#and youre so so fucking lucky one of my goals for next year is to make things right with you it would be easy to cut you off forever

[vanweezer]

very very personal, just insight into where im at w my family and things that bother me/have encouraged me to move out

"i know youre moving out so im just gonna say no ones kicking you out and if you feel like this is something you have to do then ok"

thanks! i know im not being kicked out! but yknow i kinda yet a weird vibe when your out of touch husband takes me to a cemetery to yell at me, tell me im just like my father/dont give my father "the time of day", and that im "mean to people who care about me" in front of his dead mother's grave in a poor attempt at guilting me out of speaking my mind. but no yeah thanks for stating the fucking obvious that im leaving on my own terms

[satorusugurugurl]

Here's some funny ideas I've got while at work today; a leisure streamer gojo who'd just simply streamed himself playing games naked except for his sunglasses and briefs. Rumors had it that each time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to see him ~fully naked~.

The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie!

Summary: Rumor had it the top donor of the-strongest-streamers chats get to see him naked! Now that you're the top donor will you get to see the goods or was it just a rumor. Time will tell.

Pairing: Streamer!Gojo x FAB!Reader

Warnings: language, nudity, masturbation, mutual-masturbation, skype sex??

A/N: I fell in love with this request! ugjskdkekd I love them so much! Thank you bonnie for such a great idea!! 💚💚💚

Part Two Part Three Part Four

On Friday nights, you always ran home from your last college class, avoiding people on bikes and walking by. You often got dirty looks thrown at you or the occasional ‘watch where you're going.’ But nothing would stop your stride. Friday nights were some of your favorite nights of the week. All because the-strongest-streamer live streamed on Fridays.

And the man, god fuck, he was the hottest!

Gojo Satoru, aka the-strongest-streamer, was a leisure streamer. He played games like Animal Crossing, Dream Daddy, and fluffy feel-good games in only his boxers and sunglasses. He was among the most popular streamers, not only for his looks but also for his happy-go-lucky attitude. But because of a particular rumor that started going around.

It was said in the forms online, in his comments, and even on Twitter that every time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to join a private stream with him and see him fully naked. That was just a rumor. He had denied the allegations and made it clear that the private stream was to have a meet and greet with his top donor.

The meet and greet was why you’ve been saving money for six months. You wanted to meet the man who had brought you so much joy in the last year. You stumbled across his profile when looking through videos online. You were looking for a cute cat compilation to ease the ache in your heart after your boyfriend dumped you. Instead, you found this goofball that had you smiling like an idiot on your phone.

You had been in a dark time when you first found his videos. You wanted to express your gratitude to him. Seeing him naked was not your goal in any way, shape, or form.

The second you got home, you slid over to your laptop and pulled up Gojo’s stream. He was sprawled out in his black and blue gaming chair; blue LED lights illuminated the room. Black sunglasses reflected his computer screen as he adjusted his headset.

“Tom Nook is a scammer.” He announced as hundreds of comments flooded in. “The little shit asks me to do all this for him! After all, I have to spend my hard-earned bells on upgrading the pavers. Kiss my nicely toned ass, you bastard.” You smiled, giggling as you dreamily watched him. “Ya’ know what? Next week, we'll play Sims or something; I’d rather build a house than have Tom Nook steal all my money.”

He adjusted his sunglasses as he slipped on some frappe, the logo conveniently covered so no one knew where he was. Several comments flooded in asking what he was drinking, and most people sent in small donations. All of these were things Satoru tried to answer and thank. He may miss a couple here and there, but he tried hard to get to everyone. God, he was so down to earth.

It was all of those reasons that had you clicking the donate button, sending a total of eight hundred dollars to him. Your cute little icon of a mochi popped up on his screens, flashing while music blared. The whole scene reflected off his dark sunglasses.

“Eh?!” The white tufts of his hair flowed as he moved in, focus glued to the screen. “Whoa! Whoa! Mochi-gurl-89, thank you so much for that donation!” With a chipper chime, you took the spot as his top donor. “And it looks like you're my new top donor! Just before the stream ended! I'll have one of my admins contact you so we can do our private stream. And with this, I adore you all, until next time this is the-strongest-streamer signing off!”

The second he ended his stream, your inbox chimed with a new message. As Satoru said, it was a message from one of his admins. The message was clear; you got a thirty-minute stream, maybe more if Satoru agreed. There could be no recording of your conversation or photos, which was perfectly fine. All you wanted to do was talk. After agreeing to all those terms and signing a nondisclosure form, you were sent a link to your private stream.

You had your camera off, your cute chibi mochi avatar taking up your screen as Satoru’s room was fully displayed. With a deep breath, you shook your hands, trying to ease your nerves as a door opened on Satoru’s screen. A second later, he plopped down in his gaming chair. God, he was so handsome. Fluffy white hair and chiseled abs like he was carved from marble; he was just your type.

“Hello?” he asked, “you there, mochi-gurl-89?”

“O-Oh! Uhm, yes, hi!” He stared at the screen, frowning just a bit as he saw your avatar instead of your face.

“Here, I thought I’d be talking to a fan. Instead, it's a cute mochi ball.”

You nervously giggle before clicking a few times and turning your camera on. You felt so plain compared to him. He was incredibly sexy, and you were just an average college girl. In your opinion, there wasn’t much to see.

“Oh.” Satoru breathed out, drawing your attention back to the screen. You swear to God, you choked on your breath. Because he had taken his sunglasses off, revealing cerulean eyes behind white lashes. “Wow, you're fuckin’ hot.”

“Oh! Uhm—”

“Fuck! Sorry, did I say that out loud?” he sulked back in his chair. “I'm so sorry. I'm not one of those creeps who stalk their followers. I, I was expecting—”

“A giant ball of mochi?” The sweetness of your voice seems to have him relaxing as he realizes you didn't mind his compliment.

“Exactly.”

You cup some of your hair behind your ear, biting your lip. “Sorry to disappoint, but thank you for the compliment.”

“And thank you for the generous donation! That means a lot to me.”

“Thank you for being such a beacon of light in my life.” Did popular streamers think comments like that were cringe? “I hope that doesn’t come off creepy or weird.”

“I've had fans send me their underwear. Being a beacon of light to you is the least weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

You can't help the wide, warm smile that spreads across your face. “You have no clue how happy that makes me. I went through a nasty break and the night that it happened. I found one of your—” his fingers played with the hem of his boxers. “Your stream—and you—” fingers gently lift the hem, and you focus on his face. “Uhm Gojo?” The man on your screen hums.

“Yes, mochi-gurl?”

“I—I heard about you getting naked for the private streams.” Using your hands, you shield your vision. “B-But you don't have to do that! I just wanted to talk.”

“Eh?!” peeking through your fingers, you watch the white-haired man turn red. “Naked! No! No shit fuck, I'm sorry! I'm not a perv, I swear to god.” He shields his face in his hands, grumbling some incoherent words that you can't make out.

Gojo didn't seem like the type to be a pervert, and from his reaction, it wasn't like you’d caught him fully undressing in front of you. If anything, he seemed more embarrassed than you. After gathering your thoughts, you leaned a bit closer to your screen.

“Gojo?”

His white hair flies as his head jerks up. “I-I know about the rumors! How I get nude for my private streams for my top donors, but that is nothing more than a rumor, I swear!” Your eyes widen as he stares directly at you, into your soul. “I promise you I wasn't about to do anything remotely weird.” His face is almost entirely red, and his bottom lip is between his teeth as he scans your features.

“Okay,” you tentatively begin, “then what were you doing?”

“That's the thing; it's going to sound ten times worse when I tell you what I was doing.” you motion with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, just promise you won't put me on blast or try to cancel me?” When you nod, the leisure streamer grumbles before tilting his head back. “I-I’m sorry, but you're really hot. Like super mega hot.” Thank god your room is so dark, or he could see how flushed you were. “So hot, my stupid dick decided to spot a hard-on.” He rolls his chair back just an inch, revealing the extremely hard bulge in his boxers. “I was trying to discreetly lift the waistband so you wouldn't see how hard I was.”

A string of ‘I’m sorry’ echoes on the other end of the screen. Gojo’s blue eyes focused on you, waiting to see how you reacted to the news. His shy demeanor and the bulge in his boxers have you shifting in your seat. Heat pools between your thighs. God, were you getting wet? Rubbing your thighs together, you confirmed that you were as you felt your arousal. You bite down on your inner cheek to prevent a moan from sounding.

“Hey, mochi-gurl? You're too quiet, and you look super pissed. I'm sorry.” Gojo’s voice seems to enhance your growing arousal. He sits back, cocking a brow as you peer at him with dark needy eyes through your lashes. “H-Hey you go-goo—oh fuck.” He watches as you stick your hand between your legs.

“You think I’m hot?” Your voice is so smooth, with desire.

“Y-Yeah, super hot.” Gojo follows suit, his hand reaching back down, fingertips slipping under the band of his boxers. “The hottest fuckin’ girl I've ever seen.”

Pressing your fingers against your shorts, you rub your clit in slow circles. “Gojo, you’re girlfriend won't find us doing this?” The man on the screen before you scoff, his hand sliding fully into his boxers.

“Girlfr-ahh—” his hand moved up and down, “fuuuck—what girlfriend? I-I go to the gym, hang out with my friends, and live stream.” Watching him stroke himself has you feeling feral. “Plus streaming half naked, well, let's just say girls don't like that.”

You rubbed your clit faster, “As a girl, I like it.” White brows knitted on your screen. “I like it a lot; it's so hot.” Gojo watched, head resting back against his chair as you slid your hand up your shirt, cupping your breasts, massaging yourself.

“Y-Yeah? Does your boyfriend like it?”

“I don't have one~”

Gojo growled, biting down on his lip. “Really?” He leaned back, spreading his legs apart. “Lucky me.” Pursing your lips together, you tilted your head back. “Fuck, you're so fucking hot, sweetheart.” something overcame you. A boldness you hadn’t experienced before. Taking the bottom of your T-shirt, you put it between your teeth and lifted it, revealing your bare chest to your favorite streamer. “Oooh fuck, you have the prettiest tits.” Gojo watched as your fingers moved elegantly over your skin, kneading your breast until your nipples were hard. “How rude of me, you’re showing me yours might as well show you mine.”

A choke sounds in your throat as you nearly release your T-shirt from between your teeth. Gojo had pulled his boxers down just enough to hook them underneath his balls, freeing his gorgeous cock. His cock throbbed and twitched underneath his hand as he gently began stroking it up and down. Watching him stroking himself, twisting his wrist, squeezing it just around the tip, causing his head to tilt back, and seeing that made you do something you had never done.

Gojo could hear you shuffling in the background before your screen suddenly turned, and he faced a couch. You plopped down, your shorts discarded. With his jaw dropped open, Gojo watched as you spread your legs as wide as you could in front of the camera and rubbed your fingers over your wet pussy. You had never done something like this before. Sexting, yes, but full-on masturbating in front of a stranger, this was something you never thought you would do.

“Holy, you're so wet.” his hand sped up around his cock. “God, look at you. You’re so fucking pretty.” his thumb brushed over the slit rubbing pre-cum over the tip. “God, I wanna taste you. I bet you smell fucking delicious.”

“I want to suck you off, fuck, Gojo~ fuuuck.” coding your fingers in your slick, you rub quick, fast circles around your clit, causing your legs to tremble. “Gojo~ Gojo~”

“N-No, call me Satoru, please.”

“Satoru~”

Goj—Satoru tilts his head forward, his burning gaze on you, watching you slide a finger inside your tight heat. You don't think you've ever been so aroused. Having a stranger watching you finger yourself as he jerks off had your walls clenching around your fingers. Satoru must have thought the same thing because his tip dribbles more pre-cum, his cock throbbing hard as he matches his pace with yours.

“Oh god, I'm so wet.” Slick coats your fingers as you rub your clit with your thumb. “I can't remember the last time I was this wet.”

“I can tell, god, you're soaked.” Glancing at the screen, you can see Satoru gritting his teeth. “Oh fuck, I-I’m so hard it hurts, I-I’ve never done this before. God feels so good; all my brain is thinking is, ‘dick hard, feel good.’”

The conversation dies down, replaced with whines, moans, and grunts of pleasure. Your eyes never miss each other. You both constantly look each other over, whispering each other’s names like prayers. You try to imagine how his thick, long fingers would feel inside of you instead of your own. You know that he could reach the sweet spots inside you that you loved. At the same time, Satoru imagines replacing his hand with your own while his fingers take the place of yours.

Both of you are so worked up that you find yourself dangling over the edge of an orgasm before you know it. Your legs are trembling, toes curling, while Satoru’s hand moves faster his other hand, reaching down, cupping his balls, massaging them. Both of you are lost in each other’s pleasure without even touching the other. There’s chemistry between you. Both you and Satoru can feel it through the screen.

“Oh fuck, of fuck, fuuuuck fuck!” Satoru leans closer to his screen to watch you. “Oh god, I can feel it coming; it’s gonna be a big one. Baby~ fuuuck, please tell me you’re close.”

“S-So close.” a sharp inhale of breath sounds, “Oooh fuckin’ shit, Satoru, I’m gonna cum~.”

“Oi.” your eye hazily find him, “look at me when you cum.”

That, god, that was the hottest thing anyone has ever told you. “Cummin! Oh fuck, Satoru~! Satorruu!” the screen that leaves your body almost doesn’t sound human as you squirt all over your couch. Even though your orgasm is the hardest one you’ve ever experienced, not once do your eyes leave his.

“Good girl~ good fuckin girl.” his praises leave your cunt twitching. “Oh fuck, gonna fill you up all the way. Tell me you want it. Please.”

“Yes~ Satoru, inside~ inside~!”

The veins and his neck protrude as he slams his free fist against his desk, causing his setup to shake. Ropes and ropes of white cum spurt out of his cock. The sticky substance coats his abdomen, on the top of his thighs and hand.

“Fuck~ fuck~fuuuck!” His hand continues, moving up and down his shaft, milking his cock for all that it’s worth. “Fuuuck!” he hisses out through clenched teeth.

Several seconds pass, both of you breathing heavily, recovering from your orgasms. Swallowing hard at your dry throat, you slowly pull your fingers out of you with a wince. Satoru was the next move, grabbing some tissues off his desk and cleaning himself up. You can’t help but laugh softly in the silence of cleaning yourselves.

Hearing the angelic sound leaving your mouth, Satoru focuses his blue eyes on you. “What’s got you giggly over there?” much to his disappointment, you slide your shorts back on before sitting back on the couch.

“That was one hell of a meet and greet.”

Satoru’s lets out a rough laugh.”Yeah, it sure as hell was. I think I owe you a proper meet and greet.” The streamer let out a content sigh. “Are you free tomorrow night? I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have.” he leans back, fixing his boxers.

“Think you can keep your boner down long enough for that?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I can’t make any promises that it’ll behave.”

“Huh, what if I don’t want it to behave?”

Flushed cheeks darken in color as Satoru’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “Goddamn, you're so hot. Who knew some chick with a mochi avatar was going to have me stroking my cock tonight.” God, he was so cute, both physically and in personality. “Which is super cute, by the way. Did you do it yourself, or did you have an artist commission it? Because I am in dire need of some new avatar artwork for my videos.”

“I drew it myself. I’m a freelance graphic design artist.”

“You takin’ commissions right now, Miss oh-so-hot-and-talented?”

“If I get this job I want tomorrow, I might have to take a brief break. But I would make an exception for you.”

Satoru opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a knock on the door behind him. “Shit, sorry, I gotta go; I promised my roommate I would help him hook up a computer upstairs.” With one final glance in your direction, Satoru, for once, was elated over a rumor that had spread about him over the Internet. “Tomorrow same time, mochi-gurl?”

“Sounds great, Satoru.”

After bidding farewell to the exceptionally hot man, you pass out on the couch. From the excitement of getting to meet your favorite streamer to the intensity of your orgasm. The combination of those contributing factors knocked you on your ass. While your neck was stiff, falling asleep like that on the couch allowed you to get some of the best sleep in months.

You woke up refreshed and ready for your interview that morning. Satoru had put a peep in your step as you walked into the coffee shop you had an interview with. The owner wanted to develop a new logo design for the shop. One that was both warm, welcoming, and had an adorable mascot.

“Wow,” The man across from you flips through your portfolio, “you're talented. You’re just a freelance artist?”

“Mhmm, I don’t like big corporations. I would rather help out small businesses and help support our local community.”

The man interviewing you brushes dark bangs out of his face, his tongue running over his lip piercing. “We love supporters of small businesses. People like you that keep our place going.” He brushes long, dark strands of hair before his dark eyes leave the page before him, meeting your nervous gaze. “Which is why I think you would be a great fit. Your art is exactly what I’m looking for when I think of our logo.”

“Really? That’s so good to hear. I promise you I won’t disappoint you. I’ll be sure to make your dreams come true.”

Your interviewer shuts your portfolio, handing it back to you. He held out his hand, his nails painted black, and his rings on almost every finger. When you first walked into this cute café, you were intimidated by the stranger. He was covered in tattoos and piercings, and his gauges were huge, but he couldn't have been any nicer. So, without hesitation, you stood up, shaking his hand.

“I'm looking forward to doing business with you, Geto.”

“Same goes for me; I’ll give you a tour and introduce you to everyone.”

Rainbow Dragon Cafe recently went viral for its excellent coffee, pastries, and aesthetic. Not only was it a café, but it was also a gaming café. There is a bar where people can enjoy their coffee and booths where they can sit down and work on projects if needed. On one wall, there’s a large flat-screen TV playing compilations of different streamers talking to the camera as they play games. A large sectional couch was set up in front of it so people could sit down and watch if they wanted to.

The other wall was set up so that people could take photos with the company's logo behind them. That was if they had a logo, which is where you came in. For the next few months, your job was to help the owner, Geto Suguru, design and revamp his menu and website. Once you succeed in your mission, a cute neon sign with the logo will be placed on the wall, covered in fake vines and flowers. It is the perfect spot to take photos and hashtag the cafe in their posts.

“This is Shoko; she manages the front and helps run orders to tables.” A woman with dark brown hair waved at you casually as she passed a cigarette in her mouth and headed for the front.

“Taking a smoke break, I’ll be right back.”

Geto led you into the back, where an espresso machine hissed. “Back here is Ryomen Sukuna; he is my best barista.” The muscular, pink-haired man in front of you, covered in tattoos, slammed a rag down on the counter.

“I'm not some fucking barista; I’m the king of coffee.”

“Right, king of coffee, sorry.” Geto introduced you to several other workers. Most of them were just high schoolers working there as a part-time. Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki waved at you before returning to doing their inventory. “And you’ll meet my girls eventually. They said something about getting more couches or pillows for the front. They’re the head of our social media team.”

You lean over the counter with Geto, overlooking the shop that you were hired to help. “I love the setup you guys have. It’s got my creative juices flowing.” Glancing at the TV, you watch a compilation of different streamers reacting to jump scares. “But I’m curious. Why make it a gaming cafe?” Geto follows your gaze, humming at your question.

“That’s all because of my best friend. I didn’t want just to run a cafe and bookstore; I wanted to do something different. He pitched the idea. A place for people to sip coffee, read a book, or play video games.”

“Sounds like he’s a good friend.”

“He is.” Geto jerks his thumb in the direction of a door. “He rents out the basement while I live in the loft upstairs. He's an investor; you might get to meet him if he ever drags his stupid ass out of the basement.”

“Oh, that wou—”

Before you finish your sentence, the door Geto is still pointing at is slammed open. “Suguru! Hey, do you think I could borrow that blue shirt of y-you—” God, if you hadn’t been holding onto the counter, you might’ve passed out? Blue eyes that had been locked and focused on the night before met your gaze. You almost didn’t recognize him because he was wearing clothes. “H-Holy shit, mochi-gurl?!”

Your favorite leisure streamer, the man you had masturbated with the night before, was standing right in front of you—more like towering over at a total of six three feet. Words seem to evade you as you stutter. “G-Gojo?” Why was the room spinning all of a sudden?

“Hey, I thought we went over this last night. You can call me Satoru!” his smile fades as soon as it appears on his face. “Sweetheart? Oh shi—” He’s rushing forward just as your world fades to black due to shock.

This was a dream right, it had to be a dream!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[thegayestofagendas]

It's so fucked up seeing the industry I've worked in for years now simultaneously post astronomical profit and announcements of "cost-saving layoffs"

All that because our grandmas are likely not interested in picking up the next world War simulator or whatever but CEOs and shareholders are convinced that continuous increase of profit is a realistic goal, so if profit are huge but the same as the previous year (or in line with inflation) because understandably your niece's newborn does not want to play "you want me to kill this guy for you, I'll kill this guy for you" simulator, it's considered a failure.

Despite huge profit for the company, many of my colleagues went without a raise last year (or with raises below inflation) because we didn't reach a goal which was set using data from the previous years when many ppl had increased free time due to covid spread prevention measures. (Also because a lot of morally correct ppl do not want to buy games from companies that cover up workplace harassment, some of them had been long time players of said companies' games) By some miracle I got a decent raise. I doubt I'll be so lucky this year.

The studio I work has so far been relatively safe. We lost a lot of administrative staff at the end of last year, but not in 2024 yet as far as I'm aware. And my parents have convinced themselves that we're probably safe, but how am I suppose to feel safe when the industry I poured my life into is refusing to pay us properly due to bad goal setting and indiscriminately getting rid of us also due to mad goal setting, despite making fucking bank.

If you have friends in the game industry, check on them, see if their alright whether or not we've lost our jobs, it's fucking terrifying.

If you are in the game industry

if you are unionised, check with your reps about getting increased protections, increased severance packages for layoffs and better raises in your next negotiation period.

If you aren't unionised, the best time to find if there is a campaign for a union is yesterday, but now will do. If no campaign currently exists, find colleagues who also understands the importance of unions and start one. A union might not be able to stop mass layoffs, but with better pay and conditions negotiated as a unit, weathering the storm can be made so much easier.

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Love Playlist #2: UGH! (Bang Chan)

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» 

"Shut the fuck up."

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader Genre: college au, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, forced proximity Warnings: swearing, mc has autism, misogynistic behavior (not Bang Chan), implications of ableism, bullying, short panic attack description Word Count: 11k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that you hate Christopher Bang’s guts. Everything about him, you hate. The utter laziness that he masks as nonchalance? The “happy-go-lucky” attitude that borders on bullheaded recklessness? The way every single time you text him about something important, he never replies? You hate it all. He’s irresponsible, aimless, completely unreliable, and you hate him.

Chris believes that the whole world revolves around him, and unfortunately, he would be correct. With dimples that rival Harry Styles’s and saccharinity biologically embedded in him, his good looks and charismatic personality blind everyone to the truth. Everyone except for you, of course.

Even if all of the supreme powers in the universe held you over an eternal chasm and forced you to find compromise, you still wouldn’t be able to stop hating him. And you hate heights— almost as much as him— so that’s saying something. Your hatred for him will never, ever waver. You hate Chris Bang, period. And you hate him even more now, as he stands next to you and accepts an honor that should solely be yours.

“Congratulations, Chris and Y/N!” 

You keep clapping and plaster on a fake smile to save face, trying to ignore the rage bubbling inside of you. In your peripheral vision, you sense Christopher laughing and shooting finger guns towards people in the audience, like some kind of corrupt politician. In a way, he is one, because you should have won this election. But you didn’t.

“In all of our history, never has there been an exact voting tie between two candidates.” The sickeningly cheerful announcer bounds closer to where you are standing on the stage, gesturing towards you both. “Everyone, please give another round of applause for our new Student Co-Presidents!”

Hearing it officially made you feel nauseated. For the three years you’ve been a college student, you have worked tirelessly, day and night, so this moment could come to fruition. All of those days filled with nonsense— schmoozing to all of the seniors in the Undergraduate Student Council, attending the endless number of tedious mixers to make connections, standing in the rain trying to raise funds for the organization— were going to be worth it, because in the end, you had one goal: to be student body president. 

But your dreams were dashed to the ground when he strolled in like a supermodel. While you were toiling since you were a freshman, Chris showed up at the final student council meeting at the end of last year, expressing his intentions to run for president in the following academic semester after the summer. Chris’s charm threw off the projectile of the election, compared to how although you carry yourself very well professionally, you still are very socially uncapable. Making engaging small talk about the weather or joking about frat parties on campus are unthinkable tasks for you, while that kind of conversation is exactly Chris’s forte. 

You know that you’re lucky that you at least get part of the title, because while on paper you are more qualified than Chris, the game was never in your favor. And seeing it all happen by the cursed will of the one person you’ve despised more than anyone else, since you were a kid, makes it hurt more than anything.

“Great job, partner.” 

You’re snapped out of your disturbed musings by the aforementioned person, who beams and stretches out his hand towards you. You’re wary of the gesture, but accept it anyway, making sure to squeeze his hand extra hard. 

“Same to you, Christopher,” you retort, adding an unmistakable bite to your words.

The smile doesn’t fade off of his face as he coolly shakes his aching hand off from your death grip. “I go by Chris, you know that.”

You nearly snort, but refrain from it, because people are watching. You do not need any negative publicity right now, especially next to your co-counsel who seems to do no wrong. But that won’t stop you from being discreetly petty. “Okay, Christopher.”

You hate Chris, and he knows it. But his elated expression doesn’t budge as he merely moves away from you to spark conversation with the announcer, who looks at Chris with literal hearts in her eyes. One more thing you hate: no matter how much you try to rile him up like he does to you, he never gives you a reaction. That satisfaction solely belongs to him. 

Rolling your eyes, you shove past him as gracefully as you can, eliciting a surprised grunt out of him. As Chris rubs his side behind you, you turn to the students coming closer to congratulate you, the smile on your face very much genuine now.

“He left me on read! AGAIN. Can you believe the audacity?” 

