#but full showers plus hair? I have a hard time a keeping track since the last time I did it. and b getting it over with | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ilguna · 4 years ago

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Seven (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE. BRIEF MENTION OF SUICIDE

wc; 14.5k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

There’s a familiar feeling of dread when you wake up this afternoon. A bottomless pit in your stomach that sticks with you no matter how hard you shake. You sit in bed for an extra twenty minutes, hoping that positive affirmations will be enough to get some of it to go away. Dread is an unbearably uncomfortable feeling, and it doesn’t go away either.

You have to get out of bed at some point, so you drag your feet around your room, getting shit ready for the shower. Ripped white skinny jeans, an open-back light blue shirt, white underwear. You drop it all onto the white bathroom counter, turn on the shower, and let it run for a couple of minutes as you lean over the sink bowl.

Maybe you’re just hungry. You’ve felt this same hopeless feeling before, and all you had to do was eat for it to go away. You’ll have breakfast, and by the time you get to the betting room, your heart and stomach will be full. It’s hard to convince yourself this lie, knowing that it’s deeper than that.

You take your time in the shower too, no longer feeling sorry for Finnick for taking so long. He’s got Gloss and Enobaria down there, and they’re not so bad when you get to know them well enough. Unlike their crazy tributes inside of the arena, they know when and how to dial it down without causing too much trouble. Every year, it’s like the tributes ramp it up for entertainment. You wish they knew just how fucking insane they looked, how unappealing it’ll get to the gamemakers.

The Capitol likes fun, big and new until it’s gross and they can’t stomach it anymore. It might take them a little longer to get to that point, since they’ve been watching this shit for years, so they’re more desensitized than the rest of you. But it’s going to happen, and the moment it does, the gamemakers are going to censor everything possible to get their exciting program back on track.

It’s sickening, but it’s always sickening.

You wrap it up in the shower, allow the Capitol hair machines to work their magic on your hair. And while you’re at it, you go ahead and decide to let the body blow dryers do the exact same thing. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re not in the Capitol. You’re at home, on the beach surrounded by your friends and family. It’s late spring, early summer. You’ll picnic on the beach after you’re done with the water, and then you’ll play games until sundown. Walking home in the dark is especially fun, Reed drunk is a sight that never fails to amuse.

And then the blow dryers stop, and you’re right back home. You get dressed, one article at a time. Underwear, bra, pants, shirt. To avoid an endless stare in the mirror again, you go out to the dining room.

You turn on the tv, sit at the table, and watch as the avoxes serve a big breakfast. Good, you want to make sure that you’re full. The sooner the shitty feeling goes away, the sooner you can start focusing on more important topics. You take your time getting through it all. Pancakes, with assorted berries, syrups and candies to place on top. You get orange juice, coffee and hot chocolate served in a heartbeat. If you don’t want the berries, you can opt for oranges, apples, plums, mangos. If not fruits, then vegetables.

You stick with the pancakes, mixing and matching your food to try and find the best combination. You’re procrastinating, you know it. The longer you take, the less time you’ll have to spend inside of the betting room. You eat and eat, but find that the feeling isn’t going away. This shouldn’t be how today is going, especially not after the shit you just went through yesterday. It might not have been your tributes directly, but it was bad enough.

At least lady fate has been nice enough to give you a warning, right? Right?

It’s one-thirty in the afternoon. Everyone inside of the arena is awake and working on their own projects by now. Nine girl is relaxing off to the left, she’s got a fire started, and she’s cooking some animal that you’ve never seen before, over it. She’s content, and you think that she'll be able to kite the games easily, if she doesn’t go and pull anything like Bauhinia did.

Had Bauhinia just minded her own business and stuck next to the dam, she’d be alive right now. It wouldn’t have made for an interesting day, but that’s okay. You still can’t believe that she thought it was a good idea to try and attack them in the first place. Sure, it was only one of them, but she really didn’t think that she’d get away with it. The careers aren’t just going to let it go.

Sometimes there’s genius tributes, who can make their way around the arena, fight other tributes and survive off of worms in the ground. And they have everyone fooled, right up until they make their first not-common sense decision. A part of you can understand how they made it so far, because they’ve obviously got the skills for it. They’re just lacking literally the most obviously important details.

Bauhinia had the chance of winning, and she blew it for herself.

District Seven is awake, but they haven’t moved from the huts. They don’t look like they’re planning on going anywhere, either. The dam is leaking water, which has them mildly concerned, as they should be. They’ve just decided to ignore it for the time being, take advantage of it while they can before they have to actually go to the stream.

Annie and Marsh haven’t gone out to their snares at all. You don’t think they’re planning on moving today, either. They’re holed up inside of their shack, splitting food and talking about how they’re going to ration it. Maybe they’re finally going to try and make the push to the village tonight? That’s good, they should make one last round with the snares and gather what they can. Just in case there isn’t any food over there, they’d have some rabbits, squirrels and whatever else to hold them over until their next trip. Same thing goes for stocking up water.

As for the careers, they’re getting a slow start to today’s hunting day. They eat, discuss, go quiet, and then repeat the process about a hundred times until they eventually agree on just heading towards the stream. They pack up their things agonizingly slow, keeping the wretched kama with them so that no other tribute can run across it and keep it. It’s smart, but also a waste of space, considering they broke the strap on the outside of the backpack that would’ve held it for them.

And the only tribute that’s left is Five boy, who is a lot farther along than you thought he would be. He’s practically at the stream, and the path he took was on top of the careers. How they didn’t see him is a complete mystery to you. Like every other tribute that moves through the woods, he’s not very quiet.

Then again, the careers are dragging their feet, so yesterday must’ve tired them out. After walking for several hours, and then running, there’s no way that their legs aren’t sore. Plus, they’re carrying backpacks chocked full of goods they’ll need for a couple of days. At least this shows that they’re some form of human. You’re sure that they’re going to find some way to change that thought in the next day or so. With what you’re feeling today, it’ll probably be in the next few hours.

You finish breakfast, still watching as Five boy gets closer and closer to the stream. With where he’s at currently, Annie and Mash shouldn’t have a thing to worry about. Hell, the kid isn’t even geared up, no backpack, no weapons, he’s just letting the wind decide where he’s going. Even if he did manage to run across your tributes, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. He’s harmless.

The careers get ready to go, heading the exact same was as Five boy, of course. Again, if they stick with the path that they’re on, they shouldn’t be a problem with your tributes, either. However, if that were the case, you’re sure your heart wouldn’t squeeze each time you think of the idea of them getting close to Annie and Marsh.

You brush your teeth in your bathroom, no longer taking your time getting ready. You’ve wasted thirty minutes eating lunch alone, dragging your feet isn’t going to delay the inevitable. If today’s going to be a bad day, it’s going to happen with or without you.

Plus, Finnick’s probably wondering where you’ve been this entire time. You know that he didn’t leave to go to the betting room until early this morning. With the confirmation last night that the careers wouldn’t be doing anything else, he decided to sleep for a little while longer. You didn’t really see any harm in it either. The important part is that he got down there this morning.

The elevator down makes you anxious, you press a hand to your stomach, hoping that it’ll ease your nerves. But the more you walk towards the betting room, the more the dread spreads from your stomach to your chest. By the time you’re actually inside of the room, you’re sure that being dead would be better than feeling this for the rest of the day.

Finnick is standing up instead of sitting, arms crossed while he watches the tv screen. Gloss is standing next to him, talking about something. Every now and then they’ll glance at each other, but for the most part, they’re reasonably interested in what’s going to eventually happen. It’s a matter of time before the careers and Five boy run across each other, isn’t it?

As for Enobaria, she’s in a group of sponsors, chatting away. You’d say that you’re surprised or that she’s gearing up for something, but the truth is that it’s a ritual of hers. She’ll lose a tribute, and then she’ll go talk to Capitol people all day to make her feel better. It’s a way to take away from the self-hated. The Capitol people are a fucking escape, with their rich lives, accents and complete obliviousness to social cues. It’s hard not to get lost in them.

Mentors are usually pissed at the Capitol for encouraging the games, but it works a little differently with the careers. You’re supposed to love the Capitol for favoring your districts all because of what you guys produce. The truth is that keeping up appearances is hard, and constantly trying not to be mad at them is even worse. At some point you’re going to snap.

And Enobaria wouldn’t want to ruin the perfect reputation that she’s built up all this time. To be fair, neither would you. It’s hard to get the Capitol to like a district that isn’t very good at the games, and it’s even harder to do when you’ve insulted them constantly. This is why you insult your own district to ally yourselves with the Capitol to make them think that you’re over being a savage.

Anyway, you wouldn’t be surprised if Enobaria doesn’t speak to any of you all today. She should be right back to it tomorrow, though. Nothing is permanent when it comes to her. She could be mad at you today, bounce right back at it the next day. She’ll also probably find a way to blow off steam.

The Afternoon Line Odds say that everyone is still at their respective places. Annie and Marsh are still at a 6-1, Sanguine is at 1-1, and Geare is at 2-1. As for everyone inside of the arena… you wouldn’t say that they don’t have a chance at winning, you’d say that they don’t have a chance at getting sponsored. The higher your odds, the more people are going to keep their eyes on you.

Before Bauhinia died, she was at a 14-1, which isn’t horrible, but isn’t the best either. Nine girl is at a 10-1, you can’t remember what she was yesterday. You can imagine that getting that backpack from the cornucopia has worked wonders for her. The more supplies she has, the easier it’ll be to live out in the woods. You still think that someone should make a run for the village before it’s too late. None of the careers are going to see, and do they really think another, lesser tribute is going to chase them down there?

The village is barren, it’s practically the golden ticket. Plus, Nine girl doesn’t even know about the stream on the right side of the woods! All she probably knows is about the dam leaking water, but that’s not really an efficient way to drink, right? Who knows how many diseases lie inside of the lake water behind the dam. The water probably has concrete dust anyway.

Though, you can’t completely blame them. If you were in the same spot as they were, you’re not sure if going out of your comfort zone would be a number one priority. In your arena, you always went to the pond. And after the pond was slowly being sucked up, you were apprehensive to go to the waterfall because it was uncharted territory… not really claimed, either. On the other hand, though, you knew that other tributes were in that area. Made it a little harder to want to go around there in the first place.

You appear behind Finnick and Gloss, who don’t seem to take notice of your presence at all. With the angle they’re turned at, Finnick could look to Gloss and still not see you. As you listen in, it’s basically meaningless conversation, until Finnick starts asking questions.

“Is she normally this stressed out?”

“You don’t even know half of it. Compared to the last couple of years we’ve known her, this is absolutely nothing.” Gloss lets out a breathy laugh, “I mean, she used to eat, sleep and breathe this room. None of us really understood how she’d survive down here. Sleep deprivation, hours without eating.” Gloss looks at Finnick, “The tributes would die and she wouldn’t even get mad. It’s hard to forget she’s human.”

“Do you think she unintentionally flirts with the Capitol people?” Finnick asks.

Your mouth opens, face twisting in disbelief as you look to Finnick. You have the urge to slap him upside the head hard enough to rattle his fucking brain with a question like that. You don’t mind that he’s asking these questions, he was practically asking the same exact ones last night before you went to bed.

After the Anchor question on the balcony, more followed. He had three years to catch up on, and you guys didn’t even get to finish. You got too tired to go on, so he let you go on the promise that you’d resume the questionnaire another night. He asked practically everything that he could think of.

How you were doing after all these years, what you like to do, how you fill your free time when you’re not in the Capitol. What your brothers have been up to, how Alyssum’s been doing in school, what they do now that they don’t have to work every hour of the day to provide anymore. And then went the questions for Caspian’s family and if you’re still close with them, which is an obvious yes. More questions about Mags, Anchor and Luther.

You think this is a good sign, like it’s Finnick’s own personal way to weasel his way back into your life. You’re practically down for whatever gets him to stay this time around. You don’t want him to be participating in this year’s games but completely fall off the radar by the time next year rolls around.

Anyway, Finnick turning to Gloss to ask these same questions is only natural, you’re sure that if Cashmere and Enobaria were over here too, they’d be more personal. To some extent, you think that Finnick isn’t trying to dig too deep, like he’s unsure of whether or not Gloss is one of your best friends or not. However, if he was going with that path, he wouldn’t have just asked Gloss whether he thinks you’re flirting with the Capitol each time you open your mouth.

“Uh,” Gloss says, smart man. He shouldn’t be quick to answer, but if he’s finding a better way to word whatever he’s thinking, he might have earned himself a hard slap to the side of the head too. “I wouldn’t say that it’s unintentional. We all know that the more you compliment the sponsors, the more willing they are to sponsor. So, I’d say that when she does, it’s on purpose too. She’s good at getting her way.”

“So I’ve heard.” Finnick mutters.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you ask, causing the both of them to jump.

Gloss places a hand over his heart, “Holy fuck, (Y/n). Again?”

You hardly pay attention to Gloss, eyes focused on Finnick, who’s beginning to turn red because of guilt, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“That’s what everyone says when they’re caught.” you roll your eyes, looking at the screen, “What’s up, Gloss?”

“Watching Enobaria unintentionally flirt with the sponsors.” Gloss snorts.

“Ha!” you elbow him, a smile peeking onto your face.

“(Y/n), I just meant that I’ve experienced it first hand. The elevator? The train?” Finnick says, you barely glance at him, “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

You shrug, a cheeky smile on your face, “Hey, I’d be careful next time, though. Who knows what corner I’ll be lurking behind next?” you reach over, fingers finding Finnick’s sides.

Finnick squirms, giving you a glare, “Get your dirty fingers off of me.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll just turn to Gloss instead--”

“I’m not ticklish, living a life with Cashmere will do that to you.” Gloss says.

You pause for a second, “She’s your younger sister.”

“Sisters are cruel.” he says.

You snort, going for his sides anyway, “You’re a liar!”

“Grab her!” Gloss shouts, Finnick laughs.

You move out of the way before either of them can do some real damage. Gloss had been going for your wrists, Finnick for your back. You knew it was only going to be a matter of time before they tried to torture you. But unlike them--the total liars--you’re not actually ticklish.

It’s always the older sibling that messes with the younger ones. Of course, you’ve had your fair share of impish moments and getting on your brothers’ nerves. But you’ve never had the opportunity to hold down Reed and give him hell until he cried and begged and promised to do shit that he didn’t want to. Plus, the idea of Cashmere going that far on Gloss is heinous. Does he really think you’re that stupid?

“Anyway, hear the tributes talk about anything important?”

“For a while the gamemakers let us hear Annie and Marsh. Catch any of that while you were taking your sweet ass time getting down here?” Finnick asks, giving you a raised eyebrow.

“Not my fault I feel like shit.”

Suddenly, Finnick’s no longer suspicious, “Sick?”

“Probably not, just a gut feeling.”

Gloss lets out a laugh, “Well, that’s not good. Last time you had a gut feeling was last year when… both of your tributes died on the same day?”

“Yeah.” you huff, “And if this year is a repeat, I’m going to fucking lose my mind.”

“I would too. You’ve got quite the streak going on.”

You punch Gloss’ arm.

“So on top of everything else, you’re also psychic?” Finnick asks.

You place your hands on top of your head, “Yeah, something like that. What was Annie and Marsh saying?”

“Village, talking about going there before it’s too late. They both want to go tonight, they’re still worried about finding a water source, though.”

“Figured.”

The further Sanguin and Geare walk, the more they seem to awaken. No longer dragging their feet, conversation has picked back up into its usual vicious state. Mostly about what happened yesterday, and they can’t believe that the chase went on as long as it did. You can’t blame them, at first glance, Bauhinia doesn’t look like a girl that ran track in high school. Then again, appearances can be deceiving.

Five boy has made it to the stream, deciding to take a break. He’s sat on the right side of the bank so no one can sneak up on him from the way he came. He sheds some clothing, dipping his shirt in the water, ringing it out a little to not let him be completely soaking wet, and then puts it back on. You didn’t really consider the fact that it could very well be hot inside of the arena. It looks like it’s the middle of springtime there, like it can’t be more than seventy degrees.

Whatever he does, he doesn’t shed his shoes. He’ll sit in the stream water, let his pants completely soak, but taking off his shoes is out of the question. In fact, he even goes as far as to lift his feet in the air to make sure that they don’t get wet at all. You guess it’s not a completely fruitless idea. Walking in wet shoes isn’t comfortable at all, especially when your skin begins to wrinkle. Plus, if he were to take off his shoes and someone else were to show up, he’d be stuck running through the woods barefoot. If there’s one thing that no one wants to do, it’s run through the woods barefoot.

Rocks, dirt, sticks, needles, poison ivy, beetles, spiders, snakes, whatever can be lying in the grass. Hell, you’ve seen grass that looks like it’s harmless, but it turns out it has razor edges along the blade. It wouldn’t be a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that the grass had reached above their shoes, constantly cutting and reopening wounds on their calves. Didn’t make for a very fun time for the tributes.

You can appreciate the determination going on with Five boy. He kinda reminds you of Six before he went and died via forcefield. The both of them have their own set of determinations. While Five boy has, for whatever reason, made it his goal to make it across the woods in a little less than two days, Six boy had been moving to get away from the dam.

Although, you’re really not sure what Five is up to. If he was looking for water, he found it. But you can’t imagine that’s why he traveled across the entire arena. If he’s lasted this long, that means he’s had his own supply off to the far left for a while. Why leave what you know is working? You’re all for taking risks until it’s unnecessary.

Upstream from Five is your tributes, who are still inside of the shack. You can’t hear the conversation, as usual, so you try your best to read lips. You think you catch Marsh saying that they should hole themselves up inside of the shack until tonight comes. Annie asks what they would do if someone came along and wants where they’re saying, he says to fend it off or just make a fucking run for the village.

Annie says splitting up isn’t a smart idea, he agrees, “What choice do we have?” Those words are the clearest. Annie doesn’t really respond, she just brings her legs to her chest and rests her chin on her knees. Then, she shrugs. You can’t blame her, it’s hard knowing what to do when you don’t really have options. And with them being inside of the Hunger Games, everything is a risk at this point.

If they don’t move on, they run the risk of someone coming across them, their shack, their snares and taking one of them out. If they do move on, they leave behind shelter, the way they’ve been getting food, a certain water source, and they go on the chance that they might get caught on the way to the village. It’s not really a winning situation unless all conditions are perfect. Which is hardly ever. Oh, and also if they stay, the dam will eventually be their number one problem.

Marsh says that he’s going to step out and get fresh air, he’ll just be outside of the doorstep. Annie says she’s fine with that, watches him leave and then closes her eyes for a while. They’re not really splitting up, so you can’t see a problem with him just leaving for a moment. If he wanders off, that’s a whole new ordeal, though.

Sanguin and Geare are fast despite their sore legs. The map that the gamemakers show you, tell you that they’re basically on top of the stream. A couple more minutes, and they’ll be able to see it through the trees. And with the path they took, it’s parallel to what Five boy took. This is a fight waiting to happen. Any fucking minute now.

“Back to back.” Gloss says.

“Can’t wait to see what Sanguin has instore for us today.” Finnick says.

Gloss looks over, “You heard what happened?”

“Saw.” you correct, “Showed him what happened when I got back yesterday. Let’s just say that Finnick can eat and watch shit like that all day long.”

“O-kay.” Finnick draws out the world, but he starts laughing along with you two.

And like you predicted, Sanguin and Geare spot the stream through the trees. They’re not really overjoyed, just relieved that they finally found it after all this time. They take their time getting there, dropping off their stuff in the bushes along the treeline. Geare crouches down to splash water on his face, Sanguin complains about her hair being greasy.

They fill back up on water, talking quietly amongst themselves because there’s no use to shout if they’re next to each other. The moment they comfortably fall into silence, Five boy’s voice is heard. It’s not clear, it sounds distant, but it’s unmistakable. You watch as Sanguin and Geare share a look, hands finding their weapons, then dropping the things they don’t need at the moment before they head off toward Five.

A part of you wonders that if Five boy takes off running, if they’ll follow or just let him go. You wouldn’t believe your eyes if they just decided to go after him. But you also couldn’t believe your eyes when you watched Sanguin single-handedly rip apart Bauhinia like she was a fucking animal and not a human.

The careers disappear into the trees for better coverage, taking their time with getting down to where Five boy is. They’re definitely going to chase after him. And if they don’t chase, Sanguin will probably just throw her sword out of nowhere or some shit. Surprise all of you at the same time. If the odds could go to 0-1 with her, you’re sure that they would.

Five boy is humming to himself, turning a rock over in his hand. You watch in silent horror as Sanguin and Geare manage to get closer and closer without being detected. Actually, you’re sure that with their skills, they could easily cross the stream and still not be figured out. If they can do this in broad daylight, what can they do when they have the night as their veil?

You don’t like the chill that goes down your spine.

No words pass between Sanguin and Geare, they must decide that they’ll be able to handle Five boy in whatever way they need. The way that they simultaneously come out of the trees, with their hand-picked weapons brandished and the strict expression on their faces. They look like a pair of villains in a children’s fairytale. However, normally those villains are easy to beat and seem to have a chink in their armour. Sanguin and Geare are not like that.

Five spots them almost immediately, eyes widening and darting up, mouth parting as he watches them. You can see the glint of the sun off Sanguin’s sword land in his eyes for a moment, before disappearing off into the trees. No words come from any of them, he just stares as they get closer.

Sanguin and Geare split, wanting to take Five from both sides, which seems to finally set him off. Five jumps to his feet, crouching over slightly, caught in the decision of fight or flight. Would be he able to hold them off? You don’t think so. Would he be able to outrun them? You don’t think so, either. They’re good fighters, Sanguin’s an even-better runner. There’s no way he’s making out of this alive.

Doesn’t mean he can’t try, though.

And like a fucking psychopath, Five boy screams at the top of his lungs. And while that momentarily catches both of the careers off guard, it also makes Annie jerk to life inside of the shack. She grabs her short blade, throwing the door of the shack open to find what’s the matter. Marsh is already on his feet outside, eyes on Annie.

“What was that?” Annie asks, you can hear her this time.

“It’s not far away.” Marsh says, “We shouldn’t stay.”

“We can’t leave now, can we? Where will we go?”

“Up?” Marsh asks.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

Another scream, Five boy has brought his fists up to his face like he’s getting ready to fight. He’s an idiot, he’s going to get himself killed. If Annie can take out One boy--Colt--without blinking her eyes, Sanguin and Geare can both easily do it with their eyes closed. You have slight hope for him, looking at the Line Odds to see what the gamemakers are making of him. He’s at 15-1, worse than Bauhinia.

“He’s fucked!” you exclaim.

Sanguin bites, swinging her sword right at him. He ducks out of the way, jumping at her legs. He takes her out, scrambling on top of her, getting the sword away from him. He raises his fist up high, and before Geare can catch it, slams his fist straight into her teeth. You can feel the ache in your own front teeth, especially since he gave her all knuckle. She’s got to be feeling something.

Geare grabs a hold of Five, yanking him off and backwards into the water, which is now a huge factor. It’s splashing everywhere, getting all of them wet, slowing their movements down. The stream seems to get heavier, moving faster to make balancing impossible. No thanks to the gamemakers, you’re sure. A little interference never hurt anyone, right?

Sanguin scoops up her sword in her wet hands, which are still stained red from Bauhinia’s blood yesterday. She rinsed them off with the water from her water bottle, but even after that, and scrubbing them in the stream not five minutes ago, they’re stained. And they’re about to be stained again, you think.

Geare holds Five boy in place, raising up the sword. Five stays still eyes on the silver blade that’s about to make its home in his chest. His life is probably flashing before his eyes, every mistake he’s ever made is suddenly at the front of his mind. What he said to his family last before they had to say their goodbyes. It’s all he can think about.

Marsh has now geared up for the fight, completely switching gears from his original intention of running, “What if it’s the careers?”

“What--are you hearing yourself? You’re right! What if it’s the careers--you just want to run right on in?”

“There’s two of them, Annie!” Marsh shoves Annie’s backpack into her hands, “And just in case you forgot, we’re careers too! This could be our opportunity!”

“Or it could be our death sentence!” Annie grabs a hold of his arm, “This is stupid.”

“Come or don’t, I’m going down there.”

He tightens the strap on his backpack, quickly making his way down the hill. Annie stands there for a moment, runs a hand through her messy hair, and then lets out a sigh. She heads down there after him, tightening the straps on her own backpack, and gripping and regripping the short blade in her hand. This is bad, very bad.

The fight is about to go from three to five. The original stakes are now unmatched, now that two more careers have been added to the equation. District Four versus Five boy versus what’s left of the career pack. Who’s going to fight who, you wonder. Will Sanguin and Geare stay focused on their original plan, or will they be completely distracted by your tributes.

The tension in your chest has met its breaking point. Loud, shaking, vibrating. This is it. Exactly what you feared is going to happen. Last year, a couple of tributes had managed to kill both of your tributes at the same time. This year, it’s going to be the careers, since Sanguin is dead set on killing Annie at least, and Geare will naturally go for Marsh to finish District Four off once and for all.

“(Y/n), breathe.” Finnick’s rubbing your back.

Sanguin brings the sword down, she misses Five boy by a hair. He turned sideways just in time, but Sanguin’s not fucking around. She’s desperate to get this over with, tired of outsider tributes slipping through her fingers like sand. She raises her sword much quicker now, and slams it through his arm, pinning him to the ground. He screams.

Marsh quickens his pace, Annie quietly ushers him to slow down. He doesn’t listen to her. They both make it down the hill just in time to see Geare pin Five’s other arm down with his foot. Sanguin holds out her hand, Geare hands over his own weapon. One moment, they’re all still, Five has no way of escaping, Marsh and Annie are an audience to some sick show.

Chaos is what happens next. Sanguin moves faster than Marsh had predicted. She easily kills Five, a cannon going off. But Marsh has revealed where he was, moving towards her, swinging his own sword before she can pull hers out of Five. He brings the blade up high, Sanguin flinches to cover her face with her forearm. The blade slices right through her skin, blood flying, a yelp of pain leaving her.

