#I DON’T WANT TO JUSTIFY YOUR ACTIONS

[linklethehistorian]

DON’T use the word “but” immediately after your apology. (Example: “I’m sorry, but that wasn’t my intention. [Insert explanation here.]”) Saying “I’m sorry, but” can unintentionally imply insincerity in how remorseful you really are that you hurt that person, as it lends the feeling that you are not so much apologizing for your actions and their consequences as you are trying to wave the whole thing off as “it’s not my fault if you read it wrong”.

DO keep your apology and your explanation as clearly separate sentences and thoughts. (Example: “I’m so sorry I hurt you when I [insert your hurtful words or actions here]. I’d like you to know that I never meant any harm; [insert explanation of your intentions here].”) Wording things this way makes it more apparent that your explanation is an addition to your apology in order to ease their concerns about your intentions towards them, and that it is not the apology itself.

DON’T use terms that imply the fault of the miscommunication was on them. (Example: “I’m sorry you feel that way.”/“I’m sorry you read my words like that.”) Phrasing an apology like this will, 9 times out of 10, make the person you are apologizing to feel that you are not actually serious for the caring impact your words or actions had, and — like with the first “don’t” on this list — that you are instead totally waving off any responsibility for them by essentially saying it is entirely on them for interpreting it in a negative manner. It lends the sense that you are less sorry for their pain, and more disappointed in them and/or sorry for yourself that they “got it wrong” and now you have to deal with their emotions. (For me personally, “I’m sorry it came off like that” is a better and much more acceptable alternative to hear, as I consider it non-accusatory; to me, it implies that you had good intentions, but that you are acknowledging that regardless of them, the words you said or actions you did came out the wrong way and caused hurt because you didn’t foresee the very real and valid possibility that it could have negative implications, rather than making it about “well that was just your interpretation; I’m not responsibly for that”, but you should probably just avoid anything along these lines in general with most people, as I’m sure to some people it will just come off the same way as the rest.)

DO make it clear from the beginning that you understand that an apology is not an excuse, and that this not your intent in giving the explanation. (Example: “I know it is not an excuse for what happened, and it doesn’t make what I did any better, but I just want you to know that [explanation here].”) Waiting until after you’ve given your explanation — and they potentially already read it and took it as an excuse — to tell them that it is, in fact, not intended to be an excuse, will just make your words feel hollow and as if you are only saying them now because it wasn’t well-received; whether sincere or not, this sort of thing often just feels every bit as bad as pulling the “it’s just a prank, bro” excuse on someone to get out of the fact that your prank caused them some form of harm.

DON’T kick yourself in front of them. (Example: “I’m so sorry, I’m such a terrible person and I don’t know why you even put up with me. I don’t deserve you.”) As someone with anxiety, I know firsthand that this can be very hard when you feel incredibly bad for what you’ve done, but these are thoughts that — at least for the time being — need to stay in your head and not come out of your mouth; even if you completely mean every word you say, it is either going to read as a manipulative attempt to turn the focus back around to you and your feelings and make you the one in need of more comfort, thus frustrating them and driving a wedge between you, or it is just going to end up guilt tripping them anyway into throwing their feelings aside and genuinely result in that emotional manipulation actually happening, whether or not it’s what you intended. There is a difference between expressing remorse and hating on yourself; one genuinely helps, and the other one aids absolutely no one and just puts more undue stress on everybody involved. If you need reassurance, that’s valid, but either seek it from someone else, or seek it at a later time — and above all, do so without attacking yourself and other people who like you by proxy. (Try expressing: “I know it’s probably not not true, but I feel like [negative thoughts here]; can I have some reassurance?”, instead of stating negative thoughts as though they were insults and solid facts about yourself or others, as this usually comes off as a rant or a guilt-trip — not as someone seeking reassurance.)

DO take time away from the situation before you continue responding whenever possible, if you feel yourself becoming too emotional or heated. Having someone come at you with what May feel like negative accusations towards you when you only had good intent can sometimes be incredibly intense. It may be deeply hurtful or you may even feel angry if it’s worded in a harsh way, but it’s important to take a step back and try to never respond in the heat of the moment when possible, as you are very likely to become defensive and/or say something you are going to regret in the long run. Give yourself time to relax as much as you can, take a deep breath, sort out your feelings in your head or on paper, remember that this is somebody you care about the feelings of, and then only once you feel calm enough to handle things, approach, apologize for whatever is necessary, and talk it out while showing respect, patience, and understanding. From experience, even if you think you can be diplomatic while in a state of heightened emotion, more often than not, in hindsight you will realize you were really not able to do so at all and that you caused way more harm or came off way more harshly or dismissively than you intended. If you care about this person, it isn’t worth it; I promise you that. Err on the side of caution and wait it out if you can.

DON’T make it about you. I know this encompasses a lot of what’s on this list already, but seriously, I cannot stress this point enough. If you really care about this person and genuinely feel you’ve done wrong, just apologize, be there for them to whatever extent you reasonably can, and let them know you care. Show compassion. And leave it at that until they are doing better. As cold as it sounds, there is a time and place for everything, and this in general is just not the time to be expecting them to drop everything and tend to your mental health or well-being; they have to take care of their own, and you are the person that hurt them. You have to remember that. Your mental health needs are valid, but this person is not the only person in the world you can talk to about your feelings and receive reassurance and sympathy from, and…if they are the only person you have in your life at present, that is still not their fault or responsibility, unless they literally isolated you from everyone else — in which case you should get out of that relationship, because that is incredibly toxic and dangerous.

DO seek outside support and reassurance from other people if needed. If you need reassurance that you aren’t the worst person in the world right in that moment, please, do talk to someone else and get what you need. Your mental health matters too. No one is saying they don’t care about you, just that you shouldn’t be expecting someone who is already hurting because of something you did or said to also always be morally obligated to tend to your needs, as well. Another great advantage of turning to others is that if you’re unsure of something, you can always explain the situation to them and then run that message or other response you plan on giving by them to see if they think it sounds okay! You don’t have to be alone in things if you don’t want to. No one expects that.

So, just to re-iterate, with all of that in mind, an example of a possibly more ideal way to go about an explanation would be:

“I’m so sorry I hurt you when [insert hurtful thing you did or said here]. I know it’s not an excuse, and I know it doesn’t make it any less hurtful, but I would like you to at least know that I never meant to hurt you. [Insert your explanation here.]”

Of course, the exact words will vary based upon the situation, but you get the gist.

I hope this is helpful to anyone who needs it, and can save you some trouble with “how to give a non-hurtful explanation” in the future if you want to give someone a meaningful apology but still explain the reasoning behind your actions.

idk when we decided that explaining yourself shouldn't be part of an apology but like. if someone was a dick to me and apologizes but I still don't understand why they did it I'm not gonna feel any better

[weirdmageddon]

i was thinking about this since i posted earlier about us needing to address the trend of gen z men being pulled into alt-right pipelines might have contributed to the outcome of this election.

i think contrapoints is really smart, and from what i’ve seen, has been way more effective at getting people out of harmful ideological pipelines than i’ve seen from the majority of leftists online who instead berate and drive a greater wedge of antipathy (though i understand why! and it can be very hard to have empathy for the people who see you as a threat). that antipathy makes the right more radicalized because they don’t feel like they can talk about anything without the “crazy lefties” who won’t even engage with them. where did these issues come from?

what i’ve noticed, and i’m even guilty of this, is that people don’t interact with groups of people whom they refuse talk to, which makes realities more hypothetical in the minds of their opponent since they aren’t open to seeing reality from their perspective. this is true on both sides. from what i’ve observed, it seems to originate from hypothetical perception of the opponent, but when people treat those perceptions as though they are real, it becomes real with their actions, which then makes the antipathy justified to someone. again, on both sides.

what makes contrapoints so successful at breaking this down is that is that she creates these socratic dialogue skits that represent real people and ideologies, has a sense of humor, isn’t afraid to discuss these things, reframes how we see these things by introducing nuance to both sides. she’s a leftist, but she also knows how to engage without ripening division, of meeting someone halfway and being completely humble about it. she is able to soften extremes.

she is able to get into the mind of people who aren’t aligned with her views, understand the nuance and rationales from a realistic perspective, breaking down a big block of “this is all bad” into “ok, some of this makes sense…”, what this does is create a space for self-reflection that doesn’t feel ham-fisted (which could otherwise cause people to double down on their beliefs instead of opening up to other perspectives outside of their bubble). while also being entertaining and well-produced on top of it.

what she is doing is creating these scenarios and socratic discussions that SHOULD be happening in real life but aren’t in this polarized social climate.

i graduated from new college of florida this spring, the small liberal arts college that was in headlines across the country for ron desantis’s board of trustees hostile takeover and exodus of professors.

new students and student athletes from conservative walks of life were being basically incentivized to go there who were taught to fear the lgbt boogeyman growing up in their conservative communities. but once they actually interacted with lgbt students there, many of them they felt like they understood them, and they weren’t as bad as they were told they would be. new college of florida was also famous for getting derek black (child of the man who created stormfront, and godchild of the kkk grand wizard david duke) out of white nationalism. their peers at NCF called them out but also interacted with them, invited them to dinner. black wrote a book about it.

now of course some people are too far gone and you shouldn’t waste your time with them, like derek’s family for example. but i also think a lot of people who voted for trump are not informed, are operating off of emotion and knee-jerk mentality because it’s easier than thinking, and they are not seeing the discussions that need to be had to change their mind because fuckin…nobody is doing them.

and we feel this visceral disgust to people of the opposing party because of its associations. i just want to know how it happened and how we got to be like this. i think social media is partly to blame and also the algorithms that take people down dangerous pipelines and sharpen them, insulate them.

i myself understand the vitriol you might have for anyone that voted for trump. i feel so disappointed that half the people of this country voted against our collective benefit. and i’ve seen a lot of sentiment from the left today saying “every single person who voted for trump is dead to me. i disowned you”.

you can see the reality of trump’s demagoguery, and it’s so obvious, but what i want to know is: what do they see? why did they vote for him? emotion and entertainment travel faster and have more reach than reason. and it’s that’s why i think contrapoints’s videos are exemplary at tackling this ideological divide. this is something i’ve been thinking about for months before today and i thought now was a better time than ever to give my two cents on it.

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. msby!miya atsumu x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, long scenario sets in post-timeskip!

warning(s): reader is nice and overworks herself. not proofhead i apologize

author’s note: It's kind of not what i had imagined but hope you enjoy it.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

another cliché beginning for the person you are right now - the MSBY team manager - is that you’ve loved the miya atsumu since high school. it’s not like being the team’s manager isn’t your dream, you loved this job and had been dying to do it because you’ve loved volleyball, too. plus, you will have the opportunity to stay close and take care of the team, especially your crush who just merely thinks you are his best friend.

you first laid eyes on him when you were sitting alone on the subway, his dyed-blonde locks caught your attention as he first talked to you about the chase atlantic’s song you were listening to, he was cute, warm and friendly. at that moment, you were verified that he wasn’t the guy who was fond of his fan girls that everybody had been rumoring about. He eventually found out that you guys went to the same high school, so as to start a new beginning of your bonding friendship.

It wasn’t long until you finally realized that you might have adored the pretty setter a little too much than usual. his touches, his smile, the way he calls your name and his genuine characteristics when he was used to you being around seemed a little bit more easy to flutter your heart than every other day. Ever since then, you just hid your feelings and was grateful for what you got right then because you knew that if you confess, you couldn’t get this best friend treatment that you silently fell for for any longer.

You impressed yourself for even keep it until now. you and him are mature and beautiful, but you still can’t help but feel so ‘high school’ when you look at him. the least thing you could do for a friend (crush) is care for him through bottles of flavored electrolyte water, preparing his favorite after-practice snacks and even cool and soft towels to calm the heat down after a match. However, it seems like mr. miya doesn’t notice all of the hard work you did for him, he was so used to be taken care of by you that he accidentally failed to realize the special treatment only for him but nobody else.

“Hey, tired yet? you can call it a day for now if you want?” you smiled, hand over his bottle of water you prepared for him to the softly panting atsumu taking a break on the bench. He is quite preoccupied with his earlier techniques that he need to improve, he only spares you a glance then takes the bottle to drink without saying any words, you assume that he is in a bad mood.

“oh, and” you search for the thing in your bag. “here, your towel”

he nods and takes it, it makes you feel awkward. that’s… all…? You try to not overthink yourself, after all, it was quite a tense match, and the fact that your team will have an important volleyball game the next month proves his concerns are valid.

you watch atsumu leave when hinata shoyo came up to you.

“oh? isn’t that our manager?” you startle at his voice. “hehe, please don’t mind tsumu at all, please, he just got pissed because he made a mistake during practice” the sunshine grins, having him around surely just brighten everything up, because he is just so sweet and comfortable to be with.

“no, no,… I really don’t mind at all, actually” you know atsumu better than anyone so you don’t take his actions to heart sometimes, it’s just…

“oi, oi! I know what you’re thinking, I saw you overthere doing things for tsumu. This guy, honestly…” Hinata sure saw you earlier with enthusiasm written on all over your face while preparing those towels and bottles, he felt bad for you and decided to cheer you up regardless atsumu has just cracked your poor heart a little.

“It’s okay, hinata. thank you for checking on me!” you smile wide, so my efforts wasn’t invalidated at all, gratefully bow down to see the awkward hinata trying to stutter words out.

“no- no, don’t do that, you are our manager, that’s just nothing! besides, seeing you give tsumu so special treatment makes me real jealous!!” he huffs cutely. “I really want that flavored electrolyte water, too! what a shame he wouldn’t notice.”

you laugh sheepishly as you guys return to your dorms to rest. things have been going hard for you like crazy, the work amount weighing on your shoulders make it almost unbearable, but you still stay strong and put a warm smile on your face so nobody would notices. you have been thinking of retiring just in case the situation just got worse to the level of destroying your mental health. but, by thinking of your small joy of seeing atsumu everyday, you hesitated.

your sleepless nights start when the important games take a step closer, you overworked yourself and often feel burnt out, your time with atsumu narrows as you find it hard to start a conversation even in lunch break. atsumu does feel weird. why isn’t y/n sit with us? she is nowhere to be found these days.

“hey, tsum-tsum” said bokuto. “what do you think of y/n?” he said, putting a tray of food on the table while making his way to sit.

“y/n? what’s with her?” the fake blond raises a brow, munching on his food

“I think she’s so cute and thoughtful, base on her affection for you, i betcha she’s completely smitten” the owl laughs as the other teammates giggle along. “you should consider on dating her, what a waste if you don’t, she’s literally girlfriend material, same thoughts huh, hinata?” he winks and the tangerine head give him back a thumbs up.

“dating y/n, huh?” atsumu laughs as if he doesn’t take bokuto’s statements seriously. “I don’t date my friends, you know. besides, y/n is just a close friend of mine, she ain’t my type”

“heartless tsumu… she worked so hard for you these days…” hinata fake crying when talking about you

“I know that she makes snacks and does things for me, but sometimes, that’s just unnecessary, i don’t need it to be all the damn time, it feels a little annoying, i just need to be alone to refresh my thoughts” he sighs. “now you told me to consider on dating her, i wouldn’t know how long i can take it.”

now there is dead silence following his statement, everybody just awkwardly continues finishing their lunch, and you do know eavesdropping is a thing that you shouldn’t do. but you did. before you even notice, hot streams cover your face and you feel your breath hitches. the coach sends you to check on the team at such wrong timing, you can’t face them, the voices earlier destroy your confidence, replace it with angst and hurt. so… what i did is just a bother to him, huh. you realize now, that you were such a dumbass trying to make him catch feeling by all of this. and with the tiniest amount of pride left, you back up a smile and step into the cafeteria, the atmosphere suddenly feels tense as everybody hasn’t been moving on since their last conversation, atsumu feels an uneasy feeling when he sees you behind him, guilt? he thinks.

