#fire force is one of those ones i just really like everyone

[lesamis]

If you're up for it could you explain what is making the Germany government stuff so funny? I can find news articles about it (a coalition is dissolving? There's been tension for a while?) but they're all fairly serious. Thx!

ohhh, sure thing! i'll do my best!

i'll say upfront: this is a pretty serious thing to happen. our chancellor fired our minister of finance, Lindner, which definitively breaks up the governing coalition. germany will likely have snap elections at a moment in which far-right parties are polling extremely well. if news coverage about it seems like people are Worried, that's because, well, they are.

however. the reason it's funny is because our minister of finance was fired. ministers aren't really... ever fired. like, it's not a done thing. i'll fully admit i didn't even know it was an option until yesterday. and our minister of finance wasn't just anyone, he was one of the most mocked and hated figures in politics to germans who vote anywhere left of center.

the coalition that governed until yesterday was made up of the green party, the social democrats, and the neoliberal party (FDP). the FDP is infamous (and i mean, my parents already raised me to hate them for that) for playing kingmaker in coalition governments: they never get all that many votes, but they get just enough that whoever they agree to form a government with will probably succeed. they then tend to force extreme concessions from their coalition partners, because hey, if we walk off, you can't govern at all! so you better play along!

for the past three years, this behaviour has been extremely frustrating for germans who voted for greens or social democrats, because policy from their faction was constantly being blocked by the FDP and often by Lindner personally. the FDP received 11,5% of votes in 2021, but to many of us, it felt as if they were the only party who really had any say in the governing coalition. it made the green and social democratic coalition partners look spineless and passive.

and now, i invite you to imagine how on the day of the US election results, the day the whole world rolled their eyes at the sheer fucking stupidity and pointlessness of it all, at NINE IN THE EVENING, just as germans are getting ready to settle in to bed to dream of nightmare global politics -

the news suddenly breaks that our notoriously invisible chancellor just decided to fire Lindner for that exact behaviour. this chancellor comes out and says, on camera, to the entire sleepy nation, that acting the way Lindner did - blocking necessary policies, refusing to approve budgets unless his party's interests were met - was childish, selfish, irresponsible, and unfit for government, so, whoops, he had to go. shame. coalition over, i guess.

so, politically, that was a long-needed but never-expected moment of triumph for those of us who think the FDP is a clown show made up of human TESLA shares, and it came at a hysterically funny moment.

on a personal level, i can barely explain how uniquely hateable Lindner has always been. he's what would happen if a stock index graph came to life. he hates poor people with a relish; he mocks welfare recipients and would ax minimum wages in a second. he's everyone's business major roommate who shows up in boat shoes fresh off a yacht to discuss NFTs with you. throughout the entire time that he's used his rich boy policy blackmail strategy, he's been smug about it, and he was never taken to task for it, and millions of germans have been longing to throw rotten fruit in his face since 2017. and now we finally get to do it. via memes. on the day of trump's election win.

so that's why it's funny.

[the-bi-space-ace]

First Hugs - Part 1 - Wrecker

Hi all! Since I really needed some comfort (and it seems like many others need it right now too) this will be my first post for Echo-vember. I've decided to post one Echo-focused fic each week of November revolving around the first time Echo hugs each of the batch and at the end of the month I'll post every part to Ao3. If you want to be tagged when I post these fics let me know <3

Thank you @renton6echo for coming up with the concept of Echo-vember. I'm excited for it <3

Summary: The first time Echo hugs Wrecker

Word Count: 1,021

Their mission had gone off without a hitch. It was the first of many, Echo hoped, as they boarded the Marauder to embark on whatever was next for the group. He could barely keep up with how fast everything was moving. One mission after another, no planet longer than a few days, so much to learn he was racing just not to fall behind. Rest days were far and few between. He slept even less with Clones Force 99 than he did when he was a 501st ARC. Even when he did it was always surrounded by people just as he liked it, constantly listening to the sounds of snores and chatter and even breathing. That was okay with Echo. He didn’t have too much time to think in between rushing into battle and his new squad was about as chaotic as he expected. They were nearly yelling over each other in the excited rush that followed their mission. It was swift, simple, but they’d run into the need for an explosion and that got all of their blood pumping. Who would’ve thought, the squad of excitable commandos liked when things went boom. He was busy smiling at them, ignoring the need to make a plan, set a path, move on, while they pushed each other around and chattered. 

“That was awesome!” Wrecker whooped as he whipped his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor. A wide smile stretched across his face, skin flushed with excitement. He shoved Echo’s shoulder. “Who knew you could do something like that?!” Right. Echo tried to bite back the grin but he was fighting a losing battle. He’d been on top of a walker, helping plant explosives while the rest of them distracted enemies for him and the big guy. Apparently using his grappling hook to swing off the side of it, wrapping its legs together, and tucking into a roll as he dismounted wasn’t just a common method everyone used. When he’d knocked the walker over he yelled at Wrecker to run, close enough that their backs heated while the explosion went off behind them. Echo wasn’t sure why it was particularly exciting but it may have been the domino effect of explosions that detonated throughout the battlefield that made them all so giddy. 

Something about fire. It just really made all of them bouncier. 

Echo shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “Had to learn something from all of that ARC training.” It was the first time he’d truly felt confident with the batch. They’d only known each other for a few weeks, spent even less time in the field, and he’d fumbled a few plays - understandable - but he’d let it hurt his ego a bit too much. All those racing thoughts and unease had wriggled its way into his mind. A win was nice. It reminded him who he was. A time when they thought he fit in was even better. The batch was so tight he started to think infiltrating their ranks was impossible. 

Maybe he just hadn’t given them enough time. 

Wrecker laughed - bright and jovial - nudging Echo again, this time hard enough that he bumped into Hunter who steadied him with a grin. “You can say that again! We make a great team.” In a move that almost knocked all the air out of his lungs Wrecker swept his arms around Echo’s waist, lifting him up into the air. The shock came first along with a surprised noise from the back of his throat - not a squeak, thank you very much - as the big guy hugged him. His feet dangled in the air while Wrecker swayed him back and forth. 

This was the first time any of them had hugged him. For a brief moment it was like being doused in freezing cold water but the warmth radiating off of Wrecker made every bone in his body relax. Hugs certainly hadn’t been at the top of his list of priorities - he hadn’t really thought about it - but he found himself smiling regardless. Wrecker was a tactile guy, mostly shoving and throwing his arm around the others, but hugs weren’t out of the question. Echo just hadn’t realized that Wrecker would ever want to hug him with his metal and attitude and newness to the squad so he’d not yet attempted to get physically closer to any of them yet. At least Wrecker was the easiest to befriend, so quick to invite Echo to join him in their down time and offer him space. It felt nice to be treated like a part of things. He couldn’t really hug him back, not with his arms pinned to the side as they were, but he did chuckle, awkwardly patting Wrecker’s side.

“Any time, big guy. Maybe next time we can make it a few more yards away from the explosion before it goes off.” The light scold was taken lightheartedly with a laugh. Wrecker squeezed him tight one last time then put him down, holding onto his shoulder to keep him steady while he regained his footing. The smile stuck to his face so bad he almost had to hide it behind his hand. Something as simple as a hug and he was taken down, reduced to silence, watching dutifully as the rest of them kept getting under each other's skin. Lucky was a word he would use, he supposed. It may seem simple but the worry that his new squad wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to be tactile with him was slowly ebbing away, flickering to the back of his mind even for the moment. His hand itched to do the same things the rest of them seemed so comfortable with - shoving, ruffling hair, hugs - but he wasn’t quite there yet. Wasn’t ready to be the initiator for tactile forms of affection. Wrecker had opened the door, allowed in some form of familiarity he hadn’t quite realized he missed so much. There was still learning, sure, but hope bloomed in his chest at the thought that this could be more than a squad, more than a team, but something closer to his heart altogether.

[discordiansamba]

ough. the implication that if the gaang had found zuko later in the lee from the tea shop au that he'd just be fucked. prince zuko never makes it out of ba sing se.

it's so deliciously fucked up.

like, it's obviously not the path i'm going because like. the slow recovery from the brainwashing? chef's kiss. love that shit. but just. thinking for a moment of a world where katara never visits that tea shop. prince zuko just vanishes from history entirely.

katara and sokka visit ba sing se. they're in their late twenties. they're visiting the middle ring when a little black-haired girl basically just barrels into katara. her father hurries over and scoops her up, and apologizes. i am so sorry. she wasn't watching where she was going. izumi, apologize to these nice people.

katara laughs and assures him it was no big deal. he looks faintly familiar, but not in a way she can place. she tells him that his daughter is very pretty, and he beams with pride. he introduces himself as lee. he owns a tea shop in the middle ring. you two should come by sometime. he'll give you a free cup as an apology.

and well. sokka's never said no to free. so of course they visit the tea shop. he honors his free cup of tea promise. katara is very pregnant with tenzin at the time and is happy to make a new mom friend in the form of lee's equally pregnant wife, jin. they talk over tea, and have a lovely time.

katara recommends the tea shop to everyone. she feels a little guilty the first time she brings aang there. oh. she really should have warned lee first. it's easy to forget sometimes, just how famous her husband is. they end up never visiting ba sing se without visiting the tea shop. lee and jin become their friends- and honestly? they're kind of lifesavers. neither of them mind babysitting at the drop of a hat. their two daughters- izumi and meiko- become friends of their own children in the process.

meiko surprises everyone by firebending.

it's fine, though. everyone knows there's no way jin would be unfaithful. it's probably just one of those weird quirks that happens sometimes. and hey- they know a lot of great firebending teachers who can help her. lee is so proud of his youngest daughter- he's proud of both of his daughters, really. he's a great dad.

("i learned a lot from my own father," lee tells them, "-he was a great man.")

lee and jin have a third child on the way. the gaang makes sure to drop in when she's near her due date. they've just entered the shop when they hear a crash from the back, and they all rush into the kitchen. jin is on the floor, clutching her stomach. katara realizes what's happening and barks out orders. it's a breech baby. don't worry, katara assures her. i can handle this.

it's a boy. his eyes are pure gold. she hands the newborn to his father, and lee takes him and looks at him with wonder in his face. he kisses his forehead and thanks katara. he crouches next to jin, and they marvel at their son together. lee brushes his hair out of the left side of his face and-

-katara abruptly realizes they'd never seen the left half of his face before. he was burned in a house fire when he was a child, she knows.

he does have a burn. it's stretched over the left half of his face, forcing his left eye into a thin slit. his eyebrow is missing. his left ear is crumpled. the patch right around his eye is redder than the rest of it. it's a scar she would know anywhere.

it's zuko's scar.

[eddiesghxst]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job. 

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day! 

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now. 

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.” 

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.” 

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with. 

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.” 

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap. 

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you. 

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.” 

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him. 

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.” 

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for. 

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks. 

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room. 

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods. 

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.” 

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.” 

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?” 

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—” 

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?” 

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door. 

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has. 

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?” 

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee. 

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?” 

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat. 

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him. 

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.” 

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine. 

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into. 

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?” 

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes. 

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does. 

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock. 

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though. 

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.” 

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them. 

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows. 

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping. 

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right. 

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it. 

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head. 

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle. 

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

[celesterayel]

the it couple | luke castellan

request: I’m not really sure what qualifies as a request but could you write a Luke x reader where they are like the camp it couple? 🫶🫶

summary: common knowledge is how irrevocably in love luke castellan is with you.

"you know i adore you, i'm crazier for you than i was at sixteen lost in a film scene" - t.s.

w.c. : 702

warning(s) : none

pairing : luke castellan x reader

the campers of camp half blood don't quite remember how or when it had happened. It just always was: you and Luke Castellan, that is. where you went, he followed. the shadow to your guide and you the balm to his sorrow. annabeth used to whisper to the younger children–the ones who had been taken to camp far too young and therefore had little knowledge of love–that you and Luke Castellan were soulmates: seamlessly bound to one another. 

you yourself had never believed in fate despite the fact that you had met them–old bitter hags. you preferred to believe that life was not set in stone, unbreaking and withered to a timeline. it perhaps led to your brash attitude and ‘ride or die’ mentality but your mannerisms only made luke castellan fall in love with you all the more. some things were just beyond the gods' control. you and luke were one of those things.

you had first arrived at camp a decade ago, where you were then claimed by hades. of course news of you spread like wildfire: you were gorgeous, your talent with your bo staff was unmatched, and your father was one of the three–strong power ran through your blood and you showed it everyday during training. but that wasn’t exactly what caught the attention of everyone, rather the fact that the popular gaze of a certain brown-eyed boy always strayed to you. when you laughed, he smiled. where you went, he strayed. you were magnet and he was never far away.

you both tipped toed around one another, constantly drifting toward the other. playful banter slipped between you two and those around you wondered when you would finally just get together. the first time you guys finally breached the delicate line between more than ‘obviously pining friends’ was after an exciting rivalry game.

despite the strategic planning of annabeth–who clearly eyed the tension between the two of you–and the excellent swordsmanship, house ares had won the game because of you. You had been the one to distract luke castellan after clarisse had forced you to use your charms. it was fun to see the cute blush adorn his cheeks when you approached the head of the Hermes House.

“so, does this mean you agree to go out with me?” he breathed out, hands twirling his sword as he was once again bested by you in capturing the flag.

you laughed out, “i was just waiting for you to ask, castellan.”

no sooner after you had begun dating did the infamy of you two reach an all high around camp. how could it not? 

you two were the all anyone could talk about–the best of the best.

luke castellan was already the best swordsman at camp; a prodigy in the making. his brown curls and dimples only made him more popular among the girls and young teens. he was one of the highest placed leaders around camp; one of the few that clarisse actually respected and the one that annabeth regarded most. 

you were a gem in the rough: bold and brash at times, but calculating and quick-witted. you were the one to turn to when those around camp felt alone, always ready to take care of others and offer words of wisdom. you were a living definition of rules being broken and your power only highlighted the height of your placement around camp. 

when you two walked by, the eyes of the others strayed. newcomers learned of your names before they learned what exactly camp half blood was. 

when you threw your head back and laughed, people watched as Luke curled his lips in pride at being the one behind your laughter. when he sat round the fire and sang songs with the campers, you sat right beside him; head laying on his shoulder and hoping the moment would never end. he willingly allowed himself to lose camp games if only by your hand, time and time again.

yes, you were the it couple of camp half blood but none of that mattered, when he was the one for you.

[aces-and-angels]

artwork by raghad qanou follow: @rhq2744 verified ✔: no. 221 on el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's sheet

dear moots/lovely lurkers- please read 🖤

raghad has finally reached the very first milestone in her fundraiser! that's right gang, thanks to the continuous support of friends/strangers alike, raghad's family has raised a whopping ✨£5,095✨as promised, here is another beautiful original by miss raghad herself 🖤

for those who haven't gotten a chance to meet her yet, please allow raghad to introduce herself in her own words:

Hello everyone, I am Raghad Qanou, a second-year human medicine student at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, or rather, I was like that, before I lost everything, literally everything... Before the 7th of October, me and my family [8 members] were living in our cute house in the Shujaiya neighborhood in Gaza, after huge suffering to repair it and return to living in it after it was destroyed in the 2014 war on Gaza. My family and I were forced to leave our home and forcibly move under fire 7 times so far! All this to escape death and hold on to the last shred of hope for a decent life! excerpt from raghad's gfm campaign page (read full story here)

i first met raghad sometime in june after she messaged me here on tumblr. one of the first things she shared with me (besides her name lol) was this piece:

title: waiting for a ceasefire "only hope and art keep us alive here in gaza ...." -raghad qanou

since then, we've been able to chat a handful of times-- i told her how much i loved her artwork and she excitedly shared even more of her work with me

raghad is a talented artist- a loving sister- a diligent student- a wonderful daughter- and someone who deserves a chance to live a life worth living. her whole family does

they continue to suffer through horrific living conditions and rely on y'all to help carry their burden. to reveal yourself so vulnerably to the world is far from easy. so often, we are told to grit our teeth and push through whatever ails us in silence. but this is a type of pain that cannot and should not be felt alone. and it will take everyone to band together so we can begin to heal

raghad's campaign still has a long way to go. to help things move along, i am proposing another art reveal ✨

if we can get raghad to £15K- i will unveil another beautiful piece from her collection of artwork!

as of posting, raghad's family has raised £5,095 / £55,000.

for those able, please consider donating by clicking the link below + share this post so others may get the chance to help out too 🖤

tags for reach below cut (note: sorry gang, ik we're not really moots. if you're here- it's cause i pulled people from a post that promoted a gfm in the past. please let me know if you do not wish to be tagged in future posts. no hard feelings, truly 🖤)

@juneybug @kodigobacktosleep @apocalyptic-dancehall @imnotthepersonyouseek @toonirl 

@kingofthebookcase @kazehita @yonch @pinkdreamscape1 

@king-dail @caseys-soup-corner @shoogachi @killy @missusmousse 

@j0ckhead @whoopsiedaisy20 @squidie-tittie @dreamingamongthestars @trexpel 

@mischief16 @foulharbor @draginfyre16 @tangerinesteve @3amsnow 

@fruitpuddle @wallsong @selkiesmile @suzakus-canon-wife @turquoisewavesstitch

@loutrem @thatlethalsoul @visemes @orange-coloredsky @dweamdoodles

@just-a-girl-0001 @samrobotize @aunty-matter @gamelpar 

@roachie-paradise @queruloustea @ehjane @firebird963 @butchdykekondraki 

@dinofur @cthulhu-with-a-fez @purplenickel @ysngie @paper-mario-wiki

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[avocado-writing]

being the worst wolverine’s wife and one day you get zapped by the TVA for whatever reason, and it looks like you completely disappeared, this is what leads logan to become depressed, start drinking and ultimately ignore the x men when they die etc etc

he goes with wade purely bc he would if you were alive- he couldn’t give less of a shit about wade’s universe but he can feel you over his shoulder like an angel telling him he needs to do this (i imagine it’s like the jean hallucinations he had in the wolverine movie)

what if you’re in the void and he finds you with the rest of the group, like being unable to believe you’re really here?

hehe i love angst and ily avo <3

I already did a “Logan meets you in the void” fic here so I didn’t wanna make this too long or I’d just end up hitting the same beats!

