#even if they didn’t get reaped to be honest

[the69thgames]

a fun thing abt writing thg fanfiction and reading other ppl’s stories too is that since it’s such a big world, all their ocs can exist in my universe too

also since I already have my own victor and tribute ocs, I like to imagine when writing fanfiction that other author’s ocs are safe and happy in my universe since they weren’t ever reaped and died or won the games (since I already have my ocs in that place)

same thing when reading other people’s fanfiction. I like to imagine my ocs are actually living a chill and simple life in that world instead of facing horrors and trauma

like srsly, the amount of times I wanted to have my ocs meet other ocs but not bc they’re tributes or mentors but bc they just randomly met while going about a normal day

I think it’s just a weird coping mechanism I have since in all thg fanfiction, the doomed plot leads to 90% characters dying. so it makes me happier to imagine in my world that they get to see the end of the games, the end of the oppressive government that slowly tortured and killed them in another timeline

please tell me I’m not the only one imagining others’ ocs in my universe just being happy 😭✋

actually I think alternate timeline makes sense to say, sense most of the reapings are luck based (1QQ+some careers are not) and again, like to imagine that all the thg ocs collectively live in the same world, and just are main characters in different timelines

[evielmostdefinitely]

please something about pregnant capitol!reader. maybe she's pregnant and coriolanus is over OVER protective?

watchful eye |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, pregnant!captitol!reader and protective!coryo.

contains: reader is pregnant. alludes to dom/sub themes. some talk of violence. protective/possessive coriolanus. mainly fluff.

“Are you alright?” Coriolanus' eyes scanned the room, a predatory gaze that commanded the room. His hand found the small of your back, a soothing rub over the material of your dress, pressing into the spot on your spine that was always aching lately. 

“Yes.” You nodded, giving a forced smile in case others were watching. Your hand smoothed over the swell of your abdomen, prominent now. 

You were surprised Coriolanus let you out into the public now that you were showing. He’d been so careful with the news, so cautious that others might find out and want to harm you. You supposed that's why he’d commanded more Peacekeepers to the Districts, curfews and whippings and hanging multiplied to anyone even seen with a rebel- to drive them out, make an example of them, scare the others. All to keep you safe, or so he told you. 

With the next games coming up, you were at the annual party hosted before the Reaping tomorrow, full of Capitol socialites all fluttering with excitement at your news. Still, a haunting aura hung in the air, like they were all scared- perhaps it was because of the way Mrs. Bezel was drugged away to Dr. Gaul’s torment chamber for touching your rounded belly. Coriolanus hadn’t even batted an eye before the Peacekeepers were yanking the elderly woman away mercilessly, dragging her through the crowds of terror-ridden onlookers. 

“If you need to take a seat-” Coryo started, waving over an Avox with a sharp flick of his wrist. 

“-I’m alright, darling.” You hummed gently, placing a calming hand over his. 

“You need to rest.” Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed lightly, the same stern look he always gave you with your defiance, one that told you to obey. 

You hated the way it made you throb, you’d blame it on the hormones again. “I’m alright.” You smile sweetly. “I’m afraid if I sit, I’ll never get up again.” You tease lightly, a real, honest grin spreading across your face. It made Coryo’s heart skip. 

“Are you tired, then?” Coryo asked, hand pressing into your back again, fingers rubbing the knot gently there. Your spine had curved, figure caved to accommodate such growth- the habitat of your unborn child. 

“Only a little.” You admitted, looking down at your swollen stomach. “I can last, Coryo. I will be alright-” 

“-Nonsense.” Coryo shook his head, waving over the lead of his staff. “Make the announcement and ensure everyone leaves.” He commanded, his hand still on you. “And we will see you tomorrow for the Reaping.” A chilling tone to his words that had you shivering, taking his hand gently. 

“You didn’t need to do that.” You hummed, slipping out the side door with him, down the hallway towards your own private living quarters. Your heels clicking against the marble of the floor, half steps to keep up with Coriolanus’ own stride. “I would have been fine.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Coriolanus rolled his eyes lightly. “You looked miserable.” 

You frowned. “I did not.” 

He snorted lightly, looking over at you, lips curled in a half smile. “Petal, you were restless tonight. Don’t think I didn’t see you slip your shoes off under the table.” 

You pouted, a waddle of a walk beside him, still clutching his hand. “They hurt.” You huff, looking down at your heels, swollen ankles aching from the wear of the beastly things. 

“I know.” Coriolanus smirked triumphantly. “I told you to let me know if it got too much for you. I’d have you escorted back.” 

“I didn’t want to go back.” You huffed, a swing of emotions Coriolanus was still struggling with understanding. “You’ve kept me under lock and key for months, Coryo. I wanted to be out, see other people, and socialize.” 

Coryo nodded, choosing not to chastise you. Not now, not with how your tone clipped, a warning that the floodgates of your angry, hormonal tears were not far behind. Instead, he turned the key to your wing, pushing the grand doors open, a hand ushering you in. 

Inside, he helped you out of your dress, moved your heels back into place when you kicked them off. You giggled at how he tickled down your spine, unfastening the hooks of your dress, a soft kiss to your shoulder that had you swooning. 

You lay on the bed, feet in Coryo’s lap, his thumb digging into the heel of your foot, smug at the way it had you sighing with relief, melting into the mattress. He told you the plans for the games, how he and Gaul had worked even harder to make them better than last year, the changes and added sponsors. 

“I’m sure they’ll be wonderful, my love.” You muttered, eyes drooping with a heavy tug of your lids. He was lulling you to sleep, not that it was much of a challenge, you’d nearly exhausted yourself tonight. 

“Do you want me to draw you a bath?” Coriolanus asked, scanning your relaxed features. “Would that help with your back?” 

“No,” You shook your head, eyes fluttering open. “I’m fine.” 

Coryo frowned. “If your spine hurts, you should let me-” 

“-Coryo,” You cooed, eyes soft when they opened and met him. “I’m alright. I’m comfortable, just… just keep doing what you’re doing, please. It feels great.” You sighed, wiggling your foot back into his grasp, an accidental brush over his crotch that had him flushing. 

If you weren’t so tired, he would have fucked you into that mattress. You were so sensitive with the pregnancy, insatiable nearly. He hadn’t expected to be so attracted, that his desire grew with every new swell and rounding of your features, yet he found himself buried in your cunt every chance he could. 

Coryo had already taken you before the party, the glow in your features waved off as from the pregnancy instead of the way he’d ravished you before. He supposed that could have aided in some of the reasons you were so tired. 

“Tell me more about your plans.” You muttered, rolling your head into the pillow to look at him over the hill of your belly, your foot in his hand. “Who are the mentors for the Districts this year? Anyone we’d know?” 

Coriolanus’ heart swelled, boasting with pride. It was why he loved you so, the interest you showed him in his work, in his passions. His thumb circled around a knot in your heel, grinning at how you squirmed, answering your question sweetly.

[jarofstyles]

In The Woods- Scarred

Hello my loves! I know it took a while but here is the second part to scarred. I'm unsure if I'm going to do a lot more with them besides some blurbs but that could change :)

Read the first part Here

Check out our Patreon for over 100+ exclusives and early access

WC- 7k

warnings- mention of anxiety, scarring, bullying, halloween, exhibitionism, mask/makeup kink, unprotected sex, degradation, slight fear play(??)

Enjoy xoxoxo

---------

Harry was shy. 

Y/n hadn't expected that stunning revelation in the time that she knew him, but without the layer of makeup? The man was cute. Fucking adorable, even, because he was a blushy mess.

It was apparent how Harry did have some issues with doubting himself and that just wasn’t going to cut it with Y/N. She knew that his anxiety was valid, that he had gone through things that made him think the way he did, but it only gave her a challenge she was more than up for. Flirting with him, making it apparent how absolutely gorgeous he was to her, and making him blush. 

His trust had been one of the most precious things she had ever been handed and she wasn’t going to do anything to put that into jeopardy. When she arrived back at work when people saw them arrive together, she had been bombarded with questions about him. What he looked like, how he was outside of work, but they got no answer other than ‘handsome’. When asked if she had any images, she blankly stared at the group. Of course she didn’t take any photos, because why would she betray his trust like that? 

‘He doesn’t want to share and he’s a private person. We’re dating and I got to see a part of him he doesn’t feel comfortable sharing here, and I’m not going to betray his trust for some gossip.’ 

Y/N’s mom-like scolding had them backing off, but she could see Harry lingering off to the side with a smirk on his face as he adjusted his costume. Droplets of fake blood crackled a little when he met her eyes in the mirror. He was pleased with her.

She didn’t even know how much it meant to him. To have a safe person. She sung his praises without giving anything away and to be honest? He had been shocked at how well she’d handled constant prodding from overly curious and downright nosy coworkers. They’d all quiet down or walk away when he came over but Y/N would remain there, standing pretty and smiling at him as he approached. 

“Got eaten alive?” He murmured, helping fluff her purposely messy hair. “Poor thing. Nosy fuckers they are, hm?” The tone of voice was low, just for the two of them to hear. She could see his dimple under the makeup, making her want to poke at it but she refrained. It wasn’t the time. 

“Yeah. S’a shame. Eating me is your job.” A coy glance made him stiffen for a second before he clicked his tongue, shaking his head at his girl’s antics. She’s been shameless this whole time. Their established relationship had gone on 2 weeks now but they’d kept it under wraps, all the while she would follow him home or vice versa. Their sex wasn’t stuck to one place anymore, and Harry took full advantage of the positions he could get her in a proper bed or bent over a kitchen counter. Adventurous sex had been a new one for him, and he was taking full advantage. 

“It is, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Shame I couldn’t do it before we came. M’starved.” Painted fingers pulled her in by the corseted waist, letting her lean back to peer at him. “I expect a three course meal after we leave. Maybe four, but I know we’ve been working on getting you there. Maybe tonight will be the night, hm?” 

Another new revelation in their blooming relationship was how utterly obsessed her new boyfriend was with giving her pleasure. Orgasms galore, so much so that she felt a near constant state of sensitivity- but she couldn’t complain. Not when she reaped the benefits of his generous nature. She found his mouth or hands in her more often than not, and if there would be no repercussions there was no doubt in her mind that Harry would crawl on the floor and under her skirt to give her an orgasm before they went out to the attraction- but alas, consequences would be fierce. 

“Let’s keep it calm, big boy.” Her hand smoothed over his chest, patting the warmth of it. “Three is more than enough, but it depends on how good you scare the people tonight.” 

Harry with his chainsaw, it was some sort of foreplay. How he got into a mindset and plotted scares, she could watch form across the way as he revved up the machine and made people sprint. He’d choose the victim of a scare and follow them around for a bit, making them uneasy, all while cornering them closer to Y/N’s section- letting them in for a double haunt that would leave people screeching. 

Realistically, Y/N it was the adrenaline and endorphins, but seeing her boyfriend- yes, she still did a little squeak in her head every time she thought the word- be so good at the job, seeing mid shift when his hair fell slightly in his face and that one curl went over his forehead, she was ready to jump him by the end of the night. He’d find his way over to her a few times a night, brush her dress with his fingers and give her a wink whenever she caught his view, wordlessly promising whatever the hell he wanted afterwards. It was hard to keep her cool when there was something so sexy about seeing him in this sort of element. Confident and hot, she loved watching him know people were both attracted and in fear of him. 

“You know I love a challenge.” He purred, already finding his groove. “Maybe it will be my most terrifying night yet. If you’re the prize at the end of the line, I’m going to give it my all.” Of course he was turning on the charm now, making her flush under her own makeup. He was suave when he did it here, but she knew when they left and the makeup was off he would be a little less smooth with it. A bit more clumsy, and she adored both sides of him. 

“I’ll hold it to you, sir.” She replied, leaning up to leave a little peck on his lips before brushing past him. It was time to see just how bad he wanted it.

—---------

Harry had a point to prove. That much was obvious, watching the glint in his eyes as he stalked past her after his current scare. She was doing her own haunt, which was a lot more different than Harry’s stalk and follow approach. Y/N was more of a jump scare sort of thing, waiting for them to get closer and act just a bit off before deciding to scream and lunge at them. 

His chainsaw hung by his side as he brushed past her, pinning her with his glare. It was full of promise. He was doing incredible tonight, a bit ruthless with his scares and getting people screaming and running. Y/N stayed in her assigned area whereas he had more room to move around, so he was moving them towards her. The guests were shaking, some in particular crying, and she knew that she was most definitely going to be breaking personal scare records tonight. 

It was incredible to watch. With the challenge being given of making it a scarier night and the reward being access to her, he took it seriously. Showing off for her, sending more guests her way for a second half of his scare. He’d loved to watch her get into it, screeching in their faces and going back to acting like nothing happened right afterwards. Y/N was his little devil, his vampire queen, and little did the people know that the bruises underneath the fake blood were all too real, from him. The adrenaline from the scares, the promise of what was to come and the heated glances between the two had him half hard his entire shift, eager to get back to his place to take her- if he could last that long. 

Harry did his best to behave as they went backstage. Keeping his hands to himself, he changed privately and came back out with his leather jacket hanging on his shoulder, a predatory gaze on her while she socialized. He knew she was stalling, teasing as she slowly wiped away the show makeup and fake blood on her skin and neck. Taking her grand old time to hang up her costume and gossip about a group of particularly obnoxious guests they’d had tonight, a school group that had been the worst kind. Teenage boys who tried to ‘scare’ the scare actors. Harry had been the one to scare the shit out of them, following them around and popping out randomly to make them scream. It’d been a good night.

She just needed to stop stalling. His cock was thickening as he watched her cotton pad wipe away the pale makeup, exposing her natural skin and the marks he left remaining on her throat. Her tank top clung to her and the shorts she had worn in were a temptation even before now, his neediness showing when he’d whined when she walked out of his bathroom with them on. It was torture. Y/N had the upper hand here, but she would lose it as soon as they were alone.

As people filtered out and Y/N threw her bag over her shoulder, Harry emerged from the shadowy hall he was hiding in to wrap his arm around her shoulder. His girl jumped before scoffing, nudging him as she let him know how she felt. “You know, I should probably be concerned about how you like to watch me like a stalker after our shifts, but it arouses me instead.” She sighed, admitting the unfortunate truth. She liked feeling his eyes on her, knowing he was thinking about what was to come. 

His makeup was still on, his green eyes exposed instead of the contacts he wore during his scares. It was also probably concerning how much she enjoyed it, but she figured it was akin to having a bit of a mask kink. Roleplay in a sense. Prior to getting to see his natural face, she had only seen the makeup get slightly smudged from the sweat and her mouth, but it was applied there with a firmness most women must be envious of. He had to have gotten the best shit there was. Sometimes she watched from the counter as he applied it with practiced ease, watching the skeletal makeup engulf and change his face. It was like watching him get into character. When the makeup was off, he was a bit more of a shyer boy with her. A little needy and clingy, soft spoken and tender touches. Sweet like honey, gooey and easy to break. With the makeup on? His disguise gave him a filthy amount of confidence, one that had him falling into that dominant, cocky nature she also adored. 

“Eh. You like to be chased and thrown around a bit.” He shrugged, his hand swinging with hers as he made his way to his car. “Don’t think there's anything necessarily wrong with enjoying how your boyfriend admires and follows you around. Especially when you know what lies ahead for you.” There it was. The cockiness that made him smirk, the moonlight hitting him just right so she could see the imprint of his dimple.  

“Mmm.” She hummed, following him slightly from behind. The parking lot was basically empty, but it wasn’t empty enough for his plans. Plus, he didn’t know what sort of security lay in hiding- so he was thinking about his options. He wanted to play tonight. Play a bit more than usual. They only had another week left of this job before they settled into normal life again, the season ending relatively soon. 

Harry helped her into the car, taking her duffle and his own bag to throw in the backseat before fishing his keys from his pocket and sliding into the driver's seat. Turning it into the ignition, he kept his eyes on the road as he began to drive off in the opposite direction of his house. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

—----

Y/N hadn’t known what the surprise was, but she sure as fuck got nervous when the car turned onto a wooded path. She trusted Harry, but she was unsure what the fuck could possibly be up this path that only seemed to wind upwards on an incline. He ignored her questioning, squeezing her thigh and told her it was fine as he smirked. She wasn’t truly distressed but her heart was beating harder as they made it up to an empty gravel parking lot at the top of the hill. 

Her nerves died down as her eyes widened, looking at the view. It was a perfect view of the lake and town below them. She’d never heard of this spot, but she definitely was a fan. He parked somewhat in the middle, letting them look out at the twinkling stars and the town below them, the boats bobbing on the water. The night was cool and he left the windows up to preserve some of the heat when he turned the car off and backed his chair up the most it could go. 

“Never got to fool around the way most people did in school. Know this is a local spot where people come to play… and I know about your exhibition streak.” His hand stroked her bare skin, turned to look at her. “So I figured… Why not now?”

That’s how she ended up on his lap, hands in his hair as he held both sides of her ass. Squeezing, kneading, playing with her like his own personal toy, Harry was enjoying it thoroughly as she gently rocked on top of him. His mouth was greedy for her own, surely smudging some of the black and white makeup onto her skin but she didn’t care. Sitting on his thicker thighs, letting him touch her as he pleased, she was only focused on how good it felt to kiss him. 

“Such a pretty girl.” He mumbled as his lips went down her neck. “D’you know how happy it makes me to know they all know you’re mine?” It more than pleased him. Harry had never been as proud of having a girlfriend as he was with Y/N. She genuinely liked him, she saw both sides and didn’t prefer either one. Instead, she embraced him and went with his sometimes erratic flow, never seeming to mind. 

“They’re jealous.” She replied, leaning her head back as his mouth worked over the sensitive skin. His teeth nipped, of course, lips attaching to suck another mark she could hide with her hair as she continued. “Jealous I’ve got you. Some act happy but… they ask how I managed to get to know you. Said you never hooked up with anyone before me… And that makes me very happy.” Y/N had a possessive streak of her own, something that Harry fucking loved. He loved watching her pride when she walked with him, both in and out of makeup, and watching the slight irritation she had when people dug a little too deep into wanting to know about them. They never knew Harry was watching from the shadows, almost always following his girl around from a distance. She knew, though. She would shoot him looks to where she thought he was hiding, making him like her even more. 

“Know it does, my possessive girl. You don’t like t’share, hm?” He purred as he pulled back from the fresh mark. “Pretend to complain about the marks I leave on you but you leave ‘em out so they can see. You like them knowing you’re satisfied. Love that they know I’m the one fucking you.” It sent tingles up his spine knowing that. He’d been so used to people being ashamed of him that seeing her be so protective of him was just as arousing as it was heartwarming. 

His fingers strayed from her ass to find the waistband of those pesky little shorts, sliding them down so he had full access to her. He didn’t see her usual pantie line when she’d emerged from the changing booth and he was proven correct as she gasped. “Look at you. Naughty thing, walking around without panties… Why’s that? Thought you loved it when I stuffed them in that pretty mouth to shut you up.” He cooed, sliding one hand down to her cunt, cupping it to make her gasp. 

“I-I wanted it to be easier for you. You were teasing me all night and they were ruined anyway.” It wasn’t something she’d admit to anyone else, but the scaring with Harry aroused her. She loved making people scream, loved watching her boyfriend do the same with no fear in his eyes. Loved even more so when he moved them into her scare zone and helped her out with one. Then he had been following her around with that glint in his eye, always fucking watching her. Y/N loved it, loved that he was always there. There was probably a psychological reason, but all she knew was that her poor underwear had been soaked through. 

“Oh?” He chuckled under his breath. “Should’ve known. You do tend to be a mess when we scare together. Even more than when I just follow you around. Something’s wrong with us, hm? But we don’t care.” He pressed his lips to hers as his thumb found her clit, humming as she gasped against his mouth. She was slippery and wet, his favorite way for her to be as he played with her, rubbing circles over the little swollen button. “No, you like when things are wrong. Like to be watched and followed by me until I bend you over in that dressing room and shove my hand down these slutty little shorts. You taunt and tease and then act surprised when I fuckin’ ruin you.” 

Y/N keened, rubbing herself against him as he moved his thumb on her. Everything he said was the truth so all she could do was nod. She’d been so worked up during the night that even this felt good enough to orgasm from, his rough circles and deep voice getting deep into her head and igniting the flames in her belly. 

“Yeah? Just nodding, can’t even deny it. Knew you wore those to spite me. You just love the idea of someone catching us. Filthy girl, I know you. Know what your body likes.” He rubbed a bit harder, feeling her lean further into him as he did so. “What part has you humping my hand like you’re in heat? Was it feeling my eyes on you all day? Having people be jealous of us? Scaring people?” Y/N couldn’t speak, just whining as she nodded. All of the above.  

Y/N would have been ashamed of how quickly she was about to cum if he hadn’t been tormenting her all night. Like he didn’t know how much those things got to her. Her nails dug into the man’s shoulders, breathing heavy as her mouth opened. “I’m gonna cum.” She warned, albeit in a whimpery tone. Harry loved when she talked like that. His thumb was strong and kept up the movements as they were, his hand holding the back of her neck to keep her forehead pressed to his. 

“Go ahead. Make a mess of my lap, sweetheart. Can’t believe how worked up you are.” He cooed. He could, actually. Considering he was just as wound up, he was throbbing inside of his pants but preferred her pleasure over his own. “C’mon, baby. Can feel it.” 