The smoky, herbaceous scent of freshly brewed coffee and sugary fragrance of baking breakfast pastries does nothing to soothe your anger. Your unadulterated complaints ricochet off of the walls of Morningstar Coffee House, your go-to place when you need to feign study in order to hang out with your best friend, a devoted employee-in-training at the place. 

Soobin groans, dumping out the latest batch of long macchiato into the sink. “I keep messing it up.”

“Are you even listening, Soobin?” You lean against the counter that he’s behind, wiping up the small drops of milk that escaped the carton in his hasty panic to master the art of being a barista. 

“Yes, yes, I am, sorry. Please continue.” Soobin sets aside his blender and folds his hands on the granite, looking at you earnestly. 

You pick at the chipped dark purple polish on your nails. “I can work with him. I can. Because I’m a professional. But he makes it so hard when I’m trying to communicate with him.”

Soobin shrugs. “Maybe he’s just not using his phone right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, you shake your head. If only everyone could be as sweet and guileless as Soobin. He always sees the best in people, and while you’re not a pessimist, it’s hard for you to find the good in Chris’s character. 

“It’s not just the text thing, even though I really do need him to tell me if he’s finished the nominations for the ethics board. It’s like, he doesn’t give a crap about anything, especially when it comes from me.” 

Soobin nods slowly, wrinkling his nose in thought. “I know he’s difficult. But just keep rising above. Getting upset hurts you, not him.”

As always, Soobin remains the voice of reason behind your storms, your eternal complement. When you need to cry your emotions out, he welcomes you with open arms. When he’s too shy to ask for the dessert menu at restaurants, you will signal for the waiter. When you make your displeasure apparent, he induces a degree of rationality into your vexed mind. That said, fundamentally, both of you are introverts. At the end of the day, you love nothing more than to curl up on the couch and watch knitting tutorials on Youtube with Soobin. Opposites or not, you fit each other like a glove. 

“I love you, cucumber,” you say, affectionately poking fun at your best friend’s towering height. 

Soobin’s cheeks turn light pink, and he swats your hands away. “You’re weird.”

You tip your head back and laugh, while Soobin grins and resumes his duties in trying to figure out how to work the cash register. You can feel the worries already lifting in your chest, because who cares about Chris, anyway? Certainly not you. 

But as if you had spoken of the devil, you hear the jingle of the shopkeeper’s doorbell, followed by that familiar boisterous guffaw. The sound makes you whirl around, the tension soaring back into your shoulders. And there he is, sauntering into the café with his trusty entourage trailing. 

Your narrowed eyes meet Chris’s, and he pauses in the middle of whatever obnoxious joke he must have been sharing. For a brief moment, a telepathic duel sparks between you both, a challenge to see which one of you will be the first to crack. You win, when he breaks eye contact to go and find a seat with his friends in the lounge area. But once more, it doesn’t feel that way, because while he’s resumed his own activities, you’re still thinking about him. So much for rising above. Damn it. 

“Soobin, you need to scan your employee ID first or else sales won’t be attributed to you. We already went over this.”

The voice of Seungmin, the son of Morningstar’s owners and your fellow university student, halts your deliberations and thankfully pulls your thoughts away from Chris. Seungmin is inside from his break and stands there besides Soobin, scolding him for making another mistake in his practice transaction before the evening rush. 

“Right! Sorry about that.” Soobin shakes his head and exhales, grabbing a towel to wipe his sweaty hands.

“You’ll be fine. Just keep at it.” Seungmin softens, patting Soobin on the back before making his way over to where Chris is sitting. Because of course, Chris is friends with every single person in existence.

Another person enters the building, prompting the telltale ring to go off. Soobin’s perpetual flush morphs into a crimson, and you immediately turn to see which newcomer has got your best friend so hot and bothered. You’re met by the sight of a very pretty girl who you recognize, but whose name escapes you. However, you know the boy she has walked into the coffee house with— her best friend, Han Jisung, who is unsurprisingly another member of Chris’s glorified posse. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” You raise your eyebrow at Soobin, who is still watching the girl with a lovelorn look in his eyes.

“What?”

“You can’t like her. She and Jisung have a thing.”

“They’re just friends,” Soobin says, frowning, but you can see the contradicting doubt written across his face. “Maybe I’ll talk to Seungmin and see what’s up.”

You take his hand and resign, because other times, both of you have to learn your lessons on your own. “You’ll make someone’s heart beat as fast as they do your own. Whether it’s her or not.”

Soobin swallows, fully directing his attention back to you. “The same to you as well. ”

You let out a playful snort, thinking of your one short-lived romance from freshman year. You haven’t dated since, deciding to set relationships aside so you can focus better on your studies. You cannot take the chance of losing precious time, time that can only be allotted to your favorite person, work, and nothing else. Besides, you’ve never been very good at flirting— let alone finding friends— anyway. 

“But I think Chris raises your pulse rate enough, so maybe you’ve got your plate full for now.”

“Don’t start,” you warn, the annoyance picking up again. Soobin sends you a cheeky smile, before he attends to his peckish customers. 

You take the opportunity to make your way back to your table in the front of the cafe, your favorite little spot that overlooks the lush campus lawn, and then past the historic buildings of your university, the faint city skyline. The trees have begun happily shedding their leaves like multicolored tears that dot the outdoor expanse, embracing Autumn like a long-lost lover. Today is gorgeous, a day that should feel like a blessing, and yet, you feel blue.

The reason for your melancholy approaches your carefully curated bubble and pops it, sitting down at the table, uninvited. 

“Hey, I didn’t see you at the election after-party the other day.”

Chris’s voice is calm, so you merely clench your jaw and keep from saying anything too unintelligible. “Hey, you read my text and didn’t reply today.”

He doesn’t let the sheepishness cross his features, but has the decency for it to manifest in a light red at the tips of his ears. “I was going to, sorry. I’ve been busy.”

You just can’t help the venom that laces your next words. “You always are.”

Chris shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t get why you always have a problem with me.”

You allow yourself a sharp intake of breath before divulging your current frustrations with him. “I really, really need you to answer me when I ask you something. We represent all of the students in our college. We can’t afford to mess this up.”

Chris rolls his eyes at your words, which makes you even more irritated. “I know.”

“Great. Then we have nothing else to discuss.” You slip your laptop back into your carrier and zip up your backpack, grabbing your phone and pushing your chair in. You don’t spare Chris a glance as you walk towards the door. 

“Why can’t we just be friends like before?”

You tense at Chris calling out, but don’t look back to face him. “You should know the answer to that.”

“I really don’t.”

With a scoff, you leave him hanging, pushing open the door and finding somewhere you can actually study without distraction.

It’s only the second day of fourth grade and you already feel so out of place. You moved here  over a month and a half ago, in the middle of summer, so you had a lot of time to get used to the town and explore your new home. You enjoyed biking around the neighborhood cul-de-sac all day and discovered a clearing in the woods behind your house, immediately claiming it as your personal hideout. After your parents hosted some of your neighbors’ families for dinner, you even established friendly relations with Soobin, the impossibly shy son of the couple next door. 

But your expeditions in school haven’t been as successful. As soon as you stepped into the classroom, it seemed like everyone already had their own friend groups, less than willing to take on a newbie like you. Because all of the seemingly “cool” kids have claimed all of the seats in the back, you sit up front, the desk next to you empty. And although Soobin also attends the same school, he’s in a different homeroom than you, so your in-school interactions are limited to hallway waves and nothing else. To top it all off, your teacher is already talking about long division. What in the world is that?

“Would you like a pudding?”

You turn around to pinpoint the hushed voice that has interrupted the independent classwork time that your teacher allotted. The owner sits right behind you, this kid with dimples and mischievous eyes. You can’t recall his name from when your teacher took attendance in the morning, but you remember him singing a little rhyme to his friends during lunch yesterday. It was cheesy.

The boy holds out a small cup of what looks like Jell-O snack pudding towards you. You accept it, slightly confused at the random gesture. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He folds his hands on his desk, math practice discarded to the side. “You looked hungry.”

He’s watching you intently, waiting for you to eat the pudding. With a sigh, you open and try it, because you are kind of hungry. As soon as your lips gingerly close around the tiny spoon, you grin, because it’s chocolate— your favorite.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Chris,” he replies, obviously delighted by your reaction to the pudding. “Are you new?”

You smile, relieved to finally see a friendly face in your class. “Yeah, I am. Thanks for the pudding.”

“I don’t go anywhere without my trusty pudding cups.”

You don’t say anything, just quietly observing him while savoring the pudding. Chris is a little weird, and maybe too friendly. You're usually careful about this kind of socialization, but he doesn’t seem like a bad person. Chris takes your silence as an opportunity to keep chattering away.

“I notice you sit alone at lunch. You should eat with my friends and me today!” Chris exclaims, earning him a look from your teacher, but he doesn’t notice.

You pretend to contemplate his offer, although you’re secretly elated at the invitation. “Maybe if there’s more pudding.”

“Deal.”

“It looks like the faculty advising problem is sorted. Anything else?” 

The Dean of the college closes his laptop and pushes the pair of glasses perched on his nose for the hundredth time in the past hour. The lenses are huge, magnifying his eyes and making them look bugged-out, adding a comical element to his otherwise stony face.

“I was thinking—” You start, taking out your notepad, but the Dean cuts you off, looking at Chris.

“Chris, did you have anything you wanted to say?” 

Your cheeks as you avert your gaze shamefully, and all of the other students in the conference room awkwardly stare down at the table. The Dean doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort, however, just intently staring at Chris. For the entire board meeting, you actively participated and made your voice heard, while taking into account others’ concerns and viewpoints. 

Meanwhile, Chris had done nothing but squint at the papers in front of him and pretend he knew what was happening. But you’ve always been underestimated just because you’re a woman, and the fact that you’re the only female student body president in the entire history of your university doesn’t help. Of course the Dean would value Chris’s thoughts more. Anyone would. 

“Actually, Y/N was saying something. We should let her finish,” Chris replies firmly, shocking you. You thought Chris would just take the opportunity to shine for himself, not hand it to you.

The Dean looks taken aback as well, but he nods slowly. “Very well then.” 

Everyone’s attention snaps to you, but you quickly recover and recollect yourself, turning on the professionalism you reserved for moments like this. “Yes. Thank you.”

You open your computer and quickly login, plugging it into the projector so everyone can view your screen. You had already pulled up your presentation and graphics, ready to present your idea. 

“What is all of this, Miss Y/L/N?”

You take a deep breath. “A prevailing issue that has come to the board’s attention is the food insecurity on campus. To solve this issue, I propose the University Food Pantry, to relieve hunger through the acquisition and distribution of food to those students who most need it. We need to lead our campus community in the fight against hunger.”

The rest of your audience looks intrigued, but the Dean doesn’t seem convinced. “And how does this concern me? I oversee educational affairs at the college, not what’s cooking for dinner.”

“Our university is, above everything else, a community. The difficulty of higher education is further compounded when hunger is a constant presence.” You try your best to keep your suave composure, ignoring the smug condescension in the Dean’s voice. “As a result, the Food Pantry will envision a campus in which every student, regardless of their socioeconomic status, has sufficient access to nutritious food. No one should have to make financial and dietary decisions in pursuit of a good education.”

“It all sounds expensive. Where would you even get the money from?”

You know that the Dean expects you to be thrown off by his question, but you’re ready. You switch through the slides of your presentation, showcasing the several charts and graphs you stayed up all night drawing. “The Dean’s Assistance Fund, through which the Pantry can provide flex allowances to undergrad recipients of Financial Aid.”

The Dean leans back in his chair, brooding silently while you wait for his answer with bated breath. But Chris speaks up instead.

“This is really good, Y/N,” Chris says, astonishing you even further. “The fund could finance other initiatives in collaboration with the pantry as well, like the university Meal Share app that my friend Jisung coded. He’s in the computer science department.”

“Thanks,” you say warily, still in disbelief that you have both his support and enthusiasm. The other students murmur in agreement, but it doesn’t feel real, getting along with Chris. 

Immediately, the Dean sits up, directing his gaze to match Chris’s. “A wonderful idea, Chris. We must talk further about this. Perhaps—”

It’s Chris’s turn to cut the Dean off. “It wasn’t my idea, it was Y/N’s, if you were listening to her at all, sir.”

The Dean looks embarrassed after being put into his place by the very student he was chatting up to, but you don’t give him time to say anything else, taking the chance to continue speaking. 

“Of course, we can’t be fully financed by the Dean’s fund, so I think the university board should put forth a collective effort to apply for the Park Grant, an international system that funds programs that address student reform.”

“You’ve put so much thought into this, Y/N,” Mina, one of the board members, says with a smile. 

You light up, forgetting the Dean’s less-than-enthused demeanor. “Thank you so much!”

The Dean sighs, staring up at the ceiling, but shrugs, inclining his head in reluctant approval. “The Park Grant deadline is in two days. You’ll have to write up the proposal and present it to the panel.”

You nod vigorously, already mentally adding it to your calendar. “Thank you sir, I know. I won’t disappoint you.”

The Dean points his pretentiously expensive fountain pen at Chris, directing your gaze to his. “But you’ll be presenting with Chris. You’ll oversee this endeavor together.”

Your soaring heart crashes, and you sit up in indignation, because of course there’s a catch. After undermining all of your efforts, the Dean would never trust you to do something like this on your own. And out of everyone, it has to be with Chris.

“Sir, I truly believe I can finish this on my own.” You can barely contain the anger quaking in your throat, but you give it one last attempt.

Chris glances at you and dips his head in accord. “I agree, sir. Y/N is perfectly capable. This is her project, after all.”

“Let’s not go near what our capabilities are. I am very well aware of what your abilities are.” The Dean’s words jab you in the chest one by one, making you wonder if he could go any lower. “You both are co-presidents. Do it together or don’t do it all.”

“Sir—”

“Please give me a chance—”

Both you and Chris are cut off by the Dean’s cold sneer. “That will be all.”

With the wave of his gnarled hands, the meeting is over, and the rest of the students exit as fast as they can to escape the tension, while you just sit there, staring at your black computer screen blankly. A moment later, you collect yourself, grab your belongings, cramming them into your arms, and run out of the room, trying not to cry all of your frustrations out, right then and there.

“Y/N, stop!” Chris calls out from behind you, and you groan inwardly. And of course he has to be there. You can’t even fall apart in peace.

“What do you want, Chris?” You sigh exasperatedly, turning to face him, even though all you really want to do is give him the finger and run back to your room.

The tension is palpable, and you see Chris’s concern. You don’t want it, though. You don’t want his concern, his sympathy, or his friendship. You just want to never see him again, but unfortunately, the universe will not let that happen. You should have accepted that when it put you through elementary, middle, and high school, and even college with him. 

“I’m sorry. I- I tried,” he says, running his fingers through his hair, combing through it before the soft, blond locks flop back into place on his forehead. He looks more beautiful than ever, the sorrow in his deep brown eyes and painted into the pout on his perfect lips. But God, you hate him.

You swallow, taking a step forward. Chris’s eyes widen in surprise, but he stays still as you proceed in an eerily calm voice. “Outside of work, don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t even think about me. I hate you, Chris, and I wish you never existed.”

For the first time, Chris is speechless, but you walk away, feeling anything but triumphant. You don’t want to see the hurt splayed across his face. And you don’t want Chris to see your own pain, the ugly root that digs deep into your heart and surges through your fingertips, the pain that has been there since the moment he took something from you. You hate Chris, and that will never, ever change.

“Come on, Soobin, tell me,” you whine, lightly kicking your legs at Soobin’s, where they hang over the edge of the treehouse you both built with your dads a few summers ago. The June weather is hot and sticky, and on days like this, you both like to climb up here and try to catch the faintest breeze that may come your way, ice creams in your hands and stories to trade on your lips.

Soobin coughs awkwardly. “Absolutely not, Y/N.” 

Tomorrow is the last day of middle school, and you’re determined to guess Soobin’s crush. You smirk at him, elbowing him in the side. Today, you suck on a blueberry popsicle, deliberating while trying not to let the dessert drip down your arms. 

“It’s the girl in your history class, isn’t it?”

“Nope.” Soobin side eyes you curiously, biting down on his own fudge ice cream cone. “Well, maybe I’ll tell you if you tell me yours.”

You blush, your mind immediately going to Chris, the boy you’ve liked since forever. Although you’re best friends with Soobin, Chris is also one of your good friends at school. And not to mention, the cutest boy in your entire school. 

Besides Soobin, Chris is also the only other person you’ve told about your autism. You were always shy and awkward growing up, and Chris pulled you out of that shell. 

It’s also why you get so nervous before tests. Since the time you nearly dropped your computer before a science quiz in fifth grade, Chris always brings you pudding before class assessments. You were scared to tell him at first, because you have been bullied in the past about it, but he had been nothing but kind and understanding. He’s never forgotten to bring you a pudding cup, and he specifically brings chocolate-flavored ones only, because you once told him you liked them. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” you swallow the last chunk of your popsicle, crunching down on the sugary ice. 

“I promise.” Soobin sits forward eagerly, his melting ice cream cone forgotten.

“It’s Chris,” you say dreamily, a lovesick smile playing upon your lips. 

Soobin burst out laughing, elbowing you in the side teasingly. “I knew it!” 

You and Soobin start arguing about who was more obvious about their respective crushes, but the thought of Chris stays lingering in your mind and clouding your thoughts. His devilishly handsome looks but angelic personality. The way he brings you those damn chocolate puddings, unaware of how you got sick of the flavor a long time ago but keep eating them anyway, just to see the beaming smile on his face. 

“Tomorrow,” you exclaim randomly, right after Soobin finishes telling you about all of the teachers he will miss over the summer, the perfect student he is.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m going to tell Chris that I like him. Tomorrow,” you declare, trying to keep your voice strong and purposeful.

Soobin just stares at you with his jaw hanging open, because while you aren’t as soft-spoken as him, neither of you are particularly forward. Especially not in regard to your romantic lives. You both are the duo that watches your lost loves from afar, not confronting them up close. You’re surprised at your uncharacteristic behavior too, because you pledged to never give a teenage boy the satisfaction of knowing the power they have over you, especially not someone popular like Chris. But then again, Chris is different. You know it.

“Are you actually serious right now?” Soobin asks, still in shock. “Like, are you joking?”

“I’m serious, Soobin. I really like him.” You toy with your stained popsicle stick. “If he doesn’t feel the same, then I can just move on.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

He reaches over and gently pats you on the back, as if to comfort your nerves. “He’d be really dumb to not like you.”

You groan and flop onto your back, looking up at the dusty ceiling of the treehouse. Both of you just stay quiet for a moment, as you observe the soft cobwebs in the corners and the sunlight pouring through the cracks in the wooden rafters. You’re really going to do this.

“I’m still hungry.”

Soobin holds out his half-finished cone, little droplets of ice cream dripping onto the wood. “You can have the rest of this.”

“Thanks, Soob.” You accept his ice cream and both of you continue to reminisce about the school year and plan out everything you probably will never do during the summer, because both of you are master procrastinators.

But one thing you can’t put off is your revelation to Chris, and it’s going to happen. Which is why you find yourself trying to ignore the impending feeling of dread as you walk through the school hallways. Classes are over for both the day and the entire academic year itself, and there’s no better time to confess to your crush on the last day of school. That way, if something goes wrong, you can take the summer to recuperate and wallow in your humiliation. 

You weave through the students excited to trade their homework assignments for sunny days at the beach, with only one thought in your mind. Chris, Chris, Chris. You saw him in math class in the morning, and he looked so cute in his new Hawaiian-print shorts while he signed your yearbook for you. Now, you try to find him in the crowd, before he leaves and you’ll be unable to see him for another three months.

As you search, you’re momentarily snapped out of your Chris-induced daze when you bump into Jessi Ho in the congested hall. Knowing your luck, of course you would crash into the loser who constantly picks on Soobin for being shy. 

“Watch it, dumbass.” Jessi crosses her arms and flips her hair over her shoulder. Jay, her wannabe sidekick, gets up in your face, threateningly flashing the tattoos he got without his parents knowing. Although they look like a classic pair of bullies straight out of Mean Girls, you’re more irritated than intimidated right now. 

“I don’t have time for this.” You try to move past the terrible twosome, but Jay grasps your forearm roughly and pulls you back. You wrench your arm free and look at him in both disgust and confusion. “What the hell?”

“I’ll get to the point.” Jessi smirks, bringing her finger up to her head and pointing to her temple. “We know you’re impaired. Up here.”

Your blood freezes over like a river of ice, when Jessie emphasizes that specific word. Even though you’re not impaired, because autism isn’t an intellectual disability, you know what she means. She says it like an insult, like you’re the most useless of garbage, not worth a human being’s basic dignity. Jay bursts out laughing when he sees the horror on your face, slapping his distressed denim thigh like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard in the fifteen miserable years of his life. You just stumble back, shock and panic rising like a tidal wave in your chest. 

“W-what?”

Jessi cackles, clinging onto Jay like he’s her own walking cane. “How cute. She looks so lost.”

You shake your head, the tears building and your throat seizing in alarm. “How…?”

“A little birdie told me.” Jessi steps closer to you, and while every other time you are able to stand up to her, you can barely look her in the eye right now. “It all makes so much sense. Why do you barely talk to anyone but your pathetic bestie? You’re too scared. Why can you never sit still in class? You're just stupid.”

“That- that’s not how it works.” 

You’re grasping at straws, at a loss for words. Any other time, you’d have a snappy comeback ready. You know you struggle with social interactions, but you never thought of yourself as someone disruptive, or weird. You’re one of the highest achievers in your entire school, because sometimes, books make more sense than people. But now? You do feel stupid, exactly like Jessi said. And not because you’re autistic, but because you weren’t careful enough. You’ve been underestimated your entire life because you’re a girl, but now, you know you’ll also be an autistic girl to everyone else. Not who you are. And that’s why you tried your best to keep it on the down low, not because you felt embarrassed, but because this was a part of yourself that was entitled to you. Not anyone else.

“Sure, okay.” Jessi looks bored already, her eyes unfocused roaming the hallway, looking for her next target. “Whatever, stupid.”

Jessi slinks off without a second glance, and Jay follows suit, but not before doing a disgustingly inaccurate impression of autists, speaking gibberish slowly and exaggeratedly. You actually speak faster than other people, because you always say whatever is on your mind. But you don’t give a crap about them right now. Bullies like them will always have the worst to talk about others, and you would rather die than have them be the cause of your tears, ever. What’s really bothering you is who told them about your autism, and how that mystery person found out.

Swallowing roughly, you run over to the bathrooms, forgetting anything else. The only thing on your mind is not losing it in front of everyone. You will not give any of these people the satisfaction. Trying to keep your breathing even, you’re about to enter the bathrooms and relieve your emotions when you hear someone say your name. It doesn’t sound deliberate however, like you weren’t supposed to hear it.

You turn slowly, searching through the swaths of people walking, when your gaze lands on a small group of people gathered at the end of the hallway, a few lockers away from where you’re standing. And his back facing you, but you immediately recognize the person speaking. After the previous year of sitting behind him in Geometry class, you would recognize his curly locks perpetually dyed a soft blond and preppy polo shirt anywhere. Your ears perk up in interest, and while you feel horrible, you know one of Chris’s dimpled smiles would immediately brighten your stormy day, as they always did.

“Tell us the truth Chris!” You hear someone screech like an eager toddler, and you stop in your tracks like a deer in a traffic jam. It can’t be. 

“Fine, Y/N is autistic...”

Everyone around Chris bursts into uproarious laughter, and while you can’t see his expression, Chris begins saying something else that’s drowned out by all of the noise. It was Chris. He told everyone about your autism. Chris, the sweetheart who brings you pudding. Chris, the pretty boy who you have a hopeless crush on. Chris, your friend.

You stumble back and are pushed back into the after-school hallway rush, losing sight of Chris. But you already saw everything you needed to. It would have hurt less if it was anyone but Chris. But it wasn’t. You liked him. You trusted him. And he took that trust and stomped on it, shattering it forever. He took something from you. 

Your heart hardens as you blink away your tears. You mindlessly make your way outside, just in time to catch your bus home. Looking out of the window, with your time and your spirit petrified, you resolve to never, ever make the same mistake again. You will never again put your faith in someone who does not deserve it. 

“You look hungry.” 

You momentarily glance away from your laptop screen to shoot Chris a withering look that could scare a bear. Things are back to normal since your emotional confrontation after the Dean’s meeting. Your rude remarks and his annoyingly cooperative advances are both back for good.

“Shut the fuck up.”

The blistering ice in your voice doesn’t stop Chris from unzipping his backpack and pulling out one of his damn puddings. With a scoff, you turn back to your spreadsheet, taking care to shoot disgusting looks at Chris periodically. Chris just takes his time savoring his pudding, innocently watching your reactions like you’re a goddamn television set.

The hours pass by quickly; you get a good amount of work done, while Chris tries to be helpful by asking useless questions and doing nothing else. Typical. After finishing up a final follow-up email to the Dean’s much more tolerable secretary, you stretch out your arms with a yawn. The library will be closing in a few minutes.

“Where are you going?” Chris’s voice is interrogative as you stand up, like you owe him an answer, which makes you see red. If anything, he is the one who should be giving you an explanation, perhaps why he has to be such a two-faced monstrosity who wants to pretend everything is fine and in the past.

Screw civility.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your royal dopiness. I didn’t know I needed your permission to go home.” Your words are filled with a sickening sarcasm, and fortunately, it’s enough to shut Chris up.

You grab your belongings and stalk out of the personal meeting room that you reserved, barely noticing that everyone else sitting at the previously crowded study spaces has already left. Once in the security of the library bathrooms, you exhale all of the tension you’ve held inside of you and splash cool water onto your heated face. 

You stare into the mirror, seeing the same girl you’ve been trying to leave behind all of this time. You feel like that lost little girl trying to clutch the thought of someone who should be forgotten. You hate that you still have hope in you, that you’ve had it all of these years, that things can be fixed. You’ve tried, you really have. You’ve tried to leave the past behind you, to look forward and do exactly what needs to be done for your success. Here’s the truth: you act like a bitch towards Chris because he sucks and you hate him. Here’s another truth: you act like a bitch towards Chris because… you’re hurt. 

