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thewidowsledger · 2 days ago

Text

Mistake

Pairings: Professor!Natasha Romanoff x College Student!Female Reader

Word count: 4.2k

Tags | Warnings: +18 smut, ANGST, vile, mean, obsessive, hurt and dark Natasha, Natasha has a penis, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, hate fuck, crying but def not dacryphilia, kind of dubcon, noncon breeding

Author's Note: This is by far the darkest fic that was requested to me…I might be overreacting but I just a baby. I don't know how Latin honors works from others so I just referenced it to mine. Plot is kind of inspired with the song Teacher's Pet but it's the other way around. Request

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⧗

"What happened to us?" She asked again. The question hung in the air, demanding an answer that you know yourself wouldn't be willing to give.

Because you just want to forget it, forget it all—forget her.

⧗

"Isn't Y/N your rival since like 8th grade? You always hated the girl man! How come you're confessing your feelings to her on our graduation day?!" Rhodey groaned while rubbing his entire face as he talked to his best friend who just told his deep shocking secret.

"That's when I started loving her too." Tony simply replied.

You and Tony were actually schoolmates since grade school. And you have always been a top performing student ever since, while Tony only got to show his skills and intelligence not until high school—late bloomer as they say.

Who would imagine that the shy weird kid back in grade school would turn into a big massive fuckboy slash science freak in high school until college?

"So what's the plan, man?" Rhodey can only ask. He and Tony have been side by side since forever so there is no way he will not support him in getting to you. "Tony, as much as I want to support you in this…thing. You know your reputation. First, you are Y/N's acads rival, as long as there are numbers and letters and numbers and letters mixed together you are enemies and everybody knows that. Second, you have a reputation of sleeping with so many women. You know you didn't have your name cleared about the sleep night with the entire cheerleading team two years ago, in fact you didn't want your name cleared because you liked having that reputation."

"That was two years ago, I'm different now, at least I am trying too."

"I can't believe this. But honestly, I'd hit that." Rhodey smirked, showing your beach photo wearing a maxi skirt, a crochet top and the black glasses you always wore.

"Okay, enough of that! That's…that girl is mine, man. Please bro code." He snatched his friends' phone away from him and turned it off. Tony doesn't need to look at your photos anymore since he had memorized each photo of yours because he had been checking on your Instagram for at least twice a day.

"I was just joking! Of course I wouldn't." Rhodey chased his phone and was able to get it before Tony put it in his pocket. "So what's the plan? How will you…you know?" He shrugged while looking intently at his friend.

"Don't worry, I'm never running out of plans and pick up lines." He let out a laugh while also flexing his biceps

"Hey, hey! Friendly advice man? Just cut with your bad pick up lines and be a man. You just told me she's the girl you want to marry and she looks like the type who wouldn't fall for jokes or pick up lines. This isn't any rom coms, if you want her to fall in love with you, compliment and admire her mind—her intelligence."

"O…kay…where did that come from? That was a good one, Rhodey. I never thought I would hear that from you." Tony tried not to laugh his ass off, but the words of wisdom his friend just told him was something he needed.

Rhodey just shrugged, a genuine smile on his face showing as he looked at his friend. "I've always had it in me, Tony. It's just you never asked for some advice. Besides, you're different and so am I. And now, seeing you genuinely in love with this girl? I just know you need some unsolicited advice from mister lover boy right here."

"Hey, I'm a mister lover boy too." Tony pouted.

"You can be. But first, we have 8 minutes to get to Mr. Coulson's class."

The two sprinted out of the cafeteria, not even noticing Professor Romanoff sitting in the corner, her nails grazing hard against her own coffee mug.

⧗

"You're not gonna run for Latin?" You asked Tony, you were frustrated, you expected him to be your rival up until the end but when you knew you were the only one who filed for latin honors in your class, you were infuriated. You should be thankful, really, because you have no more competition but…

"I had 2.75 in molecular dynamics in 3rd year, if you didn't know. So basically, I'm not eligible to run for latin since then." You huffed at his reply, you don't know if it's out of disbelief or relief because he had that grade that made him not qualified for latin anymore.

"Did you purposely fail that class?" You asked him suspiciously. "Because I don't want to have this honor if you just basically gave it away. Like what you did in our elemag quiz bee during 10th grade, you said I only won because you basically let me, because you were just forced to join."

Tony pinched his nose, trying to hold a giggle. You are so cute, he thought to himself. Always so competitive and he loved every bit of it.

"I sucked at the subject, I promise, princess." He replied sincerely, not teasingly and provoking like he always was when he talks to you. Like when he tells you to calm yourself down before you internalize everything you had reviewed for a quiz bee, because it's just him you're gonna have to contend in some stupid quizzes.

You hated the man, but he's like a part of your system. You wouldn't function without him infuriating you—without him always competing with you.

"So…congratulations, summa cum laude." You were shocked at his words and genuineness but you didn't let him notice. For once, he didn't annoy you—for once—he's not your rival.

Before Tony could hand you the bouquet of tulips he was holding, a student suddenly rushed up to you.

"Hey, Y/N," the student said, her cheeks blushing as her eyes darted between you and Tony. "Professor Romanoff is asking for you in her office."

Hiding the tulips behind his back, Tony feigned nonchalance while you fought back your irritation. You couldn't believe it—even after all this time, he still had an effect on the women in your school. Unknown to you, the student had glimpsed the flowers he was secretly holding in his hands where she thought were for you.

"R-right now?" You stammered and the student nodded before bidding goodbye to the both of you.

"Are you alright?" Tony asked, noticing you turned pale.

As Tony asked you if you were okay, you found yourself blurting out, "Can you come with me?" You immediately regretted your words, silently cursing yourself for asking for help from the one person you loathed the most.

Despite the tension between the two of you, Tony agreed to accompany you to Professor Romanoff's office. As you walked, he fidgeted awkwardly, still holding the bouquet of flowers behind his back. Whenever you stole a glance in his direction, he'd turn away, so you wouldn't notice the bouquet peeking behind him.

The walk was filled with an uncomfortable silence, neither of you uttering a single word until you reached the professor's office.

Tony was about to reach for the door handle to Professor Romanoff's office, you quickly stopped him, passing him your bag. He shot you a questioning look, his eyes filled with concern as he asked, "Are you okay?"

You just gave him a small nod. He took your bag without protest and offered a reassuring nod in return.

"I'll wait for you here," he said, awkwardly holding your tote bag and wiggling his fingers as you go inside. His other arm was tired from having to hold the bouquet behind his back.

He could give it to you after, he thought.

⧗

You closed the door, but you deliberately left it unlocked. After a moment, Professor Romanoff emerged from the bathroom, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

"Professor." You said, your head bowed in submission. Despite your fear and trepidation, you couldn't bring yourself to meet her gaze, keeping your eyes on your shoes as you struggled to maintain your composure.

She walked towards you, your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Your lips trembled, and your shoulders tensed up as if preparing yourself for the worst. Your shoulders grazed onto each other as she locked the door behind you, trapping you inside with her.

"Is the pictorial done for graduation?" She asked, it came out soft but cold.

You took a deep breath, gathering what little ounce of courage you had left and managed to stammer out, "Yes."

Professor Romanoff's eyes traveled down your body, scrutinizing your outfit. You were wearing a skirt that teetered on the edge of being too short, paired with a fitted white top and a cardigan. You fidgeted under her intense scrutiny, feeling exposed and vulnerable under her stare.

"May I ask why I was being called, professor?" You asked, you bit your lip after for trembling too much.

"You're the only candidate for the Latin honors in our program. I talked to Professor Coulson and others in the faculty, and all of them said that your position is already secured for it not to drop below a 2," she stated. "Many professors are rooting for you to deliver your speech in 5 months."

And you? You desperately want to ask but you hold yourself back, keeping the question locked inside your mind. You wanted to speak less to her as much as possible, so you just nodded.

The room was filled with silence for several minutes, and you just stood there while she was still sitting in her office chair.

"I missed you."

Your heart literally dropped. The last time you had heard those words from her was two years ago, when you both had been caught up in a dirty secret affair.

"Didn't you miss me too? Detka? " You begged in your mind for her to not to call you those russian pet names again, well, it's one of your weaknesses still after so long.

You shook your head side to side in denial and screwed your eyes shut, as if trying to block out the words and the memories they stirred up. The mere thought of admitting to missing her was too much for you to handle—because you did, you missed her so much and you hated yourself for it. So every time your heart flutters when you see her along the hallways, you move to a different direction just to avoid her or if your mind starts to think about her, you immerse yourself in studying which most of the time failed to work.

You tried to be strong and you think you're doing good at it. You told yourself as long as you're not going to be alone with her again, you'd be fine.

And you are definitely not fine right now...

"After you came back from your immersion program, you didn't talk to me anymore..." Her voice was dark and tinged with hurt that had festered over the time you had spent away.

"What happened to us?" She asked again. The question hung in the air, demanding an answer that you know yourself wouldn't be willing to give.

Because you just want to forget it, forget it all—forget her.

Her words echoed in the air, a single tear slipped down your cheek, your breath growing more labored with each passing second. You couldn't bring yourself to answer her, your throat tight and your body trembling.

"Did you even lo—"

You didn't let her finish, you don't want her to ask you that question because you're afraid about the answer that you had kept hidden, locked in the deep, dark corner of your heart. "What I felt for you was…genuine."

What a nice way to put it.

"Genuine?" She huffed, she could take that one for now, Natasha thought. "If it's genuine then why am I a secret?"

"It was a mistake!" You rushed out before you could even blink. What would people think if they knew? That the top student in the university only got her achievements because she was basically a professor's cock sleeve?

"Nat—Professor…what…what happened before was a mistake. I told you that, right? And you know it too! We talked about it after I went to my immersion, that we'll stop. God, please, you know how wrong it was!" You cried desperately, it's not loud but it's enough for her to hear.

"Mistake?" she snapped and you can see the hurt in her eyes. "The bar, yes. That could be a mistake."

You cleared your throat awkwardly, memories of that night suddenly flooding your mind. The way the two of you danced, the way she laughed, how her lips tasted like whiskey...and then, the realization that hit you both when you're both sobered up. That was the night you slept with her, so much for being drunk you didn't realize it was your professor—the professor you had a crush on.

"What about here?" She pointed to her desk, where she had pounded you for dear life after class because you had joked to her that if you get a perfect quiz then you'll have a reward from her—and you did, she had made you cum twice for the recitation and quiz she had prepared for class, specifically for you. "And there?" You looked towards her sofa, where a lot of things happened between you two. You sucking her when she gets so frustrated during a meeting, riding her if she's too tired from paperworks—all the dirtiest kinks were done on that sofa. Even the softest ones where you both cuddled up after you didn't win the regional college quiz bowl or when you straddled her while teaching her how to tie a necktie.

"Motels, my car, my apartment, here again in my office during prom where you begged me to fuck your ass while wearing your prom queen crown." Her voice grew darker, matching the intense memories playing out in her mind. "Tell me baby, were those a mistake too? It would really hurt my feelings if you said yes."

You sobbed, shaking your head side by side, trying to dispel the memories and she can see the fear and denial in your eyes. You can just walk right now and end this torturous reminiscing. But you felt trapped in place, trapped in those memories, and she was too—she was trapped in the need to make you remember…

"Please, stop." You hiccup, trying to hold back a sob. You continue to shake your head over and over.

"You can't just go around, fuck me up and then say that's it's just a mistake afterwards." She spat, standing to walk towards you.

She loomed over you, her tall frame casting a shadow, making you feel small and vulnerable. She could see you shaking, hear your ragged breathing and it only fueled her frustration.

"Bent over my desk with that perfect little ass in the air, waiting..." She moved closer, her hand reaching out to trace your collarbone.

She watched you scramble to your feet, a dark satisfaction gleaming in her eyes as you approached her desk. She followed close behind, her heels clicking on the floor. When you reached the desk, she pressed a firm hand between your shoulder blades, bending you over it.

As she bent you over, you let out a soft moan, your face pressed against the cool surface of the desk. She could see your body relax, falling into the familiar position. Her hand slowly inched up your skirt, feeling the soft fabric bunch under her fingers. "You still remember, don't you?"

She stepped closer, pressing her length against your backside, feeling the thin barrier of her pants between you two. You found yourself grinding back against her feeling she was growing harder.

"Fuck you're still such a slut for my cock." She smirked as she gripped your waist. "Is it still a mistake? Huh? Slut? You grinding your slutty pussy back against my cock?"

You shook your head side by side, biting your lip to contain your moans.

"I need you to say it, slut." She spat.

"N-no, it's…it's not a mistake, professor." You said in a shaky tone.

Without warning, she reached down and unzipped her pants, pulling out her thick, hard cock. She wrapped her hand around it, stroking it slowly behind your back, the tip rubbing against your ass through your panties. "Fuck, I've missed this," she pressed the head of her cock against your ass, rubbing it against your panties. "Gonna fuck this tight little pussy again, just like old times."

She pushed aside your panties, revealing your vulnerable entrance, "Missed how perfectly you take me..." In one smooth motion, she thrust forward, burying herself deep inside you.

"N-nat!" Your back arched even further as you cried out a breath.

"I missed you calling me by my name." She said in a ragged breath, "I want you to shout it so Stark can hear it behind those doors." Her other hand reached around to grab your hair, tangling it in her fist as she pulled your head back, forcing you to arch your back further and to look at the door of her office where Tony was waiting. You didn't know how she knew Tony was waiting outside for you.

Your voice only seemed to spur her on. She began pounding into you, the rhythm steady and intense. She pulled out slightly, just the tip still inside you, before slamming back in with renewed ferocity. "You made me struggle, everyday, seeing you walk around in those fucking skimpy clothes...and letting anyone touch you, but not me." Each word was punctuated by a brutal thrust. "I didn't reach you because I respect you so much, love you so fucking much. And I know you will run back to me eventually…"

"But you didn't…fuck, you didn't come back to me. Am I…am I that easy? Y/N?" She asked with so much vulnerability and hate. "Do you know how hard it is to watch you go on for a day without me? When I couldn't?"

You felt some hot liquid dripping down onto your bare back, your clothes being bunched up…are those tears? You are too dumbed down to think but you noticed how Natasha held back a sob, covering up trying to sound cold and resentful towards you.

"Natasha…" you called out to her, you wanted to hold her against you but she snapped forward continuously and sloppily, hitting a spot inside you that made you whimper. "F-fuck!" You cried, it was loud and that made you cover up your own mouth.

Her climax hit and she buried herself to the hilt inside you, holding perfectly still as she rode out her orgasm. Waves of her hot cum filled your pussy, coating your insides, but she didn't say a word, she didn't tell you or even warn you. She just stayed frozen, her body shaking with the intensity of her release.

She gazed down, biting her trembling lip as she observed her cock, slick with both your arousal and her release, still buried deep inside you. A shudder ran through her as she felt the last drops of cum seep out on the tip of her shaft. Slowly pulling out, she couldn't help but moan softly at the erotic sight of her thick cum slowly oozing out of your well-used pussy. You innocently wiggle your ass as you move and it only intensified the lewd display.

You stood all by yourself and she calmly situated herself back into her leather office chair, cleaning herself up, refusing to look at your trembling form.

"N-nat?" You called, a tear running down your cheeks. You saw her reddened eyes and flushed cheeks—you were right—she was crying, but so are you. You slowly backed away, frantically tugging at your disheveled clothes, you could feel her cum still dripping slowly into your panties.

"Nat? Can we talk?" You tried again, you didn't like the feeling of this. You felt used.

"You can go now." She said flatly, her voice devoid of any emotion.

You walked towards the door, desperation etched on your face, hoping for some kind word, any sign of affection. You hated yourself for expecting some that you wanted to slap yourself. You frantically swiped at your wet cheeks, trying your best not to break down in front of her. But no matter how hard you rubbed, more tears spilled out. You couldn't catch a break, each blink bringing forth a new wave of salty drops.

And her? She just sat there, staring at her computer screen, her expression cold and heartless as if nothing happened.