“hey… coach sent me to check up on you guys, please be well rested at your dorms after lunch, we have practice match at 2pm, alright?” your voice evidently trembles, you try cover it up with some fake coughs. oh, who are you kidding? it’s atsumu miya we’re talking about. he first notices how your eyes are a bit swollen, have you been crying? your tired figure due to sleepless nights, the way you haven’t eaten properly shows right in front of his eyes. he suddenly felt a twinge in his heart, in which moment he never wanted to see you like this, ever again. but, what’s all this for? he doesn’t like you… right? because- you’re his best friend, and caring is what’s best friends do, am I correct?

you left the cafeteria. atsumu feels like his whole head is going to explode, he regrets what he said earlier, knowing seventy per cent that you might have listened to it. he is weak because of guilt and distaste. the group feels uneasy and moody all of a sudden.

“i haven’t told you this before but you’ve seen her now, tsumu… she overworked herself with this huge amount of work with nobody beside her, yet she still maintaining to take care of you with these small gestures.” hinata sighs heavily. “y/n told me not to tell you about her state so you can concentrate on practising, but I’m really worried because now she can’t even hide it anymore. I tried to help, but she pushed me away and told me that i should do my own practices as our game is going to start soon.”

hinata pats atsumu’s back before leaving as if he’s signalling him to make it up to you. atsumu started to cry at this point. how could he be so clueless? he didn’t even know that his best friend was undergoing such pressure, yet why does the term “best friend” sound so irritating? he felt like he had failed to protect you and worse, hurting your feelings and he regretted it, so badly.

The following day comes, atsumu's first task is to search for you. To his astonishment, you are once more nowhere to be found. he was so preoccupied, his spikes aren’t as good, and he could not concentrate on practising, the coach sent him out, and gave him a moment to rethink by himself. and so, he reaches a staff, asking for information about you.

“Y/n? oh… she’s at the infirmary, we noticed her devastated state so we sent her to the doctor a while ago. now think about it I might write a report to the coach asking him to reduce the amount of work she’s handling.”

“thank you, kind sir. may I be the one who’ll write the report? I’m sure I could convince the coach.”

as the man nods, atsumu bowed goodbye to him and sprints to the infirmary where you’re at. he knows, that if anybody should write a report for you, it must be him. he must protect you because he has just realised it now, he likes you a lot more than he could imagine.

“Y/N!” atsumu slams the door open, he faces you with your eyes widened, startled by the bright window.

“tsumu…?” you softly speak.

atsumu in front of your eyes is the atsumu who tries to hold back his tears, biting his bottom lip as the poor heart lurching somewhere in his stomach but somehow still happy because he has found you.

“hey…” he kneels down on one knee beside you. “i’m sorry, angel” his hand softly squishes the smaller one, it holds back gently on his’

in all of the things you dislike, what you utterly don’t want to deal with is your emotions when you see atsumu looking so vulnerable like this. you instinctually grab a tissue and wipe off the sweat drop on his forehead the moment you see it, atsumu’s worried expression won’t vanish unless you speak up something.

“hey…” you smile. “don’t worry, I’m okay now, tsumu” you fondly touch his face with a hand, and he sinks in your touch, eyes glittering. atsumu intentionally plants a soft kiss on your warm palm and watches you go weak for him.

“i like you, y/n” he sighs. “i don’t want us to be just friends. i want to protect you, want to be the kind of guy who mentally support his girl to help her cope with any pressure.”

he looks up to see your widened eyes, without a response, he continues.

“i’m sorry i said the things i didn’t mean when you were there, I was just…" he gulps nervously and you sigh.

"tsumu... if it's too much for you to bear, maybe i should stop doing those things, okay?" you scoff bitterly, he becomes panic

“no, no, no,... i really like the way you care for me, please, i want your attention. please keep doing it. don’t get tired of me…”

you can feel the pulse bumping in your nerves, your heart flutters, and blood rushes into your cheeks just by hearing his confession. you kneel down beside him, fighting back the tears but then you can’t, so you squish him in a hug. atsumu holds you back as you start sobbing on his white shirt, inhales fondly your intoxicating smell and pats rhythmically on your back

“there, there, my angel. i’m here now. i’m sorry i’m late. let me make this up for you, yeah?” he chuckles.

atsumu loves his girlfriend. after hearing you ramble about your tight schedule, he immediately writes a report based on your experience to inform the coach about your condition so that everyone can share in your responsibilities instead of you having to handle everything alone. it wasn’t that long for the msby mates to realize you guys are together, he wrote in that report that he is your boyfriend, anyway.

“you nailed it, tsumu-kun” hinata bumps him with a thumbs up, atsumu responds with a sheepish grin while bokuto laughs beside him and sakusa just doesn’t really give a shit. 

he spots you standing on the opposite road near the brand new cafe, waving back to him smiling, “nah, gotta run. gonna treat my girlfriend with extra pastry today.”

i guess he is the simp now.

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

a recommendation to cope with your broken heart <3

[zaczenemiji]

Hi there! It's me...again. Hope your doing okay.

I was thinking about a new request about Kenji Sato x Fem! Reader based on the song "Please, Please, Please" from Sabrina Carpenter. Reader is a singer just like her so and has a relationship with Ken but she thinks that some things aren't doing good, but she also has him wrapped around her finger. Like the part with "I beg you, don't embarrass me, mother******". It can be angst but also fluffy and spice (Only if you want to but no smut) It can end in a happy ending.

The rest is up to you because I know you'll do a great job. No need to rush so take your time.

Don’t Prove ‘Em Right

Kenji Sato x Singer!Reader

Word Count: 1,358

Genre/Warnings: Angst (light), Character Development, Drama, Emotional, Redemption

Author’s Note: I went with a bit of angst 🤧

MASTERLIST

“You could do better.”

This was one thing you’ve always heard since you started dating men as a singer. Throughout your career, you were either cheated on, abandoned, or used in a way that they just rode your fame.

Other times, fans would ship you with another singer or celebrity or whoever famous and you’d give it a try for them but the ending is the always same: you two were just pretending for public entertainment and there was never love at all.

Your perception of love blurred the longer you got in the singing industry. You sang about it, wrote songs about it, but you’ve never really experienced it for a significant amount of time or for a significant depth.

That was until you met Kenji.

Despite his fame, he seemed down-to-earth and genuinely interested in getting to know you. He took you to his baseball games and introduced you to his teammates. In return, you invited him to your recording sessions.

Kenji was always supportive, and always encouraging. He seemed genuinely proud of your achievements and was always there for you. Despite his busy schedule, he shows up at your gigs and concerts and cheers you on from the front row.

He had a way of making you feel special like you were the most important person in his world. It was easy to overlook the occasional outbursts, the moments of impulsiveness that seemed to come with his fiery temperament.

You told yourself that everyone had flaws, and Kenji's good qualities far outweighed his bad ones.

You believed in him and in the future you could build together. Despite the red lights and the stop signs, you held on to the belief that this time, this love was right.

But as time went on, the cracks in Kenji's facade began to show. His temper flared more frequently, and his impulsive decisions started to take a toll on your relationship.

You made excuses for him and justified his actions to your friends and family. You told them he’s different.

But they told you that with the way he’s behaving, you’ll just end up in the dumps again—that he’s going to cheat on you, hurt you, leave you, and the ending will be the same…

“You could do better.”

Heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another. You couldn’t afford your name dominating the headlines again. And for what reason? Another breakup.

You loved him deeply, but the constant cycle of highs and lows was exhausting. You wanted to believe that he could change, that he could be the man you fell in love with.

But the more you tried to fix things, the more you realized that some things were beyond your control.

You sat in front of your vanity doing your makeup nicely. You glanced at the clock. Kenji would be here any minute to pick you up now. Tonight is your big night. It’s an afterparty to celebrate the release of your new single.

Your boyfriend had a reputation for causing a scene. It wasn't entirely his fault—he was passionate but it sometimes translated into impulsiveness. Tonight, of all nights, you needed him to be on his best behavior.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Kenji stood there, looking dashing in a tailored suit, a grin spreading across his face as he saw you.

"Wow, you look stunning," he said, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

"Thanks," you replied, forcing a smile. "You sure you wanna come?"

"Of course," he replied with a confidence that both reassured and worried you. “I’m always here for you.”

You arrived at the venue in no time. Celebrities, reporters, and fans filled the room, all eager to celebrate your success. You and Kenji mingled with the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and accepting congratulations.

But as the night went on, Kenji's behavior started to shift. The drinks were flowing, and while you had stuck to soda water, Kenji had not.

You watched with growing anxiety as he laughed a little too loudly, and gestured a little too wildly. The conversations around you started to feel like a backdrop to a ticking time bomb.

You pulled him aside. "Kenji, please," you whispered urgently. "Just... take it easy, okay?"

He frowned, a mix of confusion and irritation crossing his features. "What? I'm just having a good time."

"I know," you said, forcing another smile. “Just... for me, okay?"

He sighed but nodded and for a while, it seemed like he was keeping his promise. He stuck by your side, an arm around your waist, engaging in polite conversation with your friends and family.

However, you left him one moment and then the next, he was talking to one of the reporters. The latter walked away, a smirk on his face. Kenji turned to you, his face flushed with anger.

"Can you believe that guy?" he spat. "He had the nerve to ask about the last game. Said I sucked."

"Kenji," you said softly, trying to calm him down. You placed your hand on his chest. "It's not worth it."

"But—"

"Please, Kenji. Just... let it go."

He looked at you, the anger in his eyes slowly fading. He took a deep breath and nodded. "For you," he said quietly.

But the reprieve was short-lived. You caught sight of him at the bar, raising his voice at someone who had apparently made a snide comment.

The situation escalated quickly, and before you knew it, Kenji had thrown a punch, causing a commotion that drew everyone's attention.

Your heart sank as security rushed in to break up the fight. You could feel all eyes on you, whispers spreading through the crowd.

You felt a sense of dejà vu as this wasn't the first time Kenji let his emotions get the best of him, and you were able to hold it together as you’ve always done, but then you heard the one thing you hated.

“She could’ve done better.”

Without a word, you grabbed your things and stormed out of the venue, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over.

Not long after, Kenji arrived at your house, disheveled and remorseful. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry," he began, reaching out to you. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

You stepped back, keeping a distance between you. "Kenji, this can't keep happening. You promised me you would behave tonight!” You said in between sobs. “This was supposed to be my night, and you turned it into a disaster.”

You sat on your couch, your legs feeling too tired to keep you up. "I can't keep making excuses for you,” you continued. “I can't keep sacrificing my career for your mistakes."

Kenji fell silent, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He’s scared. He knew what those words meant. At that moment, he felt like the sky was crashing on him.

"I don't want to lose you, (y/n)," he said quietly, tears falling down. "I love you, and I know I've been screwing up. But I'm willing to do everything to make things right. Therapy, anger management, whatever it takes."

You stared at him, your heart aching with a mix of love and doubt. "Kenji, this isn't just about tonight,” you said. “This has been happening for a while now.“

“Please, (y/n),” he begged, his voice trembling as he knelt in front of you, embracing your legs as he rested his head on your lap. “I want to be the man you deserve. Please, give me one more chance."

Over the next few weeks, Kenji followed through on his promise. He made genuine efforts to address his issues.

He went out of his way to apologize to your friends and family for his behavior at the party, taking full responsibility for his actions.

Slowly but surely, he’s coming back to being the man you fell in love with. He made sure you wouldn’t be the one doing better because he was becoming better himself.

One afternoon, you had lunch with your friends. They asked about how things are now going between you and Kenji. You gave them a smile, a genuine one since after the party.

“He became better.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@flowerloves @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle

[jessmalia]

Actually, I’m not done.

In the end, Edmund is extremely lucky to get both personal fulfillment and wide appreciation along with mending his family relationships. Truly happy for him and it’s everything he deserves. But it’s not the norm. A lot of people in Edmund’s situation don’t get that. We end up having to break free and cut ties with family members or childhood friends to get the life we deserve. They don’t even have to be bad people, or do anything particularly wrong — some of us are just unlucky to have family that stand in the way, that keep us in shadows and hinder us from developing. Now, this doesn’t mean that you should sell them out to an evil witch, but you may need to distance yourself from them (and yes, hurt their feelings in the process) in order to be happy. And it’s never wrong to work towards being happy. You should never feel guilty over that.

I’m very lucky that Edmund is so beloved in this fandom, but there are still some antis out there and even the people who love him don’t understand him sometimes. The thing that gets me the most is people pointing out lww!Edmund’s selfishness like it’s a flaw, because it’s not. Selflessness isn’t always a virtue. He���s literally a 10 year old boy who’s never had anything of his own — he deserves to be selfish. That was never his crime. The problem was that his desire for something great of his own led to him ignoring red flag’s and putting blind trust in Jadis.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

She’s Not So Little Anymore

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: none, dad Lewis yes pls

“You’re not leaving the house until you change your clothes!”

“But dad-“ Harper stammered in a broken voice and teary eyes.

“There’s no but, I said what I said. You can go out with your friends after you put some clothes on. End of discussion.” Lewis told his daughter sternly before turning and heading towards the living room.

“I hate you!!” Harper growled bursting into tears and slamming the door of her room.

“Don’t slam the door at me!” He said in a raised tone. Sitting on the couch he sighed and rubbed his face feeling awful because of the argument between him and his fifteen-year-old daughter.

It was not natural for Lewis to yell and get into heated arguments with his daughter. The two have always had a special relationship - she was daddy's little girl for whom he would remove the stars from the sky just to make her happy. Harper loved and was just as close to you as she was to Lewis, but still, her daddy has always been her number one.

But since Harper entered her teenage phase, it has become very difficult for Lewis to accept that she is actually growing up, that she is changing, that she is interested in some other things that are actually normal for her age.

He really was having a hard time facing the fact that his little girl is not so little anymore. That’s why often broke out arguments between the two of them when Harper would stay out too late with her friends, when she would come home late or mention that she had a crush on a boy or for example like today when she would wear something that Lewis thought was too revealing.

Lewis did all this because he loves her too much and wants to protect her, but, of course, the teenager thinks that her father is working against her and that he is "purposely ruining her life".

Fortunately, not long after the argument, you came back from grocery shopping and found Lewis sitting on the couch looking at the switched off TV.

“Hi, baby” You greeted him happily, but you felt a strange energy in the air.

“Hey” He muttered not turning to look at you.

“Is everything okay?” You ask suspiciously, leaving the heavy bags on the hallway floor.

“Everything is fine except our daughter just told me she hates me”

You immediately knew what it was about. You were aware of how much it affected Lewis. You weren't always happy with some of your daughter's behaviors either, but you understood that it was just a phase and that it would pass, but you also understood that it was difficult for Lewis to face it.

You sighed walking up closer to the couch to Lewis from behind and bent down to wrap your arms around him.

“And that is why?” You asked pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Because she thinks it’s normal to leave the house wearing a short ass dress that doesn’t even have any straps God forbid some sleeves” He says visibly upset and you can’t help but chuckle at him. “That’s not funny, y/n?”

“That’s not, but you are” You say making yourself comfortable in his lap. “You’re being too overprotective of her-“

“Of course I’m overprotective of her, she’s my little girl!” He cuts you off trying to justify his actions.

“Would you let me finish, please?”

“I’m sorry..”

“She’s no longer a little girl, Lew. You have to make your peace with that. Sometimes I don't like her clothing choices or her behavior either, but that's why we're here to guide her. But you forbid her too many things and she sees it as you trying to control her.”

“I just..” He sighs leaning his head against your chest. “I just want to protect her.. I miss the time when she was with me non-stop. We used to do so many things together now she only wants to hang out with her friends.”

“Baby, that’s normal. If it were any different, we would have been worried.” You assure him putting your hands on his cheeks. “You’re still her number one, you’ll always be.”

“Youe ability to calm me down amazes me.” He smiles at your soothing and comforting words. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you more than you know.”

“I love you too, baby” You place a soft kiss on his lips. “Now go and talk to her”

Lewis immediately got up and headed towards Harper's room while you decided to sort the groceries you had brought into the house a little while ago.

“My princess?” Lewis said gently knocking on the door. “Can I come in?”

Almost the same second, the door opened revealing crying Harper who was still sobbing. What Lewis didn't expect was for Harper to give him a tight hug and start crying in his arms.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Lewis asked a little worried.

