the names of your friends, and the addresses of the places you went to the most. He wanted to figure out how he ended up overlooking your early return home.

He set the notebook aside.

In the box, there was also a receipt from the first time he met you and paid for your coffee. On top of it was a flower. At the club, you kept fidgeting with the napkin. Perhaps you were nervous. But once you finished folding it over and over again, and were satisfied with the result, you showed it to him, telling him it’s one of your special skills. Simon thought little of it, but at the end of the night, while you were distracted and not paying attention, he discreetly scooped up the flower and put it into his jacket pocket.

Now, he had one more thing to add to the box. Your panties. His fingers ran across the smooth fabric, his eyes glued to it as his imagination spiralled and his mind conjured up scenarios for him to enjoy, in which you wore nothing but these. With his body yearning for release, he hastily reached down into his pants, only to be interrupted by the vibration of his phone. He wasn’t planning on answering, but when the screen flashed with a new notification and he saw it was a message from you, he knew he had to reply.

‘Something came up and I’ll be busy on Friday. Does today work for you? Same place, same time.’

After reading your text, Simon arched his brow. He had expected to have you for the entire Friday. He clicked his teeth, his eyes grazing over the words on the screen repeatedly. Simon wanted to be irritated, as he disliked when things didn’t go according to plan. However, he couldn’t be mad at you. After all, you hadn’t completely ditched him; instead, you proposed to meet today. So, he sent you a brief reply, saying that he is looking forward to seeing you later.

He spent the rest of the day getting ready. First, he took a long shower, scrubbing his body thoroughly and standing under the running hot water until the steam made breathing difficult. Next, he shaved his stubble. As the razor glided over his skin, he studied his reflection, noting his bloodshot eyes and weary expression. Lastly, he ate a hearty meal and went to bed, hoping a quick nap would help to diminish the dark circles under his eyes. Once he woke up, it was time to go.

6:34 PM.

Simon was standing outside the coffee shop, a little further from the entrance, waiting for you. He wanted to take you somewhere nice. Maybe to your favourite restaurant, which he knew was a quaint and charming place not too far from your home (you had posted about it several times). However, when you suggested meeting at the coffee shop, he had to agree. If the place where you first met felt the safest and most comfortable for you to see him again, he was fine with having your first unofficial date there. You deserve nothing but the best. But he was determined to give you time to get to know him before taking you out on more extravagant dates to fancy, luxurious restaurants.

You were four minutes late. But Simon was unconcerned. From his observations during the time he had spent following you, he had come to understand that you tended to lose track of time. You were often late, and not once while stalking you, had he seen you slowly walk down the street - you were always practically running.

Another ten minutes passed, and he was starting to lose patience. After five more minutes, he was about to send a message to ask if you had changed your mind about coming. Thankfully, exactly two minutes later, he saw you and put his phone back in his pocket. You were walking down the sidewalk, your eyes searching for him. As your gaze met his, Simon saw your lips curl into a smile. You gave him a small wave, which he responded to with a nod and a smile of his own.

“Sorry, got stuck at work.” The moment you approached Simon, you apologized, the words tumbling out in a hurry.

His dark eyes settled on your face. He noticed the shimmer of your lips, lightly glossed. His gaze then shifted to your black lashes, generously coated in mascara. He watched as you blinked a few times before turning his attention to your hair, neatly tied in a ponytail. Biting the inside of his cheek, he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts for a moment, imagining how it would feel to bend you over, curl his fingers around your ponytail, tug at it and force you to tilt your head back to look at him.

After he was done playing out the short scenario in his head, which involved him fucking you in public, he examined your outfit. You were wearing a pretty blouse, a thin jacket and ripped jeans that hugged your figure just right, making him drool whenever he caught a glimpse of your backside. Simon couldn’t resist envisioning introducing you to his friends while you looked like this. Sure, he had only a couple, and most of them were from work, but the thought of them gawking at your adorable face made him grin like an idiot.

His lips parted subtly and he was about to compliment you, but then he noticed a brown shopping bag in your hand. A question almost slipped out of his mouth when he realised that your comment about being late because of work was a lie. However, he held his tongue back and said nothing about it.