Annie moves forward too, apprehensive at first, like she doesn’t know where to start. Attack Sanguin or Geare? Does she even want to be placed in the middle of this? If she ran now, she could save herself. Fuck, she could run all the way to the village and none of them would be able to catch her. She’d be able to hide herself somewhere where they’d never be able to find her.

And then Sanguin catches sight of Annie, and suddenly the whole mood is shifted. With her target spotted, Marsh is an easy object to get out of the way. She shoves, rips her sword out of Five, blood gushing down her arm at an unhealthy pace, and storms her way over to Annie.

It’s too late for Annie to run now. Her chin lowers, she makes sure that Sanguin can see the shortblade, and the fight really starts. Sanguin swings, Annie dodges and moves closer. It’s the same dancing game that she played with Colt, except this time, Sanguin knows of Annie’s games. For every step Annie takes forward, Sanguin moves backward to keep her away.

At some point, though, she can’t run any further. It’ll make her look like a coward. Annie is persistent, she won’t let up until Sanguin conforms or runs. Subject yourself to the fight, or find a way to get out of there before Annie does some real damage. And since Sanguin isn’t a career for nothing, she steps up.

Blade on blade, over and over and over again. Annie swings up, Sanguin blocks, slips and goes downward. Annie will narrowly get out of the way before bringing her blade down as hard as she can, breaking through any barriers that Sanguin thought she had built up. You’ll have to say it, they’re evenly matched.

The adrenaline that must be running through them is fucking nuts. Sanguin swings upward, Annie backs out of the way, bringing her short blade down. Sanguin just barely dodges, but you know that she’s in pain because of her arm. Annie tries to fake her out like she did to Colt, but Sanguin works faster than that. It’s okay, Annie recovers.

As for Marsh and Geare, it’s not as intense. They don’t have problems with each other, not like Sanguin and Annie. All Marsh really has to do is take out Geare before Sanguin somehow gets an upper hand on Annie. Once he’s gone, Sanguin will be too. Her pride is too big for her to just run away from a fight she’s been itching for since she first saw Annie during the bloodbath.

Marsh seems more successful. Geare might have scored a ten, but he’s lazy. Almost like he’s trying not to take it as seriously, as if he could also do this without trying. He can’t, the number that Geare scored was a reach. He too, looks like an eight or nine at most, he fights like it.

Annie keeps pushing, her strength never-ending. She’s got the same amount of stamina that Sanguin has, maybe more. The careers can run for hours on end, but you never saw use in something like that. If they get caught in a fight, they’re going to want to keep going, they don’t want to die. Annie can always go back and forth between running and walking, anyway. It’s not that easy when you’re using a sword, or in this case, a short blade.

Sanguin lets out a shout, moving faster than Annie can catch her. Instead of swinging her weapon, which is no doubt having its way with her arms now, she shoves Annie back hard enough for her to topple over. Annie hits the stream water, creating a wave that briefly reaches into the air, and then it comes all crashing down.

All at once.

Sanguin rolls her wrist, spins toward Marsh and swings. A strangled scream leaves your throat when you cover your mouth. Geare moves out of the way, far back enough for the blade to not even come close to touching him. However, Marsh is unsuspecting, back turned towards Sanguin. He can’t see the blade coming, much less has a reason to think he’s in any sort of danger.

For a second, it’s not as bad as it seems. Sanguin’s blade forces Marsh to his knees with how it hits the back of his legs. But then Geare moves forward, sword over his shoulder, eyes locked on Marsh. The two of them work together seamlessly, it’s almost like they’ve been brainwashed with how their movements are mechanical.

Geare brings his sword down, sword connecting with the side of Marsh’s neck. There’s no way he can defend himself, Annie just has to sit here and watch. Sit here and take it. The blade goes clean through without a struggle. His silver sword, glittering beautifully in the sunlight, has blood all along the blade.

Another cannon blasts.

Where Marshs’ head was before, has now been replaced by a fountain of deep red blood. The body falls forward, legs slanted uncomfortably. The gamemakers show Annie, and you can see she’s on the edge. There’s tears in her eyes, face slowly turning red. She’s no longer sitting, she’s already on her feet, knuckles white from how hard she’s gripping the hilt.

A stand still, you think. Where will they go from here?

Annie launches herself at Geare, completely pissed. He’s already covered in her former district partner’s blood, but with the way she collided with him, it rubs off on her. They struggle, Sanguin trying to grab a hold of her too. Logically speaking, there’s two against one. Annie shouldn’t get the upper hand here.

But Annie didn’t volunteer for the Hunger Games for nothing.

With one hand wrapped around his forehead, yanking it back, stretching his neck so that it’s accessible, the other hand has her blade sheathed. And with no hesitance, because the longer you wait, the bigger the chance of interference, she slits his throat, and shoves his body forward.

Like yesterday, with the bloody freckles across her face, Sanguin gets a face full of blood. She catches him, arms wrapped around him to make sure he gets down comfortably. Annie spins her blade between her fingers, and finishes off Geare, her short blade in the back of his head.

Another cannon. Enobaria and Wade are going home.

Annie places her foot on Geare’s back, pushing him forward while she yanks her sword out. Sanguin can’t handle all the weight, so she falls back, trapping her beneath the dead body. Annie stares down at Sanguin for a moment, breathing heavily. She’s caught in a decision, should she take out the last career, once and for all?

It’ll take away the threat. Four people left inside of the games after Sanguin is gone. But it also goes against her moral dilemma of killing people when it’s not needed. She just needs to do it. Sanguin will keep following her if she doesn’t, Annie doesn’t want to be chased, does she?

She’s shaking, eyes filling with tears, “This is your fault. It’s all your fault.”

Sanguin opens her mouth, eyebrows drawn in. She doesn’t speak, only stares and waits. Annie lifts her sword, taking in a deep breath, and slams the blade right through Geare’s back, and into Sanguin. It doesn’t kill her, but it’ll keep her down.

Annie gathers the backpacks, transfers the goods without a single word, and then scoops up Marsh’s sword, finding a spot for it so she doesn’t have to carry. She takes one last look at Sanguin, and then spits on her. Saliva mixed with blood, it lands on Sanguin’s cheek.

Only three tributes dead, maybe four if Sanguin’s wounds kill her anytime soon. Annie takes off through the trees, straight downhill and towards the village. It’s a shame that it took for Marsh to die for the plans to finally fall through. Either way, she won’t have to worry about Sanguin going after her. She can take her time getting to the village.

“Okay,” You breathe, “Okay, it could be worse.”

“Why didn’t she just kill Sanguin?” Gloss asks.

“Because she doesn’t need to.” Finnick tells him, “Sanguin isn’t a threat to her, and won’t be for a while.”

It’s quiet, you let out a slight laugh, “We know how stupid it sounds. If Annie had the choice of running away from Geare and Sanguin instead of killing Geare, she would’ve just run.”

“Huh.” Gloss hums.

Enobaria no longer needs to talk to the sponsors. You watch as they all let her go, she slowly bids each and every one of them goodbye. When she finally has her back turned to them, she gives you three an eye roll. Enobaria stops a few feet away.

“Insufferable.” She huffs, “Had I known Geare would be dying today, I would've just stuck with you guys. They act like I need the condolences.”

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t talk to them unless I have to.” Gloss gives her a smile, she glares.

“I’ve got to go tell Wade the news.” She hugs Gloss first, even after what he said, “I’ll see you next year. Good luck.” You're next, she gives an extra squeeze. Finnick gives her a one-armed hug.

“It was good seeing you.” You smile.

“Yeah, whatever—“

Gloss snorts, “I’m sorry for your loss!”

Enobaria flips him off, you all watch as she leaves the betting room. You look at the Line Odds next to see that Annie and Sanguin have moved. Sanguin has gone down to 2-1, probably because Five boy got the jump on her, and Annie was able to match her power. Annie has moved up to 3-1, whereas previously she was 6-1.

Good news, it’s all good news. Annie’s alive, she’s moved up on the odds board. Even if she didn’t kill Sanguin, she at least injured her enough to keep her away. You know for a fact that Sanguin’s going to go running to the cornucopia with her tail between her legs. She’s not going to bother to go after Annie.

For the most part, Annie’s fine. She’s got a scratch here and there from not being able to move out of the way in time, but other than that, she’ll be able to easily overpower Sanguin. Beforehand, Sanguin’s idea of revenge could be supported by her health, now it would be a stupid move. It would be stupid for her to do anything but go home.

“Shouldn’t you be loading up a sponsor?” You ask, looking at Gloss.

“I’m going to let her suffer some. Maybe that’ll make her more humble.”

“I’m pretty sure Annie letting her live was grounding enough.” Finnick mutters, you all laugh.

Annie runs through the trees, she’s almost out of the forest. She’s going faster since it’s all downhill, but the clearing beyond the woods is flat. And the hills will slow her down even more. The problem isn’t so much Sanguin anymore, but the other tributes seeing her. Nine girl, who has her own weapon. The Seven tributes, who are working in a pair.

But as far as you can tell, they're not near the tree line. They seem to be stuck where they are, probably confused about the three cannons. One and two are normal, signifies a small fight, maybe the careers ran into other tributes, or the careers lost one of their own altogether. But three is bigger, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

Sanguin is still laying underneath Geare, wincing each time she moves. A moan will leave her mouth when she tries to push him off, the sword blade digging around in her wound. She pants, pauses, and tries again, gritting her teeth. Geare is bigger than her, it’s going to take a moment to get him off of her. She’s probably under some sort of pressure, knowing that everyone is watching, that the gamemakers are waiting to collect the bodies.

She presses her hands against Geare’s shoulders, slowly pushing him off. It’s like peeling a bloody shirt off of a wound, you’ve got to do it slowly if you want little to no pain. All at once is going to hurt like a bitch. However, at the angle she’s going with, it’s probably making things a whole lot worse.

She barely slips out from underneath Geare before he comes crashing back to the ground, sword hitting the dirt next to her. She lets out a groan, fingers finding her stomach. She’s in the same situation that you were in five years ago. Except her wound is all surface, hardly goes that deep. Your entire knife got shoved in, five to six inches, maybe more? Sanguin is going to survive.

She gets to her feet, grabbing her sword. Annie left her nothing, so she’s got to get to the cornucopia before sundown if she wants to be safe. She stands around the area for a couple of seconds longer, looking over Five, Marsh and then Geare. Her face twists angrily, and she shouts.

Sanguin brings her sword up, and then slams it into Geare’s back, “Fuck!”

She leaves, turning the way that she’d come with Geare and Vanilee a day ago, and starts going downhill diagonally. She keeps with this path for a while, a couple of hours, at least. The stream was only three miles off to the right of the cornucopia, with where they had started on the first day, it made it seem a whole lot longer.

Either way, Sanguin makes it to the cornucopia at the same time Annie makes it over the one important hill that’ll hide her from Sanguin. With the village right in front of her, Annie starts running again. The second that she’s stepped foot onto the washed-out soil, she collapses to her knees.

You stand from where you’re sitting with Gloss and Finnick, “Is she hurt?”

“Why would she be?” Gloss asks, he presses his lips together, and then sits up, “I’ve got to send Sanguin some medication. I’ll be back.”

Gloss finds his usual people, always ready on-hand for him to come by so they can send his tributes a gift. They talk for a moment, and then he leads them over to where he’ll confirm and send the sponsor gift.

As for Annie, her hands have curled into fists, body shaking. You’re not sure what’s happening until you’re allowed to hear, just in time for her to gasp and sob, whimpering. She sniffs, slamming her fist into the dirt a couple of times, turning her knuckles red. Annie sits up, staring into the village with bloodshot eyes. She wipes under her eyes and nose, a frown on her face.

The relief that goes through you really is like a wave. She’s not hurt, just grieving for Marsh. It’s natural with tributes that are close to each other. Annie and Marsh have been side by side since the beginning, partners in crime. Losing him was inevitable, they’re so far into the games now. It’s been less than a week and there’s only five left. From here on out, they need to treat the games like they’re almost over.

You take a seat back on the couch, lacing your fingers and leaning forward on your knees. You’re all allowed to watch a split screen of Sanguin receiving her sponsor gift, and Annie pulling herself together enough to find a place to stay for the night. She drags her feet through the dirt, but it’s not deep enough path for a tracker like Sanguin to come around and follow it.

Annie walks for thirty minutes before picking a three-story house. When she walks inside, you can see that the floorboards are rotting, the yellow-flowered wallpaper is curling off the walls, and the staircase on the first floor is missing quite a few steps. Annie doesn’t care, she tightens her grip on her belongings and takes one step at a time. The second floor’s staircase is much sturdier, same for the floors. The walls are just as bad.

She picks a far back room, sets everything down, and rolls out what she’ll need for tonight. With how she’s not unpacking everything, and putting things back after she’s done, Annie doesn’t want to stay where she is. Or she’s keeping everything ready just in case someone does come after her. After today, you can’t blame her, but she’s all by herself inside of the village.

Sanguin sits herself in the grass, carefully pulls her healing cream out of the silver package, disregarding whatever note that Gloss has decided to give her. Speaking of which, he joins you guys back at the couch, sitting on the arm. Sanguin squirts the contents of the tube onto her fingers, and then lifts her shirt for everyone to see.

Not a pretty sight, where the short blade had cut her is a huge gash. Dried blood around it, with how she flexes her stomach when trying to look for herself, more blood surfaces, and runs down her skin. She glares, grits her teeth, and then digs her fingers inside, trying to spread it inside to make the healing process faster. Her face turns a deep shade of red, holding her breath. When she’s done the first time, she lets out a breath of air, recuperates, and then goes again.

It’s six in the evening before anyone in the arena begins to settle down for the night. Annie has made her bed, she eats and drinks water, trying not to cry anymore than she has already today. Sanguin doesn’t have any water, which means that tomorrow she’ll have a decision to make; stay inside of the cornucopia, where she knows it’s safe, or risk going out to get water. You have a feeling that her pride is too much to allow her to just stay inside and be thirsty.

As for Nine girl, where she’s stopped is actually fairly close to where the Seven tributes are. Maybe a mile or so apart, the Seven tributes are at their huts as usual, towards the top of the arena. Nine girl is somewhere in the middle, if she continues traveling up tomorrow, she’ll come across the team easily. For now, she makes a bed of grass and uses her backpack as a pillow.

“I think I’m going back to the apartment.” Finnick says, he yawns and pushes himself up from the couch, “You’ve got it handled?”

“Yeah, of course.” you give him a smile, “I’ll go and get you later. Eat before you go to bed.”

“I can take care of myself.” he says, and then waves to Gloss, “See you later.”

“Bye.” Gloss holds up his hand briefly, and then turns back to the screen.

You get comfortable on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you. Not everyone is turning in for the night in the arena, but they might as well be. Something tells you that there’s not going to be another big event in the arena tonight. You can take it easy, probably even go out to dinner and come back and relax.

“When’s Cashmere supposed to be down here?” you ask, looking over at Gloss.

He hums, “A couple of hours, why?”

“We should all get dinner together before you switch out.”

“Sure.”

Without the weight in your stomach holding you down to the bed this afternoon, you slip out of bed with a yawn. You stretch your arms over your head, dragging your feet to the closet to pick out today’s outfit. Your fingers fumble, still half-asleep and squinting to be able to see properly.

Dark blue jeans, a red tank top, black underwear. You throw it all over your arm as you reach to grab the tennis shoes, not really liking all the other options. You’re actually fairly sure that the last time you wore flats, you got blisters on the back of your feet. It’s hard to focus on your tributes when you’re complaining about the pain in your feet all day.

You throw your clothes onto the bed, as well as the shoes. On the way to the bathroom, you lock your bedroom door to make sure that you’re not going to get any unwanted guests. The shower water is warm almost instantly, but as soon as you’re dipping your fingers inside to double-check--a force of habit--you’re quickly turning the knob to make the water more cold.

Naturally, the Tribute Center has an automatic system that adjusts the heating and AC to make it comfortable for everyone inside. But this afternoon, things are particularly hot. It’s been that way since last night, when you had to shed practically everything to even get your body to a normal temperature. For good measure, you took a second shower, also cold.

It must be some sort of heatwave, thanks to the summer. And the window that you’re dealing with inside of your room probably isn’t helping all that much, either. By allowing the sun rays inside, you’re subsequently signing yourself up for the warmth that comes with it. Unfortunately, the windows don’t really come with blinds, so you just have to put up with it.

You do have to say that the heatwave inside of the Tribute Center is nothing compared to what you deal with at home. You have AC in your victor house, of course, but all the years prior when you’d just have to bear the sweat and flushed faces was like existing in hell. The only way to get away from the heat, if you weren’t swamped with housework via your brothers, was to go down to the beach and sit in the water for a while. But shedding clothes meant sunburns, and sunscreen goes up in price during the summer.

You’ve gotten used to it over the years, as you’ve grown older, you’ve also developed the philosophy of not letting stuff like that get to you anymore. Especially with not how Alyssum is getting older. If you pretend to act like everything is just fine with the heat, eventually she’ll have to stop complaining when she realizes that no one relates to her mundane problem.

However, shirts sticking to your back, using folders as fans and the irritating feeling of sweat rolling down your skin isn’t always ignorable. At least she doesn’t have to deal with you, Reed and Mox telling her that she should’ve felt what it was like to live in the shack for all these years. There’s been a silent agreement not to compare the previous living situation to the one you have now. It’s not her fault she’s living the way she is now. Plus, you think that you’d rather save those stories for when you’re old and wrinkly.

The cold water feels nice on your skin for a while, until it begins to make you cold. You step out, tie your hair out of your face and get dressed. Looking in the mirror today, there’s definitely a difference on your face. You’re not as sullen, yesterday it almost looked like someone told you that your dog died. Might as well have, Marsh is gone, and he’s not coming back.

Marsh placed seventh, with a final Line Odd of 6-1. He scored a nine on his training score, he had the Capitol in tears during his interview. He’s memorable, especially with the way that he went charging toward the careers. His intention might not have been to save Five boy, but it was still noble to face them head-on. You can only hope that none of this is in vain, that Annie will survive.

You get dressed, place your ring on your finger and hurry out to the dining room. It’s almost one already, and you haven’t even eaten yet. Dread isn’t the only thing that can ball and chain you to a bed, worry is pretty good at it too. Even better when you don’t fall asleep until late in the morning.

You shouldn’t be stressing yourself out like this, Annie is fine. She’s in the village, far away from Sanguin, who’s still injured, as far as you know. All the tributes that she would have had to worry about before are now miles away from where she is now. Hell, Sanguin would have to walk hours up and down hills just to get to Annie. And then what? Annie would be able to defend herself.

The tv is already on when you get out there, which makes you think that the avoxes had done it so that you wouldn’t have to ask today, until you see that Elysia is sitting at the table. There’s a mug in her hand, it has coffee in it, you don’t even have to pretend like you don’t know. It might be the afternoon, but she takes in caffeine like it’s an alcohol addiction.

“Hey.” you say, making her look up.

She raises her eyebrows, a smile crossing her face, “Good afternoon. How are you holding up?”

“Could be a lot worse, Annie’s a survivor.” you sit at the table, watching as cold cut sandwiches, fizzy beverages and potato chips are placed on the table. It’s not much of a fancy feast, the Capitol does this sometimes when it’s a casual afternoon.

“I’d say.” Elysia looks over to the tv.

You look over too, it’s focused on Annie at the moment. It looks like she’s finally unpacked her things, but she hasn’t moved from the back corner. Sanguin, Geare and Vanilee’s bed rolls are placed inside of each other. It’s a good way to keep warmth and make it a little comfortable.

Food, knives, water are spread around her. She won’t be needing water refills anytime soon, she’s inherited all the dead tributes’ water jugs. You think that if she drinks enough to keep her body going, she’ll have enough to last her a week, maybe two if she really tests her limits.

She’s sitting in the corner of the room, legs to her chest, arms wrapped around them to keep them from slipping. Her hair is messy, eyes bloodshot, bags beneath her eyes. She didn’t sleep at all last night, there’s no question about it. But at least all the scratches and cuts that were inflicted have healed. She applied the medication last night before she laid down to sleep.

You sat down in the betting room for a while with just Gloss. As soon as Cashmere came around, you kept to your idea and went out to dinner with them. It wasn’t anywhere fancy, you didn’t even bother to get a private room to eat at. It was a soup and bread place, you stayed as long as you could before Gloss fell asleep on the table.

It was nice catching up with Cashmere, she said that she’d seen Enobaria and Wade just before they left for the train. Wade was reasonably upset, but Enobaria didn’t even look phased. In fact, Cashmere leaned across the table and whispered; “Enobaria says that she hopes Annie wins.” You’re glad you have these guys as your friends, even if they have to go home, there’s no malicious intent.

They’re your best friends, through and through.

After dinner, Gloss went back to his apartment, and you were left with Cashmere for a little while. You caught her up on a lot that’s happened inside of the arena, your opinions, how you guys hung around Cecelia for a while. Cashmere agreed that Sanguin’s experience with Annie was probably enough to bring her back to reality. They’re teenagers, tributes in the Hunger Games, they can’t control anything, much less try and play god.

As soon as the first conversation was over, Cashmere started a second one about Finnick. Which made you groan with a, “It’s not that important, Cash.” But she wouldn’t let it go until you answered her questions. She hasn’t been able to ask you all the juicy details in private like she’s really wanted to.

There’s not much to tell. You let her know that Finnick was asking about you to Gloss while you weren’t there yesterday. And the night before you spent hours talking on the balcony after Bauhinia died. The two of you came to the conclusion that Finnick is deciding that he’s going to stay for a while--which you’d partially come up with by yourself yesterday.

Cashmere said it was a good sign, good for you when it comes to mentoring and the boarding school. You can finally chill out and be there for Alyssum more after school instead of relying on Reed and Mox to take care of her all the time, “You don’t want to be the absent older sister, trust me.” She’s right, it would be a shame to be so focused on saving other teenagers in District four, and completely miss out on Alyssum’s innocence while she still has it. A couple more years and she’s enrolling into the boarding school early.

After that was over, you went ahead and got Finnick before you would be too exhausted to get up this morning. Your attempts were, obviously, futile, as you hardly slept last night and you’re tired anyway. Finnick’s lucky you’re reliable, otherwise you would have considered staying in bed for a little while longer. What ruined that idea is the sweltering heat of the fucking Tribute Center.

And since the betting room is quite literally under a glass roof, you can’t imagine that it’s very cold in there, either. In fact, you’re sure that it’s going to be worse. Which now makes you partially consider changing into a pair of shorts so you’re not stuck sweating the entire day. The tank top is nice, but it only brings you so far.

Ugh.

Sanguin is up and at it already, heading towards the woods in the direction of the stream. Figures that she wouldn’t wait a little while to give herself time to heal. She’s always on top of it, always moving. A part of you wonders if she put on healing cream as soon as she got up this morning, or if she’s waiting to do it later tonight.

Either way, she’s got a full backpack again, her sword is propped up against her shoulder with the blade flat. Exactly how she’d carried it before she went and murdered the boy from Three. To think that was only two days ago is fucking insane, it feels like forever. But you guess that’s just what happens when you get back to back days of absolute mayhem.

The Seven tributes are wandering around, heading into their own personal uncharted territory of the left side. Well, actually there’s a lot where they haven’t been before, always keeping to their safe bubble. It’s not a bad strategy, but they can get away with it for so long. The gamemakers don’t like comfortable. Comfortable means you need to be pushed outside of your boundaries and experience new things.

As for Nine girl, you think she’s unintentionally stalking the District Seven tributes, with how she’s trailing them. She could very well be tracking, but the path that Seven is leaving isn’t all that obvious. It’s too obvious to be a coincidence, maybe she’s just trying to play it off that way? Or see where District Seven leads her? You’re surprised she isn’t cloud watching today. She’s sitting pretty, does she really need to follow the other tributes around?

You eat your sandwiches, watching the tributes move around inside of the arena. Annie stays put, Sanguin gets closer to the stream, Seven is nearly in the section all the way off to the left. When you’re done eating, you have the avoxes pack up some sandwiches for your friends inside of the betting room, and get ready to go.

You take one step towards the door, before you’re stuck where you are, watching what’s unfolding on the screen.

Uncharted territory can be dangerous for obvious reasons. The tributes don’t know what they’re heading into, which means that they don’t know what to expect. Foreign animals, plants, traps set up by the gamemakers to ensure a pleasant surprise. Heading off into the unknown means that you’re expecting unpredictable situations. Anything can happen the moment you’re no longer in your safe space.

Because of this, it’s important to keep a schedule. Let the gamemakers come to you, they’ll be playing on your side of the court for this reason. But walk right into what they want, you’re subjected to their own house of horrors. And the only way of making it out alive, is fighting for freedom, or hoping your counterpart isn’t as good as you are.

The gamemakers hardly ever allow both tributes live. If they did that, it would take away the entire entertainment aspect. Not allow the Capitol people to see tributes like Annie fall apart at the seams because she doesn’t have her best friend around her anymore. You’re not sure what’s so fun about a depressed, sleep-deprived teenager but… to each their own.

Seven girl is leading, with the male tribute just behind her. Everything appears to be just fine, there’s no visual signs that they’re about to be submerged into frigid waters. Then they’re warned, a howl loud and clear, telling them to turn back and go away now, before they continue to make the mistake that they’re working on.

Maybe the tributes don’t hear the wolves, maybe they’re so caught up in their own heads that the silence breaking doesn’t register. Or maybe they choose to ignore it, because it’s a couple of wolves, and animals tend to run away once they realize that there’s something much bigger trying to challenge them. Because of their blatant obliviousness, they’ve fucked themselves over.

They’re not any ordinary wolves. They’re Capitol-made and controlled mutts.