“Because you made me say that I hate you. And I don’t hate you, daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.” She cried. It stung her as much as it stung Lewis because Harper is aware of how special her relationship with her father is.

“Baby, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry too.” He comforted her rubbing her back. “I don’t like when we can’t talk things out and I hate when we argue. We don’t do that, that’s not us.”

“I know we don’t do that. I don’t like it either” She said quietly.

“It’s hard for me to accept that you’re growing up and that you are no longer my little girl.” He lifts up her head to look at her. “I promise to try to be more understanding of your wishes.”

“Daddy, I’m always gonna be your little girl.” Her words warmed Lewis's heart. She knew what she meant by that. The love Harper has for her dad will always be strong and special and nothing can ever replace it. Lewis was grinning like a child thinking how he is the luckiest man in the world to have the two best girls in his life, Harper and you.

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓! ꒱ 김동현

summary : you’ve been bored of your boyfriends calm demeanor, so you decided to prank him just to see if he’d start a fight—however, it gave you something much better

genre : kinda angsty, suggestive, leehan x afab!reader tws : language, kinda toxic behavior, suggestive content author notes : sorry this took a while i’ve been supah swamped but i hope you enjoyed the direction i took your request in !! word count : 1.4k

you don’t know why you were doing this. even as you applied the black, green and blue makeup, you couldn’t think of a valid reason. yet, here you were, sat on your couch scrolling through your phone, just awaiting the opportunity to prank your sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend.

maybe he’d gotten too comfortable in your relationship. hell, you used whatever excuse to try and justify it. but, the truth is, you wanted to see if he had it in him to get mad at you. he was so damn peaceful all the time—you loved that about him, really—nonetheless, deep down, your heart raced with the thought; the anticipation when he’d finally catch a glimpse of your artwork that he’d deem someone else’s.

this was fun.

you knew it’d work. you’ve never let leehan purposefully leave marks on your skin, not because it didn’t feel good to have him kiss you, but simply because you’ve always found them tacky and a hassle to cover up. you’d wasted so much makeup in the past trying to do so, so whenever he’d come close to leaving purple patches, you’d tell him to stop. he’d even bargained with leaving them in places only he could see, but you still refused. especially if you couldn’t return the favor.

you knew this was an evil way to push his buttons, that you oh-so-desperately wanted to see pushed. it was selfish, really, however at this moment in time the plan was already set into action. you wanted to start a fight, just to see if he could.

he’s never gotten mad at you. he’s never yelled at you. he’s never dared put a hand on you. and that was a dream, but somewhere deep down, you knew it was also just as boring as it was desirable. you wanted him to yell at you. at least once. manhandle you— consensually, of course. you wanted so much, and maybe this wasn’t the right way to bring it up, but it didn’t matter anymore as his voice broke through the silenced air.

“what’s that?”

“what’s what?” you asked, acting obliviously as you scrolled through twitter and instagram in turns.

he shrugged, and you don’t know if it was the fact that he seemingly didn’t care, or if it was that maybe he just brushed it under the rug as anything else, that began to piss you off.

nonetheless, you decided you were in it for the long run. after all, you wanted to see if he’d start the fight.

and throughout the rest of the afternoon you’d catch leehan staring in your direction, shifting his gaze when you’d make eye-contact. he kept a calm demeanor, never asking again what the purple marks on your neck were. he’d even hugged you before he left for practice, getting all up close and personal with the artwork.

you were finding it hard to believe he hadn’t noticed.

maybe he was gathering his thoughts. maybe he was trying to decided why you didn’t smell like another man—why he knew you wouldn’t do that to him. maybe as much as his buttons were pushed, this was it for his stemmed anger. maybe dance practice was his way to relieve the stress you caused from time-to-time. maybe the cool, calm and collected leehan was the only version of your otherwise, smiley, boyfriend.

maybe you were beginning to feel bad because you had no idea the feelings he had towards this prank. did it upset him? you wouldn’t be none-the-wiser to it if it had. he was good at shielding emotions, and maybe that’s where you needed to draw the line. maybe that’s where your conversation should’ve began, instead of whatever the hell tiktok had inspired you to do.

you kept looking at the clock on your home screen, counting down the minutes until he’d come back to you. and just as you had decided to end the prank, opting for a civil—adult-ish—conversation, a text illuminated your dark screen.

it read: we need to talk.

yet you couldn’t decipher the hidden meaning. of course you knew what it was about, that’s the only thing that’s been wrong throughout the last few months between you two. what else could it be? and why, now that you were finally getting what you wanted, didn’t it feel good?

you didn’t answer him, partially because you didn’t know what to say; it was a prank. i just wanted to see if you’d get mad at me. i’m so bored of this. nothing seemed correct, or frankly, truthful.

you also knew that he wasn’t far. he wouldn’t have texted you otherwise, just to torcher you—though it would’ve been deserved. so, you waited by the door for your boyfriend to get back, the thought of washing away the eyeshadow long gone.

then, it finally opened with the pattern of your key code. the air became thick and you found it hard to swallow with a lump in your throat. were you sorry? yes. did you feel bad for being immature? yes. was a tiny part of you still curious to see how this would play out?

yes.

"y/n," was the first, and only, thing he muttered for a couple of excruciatingly long minutes. you watched as he put his bag down, eyed him as he took his shoes off, and almost burst when he ran a hand through his hair. maybe leehan was able to torture you, even if unintended.

his eyes finally met yours, but then they drifted to your neck, and further to your collar bone. he knew. he's known since the first question left his lips hours and hours ago.

"what's that?" his arms snaked between each other, and you found it wrong to think it was hot, but you very much did.

almost like deja vu, the same feeling crept up from down within you. "what's what?" you reenacted. although this time, he didn't let it go. he approached you quickly, too fast to get away before you were sandwiched between the plaster and his body.

his hands were slow with movements. those oh-so-stupid-fucking-hands that had you, literally, at his fingertips. one forcing your head by your jaw to expose your neck, while the other brushed away the hair that disguised the marks from his view.

you fronted being indifferent, but truth be told, if he wasn't holding you up your knees would have buckled already, leaving you as a mess on the floor in front of him.

"you must think i don't know you," he voiced, holding eye-contact as he pushed his thumb between your lips, gathering just enough saliva to then press the digit to your neck and swipe. and it smudged with enough force, despite being labeled as waterproof. "tell me why you felt the need to paint these on. i couldn't think of one good reason all day, princess."

and the nickname he always called you—innocently and less than—had your heart in absolute shambles; the anticipation was just as good as if he'd raised his voice, you thought.

maybe your vanilla-scented boyfriend had finally gotten the hint that you wanted more, despite going about it in a less than thoughtful way. and maybe you realized that you didn't hate that he was always nice, no you loved that about him, but sometimes it was okay if he wanted to be a little bit meaner with you. after all, he could always say my... anything he wanted, and that would still mean that he saw you as his forever only.

"i-i," you couldn't think straight when he attached his lips over the previously (fakely) marked spots. his breath was hot, lips gentle then firm as he sucked against the spots he knew you'd rarely let him have his way with. "i—uh, fuck. leehan,"

his voice was low against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and a whimper up your throat. "if you wanted something, you could've just asked me, baby. i'd give you anything."

the eyes that you've grown comfortable with always seemed to be there despite the firm placement he had you in. you knew he loved you more than anything, so you knew his words were true. and his demeanor broke when he kissed your lips, almost giving you whiplash.

his palms laid flat against your cheeks, thumbs rubbing sweetly. "if you wanted everyone to know that you're mine, let me do it myself."

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

— perm tag list .ᐟ send an ask to be added c:

[davinawritings]

need ghost lover reader ̗̀(ꙨꙨ)ː̖́ ghost bf !!! ★

Hello! Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy ❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

Reader and Ghost, but the reader obsesses over the ghost this time.

He has been trapped in the house for more than a century and has successfully frightened off any inhabitants.

Then you move in, and he is prepared to show himself and have you run away screaming.

He appears in front of you, and your mouth opens in shock as you look him up and down and see his attractiveness.

He expects tears and screaming, but instead, you smile at him and introduce yourself. He awkwardly introduces himself back, caught off guard that you aren’t scared of him.

He takes a moment to compose himself before getting irritated that you are not afraid of him. He vanishes without another word, wearing a scowl.

You feel slightly disappointed by his actions, but you brush it off. You want him, and you don’t give up easily. Besides, if he is a ghost haunting your house, it’s not like he can escape you.

Over the next few weeks, you try to talk to him, going from room to room and having random, one-sided conversations. Unbeknownst to you, he keeps switching rooms whenever you enter a new one. It’s as if you can magically sense where he is.

He keeps himself invisible and just watches you ramble on day in and day out. He can’t deny how attractive you are. Still, he has no interest in courting a human, especially one as seemingly clingy and chatty as you.

Despite his best efforts, he cannot seem to scare you away. The slamming doors, haunting messages written on the steamy mirror after your showers, and odd noises in the middle of the night do not affect you.

The last time you showered, he wrote ‘GET OUT’ on the mirror, hoping you would get the message through your pretty little head. But he just saw you exit with a smile. When he went in after you left, he saw you wrote ‘No’ with a little heart around it. He probably would have smiled if he wasn’t so irritated with you.

He had still been keeping himself hidden even after months and months had passed, but he had been watching you more. Realistically, there wasn’t much else to do. That’s how he justified it to himself anyway.

It all came to a breaking point one night when he heard you say his name. While he was used to hearing your non-stop rambling, you did not often call him by name. Curiously, he made his way to your bedroom.

Upon entering, he found a sight that immediately has his dick hardening. You are sprawled out on your bed, legs spread wide. You have two fingers deep in your glistening cunt, back arched as little mewls left your lips.

Unable to control himself, he becomes visible, his clothes vanishing as he climbs onto your bed and body.

You jolt in surprise when he pulls your wet fingers from your cunt, quickly replacing them with his stiff shaft. He set a fast pace, enjoying your warmth, something he hasn’t had in over a century. You cry out and grip the sheets for dear life cumming hard and fast around his cock.

He follows soon after, leaving you dripping with his ghost cum. He lays beside you on the bed, waiting for you to catch your breath. Your eyes meet his and declare that you are officially boyfriend and girlfriend, so he can’t disappear from you anymore. He rolls his eyes, but you can see the slight smile he’s trying to hide.

🖤💕❤️❤️💕🖤

[iamgonnagetyouback]

tom riddle x wife!reader who is the only one he is submissive in front of

The room was dimly lit, the soft crackling of the fireplace the only sound as you lounged on the chaise, thumbing through a book. Your peaceful evening was disrupted by the unmistakable creak of the front door. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

"Darling, I'm home," Tom called, his voice ever so smooth, but you could sense the slightest tension beneath the calm facade.

"Mm, about time," you replied nonchalantly, flipping a page. "Did you—" You stopped mid-sentence as a rather peculiar scent hit your nose. You furrowed your brows, finally lifting your eyes from the book.

And there it was. Right in the middle of the parlor. A dead body.

"...Is that a dead body?"

Tom, still in his pristine suit, looked down at the lifeless figure as if he hadn't noticed it before. He blinked, then, without missing a beat, turned back to you with an innocent expression. "....Maybe."

You raised an eyebrow, setting your book down. "It is. I can see it right in front of me."

Tom ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, his typical composed demeanor faltering for a split second before he put on his best innocent expression. "I promise I'll clean it up before dinner."

You stood, crossing the room toward him, arms folded. "Really, Tom? We’ve talked about this. You have to stop bringing your work home. I swear, if I find one more corpse in our living room—"

"But he annoyed me!" Tom cut in, sounding almost...defensive? He cleared his throat, as though realizing how ridiculous it was to argue this with you. Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard in the world, trying to justify his actions to his bossy wife. Merlin, what had he become?

You rolled your eyes. "What happened to a simple Obliviate? You didn’t have to murder him."

"I tried! He resisted—"

"Oh, so naturally you had to Avada Kedavra him. Great logic."

Tom shifted under your stern gaze, and you could almost see the way his mind was racing to explain himself. Yet, the way he followed your every move, the almost sheepish way he avoided your eyes when you got close, said everything. You were the one person who could make him bend. The only one who could command him without uttering a single spell.

“Fine,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll…handle it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You better. And don’t let it stink up the house, Tom. I want everything spotless before dinner.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, his voice dropping to a tone so soft, you’d never guess he was capable of mass murder. He snapped his fingers, and the body disappeared in an instant.

"Good." You placed a hand on his chest, leaning up to plant a small kiss on his cheek. "Now, was that so hard?"

Tom’s lips twitched as if fighting a smile. He’d never admit it, but he lived for moments like this, where your mere presence made him feel… less like the Dark Lord and more like your husband. “You really are impossible sometimes.”

You gave him a smirk, your hand trailing down his chest. “And yet, here you are— cleaning up your messes like a good husband.”

He huffed softly, pulling you closer. “Only for you.”

“You better. Now,” you said, glancing around the room. “I’m going to finish my book. And if there’s one bloodstain left on that floor—”

Tom sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, a resigned smile finally breaking through his facade. "Yes, dear."

[zriasstuff]

Mercy—Draco Malfoy x reader smut

Warnings: 18+ oneshot (1.7k words), barely any plot; just porn, sub!draco

To the person that requested a Draco Malfoy fanfic like 10 days ago: here it finally is

Draco inhales sharply through his teeth as you go over his bleeding wound with a cotton ball. You had told him a thousand times already to not get into a fight again, yet he just wouldn’t listen and did so nonetheless.

“C'mon they deserved it, you understand right?”, he tried to justify his actions, to which you shook your head in disapproval.

“You can’t just go around acting like a dick and then expect people to clean up after you all the time”, you lecture him, hoping he’ll see his wrongdoings.

“Well for now I got you, don’t I?”, he smugly retorts, hissing along the way as the cotton ball touches his wound again. What a prick he could be sometimes.

“For now”, you warn him sternly. Draco was well aware he’d have to play nice with you, his close friend who genuinely helped him when he needed it.

You, of course, didn't want to enable Draco, but he did show his gratitude in pleasant ways. Ways such as treating you to stuff in Hogsmeade, helping you with homework, sweet talking you to professors, and so on.

Today's wound landed on his lower torso, something he’d gotten from a guy on the Gryffindor quidditch team, whom he insulted as mudblood. Being a pure blood yourself, you were aware of your guys' hate towards muggles, but you didn’t condone it.

Seeing his pained facial expression, pulling all types of grimaces, you say “I know it hurts, but that will only help you to learn your lesson.”

“And what lesson is that? That I have to show less mercy next time?”, Draco stupidly grins when failing to acknowledge his fault.

“Sure, tough guy”, you roll your eyes at him.

Now, he was almost all fixed up and you just had to put a large, squared band aid over his cleaned wound.

As you lean in towards his lower torso, you hear a huffed grunt coming from Draco, who is looking a bit thrown.

“What is it, did I hurt you?”, you ask him.

Draco wasn’t hurt. More so, he was rather feeling something completely opposite.

Innerly, he started replaying the moment in his head of when your tits made the lightest contact with his dick. They had brushed over his groin, when you were leaning in to put the band aid on the wound.

Of course you hadn’t noticed, but he certainly couldn’t forget. His mind was going through all sorts of dirty, nasty, mental images. That one little touch caused all restraint to fly out the window, and all he could think of was how you would look naked, tits uncovered, bouncing in front of him.

How would fuck your tits and afterwards paint them with his cum. The position you were in also allowed you to give him a perfect blowjob. Draco was sitting on a chair and you knelt in front of him because it was the easiest way for you to treat him.

Surely, you wouldn’t have imagined that this position would cause his poor mind to fantasize to such naughty extent.

It became all too much in his head, such a reaction from so little touch. Was he really that horny and desperate? Draco tried to block it out, to not make this weird.

But seeing you like this, having felt you in such a way, simply made you too irresistible.

Draco didn’t even know what got into him, but he bent down promptly, grabbed your ponytail and told you exactly what he wanted- no craved right now.