He was curious about why you hadn’t told the truth, but he knew that if he hinted at your dishonesty, it could lead to you becoming flustered and stumbling over your words in an attempt to salvage the situation. Embarrassing you and making you uncomfortable would be an awful way to start the date.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He checked you out again, unable to pull his gaze away. This time, however, you caught him in the act. After realising what he was doing, you lowered your eyes, and the heat rushed to your cheeks, colouring them in a delicate shade of red. “But,” he continued, his voice soft and low as he rubbed his hands together. “I’m freezing over here... and that cup of coffee you owe me would come in quite handy right about now.”

Upon entering the coffee shop, you instructed Simon to pick a table and sit down. You knew that if he lingered by your side as you approached the counter, he might step in to pay. You didn’t want him to do that as you were determined to repay him for the first time he saved you, and all the cocktails he bought you at the club.

“Black sweet coffee, right?” You asked before leaving. He nodded, pleased that you remembered what he ordered last time.

After you rushed off to place an order, Simon subtly glanced into the bag, which you had carelessly left unattended on your chair. Inside it was a bottle of cheap red wine and a small box of condoms. A swarm of questions flooded his mind. Were you planning to sleep with someone? Who? Was that person the reason behind your rather insistent request to meet him today?

Jealousy bubbled up within him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Darkness began to seep into his veins, urging him to confront you and demand answers. Yet, he knew he couldn’t lash out at you, couldn’t let his emotions control him. He swallowed his fury, buried the questions deep in his mind, and forced himself to keep his mouth shut.

He slumped back in his seat, his shoulders drooping and his hands falling onto his lap. Absentmindedly, he cracked his knuckles, each pop satisfying. Although he tried to shut off his mind, one persistent thought refused to leave his head: were you seeing two guys at the same time? This didn’t seem like your style. He didn’t want to believe you were the type of woman who could do that. But maybe, just maybe, there was a side of you that Simon wasn’t aware of, a side he still needed to discover.

He was brought back to reality when you returned and handed him a cup of coffee.

You two talked. A lot. And once the conversation started, little by little, he directed all his attention towards you. By doing so, he found temporary relief from what was previously bothering him, if only for a moment.

Simon told you about himself, only choosing to share elements of his life that painted him in a favourable light. He started with his experiences in the military, a time that he said was transformative for him. He spoke of how it shaped him, moulding him into the man he is today. Then, he also mentioned that he’s currently on a break, casually omitting critical details. Specifically, he left out why he had to take this break - it was not by choice, but because he had nearly ended a recruit’s life.

When it was your turn to share, you chose to tell him about your friends first. You admitted Mindy and Liz, like any other person, had their own set of imperfections. You acknowledged their quirks and flaws, but then you made it a point to emphasise that no one is flawless, and if you genuinely care about someone, you learn to accept and love them for who they are. After this, Simon couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t interrupt you, but his thoughts turned inward, hoping that as you got to know him, you’d grow to love him, too. And even if you someday discovered his darker side, you wouldn’t leave him.

“So, are you single?” Simon finally dared to ask. The conversation had somehow shifted towards the topic of relationships, and the two of you had found yourselves swapping stories about awkward dates and the strange individuals you’d encountered along the way.

“Yes, and no,” you replied, your teeth lightly gnawing at your bottom lip. There was a pause, a momentary hesitation, as if you were debating whether to continue or not. After taking a slow, deliberate sip of your coffee, you decided to elaborate. “I’m not in a relationship, per se, but I’m seeing this guy. We had lost touch for a while, but he recently moved back to the city, and we reconnected over old high-school memories.”

Simon’s jaw clenched, and his shoulders tensed. He felt a sharp pang of something akin to jealousy, but he quickly composed himself, not wanting you to see his irritation.

“So you are two-timing us,” he retorted, maintaining a light and playful tone. He tried to make it seem as though he was just joking. “In the morning, you go on a date with me, but if I turn out to be dull, you’ll leave him for me. I must admit, I feel hurt.” Simon chuckled and pressed his palm to his chest for added dramatic effect, continuing his charade.

“No, but... Hold on. Are we on a date?” You returned, joining in on his playful banter. You decided it would be better to keep the mood light and not take it too seriously.

Both of you ended up laughing, and after a few minutes, the conversation naturally shifted to a different subject. However, Simon’s mind was in turmoil. He continued to talk with you, feigning interest and pretending to be present in the moment. But his thoughts were elsewhere - he found himself consumed with a burning desire to know who this other man was.