Especially because of your autism, you’ve had a more difficult run at making meaningful relationships. Your friendship with Chris meant that there was hope for you, and you truly believed that. But then he betrayed you, making you doubt yourself and your abilities. And following the incident, it felt like the world was working against you, and it still does. Maybe you could have healed with time, but the universe had other plans, taking care to put you through high school and college with Chris. And with your rotten luck, he’ll probably end up going to the same law school as you.

But you don’t have the time to worry about that right now. Your future depends on the present, and you’ll do your best to remember that. Your productivity mantra will keep you going, and nothing can stop you, from Christopher Bang to misogynistic old deans to… a locked bathroom door?

“What the hell?” You tug on the handle, but the door won’t budge. 

Fuck. 

You were so occupied with Chris that you forgot that after hours, all of the doors automatically lock to preserve campus security. Screw modern technology. You’re about to pull out your phone to try and call someone, but when your fingers meet an empty pocket, you realize you left it in your apartment. With an exasperated groan, you bang against the door as hard as you can and shout for help, even though you know it’s impossible for anyone to hear you and open the door from outside, the only way to free you. After a few minutes, you give up and slide down onto the floor, knowing you’ll have to spend the rest of this godforsaken night in this stuffy bathroom. Even if you somehow eventually gain the strength to bust this stupid door down, there was no getting past the padlocked main library doors. But seriously, which genius had the idea to lock the freaking bathroom doors? 

You close your eyes and place your hand over your heart, trying to calm yourself down. You’re perfectly safe. Alone in a big, empty library. Soon, the bathroom lights will shut down, probably. You wouldn’t know for sure, though. You’ve never been locked in the damn library bathroom before. Perhaps you’ll make friends with the old campus ghosts rumored to haunt this building. And maybe—

The click and turn of the door handle startles you, and you immediately jump out of the way, so your designated savior can let you out. And you’re not even surprised when your eyes meet Chris’s own confused ones. Because of course it’s Chris.

“Why are you still here?” You ask him in a slightly accusing tone, even though he literally has just helped you. You don’t even know why you feel the need to be so pointed, but you are nevertheless. 

“I was waiting for you to come back and didn’t realize the library was closed.” Chris lets out a sigh, rubbing his forehead as if it aches. You hope it does. “I have a question about the proposal.”

“Did you try calling someone? I forgot my phone.”

“Well, my phone doesn’t have any service.”

“Awesome.”

You don’t say anything further as you both exit the cramped corridor outside of the bathroom. In your hurry, you hadn’t even noticed how the librarians had turned off the lights, shrouding the building in darkness. Shivering, you subconsciously move closer to Chris, before you realize yourself and make sure to maintain a six-feet distance between your body and his.

“You can come closer if you’re scared,” Chris teases, noticing your discomfort. “We’re both stuck in this library together.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re the one who’s scared of the dark.”

Both of you fall silent as the remembrance sinks in. The day you confided in Chris about your autism, he had shared a secret about himself in return, albeit a less serious one. He had an irrational fear of the dark since he was a small child, and you knew any other fourth grader would have made fun of him for it. You had felt happy, then, that he could confide in you. 

The inadvertent memory feels unwelcome, uncomfortable. Chris clears his throat and looks away. “Not anymore.”

You and Chris decide to make camp in the library common room, since although the main building lights wouldn’t work, there were a few soft table lamps you could turn on for some clarity. You set your backpack down on the carpeted ground and snuggle into the large armchair by one of the bigger lamps. You glance at the decorative grandfather clock in the corner of the room, and it’s just past midnight. At that moment, you really just want to go home, put on your favorite pajamas, and fall asleep while watching your list of comfort anime films. Definitely not being locked in the damn library with Chris Bang, of all people. Since when was your life an episode of Arthur?

“So, you wanted to ask me something?” 

Chris fiddles with his hands for a minute, before looking away. “Never mind.”

You don’t even have it in you to be annoyed at this point. You’re just exhausted. You fall back against the tough cushion of the chair. It feels like you’re sitting on a clothed bag of sawdust. But it’s better than being out there, in the dark. And you hate to admit it, but you’re glad that you have someone to share the company of an empty library with, even if it’s Chris. 

“God, I’m hungry.” You touch your stomach, feeling the gnawing emptiness there.

“Would you like a—”

“No, I would not like a pudding, Chris.”

The minutes eventually tick by, and you feel yourself nodding off. You had told yourself earlier that you would stay alert, but the drowsiness drapes over you like a blanket, lulling you into reluctant sleep.

The menacing roll of thunder snaps you out of your uneasy slumber like the sound of a car crash. Immediately, you double over and tuck your head into your arms, trying to breathe. Your hands, warmed from being pressed under your thighs, go clammy with a cold sweat, and you can feel the tears well, barely keeping them at bay. When your go-to breathing technique doesn’t work, you gasp for air, jerking in your seat at every new crack of thunder invading your perception. 

Immediately, Chris crosses the space between your chairs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hold. Sometimes, thunderstorms cause you to have a sensory overload, and you can’t cope. Chris knows this about you, after you got severely spooked after one particularly bad storm in the middle of class in sixth grade. Chris continues to rock your body slowly with his, whispering calming nothings into your ear. Your breathing slows and returns to a normal pace, but Chris just keeps rubbing slow, comforting circles on your back. 

Soon, the sound of the thunder dissipates, but you’re not entirely sure if it’s actually because the storm ended or if it’s because the overwhelming scent of Chris’s fresh, minty cologne has taken over your senses. 

You look up at Chris, the boy you hate more than anything, and whisper the very last thing that you ever thought you would say to him. “Thank you.”

Chris just nods his head slowly while you untangle yourself from his hold. He gets the hint and lets you scoot away from him, but it’s not far enough. Mere inches separate you from Chris, Chris who helped you without second thought because you were having a panic attack. Forget every ounce of hostility you have shown him, he hugged you like he was your lifeline, which he nearly could have been. 

He looks at you intently, his eyes glistening with emotion. “Why do you hate me so much?”

He’s asked this question multiple times before. The first time was back on the very first day of high school, when you both had English class together, and you staunchly ignored him. He continued to ask you the same thing over and over again, until your lack of acknowledgement made him finally stop and accept your new attitude towards him. But even though you’ve heard this question before, this time feels different. There is a certain vulnerability to his words, like he’s given up and is pleading for one last chance. 

A part of you still wants to try and maintain the animosity you use as a protective barrier, so people can’t tell what you’re really feeling. But you’re just tired of it all, and the question tugs at you too. Maybe you need to reply out loud for both of you to hear, not just him. Maybe you need to affirm your hatred for the dumb boy who waited for you to come back from the bathroom and then held you during a thunderstorm. Or maybe you need to affirm the fact that you may not hate him as much as you think, but you still do. You don’t know. You hate him the most because you don’t know. So, for the first time, you answer him.

“You broke my trust, Chris.”

“When?” Chris looks genuinely perplexed, like he has no idea what you’re talking about. 

With a scoff, you glare up at the ceiling, unable to look him in the eye. “You told everyone about my autism. When I specifically said that I wanted to keep it a secret.”

He shakes his head in a vigorous panic. “I didn’t tell anyone. I promise I didn’t. I promise it wasn’t me.”

Then who was it? 

As if he hears your thoughts, Chris sighs and indulges them. “Jessi. She saw your aide and followed him to his office. She was telling everyone about it, I swear.”

And it makes sense. His explanation checks out, and this all could have been a grand misunderstanding on your part, because of course Jessi would have snooped into your business. You couldn’t save your privacy for long with someone like Jessi hovering. And the thing is, you’re not even surprised. You knew in your heart the entire time that you could have been mistaken, that it was strange that Chris would have violated you like that, but it was just easier to blame him for your pain instead of confronting it. Or so you thought.

“And when everyone found out, I tried defending you. I never, ever would want to hurt you. Please believe me.”

Chris’s eyes are shining with earnesty, and you know he’s telling the truth. But that doesn’t erase all of the years you were hurting. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“It didn’t even occur to me that it was the reason you stopped talking to me. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.”

You close your eyes and lean back. “Chris, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. This is on me.”

You feel your hatred towards Chris fade, and all there is left in you is a deflated pocket of sorrow. Your whole goal was to stay focused, but in reality, you’ve put so much time and energy into despising Chris. And that wasn’t the only way you hurt yourself. You also deprived yourself of what could have been a wonderful friendship.

“I do,” Chris insists, interrupting your thoughts. “I was stupid. I gave up so quickly. It hurt me too, not just you.”

You raise your head and tiredly gaze at him. Even in the dark, he looks beautiful. And it’s not merely his looks, but truly his character that shines through. You spent hours picking apart his personality, trying to find flaws and reasons to demonize him, not knowing that in the process, you were the monster yourself. You constantly complained about his lack of initiative and response, when in reality, you never let him actually do anything. You can’t even fathom why he’s being so understanding, or all of his attempts to work with you, even after your cold treatment of him.

“What do you mean, Chris?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Chris groans. “I used to like you. There.”

You perk up. Well, now you’re shocked. “Wait, really? I used to like you, too!”

There’s disbelief written all over Chris’s face. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

Both of you burst into laughter, like you weren’t having a heart-to-heart five minutes ago about hating the other. It feels good to laugh, and for a second, you’re transported back into fourth grade, when you first met Chris. 

When you were a kid, you barely laughed, which worried the crap out of your parents. The doctors said it was common among individuals with autism, but it didn’t seem that way when you walked around, unsmiling and unfeeling. You weren’t completely socially inept, or exactly shy, but you preferred to keep to yourself. And then Chris had offered you a pudding. You felt like friendship was worth something, then. You felt seen. And maybe that scared you a little bit, being on the edge with someone who made you feel so deliciously raw. Maybe that’s why you didn’t fight back for Chris, because you would rather leave than be left. 

Chris rakes his fingers through his hair, the ghost of a smile playing upon his lips. “You know, I still like you.”

“Very funny.”

“I do.”

“You’re crazy. Stop that.”

“Maybe.” Chris throws his hands up and then lets them fall back down. “I like you and don’t want to stop.”

“After how I treated you for the past eight years?” You nearly laugh with how ridiculous he’s being. Hell, if you were in his place, you’d hate yourself.

“But you were hurt. A lot.” Chris shrugs. “You’ve become this amazing woman. You’re… incredible. Hardworking, talented, smart. Keeping in mind how you truly believed I was the cause for your pain, you excelled in spite of the fact that the universe kept pulling us together.”

You shake your head. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay. I’ll say it for you.” Chris looks down at his palms. “I like you, and that’s why I became co-president and faked having no service on my phone so we would be stuck in a library together.”

“Chris—”

“Please. Don’t say no. Not after eight years of me pining for you, knowing you’d never look at me again. Knowing I was falling deeper every time you cursed at me. Please, Y/N. I want to know you again, and you to know me. Please.” Chris’s expression is begging, and it pains you even more. 

You still hurt, but it’s a different kind of torture. It’s the kind of hurt that’s the result of yearning, the kind of yearning that stems from hatred, subjugated love, and uncertain acceptance. It’s the kind of hurt that tells you that you don’t deserve him. He deserves someone who isn’t a complete and utter coward. Someone who hasn’t been completely and utterly in love with him all this time, but too stubborn and too pained to admit it. Someone who isn’t completely and utterly awed by the magnificent man he is, but too bitter to say it. 

Chris reaches out his hand and places it on the side of your face, imploring you with his hesitant palm. You melt into his touch, when a mere few hours ago, you would have slapped it off of you. His skin is warm against yours, and the softness radiating from him pulls at you. You want to say yes. You want to open a blank page in the book. You want to start fresh with this beautiful boy in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” And you’re not just apologizing for pushing him away before, but now too. You don’t get to have him. 

“Just… why?”

“I can’t. I’m so sorry.” The repeated dialogue from you has a note of finality that even Chris’s insolence can’t break through. 

And just like that, all of the bridges you both repaired come crumbling down, but this time, it’s on purpose. You’ve always been quick to make decisions, never mulling over a choice for too long. You loved Chris. You hated Chris. You still love Chris. But you reject Chris. It’s easy to do, like one computer command after the other. But then Chris retracts his touch and wordlessly gets up from the armchair, curling up into his original position in the other chair. He’s facing away from you, you feel like you’ve struck an error message. The hours pass, and the softly snoring form of Chris reminds you of a blaring bad request, a pile of code that just won’t compile. Eventually, your computer shuts down too, and you share a temporary commonality with Chris when you fall asleep.

“Wake up dear.”

Your eyes fly open, and you sit up. Natural light pours in through the big windows, and you can feel your skin drinking in the sunshine. The librarian’s kind eyes are watching you with worry, but all you can think of is the night before. Perhaps it was all a dream. You were angry at Chris and then fell asleep after coming back from the bathroom. End of story. But then you feel that familiar ache in your heart, and you know you weren’t hallucinating everything that transpired between you both.

You turn to look at the librarian, who still seems immensely concerned, especially with your disoriented morning look. “I’m sorry, where is Chris?”

“He just left a few minutes ago, sweetheart. I was opening up for the day, when I saw him waiting to be let out at the front entrance. Nearly scared the life out of me.” The librarian places her hand on your shoulder. “He told me you were here.”

The librarian rushes off to her personal office to make you some tea, and you’re left alone in the common room. And no one else is here either, because today is Saturday and your university is supposed to be hosting a football game against a rival school. You look down at your body and notice a jacket wrapped around your body, one that definitely isn’t yours. You don’t have an expensive leather jacket that smells like Tom Ford cologne. It was freezing last night because the library doesn’t have heating, and Chris must have woken up in the middle of the night and draped it on you. You feel another pang in your heart as you think of Chris leaving without speaking to you. You deserve it, though.

As you sadly walk out of the library, you decide to skip the game even though as student body president, you should be there, representing the school. You reach your off-campus apartment, the one that you were so excited to finally lease a few months ago, and sprawl onto your couch, already feeling weary of the day. Nevertheless, you fish your phone out of the jumble of couch pillows and call Soobin, because he must be worried sick. You always text him goodnight before you sleep, and yesterday must have been the first time you didn’t.

“How could you?” He’s angry, a new color on him.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. The library—” You start, but Soobin doesn’t let you finish.

“Forget the library! I’m talking about Chris. He’s stepping down from the president role because of you, Y/N!” Soobin screeches into the phone, making you shoot up in alarm.

“What?!”

“I overheard him tell everything to Jisung. Y/N, this is wrong.” Soobin sounds calmer, but nonetheless distressed. “I know you love him. You shouldn’t let this happen.”

Your face heats up in surprise. “How—”

You hear Soobin tsk, and you just know he’s shaking his head, disappointed. “I didn’t even have to hear him talk to know that. There’s a fine line between love and hate. You can never stop talking about him!”

There’s no denying it now. You shouldn’t have underestimated Soobin; no matter how silly he can be, he is your best friend in the whole world after all. And maybe all the time, the only one you were lying to was yourself. 

You grab a pillow and cradle it, just wanting to cry it all out. You always have more intense feelings than others, but right now, your heart hurts so much that you doubt you can blame being emotional on your autism. 

“Soobin, what do I do? I don’t want to hurt him, but…” You sniffle. “I didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself. For eight years, I made my whole personality hate Chris. And now, he forgives me and I accept it? I’m so stupid, God.”

“I agree you’re stupid.”

“You’re not making me feel better!”

“Sorry.” Soobin sighs. “But you need to get over yourself and your drama. Stop making this harder for both of you, and just be grateful that you haven’t lost him. Yet.”

And with that, he cuts the call in a way very unlike Soobin, making you groan out loud in frustration. Now you want to punch your pillow, because your best friend is absolutely right.

It doesn’t take long for you to find Chris in the packed stadium. Through the throngs of students eager to trade their homework for a good home game, you see him standing with one of his friends in an upper corner of the stands. When you were younger, you were obsessed with Greek mythology and thought that Chris looked like Apollo, the god of the sun, with his golden curls and sunny disposition. Today, his light seems to have dimmed, as he watches the ongoing game with his hands shoved into his pockets and a forlorn look marking his gaze. 

“Chris!” You shout to try and get his attention, but it’s to no avail. The cheering crowd is ear-splitting, and you have no other choice but to climb up to the top.

Grunting, you hoist yourself up the steep stairs and try not to look behind you. If you do, you’ll fall off the stands with dizziness, which would be slightly undesirable compared to what you have to do next. Slightly. With the final step, you haul into Chris’s row, catching your breath and a first glimpse at how high up you really are. The players on the field look like tiny ants, and you feel your stomach drop. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. 

But it’s too late to turn back now, because Chris has already spotted you and hurries over. You tense and lose your footing, stumbling over someone as they kick their legs in anticipation. Great. 

“What are you doing here?” Chan places a toned arm around your shoulders and pulls you up, leading you to his seat. You clumsily collapse into the solid, curved plastic of the chair, and Chris follows next to you.

You then notice Chris’s friend, a heartbreakingly handsome man who you vaguely remember as Minho from your sophomore year literature class. He’s wistfully gazing at a very pretty girl who is chatting with Terry, Soobin’s old roommate, a few rows down. Minho then becomes aware of your presence and hurriedly excuses himself, rushing out of the aisle and disappearing into the crowd. You turn to Chris.

“Is he okay?”

Chris exhales, running his fingers through his hair, combing through it before the soft locks flop back into place on his forehead. “I… Minho’s just going through some stuff right now.”

“Seems like he’s not the only one.” You toy with your ring, twisting it around your finger. “I heard you’re resigning.”

“Who told you that?”

“Soobin. He was eavesdropping on you and Jisung today in Morningstar,” you respond. “Why are you leaving the role?”

Chris looks away from you and out at the field. Your university’s football team still hasn’t scored. “I’d just be in your way. This is for the best, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. Please don’t. I need you.”

“You’ll be fine.”

This is what you thought you wanted all along, a world without Chris in it. Besides Student Council, neither of you share any classes or activities this year. If he left, you wouldn’t have to cross paths with him again. You could run the council well on your own, you know that. But you don't want to. You don’t ever want to imagine a world without Chris. He’s been by your side for so long now, and now when he’s about to step away do you truly realize how much you need him.

“Maybe. But I won’t be happy.” Against your better judgment, you reach over and grasp his hand, making Chris start in surprise.

Chris shakes his head, still skeptical. “All I’ve ever done is make you unhappy, Y/N. You don’t want me to be around.”

You sigh, knowing he’s not going to come around, not without the right kind of persuasion. “I was dreading having to do this.”

“Do what?”

You reach into the small purse hanging off of your shoulder and pull what you had scoured the entire city for in the past few hours. “Would you like a pudding?”

Chris looks bemused, staring down at the small cup of chocolatey goodness in the delicate palm of your hand. 

“Or do you want a kiss?” You stare at Chris intently, trying to ignore the whammering beat of your heart. “What will it take for you to stay in your position?”

“W-what?”

“Or I could be your girlfriend. Because I really want to see where this goes.” You take a deep breath. “A bunny once told me that I just need to get out of the past. I’ve left it behind, and I’m looking forward, Chris.”

“Fine.” Chris swallows roughly and bites back the slow smile spreading on his features. “Can I have all three?”

“You never make it easy, do you, Chris?” 

Before he can quip back at you, you grasp the collar of his t-shirt and tug him to you, your lips meeting just as the home team finally scores a touchdown and the crowd erupts in applause. You couldn’t care less though, because although the preteen you is jumping up and down like the rest of the cheering fans, the adult you is smiling into the lips of the man you definitely do not hate. Actually, you love him. 

Chris slings his arms around your waist and pulls your body closer to his, sweetly laughing into your ear when you both come up for air. “Am I a good kisser, or what?”

“Shut up.” 

And you’re kissing him again. Warmth blossoms in your chest, sparks igniting as you lean into each other after years of loving, hating, and longing. Your arms roving over each other coax all and any remaining hesitation left in you both, and it feels so right. You treasure the soft sighs of pleasure and elation spilling from Chris’s lips, his sounds more deafening than any overzealous football fan’s rally cry. 

“So, do I not get the pudding, or…?” Dimples cut across Chris’s cheeks as he pulls away from your lips once more just to shoot you a cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes playfully and reach into your lap, tearing open the foil wrapper on top of the pudding cup before handing it to him. “You and your pudding.”

“You know you love it.”

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[anabdaniels]

So fitting for happily ever after

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female reader

Summary: You got jealous because of a past situation with his secretary, so Jack makes sure to calm you down aka Jack eats reader on his office desk.

Word counting: 1.9k

Rating: +18

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, reader curses in another language (translations provided at the end).

A/N: First things first I made reader cursing in Portuguese because my Brazilian ass can't find English curse words to sound offensive enough hahaha. Whatever, the idea of writing this came while I was listening to some wild Reddit stories so...

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

You could barely feel the ground under your feet as you walked inside the ranch, boiling in pure anger, the 30 minutes in the car on your way home for sure didn’t help the thousands of thoughts going through your brain.

“Jack Daniels.” You called more loudly than you would normally as you entered the bedroom. Jack promptly looked at you in complete confusion as he finished putting his t-shirt on.

“Something wrong, honey?” he asked calmly, despite the crease between his eyebrows.

“Can you please explain to me what kind of fucking business have you been doing at your damn job?” you asked mad, but keeping your tone under control the best you could.

“What’s the problem, sugar? What has made you so upset?” he questioned with one hand resting on the dresser and the other on his hip.

“The problem is that aquela vaca do caralho…” you stopped and took a deep breath, not wanting to lose your composure “Your dear little secretary talked to me at the fucking pharmacy and made sure to let me know that you have been fucking her.” You could feel your stomach twisting only with the idea of it.

“I expected you to know she lied to you.” Jack said calmly, even knowing that the situation was delicate.

“Then can you explain to me how the fuck she knows you have a single freckle on your left inner thigh?” you questioned concerningly calm.

“Honey, the situation ain’t like you’re probably imagining.” Jack answered in a soft tone.

“C’mon, you’ll tell me that she stumped and accidentally fell sat on your dick? Não fode, Daniels.” you rolled your eyes, both hands lying on your hips; Jack had to breathe calmly to not laugh at your bold statement, aware that laughing would only complicate his situation.

“My love, I can assure you that all that happened was a simple one-night stand a couple of years before we met and nothing more.” Jack kept his calm, even though he was already planning the reprimanding and possible dismissal he would give to his secretary the next time he saw her.

“Haven’t I asked you a thousand times if you had something with her because she always acted very pick me around you? And you denied it every time.” You inquired raising your eyebrows and tilting your head slightly, still not amused by his answer.

“I didn’t think would be relevant to tell you this since it happened once and didn’t have any relevance.” Jack said sincerely, almost starting to worry about all that.

“Where?” you asked after a few moments of silence.

“Where?” Jack repeated confused.

“Where did you fucked her?” you questioned once more, making the question the clearer possible.

“At her apartment…” he answered seeming completely clueless of which was your goal with that.

“At least some good news, I haven’t slept on the same bed as that bitch.” You squinted at the very moment Jack chuckled and approached you.

“Now can you calm down a little bit, for god's sake?” he spoke while resting his hands on your upper arms, softly rubbing your skin.

“Oh if I wasn't calm, your nose would have been broken a long time ago.” You rolled your eyes as he kept a goofy smile, holding you by the waist.

“Didn’t know you were that jealous ‘bout me.” Jack made sure to tease you with that smug tone.

“You’re lucky that I’m calmer than most girls back home. Some of them would’ve already put sugar on your car’s tank or sold your limited-edition Stetsons for 20 dollars on eBay.”

“Good thing I don't intend to make any serious mistake.” He joked and laughed when you seemed not happy with it. “Ease your heart, Mrs. Daniels. I have no intention to even look at any woman that ain’t my gorgeous wife.” Jack assured calmly and leaned to kiss the tip of your nose.

“You better. I imagine that even being sterilized, you still like to have both of your testicles.” You stated slightly raising your eyebrows.

“I do.” He confirmed seriously, making both of you laugh.

Despite being the one who cooked almost 100% of the meals, Jack wasn’t the biggest fan of doing the groceries and organizing them in the pantry, and since you would do anything but cook, you assumed those tasks. Once at the supermarket parking lot with your phone and shop list on hand, you realized you had forgotten your wallet at home. Already mumbling all the curse words you knew while starting your car, you remembered that Jack was at Statesman, which, despite being out of the city too, was way closer than the ranch.

Once you arrived at the distillery and got to the floor of Jack’s office, you were happily surprised when you didn’t see his dubious character secretary at the front desk, but the sympathetic lady you used to talk a lot every time you had to wait for Jack to get out of some meeting.

You walked calmly to Jack’s office, knocking on the door and getting in as you heard his voice telling you to do it, stopping in front of his desk and waiting for him to look at you.

“Honeybee.” Jack smiled openly as he saw you and leaned back on his chair, taping one of his thighs. Without hesitation you moved to sit sideways on his lap, letting your arms rest on his shoulders. “What brings my dear wife here today?”

“My shitty memory to be honest.” You admitted, tilting your head slightly “I was on my way to do the groceries and realized I forgot my wallet at the ranch.”

“Oh, I see.” He answered with a soft chuckle, grabbing his wallet and giving you his bank card.

“Just for the record, I was planning to pass on some other places after it, so…” you were ready to start a little justification speech, still not having completely lost the habit of thinking that you should have a complex reason to buy something, but Jack didn’t give you the chance to even start with it.

“It’s okay, sugar, don’t worry your pretty head with this. If my dear wife can’t have a little fun with my card, then what am I working for?” Jack winked at you with a sideway smile and leaned to press a soft kiss on your lips.

“Fine, I’ll remember this.” You chuckled while playing with a lock of his hair “Speaking about work, I haven't seen your dear secretary around.” You mentioned it with a bit of sarcasm.