“Please suck me off right now”, he suddenly muttered in your ear, giving you the most troubled look you’ve ever seen.

“What the fu- what the hell is wrong with you?!”, you exclaim at his words. You couldn’t fully believe what you just heard.

Draco pulls back again, letting go of your ponytail in the process. He seemed slightly ashamed, but you could tell he wouldn’t let go of this easily. Hell, if he played his cards right…

He himself couldn’t even fully grasp why he wanted this so badly all of a sudden. His mind was definitely fucking with him. But with all the stress he was under- being involved with the Death Eaters, and having no way of venting- all he needed was you right now.

“Please, just do it?”, he appeared defeated. You’d never seen him so frantic before.

“Look, I really need this, I need you. You’ll help me with anything, right?”

Needing to come up with a response, you go over all the possibilities in your head. You arrive at a well thought out conclusion seconds later.

“You’ll explain yourself later”, you firstly demand from him. You saw that Draco was completely out of his element, but that’s not why you agreed. Doing this for him would have him at your mercy, maybe you would enjoy holding this over his head later on. Win win, right?

“Ready?”, you coo at him before your hand makes contact with the growing bulge in his pants. Draco winces a little, letting out a relieved moan.

From all the pent up frustration, he desperately needed this. While you stroke around his bulge, he already starts jerking his growing length against your palm. That’s when you give his cock a warning squeeze.

“This isn’t up to you”, you talk down to him. Innerly you loved every second of this. Draco going from harsh and brassy to obedient.

Abruptly, he stops moving, so you carry on with palming his cock until it’s visibly hard through his pants. Here and there a little wince escapes his mouth, wanting immediate pleasure instead of tedious teasing.

After enough playing around, you start to unzip his pants with your mouth. You make sure to glance at him while doing it, just to see how crazy it drives him. His stunned reaction was so worth it.

Every second he relished and wished you would just take him in already. When you remove the last layer of clothing, you’re shocked to see how much bigger he is than you’d ever encountered. From your eyes widening and your mouth gaping slightly, he could tell his size turned you on.

His cock was incredibly hard and leaking drops of precum already from all the teasing, practically aching to be sucked and toyed with.

Your tongue licks a long stripe along his shaft first, which evokes a small whimper from Draco. Instantly he shuts himself up, wanting to control himself, but you want to hear more of those delicious sounds.

So, you keep peppering his cock with kitten licks, especially at his leaking tip. No longer able to hold himself back, Draco fully lets himself go and lets out a breathy whimper.

“Please stop with the teasing already”, he whines after having already endured that much.

Luckily you are feeling generous, so you slide him into your mouth, his big cock disappearing inch by inch. When it glided fully in, it hit the back of your throat, making you gag.

Draco had to forcefully keep his hands on his thighs, otherwise he’d destroy your throat right now. His cock felt so good in your warm, wet mouth. He was amused, seeing you gag from his length.

Not wanting to back out, you ignore your gag reflex. You keep your tongue flat, and start bobbing your head up and down on his cock. Instantly, you feel the saliva running down from the corners of your mouth.

It was messy and sloppy, and the whimpers coming from Draco were heavenly. While trying your hardest to not gag, you continued sucking and twirling your tongue around him like a lollipop. Of course you made sure that his balls didn’t feel left out either. With one free hand you gently massaged them, rolling them in your hand.

Soon enough the stimulation had gotten to Draco. The way you glanced up at him, doe eyed, salivating on cock, awakened some strange feelings in him.

A few more seconds of pure ecstasy, and he started violently bucking his hips, signaling his oncoming orgasm.

More uncontrollable whimpers and curses left his mouth. Finally, you tipped him over the edge when you let his cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly.

His ropes of cum quickly dripped down your throat- shame that you could barely taste it as he was in so deep.

“That was fucking amazing”, he sighs at you, completely out of breath.

With his cock still hanging out, even though it’s soft, you have a fun idea. You spit in your mouth, and as Draco watches, he has no idea what you’re up to.

His eyes widen, when he sees your hand move towards his cock again.

He curses loudly, when you start to pump his shaft. It was absolutely too much for him, especially after he just came.

“Tell me, did you come?”, you ask Draco in a teasing tone. He didn’t answer as he was too focused on the mix of pleasure and pain that was being inflicted on his poor, overused cock.

Completely ignoring the question, you ask it again, yet when there was no answer this time you start pumping him even faster than before. “FUCK”, Draco yelps out, as he clings onto his chair with both hands.

“Earlier when you came in my mouth, did you ask for permission?”. Of course he didn’t, that’s why you asked.

“No”, he whines, looking dazzled. “Stop fucking with me”, he groans, but secretly he enjoyed being messed around with. Maybe that’s what he needed, someone assertive, yet caring.

The agonizing pain was becoming too overpowering second by second.

“Ok, please let me off, I’ll be good next time”, he continues whining in his needy tone.

“Who said there’ll be a next time”, you coo, “and don’t lie, you’re enjoying this”. You continue torturing his cock until he finally can’t take it anymore, twitching uncontrollably in your hand.

As you keep roughly squeezing and pumping his cock, Draco painfully comes a second time. He throws his head back before looking at you again, meanwhile you seductively licked his cum on your hand. In the end, Draco managed to huff out a hoarse “thank you”.

After this blissful experience, Draco would be making sure, that there would in fact be a next time.

[paigestrap]

i need you.

paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings? smut (minors dni), light angst and fluff, swearing

summary - you and paige are friends until you aren’t 🤭🤭

enjoy!!! (please?) even if u don’t pls don’t tell me i’m sensitive.

you couldnt identify the point at which your friendship with paige grew into something more. meeting her in one of your soc classes when she showed up late and sat next to you, you two became friends almost instantly.

you knew who she was of course, had gone to many of the uconn women’s basketball game. and you would never tell her, but you were definitely a fan from the start, her game and personality being a major draw, and maybe also the fact that she was beautiful, like really really beautiful (a fact you would also never tell her).

you two started hanging out pretty much everyday, whether you were doing work, going out to eat, or hanging out with her and the rest of the team at a bar after games, the two of you had become quite comfortable in each others company.

but one day, things started to change. when your shoulders would touch watching your favorite show with her next to you, it sent electricity throughout your entire body, you felt yourself looking forward to the times when your hand would brush hers while walking side by side with her to class, your mood would lighten when she would text you to hangout or simply tell you about her day, and the time you spent together felt more and more intimate as your fondness for the blonde grew.

sometimes, it felt like paige was feeling the same thing you were. her eyes would linger for longer than you felt a friend’s eyes should, her touches felt more intentional, her compliments more frequent, and her words gentler. there were times when you both were alone where it seemed like the two of you were so close to crossing that line. like the first time she asked you to spend the night, and you woke up the next morning in her arms. or when she asked you to wear her jersey to her game the next day, and of course you obliged. she asked you afterwards if you would wear her jersey for every one, justifying her request by saying you’re her “good luck charm” and of course her good luck charm needs to rep her jersey, and of course, you obliged. when you were out with her at the bar and the two of you had been drinking she would constantly be touching you, hugging you, and telling you how much you meant to her. you couldn’t tell if this was paige being paige, or if she was truthful in her words and actions.

these moments were always left unspoken, as neither you nor her felt confident enough to ever cross that line. but your heart yearned for her. her touch, her voice, her laugh, her beautiful mind. and it was getting harder and harder everyday to hide your feelings.

now, with her returning to campus after the uconn women’s basketball team lost to iowa in the final four, you feel those inhibitions being lifted. your phone screen lit up as her contact appeared on your lock screen.

p: need u rn. can u come over?

you: of course, i’m on my way

as you walk out of your apartment to make your way to your friend you realize now the extent to which you feel for her and you want nothing more than to hold her in your arms and comfort her.

“hey,” she says, opening the door for you, her face betraying her overwhelming grief. you don’t say anything, you just pull her into a hug as she lets out her first of many tears.

“i know. i’m so sorry paige. you deserved the win, you all did” you say, comforting her while also holding back tears of your own.

“can we go to my room, just wanna be with you right now,” her tear stained eyes meet yours, and your heart swells at the urge to kiss her tears away.

“of course, i’m here for whatever you need, always” you say, grabbing her hand as the two of you make your way towards her room.

“i wish you’d been there, missed you so much it’s crazy,” she admits as you both lay down side by side in her bed. her eyes never breaking away from yours.

“i missed you too paige, im so sorry i couldn’t be there for you. i hope you know how much i wish i could’ve” you pull her into your arms and embrace her as her tears begin to fall again.

“i think,” she starts, but stops herself and pauses for a long time. you are about to ask her about it before she continues, “i think i realized something about myself this weekend”

another pause. your heart beats faster, you curse yourself knowing paige could feel it too. “what’s that,” your voice is barely audible as you struggle to get the words out.

“i need you, like i really really need you. ever since i met you i just wanna be by you all the time. when we lost i just wanted you to be there and,” she propped herself up to look at you before pulling you in to a tight embrace “i’m scared that you don’t need me too” her voice breaks at the end, shattering any hope of disguising her emotions.

“oh paige, you have no idea,” you say, feeling yourself breaking at her words. you pull away from her embrace and stare into her eyes, searching for a reason not to let your walls fall. you don’t see one, “i need you like i need oxygen to breathe. the world feels muffled when you’re not next to me, i admire everything about you and i’ve never felt this way about another person before. i’ve been so scared these past few weeks that i’ll lose you if you find out how much i want you, but i can’t go on pretending i think of you as my friend when you are so much more than that.” there it is. there’s no going back now. your eyes move away from hers as you await her response.

“baby,” she whispers, hand moving to caress your cheek as she gently pulls your face in her direction, “you’ll never lose me,”

suddenly, the space between you feels so small, and in a swift motion she closes the gap between you and kisses you. the world around you begins to spin as all of your senses become heightened. you feel yourself kiss back, not too hard, not too soft, and suddenly the emotions brimming for the past months come flooding to you all at once.

her hands meet your waist as she shifts her weight to be positioned on top of you, your legs opening as she places herself in between them, never breaking your kiss.

she eventually breaks it to look down on you, a million emotions displayed on her face. she reconnects your lips with hers and you feel yourself giving in completely, desire for the blonde blooming as her kisses grow hungrier. “i want you so bad” she says breathlessly in between kisses. her tongue grazes your bottom lip, requesting entrance, and as with all of her requests, you oblige.

“please, paige,” you let out, suppressing the moans threatening to slip out as her tongue explores your mouth. you tug on her shirt, needing to feel her body closer. she takes it off and removes your shirt as well. leaving you in only your bra on top. she smiles as she looks at your now exposed body.

“god, your tits are fucking amazing,” she remarks, staring at them lustfully. you blush, suddenly feeling so exposed. her hands reach your back as she unclasps the final layer, removing your bra and revealing your bare chest. she fondles your tits and the sudden touch elicits a moan you didn’t have the restraint to hold back. her hands feel so good, and you desperately need them somewhere else, “i wanna fuck you so bad babe”

“god paige please i need you so badly” you whine, so far gone at this point to even try to hide your burning desire.

“yeah?” she grins, biting her lip and licking her lips, “where do you need me, my sweet girl, show me”

you pull yourself up and remove your bottoms, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. you grow increasingly aware of how wet you are, and embarrassed at how obvious it is. her hands roam your body and she grips both of your thighs, her gaze lowering to your heat. “you’re so wet, all because of me?” she asks like she doesn’t know the answer and lets her finger graze over your clothed pussy. you moan as she touches your clit, grinding your hips desperate for more. “so needy baby, i’m gonna take these off now alright?” you nod as she removes your panties, leaving you completely exposed and at her expense.

her hand meets your bare pussy, rubbing in between your folds and onto your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you as your body reacts to her touch. you move your head to the side and close your eyes, letting the pleasure take over. but you are quickly brought back to reality when she stops touching you and takes your face into her hand, bringing it back to face her, “i want you to look at me when i fuck you, do you understand baby?” she plants a kiss on your lips and you nod in response, unable to say a thing.

her fingers move back towards your heat and she slides one into you, “how’s that sweet girl, does that feel good?”

“yes. please. more.” you whine, your body burning at her touch, desperately needing more.

“oh yeah?” she teased as she slipped another finger in you, slowly pumping them in and out of you, curling them so she could feel them stretching against your walls.

you were done for. your body twisting and rutting against her, only causing her to quicken her pace inside you, never breaking your gaze for a second. “god you’re so fucking gorgeous like this, all mine”

your senses overloaded by her hungry words and quickening pace, you felt yourself nearing your climax “paige, please don’t stop. i’m so close” you beg, causing her to fuck you harder and faster.

“yeah? come for me baby, you’ve done so well, my pretty girl,” that was all it took to force you over the edge. you come hard, screaming out her name as the pleasure enveloped your entire body. she fucks you through your orgasm, whispering in your ear the entire time telling you how pretty you look and how good you are.

the wave of pleasure subsiding and your senses gradual coming back to you, she slides her fingers out of you, licking your wetness off of them and falling back onto your smaller figure.

“holy shit” you breathe out, panting. suddenly feeling very sleepy.

“yeah, holy shit.” she laughs, “you’re so fucking hot, you know that?” you blush at her compliment, burying your face in her chest.

“do you still think i don’t need you?” you ask, looking up at her with a shy smile. she grins, giving you a sweet kiss and looking at you with so much endearment it makes your heart swell.

“no, i’m pretty sure you made yourself clear” she laughs, pulling you closer.

[darklordofthesimp]

Wrath (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Summary: After you risk your life protecting Ghost, the Lieutenant is furious. Angry enough, in fact, to pay you a late-night visit.

Requested by @chippyroh :

#69 Shut up or I'll shut you up.

#71 You’re driving me out of my fucking mind

A/N: Listen here you little shits, I will not be making a part 2 to this and you cannot convince me this time.

Category: Sexual Tension || Angst || Enemies to ? || Hurt/ Comfort

Warnings: Graphic language, Manhandling/Rough-handling, Sexually suggestive themes.

It was meant to be an easy mission but, really, what were you expecting?

You were experienced enough to know that when it was meant to be a breeze, you had to prepare for a fucking hurricane. And as Ghost stormed towards you, his fists clenched and his gaze furious, you knew this was gonna be one hell of a storm.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He didn’t stop until his chest bumped into yours, heaving and hard. His wide shoulders swayed from side to side as the officer sized you up. “Are you fucking stupid?”

You grit your teeth and glared. “I just saved your fucking life, Sir.”

You weren’t much in comparison to the towering figure that Ghost presented, you knew that. Still, you stood as tall as you could manage and set your jaw. You were right to provide him with backup. You were right to have taken out the people on his tail.

You’d done everything right.

So, why was he so fucking angry?

“Don’t start this shit with me, Sunshine,” Ghost hissed, fingers wrapping around your bicep. He pulled you in flush against his body, your armoured plates knocking against his. “That was out of line.”

“Saving your life?” You questioned, bewildered. “Saving your life was out of line, Ghost?”

His eyes narrowed and a deep rumble reverberated in his chest.

“No,” he snapped, leaning back. “Pretending you were anything but a fucking sniper was, though.”

Your breath left your lungs as though you’d been sucker-punched. You searched what little features you could see for an ounce of regret, any softness in his features to show he didn’t mean it- but the kohl on his eyes only highlighted the sharpness of his gaze.  

“This isn’t over, Sunshine,” Ghost warned, snatching his hand from your arm. He imparted a glare that had your throat tightening, before he brushed past you roughly.  For once, you wished you had never made it home.

______

You were angry at yourself for crying.

It was in your own shower and hidden from the rest of your unit, but you were still upset.

Your life was insane and full of enough sorrow to destroy most, and there were more than enough reasons to justify an emotional break. However, crying over a man? You were ashamed. Embarrassment seared red hot across your chest, it made your blood boil- it made you angry.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

You had done everything right. Price had clapped you on your back upon your return, commending your quick thinking. Ghost had scoffed at that, watching the interaction from the darkest corner of the room.

“Leaving your post is not ‘quick-thinking.’” The words had been a snarl from beneath his bloodied mask.