The realisation dawned on him as you shared amusing memories from your high school days. He figured out who was his competition. Matt. This was a problem, a huge one. He couldn’t make you fall in love with him if you had your eyes set on another man. Matt had to be removed from the equation, and Simon was eager to take on the mission of eliminating that jerk from your life. He was ready to do anything, absolutely anything, to ensure your happiness and well-being, and in order for him to accomplish his goal, he had to erase Matt from the picture.

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #writing #ghost x y/n #cod #call of duty #ghost x you #PO2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost #cod ghost #cod x reader

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notpoliticalcarrot · 4 months ago

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Hello people.

I am here to say I would like to do more art as of right the fuck now and would like to know if anyone had any. Now I know some of you know I’m not a person of my word. but this time i might actually swear to do art.

If you wanna know rules, here.

Rules

No NSFW.

Nothing realistic, I have a very shitty style so please be nice to me.

I’m using paper so MIND that.

Nothing vulgar.

No P3D0 shit, thats fucking gross.

If you want me to draw a character of yours, give me the refrence image of that charater.

If you give me an art request out of my usual fandoms I go by, I’ll try to do my best, if it’s not quite how you would like dont throw coins in my face and ask for a refund, just be happy I made you something.

If your a horrid person, do, not, fucking, bother.

You can force me to draw ships, I will not mind, but please make your request NOT 18+.

It might take a bit for your request to be done, but at least I will do it.

I’m using paper, no I do not colour it because I lost my crayons (( crayons work I love them )), but it still looks okay.

So requests, I really take anything but the fandoms I usually draw in are The Henry Stickmin Collection, Underworld Office/Charlie in Underworld, Fundemental Paper Education, Team Fortress 2, Left 4 Dead 2, and my OC’S or others’ OC’s. I also do In Sound Mind but the characters aren’t really shown, so you can make me draw what I think everyone looks like, or you give me a description and I’ll try to draw that description.

Please enjoy the art requests I do (( if I even get any… )), and have a good day/night.

—PoliticalCarrot 🌺

7/29/2024

Btw heres some of my art, incase those who would like a request needing to make sure my art is okay.

And I’m not well at drawing acurate humans, the one 6th one there was very a struggle.

BTW SEND REQUESTS IN ASK BOX TYSM!!!

#art #an actual art ???#an actual post ???#asks #requests #art requests #team fortess 2 #teamfortress2 #left 4 dead 2 #underworld office #charlie in underworld #in sound mind #in sound mind allen #my oc’s #fundemental paper education #the henry stickmin collection #thsc #politicalcarrot #this took me a fucking hour to make give me requests or i will do something ill regret

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14buddy22 · 1 year ago

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I’ll Spend the Rest of My Life Making It Up To You Series

Part 7!! WC: 3.4K I know it’s short, but I feel bad that I haven’t finished it. Life’s just been BUSY. I promise we’re getting to the end of this fic, but I want to give the ending it deserves. It’s coming. I promise.

Series Masterlist // Masterlist!

Today was the day. You were finally getting out of your relationship with Jake. You were done. You were ready to move on. You had to. If you didn’t leave now, all it made you think was that you maybe should go back to Jake.

However, your nightmare only made you realize how terrible it would be for you if you did go back to Jake. When Aaron showed you the letters and the pictures of you, it made you sick to your stomach to know that Aaron actually read those letters, that he actually saw those pictures.

As if he wasn’t the one who you called to bring you to the hospital after Jake had beat you, he saw the aftermath of everything.

It was a quiet morning. Jack got picked up by JJ to go hangout with Henry for the day. Aaronwanted his sole focus to be on you today. You two were meeting with his friend who was an attorney. You were nervous. You silently moved around the kitchen, getting a diaper bag ready for Mason as Aaron helped collect the images and letters from his office and into the evidence box.

As you and Aaron got into the car to head to the law office, you couldn’t help but start to over think. You thought about every bad thing that could go wrong. What if you lost Mason? What if Jake wins and you don’t have full custody? What if Jake ends up killing you?

“Hey, you’re thinking too much. Stop. Let’s talk to the lawyer. He’s very good at what he does. It’ll be okay.”

You grabbed his hand from the gear shift and pulled it into your lap. You squeezed his hand and gently rubbed your thumb back and forth. That was something you always did with him to calm yourself down. Just knowing he was by your side calmed you down a little bit.