“She got transferred to the city branch.” Jack explained calmly, resting both hands on your waist.

“I imagine she’s missing her beloved boss.” You said with a slightly annoyed grimace.

“Honey…” he laughed quietly and kissed the curve of your neck.

“I’m just stating the reality.” You shrugged “I wonder if you really haven’t taken a bite of her among shifts.” At that point, you were just wanting to mess with him a bit.

“Well, I’ll summarize my answer simply saying that all of my office furniture has been christened with you.” Safe to say it got you out off guard; you didn’t doubt the fact that death would be a more considerable option for Jack if the other option was cheating on you, but you were aware that he had a life before you and that new information was something you were not expecting.

“Now, that’s the kind of news I like to receive on a turbulent day.” You admitted with a wide smile.

“Good, now ease your jealous, y’know I’d kiss the ground you walk if you asked me to.” He finished the phrase with a soft nibble on your shoulder, making you squirm a bit on his lap.

“Personally, I’d prefer you to use your mouth for other stuff.”

“Now tell me something I don’t know.” Jack teased and faster than the blink of an eye, you were sat on his desk, his hands all over you and his mustache tickling the sensitive skin that was exposed on your cleavage. You tried to keep your breath slow, aware that making any loud sound wouldn’t be a good idea. Both of your hands dived on Jack’s hair, your fingers tangling on the brown strands as you got more softened by his touch.

With no ceremony, Jack sneaked his hands under your skirt, taking off your panties and moving his fingers to your pulsing core as his other hand quickly rested over your mouth to suppress your pleased noise, which wasn’t very helpful to your self-control, since the feeling of his huge calloused hand covering your mouth and a good part of your face just helped your dirty thoughts to go further.

Enjoying the view of your body softening, Jack kept his fingers working between your legs, smirking at every single spasm of your hips. Conscious about how close you were to losing control of your noises, you bit the palm of Jack’s hand, sinking your teeth more into his skin as two of his fingers slid inside you and his thumb rubbed your swollen clit.

Yes, you knew that all those papers with the Statesman logo spread over his desk probably were important, but you weren’t giving a shit about that fact at that moment, letting one of your hands crumple the nearest pile of pages. Caring less than you, Jack decided to move further, kneeling on the floor so his head was placed between your thighs. You didn’t have the time to catch your breath before his tongue was buried in your wet core and you managed your body reactions the best you could, pulling his hair, smashing the papers on the desk, and keeping your bite on the palm of his hand.

Your eyes rolled back as your eyelids fell close, your mind doing you no favor as you thought about the fact that, even being the charming boss who could have spent a good time with half of the Statesman staff during his office hours, you were the first person to have that kind of moment with him at his office, and the meeting room, and the warehouse of barrels…

Seeming to know that you were deeply stuck on the moment, Jack didn’t spare his efforts, keeping his fingers and mouth working rhythmically on your throbbing cunt, getting more pleased as he felt your thighs squeezing his head more and more at the same pace your fingers twisted a huge portion of his hair, causing a slight pain Jack enjoyed deeply.

You got the last straw when his fingers curled inside you, providing you with the single push you needed to get over the edge, involuntarily moving your hips and letting out an audible moan, feeling your whole body starting to melt as Jack slowed his motion until completely stop, needing a few seconds to process what was going on when he sat back on his chair and pulled you to his lap, letting you nestle between his arms and kissing the top of your head.

“Can I ask a question?” your voice came out quiet after a moment.

“Of course, love.” Jack answered promptly while moving one hand to caress your back.

“I’m getting this treatment every time I show up to ask you for money?” you looked up at him with a lazy smile.

“Only if you’re all jealous for no reason.” He answered with a cocky grin, leaning forward to give you a soft peck on the lips.

Translations: Aquela vaca do caralho- that fucking bitch Não fode- don't fuck/mess with me

Tagging: @missladym1981

[burrowbaddie]

Me & You

Joe Burrow x Female Reader

Series Summary: Childhood friends to lovers to nothing. You and Joe had history, you were each others first and then you were nothing. Years later, you guys rekindle the flame but with more obstacles in the way this time.

Chapter 1 Summary: You try to figure out how you and Joe got yourselves into this current state.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Afab!reader, smut, swearing. Oral (female & male receiving), vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cheating! (You are the side girl, sorry.)

Series Master

A/N: Hello! Omg I don’t know anything about football or the NFL! I saw Joe last season and I just had to join in this x reader tags! So be nice to me! I’ve been sitting on this fic forever! I was so nervous to post. This is all fictitious so pls be nice to me! 😭

You're standing listening to the crowd cheering on the Bengals. Your best friend, Mya, is drunk and screaming at the top of her lungs. You grab her arm to calm her down.

"Listen, I don't know how you scored these tickets, but I am going to soak up everything in this moment. Joe, let's get it done!" Mya screams near your ear. The name causes your head to snap in his direction. Joe's attention is on something the coach is saying to him. You sit down in your seat, feeling smaller than usual.

"So, who are you fucking for these seats?" Mya asks, sitting down next to you as a timeout is called.

"No one. My dad got lucky." You reply, laying your head on her shoulder. That was obviously a total lie. It was a lie you would have to keep because you knew precisely where you would end up after this game. In the same hotel, you've been meeting the Bengals QB for the last few months.

After dropping Mya home, you made your way to the hotel, walking straight to the room without checking in. A little after midnight, the front door opens, and the blue-eyed man makes his way over to you. You hand him a glass of water, but he opts for a kiss. You have to stand on your tippy toes to get more access to his mouth. Joe drops his bag on the floor and scoops you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you toward the bedroom. Joe tosses you down on the bed, and you giggle, watching him strip. The only thing you have on is a t-shirt, so it's easy for Joe to rip it off and leave you bare. Joe kisses from your ankle, slowly making his way up to your thigh, where he stops to suck on it. With your legs perched on his shoulders, Joe hovers his mouth over your drooling cunt. A starved moan erupts from his mouth as your juices hit his tongue. His rough hands tighten around your thigh as he buries his face into his meal, sucking and slurping on your clit.

Joe is a messy eater when it comes to you; your juices trickle down his chin as he devours your pussy. He can't even think straight because his mind has only one goal; making you cum. You clench around his fingers as he slides in two. Your eyes are barely open, but you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man between your legs. Joe's blue eyes were now dark and staring directly at you. It sends shivers down your body, and you plop down with an exaggerated moan. Joe flattens his tongue against your clit while thrusting two fingers into you. You close your eyes, feeling your orgasm come crashing down. Joe slurps obnoxiously loud and can't help but add to the sounds with his whines. He drinks every drop you release into his mouth. Joe sits back on his knees, face soaked, grinning down at your shaking body.

Joe moves back between your legs, this time slapping the head of his cock on your clit. He slowly pushes the tip into your sensitive pussy. Joe lets out a long groan as he slowly pushes in. But he doesn't get entirely into you because his phone rings. He rolls his eyes and pulls out, going to look for his phone. You pull the blankets over your body because you know the ringtone. It was Nicole, his long-time girlfriend. You bite your lip, watching him take the call to the bathroom. Joe returns with a look of sadness.

"I have to go."

You only nod your head. He kisses your lips, and then you head after getting dressed. And with a heavy heart, you watch him leave. You don't cry anymore, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. Dragging yourself out of bed, you decided to run a bath and drink some wine. This expensive room won't go to complete waste. Once the tub is filled with bubbles, you slide your body in and lean back, closing your eyes. How did you get here with Joe?

"Joey!" You scream as the blonde spins you around in his arms. He has just finished practice, and you promised him a burger from Steak N Shake.

"I'm starving!" Joe wipes his sweaty forehead on your dry one. You scrunch up your face and push him away. Joe laughs and takes your hand as you lead him to your car. He threw his things in the backseat while you hopped in the front and started the vehicle. Taylor Swift's We Are Never Getting Back Together started blasting on the radio. You can't help but giggle while listening to Joe sing along. When you guys arrive at the restaurant, you take your usual spot. Two burgers and a shared milkshake later, you guys make your way to Joe's house. You lay down on the bed, waiting for Joe to finish showering. Laying there, you let your mind drift to thoughts about your upcoming AP Chemistry test. Joe interrupts your thoughts as he throws his wet towel on you after drying his hair.

"Your blonde hair is insane. You look so funny."

"Funny meaning hot!" He shouts, jumping on the bed next to you. You roll your eyes and smack him with a pillow. Joe lays back and pulls you down to his chest.

"We're going to be seniors next year. Time flies. We're getting old, Cheeks." Joe mumbled while rubbing your back. You smile at the childhood nickname. He's been calling you "Cheeks" since 6th grade because your cheeks were swollen from an allergic reaction the first time you met.

"I can't wait for college. Freedom!" You rub his chest and bite your lip.

"Do you want to have sex?" Joe whispers, causing you to crack a sly smile. You roll over and on his lap. Since losing your virginity to your best friend over the summer, the both of you have become a little more attached at the hip. It's not like you guys were dating. It's never been brought up between you two. Everyone in school assumes that you guys are dating, and it's not like either of you has denied or confirmed it; it's just assumed. That is how you guys kept things until senior year rolled around, and your feelings for your best friend weren't just laughs and giggles; it was butterflies in your tummy at every smile he gave you. It was the jealous feeling bubbling in Joe's stomach every time a guy got a laugh out of you. But both of you were too wrapped up in school and Joe with Football to move on from friendship status. So when freshman year rolled around, you had your first boyfriend; it lasted six weeks. It was a complete jerk-off and constantly pressured you to do things you didn't want to do. Joe stepped in and got you out of that situation.

Joe tucked his hands into his sweatpants as he walked you back to your dorm. Both of you had things you wanted to say but kept silent.

"The guys are playing well."

"Yeah, but I'm not starting. Shit is wack. I'm busting my ass just as much."

"I'm sure the coach sees that too." You stop in front of your dorm door and look up at your best friend.

"Umm, thank you for helping me end things with Matt. I was so wrapped up with having a boyfriend I just completely lost myself for a second."

"It's all good. I'm glad you're okay. I could've killed that guy, honestly." Joe rocks back on his heels, looking at you. You quickly become hypnotized by those baby blue eyes.

"I'm in love with you," Joe whispers. You swallow and hold your breath all at once. It's the confession that blows you away. You never thought Joe would utter it first.

"I'm in love with you too." You smile, nodding your head. Joe leans in to kiss you, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Fucking finally!" Quinn, your best friend, screams, swinging the door open. You hide your face in Joe's chest as your friends laugh. Quinn and Francis clap and pull you guys into the dorm.

"It took fucking forever for you guys to say it. Like everyone knew! Everyone knew!" Fran shouts, hugging you. You giggle and look over at Joe, who is wearing the same smile. He holds out his hand, and you two disappear to your bedroom. It takes a while for your heart to calm down from the confession. Even after kissing and laying in bed, your heart skipped a beat thinking about being official with Joe.

"How long have you been in love with me?" You ask shyly, listening to his heartbeat.

"Since 6th grade."

"Joe." You slap his chest playfully and sit up. Joe sits up on his elbow, staring at you with a puzzled look.

"Cheeks. I'm serious. It took me a long time to examine my feelings, but looking back now, I've been in love with you since I first laid my eyes on your blown-up allergy face."

"Burrow, you're something else." You move onto his lap and kiss his face.

Your relationship surprised no one, not even his parents. His mother knew her son was head over heels for his best friend. So, nothing made a drastic change between the two of you. Sure, you spent more time together, went out on actual dates, and had mind-blowing sex whenever you wanted. By the second year, your families were sure it was time to get married. But things between you and Joe weren't always picture-perfect. Joe was busy with football and studies, and you had your head way in the books to graduate earlier and attend med school. The time you used to spend together soon reached a point where it would be a week before you saw each other in person.

"I really need you to be at the capstone presentation. You know I don't do well with public speaking. I've researched all for the last three years. All my hard comes down to this. If I do well on this presentation, I will have the chance to complete a summer internship at-"

"Cheeks. I will be there. I promise." Joe kisses your head to reassure you. You hug him tight and believe his words. But for the first time, Joe breaks his promise. He not only misses your presentation completely, but he doesn't call you that night either. The next day he shows up at your apartment wearing his 1 million dollar grin.

"I have the best news-"

"Where were you last night?"

"That's what I'm going to tell you! I have the chance to play down at LSU. Last night I had dinner with-"

"I had my capstone." You whisper, cutting him off. Joe wipes the smile off his face.

"Fuck. I'm so sorry. I am. You did great, right?"

"I fainted. I stepped on stage and saw how many people were present and fainted."

"Baby, I'm sorry. I really am, but this is a big opportunity for me too. I-"

"You couldn't reschedule? This was the chance of a lifetime for me! This whole relationship, I have been behind you no matter what! And the one time I needed you, you flaked!"

"I'm always there for you! Are you kidding me right now!" Joe shouts, following you toward your bedroom. You decided that if this was going to be a screaming match, you guys should at least take it to the bedroom in case your roommates came.

"When? Name a time we've done anything I want. Your fucking selfish!" You scream, trying to close the door in his face. Joe closes the door behind him and begins pacing the floor. You feel like you're giving more in this relationship than him. This wasn't your first argument, but things started to build up over time, and this was bound to happen.

"I do whatever you want. I practically follow you around like a lost puppy! You have my whole heart. What else do you want?"

"I don't, Joe. You and I both know that. When it comes down to it…. football will always come before me. The countless dates you missed because practice ran late. The time you stood me up for some stupid football social."

"You- you said you didn't go."

"I went to the restaurant. I sat there for two hours. I didn't tell you that because I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I didn't want to make you feel bad."

Joe closes his mouth because you're right. Football was his main focus. He had dreams just like you had dreams. When it came to you or football, Joe was chasing his dream.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was hurting you."

"Joseph, don't do that. You working hard towards your goals shouldn't be a bad thing. But maybe it's not the right time for us."

"Cheeks, I want you. I want you, and I want to make the first string. I want to be in the NFL."

"I know. I'm sure your coach-"

"I'm going to use the rest of my eligibility at LSU. That's where I was last night."

"You're moving to Louisiana? Joe, you didn't even ask me. What about me? We had plans once we graduated. The apartments we looked at."

"I'm sorry. I have to take this opportunity. Baby, I feel that this is the right decision. We can move down to Louisiana and-"

You shake your head, sitting down on the bed. Your heart and mind can't wrap your head around any of this. There was no way you could win. Joe made his decision and included you without your input. Before you can speak again, Joe's phone starts ringing. He answers it without hesitation, and you take a deep breath letting the conversation sink in. When Joe is finished, he kisses your head, letting you know he has to go. The argument isn't resolved, but neither of you brings it up again.

The week before Joe is set to leave is the day you make your decision.

"What do you mean?" The hurt in Joe's voice breaks your heart.

"Joseph, I can't pick up my life and follow you to another state. My life is up here. My family is up here."

"I'm your family too. We made plans and-"

"Plans you disregarded when you chose to play for LSU." You cut him off, sitting next to him on the bed. Joe rubs his eyes and places his head in his hands.

"I want you to follow your dreams. I know you can make it to the NFL. I know you will do amazing at LSU. I don't want to make you choose between me or your dream. So, I'm taking myself out of the equation." You whisper, grabbing his hand. There are tears in your eyes that match his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I should've talked to you about all of this, but I saw my chance and took it."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I want this for you too."

The room remains silent as you guys ponder the next steps. Joe leans in and kisses your lips. Without another word, he leaves. And your friendship with Joe continued, but as his time at LSU began and your internship began, you guys fell out of touch. You got busy with medical school and him with football. And before you know it, Joe is a thing of the past.

That is until you guys meet again by chance. Joe showed up at the Cincinnati Children's Hospital one day for a charity meeting and ran into you. You freeze as the director continues his conversation with Joe and his parents. Robin, Joe's mother, waved you over. She pulls you into a big hug.

"How long has it been? Joe! Doesn't she look amazing?"

Joe can't even find words to speak. His tongue feels like it's stuck in peanut butter. His heart is skipping through loops.

"Ahh. She is one of our brilliant residents. We are happy to have her on staff. Bright future for this one." He says, hugging you. But your eyes can't leave Joe's, not until his mother pulls you into a warm embrace again. His parents leave you two to catch up while they finish something with the director.

"How have you been?" Those words leave both of your mouths. Joe chuckles and waits for you to answer.

"I've been okay. You?"

"Umm, great."

"I see that QB." You smile, slapping his arm playfully. Joe scratches the back of his neck. He's nervous. You can read him like a book, just like he can read you.

"Are you free tonight? My family is throwing this thing for some of my teammates and-"

"I don't want to intrude."

"Stop. We haven't seen each other in years, and I want to catch up."

"I get off at 9. Is that too late?"

He shakes his head, and you exchange numbers before returning to your rounds. The rest of the shift, the anticipation of seeing your first love again drives you insane. You can hardly keep your head clear. And when you finally clock out shower, and dress, your heart is damn near beating out of your chest. With a knock on the door, your heart is ready to leap out of your chest.

"I'm happy you came!" Robin pulls you inside, and you follow her toward Joe. Joe introduces you to some teammates.

"I can see why you called her Cheeks." Ja'Marr laughs, looking at you up and down. You can't help but shyly look away. Joe playfully pushes him away.

"That's not why I call her that. In 6th grade-"

"Joey, stop!" You whine. Joe pulls you into a hug. And the two of you stay there in your world. The cologne he is wearings sends your head into a dizzy spell. You missed him.

"Babe! Who's this?" A girl interrupts your reunion. You pull away, waiting for the introduction, but you know her already. She is on TV every day as the local News anchor. You blank out.

"And this is my girlfriend, Nicole." Joe finishes the introduction when you finally come back to life.

"Nice meeting you. So, you're the heartbreaker?"

"Nicki, we should see if your sister needs help." Joe pulls her away. You stand there wondering what Joe has told people about you. Ja'Marr throws his arm around your shoulder.

"Like glue. She sticks to him like glue."

You are saved by Robin pulling you into the backyard near the firepit. Your eyes stare into the dancing flame as around one around you mingles. When Joe plops down next to you, you turn toward him with a smile. Joe swears a similar smile; you guys get lost in your world just like before. It takes everything in Joe not to lean over, kiss, hold, or touch you. But your picture-perfect world is shattered once his girlfriend returns to his side. You look away back at the flames. When the guest starts leaving, you decide to make your exit, but Joe persuades you to stay later and catch up. And here you two are, awkwardly standing in his childhood bedroom, waiting for the other to speak up.

"I didn't think we would see each other again," Joe speaks first. You only respond with a head nod. You thought the same thing would happen as well. It was your fault for losing communication, but it's not like Joe made an effort after the fallout.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Joe asks. You shake your head. You can't find the words to speak. Joe reaches out and cups your face; you don't pull away. Instead, you lean into his touch.

"Have you missed me as much as I've missed you?"

"Yes." You reply, finally finding your voice. And Joe kisses you, tender and sweetly. Just like he did the first and last time you two shared a kiss. You don't pull away or flinch. You kiss Joe back with all the same amount of love.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispers in between kisses. You finally come to and pull away.

"Joe, you have a girlfriend now. We can't do this. I should go." You say, grabbing your bag and turning to leave, but Joe grabs your arm.

"I shouldn't have done that; you're right. But can we talk, please? There's so much I want to say to you."

"I think it would be better if we didn't do this."

"Why? When would be the right time to do this? You stopped contacting me. You went on and left me behind like I meant nothing."

"Joey, communication is a two-way street. In the last year of our relationship, I held things together! Hold us together! You made your choice to go to LSU."

"You said it was okay! And now you're going to throw it back in my face. It broke my heart that you didn't support me-"

"I always supported you! I have been your supporter since day one, which is why I had to let you go. Because I knew how much you loved me, and if I made you stay, you would have resented me." Your voice breaks as the tears start to flow. Joe shakes his head. No. There is no way he would ever resent you.

"Why didn't you come to Louisiana?"

"That wasn't the right path for me. You made that choice for yourself, not with my intention. I had an internship lined up, which helped rocket me into my residency. What did I have in Louisiana besides you?"

"We don't know because you didn't choose me."

"Joe," You chuckle and roll your eyes.

"I chose you the moment I let you go. Why can't you see things from my point of view?"

"And when you started blowing me off?"

"I blew you off? Oh God, Joey, do you hear yourself?"

"You stopped taking my calls and my texts. That wasn't you blowing me off? Did you meet someone else? Is that what it was? Was there someone else the whole time? Quinn told me you met someone else."

"I was depressed. I struggled after you left. I couldn't fathom the fact that we were done. I blamed myself, and I just-I had a hard time, and I was embarrassed that it was all my fault." You cry, letting the tears fall. Joe wraps his arms around you and holds you close.

"It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, Cheeks."

You sniffle and rub your nose on his shirt, causing him to chuckle.

"I want my best friend back." You whisper, staring up at him.

"Your best friend wants you back as well."

"As friends." You say the last part extremely low. Joe slowly nods his head. After that night, you slowly start working on your friendship again. But your feelings for each other couldn't die out. That's how you ended up in his hotel room in NY after a losing game to the Jets.

"Joey," You moan as he holds your legs on his shoulders. Joe continues to make out with your cunt as your vision blurs, and you cum all over his face. He slurps and drips every last bit. You lay there breathing heavily, trying to come down from your high. Joe sits up and licks his lips. he leans down and kisses you allowing you to taste yourself while he slides into you. Joe grunts feeling your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer. Each thrust you feel sends you into space. You are hot and sweaty, and your head is clouded with reaching another orgasm. Joe's cock pounds away at your softness, sending you and him spiraling.

"Feels so good." You cry out, biting down on his shoulder. Joe frantically starts snapping his hips as he closes in on his second orgasm of the night. You release your legs from his waist so that he can move more, but you slowly start inching away, which only drives Joe to pull you back down and hold your hips pressed down to the bed. Your legs began to shake because Joe found your sweet spot and made you see starts again; the spot would have you creaming on his dick in a few more strokes.

"Don't run away, Cheeks. You wanted this remember? Let me have it. All of it." Joe stares down, watching his cock go in and out of you.

"Joey," You're crying. Crying tears of pure bliss.

"Yeah? Let me feel it, baby. Go ahead and cum." Joe's eyes light up as you reach another orgasm, and he follows after groaning and throwing his head back. You lay there again, trying to come down while Joe lets out a long sigh. You aren't sure what time it is, but you two have been at it since after dinner. A nice hot bath would be amazing right now for both of you. But of course, Joe and his superman stamina pull you up on his lap.

"Joe, break, please. Water." You try to get out the words, but Joe is already bouncing you up and down on his cock. You can't believe he is hard again. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him use you like a fleshlight.

"If you want water, you have to earn it, Cheeks." Joe moans, biting on your earlobe. You pout, giving him puppy eyes. Joe chuckles, burying his face in your neck.

"Just a little rest." You whisper. Joe pulls you up and off, laying your love-bitten body down. He stares down at you, stroking his dick. You can't help but bite your lip. Joe cums all over your stomach with a long sigh. You lay there watching the white liquid melt all over your midsection.

"Bath?" He asks you with a cheeky grin. You can only nod your head. When Joe came back with water, you were drifting to sleep. He kisses your head and tells you the bath is ready. You guys get in the massive tub, your back against his chest. Joe holds your hand, kissing the back of it.

"When are you breaking up with her?"

"I plan to end things next week. Her mother was pretty sick from covid so-"

"I get it." You stay quiet, staring at the bubbles. Joe can tell that you're mind is racing. He kisses your neck and promises things will work out. But things never work out for the two of you. Which is how you find yourself in the present day, only in a Cincinnati hotel room full of cum and regret while Joe is off to console his girlfriend.

Joe calls you the next day to apologize. You forgive him because what else can you do? The boy isn't yours; you're a sidepiece, his fun on the side. And it's weeks before you can see him again.

"Okay, so I narrowed it down to who is single on the Bengals and how you scored those tickets!" Mya shouts, pushing your office door open. You lean back in your chair, waiting for her to go on. She starts listing players, and to be completely honest, you don't know that many people from the Bengals besides the few Joe introduced you to a few times.

"Yeah, I'm not dating any of those guys."

"Coaches, maybe?"

"No. Let it go. I am completely single."

"Omg! Are you a side piece?"

You're stunned but quickly recover and shake your head.

"I'm talking to someone. I could never be someone's side piece." You laugh and watch your phone light up. It's a text from Joe asking to see you tonight. You turn your phone over and sigh. Mya turns on the tv just as the morning news starts.

"Joe's girlfriend is so fucking beautiful. I literally watch the news to watch her. How lucky are they? He's so fucking hot! She's so fucking hot! Think about their babies! Gorgeous." Mya lays on the couch watching tv. You take the remote and turn off the TV.

"I have to do rounds, so let's get going." You stand up, and she follows you out the door. Your shift ends at 11, and Joe asks to see you before practice. You guys meet up at your house for the first time. Joe scoops you up and kisses you all over your face.

"Joseph! Put me down." You squeal. He laughs and sets you on your feet. Joe bends down and smiles at the orange cat purring at his feet.

"Peaches is still hanging in there, huh?" He asks, picking up the cat. Joe brought you a kitten for Valentine's Day during freshman year of high school.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving? My dad has been asking to have you over, and you know how obsessed he is with you-"

"I'll come. Of course." He kisses your forehead and makes his way to the living room. YOu guys lay around watching old movies, stealing kisses, and enjoying the company and comfort. Joe leaves a little after 3. You decide to check your mail. Bills. Bills. Bills. A manila envelope with no address stops you in your tracks. You open it, and inside, you find photos of you and Joe. Photos of you two leaving the same hotel. Your hotel. Pictures of you kissings in his car. You look around, trying to spot anyone who looks suspicious. Someone was watching you and Joe.

[nyeddleblog]

Unrequited. [Part 4]

Pairing: Andrew! Peter Parker x Fem!Reader; Mentions of past Gwen Stacy x Andrew! Peter Parker; Mentions of Mary Jane Watson x Fem!Reader. Warnings: Swearing, Reader trains, in case that counts as a warning. Summary: After last night, you have a nice chat with Peter.