The first one breaks through the trees, huge, black, eyes belonging to the devil himself. The girl catches sight of the genetically mutated mutts, comes to a complete stop, and then spins herself around. She takes off running, grabbing onto her district partners arm, snapping him out of his daydreaming daze, bringing him right back to reality.

They run together, arms pumping at their sides. The boy doesn’t care what path he takes, through thickets, thorns, and between trees that shouldn’t be possible to squeeze past. The girl however, is more careful about where she goes, thinking that it’ll help her move quickly, knowing where she’s stepping and that the path is definitely clear. It’s working the other way around. For once, a lack of carelessness is going to be the downfall of a tribute.

She falls behind, the wolves gaining on them both more and more. The pounding of their paws against the dirt is loud enough for the Capitol cameras to pick up. Like a heartbeat, a steady thrum against the ground. It’s also a telling sign that the Seven girl needs to give up her act or accept her death.

It’s frustrating, especially since she doesn’t even seem to notice her mistakes. One of the first rules of being chased is always being aware of how close they are. She doesn’t have to do it by looking behind her, which is always a mistake the idiots seem to make. She can just hear the footsteps all by themselves, getting louder and louder. Doesn’t she have any will to live?

If she does, she doesn’t get a chance to prove it. The lead wolf uses its hindlegs to launch itself at her. It’s mouth unhinges like a python snake, revealing rows of sharp teeth, drool coming out as a long string. It pounces on Seven girl, snarling, and bites straight into the back of her neck. The screaming is loud, you wince and sit back down at the dining room table.

The wolves around the leader continue after Seven boy, which comes as a fair surprise to you. But then again, the girl isn’t necessarily dead just yet. As soon as that cannon goes off, it’s like a whistle to the dogs. They’ll all go back to whatever hell hole they crawled out of. They might even be used a different year, for the exact same purpose that they’re serving now.

The leader bites down, and whips its head to the side. A mouthful of flesh rips out of the girl, her scream loud enough to be heard as a warning to both Seven boy, and Nine girl. Run, and run fast if you want to survive. The blood coats the tree bark around the girl, drips off the flesh that was previously attached to her body. Her hands twitch, eyes open and rolling to the back of her head.

It’s more or less the same situation that Bauhinia was in. But instead of it being done by another tribute, which will definitely leave a permanent impression on mentors and future tributes alike, this is being done by a mutt. The Capitol has specifically engineered these guys to do this. Bite, rip, rinse, repeat. Seven girl’s screams start off loud, but slowly die out like she’s lost her voice.

The next wolf that is leading on Seven boy, jumps at him just like the last wolf did to Seven girl. However this time, instead of all the other surrounding wolves continuing forward, they swarm and maul the boy. Their teeth are just as sharp, but without all the rows. You’d say that his situation is better, but he’s got more mutts going at him from different angles, with no time to breathe in between bites.

By the time that Seven girl does die, allowing the wolves to go home, the boy is severely hurt. Puncture wounds from the teeth, shredded skin, half his face is missing. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make a noise. He just lays in the grass like he’s already dead, the only thing keeping him from being collected by the gamemakers like his district partner, is the cannon.

He’s a living soul in his corpse of a body.

It’s like sleep paralysis. He can’t speak, can’t move. He’s stuck where he is, like a suffering dog that just needs to be put out of his misery. But there’s no one to do it. You all will just get the pleasure of watching this poor boy wheeze and bleed. Doesn’t mean much for entertainment, his life is practically over.

The only tribute that’s nearby is Nine girl. But there’s no promise that she was following the Seven tributes in the first place. It looked like it, now you’ll just have to wait and see if it was true. This could take hours, and she has a bigger chance of accidentally missing him than stumbling upon him in the bushes. It’s not like he’s being loud.

You stand up from the table again, “I’ve got to get downstairs before anything else happens.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

You go down the steps and through the door. You punch the elevator button, head down to where the betting room is, bad quietly walk down the hallway. It’s all barren cement, no one hangs out here, and the peacekeepers standing outside of the door are required. Just in case a few mentors get too upset, because the Capitol people hardly ever care about rivalries.

The moment you open the door, a cool breeze hits your face. No wonder why the Tribute Center is so hot, the betting room is hogging all of the air conditioning. The glass ceiling is now blocked by a white cover to reflect the sun and ensure that you all won’t be sweating like pigs. Because of the cover, it’s dark, which is why there’s colored lights strung up on hooks. Almost like Christmas lights, but somehow less fun and more sophisticated.

Finnick and Gloss are already sitting at a white table, so you head over and drop the basket of food in the middle.

“Did you see what happened?” Finnick asks, watching as you unload the basket.

“Yeah, Elysia and I watched it together.” You then move the basket off the table and onto the floor, sitting down and crossing your legs, “I guess the gamemakers were bored.”

“Or they have a vendetta against the Seven mentors.” Gloss cocks his head in the direction of where they’re standing off to the side. Arms crossed, angry faces. They’ve been screwed over, you can’t really blame them. Their tributes couldn’t even defend themselves, “Thanks for the lunch.”

“Figured you guys were hungry.” you look at Finnick, “What are you making of Annie?”

He shrugs, uncapping the bottled fizzy drink, “Well, besides the obvious fact that she’s some form of depressed, I think she’s in shock. How long did her and Marsh know each other?”

“They were only a year apart. So, since Annie was fourteen and he was thirteen.”

“Four years.” Gloss says, “A long time to build a friendship. What about you and Finnick, how long did you two know each other prior to your Hunger Games? I remember you guys being mentioned as friends at some point.”

You make a face, not entirely sure, “Well, I was a sophomore and he was a freshman…”

“Middle school?” Finnick proposes, but he doesn’t look confident either, “Only a year or whatever. We mostly saw each other in the hallway, and then it went on from that after my girlfriend dumped me.”

“Which one?” you ask, half-kidding, half-serious.

Finnick gives you a look, “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember which girlfriend?” Gloss asks.

You snort, “He has brain damage from all the girls he’s gone through. I can name fifteen he went through while we were just friends.”

“It was not fifteen!” Finnick defends, face turning a shade of red, “Probably only five or something.”

“Probably.” Gloss has a smile on his face, clearly enjoying Finnick’s discomfort.

“Finnick, just trust me for once when I say that it was fifteen.” You muse.

“Except there weren’t fifteen girls in my class that liked me like that. I should know.”

You and Gloss share a look, and then laugh. He wouldn’t know, it’s not always obvious when girls have crushes on people. Girls learn to hide it when the guy or girl they like is after someone else in that moment. You wouldn’t be surprised if his entire grade of girls had liked him, and only a quarter of them showed it. Finnick thinking that he’s aware of everything is a complete joke.

The Afternoon Line Odds say that all the remaining tributes are standing where they were yesterday. There’s only four tributes inside of the games, about to be three as soon as Seven boy is gone. Annie, Sanguin and Nine girl, who you really need to find a name for to make it all easier to say.

“Do you guys know the name of the girl from Nine?” you ask, running a hand through your hair for any snarls that might exist in your ponytail.

Gloss’ face scrunches up, eyes finding the Line Odds too, “Uh…”

Finnick tilts his head from side to side, also thinking. They’re just as clueless as you are. You can’t even remember if anyone mentioned her name outside of the training score and interviews. Everyone normally stops paying attention after District Four, for obvious reasons. No one can really compare. The only person you think would know her name is Annie, mostly because she likes to keep track of stuff like that.

It’s not like you can really ask her. And you can’t really pull a name out of thin air, anyway. When it comes to the districts, you guys have ridiculous names just as much as people in the Capitol do. Gloss? Cashmere? Enobaria? What about Anchor and Marsh? Even Sanguin’s name isn’t really a name. It’s an adjective, based off the word sanguine, which means positivity or something dumb like that.

Of course, this philosophy can’t apply to everyone. Finnick’s name is normal, so is Mags, Luther, Scotch, Wade and Cecelia. It only really falls apart when it comes to last names, like Gallows or Golding. At some time or another, you all came from the Capitol, or you great grandparents changed their last names to make them more fierce during the rebellion. That last part is especially true when it comes to your family.

You don’t remember the original last name, just that Gallows wasn’t inherited through a husband. Your great-grandmother had changed it after the nickname she got from the people around her in District Four. She was in on the plan before the rebellion had even started, and got a head start when it came to taking out peacekeepers and Capitol officers in the district. It was suspicious after a while, how every single one of them committed suicide the same way, one by one. After all the known Capitol people were gone, she was onto traitors, and she was good at finding them.

Hanging people from rope relates to the gallows. However, after the rebellion failed, she wasn’t able to go back to her regular life. With the conspicuous last name, and the way that people would talk when she came around, her position was found quickly. She was a wanted woman inside of District Four by high-standing officers. By then, she’d already birthed your grandmother, who was being held at someone else’s house during the day, and went unfound by the peacekeepers when they went looking to wipe out your family.

Your great-grandparents died, as well as any of their siblings, grandchildren, cousins, whatever. The only person left was your grandmother, who got sent into the foster care system with the last name still attached. And since there was no family to help her revert back to the original last name, she just kept Gallows out of spite. What are the peacekeepers going to do eighteen years after the fact? Kill her? She was a baby when it happened, wouldn’t even be able to recall the details, much less looked like she had an inkling to continue her mother’s murder path.

It’s a fun story to tell to the older kids, you know that your brothers enjoyed it when they got to exaggerate every little detail and add in facts of their own. As you got older, they filtered out the bullshit to make it more believable. Even now, the entire story seems like it’s out of some dark fairytale or something. With no happy ending.

“I think it starts with a T.” Finnick says.

“Huh?” you ask, looking at him.

“The girl’s name.”

“I think you’re right!” Gloss says, he’s rubbing his forehead, “What the fuck was it?”

“Something stupid that ended in a vowel.”

“That starts with a T?” your face twists.

Finnick hums for a moment, listening as Gloss tries out names. Then, Finnick’s face lights up entirely, slamming his hands on the table, “Tekla!”

“Tekla?” Gloss pauses for a moment, “Oh fuck, you’re right.”

You nod slowly, taking their word for it. So, Seven boy, Tekla, Sanguin and Annie. The boy dies, it only leaves the three girls. What an accomplishment, to completely unintentionally wipe out the guys. You don’t want to say that they’re a bigger opponent, but they typically have an upper hand when it comes to fighting. It’s like they’ve been taking drugs.

Finnick and Gloss eat their lunch, you all come down with your final predictions on what’s going to happen inside of the arena. You all think that Sanguin and Annie will be fine, since they’re miles apart and both caught in their own worlds at the moment. The real problem is Tekla and her moving around so often. She knows that Sanguin is alone in the cornucopia by herself, and she also knows that she could sneak up on Sanguin since she has a weapon of her own. Courtesy of when the careers had left the cornucopia alone.

Seven boy is still alive an hour and a half later. Tekla has slowed down in the direction she was heading. She doesn’t look unsure, more that she’s lost motivation, you guess? Or maybe she’s lost the path that the Seven tributes were taking before they stumbled into the Capitol trap. Either way, there’s no telling whether or not she’ll actually be able to find the boy.

Every time you think that the boy has finally breathed for the final time, he inhales sharply, like he’s being pushed back into his body. It’s a shame, watching him struggle like this. You’re sure that he should be dead by now, well past his expiration date. Hell, soon the bugs are going to start to get to him. If you thought the wolves were bad, watching him being eaten alive is going to be worse. Much, much worse.

“I’m going to use the bathroom.” Gloss says, gathering the trash, “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t have too much fun.” you smile, he gives you a mock look before leaving. You turn to Finnick, “I’m thinking of going out and drinking after this. You wanna come?”

“With or without Gloss?” Finnick asks, eyebrows drawing in.

“If it were with Gloss, I would’ve asked while he was here.” you wiggle your eyebrows, “Come on. Me and you, at that awful drinking place, The Victory Speech.”

He purses his lips, “You think it’s a good idea?”

“Annie’s safe inside of her house, what’s the worst that can happen overnight?”

“The dam breaks?”

“You think that the Capitol would do that right after mauling two tributes to death?” you look at the timer above the Morning Line Odds that says how long the tributes have been in there for. It’s a couple hours less than seven days, “The games haven’t been even going for a week, they’ll want to draw it out for a little while longer.”

Finnick gives you a look.

“Don’t start acting like a parent, I’m older than you.” you point at him, “Yes or no. Or I’ll ask Gloss and Cashmere--”

“Yes.” Finnick says.

You grin, “You won’t have some sort of relapse, right?”

“Haha.” he rolls his eyes, “Ready to get shitfaced off the water-tasting alcohol?”

“I am going to have three of those in a row just to see what happens.” you laugh, he does too.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You’ll give yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“I’ll probably be fine.” You shrug, “Won’t be my first near-death experience.”

Finnick cracks up, shaking his head.

It’s only another thirty minutes before Tekla does come across Seven boy by accident. She wouldn’t have even known he was there if it weren’t for the wheeze he let out as a warning before she stepped on him. He’s hidden under bushes, camouflaged in. The only obvious sign that he’s there is his legs, but even then, they were easily missed by Tekla.

She stands over him, eyebrows drawn in. Her eyes will occasionally flicker up like she’s looking for someone, like it’s some sort of trap and a tribute is waiting for her to be off her guard to attack. Unfortunately, it’s none of those things. Just bad luck, and horrible timing. She crouches down next to him, face twisting as she carefully moves leaves out of the way to see him properly.

“Gross.” she says, “I don’t even know how you’re still alive.” Tekla shakes her head like she’s getting rid of her thoughts, standing back up on her feet, “It’s over now. Rest easy.”

She raises her weapon and puts him out of his misery. A second cannon goes off, making Sanguin stop in her tracks, looking up at the sky for a moment. The Fallen won’t show until later tonight, but the tributes all have the same reactions, anyway. It’s because the sound comes from above them, so naturally they’re going to want to see where it comes from.

As for Annie, she barely snaps back to life long enough to squint, allow wrinkles to appear on her face, and then she relaxes again. She sets her head back against the wall and closes her eyes, gripping onto her sword tightly. You wonder if she came to the conclusion that she’s one of the final three inside of the arena now. Annie’s made it, she’s beaten all the tributes from District Four that came before her.

Hang in there, Annie. You’ll be home soon.

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@f1nal-g1rl / @starlight-selene / @neenieweenie / @amixedwitch / @accxio / @suranne-doesstuff

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair redamancy #redamancy #redamancy chapter seven

57 notes · View notes

seanfalco · 3 years ago

Note

Ok, so the sexy Sean sleepover far exceeded my expectations. Thank you for that! 🥵🥵

How about... trapped in a lift. With Duncan. Rescue is hours away. You’re bored, he’s horny. How’s he gonna entertain you?

(being trapped in an elevator is probably my worst nightmare, but it wouldn’t be so bad in this case lol) I may have gotten a little carried away with this one. >_> I missed this British asshole. Takes place sometime after Not What This Is.

When the lift stops suddenly with a lurch and the lights flicker out you nearly lose your balance, falling against Duncan as the dim emergency light flickers on.

“Careful there luv, you don’t have t’throw yourself at me t’get my attention.”

Despite the blood rushing to your face, you scoff and push off him, going to the control panel to call for help, groaning when the voice on the other end of the intercom tells you it will be a while.

“Well, I’m sure we can find some way to entertain ourselves,” Duncan drawls, flashing you a a grin that’s as full of insinuation as his look.

“In your dreams, Taylor,” you snap, folding your arms over your chest and leaning against the wall opposite him, as far away as you can get. “We can’t do that here,” you hiss.

“Oh c’mon, you heard them, it could be hours, you really wanna bide your time standing there sullenly?” he asks, moving closer, til he’s leaning against the wall next to you. “You don’t have to play so hard to get all the time. I remember how much you enjoyed our little tryst in the locker room,” he muses, leaning in closer.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my head,” he purrs, toying with your zipper as his eyes find yours. “Tell me, [y/n], have you touched yourself in the showers since then while thinkin’ about me? About how good I fucked you?”

With every word your inhibitions leach away, shivers racing up your spine, and you bite your lip, the memory of last time and how good it’d felt sending heat rushing southward. Duncan’s breath is in your ear now and your chest heaves as your own breath speeds up in anticipation.

It’s all too much, the throbbing between your legs and the knowledge that he’ll only keep teasing you, plus the fact that no one else will know makes up your mind and you give in, letting him slowly unzip your jumpsuit, his hands ghosting over your skin as he works it down your body til its pooled round your ankles.

“Maybe I’ve thought about that,” you admit, your breath hitching as his lips find your throat, trailing kisses to your exposed chest.

“Well then, maybe I’ll have to help you remember,” he drawls against your skin, taking your hand and guiding it to his cock, already pressed against the fabric of his jumpsuit, straining to be free.

“You’re that turned on already?” you scoff, but it comes out as more of a choked moan as his hand slips down the front of your knickers, his fingers delving your folds.

“Looks like I’m not the only one, luv,” he points out, pulling his hand free to show you how slick his fingers are, holding them in front of your mouth and you hold his gaze as you suck them clean, letting your tongue swirl around his digits before pulling back, a challenge in your stare, enjoying the way his eyes darken with lust.

“Oh you little minx, you act all high and mighty, but really you’re just a fuckin’ tease,” he growls, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wouldn’t you get bored if it were too easy?” you ask, untying the sleeves of his jumpsuit at his waist and he shudders as you feel him directly. “What’s the fun if there’s no chase?”

“You certainly keep me on my toes, luv,” he groans as you stroke his length, relishing the way it reacts to your touch. “I wanna hear you tell me what you want me to do to you.”

He’s gunna make you look needy, but he’s already done that. He knows you too well. This is just a temporary truce, you’ll get what you want and once those elevator doors open back up you’ll go back your normal standoffishness.

“Fine,” you huff. “I want you t’fuck me, okay? Happy?” you demand, shivering at the way his eyes flash even in the dimness of the elevator.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he breathes and suddenly his mouth is on yours as you fumble your way out of the rest of your clothes, gasping as he manages to lift you, pinning your back against the elevator wall as he slides into you, alternating between slow and quick sudden thrusts, each time bringing a gasp to your lips til you’re ready to burst. Before you can come however, Duncan slows nearly to a stop, still sheathed inside you.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your breaths coming heavily, a note of disappointment filling your voice.

“We have a while til the lift’ll be operational again, we hafta fill th’time somehow,” he reasons with a cocky smirk. “So let’s see how many times I can bring you to the edge before you beg me t’let you come, princess?”

You lose track of how many times he edges you, denying you what you so badly want until you finally break, your cunt growing sore and you beg.

Once the elevator doors open once more you’re both on opposite sides of the lift again, though rather breathless, your hair sticking to your face. But as you walk out, you feel Duncan’s hand give your ass a playful squeeze.

“Til next time, luv.” And you can’t help but wonder if he somehow orchestrated this.

#joz answers #salvador daley #thirsty thursday #duncan taylor #duncan taylor smut #duncan taylor x reader #bullet point fic #thirsty thursday fic #duncan taylor headcanons

29 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: That Old Thing Back {One Shot} ***

Charlie Hunnam x Ex-Wife Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, POV Changes, LOTS OF WORDS, NSFW, Mentions of miscarriage

Words: 8,888k

Note: Okay, this is a first for Charlie. I am not familiar with his mannerisms at all, so I hope this hits well. If not, anon, I am sorry. As always, thank you all for reading! Also, y’all see 8888 words. 8888 must mean something right.

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you meet someone, within minutes, you know what you want from them. After the first conversation, you know what capacity you want them in your life. After a week, you know just how you feel about them. Charlie could attest to this. When he first saw you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He was mesmerized by you and just sat and marveled as you danced around the great lawn of the park he happened to be in that afternoon. You looked carefree and so full of life. Nine other women were dancing with you, but he could only see you.

That led him to stalk you for the remainder of the afternoon. Once the class was finished, he followed behind you and listened to your conversation as you walked through the streets and fell deeper under your spell. Your voice was like a finely tuned melody that sounded better than any song he’d ever heard. He sat in the same restaurant you did and just watched you as you spoke and laughed. Every story you told was so animated he felt like he’d been right there when it happened. You were the most captivating creature he’d ever seen.

By the time he knew what had happened, he’d pushed his entire day to the side and had followed you, and he didn’t regret one thing. When he least expected it, you confronted him and called him out on his stalker antics, and that only made him want to know you more. It was the perfect imperfect meet. From that day, the two of you had been inseparable. You spent all your free time together. When he told you his aspiration to be an actor, you didn’t laugh or tell him to forget it and be more practical. You were his biggest supporter, and he fell harder for you.

A whirlwind, passion-filled eight-month romance led to him proposing and begging you to spend your life with him. When you excitedly screamed yes and leaped on him in the middle of the restaurant, everyone around you elated and showered you with applause and well wishes. The two of you didn’t bother waiting. A month later, you were married and more in love than ever. Neither of you were prepared when CJ came around, but it made your love deeper, your marriage stronger.

You were by his side as he struggled through audition after audition, waiting for his big break. You were there rejection after rejection, always having his back and pushing him never to give up. You were his backbone, and when that role came, you were right there for him. The rolls came in one after the other, which meant he was gradually becoming busier and busier. Before you knew it, he was always on a movie set, and you were always home with CJ.

No one prepared him for the struggles of marriage, a baby, and his budding career. He was warned about it by his agent early on, but he swore the two of you had what it took to withstand any and all struggles. He hadn’t factored himself in as a struggle. Thanks to his rapid rise to fame, everyone wanted a piece of him, and when they took their piece, there was none left for you. The arguments increased, and the miscommunication and unsaid words took a toll. The space that formed between you was wide enough to classify them as chasms.

It seemed like he couldn’t do anything right. Everything he said was wrong. When he took a weekend off of work, it was wrong because you found it clear he would rather be working. When he tried to get close to you for any affection, you were always tired from your day with CJ, and every time you tried, he was too busy. He got lost in the Hollywood lifestyle, the parties, the socializing, the life that was bullshit, and had nothing on you or CJ. He turned into the monster in the fairytale, the monster that mothers warned their daughters about.

He’d lost track of how many times he’d heard you crying, lost track of how many times he’d struggled with what to do, how to be. It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt you, he just didn’t know how to be who you wanted, how you needed him to be. The last straw was him missing your birthday to remain at the Cannes Film Festival, the festival he got pictured in a compromising position. One he was entirely at fault for, but one where absolutely nothing happened. The last thing you said to him was, “Your priorities are all fucked up, if you don’t want us fine I’ll solve the problem.”

He came home to divorce papers and an empty house and not too long after you were in the hospital suffering from a miscarriage. A miscarriage the doctors blamed on stress, a miscarriage you blamed on him, a miscarriage he blamed himself for. After that, you made it clear you were done with him. He had the thought to contest and fight for you, but he knew the same problems would still be there. He had to face the facts that you’d probably grown too far apart, and that he would only cause you pain. He had to let you go. So, let you go he did.

Groaning, he rubbed his face trying to keep the sleep at bay. The sound of the waves at his Malibu home was the soothing back noise he needed. It was the same noise that propelled him deep into his state of depression. It was a sate he’d been fighting for the last year. He’d been mostly successful, but tonight was hard. Tonight, was the anniversary of what would have been your seventh wedding anniversary.

The whole night he’d been haunted by memories, haunted by feelings, and haunted by every regret he’d held on to for the last near two years. He thought of scenarios where he should have said something when he hadn’t said anything. He thought about the times he didn’t do something when he should have dome something—anything. He regretted everything that led to this point, the point where he had no wife and a son he was missing that was growing up without seeing him every day.

“Fuck!” His shout was loud, and though the beach was vast, it still somehow echoed around him. There was no escaping you. He’d tried like hell every day, especially when you moved said the most hurtful words you’d ever said to him.

-Fourteen Months Earlier-

“Leave Charlie; you’re good at that.”

“That’s not fair, Y/N, and you know it!”

You spun around with pure vitriol radiating from you. “Fair! Do you know what’s not fair? It’s not fair that I’ve been by your side through everything, supporting you and loving you fiercer than a mother lion to her cubs, birthed your son, held you down through everything, the struggle, the good times only to have you do this!”

“You’re the one who left me, Y/N!”

He knew he shouldn’t have thrown that at you. He knew it was a bad idea.

“Let’s be real. You left me long before I left you! Plus, what was there to stay for, a man who turned out to be my biggest mistake?”

-Present Day-

With his phone in hand, he pulled up your contact. It was one that he stared at so often—too often, he opened up his messages and did the only thing his head told him to.

MSG My Wife: It’s insane today would have been our 7th anniversary. Seven years. The day I said those vows to you were the happiest day of my life until the day you told me about CJ. I thought seven would be just the beginning for us. I fully expected seventeen, twenty-seven, thirty-seven, seventy. I probably shouldn’t be sending this, but there was no way I could fight it. God, Y/N, this has always been my favorite day. Now it’s one of the most painful.

He tossed his phone on the side table and dropped his head back, praying he could forget and move on. It was clear you’d already done it.

As if that wasn’t enough, to add insult to injury, four days later he was staring down at the date your divorce was finalized. It was irony at its best and a just punishment for him. He’d been suffering the last year, so much, so pain felt like his best friend. He just wallowed in everything he’d lost, wallowed in it with no intention to pull himself out. It was that same pain that had him on this interstate driving out of LA to the place he shouldn’t be going anywhere near.

When he pulled up inside the yard, he sat in his mustang for much longer than he should have. He looked around at somewhere he was familiar with but only loosely. He looked at the toys scattered on the lawn and smiled before it slipped and was replaced with sorrow. After taking a deep breath, he got out and walked to the door. He hesitated before his knuckles rapped on the door, then he waited.

~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

“CJ, please put this hoverboard away before I break my neck!”

You wiped your hands on the dishtowel as you made your way to the front door. Your son was single-handedly working overtime to break every bone in his body. You’d heard that raising a boy would be difficult, but you were not prepared. He was a handful and a half, especially since he was the carbon copy of his father. Not only did he look just like him down to his blond hair, but he also had the same interests—skating, hoverboarding, biking, and soccer. Those were just the beginning of their similarities. With your head lost in thought, you didn’t see the fist-size fire truck that was lying in wait for you just in front of the door. You hopped and did your best football scrimmage to avoid the tragedy you foresaw.