Price raised a brow as you shifted on your feet furiously. “I saved you on the evac, Sir. There was no fucking post.”

Ghost took a step toward you, his finger pointing at your chest as though he were marking you for death. You were thankful Price stepped in, you were angry but you weren’t stupid. You didn’t want to go toe-to-toe with the grim reaper himself but you would to defend your actions.

“How about you both hit the showers and cool off. Good job on today,” he gave the two of you a pointed look, “the both of you.”

You said nothing, only returning Ghost’s glare vehemently before storming off.

Your clothes felt too soft on your freshly scrubbed skin. It always felt like that after a mission; everything smelt too good, felt too good and sounded too quiet. It would take you a couple of hours to adjust, but your blood burned at your surroundings.

You were already overstimulated and now you were uncomfortable.

Fuck you, Simon Riley, you ingrateful twat.

You wanted to find him and shake some sense into him. You wanted a fucking thank you. You wanted his recognition, his approval and you seethed at your desire to feel accepted by him.

You dried your hair roughly with the towel, your frustrations translating into your menial tasks. Angrily shower, angrily dry off, angrily get dressed- you were fucking furious and you couldn’t get past it.

Bang, bang, bang.

You gasped, dropping the towel as someone battered against your door. It shook on the hinges under the pressure, and you stood frozen for a long moment. It was late, there was no reason for anyone to be visiting.

Everybody from the 141 was out and about, you and Ghost had returned a day earlier than expected.

You frowned as they knocked again with the flat part of their fist, the dull thuds picking up in volume. You scooped the towel from the floor, throwing it over the chair in the corner.

“Coming,” you shouted before they could go for a third round. You worried the frame wouldn’t hold up much longer. No sooner than you had twisted the handle, the door swung open. You leapt out of the way, eyes wide as a towering figure stepped through the threshold, slamming the door shut behind them.

The lock engaging behind him sounded like a death knell.

“Sir-“ you rasped, stumbling backward as he approached you.

“Cut that shit out,” Ghost snapped, “you know my fucking name.”

Fuck.

You stared up at him with wide eyes, as you continued back into the room. He was furious, just as heated as he had been when he’d gotten back from the mission. The man had clearly showered and changed, standing before you in a hoodie and balaclava.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” You glared at him, heart leaping into your throat as your back finally hit the wall. Ghost’s eyes slid to each side of you, marking how you were trapped between your own furniture.

“You know what you did today, Sunshine,” he said heatedly, “everyone can congratulate you about it as much as they want but you listen to me. Never do that again.”

You sneered, leaning forward. Ghost inclined his head, meeting you halfway as your noses nearly brushed. “I saved your life within the parameters of the mission and I’ll do it again and again if I fucking have to.”

“You were almost killed!” Ghost’s finger rose to press into your chest harshly. “Almost had a fucking bullet put between your eyes.”

“But I didn’t! Had I not stepped in you would have been a fucking pin cushion, Simon!”

You were forced back into the wall as he smacked an open palm into the plaster beside your head. You jumped at the sound by your ear, your lip trembling beneath his gaze. You could feel the heat emanating from his body in waves, he was fucking burning.

“What?” You whispered, your mouth dry all of a sudden. “You gonna fuckin’ hit me, Riley? You gonna hit me for doing my job?”

“Of course not, you idiot.” He snapped, leaning back. Ghost’s eyes narrowed as his hand slid from the wall by your head, resting at his side.

“Why are you here then? Barging into my room, locking the door behind you, putting me against the wall,” you listed, your voice low and urgent as you glared at him. Your chest heaved against his as you raced to catch your breath. “You’re either here to fuck me or fight me and we both fucking know that you hate my guts, Riley. So, get to it and get the fuck out.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine,” Ghost rasped, shifting on his feet. “You deserve to get your shit rocked for the way you acted out there.”

 You searched his gaze, his eyes the colour of a stormy ocean as he glared right back at you. “You don’t even know what you’re doing here,” you snarled, leaning forward once more. This time, Ghost didn’t challenge you. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved, L.T?”

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“Your life is worth more than mine, Simon,” you growled, poking a finger into his chest. “You’re my superior, it’s my job to protect you.”

“Then fucking listen when I say shut up, or I’ll shut you up.”

“Sniper or not, if it ever came down to me or you- it’s my fucking job to die for you-“

Your back slammed against the wall, breath leaving your body at the impact. You were disoriented for a short moment, vision hazy as you tried to regain your bearings. His body was pressed against yours, his hands gripping your shoulders so tight you knew you’d be bruised.

You couldn’t think, you couldn’t anticipate his next move. Not when he gripped your jaw, half his fingers on your face and the others wrapped against your neck. He leaned down and you flinched, opening your mouth to gasp.

He wasn’t going to hit you.

Instead, Ghost kissed you.

You don’t know when he had rolled his mask upward, but his mouth was hot and urgent against yours, groaning when he swallowed your gasp before it could come to fruition. He tasted sweet on your tongue and poisonous to your mind, drowning all your inhibitions in his touch. You whimpered against him and a wicked smile curved his lips upward.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly as his free hand moved to tangle itself in your damp hair, your dripping strands locked tightly between his fingers.

When he pulled away you were dizzy, your head falling back to rest against the wall. Your chest heaved as your heart pounded against your ribs, demanding to be freed.

There was nothing but silence for a long moment, the space between you both filled with his ragged breathing and your shaky gasps. You were so close you could taste him, his forehead pressed against yours and his eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re driving me out of my fucking mind, Sunshine.” Ghost rasped finally, his voice throaty and strained. “You just don’t fucking listen.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes trained on the beast before you. You’d watched this man tear people apart with his bare hands. You’d seen him take bullets to the chest, seen him snap necks and tear limbs.

But those fingers that had wreaked so much havoc rested on your throat softly, now. So gentle, as though he thought you would crumble beneath him if he squeezed.

But he wanted to grip tighter, and you knew it. You could tell by the twitch of his fingers, by the clench of his jaw.

“I can be taught, Sir,” your voice was barely a whisper but Ghost’s eyes snapped open as though you’d yelled at him. He watched you, like a predator observing its prey. You wondered if he thought he’d misheard you, maybe he was praying that he hadn’t.

When he leaned in close, your body shivered against his as adrenaline spiked your system.

“I’ll fuckin’ teach you to listen, Sunshine,” he murmured finally, fingers tightening against your skin. “Don’t you worry.”

Maybe he didn’t hate you, after all.

[myvoiddreams]

Fragments of Starlight (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: After being left behind, the reader is on their own trying to find a way out before it’s too late. The reader grapples with unspoken affection for Azriel.

Word Count: 3,695

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: I am so excited with all the positive feedback from Part 1. Seriously, thank you all! I really wanted to focus on building a relationship between Azriel and the reader in this part. That way we can get into the reader’s mind a little bit and justify (if that’s the right word?) some actions between the two of them. Again, I am super new to this and would love feedback on anything! My messages are always open.

Part 1, Part 3

---

Before

I raised my hands ready to strike. Sweat was running down my forehead as the morning sun was already shining hot. I looked at Azriel, shirtless, toned, and glistening in the early morning heat.

Distracting, but honestly, I wasn’t going to complain.

I brought my head down and went in for the strike. My muscles ached as I punched to the right. Azriel made quick work of my hit, dodging to the left. As he went left, I kicked left, bringing my arm closer to my body to maintain some balance. What I didn’t see coming was Azriel’s gasp on my leg pulling my body to the earth.

My back hit the ground with a thump, and the air inside of my lungs escaped me. I could feel the dirt sticking to my damp shirt. Azriel crossed his arms and looked down at me with a smirk on his face.

Oh fuck this.

With a grunt, I twisted my body toward his legs and yanked while he wasn’t expecting it. This movement pulled his body to the earth alongside mine. In one fluid motion I pinned one of his wrists to the ground with my foot. Having to use two of my hands to pin his remaining one next to his head. I also straddled in waist, leaning over him with a smirk of my own.

We were both panting at this point as I stared down into his hazel eyes. Those damn eyes.

“It’s going to take more than making me fall on the ground to actually take me down, you know?” I smirked down at him as I brought my face closer to his, still breathing heavily.

Azriel slightly lifted his mouth toward my ear, panting himself. “There she is,” Azriel purred up at me.

If that wasn’t enough to set me ablaze, I don’t know what would be. I felt a creeping blush find its way up my neck and onto my cheeks. I released him and sat in the dirt next to him.

I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, “You and Cassian better watch your backs. I’m getting better at this.” My hair was sticking to my face as I tried to wipe it away.

Azriel sit up, “You’ve always been good at this, Y/N.” He faced me and smiled, “Now, where is that winged bastard anyways?”

---

Now

They left me. Tears still ran down my face at the realization that I was not going to be saved. They were lucky to make it out of here with one of us, let alone two. There was simply no way that they would be able to get back into this camp after that. And that if there was anything left of me when they got here. I knew that it was only a matter of time before those males came back in here and realized that Elain was gone and wanted answers. Maybe even just to punish me for seeing it or taking part in it.

As if my mind summoned them, Hybern himself and a male drenched in all back made their way into the tent. I tried to dry up my remaining tears as fast as I could. I had to turn it off. The misery that surrounded not only my body, but my heart. I would not let them see that I was not affected by their treatment of me or my body. I would not let them earn that kind of satisfaction.

“Where is she.” The King demanded, “Where the hell is she!?”

I tried to hide my flinch as the male screamed in my face.

“She’s gone.” Is all is answered, but then, I was feeling angry. “She’s gone, and you will never get your hands on her again. You pig.” I spat. I would not let my eyes leave his.

The King wrapped his hand around my neck, closing off any air. “You’re going to regret that you were ever born, girl,” he snarled at me. My vision was fading, black dots swarmed it. Good. But, before I could find the release that death would bring, he let go. My body gasped for breath, trying to refill it’s empty and burning lungs.

That’s when I realized, the bleeding from my back and abdomen was slowing down. Was I healing? Slowly, but healing. When was the last time they used a blade on me? Half a day ago at this point.

I kept this revelation to myself as the male in all black strode forward and the King left the tent. To my luck, the male only brandished his fists, and no blades. I braced myself for the pain to come.

Relentlessly the male pummeled into me. Opening any old wounds and creating any new bruises he could. I forced myself to go somewhere else mentally. To only scream when I could not forcefully stop myself.

I wish they would have killed me. My mind chided. My mind.

If I was slowly healing, then maybe my mental shields were also coming down. The faebane that had been used on the knife was what was keeping me unable to feel Azriel, to communicate with Rhys, along with heal.

That’s when I truly let myself start screaming, projecting my mind out onto whatever would hear it. I screamed and screamed as loud as I could for anything. For help, for it to all end, for Azriel and Rhysand in any hopes that someone would hear me through my mind.

---

Before

I couldn’t sleep. The House of Wind was my only company as I strode the halls towards the library. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well read.

That’s when I heard an almost silent gasp and struggle. My heart sunk; it was coming from Azriel’s room. I couldn’t stop myself from walking closer to his door, continuing to listen. He remained making strained noises and grunts. What truly caught my ear was a whimper.

I simply couldn’t stand by. I slowly crept to open the door to his room. Azriel was in bed, shirtless and panting. The moonlight was catching his face, and he looked to be in agony. His bed was in disarray as the sheets were everywhere. Slowly, I made my way to the side of his bed and placed my hand on his shoulder.

“Az,” I let the air catch my whisper. “Wake up,” I slowly added my other hand to his remaining shoulder and shook.

At the movement his eyes ripped open and the next thing I knew, I was pinned to the bed with his blade at my throat.

“Az, it’s just me! You were just having a bad dream. I heard and came to wake you.” I gasped out, feeling the cold bite of the metal on my neck.

As fast as I was pinned down, I was let go. The blade no longer remained at my throat.

“What are you doing in here, Y/N?” Azriel ran his hand through his hair as he placed his blade down on a wooden table next to his bed. “I could have hurt you.”

I moved to sit up on the side of his bed, and I reached for his hand. I pulled him back to the bed, where we sat next to one another. “What was it about?” I questioned him. As long as I’ve known Az, I still wasn’t sure that he would want to open up to me. “We all have bad dreams Azriel. If I can help in anyway, please let me.”

I met his eyes as he sighed. “It was about my hands.” We both looked down, I hadn’t realized that I was still holding them in my own.

“About your scars? Your brothers?” I knew of what happened to Azriel and his hands, why he hated the sight of fire.

“Yes,” he sighed. I instinctually rubbed my thumb over his hands and smiled smally.

He looked so deflated. I hated seeing him this way. Sure, I knew that I liked him, hell maybe loved him at this point, but he was my friend first and foremost. I needed to be there for him.

“Do you usually have a hard time making it to sleep at night?” I questioned him trying to make him meet my eyes again. “I sure do.”

He looked a little surprised at the statement, but at least he was looking at me again. I sighed as I pushed myself back onto his bed and leaned up against the headboard. Azriel furrowed his brows at me in confusion. I only held my arm out to him, beckoning him to lay with me.

My heart was pounding. What the hell am I even doing right now? I asked myself.

But, Azriel listened and I found him with his head in my lap, laying down. My hand found its place in his hair. I played with it, and I struggled to keep my breathing straight. My other hand found his bare back between his wings and my fingers ran along it soothingly.

His husky voice broke the silence, “Thank you, Y/N.” He almost nestled further into my lap, finding some comfort in it.

“I’d do anything for you Az, even if it’s just hold you after a hard night.” I don’t know if I was crossing a line by doing this, but I would cross any line for Azriel.

“I hope you know I would do that same for you too, Y/N.” Azriel mumbled as his breathing steadied, and he found his way to sleep.

My heart felt like it was imploding at the sight of Azriel in my lap, at his words. Then, I felt a hum in my chest that wouldn’t go away. His shadows wrapped around us as I sat there. It snapped around us, this feeling that was like no other burrowed itself into my chest and made a home there. Mate. Azriel is my mate.

---

Now

At some point I must have fallen unconscious. I opened my swollen eyes to the dark. It must have been the following night. As my senses found their place around me, I realized that there was screaming outside of my tent. The dark was slowly brightening into an orange haze. This was no orange of the sun though; it was brightening too fast.

Fire.

The camp must have been set aflame like they did ours. It was going to burn down while I was tied up inside of it. Panic flooded every ounce of me.

How the fuck do I get out of here?

I had more strength than previously, my healing finally quickening. I thrashed in my restraints, opening more cuts along my wrists and ankles. The soreness of being beaten was nothing compared to the sheer terror that had its grasp on me.

The flame struck the tent and all I could do was stare at it.

---

Before

After the Acheron sisters had joined us in the house there was something different. There was a strange atmosphere around the house. Everyone knew that something was coming.

I tried to continue to pretend like everything was normal. I did my best to try and get Cassian and Azriel in the ring with me like normal, but now, they had different obligations popping up.

Feyre and Rhys we’re busy of course with the sisters. Feyre also needed to train her abilities from all of the high lords.

Mor was gone to the Hewn City so often it was like she no longer resided in Velaris. Even Amern made herself busy.

I was struggling with my newfound mate. I wanted Azriel more than anything, but I was terrified of ruining our centuries long friendship. I also wanted to be loved first, not have love forced upon me because of being mated.

I continued my walk through the House of Wind and found myself at Azriel’s door. I came here often enough in the centuries that I might not even knock, but I found myself doing so.

There was rustling before Azriel opened the door. His hair looked disheveled, and he was sporting a look on his face that immediately made me regret coming to him.

“Hey,” I smiled up at him.

“Hey,” he smiled back down at me.

“I’m sure that you’re busy with tasks from Rhysand and all, but what do you say about blowing that off and going on a run?” I blew out. I was tense, and I needed a distraction and my friend more than all.

“Y/N, I’d love to.” He sighed, his shadows dancing nervously around him, “But, I can’t leave. I have to make sure I keep an eye on Elain.”

My heart sank. This wasn’t the first time since the Acheron sister entered the house that Azriel told me no to because of.

“Oh,” I breathed out, trying to hide any of my disappointment, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.” I smiled up at him anyways before I turned on my heel and walked towards my own room.