PREVIOUS PART.

Chapter 4: Little intervention.

Coming home from training, you settled on your couch. You heard Peter whistle from the kitchen and cursed him and his naturally well toned body. Sadly, you had to work to achieve it. 

"Fuck off."

Instead, he sat beside you and got a hold of your shoulders, gently rubbing his thumb against your sore muscles. You groaned in annoyance, but it felt good.

"So, had a good time last night?" Peter inquired with a bashful smile, making you raise your eyebrow.

How could you not have a good time with someone like MJ?

"Yeah."

His smile widened.

"Yeah, me too. Felicia is..."

"Oh, wait, no..." you interrupted him, shaking your head. Peter frowned, "I didn't mean with you and Felicia, I meant with my friend."

"Oh."

"Do not fall in love with Felicia, she will break your heart."

"Come on..."

"I don't mean it as in she's a bad person," you said as you stood up and went straight for the coffee machine, which would be the third cup only that morning, "I mean it as in she was totally flirting with me last night. She's not up for anything serious."

There was at least one thing they always agreed on, and it was that they would never hook up with the same girl. Ever. And it usually wasn't an issue, because they had completely opposite types, but girls like Felicia were definitely their middle ground. Peter was lucky that you were just testing the waters, because you could have definitely been with her.

"She wasn't..." Peter tried, and you rolled your eyes, "Okay, maybe she was, but have you thought that maybe that's just her personality? And nothing happened!"

"Because I wouldn't eat off a pussy that had you in it" you stated bluntly. Your roommate blushed at your words and you smirked at him, "Unless you want that."

"Ew, no."

"Then don't be an idiot, Peter."

He sighed and threw his head back against the sofa. Your voice softened then, not wanting to be too cruel with your best friend, "If you're going to settle for someone, maybe try finding someone who wants the same thing you do."

You drank a sip of your coffee and saw the shift in Peter's eyes. He was finally listening, so you continued, "Maybe download a dating app. State your goals."

He nodded.

"Gwen is came back to New York."

You choked on your coffee. 

It's been ten years and he still wasn't over her. 

Ever since she left for Oxford he hadn't been able to get in a committed relationship, it took him five years to even have a fling. You breathed out, giving him a gentle smile as you settled next to him again, "To stay?"

"She's married," Your eyes widened at the statement. You put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, "That should've been me."

"Well, if it had been we wouldn't have become roommates..." you tried, but it was little to no comfort. 

Who cared about their friendship? The woman he's loved since high school was married to another. It was like La la land all over again, and you cried every time you watched that movie.

He shrugged.

"And what would I do without you?"

You smiled at his question, feeling appreciated, yet you navigated the different outcomes of him actually having left with Gwen.

"Probably eat croissants with Gwen in your honeymoon" you said without thinking, "Or cook her breakfast every morning and make love to her every night."

"You're not helping."

You nodded, "I'm sorry."

"She wants to meet up."

"With you? Damn, maybe you actually have a ch-"

"With us."

You stopped speaking.

"She wants to come over" he elaborated, "It's why I wanted your opinion of..."

"Felicia." You finished his sentence, nodding your head, "So you wanted Gwen to see that you're doing well and have gotten over her by being in a relationship with another cute blonde woman? You know there are other ways to show someone you're doing good in your life, right?"

"Sweetheart, I'm twenty-seven years old and I still have a roommate."

"Peter, I'm also twenty-seven years old and I also still have a roommate" you snapped back, looking at him straight in the eyes, "And I'm successful, I have a well paying job and am pretty much happy. We're just living in one of the most expensive cities in the world."

He sighed, "I know."

"Just tell me when she's coming over and I'll help you clean up the apartment," you shrugged, moving your hands as you planned, "do a really good, grown-up dinner, three courses. And tell her all of your achievements like a proud mother. We could even invite May over!"

"Gwen's coming over tonight."

You left your cup of coffee on the table, "And you didn't tell me?"

"I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

You rubbed your temples with your index fingers, wondering why were you stuck in this situation if you could definitely pay for an apartment all for yourself. 

"Okay..." you breathed out, "You clean and I cook?"

NEXT PART.

TAGLIST: @marcspectorondeeznuts @slutfortheblog @chaoticaptendyte let me know if you want in or out of the taglist<3

[barcalover86]

End of beginning

A never-ending friendship

Book

Chapter three

"Y/n, it's not good. It's not good at all."

"What happened??"

When you saw the picture from Bia's phone, your heart shattered. It can't be.

"I hate these gossips. They don't even know the truth, and now they are assuming things"

What was truly happening, it was that some stupid people took pictures and videos of you and Gavi while you were giving each other's instas. It also captured a moment when he hugged you, seeing how big his smile was, even after Barca lost badly that night.

People were assuming that you were his crush, and that didn't make you happy.

You saw exactly the same day that he was texting a girl saying those 3 words (I love you) and if he would see the new gossip about him, which he will sooner or later, will make him angry. Really angry.

Like, let's be real. You would also feel the same way if you had a boyfriend and people were thinking that you are into some other boy.

"Bia, I feel so bad. I'm sure the girl hates me and maybe they'll break up because of me!"

"Don't overreact, maybe they won't see it."

"It's all over the Internet. It's kinda impossible not to see."

You sighed, thinking what could you do now to repair things.

"And to be honest with you, here it's not your fault at all. You didn't do anything to him."

"No, just randomly gave him my insta. How could I do this to some boy that has a girl at home!?"

You were utterly shocked by your action.

"But just give it a thought, y/n. He asked for your insta, and he seemed pretty.. in love when he was around-"

"Bia, stop! He isn't in love with me! How many times do I have to tell you that-"

"He wrote a girl that he loves her, I got it. But maybe you saw wrong??"

"How could I? He was literally right in front of me."

"Maybe you got all shy and-"

"I'm not stupid, ok? I know what I saw yesterday."

After a moment of silence, Bia speaks up.

"He still has your insta. Maybe he'll text you??"

You rolled your eyes.

"I'm sure that after today, he won't do it ever again. And I'm sure he won't look after me at Camp Nou."

"Y/n.. I still think you are overreacting everything. Let's see how things go. Slowly and natural. You are already lucky that you had the chance to stay this much with him. And people are just jealous of you. My girl is really pretty. "

"Thank you, Bia."

..................................................................................

Days have passed, and all you did was walk around new places from Barcelona. Every dinner you spend at your new friends' restaurant, and they also told you that you are overthinking too much.

Their encouraging helped you a lot, but you were still waiting for his text.

And it wasn't showing up.

Maybe you are right and he is mad at you.

Now, the El Clasico game had come, and you were all ready in your hotel room to start wach the game.

You were wearing Gavi's jersey. You thought that maybe it'll bring him good luck. Which after a loss, Barcelona needed.

And it really helped them.

Barca was winning already since the first half with 2-0. The game ended with another goal from Lewandowski and one from Vinicius.

So 3-1, was a great win.

You all celebrated, drinking champagne like it was new year's eve, but you couldn't care less more.

This night, you'll have fun.

At least it'll help go away the shame that was created at the game against Getafe.

But you drank way more than you should, and without being aware, you sent Gavi a photo of you in his jersey with a cup of champagne in your hands.

And then you fell asleep, waking up the next morning with the biggest headache ever.

And also with 2 missed messages from Pablo Gavi.

A photo and a text.

Fucking hell..

[thetinylittlespider]

The Playground of Gods. (Halloween Story!) It is finally here after a miss of 1 hour! I dont think I did as good as I could have, but Idk if the reception for this is good I might think of a sequel! Or else is the last time I try doing smn like this xhjasfdgasfdas Anyways! Enjoy your candies people! and this humble mess of a story!

CW: Death, dehumanization, cruelty, angst, post-apoliptic scenario, probably slight mention of v0r3.

5 years ago, with no time to answer, people from around the globe took a change that had no explanation even to this day. They grew to gigantic sizes, their eyes started glowing like the stars in the night sky, their skin turned gray and some factions of their bodies adopted scales similar to the snakes, their teeth became sharper and the worst part of it all, their minds were not the same.

In the first week, the people who grew...once friends, family, and even lovers, lost all sort of empathy towards the people below, and they were most likely killed among the countless victims that came soon when the giants started their rampage around the world.

Cities fell, civilizations vanished, governments lost meaning, and armies were just a pause for the civilians to get as far away as they could...

Nuclear weapons were tested in Europe as the last resort, to see if that could finally put an end to the giants, but after the sacrifice of one entire city to the blast, the giant that resided survived, wounded, but quickly healing and regenerating the damage, the burns.

The last thing everyone recalls hearing on the radio was the use of nuclear weapons to terminate all the 100 identified giants dispersed around the globe, risking that our planet's atmosphere became a living radioactive hell, with no chance for long-term survival.

It took a few months for the giants to finally manifest just the surface of their goals by causing so much pain.

"To create a perfect world, the last one must fall."

Those words were painful, a ringing bell next to my ear when I managed to evacuate my city, I was 17 back then. And the giant that took over our region, I'm glad I never saw that thing...Otherwise, my nightmares would been plenty.

Ever since the giants created small cities with a handful of humans who were called "cultists". People who had lost all hope for freedom, and who accepted the giants as the rightful owners of our planet, and species. Their minds were broken, willing to sacrifice their own to feed the giants, to track, expose, and eliminate any rebel group they could find. And taking every resource on the outside back to their fucking human farm...

As for now, I'm just a rebel.

1 year after every official military shelter fell, I managed to find a group of crazy bastards that have been my new family ever since. We stopped using our real names, and instead used code names to prevent the cultist from getting any information, just in case we are recognized.

As for our name, we recently chose to call ourselves "Jackpot" over the radio when we talked to other rebel groups. The reason for it...

ーIt's because we are so goddam LUCKY!ー Said Omega, a man who was around his early 30s, our leader. He was the oldest around and had far better ideas to survive, the only one who had at least some military relatives to show him how to manage in this type of situation.

ーDon't jinx it, last thing we want is to find useless crap in this place...ー Charlie, on the other hand, was quite the opposite of that, yet he was the youngest at just 19 years. Made sense he was usually so moody. He might've lost most of his life far younger than any of us.

ーWe could use some ammo, Alpha said that he almost ran out of it, we can't have one of us unarmed. ー Zulu, she was our scout. Older than me with 27 years on her. She had brought us to this city with remains of the old civilization, resources could be plenty, after all, most people didn't have time to even loot shops or take valuables when the giants started their killings. And as for now, rebel groups could be counted with a hand. Cultists were far in the regions in deep nature. We were supposed to be fine.

ーIt's not my fault, that bear back at the last resting point almost ripped my head off! It was my life or his!ー And me, the waste of resources that somehow managed to stay alive ever since the crisis started.

My parents had traveled on some vacations before the giants started murdering people like ants, it was a boat thing for rich people, of course, they didn't want me to come and ruin their fun, after all...I was meant to have a life already built...And now I couldn't stop thinking if they were somewhere in the world, maybe alive on a little island. But that was far too positive for me to imagine.

As for friends, I only had two of them in my hometown, Eric and Tania. They both were at a party the day this nightmare began, none of them answered their phones. And like my family, I had given up hope to ever find them, at least...alive.

Tania had plans for me to come live with her in an apartment, that was as good as life treated me. She didn't care I had trouble with keeping a job, or that I was useless to even cook my meals. She always had hope things could turn out good for me. Maybe those wishes kept me alive for this long. But some days I barely understood why I kept going when there was nothing of my life I could return to.

But these guys...they were a good reason to keep living on.

As we got inside the remains of the city, I released a small sigh. I usually got melancholic seeing the destroyed buildings, and recalling what they used to be, and how many people there were. And now, this place was our little sanctuary for the next 2 days before we had to move again. Our giant overlord is said to enjoy walks to hunt people or animals, and that was not a risk we were willing to make by standing in one place for too long.

ーOkay, I'll set down the camp, Alpha and Zulu, go get whatever you can from the remains, food, water, guns, new clothes, go wild. Just get back here with something useful, Charlie, you get a high spot and go on watch until I'm done, take your rifle, see any cultist, you shoot, rebels, you give me a signal, our giant "queen" makes any sign of getting close to the area, you get back to us and don't let yourself be seen. ー Quick as always, we never had to be asked twice whenever Omega designated our chores. And so, everyone got to it.

Charlie managed to find a building, originally, it probably had more than 20 floors. But the structure collapsed, destroyed, and he had to manage to take the 8th floor. It was as high as he could get now.

Zulu and I took a little tour around the streets, I just simply kept walking, looking at someplace that could resemble a shop, even a destroyed mall. Lifting a few boxes of ammo that the military left years ago was a very mechanical task. I did my best to ignore the dried blood of the citizen's remains, the colossal footprints that branded the ground, and the flattened vehicles that were now unrecognizable. But I didn't even realize I had company until Zulu got ahead of me a few steps. Without speaking a word, she quickly let me know her question by staring at me for minutes, trying to make eye contact.

ーYou are having one of those episodes, are you? ー She asked in a soft yet concerned tone.

ーWhat are you talking about? I'm just doing what I'm told. Is not that weird. ー I say in a useless attempt to avoid the subject.

ーBack in the cave you didn't shut up about how much you missed seeing a city again ever since we targeted this place. But right now I just see you like an old guy wondering where the great years went. How does an excited puppy turn into a silent robot all of a sudden? ー She said making a stop, and I did the same.

ーWell- Ugh. I don't even know how to tell you. But every time we go into these ruins...I just get hit with nostalgia, I start missing my school, college, my friends, and sometimes...Sometimes I see all of this and think of it as a museum, one that tells and shows us that none of it will ever come back. It's history. ー My tone was broken, to think about how far I had come to survive this whole apocalypse, I even wanted to be ignored by Mom and Dad instead of not knowing if they were dead or alive.

Zulu kept quiet and looked down at the ground, a tired smile drawing on her face as her eyes went back to me, filled with kindness and care.

ーHey, listen...I know this isn't the life you want. And is not the life any of us wants. Every day I try to sleep...I can't stop picturing that fucking bitch's face out of my mind. But you tell me you haven't seen her yet, right? Then why not keep the happy memories? Not like a burden that is going to be taken away from you. ー She was suggesting something I never quite put my mind to. I always feared that even if I had good things now, one day everything would be gone, and it tortured me to think about it, present or past, the future would crush it.

ーWe are the only ones that can carry on those memories, is a way to make the people we lost come back at us, a company to bring joy, to make us go forward. ー She finished, giving me a light pat on the shoulder, and I replied with a small nod and an awkward smile that tried to defeat my negative thoughts.

The afternoon came to an end, and the night was setting in. We were back at the provisional camp that Omega prepared. A fire, some cans of tomato soup from our reserves ready to go, and he had made a small tent from some nearby bags and damaged clothes he found around.

ーSo you two found anything good? Or is this place as empty as it looks? ー Said Omega before starting to eat, hitting the ground next to the fire for us to do the same.

We told him everything, of course. Ammunition was not a problem anymore, some cans of tuna survived the rampage of the giant here, and we had some sodas that were close to expiring. At least we had something different to drink today, and maybe the last artificial flavored drinks on the planet.

Charlie remained on his duty, I handed the boy a warm can of food and his drink before heading to sleep with the rest. Observation duty was awful, I've been there my fair share of times as well.

And as soon as I started to finally get some rest.

Boom

Boom

Boom...

I moved slightly, groaning, annoyed by the sound...

Boom

Boom

Boom...

I hear the tent opening, and a fast breathing trying to be under control.

ーGuys, wake up! Now! We gotta go! ー Charlie, out of his post...This wasn't good.

Everyone got up immediately, Charlie quickly started putting all the things we gathered today in our bags, desperately.

Boom

Boom

Boom...

The ground started to shake under us, this was more than bad news. And they got closer, and closer.

Before any of us could hope to get out of the tent, crashing like a meteor, a massive foot fell right beside the exit of the tent, making the entire team freeze.

"Hm. How dull."

The giantess above us spoke, and her thunderous voice made our bones tremble, it was the first time in 5 years I heard that voice. Her tone was deep, yet feminine, piercing but with echoes of every word she spoke. One of the things that changed about her when she turned into a giant.

As she started to walk into the streets, Omega opened the tent slowly to prevent any sound from escaping. He then saw the giant walking, knocking off the tallest buildings with her arm, and they fell as if made of sand...

ーI'm gonna make a run to the other side of the street, hopefully, I'll try to get further into the city and bring her attention. You go the other way, get out, back to the forest. ー Omega whispered, flaregun on hand, Charlie looking disturbed at the idea, after all, we never had this close of an encounter with the giantess. And it was for a good reason, there were no tales of people who survived being close to them, not rebels.

ーN-No, Omega...I-I didn't see her coming, I swear I don't know what happened Charlie got interrupted as Omega covered his mouth with a free hand.

ーIt doesn't matter, if we go together she has a higher chance of killing us on the spot, hiding isn't a good idea if she ends up destroying what is left of the city and us alongside it. She is looking for entertainment, so I will give it to her, and you all get the fuck out of here. Got it? ー Omega tried to give us a reassuring smile after we all agreed to follow the plan. As much as he promised to be okay, to try and hide. At least Zulu and I knew how things were ending, our duty was to follow the plan and keep Charlie safe.

The giant walked aimlessly towards an abandoned parking lot, she was giving us her back, and that moment was perfect for Omega to quickly move in between the streets, and soon, he was nowhere to be seen...

The rest of us moved as well, out of the tent towards the opposite direction the gigantic entity was moving, we tried to ignore the ground shaking beneath us as she just casually kicked one of the corners of the building she had in front of her. We kept Charlie in front of us, trying to be quick on our feet while also not making noises that the fine ear of the giantess could catch.

ーThis is all my fault, I don't know what happened...I could've sworn we were clear I-I...ー The young one kept blaming himself for the presence of the giant, but it was not in my position to judge or criticize how well he did. He was just a kid, after all. This was too much, even for me.

And curiosity be damned. I never saw our overlord, besides a hand in the distance, a voice changed to a so-called divinity tone. A part of me asked me to look at her, to give a figure to that one I had to hate, for everything we lost, for everyone we lost.

But instead of hate, I'm greeted with confusion, her figure, her hair, they resulted as something terrifying...

Something familiar.

My steps became slower, as this information made room in my mind. As things tried to make some sense. Zulu and Charlie both turned back to whisper at me.

ーHey! Let's go! There is no time to waste! ー

I shook my head as I noticed the giant woman picking a vehicle in between her fingers, she observed as if it was a toy of extreme details, and it seemed that it wasn't exactly of interest to the woman, as she just sighed and threw the car from the parking lot behind her, almost reaching us in the impact, but missing by a few meters.

I fell to my back, trying to get away from the now-destroyed object. The bored "divinity" started to shift her position once more, with one swift move of her arm, she made the entire building collapse, she was turning around. And we were in the middle of the street.

We all hid behind the collapsed car, and the absolute darkness of the night ceased for us as the light finally reached us, it was her eyes. During the day we wouldn't notice, but her eyes emanated a glow like a big flashlight, and she focused on her recent destruction. She wanted to get closer, probably to check what else she could find, her steps felt closer.

Zulu held Charlie and we all kept our mouths shut to prevent even a gasp from coming out. Before the light from her eyes could be above us, a distant sound of a small explosion was heard, the glowing eyes moved aggressively as she turned in the direction of a new source of light. A flare, bright red decorated the sky, and she took no hesitation to check what was it that shot it. Given her size, she didn't bother to go around the buildings, and instead, she went right against them, concrete got turned into dust as she came in contact with the structure, her hands pushing aside the closest constructions, and making a rain of debris fall upon us, who shielded with only our arms and bags.

Omega had made the distraction. And we had to take advantage now.

"Now what do we have here? What game are you playing?"

She was being coy, she knew what his fate was, and so did he. The gunshots came soon, and she only released an amused chuckle.

We had to keep going, trying to ignore the background noises that resonated in the empty and dead city, she kneeled, making our world tremble once again, like a cat, that sick monster played with her food, and eventually, after ceaselessly shooting, Omega ran out of bullets. We were just 3 streets close to the bridge we came in, the forest was near. We could still make it.

ーFuck, Fuck...She demolished the fucking bridge! ー Zulu said in anger, she started to get stressed, our options were getting limited by the second, our only way out was either get to the coast and hope to not be seen, or cross the gap between the city, the river with savage waters, and the forest...

ーWe have to get down, the coast is not safe we will be exposed and she will kill us all. ー I thought it would be better to take our chances crossing the river instead of going to the coast.

ーAlpha, the waters will destroy our resources, mess with our guns, and we will be injured if we take the wrong step, I'm not taking that chance! ー Replied Zulu, crossing her arms, thinking to herself some other possibilities.

Charlie, out of our sight. Gave a few steps back to watch the city, listening to what seemed to be screams of pain, and then, he saw a fist rising above the crumbling buildings, and then the falling of it.

A loud booming came to us, and a shockwave of air almost made us lose our balance.

That was the moment we knew Omega had died, his screams could reach us no longer. And the piercing feeling in our hearts only filled us with dread. Charlie was the first one to manifest his pain, crying out loud the name of the man who had taken care of him after losing everything, in a way, in this world of injustice, Omega was the closest thing he had to a father figure.

But both Zulu and I knew there was no time for grief. Quickly we both placed our hands on top of Charlie's mouth again, with his muffled screams barely coming through, and his tears falling on top of our palms. It hurt to do this, but noise was the last thing we wanted.

"And you had friends, of course."

Unfortunately, we were late...she heard. She knew. She stood there, a figure in the shadows of the night, eyes enlightened, looking, wandering.

The impact of familiarity struck me again, but this time, I made a horrible decision, my mind was playing tricks with me, and for some reason, I had the need to prove something to myself. And the fact that we were cornered like rats didn't help my thoughts.

We moved towards a building, hoping we could sneak in between the next one, but it was an abandoned mall, at least the structure resembled one. Footsteps that shook the earth soon followed, the crystal dome upon us let some moonlight in, as well as the silhouette of our predator. Her hands now trying to bring down the entrance from top to bottom.

Zulu and Charlie followed me, and just by a few steps we managed to get away from the collapsing structures, reaching a small stand that was barely holding on for safety. But the giant curious hands did not give time to rest.

She knew we were here. And it could've been far too easy to kill her fun by just collapsing the entire building over us. Instead, she treated the mall like a small box, and we became her toys, our lives were in the short term now.

Now, the wall of collapsed concrete that sealed the entry fell apart as a clawed hand made its way through, crashing to the floor and searching for us.

Her fingers, as long as our entire bodies searched with precision every object, every piece of concrete, and every single thing that could be her attempt at catching us started with a careful hold, even the plastic trash bins that lay there were picked with the greatest of care I could never imagine from this monster, but reality set itself back once she crushed whatever she had caught, as soon as the contact made clear she hadn't caught us yet.

Zulu couldn't handle staying in the same spot waiting for me to move, and Charlie still was too afraid to react on his own. So this time, she took it over herself to be the leader. She used a flashlight she kept on her waist to point a direction, a fire exit door, apparently the only way out of there, since the light also showed us rubble blocking every other visible path in the mall, it was our only chance. Maybe we could use it to reach the next building, while the giantess kept trying to fetch us blindly.

Zulu held Charlie by the arm, and I soon followed them, trying to look backward at the movements in the fading light consumed by darkness, the hand kept clashing with the environment, and the stand we used to hide, was reduced to nothing once it passed close to it.

Inside the fire exit, there was a corridor. Before another door, the last one we could cross. We would have to sneak a little bit in the streets before reaching the next place.

But then, dust fell over us as we heard a thunderous annoyed groan, the earth-shaking movements once again made us stop completely as the noise of broken concrete, glass, and metal increased around us before finally seemed to stop in a matter of seconds. Had she destroyed the rest of this building?

Was she gone?

The minutes passed, no more movement, no more chaos.

ーThis is my fault...Everything is my fault, I should've been more patient, I should have been more careful. ー Charlie kept lamenting, while I only could try to think what our next step would be.

ーWe have to go if she is truly gone...we can make it out of this damn city...ー Zulu was in a hurry to get us safe, the team was falling apart without someone capable of taking decisions, and for both me and Charlie it was the first time we found ourselves in such proximity to get caught by a giant.

ーWe can stay the night here...Even a few hours will do...ーI suggested, I saw nothing wrong in waiting a few hours more. Especially if we could bring Charlie to calm himself down

ーNo, if she just left, is probably going to send some cultists to search around the perimeter, and recover stuff. We would be found. It's better to go now. ー She replied before walking up towards the door, it seemed stuck at first. So she left Charlie in my care while she forced it.

I tried to give some comfort to Charlie by just giving him a small hug and some pats on his back to reassure him everything was going to be fine. That we would manage to get away, live to see another day.

After some tries, the door unlocked, Zulu released a small smile of accomplishment, and I for once felt everything had finally passed.

ーC'mon dorks, the river will be our only concern-...ー

Without warning

Without realizing

2 fingers plucked Zulu away from us to the exterior.

"Wow, I never imagined patience could work with your type..."

Her voice, booming, yet soft. Amused, and with a slight sense of cruelty. She was so close, she was right there waiting for us. She never needed to even cast a sound. How!? How something so big could be so silent!?

ーLet go! You fucking bitch! ー I could hear Zulu's screams, she was alive. For the moment. And only a chuckle escaped this self-claimed deity's mouth. She never addressed Zulu or her insults. Many, given the stories we had, would've died at that instant. But there was something weird about the situation

"I know you are in there, Aaron. Come on out now, I wish to have a word."

My face turned pale, confusion invaded Charlie's face, and Zulu's insults went to a stop.

Did she know my name?

ーAlpha...What is she talking about? ー Said Charlie, taking a few steps away from me. I stood frozen, not knowing what was happening. But I could see in the light reflecting on the ground, thanks to the gigantic eyes looming outside, he thought of betrayal, orchestrated by me.