As you, Aaron, and Mason made your way into the building, you clutched the carseat carrier a little tighter. You were doing this. You and Mason were going to enter a better life. This was the beginning of a long trial, but 10 years of domestic abuse was enough, you needed to be better for your son, for YOU.

“Aaron Hotchner. The Unit Chief of the FBI’s BAU.”

Aaron stuck out his hand and shook it. You assumed this was his friend. You were right when their handshakes pulled each other into a hug and both men broke out into a smile.

“This is Y/n and her son, Mason.”

“I remember her when we were in law school. Always wondered why he let you go. My name’s Brian Smith.”

You smiled slightly and shook his hand. You followed him into his office and pulled Mason out of the carseat, holding him in your lap. You needed him to slow your heart rate down. You felt like your heart was going to explode. You were excited that this was happening, you were scared of what was going to happen, you were mad with yourself for letting Jake do this to you, for letting him get so far. While you would have never blamed Aaron out right, part of you blamed him for breaking up with you all those years ago, but you couldn’t tell him that when he’s been nothing but kind, generous, and protective of you and your son these past couple of days.

Brian sat on the other side of his desk, looking through the evidence box briefly.

“I want to start off by saying that Aaron has kept me updated on details of what has happened in your marriage to Jake and I just want to apologize for what you’ve been through. Domestic violence cases are rough and tough to handle and I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. Just know that I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure you and your son are safe. Whatever evidence you may have to convict him on aggravated assault, that will need to be turned in, when we serve him, I’m hoping that he’ll sign what we serve him with, but depending on how the state will handle the assault charges, that will depend.”

“I don’t want him to have custody of Mason. I want him to go to prison for what he did to me. 10 years, sir. 10 years I endured this abuse, he shouldn’t be allowed to talk to another girl, shouldn’t lay a hand on another woman.”

“I understand that, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure he doesn’t get custody of Mason and that he serves some time is prison.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You were proud of yourself. You were doing this for you. You were doing this for your son. You were doing this to show every other woman who were in abusive relationships that it is possible to get out.

You know that some women didn’t have the resources you did, but you want them to know that you had evidence. Take the pictures of the bruises, cuts, scars. Keep a diary of everything they said or did to you. That’s more than enough evidence.

After a long afternoon of discussing everything, what you wanted, and how you were going to proceed from there, you felt like the weight of the world was being lifted off of you. Well, maybe not off of you, but it was being held by Aaron and your lawyer. You were still holding a piece of it, but it wasn’t completely all on you anymore, and that, you were grateful for.

“Hey Aar, do you mind taking Mason to the car? I just need to use the bathroom and I’ll be out.?

“Yeah, of course.”

He turned to Brian and shook his hand, thanking him and saying if he needed anything to reach out whenever.

Aaron took Mason from your lap and said, “Come on, buddy.”

Your heart stilled at seeing Aaron with Mason. Aaron was the type of father that Mason deserved. Your son deserved more than what you gave him. Having Aaron in Mason’s life just for a bit was something Mason needed. If you and Aaron never got into a relationship again, you knew that he would not treat Mason any differently than how he treats Jack. He would raise Mason how he was raising Jack and you were happy with that.

As Aaron and Mason left the office, you said, “There’s one more thing Brian. I want to give you this. Aaron doesn’t know this exist and I really don’t want him to know we talked about it. This is only if we go to court. It’s letters I kept when I was pregnant with Mason and the video evidence of the last time he was physical with me.”

“Y/n, thank you. I know it has to be hard.”

“It is, so I’d really like to just move forward with this so we can be done. Please. I know you’re doing your job. I know you do it really well. Aaron doesn’t trust everyone, so you must be the best of the best. I thank you for what we’re about to go through. Really, thank you, Brian.”

“You know, when Aaron broke the engagement off, he came to stay with me. She showed up at my apartment that night. He knows he messed up. Even back then, all those years ago, he had known he messed up. When I tried telling him he needs to go fix it, he said that you’d never be able to be with him again. He told me that if he ever had the chance to be with you again, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to you.”

You looked at him, not really knowing what to say. You always wished Aaron had come back into your life, to fight for you harder, but when he didn’t, you didn’t think you could go crawling back to him either.

“Thank you, Brian. We’ll be in touch.”

As you walked out of his office and walked down to the front of the lobby, you saw Aaron talking to someone else. You placed your hand on his back and he said, “You ready to go?”