She has done her plan for you anyways. So there is nothing to talk about anymore, the last thing on her list is you running back to her.

As you rushed your way out, you saw your bag on the chair with a bouquet of flowers. "Hey, Y/N. This is for you, I had to leave for the chess team. I really hate doing this but I'd like you to be my date on senior night. —T.S."

You could only huff, your brows pinching together to hold the tears that are threatening to fall again. But you weren't able to help it, you ended up having a break down outside her office, with the flowers on your arm and the evidence of what she did to you still oozing inside of you.

⧗

"Ladies and gentlemen, faculty, family, friends..." Your voice cracked slightly, betraying your nerves, but you steadied yourself, refusing to let the ghosts of the past dictate this moment. "We've worked tirelessly, overcome obstacles, and in some cases, experienced pain both personal and academic."

You glanced down at your notes, a faint smile playing on your lips as you continued. "I'd like to thank my family and friends for their unwavering support, my blockmates for turning sleepless nights into unforgettable memories, and lastly, I want to express my deepest gratitude to the professors who have molded us into the graduates we are today."

As you scanned the audience, your gaze landed on Professor Romanoff, who sat upright, her expression unreadable. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. With a deep breath, you concluded your speech. "Thank you, and congratulations to the class of 2025!"

The graduation ceremony drew to a close, and the air was filled with joyous cheers and the clicking of cameras. As you mingled with your fellow graduates, collecting well-wishes and hugs, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. It seemed like everyone was drawn to you—your classmates, their families, even some of the professors. You were the center of attention, the summa cum laude, the valedictorian.

As you made your way through the crowd, congratulations ringing in your ears, a different sort of tension gripped you. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the growing pressure and the whispers that began to rise around you. Your swelling stomach was becoming more prominent by the second, stretching the fabric of your gown. You caught a few raised eyebrows and exchanged looks of confusion among your peers, their eyes glued to you.

The whispers grew louder, more urgent, as realization dawned on everyone. The batch valedictorian delivered her speech with a baby bump that had been concealed beneath flowing gowns and baggy clothes all semester, but now...there was no hiding it. Exactly four months along, your secret was suddenly the most spoken topic at this joyous event.

Tony stood near enough to be seen by you, a bouquet of roses hiding behind his back. He had been about to confess his feelings, to tell you that your intellect and beauty had captivated him all these years you had been rivals. But now, as he noticed the unmistakable curve of your belly…you noticed how he stepped back. His perfectly prepared speech shattered in his mind.

He walked away from you as if he was disappointed in you. At the same time you could feel the shift in the atmosphere, not just from him but the disappointment radiating off the crowd like a physical force.

You tried to smile to those around you to mask the dam that is going to break soon, but you still held your chin up with the little courage and confidence you had left in you.

"Mama, I'll just talk to someone. I'll meet you in the car." Your mother has been very supportive of you, yes, she scolded you when she got the news that you were pregnant. She always looked up and expected more from you, but still, she accepted and took care of you.

With a deep breath, you marched down the corridor towards her office. There were no people around and that's when it suddenly hit you. Tears started rushing down your cheek as your heels clicked urgently against the polished floor even though your OB gyne told you to stop wearing elevated shoes, you wiped them away frantically because you don't want to face her feeling vulnerable like this. The determination etched on your face chased away any lingering doubts. You were going to face this head-on, consequences be damned.

As you pushed open the door, she glanced up from her desk, surprise momentarily flashing across her features before smoothing into a smirk.

She leaned back in her leather chair, folding her hands atop the polished wood. "Y/N, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"Natasha…" you stepped forward, your hand traveling down your stomach. Your built up mask breaking, feeling vulnerable and exposed in front of her. You held back your tears, shaming yourself. "I have never been with anyone but you. I'm pregnant…I—I think you got me—"

She got your message, of course she did. Because this is exactly how she planned it to be, her claiming you in a way you didn't expect, you running back to her all vulnerable, and her turn saying…

"It was a mistake."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow

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harrysfolklore · 12 hours ago

Note

hi! can i request a little bitch blurb where oscar walks in on them 😂

FIRST LITTLE BITCH BLURB OF THE YEAR!! honestly i could never get tired of writing for them and requests keep coming so, enjoy!

READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

"You're sure Oscar won't be home for hours?" Carlos murmurs against your neck as he presses you into the kitchen counter, his hands sliding under the oversized shirt you'd stolen from him.

"Mhm," you tilt your head to give him better access. "Simulator day at McLaren. He'll be gone until evening."

"Good," his accent thickens as he nips at your pulse point. "Because seeing you in my shirt all morning has been driving me crazy, mi amor."

You smirk, running your hands down his chest. "Oh? Is that why you've been following me around the apartment like a lost puppy?"

"I have not-" he starts to protest, but you cut him off by pulling his shirt over his head.

"Really?" you trace the muscles of his abdomen. "So you didn't deliberately walk into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth? Or need help reaching something in the top cabinet that you can definitely reach yourself?"

Carlos growls low in his throat. "You're teasing me."

"Always," you grin, but it turns into a gasp as he lifts you onto the counter.

"Careful, hermosa," he steps between your legs, hands gripping your thighs. "You know what happens when you tease…"

"Maybe I want to find out," you challenge, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His eyes darken. "Dios mío, the things you do to me…"

"Show me," you whisper against his lips.

He crashes his mouth to yours, one hand tangling in your hair while the other slides up your thigh. You moan as he deepens the kiss, tasting of coffee and something uniquely Carlos.

"Mi amor," he breathes between kisses, "you're wearing too many clothes."

"Even your shirt?" you tease, knowing how much he loves seeing you in his clothes.

"Especially my shirt," he tugs at the hem.

The key turns in the lock of your shared apartment with Oscar, but you're far too distracted by Carlos' lips on your neck to notice.

"MY EYES!" Oscar's voice cracks. "IN THE KITCHEN? REALLY?"

You and Carlos spring apart, but it's too late. Oscar is standing there, one hand dramatically covering his eyes, looking like he's contemplating jumping out the window.

"Oscar!" you squeak, hurriedly adjusting Carlos' shirt that you'd borrowed. "You're… home early."

"This is MY HOME!" Oscar protests, still not looking. "Where I EAT! In THIS KITCHEN!"

Carlos has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed, though you can see him fighting back a smile. "Lo siento, Oscar…"

"Don't 'lo siento' me, mate," Oscar points blindly in Carlos's general direction. "That's my SISTER!"

"We weren't…" you try to explain.

"NO!" Oscar cuts you off. "No explanations. I don't want to know. I will never be able to unsee this. I'm moving out. I'm quitting F1. I'm becoming a hermit in Tasmania."

"You're being dramatic," you roll your eyes.

"DRAMATIC?" Oscar finally uncovers his eyes, immediately regrets it, and covers them again. "Carlos still doesn't have a shirt on!"

Carlos looks down at his bare chest as if just remembering this fact. "Ah, sorry about that…"

"Sorry about- THIS IS A COMMON AREA!" Oscar's voice keeps rising in pitch. "We have RULES!"

"Rules?" Carlos raises an eyebrow at you.

"Rule number one," Oscar recites, "no funny business in common areas. Rule number two, no walking around without clothes. Rule number three…"

"Okay, okay," you interrupt, feeling your face heat up. "We get it. We're sorry."

"I'm telling Lando," Oscar threatens.

"Don't you dare!"

"Oh, I'm daring. I'm traumatized. I need emotional support."

Carlos finally breaks, letting out a laugh. "Come on, Oscar. It's not that bad."

"Not that- mate, you're practically my brother-in-law. I do NOT need to see you trying to devour my sister in our kitchen!"

"Brother-in-law?" you and Carlos say simultaneously, though with very different tones.

Oscar groans. "Oh god, now I've given him ideas. Perfect. This is perfect. I'm calling Mum."

"You will NOT call Mum!" you lunge for his phone.

"Watch me!" he dodges, still keeping one hand over his eyes, which results in him walking straight into the wall.

"Dios mío," Carlos mutters, finally grabbing his shirt from where it had been discarded. "Oscar, I'm dressed now. You can look."

Oscar cautiously peeks through his fingers. "This is going on my therapy bill."

"Add it to the collection," you sigh.

"I will! Right next to 'sending nudes to Carlos' and 'that time in the motorhome when I thought you were going over strategy.'"

"That WAS strategy!" you protest.

"Strategy doesn't involve THAT MUCH SPANISH!"

Carlos is fully laughing now, watching the siblings' exchange with obvious amusement.

"This isn't funny!" Oscar points at him. "You! You're supposed to be the responsible one!"

"Me?" Carlos tries to look innocent. "I'm very responsible."

"Responsible people don't seduce my sister in shared kitchens!"

"To be fair," Carlos grins, "she seduced me."

"NOPE!" Oscar practically runs from the room. "NOPE NOPE NOPE. I'm going to Lando's. Forever. Don't call me. I'll be in therapy."

The door slams behind him, and you can hear him muttering all the way down the hall.

Carlos turns to you, eyes dancing with mischief. "So… brother-in-law, huh?"

"Don't," you warn, but you're fighting a smile.

"Because you know," he steps closer, "that could be arranged…"

"Carlos!"

"I'm just saying," he pulls you back against him, "maybe we should give Oscar a real reason to need therapy…"

From down the hall, Oscar's voice carries: "I FORGOT MY PHONE AND I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!"

You burst out laughing as Carlos quickly steps away again.

"I'm moving out!" Oscar announces as he retrieves his phone. "And YOU," he points at Carlos, "are paying for my therapy!"

"Fair enough," Carlos agrees easily.

Oscar pauses at the door. "And sister?"

"Yes?"

"Next time? Use HIS apartment!"

As the door slams again, Carlos turns to you with a raised eyebrow. "You know… that's not a bad idea…"

"Carlos Sainz!"

"What? I'm being responsible," he grins. "Just like Oscar wanted."

You shake your head, laughing. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly in love," he corrects, then adds more seriously, "though maybe we should get our own place…"

Your heart skips. "Yeah?"

"Sí," he pulls you close again. "Somewhere with a very private kitchen…"

"I heard that!" Oscar's voice comes through the door one final time. "I'm telling Mum!"

This time, you both burst out laughing.

Poor Oscar. Maybe you should start looking at apartments sooner rather than later…

For everyone's sake.

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knots-and-gnolls · 2 days ago

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Show up on for the date like "oh my gosh sis it's been over a decade, I haven't seen you since mom and dad got a divorce" passionately hug for a minute while slowly stroking each other's back and side, hips pressed tightly to each other as one leg slides slowly between your thighs. "God I've missed you so much big sis."

Feeding each other throughout the meal like "gosh you have to try this sis" while stroking her leg with your foot under a table that doesn't have a cloth.

Kissing each other before paying the bill, let the waitstaff hear you say, "so do you want to spend the night in my room like you used to?"

They should make a dating app exclusively for trans women, except instead of looking for a girlfriend you're looking for a sister to go on dates with and have sleepovers and make out in public and make everyone else uncomfortable and have crazy, kinky, depraved sex with

#anyways #folgers

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naamahdarling · 3 hours ago

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I agree. I've been thinking about this so much, and I'm so frustrated with it, because there's a point at which I have to concede that when it comes to some things, there is no answer that lives up to my ideals.

I also think the rejection of the word "reform" in favor of "abolition" is partly due to how we have seen efforts to "reform" things go absolutely nowhere but to the bank with taxpayer money to cut a fat check to police departments that they use for "training" and body cams that then do fuckall. If that's reform, I want to kill that, too.

I am in favor of making prison as we know it (a locus of abuse and injustice that is in no way oriented towards helping anyone at all, as well as a source of legal slave labor) go away. Forever. So I have asked people the prison abolition questions. I have never gotten an answer beyond "we will support victims and with the measures we want to put into place there will be fewer offenders." Good. Okay. I want that, for sure. You have my full support. I get lost when I run into "That's a distraction." It isn't. I'm not saying we refuse to work on this until every bit of it is hammered out. I'm saying it very much is something we will need to grapple with, and it's actually a major thing because how we handle extreme cases of ANYTHING is THE purest form of principles.

It isn't a gotcha to say "if you do not have a plan for non-lethally dealing with people like Jeffrey Dahmer, because people like that exist and will continue to do so, you do not have a fully realized plan, you have some really good ideas that I already support."

"I don't know, we are working on that, it's an issue, we have a lot of ground to cover before then, and some of that ground will undoubtedly point us at some of those answers" is kind of where I fall, and it is a lot more honest than what I usually get, which is "Well, YOU need to imagine what that looks like, what do YOU think? This is for YOU, and all of us, to come up with. But don't ask about extreme outliers, that just shows you support the status quo and want alternatives to fail."

That isn't an answer that goes anywhere. Because I have thought about it extensively. And my answer is "putting them someplace pleasant that they can't leave, where they can't ever hurt anyone, and caring for them, all the while watching them like a hawk for the rest of their lives, because they simply cannot be allowed what we would call true freedom".

No community I know of is capable of managing someone like that while allowing them to go free, nor should the burden of that risk be placed on any community. I wouldn't consent to having someone like that living in my community, and one dissenting vote should be enough to keep them out, shouldn't it? And if they just cut and run, well. The next community maybe won't even know they're there until they do something that could have been prevented. Whose community in the first place? The one where they offended? Because that's...that's actually not okay. Which one, if there were several?

Outliers exist and have to be considered, because if you don't, you wind up with vigilante justice out of self-defense, or a string of inexcusable, monstrous acts continuing unopposed until the person dies, but the victims, or whoever is left who loved them, at least get "support."

I don't want to say "I support reform" because my god does that ever sound lukewarm at best. But I don't have a plan for the parts of abolition that don't already overlap with reform.

I want a word for "reform" that means "we are incredibly pissed off and we do intend to tear this apart beyond the point of recognition and make something new" but that can't happen in one stroke. At the very least, there are going to be long transitional periods while we restructure shit and get people used to the new ways of doing things.

I don't like all my answers, but I haven't been presented with anything better. I want to be. But some people get really pissed when I genuinely ask them to please show me a better way that I can actually believe in.

The other reason I'm generally annoyed with the "Abolish X" crowd who actually DO mean "abolish X" and not a watered-down version is that ime they very rarely have fully thought out the implications of what they're demanding and then get angry when other people ask about it.

"Family abolition means completely removing legal ties for family units and allowing all children the choice of where they live" okay. So if I see a three-year-old throwing a fit because she doesn't want to leave the park, and I go over and tell her if she comes home with me she can stay as long as she likes and then we'll get McDonald's on the way home, that three-year-old should have the ability to make that decision? The parent or guardian has no legal recourse to stop me from taking her? Cause if the answer's no, that's not abolition, that's reform baby!

"I'm done talking about what we'll do with rapists and murderers after we abolish prisons, it's all anybody ever wants to talk about!" Well yeah man! 98% of people just interpreted your words as "we're going to let murderers roam around killing people at will"! You need to explain very clearly what plans you have that will stop them that aren't incarceration or you're not going to make any headway! And if your answer involves any form of "well of course SOME people can't be allowed total freedom" - that's not abolition, that's reform baby!

I'm not even gonna touch the number of people who think we should abolish the police and replace them with what are essentially roaming squads of vigilantes dispensing "community justice", whatever the fuck that means.

Like these aren't "gotcha" questions, they're legitimate problems you're going to have to contend with. And if you wave away all these questions with "you're just making up ridiculous scenarios" and "we'll think of something to fix that once we destroy the current system", then yeah actually, I DO think you care more about sounding radical than about making any kind of change.