He could tell as she began to fall over the edge, her body moving to hold onto his harder and her head falling into his own as his thumb continued the movements to work her through it. She let out a desperate moan, shivering in his arms. Harry loved making her cum, it was one of his favorite things to do- and getting to see each thing, hear each moan, he was only feeding into the addiction. 

“There we go, my sweet girl.” He praised. “Just ride it out.” Harry soothed her as the orgasm began to die down, pulling his thumb away as soon as she needed a second to be sensitive and pulling it into his mouth with a hum. His whole hand was wet with her, but tasting her on his skin was another level of hot. 

Y/N knew he wasn’t done. Not in the slightest. Her hand found his jaw and pulled him back for a kiss, drooping on his lap as she kissed him hungrily. The taste of her was still slight on his tongue, making her search for more. Her hands went to his belt, Harry allowing her to undo it and slide it off- but stopped her when she got to the zipper.

“Want t’try something new with you.” He started, suddenly opening the car door and standing up with her in his grip. Her shorts fell off onto the ground but that was the least of her worries as he rounded the front, gently bending her over the hood of his car. The cold metal of the vehicle made her wince momentarily, but his warm palms ran over her immediately to try and make it up to her. The night was chilly but her body was hot from the arousal she felt, his body in between her thighs as she moved for him. 

“Want to take you just like this.” He explained, taking her wrists one by one and placing them to lay behind her back. “And I want you to scream for me. No one’s out here… No one can hear us- or maybe they can.” His hand gave a gentle smack to her ass as he teased. “Just let me take you out in the open. Would’ve done it in the parking lot at work but… Cameras.” He didn’t want anyone else seeing her on video. No, nothing except his own one day. He wanted to have a private folder of the filthy views he got to see, her creaming on his cock, her ass jiggling against his hips, her glossy eyes as he slipped as much as he could down her throat. He wanted to document the pleasure to look at as his own time.  He’d never had someone he liked so much, someone’s body he was so addicted to. 

“Okay, just fuck me.” She panted, wiggling her ass against him. “Just do it, please. Been waiting all night and I need you.” All of this was hotter than most things she dreamt of. Harry taking her out to a wooded clearing, ready to fuck her in his scary makeup over the hood of his car? It sounded like something out of a horror movie about to turn wrong, but she knew he liked her too much. He worshiped her in ways she didn't know possible. It was a fantasy come true. 

“Relax, baby.” He cooed. “Don’t think you should be making too many demands. Y’know I like to be in charge.” She stiffened for a moment as she felt the tip of his cock brush through her folds before arching herself back, whining coming from her throat as he moved back and forth over her clit. “I know you’re achy, know your cunt’s a greedy little thing. M’gonna give it to you but… I just wanted to see this.” He held her by the small of her back keeping her still as he finally began to push in. 

Y/N’s eyes watered as she felt the stretch of him. Relief. She’d been taunted and teased and Harry was finally giving her what they both wanted. He was slow as he did it, his eyes locked at the puffy lips of her cunt as it swallowed him up. Pushing in and taking his time despite a bit of squirming. The wet, spongy walls engulfed him and squeezed tight, spoiling him in the sensation. There was nothing quite like this- quite like her. It didn’t feel this good with anyone else, nor had he ever done it at a place like this. He wouldn’t want to feel it, no other pussy or hole would be as good for him as this one was. Part of it was their emotional connection, he was positive about that, but he swore they had been made for each other physically. Her cunt was made specifically for him to cum in, and his cock to pleasure her. 

Her mouth opened and she let out a moan as he pulled out a little to thrust back in. He could feel his hunger for her growing as he continued, his eyes locked on where they were joined. The light was dim but there was enough moonlight to see her arousal coating him, glistening as he pulled out and pushed back in. It was their warm up, going easy and teasing just a little bit more. 

“Harder, please.” Y/N bleated, trying to wriggle around but to no avail. Harry had her pinned, and she was at his mercy. It would be embarrassing how wet she was getting if she didn’t know how much he loved it. No doubt he was staring at it now, as he always seemed to be mesmerized at how good they looked together. “Please give me more. You’re bein’ mean.” 

Harry stopped, chuckling under his breath as he buried himself to the hilt, prick snug and warm inside of her. Caressing her back, he slid his hand up and down until he got to her ass, squeezing over it. “You think this is being mean to you, darling?” He murmured, grinding himself into her and smirking as he felt her gasp as his cock hit that sweet spot. “I think I’ve been quite nice. Gave you a chance to adjust, didn’t split you open and wreck you. But I should have known better… m’dealing with a needy slut.” His words hissed against her ear as he bent over the car with her, pressing his body into her. “That’s what I get for bein’ a nice boyfriend. What did you want, hm? Wanted that scary man back from work? Gets you wet, we both know. Watching me make people scream, but it's you who wants that. Nasty little whore wants to be ruined.” He pulled up, hand wrapping around the nape of her neck and pinning her back to the car after she tried to follow. “No. I was nice, but you want something else. Want me to show you mean, princess?” His opposite hand came down rough on her ass, making her yelp. “I’ll show you mean.” 

It was gloves off. Y/N should have known she was playing with fire, but she’d been desperate. Harry began to fuck her. Well and truly, fuck her. Hand on the back of her neck pressing her into the car as she cried out into the chilly night air, owning her as her whimpers echoed off the trees. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck- yes.” Her mouth fell open, hard to speak the words she really wanted to. It made her wet, wetter than usual to have her boyfriend take her out and fuck her where they could potentially get caught. He had said this was a makeout spot, a sightseeing destination, but here he was. Pounding her cunt for all it was worth and making it weep. “S’good, s’good, H-Harry…” 

“Yeah? It’s good?” He sneered. “Finally good enough for the little cockslut? Wasn’t enough that I took you out here… bent you over my car and spread your legs like a bitch in heat… mm, no.” His thrusts were deep and hard, making her move and yelp a little bit as he fucked inside. “Been so nice to you lately, been so fucking sweet… Almost forgot about how much of a nasty bitch you can be.” Harry smacked her ass again, the stinging pain making her cunt quiver around him- because this was perfect. Filthy, a little bit wrong, and a little dangerous. 

“Sopping pussy, so fucking needy. Never seen such a dirty girl in my life, but s’why your mine, isn’t it?” He cooed, acting as if he wasn’t pummeling her. Y/N could barely breathe, his rough thrusts making her cheek press harder into the warming metal. She could hear it, hear how messy she was making the both of them and it only made it worse. She was bare and vulnerable to the world and Harr was just taking it, taking care of her and using what she was offering. Ruining her like he had been meant to do. 

“Uh huh.” She gasped, feeling the tears return to her eyes. “I-I’m yours, I’m yours, my body is yours, I want to m-make you happy.” The words were a hiccuped plea, the warm tears growing cold against her skin as the beginnings of her orgasm were starting to take over. Neither of them would last long like this, not after the foreplay and the new situation. She hadn’t expected to be bent over a car in the middle of the forest and fucked into oblivion in the moonlight, no, but this was quickly becoming a favorite. “Face- I wanna see your face, please.” 

Harry paused, smiling to himself as she asked to look at him. He was still in his makeup, albeit smeared, but he knew how much she loved it. He obliged, carefully pulling out and turning her over so her back laid against the hood. “There’s my pretty girl.” His mean persona melted away for a moment as he bent down to kiss her hard, pushing the hair away from her sweaty face. “Adore you. You okay?” He wasn’t a stranger to her crying during sex from the pleasure, but he wanted to double check.

“Mhm.” She was dazed, but so fucking good. He had surprised her for sure, but she loved every part of this. “Perfect. Keep making me cry, Sir.”

His eyes darkened once more at the honorific. Y/N knew how to push buttons, and she did it successfully with him. Maybe she was a glutton for punishment, but she didn’t care. Seeing his face turn like that, even hidden beneath the layers, it made her clench around nothing. “Inside me, please.”

“At least the slut’s got manners.” He scoffed, angling himself as he thrust back in. It was a different view here. Instead of watching her ass bounce against him, he got to see her tits moving under her tank top as he began his thrusting yet again. They were covered in the thin excuse of a top and that simply wouldn’t do. “Why are you hiding from me? Let me see your tits.” He grunted, thumb finding her clit as he stared down at her. Y/N stared at him with a dazed expression for a moment before he snarled, smacking his fingers over her clit. “Know you get dumb on my cock, but fucking listen to me.”

And oh- Oh, Y/N loved that. Maybe there was something severely wrong with her, but she loved when he talked like that. It sent her into a frenzy, her poor abused pussy gushing slightly around him as he smacked her clit again. A keening whine left her throat as she scrambled to lift her shirt up, baring herself to him. It was a little humiliating in the best way. Being basically naked while getting fucked out in the open, her body flushed in heat now so the cold didn’t bother her and sounds leaving her body without her permission. Harry was playing into a fantasy, one she was all too aware of wanting to happen again. Anyone could drive up and see him wrecking her, anyone could watch how good she got fucked. 

“There you go. Not that hard, was it? My pretty, dumb little slut.” The man cooed, fingers finding her nipples, pinching them as he railed her.  “God, you’re making such a fucking mess on me. Gonna put me away wet, hm? Or should I make you suck me on the way back? Bet you would.” He babbled, watching as her breasts bounced at the force of his thrusts and her face pinched in pleasure. The sound of their fucking was audible, the smack of skin hot and heavy as it echoed off the trees. Y/N wasn’t being quiet, much to his delight. Moaning for him, for more, little crystalline tears dribbling out of the corners of her eyes and looking so pretty as they trailed down her cheeks. She was rambling about how good it felt, how much she needed him, and it fueled that evergrowing ego. 

Outside of their sex, he was the sweetest thing. He liked to dote on her and cuddle her, learning her skincare routine and braiding her hair when she was too tired after work. He took her to the park and made their own lunches, trying to expand outside his slightly agoraphobic bubble because she was giving him the affection and confidence he needed. Y/N wasn’t at all ashamed to be seen holding his hand or kissing his cheek, she had changed his life and ways she had no clue of- and giving her the best sex possible was the least he could do. 

During sex she liked him a little mean, which he loved to lean into. But this was a lot, and she was responding so fucking well- he knew from their limits discussion that he was okay to do it, but seeing it actually pan out positively gave him a confidence kick yet again.  

Her babbling continued but got higher in pitch, her eyes continuing to cry as she sniffled and whimpered his name as she held on to one of his forearms with force. “Yes, anything y-you want. Wanna make you happy, Sir. Please, I just…” She let out a little sob. “M’gonna cum. Can I? Please?” The beg was cute, his smirk growing on his face as he looked at the desperation on hers. There was something so erotic about this vision in front of him. Her lips still stained from her lipstick and puffy from their kisses and biting, the tiniest bit of mascara still on her lashes smearing under her eyes, his prior love bites in different stages on her tits- this was fucking heaven and he wished he could photograph it- but that was for later. 

“May I.” He scolded, smacking over her clit again to make her jolt. “Ask properly, and you can.” 

Y/N scrambled to answer as he felt the beginnings of it on his cock. He knew how perfect it felt when she came wrapped around him, but it was even better that she wanted his approval.  “May I cum, please Sir? Please- I can’t hold it, I really can’t, wanna be good, I need to-” Her panicked voice broke as his thumb brushed repeatedly over her swollen clit. There was no way she could hold it. Not when he was looking down at her with that glint in his eye. 

“Do it. Make a mess.” He ordered. “Cum for me, now.” He continued his thrusts as he felt the rapid clenching take over, her back arching and tits thrust in the air as she let go. Creaming around him, shivering as she let out a broken sob yet again, louder this time as she writhed under him. Her hot walls pulsed around him, as if begging for his cum- and he was going to give it to her. 

“Fuck, there’s my girl. Look so fucking gorgeous when you cum f’me, shit.” He grit through his teeth as his thrusts grew sloppy. “Where do you want it? Where does my pretty little whore want that cum?” He didn’t have much time left for her to answer, but her body did it for him. Lifting her legs and wrapping them around his waist, pulling him into her as she finally found the words.

“In, inside, inside me, Harry. Cum in me, give it to me, I want it.” She rambled, begging for it. How could he ever say no to that? The desperation, the true yearning for him to bust his load inside of her hot, perfect cunt and paint it white, he couldn’t resist it. His eyes took in the scene in front of him, how her puffy cunt was clinging to him as he pushed her open. The mess of slick and cream forming a filthy ring around the base of his cock as he fucked into her, smeared over the sides. Her trembling thighs and hard nipples moved along with his movement. Her swollen clit that was sensitive to the touch, how he fucking stretched her to the brim. There was nothing hotter than this. 

He cursed loudly as he began to climax, his balls throbbing as he began to spurt his load inside of her. Mouth open and eyes hooded in pure rapture, he watched as his sloppy thrusts inside of her and his cum began to coat him, making even more of a mess between them. It was nasty and hot and perfect for this scenario, a scary man taking a pretty, innocent little thing for all she was worth over the hood of his car in the dark woods. The strength of said orgasm surprised him, making him lean further over and pull her into him. His face found hers, kissing her mouth again as he worked them through the aftershocks of their pleasure, pulling her up so he could hold her against him. 

“My perfect girl. Did so good, always so fuckin’ good for me.” He mumbled against her mouth, giving her the praise he knew she needed. He hadn’t been that mean before and while she enjoyed it, she needed to have no doubts whatsoever about his affections for her. “M’so proud of you. Took it so well, make me so happy, my little angel. Obsessed with you.” He pecked her between sentences, pausing his thrusts to a halt. Staying inside of her for now, he knew it would hurt when he pulled out. There was no rush, only to make sure she was warm. Based off of both of their sweaty bodies, the chill of the autumn night was more than welcome. 

Pulling back from her lips, he stroked the tears that still fell- albeit at a much slower pace- and cleaned her up the best he could. There was no way to feel clean after sex like that and he knew it would be a nice shower when they got back to his place, but he was still going to do a bit of aftercare here and now. “My baby.” He whispered, voice a little hoarse. “Y’alright? Went a bit more intense than normal.” It was a bit of an understatement, really. Her nod in reply wasn’t good enough for him. “None of that. You know I want your words, precious.” 

“M’good.” She whispered, sounding just as tired and fucked as she looked. “So good, but so tired. Loved that a lot.” She clung to him, her achy arms wrapping around his shoulders as he picked her up off of the hood and carried her to the still open backseat. He apologized profusely, cooing at her as he pulled out, but he needed to clean her up.

“As sexy as it is seeing me dripping from you, can’t have my girl uncomfortable.” his lips pressed against her thigh as he gently wiped her clean with the tissues that were conveniently in the car. “Gonna take you home and we can hop in the shower, hm? Grab some food on the way home?” He grabbed her discarded shorts and slowly began to pull them up her legs. “Know I’m not into fast food but you deserve a treat.” 

Y/N perked up, a sleepy smile on her face as Harry’s nimble fingers adjusted her tank top and grabbed his hoodie from the other side of the backseat to pull over her head. He’d seen the goosebumps on her legs. His thoughtfulness aways did astound her. No one would ever guess he just called her a pretty, dumb little slut. He encased her in a soft bubble of affection as soon as the sex was over and she’d never known anything like it before. Hopefully she wouldn’t have any other partners. As early on as it was, as the days passed she began to become sure that the meeting between them was no coincidence. Her finding this job, applying, and catching the one man’s eye who never hooked up with anyone whilst also not in the market to do so, giving into his flirtations, all of it was fate. There was no other option. Something had pulled her in. 

For something meant to be so scary, it sure ended up being sugary sweet. 

“Sounds good.” She sighed, pulling him closer to kiss his puffy lips again. “Can you just hold me for a minute, though?” That vulnerable feeling was different now, in the shadows of their intense lust. It was floaty and soft and Harry was the anchor that made sure she didn’t fly too far away. 

“Course. M’never going to say no to holding you.” In all honesty, if he could do his work all day with her snuggled in his lap, he would. He never felt the need for personal space around her, and as scary as that had felt at first, he knew now that it was just the feeling of a pairing being right. It was early, some may say too early to tell, but he was pretty sure he’d found the one. 

Someone who saw him as more than Scarred.

[ilguna]

I love your work! Could I please get #17 of list 2 with Haymitch? I was thinking it could be a nightmare from the games or going into the reaping for the 75th? Thank you 💜

☼ history repeats itself (Haymitch Abernathy) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, alcohol use.

wc; 1.6k

prompt; 17. "Hey, listen to me. You're safe. Nothing is going to hurt you."

—

The last time Haymitch was himself was the night of the reading of the card for the Third Quarter Quell, which happened in the winter. He hasn’t been the same person since, but you weren’t really expecting him to be.

The horror that President Snow presented in front of the entirety of Panem had shook him, and every other victor across the country that thought they were safe. You remember sitting with him in silence on the couch. When you looked at him, it was clear to you that he was slipping away.

It hadn’t even been five minutes since the news reached your ears.

Haymitch stood up from the couch without a word, walking from the living room into the kitchen. You didn’t have to turn around to know what he was about to do. You couldn’t blame him, either. You didn’t even think to hold it against him.

He slammed open the window, you jumped at the noise, and he muttered an apology. The first breeze that came through was nice, it seemed to calm the warmth that had crossed your skin. You looked over to find him pulling a bottle of white liquor out of the cupboard, reaching to open it.

There was a series of hard knocks on the door, you got to your feet to answer it, but it was already swinging open. It was Peeta, a string of apologies leaving his lips for barging in. In the next breath, he was addressing Haymitch, and it wasn’t for what you’d thought it would be.

Peeta started to beg Haymitch to allow him to go inside of the arena again. He didn’t want Haymitch to interfere, to let the reaping run its course. He said that if Haymitch were drawn, he’d volunteer. But if he was drawn, Haymitch wasn’t allowed to lift a finger. He wanted to go back into the arena if it meant that Katniss would be.

You watched as Haymitch cracked the seal on the bottle, taking a long drink of it, before walking over to the dining room table to set it down. “I’m not going to make any deals, Peeta.”

It started out as them talking civilly, and then it began to fade into an argument. With Peeta telling Haymitch that since he protected Katniss the first time around, that meant he owed Peeta. Anything. And Peeta wanted a chance to go into the arena again.

By the time Peeta left, Haymitch was a quarter of the way through his bottle. When Katniss showed up, he was halfway in, drunk. You were sitting at the table with him, asking him if there was any way he could get out of this. You knew what the answer was already, you were just hoping it wasn’t true.

He did what he always does with Katniss—antagonize her. He asked her if she was there to ask him to go back inside of the arena for Peeta. She denied it and sat down with you two, drinking from his bottle. And then, instead of suggesting for him to volunteer, she said she wanted Peeta to be saved from the arena, no matter the situation.

It was only when Haymitch agreed to this, did she leave. The next day, Peeta came by and dumped all of the liquor in the house down the drain. He told you that neither you or Haymitch were allowed to buy it from Ripper down at the Hob—not that he thought you would, anyway.

If you’re being honest, you thought that his whole plan to get Haymitch to train alongside him and Katniss would last a few weeks at best. It wasn’t until the three of them started to show signs of improvement, did you believe that Haymitch wasn’t going to slip back into his habits.

Still, his attitude about the situation hasn’t changed in the past six months, and it’s grown worse over the past week, leading up to today. When you woke up this morning, you were expecting him to say anything about the reaping that will be taking place in the matter of hours. Instead, he pulled himself out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. 

You’ve kept a close eye on him all morning, something you’re sure he doesn’t appreciate very much. You don’t know what else to do. You tried to pretend like everything was alright, when he picked up on it, he asked you to stop. Every attempt you make at conversation falls short. 

It’s like he wants to revel in the doom cloud above him. And who are you to tell him otherwise? If you were in his place, you’re sure you’d do the same. He’s the first victor of District Twelve, and he was a tribute in the last Quarter Quell. If there’s anyone that’s earned a right to silence this morning, it’s him.

That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to see him this way.

“Are you almost ready?” Haymitch asks.

You look into the mirror to see where he’s standing, finding that he’s in the bathroom doorway. You tilt your head to the side as you slide the earring into place. “Almost.”

He nods, turning his body halfway to leave, and then he changes his mind. He leans against the frame, head tilted downward to look at the ground. He’s dressed nicely, considering the situation. You’re even able to see the muscles that he’s built up from training. The only thing he’s missing is his blazer, but if he doesn’t have it in his hands already, that means he’s not planning on bringing it.

“I wish I could go with you.” You tell him, rising from your stool in front of the mirror.

Haymitch’s eyes snap up. “No, you don’t, (Y/n).”

“If it means that you don’t leave me, I do.” You close the drawers, and then begin to walk in his direction.

“You’re safer here.” 

“It doesn’t feel like it.” You murmur. “I’m ready.”

He lets your comment slide, not wanting to fight. The two of you leave his Victor home, going down the steps. He shuts the door behind him and doesn’t stop to lock it. Usually, you’d say something about it, but you’ll be coming back here after you bid him goodbye at the train station. You’ll have the house to yourself for the next few weeks while the Victor’s battle it out in an arena.

You barely make it out of the neighborhood before you’re pulling his hand into yours, squeezing tightly. He glances in your direction, you catch it out of the corner of your eye. Your head is facing the other way, not wanting him to see your face, and the frown that’s struggling to settle on your mouth. You won’t let it.

What you’re feeling is selfishness and guilt. You hope that Haymitch gets his name drawn first, and you hope that Peeta goes through with volunteering. You don’t want today to be your last day with him. You want him to go to the Capitol as a mentor so that you’ll be able to see him again.

This isn’t fair.