The bond in my chest that would usually sing in his presence dimmed as I walked away from him. It left me feeling alone.

---

Now

The fire was all around me. The heat was excruciating. There was no way out of this. The wooden support I was chained to caught; it was only a matter of time before I did too.  

I continued to thrash, to try and break free as my hands above me burned. I screamed at the agony in my hands as I forced my arms down again one more time.

The chain came free of the burnt post.

I landed nearly on my face again as I inhaled ash. I tried to catch my breath before looking down. Now just my feet. The pole continued to burn as I trashed until the chain broke around the post.

I still had chains around my wrists, but I was no longer stuck. I took stock of my surroundings. There was a plethora of knifes, swords, and shields in this tent. Surely it must have been the King’s tent before I was strung up.

I couldn’t swing a sword with my wrists tied together, and there was one way I could think of breaking them. I walked toward the flaming post I was tied to and placed the chain and my hands above the licking flames.

I bit my lip from crying out as I let the chains turn red hot. The smell of charred flesh hit my nose amidst the smoke and ash making me gag. My hands were burnt and bubbling, but I could still swing a sword, there was simply no other option. I ripped at the chains as I tore my arms apart. One of the chain-link cracked apart, freeing my hands from being tethered together.

My hands were free, I was free. I set myself into action, I needed to get out if I didn’t want to burn to death. My healing was speeding up. My injuries were still open, but not bleeding. Not tearing themselves back open at the stretching as I moved my body. Though I was still not free of the pain they had caused me.

I grabbed a sword that was next to me and ripped myself free of the tent. There was chaos around me as soldiers tried to put out the flames that were soaring through the camp. It might have been a dark night before this, but the flames were everywhere, it lit everything up.

I took off into a sprint hoping my weakened body could keep up. I prayed that the fire was going to be a good enough distraction that I could keep running until I found true freedom. I screamed in my mind again toward Rhys and Azriel. I could take off into the trees, but them how the hell would I know where to find them.

I took a quick turn to a side of the camp that was not yet lit aflame. I nearly ran into the group of males, but I was able to halt to a stop in time. Breathless, I lifted my sword. My hands were bleeding at their blistered appearance.

“Now, how’d you get out, pretty one?” One of the males snarled at me as he lifted a sword of his own. The group of five surrounded me.

If I wasn’t going to make it out of this fight, they could not have me at all.

---

Before

Azriel finally was able to spend some time with me today. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t excited. We planned on spending it enjoying Velaris. We were going to meet at one of our favorite dining spots. I sat down at a table waiting for Azriel to come. It was strange to me how nervous I was. I tried to keep the humming in my chest to a minimum.

I opened a book from my bag and began to read as I waited. I heard footsteps behind me coming to the table and assumed it was only Azriel.

Then the smell hit my nose, mahogany and vetiver.  Asher.

Asher was an old fling. Something that had to be broken off quickly due to his attitude surrounding women and his massive ego. His hand hit my chair, and he pulled me slightly away from the table and facing him.

“Y/N, I didn’t plan on seeing you today.” He quipped, leaving his hand on my chair.

I crossed my legs and set my book on the table, “Surely I didn’t plan on seeing you for, hmm, the rest of my life.”

“Now, don’t say that” he put his face in mine close enough I could smell his breath. “I know you miss us, what we did together.” He whispered into my ear.

His voice sent shivers up my body, and not the good kind. He made me uneasy. He was a male who always got what he wanted, no matter what anyone else would say.

Before I could open my mouth to retort something back, he was ripped from my space. “I suggest you turn around and walk away.” Azriel’s voice sounded deadly as he pushed Asher away by his shirt.

Asher only brushed himself off like Azriel’s touch made him dirty and walked away without another word.

“Thank you,” I sighed out. “I usually can handle myself in these situations, I don’t know what came over me.”

Azriel only took the seat in front of me, and reached over the table to take my hand, “I know you can, but I’m glad I was here for you this time.” He smiled up at me.

---

Now

They’re coming. I heard Rhys’ voice in my head.

I was like a prayer had been answered as I faced down my opponents. In the sky there were streaks of blue and red surrounding the camp. Cass, he was okay. Relief flooded through me, even with my current predicament.

A male’s sword came down on me, I rolled avoiding the attack and sending my sword into another male’s abdomen on the way down. My wounds sung with pain as they hit the ground. The dirt stuck to my blooded injuries. I could only smell the ash surrounding the burning camp.

While I was down, another sword came at my head. This is it. So close to freedom. I covered my face with my molten hand out of instinct.

Then the sword and male were gone. A blade shoved through the male’s chest and he was strewn aside.

Cassian and Azriel hit the ground with a loud thump as Cassian threw the male aside. Their syphons glowed in night, no matter how bright the flames burned. Their faces were also made of igneous steel as they stared down the males.

A sound of relief flooded out of me as I tried to sit up. Cassian and Azriel blew through the remaining soldiers like they were nothing, until it was just my living form on the ground surrounded by the dead.

Tears welled up in my eyes, from the smoke, or the relief I wasn’t sure.

Azriel reached for my hand to yank me from the ground, but I cried out in pain. He let me go, eyes wide, as if I was a snake that just tried striking. I was shaking, my hands were in very bad shape. The skin was blistering away from the flesh, blood oozing from everywhere.

“It’s my hands.” I cried out, he reached for me again, placing a hand on my cheek, taking my elbow in his other. In one swift motion, I was cradled in his arms, and we were in the sky. My entire form was shaking as so many emotions clouded me.

He came back for me. But he also left me there, where I had to ruin my hands to get to freedom.

“Is Cassian okay?” I cried into Azriel’s chest and let him carry me far into the sky.

“You go through days of torture at Hybern’s hand and the first question you ask is if Cassian is okay?” A small smile shown through a Azriel’s face as we flew further from the burning camp. “Let that be some testament to your strength.”

I let some silence settle between us before speaking up again. “I didn’t think you were going to come back.” I almost whispered it. Tears still settled their way onto my face, leaving a trail in the ash the covered my cheeks.

“I’ll always come back for you, Y/N. I’m sorry I left you there in the first place.” He looked down at me. I saw my reflection in his eyes, broken, hurt, covered in ash. I placed my head back onto his chest and continued to let my tears fall.

I was nowhere near forgiving him. Nowhere near telling him he was my mate like I wish I had while being cut up. But there was no time for that right now. Now, I was free, and we were going to war.

---

Taglist: (sorry if I missed anyone, and please let me know if you want to be added for removed from this list).

@saltedcoffeescotch @thirstyroses-world @kingshitonly @topaz125 @spidersfrommars15 @mariahoedt @missromantasy @turkishgirlslife @melmo567 @breadsticks2004 @secret-sheee @sparksandstarss @cleverzonkwombatsludge @vhjlucky13 @kitcat912 @mummzy-chan @helo1281917 @faridathefairy @popcornlauncher

[evieolo]

You should write a smut about reader being horny and shit and wants Chris’ attention but he tries to focus on something else but she starts touching on him and he gives in and finally lets her use him to get off or something like that!!(you can add some stuff)

please I love your writing so much please this would make my day!!!!~~~❤️🫶🤭

Get Yourself Off

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Contains: SMUT!!/Use of “whore” and “slut”/fingering/grinding/heavy teasing/No use of Y/N

Chris knew what he was doing. I knew he knew what he was doing. His touch lingered on me leaving shivers up my spine. His hands crept too far down my body every time he touched me. Every time he kissed me he pulled me in; one hand on my ass the other on my thigh. It was leaving me a needy mess.

And he was engrossed in editing a vlog.

I knock on his door lightly, entering the room before he responds. I’d been in and out of his space countless times unable to stay put in one room for over five minutes. It was kitchen, stairs, playing with the dog, checking my appearance in the bathroom mirror, then back to Chris. Over and over again.

I’d even contemplated taking a cold shower in Nick's room, but I didn’t want to weird him out. He knew I’d already taken a shower this morning. What was I supposed to say? “I’m extremely horny for your triplet brother and I need to chill the fuck out.” Yeah…no.

“Chris?” I call. He hums bluntly in response showing little interest. “Baby,” I whine, approaching his chair slowly. I feel bad taking him away from his work. The one time he’s not all over me I’m all over him. I justify my actions with his own; he had no reason to kiss me and grope my thighs this morning, or smack my ass when we were walking upstairs, or squeeze my tits and tell me they’re “so pretty” — this is his fault.

I rest my hands on his shoulders leaning my head against him. I feel my heart rate picking up. We’ve had sex before yet I still find it awkward to ask. Usually, Chris initiates any talk—a perk of his perceptiveness.

I peek over his shoulder to his laptop, he’s editing a solo video. Him unboxing Ransom merch. How much editing does one video need?

I run a hand through his hair feeling the growing heat between my legs. Chris takes a second to respond, “Do you want something?” He questions with a head tilt. From the tone of his voice, I can tell he’s frustrated, knowing he wants to work on his video, he promised his followers It’d be out tonight. Is it bad the sourness in his voice only turns me on further?

I weigh my options, concluding there is no good outcome without Chris being inside of me. “I need you,” I mumble faintly.

He tilts his head to the side slightly hinting he didn’t hear me. “What?” He questions. My cheeks flush red, I swallow my pride and cough out my words. “I need you,” I repeat more sternly.

Chris raises a brow, returning his focus to his laptop. “Last night wasn’t enough for you?” He starts, resuming the jamming of keys on his laptop. I groan, irked by his response. “That’s not fair.” I pout, “You were squeezing my tits like thirty minutes ago—you’ve been handsy with me all morning!”

Chris’ tone deepens. Finally turning his focus to me. “Maybe you’ve just been a needy slut all morning.”

I flush at his words but smile slightly knowing if he’s talking like this I’m going to get what I want.

“Chris…” I drawl letting my words trail off, “Please fuck me.”

He shuts his laptop off and stands, groaning loudly pushing me against his bed. “You’re such an attention whore, left you alone for two hours, and you're begging to be fucked.” He chides. His dirty talk only turns me on further.

I view the growing bulge, concealed by his sweats and smirk “It doesn’t look like I’m the only one begging to be fucked.” I counter. Chris’ eyebrows fur together. “Shut up.”

He presses two fingers to my lips. “Suck.” I don’t hesitate to draw his fingers into my mouth. He smirks widely when I wrap my tongue around his index. “So needy.” He almost laughs pulling his fingers out of my jaw slowly grazing them against my teeth as he does.

He wriggles his fingers, admiring the spit coating them. He’s so unserious it’s painful. “You want these inside of you.” He smirks. His voice rumbles against my neck, sending the vibrations straight to my sex. “Please just do something.” I plead.

He presses his hand beside my thighs, pushing me back to prop me against the headboard. His fingers push away the fabric of my panties.

He stares at me with lazy eyes teasing my hole with his fingers and grips my hips, pressing me down into the mattress. “So wet for me ma’.” I let out a loud moan as his fingers sink into my core. He lets two digits plunge into my walls, stretching me out but intentionally missing my G-spot.

“Chris, that's not fair,” I whine softly, the agonizing lack of friction in my pooling heat turning me into a wanting mess.

He curls his fingers once, slightly, but then completely stops any movement.

“Chris—please. Move.”

I know he’s teasing. His fingers are long but he won't sink them more than halfway in, drawing out the intense swelling of my heat.

He laughs ignoring the aching throbs between my thighs. “You’re going to get yourself off on my fingers.” He sterns.

What?

I pinch my eyes shut. “But—“ I try to protest. He cuts me off. “You're going to make yourself cum on my fingers or you're not going to cum tonight.” He barks, his fingers at a standstill inside of me.

“Chris please—” I gasp. He starts to retract his fingers, pulling them back slowly. I squirm slightly but Chris grips my hips deeply. “If you don’t start moving in the next twenty seconds I’m going back to my desk.” He grits.

I sigh and look at him. His eyes are half-lidded hinting that he’s serious. Jesus Christ.

I whine and start to rut against his fingers, bucking my hips against his hand. The tips of his fingers merely brush my gummy spot. I buck again trying to gain enough friction to draw an orgasm. It was no use. Every time his fingers would draw close to my gummy spot he’d pull them back slightly only letting his digits brush my sex.

“Chris I can’t!” I cry. He smiles at my desperate self and without warning twists his fingers inside me. I gasp out a moan. “Needy slut can’t go twenty-four hours without getting fucked.” He starts pumping his fingers in my cunt lazily, withdrawing them every time my face shows he’s giving me pleasure.

“Fuck!” I draw softly, needing him to move faster—knowing he’ll stop if I ask him to. I pinch my eyes shut trying to find pleasure in what he’s giving me. He won't put his fingers fully in my cunt, purposefully drawing them away from my G-spot.

“Chris I need to cum.” I cry “Please make m-me cum please.” He moves his left hand up and pinches my clit. I yelp in surprise, my hips mindlessly stuttering up. A tear slips from my cheeks and Chris grins, slowly pulling his fingers from my cunt. “Maybe I should stop teasing you you’re dripping down your fucking legs.” Chris rasps.

I nod frantically.

He pushes two fingers in one quick thrust plunging straight into my G-spot flicking my clit with his thumb. My moans fill the room as Chris hammers his fingers into me with rapid thrusts. “Yesyesyes.” I stammer, his thrusts knotting my words.

My insides feel meshed—my breaths come out in whiney pants. So close.

He circles my clit faster, pushing me over the edge. I whine loudly, lolling my head back. “Chris! Fuck!” I stammer with a whine, struggling to speak with his fingers pummeling into me.

“Cum for me ma’ I know you can.”

I moan his name as my walls release. My legs shaking with my crushing orgasm.

“Fuck ma’ you’re dreanched.” Chris laughs. He pulls his fingers from my slit, my legs continue to shake at his drawn stimulation. My chest heaves, seeing white from the waves of bliss washing over me. Chris strokes my head pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips.

“You can open your eyes now ma’.” He laughs, pulling his body level with mine. I hum wobbly in response, blinking my eyes open groggily to look up at him, “Didn’t realize they were closed,” I mumble sheepishly.

Chris pulls himself level with me, his hair hangs slightly over his eyes. He smiles at me. “You’re so cute.” He presses a kiss to my collarbone. “And so sexy.” He grins, pressing a kiss to my chest.

He sighs, laying his head on my chest slightly before meeting his eyes with mine.

“I’m telling my followers the reason my video isn’t out on time is your fault.” He jeers, brushing my hair off my clammy forehead with his thumb.

“It was worth it,” I mutter letting a yawn escape me. “I’ll clean you up, you can go to sleep.” Chris smiles, getting out of bed, presumably grabbing a towel from the bathroom.

“M’kay” I mutter, shutting my eyes. Seconds later my thighs are met with a warm towel, steamy water dulling the soreness between my legs.

“Mm Love you, Chris.”

“I love you too ma.”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Best Present

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you give Dean adoption papers for Christmas.

“I’m gonna get us some more beers,” Sam announced as he climbed up the stairs towards the bunker’s exit.

You felt your heart begin to pound faster in your chest—this was the moment.

“You wanna help me clean up?” Dean asked as he began to gather all the wrapping paper—remnants of a great Christmas.

“In a second,” you said, reaching out and stopping Dean’s arm before he could grab more paper. “Can you…would you sit down for a sec?”

“Sure,” Dean said hesitantly, plopping back down in his chair. “Is something wrong?”

You didn’t speak as you reached under the couch cushion you’d just been sitting on and pulled out a manila envelope.

“I’ve got another Christmas present for you,” you muttered as you handed it to Dean. He looked from it to you in confusion before taking it.

“Why couldn’t Sam see it?” He asked, putting the pieces together.

“Just open it,” you insisted. He shrugged and complied.

“What…” Dean stared long and hard at the papers that had fallen out of the envelope and into his waiting hands. “What’s this for?”

“Dean…would you, um…” you swallowed hard, trying to get your breathing under control so you could force the words out. This was harder than you thought it would be. “Do you wanna be my dad?”

The rims of Dean’s eyes reddened as he looked from you to the papers and back. He dropped the pages on the couch and stood, grabbing you and pulling you into his arms.