“Jesus Christ! Charles Matthew Hunnam, Junior!”

You could hear the barrage of footsteps as he came running. He knew when you used his entire name; he was in trouble. As sure as the sky was blue, he came bounding around the corner with his blond curls bouncing and honey-chocolate sun kissed complexion on his way to you.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” he sheepishly breeched as he bent to the floor to gather the death traps he’d left for you.

“How many times have I told you to pick your toys up when you’re finished?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” He looked so sad now and gave you those blue specked hazel eyes that were such an interesting mix of yours and Charlie’s that you were always a sucker for.

Groaning, you shook your head affectionally. “Try to remember, honey,” you softly reminded. CJ nodded and threw his arms around your midsection. These were the things that made your day. The doorbell rang then, reminding you someone was there. “Take them up, please.”

“Okay, mommy.” You turned from him and continued your walk to the door. When you swung it open, you were shocked half to death to see Charlie standing on the other side.

“Charlie,” you gasped out. Once CJ heard his name, you heard the clatter of the toys he must have just had heaped in his hands.

“Daddy!” You heard him running, and in seconds, he bound into Charlie’s waiting arms.

“Ah! Hey, buddy!” Charlie stood and held onto CJ like he was his most favorite thing in the world; it was the same way CJ held onto him.

You stood there and watched them half warmed by the sight of father and son and their evident love for each other and half seething that Charlie was there in the first place. He knew better than to show up unannounced. The only way this worked was if you had time to prepare yourself to see him. This was unexpected.

“I missed you, daddy.”

“I missed you too, CJ. Gosh, you look like you’re growing like a weed,” Charlie surmised, placing CJ back onto the ground.

“I am, mommy says I’m half her height.”

“Oh, is that right? So half her height means you’re still a ways behind me. I guess I better go back to eating my veggies,” Charlie joked. CJ found it funny, even if you didn’t.

Clearing your throat, you brought the attention of your ex-husband to you. his smile faltered. “What’re you doing here, Charlie?”

“I uh—I wanted to see CJ.”

You dropped your head and sighed. This was going to turn into an argument.

“I wanted to see you too, daddy. Can we do something? Can I show you my new bike? Then can we go down to the lake, and I can show you my new trick?”

“Hold on there, bud. We gotta ask mommy,” Charlie said on a chuckle.

“Can we mommy, please, please, please, please!” CJ was pouring on all the emotions and sweetness. You didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Go ahead, have fun. Please, no broken bones!”

“Thank you, mommy.” His hug was quick before he was grabbing hold of Charlie’s hand to yank him away. As he did, Charlie looked back to you with a melancholic smile, one you refused to read into.

When you walked back inside, you were the one to pick up the toys you’d just told your son to pick up. You didn’t mind this time; you needed something to keep yourself busy. Picking up CJ’s toys turned into rearranging some of the things in the living room, and that turned into sweeping, then vacuuming and finally mopping. You could hear the jolly screams and laughs from inside the yard, and though it made you happy to hear how happy CJ was, it also filled you with a hint of sadness, one you’d worked hard to ignore.

Every so often, you found yourself drifting to the windows to watch on as the two of them played. Every time you looked out, they were doing something different. Once it was tricks on BMX bikes, another time it was weird acrobatics like handstands and flips, and when you looked out once and saw them actually building mud monsters, you nearly lost your shit at how adorable they were together. That was when you stepped up the cleaning and began cleaning the kitchen.

Once the cleaning was finished, you moved on to starting dinner. An hour passed then two, and you were in the thick of things. You’d only intended on cooking lasagna, but that turned into lasagna with sautéed broccoli, and garlic bread and dessert. It was apparent to you that you were anxiety cooking. Before you finished, though in they bounded downright filthy but over the moon.

“Mommy, look!” CJ ran to you completely covered in a mixture of dried and wet mud with grass stains. He looked ready to throw his arms around you before you scurried behind the kitchen island.

“Charles Matthew Hunnam, don’t you dare get me dirty.” His laughter was loud.

“Fine, but look what we brought you.” He held out a bouquet of handpicked flowers of all varieties. A smile stretched across your face. You knew it was going to happen before it did.

“You picked me flowers?”

“Yup, it was daddy’s idea, then we had a competition who could pick the most. I won,” CJ happily boasted. The tears welling in your eyes could not be stopped from spilling.

“Thank you, CJ, they are gorgeous. I love them almost as much as I love you.” CJ’s smile was just as wide, and your heart melted.

“If you weren’t as filthy as a lost boy, I would hug you and kiss you, so if you want that hug and kiss, you better get showered.”

“Okay, mommy.” CJ began to run away but stopped and came back to stand before Charlie. “Are you going to leave now?” His tone was low, and he looked like he was about to cry.

“Uh—well, I hadn’t planned on staying this long.”

“No! No, no, stay please, please, please. Mommy said she was going to make lasagna. It’s my favorite,” CJ rattled on.

“Mine too,” Charlie admitted. You knew it.

“Mommy, daddy loves your lasagna too; can he stay for dinner with us? Please, please, pleeeeeeease!”

“CJ, I’m sure that your dad has things he has to do.”

“No, he doesn’t, I asked outside he said he has nothing to do. Please, mommy, for meeeeee.” His whine was becoming incessant, sighing you accepted defeat.

“Okay, only because I’d do anything for you.” CJ smiled widely again then hugged Charlie before he ran off, leaving the two of you standing there.

“Uh—I can take shower duty, or have you transitioned him to alone ones?”

“He’s all yours.” Charlie nodded and walked up the stairs where CJ just disappeared from.

Once alone, you looked at the flowers in your hands and ignored the flutter in your belly and the sight of one of your favorite wildflowers, dab smack in the middle of the bouquet, the one only Charlie knew about —poppies.

Nearly forty minutes later, dinner was underway, and it felt like old times, the times during your marriage before things went to shit. CJ talked about everything under the sun. He told Charlie all about his soccer schedule and who his friends were in school this month, he even told him all the gossip in his class. It was like he was making up for the last three weeks he hadn’t seen him. That made you sad, but you knew it was just how life was. Charlie was now a full-fledged movie star, and though his star rose years ago, it was still rising. Thanks to his insanely successful show, Sons of Anarchy, his name was a household one, and it came with thousands of thirsty groupies.

Charlie laughed loudly as he threw his head back, clearly amused by one of CJ’s stories. He truly looked to be enjoying himself to the fullest. You’d long known that CJ was the best thing that had ever happened to Charlie. You’d spent long nights talking about just how much he loved that little boy and everything in you loved to hear him talk about how enamored he was with him. You knew that would never change, no matter what happened between the two of you.

A little more than halfway through dinner Charlie’s eyes met yours, and it felt like forever ago that you’d looked into them. They looked different, sadder, more detached, and full of something that looked like pain. He looked different to you now than he had months ago. Maybe he was different, you thought.

“Mommy, can I have dessert?”

Snapping out of it, you smiled and nodded to your son. “Absolutely, a slice of pineapple upside-down cake coming right up.” You stood and walked into the kitchen to fix three plates of the dessert. When you came back, the two of them were doing thumb wars. Shaking your head, you put the plates down and tried not to think about how much different things could have been.

The three of you ate your sweet treat and continued to emulate the perfect family. Once dessert was finished, Charlie was the one to initiate doing the dishes something you remembered he promised on your wedding day to do when he loved you the most to show you he cared and appreciated you. There was no way that was the reason now. While he did the dishes with CJ, you busied yourself with finding yet another thing to clean. It was a habit at this point.

After the tidying was completed, you sat in front of the TV to watch an episode of CJ’s favorite cartoon, The Last Airbender. Through the entire episode, he and Charlie whispered and chatted about the episode then pretended to be from warning nations while they did their bending. It was then you faced how much you missed nights like this. It had been close to two years since the three of you spent time together like this. It was done on purpose. You didn’t think you could handle it. You had no idea how you were now.

Before you knew it, the time had run away, and it was now almost ten. After telling CJ to get into bed, hit the bottle of your go-to liquor, hoping to find some form of strength to hold you up. Having Charlie there playing doting dad and husband as if he was no longer a part of your life hurt, it hurt a hell of a lot. You still had some animosity about the way things ended.

When you made it upstairs, Charlie was sitting at the foot of CJ’s bed looking as if he were about to read him his bedtime story. “Oh, it’s cool. You guys go ahead,” you began.

“Mommy, can you both read to me, like how you used to,” CJ pleaded. That was like a knife to the gut. You’d made CJ your top priority your whole like, and when you and Charlie began to have problems, his happiness was the only thing the two of you agreed on. You didn’t want him to feel as if he were missing anything, but right now, you saw he felt the void.

“Of course, baby.” Walking around the bed to CJ’s pillow, you settled in your usual place and lifted your bare legs into the bed to cuddle beside your son. CJ dropped his head on your chest, where he knew he could listen to your heart. It was an action he’d always done ever since he was a little boy.

You kissed the top of his head before you began. “Ready?” CJ nodded. Charlie held out the book to you, but you shook your head. “I’ve got it memorized. You keep it.”

You took another breath, then began. “A mother bird sat on her egg. The egg jumped. Oh, oh! said the mother bird. “My baby will be here! He will want to eat. I must get something for my baby bird to eat! She said. I will be back! So away, she went.” CJ burrowed deeper into your side, making you smile. When you looked up, Charlie’s eyes were glued on the two of you. Nodding, you signaled for him to take over.

Charlie cleared his throat and took a breath. “The egg jumped. It jumped and jumped and jumped! Out came the baby bird. Where is my mother, he said? He looked for her. He looked up; he did not see her. He looked down; he did not see her. I will go and look for her. So away, he went.” He read it without looking at the book. He just stared at CJ.

With your turn, you read the next few pages, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off Charlie. He watched you as you watched him, and it was the most perfect thing. For the next ten or so minutes, you read the book to your son together. When he spoke, he never once looked down at the pages, never once broke the eye contact between you. The only time he glanced from your eyes was to look into his son’s. There were so many instances you had to stifle the flutter of your heart, and countless times, you found yourself looking over his hands and forearms. Even when he caught you, you didn’t seem to care. His voice coupled with how enamored he looked with CJ and vice versa and how rugged he looked, was wreaking havoc on you, especially when you remembered the miscarriage. Once you remembered that, a bitter taste filled your mouth, which brought you back to your reality.

“All right, prince charming, that’s it,” you gently informed. CJ was still wide awake.

“Aww. Does that mean you’re leaving now, daddy?” Charlie sighed, and it brought your attention to him. He looked equally as distraught as CJ did. The pit of your stomach knotted. This was never the fun part.

“I’m afraid so, buddy.”

“No. Stay, please. I don’t want you to go. I won’t see you for weeks. I miss you. Don’t you miss me? It’s like you don’t like being here with me or with us,” CJ rushed out. You could hear the pain in his voice, and it broke you in two. Looking at Charlie, you could see it was the same for him.

“Of course, I miss you, buddy. I miss you more than I have the words to say. I always want to be with you, to be here, but you know that’s not our life anymore,” Charlie carefully explained.

“Baby, it’s all right. Your dad loves you more than anything in this world,” you assured, hoping to smooth things over. It didn’t look like he believed one word you said.

“Bud, I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you!” With that, the silence in the room was heavy. Charlie looked at his wit’s end with how to console him, and you knew what to do, but you didn’t think you had the strength. You could feel CJ’s tears, and that was the last straw.

“Look at me, CJ.” Slowly he rose his head to you. you wiped his cheeks and kissed his forehead. “He’ll be here when you wake up.” It was a whisper because that was all you could muster.

“What?” Charlie’s shock was evident. You looked at him and sighed.

“You should stay. He needs this—he needs you.”

Charlie searched your eyes before he spoke again. “Are you sure?”

No, you weren’t sure. This was probably a bad idea for you, but for CJ, it was the best solution. Nodding your response, you looked back to CJ.

“He can stay, mommy?” His smile was right back where it should be.

“He can stay love, but you have to go to sleep.”

Yayy!” CJ threw his arms around you to show his gratitude and excitement. You kissed him once more then stood.

“Bed.” CJ kissed your jaw, then dropped back onto his bed and snuggled in his covers.

“I’m going to stay; it’s been a while since I’ve watched him sleep,” Charlie whispered. Nodding, you walked out the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

Again, you busied yourself preparing the guestroom, hoping the movement would distract you from not only thinking but worrying about the ramifications of your decision. This would be the first time in almost two years you’d slept under the same roof. Divorced meant over and done with. Of course, divorced with a child didn’t give a shit about over and done. He’d forever be in your life.

The message you’d received from him a few days ago reminded you of just that. It was the most unexpected thing, the most heartbreaking message you’d gotten from him in a long time. It was so heartbreaking you had to lock yourself in the bathroom with the faucet and shower running to hide the sounds of your bawling from CJ. You ended up hiding in there for close to an hour, and even when you reemerged, you were emotionally unstable for the remainder of the evening. You were so emotionally unstable; there was no way you trusted yourself to respond, so you left it on read. What the fuck were you supposed to say to it anyway?

After changing the sheets and straightening up a few things, you retreated to your bedroom for some quiet time, quiet time you desperately needed. You didn’t know how to get through the next twenty-four hours. You were struggling. Staring in the mirror, you objectively looked at yourself. You saw the truth, you always had. You just couldn’t afford to let that truth slip to the surface.

The knock at the door had you leaping to your feet. When you opened it, there was Charlie, and your stomach liked what it saw.

“Fast asleep?” He nodded and looked down at the floor.

“I don’t have to stay in the house. I can sleep in my car,” Charlie suggested.

“I’d do anything for you—for CJ.” The way he said it had your heart racing.

“It’s fine. I have space. Come on.” You walked out of your bedroom and down the hall leading him to the guestroom you’d just prepped. When he walked into the room, you watched as he looked around.

“I just changed the sheets; they’d been on for weeks. It should be all good.”

He turned to you, nodding his head. “Thank you, love dove.”

The name hit you like a mack truck. You audibly “oofed” as you wrapped your arms around your midsection, instantly feeling the effect and the loneliness it brought on. He used to always call you that name, a day would never go by without him whispering it in your ear, against your neck, or your lips. You were brought back to happier times where you’d be locked in your room in bed, just ravaging each other, and he’d whisper it the entire time.

Charlie must have been going through the same thing you were because he looked regretful before he spoke. “Sorry. Old habits.”

Again, your stares lingered, and the air in the room was heavy and hot. It was like the last year or so didn’t happen, like he hadn’t broken your heart. He still had an effect.

“Good night.” It was quickly said, and your exit was just as quick. You spent the next forty or so minutes in the shower. You hoped it would help to calm you down, but it didn't do that, it just gave you more anxiety.

When you got out, you began to wonder if you’d placed towels in the room. When you saw them in your closet, you realized you’d brought them here mistakenly. Once you wrapped in your robe, you made your way to his room to drop them off. You knocked once, then twice, but neither knocks were answered. Deciding you could chance sneaking in to put the towels down, you opened the door. The sound of the shower running gave you your answer as to why he didn’t answer. Quickly you walked to the bed and put the stack of grey towels on the bed. As you neared it, out came Charlie in all his wet glory. In your shock, the towels fell to the floor and had your eyes snapping shut.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I forgot to leave some towels. I knocked; you didn’t answer.”

The room was silent; he didn’t speak. You wondered what he was doing. Was he trying to cover himself? Using your hands as your eyes, you felt for the towels you’d dropped. In seconds frustration filled you when you couldn’t find them. Opening your eyes for a second, you saw the towels, but when you looked only a centimeter up, there was his junk right in front of you. He hadn’t budged from his spot and hadn’t even made an attempt to cover himself.

You meant to look away immediately, but that didn’t happen. He was maybe half a foot from you, close enough to touch. Charlie had always been the most attractive man that you’d seen. He’d always done it for you. With you on your knees before him, you realized that hadn’t changed. A son, a miscarriage, a messy ending to your marriage, and a divorce had done nothing to temper how much you always seemed to want him or be attracted to him.

You were kneeling there in wide-eyed amazement. It had been years since you’d seen him like this. The deterioration of your marriage meant you spent lots of nights lonely and unloved. Before you gave him divorce papers, it had been seven whole months since you’d been intimate. When you added on the four months it took for the divorce to finalize and the year of being a divorcee, you hadn’t gotten laid in over two years. It was shameful because right now you knew why only he had an impact, only he would do.

“It’s okay,” Charlie whispered. His voice was shaking, and he sounded hopelessly breathless. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before in great detail.”

Again, you remembered all the things you’d done to him in great detail over the six years of your marriage. Jumping to your feet, you tried your hardest to look away from his inviting appendage. You held out the stack of towels to him with your head turned to the side and waited for him to take them. When his hands grasped the items, they brushed yours and sent thousands of electric sparks through your hand and directly into your heart.

Your eyes met again, and they lingered on each other. You hoped he couldn’t hear your heart, hoped he couldn’t tell what a fraud you were.

“I should go,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to.” His response awoke a need in you that you thought you’d buried. You knew what he was suggesting. Everything in you wanted to take the gentle suggestion and cross the room to him, but then what.

Groaning, you peeled your eyes from his and turned. “Yes, I have to. Good night Charlie.” Those were the last words before you made your rapid exit.

The following morning you awoke to the scent of food being prepared. When you looked at the clock, it was almost ten. Usually, you’d be up by eight. You’d slept in. Quickly you brushed your teeth and pulled on a pair of leggings then went downstairs. As you neared the kitchen, you could smell the evidence of what promised to be a delicious breakfast. You turned, and there was Charlie standing over the store in his tank cooking away. Good lord help you he’d buffed up even more, you thought. Times like these you wished things had been different. You missed mornings like this. Charlie looked up and smiled when he saw you. As you approached, his eyes roamed your body before his eyebrows knitted together.

“What?”

“Is that my hoodie?” You looked over yourself and realized your error. It was normal for you to sleep in his clothes, but you didn’t realize you still worse it.

“Nope.” It was a lie but one he couldn’t fully prove.

Charlie scoffed but didn’t speak again for a long time. You took the opportunity to bring up his impromptu visit.

“You can’t just show up unannounced Charlie. That is not okay. You can see CJ whenever you want I have never kept the two of you apart but just showing up here—you can’t.”

Charlie nodded and but kept his eyes down. “I know, I’m sorry. I just—I really missed CJ, and I had to see him, so see you. I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to talk.”

What the hell were you supposed to say to that, you thought. Sensing your speechlessness, Charlie spoke. “I’m sorry about last night. I was out of line.”

“Let’s not talk about it, CJ will be down any minute.”

“I have to talk about it. I’m losing my mind. I’ve been losing it for the last near two years, and—I’m struggling,” Charlie admitted. His candor shook you. Half of you wanted to know more, but the other half was too scared.

“Charlie, it’s fine. Let’s move on.”

“I can’t. I can’t be like you. You have everything so put together. You’ve pieced this life together without me, and I can’t seem to piece any life together without you—without CJ.”

It was then CJ came running down. It should have been sooner because you were absolutely ruined now. You and Charlie stared at each other. He was daring you to speak, to acknowledge what he’d just dropped on you.

“Daddy!” CJ jumped onto Charlie bringing his attention to your son. You took the reprieve to dip into the half bath to pull yourself together.

You tried to wrap your head around what he’s said, tried to make sense of it. After five minutes, you still couldn’t come to terms with it, so you did the next best thing, pushed it aside. When you walked back out, CJ was sitting at the dining table, as was Charlie.

“Ready to eat, mommy?”

“Absolutely.” You sat at the table and dove into the food, all the while avoiding Charlie’s eyes. Through breakfast, he and CJ talked and joked with each other. It was a welcomed chatter because it took the attention off you.

Once breakfast was finished, you cleaned the dishes while CJ got himself dressed for a playdate he’d been looking forward to the whole week. Now that Charlie was there, he refused to go. It wasn’t until Charlie promised he’d still be there when he got back did CJ agree. When the two of them came down, CJ was dressed and ready just in time for him to be picked up. You thanked Claudia for setting it up the playdate and waved goodbye to CJ from the front door.

When you turned around, Charlie was leaning on the steps watching. You hesitated closing the door to enclose yourself in a confined space that had plenty of surfaces for him to bend you over. When you did, you quickly walked back to the kitchen.

“We have to talk, Y/N.”

“No, we don’t. There is nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit. After yesterday, last night, even in the kitchen this morning. We have plenty to talk about,” Charlie responded, following you through the house.

“Charlie, don’t.”

“I have to. Are you happy? Like really happy? It’s been a year. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted? Did you want our son feeling like a consolation in our relationship?”

“Are you happy? You’ve gotten what you wanted.”

“Me?! Y/N, you gave me divorce papers. You left our house and never came back,” Charlie shouted through clenched jaws.

“Oh right, I’m the big bad wolf. You know how to fight for a role, but you have no clue how to fight for your marriage, your son. Classic.” You slammed the kitchen fridge unsure why you’d opened it in the first place.

“Don’t pull that. I fought, I came to you over and over, begging you not to do it, pleading with you. You refused to listen.”

“What did you come to me for Charlie? What the hell did you prove to me? What did you show me? What was I going back for? The same bullshit? The same treatment?! In all the times you came begging and pleading, you never once showed me how things would change. You just didn’t want a divorce under your belt. You didn’t want the press to get wind of it.”

“That’s bullshit! I wanted my wife; I wanted my son! You didn’t want me. When did you stop loving me, Y/N?”

You looked at him incredulously. He had to be fucking kidding, you thought. Your anger was rising by leaps and bounds, and you knew the next words out your mouth were going to be venom. “Is the weight of it all too heavy now, Charlie? A year later, a year after you switched up and changed? A year after you showed me time and time and again what was important, who was important. You showed me I didn’t mean shit; CJ didn’t mean shit. I was not going to stay and turn into those Hollywood couples who hated each other and only remained for the spotlight. No!”

“You gave up on me,” Charlie whispered.

“Fuck you! You gave up. You gave up on me and us long before I left you those divorce papers. You did.” You walked away because you could feel your tears spilling over, but you turned around back to him, tired of hiding the fallout of his actions. “You know what makes all of this so much worse? My friends told me this would happen. They told me before we got married, told me to slow down, be careful with you, and I defended you. I defended you till kingdom come. Look where we are, Charlie! Living in a perfect lie!”

“I don’t want to live this lie. I miss you, Y/N. I miss CJ. I miss our life; I miss our family. I’m miserable,” Charlie dropped.

His tears ran down his cheeks, and you flared your nose. This was always your weakness. Charlie had always been in touch with his emotions, but his emotions had to be overwhelming for him to cry.

“Good. You sowed this Charlie. You brought all of this on. My baby--,” you began, but the pain was too much. Charlie sobbed and dropped his head back.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he approached you. You steadily backed away from him, not wanting him to touch you.

“Y/N,” Charlie began as you shook your head.

“No. I’m not doing this with you. I refuse.”

Charlie quickly caught you before you turned and kept you facing him. “You can’t run from this Y/N. Face it with me, please.”

You kept a straight face, refusing to cry any more. You refused to allow him any closer than he already was. You wouldn’t survive it this time. Charlie grunted out in frustration when he realized you were hell-bent on keeping him at bay.

“Y/N!”

“What do you want from me, Charlie?” You shot death rays right at him.

“I want you to say anything! Scream! Yell at me! Just something to show you fucking care.”

“Why should I care? Why the hell should I give one flying fuck?”

“Because I’m still in love with you!”

The words felt like a slap in the face. You’d imagined how they’d sound coming from him during the whole divorce process, during the whole year after the divorce. You were convinced he didn’t love you anymore for him to have treated you the way he did, for him to have done what he did in Cannes. The stress of it brought on your miscarriage.

Though you’d wanted to hear them, you hadn’t prepared to hear them.

“I love you. God, I can't keep pretending like I'm okay with any of this. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t kill me to be away from you, to be away from CJ. I can’t act like I’m thriving or happy. I’m not. I’m miserable. I wish I could press rewind and go back and better, do better. I wish I knew better then, as I know now. I fucked up, and I regret it more than I’ve ever regretted anything in my life. If I had been a better man, none of this would have happened. If I’d only been the man you deserved our baby—our princess would be here right now. I will have to live with that for the rest of my life, the pain that I caused your miscarriage, the pain that I broke our vows, that I broke your heart, I broke us.”

Charlie dropped his forehead to your collar, and his tears dropped across your chest. They felt like acid peeling away every barrier you’d built between him and your heart. He was saying everything you want him to, everything. He wasn’t holding anything back. They were words you’d desperately wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry, love dove. I never wanted to give up on you--on us. I loved you so much. You were my world until CJ. Then you became my universe. I lost myself. I lost sight of you and me. I lost sight of the man I was and wanted to be. For that, I will always be sorry. Losing you and CJ, it broke me. I stand here a broken man. I had to find me again. It’s been hard, but the root of me is you and my son. My family. You have always been what mattered, and I regret I ever lost that, that I ever made you feel like you weren’t my everything.”

One lone tear rolled down your cheek, and that was just the beginning. When Charlie swiped it away with the pad of his thumb, the flood gates opened. You bawled uncontrollably, all your emotions finally catching up to you. Charlie wept with you, and that was how the two of you stayed for countless minutes.

When you opened your eyes and realized how close he was, you sniffled. Slowly the two of you inched to one another. Before your lips touched, both of you hesitated. “Fall back in love with me, love dove.” He whispered.

He really thought you’d ever fallen out of love with him. “You’re an idiot if you think I’ve ever fallen out of love with you.” The hope you saw in Charlie’s eyes set your belly fluttering. It was overwhelming. Charlie claimed your lips in a soft but passionate kiss that took your breath away. It was so intense you felt as if you’d been possessed by sheer desire. The kiss began timid and soft, but in seconds, it had turned into a lustful and sensual soul transference. Charlie’s hands gripped your hips and pulled you flush against him before he lifted you in his arms.