The walk to the Justice Building from Victor’s Village only takes a few minutes. From a distance, you can see the crowd that has gathered around the stage. This year, since there is no giant pool of young teenagers, it’s doubled in size. 

Haymitch stops you, letting out a shaky breath.

You raise your eyebrows, eyes watching his face. He presses his lips together, breathing quicker, eyes locked on the stage.

“Hey, listen to me.” You squeeze his hand. “You’re safe, nothing is going to hurt you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, (Y/n).” He tells you. “I don’t want to lose you, the same way I lost them.”

Your face twists, confused for a moment, until it dawns on you. You haven’t been with Haymitch for long, only about two and a half years now. You’ve seen who he was before Katniss and Peeta, and heard his mindset because of what President Snow did to him.

In the beginning of your relationship, it felt like he was doing everything in his power to hide his history from you. It wasn’t because he was ashamed of it, he just wasn’t prepared for your reaction when he told you all of it. You knew the basics, the stuff everyone knows about his Games.

It was the aftermath of it that was hidden.

At the end of his Games, the Career girl had thrown her axe at him, and Haymitch collapsed because of the wound on his stomach, causing her to miss. The axe flew over the cliff, but came shooting back up, lodging in her skull.

Supposedly, they saw this act from Haymitch as one of rebellion. He was crowned Victor, and two weeks later, his mom, younger brother and girlfriend were all killed in retaliation. He tells you that he tried to put an effort into mentoring, but it was hard to exist everyday without aid. When he figured that he was never going to get a winning tribute, he turned to drinking, and stopped trying altogether.

This is what he must’ve been thinking about all morning.

You pull Haymitch in by your hands to hug him. He places his face in your neck, breathing in deeply.

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m going to be right here when you get back, Haymitch.” You tell him. “They can’t take me away from you.”

“I’ll be back, (Y/n).” He pulls you closer.

“I know.”

--

this is part of my 3k celebration!! you can join until the cure is released on Oct, 31st at midnight!!

[rayslittlekitten]

All Eyes On You

A/N: Okay, it's finally done. This did not go where I had initially imagined it but I mostly like how this came out. I think it's kinda different from what I've written in the past. I tried to make this PWP and Jax being savage but I always add softness to Jax. I can't help it. Also, I don't know how porn sets are so, yeah. Didn't want to focus too much on the logistics of all that. Also, clearly this is AU. Hope this doesn't disappoint.

Rating: E (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 3,597

Pairing: Pornstar!Jax x Pornstar!F!Reader

Plot: Getting railed by Jax Teller is only one of the perks of your job.

Contains: porn star/shooting porn, sex work, some D/s dynamics, sex (PiV), oral sex (F and M receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, humiliation, name-calling (slut, whore), light spanking, light choking, dirty talking, masturbation, praising (good girl), cream pie, a quick moment of edging if you squint, aftercare

"We need to find more honest ways of living."

Since Jax became President, he has wanted to steer the club away from the guns and other underground dealings. He was open to all ideas and for him, no idea was a bad idea until it’s been tried. When his business partner running the SAMCRO-funded and protected porn production company jokingly suggested for Jax to star in a few movies, he actually considered it. Getting paid to have sex? He's already doing it for free. Everyone's gotta earn their keep, right? Would it be too degrading? He's supposed to be the leader and he's leading his club into selling their bodies, maybe even their dignity. Not to mention the conflict of interest. Still, he brought it up to the table anyway and they voted on it. Surprisingly most voted yes, although mostly for pure amusement. 

What started as a joke to them actually became one of their honest ways of earning. Well, at least for Jax. The others didn't have the balls to do it, but that didn’t stop them from reaping the benefits of tagging along with Jax whenever he had to go shoot some scenes. Money doesn't lie and when they saw their revenue continuously multiply shortly after his debut released, they knew they had a cash cow. Since then, Jax had dedicated a day each month to shooting his scenes. As long as he agrees with the script, he has no problem. Sometimes he'd even make suggestions. He gets producer credit for those as well.

His content is the most exclusive one they have so they strategically make less of it. Gotta keep teasing his fans. Besides, he actually enjoys the attention. If it was any possible, his ego has inflated to be bigger than his dick and that in itself says a lot. It was as if God himself designed him to be a porn star. It was so effortless for him.

Their business has expanded so they their talent pool did as well and let's just say there is no shortage of women  - and men - wanting a chance at fucking Jax Teller. You're just happy that you're one of them who made the cut.

Your legs are pushed back to your chest as Jax has his face in between your thighs. You toss and turn your head, feeling his tongue and lips licking and sucking your folds. As you look off camera, you notice there are so many pairs of eyes on you as you lay there naked, spread so wide for the whole world to see your pussy getting eaten out by Jax Teller, suddenly getting a rush. Jax flips you over on your belly and he yanks your hips back so you're on your knees with your ass popped up. He shoves his face back in and you push back, moaning when you feel the tip of his nose nudge your asshole. Jax moves away and aligns himself with you. He shoves his thick, hard cock inside of you and you yelp. 

You brace yourself on the bed and turn your head to look behind you, at Jax as he pounds away, already quickly building an orgasm. You notice someone in the far corner behind Jax touching himself through the front of his jeans and you make eye contact, or so you think. He's a bit under the shadows and a studio light is blinding you, but it doesn't matter. This man is turned on by you getting fucked and that's turning you on. You can feel yourself getting more arousd with each plunge Jax takes and each stroke the mysterious man makes.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Jax growls.

"I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!" You warn and before you know it, your muscles contract on his cock and you moan out loud, maybe embellishing your cries just a little.

Jax continues to fuck you hard and fast, drawing out your orgasm.

"That's my girl," he praises and then smacks your ass.

"CUT! Let's get behind them and get a shot of her getting fucked from behind. Back in positions!" the director shouts.

"You alright?" Jax checks on you.

"Yeah, that was a good one," you breathe out while you wiggle your ass back into position, opening and exposing yourself to him and the camera.

"Think you can do that again, sweetheart?" he asks as his thumb slowly slides in and out of the entrance of your dripping slit, teasing you. 

You push back and mewl. Talents aren't supposed to engage in any sexual contact while cameras aren't rolling. Although it's not a perfect system, it helps to keep interactions professional and avoid unwanted advances. Fluffers exist for a reason. You and Jax are an exception though. You've been scene partners for a while now and are very comfortable with each other. You can't really say how it is for the other women he's done scenes with, but when you and Jax are fucking, you feel it in your soul and you know he can too. There's just this playful and cozy rapport between you two that allows you both to work together very well.

You swear Jax, the pleasure dom that he is - and what his onscreen alter ego is known for - always makes it a point to pull as many orgasms as he can out of you and you can't even fake yours. Not with him. He can tell when they're real but with him, you don’t even need to fake them. Your exes couldn't even figure out 10% of the ways Jax has learned the ins and outs of your body. Heck, he taught you a few things about your own body. 

Between cut and action are the times your pussy aches the most, missing the fullness of Jax's thick cock, stretching you out in all the best ways. People have said porn is fake, but it's not. Scripted? Sure, but it's not fake, at least not all of it. Actual penises are actually penetrating actual vaginas, assholes and mouths. You've sure tasted enough semen to know it's real. Your bruised cervix is more proof of it. Don't forget the sore jaw, but they're all worth it especially if it's all because of Jax. You're also reminded of why you love doing what you do when you notice all eyes on you and Jax again.

"Quiet on set!" the director warns. "Aaaand ACTION!"

You gasp when Jax shoves back into you without warning. He angles himself in favor of the camera, but pushes in deeper and faster. Your eyes wander again and find these two men wearing kuttes off to the side watching. You recognize the one you make eye contact with and you maintain it while getting railed. You've seen him around sometimes whenever Jax comes by. He smacks your ass and you yelp, pushing back against him, chasing another release. The man you're having a staring contest with shifts uncomfortably while adjusting the front of his jeans. You reach for your bare breasts and start pinching your nipples. Your hips stutter when you feel an orgasm close to sliding into home base. You clench and moan as you get closer and closer. 

"CUT! Okay that should be enough coverage. Moving on to uh..."

You growl in frustration when Jax stills his hips.

"Sorry, baby. I'd give you relief, but I think maybe we should save that for the camera," he teases as he makes his cock twitch while still inside you, making you cockwarm him between takes.

"Okay, so we're gonna transition to blowjob. Let's start from where we left off. Jax pulls out and then she turns around and sucks him off," the director tells the crew. "Then at some point, Jax, you put her on her back and go missionary."

You shudder suddenly when Jax spreads your juices around with the pad of his thumb and starts teasing your asshole with it, putting just the slightest pressure.

"Jax..." you pant.

"Shh. Be a good girl and hold it," he coos. ”Can you do that for me, baby?”

The line between fantasy and reality definitely blurs for the both of you sometimes, but you both also just enjoy each other that much. Finally they call action again and Jax starts giving you a few short shallow pumps, making you wail from relief, until he pulls out and spanks you.

"Come suck my dick," he commands, holding his cock out for you.

You manage to turn around so you're on your knees and elbows, face to face with his hard cock that's soaked in your juices. You immediately put your lips over his dark red tip and bob up and down, taking more and more of him each time you push in. As you jerk him, you ram his cock into the back of your throat, fitting as much of him as you can. Feeling your gag reflex surfacing, you encourage it to happen and then Jax fists your hair, pulling out a bit and pushing back in. 

“Danny, go in for the close up of her,” the director jumps in.

When the cameraman moves in, Jax palms the back of your head and you remove your hand to deep throat him again. He gently pushes your head down and you relax your throat, trying to get more of him. When you gag again, intentionally doing it audibly, he instantly lets go and you pull him out. He grabs your chin and tilts your face up so he can see it. Tears leak out of your eyes and spit from your puffy, slick lips.

"Look at you. So pretty," he praises.

His baby blues penetrate your misty eyes. You don't know if he's just a great actor or as charming as people claim he is, but you believe, at least in the moment, that he thinks you're pretty. You continue to look up at him, playing into the camera, as this is a close up.

"Get on your back," he tells you.

As you turn over and Jax climbs over you, the cameraman steps out of your personal space, returning back to a wider shot. Jax leans down and smashes his lips over yours. His hand comes up to your face and cradles the side of it as he deepens the kiss. You kiss back, slipping your tongue between his lips and licking his pearly whites. He opens up his mouth and intertwines his own tongue with yours, tasting each other. Breaking the kiss, he pulls back, kneels and brings one of your legs up to spread them without blocking the camera’s view. He taps his cock against your clit and then slides the tip up and down your slit, teasing you, causing you to moan and your hips to jerk. He finally pushes inside of you and you arch your back. He pumps away as he holds your leg up, the muscles of his tattooed back flexing with each push and pull.

“Are you gonna cum again?” he asks.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at where you meet. Your fingers reach in and you start rubbing your clit.

“Fuck, yeah, keeping touching yourself,” he encourages. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock again.”

With your next orgasm reaching the edge, your eyes wander to the man in the shadows behind Jax again. You see his hand is now in his pants and he’s unabashedly rubbing one out to this whole scene. Maybe he doesn’t think you can see him. You rub yourself a little faster and his hand matches your pacing.

“Oh god…” you start as you get closer to popping.

Jax drives into you faster and harder and before you know it, the coil snaps inside you and you cry out and arch up, thrashing as you ride the wave. You’ve already lost count of how many you’ve had as you’ve been doing this with Jax on and off already for the last hour or so.

“CUT! Okay, I think we’re gonna get to the money shot now. Are you ready for that Jax?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replies. “Can we get five?”

“Alright. Let’s do five!” the director shouts.

As the crew breaks, you let your legs fall to the sides and stretch out a bit while Jax slips off the bed, standing next to it. He starts massaging your hips and helps you rotate your leg one at a time.

“How do you feel? Do you need a longer break?”

“No, I’m good. Let’s just finish this,” you reply. “You really like to stretch me out. It’s like I’m getting a yoga session in whenever we pair up. In fact, it’s probably good for my body.”

“Here we go, biiiig stretch,” he says as he throws one of your legs over, twisting your torso and applying firm pressure on your thigh, stretching out your lower back and glutes. Then he does the same with the other side.

A satisfying moan rumbles from your throat as you feel your muscles loosening.

"Are you ready to show everyone what a fucking star you are?" Jax asks as you straighten your body out.

Your smile reaches your eyes and that tells Jax all he needs to know. You sit up and then bring your legs behind you to kneel on the bed. Jax licks his lips as he looks at you with an equally proud smirk. While biting your lower lip, you reach down and start stroking his semi-hard cock, bringing it back to life.

As people start returning to set, the director checks on the both of you.

“Just another minute,” Jax winks at the director as you continue to jerk him.

“Alright, everyone in your places!” 

You start changing up your pace and technique, making him hiss and groan.

“Lay back,” Jax directs you and you fall back to return to your previous position.

He climbs back onto the bed and repositions you to the same one he put you in before the break and pushes into you, your dampness still so present. Your body melts, feeling so delightfully full again. 

“Are we rolling?” the director asks. After confirmation, he calls action.

Jax pumps a few times into you, getting you both back on track. He pushes your leg back even more, spreading you out and changing his angle. When it feels like the right time, he then switches positions, curling up behind you and slipping himself back inside you, still holding your leg up and back.

His other hand snakes up to the front of your throat and he pulls your head back. You can hear him panting right into your ear as he thrusts away, You couldn’t be anymore exposed right now with your legs splayed open so wide and Jax fucking you from behind. Only way this could get better is if you had a few more cocks to fill your other holes.

“Look at all those people looking at you,” Jax grunts quietly into your ear, meant only for you and not the camera. “Watching you being such a fucking slut for me.”

His words just about pushed you closer to yet another orgasm which you know is the intentions behind them. You push back against him, trying to match his thrusts and get a deeper penetration as you glance over at all the people watching you. Jax starts pinching your nipple and you feel it shoot down below your belly.

“They’re memorizing how your juicy pussy looks and sounds as I pound into you. Imagining it’s their cock your pussy is gripping. The sexy sounds you make every time I stroke you just right. How shameless you are and loving every fucking second of it.” Jax’s dirty talk is rapidly fueling your next release and it’s evident as the wet sounds get even louder.

"I bet those perverts are gonna sniff these sheets after the shoot too just to feel a little closer to you."

Nothing gets you off more than knowing the power you know you have over your viewers. The thrill of them watching you getting stretched out and brazenly defiled especially when they need to jerk off to you, imagining they are the ones balls deep inside you. You don't get to see most of your actual audience but the thought is enough to intoxicate you. It also helps that Jax knows how you bring the inner slut out of you. The dirtier it gets, the more you want. You're putting on a different kind of show than what your viewers may think. You're not doing this for them; you're doing this purely for yourself, getting off on these people watching you on display.

“They’re storing it in their spank bank for later and when they need to rub one out, they’ll pull it right up, jerking themelves and cumming to you because you so desperately need to get fucked like a whore over and over again, cumming all over every cock that fills up your pussy,” Jax adds as he punches up into you, your ass slapping against the top of his thighs. The squelching increases with each thrust, pushing your arousal out of you.

You also get a different kind of rush from being so sexually freeing. The blood rushes to your face and your groin when you suddenly feel like you’ve been caught doing something so naughty. Shamefully being shameless as your holes get stuffed over and over again. Embarrassed to be seen in such a state but at the same time not wanting to stop because it just feels so damn good to the point you don’t care who is watching.

"You're gonna give me one more?" Jax asks as he continues to pound into you. “Huh, baby?”

He hooks his arm under your knee to hold it back, spreading you even wider and this time, it’s his long slender fingers that dip down between your legs to rub your clit. 

"Come on, baby. Cum on my cock again," he encourages. “Just one more time.”

You slam your hips back against him, chasing your next release. Between his fingertips digging into the sides of your neck, the sweet filthy words spilling into your ear and him driving his hard, thick and long cock into your cunt, your body is already close to the end, but now him rubbing your swollen clit, it launches you right over to the line.

“Be a good girl and cum for me,” he grits.”Cum for me, you fucking slut.”

With that, your eyes roll back and you cry out. You are convulsing over him, your walls clamping down hard over his cock. 

“That’s it! That’s my fucking girl,” he growls.

His pacing maintains even after you stop flopping around.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too,” Jax pants, and then lets out a low moan as he empties himself inside you.

“Great! Danny, make sure you get a close up of the cream pie shot,” the director reminds him.

After Danny quickly repositions himself, Jax slowly pulls out of you and slaps your clit a few times, making you shudder. His hand reaches between your legs and spreads your lips open. You bear down and push his seed out of you. It leaks out of you and runs down to the crack of your ass. With your juices mixed in with his, he coats your lips with it using his fingers and runs it over your clit as well before sliding his fingers inside you, gently pushing it back in.

Jax turns your head to face him and leans in to kiss you tenderly. 

“Okay, that’s a wrap! Let’s break and clean up for the next shoot.” 

You continue to lazily make out with him, even well after cut was called. As the crew works around you and Jax, you stay lying in bed for a few more moments while stretching your muscles. Jax slips some shorts on and re-joins you, cuddling and spooning you after draping your robe over your naked body.

“Jax!” you giggle as he kisses a trail up the back of your shoulder and neck.

It’s almost unheard of but Jax always gives you aftercare after every shoot, especially the ones where it gets a bit degrading and painful. He does that with all his scene partners, but sometimes you like to imagine he only does it with you. Your mind starts drifting, falling into this comfortable and peaceful lull as he runs his fingers up and down your body that’s cocooned in his.

“Hey,” he nudges the tip of his nose against the back of your ear as he inhales your scent, waking you from your state.

“Hm?” you reply drowsily.

Then Jax finally pops the question you never thought he’d ask.

"You think you're ready for your first gang bang?" Jax asks.

Suddenly getting your second wind, you twist your body to face him and plant a kiss on his cheek, his smile now matching yours as your heart now grows full.

“Really?!” you ask as your eyes light up.

“I’ll even let you pick out your partners.”

Unable to contain your excitement, you squeal as your smile widens even more. 

“Okay, I think we should go get cleaned up and get outta here before they have to kick us out,” he suggests. “I’m laying on a wet spot.”

Jax affectionately boops the tip of your nose with this finger and then kisses your forehead before helping you out of bed.

[kindaasrikal]

If Morro ever came back, the relationship between him and the ninja would be very complicated.

Morro, a few years back in canon, came down to ninjago to destroy it all. He came back and proceeded to possess Lloyd for the max amount of a month, and fought all the ninja multiple times leaving them almost dead. He also ended up losing, and at the end of it all it was only then that he realised it was all for naught. He could’ve gone back to Wu, but he didn’t. He chose the harder route and is now reaping what he sowed. It was at the end that he had a change of heart. Later, on the DotD, he ended up coming back and helping Wu and the ninja. Not because he’s a good person, but because he wanted to. At this point, Morro did not care for harming others nor all of Ninjago, his vengeful nature was thrown out the window.

Out of guilt and for the sake of having some form of peace, he helped the ninja by helping them remember Cole. And that was that, he immediately began leaving and was never heard from again.

Lloyd no longer is all that affected by Morro in the current time, as seen from how he casually brings him up and said to Harumi how Morro wasn’t the worst villain he ever faced. That does not mean he no longer has the trauma or the memories, but it does mean it wouldn’t leave him a crying mess if he saw Morro again.

However, he and the ninja would still be very tense and aggressive if they ever saw Morro again. They would hesitate to attack, mainly because its unlikely Morro is attacking them at that moment and because they recall the DotD. They would hear him out, maybe even ask him for help if the situation calls for it. They would not get along with him though.

Lloyd would actively avoid him, but if he ever did come across Morro they would be stuck in a tense silence, and Lloyd would be very argumentative when it came to him.

Kai would avoid him too, but if they were ever in the same room best believe those two are fighting.

Cole or Zane wouldn’t avoid him, but they wouldn’t acknowledge him either. And when they do, they’d be very uncaring? Ig? Like, monotonous, i suppose.

Nya wouldn’t avoid him, but she would always argue and cuss him out.

Jay is the one who avoids him and also never is actually stuck in a situation with him unless someone else is there.

Morro would also argue with all of them if they do, and actively avoid them all. He would start and participate in arguments too, just like them.

Their personalities and traumas would clash, and to be perfectly honest, forgiveness is not on the table when such an old would is opened back up.

However, i DO think second chances or at the very least becoming friendly with each other is on the table. Through a long journey of self sacrifice and talking because they have no other choice and through understanding they are no longer the same people. And because of Wu.

Let’s be honest if Wu (alive or in his weird orb ghost form) was there they would be a lot more cordial with each other.

But yeah, it would take a LOT to get the ninja and Morro to actually get along, but i do think it’s possible. It would start off as a huge mess for a long time, and it would probably get worse too, but eventually they would get along due to the situation they are likely to be forced into.

Like in a battle, or someone sacrifices themselves for the other, or they get into one of those cliche situations where two of them are stuck in a room or smth together and they have to talk it out or they’ll go insane, or they have an argument that no can stop or they can’t just run away from and end up spilling how they actually feel and shi.

I am TELLING YOU. It would take all those cliches to make them get along.

OH LIKE HOW ZUKO DID WITH THE GAANG THATS HOW.

It would take Morro proving himself to have changed for any of them to get along. But knowing this guy he wouldn’t try and it would happen by accident.

I’m using Garmadon and Harumi as examples as they both were horrible people who hurt Lloyd and the ninja a bunch, but they gave them both a second chance and Lloyd (somewhat) forgave them both after they changed and proved it. I think it is possible the same could happen with Morro, because they’ve done this multiple times. With Harumi, Garmadon, Pythor (still became evil again tho), Skylor, Pixal, and so on.