1.4k. rated m for excessive use of the word “fuck”

The day you disappeared you took his fucking soul with him. 

You had been out shopping. Nothing weird about that, he wasn’t some overbearing husband who demanded to know your location every single hour. But then afternoon had turned into evening had turned into night and nobody had heard from you. The unfamiliar sensation of panic had risen, queasy, from his stomach into his chest. They sent out a search party and looked for days. Not a trace of you to be found. Logan couldn’t smell you. Fuck, he’d never not been able to smell you before.

He would hunt for you every day, hoping to find you alive but trying to level with the idea of you being cold and dead because at least then he’d have closure; he’d stay awake for hours on end until he collapsed from exhaustion… then he’d wake up and repeat the whole horrible affair. Nothing. After weeks of searching, Charles had laid a hand on his arm. Logan can still remember the look of pity on his face, like a bomb to the gut. 

“I’m so sorry, Logan.”

They had to assume you were abducted and killed. Your body never turned up. And Logan just had to… keep going. How was he meant to keep going? You were his entire fucking life and then you were just…

Gone. 

To say he was left empty was the biggest understatement of his fucking life. He was a shell of the man he once was. He never laughed any more, never smiled, always trying to plug the hole your absence left in him with whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. Drink himself to a place where he could forget you.

It never really worked. At least it made him numb to the pain though. 

When he staggers home one evening, eyes bleary and head spinning, and finds the whole mansion torched? Everyone left that he loved fucking dead? Well, it takes the last vestiges of his existence and crushes them into dust. 

Oh, Logan, he hears in the back of his mind. Your voice. It breaks him. He falls to his knees, hands buried in the burning timbers, and wails. 

He survives. He does not live. Thinking about everyone he’s lost, with you haunting the corners of his consciousness, always reaching out to comfort him - but when he goes to nuzzle into the warmth of your palm he is overcome with rage and bitterness to find it’s just his own imagination playing tricks on him. 

Then a fucking idiot in red dragged him away from the shambles which was his life and forced him to be functional again, if only barely. He’s angry, so angry all of the goddamn time, even when in the back of his mind he can hear you speaking sweet, calming words to him. 

And then he hears your voice for real. 

Sees you standing across the base this pathetic resistance has made. You look older, sure, he does too - but there’s no mistaking the fire in those eyes. You’re even wearing the same fucking shirt you went missing in, he remembers it, it has a picture of your favourite band. 

His heart stops dead in his chest as you whisper his name. 

“Logan?”

“Oh shit!” says Wade, and Logan has never wanted to kill him more, “Oh shit! Is this your refrigeratored wife, coming back to throw in a third act character arc?”

Logan finishes the bourbon bottle and throws the empty at Wade’s head, where it shatters and knocks him flat. You wince at the violence and he feels like pure shit. 

“I’m fine,” Wade calls from the ground, sticking a thumbs-up into the air. 

“Logan, I…” you clearly want to say something, but you have not been met with the Logan you knew. That Logan would have spent no time running to pick you up and hold you in his arms. This one half-snarls at the man he bloodied on the floor. 

There is an agonising silence, both of you wanting to speak but not being sure how. You take a hesitant step forward. 

“I never thought I’d…”

“How do I know it’s you?”

You recoil like he’s stabbed you with his claws, confusion and hurt flooding your face. Goddamn. He is the worst man alive. He’s not sure if he’s saying it because he just wants to lash out at the nearest person, or…

… or if, because he gets his hopes up, it might just kill him to have them crash down again. 

“What?”

“All these fuckin’ timelines. How do I know? How can I be sure that you’re you?”

The sadness in your face melts away into anger. When you step forward this time, you’re on the warpath. He sees the others in the room cringe, trapped now in this caustic reunion. 

“How can you be sure it’s me? Fuck, Logan, I knew it was you, didn’t I? What do you want? You want me to show you the shitty tattoo I got after we first started dating and we were both drunk?” You lift your sleeve to reveal a little design on your shoulder. “Want me to tell you how an eighteen-year-old Marie was my bridesmaid and she cried because she didn’t think anyone would ever be that kind to her after living as a mutant again? Want me to fucking remind you that in my vows I said I would be by your side, for fucking ever, no matter what - and how when that TVA agent zapped me when I was out for the day and I ended up here, it was only the thought of fulfilling those vows which kept me going? How about all that, or do I fucking need to humiliate myself more?” At this, you gesture to the others who have lined up at the side of the room, trying to look scarce but utterly failing. 

Your shoulders are heaving with emotions, tears hot and heavy in your eyes but not yet spilling over. Logan grits his jaw. Yeah. It’s you. 

“I…” he starts, but trails off when he realises there’s nothing he can say. You shake your head, numb. 

“Fuck you, Logan Howlett,” you spit, words you’ve never ever thrown his way before, and run out of the room. 

“Wow. Aced that one, peanut,” says Wade, and Logan rips off one of his legs. 

He finds you several hours later at a campfire outside the rundown building which makes up headquarters. LeBeau has clearly been kind enough to part with some of his liquor, because you’re gulping down whiskey like it’s air. You stare at him, embers dancing in bitter eyes. 

“What do you want?” you snap. He grunts as he sits down opposite you, either from age or exertion. Stares into the flames. 

“I never stopped looking,” he manages. 

You blink. 

“What?”

“I never…” he shifts uncomfortably. It’s been a long time since he bared this much of his soul. “I never stopped. Even when the others told me to give up, that I would only make it worse for myself, I’d still search. Couldn’t face the idea you weren’t there any more.”

It’s true. If he was twelve bottles deep he’d be looking, if he was hungover as a dog he’d be looking. When the rest of the X-Men were still there and even after they weren’t. If he wasn’t sitting at a bar he was on the streets, ever a bloodhound trying to catch your scent again. 

For the first time you soften. 

“Oh.”

“So… when I asked if it was you… ah, fuck. I didn’t mean to come off as an asshole. Just couldn’t live with it if it wasn't true. Wasn’t real.”

When you stand he expects a slap. He deserves it. What he doesn’t count on is you sitting down - not on the log next to him, but in his lap. He hasn’t felt you do that for so long, and it’s so good. Your warmth on his thigh. You grab one of his hands, still larger than yours, and press it to your chest so he can feel your beating heart. 

“I’m real, Logan. I’m right here, baby,” you whisper, eyes dewy. Fuck. His are as well; he can’t help it. He’s overwhelmed by you, your feel, your gaze, your smell. He’d forgotten how much he loved it. 

Logan noses upwards against you, searching for your lips, and you let him find them. When you stroke his hair he can feel the wedding ring on your left hand. The kiss is desperate, longing, and the best one he’s ever had. 

“Right here,” you repeat, forehead against his. He grips you so tightly that it’s possible he’ll never let go again. 

[800db-cloud]

spare some spy hcs? 👀

OKAY. ok. so i have been putting off answering this ask because i’m admittedly very shy and very afraid of sharing my headcanons. and also because i have A LOT OF THEM.. but here we are!

here are my headcanon spies :) René works for RED and Jacques works for BLU!

where to start, where to start… i have a LOT of headcanons for them, i’ll be talking for FOREVER here. i’ll just start with story because why not! xP

René’s parents were also agents/spies, so he was always destined to be one as well. And he lives up to his parents’ legacies! He’s most notorious for destroying gangs and mobs and the like from the outside in. He was brought to America years ago to take out a dangerous mob boss, but unfortunately found himself infatuated (and involved) with the boss’ daughter. Luckily for him, the boss’ daughter wanted the guy dead, too.

René’s story is honestly a lot more fleshed out than Jacques’, but here goes anyway:

Jacques’ father was a very rich and powerful man in politics. Jacques himself was the result of an affair, and to keep it hush-hush, his father decided to raise him. Raise is a strong word, though— but he did help his father gain intelligence and blackmail on opposing political parties. Jacques proved to be a promising spy since childhood.

If anyone has any suggestions/ideas for Jacques’ story, let me know haha x) he didn’t have the greatest upbringing per se…

last thing on this section i wanna talk about is the Scouts. René is related to both of the Scouts; he’s RED Scout (Jeremy)’s biological father, and he’s BLU Scout (James)’ adoptive/step-father. Jacques has no relation to either scout, but acts as a guardian figure to BLU Scout.

anyway, this is the part where i continue talking about other miscellaneous headcanons! and these come with doodles :)

You couldn’t catch René DEAD without his mask, or his suit! He’d neeever take them off around other people (‘other people’ is mainly just Scout. For obvious reasons.) Meanwhile, Jacques is pretty lenient in letting his teammates see his face! Everyone on BLU’s seen his face at least once.

A big part of why René refuses to strip down is also due to the fact he has a LOT of tattoos. No doodle for this one because I’ve yet to decide on what tattoos to put on him (ideas are very welcome!!), but yeah! Most of the tattoos were ‘forced’ onto him/he had to get for jobs and ‘fitting in’ with bad crowds, but a good few of them were of his own accord, too.

Jacques doesn’t have tattoos, but he has a myriad of another thing: scars! Lots and lots of scars on this guy. Faded and old, sure, but they’re there. Most prominent ones are the one around his neck (from when the RED Medic beheaded him) and the ones on his forearms (those are from the LAST time he was imprisoned— looong story…)

René doesn’t cook very often for his team, but when he does, everyone’s always BLOWN AWAY by this guy’s cooking! René’s really bad at taking compliments, though— (“Cooking food that’s remotely edible isn’t a compliment, it’s basic survival.”) —but rest assured he’ll be thinking about it for the next month. Jacques, however… Do NOT let this guy into the kitchen. Ever. The BLU base has a special fire extinguisher “In Case Spy Decides To Turn On The Stove”

oooh, this one is an hc and a HALF to me. René much prefers working alone. It’s just in his nature, being isolated and whatnot. He likes to deal with things by himself– maybe he doesn’t want to burden others? On the contrary, Jacques NEVER works alone. It’s a trait he’s had even before being hired to BLU. You never know when things could go wrong, so it’s best to have someone else to fall back to… or someone else you can blame!

these hcs both have something to do with how René and Jacques show their trust in other people :) it’s a bit convoluted but it gets there:

René is, amusingly, very bad at remembering names. Almost laughably bad. There have been many-a-story of his days before RED where he’d get a target’s name wrong, even after he’d repeated it in his head dozens of times over. Names are difficult for him, so if he remembers yours, it means you mean a lot to him! He prefers using his teammates’ names rather than their titles. René is unaware of how charming this specifc trait is to his coworkers (they saw how much work and effort it took for him to memorize their names, they’re just happy with how far he’s come!)

Jacques has a… to put simply, very complicated relationship with food. But the one thing he’ll never turn down is sweets. His favorites especially being chocolate bonbons. Jacques has a hard time eating in front of others, let alone sharing his food! But if he genuinely likes and trusts you enough, he’d have half the mind to share with you. Admittedly, he hasn’t brought himself to share with most of the members of his team yet, except for a select few. Mostly BLU Medic and BLU Sniper.

—

and of course, eventually, EVENTUALLY, these two also become friends! it took a little bit but believe me, they both respect each other’s skill in their job :)

AHHg i could go sooo much longer about them— from things like their physical traits (how much teeth they have? it’s a pressing question) or different periods of their life (why did rené have to leave his family? why was jacques imprisoned for the last time?) BUT this post is so… so, so long. My fingers hurt from typing

If you’ve managed to read through this Beast, THANK YOU RAAHH!!! thanks so much for asking this, too. i hope to spare more hcs someday. hehe ^_^

[harryslittlefreakk]

the one

summary: y/n runs into the last person she ever expected to see in the last place she ever expected to see him, bringing old feelings & hurt to the surface. based on the prompt: childhood friends to lovers

warnings: light angst, made up town, CHEESY writing, smut that’s more making love than fucking

wordcount: 4.7k

a/n: hi guys 💘 long time no see!!! GO EASY on me im rusty!!!

masterlist

The heavy wooden door creaked as it swung shut behind you, sealing out the bitter November wind with a low groan. Inside, the warm glow of amber lights bathed the room, casting long shadows over the oak bar and a few worn leather stools scattered around it. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and a faint hint of wood smoke. A couple of locals sat quietly at a table near the back, their low voices blending with the soft hum of an old jukebox playing a slow, bluesy tune.

“Thank God,” you muttered, the day’s tension melting from your face as the warm air settled around you. You let your head roll back, savoring the first reprieve from the cold. The chill that had reddened your cheeks and numbed your fingers slowly eased, the warmth brushing over your skin.

Winter was settling into Windermere, and you’d never gotten used to it. Your parents found a strange charm in the grey skies and biting winds, bundling up and going about their routines. But for you, it felt suffocating. Each year, November swept in like an unwelcome guest, forcing the town to become even smaller, with people huddled indoors, glancing suspiciously at anyone passing by.

The town seemed cloaked in silence, broken only by the crackle of fires and the crunch of frozen leaves underfoot. It was a season that left no room for secrets, not when every movement was magnified in the stillness. With everyone tucked away, the chances of slipping by unnoticed were slim, forcing your teenage rebellion to thrive in only the rarest pockets of solitude, under the cover of long, dark nights.

“Please, just something hot,” you said, voice weary as you rubbed your hands together, trying to coax warmth back into them.

The bartender eyed you for a moment, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he planted his hands on the bar.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you,” he mused, reaching down to grab another glass.

Your head snapped up so quickly that your neck clicked, and you rubbed the sore spot as a frown knit your brow. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. He was older, scruffier, and somehow more devastatingly handsome than the last time you’d seen him. You blinked a few times, half-expecting him to be some kind of apparition conjured by the cold. But he was real. Your Harry was really standing in front of you, in the last place you’d ever thought you’d find him.

“I didn’t- I tried to find you,” you stammered, your voice catching as your gaze drifted over him.

He was taller now, his once-wild curls a little more tamed. Those same green eyes that seemed to cut straight through into your soul. His sweater clung just enough to his arms to hint at the strength beneath, and tattoos traced up both arms in intricate, dark patterns, curling from his wrists to disappear under the fabric, each one telling a story of the years he'd spent without you.

The decade you’d missed was written across him in lines and ink, yet somehow, seeing him now made you feel like that eighteen-year-old again, waiting for her best friend to realize he loved her too.

“If you’d looked hard enough, you would have,” Harry muttered, his eyes trailing over your face, taking in the flush of cold still lingering on your cheeks. Your lips pressed into a tight line as you dropped your gaze to the worn wood of the bar. You couldn’t tell him that you hadn’t found him because you hadn’t wanted to.

He was a reminder of a version of yourself you’d left behind - a girl who thought she had to earn love instead of knowing she deserved it.

He stood there, still holding the empty glass, his gaze traveling over every inch of you he could see. His eyes lingered on your hands for a moment, his expression hardening before he turned away.

Even through his sweater, you could see his back muscles tense, a reminder of just how much had changed. The unmistakable clink of ice hitting glass sent an involuntary chill down your spine, though you blamed it on the cold draft from the door. But deep down, you knew it was Harry’s presence that stirred something old and haunting within you.

He turned back to you after a few minutes, setting a mug of hot cocoa down in front of you. His hand was steady, but there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders as he slid the glass toward you.

"Exactly how we used to have it. On the house," he said, voice low, eyes flicking briefly to meet yours before returning to a spot just over your shoulder. You hesitated, your fingers wrapping around the glass, the warmth dancing across your skin.

“Christ. Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip. The burn of whiskey flooded your throat, a welcome contrast to the chill that had settled deep in your bones.

He still didn’t say anything, didn’t ask what you’d been doing all these years. Didn’t ask why you’d come back. There was a time when you were sure he’d have asked, a time when he would have read every expression, every flicker in your eyes as easily as a page in a book. But now, the silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, woven from years of things left unsaid.

"Heard you were getting married,” Harry said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear. The words were hesitant, almost vulnerable, but his eyes had a guarded edge, as if they were holding back an ocean of questions. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, almost as if to steady himself.

“Not anymore,” you told him with a soft shake of your head, your voice barely carrying over the soft hum of the jukebox. You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over him, noting the subtle lines at the corners of his eyes, the quiet weight he seemed to carry now, like shadows that hadn’t been there before. He was still Harry - but this version of him was one you didn’t know. Or maybe it was you who didn’t know herself anymore.

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t know you stayed here, Harry.”

It was true. You didn’t know anything about him. You’d never asked your parents, though they would definitely be privy to what was going on in his life. They knew that whatever had or hadn’t happened between the two of you had contributed to the way you left, so they had made no attempt to keep you updated.

“I didn’t. Came back for my grandma’s funeral and the pub was about to be sold to a chain but no one could afford to take it on. So I did,” he shrugged, his eyes dropping to his feet as he spoke.

You sat back a little, memories of afternoons spent at this very pub flooding your mind. Trying to sneak notes out of the tip jar, Harry coercing his grandma to pass you both shots. “She loved it here,” you whispered, a soft smile on your lips as you traced a finger along the bar. “I had no idea she passed Harry. I’m so sorry.”