Wrapping your legs around him, you kissed him back with as much heat as you kissed you. Soon the two of you were walking through the house blindly looking for anywhere. Charlie plopped you onto something, and the backs of your knees said it was the kitchen island. Quickly both of you stripped each other. He pulled off his hoodie from your body as you peel his shirt off. Charlie cupped your breasts when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra then dipped his mouth to your mounds. Instantly you moaned and hugged his head to your flesh.

Charlie nipped and hypnotizingly sucked your skin, bringing you more and more ecstasy. It had been so long since you’d felt like this; you didn’t want to think about anything else but the sensations. Charlie pushed you back onto the island and brought his lips down your stomach to your hip. Once there, he pulled off your leggings in one fluid motion. His beard tickled your skin and had you wriggling underneath him. Charlie’s groan was loud when he realized you wore nothing under those leggings.

In seconds he’d draped your legs over his shoulder and reclaimed claimed ownership of the most intimate part of you. He moaned as he lapped at your wetness and teased and pleased your body. You bucked your hips against his lips, feeling your orgasm barrel toward you. Everything in you said it was going to be a catastrophic one. You panted and gasped his name as your body wildly thrashed, unable to control it any longer.

“Aah, yes, right there. Yes, Charlie, yes, yes!”

Your scream was loud, and the tightness of your legs around his head was enough to suffocate. Charlie didn’t panic. Instead, he lifted your lower half into the air and continued his feast, not caring if you were overstimulated or not. Your screech echoed off the walls of the kitchen, and you tried to pry him away from your sex. He refused to budge even when you’d unwrapped your legs the best you could. Yet another orgasm ripped through you, sending a gush of moisture all over his mouth and beard. Charlie groaned, gripped your breasts, and squeezed hard enough for you to know just how tightly wound he was.

When he pried your legs from around him, you felt the renewed fire and quickly slid off the island to drop before him. You hurriedly stripped him eager to have him. Once he was free, his heavy cock bobbed in front of you. Wasting no more time, you slid him into your mouth, ignoring your gag and took every inch he was blessed with. Charlie shouted and hugged your head to his cock, keeping him lodged tightly in your throat. Sensing the low levels of your air supply, he pulled back enough to give you a brief reprieve. It was all you needed and more than you wanted.

Slamming him back into your mouth, you lodged him in your throat again, all the while moaning enthusiastically. Charlie’s hands never left your head just as his mouth never closed. Moan after moan fell from him as you sucked and slurped his length. In no time at all, Charlie was thrusting into your mouth hell-bent on finding his long-overdue release. Just as you were finding a groove, Charlie pulled from your mouth with a loud “pop” before he pulled you up and pushed you onto the island.

With you bent over the island and your ass poked out for him, Charlie rubbed his cock across your soaking folds sending shivers through you. He bent to your ear and kissed you.

“I love you, only you. Endlessly for eternity.” It was the same thing he’d said the night of your wedding before he joined you for the first time as husband and wife. When you peeped behind you and locked eyes with him, you knew the two of you had an understanding. Charlie kissed your back then snapped his hips forward, harshly, and completely filling you to the hilt. You shouted and gripped the island. Your knees bucked from the sheer pleasure of just this. When you clenched around him, Charlie, have you just what you wanted—a rough tryst.

Every slam into your core had you clenching around him. Each thrust was more bruising than the last, and each one brought tears to your eyes. They weren’t hurt tears; they were a mixture of relief and complete joy. You shouted his name over and over, not caring how needy or desperate you sounded. You could feel how on edge he was; his body shook every time he filled you, and every time you said his name, he shouted yours.

When Charlie began jackhammering into you clearly lost in his pleasure, you left planet Earth. Only he could have you like this. Only he could fuck you into outer space. You knew he was close, and the second he whimpered behind you, you pressed back into him, throwing your ass back onto him. Charlie sucked in a breath, and his whimpers intensified. The slap to your ass was the last thing you needed to be pushed over the edge, an edge you dragged him over. Charlie grunted and groaned as he filled you with every ounce of his love.

It took several long moments for the two of you to come down from your sultry sex bubble. After having you across the island, you rode him until his toes curled, and he saw stars on the kitchen floor leaned against the same island. By the time you’d both stopped, hours had passed. Neither of you were fully satiated. As Charlie hugged you to him still buried deep within you, he tipped your chin so you were looming at him.

“Marry me again.” Shocked, you searched his face for his meaning.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am. Will you be my wife again?” the gleam of silver caught your eye, and you looked down to see him wearing your engagement and wedding ring on a chain around his neck. Your world shattered. He’d worn them this entire time. Locking eyes with him again, you knew he could tell you realized what he was wearing.

“All this time?” Charlie held up his hand to show you the silver wedding band he still wore.

“I promised forever; I wasn’t done with it.” Your tears fell, and so many emotions filled you; you had no idea which one to go with.

“I have to do whatever it takes to stop my heart from being broken, Charlie,” you whispered.

“I’ll never break your heart again. I know how it ends. I know what it means. I can’t risk my life without you or CJ anymore. I can’t.” His tears welled, and you believed him.

“Surrender to me, love dove. Surrender to me as I can only surrender to you.” His voice was pleading with you. Closing your eyes, you listened to your soul, the place where no fear lived. When you looked at him, you trailed your thumb across his bottom lip.

“Give them back.” Charlie looked confused for a few seconds before he got it. Quickly he yanked the chain from around his neck and slid the rings off to hover them over your finger before he locked eyes with you.

“Never again will we be here. Never again will I lose us,” Charlie forcefully vowed.

“Never again will I walk away,” you responded. He looked overwhelmingly emotional then, but you could see him holding as much of it back as possible. When he slid the rings onto your finger, both of you sighed as if you both felt instant relief.

You knew this was a new beginning for the two of you but also for CJ. You knew that neither of you would ever again make the same mistakes.

“I surrender,” you both whispered together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#that old thing back one shot #Charlie Hunnam #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam x reader #Charlie Hunnam x you #Charlie hunnan x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #charlie hunnam smut

550 notes · View notes

moccahobi · 4 years ago

Text

A Spark in the Commons [Yugyeom x Reader]

Pairing: Got7 Yugyeom x GN Reader

Genre: Fluff, Hybrid au, College au, 13+

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack

A/N: This was done for @got7writerscollective‘s flightlog project! It’s my first official got7 fic! So please enjoy!

Summery: You help an anxious deer shifter in the shifter union commons and a friendship buds.

The Shifter Union commons of Seoul University was empty aside from you and the occasional guard who would sweep through to make sure that nothing amiss was happening. Of course nothing ever was on evenings like these where the only person in the commons was an employee getting paid to make sure any shifter in need had someone. Some nights were more wild and full of shifters who were in various states of shifting, but you didn’t like to work those nights. You prefered staffing the less crowded times when there were next to no one in the commons and you could work on homework while getting paid. Even with the occasional person who would come in, the quieter nights were best in your personal opinion.

This evening was one of those quiet nights. You’d been alone in the common space for almost an hour, the last shifter having left after the two of you had a conversation about a class they were taking. It was just as you finished writing your tenth page of your peace studies essay that you felt the strung and pungent smell of burnt toast and something more bitter made you look up to see an anxious deer shifter, his antlers parting his hair as he approached the open common’s room.

“Hello! Welcome to the Seoul University’s shifter union!” You said cautiously, your eyes meeting his large, blown out ones with worry as he finally entered the commons.

The man stopped stiffly, tightly gripping his bag and not breaking eye contact with you, his nose flaring as he sniffed the room. Breaking eye contact first, you gave him a once over, struck by how still he was. You were glad that you took blockers this morning, your predatory raccoon pheromones not filling the room this moment and making the poor shifter feel more anxious and he didn’t need that. Poor man was working himself up enough already.

“How can I help you?”

He didn’t move, a small squeak leaving him.

“Would you like a private room to shift in?” You pointed to a door to the right of you that led to some small rooms sterile for shifters who needed to engage with their animal form privately for a little, “The union has some rooms for people right over there.”

He lowered his eyes which were looking more and more deer-like by the second and quickly walked over to the door that led to the private rooms, closing loudly behind him. A sigh left you as you tried to return to your paper. Many times shifters needed space when their stress and anxiety forced them to shift, but you knew that before the man left you’d need to talk to him.

Part of your job at the shifter union required you to record his use of the room, check in to make sure that he was ok, and that the emergency need of the space wasn’t due to any issues on campus. You worried about him trying to run off the second he calmed down enough to return to his human form, having dealt with many shifters who feared using the union for its help or felt like they had to return to class immediately after a forced shift. They never had to. The union worked out a deal with the school to make sure forced shifts were seen as excused absences if filed through the union. You loved this job and how it allowed you to help your fellow shifters. You’d be damned if you didn’t take your work seriously.

In fact, part of the reason you got on pheromone blockers was to make prey shifters more comfortable around you (the other part simply due to you not enjoying the feeling of heat and regular blockers kept your heat at bay). At the thought of pheromones, you got up, opened one of the windows and lit a candle in an attempt to start breaking up the stress pheromones that hung in the air.

What sounded like a constant clatter of hooves made it hard to focus on your paper. It wasn’t like you could look at what was happening, the rooms had windows high up to allow light in but not let people see what those who were decompressing were doing. Somehow, the noise of the anxious shifter became background clatter and you managed to carve out a good chunk of your essay before you started to hear more… human-like movements in the back space.

Your mind drifted to how you could get his attention without scaring him when he finally exited. There was a chance that he was informed about the processes the commons tries to have when the rooms are used but there is also a chance that he is completely unaware of them. There were many shifters who didn’t know the protocol. Plus, if you did need to get his attention, you didn’t want to startle him or make it look like he was in trouble for using the space for three hours. The decompression rooms were here for moments like this after all. You heard the telltale click of the door opening but before you had time to try to get his attention, he spoke.

“I… thank you for letting me use the room for so long.” His voice was soft and smooth and, unlike last time, you were the one whose eyes widened and felt frozen in place.

He was good looking and smelling when he wasn’t sending off stress pheramones every which way, and his voice… it was so soft.

You floundered for a second before coughing, “N-No problem. They’re here for all shifters. Which room did you end up using? I will want to tell the next person working the union commons to make sure it gets cleaned.”

“I used the room number… 3,” He said while leaning back to verify.

A silence hung in the air after he spoke, he was clearly waiting for you to speak but you were still frozen. He hesitated before slowly walking past you, his eyes trained on you as if waiting to see if you kept talking or if he was free to go.

“Before you go… may I ask…”

You froze… you knew how you were supposed to go about getting the information. You needed to ask for his student ID, name, and why they needed the room… but something about this man was making words hard for you. Your mind was blanking and stuttering as it tried to function.

“Yes?”

“I-If you have time, we like to keep a record of who uses the rooms and why. Mostly just to keep track… but also if you were using it because of…”

Come on, Y/n! You knew this stuff! Why were you struggling so much now?

You sighed, “If it was caused by a staff member or a fellow student, the union can take action to protect your rights as a shifter. There are also options to message professors or coaches to excuse possible absences if the room was used for a stress shift. Also… I, as a worker, um… I work here and part of my job is to be an ear for venting and… all that… I am not a mandatory reporter too so if that is a worry… uhh… don’t.”

He nodded slowly, “Uhh… I have a class… now,” He mumbled and pointed back to the entrance of the commons, “was on my way to it when I got a little… overwhelmed…”

Did he not check his phone yet? Any evening class was going to be done at this time you thought, checking the clock on your computer just to verify.

“Sir, you were in the room for three hours.”

“What?!” His eyes widened and you noticed his pupils grow once again.

Quickly, you jumped up and walked over to where he was standing, “Don’t worry about it! If you give me a list of your professors, I can email them! This can count as an excused absence! There’s no need to worry.”

His eyes seemed to gloss over as he stumbled back slightly, his breaths coming out shift and fast. Quickly, you moved to guide him back to one of the nearest chairs that was only a few steps away and plush, gently rubbing his arm as he took a sharp intake of air and collapsed onto the chair, his horns slowly growing again and pushing some hair back.You got up and locked the door to the union entrance before returning to help. While it was normally policy to keep the door open and unlocked all times a staff member was in, you could risk making sure no one interrupted this moment to make sure this student felt safe (especially since you were a fairly small school and there were only 1000 shifters… out of 5000 students in the school and it was dinner rush).

By the time you did make it back to him, he was starting to hyperventilate, his eyes distant and his antlers growing by the second. At this point, his distress pheromones were making the air heavy and hard to breath in and you were thankful that the window was open. You simply sat next to him and waited. At this point, if you tried to touch him, he would likely feel even more panicked and you didn’t want to do anything that could possibly harm him. Panic attacks were hard enough without any extra stressors.

The panic attack came in waves and you sat with him through it until he was able to speak some, but instead of letting him even think about apologizing, you simply started to ask him about the room. How many grey items were there? Purple? Green? And so forth until his breathing was calmer and you stopped being showered in his stress pheromones.

“My name’s Yugyeom, by the way.” He said after a minute of silence when he finally calmed down more.

“Nice to meet you Yugyeom, I’m Y/n.”

As it turned out, Yugyeom was a transfer just a year below you and had just declared his major the day he came in. You could easily see how the stress of being a transfer, with a human roommate (who didn’t want him to shift), delaring, and the start of a seven week night course could compound. That night, the two of you talked until Yejin, one of your coworkers came for her shift and forced you out so that you could get some sleep. The two of you left in a fit of laughs and then walked around campus and talked even more until you barely had enough money to drive back to your apartment. Despite how the night started, it was probably the best night of your whole week and you were hoping to talk to Yugyeom whenever you saw him next to get his number and hopefully hang out… Although you were tempted to try to pursue a romantic relationship as well.

The thing was, that after that night you didn’t see him for a whole week! You’d see his name on the record of people who used the shifting rooms, would sometimes have to clean up after him, and even saw him around campus some. Sadly, it seemed as if your schedules never matched up to see eachother again and despite all the near meet-ups, you didn’t have a chance to talk to him again. You wanted to as well… you were worried about the anxious transfer student and wanted to make sure that he was doing ok.

Part of you wanted to seek him out. The campus was small and you were fairly positive that the two of you saw glimpses of each other (and just didn’t realize) so seeking him out wouldn’t be too hard to do. That part of you was overshadowed by a worry that he didn’t want to try to have a friendship with you or the little flirting you did near the end of the night was too much and now he never wanted to talk to you again. Of course it was a mostly irrational fear (hopefully), but it kept you from trying to find Yugyeom.

. Just as you were starting to give up hope of seeing him again, you were proven wrong. It was another late shift at the shifter union and since you didn’t have any dier work that needed to be done, you simply sat one one of the couches and read.You were still present in case anyone wanted to be in the space, but you were trying to relax. It was somewhat hard though as you were also very aware of the security guard who was slowly meandering around the unions commons and making sure that everything was ok. As the guard spent more and more time slowly walking around the commons, you started paying less and less attention to your book, instead your senses honing in on the guard. It was likely due to your raccoon part that you felt so cautious around the guard but the longer he stuck in the union commons, the worse you felt about him.

He was taking glances at you. Maybe he was just double checking to make sure all was alright but your mind started to wander. You hadn’t had issues with this guard but you knew that some of the security guards were iffy around the shifters they thought they could dominere. Part of you wished that you weren’t on pheromone blockers so you could show him that you were not a shifter to be messed with. That you could be intimidating and a force to be reckoned with. Technically raccoons were apex predators.

Before your mind started to wander further about how you could intimidate or protect yourself against the guard, the union door opened and the smell of Yugyeom filled your senses. Almost as soon as it hit your nostrils, you felt yourself relax. Part of you told yourself that it was simply due to having another person in the room and a male shifter at that (another part of you swooned when you caught a glimpse of Yugyeom in all his glory).

The guard huffed and, as Yugyeom started to settle into a seat somewhat near you, the guard left the room. As he left, you wondered what he was thinking and if he actually wanted to try something or if your anxiety was all in your head. You really hoped it was all in your head.

Slowly, you relaxed in your seat, part of your brain still focusing on Yugyeom while you tried to continue reading. His smell comforted you. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t feel the need to question it. Instead, you simply settled further into your chair and focused on your book again, taking deep breaths all the while.

As the night dragged on, you occasionally checked on Yugyeom to make sure that he was ok (and maybe see if he was looking at you. During all your “sneaky” glances, you were once again struck by how handsome he was. Even as his brows furrowed in confusion and got ink on his nose, he was so good looking. No one should look as good as he looked while doing school work.

At one point, you had to stifle a small laugh when you saw him reach for some drink he brought with him only to realize that it was empty. The shocked face he made when he realized made you want to swoon and get him another drink as well, but you didn’t want to speak and further break the delicate silence. Apparently Yugyeom must have heard your laugh because he looked up and met your eyes. Both of you simply stared at each other in awkward silence.

Fuck.

“Uh… what were you drinking?” You asked, cringing as each word was spoken.

A sinkhole would be wonderful at this point. You really didn’t want to answer and yet he was simply looking even more confused as the silence festered, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of what to say in response.

Fuck.

Without even giving him time to answer, you excused yourself hastily, embarrassment filling you to the brim as you practically ran out of the commons. Now you had another issue to worry about as well… what would be your excuse for leaving?

You were such a dumbass for leaving.

Fuck.

Yugyeom was surely going to answer if you hadn’t left, and now that you suddenly left he probably thought you were rude and most definitely wouldn’t want to be your friend. All your stuff was still in the commons as well and you still had another two hours that you were supposed to be working the commons before your shift was done. It wasn’t like you could just leave and not return for the night.

The only plus you could see was that you had your lanyard with you. At least you could get something at a vending machine or something. It wasn’t the most acceptable reason to walk out of the commons before he could answer but at least it was something.

At that thought, you briskly walked to the closest vending machine, hoping no one who was still working late in the building wouldn’t look at you or try to talk to you. It was just down the hall so it wouldn’t take you too long to get something and return as long as no one talked to you.

Before you punched in a number for one of the foods in the machine though, you found yourself realizing that you had no idea what he liked to eat. As if tonight couldn’t get any more embarrassing. It was like part of you was dying as you stared angrily at the vending machine for help (not like it was sentient and could suddenly shout “This is the food Yugyeom gets every time!”).

In the end, you settled for getting him one of your favorite snacks from the vending machine and praying that Yugyeom had some sense in food. As you slowly walked back to the commons, different scenarios played through your mind depending on how he reacted. It wasn’t until you almost entered that you wondered if he was even still in the commons.

He was, thankfully.

When you entered, you stopped at the door though, suddenly worried about going up to Yugyeom and giving him the snack… It wasn’t a big deal… but what if he was allergic to what you got? Or what if he…

“Are you just going to stand by the door?” His voice cut through your thoughts.

You coughed awkwardly, “No… Sorry for leaving so suddenly earlier… I… uh… I had to pee. Badly. To make it up though…” You shuffled to him and quickly set the snack in front of him, “Here’s a snack. I didn’t know what to get you so I got my favorite.”

He looked shocked, “Thank you! I love this snack! I was drinking a matcha latte by the way. The cafe downstairs makes a really good latte. I’m addicted.”

“They are so amazing.” You laughed and nodded, quickly sitting in your seat again as relief filled you, “I remember having like five a day until I ran out of swipes for it on my card and had to struggle without them for the rest of the semester… which had like two months left.”

Yugyeom snorted and you felt a jolt of excitement at hearing it, “Yeah. One of my friends is that way with their coldbrews. Loves their honey and vanilla one.” He scrunched up his nose cutely, “It doesn’t taste good to me though.”

“You know… if you want really good matcha stuff. There’s a cafe off campus near the town’s library that is all matcha themed. They have some other stuff but almost everything uses matcha in it and it’s amazing.”

“That sounds amazing… I’d love to go sometime… maybe…” Yugyeom stopped and you noticed a deep blush grow on his face, “Maybe we could go together sometime.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

You felt positively giddy as you waited for Yugyeom outside of the union commons the following day, your mind racing as you tried to look calm and collected. Of course, almost every shifter in the room could smell the anxiety wafting off of you as you waited but all of them had the decency to act like you weren’t anxious… well except for Yejin who was another shifter who worked at the union and was probably your closest friend that you also worked with.

As soon as she saw you show up with nothing but a small backpack that only held a few things and smelled your anxiety, she knew right away that you weren’t in the commons to relax. When you told her that you were meeting with a… a friend, she got all excited (even more excited when you confessed that you were here earlier than needed). You weren’t normally someone who was overly worried about time, especially when it came to hanging out, but Yugyeom made you nervous and you wanted to impress.

While Yejin started to complain about you not telling her sooner, you felt thankful that you hadn’t. She was amazing and you loved her, but you knew that if you told her that you were hanging with a guy you had a crush on, she would try to style you up. You didn’t think that this was the type of occasion for that. Besides, Yugyeom probably meant it as a friendship hang out and not a date hangout. Your gay ass never knew how to handle good looking people who wanted to be friends… especially when they were as sweet and good looking as Yugyeom.

You so had a crush on the guy.

Fuck.

“Haha. Looks like we both had the idea of arriving early.” Yugyeom’s laugh broke you from your train of thoughts.

You looked up to see him enter the commons and make a b-line to you, and you were struck with how handsome he was. Not that he wasn’t normally. He always looked good, but he looked amazing in the large blue sweater and skinny jeans. What topped it off was that his hair was swept back in a graceful windblown manner, unlike the past few times where it rested in a simple bowl cut that still managed to make him look amazing.

Like you, there was also a smell of nervousness that radiated off of him, but neither of you mentioned the nervous smells. If anything, his anxiousness made you feel more excited and comforted. Maybe Yugyeom thought of this as something more than two potential friends hanging out… just like you did.

You tried to smile as naturally as possible (although, it probably looked slightly pained), “Yeah! I mean… I had a shift here just before this.”

“Oh.” Yugyeom’s smile faltered slightly and you immediately knew you messed up.

“Not like I wouldn’t have arrived early if I didn’t have a shift,” You laughed awkwardly, the two of you now walking to your car to go to the matcha shop, “Honestly, I am so bad with time, if it wasn’t’ for my shift, I would have probably been here two hours early instead of just thirty minutes early.”

“I thought you just got off of a shift?” Yugyeom smirked and you blushed.

“I… Yeah. I mean… I got off two hours ago, went to get ready, and then I returned… not…”

Yugyeom laughed loudly and shook his head, effectively cutting you off. Before either of you had time to respond, you made it to your car and in a somewhat awkward silence, the two of you got in and drove to the matcha place. The actual time in the cafe was… amazing.

Laughter and amicable conversation filled the whole evening as the two of you tried multiple foods and drinks together. Before you knew it, the sun set and you had to drop Yugyeom off at campus before returning to your apartment for the night, a pile of reading waiting for you to work on the next day. All throughout the next day, you felt as if you were floating on cloud nine, a dazed smile stuck on your face when you thought back on the time at the cafe.

It was only after not seeing Yugyeom around for a few days that you started to feel anxiety pool and bubble in you once again.

Did you do something wrong?

You’d given him your number… he knew where he could find you… why hadn’t you two talked since?

Suddenly, you started to feel jumpy and worried, reliving the moments at the cafe over and over again so see if there was something you possibly did wrong to make Yugyeom not want to associate with you again. Maybe it was because the two if you barely talked about shifters… You weren’t a common shifter and people often had trouble guessing normally but you are now on pheromone blockers as well and that adds a whole extra layer of befuddlement, but what type of shifter you were shouldn’t matter… unless was Yugyeom one of those shifters that didn’t like associating with predators?

No. Surely he couldn’t be that way.

Prey shifters didn’t often use pheromone blockers in the first place… he had to have known that you were some sort of predator… so that couldn’t be it… right?

Surly…

You sighed and shook your head to try to release some of the anxiety you were holding. It wasn’t good for you to hold it all in like this. There was barely any time for you to shift and relax lately and at this point. It would probably give you less stress to just find Yugyeom yourself and ask instead of dwelling on why the man hasn’t messaged you yet. You didn’t need people stress along with the regular school and shifter stress. But damn, you couldn’t stop dwelling on how stupid you were for not asking for his number in return.

Tiredly, you picked at the dinner in front of you, your body feeling the stress building. This wasn’t how you wanted to spend your Friday. You planned to go out later in your racoon form and run around for hours on end, but now that you were thinking more about it, maybe it would be good for you to spend more time in your shifter form this weekend. You didn’t want to return home yet. The apartment was empty and while normally you enjoyed the alone time, you felt the need to be around people today.

Maybe you could put your stuff in the shifter commons and wander around campus… although many humans didn’t enjoy seeing raccoons around so maybe it would be better if you stayed in the shifter commons so that no one got too startled by you. Most people wouldn’t bat an eye at an animal in the commons.

After picking at some more of your food, you put your dishes in a bin for the cafeteria staff and walked off, each step making you more excited for spending some time in your animal form. Inside the shifter commons there were probably a handful of people, some half-shifted and some chilling around in their animal forms.

“Hey Yejin!” You said with a smile as you made your way to Yejin (who was staffing the common today).

“Omg! Y/n! It’s so good to see you here today! I was meaning to ask, do you think you could take my shift Monday? Jisoo asked me out and Monday works best for them.” Yejin was smiling broadly as she spoke.

“Sure. Can you watch over my stuff? I want to shift and while I can still watch over it myself, with you here, I can wander more.”

“It’s a deal!” You responded eagerly, already putting your bag under her desk, your ears excitedly popping out.