Another reason why is because each of those characters had a unique connection with another ninja or someone in their group. Skylor with Kai, Pixal with Zane, and the other three with Lloyd. Who does Morro have a relationship with? Wu. I find it likely that with Wu supporting Morro the same way those three did with their ‘villains’ the others would be just a tad more willing to at the very least hear him out.

So pretty much the relationship between Morro and the ninja is like a married couple about to divorce because they were in a shi situation and Wu is the marriage councillor who’s doing his best.

Sorry i was just thinking about how they could actually get along man and i trailed off on to this, forgive me 🙏

[ghcstao3]

been on a hunger games kick lately so. ghoapifying time!! yippee yahoo

(edit: extra because i felt a little silly)

-

Simon isn’t much when his name is reaped, just days after he’d turned 18. He’s scrawny, starved, scarred—being from District 10, the only thing he’s ever known is butchery, so maybe he’s of use with knives, but it really means nothing to him. Not when his older brother Tommy had gotten killed by Peacekeepers, not when his mother had died of illness, not when his father couldn’t give less of a shit when his youngest son is sent to die.

So all he can do is accept his fate. All he can do is listen to his mentor, train in the fleeting days he has left, and try to survive. No matter if the odds would never, ever be in his favour.

Simon doesn’t remember much from the days leading to the games. All he can really recall is the absurd pageantry and the lack of privacy, though it had been nice to be freed from the stench of blood, if only for a few days. It was nice, not having grime beneath his fingernails.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t remember much from the Games, either. Simon hadn’t made allies, didn’t need to—even his necessary loyalty to the girl from his district was tentative at best. She would still come down to being another competitor, in the end. Simon didn’t want to die, he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

And he doesn’t. He wins, somehow—maybe out of spite. Maybe out of fear, or out of vengeance. Simon doesn’t know.

All he knows is that he hates the man he’d become in that arena.

* * *

Johnny was born and raised in the Capitol. Maybe not in a family that was the richest of the rich, but still much better off than anyone found in the districts. He’s only ever known some sense of luxury, has never encountered the cruelty of the real world, and continues to stand to benefit from the pain of others.

But even then, he does eventually recognize the faults and evilness of the system.

Eventually.

Because as a boy, he had loved the Games. Before having any sense of consequence or the realness of these people and their deaths, Johnny had been just as enraptured by it all as everyone else. He watched with interest, just as entertained as he was meant to be. The Games had been awe-inspiring to him as they are to most other Capitol children.

He still remembers Simon’s game. Ghost, as the boy from District 10 had been called, having earned the nickname from an uncanny ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere and make that cannon fire one more time. Johnny had been 15, then, still an avid watcher of this slaughter-show—but he’ll always recall that game the most, because of Simon.

Simon was shy, and awkward—but the Capitol had loved it. Loved him. And Johnny had just as well, albeit for some different reasons. Because along with everything the Capitol admired about Simon (which was mostly superficial), Johnny admired his resilience. His persistence, his triumph. He had thought, back then, that he could only ever wish to be like the boy from District 10. He’d never been so enamoured with a tribute, a victor like that before.

That was seven years ago, and things have since… changed. Not enough to be different, but enough for Johnny to notice. Enough for him to finally understand that these Games are far more than he had ever been led to believe. He just didn’t know to what extent.

Johnny is freshly 22 when he meets Simon. A friend of Johnny’s (in the loosest of terms), Philip Graves, tells him that he’d gotten a special birthday gift for Johnny that year—and while usually Johnny might be skeptical or uncaring, given Graves’ track record, it’s what he says about this gift that has Johnny… panicking?

“Remember that victor you used to have a crush on? Well, I finally managed to get in a request.”

Before Johnny can ask what he means, two Peacekeepers—escorts—are entering the room with Simon in tow.

Graves grins almost predatorily before standing and patting Johnny on the shoulder like he means to be friendly. Like he thinks he’s given Johnny all he could ask for.

And in maybe some sense he has, but not like this. Not like this.

“Enjoy the next few days, Johnny,” Graves is saying. “He’s all yours.”

Johnny thinks he might be sick. The threat of bile in his throat only grows more intense one he’s left alone with Simon.

The victor looks… different, since his time in the public eye. Bulkier, likely from a steady supply of food for the first time in his life; objectively healthier. Skin smooth, porcelain, like he hadn’t seen a day of suffering in his life. Every aspect of him perfectly tailored, manicured, prim, like a clean slate for his current proprietor.

He still has that rugged kind of handsomeness to him, though. The Capitol could change many things, but they could never take that look of fierce determination from his dark, knowing eyes.

“How do you want me?” Simon asks softly. Johnny can tell there’s still fight thrumming beneath his skin, but they both could guess what would happen if that were to be let free.

“I… don’t,” Johnny says before he can help himself. At the shift in Simon’s expression he feels his heart drop, so he adds quickly, “Sorry, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that. I just never realized…”

Simon tilts his head, curious, assessing. “Never realized what?”

“That you…” Johnny swallows hard. He takes a shuddering breath, nervous, like he isn’t the one with more power here. Like he’s the prey—and maybe he is. “Could be bought.”

Simon shrugs a shoulder, nonchalant like the idea of being bought and sold like an object is hardly a bother to him. There’s hurt in those eyes, but it doesn’t live anywhere else on his face. “There’s a lot of things you might not know outside of your world of luxury.”

Johnny’s gaze falls the floor. “Yes,” he sighs. “I’m sure there is.”

A tense silence falls over them, for just a moment, before Simon is shuffling across the room to join Johnny on the sofa. He sits close, but doesn’t touch.

“So,” Simon’s insisting, “how do you want me?”

Johnny doesn’t know if he’ll survive these next few days.

Perhaps he should at least be grateful that the transaction is on Graves’ hands.

[satorkiees]

12 weeks

synopsis : y/n and shoto are academic rivals. what will entail on their journey through ua?

cw : academic rivals to lovers, angsty in parts, fluff, kinda cliche lol. likely grammar errors. 6.8k words.

.100

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“damn it!” you exclaimed, running your hands through your hair in frustration. your rival, shoto todoroki, who was fiddling with his pen, paid no mind to the test results.

he had become your rival accidentally though you were 90% sure it was a one sided affair. during your entry exam into U.A, you had helped him out of a tough spot with a robot and all you got in return was a begrudged thanks and a reminisce of gratitude. when the entry results came out, you were peeved. the guy (who you found out was shoto todoroki through your mother) scored higher than you even though he had DEFINITELY made an error. you swore to yourself from then on, that if this guy was in your class, it was fate for you to beat this guy.

now, it’s been months since you entered u.a and all of your test scores (specifically maths) had been good, outstanding even, but were never good enough to beat todoroki.

“don’t you think it’s getting a bit weird?” mina asked whilst tears were dramatically falling from your eyes.

“huh?” you replied.

“i mean as far as i know, you guys barely even talk so where did this huge grudge even come from?” she sighed, grabbing a crumpled tissue from her pocket. you took it gratefully and blew your nose.

however, shoto was painfully aware of your existence. when he had entered u.a, he never intended to dominate his class academically, his main focus was on honing his ice ability. 

though, during his time at u.a, he had become more invested in his academics. your sheer drive and tenacity to strive to be the best was admirable. his prior conversations with you had always been brief and mainly consisted of you swearing that he’d ‘reap the day he underestimated you’ - whatever that meant. but he figured he liked you, your determination, your extroversion, your smile…anyways, he decided that it was time to actually get to know you.

the bell rang whilst students filed out of the classroom bustling to the cafeteria for lunch. quickly, you shoved the rest of the contents of your desk into your bag as all of your friends had betrayed you to get an early lunch - leaving you behind. shoto watched you curiously, moving his hand to rest his face when he accidentally knocked his water bottle off the table causing an abrupt noise.

you shrieked to put it politely. turning around to face shoto todoroki - your sworn enemy. narrowing your eyes at him, you helped him pick up his water bottle and went to back to putting your remaining belongings in your bag.

“thank you,” he stood up, placing himself in your field of sight, “ i appreciate it.” and he walked off.

you were stunned. shocked even. you didn’t know this guy even knew how to smile let alone have manners. a weird feeling erupted in your stomach, a feeling you chose to ignore.

from then on, you and todoroki were on friendly terms, he went out of his way to smile or wave at you, to greet you ‘good morning’ without fail. you were slightly off put from the change but ultimately decided it was a good one. 

the gods were against you.

you had been paired with your sworn rival for the next 3 months. and with this feeling growing bigger every day, with his heterochromatic eyes and his nice smile…  you had no idea what to do. it was your last period of the day, both you and todoroki were tasked to stay behind and clear up the extra equipment. the silence was deafening and you had absolutely no intention of breaking it.

“do you hate me?” shoto says abruptly, breaking the silence

“what?” you turn around to face him properly for the first time this period.

“though we aren’t close, i feel as though ever since we’ve been at u.a, you’ve disliked me. and.. and i’m not sure if i’ve done anything to offend you but if i have, i’m sorry.”

your eyes widened at his apology. “oh.”

his eyes were honest, sincere enough that all you could do was turn away. as you walked on, it was as though he was seeing right through you. honestly, you didn’t even think todoroki even knew who you were and it wasn't as if you hated him. far from it, if anything, he made you feel insecure in your own sense of self but you had never hated him.

“i don’t hate you, or anything like that. i- i’m sorry that i gave that impression.” your voice coming out less strongly than you had liked. “if anything, i think i envied you a bit,“ your ears burning up at your confession.

 “you’re really smart and i just can’t seem to beat you.” with the rest of the equipment in your hands, you turned to face him again. his eyes were soft and his features slightly lifted. “so, i.. uh.. i consider you my rival, todoroki.” by the time you had finished, your whole face was flushed. the feeling was everywhere, it was a warm one, afraid todoroki would notice the sudden change in temperature. you turned on your heel leaving your rival with a faint smile imprinted on his lips.

two weeks had passed since then, and you would now consider todoroki a friend of sorts. the study sessions he held in the common room were helpful. you hung onto his every word, how his voice fluctuated slightly when trying to explain a difficult concept, or how he had pinned his hair back to stop his hair falling into his eyes. and the weird feeling had only grown bigger, enough to begin to consume you - you ignored it. it was normal to think about your rival like this, you reasoned. deciding you only started noticing these things so you could beat him in the future. that was all there was to it.

two weeks had passed since todoroki had asked if you hated him. and midoriya had helped him out by inviting you to the study sessions he held sometimes though he was certain you were more capable of teaching the content than he was. he noticed how your brows knitted together whilst trying to figure out a question or how your eyes lit up when you had finally figured it out. he was enthralled by you. and he had no idea why. when he had tried to ask his friends for help (namely midoriya), he was met with a pat on the back and a pitiful ‘good luck’.

four weeks had passed since you had picked up his water bottle. thoughts of him had begun to consume your whole being. his hair, his eyelashes, his honest eyes, his smell, his everything. his presence became overwhelming. as you were getting ready to take your last exam for the term, you could feel his gaze burning into the back of your head.

truthfully, for the past week or so, you had been ignoring him like the plague. you stopped coming to the study sessions, you stopped replying as quickly to his texts, you stopped looking at him completely. you had to do well on this exam. you were certain you could beat him this time and for yourself, you HAD to do well because if you didn’t have your academics what else did you have? the clock began, the sound of pencils scrawling across the paper, the heavy breathing of your peers, all of it was familiar to you, it was what you were good at. the clock ended, pencils down and the tense atmosphere melted away.

“the test was sooooooo harddddddd” mina whined, stretching. you laughed with your friend though your heart wasn’t really in it. mina’s eyes lit up “ we should go shopping to celebrate !!”

though you weren’t usually one to pass up on an offer like that, you hadn’t felt this drained for a long time. so you politely declined her offer and encouraged her to go ask ochaco or tsu instead, leaving you behind again. his eyes were still burning in the back of your head, you began to pack up your stuff quicker to avoid having a conversation with him.

“are you alright, l/n?” shoto asked, concern laced in his words, leaving his seat, to help you pack up.

“yeah? why wouldn’t i be okay?” you said dismissively. taking away the notebook he had picked up for you from his hands.

“you’ve seemed off these past couple of days.” he said sincerely, trying to meet your averting gaze.

“todoroki.” you said,  looking directly into his eyes “ i’m fine so just let it be. i’m fine. if i needed your help. i would’ve asked for it.” you spat your words out, shoving the rest of your stationery in your bag and swiftly exiting the room. leaving todoroki confused as ever.

your conscience wouldn’t let you sleep that night, guilt devoured your whole being. he was just asking if you were okay and you blew up in his face? why would you do that? why would you say that? what if he never speaks to you again? what about he hates you now? your spiralling seemed to be never-ending until a notification interrupted your sniffling. the light made you squint, struggling to see who the notification was from.

todoroki : Hey, I know you said you were fine but I am worried about you. If you want

me to go away, block me but-

if you were sniffling before, you were heaving now. spiralling came to you naturally, and your heart had become so bruised that you ended up pushing away those who care about you. his message preview was enough for you to start crafting an apology. though tears still stained your face, the warm feeling had begun to push out the horrid feeling. you made a small bouquet of paper tulips and wrote a handwritten apology note. it was 11ish at night when you had finished, and you weren’t sure if shoto was even in his dorm but you knocked regardless. as soon as you knocked, your heart begun to pound inside of your chest and you began to spiral again. what about he wasn’t in? what if he WAS in? what about this was too much? what about-

the door opened, todoroki was greeted by you, holding a mini bouquet of paper tulips in one hand and a letter in the other. his heart must’ve skipped a few beats. your eyes were a bit red, he assumed from crying and your hair was a bit messy but he couldn’t help notice how beautiful you were.

“uh. hi.” you said awkwardly, causing todoroki to come back to reality. “i made this as an apology for earlier- i was. i was out of order for what i said and i’m sorry so yeah. now that i’m here i feel like it was a bit much-” mentally you were kicking yourself, since when did you ramble like this? however, your rambling was cut off by the todoroki pulling you in for a hug. that’s when it hit you. you were crushing on shoto todoroki. his arms clung onto your waist and yours around his neck, your bodies pressed up against each other. your bodies melting into one another with both of your temperatures rising by the second. as your head was pressed up against his chest, his heart sung loudly and irregularly, a similar tune to your own. though, you didn’t want to let go but pulled away so you could give him what you had made. tears were brimming your eyes already and before you burst out into tears you whispered a thank you. leaving todoroki behind again his request for you on the tip of his tongue.

5 weeks later and you’re back to your usual self. the only evidence of the night happening was your handmade flowers in a makeshift vase on shoto’s bedside table. on your desk, aizawa had placed your test scores from last week on your desk. as you picked up your test and held it close to your chest, shielding it from any peering eyes (denki.), you turned around to face todoroki with a look of determination etched into your features. luckily, todoroki hadn’t touched his test yet, or even looked at it, it seemed.

“ hello y/n.” he greeted.

“ i need to know what you got on your test scores.”

“ah, i see.” he copied your previous motion, becoming used to the ritual you guys had formed after test season, sliding the test scores towards him and holding the sheets close to him. carefully, he peered at the first one, “ i got 94 for english.” truthfully, your fingers had been crossed for any extra bit of any luck you could snag before seeing your results despite the tests already being marked. after a deep breath in and a quick prayer to the divine gods who had paired you with todoroki in hero training, you looked at your english paper.

“94. as well,” a tiny sigh of relief that it wasn’t worse than todoroki’s, you trudged on. “ for general sciences, i got 98-96-84…” chemistry had always been your worst science and you were surprised you had even gotten that high to begin with.

“ well done. i got,” todoroki peered at his paper again, hair falling into his eyes once more. an unexpected laugh escaped his lips, one quickly masked with a slight cough “ i got 99-79-90.” even todoroki had a weakness too, physics. ultimately, your total scores still added up to be the same so this was your tiebreaker - maths. beads of sweat began to formulate on your head, muscles tense, breathing heavy.

you peered down at your results…

“okay… i got 100? I GOT 100?? I GOT 100!” you squealed, erupting with excitement. maths wasn’t your weakest however, it’s the only subject you hadn’t 1) gotten a 100 in and 2) beaten todoroki in.

“congrats,” his eyes softened, a familiar warm feeling returned to him, one that he couldn't quite place. your smile was contagious, enough to bring a noticeable smile on his own face too. once he had peeked at his results, a clear, thick cloud of darkness appeared on his face. in contrast, he had barely even passed this exam, let alone done well enough to face you as a rival. gradually, during your reveal, you had moved closer to todoroki, enough to tap him on the shoulder and bring him back to reality.

“ soooo, what’d you get?” you asked inquisitively. shoto ignored the heat rushing to his face from the sudden contact from you. 

“ 54.” shoto replied, much blunter than he had expected, “i barely passed that exam.” doing your best to hide the smug expression on your face, you asked him how he got that in the first place. as he skimmed through his paper, all you could do was look at his face. it was a new expression, frustration evident in his face with his hands running through his hair. even while he was frustrated, he was utterly beautiful. another chuckle erupted from his mouth, one that he covered up quickly with a cough. “i completely learnt this concept wrong so it messed up the foundation for all of these,” he said, showing you the paper. skimming through it, you were able to pick up on the errors he made, mostly silly mistakes and a misunderstanding of the content. still, you were so surprised you had beaten THE shoto todoroki. 

“i guess you win this time,” he said, shuffling the papers to hand back to mr aizawa, who was now making his way around the room. “ but don’t get too complacent just because you beat me.” your competitive spirit, though never gone, was ignited once again.

5 weeks and 4 days and you’re inside todoroki’s room for the first time. he insisted you help him learn the maths he couldn’t get whilst you were strongly advising momo to be a much better help. determined, he convinced you to help him and here you were in front of his dorm once again.

shoto welcomed you in with a smile and showed you to your seat. the walls were mainly bare (other than one all might poster which you guessed was a gift from midoriya) and a sage green, that being the only pop of colour in the whole room. it was a tight space just like the rest of your dorms but he utilised the space well, with no unnecessary clutter. his blinds were open letting in the golden light from the sun’s peak which kissed his living space leaving a warm feel to the whole room. everything was tidy, notebooks, novels all stacked neatly upon one another. you weren’t incredibly surprised by the state of his room however your eyes widened slightly at the sight of your dishevelled flowers from a couple of weeks ago. they were slightly more crumpled than when you had first gifted them to him, however they still had their shape and were arranged nicely in a vase on his bedside table alongside a photo with who you assumed were his two siblings. 

“you kept these?” you asked softly.  he hummed in response whilst trying to set up the last of what you’d need for your upcoming study session. 

“is it a problem?” he countered, picking up the final of the textbooks and placing them onto the desk. you shook your head in response, positioning yourself to the left side of todoroki. 

“not at all. i was just surprised you kept them, that's all.”

“why wouldn’t i?” 

“i mean,” you hesitated. “i kinda thought it was a bit much.” you laughed awkwardly, todoroki’s intense gaze encouraging you to keep going. you continued as you looked away, searching for the page number. “communication has never really been my thing so. i get a bit weird sometimes, especially during exams.” far past the page you needed, you kept flicking through it, “i know you never actually consented to being my rival or anything so i get it if you think i’m a bit weird for it. and that if you’d rather not be my friend or be part of the rival thing. it is a bit childish.” having reached the end of the textbook and the end of your willingness to open up anymore, the both of you sat in silence.

his brow furrowed and not sure what to do, he sat with you. flicking through the textbook you were fidgeting with before. he pressed his leg up against you and gave you an affirmative nod. “i’m not sure what to say but i do enjoy being your rival. you motivate me, l/n.” a melodic tune erupted in your chest, a sound that was becoming commonplace when near your said rival. 

“alright! let’s get started!”

6 weeks and 2 days since you had picked up his water bottle and the u.a hero course was on their way to a field trip out in the country. the skies had cleared up, sun rays beaming and the semester over, high morale filled your class. there, you would train with the wild wild pussy cats and learn different techniques to hone your abilities. their focus on mountain rescue was sure to be helpful in increasing your quirk’s capabilities as well as your general knowledge of different terrains. you were excited to say the least, todoroki (who was your assigned partner for this trip also) had been hearing all about it from you and your friend ochaco. the bus ride was smooth sailing for the most part. as you gawked out the window admiring the blurs of emerald, royal blue and yellows, occasionally pointing out a pretty flower to your seat partner, todoroki. 2 hours passed in the blink of an eye and before you knew it, your class was filing out of the bus to be greeted by the beloved pro heroes. 

something was amiss. with no camp insight, your peers quickly tried to run back onto the bus but were quickly met with the rumbling of the earth beneath them which catapulted them (and you) off of the cliff and down into the forest beneath you. 

“if you’re lucky and get there by 12.30, you’ll get lunch!” yelled the blonde pro-hero gleefully as you and your classmates fell to your doom.

panic erupted between you and your friends, you clamoured together as you were met with earth-composed beasts. suddenly, everything clicked. your class fell into formation and you ploughed your way through the forest in record time. 

record time being 5.20PM meaning everyone had missed lunch by a long shot. sweat drowsed your uniform that covered your aching muscles as heavy breathing filled the air. shoto helped you carry your suitcase to your shared room with mina, ochaco and the rest of the girls. the room was small but cozy, enough bunk beds for everyone and enough space to fit everyone’s stuff. you and shoto made your way to the dining room where everyone was already devouring their hard-earned food. the both of you slipped into easy conversation about hero-work and the future whilst enjoying the amazing food the heroes had prepared for your class. dinner came and went and after a long, warm shower, you felt rejuvenated and ready to tackle anything.

the next day was an early one. the alarm went off at 5.00am and it was a race against the clock to be out and done by 5.30am.