You nodded and he wrapped up his conversation and then you two were back on your way to his car. As Aaron got Mason into the backseat, he said, “Pick where you want to go to lunch, my treat.”

There was no point in arguing that you would pay for lunch because you were never going to win. As Aaron got into the truck, you put the directions on for a restaurant you had been wanting to try for a while, but you hadn’t been able to go to because of Jake.

As you two ordered your food, you gave Mason his bottle. You and Aaron were making small talk. You weren’t really sure why it was so quiet, but maybe it’s because you both had so much to talk about that nobody knew where to begin.

“Now that this is actually happening, maybe I should see if I can get a place to stay in.”

“No. Absolutely not. He’s capable of so much more, y/n. I can’t let you get hurt even more if you move out.”

“I don’t want to owe you anything. I mean, how does this look for Jack? Your son needs to come first, Aaron. It can’t be Mason and I, it has to be Jack. How does Jack feel? Jack went from it being just you and him, now it’s you, him, me, AND a baby? That’s a lot, especially for a kiddo his age. I know he’s smart, but Aaron, this is a lot of change for him.”

“After this is all over, I want to marry you. I want to raise Mason in the place I’m raising Jack. Jack wants to be a big brother. He’s been talking nonstop ever since JJ had another baby. Jack’s been wanting me to have a baby with someone. I’m not saying I’m just doing this and helping you out to make my son happy, but, why should I have to go look for the love of my life again when she’s right in front of me?”

“Aaron. You need to really think about this.”

“I have! I’ve spent the past 15 or how ever many years it’s been thinking about you every single day. I’ve wanted you to be mine. You were my true love and I let you go. This is how the universe repays me for letting you go. I told myself that if I ever got the chance to have you in my life again, I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to you, and it’s true. I’m going to do anything and everything in my power to make you and Mason happy.”

You moved your hand on the table and grabbed his. When you held his hand, it felt different, like a spark that was reignited again. Yes, the entire week that you’ve been with Aaron, you fell in love with him all over again. You didn’t think you could, but you did. As you sat at the table with your hand in his, you couldn’t help but think about what your future held, but how much of your past you’d still be holding onto.

You wanted to hold onto the good memories you had with Aaron, and even the bad with him. You needed to remember the moments that broke you down because you only built yourself up stronger after.

“I’ll talk to Jack when I put him down for bed tonight. I think that’ll be best. But I want you to know, you have nothing to worry about. He loves you. He loves Mason. He’s been so happy, such a different kid since you’ve been around. He’s been without Haley for a few years now, but you could be a mother-figure to him just as I could be a father-figure to Mason, if-if you’ll let me.”

You want nothing more than to pick up your life with Aaron. You wanted a family. You wanted to be Mrs. Hotchner. You wanted more Hotchner kids with him. You wanted anything that Aaron Hotchner would give you. Well, you didn’t want him to give you a brokenheart like he gave you once before. You would gladly accept an engagement ring or his last name.

“Hey Aaron?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we make this official? This could be our first date, again.”

“Come on? You didn’t like our first date? I took you out to a really nice restaurant. That was a week’s worth of working to afford that dinner.”

“Hey! I offered to split but you wouldn’t let me! You even called ahead and put your card down so they wouldn’t let me pay!”

You and him began to laugh, thinking back to your first date. You remember being so excited. Your friends wanted you to go out, telling you that you’d meet your prince charming at the bar, but you kept telling them that you just had a feeling about Aaron.

Good thing you trusted your instinct, because he was your prince charming. But a fairytale ending didn’t always have the perfect beginning or storyline along the way, but you wanted to believe it was going to end well.

“Aaron, do you seriously not know why I chose this place?”

“You said you wanted to try it.”

“Yes, I’ve been wanting to try it, but you know why? The restaurant we had our first date in closed down. The owners passed away and the kids didn’t want the business. Aaron, we’re eating in the restaurant that once stood where we had our first date. We’re eating basically at the same table we sat at, well location wise, where we had our first date.”

Aaron began to look around. He couldn’t believe how he missed it. Something so meaningful to him, your first date, and he didn’t remember. Yeah, the building changed, but he should have remembered something so significant. He remembered walking out with you after the date, he knew that when you began to dance to the music that was coming from the band across the street that he was going to marry you someday. He just knew. But how come it didn’t click in his head that you wanted to come here.