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vxsellie · 3 days ago

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‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦

summary. reaping day. something ellie is rather indifferent towards, wanting only to return back to the warm embrace of nature. meanwhile you're the complete opposite, today being one that'll determine your fate, as well as your placement in your family. this chapter follows the alternate experiences that the two of you go through.

content warnings. depictions of dead animals, domestic abuse, implications of slavery (avoxes). if you see anything else that i missed, pls let me know!

total wc. 10,815

notes!! she's here!!! chapter one of this beauty!!! i've proofread this at least fifty times and i'm still not happy with it, but! here's the reminder that this fic is formatted and meant for ao3, not tumblr (hence why it's so goddamn long). anyway, i advise you read it there rather than here for that reason. it's updated sooner and i actually make sure that it's intelligible. the link is right here ↓

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

11:46.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

“Again?” Ellie’s groggy cavil is muffled against the crook of Cat’s neck. Her freckled face is buried into the warmth of the woman’s bare skin, chasing the comfort her proximity provides.

Cat huffs an airy laugh, her fingers absentmindedly running along an auburn scalp. “We’ve gone over this.”

“Yeah, but,” Ellie props up on her elbows to frown at her, “You went last year.”

“It’s a good thing if they’re asking me to attend again, Ellie.” Cat reminds her as she’s done at least fifty times by now. Despite her dwindling patience, Cat’s eyes are filled with naught but fondness as they clash with a pair of viridescent irises. Ellie continues to frown at her, adamant in her show of defiance. Cat continues to fiddle with her choppy hair as she speaks. “The Capitol is extremely picky with their stylists. It’s an honor to work for them, not to mention being chosen by them.”

Ellie has to swallow back the words that crawl up her throat and threaten to spill. Words of which vocalize her personal repugnance for the Capitol. She and Cat have gotten into plenty of fights regarding this topic and she refuses to cause another — especially considering the news she’s been trying to avoid facing all morning.

“I won’t see you for, like, a month.” Ellie grumbles before flopping back down onto Cat’s chest. She turns her head so her ear is pressed against her ribs, the gentle thudding of Cat’s heartbeat almost soothing enough to distract her from the world that envelops them.

Their bare bodies are pressed flush together as Ellie continues to listen to the repetition of her palpitating organ. She can feel Cat’s fingers toying with her hair, the soft caresses providing a sense of calamity. Her chest rises and falls, Ellie’s head shifting alongside each breath she takes. The intimacy it takes for to be near someone in this way — especially for Ellie — is oftentimes overlooked and seen only as crude or lustrous. However, in this case, they’re simply enjoying one another’s presence. Nothing vulgar about it.

Oh how Ellie wishes she could stay like this forever. In this little oasis of solace she’s founded for herself. Waking with Cat in her bed whilst morning sunlight filters through the window and casts golden hues over hardwood flooring. It’s nigh impossible to imagine that in only a few hours they’ll be separated for an indefinite epoch as Cat is escorted off to the Capitol while Ellie remains here.

She shuts her eyes, arms tightening around Cat’s waist as she wishes to cherish what little time she has left with her. Cat doesn’t dare cease playing with her hair, delicate fingers toying with the strands.

Comfortability, domesticity, safety. That’s what Ellie feels when she’s near Cat — like nothing in the whole world could reach her. Like they’ve left the horrors of their District and are now floating through the cosmos all alone. Just the two of them. Though she knows better than to voice that to Cat, having found out the hard way that she doesn’t feel the same.

What they have is impermanent, said Cat when Ellie questioned her on fidelity, it has to be, she’d said. Even now, Ellie is unsure what that was supposed to mean. But she didn’t pry any further, for fear of damaging the fragility of what relationship, or lack thereof, they’d formed. Ever since, Ellie has learned to keep her feelings locked away in a hidden corner of her mind, making sure they never come forth to have the dust blown away.

“Ellie!”

They both jolt to attention as the bedroom door flies open, doorknob slamming against the thick wooden wall behind it. Ellie sits up and narrows her eyes at the perpetrator, only to roll them once she comes to realize who it is.

“What do you want, Riley?” Ellie grumbles, flopping back against Cat as Riley enters the room.

“I want to know why you’re still in bed.” Riley responds, stepping over the clothes on the floor with an upturned lip. Half of them are Cat’s from the night prior. Riley seems to instantly realize this, likely because she’s known Ellie well enough to know that she doesn’t wear Capitol-made dresses. Riley puts her hands on her hips, frowning at her best friend who remains cuddled up against her– Cat. “The Reaping is today and you’re still in bed.”

“It’s in two hours.” Ellie is quick to point out.

“I don’t care if it’s in twenty hours, you’re getting out of bed.” She says, picking up Ellie’s discarded clothes from the floor and tossing them at her. They land where her legs are tangled with Cat’s underneath the thin plaid blanket that’s draped lazily atop them. Riley begins to walk out of the room with a pointed expression before calling over her shoulder, “Oh. And these are Marlene’s orders, by the way.” Then she shuts the door.

Ellie sighs heavily, not yet ready to get up. If anything, she cozies even closer against Cat’s bare chest as she once again listens to the comforting thumps of her heart.

“God, she’s so demanding.” Cat scoffs. “I don’t understand how you put up with her.”

“I barely can.” She responds, causing Cat’s eyes to widen at the unexpected concurrence. “But she’s taken care of me since I was a baby, I owe it to her.”

Cat’s initial shock instantly dissipates. “I don’t mean Marlene, Ellie. I’m talking about Riley.”

Ellie sighs once more, her lips thinning. She knows that Cat and Riley don’t exactly get along. Well. Okay, that’s a major understatement. They literally despise each other. In every aspect that Cat admires the Capitol, Riley loathes it. They butt heads all the time, only ever speaking when it’s absolutely necessary and, even then, it oftentimes ends up in fighting. Ellie tries her hardest to keep them as far apart as possible, hating when they speak ill of the other.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” She mutters, having to force herself to sit up. The plaid blanket falls from her shoulders, pooling around her waist. The cool air chills her and goosebumps instantly begin to adorn her fair skin. She quickly reaches to the foot of the bed to grab the clothes Riley had tossed her way. Cat remains in bed as Ellie stands to get dressed, pulling on a frayed hoodie and worn jeans. “I just don’t want to have to choose between you two, that’s all.”

As she laces her shoes, it’s hard not to take notice of Cat’s lack of response. Ellie lifts her head to see the frown that’s plastered onto her features, the sight of it causing her to sigh. She walks over to the bed, shoes lightly padding across the old wooden floor. She leans one hand on the mattress beside Cat’s head, her other coming up to lift her jaw. She presses a kiss to her lips.

“You know where I keep the key.” Ellie whispers, pulling back only slightly as her hand remains on Cat’s chin. “You can get back to sleep and leave whenever you want, yeah? You need rest.”

Cat nods, “Okay.”

With one final kiss goodbye, Ellie leaves. On her way out the door, she grabs her backpack from under her desk, swinging it over her shoulder before shutting the door gently behind her. Not yet ready to part ways with Cat, she stands in the hall for a few long minutes, using this time to straighten out her thoughts.

After the Reaping, Cat will be gone for an indefinite duration as the stylists are taken to the Training Center alongside the two tributes. Not to mention, if the opportunity is provided, she knows Cat wouldn’t hesitate to stay to live in the Capitol forever. And everyone knows how much they love her there. It’s truly a matter of time before she’s promoted to a full-time Capitolite. The mere thought sends a chill down her spine.

Ellie heaves a sigh, mentally cursing anything and everything that relates to their fucked up government before she turns to walk down the hall. Her shoes thud against the floor as she attempts to calm herself, the repetition of her stride mocking that of Cat’s heartbeat. Nigh tauntingly.

Turning a corner, she spots Riley standing in the kitchen. Her back is facing her as she peers out the window at the passerbyers that straggle down the street. District seven isn’t usually this busy, most citizens at work by now. But it’s Reaping Day and therefore one of the few days of the year that everyone gets off work. Parents cater to their kids, teens get into mischief with their friends, pets are walked through the neighborhood. Though, regardless of how one’s morning is spent, everyone will be amassed in town square by two o’clock. If not, they’re to be imprisoned.

Ellie slows her movements, footsteps now inaudible before she jumps out at Riley, causing the other girl to shriek. She nearly drops the glass in her hands as she whips around to scowl at Ellie. “You scared me!” She reprimands her, frowning.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughs, “That was the whole point?”

Riley rolls her eyes at this. “Whatever.”

She leans forward to set the glass back on the counter, a light clink sounding throughout the space as she does so. Ellie had expected it to be a glass of water or some other form of drink. Instead, it’s a vase holding an array of flowers that Ellie has built the habit of collecting on their daily outings. At first, it annoyed Riley the way Ellie would stop whatever she was doing to pick a flower and stuff it between the pages of her journal. It would interrupt the flow of their expedition. Though, with time, she’s grown used to it and even finds herself taking notice of pretty flowers in Ellie’s absence.

“Are you finally ready to go?” Riley asks, turning back around to face her friend with her eyebrows raised. Ellie gestures down to herself — dressed and obviously ready. Riley chuckles, rolling her eyes fondly before brushing past her.

The two of them exit the small wooden home and begin their journey toward the treeline. Four buildings down, they pass Riley’s house. After graduation, they’d chosen this neighborhood due to its proximity to the woods and the fact that two houses were simultaneously for sale closeby. And here they are, three years later, still fleeing to the foliage every morning.

The low hum of conversation isn’t foreign to District seven, but it’s rather uncommon way out here. To get this type of commotion, you’d usually have to be closer to town where the markets are. That’s where most people spend their time, trading supplies. The circumstances aren’t nearly as dire as in District twelve, but they’re certainly not as wealthy as the Capitol. Starving to death here is rare, but not at all impossible.

“So,” Riley speaks up after a few minutes of comfortable silence before turning to Ellie with a regaled expression, “You’re sleeping with Cat again?”

“I never stopped sleeping with her.” Ellie says pointedly.

What she doesn’t say is, It’s just grown more common as you’ve grown more distant from me.

She sighs. “I’m not gonna give you shit for it because you already know how I feel about her. But I want to know, is she going to be a stylist again in this year's Games?”

“Ugh,” Ellie groans, “You know I’m not allowed to go around telling people. She’s technically not even supposed to tell me. We could be arrested for disclosing information about the Games prior to their airing. We could be made into Avox for it. And, I don’t know about you, but I quite like my tongue.”

“Yeah, so does Cat.” Riley adds with a disgusted expression.

Ellie laughs, slapping her in the arm. “Gross!”

“What’s gross is walking in on your best friend naked on top of some Capitolite.” She grumbles.

“We weren’t even doing anything!”

“Yeah, luckily!” She replies with a laugh before another repulsive thought dawns on her. “Oh, and you didn’t even lock the door!”

To that, Ellie has no excuse. “Well– Okay yeah, fine. That’s definitely on me.”

Riley grins at her victoriously as they continue down the sidewalk. The air is practically buzzing with activity. With naught else to occupy their time, the people of the lumber District naturally swarm toward the woods. It’s in their blood. Even more so for Ellie and Riley, who spend their mornings in the woods even when they should technically be applying for jobs.

Yeah, the two of them have received that lecture from Marlene more times than anyone could count — that they’re adults and should therefore be forming some sort of a career path before they’re rendered undesirably old to any future employers. But, unbeknownst to Marlene, the two of them do have a job. Perhaps not a formal one, but it’s enough to keep the bills paid and water running. And, to a pair of girls in their early twenties, that’s more than they could ask for.

See, Riley and Ellie have built a routine. One where they awake at dawn, meet up at Ellie’s house for breakfast, then walk to the woods and spend the following few hours there. They cut trees, chop wood, hunt animals, etc. Then, at noon, they head toward what’s known as the Hob — basically a black market for those desperate enough to trade their hard earned quarry for a bit of cash. It’s located inside an abandoned paper mill, packed full with hundreds of buyers meandering about the derelict space. Every District has their own version of a Hob, well, perhaps not the richer Districts, but twelve is sure to have a huge one that would make seven’s dull in comparison. That thought alone is enough to ease Ellie’s conscience whenever she feels guilty for the illegality behind her line of work. If any of the Peacekeepers in her District found out about the Hob, all participants are sure to be hanged or, at bare minimum, given a whipping — both of which would be public as to make an example of the persecutors. To imagine Ellie hanging from a noose or tied to a pole whilst everyone else watched, while Marlene watched? It makes her stomach churn. So, habitually, she simply ignores the lack of validity to her actions. Plus, there's no malice to her intentions. She’s just a young woman who wants to put food on the table. Is that so much to ask for? She thinks not.

Anyway. Riley and Ellie basically run that place. Everyone knows them there, recognizing the two women the instant they enter the mill. They always have the good shit — perfectly chopped wood alongside undamaged game — and are willing to be paid less than others because they tend to have a higher quantity and manage to amass a large sum in spite of their lowered payment. However, seeing as everyone is off work today, it’s rather awkward to see the people of the Hob out on the streets. Because they all know better than to acknowledge the illegal trading they participate in religiously.

Ellie walks silently beside Riley, the unspoken tension in the air doubling in size whenever they recognize someone. The Peacekeepers are large in aggregate today as well, managing to make this impossibly more nerve wracking. The town square is packed full with Capitolites who are setting up for the Reaping, hence everyone now on this side of the District as they look for something to busy themselves with. And, as said before, the woods are evidently everyone’s collective first choice.

“You nervous?” Riley asks as they enter the woods, the familiar scent of pine and dirt wafting toward them. The air is chilly, yet not unbearably so. It’s a nice medium that Ellie finds herself enjoying. She turns, raising a brow in inquiry. Riley digresses, “For the Reaping.”

She shrugs, “Not really. The Hunger Games are morbid, yeah, but they’re a fact of life. If I get Reaped, what good will it do to have worried about it that morning? I feel that fate is predetermined. Whatever happens, you can’t change it so you might as well live regularly until it’s foisted upon you.”

“Um, wow?” Riley gives her a peculiar look. “Since when did you get all philosophical?”

Ellie huffs a laugh, “I’m just saying.”

“I agree that the Games are morbid.” Riley shakes her head with a sigh, dry leaves crunching under their feet as they trek further into the woods. “But why should we have to live in fear while those in the Capitol live in ignorant bliss? It’s immoral and dehumanizing.”

Ellie agrees with her, of course, though she finds herself glancing over their shoulder fretfully before turning to frown at her friend. “Be quiet, Riley. Peacekeepers are fucking everywhere today.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She huffs. “But I mean it.”

“Yes, I know you mean it.” Ellie rolls her eyes. “And I mean it when I say I don’t want to see you punished for your brutal honesty. Truly, it’ll be the death of you.”

Riley laughs before they fall into another comfortable silence.

Despite the wordlessness being one of easement, it’s foreign to them both. As of late, Riley has been progressively growing more and more distant, causing an awkward rift between the pair. They still go about their usual routines each day and share moments of fond laughter, but it’s different. Only a few months ago, there’d not be a single second of silence as the two would oftentimes end up talking over the other in a coveted rush to share random information. Even after a day’s work had finished, they’d frequently wind up at one of their houses for the night — watching television, feasting on game, or just sharing the space. It got to the point where it was more rare to be without the other than with them.

But now, Ellie feels as though they spend more time in silence than in conversation. Take present for example. Had this happened in July, one of them would undoubtedly be rambling on about something. Though, as it turns out, that’s not currently the case.

Ellie has yet to bring it up to Riley, fearing she’ll say something she’s not ready to hear. She hasn’t even a guess in her mind what could have brought this upon them, but whatever it is, it’s drastic. Hence why she’s recently been hanging around Cat more often, using the woman to both distract herself from her childlike friendship issues as well as make herself feel better. Because Cat always knows how to comfort Ellie, even when she’s not entirely aware of what the problem is.

They continue to walk through the woods, their footsteps nigh inaudible as they’ve grown skilled at adapting to nature. After a few minutes of trekking through the foliage, Riley stops and turns around expectantly. Ellie instantly removes her backpack and crouches to the ground as she sifts through it. She pulls out an axe — which barely even fits inside the bag — and passes it to Riley, who takes it gratefully. Ellie then hands the bag to Riley, who positions it on her back with a few shoulder shrugs.

Where they stopped wasn’t randomized, though. Not entirely. Because, a few yards away is a fallen tree, hollowed out in the center to create a tunnel-like log. They walk over to it, Riley tossing the axe back and forth between her hands. Ellie crouches down and reaches into the log, feeling around the dampened bark until her fingers brush against the coveted items. She pulls out a bow and quiver, adding them to her newly emptied shoulders.