“has anyone seen my charger??” jirou called out, tsu trying her best to untangle the cords whilst she was straightening her hair.

“ i haven’t,” mina replied, applying her mascara on “does anyone have a spare p.e kit i could borrow?”

“i’m so exhausted,” momo said, trying to muffle the sounds and delve back into her peaceful dreamland.

last night was amazing. after the hot springs, you and the rest of the girls decided to stay up a little later, catching up with each other and discussing other summer plans. “soo, how about you and todoroki?” mina said, raising her eyebrows playfully. a chorus of ‘ooooo’s erupted from the rest of your girlfriends whilst you did your best to wave them off. 

“there’s nothing going on between us.” you said, gaining a few ‘aww’s this time from the audience. “i like him but as far as i can tell, it’s one sided.”

“well, you must be blind.” mina shrugged, pulling the covers over her head. “ i think it’s best we get some sleep.” she said, cutting you off before giving you time to process what she had meant with her comment..

after last night and a chaotic morning, you were once again drained and unprepared to face the morning of what you knew would be extensive quirk training. however, you powered through it till the end. after a quick shower and getting ready for dinner, you bumped into a familiar dual hair coloured boy. 

“todoroki!” you called out, signalling for him to come next to you, having barely seen him all day due to your focus on quirk training. still as pretty as ever you thought to yourself as todoroki talked a bit about his new quirk regime. he was more animated since you had first began talking to him and now that you were off school - you didn’t see him as much as your rival but a good friend. shoto cleared you in all aspects when it came to ability so you found it helpful when talking to him about his quirk and how it could be applied to your own. you loved how he articulated his words and how he made complicated concepts seem simple. you loved the way he began to use his hands when passionate about certain things and how deeply thoughtful he was. 

the pro heroes had left you and your peers to your own devices when cooking your own dinner today - katsu curry and it was a sight to behold. you were in charge of preparing the vegetables. however, your kryptonite was anything to do with the kitchen - you were absolutely awful. carefully, you inserted the knife slowly into the carrots whilst your kitchen partner, bakugo skillfully cut the vegetables in record time. 

“woah bakugo, you’re so good with that knife, it’s weirdddd.” uraraka said in passing hoisting campfire wood in her arms. 

“WHAT’D YOU SAY TO ME?” bakugo shouted whilst still cutting the rest of the vegetables to precision. 

irked by bakugo’s excellence, you tried your best to mimic the speed of your cutting counterpart. and for the most part it was going well until you heard your name being called out by your crush. your focus had been lost, causing you to slice your finger causing it to ooze out blood, quickly you pulled your hand from the knife and began to shake as a feeble attempt to soothe the pain. you cried out in pain as you began to try and find the nearest first aid kit, shoto felt a pang of guilt through his chest as rushed over to help you.

truthfully, it wasn’t that big of a deal. you were a hero in training and this was definitely on the lower end of pain you had experienced under u.a’s care. it still hurt like crazy though. shoto was careful around you, more so than usual you thought. another side of him you hadn’t seen before. he ushered you the taps so you could prevent any form of infection happening whilst he rushed to get plasters from iida. the both of you were sat on a bench in a secluded area that was quite a bit away from the boisterous cheer of your classmates. where you were was quiet, secluded, intimate. an experience that you hadn’t been in before. todoroki’s sole focus was on your injury though you had insisted it was quite alright. he had urged otherwise which was how you landed in this predicament. 

shoto’s hands entangled in yours. his heavy breathing and laser focus on getting the bandage placement just right. never had your feeling been so warm, it was burning you from the inside out, hotter than your desire to beat him, hotter than anything you had ever felt before. you sat up a little straighter causing shoto to unravel the bandage. 

“sorry-” you both said at the same time. your eyes locked with one another and for a moment it felt as though you had fallen deep inside of his. you quickly pulled yourself out of it, looking away first. 

the sound of the summer leaves swaying together whilst the birds sang an evening lullaby accompanied your shoujo-esque scene. “my sister taught me how to cook,” todoroki started, having not broken his unwavering gaze. “she’s amazing at what she does. she’s a teacher now too.” he said proudly, looking at the sunset. the warm hues of orange, pink and violet swirled together in the sky and both of you fell into a comfortable silence. 

“todoroki, i want to tell you something but promise you won’t laugh.” his ears perked up as he turned to face you once again. a sudden wave of confidence overcame you and as you were about to respond, confess even, you heard a familiar voice.

“ STOP FLIRTING AND GET OVER HERE.” mina called out, loud enough everyone in a 500 mile radius could’ve heard. shoto closes the first aid kit, accidentally brushing his hand against yours again. if you weren’t already flushed, you had to be now. all of your prior confidence melting away from you by the second and that hot burning feeling, simmered down into something manageable. he wondered what you were going to tell him but inferred that you were back to your usual self. doing your best to ignore the familiar feeling growing in your chest, you started up a conversation - one that you both fall back into effortlessly. 

as you arrive, you’re informed that all of you will be partaking in a haunted horror game around the woods. you’re paired off with both todoroki and bakugo due to the uneven numbers from the students off at extra classes. bakugo walked in front of you both muttering about not wanting to see ‘lovey dovey shit’ and that you both should ‘die or confess’ otherwise he’d puke. ignoring him, shoto’s eyes lit up as he told you a bit about his childhood and how ever since he was young, horror movies had been his favourite. when he asked if you were into horror, you simply shook your head in response as you hated it. the occasional blood curdling screams did not help your fears whatsoever. shoto held out his hand and you took it giving it a squeeze. bakugo came to a halt, causing the both of you to follow suit. 

there was a head poking out the ground. there was a head poking out the ground. her eyes were hollow and deeply sunken to the back of her head. she was paler than snow and her hair was as black as charcoal. she was ghastly.  you joined the other screams to create a harmonious choir of horror whilst putting off your other two teammates. apologising, the three of you kept moving so you could complete the route before bakugo’s bedtime which he insisted he didn’t have.

 “i didn’t know you were actually scared of horror.” todoroki chuckled, amused by your earlier reaction.

“i did say, didn’t i?” you replied, embarrassed. “and besides, i can barely handle movie horror let alone seeing a girl’s head pop out of the ground.” frustrated, kicking at the ground. your reply only caused todoroki to let out a fit of laughter. an unexpected one at that. bakugo turned around and scowled at the both of you, becoming crankier the closer the time approached his bedtime. his laugh didn’t get any less attractive, the more times you heard. in fact, quite the opposite. the way his hands clutched his sides and his eyes crinkled, you were star struck. if cupid hadn’t already struck your heart, this was the final blow. you joined in with his laughter to the point both of you were hysterically laughing and trying to stifle it. the both of you had taken mental screenshots of the moment, carved one another’s laughs into your minds. however, everytime bakugo yelled at you to keep it down, it only restarted it. that’s when your familiar feeling grew, it became something bigger, something you no longer had any control over. the same burning feeling that overcame you on the bench earlier.

a creeping foul odour had begun to infiltrate the air. over the past couple of minutes, a deep mauve mist had clouded the air. catching on, your teammates also covered their lower faces to minimise the inhaling of the putrid gas. bakugo had made the call to keep going in the direction you were headed back to camp and both of you followed suit. the screams that had filled the air prior had stopped, an uncomfortable silence filled it instead. 

something was amiss. 

the silence was pierced by a mumbling sound, a constant one at that. as you the three of you approached the noise, a man with his limbs strapped tightly to his torso, drowsed in black turned to face you. the upper half of his face was covered, tightly sworn off though you could make your deep holes due to the tightness of dark fabric. with a dry throat, slowly you began to approach the man, on-guard for what was to come. both of your friends had joined you, edging towards the mysterious figure.

a rush of ice sped right past you creating a barrier of sorts. this man had teeth and many of them. some short and some long and thin. they were mangled. panic consumed you, unsure of what to do. your teammates were much more equipped for the fight but even bakugo was rendered useless due to his quirk and the forest environment.

but you were doing your best, to help out, to help your class, to help your country. however, maybe your best wasn’t enough or your best wasn’t appreciated by the gods as an agonising pain pierced through your lower abdomen, copious amounts of blood matching your pain. 

“y/n!” todoroki yelled, his voice strained. 

you did your best to muster up a response to which you were met with a sharp, piercing pain that rang throughout your whole body. as he saw your face contort with movements you were once able to do just an hour ago, he felt a deep pang in his chest. “todoroki,” your voice coming out no louder than a whisper. “ i need you.” your final words as you passed out.

the fight ended soon after you passed out. the next couple of hours were a blur for todoroki, the vanguard action squad had been beaten temporarily however your injury consumed him. he had been tasked to carry you back safely after cauterising your injury, apologising profusely whilst he sealed your bleed out. 

peacefully, you laid in his arms, quiet and still. he thought about what he could’ve done time and time again to prevent the injury from ever happening. if he had only been more diligent, if he had helped out more, if he had just said something. all of these ruminating emotions were evident on his face all the way back to the hospital, he had reverted back to his quiet self, the most he spoke was about your injury to the doctor when he was checking you in. the doctors assured him that you would be okay, that it might take a while for you to wake up so it was best for him to go home. and so he did.

he went back to dorm life and waited.

he tried his best to integrate back into dorm life, it had been 7 weeks and 3 days since you had picked up his water bottle. it was one his dad had bought him as a gift - something about being the best in the business, the water bottle that could really enhance his quirk. something stupid and trivial. but you picked it up for him so he’d attached it to you. and your face and your smile and your intelligence and your grace and- 

that was when it hit him. a cold afternoon after classes had been resumed the day before. that he didn’t want a life without you, a life where your rivalry wasn’t there, a life where he couldn’t make you laugh or smile. a life where you only existed in his memories. during the past week, he had been updated about your condition from your other classmates that went to visit. he couldn’t bring himself to see you, not when you weren’t awake. bakugo had given him an earful about it on many occasions since the rest of the class had all been back in dorms. 

“has anyone else come to see me?” you asked, fiddling with one of the many “get well soon!” cards you had gotten from your friends and family. 

“nope.” mina replied. “i told todoroki he should come and visit you but he got all weird about it. he’s been so quiet lately. you need to hurry up and get better so he becomes normal again.” she sighed. you warmed up at the sound of todoroki’s name. you ignored how mina caught on to your not-so-obvious way of asking if he had came to see you yet but were completely intrigued by your answer. truthfully, you thought todoroki had forgotten about you or better yet, thought you were a burden of some kind and refused to see you. 

mina had given you the rundown of what she knew about what happened, though she didn’t know much as she had been stuck in the remedial course. “i just think it’s high time, you confessed y/n.” she squeezed your hand. “ i mean, god forbid but you could’ve died. and. i.. i just don’t want you having any regrets, you know? hero life is tough and it’ll only get tougher from here so live a little!” 

later that evening, you had one final visitor. you were fast asleep, deep in your own subconscious and though the doctors had advised him to go home, he assured he wouldn’t take long. 

shoto saw you again for the first time in a week or so, quiet and still like the last he saw you. most of the colour had returned to your face and you looked as beautiful as you did then as well as all the times you had before. he had white tulips in his left hand and a long note written in the other, he led the tulips on your bedside table which was overflowing with an assortment of gifts and cards. he sat quietly beside you with the sound of your light breathing and the slow, rhythmic tick of the clock to accompany him.

“i promise you that when you’re awake, the first thing i’ll do is tell you that i like you. your eyes, your smile, your everything.”

8 weeks.

today, you were being transferred from the main hospital to recovery girl’s room for the last bit of your recovery. the injury had affected specific areas of your quirk which needed professional care to not mess any potential growth in the future. after you had woken up from the last hospital, most of your stuff had already been packed up though tulips and a note (which definitely weren’t there before) met you when you woke up. you opened the letter to see a quick note scrawled onto it, “text me when you wake up, todoroki.”. a bit ominous, you thought but your curiosity was peaked. 

before you had the chance to shoot a text to todoroki, you were ushered into the car back to u.a and now were in recovery girl’s room. hours later, you pulled out your phone and shot a quick text to him. 

you : hey, just got your note!! i’m in recovery girl’s room now as i’m well enough now. i think i’ll be in classes soon too!! hope u haven’t gotten lazy, i’m gonna have an academic comeback with all the content i’ve missed 😜

ping! todoroki picked up his phone ditching his attempt to study maths on his own. he had been catastrophizing the whole morning, unsure of if the note and tulips were a bit much or if you had just decided to ignore his note, thankfully you hadn’t.

 shoto : i’m “on the grind” as you call it lol. i’m coming in 10. stay awake please.

shoto threw on the nearest jumper he could find and made his way towards recovery girl’s room.

there were 3 light knocks at recovery girl’s door. 4 minutes had passed since he had sent you that text, your mind coming up with all types of scenarios - many that you thought were delusional. recovery girl was currently on her lunch break so you took the liberty of opening the door and lo and behold, shoto todoroki was stood before you. slightly dishevelled, his laces undone and slightly out of breath.

for a moment, you both took each other in. he pulled you into a hug. one similar to the previous hug you had shared, it felt as though it lasted forever and no time at all simultaneously. he pulled away first from the warm embrace with his hands placed firmly on your upper arms and for the first time in weeks looked at you with the same lovestruck eyes. 

“i like you. and i missed you. and your smile and your face and you.” a breathlessness still present in his voice.

oh. 

oh.

and if it wasn’t already crystal clear to you before, the current reality had been shattered and rebuilt for you once more from the gods above. 

speechless. you looked at him with an ‘o’ expression plastered on your face. “ i missed you too.” you managed, pulling todoroki back into an embrace. “and i like you too.”

epilogue. 

12 weeks after you had picked up his bottle and you were back into class and everything had smoothed into a new normal.

summer came and went, with fall on the horizon and the start of the second semester which meant a new finals season was upon class 1-a. 

“no way you beat me?????” you groaned, running your hands through your hair. your maths test had a solid 92 on it but your boyfriend had managed a perfect 100.

“i guess i did.” a smug smile spreading across his face which prompted a pout to form on yours. “don’t be mad y/n.” he cooed.

“i’m not.” you said flatly, beginning to turn back to your seat. shoto stopped you in your tracks placing a light peck on your cheek. heat rushed up to your face causing yourself to cover your face. 

“better luck next time.” shoto said with an evident smile clear across his face, a smile you would never get tired of seeing.

a/n : i'm so glad i've finished this oml. i feel like i could've added more buttttt i was getting tired of this fic tbh so it's shorter than i intended. hope you liked it. reblogs, notes and comments all appreciated. requests are open!!

[hervey-gervey-chip]

DIY AGE-OF-SAIL INSPIRED FOULIES

part III: the process

it’s been a couple weeks since i finished making the alterations i wanted to make to the bibs before waxing, but we finally had an open shop day at school where i'm not bothering my buddies over at the Lady Washinton (though let’s be honest, the only reason i’m not there now is because they’re in anacortes and i dont wanna do the whole drive-ferry-drive thing). HOWEVER, that means i got to spend 4 hours painting my overalls with hot toxic soup. as far as the soup recipe goes, I did actually end up changing it again. in my first post i said i’d do varnish, and the second post i said black paint. i was going to measure everything out nice and had oz quantities i was going to adhere to, but i forgot my measuring cup… lets be real though, it’s probably more historically accurate to just throw shit in a pot and go. I’M MEASURING BY VIBES FOR SCIENCE!! the final recipe went something like this:

1lb microcrystalline wax

~1 cup mineral spirits

~3/4 cup tung oil

~1/2 cup rust-oleum oil based enamel paint (black)

~2 tbsp pine tar

I probably could have done more pine tar but the class bucket was basically empty and i didn’t want to walk down the hill to get more. I also know that pine tar takes fucking forever to cure, and even a small amount smells incredibly strong (though i certainly don’t mind, i actually prefer to be covered in the stuff most times- it’s more a courtesy to the non-tall shippers who aren’t used to the incredibly concentrated stink of 10 campfires burning directly into your nostrils). the reason i added the pine tar is because of it’s anti-bacterial and anti-microbial properties, since once the bibs are cured i really won’t be able to wash them. also, from my (limited and haphazard) research, you don’t need a lot to reap those benefits.

i put the wax in a double boiler, and once melted, added the oil, thinner, and paint/pine tar all at once. once it was all sufficiently combined, i started painting it on, let it cool a little bit, and then went back in with a heat gun and brush to help the solution impregnate the fibers of the cloth. oh also. make sure you are in a well ventilated space AND WEAR A RESPIRATOR (see the i-learned section below). i did 2 coats all over in this manner, and then a third over the knees, butt, and ankles for good measure.

oils and tar over any kind of fibrous material can take weeks to fully cure (as i have learned well from rigging), so i am expecting to leave my garment and it’s accoutrements hanging in the shop for about 3 weeks before they reach any kind of wearable or testable condition. everything seemed to soak in pretty well, but i left the shop before everything fully cooled so i’ll do another update at the beginning of next week- i’m anticipating that i over-waxed and there will be some residue i will have to deal with (though in what way is to be decided).

cleanup was pretty easy, considering my proclivity for giant messes with any project i engage in- lots of mineral spirits and several rags seemed to do the trick.

some things i learned/would do differently:

oh my god this recipe makes so much. like. so much. i had like 2 cups leftover and i did 2 coats on my overalls, pockets, AND a 1’x3’ piece of spare canvas. if you were just waxing a pair of pants, halving the recipe would still probably be more than enough

putting the cold liquids into the hot wax makes it congeal a little bit, but you can’t tell when the black paint makes the entire contents of the pot turn, well, BLACK. id put the transparent stuff in first, let it all melt together, and then add the black paint so that there wouldn’t suddenly be so many solid particles all at once

MIX FREQUENTLY. photo 3 shows the difference. i had mixed it really well at the beginning, but once it was all (presumably) a single solution, i stopped worrying about mixing it. the thing about paint/varnish/buildable coatings is that the reason they are buildable or have any sort of pigment is because of the suspended solids within it. this means that over time, the solids will coagulate at the bottom of the container, which is why you have to shake nail polish or stir paint before using it. this also means that i should have been mixing every couple minutes as i was painting it onto the bibs, so i ended up with a very pigmented mixture at the end, and a relatively translucent mix at the beginning. up until a certain point, i was getting a pigment that was not opaque but i was happy with, so i didn’t think too much of it until i was putting on coats that looked more brown than grey or black. anyways, mix your shit.

so… cotton burns. i was painting one leg at a time and then heat gunning it before moving on to the next leg. the wax/oil solution seems to make the fabric more resistant to burning, so the painted bits can take more heat than the untreated cotton next to it. if you, say, for example, (i definitely DID NOT DO THIS) get distracted by a particularly riveting tiktok your friend sent you of a snail vibing on a car windshield while your heat gun is blasting on high 2 inches from your pants, the raw canvas may or may not start smoking. i switched up to painting the Entire back or Entire front before heat gunning, and that seemed to solve the problem (also no more snail tiktoks)

respirators are kind of important. i was in a giant shop with vaulted ceilings next to a wide open garage door and i still had a bit of a headache after 4 hours of standing unprotected next to a pot of hot poison.

photo descriptions:

setup

setup part 2: electric boogaloo

pant ass- upper section 1 coat unmixed, lower section 1 coat mixed

spare canvas in the midst of coat 2

back of spare canvas after coat 1

back of spare canvas after coat 2

waterproof test!

finished garments and spare canvas, ready to cure

cleanup

[crazy4myself]

No Harm List | Pt. 14

Word count: 5.5k ish

Warnings: explicit language, violence, sexual themes

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy’s life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

—------

A/N: Hiii lovelies I know it had been literal years since I’ve properly updated. To avoid confusion you may want to go back a few chapters to refresh; I recommend part 12. Also some of the next few chapters may look familiar bc I re-wrote them. But I think you will like this version much better :)

“Why did you avoid me after we kissed?” you asked again, your voice clear. You did not make yourself elaborate. You didn’t tell him how you’ve felt lost and helpless these weeks. And if you could take it back, you would. But if you were honest with yourself, no part of you really wanted to.

You just looked at him expectantly and watched him squirm in the silence. “Because.. I’m a coward,” he offered, looking down at his hands.

Your silence was loud in the air between you, pressuring him to keep talking, “I was scared because BTS has already put you in so much danger already. I mean, we're not even dating, and you were basically held hostage.”

“Don’t pin this on me.” you cut him off. You knew it was a valid point, but it wasn’t his only reason for not talking to you. “Whether or not I endanger myself to date you is a decision for us to make. Why did you avoid me?” you asked again.

“I was scared. I was scared it was an impulsive or pity kiss after being shot. I was scared you didn’t have feelings for me, so I avoided the rejection.”

You quirked a brow in disbelief. Oh, sure, he was scared of you rejecting him. “It’s true!” he insisted.

“And I don’t even know if I could date you,” he added, and you felt a part of your chest ache at the confession.

“I don’t know if I'm capable of dating with my lifestyle. It's not only a safety hazard, but I don't know if I’m capable of giving you any more of myself than I already have. I think about you all the time. And I love spending time with you. But our friendship, where we were before that kiss, it’s all I know how to give people.”

He turned to you, eyes searching your face for any signs of hurt or betrayal, but he couldn’t read your expression as you quietly whispered, “And what if I told you that’s enough?”