“Then, Y/n Y/l/m, this is the best first date I’ve ever been on with you.”

“Now? Instead of all those years ago?”

“Yeah, because I have a glimpse of who we’ve become. How far we had to work to get here. You and I are having our first date where we did many, many years ago. Today, I get to see the beautiful mother you became when I remember on our first date how much you talked about getting married and having kids. I remember you telling me upfront about having children and getting married because your past boyfriends didn’t want that, but you did. But now, to see you as a mom, it makes me so incredibly happy. All you just need is to get married. Something I should have given you. But I have my second chance at you. I’m not letting you go. Never again. You, me, Jack, and Mason. We’re going to be a family when this is all over. I want this more than anything in the world.”

He tensed up and you glared at him even more. Why would he tense up? If this was the Aaron Hotchner you knew, something wasn’t right. But that thought was cut off when he continued.

“Okay, no, I don’t want this more than anything in the world.”

What? What the hell was he saying? How was your heart breaking into pieces by Aaron AGAIN? Why did you have to come back to him. You thought he’d heal your heart. But he’s tearing out your heart, stepping on it, shredding it to pieces.

You let out a breathless, shaky, and sad “What?”

“The one thing I want nothing more in this world is for you to be safe and happy. Y/n, of course I want you in this world, but if you won’t be happy with me, then I want you to be happy with someone else. I want you and Mason to be safe. My line of work is dangerous, if you won’t feel safe with me, then I understand. You need to put yourself and Mason first. You hadn’t done that much, especially not putting yourself first. So, I want you to think about you and Mason. I can’t be selfish and say I want you and Mason because I had you once and I let you slip through my fingers. If you want something or someone else, it’s okay.”

Oh, you were down bad for this man. You loved him so much. The way emotion was written all over his face. This was the Aaron you knew. Not the hard exterior man who everyone else knew at the BAU. This was the real Aaron Hotchner. This was the big softie who would cry at sappy movies when the guy gets the girl at the end after it’s least expected. This was your Aaron Hotchner who cried when you brought him flowers many years ago. This was also the Aaron Hotchner who cried when you left him after he broke off the engagement. This was your guy, the one who wasn’t afraid to show emotions in front of you.

“Aaron, no. This is what I want. I want you. Mason wants you, I mean, look! He’s been staring at you talk this entire time I’ve been trying to feed him. I’ve wanted you since you asked me out on a second date many years ago. I’ve wanted you even when I was with Jake, but I gave up the idea of having another chance with you when I married him and saw you in that church seat, not interjecting at the wedding. Do you know how much I wanted you to? To run away with you and not look back. I wanted you to save me back then, Aaron. But you’re saving me now, not only me, but my son as well. I want you. I want Jack.”

You squeezed his hand and looked back at Mason to see Mason staring right at Aaron. Mason began to reach his hands out towards Mason, beginning to babble away. You watched as Aaron reached his arms towards him and you passed Mason over.

You saw the raw emotion on his face once more. You saw how he looked at Mason with so much adoration, so much comfort, happiness. You had always wanted Aaron to be happy. Just holding your son, there as a part of you that knew you were going to end up okay. Yes, of course, you had 10 years of a traumatic relationship with Jake that you needed to begin seeing a therapist for. But, part of you, that you had talked to through with your co-workers, was meant to find happiness. You think Mason, Aaron, and Jack were your happiness. Going to therapy and having them in your life would make you okay. You would be okay eventually.

As you asked your waitress for the check, Aaron spoke up.

“You’re not paying for our first date.”

“Yes I am, this is the least I could do. You rescued me, Aaron. You didn’t have to but you did. You gave my son and I a safe place to stay, without making me pay for anything. You’ve given me resources. You’ve done more for me than I could have ever asked. I’m paying for our second-first date. You saved me, If you were dying, I’d try and save you with my life. I’d give you my kidney.”

“Not if I give you mine first.”

Aaron smirked at you and it was the glimmer happiness in his eyes that made you think back to your first date even more. He looked at you like you were the greatest thing in the world. To him, you were the greatest thing in the world, obviously next to Jack. You also saw a glimmer of hope. In hopes that everything would turn out okay with you and Mason, as well as Aaron and Jack.

Next Part

Tagging: @8crazy-freak8 @angelmather1 @rousethemouse @lex13cm @mrs-ssa-hotch @comfortzonequeen

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