See, they can’t exactly be caught carrying weapons through the District or the Peacekeepers will know they’re hunting illegally. So, as an alternative, they hide the weapons deep in the woods where nobody else would think to look. Fairly smart on their part, Ellie thinks.

“So,” Ellie muses as they begin walking through the woods once more, “This morning, you said you woke me under Marlene’s orders. What exactly did she say?”

“I talked to her last night.” She explains, swinging the axe back and forth. Had Ellie not done this with her a million times before, she’d likely be fearing for her life. But that axe is quite literally an extension of Riley’s arm, moving as though it’s a part of her. It's, admittedly, rather impressive. “She told me to make sure you’re awake at least an hour prior to the Reaping.”

“Ugh, she doesn’t trust me to do anything.”

“Can you blame her?” She laughs. “You were nearly late to the Reaping last year. Had you arrived less than five minutes after you had, the Peacekeepers would have placed you under arrest.”

“I think my timing was impeccable.” Ellie argues, pointing her chin up in an act of superiority.

As she does, something in the trees catches her eye and she suddenly stops in her tracks, Riley quick to do the same. She nocks an arrow, the head instantly pointed in the direction of the movement. After a few seconds of tense silence, a squirrel chitters before ignorantly traipsing across the branch. She releases the arrow and it lands right in its eye, so as not to damage the meat. It hits the ground with a thud. Ellie grins widely as she walks to retrieve the corpse as well as the arrow.

“Talk about timing.” Riley whistles, following close behind.

“What did I say?” She responds, positioning the squirrel to hang from her belt. “Impeccable.”

“Yeah, maybe in terms of your aim, but not in your vigilance.” Riley points out.

“Whatever.” Ellie waves her hand to dismiss the accusation. “Shut up and go chop your wood.”

Riley laughs but obliges, turning to leave the scene. Ellie can’t even listen to her footsteps depart, as she’s rather adept at masking their boistry. But she can tell when she’s gone, though, because the atmosphere alters — shifting from one shared between lifelong friends to one of solitude in the middle of nowhere. And yet, despite the latter being far less preferred by many, Ellie relishes in it. The lack of eyes on her is comforting rather than eerie.

She treks through the trees until she finds a slightly elevated patch of land, allowing her to look down on the forest below her — though, only by a couple feet. But any altitude is better than nothing. She crouches behind a bush and nocks a second arrow, waiting for something to pass by.

Ellie manages to shoot a few more squirrels and a couple of rabbits throughout the following hour they spend in the woods. She then lets out a three-note whistle as she stands to her feet. She’s brushing off her jeans when the same whistles tune is repeated back to her a few hundred yards to the East. Riley.

They’d come up with this tactic a few years back, where once one of them had finished up for the day, they let out a whistle to let the other know of their completion. Then, if the sound reaches the other, they’ll return it.

They split up like this because Ellie requires quiet in order to hunt whereas Riley tends to make quite a bit of ruckus during her wood-chopping. Ellie’s still gathering her things when a twig snaps a few feet away. She doesn't need to look up to know who it is.

“What’d you catch?” Riley asks as she approaches her from behind.

“Nothing good.” She admits. “Just squirrels and rabbits.”

“That’s not bad, though.”

“Yeah, animals are so scarce today due to all the people’s proximity to the treeline. I could sometimes catch the sound of their talking. Even from way out here.” Ellie says as she finishes packing up and turns to face Riley, who’s holding an armful of chopped wood. “Here, turn around.”

Without question, Riley does. Ellie unzips the bag and holds out a hand for a piece of wood. Riley passes it back to her and she loads the wood one-by-one into the pack. She then adds the axe and zips it — well, partially. A few inches of the handle remains sticking out, though it’s doubtful anyone will question the contents of the bag. Not when so much is going on today.

They head back to the mouth of the woods, making sure to return the bow and quiver into the hollowed log on their way by. In minutes, they’re emerging from the trees and walking back through the streets, which appear to have grown even busier in their absence. They’d walked in silence the entire way.

“Welp.” Riley says once they’ve reached Ellie’s porch and she’s returned the bag — which has tripled in weight with the addition of the axe and wood. “See you at the Reaping?”

She sighs dramatically, “I guess so. Not like I want to go anyway.”

“Marlene would fucking kill you.” Riley laughs and Ellie joins in, imagining the enraged expression on Marlene’s face had she not shown up. She couldn't get away with it regardless, though. Riley was right when she said the Peacekeepers would either imprison or hang her. It’s happened to someone before — an old man ripped from his home and put in an icy cold cell for the rest of his short life. He’d apparently used the excuse of saying he was in a wheelchair, but that wasn't enough for the District’s law enforcement as they claimed he could easily be wheeled to the square. So, yeah, maybe the jokes of Ellie not showing up shouldn’t be pondered on but so much.

Once Riley has left, Ellie grabs her key from the top of a nearby windowsill. She notices that it’d moved a few inches to the left. Cat. She unlocks the door and enters her home, almost screaming to see the silhouette of a woman standing in her kitchen. Though she quickly regains normalcy when she recognizes the person’s frame.

“Fuck, Marlene.” She curses, putting a hand to her chest as she — as subtly as possible — slips the bag from her shoulders and places it on the floor next to the door. “You scared me.”

Marlene is wearing a dress, a nice one. The neck is in a deep V shape that shows off her collarbones and shoulders. The sleeves come to her elbows, the skirt to her mid-calves. It’s a soft maroon color, complimenting her dark skin and brown eyes beautifully. Ellie would accolade her for it had she not known it was for the Reaping and thereby the Capitol. However, being aware of that fact rather mars the beauty of her accentuated appearance.

Marlene turns to face her with a frown, “What were you two doing?”

“Seriously?” Ellie groans, walking over to grab a glass cup from the cabinet over Marlene’s head, having to shift around her to do so. “I was hanging out with my best friend before we witness two people being shipped off to die. Do I truly have to walk you step-by-step through everything I do?”

“Yes.” She begins filling the cup with faucet water, Marlene looming like a shadow over her shoulder. When Ellie doesn’t respond, she frowns. “Whatever. I don’t even care what you guys were doing, I just seek the consolation of knowing it was safe.”

“I’m an adult, Marlene. When will you–”

“Was it safe, Ellie?” She repeats, tone growing more agitated.

“Yes.” She replies, the lie coming easy to her now. After all this time of being untruthful, it’s nearly second nature to withhold the truth from her mother-figure whenever she’s pestered on this recurring topic. She has a great poker face, too.

She raises her brows as she takes a sip from her glass, peering at her from over the rim.

“Was it legal?” She questions and Ellie nearly spits out her water. Marlene scoffs at her reaction. “Okay, so I got my answer.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t need to!” She crosses her arms and gives Ellie that disapproving mom expression that could make anybody feel remorse. Ellie places her glass on the counter and holds her gaze, trying her hardest not to falter under it. “I assume you saw how many Peacekeepers are here, Ellie.”

“I’d be an idiot to not notice them.” She grumbles defiantly, sounding far more childlike than she’d care to admit. Marlene always manages to bring this side out of her — a scorned child who has no choice but to agree with everything she says. Despite how hard she tries to be mature and release herself from Marlene’s iron fist, it’s so far been proven impossible.

“So what were you thinking? I don’t care for the details of what you guys go out doing everyday so long as it’s legal.” She says. “You know that. It’s one of my only rules for you.”

The acknowledgement of their daily repetition is enough for Ellie to stiffen, not having realised Marlene even noticed their outings. However, now that she’s thinking of it, it makes sense. They've been doing this same routine for three years now. You’d have to be a fool to not notice. And Marlene is no fool.

“I know, I just–”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, cutting Ellie off with a sigh. “Just go wash up. I don’t want you smelling like a dead animal for the Reaping.”

The closeness in her comparison of the miasma to a corpse is nigh to laughable. Except it’s not. Because Marlene is unnerving. She cares for Ellie more than anything, yes, but she’s absolutely terrifying in her vehement need to protect her.

But Ellie is an adult now. She doesn’t need protection.

Despite this, she follows her orders and trudges off to the bathroom, making sure to scoop up her backpack on her way down the hall.

She discards the bag of wood and lays the dead squirrel and rabbit corpses out on her bedroom floor. Normally, she’d place them in the kitchen to ready them for gutting but that’s, clearly, not a viable option. If Marlene were to see the quarry from their expedition, she’d absolutely lose her head. First, she’d force Ellie and Riley to get a job, and likely a boring one. She’d forbid them from using the forest for income. And, in those two short acts of discipline, Ellie’s life would be over. The woods are her home; her place of solace. Without it, who is she?

She then heads into the bathroom and takes a bath, scrubbing all the dirt and grime from her skin before redressing into something a bit more fancy — though it’s definitely not Capitol material as everyone else typically aims for. She’s simply wearing a nicer pair of jeans and a flannel. The collar and buttons make it fancy. Kinda.

When she returns to the kitchen, she’s still drying her hair with the towel. Marlene looks her up and down and frowns, though she says nothing.

See, if one is Reaped today, they’re taken to the Capitol. As such, they’re traditionally expected to wear their nicest clothes to the Reaping, just in case their name is drawn. But Ellie cares naught to make any lasting impressions on the Capitol, so she doesn’t give a shit what she wears. The sole reason she’s wearing even a button up is to please Marlene enough so she’s not forced into something else.

Because, when she was fourteen, she tried to wear a t-shirt to the Reaping and was instantly reprimanded. As punishment, she had to wear something Marlene picked out. Needless to say, never again will she do that. Even now Riley laughs at her for the outfit, though Marlene insists it was the most distinguished Ellie had ever looked. She begs to differ.

“Okay, you ready?” Marlene asks.

Ellie shrugs, “Yeah.”

They head down to the square, the entirety of District seven doing the same. The waves of people grow larger and larger the closer they get to the square until it’s practically a tsunami of them. Once they reach their destination, they pause and turn to each other. Marlene looks down at Ellie, a glint of something unreadable behind her gaze, almost as though she wishes to say something to her prior to parting ways. But instead of voicing whatever it is that’s weighing on her, she just pats her shoulder and walks away.

The crowd is sorted by generation. Everyone between the ages of twelve and fifty are required to be within the crowd as their names are among those able to be Reaped. The younger kids are positioned closest to the stage whilst the older crowd is near the back. Ellie stands with her age group, picking at the peeling skin around her nails as she awaits the ceremony’s exordium.

The stage before them has been added purely for the Reaping, as it’s not usually present. Atop it resides a podium, a table with a bowl of tiny slips of papers, and three chairs at the back of the stage — one for the District’s mayor, one for the escort, and one for the mentor of this year’s tributes. Camera crews are perched like buzzards atop the neighboring buildings, readying themselves to document the coming show. Each District is going through the exact same procedure. Tonight, each footage will be broadcasted across all televisions in the country.

About twenty more minutes pass, the square growing supplementarily crowded with each passing second. When the clock strikes twelve, three people are in their corresponding chairs. Ellie hadn’t even noticed their arrival.

The mayor, whose name she doesn’t know despite having heard it repeated throughout her entire life, sits in the far right chair, his jaw set as he overlooks the citizens. The District escort resides in the center chair, a Capitol woman with bright blue hair and a smile that’s so pearly white that it’s almost inhuman — Ellie doesn’t know her name either. The only person whose name she’s sure of is the man sitting in the left chair. That’s Joel Miller. The victor of the 56th Games. Word is, he’s not a pleasant man. Though, Ellie supposes no sane victor would be. Returning from a murderous arena after all other twenty-three tributes have fallen must be the emptiest feeling known to man. She has a deep respect for Joel, despite never having properly met him.

The mayor steps up to the podium and begins reading off his script. The story of how their country came to be. Ellie tunes it out, instead glancing around the crowd for Cat. It takes her an embarrassingly long time before she remembers that she’s absent from the ceremony due to her being the District seven stylist this year. Ellie turns back to the stage just as the escort steps up to the podium.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Says she. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

The slogan has grown old and worn out by now, everyone having heard it an indefinite quantity of times. Ellie wouldn’t be surprised if she mumbles it in her sleep.

Once more, she finds herself tuning out the rest of the woman’s speech. Despite her lack of listening not resulting in anything beneficial, it makes her feel better. Like she’s showing the Capitol that they don’t control her. Not like the Capitol gives a fuck if one measley twenty-one year old is tuning out the speeches. But whatever. It makes her feel ameliorated and that’s all that matters.

“Here we go.” The escort says before diving her hand into the bowl of names. The glass sphere is packed full with slips of paper, each one reading a citizen’s name. The entire square is holding their breath as they await the name. The entire country is — as every District is being Reaped at the same time. The woman pulls a slip of paper from the bowl and reads it aloud with a grin. “Riley Abel.”

Ellie’s heart drops to her stomach, body frozen in place as the name is spoken. The world feels far away as she watches Riley walk up the stage and stand beside the escort. Riley’s chin is held high, her eyes dullened; they lack the vibrancy that Ellie adores so much. She’s the epitome of strength, standing on that stage as she’s set to be broadcasted across the entire country.

Ellie knows that expression though. Riley isn’t sad or mourning. She’s pissed.

Fuck. She should have done something. But it all happened so fast. And now the escort’s hand is diving right back into the bowl for a second tribute.

“Aaaand,” She sing-songs before lifting her head joyously, “Ellie Williams.”

11:46.

DISTRICT 4.

“Again.” Your mother’s tone is sharp as a dagger as she thumps the end of her cane against tiled flooring, demanding more, more, more from you. Her voice is tinny, filed through an intercom overhead. To your left is a one-way mirror that scales the entire 20ft wall, through which she pedantically watches your every movement. Though you’re unable to see her, she sees you. And that fact in itself is enough to make you vigilent.

Sweat coats your skin as you reposition yourself, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet in preparation. Your expression is hardened, purposefully so under your mother’s gaze. Her scrupulousness is nigh to tangible, made palpable by the heavy weight on your shoulders, the stiffness in your muscles, the tell-tale feel of her eyes scanning you.

Then, in a flash of flickering blue, holographic opponents begin to charge at you. These humanoid figures are translucent in visibility, but their hits land just as genuinely in spite of their pellucidity. You’ve been fighting them all morning — another cause of the fatigue in your bones.

A few sessions prior, you’d been permitted the use of weapons. Your mother had instructed you to train with each one interchangeably. She wished to see which you were best and worst at — which ended up being throwing daggers and a trident, respectively. The daggers allow you close-combat, which you’re rather skilled at, as a product of these training sessions, whereas the trident’s weight is off balanced and leaves you fumbling with it for a few seconds prior to use. She soon grew bored with the weapons, though, and instructed you to fight bare handedly. Just to be sure you can.

There are currently three holograms presented to you — one with a burly build, one with a dainty build, and one that resides between the two.

The muscular opponent is the first to strike, swinging a right hook toward your jaw. You dodge it, ducking easily under its arm. Whilst straightening back up, the smaller figure grabs you by the hair. Your head is yanked backward. You whip around, snatching the figure by the wrist and throwing its body over your head onto the floor. It lands with a hard thud before you bring the heel of your boot down onto its throat. With a light puff of air, the hologram disintegrates.

One down, two left.

Without a moment’s pause, you spin around to face the other two diaphanous forms. The intermediate combatant surges forward, arm reeled back in preparation for a punch. You swerve out of its way, the figure staggering forward as it misses you by a mere three inches. You kick it in the back of the legs, sending the hologram on its knees. You’re positioned behind it, pulling it into a headlock.

The sounds it makes is eerily human as it coughs and sputters, blue fingers grasping with desperation at your forearm. You’re used to this though, the cruel personification behind these lifeless things. You snap its neck with a deafening crack. It disappears.

Two down, one left.

When you turn around, the burly one is already behind you. It’s at least three times your size, but you’re undeterred. You stand upright and ready your fists.