“Forty years of her life behind this bar,” Harry nodded solemnly, his jaw tense. “I couldn’t let it go.”

There was a glimmer of the Harry you knew when he said that. It was the part of him that first drew you in. He was cheeky, stubborn, but his loyalty to his family was unmatched. Beneath the external rebellion, he was sentimental and kind, the first to fiercely defend any of his loved ones, the last to leave one behind.

You had no idea how you’d ended up so disconnected from him. You’d only spent five minutes in his presence, but it felt like the first five minutes you’d ever spent with him.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The silence was loaded, more meaningful than any small talk you could have tried to fill it with. It felt as though one wrong word would break whatever fragile truce had settled between you.

Finally, Harry sighed, leaning his forearms against the bar, hands fidgeting with a bottle cap, rolling it over and over between his fingers.

“You left,” he said softly, as if the words themselves had been weighing him down. “And I waited, you know? For a while. I thought you’d come back. And then, when you didn’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

There was a long pause, each word sinking heavily in the quiet room, reverberating through you. You felt a pang of guilt - maybe shame - at hearing his side of it laid bare, the rawness in his voice making it hard to breathe.

“I didn’t know how to exist here,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt flimsy, inadequate, but they were all you had. “I needed to figure out how to do it on my own.”

“And did you?” he asked, something sharp and almost accusing in his tone.

You hesitated, because you weren’t sure how to answer that. Had you? The years had passed, but you weren’t sure you’d changed as much as you thought you would. You’d found your independence, learned to stand on your own - but there was still a part of you that had never let him go, that had held onto the version of Harry you’d left behind.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, the words tasting bitter. “I thought being back here would answer that for me.”

You turned away from him, your heart pounding as you glanced around the pub, taking it in. “It’s changed a lot in here,” you mumbled, never feeling less at home than you did in that moment.

“The whole town has changed.” Harry shrugged, his jaw tense as his eyes followed yours.

The atmosphere had shifted when you turned back to face him, an unmistakable tension settling between you. Harry’s gaze was hard, guarded and defensive, like he was bracing himself against something.

“That’s not a good reason to leave.”

“What?”

“That’s not a good reason to leave,” he repeated, arms folding over his chest. “Are you staying?”

“For now.”

“You hurt a lot of people,” he continued, his tone harsh, bitterness dripping from each word.

“I spent my entire teenage years thinking about everyone else. Selfishness isn’t a crime,” you shot back, pushing your empty mug towards him.

“It’s not. But that doesn’t stop it hurting people.”

You narrowed your eyes, leaning your forearms against the bar. “People, or you?”

Harry looked past you at the last patrons filing out, circling around the bar to see them out and lock the door behind them. The silence was thick, stretching through the distance between you.

“People,” he answered finally, those green eyes not quite meeting yours. How had it gotten to a point where you openly lied to each other? A tiny part of you thought that if you ever crossed paths again, you’d fall into your old routine, Harry with the cheeky grin and bad ideas, you with the doe eyes and willingness to follow his every move.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” you mumbled, pushing yourself off the stool.

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Harry stalked back to the bar, a heavy hand slamming a bottle of whiskey down in front of you. “Have a drink with me, and tell me the truth. You owe me that much.”

You swallowed hard, your body tensing as he sat down next to you. “The truth?”

“Whatever was so bad that you had to leave without even saying goodbye.” His eyes were dark as you looked up at him, his fingers drumming against the bar.

“It’s not even important anymore,” you sighed, feeling the lie settle heavy in your chest. You took a swig of the whiskey, shivering as the heat slipped down your throat, trying to steady yourself. But he was watching you too closely, reading you like an open book. Before you could react, he tugged the bottle from your hands, his chin dropping to his chest.

"Pull the other one," he said, voice low. "Whatever happened kept you away for a decade. Did someone hurt you?"

You almost laughed, bitter and tired. He was looking at you now, his gaze sharp and searching, like he was ready to drag the truth out of you no matter what it cost. But you were lost in your own head, your eyes tracing the tattoos winding down his forearms, lingering on the familiar lines and symbols. He was exactly the man you had always imagined he’d become - steady, solid, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. But you had never expected to see it like this, up close, with your own eyes.

You reached for the whiskey, snatching it back from him and knocking it back with a grimace. “It was you, Harry.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and unguarded. “Fuck. I realized I’d put my whole life on hold, waiting for you to notice me.”

He froze, his hand suspended in the air, and for a second, there was no sound but the creak of the barstool as he shifted, the slow tick of the clock on the wall. He scratched his head, his eyes falling shut as your words sank in. You could see him wrestling with it, with everything that had been left unsaid all these years.

“And running away was better than just telling me?” His voice was softer now, hurt creeping into the edges, and it made something twist painfully in your chest.

You shook your head, feeling a thousand things you could never say. “How was I supposed to tell you? Hi, Harry, my good friend, I love you, and I’m about to devote my life to you.”

“Something like that,” he muttered, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He ran a hand through his hair, shoulders slumping as he finally met your eyes. The silence stretched again, thick with years of missed chances and the weight of what could’ve been.

You both sat there, lost in the quiet. It felt fragile, this moment, like the whole world could split open with one wrong word.

“It wasn’t just that,” you muttered, watching your feet swinging under the stool. “I couldn’t exist here anymore. It gets to a point where it’s suffocating.”

“But you really couldn’t just tell me?”

You met his gaze, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks, your face hot with the blush that spread across your skin. His dark eyes held you, unblinking, and the weight of everything unspoken made your heart pound. He leaned forward, the faintest crease appearing between his brows, as if he was bracing himself for something he’d waited too long to hear. You tried to look away, tried to hide the vulnerability in your expression, but his gaze was unrelenting, drawing the words out of you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” you said, voice tight with restraint. You tried to keep your tone casual, but you could feel the way it trembled, betraying you.

“Why?” he asked, leaning closer, his face serious. His jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration in his eyes that he tried to temper. It was like he already knew what you were going to say, yet he needed to hear it from you, needed confirmation for the ache that had been buried under years of silence.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself. “It’s embarrassing, H.” Your eyes darted away, unable to face the intensity of his gaze. “I changed my whole life because of a crush. I moved somewhere where no one knew me because I was scared of everyone here knowing me too well. I got engaged to the first man I properly loved, and he still didn’t match up to you.”

Harry’s face softened, but he looked pained, his lips parting as though to speak. The vulnerability in his expression was raw, his shoulders stiffened with all the things he had wanted to say, to ask. But when he reached for you, you placed a hand over his, silencing him for a little while longer.

“I thought about you every day for ten years,” you said, feeling the words tear from your throat, your eyes bright with unspilled tears. “And now we’re just sitting here like strangers. Do you get that?”

He let out a bitter laugh, a rough, quiet sound that cut through the stillness. He leaned forward, elbows braced against the bar as if he needed the support to hold himself together. “Do I get it?” he repeated, his voice low and raw, his brows drawn in with years of buried pain. “I’ve lived the same ten years as you, except I didn’t get the privilege of knowing where the fuck you went or why.”

He looked down at your hand over his, and his fingers slowly closed around yours, his grip warm and strong. He was still, tension held tight in the curve of his shoulders, in the soft way his thumb brushed against the back of your hand, as if afraid the moment might slip away. He shifted closer, the space between you shrinking, and his other hand rose slowly to your face, cupping your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered, breath catching in your throat. You could feel your pulse quicken, every nerve alight with the nearness of him, with the intensity in his eyes, softening into something tender, something hesitant and aching.

“What I should’ve done years ago,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in, his eyes searching yours until the last second, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, to stop him. But you didn’t. His lips met yours, hesitant and gentle, as though he were savoring every second, every taste. You could feel him melt into the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The moment you kissed him back, he exhaled against you, letting go of some tightly held breath, and the kiss deepened, grew more urgent. His hands moved down to your waist, strong and steady, pulling you closer against him. You could feel the heat between you, the years of longing pouring into this single kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his breaths came rough and shallow. Without a word, he tugged his sweater over his head, baring his skin, the tattoos winding over his chest and arms like stories you’d never gotten to read. Your fingers traced along them, the tip of your nail gliding over the ink, and you could feel his pulse quicken under your touch.

He smiled faintly, but his expression grew serious again as he leaned down, brushing his lips along the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His arms wrapped around you, his hands sliding down to your hips, lifting you up onto the bar with ease. You gasped softly, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist as he tugged your skirt up, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

In that moment, you were no longer strangers. His face softened, his eyes warm and almost reverent as he looked at you, a quiet promise in his touch that maybe, finally, there was nothing left between you but the truth.

Harry’s mouth found your inner thigh, his teeth clamping down on the sensitive skin. “That’s for leaving me behind,” he murmured, his breath warm against the sting. He moved to the other one, his teeth nipping at you for a second time. “And that’s for making me wait a fucking decade.”

Your breath comes out in shallow moans, your hands planted on his shoulders. That damn butterfly tattoo, the one he’d always told you he would get, almost taking flight as he pants against you, his eyes darkened with lust.

He leaned in closer to your core as you widened your legs, his nose nudging against the wet spot on your panties.

“Ten fucking years,” he repeated, his voice husky. He looked up at you with a plea in his eyes, waiting for you to allow or deny his next move.

“Please,” you whispered, your hips bucking against him as he reached out, pulling your panties aside with a quick hand.

Your gaze landed on the window, the dim lights practically inviting passers-by to peep inside and catch you in the act. But when Harry’s mouth found your slick, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, for the first time in your life - whether you became the town gossip or not.

His movements were rough and unrelenting, his fingers spreading you open as his tongue flicked against your clit, appreciative murmurs vibrating against your skin.

As if he could read your mind, his thumb took over the pressure on your clit, rubbing circles against the nerves as you writhed. His tongue licked at your slick with an intensity you’d never know before, his free hand slipping under your jumper to grip at the curve of your waist. Tingles spread from his touch, the lust taking over your body as pressure built in your core.

Without warning, Harry pulled away, pulling your legs around his waist as he stood up. A needy whine fell from your lips as your high dissipated, the soft skin of his abs rubbing against your entrance.

“You made me wait. You can’t handle it now?” he murmured, his lips warm against your neck, the whiskey still hot on his breath.

He took the stairs two at a time, the ancient wood creaking under his feet. You looked around the apartment as Harry weaved through the dark, brushing against tables and knocking over a stray glass, too focused to care. The room smelled faintly of him - whiskey, smoke, and that earthy, familiar scent you couldn’t place. It was messy, cluttered with books and clothes, but your heart warmed with an odd sense of belonging the moment you crossed the threshold. Your clothes came off at some point during the journey, a trail of knits and underwear reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel’s, but one that would only lead you to the person you were before you knew how it felt to be fucked by Harry Styles.

He stumbled slightly, caught himself, and half-laughed, his hands steady on you as he dropped you onto the bed. You landed with a gentle bounce, your heart racing, heat building in your chest. You needed to pinch yourself in case it was all a sick dream. All those days of stolen glances and lingering touches that meant nothing and everything, all those years wondering where he was and what lucky woman hadn’t run away from him.

For all those years, you’d told yourself he was stuck in your head because of the what ifs. What if you stayed, what if you’d forged a life together, what if you hadn’t acted on hormone-driven impulses.

Harry was intense, magnetic in a way that made it impossible to look away, but the idea of actually being with him had always felt like a distant dream. And yet, there he was, breathing ragged and close, his weight settling beside you, hands resting on either side of your head as he held you in place with a gaze that felt as if it could unravel you.

“You really want this, don’t you?” he asked, voice low and edged with that same maddening confidence that had drawn you to him in the first place. His tone was challenging, almost taunting, but there was something vulnerable lurking in his eyes.

You took a breath, feeling a knot in your chest loosen as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Always have.”

His smirk softened for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his face, and you could sense the weight of all the things he’d never said hanging thick in the air. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, and this time, there was nothing held back - no restraint, no hesitation. Just an undeniable pull between you, finally given permission to break free.

“One condition,” Harry rasped, leaning down to press kisses across your bare chest. “When you leave, you keep in contact this time.”

“I will, Harry. I swear. If I leave,” you grinned up at him, your nails scratching at the base of his head.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he traced a path down to your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. “If?” he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and disbelief. He pulled back slightly, catching your gaze with a look that was both playful and deadly serious. “I’m not planning on giving you a reason to run.”

You felt the weight of his words, the lost time between you settling heavy in the air. He wasn’t going to make it easy.

“I won’t this time, I promise,” you whispered, fingers tightening around his neck, pulling his lips to yours, praying your kiss would convey how deeply sure you were.

Harry looked at you for a long moment when he pulled away, studying your face as if trying to memorize every detail, as though he wasn’t sure you’d really stay.

His eyes dropped to your tits as he reached down to stroke his cock, pulling his lower lip into his mouth as his thumb grazed over the wet slit.

You pawed at him impatiently, biting back the whimpers that threatened to spill out of you as he lined himself up at your entrance with one last look into your eyes.

You felt your life altering in front of you, your trajectory changing to what it could’ve been a decade before, fate pulling you and Harry back onto the same path, the one your should’ve always been on.

But when he pushed himself into you, that familiar pressure tinged with pain, the feeling of being filled like his cock was the missing fucking piece - your mind was clear. You wrapped yourself around him, your body fighting to be as close to him as possible, your moans syncing to his thrusts.

“Harry,” you whimpered, mouth falling open as his free hand found your clit again, drawing your body back to how close it had been to climax.

“I know, baby girl. I know,” he rasped, his voice strained as he fucked into you, his thumb unrelenting as it worked at your bud, his strong body overpowering yours.

Your hips bucked into him, your legs starting to quiver around his waist as you writhed and jerked, your moans mixing with the deafening slaps of skin-on-skin contact.

“It’s mine, this is mine,” Harry growled, his possession tipping you over the edge. His. That was all you’d ever wanted to be.

Your orgasm came on strong, your body tingling and tensing from your head to your toes, your fingers clamping around his shoulders, your back arched into his chest.

Your walls were fluttering around him, your pussy desperate to milk him for all he had.

His thrusts grew sloppier, his control slipping as he stared down at you, committing the image of your high to memory, the first thing he’d want his mind to see when he woke, the last thing he’d see before sleeping. His hand slipped under you to the curve of your ass, angling your hips to allow him deeper, his cock hitting spaces you didn’t even know you had.

“This is just the warm up,” he grunted, pulling his cock from you at the last minute, his come spilling onto your chest, your lips curling into a smirk.

“I think there’ll be plenty more of that,” you whispered, pulling his lips back onto yours, barely unable to kiss him with the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

mehhh i don’t know about this one … but ive been itching to post something 👉🏼👈🏼🥹

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[skyahri]

Arranged Marriage |Zuko X Reader| HC

Summary: Caught up in his personal conflict, Zuko completely neglects his marriage.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, forced marriage, whatever. Mentions of violence. Angsty Zuko and reader. Fem pronouns.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

You'd married Zuko a little over a year into his reign as Fire Lord. You're the oldest daughter from a noble family, and the council decided it was best if Zuko married someone well liked by the community.

He didn't take it well. He was still hoping Mai would come back to him, and you being there completely obliterated those chances.

Not that there was a shot to begin with. Mai had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Zuko, even if she admitted to still having feelings for him.

Your relationship was staged to be perfect in the eyes of the people. Young love against all odds sort of thing.

The marriage ceremony was beautiful. Your robes were elegant, the flowers were perfect, and even your soon-to-be husband was handsome.

Zuko was charming towards the guests, really selling the story and gaining a lot of trust with his people. He was awkward but personable, something everyone ate up.

But he wasn't like that with you.

As soon as the two of you were away from public eyes, he didn't so much as look your way.

You slept in different rooms and ate at opposite ends of the table. He excluded you from as many duties as he could, stating something about him not wanting to concern you.

Life in a palace was pretty isolating. The only people you could talk to were servants, and even then, your topics were extremely limited.

You'd taken to the gardens as much as possible. It felt nice to be outside and even better to see the plants and animals.

Tending to the flowers was one of the few things you were allowed to do without constant eyes on you. The lonely atmosphere felt intentional instead of forced.

But after a year of this, not even the newly budding flowers could heal your disdain. Your once bubbly exterior had been chipped away by the dread and disappointment that lingered in your heart.

You were truly just a shell of your former self by this point.

There was no change with Zuko. He'd made no effort to get to know you or even just not hate you. Any attempt you'd made in the beginning to soften the relationship had been put out the moment it left your lips. It seemed like public pleasantries would be the extent of your marriage.

You'd long given up on trying to befriend the older women who waited on you. They had no desire to be anything more than the people who got you through the day.

You'd given up on trying to sneak away with the kitchen staff to the market. They feared being held responsible for you, even if you claimed to be plenty capable of taking care of yourself.

All that was really left to do was to just stay quiet and look pretty. The sad fate of the Fire Lord's wife.

You'd been laying in bed all morning. It was one of the few days where nothing was planned. No meetings, no guests, no events- nothing.

Well, at least you thought.

"Miss Y/N, Lord Zuko has requested your presence. We must get you ready immediately."

They'd dragged you out of bed and stuffed you into a pair of your nicest robes. They're doing your hair up and rushing to cover your face in makeup.

"Why am I being summoned?"

"The Avatar and his friends have arrived. They were the ones to request you."

"I see."

It made sense. You had met the Gaang at your wedding, and they were everything you'd expected; kind, loud, and passionate. Just like Zuko was said to be.

At the time, they'd promised to come by often, but you hadn't seen them since. You'd heard something about the rebuilding of the air temple and having some unexpected issues arise, so they just hadn't had time until now.