Jungkook parted his lips but was at a loss for words.

“I’ve never really dated,” you explained, “And I don't think I know how to. And school is so stressful, and the program is only going to get more complex. I’m not sure I have time to learn and figure out the ‘right’ way to do it.” You paused as you saw his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you realized how contradictory you were sounding.

“I like you, Jungkook. I like what we have, and I liked kissing you. But before now, I didn’t think I could date you. Not because of the whole ‘gang’ thing. But because I think-” your voice cracked, “I think something in me broke when I lost Daewon. I never,” You paused to swallow.

“I will never let anyone in like that again because it hurt so bad when I lost her. And we weren’t even together romantically. So, imagine how bad it would hurt to lose a partner?” a hot tear rolled down your cheek, and Jungkook reached up to wipe it. You leaned into the comforting heat of his touch as his callused thumb rubbed soothingly on your cheek.

“What I’m trying to say is we both clearly have boundaries and walls. And we both suck at keeping the other out of some of them. So what if we loved eachother in whatever fucked up way we know how and at least reap the benefits of having shitty partners?” You offered with a hesitant smile.

“The benefits being?” Jungkook asked with a quirked brow.

Mischief glinted in your eyes as you smiled at him before lifting onto your knees and crawling towards him on the couch. Jungkook knew this conversation wasn’t over. He knew he should stop you and assure you that nothing about you was broken for being cautious about who you loved. He wanted to tell you that you were good and kind and would make an incredible partner in any capacity, and he was worried he wouldn’t deserve what you were willing to give. But his mind went blank as you inched so close that he could feel your breath against his face as you murmured, “I can think of a few.”

You moved confidently but still grazed your lips against his in the softest touch as if asking for permission.

Jungkook leaned forward, capturing you in the kiss and pulling you into his lap. It was just as hungry as last time, as if he had been waiting to taste you again. Jungkook felt his body come alight at the joy of feeling you pressed against him. His hands rubbed eagerly against your thighs before wandering up your sides, your arms, and your shoulders as he took all of you in.

The touch wasn’t as much for pleasure as it was a claiming. But still, you skin tingled in response. A trail of goosebumps rose in the wake of every brush of his callused hands.

Finally, you broke the kiss to catch your breath. Pressing your forehead against his, you both smiled like idiots as you took eachother in.

Jungkook leaned in to kiss you again, softer this time. As if the raw desperation passed, he would savor every second now that he had you. His hands were firmly on your waist, and his thumbs rubbed in a soothing motion, lower, and lower as they crept under the hem of your shirt.

You felt core core turning molten and couldn’t reflect back on the last time you had been with someone in this way.

Jungkook’s mouth was hot against your neck, trailing down from behind your ear lower and lower, looking for the spot that made-

You gasped and arched against him in pleasure, your chest pressing harder against his.

There it was, his mind thought in primal satisfaction, as he bit down right above your pulse point, making you writhe against him further. He had been replaying the sounds you made during your last kiss in his head an embarrassing number of nights he was alone. He wanted to map your body right now and learn every spot that made you sigh and moan for him. His hands had migrated further up your ribcage, your skin flushing hot beneath his touch as his thumbs swiped just below your bra.

He was about to reach around to unclasp it when a cough from the kitchen cut his ministrations short. You both turned in shock to see Yoongi placing an expresso pod in the coffee machine.

“J-Hope is in the garage you might wanna,” he waved his hand in the air in a vague gesture to separate. “Or don’t,” he said with a shrug, “I think his reaction would be funny.”

You were scrambling off Jungkook's lap and shoving a pillow between the two of you. Your lips were swollen and bruised from the kiss. You straightened your shirt, which was more rumpled from your earlier fight than anything, and placed a pillow between the two of you as if to protect your chastity with seconds to spare before the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps echoed from the garage. You locked eyes with him as soon as he made it in the entryway. You could feel the anger radiating off of him as he entered the room.

“What happened?” He demanded.

Jungkook calmed his breathing, grabbing the pillow barrier to instead place on his lap as he reminded himself that the bakery was attacked. Hoseok had no clue that Jungkook was just kissing his best friend and that he was not in danger.

“Hobi!” you were up in an instant, ignoring his foul temper as you wrapped your arms around him.

He caught your embrace effortlessly, his eyes tracking you and then noting Jungkook and his new emotional support pillow as he squeezed you tightly before letting you step back.

“Are you okay?” you both ask in unison before cracking a smile.

“I’m fine I just had to lay low. What happened at the bakery tonight?” Hoseok pushed.

Your smile faltered for a moment. “There was an ambush, they didn’t touch me. I can’t say the same for them, but they’ll be fine.” you started.

Hoseok’s brow rose at your implication, “You took out four of the Black Tips best men?” he asked. He didn’t sound disbelieving, he sounded… impressed and maybe a little proud.

“Only two, and I wouldn’t call them the best. Why are you here if you’re in hiding?” you asked, ignoring the way his approval warmed you chest. “And why were you in hiding? And when did you dye your hair?” you pushed. Reaching up to touch the murky black locks. It was obviously box-dyed and barely covered the bright red it was days earlier.

Hoseok smiled tight-lipped before moving to the couch, “I’ll tell my story if you promise to tell yours when Jin and RM get back.” He offered.

You refrained from pointing out that the reason you were at the Den in the first place was to do exactly that. You were too eager to get some answers from Hoseok. Who quickly filled you in on the details of the fake assassination attempt that ended in a not-so-fake assassination charge. That led to Hoseok and Yoongi hiding out in some shitty safe house an hour outside the city, living off Raman noodles and re-dying their hair to more subtle colors.

By time Hoseok had finished, the other members of BTS began filing in. Hoseok told you they had only been called out of hiding so Yoongi could manage the video footage of the bakery and nearby security cameras for the police department and insurance claims. Jin wanted to edit out any evidence of a gang-related interrogation, or else their relationship was going to get a lot more complicated with the local authorities.

But apparently, there was no need. Yoongi was fuming when he returned from his office, informing the others that while the security cameras were able to stream live footage to their system, the memory had been wiped from BTS’s computers.

He still had to cover their tracks of abducting the Black Tips on any city cameras. But otherwise the gang was relying on you as the sole witness to the night's events.

Well, you and the four Black Tip members who attacked you. The men were currently stored away in a safe house under the greenhouse on the Den’s property. But with the excessive exposure to Jimin’s smoke, there was a chance their memories would be unreliable, if not nonexistent.

Jimin couldn’t even estimate a wake time for the men due to the level of gas they inhaled. It could be days before anyone could get answers out of them.

When Jin and Jimin finally returned from filing their reports to the authorities, everyone settled in the living room to hear your account. You recalled the night's events as detailed as possible, telling them how the man in the suit tried to buy your loyalty from BTS and describing him to the best of your ability.

To your relief, they all listened quietly while you spoke, and when you were done, it was V who helped you fill in any gaps you may have missed by prompting you with questions. His presence was steady and soothing, and you realized he was giving you a glimpse of the spider at work. The others didn’t dare interrupt him or ask their own questions, they trusted him to gather every drop of information.

What did the man in the suite look like?

Did he ask about BTS’s current movements?

What ‘sins against the city’ did he want to hold BTS responsible for?

What information did he want you to report back?

You didn’t have any answers to half of those questions, confessing you spent most of your time stalling and trying to get the man to reveal why he was bribing you of all people. You were convinced at the time that the alarm had alerted BTS of your situation and that they would arrive at any minute. The thought of the man getting away didn’t seem like a possibility.

And a small part of you, despite promising yourself you owed BTS nothing outside of your contract, couldn’t help but feel like this oversight was a failure on your part. Somehow, you let the gang down.

Jin clarified that the alarm had been disabled along with the cameras hours prior to the break-in. It was by luck and V’s intel that they managed to get to you when you did.

“And isn't that a big fucking problem?” Hoseok growled, unable to stay quiet any longer.

He stepped forward, glaring in Jin and Jimin’s direction, “Do you realize how irresponsible it was to schedule her on a closing shift alone.” He accused.

“Hobi, it’s fine I worked late all the time at my last job,” you started trying to diffuse the situation.

Everyone in the room refrained from pointing out how well that had gone for you.

“No, it’s not fine. This isn’t like your other job. What if they tried to get information from her at that moment, and she had nothing to give? What if V didn’t call in time? There are a thousand different ways this could have gone wrong. She is not a member of this gang,” Hoseok snapped.

You flinched slightly at his tone.

“She doesn’t have the tattoo. Debt and favors aside, she should not be this deep in BTS’s affairs. She should not be alone in our businesses. That bakery is a cover for Jimin’s lab and loitering drug money. Why the hell would you think it okay to leave her alone there?” He continued.

Jin’s face was like a stone as Hoseok lectured him, not wanting his own emotions to invalidate his brothers. “You're right.” Jin agreed, and you could see the full weight of tonight's events take a toll on him as his shoulders sagged and he turned to you with guilt in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry I put you in danger, Ella. We will never let it happen again.” Jin promised his voice was soft but earnest.

“It sure as hell won’t because she’s not working for you anymore.” Hoseok snapped.

“That's not your call to make,” you argued.

Hoseok turned to you, frustration evident on his face, “Do not fight me on this. You know tonight was too dangerous.”

“She was the dangerous part of tonight. She was fine.” Jungkook pushed, standing next to you.

“Stay out of this!” You and Hoseok snapped in unison.

Jungkook’s face puckered like he tasted something sour, but he sat back on the couch's arm.

“Tonight, you were lucky that man wanted you alive. He could change his mind at any point why can’t you see the danger in that.”

“I'm bound by contract to keep working off my debt,” you argued as you turned to RM for backup.

RM crossed his arms, taking in you and Hoseok as he contemplated his response.

“Blood debt runs deeper than civil law,” Hoseok said before his leader could voice his opinion. And a tense stillness fell across the room.

“Have you forgotten she’s on the No Harm List? That we are supposed to be willing to die for her.” he pushed. The whole gang's demeanor changed at the reminder Jimin downcast his gaze as his shame sank into his gut.

“I don’t want that,” you pushed, horrified, “Take me off the list I don’t - I did not ever want that.”

“Daewon, please, why won’t you let me protect you!”

The room fell quiet as his sister's name echoed through the room.

Your chest ached as understanding settled in, “Oh, Hobie,” you sighed.

“We’ll take a vote,” RM ordered, unable to stand another minute of this fighting. “We have damage control to take care of, and everyone is tired. We meet first thing, and we will decide as a team what we should do about Ella.”

Hoseok’s smile was mirthless at his boss’s half-ass attempt to placate him. “See you bright in early,” he said with a salute before turning for the garage.

You stared after your best friend, hesitant to follow him. “And do I get a say in that decision?” you asked RM softly.

RM sighed, “Your opinion will be considered when we vote. You will have full control over how we go about re-negotiating your contract if it comes to it.”

Assuming that was the best you could get, you sighed, eyes flicking over to Yoongi who flanked RM’s left, his arms crossed and his expression stoic.

“I guess I’ll go catch up with Hobi,” you offered hesitantly, not knowing what to do. Yoongi met your eyes but said nothing. Taking Yoongi’s silence as his answer, you squeezed Jungkook’s hand in a silent farewell before you followed Hoseok to the garage.

Hoseok kept his eyes forward as you approached his vehicle. He was sitting in his Porsche the engine purred a soft accompaniment to the rhythmic thump of his music.

“Can I catch a ride?” you asked, already settling into the passenger's seat and buckling before he could give an empty “Sure.” in response.

You didn’t ask where he was taking you as he sped out of the Den’s parking lot and into the streets of the seventh ward. His options were limited if he was still a wanted man, and you figured you would end up at your apartment by the end of the night.

“We need to pick up another box of hair dye. Whoever did yours did a shitty job,” you said, reaching to run your fingers through his hair.

The unique thing about your friendship with Hoseok was you two were forced to mourn together when you were getting close. Meaning you both had a talent for ignoring the elephant in the room and settling into a normal life where you talked around the big issue.

It wasn’t always healthy to ignore your problems like that. But for you and Hoseok, it worked. After big changes like this, you both had a habit of turning off your feelings for a while and giving each other space and time to process instead of forcing each other to talk about an issue before you were ready.

It’s what you did with Daewon’s death. It’s what he did for you when you first found out about BTS.

So tonight, you could make space for him. The two of you could go through the rest of the night without talking about the bakery or BTS at all if he didn’t want to.

You glanced out the window, realizing what street he was turning on.

“We’re going to see Dae?” you asked, surprised as he pulled to the side of the road outside the city’s botanical garden. The gardens were closed, which was no surprise considering it was close to one in the morning. But that was never a problem in the past.

“We didn’t visit her on her anniversary this year,” Hoseok said simply.

You both visited separately, though you wouldn’t point it out. At the time of Dae’s anniversary, you were still giving him the silent treatment for lying to you about BTS. You had visited Daewon’s grave on your own and saw that it had already been cleaned, and her favorite flowers decorated the small plot, meaning Hoseok had already beat you there.

At the time, you had felt guilty for the relief you felt in your chest. Visiting her that day came with the fear that you and Hoseok would cross paths before you were ready to face him. And you think Dae would have been disappointed to see the two of you arguing on top of her grave.

Because of that, neither of you had gone through with your tradition of robbing the botanical gardens.

Your freshmen year of college was filled with many adventures since moving to Alcor was still a novel experience, but it also came with many nights of being homesick. While Gautier was technically a territory of Kros, the country Alcor resides in, the cultures were very different. And the climate was shockingly different in the cold and wet port city where the smell of sea salt was on the breeze, you missed the clean and fresh scent of blooming heathers and rosemary in the spring, and the taste of sweet figs right off the tree in the summer time.

One night, when you were suffering from a rather nasty bout of homesickness, Daewon took you to the botanical gardens and taught you how to break in at night. At the back of the property, a mighty magnolia tree bloomed outside the garden's fence. It was almost too easy to scale the tree’s sturdy branches and dismount on the other side of the garden. The fences were lined with countless bamboo trellises fortified with different vine plants, making for an easy escape anywhere inside the garden.

You remember how your heart fluttered the first night the two of you broke in. You had to make an effort to hold in your nervous giggle as you scaled the magnolia tree and landed on the mossy lawn of the prehistoric trail, which was lined with ZZ plants and ferns with curling fronds. Sneaking your way through the trail and across the lawn of irsis leads you past the desert exhibit and to a greenhouse that honored the terrain of the eastern colony you called home.

The air was warm but much dryer thanks to the special ventilation system, but despite the heavy humidity missing from the air, the small shrub like plants thrived in the rocky soil, filling the air with the fragrant and aromatic scent of rosemary, lavender, and heathers.

You remember how a knot built in the back of your throat as you ran your fingers over the woody rosemary bush, taking in the earthy pine-like scent. Dae sat with you and listened to you go on about your childhood home for hours.

The giant rosemary bushes that were planted around your house were a staple in your kitchen and bathroom growing up. Your mother was always placing sprigs in her hair products, using it as her own perfume.

You told her the story of how your dad always tried to recreate your mother's french toast recipe on your birthday, but he always forgot to sweeten it so it just tasted like egg bread.

You told her stories of how your father courted your stepmom and how you watched them fall in love again, and build a new family together. One you didn’t fit into as snuggly, not for lack of love in your home, but because you were so much older than your siblings and you had your own dreams and life you were ready to find in Alcor.

Dae held you when you cried, then jokingly played the national anthem to Gautier on her cell phone. You guys laughed and danced around the greenhouse as she struggled to keep up with the lyrics.

The memory brought warmth to your chest years later, just like all the other memories with Daewon. But beneath the warmth, a sharp ache still lingered. Daewon wasn’t perfect by any means; she had a temper like her brother, and she could brood like no other.

But she was good. Daewon was good and fun and she loved so fiercely and encouraged and celebrated her friends. She was the type of person to buy you an ice cream after you failed a test and a cake if you passed.

She was the first person to encourage and support you in your adult life, even in scandalous situations like bringing you a spare set of clothes to the frat house so your walk of shame was a bit less shameful the next morning.

“God I miss her,” you sighed as you approached the magnolia.

“Me too. Every day.” Hoseok agreed quietly as he watched you scale the branches.

He was a worry wort and always made you go first in case you slipped.

“Did Daeown ever know? About BTS?” you asked curiously as both climbed higher in the magnolia tree.

“She knew some of it, like selling the spare car parts, and she could obviously guess some more once I got the tattoo, but she didn’t know everything.” He offered as you reached the branch just past the tall fence that protected the gardens.

‘She didn’t know I shot people,’ she could almost hear Hoseok say.

You ducked low as you approached the branch that led into the garden. Grabbing onto the limb above you to balance yourself, you carefully made your way forward as the branch dipped under your weight.

“Careful,” Hoseok warned.

“Whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes as you let go of the limb stabling you, tightening your core as you jumped from the tree. It was less than a 5-foot drop, but you kept your knees bent as you landed, feeling the impact reverberate back into your legs. You hissed as the pins and needles feeling swarmed the balls of your feet.

“You gotta tuck and roll,” Hosek laughed as you wattled out of his way.

You watched as he lowered himself on the branch the muscles in his body tensed before he sprung forward, extending his legs with his knees still slightly bent.

You sometimes forget the athleticism Hoseok hones in his body. You take for granted how smooth and precise his movements are. It was something you still couldn't quite replicate when you trained with Jungkook. But as you admired your friend, you wondered if he was responsible for training Jungkook to master his own smooth agility.

As his feet touched the ground, he pushed his momentum forward, curling into a ball and rolling across the grass.

“Ow fuck!” he exclaimed as he backrolled over a raised root of a nearby tree.

“And that's why I don’t tuck and roll,” you teased, walking towards him, the ach in your legs nearly forgotten.

You wandered out of the exhibit and towards the iris lawn. Dae’s favorite flowers were blue irises. She used to always pick a few of the flowers any time they visited the garden and keep a vase of them in the dorm room.

“You know they’re bulbed plants one day, we can go to the store and get our own,” Hoseok suggested.

“It’s not the same she says they smell better when they’re picked from the garden here,” you insisted.

“It’s not like she’ll be smelling these,” Hoseok grumbled under his breath but obliged when you held out your hand for his pocket knife.

The theft was quick and efficient. You cut loose five of the flower's long stems and returned back to the fence. Taking care that the flowers were unharmed as you shimmied up one of the trellises.

You were both back in the car within 15 minutes and driving down the road to her grave. The visit was a quiet one. Not tearful like in years past, and for a moment as the two of you kneeled and placed the flowers against the tombstone, you didn’t know if either of you were going to speak at all.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave the city,” Hoseok asked quietly.

You looked at him, startled, “You know my dream is to be a travel doctor,” you replied.

“Is that still your dream?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, your eyes searching his face for any indication of where he was going with this.

“Y/N, you were determined once. Focused. You lived and sacrificed for that dream and would never jeopardize it. And lately, you’ve-” You closed your eyes as you caught on to his intentions.

“Continued to sacrifice for it,” you interrupted him, “everything I’ve done, the debt I have isn’t so I can play gangster. It’s so I can finish school. The moment I graduate and the moment I pay off my debt, I’m leaving the city.” You assured.

“You could leave now,” he urged.

“Take a residency somewhere I know your grades are good enough for that accelerated program.”

“I can’t run out on my debt. They will find me.” You hissed.

“They won’t. Jungkook will pull RM off your trail, and they can’t send me after you. I would go with you. You’re the only family I have.” Hoseok pushed his voice urgent, “Things are getting bad. There’s a turf war brewing, and the Black Tips aren’t working alone. I don’t think that man who came after you tonight is from the west side. If power players from the East are involved, this whole city will go to shit. This isn’t a petty fight; people will die. The inner circle and whoever is affiliated with them will have a target on their back.”

“What about Yoongi?” You asked.

Your question was double-sided. You knew about Hoseok’s feelings for him and his unwillingness to move on from him over the years. Hoseok was always privet with the gang side of his life, but even before you knew of BTS, you knew of Yoongi and the web of feelings he carried with him. And you also knew of the second's ability to track down and find anyone. If RM wanted either of you dead, Yoongi would find you in a heartbeat and probably had the skill set to dispose of you himself, too.

Hoseok's eyes downcast “He would let us go.”

“You’re expecting a lot of loyalty from someone you plan to betray.” You pushed.

“You’re putting up a hard fight for someone who claims they don’t have a real reason to stay,” he pressed back.

You looked away from your best friend. The man who treated you like his own sister from the beginning. Who was ready to give everything up and run to make sure you were safe.

Why weren’t you willing to give up your fraction of this world in return?

“Perhaps things are more complicated than I give myself credit for. I kissed Jungkook, and I can’t just leave until I figure that out.” You admitted embarrassed. You braced yourself for the teasing or the anger. But Hoseok's face was calm as he responded his eyes ernst and urgent.

“I fucked Yoongi,” Hoseok countered. “If I don’t leave now. I never will.”

A/N: I haven’t updated in so long I totally forgot how tags and formatting work on this post. Hopefully it finds the intended audience… let me know if you read and enjoyed it!!! Xoxox

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[truearchangel]

@shiningxfates | seal the deal

Enough of this! Eyes flared, glowing a bright red staring at the angel. He was tired of everyone being near what he deemed, claimed to be his. Two of his four tendrils whipped from his back, one holding the other's right wrist, and the other around his waist. It was already a lovely sight to see. The black against the pure white, a sign of the corruption he wanted to cause.