Fairly painlessly, you shifted, your clothes falling around you as you grew smaller and smaller. As soon as you fully shifted, you felt relief flood you. In the back of your mind, there was still stress to worry about, but right now, you felt relaxed and relieved. You weazled out of your heap of clothes excitedly and watched as Yejin nudged them under the table with the rest of your stuff before running off to explore the commons. In your human form, the commons were a usual gathering place but as a raccoon, it was a jungle of excitement. Soon enough, you found yourself following your nose which had locked onto some tasty smelling food somewhere in the room. You weren’t likely going to get to eat the food but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to try. The smell led to someone you didn’t expect to see in the commons.

Yugyeom.

He hadn’t noticed you yet though and you had half the mind to turn around and explore elsewhere when someone he was next to pointed at you and started excitedly shouting.

“A trash panda! Omg! I’ve never seen a raccoon shifter before! Omg! This is so cool!” The man kept gushing as he stood up and looked at you closely, his eyes wide.

You got a strong dog wiff coming off of him and his intensity made you freeze. The man must have gotten the hint because the next second he was whimpering and closing his eyes slowly. Part of you wanted to laugh because most shifters still understood what people were saying but another part of you was comforted at how he tried to communicate with you. Slowly you closed your eyes as well before making grabby motions with your hands. You wanted to sniff him more.

He extended one of his hands, clearly understanding what you were saying, and you sniffed him slowly.

“Yugyeom! Come introduce yourself! It’s rude to just stare!” The man said, ushering Yugyeom to join the both of you in the ground.

Yugyeom slowly blinked at you and extended his hand which you happily sniffed, enjoying the comfort that washed over you with his smell. At this point, you were fairly positive that he knew who you were but he didn’t say anything.

“Oh! Would you be willing to at some point tonight, we will be here all night,” The man shot Yugyeom a look at that addition, “Come talk to us in your human form? I’d love to be friends with you!”

“Their name is Y/n, Jackson. We’re… we’re friends.” You relished as blush spread across his face as he spoke and nodded.

“Omg! This is the person that you were telling me--”

“Nope! Don’t continue!”

“That you want to ask on a date?”

Your world stopped and you felt your eyes widen in shock and excitement.

He wanted to ask you out.

You started to jump around and made excited squeaking noises, before you could stop yourself you jumped onto Yugyeom, excitedly scenting his arm.

Jackson started laughing happily, “I guess that means they want to go on a date with you too dude!

#got7writerscollective #wkcnet #got7 #got7 yugyeom #got7 x reader #got7 hybrid au #got7 fluff #got7 college au #yugyeom fluff #yugyeom x reader #yugyeom hybrid au #yugyeom college au #got7 angst #yugyeom angst #w: panic attack #flightlogproject

47 notes · View notes

jediknightmcardle · 4 years ago

Text

Suns of Tattooine

My first fic. I am marking this Explicit NSFW 18+ because of the smut in later chapters and the cussing. I want to Thank @nightsisterct7567 for her help and encouragement, with out you this wouldn’t of happened.

I would like to hear everyone’s thoughts on this. I hope you enjoy!

Suns of Tattooine, Chapter 1

Just like before, this time will be no different. When the drop ship comes in for a landing, you know that no one will be waiting for you. Your fellow soldiers and brothers all have wives, kids, parent’s, hell one even has his Aunt and Uncle coming to see him. For you though, nothing. Not that it upsets you, you are used to it. It’s been this way since you first left your home planet, when the call came out to help the Republic. You heard that call and was part of a non-clone unit assigned to fight the CIS.

On this return back, this was for a block leave for your unit. After spending months on the front backing up clone units on Christophsis. We didn’t have a luxury of special training or fancy armor that the clones had. Hell, we didn’t even have a Jedi to lead us. Our Commander was one of us, except he bought his commission and had little to no combat experience.

After all that hard fighting, we finally get a few weeks off to blow off steam. First place you go is your tiny apartment in town. Dump your bag and hit the shower.

“Kriff... how long has it been since you have felt warm water on your body”.

After taking a shower long enough to use up the hot water in the place, it was time to get out to your favorite drinking hole. Not a flashy place by any means, actually more like a dump but the drinks are cheap and everyone leaves you alone.

Last time you were home, no one bothered you about the war, last thing you want is to talk about it. They wouldn’t understand even if you told them. Most people only want to hear about the Jedi and Clones anyway, they have their own following too.

You arrive at Screed’s; still looks like the dump you remember from the last time you were home. You enter the bar and try and find a place to sit, preferably alone. Motion to the bartender for a drink, Nik knows you from over the years and knows that you order the same thing every time. Just as you like it, no extra talking.

Nik hands your drink off to the waitress, who proceeds to bring it over and place it in front of you. “Thanks”, as she puts it down. “Don’t mention it handsome, it’s not every day we have a war hero in here”. You sigh, “yeah big hero alright”. You think to yourself, “can’t she just not do this right now”.

A couple hours and a few drinks later, you start to feel a little more “human”. Even have had a couple quick conversations with people in the bar, mostly about what is going on here. Moisture farming mostly. Ugh moisture farming, before the war that is what you did. Helped out on a couple farms just outside of town. You joined up to fight to get out of this place. Yet here you are, back home again.

As you sit and dwell on your thoughts, the door opens and figure stands in the door. You look over to catch a glimpse, the person appears to be female but you can’t really tell because of the sun glare coming in the door.

“In or out, but you need to get out of the door” yells over the bartender. Just then the figure makes its way into the establishment. As the door closes you get a better look, you almost drop your drink. It was indeed a woman, but not just any woman. Possibly one of the most beautiful women you have laid eyes on. Flowing red hair with the most striking eyes.

“Have I been in combat too long?” you think to yourself as you continue to stare at her as she walks down to the bar. She glances over and notices you staring at her, but doesn’t pay it no mind. It’s not like you are the only one looking, at once everyone in the establishment stopped and collectively stared at her.

As she approached the bartender, she reached into pouch on her belt and pulled out a holo disk.

“Barkeep, have you seen this man” she asks as she lights up the holo disk. “No, no I haven’t. He hasn’t come in here. It’s all regulars in here.” She turns from the bar, with the holo disk still going. Looking around the bar, “1000 credits for anyone who can tell me where I can find him” she says out loud. The response is mostly grumbling and they go back to their drinks. She notices you looking over and checking her out. “Hey you, have you seen this guy?” she asks as she heads towards you. Quickly you focus back on your drink.

“Kriff, why me? Why does she need to bother me.” You think to yourself.

“No, I haven’t seen that guy, I just want to be left alone.” you say out loud to her. She stops right at the edge of your table, and looks right at you. “Are you sure friend? You didn’t take much of a look.” she says to you. You continue staring at your drink, not daring to look up at her knowing full well that she is by far one of the most beautiful women you have seen and don’t want to embarrass yourself.

“No, no, no, she can’t be that beautiful, it’s your mind playing tricks on you. Has to be. Maybe the sun has bleached your brain” Has to be that you think to yourself.

SMACK, you get jolted out of your thoughts as she slams her hand down on the table. “Look buddy, I’m talking to you. There are a lot of credits if you could help me out.”.

You sigh deeply, and start to look up at her, you notice she is wearing armor with some sort of jump suit under it. Almost Mandalorian ish but not really, and missing the helmet for sure. As your eyes keep moving up, you notice the curves in her hips first, then her chest. You don’t know how she keeps those breasts in that top but my gods. You finally look at her face and the first thing you notice is her eyes, her pale skin and flowing red hair.

SMACK, again she smacks the table and you come back to reality. “Look buddy you’re not the first guy to check me out like that, but I’m not here to get laid. I want to get paid, so how about you help a girl out and tell me where he is?”

You take a swig from your drink, wipe your mouth then motion to the bartender to send over another drink. “Look doll, I can give you some advice. I would keep yourself covered up here.” She looks back stunned, “Why? Do you think someone might try and man handle me?” she laughs out loud. “I have dealt with my share of men, meaner than anyone in this dust bowl.” she snorts back. “No doll, I mean because with the twin suns here, your pale skin will burn in about a minute out there. But if you want to walk around with your skin out, by all means go ahead.” you chuckle back at her.

She steps back, with a bit of a shocked look on her face. Like she isn’t use to guys talking to her as a human being. “Well, um. Thanks. BTW where did you serve?” she says as she nods to the tattoo on your left arm. “Christophsis, we were brought in to support the 501st and the 212th clone battalions. I am just on leave and scheduled to go back to the front in a couple weeks.” you explain.

The bartender interrupts the tention by bringing over a couple drinks and puts them down on the table. “Well looks like the man has brought you a drink, I guess you should pull up a seat and join me. You can tell me about where you are from and how you became a bounty hunter.” as you motion to the chair beside her.

For the next couple hours, you both ended up chatting it up, trading war stories. Lots of laughing and comparing visible scars. You both lose track of the outside world while you drink and talk.

“My gods she’s beautiful, why would she be still here talking to me, you think to yourself. I must be hallucinating” you think.

“What makes you think your bounty is here?” you ask.

She looks surprised as if she almost forgot she was on the job and not out for a good time. “We first my tracking fob brought me here, but he booked passage thru this system and I think he stayed. Trying to throw me off his trail.” She speaks. “Why did you come back here instead of going to another system like Scarif or Naboo?”

“Well, those are the systems the clones go to, I don’t want to be around them. I have to fight with them but I want my time for me. Plus, have you seen how women go gaga over them? Makes me sick.” you reply with a disgusted look on your face.

As you look at her, she giggles. “Yeah, I know all about it. They are kind of cute though.....” as she laughs. You look back down at your drink and say “This is why I came here, I figured if I want to be lonely, I should just go home instead of somewhere else in a crowd of people. At least here people will leave me alone because that’s what we do here, not drooling over some guys made in a test tube.”

“Kriff stop feeling sorry for yourself” you think. “This is not what she would want to hear.”

“What were you planning to do after you were done here at the bar?” she asks.

“I don’t know, haven’t really thought that far yet. Maybe go to the edge of town, slaughter some Jawa’s?” you say with a chuckle.

She looks a little concerned at first, but then realizes the joke in your tone.

“To be honest, I planned to come here, drink then go home and crash. Rinse and repeat daily” with a bit more of a serious tone this time. “My plans though are out the window as I never planned to meet a beautiful woman today”.

You both stop and look at each other, “Kriff what did I just say, dumbass, why would you say that? Now she is going to think you are a weirdo.” you think to yourself.

As you look up at her, you notice she starts to crack a bit of a smile. “Well show me this woman, I would love to meet her.” she says while smiling. You crack a bit of a smile after that comment. “Look let’s get out of here, I hear the setting of the twin suns is something to behold and I have never seen it before” she comments.

You think to yourself,” ugh I have seen these hundreds of times, but I guess we should.”

#star wars #star wars nerd #fan fic writing #star wars fanfiction #fan fic #first fic #tattooine #clone wars #bounty hunter #the clone wars #clones #warrior #loner

13 notes · View notes

httpsfelicity · 4 years ago

Text

“In a black dress, she's such an actress” - Harry Styles × Model Reader AU

Summary - Harry meets a model downtown and falls for her quickly, leading the public to think that it’s a pr stunt. Unsure of what to think, the reader plays along, not knowing that Harry is unaware of the rumours.

For @cruizmanadu! Xx

A/N - Okay, this is my first official request type thing so please tell me if it’s good or not! Ignore any mistakes, thought I think I looked over it pretty well. Also, if you’d like a part 2 / have suggestions / ect, just send a DM or ask! Here you go babes, hope you like it x

“If I don’t get coffee right now, I’m going to pass out on this sidewalk, I swear,” moaned Ella.

“We’re almost there, calm down,” you responded as you adjusted the shopping bags in your hands quickly. You and your best friend Ella had decided to go out in NYC for the day, which of course meant loads of shopping. Hell, half of the bags you were carrying weren’t even yours - Ella had a shoot the next day, and insisted that she couldn’t carry her bags out of fear that she’d mark up her hands. So you were carrying enough bags to “Mark up your hands”, according to Ella. Which, to be fair, was quite unfair, because that girl shops a lot.

“Hey, can you take some of these, just until we get there? I’m getting kinda-”

“Oh. My. Gosh.” She lowered her voice and leaned in towards you. “Don’t look yet, keep walking, but some guy is totally checking you out.”

You sighed. “How could the paps have found us? I thought we covered our tracks nicel-”

She cut you off once again. “No, no, not a pap. This guy, he’s, well - okay, look to your left riiiight... now.”

You quickly glanced over to see a guy in his 20′s wearing a multicoloured knit sweater with messy brown hair, looking in your general direction. He quickly looked away when he saw you. You looked away, which was unfortunate, because you would’ve seen him gathering up the courage to walk over to you two.

"He's pretty fit," you whispered back quickly. "Do you think he recognizes me?" It sounds very stuck up, but often times people tried to hit on you solely because you model for the big brands, so you had to be careful. Being in the industry had a lot of pros, but a lot of cons as well. Not knowing who your real friends are were one of the cons.

"I'm not sure," Ella replied.

Just then, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and saw that you were face to face with the boy.

"Hello," he started nervously. He had a charming British accent, you noticed right away.

"Hi!" You replied, waiting for him to say something totally obnoxious or fan-like.

"This probably sounds weird, but I couldn't help but notice you."

"Oh, why thank you!" You laughed. "He doesn't seem too creepy or weird or stalker-ish," you thought to yourself.

"Yeah, so, um... This is weird as well, I'm sorry, but could I get your number?" He smiled weakly.

"No, absolutely not," said Ella, grabbing you by the arm and starting to drag you away. "C'mon."

She only walked a few feet until you broke away and went back over to him. "I'm sorry about that - of course you can."

His nervous expression eased away the tiniest bit. "Oh, that's great."

He handed you his phone, and you typed in you number."

***-****-****

"I'm Harry, by the way. Harry Styles."

"Oh! I'm y/n."

"Why does that sound familiar?"

"I work in the modeling industry. You might have heard of me from that?"

"I should've known you were a model - you've definitely got the looks. And I'm sure the personality as well."

You grinned.

"I'm a singer," he continued. "I used to be in a band - now I'm solo. So that's one thing we have in common, I guess. Well, not really. You know what I mean."

"You're right!" You laughed. "He's pretty easy to talk to," you thought. Even though you didn't want to, you could feel Ella staring at the back of your neck impatiently, so you decided to wrap up the conversation. "Well, I've got to go, but you'll message me later, yeah?"

"Of course," he nodded. "Well, goodbye for now, y/n."

"Goodbye, Harry Styles."

"What was that?!" Ella asked once he was out of earshot.

"What? He's polite and cute. Of course I have him my number!"

"He could be a creepy obsessive fan! Or a perv! Or a crackhead! He's just some random guy on the streets, for all we know!"

"Would you calm down? He's so nice - I just know he wouldn't do that. Plus, that sweater is awfully expensive. Almost 2k."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Okay, sure."

"Oh, and he's a singer."

Ella snapped her head to look at you, clearly very shocked by this statement. "He's what?"

"A singer, apparently."

"What's his name?"

"Harry Styles."

"Oh. My. God. My friend had a shoot with him once! He's popular, y/n. Really popular."

"God, you sound like a middle-schooler."

"I'm just sayin'! But now that I know this information, I've changed my opinion on him. GO FOR IT."

"I was already planning on it," you laugh, walking past a group of starstruck thirteen year olds quickly. "Although I'm not so sure. I didn't get his number - it's up to him to message me."

"He'd better," Ella replied as the two of you walked into a local café. You nodded in agreement, and you both walked up the the register to order.

The rest of the day was a blur - you went to a few more stores, and then eventually hailed a cab and went back to your apartment. You were so exhausted that you kicked off your shoes and flopped into your couch, too tired to even eat. As you lie there, you felt your phone vibrate in you pocket. Reluctantly, you pulled it out slowly, and clicked it on.

***-****-**** - Hello.

Your first though was, "It's Harry!" Your second thought was, "That's a very ominous introduction." Nonetheless, you typed up a response.

Y/n <3 - Who's this?

***-****-**** - Harry, from earlier hahah x

You let out a sigh of relief - he had messaged you back, and it hadn't been some rando. Things were working out nicely.

Y/n <3 - Well, hello!

While you were waiting for a response, you set his contact name up. You hadn't gotten a photo of him yet, so you decided one from Google would do. You typed up "Harry Styles", and the search results shocked you. Ella was right - he was popular. And cute (But you already knew that.) You got a notification from him, so you screenshotted the first photo to come up (Him in a very nice pink top), set it as his photo, and then went back onto messages.

Harry Styles - Hi! I'm sorry if the whole encounter earlier was creepy. Your friend seemed quite worked up over it.

Y/n <3 - She's had bad experiences like this in the past.

Harry Styles - I've had quite a few myself, honestly. Don't blame her. Anyways, how are you?

Y/n <3 - Exhausted. All that walking must've worn me out, hahaha

Harry Styles - Hahah, that's New York for ya.

Harry Styles - Would you happen to be free tomorrow?

Harry Styles - I'd love to get to know you.

You grinned at your phone screen. This could not be happening.

Y/n <3 - Nope! Free all day. I'd love to get to know you too!

Harry Styles - Does 1pm at the Beachwood Café work? :)

He sent a location along with it. It was the same café you and Ella had gone to earlier.

Y/n <3 - Sure!

Harry Styles - Alright, talk then?

Y/n <3 - Yes!

Harry Styles - Goodnight.

Y/n <3 - Goodnight!

Seen - 11:34pm.

The next day you woke up at 10 so you would have time to get ready. You got a quick shower, did you hair, makeup... By 12:30 you were dressed and ready to go. Casual, but not too casual was what you were going for. You were pretty sure you had the look down pat. You grabbed your stuff and made your way downtown, sunglasses on.

You arrived early, 12:48pm, but luckily Harry was already there, waiting at a table near the back with two menus. He waved once he saw you, and jumped up to pull out your chair.

"Hello," you smiled.

"Hi!"

"I adore your outfit," you said as you sat down. He was now wearing a white and blue striped shirt and tan jeans. Somehow he made it work.

"I love yours as well! The skirt brings out your eyes."

You tried hard not to blush. "Thank you!"

"So, I guess we should start getting to know eachother, then?" He grinned.

You nodded. "20 questions?"

"Sure. Full name?"

"Y/n."

"Harry Edward Styles."

"I like that middle name. Very sophisticated." He laughed at this. "Age?"

"26."

"23."

"Favourite movie?"

"Clueless."

"Back To The Future."

You continued asking questions until the waiter came over to your table.

"I'll have the chicken sub," he said politely.

"I'll have a medium lemonade."

"Is that it?" Harry asked.

You sighed. "And a blueberry muffin, I guess."

The waiter wrote it down and walked off.

"I'm on a diet," you explained.

"Still," Harry shrugged. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Well, I started modeling at about age 8, for this clothing bran-"

"No no no, I meant about you."

You gave him a confused look.

"Not about your job, you!"

"Okay, well, let's see... Uh..."

"I'm 26, but you already knew that. I live in New York, obviously. I used to work in a bakery, even though I just told you not to talk about your job. I like playing football, I write, and I enjoy baking bread. See? Easy."

You laughed. Why did he have to be so... Charming?

"I'm 23, but you already knew that. I've lived in New York my whole life. I read a lot, and I mean a lot. I have a ton of plants in my apartment, since I can't really have a garden here. I like Taylor Swift's music."

Harry nodded. "See? That wasn't so bad."

You laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Just then the waiter placed the food on the table, and you took a sip of your lemonade while Harry dug into his sub.

"I dated Taylor for a pr stunt once."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She got a few songs, I got a new story to tell during interviews."

"Oh. Did you like her?"

"Nah."

You laughed again. "Oh, my."

"Yeah. I haven't had many actual relationships. 3."

"I haven't had any."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Not many guys are interested. Or, well, interested in me, you know?"

"I find that hard to believe."

You tried not to blush once again as you took a sip of your lemonade.

"Well, it's true."

"Personally, I think you're great."

"You are too!"

The two of you continue eating. After two minutes, Harry speaks up.

"Want to go back to my apartment and watch a movie? In a non weird way, of course."

"Okay, that sounds good. Which movie?"

"Clueless?" He winked.

You grinned. "Of course."

You get up and walk out into the streets of New York, leaving your blueberry muffin on the table.

The walk to Harry's is very short. You two talk the whole way there, mainly small talk, but it isn’t awkward at all. You feel like you can be yourself around him - whatever that means. To put it into words, you feel comfortable around him. Which is weird, because you just met him a day ago, but it feels right for some reason.

Eventually you arrived at the door to his apartment. While he was busy digging his key out of his pocket, you took a glance up and down the hallway. This place was much fancier than you had expected. It made your apartment complex look cheap. Everything seemed so... posh. Harry pushed open the door, and you stepped inside. His apartment was decorated with art; albums of artists you’ve never even heard of were hung on the walls, and potted plants were everywhere. It was messy, but in an organized way.

“I just need to run to the washroom, make yourself at home,” he said as he kicked off his shoes.

“Alright,” you replied. You put your coat on a coat rack (Obviously) and walked over to the couch. Unsure of what to do, you decided to check twitter. After a few seconds of contemplating if checking your phone right now was rude or not, you decided to turn on your data and do it, since he was in the bathroom and you were bored. You looked over you shoulder, then hit the trending page. Politics, Ariana Grande - she must be releasing a new album - #TGIF, and... Harry Styles? Without thinking twice, you click on it. Immediately, photos of you and him pop up from when you were walking back to his place. That was only a few minutes ago... how did these photos get out so soon?

“You ready?” Harry asked as he entered the room, holding up a DVD case with an excited look on his face.

“Yep,” you said, putting down your phone. A second later, you picked it back up. “Did you see twitter?”

“No, I don’t go on social media much,” he replied as he popped the disc into his bluray player.

“You’re trending.”

“Cool.”

“No, I mean... we got papped on the way back here. Look.” You turned the phone so he could see it.

He took a glance at the screen, then grabbed a remote and flopped onto the couch next to you. “It doesn’t really bother me. Happens far too often. I mean, unless you have a problem with it. I can get them taken down, if you’d like.” Suddenly, his usual relaxed self has replaced with a worried one.

You shook your head. “No, no, I... just letting you know. I don’t care. Besides, I didn’t see many people talking about it, just sharing the photos.”

“Oh, well, if you change your mind, just let me know,” he concluded as he turned on the TV.

You nodded, and then focused on Cher Horowitz on the screen. You didn’t watch much of the movie, because you and Harry kept on cracking jokes and telling stories, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Eventually, it was time for you to leave, since it was nearly 5pm.

“Do you want me to walk you back? Or, I could call you a cab,” Harry asked as you slipped on your shoes.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“No, no, I’ll walk you back,” he insisted as he grabbed his coat.

You weren’t about to argue with him, because, let’s face it, you secretly wanted him to walk you home. So you followed him out the door and to the elevator.

You talked the whole way there, but you were distracted just a tiny bit - you wanted to keep an eye out for paps. Eventually you decided that it was difficult and pointless, so you fully engaged yourself in Harry’s conversation on how to make a mean loaf of bread.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your place.

“Well, this is it,” you grinned sadly.

Harry nodded. “I’ll message you later?”

“Of course. We have to do this again, you know.”

Harry smiled wide. “Sure. I’d love that.”

“Well... goodbye, Harry.”

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Goodbye, y/n.”

You stared back at him, starstruck, but he turned and started walking down the hall before you could say anything. “Love ya!” You called out quickly before you shut the door behind you, unsure if he even heard you. Oh, well. He’d message you later, anyways.

You were quite hungry by this point, so you decided to order Chinese food off of Postmates. Once that call was made, you sat down and opened Twitter again. You noticed that you had way more notifications than usual, but you decided that could wait until after you checked the trending topics once more. “Harry Styles” was still trending, but even more surprisingly, “Y/n” was right underneath it. You decided to hit Harry’s topic first - MORE pap photos came up, this time from when you were walking home. Wow.

“We do look like a proper couple.” You thought, though you quickly shook it. You’d just met - although you know what they say, “Love at first sight” and all that crap.But no.

You decided to scroll down even further, past all of the photos and to the actual tweets.

@Harryscherry77: Is @ yn Harry’s new girlfriend? If so, she’s soooooo lucky.

@Y/nsclouds: Why is y/n being papped with Harry Styles? She can do much better. His music isn’t even that good.

@Lightsuplouisx: I ship it, tbh {Insert photo here}

@TaylorxxxTea: Oh cute, another pr stunt :/ #HarryStyles IsOverParty

@GalacticY/N26: Ugh, Harry? Really? I’m seriously gonna unstan Y/n, I’ve been considering it but this is just the last straw for me.

@HarryIsUpAllNight: Did you guys know the girl Harry was papped with is a model? She’s absolutely gorgeous, I wouldn’t doubt it.

@Stylesfangirl49: Y/n is honestly so ugly. #RunHarryRun

@SummertimeNewsOfficial: Has Harry Styles been spotted with yet another woman, months after his breakup with Camille? {Insert Link Here}

@Larry2020xxx: Another beard LMAOOO c’mon. PR STUNTTTT.

@Lola33smith: They haven’t even been confirmed dating yet, calm downnnnn.

“Wow,” you thought as you continued scrolling. “This is not what I was expecting.”

It seemed like the whole internet had something to say about a few lousy pictures of you and H. There was good and bad, though it felt like the bad outweighed the good. An alarming amount of people seemed to think it was a pr stunt. Wow. Your notifications weren’t much better - loads of people had followed you, dm’ed you, called you worthless, called you amazing. It was a lot to handle. Just then the doorbell rang - your Postmates. How long had you been looking through all of that? It didn’t matter now. You went to get your food, then sat back down and began to text Harry. Suddenly, you stopped. If he got so worried about the first set of photos, not to mention you walking home by yourself, how would he react to this? He had said he doesn’t go on social media much, so you figured that as long as you didn’t tell him, it would all blow over quick enough and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. You didn’t want to stress him out. Instead, to take your mind off of this chaotic day you turned on The Office and tried to regain a sense of normalcy.

Although the more you thought about it, the less and less you wanted Harry to message you.

“PR stunt.”