"Come out now, or this woman dies right now."

I felt a knot in my throat, unable to speak, to answer the doubts from Charlie. Someone who I saw as part of my new family now kept staring at me as if I had planned this whole thing. As if I had sold them to the devil.

Like if I had planned for Omega to die.

I stepped out, crossing the door, greeted with those glowing white eyes, and a smile with teeth that could grind my bones into dust. She was on her knees, one hand holding Zulu in a tight fist. And her face...Now I could understand where the sense of familiarity came from.

The rain started to pour, and a lightning bolt nearby showed me, even if by a fraction of a second. The person who turned into this giant oppressor, into this monster whose tales are of death and suffering.

It was Tania, someone who I thought dead all this time, alive. One of the sparks of hope in my past life now was goddess, a merciless and terrifying one. How did she know I was there? How did she after 5 years recognize me? How could she kill Omega if she knew I was around them?

"You seem upset to see me, I thought my ascension and presence would bring you comfort."

ーYou knew her all this time!? You cultist piece of shi-Agh!ー The hand that was holding her tightened, and the smile from Tania's face vanished for a second just to look at Zulu.

"Quiet, bug...I have not permitted you to speak to him. Try that again, and your blood will be wasted in the ground."

ーDo not hurt her! Please! Tania! ー I begged, holding my gun out at her, ready to fire. But not sure if I wanted to cause anger. Charlie was peeking from the corner of the door. And my arms were trembling.

"Well, your little friends have been killing my subjects, running and taking things I never allowed you to. For how many years have you had the chance to join willingly to my new foundations?"

ーYou have killed people...Murdered in cold blood, you have a following of batshit insane idiots who worship you out of fear! I've heard more than enough to know you are far from a viable option! What about Eric? Is he one of your toys at the farm you built? ー

"Eric died a swift end when I was given this precious gift, a sacrifice for a better future I'm afraid. But so it is the life of your kind. The people from the capital city understand this. They are given everything, a perfect life, but I need their flesh and blood as well. An exchange."

ーLives...people's lives are not a thing. Eric was our friend and his death means nothing to you!? ー I was frustrated, confused, furious. To see the friend who I thought was a salvation at one point, now being the cause of my suffering, the suffering and demise of others. It was hard to believe. And even harder to accept.

"This conversation is pointless, I can see your thoughts. And you will never understand my duties or my nature. Your rebel group ends now, you are coming with me to the capital. And these pests are to never act in my lands again."

She was serious, but taking me to the capital? Why? She didn't have a reason. For all I care I could very well die like Eric and she would give zero fucks. Yet, she didn't seem reluctant to the idea of leaving me.

ーI'm not going anywhere, i-if you want me...You leave them alive, both her and the boy inside the mall. ー My voice was weak, and my grip tightened around my gun, in a futile attempt to feel safe.

"One rebel back to the capital means redemption of your ways, more than that creates a danger for the civilization I'm creating. I did promise you in past life to improve your life. This is what I'm doing now."

Zulu, as hurt as she was, remained confused about the apparent mercy Tania, the goddess who took our region, had over me. But she saw an opportunity, and her eyes as always, allowed me to get that.

ーThen let them go...They will go away, and hide, but don't harm them, a-and I will go. ー I replied. Finger on the trigger. She looked at me in disbelief, as if I was sinning by trying to negotiate. 2 things could come out of this. Either I die here along with Zulu and Charlie, or I manage to at least get Charlie out by distracting Tania long enough.

"Put down your weapon, AND THEN pick one to spare."

She said cold. Zulu already sweating, staring at me with tears in her eyes.

We both knew what our only option was. My only option. As Charlie awaited my answer. Zulu had already broken into tears but gave me a nod to go ahead with the same messed-up idea I had in mind.

Se both had to die, so he could survive.

In the end, they were like my family. Zulu and Charlie were my brothers for so many years now, and this time it was up to the oldest to make sure the young lived.

My throat hurt. My mouth was dry, tasting dust from all the rubble that almost crushed us before. And my legs felt weak.

ーYou let the boy on the building survive this...You don't kill him. You promise! ー I say with a shaky voice.

Tania's eyes sharpened towards me, she was not amused by my answer. As she expected something else. As if I had somehow disappointed her.

Her grip tightened around Zulu's body, enough to make her groan in pain, before getting lifted to an open mouth, greeted with sinister white teeth as big as a person. A pearly gate of a cave of doom.

I reassured Charlie everything was going to be fine, pushing him lightly inside the building again, repeating the same words as I hugged him, with a response born of desperation and despair. With his tears drenching my coat's shoulder. While in the background, I could hear Zulu's last words. Her body and cries fell into the jaws of the beast, and instantly his body crushing to nothing as Tania chewed her up...An echoing "gulp" being the last of our sister. I was next, needed to make sure Charlie knew what to do.

ーStay here, okay? It's going to be fine, find the camp radio, contact a group, a safe place...You will be fine. I promi-...ー My time was up.

Soon, I was plucked by 2 fingers pressing my body, quickly ending the farewell hug I had with my brother. Lifted into the skies, out of the dark.

I closed my eyes, but I was never greeted with a wave of warm humid air, nor the sight of a cavernous mouth awaiting me. Instead, I fall delicately into an open palm, eyes wide open in shock as Tania just held me there, staring at me. Thinking...

ーIf you are killing me...Don't dwell on it...Fucking do it! ー I yell, as her gaze turns to the building where Charlie hid.

She lifted her free arm. Aimed it to the top of the fire exit of the mall.

ーNo, Wait! No, NO, WAIT! ー I screamed in desperation.

I could only hear Charlie screaming before the entirety of that side of the building fell to the ground, now reduced to a pile of broken concrete and steel.

"Don't worry for him, he will survive that, after it...depends on him. And you, come with me."

I fell to my knees, as I released all the pain that I accumulated in my lungs. Silenced only by wrapping fingers, a fist that became my enclosure. No matter how much time I kicked, how much I struggled. Her skin, impenetrable, her strenght, unmeasureable.

Her steps were audible, she wanted me alive.

And I didn't know why.

I was being taken away to her capital.

Were my freedom would die.

Because my will had left me,

along with my second and last family.

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

This Must Be My Dream Universe - instagram series

yourinstagram This is a joke right? trumanblack rass1975

Liked by adam1975, charlixcx, trumanblack and 216 others

trumanblack Do what I like 🤷🏻

-> yourinstagram You're a dick -> denise_welch Honey don't tease her!

adam1975 If it makes you feel better, he tried to kiss me too!

-> yourinstagram A little but no offence Ads but I'm not jealous of the rat kissing you!

charlixcx I volunteer to kiss you when we finally meet?!

-> yourinstagram Deal! 😍

-> bedforddanes75 Can I watch?!

-> rass1975 Stop trying to steal my girl!

rass1975 I hated every second of it sweetheart!

-> yourinstragram I miss you! Can you come home now please!

-> rass1975 Soon I promise! 🖤

yourinstagram One from the archives! trumanblack bedforddanes75

Liked by charlixcx, carly.rh, denise_welch and 438 others

bedforddanes75 Is this the night we necked?

-> yourinstagram George!!! 😳 It might be? 👀 Also evidence this meeting was enough to not see you again for ten years

-> bedforddanes75 Sick! love you too 🙄

-> trumanblack Look at those youthful looking chaps!

-> yourinstagram Yeah! What the hell happened?!

fan1 Sorry who is this?

-> fan2 She's Matty's childhood best friend!

denise_welch What is this circa 2008?

-> yourinstagram Yes! Literal babies!

rass1975 To think we could have known each other all this time if our mate wasn't such a shit head!

-> yourinstagram I know! What a little rat!

yourinstagram Never been happier! 🥰

Liked by rass1975, adam1975, carly.rh and 723 others

comments have been restricted

charlixcx We know why you're glowing! 😏

-> yourinstagram Shhhh

rass1975 My girl 🖤

-> yourinstagram Always 🖤

trumanblack Get it girl 🍆🍆🍆

-> yourinstagram You're getting blocked

-> adam1975 Do it!!!

denise_welch I love seeing you so happy sweetheart!

-> yourinstagram Thanks Auntie Denise! ❤️

rass1975 happy wife happy life

Liked by yourinstagram, carly.rh, bedforddanes75 and 17,249 others

comments have been restricted

yourinstagram Always the happiest by your side my love 🖤

-> rass1975 I love you 🖤

trumanblack Funny what a good dick and some pasta will do

-> yourinstagram I hate you so much

charlixcx Goals! How I aim to be! 😍

-> yourinstagram Good to know G isn't satisfying you babe 😏

-> bedforddanes75 hate you

-> yourinstagram 😘

-> rass1975 hahahaha p.s thanks charli x

carly.rh My fave couple 💗

-> yourinstagram *gasp* But you're in mine! 💗

yourinstagram How did I get so lucky? Fuck Me! 😍🥵🤤

Liked by rass1975, taylorswift, charlixcx and 427 others

comments partially restricted

fan1 mood

charlixcx You guys make me sick 😵‍💫

-> yourinstagram Babe I have to look at you and G on a regular basis and that is just next level gross

-> bedforddanes75 Do we have a problem?

-> yourinstagram Yeah we do! Let's go big boi outside right now!

fan2 I would pay to see you fight George

-> trumanblack She'd win

trumanblack I mean he is quite a catch I would know

-> yourinstagram Stay away from my man Healy!

yourinstagram and rass1975 11.03.23 - ♾

Liked by charlixcx, bedforddanes75, carly.rh and 51,256 others

comments have been restricted

trumanblack I know I like to tease you both but in all seriousness thank you for making my best friend the happiest I've ever seen her. This goes both ways. I adore the both of you so so much. I love you!

-> yourinstagram I love you the most you know this (just not as much as my hubby) thank you for being my best friend and confidant my entire life. You mean the world to me.

-> rass1975 Thanks mate, love you x

charlixcx Watching you get married was a privilege, love you both so bloody much! 🖤

-> yourinstagram Thank you for being my maid of honour just needed our Carls there for it to be extra perfect! 💖

adam1975 Family for life! ❤️

-> yourinstagram Love you so much Ads! ❤️

bedforddanes75 Best wedding ever!

-> yourinstagram Love you G 🤍

denise_welch Ohhh my! My darling girl! I'm so happy for you! 💗

-> yourinstagram Thanks Auntie Denise! Can't wait to celebrate with you when we're back! 💗

rass1975 Love you to the moon and back Mrs McDonald! 🖤

-> yourinstagram I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you Mr McDonald! I love you to the cosmos and back! 🖤

Hope you enjoy this little instagram series for the This Must Be My Dream universe! I love reading everyone's little insta posts they make and was inspired to do my own whilst motivation is low to finish both my wips. So enjoy! Not sure why two of the pics have resized but you'll have to just deal with it because I don't have the patience right now to sort it! x

[tameable50]

Tame my entire fucking dash is parkour civilization

I haven't even watched part 2 yet

What the fuck

Alright, time for my mandatory parkour check, sighs let’s get this over with.door opens You’re late, you know the deal, you can do the one block jump for the raw chicken, or you can attempt the one block vertical jump for the beef.Here in Parkour Civilization, no one chooses to jump for the beef. It’s better to be safe and do the one block jump for the chicken rather than risk your entire life for just half a hunger bar more.Tomorrow, you better not be late, or you’ll be doing 2-block jumps as punishment.Yes Sir, sorry, I won’t be late next time. Down here, us Parkour Noobs only get fed once a day. One piece of raw chicken is just enough to get you to the next day. But, that’s the life of Parkour Civilization. If you want to survive, you have to parkour. Every Parkour Noob has the same goal, and that’s to make it to the top layer where all the Parkour Pros live, except most Parkour Pros are born on the top layer. If you’re a Parkour Noob, there’s only one way up, and that is through the Temple of Parkour. The Temple of Parkour is the only structure in the world that combines the bottom layer to the top layer. To make it up, you have to do an impossibly hard parkour course that no parkour noob has ever completed, and thats assuming you even get the chance to complete the course. The inside of the temple is protected by a barrier, and the only way a Parkour Noob gets past the barrier is if they’ve earned a ticket. I’ve never even tried getting a ticket before, but if I’m going to rank up to a Parkour Pro one day, I’m going to have to. In my neighborhood, pretty much everyone has fallen into the Void and died, except for the guy who lives right next to me. He’s been my neighbour for five years! neighbour attempts the vertical jump for the beef and falls into the void vine boom NO! WHY DID HE TRY GOING FOR THE BEEF!?!?!? Well, I guess I have to change my statement; I now live in this neighbourhood alone. In Parkour Civilization, only Parkour Pros are allowed to break or place blocks. For Parkour Noobs, it’s strictly prohibited, and unfortunately, I found that out the hard way. A while ago, I was searching around and I somehow stumbled upon an oak log. No one has seen an oak log in years since trees don’t exist in Parkour Civilization, so I had to try to take it.“Stop right now!”Oh no, I’m done for.You really thought you could break that without me noticing? What, were you going to try to cheat parkour?No, Sir, I didn’t try to cheat. I just thought it would be super rare and I wanted to collect it.Stop talking, give me two jumps now.Two jumps in a row!? Okay, sorry Sir, I’ll do it right now.You know what? You seem a little too happy about two; let’s make it three.O-okay, I’ll do three.You know what? Now let’s make it four jumps in a row.Ah, four in a row?? Come on. does his punishment while talking In Parkour Civilization, it should be no surprise that all punishments were just more forms of parkour, and that was the last time I ever tried breaking a block.You’re lucky you got a light punishment. Don’t forget, you’re at the bottom, so follow the rules.It’s safe to say that if you’re at the bottom level of Parkour Civilization, it’s not exactly the best.

[elegantcherryblossomsheep]

an open letter to anyone early in a restrictive ed

Dear sufferer

Note that I started this letter with sufferer. You are not succeeding. You are suffering. And I know this, because well, of course there are fantastic feelings associated with having anorexia. Theres the excitement of losing weight, of feeling your body shrink, of feeling in control. But I know that really, deep down, what you’ve started isn’t making you happy.

What do I mean by that? Well honestly, the early days of an ED are such a rush. But it doesn’t take long for the bad things to start popping up. You start to feel isolated, and not only do you feel that way, but you want to feel that way. Because if you’re alone no one can stop you. Because you don’t need friends. You have anorexia, and she’s your friend.

And things only get worse. Believe me. You start to feel intense fear. It’s not control. It’s not discipline. It starts that way, sure, but then it morphs into an uncontrollable terror, where the mere sight of food petrifies you and the thought of eating paralyses you, you shake and struggle at every meal. The control you had over food becomes control food has over you. And this suffering is made even more intense by the fact that deep down, you’re hungry. You want food, it tastes delicious, and it brings a level of mental stimulation nothing can compete with. I really do think I became addicted not only to fearing food, but to eating it while afraid.

And this decline may only take 2 weeks, or a month or two. But the process of building yourself back up again can take years. I’ve been levitating between recovery and relapse for the last 2 years, unable to pick a side, grit my teeth and get to it. That’s the other torture of it. The constant uncertainty about what you want. Because on some level you want to recover. You want to eat with freedom, to make peace with your body. But the eating disorder wants to get louder, stronger, it lures you in with promises. You’ll feel amazing.

But do you? You reach a milestone and for a moment, you’re euphoric. You’re getting thinner, you’re losing weight, you’re strong, powerful, special. Remember that special, we’ll come back to it. But think about the moment after the success. The way you’re instantly thinking of the next goal. Nothing is ever enough. I reached out for help at my goal weight, because I knew right then, I wasn’t satisfied. I could see the slippery slope. Maybe you have a plan: ‘ill eat to maintenance at my goal weight. I’ll have my dream body; I’ll want to show it off!’

Spoiler alert: you won’t. You’ll hide it even more because you’re still not fucking happy with it. And you’ll be afraid that if anyone sees how unwell you look, they’ll force you to eat more. Not only that, you’ll be too cold to wear shorts or crop tops, you’ll be cold all the time. You won’t have the energy to go out in the first place, all you’ll want to do is sleep and scroll and go for inordinately long walks. It’s not a life, the life of an active ED. It’s the most depressing, isolating thing I have ever experienced.

And you tell yourself, that’s ok. When I reach my goal weight if im not happy I’ll  just gain it back.

Like hell you won’t. Either you’ll think ‘Ok, I just have to lose a little more, and then I will be happy’. But you won’t. And eventually if you’re lucky, you’ll turn to recovery at some point. You’ll try to eat more, but you’ll panic. You’ll have nightmares of full plates of food, sitting in front of you, knowing you’ll eat them. The process of eating more, gaining weight… It’s tough. Almost impossible to do alone. So maybe you’ll find yourself in hospital. You’ll be forced to eat 6 meals a day, to face that fear. You want be allowed to exercise, you’ll be even more isolated from your friends and family. You’ll wonder why you ever fell down the slippery slope into a pit of despair that’s so hard to get out of.

Or maybe you won’t… and that’s ok, it makes you strong, you’re still sick. I remember spending the first 6 months of my anorexia feeling like I wasn’t sick enough to recover because I’d never had an admission. To be fair, after my first admission I did commit to recovery for a while, but it didn’t last. My admission didn’t make me sick enough. It didn’t  give me permission to eat. Sure, it made me less sick, but it wasn’t a badge of honour.

And still I didn’t feel sick enough. I started thinking – ‘ok. I need a medical admission and a nasogastric tube’. Here I am, in that very position. I don’t feel sick enough. The tube hurts all the time. I just want to go home

I think an element of it is that my ED, being sick, being in hospital and needing countless admissions… it all made me feel special. I felt noticed, loved and cared for. Maybe I didn’t feel that way enough growing up, so I snatched up the one way I could think of to get attention – making myself sick. However, this isn’t the way I wanted to be seen. To watch my family as they watched me get sick, to see their pain and anxiety and worry, was torture. I feel immense guilt every day for the distress I have put them through over the last 2 years, and to know I make the choice to keep putting them through that.

It's not just family and friendship that it hurts, either. I was in a relationship for 2 years. I lost her, because she couldn’t bear to deal with my ED any more. My antidepressants (for depression sparked by my restriction) killed our sex life and my anorexia made her, with her own ED, more worried and more unwell. I had to let go of someone who made me so happy because I made her so sad.

But there’s an elephant in the room I haven’t mentioned, mainly because I don’t think I’ve internalised it, don’t think I believe it. And that is that at the end of the day, you might die. When I was diagnosed, my heart was struggling. When I was purging, I was disturbing my electrolyte levels. It may all seem like a bit of fun, but at the end of the day, 15% of people with our condition will die at it’s hand. And I don’t want to be one of them. Nor do I want you to be.

I know that recovery helps. I’ve been there. With the nutrition, your brain function comes back. Your relationships get better. Your family calm down and start to trust you again. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do, but it’s a small price to pay to not only stay alive, but to actually live.

So, I implore you, just think about it. Make a list of everything you value in your life and realise that if you let your ed get worse, you will lose it all.

Good luck.

[ur-lll]

So, this is the first part. It's the first time I write something so long, especially in English. It's not my first language so be nice ahah.

TW: swearing cursing bad words. I'm serious, I don't want to be responsible for you, kids, swearing. Also it's kind of sad. So don't read it if you don't like sad things. :(

--------- Roots of your problems : part 1

- Is it painful?

- What? To marry?

He chuckled loudly, yet he silenced himself fastly, as if it helped for her not to get offended by her little stupid question. But she felt so stupid for asking that to him. How could someone who’s never been married tell her how is that to be married? Well, atleast that's what Clef always said. ”I've never been married”. Alto lies a lot. Like, all of her childhood he used to lie, and lie, but somehow she doesn't think that it's one of his lies. How can a man like him lie about being married? He doesn't look like he has a wife or kids at all. And Marzia felt an embarrassment by asking something so stupid from a man who aren't even able to fall in love (at least that's what she thought about him and that's what she said to her)

And she was twelve once. She doesn’t go to school. When your adoptive parent works for a super-top-secret organisation and your sibling starts college to get a job at the same organisation it’s not like you have time or an opportunity to live a normal life. To be honest, it was ok for her to get an education at home. Marzia never liked other people, it was tiring to even be at the same room (it wasn’t the same with Michelle or Alto. Maybe it's because they’re not, exactly, ”people”?). People are gross. They're loud, they're stupid, they're nosy and Marzia didn't like them at all. Some of them were tolerable enough, like Glass. Their visits were long and she got used to him.

- She needs to socialise. You know how is it important for her age…Michelle, you have to…

- I know that. You see, she doesn't want to. She doesn't even pay attention to me, it's like I'm dead to her. I'm so, so fucking tired.

No. No, that's not true, she doesn't see him dead. Why did he say that? Maybe that's because she doesn't notice him sometimes? But that's not on purpose, that's just how her brain works, that's it. Sometimes it's just hard to talk, but he is dear to her. If only she was able to tell, things would be easier.

When she turned eighteen, she realised, that it's hard to find friends in the Foundation. Marzia didn't have even one, but somehow, she ended up in a group of pathologists. That's how she met Clem, who just got out of college straight to the Foundation. She was older, she was fun and she was like a star. Like a sun, but Marzia is nothing but a moon. She's not even a fucking planet, she doesn't deserve any of her warmth, but yet, somehow, she's here for her. So they're friends, for the first time Marzia had a friend who wasn't looking at her like she was a burden.

Oh, how she tried to shapeshift. She had a great example to follow, it was easy to pretend to be someone she wasn't. She tried to wear makeup and bright, extravagant clothes, she was unhinged, she was loud and sometimes it was too much of her in the room and she felt embarrassment when her laugh was just a bit, just a bit off. It’s like she was laughing a little bit longer and louder and somehow, she found herself crying while laughing. Because she couldn’t stop. She was trying, but she was laughing and laughing while tears are rolling down her cheeks.

And Marzia, stupid, little Marzia, Marzia with no friends at the age of eighteen, Marzia with no goals for the future, Marzia, who's life for the next fifty years is gonna be this stupid, concrete base, dusty shelves full of books and articles and paragraphs she'll never be able to understand, she was so lucky to have someone at her side, to have a person, the only person in the whole world who LOVES her and doesn't even wait to be loved back. And she was grateful, and she was trying so much to not be this stupid, little Marzia with her stupid socialising problems.

And they're sitting in front of fireplace. It's almost midnight and Clef and Michelle are already sleeping in their rooms. Clef doesn't like Clementine, neither does Michelle, but still, he allowed them to have a sleepover, and they're talking till the midnight and they're laughing and hushing at each other and Marzia knows that Clef is not sleeping. He's waiting. It's like he felt all this shit that was hiding inside Clem, he knew it. He felt it. But Marzia didn't care at all, he can think what he wants, she liked her. Even if she's evil. Even if they're doomed as a couple, and it won't be the last time it happened to Marzia.

- I want to show you something. Can I...uhh...trust you? Can I?

Clem nodded without saying a word. Her dark brown eyes reflected gold from a fire next to her. She was in flame herself, she was that flame from a fireplace. The only one who understands her. Her only friend. Her lover. And her eyes got wider as something tickled her ear as Marzia tucked hair behind it. Marzia handed her a flower. And Clementine knew about Michelle. She knew everything about her family, everyone did. And her face acquired a grimace of regret. She stood up immediately.

- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't. I don't want to...Shit, why did you do that to me? You know how complicated it's gonna be. I thought you aren't...you can't...warp...- She got silent, pursing her lips. And Marzia knew, she wasn't able to deal with a reality bender. She didn't want to have problems, to be in danger and to have her family and her friends in danger. And more, she didn't love Marzia back. She liked her, yes, but she didn't love her.

- I'm sorry. I'll call a taxi.

And Marzia is looking at her. And a big, painful lump got stuck in her throat.

- Marzia.

- Yes?

She was hoping so much that she'll change her mind.

- I won't discuss it ever again. And I don't want to talk again. Please, leave me alone, ok?

The door closed.

And the first abnormal spot ended, pulling her out of her own memories.

Now Layla is here.

- We got everything we wanted. Let's get out of here.

[canipetthatdeaddove]

hello there! You've certainly been busy! I hope all the activity has helped! Things are looking up for you, and your post seems to hint at positivity for you? I hope so. You deserve good things and are working hard to bring them about! Excited to read your work for TRSB, you are a wonderful author ( ps I mis magnificent centuries too - I love that Fili was warned off Kili, I just always see them wanting to be with each other; Thorin is so coniving! ) Have a comforting day, and don't let the intrusive thought take over!

(You didn't ask for this long a response but the can was opened and out came the worms. Sorry!!)

I'm sorry my post didn't hint at more positivity. I re-read it and was like DANG I sound grumpy. I know I don't need to apologize, but mainly, it wasn't my intention. I'm excited to have a moment to breathe and share with my tumblr community, but I think the accidental clipped tone is indicative of how manic and kinda scared I feel by all the amazing activity and progress that's suddenly happening. I feel wired and fried, and just keep wanting to either catch up to this pace, or for things to slow down considerably.

I am building a small jewelry business now, have a part time job, and enrolled part time in uni, still run my dog grooming business and am currently in the middle of a dog sitting gig. I've taken on the labor of providing this recovery meeting in my city in addition to attending all my commitments to my Native American sobriety group, while also very much wanting to write and balance my schedule and be a good mom.

There are so many factors at play with whether or not my day goes well or poorly, and being on a very effective weight loss med is one of them. I'm in a near constant caloric deficit, and had a health scare last month because my orthostatic blood pressure was cray-cray and I kept swooning due to a dramatic decrease in salt in my diet lololol. There was no beefy handsome stranger to catch me, and I'm lucky I was okay whenever it happened considering I was alone. I'm doing better this month. Normal blood pressure stats in my appt this week.