Pulling him in closer, the smirk didn't leave his face. He watched as another set of claws, dark cold claws cupped the angel's neck from behind making him look at the demon in front of him. "You're letting too many of these lowly sinners ruin what's mine."

Growling at this point, he leaned forward, pulling the fabric down from the side of the angel's neck. Shadowy hands tilted Michael's neck to the side, allowing lovely access. "I'll just have to make sure that's no longer a problem." Not that his mark will stay. Angelic powers tend to heal rather quickly, but it was the action behind it.

He leaned forward, giving a long lick along the being's skin. It served as a warning of what was to come. Opening his mouth, practically salivating at the taste that was about to become his, he bit down. Each sharp tooth punctured along the soft flesh, letting his tongue reap the reward, refusing to let his prey go.

   He will admit, he was getting a bit overwhelmed by everything. Not that it was hard to do. Michael tended to get overwhelmed in social situations and engaging in the Sinners, who were curious over an angel in Hell was a lot. The questions that they asked were invasive, demanding and he didn’t blame them either. He can’t. The entire point he was down here was for asking questions and finding answers. If he faults them for wanting to do the same, then that was hypocritical. So he just bares through it. 

   He hadn’t even noticed when Alastor started lingering around.

   He’s been doing that though. Being around, hovering, watching him. Especially after the hugging thing they did. Well, more accurately, the make Michael sleep thing. He seems to keep track now of how often he goes without it. Like a test. He hasn’t made him sleep again and it has been almost a week since then. He was going to start reaching the breaking point, especially with how overwhelmed he was. 

   To be honest, he was attempting to figure out a way to escape this entire place, maybe go hide in his room or even the Radio Tower if he’s honest. People don’t go up there, no one would look for him, Alastor maybe wouldn’t mind. Then, to his absolute surprise and even fear–he was grabbed. 

   His first instinct as a soldier is to fight back and he does manage to snapped his sword out from the bracelet, the white and blue sword appearing in his hand, the little deer antler charm hanging from the hilt. What was holding onto him though made it difficult to move his arm the way he wanted it to, his wrist aching with the force that was gripping it. The uncomfortable black thing that was holding onto him. 

   Alastor is lucky that Michael realized it was him before he really started to fight back. 

   “Stop!” It is a warning, because Michael can see the look in his eyes and they have had this conversation. The worry that the Archangel had over the contents of his own blood, the things he had warned him about, that raw power that could burn him alive. Despite the weird way things have turned between them, Michael does like Alastor and he doesn’t want anything to happen to him. He doesn’t want to accidentally kill the deal maker. 

   Apparently though, the Radio Demon does not feel like listening. Michael was practically squirming in his hold, in the strange magical appendages that were holding onto him. He could get out, he should get out, but the panic that had clutched at him apparently was locking him in place. That or, and he hates this thought, it was the deal. Alastor had every right to call on it. He had fulfilled his end of the deal, he had told Lucifer what he wanted to hear, he had lied to him, but he had never used what he had asked for as payment. The deal wasn’t sealed, not without seeing the outcome of himself being bit, but it was still there. 

   Michael still had to fulfill his end of the agreement. 

   Whether the deal stayed or dissipated after this, depended on his reaction. 

   There’s a tongue on his neck suddenly and Michael freezes, his entire body locking up and he wasn’t sure if it was in fear or anticipation. 

   There was only a second to consider that before those horribly, impossibly sharp teeth were suddenly digging right into his shoulder. Through his vest and shirt, the high collar on his neck, as if it was nothing but paper for him to tear at. His hand spasmed where it was still trying to clutch at his sword and the holy blade fell from his grip, clattering to the ground with a loud sound. 

   Doing such a thing. In the middle of the hotel lobby. On display for everyone to witness. A part of him was humiliated, ashamed of himself for making it so easy, angry at Alastor for doing this. However, underneath that, there was something else. 

   He is being eaten. 

   Michael is very aware of that. 

   His blood was being drained from his body greedily by the demon hanging onto him, his tongue repeatedly lapping at that place on his neck, the blood that soaked his clothes. He could feel it, the warmth that spread across his body as the rest of him grew cold. It was quite possible the only thing still keeping him up was the shadow tendrils that were still gripping him, holding him back against the Radio Demon. 

   And underneath that hazy awareness of what was happening he realized something else…

   He doesn’t hate it. 

   It’s just a small realization, a feeling in his body, the shudder that runs through him and the thought. The single thought and awareness that he doesn’t want it to stop. He should be terrified, he should stab Alastor, he should blast him with his holy magic. But he doesn’t want to. For whatever reason, he was enjoying this. Being held close, being possessed, being bitten by the creature clinging onto him. 

   That thought should have been terrifying on its own. 

   However, Michael also realized something else. He was starting to take too much. For all that he healed quickly, in order to heal the damage needed to stop. The more that Alastor drained from him, the heavier his body felt. Cold and dizzy. For the briefest of moments in his twisting haze his mind seemed to play an odd little trick on him. 

   For just a single heartbreaking second he felt as if the person hanging onto him was someone else. Someone familiar, someone he craved, someone he missed. 

   The deal had locked itself in place around his own magic, sealed with the conditions met, and Michael tried to speak. 

   “Al… I’m going to pass out.”

[oh-saints]

sweetest devotion (p.1)

despite being written on paper, arranged marriages don't really have a guidance entailed. and mason was trapped into navigating the direction of this huge ship alone.

playboy!mason mount x princess!OC

word count: 2.0k

tw: as mentioned in the masterlist only, but extramarital affair to a marriage of convenience for this chapter

note: due to a stupid accident that costed my wrist, sorry for the long delay but here it is! i promised you next part's longer but hope you enjoy it nonetheless. as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.

tags: @missgaygurl @pingyu-in-wonderland <3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

sweetest devotion masterlist here <<prologue here - part 2 here>>

but face proven to be not everything needed in this holy institution called marriage.

especially not when the woman-in-question didn’t show that pretty face any where near mason throughout the second week.

mason never thought his marriage would turn out like this, though.

mainly because during the first week, mason and serena managed to stay civil—serena, for the sake of the baby; mason, for the sake of his life. because let’s be honest, there was too much at stake if they fucked up.

but truthfully, mason actually had a glimpse of what their marriage could look like, should they work together immaculately, so he didn’t think he had a point to complain. he reaped the benefits such as having his laundry taken care of—which he once admitted publicly was a total bummer when he was living alone because it’d mean he had to do it by his own self—while she was sheltered nicely and comfortably from the harsh punishment hanging on her head like a bounty.

well, at least until the mastermind behind the grand plan went missing.

no prior words, prior warning or whatsoever.

and mason was left dumbstruck. because now, what the hell was he supposed to do in this house without being reminded that he now couldn’t go out as much as he liked to? or the fact that he couldn’t pop into some upcoming hit nightclub for a relieve of his own without jeopardising both his and serena’s life?

fucking hell, he groaned before landing a well-placed punched to the sandbag he stored in his home gym. lately the poor thing was his only solace to the burning rage boiling that was threatening to combust. he’d never hated himself for what he’d done to his own life more than that precise moment.

once, someone told him that the most dangerous taste in life was the taste of freedom. and god were they right—he’d exchange everything in possession to have his premarital life and the freedom he was entitled with back in his hold. fuck what they said about his reputation of painting the town red.

“mase!” ben’s chirpy voice over the call clearly indicated he was drunk and in need of help. “you should come to the factory! she’s here!”

mason didn’t think twice to put on his usual clubbing garb at ben’s information and pulled out his Lamborghini from his driveway towards his and ben’s favourite nightclub.

and ironically, the place where it all begin for mason and serena.

but if serena was having fun at the night club, he deserved the right to ruin his steak of sombre nights. did he not?

“mason!” ben chilwell had to scream for his name to beat out the pounding music but his ears had never been more familiar at the loud voices more than now. “you’re here!”

“where’s she?”

ben’s smile grew wider at mason’s question. the left-back might not know the reason behind mason’s rash decision to get married—he initially thought the young star was only not wanting to pass up the chance to tie down a princess—but one thing that he did know was that mason mount was like a moth to the fire whenever she was involved in the scene.

“over at the bar!”

mason’s scanned the said bar, and his heart fell at the sight of her. because she wasn’t who mason was looking out for; she wasn’t serena. and all his plan getting even to serena he initially planned went evaporating into the air.

she happened to have the name of elena, the very and only woman who mason dared to describe closest as his lover, despite their constant on-and-off nature.

and ironically, the very reason mason and serena happened the first place.

if it wasn’t because of her dumping him—for the nth time—mason wouldn’t have sought the company of another woman in his bed. he wouldn’t have hunted serena, the prettiest commodity the factory had accrued that night, down on a Friday night too long ago.

elena peered over her shoulder, her eyes gave out away the hidden surprise at the sight of mason coming to the nightclub. surely, the newlywed didn’t come alone, did he?

mason was supposed to feel accustomed to this game of her. it was her signature move—giving off a glance over her shoulder, looking smoulderingly sexy as she did so.

mason knew what was coming, her selling off herself to the highest bidder. and he wasn’t supposed to fall into the jealousy trap of seeing endless men courting her anymore.

but he did, helplessly, like icarus flying too close to the sun. and before he realised it himself, mason had already circled his arms around her waist, surrendering himself to the devil in prada shoes as he lost himself to the demonic sensation of having elena’s lips on his, sloppy kisses be damned.

this was normalcy for mason.

this was what he could’ve had, and he’d never hated serena more than now for stealing this away from him.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

for the rest of the week, going back to elena’s place was all mason did. god knows doing what, but if whatever-it-was brought back the happy spirit to mason’s body and his old self, the rest of the Chelsea team didn’t question it.

only when he needed a fresh change of clothes did he come back to his home, did he realise serena was already back occupying the 1st floor of the building. he might not see her in flesh and blood, but the fresh scent of lavender told more than words could never convey.

he dashed for his bedroom, putting his pieces of clothing as much as the duffel bag let him to, before heading out again towards elena’s place. mason managed to reconcile for the good now—because elena also realised that having mason in the arms of anyone else didn’t settle with her well—so he didn’t want to waste time away from her anymore.

halfway downstairs, mason got stopped by serena’s figure at the other end of the stairs. the woman looked like she was going to catch up on mason, but as her eyes travelled to his packed bag, mason noticed she was dawning in the reality.

good, he thought inwardly. it should serve her place.

mason let another 10 seconds passed by before he continued galloping down the stairs, breezed past serena the way she left him a week ago—empty. indifferent.

like nothing.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

weeks passed and it was another weekly dose of mason fetching another pack of his clothes.

mason had certainly hired a cleaner so he could dump his dirty clothes one week and get another set of fresh clothes the next. despite his indifference towards serena, he prided himself on sparing her the smell of another woman standing in between them like the elephant in the room.

as soon as his feet graced the living room, a messy bun he wasn’t familiar at all was what came to his eyes, the hair colour so striking in the midst of mason’s all-white living room. while it wasn’t unusual, serena had never bothered crossing his way whenever he was back home to do this, as if they’d silently fallen into an inexplicable routine.

only at times like that was he grateful of marrying the right person. the princess’ pedigree certainly didn’t lie.

but still giving him her back, the owner of the highlighted scene spoke up. “you’re home.”

if serena wasn’t spurting the obvious information, mason would’ve shrunk at how eerily chilled her voice was. “you think?”

mason’s voice didn’t bother her at all—just like any other time during their short pre-wedding prep, the only time when he questioned her unwavering resolve only to be answered by “it’s just who I am.”

she just stood from her place so gracefully like a feather dancing ballet. “good, because we need to talk.”

“about what?”

“about us,” mason was seriously questioning how the hell she could spin her body into facing him with shoulders so squared she would’ve put kendall jenner to shame. “boundaries and all.”

oh, the audacity, mason scoffed. “the time of talking was a week ago, serena, which—in case you forget—was the time when you decided to disappear from the face of the earth.”

mason’s jab at her didn’t shake off her resolve, still. “where were you?”

“why do you care?”

“I care because the palace called,” mason appreciated she cut to the point because elena would be waiting for the dinner reservation he made for them. “I don’t care about you keeping a lover, mistress or whatever it is outside this house as long as you keep it under the wraps.”

shit, the palace must’ve found out somehow about him and elena. or the paparazzi did, who then contacted the palace to release the pictures. alas, mason must’ve been too reckless lately about his rendezvous. “okay.”

“and as long as you are to show up for the social gatherings the royal family may see fit,” this one, mason had to groan. who said marrying a princess was going to be a good stroke to his ego? “if it kills you so much, we can mingle for an hour tops before citing I’m not feeling well.”

“I don’t have problem with that,” the footballer crossed his arms as he bit back his response. he couldn’t possibly spew off his honest reaction at this time, not when this topic came up due to his carelessness. “I take it that includes my public appearances?”

“I’m not going to tail you to every of them if you don’t want me to,” yes, good, don’t come. “I’ll only go to where it concerns your club.”

“okay,” mason sighed, shifting his weight from his left leg to the right one, indicating he was uncomfortable and wanted to end this conversation already. “anything else?”

“that is all,” serena shook off her head before directing her feet to move towards her room. “good night, mason.”

“where were you, anyway?” serena halted her steps at mason’s question. “the past week?”

“why do you care, mason?”

mason knew serena only did that to get back at him but it still annoyed the hell of him. “just answer the damned question.”

“I was hospitalised.”

what? “how?”

“I fell off the stairs.”

what the fuck?! and she didn’t bother to share this piece of information? “okay… how about—”

“the baby? they’re safe, mason,” serena felt the need to turn around to show that she had indeed been doing a good job becoming a mother, no matter how bad mason was at doing his job as the father. “need not worry about it.”

serena might not show it in her words but mason could feel the slight annoyance at the way she turned herself around to him, to blatantly show him that all the reasons he didn’t need to put the blame on her for endangering their child. and it rubbed off in all the wrong way to mason because why was he getting the sticks now?

“I was meaning to ask how about we tell each other about our whereabouts, Jesus Christ,” mason grunted under his breath. serena was truly testing his patience this time… “your beloved palace surely wouldn’t appreciate it if you have a bad husband that doesn’t at least know where you are, no?”

that, serena could take a good moot point when she saw one.

but before serena could open a negotiation to mason’s suggestion, the man shook off his head as he dragged his feet towards his own bedroom. “hospital, of all places… good God.”

next chapter contains:

“how about having your friends over?”

“mason,” serena sighed, a bitter smile making its way to her face. “you’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

mason couldn’t hide his surprise at her admission. despite being drunk, mason did remember that she went to the club where he was at, the night that led to their situation now, with so many people in tow. “didn’t you have so many friends when going to the club?”

bitter smile still intact, serena looked up this time and levelled mason’s gaze. “welcome to the lonely life of a princess, mason mount.”

[soulc-hilde]

I don’t like talking about politics, especially when in a space of people that I don’t know nor cannot guarantee that my safety will be kept in mind.

However, seeing the poll results pissed me the fuck off. Even with the final vote count that’ll come days later, he’ll still fucking win and the results between them aren’t even that far apart. To be honest, I’m not mad at the bad luck my generation and the younger ones are given.

I’m pissed the fuck off at everyone 18 and older who either didn’t vote or took this shit for a joke, thinking only of themselves because they really believed whatever bullshit they spewed out of their asses or whatever celebrity that was getting cut a fucking check.

You’re so fucking eager to side against a Black Woman, throwing all your rights and freedoms away to a white man who will put your ass on the chopping block quicker than you can say “I’m a sorry motherfucker!”

You’re so quick to deny other immigrants (documented or not) the opportunities that you have because “it doesn’t matter anymore,” or “you don’t feel like it,” or you can barely get your job to pay you what you’re worth as is. Just say that you’re a stupid piece of shit, a lazy piece of shit and stop making fucking excuses because as long as your ass ain’t on the line then who gives a fuck.

You’re so quick to have sex (protected or unprotected) but when the reality hits that you have an offspring coming - all of a suddenly you’re a scary ass bitch and want to abort the baby. Whoops, you can’t! So now you have to face going through the birthing process and hand the child into the system which is insane to me because that’s a whole mess itself.

You’re fucking kids - those ignorant ass sons of bitches (a percentage of) y’all are giving birth to are gonna find themselves in an even worse predicament because you lack of the basic common sense and comprehension of respect, they don’t give it to you - they won’t give it to each other and they for damn sure won’t give it to someone who isn’t afraid to put a bullet in their head uniform or not.

You’ve fucked your children’s education system because why in the fuck can they not read and comprehend? That’s not the school’s job, the school is built with staff that is supposed to help guide your child through their accolades. Why tf do you think preschools and daycares have potty trained and basic motor skills as a qualification for your child to be enrolled? BECAUSE THAT’S NOT THEIR JOB.

And now, you think with that mf in office, schools are gonna be safe much less progressive for your child? Don’t… don’t make me crash the fuck out.

And if you think that folks are exaggerating when they speak about the crowd that acts like their on fucking rabies for this felon - the motherfucker who openly admitted to seeing his daughter as a romantic partner - you are a danger to be around. Willingly ignoring the inspiration he gives to white supremacist, make you a fucking idiot and the reason families are being torn apart, the reason folks with brown skin and non-European features walk around with our defenses up, questioning whether or not I’m about to be fucking assaulted or harassed for existing.

And fuck your excuse of “we’ve survived him the first round, we can do it again.”

Can we? Did folks who were murdered because of prejudice views being supported by the old piece of shit survive?

Can you afford your rent? Can you afford your groceries? Can you afford to put gas in Ford Bronco or F-150? When you look at your pay and see the amount of taxes they taken out, do you fucking smile? Do you shrug it off and not complain or bitch about it?

You’re a stupid son of a bitch and when people find out who you voted for, what you stand for… I hope you reap what you sow. I hope everything that you voted against comes to be something that you desperately need.

[stonesparrow]

Dcst Hunger Games AU pt. 1

Senku and Taiju have grown up alongside each other in the impoverished agricultural district of Panem, and for three years they’ve been lucky enough to escape the annual reaping for tributes to send to the Hunger Games. But Senku knows that even if the odds are in your favor, that doesn’t mean you’re safe. Luckily, he has a plan for that.

Taiju Oki will live.

Note: Senku’s portrayed as a closeted trans boy in this and he does get misgendered/presents as his AGAB to people that don’t know him. Also, warning for Hunger Games levels of angst and violence.

District 3 is a Career District in this one instead of District 4 because I made Kohaku be from District 4 but I didn’t want her to be a Career :P

Read on ao3!

“Well, there we go,” Senku says, wiping his hands on the dirt and oil soaked rag hanging from his belt as he steps away from the tractor. “It should work just fine now.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Natri sighs, brushing the gray hairs off his brow. “I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to meet quota for the fall harvest without it.”

He pays Senku, but when the teenager tallies up the bills, he frowns. “Hey old man, this is more than we agreed upon.”

 Natri claps a hand on Senku’s shoulder. “You and your father do so much for everyone,” he says solemnly. “Honest mechanics are hard to come by, you know. The money is well deserved.”

Senku thrusts the extra cash at him. “You have your daughter and her husband and their four children. I’ve just got my dad, you know that. It’s not logical to tip so much when your family needs it more.”

Natri pushes his hand back. “If you hadn’t fixed the tractor, we would pay eight times that tip in fees to the Capitol for failing to meet quota. And then what would we do?” He crosses his arms. “You can use that money to buy better tools for the workshop to keep everything running—that’ll help us all far more than a measly extra loaf of bread on the table.”

Senku scowls. “Fine.” He pockets the money and hops on his bike for the journey home.

As he rolls past fields of corn and potatoes and squash, the frustration in Senku’s stomach simmers. District 11 grows enough food to feed the entire nation of Panem, and yet if they don’t meet the harvest quota every season it’s their citizens that suffer the pangs of hunger and weakness of malnutrition. Starving in a sea of food, all because of some fuckwads with blue skin and glittery eyebrows hundreds of miles away.

He gets home and parks his bike outside the garage as he does every evening. His dad stops humming and slides out from under a truck he’s working on.

“How’d it go?”

“Pretty straightforward,” Senku reports, putting his tool bag down. “Old Nat gave me a tip, said to invest it back into the shop.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Too nice,” Senku mutters. “How does he hope to feed three adults and four kids like that?”

“Sometimes you need those little moments of kindness to prove to yourself that you’re still human,” Byakuya says nonchalantly as he returns to working on the truck. 

Senku has no answer for that, so he heads inside to make them some dinner. Two seed rolls, some corn gruel, and hastily thrown together vegetables, same as yesterday. 

As the Ishigamis eat in the dimming light of the sun, Senku tries not to think about the bags of tesserae grain in Taiju’s house. 

One more little slip of paper for every year and every ration of rough brown grain and oil for Taiju and his grandparents. His name will be in the reaping balls sixteen times this year to Senku’s four.

The math is actually in both boys’ favor. There are families like the Rayes, with so many more mouths to feed and so often failing to meet quota that they claim tesserae ten times over. There are kids who claim more tesserae than is needed for their own families, to sell the extra at a lower price to those without any reaping-age children, especially the old folks. 

When taking that into account, sixteen out of hundreds of thousands of entries in the boys’ bowl and four out of just as many in the girls’ seems like a drop of water in an ocean.

But Senku’s not the sort to put faith in random chance. Even if they make it out this year, there’s always the next, for three more years. And when Taiju is eighteen he’ll have twenty-eight, and Senku will only have seven. 