With a grunt, it charges toward you. You sidestep, but it anticipates this and turns in unison. You back away, putting yourself out of reach, your arms coming up to block your face. It swings and you duck subsequently. While crouched, you grab its left calf and pull, lifting the leg uncomfortably high. The oversized figure hops awkwardly on its right limb. You then hook your foot behind the ankle of the remaining leg it’s balancing on, sending it plummeting toward the ground.

You’re quick to position yourself atop it, straddling the hologram’s chest. It thrashes beneath you, squirming around like a trapped insect. It’s only a matter of time before it throws you aside due to uneven weight advantages. But you had surprised it and therefore withhold the ascendancy. So, while you still have the upper hand, you lift your leg and drive your knees into its neck. With a gag, the hologram vanishes.

Done.

Your chest aches with exertion, lungs fighting for air as you pant. As such, you remain with your knees on the black matted floor in an attempt to catch your breath. You’ve been killing these things on repeat for the past three hours, your mother having woken you at seven in the morning to train.

Frayed hair clings to dampened skin as sweat traces lines down your face. It drips from your chin onto the floor beneath you. Your pants and tank top are soaked, causing you to feel gross and sticky. You yearn for a shower.

You oftentimes have to remind yourself that your mother means well, that she’s pushing you so hard because she cares. But, at times like these — where your body is on the verge of collapse — you find yourself questioning her morality.

“You’re getting slow.” Comes her voice through the speaker system, as though on cue with your thoughts. A tap of her cane against the floor is heard prior to that singular word you dread so vehemently.

“Again.”

It's truly no shock that you’re growing amble considering how long you’ve been at it. But to protest your mother’s orders would be a death wish. You’re still catching your breath as you push yourself to your feet, fully expecting another hoard of holograms to appear.

Though, in their stead, a spear materializes before you. It’s equally as holographic as the figures you’re fighting, blue and crackling, but it kills them just as viable as you would.

As you lean over to pick it up, something kicks you hard in the base of your back. The force of impact sends you to the floor. Your elbows take the brunt of your fall, causing you to feel rather grateful for the mat. Still in a heap, you whip to face the perpetrator. A hologram; a singular female figure with a lean build.

You should’ve known better than to let your guard down.

You glance at the spear concurrently, the weapon lying at a perfect distance between you two. Without vacillation, you hurriedly crawl toward it. The figure notices and kicks you hard in the face, its shoe slamming into the bridge of your nose. You land hard on your back as a wave of pain shoots through you, warm liquid tracing down your face.

By the time you regain your sense, the hologram is thrusting the stolen weapon toward you. You roll out of its way, though the blade manages to slice your bicep. With a reverberated thud, the spearhead burrows into the mat where your head had just been.

You push to your feet, tugging the spear out of the cushioned floor. Now armed, you turn to the hologram. It doesn’t have a face but if it did, you’re sure it’d be glaring at you. The two of you circle one another like vultures, the hologram waiting for you to attack whilst you wait for the perfect angle. Then, once you’re positioned to your liking, you strike. You throw the spear at the diaphanous form.

The blade whizzes through the air too fast for it to dodge, too fast for anyone to dodge. Your aim is undeniably precise as the point wedges right between your opponents eyes. With that, it disintegrates alongside the spear.

Even once the combatant has elapsed, you remain in that position — chest heaving, brows furrows, fists balled. A metallic taste fills your mouth as your nose continues to bleed down your face, getting past your lips. Your bicep mocks it, crimson tracing down your arm.

You await your mother’s reprimand via the intercom. Instead, you hear the door click open and her cane tap against the floor with every other step. She remains in the doorway, not wishing to enter the abhorrent room. She stands expectantly until you walk up to her.

“Your fatigue impairs your ability to fight.” She tuts, wrinkled lip upturned in distaste. You don’t respond, lowering your head as you wordlessly accept her criticism. “Had you been in the arena and those figures sentient, you’d likely have been long gone. Debility is no excuse for inadequacy. L/ns don’t lose.”

You nod, knowing better than to defend yourself.

She goes through each of your performances, telling you how every one was worse than the last. A few times, she mentions your brother, comparing the two of you in a way that makes your chest cave. Ruben wouldn’t have gotten his arm cut, Ruben wouldn’t have had his hair pulled, Ruben wouldn’t have hesitated when she added a child hologram into the mix.

Once she’s had her fill of castigation, she waves a hand to dismiss you.

Your first course of action is to shower. Since your mother woke you so early, you were unable to change or eat prior to training. You enter the bathroom, peeling your sweaty clothes from your skin before stepping into the cool water. Your presence tints the liquid pink with blood as your arm and face stain its cleanliness.

You stand in the shower for a long time, relishing in the feel of the water as you allow your mind to roam. Though, despite how hard you try not to think of it, your thoughts continuously lapse back to your mother’s ceaseless mentions of your brother, her favored child.

See, Ruben won the 67th Hunger Games when he was only thirteen years old, becoming a legend in the Capitol and the light of your parents’ lives. He is the Capitol’s favorite victor, deemed the most attractive man in the country. Anyone would die to get a moment of his time, of his attention. People who the Capitol favor, idolize, and center their entire lives around are known as a ‘Capitol Diamond’. And Ruben is the shiniest of them all.

Your father won his Games two years prior to Ruben when you were only six, so you never knew him all that well. The memories you do have of him are rather bitter, invoking flashes of flailing fists and deafening shouts. Though, acting as a warm blanket to the chill of your father’s acerbity, Ruben appears in your memories like a deity. He’d cover your ears when your parents’ shouting bounced off the marble walls; he’d argue with your father whenever he’d hit you for breaking something trivial; he’d always take your side, even if you did technically break that vase. As a child, Ruben was an angel sent from above. But, now that you’re older, you know better than to deem him as such.

Anyway. Ruben and your father’s triumphs earned them both irrevocable places in the Capitol as diamonds as well as homes in District four’s Victor’s Village — leaving you and your mother to live alone in the house of which you were raised. In fact, your entire lineage is among the victors, aunts and uncles and cousins all diamonds of the Capitol and residents of the village. Well, most of them. Some of your relatives moved to higher Districts after their Games, seeking as much proximity to the Capitol as possible.

A L/n has never lost the Games, not in the entire seventy-three years they’ve been running. The mere thought of someone in your family failing to prevail is something unprecedented.

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself into a towel, grabbing a suture kit from the cabinet under the sink. You pop it open and sit on the closed toilet seat before threading the needle. You’ve stitched yourself up plenty of times, the damned holograms annoyingly good at what they’re made to do — challenge you.

By the time you’ve finished and your bicep is newly adorned in neat stitching, it’s one o’clock. You only have a short bit of time before the Reaping. As you put the kit back into the cabinet, a second thought dawns on you.

Fuck! You think, eyes widening almost comically. Mister Alden will be here in ten minutes.

You tighten your towel around your body before padding down the hall to your bedroom. It’s overlarge, making you feel small. The walls are white with golden mouldings, the floors are made of marble tiles. To some, your family’s mansion would be a dream come true. Though, to you, it feels more like a prison than a home. It has ever since your brother left.

Your mother had an Avox lay your Reaping outfit out on your bed. It’s blue — as most clothing made for District Four is. It’s made of a deep navy satin, jewels embedded into the fabric. It’s absolutely gorgeous and you hate it.

Though, your personal thoughts on clothing matter naught. You once tried arguing with your mother on how extravagant your clothes were, saying it was ridiculous when people in lower Districts struggle for food. That comment earned you a week with minimal food. She said that if you pitied the peasants so greatly, she’d gladly treat you like one, claiming empathy to be far more valuable than sympathy. You’d never made another comment on your clothes again after that.

Though, you both knew her anger was rooted far deeper than your mere clothing preference. It was rooted in the underlying criticism you’d made in regards to the governing of your country — the unfair hierarchy of Districts. You never made a political comment after that, either. Not aloud anyway.

You pull the dress on, something symbolic always laced within the act of holding your tongue.

Each curve and stitch is made specifically for your body, fitting perfectly. Trading fish in this gown will make for an odd sight, but you haven’t a choice. Mister Alden should be here any minute and the Reaping begins in less than an hour; multitasking is your only option.

The halls are just as pristine as your bedroom, walls decorated with fine art and the tile floor kept sparkling. Thanks to the unpaid Avoxes — which are former criminals whose punishments are to be made into servants for the Capitol. You live in the Districts, but your family is so cherished by Capitolites that you’re permitted to have an abundance of your own servants. Despite the fact that your mansion is tended to by over twenty Avoxes, you’ve never spoken to a single one. Not due to your own ignorance, but because their tongues are removed and they’re unable to speak.

One of them holds the door open for you on your journey out to the docks. You thank him shortly, though he doesn’t respond.

Your house is beachfront, back porch providing a wooden path down to your own private piling dock. It’s unnecessarily fancy for your mother to inherit — who just happened to marry into a wealthy family — and you, who hasn’t even become a victor yet. And, if you’re never Reaped, you’ll have never deserved an ounce of what’s been given to you.

The path to the dock is a downward slope. Your house is built on a rocky cliff, hence the path’s existence. You hike your dress up as you rush down the wooden trail, though as soon as you do, you hear your mother’s past lectures ring through your head. “Never above the ankles!” She’d once said, slapping your hand with a stick to force you to drop the dress. Instinctively, you lower it.

You walk down to the dock, happy to see that it’s empty, Mister Alden not having yet arrived. Though, once you’ve reached the end of it, you hear the low hum of his boat’s motor putting through the salty water. He coasts up to the wooden structure. You reach out to catch him as the motor comes to a halt.

His boat is small, just big enough for one man to fit in. It’s made of metal with only one seat at the helm, situated beside the tilling outboard.

Your family has bought from mister Alden all your life. When you were a kid and it was Ruben’s job to retrieve the fish, you would traipse behind him. You’d hobble behind him, small legs having to run in order to keep up with your elder brother's long gait. Then, once at the dock, you were rendered useless. You’d peer over mister Alden’s boat, nosily searching his belongings. You watched as Ruben would speak to mister Alden shortly, pay him graciously, hoist the net of seafood over his shoulder, then head back inside. Due to this, mister Alden watched you grow more than your own father had. And even though his presence is short and biweekly, you know the old man rather well.

Well enough to know that he has three grandkids and the oldest of them is a twelve year old girl whose first ever Reaping is today.

“Oh, what a lovely outfit.” He smiles, crows feet creasing. He remains seated as you moor the boat to the cleats. The metal is so hot from endless days spent in the sun that it burns your hands at the touch. You don’t dare wince, knowing how fast mister Alden would rush to your aid. You’re sure he has enough on his plate what with his granddaughter. “I can carry the fish inside, if you’d like. Wouldn’t want you staining such a stunning dress.”

“It’s okay.” You’re quick to assure him, offering your hand to help him out of the boat once it’s tied off. He takes it, the man nigh senile in his old age. His hand shakes slightly as he steps onto the dock. “I can get the fish, mister Alden, I don’t mind.”

He smiles kindly, “You remind me so much of your brother.”

You don’t respond. You know he’s only saying that out of kindness, he has to be. Your mother ceaselessly reminds you of how different the two of you are. You try to ignore the comment as you lean over the boat to pull the huge net of fish from the creased hull. They’re blue in color, almost mimicking that of your dress, though their scales shine silver in the sunlight.

“Did you ever hear the story of Ruben’s first Reaping?” Mister Alden asks as you drop the net onto the dock, pausing to converse with him for a while despite knowing it’s a bad idea with your lack of time. “He only attended two Reapings, that poor boy. But his first one, I’ll never forget. It was the first time I met your mother, too, the nasty woman. He was out here retrieving fish, as our exchanges always seem to fall on Reaping Day. He was only twelve, but so determined to carry the fish all on his own. I offered my help at least a hundred times, to which he refused each one. He was strong, though, for his size. He managed to carry them all the way to the porch before the net caught on a twig and the fish fell all the way back down the pathway. Every single one.”

Your eyes widen. You recall this, though the memory is rather blurry to you as you were only seven at the time. That, and also because most of your memories with Ruben are tainted, not to be trusted in your bias.

“What’d my mother do?” You ask, unable to help your childlike curiosity from rearing its head.

“Well,” He chuckles, though it lacks any sense of humor. “She wasn't happy, that’s for sure. Ruben instantly began to cry when he saw the effects of his mistake. I tried to assure him that it was okay and I could always deliver more fish, but he said that’s not why he was sad. He wasn’t mourning the loss of the fish. Instead, he was terrified of what your mother would do to him.” Mister Alden shakes his head, grey brows turned in an expression of dispirit. “No child that small should fear his own parent so vehemently.”

You frown. In every aspect where your mother lacks morality, mister Alden has a myriad of it. The old man is practically overflowing with sympathy at all times. He’d always treated you and Ruben as his own, offering comfort whenever you seek it and kind words whenever you forget they even exist.

Just as he’s about to continue his story, your mother’s voice is heard. It’s shrill as she shouts your name. Chills trace down your spine at the sound. Mister Alden gives you a pitying expression before you pass him a small pouch of coins for payment, lift the net over your shoulder, and begin the trek back up to your porch. The sound of his motor starting up carries through the air as you approach your mother.

She’s wearing a baby blue dress, just as fancy as yours — if not more. Her usual wooden cane has been swapped out for a fancier golden one. Her hair is done up in a neat braid, gold heeled shoes adorning her wrinkled feet.

She shoots you a scowl before entering the house, dropping the door on you despite knowing you’re carrying a huge weight of seafood. It slams into your side, the corner of it landing on your stitched bicep. You wince, struggling for only a moment before an Avox rushes to your aid and holds it wide for you. You don’t dare thank her in front of your mother.

You enter the kitchen, placing the bag of fish onto the marble counter.

“We have less than twenty minutes before the Reaping!” She spits, rage evident in her tone as she watches you set it down. “Your feet are dirty and bare, your hair is matted, and you reek of fish!”

“I didn’t—” You begin, though you’re quick to stop yourself, remembering her order of not speaking unless asked to do so.

A sharp pain shoots through your cheek as she slaps you across the face for having spoken out of turn. You lower your head, mouth now sealed shut. She turns to give orders to the Avoxes — instructing two of them to put your hair up, one to put your shoes on, and three to gut and clean the fish prior to your return from the Reaping.

They’re quick to do so, rushing around to oblige.

You’re directed to a stool, two servants doing your hair into some intricate design whilst another crouches in front of you to slip on your shoes. They’re a pair of silver heels that match the jewels on your dress. In record time, the other two complete the updo, holding out a hand mirror for you to examine the design. Two thin braids wrap around the crown of your head, a neat bun resting at the nape of your neck. It’s beautiful considering how little time they had.

“I love it.” You whisper, quiet enough only they can hear it.

Your mother approaches you, thankfully not having heard your words of thanks. She circles around you, looking at the hairdo before she tuts, “It’ll do.”

The journey to the town square is only a few minutes. Though, as you walk beside your mother in deafening silence, it feels like an eternity. Everyone knows who the two of you are, the entirety of the Capitol fond of your family lineage. Their eyes are wide as they watch you and your mother pass through the streets. See, due to your partnership with mister Alden and your large quantity of Avoxes, neither of you ever leave the house unless it’s mandatory, which only adds to the peoples’ astonishment. Not to mention your unnecessarily extravagant clothing. Most people are only wearing plain gowns or linen shirts whereas you two look like you’re about to meet a monarch. It’s humiliating.

Your mother loves the attention, basking in it. You, on the other hand, feel as though it’s rather embarrassing.

You reach the square and part ways with her, wordlessly joining your respective age groups.

Your shoulders are set and your chin is raised as you know everyone is staring. Their gazes feel like spiders crawling all over your body. You fucking hate it, the prestige. Especially since you didn’t do anything to deserve it. You were just born into the family. To you, nothing makes you any different from the people living in the hovels of your District. Even in other Districts. The only thing that separates you from a starving child in Twelve is chance.