You met Zuko at the front gates. His friends arrived just after, allowing the servants to take their things to their rooms. Without a word, Katara grabbed your arm and dragged you away with the other girls. You turned back to see the same happening with Zuko and the boys.

They pulled you all around the surrounding area. For the first time in a long time, the dread started to fade away.

You'd bought some new incense, hair pins, and seeds for the flower beds. They were small purchases in comparison to the others, who had gone all out with new clothes, trinkets, and a heap of spicy snacks for Sokka.

You'd suggested several times over the last few hours that it was time to head back to the palace, but only now that it was growing dark did the trio actually listen.

Just as you had begun packing up, a string of explosions started on the next block and made its way towards the plaza you were in.

Toph was quick to make a stone barrier, but that didn't stop the cloud of soot from staining your skin and clothes.

A group of men had emerged from the smoke and revealed themselves to be Ozai supporters. Not everyone was pleased with the fundamentals Zuko was running the country on, so rebels had started causing a bit of an uproar.

Katara, Toph, and Suki did their best to take the men down swiftly, but that didn't stop you from getting injured in the process.

Your forearms had been severely burned when you'd covered your face from an attack. Katara offered to heal you, but it'd have to wait until you got back to the palace where her spirit water was.

The trip back was uneventful. Some of the local guards stationed in the city had insisted on escorting you guys back, which at this point you couldn't deny.

Apparently, word had already gotten back to Fire Lord Zuko, who was waiting at the front doors of the palace for your arrival.

He immediately stepped forward and picked up your hand, letting the scorched fabric fall and reveal your burn. He did the same with the other and sighed.

"Please give us the room."

You watched as everyone filed out of the room, the guards towards the exit and your friends towards the south wing.

"These are severe,"

He cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head so he could get a good look. His thumb swiped over some of the soot on your face.

You were confused by his actions, but the pain from your burns created a bit of a blur in your mind, keeping you from thinking too hard about it.

"The others couldn't protect you?"

"They did what they could. I apologize for the hassle-"

"Why are you apologizing? None of this is your fault."

You opted to stay silent. You weren't sure what to say. This is the longest conversation you'd had in private since you'd met, and you were finding it hard to navigate.

It was silent for a minute. The vibe was awkward, and you desperately wanted to hide away from all of it.

His face contorted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't. You didn't pry. It didn't feel like your place to ask.

"Why don't you head to your room for a bath, and I'll have Katara meet you in there once you're done."

You nodded and made your way down the corridor. You stripped down and opted to just toss your clothes in the trash. Between the ash and scorch marks, there was no saving anything.

The second the water touched your wounds, you winced. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched small bits of charred skin go down the drain. The pain quickly went from a sharp sting to almost mind-numbing. You sat down and let the water just run down your body while you waited for the brunt of the discomfort to pass.

In your hazy state of mind, you hadn't heard the knock on the door, so you were surprised when Zuko entered in much more casual clothing.

When he saw you hunched over on the shower floor, he didn't say anything. He moved to the side of the tub and went to touch you, but you weakly swatted his hands away.

"I'm not comfortable with you being in here whole I'm naked."

"I'm your husband-"

"You're a stranger."

Ouch. Harsh but fair, and he knew it.

"Look, I know I haven't been good to you over the past year, and I'm sorry. We can talk about it more when you're feeling better, but for now just let me take care of you."

Satisfied with his response, you stopped resisting his help. You let him wash your hair and scrub your skin. His touch was gentle despite how rough his hands were.

He never once made you feel uncomfortable. He was thourough but never lingered. It was almost as if this was a normal occurrence.

When he was done, he offered you a towel and left you alone in the bathroom to get dressed. When you entered your bedroom, Katara was on your bed, but Zuko was nowhere in sight.

"Just me. Sorry to disappoint."

"No, no. I'm glad you're here."

You sat in front of her on the bed and let her examine your burns. She positioned your arms for easy access and opened her canister. You watched the water glow and the skin slowly heal itself. It was amazing, nothing like anything youd seem before.

"So," she broke the silence, "Has he warmed up to you at all?"

You were surprised by her words. You weren't sure how much they knew or what all you should say. Last thing you wanted to do was incriminate him.

Sensing your hesitation to respond, Katara clarified her question.

"I know everything, at least, from his side. You can be honest with me."

"Honest?"

"Honest."

A small smile crept onto your face.

"I think you're friend is an ass."

"I couldn't agree more."

You told her everything; the loneliness, the isolation, the lack of, well, everything in your relationship and life. She listened, something you're eternally grateful for. It felt nice just to get it off your chest instead of suffering silently.

"Today was the greatest day I've had in a long time. I got to leave the palace and talk to people and for once it felt like my husband didn't hate me."

"Zuko doesn't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

"He doesn't hate you. Just talk to him. I know he has a lot to say, and it seems you do as well."

Once your arms were healed good as new, Katara left your quarters and returned to her own. You'd crawled under the covers and passed out, completely exhausted from the day.

The next day, you took Katara's advice and decided to speak with Zuko. You woke up early, before the sun had risen and made your way to his room.

He was surprised to see you, much less in your nightwear at such an hour. He invited you in nonetheless, where you then entered and decided to sit on his bed. You patted the spot in front of you, and he hesitantly sat.

"Katara said we should talk."

"Okay."

Sensing that he wasn't going to be the one to initiate anything, you decided to get the ball rolling.

It was a long conversation. Zuko confessed a lot of things, mostly about bitter feelings towards life and guilt over his actions. He apologized for everything and listened to everything you had to say. He made a lot of promises to be better.

He stuck to his word. He began including you in anything you were welcome to. Dinners became more personal, and eventually, you started sleeping in his room like a proper married couple.

By the time team Avatar had visited again, things had visibly changed. You were both happier, and your once fake marriage had become real. You meshed into the group just fine, making the pseudo family that much bigger.

All thanks to a simple conversation.

[bvidzsoo]

Thousand Miles, just to get you back

 𖥧 District 7 ꒷ this beautiful district is lush with trees, from which these citizens supply our lumber and paper, victors: Blight, Johanna Mason

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: victor!Jeong Yunho x victor!female reader

 𖥧 Warning: suggestive, sexual tension, cursing, ptsd, violence, blood, gore, use of weapons, murder, decapitation but not too graphic, mental manipulation and trauma, alluding to forced sex work and sexual assault, if I missed any, lmk!  𖥧 Word count: 28.7k  𖥧 Rating: mature, nc-17  𖥧 Genre: Hunger Games!au, rivals to lovers!au, set during the Quarter Quell, Catching Fire book  𖥧 Summary: You didn't want this, but then again, you were sure nobody wanted to face the repercussions of being a victor. You hated your life and you hated everyone around you, never trusting a soul again. Whatever President Snow has put you through after your Games was unforgivable and your only solace lay in Finnick Odair, who understood you and your pain. But it didn't end there, no, it never would with Jeong Yunho, another victor, always breathing down your neck and hogging you as if his life depended on it. You didn't like him and you didn't trust him after what he'd done to you despite being your mentor in your Games. And when the 75th Hunger Games come around and President Snow announces that the tributes this year will be the reaped victors, your world comes crashing down, forcing you to do things you never thought you'd do again. But if it meant Panem would be free, you'd do it again.

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! This part took longer but the word count is also...higher. The story is set during the Catching Fire book, but of course, I took creative liberty and changed up some things, I hope you'll enjoy them! I apologize if the action packed scenes are lackluster, I really tried my best while not making it too graphic. I think Yunho's part is my favourite from my HG series, although Mingi's has a special place in my heart. President Snow can die in a ditch for what he did to Katniss and Peeta, no matter how much I like his character, I'll always hate him! This part is really angsty imo so buckle up, you'll be going through it with our MC. I don't think I have anything else to say other than I hope you enjoy and that I love hearing your feedback, so don't be shy! <3 Thank you for reading! divider

            For the past two days, the sky had been covered in dark rainclouds, lightning flashing across the sky every few minutes, the thunder shaking the earth as I stood perched on the windowsill with a cup of warm chamomile tea with plenty of honey in it to make anyone nauseous, even those who enjoyed sweet things. My eyes followed the raindrops as they rapidly slid down against the window, forehead pressing against the cool surface as I could see the reflection of my eyes in it. The house was quiet, so quiet that those who didn’t know would’ve thought the mansion was vacant. Because the victors' houses could easily pass as mansions, bigger than even the mayor's house, it was quiet and cold inside too, the harsh rain welcomed as it cooled the relentless summer heat with which everyone seemed to be struggling. It was truly a blessing to be forced to stay inside my house, with no one to bother me for days on end as nobody from the district was brave enough to venture out in such a harsh downpour. Not that I had anyone in the district who cared for me, I was on my own.

Everyone I once loved was gone. It was solely my fault. I had naively refused President Snow’s little bargain when I looked him in the eyes with an arrogant look and told him to ‘get fucked’. My family, gone for almost five years now, were dead before the train could even take me back to District 7 from the Capitol. Our house, small but spacious enough to house my parents, my two siblings and me, was empty when the train had dropped me off. At first, when no one from my family awaited me on the platform, I had a feeling they might’ve been planning a surprise for me, I wouldn’t put it past them. But when I returned to an empty and cold house with a single note lying on the kitchen table, I knew. It was my fault that all of my loved ones were six feet under, their lives taken away by my foolishness. I would never stop blaming myself, I didn’t want to stop blaming myself. The constant numbness that was wrapped around my heart was a harsh wake-up call to the horrors of the world I was forced to live in.

The Hunger Games had seemed like a nightmare, they were a nightmare, but what came after was the real nightmare. The terror, the pain, the uncertainty and the coldness that followed after having returned home, forced me to face the reality that I was no more than a pawn President Snow could play with however he wished, it hurt. I had been an independent person my whole life. I didn’t need anyone and I knew I would survive on my own if the circumstances forced me to, hence the reason I remained confident that I would return alive from the Games, and the arrogance to put my ego aside and keep my family safe, at last, weren’t worth it. If sleeping with countless men was what would’ve kept my family alive, if only I had known this back when Snow proposed it to me, I would’ve accepted it. I would’ve ignored the disgust I felt and done it without trying to rebel against the only man who could cut off my wings. And he did, he did cut off my wings, right from the root, ripping them out without mercy. At last, my family’s death was in vain. They were gone and I still bedded a different man each night spent at the Capitol, each one of them sent by Snow as a constant punishment to remind me that just because my loved ones weren’t here anymore to be held over my head, he could still do it, Snow could still torture me.

And so, turning my back on everyone and living in solace had been completely my choice. I didn’t want to speak to anyone, I didn’t want to see anyone, I didn’t want to be touched by anyone. I was disgusted by my own body and could never look at myself for too long. Whether my hair was long or as short as a boy's, men would still want me. Whether I ruined my face with makeup or kept it neat, they would still ravish me. In the end, nothing I did mattered. Beauty was pain sometimes, but I was too scared to maim myself, to ruin the pretty face every man in the Capitol lusted after. Snow knew too that I couldn’t do, and he enjoyed my silent pain mixed with rage, grinning at me whenever we crossed paths, taunting me with words against which I couldn’t fight back. It would be a never-ending cycle until my last day on earth and I had accepted it, numbing myself to all emotion to the point that I was just a soulless walking body, uncaring, unfeeling.

My body jolted from its slouched-over form as rapid knocks disturbed my peace, becoming louder and louder the longer I ignored them. The rain was pouring harder, lightning more frequent across the sky as thunder shook the ground, making me flinch when instead of knocking, my doorbell was being rung relentlessly. I knew who it was, I knew because today was a big day. President Snow would make his annual announcement about the Hunger Games, the same old speech, the same old rules. But something felt different, ever since Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark became victors, there were whispers in the districts, feeble words of a different future which felt closer and closer to us. Something was changing and I, as usual, wasn’t included in the grand scheme. I was a mere spectator, twirling around Snow’s fingers however he wished me to. When the doorbell’s rings turned into aggressive bangs against the front door, I released an irritated sigh and stood from my spot, storming towards the one that dared disturb my solace.

“What!” I snapped as I yanked the door open, not surprised that I had forgotten to lock it once again. Of course it was him, it was always him. I hated his face, I hated his voice, I hated his presence. I hated his whole being, and so I didn’t wait for an answer as I went to slam the door in his face, but he was fast, arm already pushing against the door as if he could read my mind.

“The muffins will get soaked, just let me in.” His boyish voice was loud as he spoke over the raging storm, his voice deep but somehow still soft. It was annoying, the ease he carried himself with, the constant serene expression on his face was infuriating. He never looked like he struggled and I was sure he just simply didn’t. He just floated through life, taking whatever it threw his way, just to laugh it off at the end of the day and start over the next one. I hated him.

“Get lost.” I hissed and pressed my full body against the door, wrestling against the desperate man on the other side of the door.

“Are you for real right now?!” He exclaimed, voice incredulous as I let one eye peek over the edge of the door, taking in his form. His hair was damp and his cardigan was slightly soaked by the rain, but as long as he stood in front of my door, he’d be protected by the balcony above his head.

“Yes!” I exclaimed and suddenly yanked the door towards myself, hoping it would throw him off balance and I could shut it in his face, but he was smarter, and thus, he swiftly slipped inside, grinning at me victoriously. I scowled as I slammed the door closed behind him, pressing myself up against the sturdy wood as he uncaringly shook his hair, like a dog, and then stepped out of his shoes.

“I made blueberry muffins,” He beamed as he held up the tray covered by a napkin, which was halfway soaked through, “Your favourite!”

He was right, blueberry muffins were my favourite, but they were from him and I’d rather not eat them.

“I don’t want them.” But by the time I was finished talking, he was headed for the kitchen as if this were his house. Albeit, the layout for the victor houses was the same, but this wasn’t his house and he shouldn’t just walk around as if he owned it. I hated it when he disregarded me, remaining his authentic self of a joy ball, pretending like he didn’t see my sharp glare nor hear my muttered insults. And I hated him, eyes glued onto his tall body as I followed after him to the kitchen. He was tall enough that he could see well the contents of the cupboards on the top shelves as he opened them, looking for a smaller plate. I could’ve told him where they were, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk to him unless it was a complete must. He made a sound when he finally found the right cabinet, back muscles straining even through the cardigan he wore as he moved around my kitchen as he belonged in it. His build was massive, not too muscular but certainly not as lean as it used to be, and he towered over most men of our district. People were tall here, we had to climb trees, yielding an axe as we worked with lumber, but Jeong Yunho seemed to exceed what was the norm. And despite his intimidating build, his face was gentle and soft, eyes twinkling with life in them and pink lips pulled constantly into a radiant smile. His cheeks were almost always rosy, not because he blushed easily, but because he was fair-skinned and even the smallest bruise would be visible on his body.

“But I baked them for you—”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want them.”

Yunho and I had been a mentor pair for a good five years now, sent off to the Capitol during the Hunger Games, forced to watch two children die each year. Children that we knew, that we swore to train and protect as best as we could, children that ultimately were just children and would die at the hands of bigger and stronger children. Because that’s what the Games were, a sick and twisted way of punishing the districts for daring to disobey the Capitol, for trying to overthrow it due to the mistreatment they constantly faced. So, they took children between the ages of thirteen and eighteen and sent them off to their deaths each year, except for the ones like Yunho and myself, who returned as victors. Yunho was barely two years older than me but the passing of time seemed to miss him each year as his face remained youthful, and only morphed into more handsome features, unlike myself, who struggled with bags under my eyes on the daily and did everything to look less pale but ultimately, I failed, looking older than my age or Yunho. It was unfair, even in this, he was better than me.

Yunho paused as his eyes met mine and he gulped, a flicker of uncertainty flashing through his features, only to be replaced by that annoying soft smile which was always present on his face, “My mother would be really disappointed if you refused them, Y/N. She helped too.”

His mother, Yunho’s family, were still alive. His older brother worked hard despite them being rich now due to Yunho’s income as a victor, and his father had retired to pursue a much simpler career. He liked fixing cars, so, now those used by the woodsmen were all brought to Mr. Jeong for fixing or maintenance. Occasionally, I even saw Peacemakers stop by, keen on keeping it hushed that they asked a simple mechanic from the district to fix their vehicles. It was cheaper this way, Mr. Jeong didn’t charge much, it was just a hobby, after all.

“Fine,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest as Yunho’s smile widened into a pleased grin, “Just leave them on the counter.”

He nodded and placed the blueberry muffins on the small plate before he threw the crumbs into the trash, rinsing the tray at the sink. I remained standing, keeping the table and even counter between us, never keen on standing close to Yunho. His scent was too strong, it irked my nose, and it made me sneeze too easily. Perhaps I was allergic to his cologne—to his whole being, perhaps. Once he was done, the tray left by the sink to dry, his eyes slowly shifted, landing on my tense face. I wasn’t happy to have him over, he knew it. Yunho knew I didn’t like him, yet he never stopped imposing on my peace of mind—it was truly disgruntling.

“You weren’t going to watch it, right?” His voice was quiet. Unfortunately, Yunho also knew me too well, much to my displeasure. I stopped watching the announcements three years ago, tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. I didn’t answer as I averted my eyes, jaw clenching at the warm ambers that swum in Yunho’s eyes that had the colour of warm chocolate, “I—I think you should, this year. I’ll stay, it starts in five minutes—”

“I don’t want you to stay.” I said, voice cold as my eyebrows furrowed, looking back at Yunho, “And I won’t watch it, Yunho.”

He gulped, but suddenly his happy demeanour dropped as he placed his hands on the counter, “You know the districts had been stirred with Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark’s win, I think we should watch it this year, together.”