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

His dad has always been too discerning for his own good. “Mmm.” Senku gets up to put his dishes in the sink.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay? I know your hobbies are important to you, but there’s a lot of other work to be done too.”

“I know, Dad.”

Byakuya gives him a warm, genuine smile, the kind that’s rare in District 11 no matter what you have on the table. “Hey. You know I’m proud of you right? You’re going to do a lot of good for people.”

Senku rolls his eyes. “Duh. What else did you raise me to do, old man?”

Senku goes down into the basement, where he’s got several small samples of tesserae grain in little tins, a meticulously cleaned work table, a hand-powered generator for the lights, stacks of books reaching past the top of his head, and an extremely rough microscope he built himself from old parts. 

Tesserae has been specifically engineered so that it’s impossible to grow from the grain alone. Senku has been working diligently every night since he was ten years old to figure out the exact conditions he needs for it to sprout.

If the Peacekeepers ever found out what he was doing, it’d mean death for him and his dad. So Byakuya only ever refers to Senku’s “hobby” as reading up on the subject of agricultural science, saying Senku is interested in improving crop yields. A good interest for a District 11 kid to have.

If Senku can crack the code, he could start growing the nutrient-dense tesserae grain in secret. It’d be difficult to get any decent yield in the basement, and distributing it to the families that need it is a whole other issue, but that’s a problem for Future Senku, if he can get that far at all. 

He doesn’t really know what’ll happen to all this research if he gets reaped next week, but that’s a problem for Future Senku too. 

—————

Senku hates Reaping Day for a multitude of awful reasons, but putting on his outfit has to be in the top five. Because if the worst comes to worst, he’s got a Contingency Plan in mind, and that requires looking like a girl.

Everyone in the Ishigamis’ neighborhood and most of their clients know Senku as “Byakuya’s son,” and even those who aren’t familiar with him would most often guess male from a first glance at his baggy cotton shirt, wild, untamable hair, and bony frame. Senku doesn’t have much of a chest, which he’s always been glad for, and his voice is just deep enough that it would give even someone who was expecting a girl pause.

But just because everyone at home knows who he is doesn’t mean the Capitol knows or cares. At his first reaping Senku had worn the baggy, oversized mechanic’s overalls his father had sewn for him, and he remembers the Capitol woman who had scanned the crowd for the sorry saps she’d be dragging to their deaths staring at him like some sort of vermin next to the cute little girls in their innocent white dresses.

Senku had enjoyed the revulsion on her face, but that was before he had been forced to come up with the Contingency Plan the year after. And now, standing in front of the mirror in an awkwardly fitting dress with his hair brushed neatly over his shoulders, he turns his head this way and that, checking to make sure he looks sufficiently like what the marker on his birth certificate says. 

 “Pink really isn’t your color,” Byakuya says quietly as they make their way to the Justice Building. He’s smiling with his mouth as if sharing a joke, but there’s no sparkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, green would probably have been better,” Senku remarks just as nonchalantly. 

He’s never told Byakuya about the Contingency Plan, but he suspects his dad somehow knew he’d come up with it before even Senku did. 

They meet up with the Okis as they enter the square. Taiju’s usual boisterous greeting is reduced to a simple polite hello. They get registered, and like they’ve done for the past three years, Byakuya goes to stand with Taiju’s grandparents, while Senku lets Taiju hug him one more time before they get separated into the different gender blocks.

Senku idly wonders if his classmates know why he only dresses as his assigned gender for the one day of the reaping every year. None of them have ever asked, probably because they figure that whatever’s going on in Senku’s brain is too complicated to get into. Or maybe they’re just overly polite. Not really his problem as long as they don’t get in the way of the Plan.

The girls on either side of him are clothed much like he is—in their best, sometimes only dresses, the ones that make them look sweeter, more feminine, more innocent. Senku can count on one hand the number of girls who are wearing anything other than cheap cotton or linen. Not even the wealthiest of District 11 are spared.

So why, Senku thinks bitterly as the mayor drones on and on with the speech he’s given every year, do you still go along with it? 

The Capitol escort finally steps forward to the girls’ bowl. Senku kind of tuned out her introduction, so he doesn’t know the name of the person condemning the name on the slip of paper that she lifts into the air.

“Luna Wright!”

Everyone gasps as Senku raises his eyebrows. That’s the Mayor’s own daughter, the eighteen-year-old girl dressed in a sateen gown worth more than the Ishigamis’ entire home probably. She immediately bursts into tears, but her father’s face simply goes blank as she’s escorted to the stage.

 Senku doesn’t know anything about Luna personally, only seen her from a distance while doing jobs in the town proper. But he looks at her now, at her soft hands and even softer face, and thinks, she won’t last a day. 

The Capitol lady moves onto the boys’ bowl, and Senku holds his breath. The unfurling of the paper, in his mind, matches the sound of a gun having its safety taken off. 

“Taiju Oki!”

 Taiju’s face goes white as his grandmother screams, her husband weeping as he holds onto her. Byakuya however, simply stares at Senku. Waiting.

As Taiju ascends the stage and the Capitol lady goes to lift his and Luna’s hands, Senku puts the next step of the Contingency Plan into motion.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Everyone snaps to attention at his firm, calm statement. Classmates and neighbors give him looks like he’s lost his mind. Luna stares at him with a gratitude he does not deserve while Taiju’s face is filled with nothing but horror.

“Senku?” He murmurs in disbelief as his childhood friend takes Luna’s place on the stage. “What are you—“

“Well, this is a surprise!” The Capitol lady has shaken off her shock. “Would anyone like to volunteer in Taiju’s place, then?”

Silence. 

“Then let’s give it up for the tributes of District 11, Senku Ishigami and Taiju Oki!”

—————

Before Taiju can demand an explanation, he and Senku are dragged inside the Justice Building into separate rooms to say goodbye to their families.

Senku and Byakuya stand face to face, not saying a word. Senku looks up at his dad as if daring him to challenge his decision. Byakuya however, merely nods.

“You planned this from the start. To volunteer if Taiju was ever picked.”

Senku shrugs. “Is it that obvious? Idiot wouldn’t last five minutes without me.” He crosses his arms. “Sorry I won’t be able to help out around the shop anymore. There’s a list of guys I pinned up by my workbench who have been asking about mechanics’ apprenticeships though. At least a few of them have to be halfway decent.” Because he’s not coming home, and they both know it. Not without Taiju. Never without Taiju. 

Byakuya smiles and there’s no light in his eyes. “None like you though.” 

Senku looks down. “Yeah, too bad.”

His dad reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small glass medallion on a string. “Here. Your token.”

“Eh? I didn’t know you prepared anything.” Senku takes the medallion. It’s barely five centimeters across, and has concentric rings carved into it. It looks like it’s from a piece of scrap in the workshop. When he tilts in in the light, it refracts and sends rainbows scattering across his hand. “Neat.” 

Byakuya envelops him in a hug. “I’ll take care of your houseplants for you,” he says. Senku nods. He trusts his dad to continue his research as best he can. Eventually, they could save lives.

“When Taiju comes home,” Senku says, “look out for him, will you? I don’t want him lazing about like a useless sack of rocks without me to follow around.”

“I promise I will. As long as you promise me something too.”

Senku blinks. “What?”

His father’s voice lowers to barely a whisper as he squeezes Senku tight. “Give them hell.” 

Senku’s eyes widen. Byakuya doesn’t mean the other tributes. He smirks. “Already planning on it, old man.”

Byakuya smiles, genuinely this time, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “That’s my boy.”

—————

As soon as they get on the train, Taiju is frantically begging Senku to explain why he volunteered, tears forming in his eyes. Which is when Senku enacts the next step of the Contingency Plan.

He convinces Taiju that they can win together. That between his brains and Taiju’s brawn, they’ll find a way to outsmart the games, a loophole, an escape exit. 

Taiju, trusting, kind, wonderful Taiju, believes him. 

After all, Senku has never lied to him before. 

Their mentor is an enormous man named Brody Dudley, the winner of the 50th Hunger Games. He scrutinizes both of them from under dark sunglasses, and Senku scrutinizes him right back.

“Pink really isn’t your color, kid,” is the first thing the man says. Senku blinks.

“Yeah, no, it wasn’t my first choice,” he finds himself saying. “It was cheap though.”

“Evidently. Alright. Your first assignment is to watch the recordings of the reapings and report your observations to me in exactly two hours. Go.”

He leaves them alone in the train car, and Taiju glances at Senku. “He, um. Seems okay?”

Senku wouldn’t be so sure. Brody Dudley, he knows, has killed people. Senku researched every single former Victor of District 11 still alive, he knows what price they paid to come home.

But he doesn’t mention this to Taiju, only boots up the screen in front of them to play back the reapings. Assessing one’s opponents isn’t a bad idea, after all.

To their surprise though, the first reaping recording—the one from District 12—appears to have been cut down considerably for…some reason. It doesn’t show the girl being selected, only the boy—she’s already on the stage. 

Their Capitol escort raises their hands into the air and calls their names—the girl is Mirai Shishio. Tears run down her face as she stares blankly at the ground. Everyone around them seems profoundly disturbed by something.

“Why’d they cut the footage?” Taiju wonders. Senku frowns.

“Something must have happened during her reaping that they didn’t like. Let’s just move on for now.”

They skip their own reaping, nothing new to see there, and boot up the next ones. Senku commits every one of their faces to memory. He has no intention of killing anyone—his and Taiju’s strategy will be evasion and survival. But he should know these people, know their names, because the Capitol will soon pretend that he and twenty-two of them no longer exist.��

The videos for Districts 10 and 9 are full recordings—no inexplicable omissions there. Those reapings went predictably, with the expected tears and hopeless expressions. 8, however, is a little different.

“Yuzuriha Ogawa.”

 A petite girl their age with long brown hair and a white headband freezes in the crowd, but only for a moment. She does not cry, or scream, or even frown. 

Instead, she throws her head back and laughs.

“The hell is wrong with her?” Senku blurts out as Yuzuriha ascends the steps to the stage. Taiju doesn’t reply, instead staring at the girl with wide eyes. 

She leans in close to the microphone and flips her hair with a sweet smile and a wink. “Be sure to get my good side, okay?” 

Well. Senku supposes the stress could cause anyone to snap right then and there. 

Yuzuriha’s partner seems to think she’s crazy too, sending her an odd look when he goes to join her. The recording concludes and starts playing the next one automatically.

Nothing particularly interesting happened in Districts 7, 6, and 5 it looks like. In District 4 the tiniest girl Senku’s ever seen is reaped, tears welling up behind her thick round glasses. A moment later, an older girl with blond hair and fierce eyes volunteers in her place. 

“Kohaku Hoseki and Kinro Hashiguchi,” the escort says. When he asks the tributes to offer some comments, Kohaku grabs the microphone.

“Yeah I sure have some comments! FU-“

The recording cuts out. Senku and Taiju glance at each other.

“She sure seems energetic,” Senku deadpans as the next one plays. 

The last three (or first, if going by number) are the ones Senku’s been waiting for. The Career districts. The freaks who train for years and then sign up voluntarily to slaughter their fellow man in the arena with smiles on their faces.

“Homura Momiji and Hyoga Akatsuki!”

District 3’s female tribute is even smaller than Yuzuriha, but no one who volunteers willingly would enter if they didn’t have some sort of killing ability, and Senku resolves to be wary. Her partner however is almost twice her size, with snow white hair, enormous muscles, and an unreadable expression.

“Nikki Hanada and Magma Kengo!”

District 2’s tributes are both heavy looking brick walls of muscle, more so than even Taiju. Senku pushes down the doubt in his stomach. Taiju will win. Taiju will go home. Senku’s gonna make that happen. 

“Kirisame Fujioka and Mozu Torimura!”

Senku raises an eyebrow at how fancy the outfits the District 1 tributes are wearing. Is this some sort of intimidation tactic? Girls are swooning over the boy—eighteen year old Mozu, while Kirisame looks over the crowd with a distant, aloof expression that only seems to highlight her beauty.

And that’s all of them. “That was…” Taiju frowns. “Weird.”

“Everything’s weird, Taiju,” Senku says, standing up and stretching. “Let’s hurry up and report back to Shades McGee before we get lectured.”

Senku finally changes out of the damn dress and into some shorts and a t-shirt, tying his hair up in a ponytail out of his face. Brody doesn’t comment on it as the boys sit down with him.

“First impressions. Now.”

“The Careers are the biggest concern,” Senku says matter-of-factly. “I’m most suspicious of Homura Momiji. She doesn’t look like a powerhouse, which means she’s got something else up her sleeve that we’ll have to look out for. Nobody else really stood out as a major threat, but it’s still too early to make any comprehensive assessments.”

Brody nods as if he’s satisfied with Senku’s evaluation, though his expression doesn’t change. “And what do you think?” He asks Taiju. 

Taiju startles in his seat. “Oh! Um. I agree with Senku, we should definitely avoid the Careers.”

Brody waits. “And the others?”

“Um.” Taiju fidgets with his fingers in his lap. “I don’t know? The girl from Eight…she seems interesting?”

“If by interesting you mean clearly insane,” Senku says. Taiju shakes his head.

“I don’t think she’s insane,” he says. “I think…it was a message. That they wouldn’t get any tears out of her, or something. Maybe…maybe she could be an ally.”

“Allies are risky,” Brody says. “Better stick to the one person you know you can rely on, and that’s you.”

Taiju looks down at his hands and frowns. 

They discuss the upcoming ceremony procedure in brief, curt sentences—Brody seems to prefer only talking to them when necessary. 

Dinner is one of the simultaneously best and worst experiences so far. It’s all so much, bread in all shades rather than just dark brown, fresh butter and cream, protein in the form of entire roasts of meat rather than a few eggs every other week. Taiju’s eyes are enormous as he takes it all in, and Senku has to remind him he can’t eat everything, even if it tastes heavenly.

Senku can’t muster much of an appetite. Even a single bite of the pearly white bread makes him feel sick to his stomach—how many people in the Capitol eat like this while some families in District 11 subsist on nothing but bitter tesserae grain? How much do they gorge on the vegetables Senku’s neighbors shed blood and sweat to grow while Peacekeepers will shoot a child for taking a single bite of an unripe peach?

He fights the urge to scream when the meal is over and there are still so, so many leftovers. Taiju watches the staff wheel away the scraps of food too, astonished that their Capitol escort didn’t even finish the rind of her cheese. Brody however, finished everything that was on his plate, and nothing less.

Before they have time to think much on it, the boys are sent to bed. After about an hour, Taiju knocks on Senku’s door.

“I can’t sleep.” 

Senku sighs in exasperation and walks over to Taiju’s room. “Come on then.”

Taiju’s tangled his blankets up into a sort of nest on the ground—apparently the plush bed was too soft and unfamiliar, and made him feel uneasy. Senku lets Taiju rest his head on his lap as he reviews some notes he took earlier about the other tributes and the ceremony.

“Senku?”

“Hm?”

“We won’t have to…kill anyone, right?”

Senku puts his notebook down. “Taiju, I promise you that you’ll never have to lay a finger on another person, okay? I’ll make sure of it. We’re gonna make it out, the two of us, and it’s all going to be just fine.”

Taiju nods, exhaling slowly. “Okay. Good.” 

He falls asleep not long after that, and Senku carefully extricates himself to return to his own room. 

As he lies in bed staring up at the ceiling, Senku thinks through the Contingency Plan again.

Step 1: When Taiju is reaped for the Hunger Games, volunteer in place of the female tribute. 

Step 2: Convince Taiju the two of you can make it out alive so he doesn’t panic.

Step 3: Present yourself as an innocent young girl to the Capitol to drum up sympathy for sponsors.

Step 4: Get a mid-range training score to fall beneath notice. Make sure Taiju gets a high score so people avoid him. 

Step 5: When the games begin, do everything it takes to survive with Taiju until the other tributes destroy each other.

Step 6: Go home. 

Technically, it isn’t a lie that they’ll both come home at the end. 

It’s just that one of them will be in a box.

[beedlemania]

Davy's very good at getting himself out of major trouble and consequences when he does something he shouldn't.

Sometimes, when Mike's scolding him, Davy will just look up at him with a quivering lip and big eyes that have tears filling in them and say he's sorry and Mike just melts and gives in and tells him it's okay and he's forgiven because he's a sucker for those puppy dog eyes.

And sometimes, Davy will get so distraught and apologize and either say "do you still love me?" or "you don't love me anymore" and then start sobbing and Mike always dies a little bit inside and ends up having to shush Davy and comfort him.

Although Davy usually is genuinely scared and nervous about getting in trouble when using these methods to escape consequences, he'll sometimes play the part because he knows the guys (particularly Mike) will usually give in and cuddle him. And although he doesn't usually avoid consequences, they're usually less severe.

Yes! He does NOT let those acting skills go to waste!! (He can’t lie for shit but the boy can act)

Hes got all the guys figured out and knows just how much tears he has to add to make it believable. If he gets into trouble all he has to do is give Peter a startled ‘I didnt mean to!’ look and not only is he off the hook but Peters also there to back him up against the others.

Micky and Mike depend on just how much trouble he’s in. For smaller stuff he just needs wet eyes, a pout, and a sniffle for good luck and they’re sighing and holding him and warning him not to do it again. If it’s a bigger problem they can both be surprisingly stern. Mike it makes sense, he’s become like Davy’s parental figure and ‘leader of the group. But Micky can also get very stern and wont let Davy blubber his way out of things. Thats when Davy has to bring out the guilting and give them the old “please dont hate me🥺🥺”

Sometimes he does mean it, he grew up in quite a strict house with his grandfather and is very used to being disciplined for things he didn’t mean like breaking a glass. (The first time Davy broke a glass in the Pad, he didn’t even know what regression was. But the second the glass shattered he felt 9 years old again and started crying and apologising and grabbing the shards with his bare hands to clean it up. The guys had to swoop in to make sure he didn’t cut himself and to reassure him he didn’t do anything wrong.) So sometimes when he’s regressing that comes back and he’s genuinely worried that they’ll be mad at him and not love him any more when he makes mistakes. But after a few genuine times he realises that it’s a good way to get out of things.

Mike gets too soft and always falls for it because even if Davy doesn’t really think he’s not loved any more, Mike couldn’t even entertain that thought for a second so he folds. Micky on the other hand always knows the difference between honest Davy and cheeky Davy and calls him out on it.

He does still have to reap the consequences but they go easier on him because (when he’s genuine) his breakdown are consequence enough and when he’s being cheeky they can’t help but go easier on him. He’s just a little guy after all

[ilguna]

my official tbosas thoughts. WARNING spoilers ahead and double warning, i am all over the place

FIRST i wanna say that their attention to detail is truly like!!! the beginning scene where the man is cannibalizing (? i believe that’s what i saw, OR it was the dog, it was so dark that i missed it) and young tigris was talking about the things people do when they’re desperate. it made me think about how the capitol is SO traumatized from the dark days that they’re still storing food in the capitol, 65 years later. which is talked about in mockingjay while the squad is storming the capitol.

ANYWAY, i think it’s really interesting that they cut the film into three parts, because that’s how the books have always been done. but it was a weird change considering that hunger games, catching fire and both mockingjays did not have that black screen with the section title. nonetheless, it didn’t bother me.

the way that they set up the scene for them being inside the house w the cockroach was pretty perfect. all i could think about was the cabbage soup in the book. but they did the food aspect by showing off the fridge and it having no food in it.

i think tigris was pretty perfect, i wouldn’t have changed a single thing if i’m being honest.

umumum I don’t remember dean highbottom having an addiction in the book? and i’m the hunger games nerd in my family so it was weird not being able to answer the question on what he was taking (i know it’s revealed at the end but still) because i don’t remember it being mentioned. in fairness, i haven’t read tbosas in YEARS.

i think they missed the true sinister possibility with gaul. because the whole paper scene and clemensia getting bit, resulted in her getting scaly. i kept waiting for her to pop up (and for coriolanus to visit her) because it would show that gaul was more of an evil character that what she already presented as.

as for dear old lucy gray, i hated the accent. i hated every minute of the accent. and the faces that rachel made when she sang were… odd to say the least. speaking of singing, it was even weirder to see the capitol to have such an emotional reaction each time she did. bc it was literally every scene.

they truly managed to secure the fucking awkward aspect of her singing on the reaping stage. cause grabbing the microphone was nailed.

tributes were exactly like i had imagined them to be, i wouldn’t have changed anything there. i totally forgot that the whole sponsor drone thing was fucked up until that first gift was sent and it almost killed somebody. because they’re made to target the tribute and won’t stop.

also that one tribute escaping out of the arena when it was blown up? absolutely beautiful. that’s another detail. as well as arachne getting stabbed in the throat bc she was teasing her tribute with food. i wasn’t sure if they’d show that.

hmm, beyond that i don’t really have any thoughts. it ended the exact way it had in the books, more or less. i don’t think they skipped a single scene??? besides coriolanus properly meeting lucy gray’s family at their house, i think.

and we didn’t really get a good introduction to the covey, something i don’t mind.

all in all, definitely my favorite film now.

—

EDIT: i’ve had some time to think about the movie/book.

listen, i’m not mad by any of the changes. like i said, they covered a lot of what happened in the book.

what they never mentioned: the three C’s. chaos, control and contain(?) i believe. i would’ve liked to see that implemented more with gaul while she was making her point on what the hunger games are about.

also, the DRONES! another thing i was waiting for (after i remember that the drones targeted the tribute they were designated for) was the tribute (teslee) literally hacking them and using them as a weapon against other tributes.

that’s all i have for now!