Mayor Marriott steps up to the podium and she tells the story of your country’s origin. You already know it by heart, having been taught by your father to memorize it at a young age. Her hair is platinum blonde, younger than most District mayors, though she’s just as strict. Her father was the mayor before her, causing her to take over the career. You oftentimes wonder if she hates lineage inheritance just as much as you do. You doubt it.

Following her speech comes the District escort. You know her by name, you know everyone in the Capitol by name. That’s Alice Reymond. Her hair is bigger than her head, her eyes adorned by lashes longer than her fingers. Capitolites are fucking weird, looking more like disfigured abstract pieces than human beings.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Exclaims Alice Reymond. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

She goes on to tell a speech on how much of an honor it is to serve as this District’s escort. Though every escort says that, you’re sure she means it more so than any others. Escorts are paid based on how many victors their District is able to produce. And, what with your family’s abundance of them, you’re sure she’s swimming in more cash than even District One’s escort is. However, more importantly, the bragging rights must be immeasurable.

Behind the podium of which she stands, mayor Marriott watches with a piercing gaze. Her blue eyes are intimidatingly sharp as she overlooks the crown. Though, the man sitting in the mentor’s chair has a gaze even sharper than she.

Ruben. Your brother.

He’s tasked with training and keeping the tributes alive each year. He’s rather good at it. And, even when he fails, nobody blames him. How could they when he’s so perfect? You tune out Alice Reymond’s speech, taking in the sight of your brother after having not seen him in years. The closest you’ve gotten to talking to him is watching interviews on the television.

His features are almost a perfect copy of yours — the same nose shape, same hair and eye color, same lips. But he’s got a certain look to him that erases any sort of similarities you two happen to share. A certain Capitolistic look. His eyes are highlighted with golden eyeliner, all the wrinkles in his face surgically removed. The brother you’d cherished all those years ago no longer exists. In his place sits the shell of a man. A Capitolite and thereby not your brother.

“Here we go!” Alice Reymond grins, yanking your thoughts back to the Reaping. She then begins digging her inhumanly long fingers through the bowl of names. She pulls out a slip of paper and smiles widely before calling it out. “Remy Wilson!”

The crowd murmurs lowly, looking around for the owner of the name. A pause. Nobody steps forward. Then, two Peacekeepers suddenly storm into the crowd and rip a little boy from his parents. The boy, Remy, is frozen in place, unmoving. The Peacekeepers pull him up to the stage. He’s crying, as he stands on the elevated space, trembling under the gazes of the District. Of the country.

He can’t be older than twelve. His cheeks are rounded, his big brown eyes even rounder. His skin is pale with a rosy nose, his wavy hair is an ashy brown that forms a messy crown of innocence around his head. Ruben is watching the boy closely, likely examining whether or not he’ll survive the arena. The answer is obvious, though. This child won’t be making it out.

“And for our second tribute,” Continues Alice Reymond. She pulls another paper from the bowl, her eyes widening slightly as she reads it. A great, pearly smile splits across her face before her spider-like eyes land on you. Your heart sinks.

You already know what she’s going to say when she calls out your name.

[post] notes!! While dual POV will be in this story, this is the only time I'll be showing two perspectives of the same event. This chapter followed Ellie and the reader both experiencing the reaping. It was needed for the plot but grew repetitive at the end, I promise this is the only time that'll happen 🤞 Also, this was a shit ton of exposition & I apologize for that, but the backstory of both characters are very needed. You def needed to see Ellie's relationship w everyone around her as well as have explanatory bg with the reader's family and everything. Also x2, I hope the amount of dialogue in Ellie's pov made up for the lack thereof in the reader's pov. I hate reading huge paragraphs of straight monologue so I try to refrain from writing it, but sometimes it's unavoidable (bc reader literally has nobody to talk to) Anyway, hope you enjoyed!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx @xlovla @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @shawangel @defnoteleonor @fatbootymuncher @autisticintr0vert

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 series taglist @kirammanss @dsybouquet @serraphinm @smellovie. @sakiigami. @opt1mistic. @spacecinnamonbuns. @clouded-whispers. @sapphicarribean @corpsebridenightamare. @jaliyah-s. @pixiec4t. @chappellroankisser

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cjlouwho · 2 days ago

Note

Dear CJ,

May I please have some more Bottom!Tommy smut? I feel a mighty need. I need to imagine his big cock bouncing up and down as he rides Buck until neither of them can move.

Thank you.

Love, Me

read below or on ao3

His thighs ached with how long he'd been going. Arms loosely wrapped around Buck's shoulders, head fallen back, moans slipping out every time he sank back down on his cock.

"Fuck, Tommy, you look so pretty." Buck sat back against the headboard, his hands on Tommy's waist. His grip was tight, helping Tommy move up and down, up and down.

Otherwise, Buck stayed still. When Tommy got like this, when he wanted to come like this... well, Buck let him know it was all on him. Tommy was putting on a show to an audience of one.

"Ev- Ev- oh, Evan," Tommy panted, clenching his hole around Buck's dick. He lifted his head, pulling Buck in for a hungry kiss, his stomach burning with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

His mouth dropped open as his cock bounced between the two of them, slapping against Buck's stomach and leaving a trail of precum behind each time.

"Long enough," Tommy breathed out against Buck's lips. "Need... Need it."

Buck's hands slipped around to the base of Tommy's back, then down to his ass, squeezing at the flesh. "I'm not stopping you, Tommy," he whispered.

Tommy groaned, pushing away from Buck enough to gain some leverage. He dropped an arm down, wrapping his hand around his red, throbbing cock and began to stroke. He'd barely made it from base to tip before Buck's hand was on top of his.

"No touching," Buck all but demanded, pulling his hand away, and Tommy whined. Full on lip pouted out, eyes glistening with tears, whined at his words.

"B- Baby, please. Please, I'm so close."

"I know." Buck kept his voice steady, although on the inside he was so close to falling apart himself. "You can come like this, Tommy," he assured him. "I've seen it before. You're gonna come on my cock, Baby, then after I come inside you, you can lay down and rest while I lick you clean."

"Oh, Fuck, Evan." Tommy leaned back until he could plant his hands on Buck's thighs. He moved fast, pounding himself down on Buck's cock until, with a shout, he came.

Both of their chests covered in Tommy's come, Buck planted his feet and, finally, he moved. He fucked himself into Tommy over and over until he came deep inside him with a groan.

Tommy fell forward onto him, grabbing hold of his face as he kissed him, biting and sucking at his bottom lip.

"Lay down," Buck instructed, giving Tommy's ass a pat. "I'll keep my tongue in you until you're ready to go again."

In the back of his mind, Tommy wondered what he ever did to get so lucky.

#911 #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #bottom!tommy my beloved #lmao i just looked and i ended this one nearly the same as the last one 😂 😂#well they know what they like okay?? lol

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thisonehere · 1 day ago

Text

Under the Mistletoe

Mk kharacters x GN reader

Summary: Johnny's hosting a holiday party and you find yourself under the mistletoe with a kombatant.

A/n: Happy New Years!!! It's been a good little minute since I've done any headkanons. I know I haven't been posting much lately, I'm sorry about that a lot's been going on these last few months. This year I plan on being way more productive with my writing.

C/w: Heat, Slight smut, sloppy kissing, tongue, mentions of blood, violence and bruises

Bi-Han

He wasn't originally supposed to be here.

Johnny didn't want to invite him, considering all the recent drama (and because he still owed Johnny for the vase), but you insisted. You felt bad because the alternative was him spending the holidays alone.

You all thought Bi-Han wouldn't show up, Bi-Han wasn't a fan of the holidays, neither was he really the funnest at parties.

You were all surprised when Bi-Han did come. It was all so awkward. There was a lot of tension in the air, many fearing that at any given second, Bi-Han would explode and ruin everything.

But it didn't happen, the entire night Bi-Han stayed in a corner of the room. No one dared to go near him, not even his own brother, so he stayed there alone. He stayed there with his arms crossed leaning against the wall with a scowl in his face.

You felt your heart ache for him.

After building up courage, you walk up to him. He gives you a cold glare, but there was something oddly welcoming in his eyes.

"What do you want?" He grumbles as he gets off the walls and stands upright.

You quickly attempt to make small talk, he eyes you up and down as you try to talk to him. He still has a frown on his face but he doesn't shoo you away or giving you the feeling that he wants to be alone.

The remainder of the evening you try to create. Conversation, and Bi-Han gives you a decent response.

In truth, Bi-Han is grateful for you trying to talk to him. One of the worst parts of parties and events is that he often times end up alone, though he refuses to let anyone know that.

The holidays have always been a lonely time for him. He hated the holidays but his brothers always manage to make him enjoy just a little. But now s rift has grown between him and his brothers making it even harder to find anything to happen during this season.

You're the reason he came here in the first place. He refused to come at first, but then he learned that you personally asked Johnny to invite him, that you wanted him here.

You continue to talk, the conversation gets better. But you notice something hanging above both of you. Mistletoe. Johnny had hanged it all over the place in hopes of catching Kitana under it.

Hot red blush burns your face as you suddenly become shy. You fail to look Bi-Han in the eyes and struggle to speak. "What is it?" He sharply asks. Then he sees the mistletoe. Everything goes still and quiet as he just glares at it.

"I- it's just a dumb tradition." Your face felt like it was on fire with how hard you were blushing. "We don't have to do it." You can't anymore world's to say, your eyes are now glued to the floor.

Bi-Han glared at you, an unimpressed look in his eyes. "Pathetic." You hear him mumble as he places a hand onto your chin and forces you to look at him. "Cowardice disgust me."

He then grabs the back of your head and forcefully kisses you. His lips crash against you as his other arm wraps itself around your body

He holds you close as he kisses you, he isn't usually a romantic man, but tonight, for you, he'll make an exception.

His lips weren't as rough as you anticipated they'd be, they were surprisingly soft and warm, everything about him is soft and warm. You find your arms slowly return to his embrace as he kisses you with an unexpected passion. You mind goes numb for a second as you can't fathom that this is happening.

Finally, Bi-Han releases you. You gasp as you catch your breath and regain your composer. You pant, you stable to keep you balanced. And all the while Bi-Han resumes his harsh stare and he fixes with his cold eyes.

He continues the conversation you were having like nothing happened, you try to continue it too. But the kiss is permanently at the for front of your mind.

It's getting later in the night and the party is now whining down. All you can think about is Bi-Han's warmth, his rough lips that were soft at the same time. The way his strong arms held you gave you chills to just think about it.

Later on, you both were seen leaving the party together.

Tomas

At the prospect of being invited to a party, especially a party at Cage mansion with the Johnny Cage, Tomas was over the moon.

He was especially eager to go when he heard you'd be there. He has always had a crush on you, but he was too nervous to do anything. Maybe tonight will be different...

So you made the decision to take him home with you.

Tomas isn't one for social interactions, unless it's leading and instructing warriors or playing a part, he is quite awkward. But tonight, he was willing to try.

During the party, he does his best to be as social as possible. Sometimes he does well, other times her devolves into going on a long rant about one of his many hyperfixations.

But throughout the entire night, he has kept his eye on one thing: you. He has desperately been looking for you everywhere. Sometimes he finds you, but you're too busy or too far away for him to get to. Other times he can't find you anywhere, he asks around and he is often led onto a wild goose chase.

When the night goes on, things get darker and darker outside. Guests were already beginning to leave, and he hasn't had a chance to speak to you.

Much to his disappointment, he and Kuai were beginning to leave. He feels heartbroken, he was so excited to speak to you, he didn't know what about, but just being able to speak to you would be enough for him.

He and Kuai were walking out of the door. But then Tomas sees something at the corner of his eye.

Tomas sees an opportunity, and he bolts towards. Much to Kuai's confusion.

"Y/N!" He shouts as he quickly approaches you. You eagerly stop what you're doing totuen to face him as he steadily approaches.

As he gets to you, he accidentally slams into you and knocks you over.

Tomas grabs you by the waist, quickly catching you before you hit the ground, apologizing purfusely.

But you don't seem to mind, you actually laugh and joke about it. That doesn't stop Tomas for feeling terrible, he places a hand on the back of your head, cradling it and ensuring that it's secure, and places another hand on your lower back. He tenderly looks at you, causing you to feel a sudden load of butterflies awaken in your stomach.

Your eyes fall onto the ceiling and you what's above your head: Mistletoe.

You stare at it, wheels in your head turn as you realize what it is. Tomas, noticing you staring at something, looks up and see it too.

You both are frozen for a second as you share sheepish glances at each other, both of you too shy to say anything. Yet you give him an encouraging look.

He goes in and kisses. He over thought it every second. Should he skip some tongue in? Would you like that? Is he going kissing you too hard? Will he soft enough for you?

Both your minds went numb as you lips touch, it all feels strangely magical as the world goes silent. You become more aware of the way he holds you, so much care, so much love.

He helps you back to your feet, but your head felt awfully light from that kiss.

"Um, maybe we should go somewhere private." He says, his own face flushed. "I think we have a lot to talk about."

Kuai

As the Grandmaster of a very new and very fragile clan meant to protect Earthrealm, Kuai aoiang as little interest in parties. So he refuses to go at first, but Tomas and Harumi insist on him going.

He is firm at first on his position on not going, but they all eventually wear him down. He begrudgingly relents and agrees to go.

He is a natural when it comes to social settings. He has a cool and charismatic way about him that makes him a very chill person to be around.

He wasn't a very outgoing person though, not really a social butterfly. He kept to just Tomas and Harumi for most of the night.

One of Kuai's problems is that he is often too mild, but to him he was just right. Tomas and Harumi encouraged Kuai to let loose a little tonight.

So that's what he tried, he began being more outgoing talking to more people, even dancing a little. It felt pretty fun, but he preferred to be in a calmer setting, making having some form of a deep conversation.

He found that in you. He came across you while he was coming off the dancefloor, many cheering him as he left.

"Y/n!?!?" He was taken aback when he saw you, you were so beautiful tonight. "You look... exquisite." He sighs. You were always so radiant to him in just the simple things you do. So many times he found himself going mad at how magnificent you were, tonight you were just the same if not more.

You always loved Kuai, he was amazing in your eyes. He was gentle and sweet, so you didn't hesitate when he came to you hoping to talk.

You found a much more calmer part of the mansion to talk. A nice room with a leather couch, possibly the library, but the place was do overly decorated that you couldn't tell.

Kuai talked about the Shirai Ryu and how well it was coming along. He is especially about the one Shirai Ryu in particular, Hanzo Hasashi. He beamed with pride when talking about him, as he and Hanzo were at one point good friends.

He looked so cute as he talked about how proud he was of everyone in the clan, how humbling it was being a grandmaster and having to deal with such a big responsibility.

Eventually, the conversation got a little more casual when you talked about what you were going to do for the rest of the holidays. Kuai seemed especially interested on whether are not you'd be spending them with someone.

Before you could answer, you lay back in your chair, you notice for the first time something hovering over your head, mistletoe.

Butterflies begin swarm around in your stomach as you fix your eyes into the decoration, making sure your weren't mistaken.

Kuai looks up too, he seems less surprised by the mistletoe. He stilled seemed calm, you caught his brow arch and lips curl a little.

"Well," he sets gets closer to you "It is tradition to kiss." You rub your face hoping that the blush might come off. "And who am I to go against tradition?"

He pulls you close, sits you onto his lap. "Y/n," He says softly, almost a whisper. "Will you do me the honor of letting me kissing you?"

Did he even need to ask? He pulled you in and kissed you, his kiss was like fire. His hand rub your thigh, slowly making it's way to the inside of your thigh.

He even was so brave to the point of slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moan as he continues to kiss you with passion.

He lays your down onto your back on the couch. He climbs on top of you and continues to kiss you. He pulls back to undo his shirt, you help him unbutton it as things began to feel a tough hotter in the room.

"Well, it's a good thing we chose someplace private." He said as he threw his shirt off. "I suppose we'll be here for a good while."

Geras

He met you while he was moving through the dance floor trying to get back to Tomas and Harumi, who were busy talking to Liu Kang.

You are instantly attracted to him, you admire him from afar. You find your way to him later on in the night. Though he was kind of stiff

As the overseer of the timeline, Geras spends his days monitoring the hourglass and ensuring all went according to Liu Kang's plans.