EDIT: CHAPTER TWO IS NOW OUT! CLICK HERE

146 notes · View notes

kumiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Beneath the Christmas Tree

Bakugou Katsuki’s lived with Kirishima since they graduated high school. Their life together has always been peaceful, and Bakugou’s never imagined living without that damn redhead. So when Kirishima has to move for work, and you end up moving in, Bakugou doesn’t know how to feel.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Reader Prompt: Naughty or Nice Genre: Fluff, some angst, roommates-to-lovers (and they were roommates) Warnings: None Word Count: 3182 A/N: This is my fic for the BNHA Hangout Server’s Christmas collab! Check out the other fics here! I chose to do a nice Bakugou, I love this stupid angry boy and his character development just makes my heart go brrrrt. My brain’s been a bit scattered as of late but I hope I get to write more this year and post the Todoroki fic I’ve been working on for the last year.

Bakugou Katsuki is not normally a sentimental guy.

Even with Kirishima moving out, he feels fine. He knows it’s for work, and he doesn’t mind shouldering the cost of the apartment for a month or two while he looks for a new place for when their lease is up at the end of the year.

Katsuki’s known, for a while now, that he wouldn’t be able to keep living with Kirishima their whole adult lives, but it’s still bittersweet saying goodbye to his best friend.

One morning, a week before Kirishima’s scheduled move-out date, the redhead sits Katsuki down at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee and a fully cooked breakfast. There’s clearly something that Kirishima wants to talk about, and Katsuki has no idea what’s coming.

“So, Bakugou,” he begins, sipping slowly at his coffee. “I have a good friend, [Name]-chan.”

“Yeah, we’ve met at your birthday once,” Katsuki says warily, taking a bite of egg from the plate as he watches Kirishima. “Why?”

Kirishima grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We caught up the other day, and they’re kind of in a pinch. Their roommate kicked them out so his girlfriend could move in, and they need to find a place before they have to get out.”

Katsuki almost immediately groans, already seeing where Kirishima’s going with his train of thought. Even the inviting aroma of his mug of coffee isn’t enough to put Katsuki into a better mood for a conversation like this. He debates whether or not he wants to shut the idea down immediately or entertain Kirishima’s suggestion; Katsuki decides on the latter because mornings where he wakes up to a fully cooked breakfast are few and far between. “And you want me to let her move into your room.”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be permanent! But [Name]-chan is desperate, and I think they’d be a good friend for you, otherwise I wouldn’t ask,” he explains, hiding behind his mug.

“They’d be a good friend for me?” Katsuki asks, an eyebrow shooting up.

Kirishima laughs, nodding. “[Name]-chan really laid back, but they also like to keep things neat, so I think you’d get along well. They wouldn’t get in your way much, and they’d keep to themself! Plus, you’ve already met and you guys got along pretty well, no?”

Katsuki lets out a loud sigh, his fork clattering on the table as he rubs his temples. Kirishima’s always been one to dream big without thinking through the fine details, but this time, it feels like he’s taken the time to really talk this out with you before bringing it to Katsuki. The pitch is too well-thought out for it to have been a spur of the moment thing. “And they’re desperate to find a place to stay?”

Kirishima nods enthusiastically, taking a seat next to him. “They can come over later to hang out and plead their case, but I wanted to ask you first in case you’re really against it,” he explains, grinning. Sometimes, Katsuki wants to smother Kirishima alive. “And since I’m on my way out, I figured they could take over my half of the lease and when it’s time to renew at the end of the year, you could part ways!”

“And they’re desperate?” Katsuki asks again with a loud sigh.

“Absolutely desperate. Do you know how hard it is to find a trustworthy roommate these days?” Kirishima exclaims, arms thrown in the air. “As someone who’s had to search far and wide for a new one, let me tell you, it’s difficult!”

For some reason, Katsuki finds himself seriously considering the offer. It would be nice to not have to pay the full rent on his own for the next few months while he looks for a new place, and quite honestly, Katsuki got along with you quite well the one time he had met you.

“Will you at least let them come and talk to you themselves?” Kirishima asks, seeing the doubt flash through his friend’s eyes. When Katsuki nods, Kirishima practically howls, pumping his fists in the air before flipping through his contacts and dialing your number. “We’re good to go! Come over this afternoon for lunch!”

Katsuki knows he’ll regret saying yes.

“I swear, I’ll be out of your hair at the end of the year if you absolutely hate me, Bakugou-kun,” you reassure, hands clasped tightly as you sit on their sofa next to Kirishima. “I really wasn’t expecting to be kicked out so suddenly, but I was never really on the lease and was subletting one of the rooms…”

Katsuki grumbles, scratching the back of his head. You really do seem desperate, and at the very least, the two of you got along for now; there were worse roommates that Katsuki could’ve been stuck with. “We’ll need some ground rules.”

You nearly shoot out of your seat. “Absolutely. Anything.”

“The most important one: don’t make a fucking mess.”

Kirishima grins, slinging an arm around you and nudging his roommate with a foot. “See? Everything’s going to go great!”

Hopefully, Kirishima didn’t just jinx everything.

“I’ll put up my schedule on the fridge every week so we can rotate chores,” Bakugou explains, pointing to the magnetic whiteboard divided by days. “We usually take turns grocery shopping for common stuff, but if there’s anything specific we need we can write it down.” He motions to the notepad on the kitchen counter, and you nod. He’s come to realize, over the last week of bustle as he helped Kirishima move into his new place across town and moved you into the empty room, that you don’t like asking for help unless absolutely necessary. And, that you enjoyed order. From the way your boxes were meticulously labelled to how you were able to unpack and organize everything into your room within that day, Katsuki knew that at the very least, your organization skills would go well with how tidy he likes to keep the apartment.

“And cooking?” you ask, peering at the sleek, stainless steel stove and marble countertops. One of the first things you openly admired after Katsuki had agreed to letting you move in was the stove; it had something to do with being tired of shitty broken-down stoves that only had two working burners.

“You’re on your own there. If I’m feeling nice, I might make some for you,” he says gruffly, running a hand through his hair.

You laugh, nodding. “Sounds reasonable. Same goes for you, then.”

He glances at you, before looking towards your room, eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t be a slob,” he says finally—he’d probably been unsure of how to put it in nicer terms, but he knew that he didn’t have to say much on this front.

“I won’t,” you reassure, waving a hand at him as you return to your new room.

Katsuki begins warming up to you around the third week of living together.

He’s always been slow to start when it comes to things like coexisting with others, but mornings with you have grown to become one of the parts of the living arrangement that he enjoys most. He’s come to appreciate the sounds of you brewing coffee while he showers and your soft humming while you tidy up around the apartment before getting ready for the day.

It’s a peaceful coexistence.

There are some mornings where Katsuki is just getting home from the night shift, worn out and barely functioning, that he’ll pass by a bakery or a coffee shop just as it’s opening and will pick something up for you for breakfast. It only happens when he’s in the mood to play nice, and when he’s sure he’ll be back before you begin going about your morning. The few times that it has happened, you were surprised, but appreciative of the gesture.

Katsuki’s learned a lot about you in the past few weeks—how you take your coffees, which pastries are your favourites, the way you play music and sing along while you shower, how you curl up on the sofa watching shows at night before bed and always fall asleep—and he finds that he’s grown quite fond of your routines. It’s a steady, predictable rhythm that runs in the background while his unpredictable, hectic schedule throws him in and out of sync with you.

The first time he remembers ever thinking that he was glad you moved in was when he had been so overwhelmed at work on Halloween weekend, he had forgotten about groceries entirely. Without ever saying anything, you made him meals for that entire weekend until he was able to find the time to get everything back on track; waking up to breakfast on the counter with a small note letting him know that lunch was in the fridge, coming home to dinner being cooked for him, with all the chores done and apartment spotless—Katsuki’s never really been cared for like this since high school, and it makes something inside his chest rumble.

He could get used to this.

You get sick mid-November, almost two months after moving in, and Katsuki coincidentally also takes a few days off of work. The dates coincide by chance, of course.

Chance or not, though, he cooks every meal for you, making sure it’s light enough that it doesn’t upset your stomach, and keeps everything tidy while you wither away in bed or wrap yourself in your comforter and walk around like the dead. Every now and then, you’ll sit on the balcony for a bit, tucked into your comforter with your legs curled against your chest, and somehow Katsuki always ends up within earshot, as if watching to make sure all was well.

“Do you want to sit with me?” you ask him through the glass one day, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. How had you known he was standing by the door?

With a huff, he slides open the glass door, closing it gently behind him and leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. “You’re gonna get sicker if you stay out here any longer.”

“S’okay,” you reply softly, burying your face into the blanket. “I like the fresh air.”

“Whatever you say,” Katsuki replies gruffly. He’s realized over the years that he has to put a lot of effort into sounding neutral. His natural disposition has always been—and continues to be—an explosive one, even when he’s not angry, and it takes a lot of conscious effort on his part to tone that down and come off as anything other than a Pro Hero with Anger Issues™. His previous manager suggested getting a girlfriend or finding a therapist (or both), and that led to a vulgar fight, ending with the position of Ground Zero’s manager opening up again, along with a sweeping declaration that he’d never let someone tame him like that.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help around the apartment,” you say suddenly between sneezes.

“Don’t apologize for getting sick,” he scolded, knocking you gently in the head with the back of his hand.

You let out a soft laugh. “Can we make some tea?”

Katsuki nods without hesitation, already running through the medley of choices in his head as he opens the door for you.

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a Christmas tree in here?” you gaped, pointing at the perfect empty space in the living room, next to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. It’s three weeks before Christmas, and you’ve been thinking of whether or not to decorate the place like you usually would. “You literally have the ideal space to set one up!”

Katsuki groans, setting his chopsticks down as he takes a sip of water. He had gotten home early and decided to cook dinner for the both of you while you were on your way back from work. If he had known he’d be harangued for his lack of holiday cheer, he wouldn’t have bothered. “Kiri and I’ve never had the freaking time, between holiday shifts and nearly passing out when we get back,” he bites back.

Pouting, you look around the apartment, taking in just how spacious everything is and how lovely it’d look once fully decorated for the holidays. “That’s a shame,” you murmur, cheek pressed into your palm as you rest your arm on the table. “Did you celebrate when you were growing up?”

A small hum of agreement left Katsuki’s throat as he swallowed his last bite of food. “Stupid old hag loves the holidays. Made my dad and I fetch a huge ass tree each year and set it up, and then we’d have to haul that damn thing to the dump afterwards. Being able to just relax during the holidays was a good change.”

You nod in understanding. “Yeah, I like the holidays, but I don’t like being stressed out about it. My favourite part was always this spicy hot chocolate my mom would take me to buy, with little marshmallows roasted on top.”

“Spicy hot chocolate? Sounds fucked.”

Laughing, you dip your finger into your water and flick it towards him. He yells, wiping the water off and throwing the tissue box at you, which you smack out of the way, a big grin plastered on your face. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, you asshole.”

Katsuki finds himself waiting up, in spite of all his senses telling him to sleep. Lounging on the couch, he drapes an arm over his forehead and scrolls through his phone absentmindedly, skimming through the news articles that litter his feed. He has an early-morning shift, but the knowledge that you’re out on a date with a shitty guy keeps him wide awake.

He’d never admit that to anyone, though.

When he hears the familiar jingle of keys outside the front door and your hushed swearing as you fumble through them to find the right one, he debates whether he should just make a break for his room. Would you think it’s weird that he’s still awake, clearly waiting for you?

“You’re not going to let me in?” a deep voice whispers, and Katsuki’s shoulders tense. “I won’t get to see you during the holidays, so shouldn’t we… spend more time together?”

“I—thanks for walking me to my door,” Katsuki hears you say. “I’ll text you.”

“Babe, c’mon—”

“I have work in the morning,” you say more firmly, and your date clicks his tongue. “I’ll text you.”

The door opens, and Katsuki stills as he waits for you to notice him. He sees you in the reflection of the balcony window, and watches as you press your back against the locked door and sink to your knees, clearly exhausted.

“You’re still awake,” you mumble, face buried into your forearms as you let out a deep breath. “What’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

You hum in acknowledgement.

“Shitty date?”

“Some people are just overly eager about skipping to the sex,” you grumble, shaking your head. “Shindou’s nice and all, but I can’t stand the way he looks at me.”

Katsuki’s eyebrows shoot up. “Shindou Yo?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, cheek squished against your forearm as you watch your roommate cross the room and hold out a hand to you. “You know him, I guess?”

He waits patiently for you to take his hand as he nods. “We faced off during a licensing exam. Wasn’t the best experience.” When you clasp your hand in his, he tugs gently and grabs onto your shoulders when you stand, steadying you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, sighing softly as you pat down your clothes. “Do you want a drink or something?” you ask hopefully, glancing up at Katsuki. You don’t want to go to bed in such a sour mood.

Katsuki lets out a laugh, his hand patting the top of your head as he makes his way to the kitchen with you in tow.

Katsuki is not normally a sentimental person.

But, coming home from one of the worst Christmas Eve shifts he’s ever had and seeing the glimmering lights on the Christmas tree, with a gift perched perfectly centered beneath it, has Bakugou speechless for the first time in his life. He turns, and in hand you have a cup of the spicy hot chocolate held out for him.

“You did all of this for me?” he asks incredulously.

You give him a sheepish smile and nod. “You said you’ve never had a Christmas tree in the apartment, so I wanted to make this year a bit more special.”

Katsuki plucks the mug from you and places it on the coffee table before taking your hands in his, pulling you to him. An arm wraps around your waist, the other pressing against the back of your head as he buries his face into your neck. He’s never been good with words, and gestures like this rendered him speechless more often than not. And not many people ever really go to lengths like this for him.

It takes you a moment to return his hug, but only because you really weren’t expecting such an affectionate reaction from him. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “I’m glad you like it, Bakugou.”

He hums, and it reverberates through his chest and through your whole body. “You’re an absolute idiot, you know. You didn’t have to do all this.”

You laugh wholeheartedly, burying your face into his neck. “C’mon, try the hot chocolate.”

Katsuki makes a face when he pulls away, almost scowling as he reaches for the mug and gives it a long sniff. “It actually smells pretty good.”

“I’m telling you, it’s delicious.”

He watches as you take a long sip, and a devilish look flashes across his face as he sets his mug back down. Katsuki plucks your mug from you, setting it down next to his as he ignores your complaints while he tucks his fingers below your chin. He tilts your head back, eyes searching yours before he kisses you.

You’re a little shocked, but his lips are so soft against yours and his hands are so warm that you melt into him, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue finds yours.

He pulls away slowly, that mischievous glint in his eye making you laugh as you press your hands flat across his chest. “That was unexpected,” you say breathlessly, shaking your head.

Katsuki’s tongue darts across his lips before he smirks at you. “You’re right, it does taste good.”

It takes you a moment, but when your brain catches up to what he’s saying, you laugh so loudly that Katsuki starts laughing along with you. He presses his forehead to yours, his vermillion eyes glinting in the Christmas lights.

“Bakugou, kiss me again.”

“That’s Katsuki to you,” he murmurs, voice sultry as his nose brushes yours.

You lace your fingers through his, squeezing as he inches closer. “Kiss me again, Katsuki.”

The laugh rumbles in his chest as he kisses you again under the glimmer of the Christmas tree.

#bnha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #gender neutral reader #mha #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #bnha hangout collab #kumi writes

14 notes · View notes

connorandersons-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Kinktober Day 10: Masturbation, RK1K

So this is for Zoe! They are the one that got me writing Connor with a vagina, lol

@liketolaugh-writes

--------------------------------------------

It had started out small. He had decided to try out new parts, just to experiment. He hadn't come with anything down there, the company not seeing a reason. He wasn't meant for undercover and it wasn't like Cyberlife expected him to fuck the evidence out of anyone.

He had only ever thought about when Markus had brought it up. Not personally, of course, no he had made quite a few deals and demands with Cyberlife and androids given the right to change their sex was one of them. Of course, it costs money, but Connor got to keep the parts he liked and had to only pay a fixed amount. He could go in and get them changed out as many times as he wanted.

The other good thing was that he didn't really need any healing or resting time. He could get the 'surgery' done and show up to work not an hour later.

Of course, he preferred to give himself a day to get used to it so it wouldn't become a distraction. He was really glad for that foresight now.

Every little movement and stimulation had him gasping. His sensitivity levels were through the roof.

He wanted to take all his clothes off so nothing could touch him there and turn him into more of a mess. But he couldn't because Markus had decided to keep him company.

Markus was still fairly distracted because he continued to lead the androids after the revolution, so he never really took time to relax.

He hadn't even noticed Connor's… problem. That was good for him, but knowing Markus was right there wasn't helping. How could he even look that hot when not trying?!

Connor was sitting on the end of the couch (he had decided since Markus was kind enough to spend his time at least near Connor the least he could do was spend the day at Jericho) while Markus sat in the middle, head bent over papers.

Connor could reach out, maybe offer to help, yet he didn't want to move. Not to mention the slight wetness that he was sure to somehow be noticeable. Fuck what if it showed through his pants?

Markus glanced up at him then, and his face softened into a smile. "You ok, Con? You uh, look a little blue."

Connor pressed a hand to his cheek, noting the warmth that radiated from him. "Oh, yeah I'm ok. I'm just," he trailed off and glanced down at his lap.

Markus hadn't known what operation Connor was getting. He didn't want to just blurt it out and risk making either one of them uncomfortable.

"It's taking a bit more to adjust this time." That was a good and honest reason. Plus it was ambiguous enough not to raise any eyebrows.

Markus gave a sympathetic hum and reached out to pat his knee. "It can. This is going to sound weird but if you can, try touching it. It's a good way to sync it up and you know how much pressure you're putting on it. It could help calibration if that seems to be an issue."

He shifted slightly and had to bite his lip to keep the whine in. He was just so sensitive. Maybe touching would help, but he couldn't do that now. Not with Markus on the same couch as him.

"Touching would be a bit hard for me. It's, not something I could do?"

"Do you want me to? I can probably reach whatever was implanted?" The question was so innocent yet it set Connor's body on fire. The idea of Markus suggesting that he'd be the one touching Connor there.

He flushed a deeper blue and shook his head. "Thank you, though. I think it may work itself out given time."

"Well, that's what today is for." Markus gave his thigh a soft squeeze before going back to the papers. Connor watched as he slowly tensed up, his brows furrowed and he let out a long sigh.

Markus really had no idea what he was doing to Connor. His thigh still tingled from Markus's warm hand on him. God, those fingers could probably do wonderful things to him.

They could softly play with him, seeing how he'd react to soft touches first. He'd be so wet too, his body seeming to think he'd need all the lube he could get.

Then he'd speed up, rubbing him in quick circles and Connor would beg for more. Then Markus would push just one finger in. He'd be so careful with him, not wanting to push too far.

But even with that warmth, it wouldn't be enough.

He snapped out of his thoughts when a rush of pleasure washed over him. Oh god, he had been softly rocking his hips down into the couch.

Markus still hadn't broken his focus on whatever the hell was so important on those papers. Yet he was tapping out something on his knee and it only took Connor a second to recognize he was playing silent piano music.

God Connor couldn't stop focusing on those hands. What it would feel like to interlace their fingers, or for Markus to run his hands down his sides and back. He always hugged or touched him like Connor was a fragile, priceless artifact and he wanted that and more.

He squeezed at his own thighs, not even trying to pretend to watch the tv that was on some random cooking show. Normally it would be right up his alley but he just couldn't keep track of it.

Maybe he could say he needed a shower and borrow Markus's, then he could touch and test without him knowing. Maybe he could even use the showerhead!

He jumped almost a mile high when Markus's head popped up. If he still had his LED it would definitely be spinning a solid yellow. "Markus?"

"Shit, I'm sorry Connor, but I have to go take care of something really quick. North is apparently on a warpath and you know how she gets." He stood up and then did the unexpected. He pressed a kiss to Connor's hair before moving to the door, probably not even realizing what he'd done. "I'll be back in hopefully an hour."

Connor opened his mouth but only the softest 'ok' came out. Markus gave him another small smile before leaving out the door.

He sat there completely shocked for two whole minutes, just staring at the door.

Markus had kissed him. Not on the lips, or even on the cheek, but still. He had actually kissed him. Was it purely platonic? Would Markus realize what he'd done and regret it? Oh fuck, what if he tried to apologize. That would definitely be a very Markus thing to do.

He knew the man was affectionate and didn't hesitate to dish it out to anyone willing. Connor didn't mind all too much but had tried to pull back some once he had discovered his feelings for the certain android leader.

They mostly hugged and fleeting touches. A pat on his shoulder, a hand on his back, small things. Yet this was small but also really fucking huge.

He yanked at his tie, now far too restrictive. He moved to unbutton his shirt, got frustrated, and pulled it over his head instead. At least this couldn't be considered too odd, after all, human males tended to go shirtless.

Markus said it would take about an hour. He'd have time all alone, and Makes had been the one to suggest touching.

He glanced around before sliding his hand down his chest and over his clothed crotch. His hips twitched with interest and he pressed down just slightly.

Yet that wasn't right. That wasn't what he wanted. He took a slow breath in and out, guilt washing over him as he pulled his pants down.

He had worn the normal boxers Cyberlife distributed, and they were damp. He let out a soft whine, looking around again nervously.

If Markus came in he'd see him like this, almost completely naked and wanting. Would he take control? Tell Connor to touch himself again, watch as he begged for Markus's lips and cock.

Or maybe he'd blush and get flustered at the sight of Connor. He could tease Markus, never fully showing his full upgrade. How long would it take Markus to break then?

He gently rubbed over himself, trying different ways. Yet it still didn't feel right. He looked around desperately, needing to find something that felt right.

He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under him, only pausing for a second to scold himself. This was Markus's pillow that he was humping on like a dog in heat.

It felt so good too, but not enough.

He stood quickly and looked around the room. He shivered and looked back to his shirt. Yet he didn't want to put that back on.

Then his eyes landed on something he really shouldn't have even considered. Markus's long jacket, the one everyone knew and recognized and tossed over the back of the armchair.

He took another glance around, staring at the door to make sure it wasn't going to open suddenly.

He snatched up the fabric and held it to his chest. God this was terrible. Yet he still slid the jacket on, loving the way it felt against his skin.

He stared at the armchair before mentally saying fuck it. He was already wearing Markus's jacket, wearing only his damp boxers, and had rubbed himself against a pillow.

He swung his leg over the side so he could straddle the armrest and hold onto the backrest of the chair. He rolled his hips down and his toes curled.

Yes! Yes, that was so good! He ground down even harder, the air catching in his throat. He didn't know if it felt intense because of the chair, jacket, or a combination.

Yet his sensitivity wasn't getting any better. He was practically dripping wet as he rocked his hips arrhythmically. He wanted more. He needed something more but he didn't know what.

He slid off the chair when he knew it wasn't going to cut it. Maybe he needed something less soft? With a harder edge perhaps.

There was the table but that would take it too far (or at least there was too much embarrassment for that). There was no way in hell he could use anything in Markus's bedroom.

Maybe he could use the shower, but he didn't want to have to take the jacket off. God, he was still wearing it.

How long had he been going at it? He checked his internal clock and blanched at the time. He'd been trying to get off for almost fifteen minutes, yet it felt like seconds.

He let out a high pitched whine and rubbed his legs together. He was on fire yet still so cold. There was warmth and fuzziness in his stomach that had been slowly building.

Then his eyes caught on the one thing that truly made his heart flip. Markus's desk had a few scattered papers but otherwise was left perfectly clean and tidy.

Markus normally used it but had decided to be closer to Connor, so he had sat on the couch.

Connor scrambled over, no hesitation left, just pure need. He chose the corner that he'd seen Markus bump into not even a few hours ago. He'd seem somewhat distracted, and Connor had to admit it was adorable.

He rocked his hips and let out a soft hiss. He had imagined so many things with this desk. Markus could bend him over and fuck him so hard the desk would move. Or he'd sit him on top of it and kiss him until he couldn't think.

One day Connor could crawl under and keep him nice and warm while he worked on completely freeing their people. He'd do whatever Markus told him, showing him how much he worshipped every bit of his body.

"Markus!" The moan slipped out, but that was the catalyst. Pleads for more and Markus's name fell from his lips without any thought.

How would Markus say his name? Would it be soft and gentle or strong and demanding? Maybe it would be husky from want and need. How many different ways he could get Markus to say his name.

"Connor?" Yes! Yes, like that. God, he practically sounded real.

"Yes! Please, Markus, I need more." He begged eyes squeezed shut.

There was a soft choking sound and Connor froze, dread filling his veins. He didn't want to open his eyes, knowing what he'd see.

He hadn't imagined Markus's voice at all. It had been real and now Markus was no doubt staring at him in disgust.

He kept his eyes down as he scrambled off the desk and tried to cover himself up with the jacket. But that only made it worse.

Markus had caught him getting off on his desk, calling his name, and wearing his jacket. God, how could he be so stupid?

"Markus I'm so sorry." He wanted to run to the couch to get his clothes to put back on. Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea but he'd done it anyway.

"Take that off." The tone was so commanding it had him shivering.

Then the words hit him and he flinched. Markus would probably never wear the jacket again and it was all his fault. He had ruined so many things because he couldn't control himself.

Tears prickled in his eyes, shame pulling them down his cheeks.

His hands shook as he tried to shrug the jacket off his shoulders. He didn't care if this would expose even more of his disgusting self. He didn't deserve to even look at Markus, so he didn't.

But he had heard his footsteps coming and prepared for anything. Markus had never been violent with anyone, but Connor wouldn't blame him if he hit him.

He braced himself, but instead, those soft, gentle, warm hands took the jacket that had been almost off and slid it back up Connor's arms.

He stood there, unsure of what was even happening. He tried to shrug the jacket off again but Markus gave a small huff and kept it in place.

"Markus, I'm sorry. Please, I'll just get my… my clothes and I'll leave. I'll fucking leave the city if you want me to." He really would even if he'd miss Detroit. Maybe he could get Hank to go with him, see the world a bit.