So I am thrilled that my life is going the way it is after so many depressing years in addiction and unhappiness, but, it's like... I have not been conditioned to operate at this level of socializing and what have you for over 15 years. I'm very afraid of messing it all up. I wish I would quit it, lol. I am just so fucking MUCH of a person (not flexing, I'm straight up complaining). But it's nice to kinda have that come back to life. I did a pretty effective job of killing the real me for a while. Real me is a lot. Which ya'll know.

And I shouldn't project negativity about my TRSB submission. I got in the way of me having as much fun with it as I should have, and I'm the only one already assuming my exchange partner will feel slighted or the rare pair's fandom will hiss at me and my submission like snakes. I'll practice better mindfulness with the next FiKi thingy I signed up for (because I Just. Can't. Quit.).

Thank you for being excited for my things!!! I'm looking forward to posting my edits of TMC and getting the next chapter out before the end of the year. I want another chapter for House of Rivia before the end of the year as well. Hopefully those aren't completely crazy goals. It means so much to know folks are still engaged despite my absence.

Thanks so much for the encouragement. 🥹

[clatoera]

Always Remember We’re Burned for Better Chapter 5: It’s Been a Long Time Coming

Hey y’all! I am so sorry for the delayed update. I started a new speciality this week and it’s literally my dream. I’ve been pulling fifteen hour days, and simply have not had the time to give this the editing and writing it deserved until the last day or so. I think updates will be shifting to Thursdays until May, as that will be my most free day this month! The goal is still weekly, just..later in the week. I so appreciate your patience, I appreciate the besties, and I appreciate you all.

AO3

Masterpost 

Title from: Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince (Taylor Swift)

This chapter does allude to the things the victors experience, but neither Cato nor Clove experience them (and they won’t, promise). 

Twelve.

“At least we get the worst one out of the way first.” Clove mumbled as she unceremoniously flops onto the couch in the center of the traincar. “Why do we even come to twelve anyway, do they even count? I don’t think that guy has been sober since…he won fifty... Okay, so twenty three years.” She kicks off the silver heels, which then hit the floor with a satisfying clunk. Following the heels are heavy gold bracelets, rattling as the chain hits the hardwood. She kicks her feet out below the hem of the silver lamé fabric, rolling her feet from her ankles to her toes, listening to the mild crunch as the bones in her foot stretched and realigned after an evening in heeled shoes. She doesn’t have the energy to change out of her evening outfit yet- a very simple floor length dress, starting in gold at one shoulder and fading all the way to silver by her toes. The closest to silver or gold the people of twelve would ever see, Brutus had mumbled when she walked out in it before dinner that evening.

“It’s tradition, Clove.” Enobaria reminds her, curling her feet under her on the adjacent recliner, hands wrapped delicately around the glass coffee cup. “Besides, the tour is as close to a winner the majority of them will ever see. Consider it your charity work.” As the train begins to pull out of twelve and on towards the next district for tomorrow’s appearance, Enobaria relaxes back into her seat, closing her eyes in contentment.  This was her third victory tour in ten years, not bad statistics in terms of D2 wins. It was almost more than any other district, at the very least. However this one felt significantly sweeter a win than even last year. She had trained this girl since childhood to become the very victor she is today and maybe over time, Enobaria may have developed a soft spot or two for the kid.

Now speaking of last years tour-

“Did we leave your other appendage back at twelve? It’s too peaceful here.” Enobaria cranes her neck to look around, before looking up the length of Clove’s body that lays on the couch. “I don’t feel like I need to unlatch him from your neck like a little leech, clearly he isn’t on this train if he isn’t on top of you or inside of you.”

“He’s under me sometimes.” Clove rolls both her eyes and onto her side, using her hands as a pillow under her head. “I think Brutus put him to bed..” She nearly smirks, raising her eyebrows at her mentor turned friend. Turned aunt or sister, really, but she won’t address that right now. “Because somebody let him start drinking at breakfast. Whatever the fuck that was in the orange juice. Consider yourself lucky we even made it off of the train, you know how he gets..” Clove gives a little grin for herself, before glancing down at the glass in Enobaria’s hands. “Speaking of. Is that-”

“I have to deal with you two, Clove, I’m allowed to take the edge off. Enobaria watches as district twelve fades into the distance beyond the train, the darkness of night slipping over the interior of the cabin. “Why, you want some?” She flashes her a wicked grin, handing her mug out to the young adult woman. “Think you can handle it today?”

“Give me a break, it was my first time.” Clove scowls at her, remembering the night in Victor's Village not long ago when Enobaria and Brutus told her they had to start breaking her into the lifestyle of victors before the endless parties on tour. Noone had accounted for– or maybe they did and let her make her own mistakes– of the fact that physically Clove was small. She woke up in her own bed with a hangover and distaste for even the smell of vodka. Regardless, she holds her hands out to take the glass. The smell hits her first before she can even bring it to her lips. “God what is this?”

“Tea… with bourbon. And I know it was your first time. But, you need to figure out how to handle it within the next 12 days. I’m not dragging your stumbling ass through the party at the President’s mansion, and we aren’t letting Cato carry you home this time, either. We have reputations to uphold, and the newest little district two victor being unable to handle her liquor is not part of that.”

“It was not my fault-” Clove gingerly takes the tiniest sip of the warm liquid, and despite all her pretenses her face curls up in a distorted frown. Her nose scrunches as she shakes her head rapidly back and forth. “Nope, still disgusting, fuck-”

“Need something sweet and fruity? We could get some strawberries and lemonade…”

Clove pinches the bridge of her nose together before tilting her head back, intentionally downing the tea with no regard for the taste or warmth. She finishes the glass quickly, but has to suppress the natural inclination to cough at the taste. “I’m fine, see?”

“Aww see, that's my girl.” Enobaria pinches her cheek before she settles back on her seat, an amused smile on her face as she watches Clove try to recover. “Now you can’t just do that at the party, you know that right?”

“I’ll manage.” Clove chokes out, nose still scrunched in distaste.

They fall into a silence with the ease of many years spent together. Enobaria leans forward to grab the little remote off of the glass coffee table in the middle of the couches. She starts the electric fireplace, filling the now dark room with a warm and cozy glow accompanied by the sound of crackling wood. She notices the thick layer of snow dangling from tree limbs like icing on a cake, and thinks back to Clove in her games not long ago. The way the blood she spilled stained the snow like watercolors of a child’s play paint set. Violence was always Clove’s art, and blood was always her medium. She remembers it all too well, the day Sevina Kentwell took her home with her after training to meet this kid.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Enobaria asked, raising to the tip of her toes and back to her heels repeatedly, the nervous habit being one the trainers had not yet beat out of her yet. She was only twelve, she had years before going into the games, she had time to grow out of childish quirks. “I’ve never really interacted with a little kid like this before…”

“Yeah of course! She’ll like you.” The woman– girl, really, eighteen but still all the hope of a child– fiddles with the lock on the door. Sevina was one of the only students permitted to live outside of the academy, with special permission due to special circumstances. “It’ll make me feel better knowing she’s got someone to distract her during the games.”

Enobaria had looked up to Sevina Kentwell since she entered the academy last year, the girl was graceful, she was fast, and she was incredibly skilled in throwing a knife. She never missed. Unlike most of the older girls though, who were nothing but short of vicious to the younger kids (the hazing all but expected and even encouraged in the academy), Sevina was uncharacteristically kind. Not to the other trainees her age no, in fact Enobaria had watched her land a knife in the arm of an eighteen year old boy twice her size just last week, effectively ending his chance at ever volunteering by severing the tendons in his wrist with a single flick of her own.  He had made some comment or another about her chance at winning or something, and Sevina had stopped tolerating the snide remarks and comments from her peers years ago.

To Enobaria, and some of the other younger girls,  though, she was kind. She had the patience to put her hands on top of theirs and guide them in cleaning up a  technique, a gentle ease in her voice when someone was berated by trainers, and genuinely showed excitement for them when they succeeded at something.

She had the lethal, brilliant edge of a career, but a warmth towards the young girls unlike anyone else. There was some concern how she’d handle younger competitors in her games this year, but she was absolutely sure she’d be able to handle it. She had more reason to come home than she did to show mercy to anyone else.There was a buzz of excitement amongst the girls in the academy around her games next month, as she was already committed to coming back full time as a trainer after her tour.

That is exactly why Enobaria was standing on her doorstep, now. They had a deal. Enobaria would receive extra training time with her, essentially a one on one mentorship after the games, if Enobaria spent time with her daughter while she was gone.

“Mom, we’re home.” Sevina calls out as she pulls Enobaria into the foyer, quietly shutting the door behind them. Enobaria took in the way the initial living area in the house somehow looked untouched by the toddler Sevina claimed to have somewhere. They were met by a woman, clearly under 40, who came from the door adjoining the kitchen. She had a dish towel in her hands, and wiped something that had to be flour off of her arms into them.

It was striking, exactly how much both Sevina and her mother looked nearly identical to each other.

“Hey, baby.” The older woman greeted with a kind smile, one that crinkled to her eyes. “I have that bread you really like rising right now.” She directs her attention towards the preteen with her daughter, giving her a polite smile. “Welcome.”

“Mama, this is Enobaria, she’s going to come spend time with Clove for me while I'm in the games. It can give you some time to work…and go celebrate me, your victor daughter with your friends! Enobaria, this is my mom, her name’s Anise.” She grabs Enobaria by the hand and leads her towards the stairs. “Is she awake?”

“Your child doesn’t sleep when you aren’t here, Sevina, of course she’s awake. I put her down to sleep ten minutes ago, and I can still hear her.” There’s a heavy sigh and Enobaria can recognize something akin to resentment in her voice, but Sevina’s smile doesn’t falter even for a second as she starts to pull the young girl up the stairs with her.

“Don’t be dramatic, she’s just excited for me to come home.” She called back down to her mother, before reaching the room immediately at the top of the stairs. “She isn’t usually so pleasant. She’s starting to think I'm going to die or something, so she’s being extra nice.” Sevina explains before pushing into the bedroom.

It’s simple. A full bed, a couple of night stands, a closet, and a dresser. On top of any surface is a littering of stuffed animals and childrens books. It was clear, this is where they spent most time together. There's a lack of the militant structure and conformity of the academy dorms, with a slightly unmade bed and stray socks on the carpet. The biggest change, of course, is the little crib in the corner of the room, and the dark haired toddler peeking over the edge.

If Enobaria thought that Sevina looked like her mother, they could have been cousins compared to the way that little dark haired baby resembled the eighteen year old she admired.

“Hi baby! Did you miss me!” Her voice is higher than Enobaria’s ever heard as she scoops the toddler onto her hip, immediately placing a kiss on both of her cheeks and the tip of her little nose.

The little girl squeals when she’s lifted into her mother’s arms, immediately laying her head onto her shoulder. Their dark hair blends together in a mess of baby curls and Sevina’s long post-training waves, and the freckled skin of the baby’s cheek could be a continuation of the freckled covered shoulder of her mother. Even down to the eyes, this child is truly a fluid continuation of her mother.

“Hi, Mama.” Clove mumbles into her mother’s skin, a shy smile on her face before she turns and looks away from Enobaria, who is staring the girl down with curiosity. She’d never been around a toddler, let alone one who was the key to her future training.

“Enobaria, this is Clove. Clove, baby can you say hi? She’s going to be your friend while I'm gone for a few days.” She smiles and tries to raise her toddler’s hand to wave, but Clove just clings tighter to the straps of her mom’s training top. “She’s just really clingy to me, and kind of shy. She also falls asleep every day when I get home, so she’s a little tired too.”

“She looks just like you.” Enobaria says, awe in her voice. She looks like her parents, sure, but this is wild to her. “Literally just like you.”

“Thank you. I think she’s pretty cute, so I'll take it as a compliment. Sevina smiles, shifting Clove so that she is wrapped around the front of her, head on her chest. She is not asleep, but she is so content just to rest there in her arms after a long day of being apart.  “Me..her…my mom. We all really look alike. Good thing too. Because all we have is each other.”

“She’s three?”

“Almost, she’ll be three next month. During the games, actually. I feel terrible. I'll miss her birthday but, I’ll have to make it up to her next year. And by next year I'll be a victor, and I'll be able to give her anything she could want.”

“Is she going to be okay without you here.. If she’s so clingy…” Enobaria sits beside her on the bed, and cocks her head to get a better look at the girl. She was tiny, not like Sevina was very big, probably five foot four, but this kid was itty bitty. She can’t imagine a world where a girl so small would be okay without her mother.

“She’ll be kind of grumpy for a few days, I'm sure.” Sevina shrugged, rubbing circles on her little back. “But she’ll be okay, I'll be home for her. She’ll understand one day that having a victor for a mother is better than whatever else happens to a teenage mom after she ages out of training. Besides, that's why you’re here. You’re going to make sure she has someone to play with, and keep her company, and remind her that I love her and that I will be home to her soon. She’s got my mom, but she’ll need someone else, too. That’s where you come in. I like you, you’ve got crazy good potential. I’m going to be your mentor one day. ”

She doesn’t say it, but there’s something unspoken in Sevina’s words, too. Something shining in her eyes that neither wants to broach or risk speaking into the universe.

“So I am trusting you with the most important thing in the world to me.” She looks over at Enobaria with a smile on her face. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Enobaria?” Clove half whispers, breaking the peaceful silence between them. She blinks wide eyes at Enobaria, curling up on her side in a way that is so reminiscent of her little form as a toddler that the mentor nearly didn’t believe it. “Can I ask you something?”

A snarky response is on her lips until the moment she can practically see that younger version of Clove laying there, in a little dress that was purple and not silver, a tiny, sweet voice asking where her mother is and when she will come home again. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Do you think my mom would have brought me on her tour?”

“I do. They would have made her, you would have been a little favorite of the capitol. You never would have become a victor yourself, probably. You wouldn't have ended up in the academy.,,they would have treated you like a child star.” For the worse or for the better, is up in the air.

There’s also the likelihood she would have ended up in the games anyway, the chance of a child of a victor being reaped is always somehow higher than the average. The odds were not in their favor in all ways.  “She would have chosen to bring you, though. She wouldn’t have wanted to be away from you after that. When I went on mine, I even thought about bringing you with me, because it’s what she would’ve wanted. She had promised to be my mentor, you know?”

“Hey, Clove, it is okay. I’m coming back so soon, I absolutely promise.” The sixteen year old knelt to the child’s height, rubbing her hands over her shoulders gently. “When have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“My mom didn’t come back.” The six-- nearly seven– year old reminds her, a stony expression out of place on the face of such a young child. “My mom would have promised, too. Didn’t YOU promise my mom you’d watch me?” She may not be an emotional child– not that she was allowed, in the house of her grandmother– but Clove threw her arms around Enobaria’s neck without warning.

“Hey. I’m going to come back and I am going to train you, just like she was going to do for me, okay Kid?” Enobaira leaned her head back, holding Clove’s little face in her hands. She said nothing about it as her tears wiped away the tears starting to fall from those little green eyes. “You’re allowed to be scared, Clove. But I swear, I will be back. And when I do, you can come to my house all the time, and we’ll celebrate your birthday and-”

“And you’ll start to train me, too, right?” Clove reminds, firmly rooted in her decision, that she wanted to be just like her mother, except she wanted to win. She had started saying it a few years ago, and every single time she watched those damn tapes she was more and more sure. “That was what you said. You would start after you won.”

“Yes, Clove. I’ll start training you when I get back.” Enobaria sighs deeply, but agrees regardless. She had made that stipulation, knowing that by the time she won Clove would be nearly old enough to begin training if that's what she really still insisted upon.

“I want knives for my birthday. With my name on them.” Clove decides, bouncing onto her toes before hugging Enobaria once again. “I don’t want you to die because of me, like mama did.”

“Your mother did not die because of you, you know that. And I'm coming home, Clove. Just in a few weeks.” Enobaria tucks the girl under her chin for one last hug, letting her go as soon as the door swings open.

“Don’t die, okay?”

“Never, kid.”

Clove is silent, but nods, before she turns back onto her back. Enobaria and Brutus had suspected that this tour would bring up more memories and emotions in Clove than she would let on. She has forever lived with the “what-ifs” of being the child of an almost victor, the “what-ifs” of if her mother had come home to her. Now, as she is paraded between districts, it’s all in her face as a reminder of what her mother didn’t get to see.

Clove swallows hard, sitting up to stop this heavy feeling threatening the front of her eyes, the buildup of something she isn’t going to let release.

“I…think I should go to bed now..” She decides quickly, pushing herself to her feet, turning quickly on her heels. “Good night, Enobaria, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“ g’night Clove.”

Eight.

“Cato get out,” Her voice doesn’t even feel like her own when she is pushing his shoulder towards the door of the bedroom. She feels a wavering in her throat, a tension she has built up for eighteen years on that final strand before snapping entirely. “Just..just get out.”  

One of Clove’s hands is on her chest, settling herself on the bed, trying– willing– her breathing to slow, to level out. The other is desperately, aggressively trying to unlace the back of her dress on her own.

“Clove, let me-” He steps towards her before a dinner knife lodges itself  in the door frame only inches above his eye. Cato puts his hand up in surrender before turning to leave. “Fine. Help yourself.”

He immediately collides with Enobaria the second he is out of the door. “She’s being fucking snippy, Enobaria, I wouldn’t go in there.”

“I knew this was coming. I’ll handle her.” Enobaria whispers, not wanting Clove to hear the words she exchanges, knowing it would only make her feel betrayed.

“She beat that kid from eight, yeah, he almost had her in the end, but she came out on top.” Cato whispers in a hushed voice, craning his head over Enobaria to catch a glimpse of Clove if she decided to come yell at them for discussing her.

“She came out against the kid from eight, but her mother didn’t. How would you feel, if you just had to play nice with the guy who bashed your mothers head in?” Enobaria snips, looking over her shoulder with the same concerns and suspicions as Cato. “She puts on the proudest, strongest face in the world. She was born for this tour, she’s waited her whole life for this. You may now know her like I do–”

“I think I know her pretty fucking well, Enobaria–”

“Shut up, Cato. I have known her a lot longer than you, and she’s been building this up for a long long time..” Enobaria pushes her hand past his chest, moving him to the side so she can be with Clove. “I’m going to see her, you just…. I don’t know, make yourself useful. Somewhere else.”

Enobaria gives him no time to fight back as she pushes into Clove’s room, firmly shutting the door behind her.

Clove’s still sitting on the bed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, breathing heavy and hard, hiding her face in her hands.

“Wanna talk about it?” Enobaria offers before daring to take steps towards her, eyes catching the stolen knife in the wall behind her.

“Get. Me. Out. Of. This. Dress.” It’s half-plea half-hiss, Clove raising her head to look Enobaria in the eye.  “I can’t breathe.”

From where she is bent in half Enobaria can see the red scratch marks at the top of her dress, a desperate indication that she tried to rip herself out of the fabric. She reaches for her, and skilled fingers rapidly unlace the ribbon corseting the back together. “You’re okay, Clove.” She ensures, pulling the back entirely undone. “You’re okay.”

“It was too tight, I couldn’t-” Clove gives as an excuse, but her breathing does not seem to steady with the newfound freedom to her ribcage. “I c-couldn’t.” She nearly stutters, the hand that was trying to steady her heart now holds the dress entirely up, “I can’t–”

“You can.” Enobaria’s hand lands on the skin of her upper back, gently running over the skin between her shoulder blades, something she had not done in nearly ten years. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

“Why should I be upset? I won. This is my tour, I have no reason to be upset–” Clove tries to convince herself, rocking forward back to her knees. “I have no reason to be like this.”

“You just met the person who killed your mother. Yeah, we’re all Victors. We’ve all killed someone’s kids. But still..” Enobaria reminds Clove, pulling her closer even if she doesn’t quite want it. “You have watched it thousands of times, It’s okay to be off guard. Clove, it’s okay to be upset. You are allowed to be sad, Clove. That was your mother. You were a child. You’ve seen it over and over and over.”

“I didn’t think I’d care.” She whispers, so quiet Enobaria barely catches her words. “I didn’t think I'd feel like this.” Her voice is nearly child-like when she admits to it, an innocence Clove has not had probably since the very games in question. “I don’t like this, I shouldn’t be–”

“Sad, Clove. You’re sad. You’re upset and you’re hurting and Clove, it’s okay to be sad.” Enobaria grabs the nearest clothing she finds, a shirt that has to belong to Cato, and hands it to her to change into. “You were just a baby, Clove. A baby who turned into a career within years, you never got to mourn your mother.”  She wraps her arms around the young girl’s shoulders, pulling her head to her own.  “You’re allowed to miss her and wish she were on this train with you.”

There’s always been such a fine boundary between them. Was Enobaria her friend or her mentor or her trainer or an aunt-like figure in her life? It wasn’t definable, and that was okay, because she somehow always knew which role to take on at the right time.

“I didn’t even know her.” Clove’s voice breaks, and that terrible heaving feeling in her chest starts again. “How can I miss someone I didn’t know. I only remember her from tapes, I had never even seen a picture of us together until that day I won–”

“You knew your mother, Clove. Not because of that bitch of your grandmother, but you knew her. When I met you, you wouldn’t sleep unless she held you.  She taught you what a clover looked like, and you’d pick them and bring them to us when we were talking. You still like the same snacks she would give you, you still do the same little scrunch with your nose when you say her name.” Enobaria takes the shirt and slips it over her head for her, Clove’s own hands shaking just a little too much to do it herself, her mind too occupied with other things. “When she died Clove, god you just cried and cried and cried. I don’t think you’ve cried since. It’s okay to do it now.”

“I wish I remembered her, anything about her, other than what I’ve watched on those stupid recordings.” She admits so softly Enobaria never would have believed it came from Clove if she didn’t know her so well. “What was she like, why did she even have me if I was going to ruin her life like I apparently did? She was the only family I ever had…that I ever will have.”

“Because she loved you. More than anything, really. She was something else, Clove. We all wanted to be her, She was so good. As good as you, you got it from her.  I remember when you were five, you could throw a tennis ball with alarming accuracy, and we all knew you were just like her. She was nice to us, the younger kids, but you should have seen her take out the kids her own age, my god. I’ve seen you do that, too. Her favorite color was green, and her favorite thing was you.” Enobaria feels Clove collapse against her, and tries not to draw attention to the sniffling she can so clearly hear from her. “You loved her too. You never slept for anyone else. When she died, I went to your house. It had been a few days, you were on the train and all. When I got there I could just hear you crying from outside.” She leaves out the part in which her grandmother had told twelve year old Enobaria to shut her up, that she had no reason to be crying because she was the reason Sevina died. She also  leaves out the part about going upstairs to the room of Clove’s dead mother to hold her, to listen to her ask for her mother over and over for hours until she finally exhausted herself, falling to sleep against her shoulder.

“I thought you finally smothered her, I probably should  have by now.” Came the exhausted, cold voice of Clove’s own grandmother, after she cracked the door and peaked in at the two. “She’s all I've got left of her, or I would’ve.”

For all the horror she may feel, Enobaria maintains a stoic expression, despite her arms encircling the toddler a little closer. “I promised Sevina I'd help with her as long as she was gone. If you’ll let me…well, it seems she’ll be gone a long while.” Something told the preteen that if she didn’t, the life ahead of this small girl was not going to be long, nor filled with anything but disdain. “I have training too, but I'll train her. When she’s older.”

“Be my guest. This is the first time she’s shut up in a week.”

“I’ve never thanked you.” Clove is ashamed at the realization, finally looking up to Enobaria with wet eyes and tear-tracked cheeks, looking for all the world like that little girl Enobaria had picked up from that crib fifteen years ago. “You didn’t have to like..do all this for me. Everything, really. The training, the taking care of me when I was little, sitting here as i’m fucking crying over my dead mother when I should be celebrating that I won the Hunger Games six months ago..”

“I certainly wasn’t going to let Cato handle the tears, he was going to lose his eye, I knew it.” She tries to lighten the mood, though her head is on top of Clove’s now, resting gently. “You never have to thank me, kid. I’m glad I got to do it. I feel like I get to claim you as my own victor.”

“I’d never let him see me like this, no way.” Clove half-laughs through her tears, bringing up to wipe under her eyes with the back of her hand. S

“He’ll see you like this one day, it’s inevitable. He's annoying as hell but he loves you. I don't think he's going to go anywhere, even if you show him you have some feelings once in a while.” Enobaria teases, allowing Clove to simply feel beside her.

“I haven’t cried in fifteen years, I think I can handle another fifteen.” She tries to retaliate, though there is no edge in her voice anymore.

“It’s only been eleven, you almost cried when I came home.” She's got a fond smile on her face at the memory of stepping off the platform in two to be met with an uncontrolled little girl, who had broken free of her grandmother’s grasp and snuck past dozens of peacekeepers with her stealth and petite size.  

Clove had SLAMMED into her legs the minute she was off the train, arms absolutely glued around her legs, holding her in place.

“You came back.”  Clove screamed into her legs, warm tears dotting the skin of Enobaira’s legs where she had buried her face.

“Of course I did, I promised I would, didn't I?”

“I used to think you were so over the top about the whole sex thing, you know. I get it, I do. But you know I wasn’t going to end up like her, right? She kept me but I never would have-”

“Yes you would have, You’re too much like your mother.” Enobaria brushes her fingers over Clove’s hair for a moment, gently slipping out some of the pins that still restrain it from the night and day they just completed. “I know you don’t remember or believe it but..” She releases Clove’s hair, falling in loose waves from the pins.

“You are just like her.”

Enobaria feels Clove snap next to her, in the exact moment she hears her finally let out that choking sob she had been holding in for fifteen years.

One.

“I like this color on you.”

Clove hears him whispering in her ear before she sees him, or rather feels his arms wrapping around her waist, tugging her flush against him. She feels his thumbs tracing the lace appliques that line her sides and up the front of his dress, artfully designed to look like emerald colored Ivy leaves covering her torso. One of his fingers catches her skin through the deep (as in nearly to the crest of her hip bones deep) V cut neckline of the dress.