He never celebrates the holidays, he never saw a reason too. He had no one else around to celebrate it with.

But he can't deny that he has a curiosity on what it would be like to have someone to enjoy these traditions with.

So when Johnny invited Geras to this holiday party, Geras accepts.

He hopes to go know what it's like to partake in such festivities with humans.

Though, he isn't the best at socializing. For the first part of the night he decides it would be festive to give people cryptic warnings and clues about their futures. One guy he just straight up told him that he had an incurable disease and that'd cause him to die an agonizingly slow and excruciatingly painful death.

Geras stayed in the corner for most of the night, unsure on what to do. He just stood there and stared at everyone, it began to creep some people out. It didn't help that he chose the darkest corner which caused his eyes to glow in a very ominous way.

The only person who wasn't scared of him was you. After building up some courage, you invite him over to have some punch with.

Geras has always had a strange fondness for you. You caught his eye as he monitored the timeline. There was a strange

It's very awkward at first, neither of you seem to know how to interact. Both of you come from extremely different walks of life so there isn't a lot to talk about.

He talks about his process of monitoring this and other timelines for potential threats.

Geras is the first to notice it above your heads. The Mistletoe. It's a strange tradition to him. He is familiar with it, a superstitious tradition thought to ensure fertility. It's useless to him, he never planned on having children. Frankly, he isn't sure he even could barely children.

Family, love, passion, things Kronika forbade him. She had created him strictly to enforce her will.

But Liu Kang did recreate him, perhaps things have changed. He can think of someone he'd like to try these things with.

He stares at it while you talk. Confused, you stop talking and look up. You feel yourself blush as you realize what's above you.

You nervously laugh, "It's-uh-it's a Mistletoe. Basically it's-"

"I am aware of what it is, Y/n, I was not created yesterday." He interrupts sternly. You must look like a tomato with how red you are. "It's alright, I didn't mean to be rude."

Then silence between you two, your eyes dart from Geras and to the Mistletoe. Geras just stares blankly at you.

Finally, after taking a deep breath, you get on your tippy toes and gently kiss Geras. taking Geras by surprise.

Gently touches his lips as he processes what just happened. And then you see something you never saw before, Geras blushing.

"...Thank you...Y/n..." He says softly, giving an appreciative smile.

He stays with you for the remainder of the night, he looks at you with a look in his eyes. Like cogs in his brain were working hard to process and understanding new found feelings.

Kitana

When Kitana was invited by Johnny, she was hesitant at first. She once thought his little attempts to woo her were cute at first, but now they were getting annoying.

Also, she didn't care much for the Earthrealm holidays.

But she decided that she'd come by for a little bit, and then return to Outworld to spend the rest of winter with her sister to help with strategizing against Shoa.

And she must admit, she did find the party quite fun. The Christmas tree being so beautifully lit, the holiday cheer in the air as the carolers sang songs outside.

She admired the decoration of the mansion. She bumped into you as she was looking around. She kindly greeted you, asking you to excuse the splotches of blood on her hands.

The Princess has always been very fond of you, you were one of the few Earthrealmers she fairly liked.

But that enjoyment quickly ended.

She seemed fairly excited, she seemed to be enamored by the holidays.

You begin to talk about holiday tradition, you share Earthrealm customs while she shares Outworld holiday traditions.

The conversation quickly transitions to you telling holiday memories from your childhood. Kitana listens intently, enraptured by your every word. But then her attention is taken by something on the ceiling, but you don't notice.

If you paid attention to Kitana's face, it looked like wheels were turning. Then something clicked.

"Y/n?" She gently asks, immediately taking your attention. "I need you to step back a few feet." You stare at her confused, but you comply. A mischievous look on her face.

When you finish backing up, she points for you to look up at the ceiling. You look up and your heart stops as you see it: Mistletoe.

You choke on air. You look back at her, you try to say. She just stares you down with a smirk on her face. She gestures with her hand for you to come closer.

You shuffle forward a little, too nervous to get too close. Kitana grabs you by the collar and pulls you into a kiss. Taking out her fan and folding to stop people from seeing you kiss.

After holding her face against you and kissing you for a few moments, Kitana is nice enough to let you go. She laughs as you stumble about trying to regain you composure.

"It seems these Earthrealm traditions are not as bad as I thought."

Reiko

No nobody knows why he's here, he wasn't invited.

Reiko knew he wasn't invited. General Kitana, Geras, and Liu Kang was walking around here somewhere. If they caught him it would be all over.

So, why is here? Perhaps he just wanted to crash the party and cause problems. That is certainly what he did. He caused quite a ruckus by being loud as possible, he pigged out almost all Christmas convections Johnny spent a fortune, he antagonised many of the guests by insulting them and trying to start fights.

He isn't usually like this, usually he is the loyal underling of General Shao, but he couldn't deny that he was still a little miffed at the Earthrealmers for winning the tournament and humiliating Outworld and the General as well as interfering with the generals plans to liberate Outworld. So his primary mission tonight was to ruin everyone's night.

And he was successful, so successful to the point that Kitana, Liu Kang, and Geras were on his tail. He had successfully avoided them for most of the night, he thought it was funny how they ran this way and that trying to find him, and he eluded them every turn of the way.

He bumped into you as he was dipping out of Kitana's sight.

"Well, hello there." The moment he saw you, he knew you'd be his next victim of the night.

As he thought of the best, most obscene thing he could say to you, you smile at him as you try to be nice. He unloaded a mass of perverted advances towards you in hopes getting a rise out of you.

He definitely would ask 'if it was bubblegum pink' if he knew of the saying. , enough for you to gasp and hide your face in shame as the blush came through.

You were familiar with Shao's wild second in command, but you didn't expect him to be so...charming. You found yourself blushing at his every word. Which isn't what Reiko was expecting usually the things he says would cause women to gasp and slap him in disgust.

But he couldn't deny, he liked seeing you like this, so he continued. Perhaps he could make more of a use of you tonight if he was lucky.

As he continues to spout his perverted advances towards, you look every which way but at him. At one point you look up to the ceiling to avoid his haunting eyes, and that's how you see it. Mistletoe hanging above your heads. You gasp as you see it.

Reiko stops talking and looks up to see what you were gasping at. He sees the strange bundle of flora hanging from the ceiling. He stares at it confused. He looks at you, his eyes demanding answers.

You quickly explain what it is, you stammer as you explain why it was hung up on the ceiling. As you tell him the tradition of kissing someone under the plant for superstition.

You watch as his eyes light up as you tell him. "Is that so?" He slowly walks up and gets closer to you. "Um...yeah, it's just a silly tradition." You say as you continue to avoid his gaze.

Reiko licks his lips as he stares at you. Before you know it, you don't even know how it began, if he initiated it or you, but now Reiko's face was against yours, his lips pressed up against your lips, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth.

His hands weren't shy as they traveled around your body, feeling and gripping certain parts as he took you in.

You surprised at how hungrily he kissed and gripped at you. It was almost to the point that it felt like he was beginning to take your clothes off.

Whatever he was about to do, you'd never find out, because in an instant Reiko is ripped off you by Kitana. She hadn't given up on finding Reiko all night, him stopping to talk to you, to make out with you, slowed him down long enough for her to catch him.

You are left in a dazed and state as you are left stumbling back. Both from the commotion that Kitana and her guards caused as well as the passionate kiss that left your brain buffering.

Despite being found, Reiko had a smile on his face as he gave a proud laugh. "Well, looks like our date has been cut short...until next time..."

As they drag him away, Kitana sends you an apologetic look as she walks away. No doubt assuming you were a victim her was accosting you.

You are left alone, you can still taste Reiko in your mouth. You are struggling to process all the madness that just occurred in front of you. You fix your clothes and hair and try to enjoy the rest of the night.

Baraka

The holidays aren't easy for Baraka. Tarkat often makes it so hard to live, especially with the fact that it took everything away from him, he struggles to feel any holiday joy.

When Johnny invited him to the party, Baraka had thought the man had gone crazy. Inviting someone infected with Tarkat to an event that could risk hundreds getting infected.

But Johnny insisted everything would be fine, Earthrealmers seem to have much more of an immunity to Tarkat compared to Outworlders.

Baraka would've refused, he should've refused. But so much of his life has been hardships, surely he could spend one night to be happy.

So there he is, he stands at the corner of the room, looking around aimlessly at the thousands of people. Music filled the air as the guess mingled and ate and were merry.

Everyone avoided Baraka, it doesn't matter if they as Earthrealmers had an immunity, they still ostracized him, avoided him, glared at him, whispered and muttered things about him.

Baraka regretted coming here. All he could do was stay in the corner, and watch as they all shot him dirty and concerned looks. He sighed, defeated. He never should have come here.

It felt like Johnny only brought him here to be spectacle to gawk and point.

He was just about to leave, until you walked up to him. You had been finding the courage to talk to him, you saw him standing all alone in and you felt you heart ache form.

Baraka stares you down cautiously as you walk up to him. You smile sweetly as you try to make small talk. Baraka doesn't shoo you away, he seemingly embraces your company.

There isn't much for you to talk about, but you still try, and Baraka appreciates it. He isn't really a talkative person, but for you he tries.

You actually get along quite well, after a few minutes of painful attempts at small talk, you finally find something to talk about.

As you talk, you eyes find their way to the ceiling, and that is how you became aware of the mistletoe hanging above your heads.

You try to stop yourself, but you audibly gasp as you look at it, causing Baraka to look at it as well.

You quickly explain what it is and what people do when they're caught under it. Baraka merely makes dry laughs at this. Not just because of his lack of lips, but the idea of you ever kissing him. Surely, you must've thought him too repulsive to kiss.

But you surprised him. After hesitating a few seconds, you slowly rock forward on the tip of your toes and you plant a soft kiss on Baraka's nose.

Baraka is taken aback by this as you softly pech his mutated nose. He was as you step back and smile at him, and all he can do is look dumbfounded.

Did you do that out of pity? Did you just feel bad for him so you decided to kiss him? Obligation? Was it out of duty to tradition?

Or...did you do it because you...liked?

Be can't help fantasize about the possibility of someone loving in such a way. For now, perhaps he'll give into the fantasy. But he's no fool, this is just for tonight. Because who could possibly actually love a monster like him.

Liu Kang

Bah! How could you ever love a monster like him?

Liu Kang hasn't always been one for parties. He has always preferred to stay at the Wu Shi and meditate in his temple.

But the Fire God decided to humor Johnny and attend the party.

Being the protector of Earthrealm as well as the Titan of time, Liu Kang was the center of attention for much of the night. So many people came to him and started conversations, maybe they ask him questions hoping to pry out some answers for major moments in their lives.

Sometimes an entire entourage would form around him. You were almost knocked down by the crowd of people as they walked past you, you wondered if Liu Kang ever felt overwhelmed by all this attention.

Finally, the crowd about him finally lightened up, giving Liu Kang a chance to slip away. That is how he came across you.

You had avoided him all night. You were always intimidated by that fact that he was the protector of Earthrealm, finding out that he was the Titan of Time as well made you officially too nervous to approach him.

You had always had Liu's eyes though. You had always been special to him. He took great care in crafting everyone's destiny in this new timeline, he especially took great care when crafting your new life.

Something about you was just so captivating about you that Liu Kang couldn't keep you out of his head indefinitely. So when he found out you were here, he decided upon himself that he'd speak to you at least once tonight.

He wasn't going to do anything too personal, just a kind smile and a kind greeting. Perhaps a little small talk and then he'd move on.

You felt your palms get sweaty as he walked up to you. You force a smile into your face as he begins talking. You remind yourself at every second not to freak out, this is just you literal maker and creator of the universe, who's also hot, nothing to worry about.

You make your greetings, you wish him a happy holiday. Liu Kang nods at this, he moves the conversation to how much progress you've made throughout this year. "You have improved so much, considering who you were originally..."

He trails off for a second. "I'm sorry?" You asked perplexed. "I improved from wha-"

"Forgive me, I misspoke." He waves his hand as if he was shooing away a thought. He is quick to move the conversation along, you don't protest, better to keep the conversation light rather than ask questions about your past lives and the place he designer for you in this timeline.

You try to move the conversation along, you talk about what you did for the holidays, who you celebrated with, how you brought in the new year. He seemed very interested in your words like they were so fascinating.

As you speak, you are none the wiser of the mistletoe that hangs above you. Liu Kang knows about it, he saw it as he walked over to you. He would really like to kiss you, but he didn't know how to bring it up.

Finally, much to Liu Kang's joy, you look up and notice it. He warmly smiles as he watches you shrink under the mistletoe, obviously stunned by this. You eyes dart from him to the mistletoe, he gives you an encouraging smile as you calm down.

"I believe you do something when found under this." He gives you a charming smile. "Um, may I?" You feel the warm sensation of his hand as he caresses the side of your face, he lovingly looks into your eyes as he admired your for a second.

His lips are soft, electrifying, you feel your body basically collapse as he continues to caress your lips with his.

Tonight is the night you learned what it was like to be kissed by a god. That was apparent as you failed to collect yourself when he finished. You were so flustered that you couldn't even think straight.

"Have lovely rest of the evening." Liu Kang smiles at you generously, he then walks away. Leaving you to contemplate the fact that you just kissed a creator god.

Johnny Cage

Tonight didn't go as planned for Johnny.

He had hoped to catch Kitana under the mistletoe and have a totally hot make out sess'.

He followed her around for a good part of the night, all the while hoping he'd catch her under one of the many mistakes he hung up across the mansion. It was getting to the point of harassment.

And he did catch her under the Mistletoe, though, he didn't get a kiss. But she was nice enough to give him some sweet chin music as she uppercut him.

She knocks him onto his ass right then and there, also knocking him out. Maybe she hit him a few more times while he was down.

Despite this, many of the partygoers still continue on with the party.

Johnny lies there for some time. You eventually feel bad for him and wakes him up.

You get Johnny to the bathroom and are nice enough to help him clean up the many bruises on his face.

Cage is a drama queen, so he overreacts to the bruises on his face. All he had was a busted lip, a broken nose, a black eye, and a few cuts and gashes all over him, nothing bad at all.

"Well, did we learn anything, Mr. Cage?" You ask as he sits in the tub clutching an ice pack over his eye. You were in his bathroom, you were alcohol onto a cotton ball.

"Okay, maybe a went a little too fa-AH" he flinched as you use the cotton ball. "A little?" You press cool cotton against the red cut on his face. "Okay, Okay, I fucked up and went too far. I should've taken no as an answer and left Kitana alone. Happy?"

"Very." You teasingly coo as you wipe all the blood of his face, you feel a little bit bad for Johnny. He deserves every last but if these injuries, to be sure. But seeing him in pain made you feel bad deep down.

"Ow! Hey, go easy on me!" He hissed in pain as you dabbed the cotton onto another wound. You look at the bloody cotton ball, with a sigh you throw it away.

As you attend to him, you thank Johnny for inviting you and tell him how much you enjoyed the party. You talking about how much you enjoyed the party seemingly puts him in a better mood.

He tries to smile, looking past the busted lip, he still had one of the best smiles you ever seen. His teeth glowed like freshly cut diamonds.

He was such a charming man when he didn't try so hard. You felt yourself melt under his gaze. Cage arched his brow, "Starstruck looks cute in you, Y/n. Say, you want to kiss under the mistletoe?" He tries his best to be smooth

"We're in a bathroom, Cage." You shake yourself out of the daze you were in. Johnny just points to the ceiling. You look up "Really?!?!" You gasp as you see quite a few pieces of mistletoe hanging from the bathroom ceiling. "What can I say, I always come prepared."

You groan as you shake you head. Then you grab him by the collar and kiss him.

Despite the bruises on his lips, Cage still has the best pair of lips you've ever had the privilege to kiss. You felt his hands tangle itself in your hair as Cage returned your hold

It's strange, a random kiss in the bathroom with a beaten up movie star is surprisingly one of the best kisses you ever had.