“Just go, Yunho, before the nightfall.” Due to the big storms, electricity would be cut off at twilight and people weren’t allowed to leave their homes. The forest was eerily quiet, with the absence of the lumberjacks, the wolves became too brave, too daring, and they would venture past the District’s boundaries and inside the town, devouring whoever they came across. The Victor’s Village of District 7 was right by the forest, it wasn’t smart to go outside at night. But, in all true Yunho fashion, he shook his head with pursed lips.

“Snow’s speech barely lasts three minutes, maybe he’ll make it five now that he’s mad at Katniss Everdeen.” Then he grabbed a muffin and grinned, “I’ll have one if you don’t mind.”

My jaw clenched when he turned on his heels and headed for the living room, the anthem loudly flooding my otherwise quiet house as I heard the sofa creak, Yunho’s big body settling on it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, telling myself that he would be gone before I could blink. Even if the wolves ate him, I wouldn’t let him stay the night, not tonight, not ever. Jeong Yunho wasn’t someone I could trust, his faux kindness and softness were all but a mask which hid his true intentions. I had seen beyond the cracks of his good manners and big heart, and I knew he wasn’t all that different from those from the Capitol. All those years ago, almost six now, he had been my mentor, the only person who was supposed to help me and protect me from the outside as much as he could while I fought for my life in the Games, instead, Jeong Yunho, everyone’s favourite golden boy, went ahead and turned on me.

My legs carried me over to the living room before I could register what I was doing, body tense despite knowing the same old shenanigans would happen this year too. Except that this year a Quarter Quell was happening, this year it was the 75th year of the Hunger Games, and that meant something unusual would happen. It was the third Quarter Quell and the last I’d heard of was horrible, the number of tributes had been doubled, meaning forty-eight children fought for survival and it was Haymitch Abernathy who became the victor, the now drunkard mentor from District 12. Katniss Everdeen was a smart girl, I watched her closely while she fought in that arena, but Haymitch also did his best when he realized the potential she had. Something Yunho never bothered doing for me while he was my mentor, it still left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. Caesar Flickerman went on about the wedding of Katniss and Peeta before he announced that President Snow would take the lead now.

The sofa creaked under my weight too as I settled as far away from Yunho as possible, his chewing quiet as he cast me a quick glance, a small smile playing at his lips. I ignored him, my body shivering when President Snow’s face was the only thing I could see on the TV. Even after all these years, he still made me feel repulsed whenever I saw him, muscles tensing and my body wanting to coil up in a ball as if that could protect me from his cruelty.

“And now we honour our third Quarter Quell,” President Snow’s tone was determined, confident, and almost coy as a boy stepped forward, holding a box which President Snow opened. He reached inside it, moving envelopes around until his fingers gripped the one with a clear 75 on it. I gulped, feeling irrationally nervous all of a sudden as if I would be reaped next, as if I was back in time standing in the crowd of girls, awaiting the name of the female tribute who’d have to head to the Capitol this year. Yunho could never sit still for too long, always fidgeting or fussing around, but now, even his body was frozen, eyebrows furrowed as I stole a glance at him. He had finished eating the muffin and the little foil it had been in was now crumpled into his fist, “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

The lights of the TV became a blur as I remained seated, staring ahead, ears ringing as President Snow’s words echoed in my mind. For a split second, the world stopped turning, my lungs failed to inhale the much-needed oxygen. And for another split second, I felt my body tremble, my mouth falling open as Caesar Flickerman’s shrieks of surprise and excitement echoed through the eerily silent house, Yunho’s body unmoving on the other end of the sofa. I couldn’t hear his otherwise loud breaths, I couldn’t even feel my own body. And when reality dawned more upon me, the very high chance that I was going back inside that wrenched Arena almost six years later, nothing else really mattered. The TV went silent with a sickeningly loud crack as the remote control flew into it, shattering it into pieces. My lungs were heaving for air as I sprung up from the sofa, a scream tearing through my throat as I stared at my reflection in the broken TV. I looked mad, my eyes were wide, my cheeks red, my body visibly shaking as my thoughts were clouded with suppressed memories, all the pain, suffering, mourning, the great feeling of loss of sanity, of control over myself.

I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t go back inside that Arena.

And before I could rationalize my thoughts, control my urges and blink away the red haze that’s settled over my vision, my fingers were gripping a heavy ornament from the side table, swinging it across the room as it crashed loudly against the display window of the massive cupboard on the other side of the room. It felt satisfying to hear something break, something of material that reflected my inner world perfectly, and made the fall less painful as my legs carried me over the bookcase, yanking off every book I could grab. My body wanted to destroy, desperate to release all the turmoil that clouded my senses, the trauma that bit and licked at my flesh almost mockingly, President Snow’s snake-like eyes burned in the back of my mind, always taunting, always elated as he watched others suffer.

My hand burned when I touched the sharp edge of the vase I had broken solely with my grip, but I couldn’t stop. The pain I felt muted the screams that threatened to tear past my throat, the tears that stung my eyes but never rolled down, and the hollowness inside my chest that only seemed to grow bigger, swallowing more and more of my being. I had no one to lose anymore, just myself. But I hadn’t been myself since I had won the Games, so was I really losing someone? I had no one to return to even if I won, President Snow has made sure of that a long time ago. There weren’t many victors in District 7, not that I was on good terms with anyone. I’d either return without the male tribute or neither one of us would. My lungs burned as I gripped another ornament off the bookshelf, less heavy but very breakable as I raised my arm high, freezing at the nimble call of my name.

My chest was rising and falling rapidly as if I had run a marathon, muscles tensing more when I remembered I wasn’t alone. No, someone was here with me, in the living room, someone who knew what it meant to go back into the Arena, someone whose cheeks were tear-streaked. I gulped, eyebrows furrowing as I looked at Yunho, fingers curling tighter around the porcelain doll. It had been my younger sister’s, was I truly going to break it?

“Y/N.” Yunho’s tone was low, harsh, and shaking. I gulped, my breaths ragged as they puffed through my nose loudly, and my jaw clenched when Yunho’s face contorted in pain, reflecting what I felt on the inside. But he couldn’t stop me, my bones shook with rage and fear and before I could think more about it, I threw the porcelain doll at Yunho, who easily caught it as if he had been anticipating it. It only angered me more as I grabbed another one, my younger sister used to have a collection, and flung it at Yunho again.

“Get out!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, throwing a third porcelain doll he caught again easily, my voice raw as I wanted to sob, but my throat felt tight, unable to release any shrill sounds. When Yunho failed to move from his spot, I screamed again and pushed everything off the coffee table with one strong shove, ready to flip the heavy table over.

“Stop, Y/N, just stop.” Yunho’s voice had lost its softness, it sounded panicked and pained at the same time, begging me as I refused to acknowledge him. No, he couldn’t stop me, nobody could. I wasn’t going back there, I wasn’t going to fight for my life again, he couldn’t make me—President Snow couldn’t send me back there, not again. Not after I lost everything in vain, I didn’t want to do it again, I didn’t want to relive the terror, the struggle, and I didn’t want to feel so alone when I returned, I was scared of facing the dark on my own again. I had barely learned how to cope with the night terrors on my own, with the numbness that chilled my limbs, with the desperate yearning for connections, for a gentle touch, for words that warmed my heart, I barely learned how to live without those. I couldn’t do it again, I couldn’t—I gasped when I felt strong arms wrap around my torso, immobilising my hands and body as the embrace was tight, “No! Let me go, Yunho, no!”

I pushed, I yanked, I even bit his shoulder until he was groaning, but he didn’t budge. He was sniffing, loudly and unashamedly, but his embrace only became stronger and tighter, more and more suffocating. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think straight as his musky scent entered my nostrils, wrapping around me like a cocoon, his big body like a shield from the cruel world. My skin burned where he touched, and my limbs trembled as I tried to put space between our bodies again, but Yunho wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“I’m here,” He muttered and I felt him raise his arm, freeing my left side, as his hand held the back of my head, pressing my face further into his neck. His skin was hot, but it was soft and it’s been too long since I came in contact with any other person, it made my knees weak as my mouth parted to hurl more insults at him, but I wasn’t able to voice them, “I’m here, Y/N, we’re in this together. I won’t let anything happen to you, we’ll get through this. Together. Like we always do.”

“No, no, no.” I muttered as my fingers twisted into his knitted cardigan, my heart racing in my chest painfully, “Leave, Yunho, just go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He snapped, but his arms weren’t holding me so tightly anymore. His long fingers felt cold against my scalp as they tangled against my long locks, slowly running them through my ginger hair, resting his chin against the top of my head. I loathed this, the warmth of his body, the willingness to offer me comfort, I hated him.

“I hate you, get away from me.” Yet despite my mouth speaking one thing, my body screamed another as my arms swiftly circled his torso, yanking Yunho’s body into mine. I wasn’t fighting my lungs for air anymore, I was able to breathe regularly once again, but everything felt so cold still, so numb. It wasn’t enough, Yunho’s big body pressing against mine so firmly, so eagerly as a reminder that he was here wasn’t enough anymore, and I felt weak when a whimper left my mouth, my head turning until I could hide it in the crook of his neck, nose pressing where his shoulder and neck met. His cologne was familiar, it was something I knew too well, it helped my mind relax as I felt Yunho shift his head away, warm lips pressing against the top of my head once, then twice, and then once again. His other hand dropped lower until his large palm pressed against the small of my back, and I shuddered when I felt his cold fingers slip underneath my blouse, skin on skin.

It was hard to think straight when Yunho was all over me, when his fingers explored and his mouth quivered with quiet sighs, his presence overbearing and insistent. It chased away the ever-present cold that settled into my bones, replacing it with a small flicker of something that made me hate myself. I couldn’t trust him, not after he so unashamedly tried to kill me, yet he was the only one who knew me. Yunho was the only person in this whole world who saw the real me, who saw past my coldness and walls I built to protect myself, he was the only one willing to stick around despite how off-putting I was. And it hurt, it burned, it consumed my thoughts in the dead of the night when a night terror awoke me, when all I could do was yearn for a body to hold, for soft words to be whispered into my ears, for lips that healed instead of ruined, for a touch that put me back together instead of breaking me further apart. And I wanted to take and take, to consume until nothing was left of him, until he couldn’t offer me anything more of himself because I had already taken all.

I felt tears streaming down my face when Yunho’s fingers gently traced my spine, driving my fingers to grip his cardigan harder, muscles cramping, but too afraid to let go. His hot breath fanned over my cheek as he lowered his head and I felt his insistent chocolate brown eyes on me, neither full of pity or regret, just understanding and yearning. Much without thinking, but because I didn’t want him to see me at my weakest, I turned my head further into his neck until my lips brushed against his flushed skin, making him shudder. And because my lips yearned just as much as the rest of my body, I let them explore his soft skin, gently pressing them against Yunho’s neck as he gasped quietly. His fingers tangled into my hair when I raised my head slightly, placing another kiss higher on his neck, and he was still gentle, he didn’t yank on the long strands despite being able to. My breath fanned against his hot skin as I let my mouth open, peppering his skin with gentle kisses until I reached his jaw, teeth nipping at the sharp bone. Yunho’s body was trembling and his head was angled lower, his breaths audible as he breathed through his nose.

The familiarity of his embrace was dizzying, the churning of my stomach nothing new as I detached myself from his warm soft skin, pulling my head back until I could stare into his eyes. They were darker, pupils bigger, and his lips looked slightly swollen like he had been biting the bottom one. Yunho’s full cheeks were flushed and his Adam’s Apple bobbed when he gulped, his eyes searching my face as his fingers untangled from my hair and instead gently traced my jaw, holding onto my chin as he tilted my head further up. My eyes fluttered for a second when our lips were angled perfectly against each other, Yunho’s breath fanning over my mouth making me shudder. Releasing my tight hold on his cardigan, I cupped his cheeks, almost keening as I pressed up on my tiptoes, my eyebrows furrowing as our noses pressed together, slowly nuzzling against each other. Yunho gulped again as his lips parted for his tongue to poke out, wetting the red flesh, and I blinked, dread settling deep in my stomach.

When Yunho leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss against my forehead, my body froze, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribcage. Something was wrong, the numbness was back, the pain, the terror. I couldn’t breathe anymore, Yunho’s musky cologne irking my nose as I could feel an oncoming sneeze, and I gasped when his lips tenderly kissed down the slope of my nose, making my fingers dig into his cheeks painfully. I was scared, I was scared because all of a sudden I realized I had something to lose. I have always had something to lose, even when President Snow thought he had taken everything and everyone away from me, he forgot about one person.

He forgot about Jeong Yunho.

As if his touch burned, I pushed him away, watching as confusion and hurt flashed in Yunho’s eyes upon my rude rejection. I could feel myself trembling, Yunho’s addicting warmth disappearing with him, making me shake my head as I felt my bottom lip tremble, “Get out.”

My voice was hoarse and filled with pain, and Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed as thunder cracked loudly in the distance, making me jump. It had become darker outside, way too dark for anyone to step out, but Yunho’s house was the one opposite mine. The wolves couldn’t have him, even if they wanted to. With a lasting stare, his eyes searching my face for a hint of whatever he had seen just seconds ago, Yunho sighed deeply, hanging his head low.

“Try to rest, please.” He muttered before he turned on his heels, and marched out of the living room, the door slamming shut louder than any thunder that’s ever shaken the house's foundation. Coated in darkness and loneliness, nobody witness of the sobs that wracked my body, I crumbled to the floor, curling in on myself as tears blinded me, making my muscles hurt as I gasped for air.

Everyone would suffer again, innocent and rebels alike.

            The floodlights of the open-air stadium were blinding and the air was relatively warmer compared to the constant rainy mood back in District 7. There was a breeze in the air, a whisper of unease and death brushing against our ears as every tribute seemed tense, but tried to hide it with wide and pleased smiles. Neither one of us was happy to be back and we would try to do something to change it, not that President Snow cared. The cheers of the crowd were deafening as the two horses pulling our chariot neighed loudly, ruffling their manes. My left hand was clutching the railing tightly for balance and to root me into the present moment, my right hand clammy against another warm palm. Yunho’s fingers were long and bony, his palm big and calloused, and somehow always cold. My skin crawled when our fingers had intertwined, a flicker of yearning awakening in my chest, but I was quick to drown it in the permeating numbness. I couldn’t feel anything for anyone, not now—especially not now.

The crowd only seemed to roar louder, probably enjoying the show, when all victors joined hands with their respective tribute partners. To us, to the ones who would have to risk their lives again, it wasn’t just a show, it was a last attempt to show that we stood here, together, unwilling to become jesters for the Capitol. But they wouldn’t understand, they never did. The districts, however, could see us and they would understand that we were united even if President Snow tried to tear us apart. We wouldn’t give up, not today and not tomorrow, never again. His tyranny had run on for too long, and his fragile reign was now threatened by the presence of the Mockingjay. The whispers of a riot in the districts had only gotten louder, more persistent, not just simple rumour anymore. The Peacekeepers had been more on edge ever since the 74th Hunger Games, under close surveillance by their comrades at the Capitol.

The chariot was finally taking us back beneath the stadium, away from the eyes of the Capitol and the cameras. My heart was racing against my chest, my veins filled with adrenaline, but dread as well, as every tribute returned backstage, our chariots coming to slow stops as Avoxes came forward to tend to the horses. My grip had been so tight against the railing that my fingers ached when I finally let go, all too aware of Yunho’s firm grip on my hand. With my jaw clenched, I turned my head to look at him, surprised to find him with an impassive expression on his face, lips downturned, and his eyes shaking. Yunho was always smiling, no matter the circumstances. I gulped and flexed my fingers, trying to pry them away, but Yunho didn’t want to release his own grip yet. It made me huff as I turned my body to face him, feeling anger lick at my skin.

“Let go.” I hissed lowly, mindful of the people around us who could overhear us. Nobody could know that I’d rather gut Yunho than be on his side, to everyone around us, we seemed like the perfect mentor pair, him being a sunshine and me the broody one. Nobody knew that behind cameras I would ignore Yunho’s existence, turn down his attempts at a conversation, and lock myself in my room whenever he’d come looking for me with another far-fetched excuse just to speak to me.

When he still hadn’t made a move, fed up, I yanked my hand out of his and leaned close enough for my breath to hit his cheek, my eyebrows deeply furrowed, “Get your shit together, Yunho. And stay away, everything is for show. I hope you haven’t forgotten—”

“How could I?” His chuckle was sarcastic, jaw clenched when he faced me, and for a second I froze, my eyes widening. It wasn’t even the sudden proximity that threw me off, it was the animosity on his face and the small snare on his lips, “You remind me each year of the same old things, you sound like President Snow at times.”

Appalled that he’d compare me to that man, I huffed and gripped the skirt of my dress, lifting it above my ankles as I stepped off the chariot, storming off. I was headed for the elevator so that I could return to our flat, and in my angry strut, I failed to notice a familiar face race after me. My heels were loud as I walked with purpose, glaring at anyone who blocked my path, and I didn’t greet back anyone as I knew they’d want to speak to me. I wasn’t here to mingle, I was here because Snow forced us to play another one of his games, and I was here to win. Before I could be-line it for the open elevator doors, fingers wrapped around my bicep and halted me, making me release a frustrated sigh as I whirled around intending to tell the person off, only for the words to freeze in my throat. The man holding me back wasn’t just anyone, it was Finnick Odair. And for the first time in a while, I felt my body fill with joy as my face relaxed, lips spreading into a wide smile, “Finnick!”