“It’s just—“ you didn’t know why you felt you had to justify your actions, but now that you’d spoken you couldn’t stop. “It’s just that, you’ve always been there for me and you’ve always felt like a—“

“Don’t—you don’t have to explain anything,” Dean insisted, pulling away. “Yes, of course I…of course I want to be your dad.” He turned back to the papers, grabbing them and laying them out on a coffee table. “A pen, I need a pen, I need—“

“Dean, it’s ok.” You laughed. “They’re not gonna expire. I’ll get you a pen.”

“I know, it’s just—“ Dean suddenly started to laugh with you. “I just…this is—“

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you mimicked him with a grin. “Here.” You handed him a pen, and he sat down on the couch to sign the papers. Once his signature was put in about half a dozen places, he jumped right back up and grabbed you in another hug.

“You’re a real special kid,” Dean breathed. “And I’m honored to call you mine.”

“Right back at you…dad.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley

[ichorai]

thread ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; “they’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter. 

“of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “we showed them there’s no sharks in the water. obviously they’re going to jump in.”

words ; 6.6k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury/death/drug misuse, coryo's paranoia, he isn't exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Coriolanus came late to class. He rushed in, uniform only slightly askew, and hair messier than usual. You moved your bag aside so he could take a seat beside you. With a nod, he slipped into the row and began laying out his books. 

You wondered how Tigris reacted once he got back home. Probably worried sick for her cousin and her friend. Your father, of course, was furious with you once he learned about your tryst with Coriolanus in the Capitol Zoo, but there was little he could do when he was off working in the districts. During dinner with your mother, Lucretius Flickerman, and his wife, the tributes and the games were practically all the three could talk about. Lucky was going to be the first ever host, apparently.

How fun.

To neither of your surprise, Highbottom eyed the two of you with disdain. When you had strode into the hall, he remained silent. Coriolanus’ arrival seemed to tip him right over the edge.

“Both of your little excursions were in violation of about five different academy rules,” he grumbled. “Chiefly amongst them—endangering a Capitol student. Yourselves.”

“There were peacekeepers crawling all over the place,” Coriolanus retorted. 

The dean’s nose twitched angrily. Then, he fixed you with a harsh look over his spectacles, and drawled out your name. “Since you are the academy’s brightest, and your records have been… untarnished until now, I will let you off with a warning.” There was a pause, before the dean continued. “Mr. Snow, I’m moving for the gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor, effective immediately.”

“What?” the two of you exclaimed at once.

“You said we had to get them to perform, not stay away!” Coriolanus just about spat.

“I’ll add insubordination, as well,” Highbottom replied, tone venomous.

Raising your hand and ignoring the dean’s irritated exhale, you haughtily said, “It was me who went into the tribute’s truck. Coriolanus only followed. We didn’t know that we’d end up in a zoo enclosure.”

Arachne tittered with condescending laughter. “Yeah, and then you held hands with them. Made it seem like we’re the same as those animals.”

From your other side, Sejanus was quick to defend the two of you. “Coriolanus and Y/N didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.”

Stiffening, Coryo scowled and said, “I don’t need your help, Sejanus.”

He ignored him and continued on, “That the tributes are human beings, just like us. That’s why nobody wants to watch the games—because people know, deep down, that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedoms, their rights!”

“Dean Highbottom,” you called, not bothering to raise your hand this time. “How is it fair that Coriolanus gets disqualified while I’m not? We did what you told us to do! We were just trying to get to know our tributes.”

“Would you like to be disqualified as well? I can surely arrange for that to happen,” he deadpanned. “But poor little Wovey would be left all on her own.”

Nausea coiled within your abdomen. You drew yourself up to your full height. “Well, that would be entirely unnecessary—” 

Before you could finish your sentence, the doors to the lecture theater swung open once more, and Dr. Volumnia Gaul crept in, footsteps completely silent. How she managed that, you weren’t at all sure.

With everyone’s eyes on her, she fixed her stare on the two of you. Her hair was wrangled back into a high up-do, tall and grey on her head. 

“Quite a show you two put on. You’re good players,” she said, voice booming throughout the theater. “The hunger games needs good players. Maybe one day you’ll be gamemakers, like me.”

The thought sent chills up your spine. Coriolanus kept his expression stoic.

“If the games continue at all,” said Highbottom.

Singular blue eye flashing, Dr. Gaul grinned in an unnerving manner. “Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Snow and L/N in that zoo? The people would never stop wanting for more.” She drew closer to the rows of seats, gloved hand trailing over a few of the desks. “I came here to ask the star mentors a question… what are the hunger games for?”

You and Coriolanus exchanged a quick glance.

“They’re to punish the districts for their uprising,” he said, as if it were obvious. “To commemorate the end of the war.”

Volumnia’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, in a similar fashion to a snake.

“And what would you say, Y/N?”

It was hard to maintain eye contact with her, especially because it felt like she could peer into your very soul and dissect you apart from inside out—but you managed. With your father being such an avid supporter of the hunger games, you wondered if your answer would be what she was looking for. “I don’t agree with the games. But I know it’s because—fear is power. Keep the districts afraid for themselves, for their children, and you’ll always have the upper hand.”

She smiled, wide and eerie. “You’re right. Fear is power. But punishment and fear can take many forms. They can come from bomb droppings, the cancelling of food shipments, stage executions. The question is, why games?”

Defensive, Sejanus spoke up, “Shouldn’t we be asking whether or not it’s right in the first place?”

“You have a problem with my games?” she asked, unimpressed.

“Some of those kids were two years old when the war ended! The oldest of them were only eight!” he exclaimed. “The Capitol is supposed to be everyone’s government now. It is supposed to protect all of us. I don’t see how making children fight each other to the death is protecting anyone.”

With a sneer, Dr. Gaul told him, “That sort of sympathy might be interfering with your mentoring assignment, Mr. Plinth.”

Finally, Highbottom said to his colleague, “Perhaps Capitol students are ill-suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the games’ time has passed.”

Yes, you thought. It’s time to let it go.

To your surprise, Coriolanus abruptly stood up from his seat. “Dean Highbottom is wrong,” he asserted. “My classmates, too. Maybe Sejanus is onto something here. We should be viewing those tributes as human beings. You saw those kids at the zoo. They just wanted to get to know Lucy Gray. If we need people to watch, we should let them get closer to the tributes before the games. Make the stakes personal.”

“Who would watch the games if they care what happens to the tributes?” Dr. Gaul asked, as if the notion of caring about district folk was ludicrous.

“Everyone,” replied Coriolanus. “Especially if they thought the tribute they cared about had a chance of winning. People need someone to root for and someone to root against! And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we can even have them place bets.” 

You felt sick as you looked up at Coriolanus with a mildly disturbed expression. If he noticed, he didn’t give you any indication.

“I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena,” he continued. “But if you give her a chance—I would bet the Plinth prize that she could win people’s attention.”

Dr. Gaul was effectively intrigued.

“I would like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow,” she said. 

Clemensia, strong-headed as ever, stood up and said that she should be working with Coriolanus, as his class partner.

With an amused snicker, Volumnia bowed her head and made her way back to the door. “It’ll be an interesting test,” she ominously said before turning on her heel and exiting, her dark cloak billowing out behind her.

During lunch, you sat down across from Coriolanus in the cafeteria, noticing that he had three sandwiches stacked on his plate, along with half a dozen cookies on another. It was a rare thing, seeing him with so much food. Usually he opted for just starving himself to save some money, despite your urges to get him to eat.

“Hungry?” you asked with an arched brow, but he shook his head.

“It’s for Lucy Gray,” he replied, staring down at the food. Then, he pulled out a red handkerchief and started wrapping the food up. “I’m going back.”

With a soft sigh, you started digging into your own lunch. “Hopefully not inside this time.”

He spared you half a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you coming? Everyone else is. I heard Arachne tell Felix she’s going to use food to get her tribute to do tricks for her.”

With a wrinkle of your nose, you glanced over at her several tables down. “Sounds like something she’d say.” You took a bite of your food and chewed thoughtfully.

“They’re all just copying us, you know,” he said, sounding almost bitter. 

“Of course they are,” you replied, taking a drawn-out sip from your cup. “We showed them there’s no sharks in the water. Obviously they’re going to jump in.”

He tied the handkerchief together so the sandwiches and cookies would stay put. “They’re all sheep. No original thought whatsoever.”

There it was again, your wind-chime laugh. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, now empty save for a few bread crumbs. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Coryo. Besides, I’m glad most of the class is going. The tributes must be starving in there,” you told him. “I’ll come and bring some food for Wovey.”

A voice from your right jutted into your conversation, Sejanus’ angry face coming into view as he slammed down his lunch tray in the empty spot beside you. “You guys going to fatten up your tributes so you can finally start taking bets?” he just about snarled.

“Do you think they’ll give those kids a scrap if we don’t give them a reason to do it?” Coriolanus responded defensively, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “How do you think your tribute will have a chance if he can’t eat?”

“We can’t send them back to their homes,” you told Sejanus in a juxtaposingly calm tone. “The best we can do for them now is help them out here.”

The curly-haired man slumped forward, his shoulder stooping like an old wildflower. “He was my classmate,” he muttered. “Back in two.”

Though you gave Sejanus a sympathetic look, Coryo regarded Sejanus as if he was confused. He wondered why Sejanus even bothered to care this much when he was no longer a part of the districts.

“It’s not your fault that—” Coriolanus began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so blameless I’m choking on it!” he gritted out. Then, he let out a shaky breath, trying to steel himself. “My father bought him for me, you know. At the reaping. Just so he could show me that I could never go back to two.”

A frown marred your features. “He bribed Highbottom?”

“Something like that,” Sejanus told you, using the prongs of his fork to poke and prod at his food. “Morphling costs a pretty penny.”

Silence stretched over the three of you for a few seconds. Coriolanus looked annoyed, but Sejanus didn’t seem to notice. 

“Being in the Capitol is going to kill me,” he sighed.

This made Coryo scowl. “So do something about it.”

Sejanus’ dark eyes flitted over to the bundle of food in Coriolanus’ hands. “You’re quite the rebel.”

Coriolanus retorted, “Oh, yeah. I’m bad news.”

When he said that, he’d expected you to laugh again, but you kept quiet, staring down at your now-unappetizing lunch.

There was a considerably larger crowd around the enclosure that evening. You had a small basket clutched in one hand, consisting of juice boxes (still grape, since you now knew it was a safe option), soft bread rolls, and wrapped leftovers from your dinner with Lucky. You hoped Wovey wasn’t allergic to anything—you’d forgotten to ask in the heat of it all.

Coriolanus still only had the few sandwiches he saved from lunch, but you assured him that you were more than happy to share with Lucy Gray if need be. 

She looked much more haggard tonight, most of her makeup smeared off, her lips chapped and bleeding at the center from what you assumed was anxious biting, and her hair was more unruly. Though her eyes still held the same fire, the same passion, lighting up when she noticed the two of you approaching. She asked if the food was for them with slight surprise—you often forget that they hadn’t much to eat in the districts, anyway—and took what was offered, before handing off a good portion of it to her district partner, Jessup. The larger man declined the food at first, claiming he wasn’t hungry, but eventually caved and took the sandwiches. 

When he turned to walk off, Coriolanus asked about the nasty wound on his neck. It was just behind his ear and oozing with blood and pus. A bat bite on the train, Lucy Gray told the two of you, looking awfully guilty on behalf of her friend. 

Crooning from a little way’s away drew your attention to Arachne and her tribute. She was dangling a cold bottle of water just inches from the tribute’s reach, urging her to beg.

Lucy Gray’s brows cinched. “One thing I learned in twelve is that hunger is a weapon. Your friend over there sure knows it.”

The two of you scoffed at the same time.

“She is not my friend,” Coriolanus told her. “She is poison with perfect teeth.”

“How such a vile tongue hides behind those pearly whites, I wouldn’t ever know,” you remarked, earning you a snicker from Coriolanus. Finally, you peered around for Wovey, eager to finally get her something to eat. However, curse your damned softening heart, your eyes grew gentle upon seeing her curled up by the very same tree stump, head resting on Bobbin’s shoulder, fast asleep. 

Lucy Gray casted a glimpse over her shoulder to see what you were looking at. 

“Could you give this to her?” you asked, slotting the small basket between the enclosure’s metal bars. “When she wakes up, that is. She must be famished. Feel free to take anything in there, but just… leave some for her.”

The girl nodded, taking the basket from you and handing it over to Jessup, who cradled it as if it were more precious than gold. You watched him carefully—not because you were worried he was going to keep all the food to himself, but because you were curious as to why he hadn’t reached in to take anything for himself yet, even after several minutes passed by. 

Coriolanus leaned forward, wrapping a hand around one of the bars as he lowered his voice. “Are you going to share everything with Jessup?”

Lucy Gray’s expression faltered. “Why? You think I oughta build up my strength to strangle him in the arena? Not exactly my forte.”

“I might have a chance to help you,” he told her, watching her keenly. “To make some suggestions to the gamemakers. I might even be able to get the audience to send you gifts in the arena. Food, and water, to keep you going. You just have to try singing again.”

Firmly, Lucy Gray said, “I don’t sing when I’m told, I sing when I have something to say.”

“And you have nothing to say?” you asked her, head tilting. “The whole world is watching, Lucy Gray. Now’s your chance.”

A myriad of emotions crossed over her face. “It doesn’t matter much now, does it? I’ve seen the arena—there’s nowhere to hide. What’s the point?” Her gaze traveled from you to Coriolanus. “The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch and you say you want to help me. Which is it?”

“Both?” he offered. 

It didn’t satisfy her, but it was enough, for now. 

Then, she grabbed a sandwich from the red handkerchief and took a large bite, a muffled noise of appreciation falling from her lips. 

“Bread’s soft,” she said around a mouthful. “Softer than in twelve.”

Then, she offered a cookie to Coriolanus. He began to protest, but she insisted he take it.

“I saw you staring,” she said. “I always thought there was plenty of food in the Capitol.”

Coriolanus laughed, a coarse and unrefined sound. “One time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach.” 

A match of pity struck within the confines of your chest, but you remained quiet. Coriolanus told you stories of his times during the war often—usually after the two of you laid together, sweaty and naked, bearing your souls to one another. Pillow talk made him quite emotional, you found.

“And how was it?” Lucy Gray queried, eyes round.

Coriolanus took a bite of the cookie, humming in though. Then, he shrugged. “Pasty,” he said.

Lucy Gray laughed. She looked back to you, appreciative. “Thank you, for the food. I’m sure the little one’s going to be happy.” Your eyes flickered back to Wovey. She stirred a bit on Bobbin’s shoulder, but remained asleep. “She’s so sweet. So young. Something about her reminds me of my cousin, Maude Ivory. I can’t stand to think of them without me like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Coriolanus whispered.

You nodded in agreement. “They’re waiting for you, I’m sure. You’ll see them again.”

Lucy Gray smiled sadly. “I won’t hold you to that.” Then, after she took another bite, she blew out a gentle sigh. “You two seem like… genuine folk. It sure would’ve been nice to meet you under different circumstances.”

Coriolanus leaned his head against the enclosure’s bars. “One of your shows, maybe.”

Somehow, her smile grew impossibly wider, but her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I would’ve liked that.” With a light sniffle, she asked the two of you, “You two keen on dancing?”

You thought back to all the dance lessons you were forced to take as a young child. It was never your strong suit. “Not really, no. Coriolanus is much better than I am.” 

“Not your fancy Capitol dancing,” she told you, waving a hand in the air. “Dancing like you’re free. Dancing with no rules. Just the music, to guide you.”

Both you and Coriolanus exchanged glances. “Can’t say I’ve tried,” you replied. “But it sounds fun.”

Lucy Gray nodded, showing more enthusiasm than you’d ever seen in her before. “You’d have the time of your life. If you ever visit… I’d love for you to come. Both of you—we’d have a drink. Share a dance or two. We’d have all the time in the world. People always say our music shows are the best places for romantic dates. It’d be perfect for you two.”