He reached up, his hands trembling uncontrollably as he pushed the tears away. Markus hated him, and he had every right now.

"I didn't mean my jacket." His voice sounded so warm and welcoming.

Wait. He didn't mean the jacket? What else did he have to take… off.

His eyes snapped up and the first thing he saw was Markus's smirk. His face softened at actually seeing the tears but he kept his hands on Connor's shoulders.

"I want to see this new upgrade. I'm sad you didn't tell me what it was, I could have shown you the one I got. I could have maybe helped you out. Instead, you had to be naughty and wait until I was gone to touch yourself."

Connor let out a soft whine, eyes widening to the size of saucers. "What?" He had heard every single word but he couldn't figure out if this was real.

"Did you know I'm connected to the security cameras? When you said my name it alerted me and I got to watch you beg for me to touch your pretty little pussy. Do you want that? Want me to touch you?" Markus slowly moved a hand down his chest and Connor shivered again.

"Ah, Markus… I'm. What?" Was this seriously happening? Markus was touching his chest and telling him he watched him. From the sounds of it, he liked it too. Markus had liked it?

Markus gave a soft hum, dragging his hand down even lower, brushing against the seam of his boxers. "Connor, I need you to tell me one thing. Do you want this? If not, I will stop and we can talk about this like mature adults. Then, we can decide what to do from there, whether it be staying as friends, giving space, or something else."

Markus would stop if he wanted him to, but fuck that. "Don't stop. Please don't stop, Markus." He tried not to shift from foot to foot, but could barely keep from shaking.

Then Markus's hand pulled away and he gave a small smile. "Good. Now take those boxers off. I want to look at you." Markus moved to the couch and sat down, watching Connor closely.

His face flushed as he pulled them down and held them to cover himself. He shuffled forwards toward Markus and the couch.

Markus reached out and took the boxers from his hands with little resistance. He tossed them to the side before his hands settled on Connor's hips.

His eyes raked over him slowly, staring at his face and trailing down. His rubbed gentle circles into Connor's hips and he had to take in shaky breaths to cool his systems down.

Then his eyes landed at his cunt and he licked his lips. He slowly ran his hands down Connor's thighs and kneaded the skin. "Look at you, so beautiful. You look so wet too, did you mean for that to happen? Or are you just that sensitive, baby?"

Connor widened his stance just slightly, and he could feel slick slowly drag down his inner thigh. "They um, I don't know? It's so much, I had to."

Markus kept staring at him and he didn't know whether he loved it or hated it. Maybe both. "God, I know baby. I wasn't here to take care of you. You know, I could just clean you up a bit. Lick you clean, would you like that?"

Connor let out a soft moan, and then a gasp when he felt Markus's tongue slide up his thigh. Yet he didn't go high enough, stopping too soon. "Markus!"

"You taste so good, Connor. Let me kiss you?" Markus looked up at him like he was the heavens and there was no way in hell he was denying him.

He had to bend his neck to kiss him, but it was so worth it the moment their lips connected.

Markus was warm and soft, but he didn't push for more. Connor could feel how much he was holding back, like a loaded gun. Now he just had to figure out how to make him let go.

So he opened his mouth and Markus took the invitation. It was so deep and hungry it left Connor's legs weak and him moaning into it.

He only got louder when Markus started teasing him, barely even touching. He had to break the kiss to pant but Markus took the opportunity to lean forward to press soft kisses to his stomach.

"So beautiful, so needy. Maybe you should just touch yourself. I can watch you as you fuck your own fingers. You've never even touched yourself before. All new and all for me." Markus smoothed his hands over Connor’s hips before pulling him down so his tongue met Connor’s wet heat. Connor let out a moan as Markus started to lick at his cunt, his hands going to Markus’ shoulders.

His tongue was so warm and wet, quickly touching then pulling back. Markus kept his hips still, which Connor definitely needed.

He just wanted to sit on Markus and let him go at it for hours. See how many times he could come like this and how long until Markus got bored. Yet the look of pure joy and lust on his face made him think they'd stay like that all day.

Connor's thighs felt like jello as Markus buried his face between them, sucking at Connor's dripping vulva. Connor almost screamed from the pleasure, his nails digging into Markus. He would need to turn down the sensitivity in day to day life, but this was mind-blowing.

His whole body shuddered and he had only the smallest bit of him to not squeeze Markus's head too hard. Yet he didn't stop, still sucking as Connor came.

It was like something snapped and released inside of him, making his whole body feel warm and fuzzy. He can't help but squeeze his eyes shut through it, his nails digging in enough to make Markus's skin around them pull away. He's faintly aware of Markus moaning but his head feels almost foggy for a few seconds.

Then Markus leaned back and pulled Connor forward onto his lap. If he hadn't seen the bulge he definitely felt it now.

"Baby, I watched you fuck yourself on my desk for so long, and I got back as soon as I could. But look at what you've done." Markus kept hold of Connor's hip while the other hand slowly explored his back. "I want to see you touch yourself again. Is that what you want?"

God he only just came and yet he still wanted more. He wanted Markus to watch him and he wanted Markus to come from that.

He rolled his hips down, pulling a long moan out of Markus. He still felt dizzy with want but he felt far more patient now. He didn't need the release, but he sure as hell wanted it. "Yes! I want you to watch me. Never take your eyes off me."

"I wouldn't dream of it, baby. You still feel over-sensitive?" Markus gently moved them so Connor was laying back against the couch.

Connor nodded quickly. It didn't seem to have been affected, if anything it seemed to just get worse. He slid his hand down to gently rub over his clit, gasping and bucking into his hand. "Still very sensitive."

Connor watched as Markus pulled his shirt off and his mouth practically watered. He'd seen him shirtless before but always averted his gaze. It felt too much like spying on him since Markus hadn't known about his true feelings. Now he could look all he wanted without feeling any guilt.

His eyes landed on each scar and he gently reached out to brush over them, pausing on pleasuring himself. Some of these he could have protected Markus from but he deviated too late.

"Hey, I'm ok. I think they make me look more badass. A leader is nothing without a few scars." Markus gently ran a hand through Connor's hair. He leaned into it making a small happy sound in the back of his throat close to a purr.

"I know, but maybe later I can kiss each one?" He didn't know how far any of this would go. They seemed to be in a silent agreement that they were going to do penetration now. But Connor didn't know if that meant they wouldn't in the future. He definitely wanted to, he wanted to be with Markus. But if Markus didn't feel the same then that would be fine. He'd handle his emotions maturely, and he'd (hopefully) still be close with Markus.

Markus gently cupped his face and kissed him so sweetly it almost hurt. Connor ran his fingers over the scars he could find along with the small indent where his thirium pump was.

Then Markus slowly pulled away but only enough to rest their foreheads together. "I'd like that. Con, we definitely need to talk. We can pause here if you want."

Connor did consider it, weighing the pros and cons. He didn't want to do anything hasty but he also trusted himself and Markus. "Let's keep going. I really don't want to stop yet."

Markus gave him a nod then leaned in to kiss again. When he pulled back they were both wanting and Connor couldn't wait to be able to see all of Markus.

"We will be talking later, no if ands or buts." Connor was in an odd mood apparently, because he snorted when Markus had said 'buts.'

"Shit, I'm sorry. I do agree with you, though!" He had to cover his mouth again, but that didn't stop the giggles.

Markus rolled his eyes fondly but couldn't help the small chuckle that was pulled out of him. It was hard not to when Connor's smile was so beautiful and his laughter so infectious. "You're adorable." He leaned down to kiss Connor's nose, only smiling wider when he scrunched it up.

"If anyone is adorable it's you." God it was still a bit mind-blowing that he was fully naked, had somehow gotten lucky that Markus wasn't weirded out by him humping his things, and they may even become a thing by the sounds of it. Not to mention they were going to watch each other get off, and get more turned on by it too.

"Oh, we can argue about this all night, but if I don't take my pants off in a minute I might shut down from tension." As he said it he pulled his pants and… actually he wasn't wearing any underwear. Fuck that was hotter than Connor thought it would be.

Connor slowly played with himself, doing soft small circles over his clit as he looked Markus up and down. His hips twitched with interest as Markus sat beside him and took himself in hand.

God Markus was beautiful. It wasn't just his body either, it was the way his eyes seemed to shine as he watched Connor. It was how beautiful his hands were when painting or touching himself, how easily they slid over piano keys. Connor loved the sound of his laugh, how openly happy he was even when Connor's joke had been garbage.

He kept slow, wanting to drag out this impossible moment as long as he could, rubbing circles into himself with a fingertip on either side of his clit. "Fuck, this feels so good." He mumbled, eyes never leaving Markus.

"Yes, so good, baby. Thought of doing this for so long always thought of you." Markus sighed out and Connor couldn't help the small whine.

Markus had thought of him. How many times did Markus touch himself? Was it after meetings? Connor reached out and offered an interface, dying to know. Thankfully, Markus was just as eager.

Connor's mind was flooded with memories. Markus was always watching Connor, always. When Connor was doing a presentation on security, Markus loved the intensity and focus look on his face. Then Connor saw him getting off, thinking about Connor and wanting to wreck him.

Each memory was so quick but so slow at the same time. In return, Connor showed his own memories. The nights when he was frustrated, trying to somehow get off without anything down there. How it left him cranky and needy, wanting to latch onto Markus even in front of everyone.

His other hand joined the first breaking the interface, rubbing his clit with a thumb while he fucked himself on his fingers. Markus seemed to choke on a moan, but his hand sped up on himself.

"Markus feels so good, so perfect." He arched into his own hand, hips twitching erratically.

Markus was breathing in quick little pants that had Connor squeezing down on his own fingers almost on reflex. "Connor, you have no idea what you do to me. I'm going to fuck you everywhere I can, over my desk, on the wall, in bed, on the couch, even on the fucking piano if you want."

And Connor definitely did want. Markus would be slow at first too, making sure he was ok. But Connor would beg for more, asked to be fucked so hard he couldn't hold himself up.

His whole body is clenching and he lets out small moans, finding just the right spot. Markus's own hand is pumping quickly, the other on his own chest playing with his nipple.

"Do you want to come again, baby? You ready?" Markus asks and Connor can only nod. He's so sensitive, his whole body jolted with each thrust of his fingers. "Come on, come. I'm right here, so close."

Connor whined and bit his lip, rocking shamelessly against his hand as he comes. He keeps riding his fingers as he comes and Markus follows along, coming over his hand and spilling into his chest.

Connor trembled as he pulled his fingers out of himself, openly panting. If he was human he knew his body would be covered in sweat, instead, he only appeared rumpled.

Neither said anything, but they both seemed pulled to each other, kissing with clear want even after they had both come. The coat felt so heavy on his shoulders, but he didn't dare push it off.

They broke the kiss but stayed close together. "You're so beautiful, Connor. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine." The confession was whispered like Markus was scared of his own words, but Connor was thrilled by them.

He nodded his head just slightly, lips ghosting over Markus's. "I want that. I want you."

He could feel Markus grin as he pulled Connor back into his lap. The embrace was tight but not suffocating and Connor let out a happy sigh. They'd have to clean up, and Connor would later feel at least somewhat guilty for always snagging Markus' jacket when he wasn't wearing it, but for now, they stayed curled together. And if Connor got needy again only thirty minutes later? Well, that was between them.

21 notes · View notes

sneezehq · 4 years ago

Text

Revenge is Too Sweet

Tyrian Callows still hasn't forgotten who was responsible for the loss of his tail.

And just because he's been ordered not to kill Ruby Rose doesn't mean that he can't make her suffer. And oh, he can make her suffer.

Standing behind the counter of a tiny coffee stand in an apron and serving up espressos, Tyrian smirks to himself. It’s almost too easy.

Tracking down which area of Mantle the little silver-eyed brat would be doing missions in was child’s play, given that they’d been monitoring her and her little friends’ movements since the moment they had arrived in Atlas. Taking the place of the hapless barista that usually worked here was laughably easy. Poor man had bled out quietly in a back alley from a slit throat. And tempting two young huntresses over for a hot drink on a chilly Mantle morning? Piece of cake.

They rattle off their drink orders with annoyingly bright smiles and gratingly cheerful voices, and Tyrian has to repress an eye roll at the vile concoction that the dark-haired menace prefers. Of course the little monster would enjoy such an abomination of cream and sugar disguised as coffee. But he dutifully shoves down his irritation and jots down their orders, assuring them that everything will be ready soon. Tyrian has had a lot of practice ignoring annoying little girls thanks to a certain fall maiden and her bratty follower.

The two brats chatter idly while he mixes their drinks, gossiping about training and friends and spending time with their sisters. It’s all useless drivel, of course, but he keeps one ear open in case they happen to mention something useful. Little red is clueless as always. He doubts that she’d recognize him even if she got a good look at his face. Fortunately, the bitter chill of morning gives him the perfect excuse for a disguise. With his hat pulled down low over his eyes and a scarf wrapped around his mouth, he doubts that the girls would remember him standing out among the citizens of Mantle.

Yes, Tyrian Callows was a very fortunate man, in so many ways. As he should be, as a loyal servant of their divine savior. And he was here to rectify one of the few misfortunes that had befallen him.

Well, partially at least. Unlike some of his less devoted colleagues, Tyrian would never dream of disobeying an order, even if it was one as nonsensical as taking Ruby Rose alive. But just because he’s not allowed to kill the little girl doesn’t mean that he can’t hurt her. And oh, can he hurt her.

Pouring the now-finished drinks into the paper to-go cups, Tyrian fishes a tiny vial of his “secret ingredient” and adds it to the cup with Ruby Rose written on the side. The blasphemous amounts of cream and sugar would easily hide the bitter taste. Tyrian considers himself to be a bit of an expert on poisons, practically a natural at the subject since birth, so it was easy to pick out a blend that would make her suffer greatly, but would not kill her. Probably. Poisons are a bit like people, unpredictable in the way they interact with others. It’s tempting to dump a larger amount in the second drink, but as tempting as killing the little Schnee brat sounds, it’s not worth the risk. Both girls getting sick would be far too suspicious.

“Here’s your coffees, girls!” he calls cheerfully, handing out the cups. “My apologies for the wait. I hope that you enjoy your drinks!”

They fall all over themselves to assure him that it’s no trouble, they weren’t waiting long, before eagerly taking sips of their drinks and assuring him that they’re delicious. He smirks to himself. Too easy.

Ruby Rose gives him a friendly wave and a smile. Horrible child. “I hope that you have a good day, sir! Take care!”

“And you as well, miss!” I hope you enjoy your coffee, bitch.

“I’m so glad we could do this today,” Weiss says with a smile.

“Me too! Nothing like a successful mission and some delicious coffee first thing in the morning.” Ruby slurps her drink, feeling strangely jittery. Oh well, it was probably the caffeine. She always felt a little weird when they forgot to give her decaf.

“If you can call helping street vendors set up their wares a proper mission,” Weiss replies.

“Whatever you say, Ice Queen.” Ruby teases her partner, before checking the time on her scroll. Her cheeky grin turns into a frown. “How is it already 11:30?”

“Oh, you should hurry back so you’re not late meeting up with your sister!” Weiss exclaims. “I can check in at the mission boards for both of us.”

“Great, thanks Weiss! For both the coffee and for this.” She gives her partner a quick hug, before dashing off in a cloud of rose petals. “Catch you later!”

“It was my treat!” Weiss calls after her, blushing a little at Ruby’s enthusiasm. “And you forgot your coffee, you dolt!”

Ruby skids to a halt in front of the entrance to the Atlas Academy training room right at 11:59, narrowly avoiding a collision with her sister.

Yang steadies her with an easy grin. “Right on time, sis.”

“I know, I know, it’s hilarious how my semblance is speed and yet I’m always running late.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Yang smacks her shoulder playfully. “You ready to get your butt kicked?”

“Bring it on!” Ruby shrieks playfully, ignoring the growing ache in her stomach. She’s probably just hungry. It is lunchtime. “I’m just surprised that you want to train when you’d usually be eating lunch.”

“Lunchtime is the best time to work out, little sis. The training rooms will be empty, and plus food tastes way better when you’re worked up a sweat first.” Yang strikes a dramatic pose.

Ruby pretends to stare at her in awe. “Ah yes, the famous Yang Xiao Long wisdom.”

“Remind me to beat up the person who taught you how to use sarcasm.”

“You want me to remind you to beat yourself up?”

“Anyway! Enough stalling.” Yang grabs Ruby in a headlock. “Time to show me what you got!”

There’s something wonderfully soothing about sparring with Yang. Like coming home after a long day and taking a hot bath, except with a lot more bruises. They’ve been each other’s sparring partners for as long as Ruby can remember. It’s hard to believe that they haven’t fought since before the battle at Haven.

“It’s been too long since we’ve done this,” Ruby says, panting and resisting the urge to just flop down in the middle of the training floor. Yang always knows how to push her to her limits, and she in turn hasn’t been holding back. She can’t remember the last time she used her semblance this much.

“Agreed.” Yang smiles back at her. She’s breathing hard as well, her blonde hair a tangled, sweaty mess. “One more round before we hit the showers?”

“Sure,” Ruby agrees, although her chest is starting to ache, and she can’t quite seem to catch her breath. She allows Yang to haul her to her feet with one hand. “But after this, I’m totally napping until dinner time.”

Straining to use her semblance to its full extent, Ruby has a massive speed advantage over Yang, and actually manages to land a couple of hits early in the fight. Unfortunately, her sister is all too familiar with this tactic and simply waits for Ruby to wear herself out a bit before landing a couple of hits with her charged-up semblance. She pins Ruby and counts to five before releasing her.

“Not bad, little sis,” Yang says, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You’re still a bit predictable, but you definitely hit a lot harder!” She turns away to pull her shirt back on. “Did I ever tell how awesome you are for punching Mercury in the face? It was definitely one of my proudest big sister moments.”

“All in a day’s work,” Ruby says proudly. She stands up slowly, feeling the pull in every one of her aching muscles. “And he deserved it, after what he did to you.”

“That’s my little sis. Now come on, I hear the showers calling our names.”

“Hey, Ruby, you asleep in there or what?” Yang calls out, banging on the door to the shower stall. She’s already showered, dressed, and ready to devour some lunch. “There’s this place that Marrow told me about that’s got some dishes from Vacuo that I need to try. Ruby?” There’s the sound of the shower running, but no response from her little sister. A knot tightens in the pit of her stomach. “Okay, you’d better not be messing with me. I’m coming in.” She shoves the door open, surprised to find it unlocked. “Ruby?”

Whatever she was expecting to find, it certainly wasn’t her little sister, still fully clothed, collapsed on the floor with blood trickling from her mouth forming a dark puddle. “Oh my gosh, Ruby!”

One minute, Ruby is sore and tired and struggling to catch her breath, but otherwise okay—and the next she’s trying not to collapse in agony, coughing up blood and gasping for air. She loses track of time, sprawled on the floor and clutching at her chest. The metallic tang of blood in her mouth is nauseating.

The next thing she knows, Yang is tapping her face and calling her name in increasingly frantic tones. “Ruby, please wake up!” She blinks her eyes open and gazes blurrily up at her older sister. Yang is here. Everything is going to be okay.

“Ruby, what happened?” Ruby manages to twitch her shoulders towards her ears in a pathetic attempt at a shrug. “Okay, well, stay calm. I’m going to go run for help.”

Fear seizes her at the thought of being left alone like this, and she manages to feebly grab Yang by the wrist. “Don’ go,” she slurs out. Talking triggers another round of coughing, and her sister helps her sit up as she struggles to breathe. Blood trickles down her chin and onto Yang’s clean clothes, but her sister doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay, not going anywhere,” she soothes, running a hand up and down Ruby’s back as the coughs subside. “I’ll call someone for help.” Ruby can barely hear her over the roaring in her ears, but the tone sounds reassuring.

Despite the steam in the air from the shower, the bathroom suddenly feels freezing. Ruby shivers violently, instinctively pressing closer to her sister. She seems to have finished her call, only glancing occasionally at her scroll and running her fingers through Ruby’s hair in a soothing gesture. “I called Ironwood, and he’s got a medical team on the way. You’re going to be okay.” She pulls Ruby closer when she notices her shivering. “Oh Ruby, you’re burning up.”

“’m cold,” she mumbles, closing her eyes. Yang pinches her cheek until she cracks them open again and glares feebly.

“I know you’re tired and feel like crap, but I need you to stay awake until the medics look you over. It’ll only be a few minutes.”

It feels like hours, but eventually the medical team is at the door. Ruby shuts her eyes as they poke and prod at her and spit rapid-fire questions at Yang.

Eventually all of the voices fade out and Ruby drifts off into warm darkness.

When she wakes up, Ruby finds herself in a hospital bed in what looks a private hospital wing. Sitting up, she feels the tug of an IV in her right wrist. Her body still aches all over, but the tightness in her chest is gone and she can breathe easily again.

Casting her gaze to the right, she spies her sister, Blake, and Weiss all slumped over in their respective uncomfortable looking waiting-room chairs. Blake’s head is resting on Weiss’ shoulder, Weiss’ head is resting on Yang’s lap, and Yang’s head is resting on the hospital bed next to her thigh, hands clenched in the blankets. Ruby smiles fondly at her team. She fumbles for her scroll, conveniently placed on the bedside table to her right. This is too sweet not to snap a picture of.

Before she can take a picture, though, her hand brushes against Yang’s, causing her sister to stir. Yang raises her head blearily, scrubbing at her eyes. “Ruby?” she asks softly, eyes wide.

“Aw, that was going to be such a cute picture,” Ruby complains.

“You scared me half to death!” Yang cries, lunging forwards and wrapping Ruby in a hug.

“Ow,” Ruby mutters. Blake perks her head up, cat ears swiveling in their direction. Next to her, Weiss snorts loudly before shaking herself awake. Their eyes go wide when they see that she’s awake.

“Hey guys,” Ruby says awkwardly, fighting the urge to giggle.

“Ruby!” Blake exclaims.

“We were so worried!” Weiss sniffles loudly.

“What happened?” Ruby asks.

The three girls look at each other for a long moment. “What do you remember?” Yang asks.

“Honestly, not much.” Ruby admits, staring down at her blanket-covered lap. “I remember sparring with Yang, and I remember trying to get ready to shower but then my chest started hurting really bad, and then it’s all pretty hazy.”

Blake, Weiss, and Yang look at each other again, which is really annoying, and as their leader Ruby would like them to stop doing that. Finally, Weiss speaks.

“Ruby, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but—” she trails off.

“You were poisoned.” Blake says bluntly. “They tested your coffee from this morning, and apparently found traces of a poison someone slipped in there.”

“Oh.” Ruby really doesn’t know what to say.

“Good thing I held onto your cup, huh?” Weiss jokes, but the levity falls flat.

In the awkward silence that follows, Blake decides to continue her explanation. “Since you didn’t drink all of the coffee, and they don’t think that there was a high enough dose in there the doctor is pretty sure that you would have been okay, but they’re glad that Yang called them so fast.”

Yang folds her arms across her chest. “And I still say that they’re full of crap. You guys didn’t see before her before they got there—” she trails off, swallowing hard.

Ruby pats her sister’s arm. “Well I’m feeling better now,” she reassures them. “Do they—” she clears her throat. “Do they know anything about who might have tried to poison me?”

“They found the guy who usually works that coffee stand you and Weiss went to,” Blake says hesitantly. “He was murdered. So I’m afraid that’s a dead end.”

“Oh,” Ruby says again, suddenly feeling very small and cold.

“Ironwood did recommend that we try to stick to only eating at trustworthy establishments, until they know more about what happened, if that helps any,” Blake says, rolling her eyes.

“Where are Jaune, Nora, Ren, and Oscar?” Ruby asks, desperate for a change of subject.

“Probably back in the dorms, waiting to hear about you,” Yang says, before wincing and picking up her scroll. “They’ve been texting us all afternoon asking for updates. They would’ve been waiting here too, but the nurse would only allow a few visitors at a time.”

“Afternoon?” Ruby asks. “What time is it now?”

“About 10:30.” Blake stretches her arms over her head.

Oh wow. That’s so much time lost. “It’s that late already? You guys should go back to the dorms, get some rest.”

Blake, Weiss, and Yang all look at her incredulously. “Yeah, no. We’re not leaving you here by yourself after what happened today.” Yang shakes her head.

“Ironwood also said that none of us should go anywhere alone,” Weiss adds.

“And in case you didn’t notice, we were just resting until a few minutes ago,” Blake points out.

“And someone has to keep an eye on you to make sure that you’re actually resting, little sis.”

Ruby bites her lip. She’s grateful to not be alone, but they shouldn’t have to be staying in uncomfortable chairs when they could be sleeping comfortably back at the dorms. “Don’t they have some extra beds or pillows somewhere for you guys?”

“I’ll go ask and see if they have any spare bedding for us,” Weiss says, heading towards the door.

“Good idea,” Yang says, slipping out of her chair. “Blake, go with her.”

As their partners slip out of the room, Yang clambers up on the bed next to Ruby. “Yang, I don’t think that you’re supposed to be up here.”

“Eh, there’s enough room for both of us, isn’t there?’ It takes some shuffling, and they have to be careful with Ruby’s IV, but eventually they settle in, Ruby tucked into Yang’s side.

“You should get some more sleep,” Yang says, brushing Ruby’s hair away from her forehead and humming softly under her breath.

“I’m really not that tired,” Ruby complains. She yawns immediately afterwards.

Yang laughs softly. “Sure, sis. C’mon, sleep, we’ll all be here when you wake up.” She’s just about to drift off when she hears her sister mutter something else.

“We will find the person who did this to you. And I’m going to make them pay.”

#rwby #ruby rose #yang xiao long #tyrian callows #weiss schnee #team rwby #blake belladonna #hospital cw #blood cw #poison cw #murder cw #my writing

13 notes · View notes