He chuckled as my arms flew around his neck, pulling his body into mine with little care if it was too aggressive or not, Finnick could take it. His torso was exposed due to his stylist’s poor taste, but it didn’t bother me as Finnick was warm and smelled of the sea and somehow the rain too. He felt like family, in his arms I knew I was safe, no matter what. It was funny, really, how easy it was to trust him, to let my walls down around him and just feel everything. I didn’t have to hide my fears when it came to Finnick, I didn’t have to hide my pain and struggles, because he knew. Finnick knew everything and he was often there to pick up the pieces when nobody else was. He understood and he knew what I needed because he needed the same thing. When in the Capitol, forced to be Snow’s muppets, Finnick was my pillar and I was his, the glimmer of light in the darkness, the embrace of a warm body that demanded nothing in exchange, just simple companionship and a shoulder to cry on.

“I thought I’d get a punch for touching you,” Finnick’s honey-like voice was teasing as he hugged me back just as affectionately, “I’m glad I was spared of a right hook, I’d look horrible for our interviews.”

I chuckled, mouth hurting from smiling so widely, “Even with a black, you’d still look dashing, Finnick.”

“Oh, my,” Finnick chuckled again, his arms loosening around my torso, but I was reluctant to let go. It felt nice to be in the arms of someone I trusted, loved even. It’s been too long since my mind could be at ease in anyone’s presence, in someone’s warm and loving hold. Finnick was like the older brother I had lost, always eager to help me out, and there whenever the burden of living alone got too hard. Living in different districts, the distance made it hard to cope with his absence at times, but at least I had one thing to look forward to whenever I was forced to visit the Capitol. I knew Finnick would be here, and I knew he would be just as excited to see me, “I fear my stylist wants to keep me naked for the interviews.”

I grimaced as I definitely didn’t want the mental image of a naked Finnick in my head, and finally let my arms fall from his body, stepping back to leave distance between our bodies, but not too far back. I enjoyed Finnick’s warmth, it felt like I was around the sun, “You should switch him with someone who doesn’t view you as just a pretty piece of meat to put on display. Wooyoung would be more than happy to design your clothes, he’s literally in love with you. He never stops gushing about your looks and body proportions whenever he sees you, it’s gotten sickening actually.”

“Wooyoung is spoiled and Snow loves objectifying me, so he’d never allow it.” Snow loved objectifying Finnick and me too, but thankfully, no matter how spoiled, my stylist, Wooyoung was, he’d never make me wear anything revealing or uncomfortable. He enjoyed working with raw materials, more specifically with tree bark as he claimed it let him explore creative ideas. With the disappearance of Choi San last year, the most sought-after stylist in the Capitol, Jung Wooyoung was the next hot topic. He certainly enjoyed the limelight, glad that San was finally gone and he could have his spot. The two had always been rivals, trying to claim The Best Stylist title, at least based on Wooyoung’s claims. You couldn’t fully believe whatever he said, he loved to spice things up just for the fun of it and spread rumours like wildfire. He was worse than the grannies back in District 7.

“Snow can go and die in his sorry excuse of a mansion, Finnick, at this point, he can’t do shit to me.” I hissed through my teeth, sharp eyes surveying the place as it was buzzing with jittery tributes, stylists and Avoxes, everyone doing their own thing. Most tributes were mingling before they would retreat to their own flats, and I averted my eyes out of fear that he’d come over when I saw Wooyoung storming towards Yunho, probably, you never knew with his sudden mood changes.

“Careful,” Finnick muttered, lips pulled into a sly grin, “the walls have ears everywhere here, darling, we can’t give Snow free material to hang over our heads.”

“As if he can’t just do that without having an actual reason.” I rolled my eyes and Finnick hummed as he grabbed a sugar cube out of the little pouch he had on his waist, turning around as he searched for his and Mags’ chariot. He smiled when his eyes fell on the old lady, and he nodded with his head for me to follow him. I fell in step with him as Finnick and I walked back to his chariot, and he fed the horses with sugar cubes before he popped one in his mouth. I smiled softly when Mags finally noticed me, her face always gentle and understanding. I bowed my head and kissed her on the cheeks, a lump forming in my throat when she pulled me in her arms with a tight squeeze, reminding me of a motherly hug. Anytime I saw Mags, I’d miss my family just a little bit more. She was a reminder that I’d never get to see my mother grow old, my father, nor my siblings. It was painful, but I gulped before more emotions could surface and cleared my throat, looking back at Finnick who was gazing somewhere behind me.

“Lover boy and his bestie are staring at us,” Finnick mused with amusement lacing his tone, “I don’t think your lover boy is too happy that you’re here with me, instead of being with him.”

I scoffed, turning my head to look where Yunho and Mingi stood, catching their gazes as Mingi flinched and quickly looked down at the ground, but Yunho held my gaze, jaw clenched and eyes slightly narrowed. I rolled my eyes and turned my back to them, grabbing Finnick’s bicep as I leaned closer to him, “I wish we could switch tributes—no offence Mags, but I don’t think I’ll be able to not kill him before the Games can even start.”

Mags snickered and shook her head at me as her stylist approached us, giving the old lady an exasperated look before she guided Mags away, making Finnick wave at her as I bowed my head slightly, “He can’t be that bad, honestly, I never understood why you hate him so much. He’s a genuinely nice guy, I bet he’d even sacrifice himself for you—”

“Enough, Finnick.” I snapped as my jaw clenched, emotions twisting in my chest at the mere prospect of Yunho jumping in front of me to take an arrow or a throwing knife to the heart. Yunho might’ve been genuine and loving in other’s eyes, but I knew who he was. He wouldn’t save me, jump in front of an arrow or a throwing knife, no, he’d send me poison disguised as bread just to take me out, his own tribute.

“Right, sorry,” Finnick mumbled as he grabbed another sugar cube, eyes falling on someone to my left. His smile turned into a sly one as he nudged my arm, pointing towards a tall girl with dark braided hair and a gorgeous black costume. She was the girl on fire, the Mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen, “Wanna go say hi? We should show her we mean no harm before she decides we are her enemy.”

“But we are her enemy, Finnick,” I mumbled but followed the man, making him wink at me with a knowing look on his face. If we put it that way, Katniss wasn’t our only enemy, we were each other’s enemies too, it was only natural when it came to the Games. No previous friendships mattered once we stepped inside the Arena and the canon went off, signalling the start of the Games. I remained standing behind Finnick as Katniss’ attention was on us, her hand slowly petting the horse.

“Do you want a sugar cube?” Finnick asked with his honey-like voice even warmer now, grinning charmingly. Katniss’ eyes narrowed as they glanced briefly at me before she focused on Finnick again, jaw clenching. She completely ignored Finnick’s hand, which was extended towards her and held a sugar cube in his palm.

“No.” She deadpanned and I snorted, masking it with a gulp when Finnick threw me a displeased look. It was hilarious each time a female turned Finnick’s advances down, it didn’t happen often and that’s exactly why I enjoyed it even more.

“Well, girl on fire, you certainly dress to impress.”

“As always.” I couldn’t help but mutter as Katniss and Mingi’s clothes had caught on fire before the parade was over, the roars of the people were so loud that they managed to make my ears ring. Katniss and Finnick ignored my comment and I let my eyes study the girl’s face more, she was way too young to be here. I was an adult, most of us were, but she was sixteen, just a child.

“Thanks, your costume is…lacking.” Katniss grimaced before she quickly averted her eyes from Finnick’s exposed chest and I chuckled again, surprised to hear her addressing me as well, “But yours looks nice—raw, almost.”

“It’s because it is raw, it’s real tree bark,” I explained as I let my fingers trace the corset, sturdy and protective around my torso. I extended my hand towards her, showing her that I meant no harm, just yet, “My name’s Im Y/N.”

“I know,” Katniss muttered as she shook my hand, her grip strong but not lasting, “I’m Katniss Everdeen.”

I hummed and nudged Finnick to suggest that he should introduce himself too, but he just popped the sugar cube in his mouth and smirked at Katniss, who looked clearly uncomfortable, “And he’s Finnick Odair, don’t let his cocky attitude make you feel uncomfortable. He’s just half the jerk he seems to be.”

Finnick scoffed and gave me a sharp look which I ignored as I studied Katniss’ face more, watching her fight a small smile off her lips as her eyes hardened instead, stance determined as she pulled her shoulders back, “Well, it’s not like I’m here to make friends.”

“Not friends, but maybe having a few people on your side wouldn’t help, girl on fire, not everyone is fond of you.” Finnick’s voice dropped as he took a step towards her, making her tense up. My jaw clenched and I averted my eyes because I knew he was right, “We are here because of you and the little stunt you pulled last year, Katniss. Don’t lower your guard.”

“Thanks for the advice, Finnick, but I don’t need it.” Katniss snapped, turning around to take off towards her mentor who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Finnick was about to say something, but I gripped his arm to stop him, my eyes meeting Haymitch’s blue ones. His eyebrows were furrowed as he took both Finnick and me in, a gaze filled with questions flashing over his face before he nodded at us in acknowledgement.

“Well, let’s get Mingi and then we can go.”

“Please, I can’t stay a second longer here.”

I watched as Haymitch and Katniss walked around us, making Finnick grimace as I turned my head to watch them walk towards Yunho, who was unsurprisingly beaming as he was surrounded by a few other tributes as well. Mingi, despite being just as tall as him, was hunched forward and hiding behind Yunho, his head lowered and jaw clenched. Song Mingi had stopped doing well after his Games, always so fidgety and scared of the world around him. But Yunho seemed determined to befriend him and he has never left Mingi’s side ever since his Victor’s Party. I couldn’t help but scowl at the two men before Finnick sighed loudly, grabbing my hand to grab my attention.

“There’ll be a bloodbath this year, Y/N, and I’m not going down so easily.” Finnick’s tone lowered and his eyes shook with conviction, and a flicker of anger, “Keep your ears and eyes open, study those around you, and stay close to the Mockingjay, you’ll know who’s your friend and foe then.”

With his cryptic words, he leaned forward to press a kiss against my cheek before he excused himself and headed for the elevator, his face tired as I watched him hug his torso when the female tributes from Districts 1 and 2 went and approached him like some hyenas, eyes filled with lust as they gazed upon him. People from Districts 1 and 2 were just as bad as those from the Capitol and I hated all of them. Sick of being surrounded by so many people I disliked, I grabbed the skirt of my heavy dress and raised it above my ankles as I stormed off towards one of the many elevators, waiting for one to open its doors as I ignored the insisted stares and whispers from the other tributes. Nobody really liked me, and I intended to keep it that way.

At least fewer feelings would be involved when I’d have to kill them, it wasn’t anything personal, after all.

            The days seemed to blur together when I was at the Capitol, yet at the same time, it felt like no time had even passed at all. As a mentor, all I had to do was focus on guiding the child I was given, making them the strongest and smartest possible. I had to strategize with them and help them build up their confidence if they lacked it, and I had to build them a persona that was easily likeable and cherished by the Capitol. But for that to happen, it also required me to network, to become someone liked by the Capitol. If it wasn’t for Yunho, I was sure not many would’ve liked me. We balanced each other out, where he was too soft and forgiving, I was rigid and hardly able to let go of a grudge. Nobody would willingly become a person disliked by many, but I had long stopped caring about other’s expectations and thoughts. I lived for myself and I lived the way I wanted—as long as President Snow allowed me to, of course. Nothing was made out of sunshine and rainbows in Panem, and if you wanted to have something that was only yours, you’d have to work hard for it, and even then it wouldn’t be enough. It was sickening, really, when I realized that I was at a great disadvantage this year.

I wasn’t a mentor any more, I was a tribute, a person not many would root for. People in the Capitol had twisted and sick fantasies and enjoyed brutality, but if one’s character wasn’t likeable, they would turn a blind eye to their efforts to win them over with their skills. And this meant that there wouldn’t be many rooting for me or sending me gifts and the bare minimum of necessities. I had to play it smart, who I’d team up with, who I’d betray, who I’d trust and who I wouldn’t. I couldn’t let just anyone into my circle of allies, and thus, when people who had no idea what the Games were about tried to give me advice, it only naturally made my blood boil. My stylists, who otherwise were rather acceptable people despite being from the Capitol, had seemed to think they knew better who was good and wasn’t to have in your team. They thought just because they watched us through a screen each year they could give us advice. I have held my tongue the whole week, not wanting to create an even more tense environment. It was already enough that I fled the room whenever Yunho entered it and didn’t speak nor look at him even at the other’s futile attempts.

Tonight was no different as we sat at the big table filled with tasty food to the brim, loud chatter filling the vast dining room. Yunho was to my left, unfortunately, and his musky cologne seemed to be stronger tonight than any time else, making my nose itch as I fought another sneeze away. I raised my hand holding the fork and rubbed at my nose, trying to get rid of the constant itching, it was irritating. But what was even more irritating were Yunho’s futile attempts at grabbing my attention or trying to stir up a conversation with me, it wasn’t happening. We were headed inside the Arena in less than two days and I wasn’t about to frolic around with him. I managed to avoid him so far, I had to remain focused on my own strategy. I wasn’t dying in that Arena, if President Snow thought it would be smart to send victors back, I would make sure to give him a headache lasting for centuries. Did he want a parade? I would gladly create a scene for him.

“Ah, just look at it!” Momo exclaimed, her full attention on the TV’s screen as they were replaying images of yesterday night’s interviews. It didn’t go as planned, of course, it didn’t. Everyone was revolted for having to return inside the Arena, and in a last desperate attempt, we had tried to show our unity to the districts that even if Snow tried to turn us against each other, at the core, we fought together for a better tomorrow, for a better Panem. My lips twitched into a satisfied smirk when I watched ourselves on the screen holding hands, raising them high up in the air as Caesar Flickerman’s panicked voice cut through the microphone, and then the lights went out. Snow hated it, I knew he hated it, and the knowledge of that alone made my whole evening more enjoyable. That is, of course, until Momo’s big and gleaming eyes were focused back on us.

“You are so brave,” She said, lips quivering. Out of the team that worked with us to make us look good, Momo was the least likeable. She was the typical Capitol resident, entitled and sheltered, a bit dumb, and overall annoying, “I wouldn’t be able to stand there, you even held hands to share a last moment together. It’s beautiful.”

Wooyoung, always the little shit, snorted under his breath as he raised his fork and bit the meat off of it. Wooyoung wasn’t dumb, he was far from it, and he seemed to dislike most of the people surrounding him despite not being that different from them. He said nothing as Minghao hummed from across me, his features blank as always. He rarely spoke, but when he did, he’d either say something that would scar you for life or make you wish he never opened his mouth. He was merciless, with everyone.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” My voice was laced with sarcasm and Yunho stopped moving around for a second, I could feel his wide eyes on the side of my face. It was the first time I had spoken tonight, “Sending us to our imminent deaths? Yeah, there’s just something so romantic about it, don’t you think so?”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table despite the amused smile on Minghao’s face, who took hold of his wine glass and tilted it in my direction as a silent toast. I wasn’t fond of him, unsurprisingly, but he seemed to be the only person besides Yunho and myself who was aware of all the horror the Capitol inflicted on the districts. He was quiet about it, but his mask sometimes slipped and I could see the hatred in his eyes, the rage boiling underneath his blood whenever Snow was shown on the screen, giving one of his lame speeches.

“Well,” Yeri, a person full of life and passion, tried to diffuse the palpable tension, “how did your evaluations go? What did you do? You never told us about it.”

“Yeah, you didn’t!” Wooyoung exclaimed with a full mouth, making Yeri grimace as she averted her eyes onto her plate. We didn’t have the time to tell them about it, not that I was in the mood to talk about how I had showcased my skills. I did it in a certainly memorable way, I was sure the Gamemakers weren’t satisfied with it, but I wasn’t here to please anyone. Yunho cleared his throat as he leaned forward to grab his cup of water, eyes falling on me briefly. I ignored him and took another bite of my dinner, the rich aromas never ceasing to amaze me. If there was just one good thing about the existence of the Capitol, it was their food.

As Yunho realized I wouldn’t speak up, he cleared his throat again and intertwined his fingers as he placed them on the table, “I did what I did all those years ago but made it more interesting, I suppose. I’m good with an axe, so…I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, really. That’s not my goal—”

“But, Yunho!” Momo’s exclamation cut Yunho off as her eyes grew wide, “You are supposed to impress them! What if they give you a bad score? That would be terrible.”

I snorted under my breath, rolling my eyes, “The Capitol giving a bad score to their golden boy? Yeah, sure, and I’m President Snow’s wife.”

“You’d kill yourself first before they’d even pronounce you as his wife.” Minghao’s reply came fast, cutting through the growing tension due to my blatant jar directed at Yunho. But, yes, Minghao was right. I’d rather kill myself than marry Snow, it was a stupid and absurd example, just like Momo’s stupid assumption.

“You’d be surprised to find out they aren’t as head over heels for me as you think, Y/N.” Yunho rarely snapped back, but as I glanced at him, I noticed his jaw clenching and unclenching. I couldn’t say that I was satisfied to see him triggered, but it certainly made me feel a little bit smug. Watching Yunho’s perfect mask crumble always satisfied me, it was proof of who he really was. It’s a pity not many were able to witness it.

“Maybe, but—” Wooyoung paused for no reason, just to be dramatic, as his twinkling eyes fell on me, “they certainly like you more than they like Y/N.”

“Say something new, Wooyoung.” I huffed and grabbed my own glass of orange juice, my stomach heavy from how much I had eaten. I had to enjoy full meals before going inside the Arena, I knew there I wouldn’t have the chance to eat much. I hated it.