It was a pleasant fantasy to entertain. But that’s all it was—a fantasy. When you looked at Coriolanus, his expression was simultaneously strained and distant, as if he were far away, thinking of other things. You reached out to place your hand on his shoulder.

But before you could, screams erupted from around the enclosure, followed closely by shattering glass. You whipped your head away from Lucy Gray, seeing Arachne’s tribute jabbing the broken glass bottle straight into her jugular. Coriolanus yelled something—you weren’t entirely sure what, but he jumped up to grab Arachne, applying pressure to the wound.

It wasn’t enough. 

Blood, dark and viscous and filling the air with the smell of copper, began to pool around her neck, down her shoulders, filling the crevices of her collarbones. She was blubbering something, gargling through blood, but you couldn’t quite hear with the loud static buzzing in your ears. 

You glanced to the side, catching sight of peacekeepers lining up their guns to shoot. You rushed forward to get to Coriolanus, yanking him down just as several shots rang out. He was whimpering, telling Arachne to hold on for him, but when you frantically reached down to feel for her pale wrist’s pulse—it wasn’t there.

Arachne was dead. 

You clambered off of Coriolanus, away from the dead girl, backing away. You only barely registered Sejanus calling out your name in concern, but you didn’t pay him any mind. Instead, you turned your eyes to the tributes, all ducking and cowering behind trees and tires. To your relief, Wovey was now awake, eyes wide as she crouched behind the tree stump with Bobbin.

The relief was short-lived, however, because peacekeepers began urging everybody away from the enclosure. You reached out for Coriolanus, taking his arm. He was shaking, eyes as large as saucers and visibly distraught. 

The two of you walked to his estate in tense silence.

Once there, Grandma’am and Tigris fawned over the two of you, though in far different ways. Grandma’am dove into a lecture about rebels and how lucky the two of you were that your tributes hadn’t done the very same. Tigris wrapped a warm shawl over you and a patched blanket over her cousin, telling Grandma’am that Lucy Gray and Wovey weren’t rebels, just innocent girls. 

“Trust me, that one hasn’t been a girl in a long time,” Grandma’am bitterly retorted. “Outside this Capitol, they’re savages, however they may smile. She will use you, Coriolanus. You must use her or you’ll end up dead in the trees, like your father.”

Coriolanus stiffened. 

An hour later, he tugged you into his room and kissed you hard and desperate, as if he wanted to distract himself from his own thoughts. You were the one to pull away, even if everything inside you was screaming to stay. You almost caved, almost, when his head dipped forward in an attempt to capture your lips again, but you placed the tips of your fingers over his mouth with a soft, sympathetic smile. You hugged him tight until he stopped trembling, and reluctantly drew yourself away from him. After embracing Tigris goodnight, you walked home alone with your thoughts, wondering if the games were going to continue in lieu of the evening’s events.

There was an assembly held at the academy for Arachne’s death, followed promptly by a proper funeral. Though, it didn’t quite feel proper with all the cameras and reporters hovering around. You wondered if people were expecting to see you cry. You were incredibly shaken, sure, but were you sad?

It’d be a lie if you said yes.

They made sure to zoom in on you and Coriolanus when you kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand just before he was appointed to go on stage and sing the national anthem. Why he was the one to do so, the two of you had no idea. It’s not like Arachne was friends with him, despite what the reporters wanted to think. It was a ridiculous waste of breath, he thought, singing for a girl he barely knew.

After Coriolanus’ performance, President Ravinstill gave a rather monotonous speech about courage and bravery. How Arachne was going to be sorely missed. Right—of course she was.

And the very next day, life moved on. As if Arachne’s death had never happened.

Soon after, they had all the mentors and tributes gathered into one of the academy halls— with the tributes shackled to tables, of course. It wasn’t like there was anywhere for them to run. You’d seen all the peacekeepers lining the hallways outside.

“In spite of yesterday’s tragic events,” Highbottom said, not a shred of sincerity to be found in his tone, “our President has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone that the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror. To which end Dr. Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special, televised presentation of each tribute to our audience so they could… get to know them.”

A glorified show-and-tell, you dryly thought. How wonderful.

You and Coriolanus looked at each other for a brief moment—he’d ask Lucy Gray to sing again, you were certain. Then, you turned back forward, where Wovey was fiddling with her thumbs, sniffling a few times.

“You’ll have an hour to discuss strategy,” said the dean, before whisking himself off to the shadows of the room to down another vial of morphling.

You sat down in front of your tribute, trying your best to offer her a warm smile.

“Did you like the food I brought? Was it okay?” you whispered, making sure to lower your voice.

A nod, a scuffle of feet. Her bottom lip trembled.

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you moved on to the pressing matter at hand. “Okay, Wovey. I need… I need to know what you’re good at. Are you a fast runner?” 

She thought for a moment, but then shook her head.

“I know you can climb?”

She let out a shaky sigh. “I used to climb in my mama’s factory all the time. Trees, too.”

“Good. That’s good,” you murmured, pulling out a notepad so you could jot some things down. “Are you good at hiding? Staying still?”

“I think so,” she said, looking awfully uncomfortable. “Will I go back home if I win?”

A sharp pang hit you square in the chest. You tore your gaze away from your notes on the paper to look at her. 

“Yes,” you hesitantly replied. “They’ll take you home.”

This seemed to satisfy her for the time being. Gave her hope that you perhaps shouldn’t have instilled.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “So—for your televised presentation. We need to win the audience over so they send in donations—I’d be able to send you things. What do you want to do?”

After quite a bit of back and forth, you managed to get Wovey to agree to talk about her family on stage. How much she missed them. It wasn’t much, but perhaps the youngest tribute sympathy card would push the odds in your favor.

Halfway through the hour, however, Coriolanus and Clemensia were called away by Highbottom—most likely to discuss the proposal Coryo had written up once you left the estate. You made a mental note to ask him how it goes once you saw him again. You felt bad, seeing Lucy Gray sitting all alone, bound hands lightly rapping against the table’s wood.

By the stroke of four in the afternoon, they gathered all the mentors and tributes in front of the arena. Coriolanus came bounding up to the group just seconds away from the gates opening, appearing breathless and mildly frazzled. 

“You okay? Where’s Clemmie?” you asked, resting a hand on his elbow, brows kinking with confusion.

“She’s… not going to make it.” He winced, appearing distinctly torn. “I’ll tell you later.”

There was a brief silence where you scrutinized him, eyes wide. Something bad happened when he was with Dr. Gaul, and you weren’t too keen on finding out.

You walked alongside Coriolanus into the arena, with your two tributes in front of you. Lucy Gray was saying something comforting to Wovey in that sweet voice of hers, and for that you were grateful. The last thing you needed was Wovey to break down in an anxious mess. 

The arena itself was spacious but incredibly rundown, crumbling under the weight of its neglected upkeep. The glass roof was stained and dusty, rusty slants creaking as they parted to filter sunlight into the dome.

“Welcome to the arena of the 10th annual hunger games,” a distorted voice echoed through the arena’s shoddy speaker system. “Tributes, mentors, you have fifteen minutes to survey the space and discuss strategy.”

With one final squeeze on Coriolanus’ shoulder, you parted ways with him, stepping beside Wovey to urge her into a lap around the arena. Staggered rows of dusty seats lined the edges high above the ground—Wovey was a good climber, wasn’t she? 

You tried your best to give her advice. “Hiding in the seats is your best option. Climbing over the rows whenever someone comes to attack you should buy you time. You’re small, too—I think you’d be able to crawl beneath the seats to get away. As for weapons… maybe grab something small from the center. A knife or a dagger. But only if you have time, and only if you know you can make it. If not, just make a break for the seats, as fast as you can. Got that, sweetheart?”

Wovey stayed silent. But she nodded. Nodded and nodded until you worried her head was going to pop right off. 

You bent down at the waist slightly so that you were eye-level with her. “I’ll be watching you the whole time. I’m there if you need m—”

Sudden explosions rang out about the arena. Plumes of dust flew everywhere, blinding you almost instantaneously. With your eyes squeezed shut, you felt the ground shake and split and rumble until another closer explosion flung you a good few feet off the ground. You landed on your side with a strangled scream, though the pain only registered a few seconds later. Cracking your aching eyes open and squinting through the haze of dust, you caught sight of shattered glass thundering around you like crystalized rain, nicking your skin with sharp pin pricks. 

Your right side buzzed with warmth. Something damp. You dazedly looked down.

Oh.

It seemed you’d landed right on a broken metal pipe, sticking right out of your abdomen. Blood was pooling down your academy uniform, soaking the fabric a far more sinister shade of red. You choked out something akin to a dry sob, before screaming out for help. You heard dozens of similar cries echo back to you.

With a grunt, you pushed yourself up, 

“CORYO?!” you screamed as loud as you could. Faintly, you could hear his strained voice echo your name back—somewhere across the arena, you’d wager. 

The pain was starting to grow worse. Searing, almost, as if you were being laid over an open fire. You staggered through the rubble, pressing a hand to your side in a terrible attempt to staunch the bleeding, careful not to jostle the pipe. It was probably the only thing keeping you from bleeding out right then and there.

As you kept moving, you caught sight of a large, gaping hole at the opposite end of the arena. There were tributes running out. Peacekeepers shooting them. The explosions had been so loud that your ears were ringing with terrible white noise—you couldn’t even hear the sound of the rifles blasting.

You glanced around wildly. 

You spotted the small little girl near the edge of the arena. Running with Dill, you realized, mind still lagging a second too late from shock. Another explosion rattled through the arena—this time, crumbling the roof away completely.

With a mangled noise, you began limping as quickly as you could.

Another call of your name, echoing and rattling about your skull, and Coriolanus materialized right beside you out of seemingly nowhere. There were two of him, you realized. He appeared fuzzy. 

You reached out for him, but he suddenly pulled you forward, yelling something. Something you couldn’t hear. A flash of rainbow by his left, and you saw Lucy Gray just barely escape being crushed by a large stone support column. 

More crumbling ceiling. Coriolanus’ hands were cold when he urgently shoved you forward. So hard that you went tumbling down, screaming with the sudden painful jolts the metal pipe sent shooting up your spine. A second later, you blearily looked around for Coriolanus—realizing that he’d pushed you into the clear when you found him pinned down under heavy foundational slants—and they’d caught on fire. 

Numb panic shot through your mind. You barely registered your own voice croaking out his name. You tried to crawl towards him, but he only seemed to get farther away. 

The last thing you saw before your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you went careening backwards was the rainbow dress, and wild, dark hair. 

The hospital bed was far from comfortable, but you’d been so tired you were knocked out for half of the day. Though, Tigris told you that you did sort of wake up at some point in the night, mumbling Coriolanus’ name with half-cracked eyes, before falling right back asleep.

He’d startled awake before you—rushing to your bed (right beside his) and taking your limp hand in his cold, clammy one. Brushed the hair away from your forehead and muttered apologies and please don’t die like they were a mantra.

When you finally stirred, you nearly burst into tears upon seeing Coriolanus.

“I thought you died,” you dry-sobbed. Your side ached considerably with the effort. “I thought I was going to die.”

He drew you into a loose hug, careful to avoid your bandaged midriff. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m here. I love you—I’m not going anywhere, okay? Lucy Gray saved you. Saved us.”

“She did?” you croaked, voice soft. Yes, you sort of remembered. It was all a blur.

“She caught you before you could crack your head open on the ground,” said another voice. You turned your stiff neck to see Sejanus at the foot of the other side of your bed, next to Tigris, who was running her hand up and down your arm in a comforting manner.

You blew out a shaky sigh. Your head pulsed, and you suddenly felt nauseous. “What… what happened?”

They took turns explaining. Rebel bombing. The dead tributes. The president’s son, Felix, in critical condition. Sejanus’ tribute missing. How the games were still commencing regardless. The pipe that had been lodged in your abdomen missing any vital organs. How you were lucky to be alive.

“Wovey?” you whispered. “Is she okay?”

Coriolanus smoothed a hand over your head. “She’s okay. Not one of the ones that died.”

“Lucy Gray?” you whispered. 

“Alive. She could have run. She stayed back to help you and me,” he said as his hand traveled down to gently cup your face. There were dark circles under his eyes. “I owe her now. She saved the love of my life.”

“Oh, Coryo—are you okay? Are you hurt?” Your gaze roamed all over his form, clad in an identical hospital gown. 

“A few burns and bruises. Nothing compared to you.” 

You drew in a staggered breath. Every muscle and tendon in your body screamed with even the slightest movements. 

Tigris squeezed your hand. “We were so worried for you. Coriolanus couldn’t sleep all night. Your mother came by earlier but she had to leave—a spill in the lab, or something. And your father sends his love from district two. Your mother said he was furious. Military is doubling down.”

“Typical,” you whispered, supplying the three with half a weary smile, glad that they were there for you. “I can’t believe they’re going on with the games tomorrow. This is absurd.”

“They don’t want to seem weak,” Sejanus bitterly replied. “But you woke up just in time. The televised presentations are starting soon.”

Nearly an hour later, Sejanus switched on the television set hanging in front of the beds. Tribute after tribute went by, most of them appearing gaunt and exhausted. True to what the two of you had discussed, Wovey got on stage and talked about her family back in district eight, despite looking rather shaken. The audience crooned and sighed with pity. Donations were sparse, but still more than you had expected, to your bittersweet relief. You watched from the hospital bed, curled up with Tigris at the head of it, your head on her shoulder, whilst Sejanus and Coriolanus were standing far closer to the curved screen. 

Lucy Gray was the last to go on. She had a guitar with her. And she sang a beautiful song—one about a boy back from home, she said. The audience cheered and sniffled. Even the nurses stopped their bustling to watch, some of them discreetly wiping away tears.

Once visiting hours were over and Tigris and Sejanus were shooed out of the hospital, Coriolanus sat beside you and slung an arm over your shoulder. He slotted his fingers beneath your chin and kissed you deeply. It was a slow embrace, with not a hint of sexual intentions—he just wanted to hold you. Remind himself that you were still alive, still here, still his.

Your nose nudged his when he laid his forehead over yours. The two of you breathed in each other’s comforting presence. Just the two of you. It reminded you of when times were so… uncomplicated. Before all the mentoring came along, the only things you had to worry about were grades and Coriolanus’ refusals to eat properly.

Then, he told you about Clemensia. How she was probably somewhere in this very building. How she screamed when she was bitten by the snake muttation. Your mind raced with questions, but you yawned instead and leaned against his chest. 

“I love you, too, Coryo,” you whispered into his hospital gown, realizing you hadn’t said it back earlier. 

A few minutes later, you were back asleep. Coriolanus was careful not to wake you when he laid you back down. Tucked the blanket up to your chin. He kissed your hairline once more, regarding you with a fond expression, before straightening, trying his best to ignore the aches blossoming over his back and legs.

And then he left the ward, assuring the doctors that he was fine and he could be discharged. They reluctantly agreed after a brief check-up, and had him sign off for himself. Once he was out, he immediately set off for the arena, trying to search for something, anything to keep his tribute alive.

Tunnels. The ground had collapsed into them, giving Lucy Gray a perfect place to run and hide. He went back home, making sure Grandma’am and Tigris were asleep—before pouring a copious amount of powdered rat poison into his late mother’s compact. 

It was cheating. But you and Sejanus had both said it before—he was a rebel by nature. Bad news.

He visited the zoo enclosure and gave it to her then, informing her of the tunnels. Wiped her tears with a handkerchief, then told her he owed her his life and more. That you were okay, and it was all thanks to her. Lucy Gray looked overwhelmed for a moment. She did what any decent person would, she thought. He promised her that she’d get out. Return home to the Covey. False hope whispered unrealistic dreams into her ears and she let herself listen. 

“We all do things we’re not proud of to survive,” he whispered when Lucy Gray attempted to protest, not wanting to poison anyone. He pushed the compact firmly into her hands. “Do it for your family.”

Conflict warred across her features. She nodded once, then twice. 

Coriolanus' expression set with determination. “We are going to win this, Lucy Gray. We’re going to win this together. I’m going to get you home.”