You pull away and so does Johnny. He has a knowing look in his eyes as he stares you down with grin on his face, as if he expects for you praise him for how good the kiss was.

It was, but you didn't feel like feeding Johnny's ego. "It was alright." You say as you rise out to your feet. "Oh come on!" Johnny insists as you walk away.

It was truly an amazing kiss, but you refused to let him see how flustered he had you as you lean against the wall outside the bathroom to catch your breath and regain his composure, his ego was big enough.

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tea-for-patchouli · 6 hours ago

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Oh sure, I love this sort of stuff

Last song: Blue Archive, Where All Miracles Begin

It's cute - I haven't played in a while now, but the BA soundtrack has a lot of fun music that for me hits the point between too ambient and too distracting for certain states.

Last book: (Nonfiction) Against Method by Paul Feyerabend, (Fiction) Lovecraft's At The Mountains of Madness

Lovecraft is great, thoroughly enjoying that. I think his character writing and ability to embody a voice is, if not underrated, then at least commendable.

Feyerabend is interesting - If we just stick to Against Method, I think I see where he's coming from, and I thoroughly agree that often times it's possible to get stuck in this idea that there's a process to get from A to B (in this case, from a lack of scientific understanding to a presence of it) is often hindered by the need to make it cohere with what we believe the process which worked in the past was.

Last movie: Inside (2023)

I liked this one, somewhat. I'm tempted to write more about it, but I'll just say that I think it was going for two separate things, and those two things ended up at odds with each other in the end result.

Last show: I rewatched Tengoku Daimakyou when showing it to a friend, but the last new show was R.O.D -READ OR DIE-

Tengoku Daimakyou is one of my favorite shows of all time, and it really feels like it understands something about a particular sense of the world and of being. R.O.D. was fine, it was an enjoyable action series and I liked watching it. It also harkens back to a time when cloning was a focal point of public curiosity.

Favourite color: Blue, but also Cyan

Sweet/Savoury/Spicy : Sweet, generally.

I like baked goods a lot, especially, and have a penchant for café style foods.

Relationship Status: In romantic terms, single

Last thing I googled: "helix editor formatter"

I wanted to set it up for C, but ended up turning off the formatter when it seemed like expressing my own particular preferences was going to be a hassle, especially since it's code which is not (yet) intended to be distributed or shared or anything like that.

Current Obsession: Hmm... Well, the usual; but I've also been reading a lot of Merry/Renko fic.

I liked codependency doesn't fit you, dear by Crooked_Crow, which is one about Renko getting sick, as well as And The Train She Rode In On by comfybutter.

Looking forward to: Finishing my projects, feeling like myself again. Besides that, though, perhaps the proliferation of RISC-V devices? Actually a whole ton of stuff which could itself easily double the length of this post (so, maybe another post, or a series).

Sorry for all the yapping. And I suppose I'll tag @mothykleo @europa6502 @da-riya (but if y'all don't do these sorts of things then nbd)

Ten people I'd like to get to know better

Tagged by @marshmallow--shark Thanks for the tag!

Last song: Intro/Chamber The Cartridge by Rise Against

Favourite colour: Orange!

Last book: A Brief History of Intelligence by Max Bennett

Last movie: That Christmas (it was kinda weird and we didn't finish it)

Last show: Jentry Chau vs. the Underworld

Sweet/spicy/savoury: I don't have much of a sweet tooth anymore, but I used to. Savoury!

Relationship status: Happily single

Last thing I googled: "quality" synonym

Current obsession: Star Trek: Enterprise. This is my fallback obsession. Close behind is Jentry Chau as a very recent one.

Looking forward to: Seeing a concert and a musical next year!

Tagging: @ionamalachite @peculiarreality @thetachapel02 @deadheaddaisy @papercranesong @talshiargirlfriend @glitter-and-metal @dragons-in-spaceee @pearlypairings @strze-lec

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smallpwbbles · 12 hours ago

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Hi Pebs! So I've been off social media for awhile trying to avoid spoilers for the Sonic movie and a couple of other things. I saw something about a studio Ghibli inspired au? What's it about? (Chronic Miyazaki movie enjoyer)

Literally came up with it on New years when I was watching totoro with nephew, legit I only wanted to draw Maria and Shadow in a ghibli style but my brain kept going with plot stuff

Takes place in the 90s, Gerald is a mad scientist of sorts that lives outside of station square in a smaller town with Maria, she’s got her NIDs in this but it’s not so aggressive that she needs to live in space.

Abraham is her age in this and he’s basically like a big bro/friend/neighbour who watches out for her but he’s very weird about it cuz his dads got old fashioned military attitude about how men should be about showing affection.

Shadow is made by pure accident here as Gerald does work for the government but he also works to cure Maria’s disease. Legit while he was working at home Shadow exploded into existence in an experiment gone wrong (which also leads to him being unstable so he actually control when he goes into the big monstrous form).

Maria and Gerald try to keep him away from being discovered by the government and people in general and shenanigans ensue

#ask #my brother the hedgehog au

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littlefireball · 1 day ago

Text

ʏʜ|ᴛʀᴀɪᴛᴏʀ (ᴍ)

ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ʙᴏꜱꜱ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ x ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ꜱʜᴏᴛ, ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ|ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴀʟ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.1ᴋ

In the eyes of the public, he was seen as the perfect idol, exuding charm with his captivating smile and warm laughter. However, beneath this facade lay a heart shrouded in darkness, consumed by malevolent thoughts and insatiable desires.

When night descended, he shed his mask of civility and transformed into a merciless demon prowling the streets, seeking out his next victim. His eyes gleamed with a chilling ruthlessness, and the glint of his blade spoke of impending doom. Whether it be innocent bystanders or vulnerable orphans, he showed no mercy as he cast them into the depths of despair.

His reign of terror cast a shadow over the city, leaving the police powerless and the populace gripped by fear. His name became synonymous with dread and hopelessness, instilling fear in all who dared to challenge his authority as he tightened his grip on the city.

"Jeong Yunho?" You studied the document in your hands meticulously, detailing his litany of crimes - from murder to theft to robbery. His rap sheet was well-known, but as you perused the list, you couldn't help but be taken aback by the extent of his atrocities.

Flipping to the back page, a photograph of a strikingly handsome face caught your eye, drawing you in with its allure. It was hard to reconcile this visage with the ruthless mafia boss he was known to be.

"Yes, I'm sure you're quite familiar with him," your boss remarked, lighting a cigarette and watching the ember fade to ash in the tray. His gaze met yours, conveying the gravity of the task at hand.

As the organization's top assassin, the responsibility for this perilous mission fell squarely on your shoulders.

"Don't worry, I've got this," you assured with a confident smile, offering a respectful bow before turning to depart.

Your boss observed your retreating figure impassively, reaching for his phone to make a call. "Keep an eye on Y/N," he instructed. Recent internal strife within the organization had led to a string of mysterious deaths, with all signs pointing to a traitor within. And you, unfortunately, were the prime suspect.

As night cloaked the city, you ventured alone to Yunho's clandestine hideout. Following the map's directions, you navigated the labyrinthine sewers, the oppressive atmosphere thick with the stench of blood and decay. Evading the guards' patrols and surmounting various obstacles with practiced ease, you pressed on undeterred. The journey was fraught with challenges, yet you moved with a grace that belied the difficulty.

Though you were aware of the man tailing you, you feigned ignorance, knowing the need to maintain the charade. He had been your trusted partner for years, his feelings for you transcending mere camaraderie. "So the organization sent you to shadow me." you mused inwardly, a hint of pride coloring your features as you remained unruffled.

"Alright, Johnathan, let's see what you're made of," you teased, straying from the designated path, leaving Johnathan puzzled as he trailed behind. "Y/N…you wouldn't betray us, would you?" he muttered to himself, his hopes slowly crumbling as your actions defied his expectations.

You maintained a facade of focus on the task at hand, all the while subtly leading him towards the trap. As you both reached the deserted sixth floor, the only thing in sight was a closed metal door. A quick glance at the CCTV camera outside the door, and a seductive smile plays on your lips, hinting at the impending spectacle.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Johnathan attempting to hide, but you called out to him, "No need to hide, come out." Your voice carried a provocative tone, adding to the tension in the air.

"Y/N." You turned your head and met his sad face.

"Why you…"

"What? Don't you want me to kill Jeong Yunho? Why did the target become me?"

"You…why? Aren't we companions?"

"You shouldn't kill me since I'm a comrade?"

"You betrayed the others first!" His tone was excited at first, but then softened. "That man forced you, right? Just tell me and I will help you." His words were extremely ridiculous. The facts were in front of him, but he didn't want to believe them, trying to convince himself with ridiculous rhetoric.

Despite your internal eye-rolls, you continued the charade, feigning vulnerability to keep the fool in front of you engaged. "You must have your reasons, right?" Your faux tears elicited a tender look from him, "I always knew you had a good heart, unwilling to aid in wrongdoing…"

In a sudden swift motion, you drew a pistol from your pocket, aiming at his thigh and firing. The bullets slice through the air, piercing his flesh and painting the floor red with blood. As he writhed in pain, you mocked, "You talk too much. I don't like it." With a casual air, you toyed with the gun in your hand, as he stared at you in shock, his voice trembling with agony.

At that moment, the door behind him creaks open, revealing a tall figure stepping into view.

ClapClapClap "You did so well, Y/N." Yunho, wearing a white suit, walked to you slowly and lightly brushed your arm with his fingers.

"Did I?" Your gaze that was originally full of murderous intent suddenly became gentle and full of love.

"Of course, my girl." He brushed your lips with his fingers and looked at the blood spots dotted on your face, feeling a rush of heat in his body.

"You're so hot, babe." He lowered his head and kissed your lips, making a harsh kissing sound.

"You traitor!!" Johnathan, who was lying on the ground, roared angrily.

"No, you're wrong. She has always been mine. She was just bored before, so she joined your organization for fun. Where did the betrayal come from?" Anger, sadness, injustice, all emotions surged into Johnathan's heart.

"I thought…you are a good woman, capable and smart…" He said reluctantly, apparently not noticing Yunho's increasingly dissatisfied expression.

"But you! Betrayed us!!" You rolled your eyes, not caring about any of his words.

"It's a shame that I…I even liked you!"

"Oh! You like her?" Before you could say anything, Yunho answered first, his eyes full of jealousy and dissatisfaction as he didn't allow others to have a thing for you.

"But sorry~She is mine, only mine." He hugged you into his arms and kissed you again.

In contrast to the previous encounter, this kiss was forceful, asserting dominance. He drew a shotgun from his pocket and fired in the direction of the man without even opening his eyes. A scream pierced the air, causing a momentary pause. The bullet struck the man's arm, blood seeping out steadily.

"Jealous?" Yunho smirked, relishing Johnathan's pained expression.

"I don't care!"

"Is that so? How about a little game? Let's see if you tell the truth or lies." Yunho lifted you up and pushed you down onto the long table in the room.

Surprised, you met Yunho's gaze as he whispered in your ear, "I know you enjoy being watched while I fuck you. Am I right?"

"Tsk…no need to say it." You playfully patted his chest, feigning shyness. "Just fuck me then."

You entwined your fingers around Yunho's neck and met his lips. This kiss continued the theme of dominance. He took control, exploring your lips and intertwining his tongue with yours. A rush of heat spread through your body, the air around you growing warmer.

Yunho moved to remove your shirt, but you halted him. "Do you want him to see me naked? Don't you mind?" "Ugh…I hate it. But I want to see it, what do you think I should do?" "You can take your time later in bed." You playfully bit his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. "Promise?" "Promise." He grinned, burying his face in your neck, kissing you fervently. You taunted the man on the ground, his face a mix of sadness and anger, tears streaming down his cheeks. You turned your head away, matching Yunho's movements.

His kisses trailed down, pausing at your collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles on your heated skin. Waves of electricity coursed through you. The thought of being watched intensified the heat in your body, the desire becoming overwhelming. "Hurry, Yuyu. I need you. Please fuck me." "Impatient, my dear?" He pecked your lips, his hands tracing your waist. You lifted your hips, allowing him to remove your clothes, deftly unbuttoning his trousers and pulling down his underwear.

"My girl is fucking horny, Hm? Want my cock?"

"Yes, I want you deep inside me." Your plea fueled Yunho's desire, his confidence swelling.

"Good girl. Let me fuck you until you see stars"

"That's something you can't have." Yunho challenged, thrusting into you without warning.

"Yunho, oh god!" You arched your back, a surge of pleasure almost pushing you over the edge.

"You're so big!"

His thrusts were initially steady and continuous, gliding in and out, creating a friction against your moist inner walls. The soft sounds of water and breathing filled the room, causing a flush to rise on people's cheeks. The man on the floor averted his gaze, unwilling to witness the intimate moment unfolding before him. The scene repulsed him deeply. Yunho, observing the man's reaction, felt a sense of dissatisfaction. He desired to see the man torn between jealousy and desire, trapped in a state of miserable conflict.

As the rhythm shifted, the intensity of his movements increased. Instead of the rapid thrusts from before, he began to enter slowly and forcefully. Each penetration felt like it was pushing past your limits, sending waves of numbness through your body. "Ha! Hm!" Your moans grew louder and more hoarse, your legs bending to allow Yunho to delve deeper.

"You're so tight," he remarked, his movements unyielding as he hit all the right spots with precision. He knew your body intimately. "Right here," you gasped as he targeted your most sensitive spot, throwing your head back in pleasure. "Here?" He teased, hitting the same spot again, eliciting a shy moan from you. "How could I not know? After all, I've fucked you countless times." He deliberately directed the comment at the man on the floor, simply to provoke him.

"Ah… Ah… Ah…" Your shy moans filled the room with each thrust, your eyes shut tightly as you breathed heavily through your mouth, your throat growing dry. "Does it feel good?" "Ye… Yes," you managed to reply, almost speechless from the intensity of his lovemaking, the relentless stimulation leaving you dizzy with pleasure.

"But our guest seems not feeling good." You turned your head and saw Johnathan lying on the ground motionless, but still breathing. It seemed that he was tortured by the pain of the wound.

"Maybe he needs something good to heal him." "Hm?" Yunho wrapped around your waist, picked you up easily, and then placed you on the ground. You faced the ceiling light, and yunho then overed you and fucked you again. "Oh gosh!" You looked up and found that you were facing Johnathan, and you instantly understood what yunho meant.

"You're so bad~" You smiled and patted his chest. "Am I? I could be worse." He pulled Johnathan's hair and forced him to look at you. "Watch me fuck her, hm?" "You dickhead!" Jognathan cursed, causing Yunho to get angry. Yunho's hand was on your waist, thrusting wildly, as if he had unlimited energy, hitting your g-spot again and again.

"Fuck~yuyu~" Hearing your pet name for him, Johnathan couldn't help but yelling in pain, all the anger in his heart stopped in his throat as if it could not pass through the narrow path and could only roar. Yunho laughed proudly when he saw this─the struggle in pain was the most beautiful sight in the world.

He let go of Johnathan's hand and turned to the top of your head, thrusting hard, lowering his head to kiss you, looking into Johnathan's eyes full of hatred and disgust from time to time.

"I'm fucking kill you!!" "Hey, let's try it next time." Yunho took out the pistol from his pocket and handed it to you. "Kill him, Y/N. I love watching you kill others. It's so hot." Your finger pointed at Johnathan's forehead, your eyes no longer lacked the companionship of the past, only full of lust.

"Sure, my darling. I love you so much." You disgusted him one more time as you wanted him to remember this feeling forever before he died. Without waiting for his response, you shot him. Blood splashes all over your body, creating a strange beauty on your body.

"You're so beautiful." Yunho pulled you up and kissed your wet and red lips.

"Remember our promise?"

"Of course." You smiled evilly, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him carry you to the bathroom.

No one in this city can overthrow his control, because even the strongest killer has fallen in love with him early on.

tag list: @angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615, @monsta-x-jagi

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez oneshot #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez yunho #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho smut #ateez reactions #ateez reaction #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez scenarios

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