“Since it seems like the cat finally returned your tongue, tell us about your evaluation.” Wooyoung grinned, lips ghosting over the edge of his wine glass. My jaw tensed as I leaned back in my chair, pushing the plate just slightly away from me as a way of letting everyone know I wasn’t eating anymore. The Avoxes lingering just around us noticed and quickly came closer, taking the plates and silverware away before they disappeared to the kitchen. I didn’t want to entertain those who sat at the table with me, but I knew I couldn’t just stand and go to my room, that would’ve been too rude, and I knew Minghao would very shamelessly drag me back. But just to prolong my moment of silence and peace of mind, knowing the reactions that would soon follow, I took a big gulp of the orange juice and made sure to savour it. Wooyoung scoffed as he rolled his eyes and Minghao, surprisingly, seemed rather interested as his eyebrows raised. Momo had her mouth hanging open as she sat on the edge of her chair and Yeri seemed nonchalant, but I knew she was just as curious as everyone else.

As for Yunho, his torso had turned to face me and his warm chocolate-like eyes were insistent, as if he was trying to penetrate my mind and read my every thought. Irritated, I held the glass in both hands and took a deep breath, “I destroyed the training room.”

The gasps that followed were satisfying, gratifying. I chuckled, staring at nothing in particular smugly, “I walked inside with my head held high, I introduced myself and then grabbed the tables first, pushing everything off of them just to flip them over. Then I went and turned everything I could over, hurling the weapons I could towards the Gamemakers, but sadly, there was a forcefield around them this time. And then, when I felt satisfied with my work, I told them to get fucked in the ass and left the room with a bright smile on my face.”

The mouths hanging open made me chuckle, which turned into quiet giggles as I stared down into my lap, feeling as if I had accomplished something big. This was the best way I could show defiance, and so I took the opportunity and rolled with it. I couldn’t have been prouder, but my joyful moment didn’t last for long when I felt a warm palm pressing against my left thigh. Before I could react, push the hand off or anything, long fingers grabbed onto my flesh through my pants and I gulped, my heartbeat spiking at the inappropriate touch. I whipped my head around, Yunho’s eyes boring into mine as his eyebrows were furrowed.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was deep, low, and scrutinizing. I scoffed but didn’t say anything as his grip only turned tighter, making goosebumps erupt under my sweater. Yunho didn’t look mad, but he didn’t look calm either, it was peculiar, I couldn’t read his expression.

“That’s…” Minghao took a deep breath, face suddenly lighting up in elation, “simply brilliant!”

“No, it isn’t.” Yunho snapped, his head turning around as he looked at Wooyoung, who looked concerned. It made my eyebrows furrow, but before I could speak up, Yeri beat me to it.

“You just put a target on your head, Y/N,” Her voice was hesitant as she glanced around the table, stare lingering on Wooyoung as if she was asking for permission to speak, “You know the President isn’t fond of you, you shouldn’t have angered him further. These Games, they—they are happening to take you down, the strongest, the ones who had proven they were strong enough to fight a battle lest it happens, you should play it smart, Y/N, not make a fool out of yourself.”

My eyebrows raised as I chuckled, unamused, leaning forward to look at Yeri better, “Really? I’m a fool now? You think I want to be here, again?! You think I want to go back inside that fucking Arena and kill those people? To relive all the repressed memories and emotions? Fuck off, Yeri, when all you’ve known is a lavished lifestyle without death constantly looming over your head.”

“Watch your language.” Wooyoung was rarely serious, but when his fox-like eyes narrowed and his lips twitched, he looked scary. He could be scary when he wanted to be, perhaps that is why he laughed so often and tried to always look mischievous, “Yeri is right, stop being so fucking proud that you can’t admit when you’ve just made a mistake. If your score is low the people won’t even bat an eyelash your way, considering there’s someone who likes you.”

“I don’t give a shit who likes me and who doesn’t, Wooyoung.” I scoffed, my thigh burning where Yunho’s fingers gripped it. It was becoming too hot in the dining room, Yunho’s strong cologne was making my head dizzy and I could feel my lungs tightening up. I didn’t want to stay here, I didn’t like being put on the spot, and I didn’t like it when people treated me for less than I was.

“Well, you should.” Wooyoung said, tone cold, “Because your life depends on your sponsors and your allies, you stupid girl.”

Before I could snap back at Wooyoung, Momo, who had been surprisingly quiet, chirped up, “Speaking of that, who are you taking as your allies? I was thinking Enobaria, from District 2, and—”

“Mingi.” Yunho’s tone was determined, eyes hardened as he looked at everyone sitting at the table, his gaze slipping onto mine, “I’m not leaving him alone, he’s coming with us.”

“With us?” I muttered under my breath and flinched when Yunho’s fingers felt like they were digging through my pants, “I’m with Finnick and Mags, I don’t care what you do and who you go off with.”

“You’re a team.” Minghao said, his lips pursed, “You two have to stick together, it’s what everyone else will do too, it’s only logical.”

“And if I don’t want to?” I fired rapidly, eyebrows raising.

“I just told you to stop being fucking arrogant, Y/N.” Wooyoung hissed, slamming his fist onto the table and making me flinch as my heart started thumping faster, “You’d be suicidal to not form a team with Yunho, he’s amongst the last ones the other tributes will go for. He’s strong and you know he’s got your back, you can’t go frolicking with Finnick and Mags, what if they turn on you?”

“They won’t,” I said through a clenched jaw and having had enough of Yunho’s touch, I gripped his wrist and ignored the looks we got. My nails dug into his skin painfully, but he wasn’t budging, it made my blood boil, “Finnick is like my brother, he won’t turn on me.”

“Mingi is like my brother too, I’m not leaving him alone—”

“So, are you saying you want us to team up with the Mockingjay?” I whipped my head around, eyes bleeding into Yunho’s, “You want to put a target on our heads right from the get-go? Everyone hates her guts, everyone will want to kill her first. I’m not teaming up with Mingi and Katniss, Yunho—”

“It wasn’t a question,” Yunho snapped, suddenly flipping his palm up as he grabbed my wrist instead and yanked me towards himself. I gasped as I felt forward, gripping the edge of the chair with my right hand, heart racing against my chest, “Mingi is coming with us, and wherever he goes, Katniss goes too. And you’re coming with us too, whether you like it or not. I don’t care if Finnick and Mags join us, I know they won’t turn against us until there’s just us left behind.”

I scoffed and yanked my wrist out of his hold, snarling at him, “You won’t tell me what to do, I’m not going to be in a team with you. Yet better, get out of my fucking way when that canon goes off because you will be the first person I’ll kill, Yunho.”

My words stung, they were honest but I hadn’t meant them like that. I hadn’t realized their weight until it was too late and I couldn’t take them back anymore. I tried to gulp but my throat was tight, cheeks burning from both anger and the sudden regret and embarrassment I felt. For the first time, I didn’t feel satisfaction as I watched Yunho’s face fall, a very clearly pained expression crossing his face. His eyebrows furrowed as if he didn’t understand why I would say something like that, but his eyes filled with tears and suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore. It didn’t help that everyone was staring at me with wide-open mouths, just as shocked as Yunho by my words. When I heard Momo starting to sob, I knew I couldn’t sit there anymore. I stood abruptly, pushing my chair back forcefully as I took off towards my room, breaking out into a sprint when I felt my bottom lip shake, tears flooding my eyes.

Why was I on the verge of breaking down? Why did my own words hurt me when they were the truth, when they were supposed to let Yunho know that I didn’t want him around? Not here, not home, and certainly not in the Games. I couldn’t trust him, he’d tried to kill me once before, and he wasn’t even in the Arena with me, what would guarantee that he wouldn’t do it again? And now it would be so much easier done, I couldn’t trust him. In my desperate daze to get back to my room, I didn’t hear the quick footsteps chasing after me, and I gasped when my door was slammed open before it could even close. I knew who it was even before I turned around, and my hands balled into fists, throat tight as I tried to gulp again.

“Why are you like this?”

“Get out.”

We spoke over each other, Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion while mine in irritation, “Get out, Yunho, get out!”

“I’m not going fucking anywhere until you tell me how I wronged you!” Yunho had never raised his voice before, it made me flinch as his chest fell and rose rapidly, his lips downturned. He was mad and confused, and he wasn’t budging as I tried to push him out of my room. No, instead, he gripped my biceps painfully hard and shook my body as if that would shake some sense into me, his eyes shaking as they bore into mine. I couldn’t breathe as my heart raced painfully hard in my chest, my face flushed from the adrenaline. I couldn’t even tell what was wrong with me anymore, I didn’t know if I was scared, mad, desperate, or just insane. But I knew that if Yunho continued looking at me with that hurt expression on his face, I would completely break, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not when we were so close to going inside the Games where I had to be focused and committed to the thought that only I was making it back.

“You should think back on your actions, Yunho, it’s very easy actually.” I chuckled, trying to feign nonchalance, but I knew I was failing by how shaky my voice sounded, “I don’t trust you.”

“I know that, but no matter how hard I think about it, I just—” He gulped, averting his eyes, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I did wrong and I can’t—I just can’t have you pushing me away when we are so close, please, Y/N. I care for you just as much as I care for Mingi, we can’t separate in the Arena.”

I gulped as Yunho’s painful grip softened on my biceps, his shaking eyes searching my face as I tried to gather my thoughts, to give him a rational answer, “You think you won’t turn on me when the timing comes?”

I was surprised by how dejected and sad I sounded. I chuckled, fed up even with myself as the silence stretched on between us, Yunho’s lack of an answer being the answer. He knew it and I knew it too, the alliances would last as long as there were still many of us alive in the Arena. After that? Everyone was on their own, everyone. Even those who loved each other would have no choice but to choose. Me or them. And the answer was clear, it always had been. Humans were selfish, we were desperate to survive, and it was obvious who we’d choose.

“But I don’t want to turn on you.” Yunho’s voice was just a whisper as suddenly his hands moved, tracing up to my shoulders as he stepped closer, making me inhale deeply. His musky scent was nauseating, but it was the only thing in this wrenched place that smelled like home, that reminded me of home, that felt like home. Yunho’s closeness was familiar despite my dislike for it, and I found myself gripping his sweater at his hips, tilting my head back to look at him better. Yunho’s eyes were coated with an emotion that ran deep in his bones, an emotion that was so clear it made me freeze. He didn’t hate me, not even when I had been nothing but horrible to him, it was so obvious he didn’t and that was dangerous. It was dangerous because I could feel my walls crumble as I closed the distance between us, pressing my body against his bigger and stronger one. Yunho’s jaw clenched as he gently cupped my jaw, licking his lips as his eyes shifted between my eyes and lips.

“We won’t have to turn against each other, Y/N.” He whispered, leaning down so close that our lips brushed together. I gasped, quietly, as my eyes widened, freezing in his hold as I didn’t expect him to make such a bold move. But there was something hidden in his gaze, which quickly darted over the room as if searching for something, his voice really low and deep as he spoke again, “This will be the last time, to us, to them, to the children. Whatever happens in that Arena, it will happen with the intention to fix what’s been broken for so many years, to bring about a new beginning. So we mustn’t forget who our true enemy is, Y/N.”

My mind was reeling as Yunho’s words sank in, heart beating in a frenzy as I couldn’t completely focus due to the mess I was feeling inside. I wanted to push him away, slap him, berate him, but I also wanted to grab his collar and seal our lips together, to devour him, to breathe him in, to feel his body against mine, to give in to the burn situated low in my stomach. I hated him, but I wanted him. Snow took everyone from me, but he left me with Yunho as if he knew I’d torture myself over it, hate him with moments of relapse where all I could do was want him. I shuddered when Yunho shifted his head, his soft and wet lips pressing against the corner of my mouth. I wanted to chase after it, I wanted to taste him, but he turned his head when I tried to finally close the small distance. My lips pressed against his jaw instead and I couldn’t stop myself as I pressed an open-mouth kiss against his hot skin, fingers digging into his sweater, settling on his narrow hips. I couldn’t control myself anymore, it was too much. And maybe I didn’t want to let my logical brain lead me, maybe I wanted to give in to my deepest, darkest, desires led by my heart.

“If we do this together, Yunho,” My voice was hoarse as I spoke, our eyes meeting again as Yunho faced me once again, “The second I realize you’ve lied to me, I will kill you. I will kill anyone because I’m not dying in that Arena.”

“You are not.” Yunho emphasised as he gulped, reaching a hand up as he pushed my hair back, tangling his long fingers into the smooth strands, “But we must protect the Mockingjay.”

“Why?” I hissed, eyebrows furrowed as I turned my head just slightly, pressing my cheek into his, for once, warm palm. Yunho smiled, letting his other hand drop from my jaw as he shrugged, eyes shaking as his face morphed into tiredness. He seemed tired, but not just due to today’s events, he was tired of everything.

“To be free.” My eyes fluttered closed when he leaned forward, pressing a lasting kiss against my forehead. It made my chest ache and my hands almost chased after him when he untangled himself from my body, leaving me alone and cold in the room that would be my bedroom for the last time. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew one thing.

I wasn’t dying in that Arena, and perhaps neither was Yunho.

            Dread, so deep that it rattled your bones, was an emotion one could never get used to. I forgot what it truly meant to fear for your life, to do everything you could to keep yourself alive. President Snow wanted the utmost entertainment as Panem watched their most beloved victors fight for their lives, and he certainly got what he wanted. We didn’t have to run to the Cornucopia this year to get our weapons, no, the Cornucopia was where we stood the second the platforms raised us into the Arena. I couldn’t even focus on my chaotic heartbeat, eyes looking around for Finnick, only to spot Yunho instead straight across from me. He had given me a firm nod, and then his eyes fixed on something past me. When I turned to see what it was, I could see two axes lined up against the leg of a table. They were put there for us. I turned in my spot, muscles tight as the countdown began—may the odds be ever in your favour. Words I never thought I’d hear so vividly again, just through the screen of a TV while I watched my tributes fight until death.

And despite knowing what it meant to be in the Games and knowing it would be no easy feat to get away from the Cornucopia in one piece, it still shocked me how hard I had to fight to gain the upper hand. It seemed like Yunho and I weren’t the only ones yielding an axe, and thus, my first kill had been claimed right after the countdown, it didn’t surprise me. But there was no time for grief or hesitation, everyone was out there to get the other. I had to find my allies before someone could kill me, and upon seeing Finnick’s blonde hair disappear underwater, I knew I had to get away too. The Cornucopia was situated on an island in the middle of a lake, surrounded by lush green and dense pine trees. The breeze was chilly, the air humid. It felt like I was back in District 7 on an early autumn day when the days were starting to get shorter and the nights longer. The scenery felt familiar yet it made my skin crawl, I hated it here.

My ears still rang from the canons that had gone off right after the countdown, and my lungs burned when I resurfaced. The water was colder than I had expected and as I wasn’t an experimented swimmer, I struggled until I reached the shore, the axe I had to somehow carry to land also made my mission more difficult. As I gasped for air, water droplets obscuring my view, hand feeling around for my abandoned axe, I realized with great terror that something was actively sneaking around my ankles, slithering up my legs. In a frenzy, I decided to look back and I was mortified when I realized the weeds inside the water were moving up my leg, trying to yank me back inside the water. I tried to reach for my axe but it was out of reach, and just as I started trashing my legs around in hopes of making the weeds retract, I heard the sound of splashing water not too far from me. Then, the sharp edge of an axe came down and I gasped as I quickly flipped onto my back, my hand gripping the handle of my own axe as I was finally able to reach it.

Yunho’s suit was snug against his fit body, leaving very little to the imagination as it acted as a second skin. Our suits offered warmth but they were uncomfortable, the jacket that came with it only holding us back when we had to swim through the lake to reach the shore. Yunho was breathing hard as his eyes were pointed at me, and then he reached his hand out and I grabbed it without thinking much. I was hoisted up and I made sure no weed remained on my legs as Yunho hadn’t released my hand just yet, guiding us towards another tall person, who stood far away from the wet ground. My teeth clattered against each other as the lake’s coldness seemed to cling onto my every crevice, and I whipped my head left and right as I was trying to spot Finnick and Mags. I could see people rushing inside the trees at a distance, but neither had blonde hair like Finnick’s. Then, realizing that despite him being strong and capable of getting through the bloodbath, one of the canons that went off could’ve signalled his death.

My breath caught in my throat as I yanked my hand out of Yunho’s, making him pause as we finally reached Mingi, who was looking around himself nervously, bow and arrow clutched tightly in his hands. A hunting knife was strapped to his hips as well, and despite the always solemn look on his face, he seemed alert and present. But I couldn’t focus on Mingi or Yunho, all I could think about was the absence of Finnick, Mags, and even Katniss. Weren’t Mingi and her supposed to stick together no matter what?

“Where’s Katniss?” I found myself asking before I could think this through. I didn’t trust Mingi, hell, I didn’t even fully trust Yunho. I didn’t want to be with them, but Yunho’s long fingers found my arm again and he was suddenly walking off, dragging me after himself. I tried to stop, looking back at Mingi with a panicked expression on my face as he followed after us wordlessly, but neither one of them was saying anything. It only made my heart race faster, reminded me of the time when I was betrayed by my own district’s male tribute, flashbacks making my body shudder when Yunho just ignored me, fingernails digging through the fabric of my jacket as he led the way deeper inside the pine forest, “Stop—stop!”

I knew I was supposed to stay silent, but I was panicking, my mind was hazy and my lungs were heavy, I couldn’t continue like this. The Games had just started, I couldn’t freak out so early on, I needed to stay level-headed and in control of my thoughts and actions, “Yunho, I said fucking stop!”