She had to give it to the team on this one, it is a remarkable dress. The base of the bodice is a nude tulle, with the Ivy artfully designed to lace and overlap across her torso. There's some sort of rhinestone that catches the light, reflecting a million different ways to draw the attention to her. The skirt at first glance was an A-line, sparkling, deep green tulle, a modest contrast to the top of the gown. The second Clove moved to walk though, the slit from her toes to her hip bone revealed the entirety of her right leg.

Cato had nearly strangled her stylist on sight when he saw her in it that evening. The construction of the boning inside the hidden corset pushed her up and pulled her in in all the right ways for his consumption, but not the wandering eyes in district one, something he so indignantly insisted. Even now, as he stands with his arms around her, claiming her in all but words, he wants to yank the decorative, delicate V shaped straps closer, to at least cover something.

“You don’t seem to like it very much from the way you’re covering it up.” Clove teases, leaning her head back against his chest. She may not be one for open displays of affection mostly, but with the warmth of a night full of the luxury district’s finest drinks had her feeling a little more..open.  “You don’t look too bad in it either. I thought you were more into blue, but you really pull off the green, too.”  As usual on this tour they were conveniently coordinated, always perfectly complementary to each other.

Or rather, he was complimentary to her, who was always the well deserved center of attention.

“Maybe I don’t like other people looking. Doesn’t mean I don’t like it though. Though I’d like it a lot better if it were on the floor.” His lips start right below her ear, trailing down the side of her neck, craning her head back against him to give him better access to the skin of her neck. “What do you say..” Cato mumbles into her skin. “We sneak off for a couple minutes. Make it twelve for twelve…”

When Enobaria and Brutus had taught her how to drink, they surely hadn’t intended her to use her loosened inhibitions to sneak off to drunkenly sleep with Cato in every single district.

Hey, it was her Victory Tour indeed.

“What’s tomorrow in the capitol going to be? The final showdown?” Clove practically purrs, her hand coming up to gently grab at his chin.

“I was thinking more along the lines of grand finale but–” Cato’s leaning down, her leaning up on her toes, all the mixed confidence of their shared drinking adventures almost allowing their lips to meet in the middle when an absolutely grating voice interrupts them.

“Oh my god! I’ve been waiting to meet you!”

Clove audibly sighs as she falls back on her heels, Cato hiding his face in her neck with a frustrated groan, before he raises his chin to rest on her shoulder.

“Hello, Glimmer. I wondered when we’d be seeing you.” Cato smiles against Clove’s shoulder, and she can feel it. If she had been a less rational girl, she may have felt a tinge of possession, but there was just something about this pretty girl that didn’t feel threatening so much as…irritating? In the past, sure, she would have said this was his type. These days, though, Clove wasn’t too concerned about some shiny blonde with long legs taking him from her.

Glimmer. That name makes a lot of sense as she looks at the tall blonde in front of her. Perfectly styled curls frame an angelic face. A tight, sequined gold dress clings to the duration of her body. If Clove thought the neckline of her own dress was bad, it’s nothing compared to the deep, wide cut of hers. She has the same thought when it comes to the slit up her leg, which may not be bigger, but on the long, tanned legs of a district one victor, it certainly looked more open. Even in heels the same height, Glimmer had a solid four or five inches on her.

Comparatively, Clove felt like a child playing dress up.

The boy though.. Yeah, he had nothing on Cato.

“Glimmer. And you’re…Marvel, right?” Clove remembers him from the tour a few years ago. There was something about him that just seemed..so un-career like. He turned out to be a skilled killer, but was making his allies laugh until the very day he speared them like kebabs. It wasn’t often that a volunteer went with a funny angle, but it had worked for this one.

“You got it–” He smiles, before his arm is draped over Glimmer’s shoulders, pulling her in against his side. “We have been just waiting to meet you. We watched how this one acted during your games and just knew we’d have to get to know you.”

“You were impressive, too, of course!” Glimmer ensures, flashing her a smile that can be called nothing less than dazzling. “But the way Cato acted, it was so unlike the public persona! We were just dying to find out what that was about.”

Clove feels Cato shift against her, lifting his head and looking anywhere but the couple in front of him. “Okay, we don’t need to talk about–”

“No, no, tell me. What do you mean by how he acted?” Clove smiles, bringing her hand back to his chin and squeezing. “What did you do?”

“Oh you don’t know?” Comes from Marvel, who bursts into a fit of laughter, gesturing the champagne flute in his hand in Cato’s general direction. “This man thought none of us knew there was something going on there. As if it wasn’t obvious with the sponsors, and the way he would just get this look on his face when he talked about you.”

“And then of course anytime you were on screen he would completely forget what he was saying, and just stare at you. You’d get a kill and he’d get this little smirk on his face, he’d rub at his neck, once in a while he’d bite his lip. Oh it was so obvious if you knew what you were looking for.” Glimmer waves her hands as she talks, animated like a real life version of a child’s favorite doll, and Clove notices the way her nails somehow exactly match the sequins of her dress. This girl was the absolute picture of a district one victor.

“Okay, I think she gets the point–”

“And then you won, oh Clove it was the sweetest thing!” Glimmer brings her hand over her heart, a dreamy smile on her face. “It was scary there for a minute and the room was silent and this boy jumped off the couch and he was just so excited. He called you his girl, it was just the cutest thing!”

Clove cranes her head to look at Cato, who is firmly looking anywhere but them, redness creeping up the back of his neck to reach his face.  She squeezes her hand on his arm, choosing not to embarrass him now but would surely be bringing it up the moment they were alone.

“We all knew he was hooked on you before,” Marvel chimes in, the hand around Glimmer’s shoulder shifting to pull her in front of him, wrapping both arms around her waist as they stand there. “That boy was in deep but–”

“After that we all knew he was just so in love. Well, we already knew, but he may as well have said it then and there.” Glimmer leans her head back, relaxing into the man behind her.

“We knew we had to meet you after that, Glimmer’s been talking about it for weeks.” He admits, reaching up and pulling some of her curls behind her ear, so he can more easily lean in to kiss her cheek. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together, mentors for one and two and all.”

“It’s honestly probably a good thing that you two are so in the public eye. It’s much better to be the capitol’s favorite couple, than to just be individual favorites. I imagine it protects you from some of the less desirable aspects of being young, pretty victors.” Glimmer suggests, but there's a wistfulness in her voice Clove doesn’t quite know how to perceive.

“Okay, enough about us,” Cato decides his grip on Clove tightening as he stands a little straighter. “Since when are you two together? I saw whatever you had going on back in the lounge, but you definitely weren’t doing this.” He nods to their position, Marvel all but wrapped around Glimmer with his head against hers. “This is new.”

“Oh! You know, we toyed with the idea for a few years now, but after watching you two…well, we all know a little too well how short life is.” Glimmer explains, lacing her fingers through those of his that rest on top of her hand. “My brother and sister weren’t too pleased, but when you’re the third sibling to the twin victors, you get tired of living in the slightly dimmer spotlight next to theirs.”

“You could never be dim, Glimmer. You’re the brightest star in every room.” Marvel presses his nose to hers, earning a wide smile and an ‘aww, baby’ from the blonde.

Clove would have tried to suppress her eye roll, but the alcohol dulled her reaction time just enough to scrunch her eyebrows in disgust. “Okay, ew.  Didn’t need to see that.”  

Cato pinches her side just as she begins to speak again, earning him in turn a small smack on his hand.

“What do you mean twin victors, who are-” Clove begins.

“Gloss and Cashmere. They won..oh almost ten years ago now! Him, then her. Then me!” She gives a proud little raise of her shoulders, turning her head to the side and smiling into the shrug. “Three victors in one family. We’re the only ones who have ever done it.”

“I’m going to make my way into this family and make it four.” Marvel announces oh so proudly, and Glimmer gasps at the weight of the statement.

Clove cranes her head to look at Cato, and in louder than she intends she half whispers, “is this like...their version of foreplay?”

Cato hides his face in her hair, unable to hide the shaking of his shoulders that betrayed that he was in fact laughing at her and her lack of tact.

Neither of the other two seem offended– or really, like they heard at all, lost in their little world– until Glimmer’s head snaps towards them.

“Oh my god we can be in each other’s weddings! We’re going to become a little group of friends, we’ll become the absolute favorites of the capitol together, oh it’s too perfect.” Glimmer claps her hands excitedly, reaching both hands out towards Clove. “Oh I absolutely cannot wait!”

Clove takes a step back, pushing Cato back with her. “Are you crazy? Do I look like I do that, I met you ten minutes ago–”

“Oh yes but we’re going to have plenty of time together over the next few years! It’s inevitable, the idea will grow on you.” When the girl goes to hug her Clove takes another large step back.

“Not happening.” The audacity of this girl to try to..hug her? What happened to the terrifying, psychotic little trainee from two who had the girls that looked like Glimmer talking all their shit about her in private but conveniently hiding away when she needed a training partner.

“One day, Clove. One day!” Glimmer has decided, claiming the girl and her friendship as her own. “You know, we'll see you two tomorrow for your big party. We can continue this then!”

She waves once before lacing her finger’s back with her partner’s. “It was so nice to finally meet you! We’ll be seeing each other lots!”

As they walk away, Clove cranes her head to lock eyes with Cato, who is still chuckling to himself.

“That was the most irritating girl I've ever met. A little fucking warning would have been nice, Cato.”

“I don’t know, she seems to think she’s going to grow on you. I think she might be right.”

“At least I didn’t make an idiot out of myself in the victor’s lounge.” Clove shifts in his arms, a wicked smirk filling her features as her hands snake around his neck. “Your girl, huh?”

“Forever, baby.” Cato smiles as he finally succeeds in dragging her out of the prying eyes of District One and into an empty hallway.

Capitol.

“This is your moment, Clove!” Her escort reminds her, taking a moment to settle the stray hairs around her face into perfect position. “People have been waiting to meet you for months!” Her hands pull out a deep red lip shade, and tilt Clove’s face towards her to reapply one final time before her entrance. “There! Perfect.”

Clove turns to look at herself in the portable mirror positioned outside the entrance of the mansion, out of sight of the crowd waiting for her.

She had seriously doubted the white when they pulled it out for her that evening, but as she looked at the entirety of herself in the mirror, she understood the vision.

The dress is reminiscent of the one she wore in the tribute parade, an Ancient Greek inspired style. The gauzy white fabric drapes across her chest and hips, flowing gracefully to the floor. It’s tighter around her thighs than any other dress had been, and she knew it would make her walk just a little slower and stand a little taller. It cinches at her waist in a shining gold band that matches the embellishments at her shoulders. The entirety of the back is open, down to the small of her back. Stenciled details are painted onto her spine in gold paint, accented with rubies intentionally glued to her skin along her vertebrae. The draping is tastefully done to make her look oh-so-less-childlike than she had felt yesterday. There is a gorgeous beading on the entirety of the dress, that she realizes now resembles snow falling.

As Clove looks towards her feet she realizes the dress is not stark white at all, but at her knees fades into pink ombre that ends in a bright, crimson red.

Blood. She looks dipped in Blood.

“Oh, final touch!” Her stylist announces, approaching her with a long veil-like piece of the same ombre red fabric.

She catches the two gold hoops and realizes, as it is attached to her shoulders, that it is a long train, trailing from white to ruby for multiple feet behind her.

A trail of blood to follow her, then.

When she finally catches her face in the reflection, Clove smiles when she realizes that her eyes are lined with the same miniscule rubies of her spine. Okay, finally, they got something right.

“Our little ice queen.” Her escort announces, sounding almost tearful, as she settles her victor crown to her hair. “Oh you just look absolutely stunning.”

Snow. Blood. It hits her then that they are trying to evoke the image of her final moments in the games. Wild curls and wide eyes, covered in blood and snow. There's a perversion of innocence in this somewhere, in a tight white dress and blood stains, a commentary on the games stripping her of her youth hidden in the fabric.

That doesn’t matter right now.

She has waited far too long  for this.

“Let’s go, my little Crimson Clover.”

“Don’t call me that.” Clove warns, but lifts the dress to follow anyway. She wonders what Cato and Enobaria will think when they see her, having been banished by her prep team earlier that afternoon. She’s suddenly glad for that– she wants to see their faces when they get the full effect.

“Oh..Clove?” Her head stylist stops her, whispering in her ears. “You two give them a good show. Remind them that you are together, okay?”

Clove squints, but gives a short nod. She can remember Glimmer just yesterday saying something about being safer together, whatever that meant. “Did you tell-”

“You never have to tell him to be all over you. But yes. He knows.”

As tradition goes her Escort walks steps in front of her, guiding her into the formal induction of the life of a victor. It’s practically an aisle, a red carpet of sorts, as the Capitol elite reach out to touch her free flowing curls, to get a feel for the fabric of her dress under their fingers. She suddenly is all too aware of the hands on her, hands she does not want on her, and the voice of her stylist and glimmer ring through her ears.

The walk takes what feels like years, though Clove knows it can’t be more than a minute or two. Despite the discomfort of being touched, Clove wears a proud, cocky smile on her face. Yes, this had been a long time in the making, and she was going to enjoy every last minute of it.

Reaching the end of the long runway is what she was waiting for.

Cato, Enobaria, and Brutus all wait for her, in various degrees of coordination. Brutus wears black with deep burgundy accents. Enobaria wears a short, one shouldered maroon dress, with a long floor length accent from her covered shoulder. Cato matches best of all, a matching Crimson suit with deep charcoal accents.

It was a very clear commentary from the District Two Prep Crew. They were a team,  but she was the star.

Enobaria absolutely beams at her, giving her just the slightest little shake of her head. We did it kid, we did it.

Cato though, he can't help himself the second he sees her. Brutus has to grab his arm to hold him back, stopping him but all from running to her.  By the time she is only steps away, Cato frees his arm, closing the last few steps of the gap between them to meet her the rest of the way there.

“Don’t mess up my lipstick.” Clove warns, but the look on her face invites otherwise.

A show they want and a show they’ll get.

Cato’s hands are on the skin of her back, pulling her as tight as possible against him. “You look unbelievably–”

“Pretty. Ruthless. Bloody. Sexy–” She fills in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull his forehead to hers.

“Deadly.” Cato mumbles, one of his hands fingering at the fabric of her side in a way that reminds her all too much of that day of his reaping, when he tried to burn that lace into his memory forever. . “Phenomenal, incredible, sexy, beautiful– but deadly.”

“You don’t seem to mind.” Clove teases, kissing the middle of the left side of his jaw, out of view of the spectators. She sees the print of her lips left behind and smiles. Perfect. “Did you get the show memo?”

“I’ve always seen you like this, now everyone else does too.”  Cato nods in response to her other question. “Like we need to be told twice.”

They are ushered into the party, where she is expected to mingle before the presidential speech and welcome, and the formal dinner that would follow throughout the rest of the night.

It’s like a drug, Clove finds, the attention allotted to a new victor (or two). Everyone wants a moment with her, to say a few words, to touch her hair or her dress. It would be slightly overwhelming, if she didn’t prepare for this her entire life.

They’ve stolen a moment away near a table of desserts, where Clove is breaking a cookie into small enough pieces to toss into her mouth without smearing her lipstick.

“Cora would love these, we should find a way to get her some.” Clove suggests before she is cut off by a soft, dreamy voice.

“Who’s Cora?” Finnick Odair inquires, the golden boy of four, chimes in as he pops an individual bite sized cheesecake into his mouth.

“She’s my sister. She loves these sorts of things” Cato fills in, nodding towards their fellow victor. He and Finnick had hit it off pretty instantly last year, further secured by their time in four last week. The two of them would likely grow to be friends in the next couple of years, with their time they would spend mentoring together.  

“Keep her out of this as long as possible.” Finnick half whispers, eyes craning around. “And keep up what you two are doing. It’s working.” He takes a long, intentional sip from the turquoise colored drink in his hand, the shade making his eyes and hair all the sharper in tone as he raises the glass to his lips.

“Where’s Annie?” Clove inquires, craning her neck around to look for the redheaded girl. She had been a little odd, but she was a sweet thing. Clove had liked her, in the short time she spoke with her. Finnick was clearly sweet on her, and it was uncharacteristic for him to have left her to fend for herself amongst this kind of crowd.

“She doesn’t come to these things, she isn’t too fond of my Capitol trips. Then again, neither am I.” Finnick faces the table of desserts, intentionally so no one could see his lips to read them. “She’s safer back home.”

There was something unsaid between Victors, Clove had learned in her past two weeks of meeting them. Something sinister, something exhausting, and something she was clearly somehow escaping with Cato.

She had been raised to believe the Victors lived the life of luxury, she couldn’t ever imagine there were ones who were so unhappy with whatever cards they were being dealt. Something told her, though, that she was far better off not knowing.

Glimmer and Marvel find them after they cycle through another dozen or so polite conversations, nearly cornering them at a drink table. They were in fact wearing bright fuschia as promised yesterday. Whether that was Glimmer’s choice or the stylists Clove wasn’t sure, but she did know that it seemed Marvel would have gone with it either way.

“Well…How’s it feel?!” Glimmer inquires, gently nudging Clove’s shoulder and showing no offense when she pulls it away. “You look incredible, Clove. This blood and snow vibe is phenomenal. Your stylist is a genius. It’s very regal, sort of bridal, very..goddess. Yes! That’s it. Like a goddess of all out destruction, violence, war. I’m obsessed, really. I was in an entirely sheer dress. Covered in rhinestones strategically.” Her beautiful smile falters just a little, her eyes fading at the memory.  “Stylists sure do know how to give the people what they want.”

Marvel is rubbing her shoulder again, comforting her from some memory Clove doesn’t want to even broach the topic of.

“Seriously, you two.. You look like you were made for each other. It’s working to your advantage.”  Marvel agrees, his free hand scooping an entire handful of the chocolate cookies up at once. “These are the best, I get them once a year, hide them in my pockets for the ride home.” As if to illustrate his point, he shoves his entire hand into the magenta, baroque patterned jacket.

Clove opens her mouth to comment, but the seal of the president stops them informing them that the welcome was about to begin.

“We should go listen, but hey, you two should come hang out with us later tonight. I know it’s busy being the victor, but we have a good time! And if not tonight, then soon.” Marvel invites, before he lets the two of them off on their own.

“I'm starting to like them.” Cato admits, leading Clove by the hand to the front of the crowd, where the President would soon address her.

The president’s speech is the usual. A great honor to be a victor, a great accompaniment, a great representation of the values of Panem. It was always greater fanfare when Districts One or Two took the win, greater pride would leak into his speech.

There’s a toast in her honor and there are fireworks that begin, when a snarky voice enters beside Clove.

“Alright, Miss Blood on the Snow.” Johanna Mason purrs, looking the two of them up and down.  “You look hot as hell, of course. Aren’t you two lucky to have each other?”

Clove is immediately thrown back to meeting her last week, when she immediately commended the way the two of them look together.

“Oh I liked you.” Johanna Mason announces as she wraps an arm around Clove’s shoulder, wasting no time at all with letting the girl warm up to her. “I thought pretty boy last year was the best thing I've seen come out of two, but you’re even better. Cute. Sexy in a scary way. Crazy as hell. I like it. Not all there in the head, neither of you, but really, who of us are?”

Johanna tosses back her drink, eyes narrowing towards the balcony. “I’d sure like to see some blood on that Snow.”

Clove’s eyes widened at the confession, head whipping back and forth to see who else could have heard. “Johanna you can’t say–”

“You’re both going to learn, what happens between Victors, stays between us.” She gestures towards the balcony again. “They can’t do anything to me, I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

After the dinner, it is Enobaria and Brutus who stand with them, sipping on colorful drinks. Clove leans against Cato, warm and tired, the weight and experience of the week finally crashing onto her.

“How was your big night?” Brutus asks, watching as the party begins to settle down, capitolites beginning to fizzle out. “Everything you ever dreamed of?”

“It was great.” Clove admits earnestly, wrapping her arms around Cato when she rests her head against his chest. It may have been a mix of the drinks and the endless warnings about the show they had to amp up tonight, or it may have just been a tired girl used to a new normal. “It was weird though.. The other victors were kind of cryptic? It was like they were all warning us about something, but no one would say what?”

Enobaria’s eyes go wide, and she cranes her head entirely around them, assessing who was within listening range. If Cato and Clove hadn’t known better, they’d think she was looking for a threat.

“Listen. Victors..we take care of each other. If people are telling you something…I’d listen.” It goes unspoken that they are at a great risk by even uttering a warning, cryptic or not.

“There's a lot more to this than we realize, isn’t there?” Cato asks, narrowing his eyes at their mentor turned friends.

Brutus nods. “You’ll learn.”

Cato tightens his grip on Clove’s shoulders, before pulling back and offering her a hand. “Come with me, then.”

“Huh? Where are we going? Party’s not over yet, don’t we have to stay?” Clove reminds, but lets him lead her by her hand anyhow.

“We can deal with the warnings and whatever it really means to be Victors tomorrow.” Cato suggests, pulling her with him towards the center of the room. “But today? You’re going to dance with me.”

[ofstoriesandstardust]

seventeen going under teaser (b.r.b.)

note: today i am spiteing all my haters and posting a teaser for a new fic for the UVA years. enjoy. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking

The door is slightly ajar as he holds his key in one hand, a box in the other. He knocks, if only to announce his presence and pushes the door open. The kid in the room is blasting music and barely glances up at him as he walks through the door. He sets the box down on the desk under the bare bed, taking in the meticulous way his roommate’s side of the room is set up.

“Hey man, you must be my roommate. I’m Bradley.” He says, sticking his hand out.

He was going to put his best foot forward here, Pete Mitchell be damned.

The guy barely turns to acknowledge he said anything at all. “Henry.”

Bradley bristles at his dismissiveness. “Well, nice to meet you Henry.”

“Yeah, you too, uhh...” The guy pauses, looking him over once more. “Brayden.”

Bradley purses his lips, resisting the urge to huff like a child.

Choosing his housing so last minute as he awaited an acceptance letter from the Naval Academy that would never come him had left him with bottom of the barrel choices.

Just another thing Pete Mitchell could be blamed for.

He turns towards the door, moving to go back down to his car to grab more stuff when Henry speaks again. “Oh yeah, Benjamin, just so you know, I’m planning to have a ton of girls over and I’ve got a fake, so there will definitely be alcohol in the room at all times. So if you’re a pansy about that, I’d find a new room mate.”

Asshole.

Bradley takes a deep breath to steel himself, because getting into a fistfight with his new roommate was not putting his best foot forward. “Yeah, whatever, Harry.”

The door slam behind him echoes through the hallway.

-

Bradley blindly pushes the door of the lecture hall open, noting he had three minutes until class started. The lecture hall was lively, buzzing with he excitement of students being back on campus, being in the first class of the semester.

He scans the pretty full rows, electing on one of the few empty seats in the back. He pulls his notebook out of his bag, opening the front to scrawl Spanish 1 in black pen on the first page. He fiddles with the pen as he waits for class to start, hoping no one slips in at the last minute to sit next to him.

He and Henry had been at each other’s throats since that every first meeting and somehow it felt like three months had passed instead of three days.

Granted, he couldn’t really hold his anger over his godfather being a traitorous piece of shit against Henry, but since Henry was in his line of vision and currently pissing him off, he’d utilize it anyways.

The door of the lecture hall opens at 10:02, someone whispering apologies and he squeezes through the row to get to the seat next to Bradley. He glances up at the kid as he sits down next to him, almost hitting Bradley with his backpack.

“-now, I want you to turn to the person next to you and introduce yourself to the person sitting next to you, along with telling them your major, and one thing you’d like to accomplish this semester, whether in this class or outside of it, academic or personal.”

The kid sitting next to him groans. “Man, icebreakers are so middle-school.” Bradley snorts, looking down to his paper as he begins to mindlessly doodle. “Well, I’m Eli.”

“Bradley.”

“What was the next- oh right, our majors. I’m a Business major.” Bradley nods, not looking up from his paper. “What about you?” Eli prompts.

“Undeclared.”

“Oh, that’s cool bro.” Bradley nods, still doodling on the paper in front of him. “Well, anyways, what’s your goal for this semester?”

“To not kill my fucking roommate.”

Eli lets out a hearty laugh, attracting the attention from some of the students around him. “Oh man, not having a good time?”

“You could say that.”

Eli sighs, stretching out. “Oh man, I kinda lucked out in the roommate department. Tommy’s chill.”

“How lucky for you.” He mutters, staring angrily at his paper.

“Anyways, you gonna ask me my goal for this semester, Bradley?”

He wanted to grunt and say no, tell this kid to fuck off, but he reminded himself that he couldn’t fault Eli for simply existing.

“What’s your goal for this semester?”

Eli’s voice drops to a whisper. “Man, to pass fucking Spanish 1.”

Bradley finally raises his head to look at Eli. “Yeah?”

Eli nods. “All the private tutors in the world couldn’t teach me a language if they tried. And trust me, my parents tried.”

“Private tutors?” Bradley asks incredulously. “Man, I just took regular Spanish in high school like everyone else.”

Eli leans back in his chair, waving a hand through the air. “I forget you peasants wouldn’t have luxuries like private tutors.”

Had the words been said with anything other than the teasing air in which Eli carried, Bradley probably would’ve leaned over and pushed him off his chair. But despite himself, he finds himself laughing at the remark. “Yeah, okay.”

“What about you? You any good? At speaking Spanish, that is?”

Bradley shrugs. “Yeah, I’m okay. I took AP Spanish in high school.”

Eli whistles. “What the fuck are you doing in Spanish 1 then?”

Bradley shrugs, choking down the memory of how he had missed the AP exam his junior year, finding out the morning of that his Mom wasn’t gonna get better.

He didn’t even sign-up to take the test his senior year, the memory still too fresh and sickening.

“Didn’t pass the test.”

Eli nods, as if he doesn’t quite believe him, but doesn’t press the matter futher. “Well, sounds like tough shit. Unlucky for you, but lucky for me, because I think I just found my new tutor.”

That punches another laugh out of him.