“We can’t stop, Y/N!” He exclaimed, suddenly halting and making me run into his broad back. I gasped as my face collided with it and he whirled around, eyebrows furrowed, “We are too exposed right now, we have to keep going, the others are lurking around still.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Finnick, Yunho, I’ve already told you this—”

“I didn’t see Finnick anywhere,” I could barely speak before Yunho cut me off, as if he didn’t even care about what I had to say. The lump in my throat made it hard to swallow all of a sudden, “We can’t wait around for him, we have to keep moving for a while, at least. And if—he—he might’ve died already, Y/N, we can’t wait around for—”

“What about Katniss?” I hissed, turning my head around as I glared at Mingi, who looked tense and lowered his eyes when my glare burned into his shaken eyes, “Weren’t you two supposed to stay together?”

“We were, but I—she pushed me in the water to save me from a knife and I—” Mingi gulped, sharing a quick glance with Yunho. It made me look back at Yunho, feeling more suspicious than before. Something was wrong, they had to be lying. But why would they want us to separate from Finnick and Katniss? It made no sense, “I lost sight of her, I’m sorry. But she’s strong and she can swim, I know she made it out. The forest is like a second home to her, she’ll find her way back—I hope.”

“Hope,” I scoffed, shaking Yunho’s grip off as I held my axe even tighter, jaw clenching, “is not good enough here, Mingi. Are you sure you didn’t do this on purpose? Why did you want to separate me from Finnick—”

“Nobody wanted us to separate.” Yunho’s sharp tone cut me off and I gasped when I felt him cup my cheek and turn my head around, his chocolate brown eyes hard and glaring, “Things rarely go as planned inside the Games, Y/N, you know that, so we can’t just stand here and argue and draw even more attention onto us. We’ll search until we find them, okay?”

“I know you did this on purpose, Yunho.” I hissed, slapping his warm hand away, my jaw clenching as Yunho closed his eyes and released a long exhale, “I don’t know what sick and twisted game you’re playing at, but I will slit your—”

A twig snapping to our right made the rest of my words die in the back of my throat, making both Yunho and Mingi tense up as they whipped their heads towards where the sound had come from. My grip tightened around the handle of my axe until my joints ached, and I tilted my head, waiting and listening for another sound. It was minuscule, but it was there, someone was hiding behind the tree. It didn’t look like Mingi or Yunho had noticed, though, because Mingi turned his head and Yunho opened his mouth to say something, but I paid them no mind as I raised my arm and flung my axe towards the tree just as someone with a sword jumped around it. The sickening crack of bones was loud as the tribute gasped, flung back into the tree as the axe was lodged almost perfectly in the middle of his chest. Mingi gasped and seemed to freeze as Yunho gulped, his hand tightening around his own axe.

I threw him a glare before I went towards the tribute who was pinned against the tree by my axe, blood flowing out of his mouth as the life slowly slipped away from the man’s eyes. It was the male tribute from District 6, a man I didn’t know well but had heard talk shit about me behind my back. He was still alive but just barely hanging onto life, so without thinking, I grabbed the back of the axe and pushed it even deeper into the man’s chest, making him let out a gurgled groan. It only took three seconds for his head to drop and for the canon to go off. I scoffed and grabbed the back of the axe, yanking it out of his lifeless body as he crumbled to the ground, folding over itself as I wiped the blood on the back of his jacket, grinning to myself. I would’ve apologized if he would’ve deserved it, but a man who’d tried sexually assaulting me before did not deserve my mercy. Satisfied with my work, and slightly hopeful that the Capitol was thrilled by my kill, I turned with a grin on my lips. The feeling of victory didn’t last for long as I froze, taken aback by the sight in front of me.

Mingi’s whole body was shaking, his bow and arrow were on the ground and his head was hidden in the crook of Yunho’s neck, who held his friend close, muttering reassuring words into the younger’s ear. My jaw clenched, and suddenly the adrenaline rush crashed inside my body, bringing back the clattering of my teeth as my body was still way too cold. I wanted to think of Mingi as someone weak, as someone who had lost his mind already, as someone who had no place in the Hunger Games, an easy prey to whom death was certain. But deep down, in a hidden chamber of my heart, I felt sympathy for Mingi because all I wanted to do was crumble into a ball and sob until no emotion was left inside my chest. I was beyond frightened and all I wanted was to be held in Yunho’s warm and comforting arms, in the arms that felt like home. But I couldn’t, if I let my emotions take the lead, I would die and that was a luxury I couldn’t afford—not yet, at least.

“We need to move,” I spoke up, voice surprisingly gentle as I realized Mingi’s reaction had been triggered by my kill. I didn’t want to set him off more, it wouldn’t just be bad for him, it would set Yunho and me back too, I couldn’t have that happen, “We’re too close to the shore still.”

“Mingi,” Yunho’s voice was gentle as he pressed his nose against his best friend’s temple, rubbing his back up and down with both hands as his axe lay on the ground next to his leg, “It’s okay, we’re fine. Y/N took care of him, you’re safe with us. Let’s go, okay? We need to keep moving to avoid situations like this one, hm?”

I heard a sniff as I approached them, crouching down to fetch Mingi’s bow and arrow as he nodded his head, throwing his arms around Yunho’s neck as he gave him a tight squeeze. Yunho chuckled but returned the hug, a warm smile appearing on his face when the two separated. I gulped, feeling uncomfortable at their intimacy, at the ease they showed affection to each other. Even if my body and soul craved closeness to another human being, my mind wouldn’t let me bring the walls built around my heart down, I just couldn’t. It was too late now, softness didn’t get you anywhere in the Arena, only barbarity did.

“Here,” I muttered as Mingi faced me, his body still trembling when his eyes landed on his previously abandoned weapons. He gulped and very slowly reached forward, “I understand that it’s hard, Mingi, but if you let your trauma and fear consume you, you won’t get far in the Games.”

He nodded once and then grabbed his weapons out of my hands, staring at them with a ferocious glare. Yunho grabbed his axe too and then sighed, rubbing his face before he glanced around us, “Let’s head uphill, maybe we find something that we can use as a resource.”

I nodded, letting the two fall in step in front of me as I opted to look out for our backs, making sure we weren’t exposed on either side. My muscles hurt by how tense they were, and my ears were trained well to catch even the slightest shifts, the quietest of sounds. I knew how to survive situations worse than this, but I couldn’t let my guard down, the Games had barely started.

But if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I couldn’t trust Yunho or Mingi. Finnick was my only ally in these Games and I was going to find him, whether on my own or with the help of two tall men walking in front of me, I didn’t care. I was going home once this was over.

            The first night in the Arena had been silent, uneventful. This was good only because we got a good night’s rest, otherwise, it meant the Gamemakers were planning something big. I couldn’t tell what, not yet at least, but the lightning striking a tree in the distance, far more uphill, managed to raise my suspicions. I couldn’t tell just yet what that was supposed to mean, but I had counted twelve strikes. I had been on the lookout when it happened, preferring to be the first to keep watch as the two men I was with slept soundly, huddled closely together. Before the artificial sun could set, we made a small bonfire to try to warm ourselves up, grilling a frog we had found by the creak. It got really cold by the nighttime, but I preferred my teeth clattering to cozying up with either Yunho or Mingi. I didn’t trust them, not in the least, and I had twirled the hunting knife between my fingers as I watched them sleep, so unassumingly, so easy to kill. But I wouldn’t do it just yet, not until I have found Finnick and we’d figure something out together. The Arena was big and I knew we had little chance of finding each other, but for once in my life I could only pray the odds would be in my favor.

Morning came fast and once we refreshed ourselves by the creak, which was surprisingly lukewarm, we took off once again, headed more uphill. We were looking for a good hiding spot, something we could treat as our base, but we were also just keen on exploring the Arena. It felt like the pine forest was endless, and to someone who didn’t grow up in a District that was surrounded by forests, it must’ve felt like an endless maze of trees that looked the same no matter which way you looked. But to Yunho and I it was rather easy to navigate through its density, the scenery was never the same to us. The occasional fallen log, the change of the bush type, or even the way birds flew overhead were a good tale-tell sign of where we were. Mingi seemed to be at ease too, moving around as if the forest was his second home. I knew District 12 was just by the forest, but I had no idea they could go inside it too. Maybe Mingi was hiding things about himself even towards Yunho, it wouldn’t surprise me.

As the day had dragged on and the temperatures rose once again, our stomachs churned loudly as we were getting tired from endlessly climbing uphill, the pathway slippery due to the small rocks we had to walk on. Yunho had exchanged spots with Mingi, and I was keen on remaining at the back as we trekked around some more trees, avoiding bushes that looked like something was wrong with them. We had only stopped when the sound of a drone caught our attention, the beeping of it high-pitched and loud as if it were a child’s toy. It was headed towards us, more specifically towards Yunho, and it looked like a box—a big box when Yunho caught it, his eyebrows furrowed. We had stopped then and once Yunho had opened it up, our mouths started watering. Someone from the Capitol had sent us breakfast and left us a letter telling us to feast on it as they’d send us some more tomorrow morning as well. Yunho, the ever-lovely person he was, faced a camera and thanked the sender with a bright smile and some sweet words, Mingi and I could barely contain ourselves from ravishing the bagels, cheese, grapes, and slices that looked and tasted like ham.

Once our bellies were full, we were off again hoping to find a cave as we had followed the stream until it started disappearing into an unknown direction. Mingi was at the front of the group leading us, his bow and arrow gripped in his hands as we had finally spotted a cave up-front, right by the pathway. He seemed excited upon our finding and quickened his pace, making Yunho and I run after him as Yunho glanced back to throw me an excited smile. I didn’t react as I fixed my grip on my axe, ready to face other tributes if they were hiding inside the cave that we’d claim as ours soon. But it was dark and silent inside as we reached its opening and Mingi halted, looking back at Yunho and I.

“I’ll go check, wait here.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Yunho muttered, his eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s fine, I won’t go in deep,” Mingi reassured him and then stalked inside, his bow and arrow drawn in case he was forced to use it. With a gulp, I settled back on my heels and looked around, trying to evade Yunho’s burning gaze. He didn’t say anything, but he continued to stare as I tried harder and harder to ignore him. My heart was slowly starting to thump faster in my chest, and I could feel myself starting to sweat from still wearing my jacket over the body-tight suit. Just as Yunho opened his mouth to say something, Mingi’s shriek made us tense up and share a concerned glance, and then Yunho was off before I could even tell him to wait.

“Mingi!” He screamed, running inside the cave with his axe raised. I remained in my spot, my breaths audible as I whipped my head around, looking out for anyone who could be prowling on us. My heartbeat was deafening as I tried to tune in to the sounds of the forest, but the pounding feet coming from inside the cave caught my attention rapidly, and I couldn’t even make out what was happening as Yunho and Mingi’s panicked faces came into view, Yunho’s hand gripping my arm hard as he yanked me after himself, sprinting downhill all of a sudden.

“Run!” Mingi screamed as he took the lead once again, his bow around his shoulder and arrow in its holster, my heart started pounding faster as I twisted my head around, trying to make out what we were running from. Going downhill was certainly easier than uphill, but the small rocky path was tricky as it was slippery and made it harder for us to flee safely. If it weren’t for Yunho’s relenting grip on my bicep, I was sure I would’ve tumbled to the ground already.

“What are we running from?!” I asked as my lungs heaved for air, Yunho and I jumped over a fallen log as Mingi was well in front of us, not looking back even once.

“Snakes!” Yunho screamed, and I felt my whole body shudder, fear gripping my insides. I wasn’t afraid of snakes, but I was afraid of whatever mutants these were, certain to kill us. I gulped and twisted my head around again to try and see the reptilians, which turned out to be my downfall— quite literally.

“Yunho, come on!” I heard Mingi scream before my feet got caught in the vines that slithered across the forest floor and I gasped as my feet were cut from underneath me, Yunho’s grip disappearing as he continued to run while I rolled to the side, curling into myself to try and protect my head as I hit the side of a boulder. I groaned, my back numb as it caught most of my fall, and my axe was somewhere on the ground. I tried to look for it, getting on my knees as I heard the slithering snakes getting closer, their hisses menacing. My heart felt like it was in my throat as I could hear my pulse clearly and loudly in my ears, looking up as the fallen leaves rattled not too far from me.

“Yunho?!” I heard Mingi’s raw voice call out in the distance, laced with panic, “What are you—no!”

I could see my axe from here, a colourful snake was twisting around its handle, hissing as its eyes fell on me. I gritted my teeth and fumbled around for my hunting knife, unlatching it from around my thigh as I gripped it in my hand, staring the snake down. The only problem was that it wasn’t just one snake that was coming after us, it was multiple, a dozen, thousands even as the otherwise silent forest was filled with their hissing. My mouth parted as my breathing got heavier, and my eyes widened when I felt something crawling up my left calf. It only took me one second to realize a snake had gotten to me without me noticing its approach, and an involuntary shriek escaped my mouth as I tried to kick it off. I tried to stay as calm as possible and fight with a level head, but the dread gripping at my insides, whispering that I was going to die, made me panic as I tried to stab the snake, but it dodged my knife each time as if it was intelligent enough to do so.

“Yunho!” Mingi’s desperate shout almost felt like it shook the ground, and I hissed at the snake as another one got too close, trying to stab that one too. It was hard to accept the fact that I would die such a pathetic death, but I bet the Capitol would love it. They were always entertained by whatever the Gamemakers had prepared for us, and I felt my lips tremble as a pathetic whine left my lips when the snake’s body got tighter around my leg, opening its mouth in a menacing snarl. But the pain spreading from of its poison never came as Yunho suddenly appeared from around the trees, slicing snakes in half as he stepped hard on others, his eyes finding mine. He looked terrified once he noticed the snake around my leg, and without consideration for his life, he leapt forward and grabbed the snake with his bare hand, yanking it so hard that it tore its body in two. The snake hissed, but before it could try to do more harm, it was decapitated by Yunho’s axe, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Fuck, come on!” He snapped, and it helped me quench my terror as I scrambled onto my feet, almost tripping again but this time due to nothing. My whole body was shaking as Yunho’s fingers intertwined with mine, his palm calloused and sweaty as he was breathing hard.

“Yunho?!” Mingi sounded on the verge of hysteria as Yunho and I ran towards the pathway again, and I retrieved my axe quickly, stomping on a snake vengefully before we sprinted down the rocky pathway again. This time I made sure to not glance back even though the snakes were right by our feet, trying to bite at our calves, and Achilles tendon, some even trying to jump and latch onto our torsos.

“Keep running, Mingi!” Yunho screamed back as we could see him now since we were closer to him. He was standing with his bow and arrow drawn back, hands visibly shaking and his eyes red. But once he had spotted us, he took off again, going off the pathway and jumping over bushes.

“Where are we going?!” I panted out, swinging at a snake as it tried jumping at my body from the right side.

“I have no idea,” Yunho answered breathlessly but veered us off the pathway, following Mingi’s lead. Even though he was well ahead of us, Yunho seemed to constantly know his friend’s location, and which way we needed to go to catch up with him. And it seemed like Mingi had stopped running once we reached the small clearing, his calves soaked in the creak.

“Get in!” He was beckoning us over frantically, marching over to the side of the creak when we were finally close enough, and then he grabbed Yunho’s axe and yanked us aggressively inside the water. Yunho slipped and fell to his knees, his axe remaining in Mingi’s grip as Yunho panted, head hanging low. My legs threatened to give out too but I was mostly confused as I looked at Mingi, and then back at the approaching snakes.

“Why did we stop?!” I asked, fear coating my voice, “We’re going to die, I can’t—”

“The snakes won’t come into the water,” Mingi said, his jaw set tight as he looked at the approaching reptilians.

“How do you know?!” I gave him an incredulous look, my attention shifting onto Yunho when he rolled around, sitting on his bum despite getting his suit soaked once again.

“They aren’t water snakes, just—trust me.” Mingi’s deep tone was raw and tense as his eyes remained on the reptilians. I watched too, gripping my axe and ready to kill as many as needed, heart thundering in my chest. But just as one snake tried to get inside the water, it hissed out loudly and retreated, the others following suit. No snake got inside the water, it tried though, but it jumped back as if they were electrocuted by it. I felt all power leave my body as I crumbled to my knees, steadying myself on my hands as my stomach felt like turning upside down, about to empty its contents. Our pants were loud in the small clearing, the water flow calming despite the retreating hisses of the snakes. It was eery to hear them in the distance, and my body shuddered as I remembered it slithering up my leg.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered under my breath, looking up at Mingi and Yunho. Yunho was still sitting, his eyes staring out into nothing as Mingi had moved to sit on a rock, his plump lips swollen and his eyes filled with tears. It made my eyebrows furrow as I tried to calm my body and mind, but it was hard when dread seemed to have taken its residence inside my body, inside my mind. My jaw clenched as I shakily stood again, eyebrows furrowing, “How did you know?”

Mingi and Yunho looked at me, probably surprised by my feeble voice. I hated it, but I ignored it as my glare burned into Mingi’s face. His eyebrows furrowed, but he shrugged, “I guess I just—I’ve heard it somewhere? I just—it just felt like the right thing to do.”

“So, you didn’t know.” I huffed, closing my eyes as my body continued trembling from the lingering adrenaline in my system.

“Yeah, maybe—but we’re alive, we’re��fine.” Mingi’s voice got quiet as my eyes snapped open, fixating on him. I scoffed, snarling at him.

“We’re fine?” I questioned, feeling the heat rise into my cheeks due to anger, “We’re alive?”

“Yeah, we—”

“No,” I hissed, grabbing my axe tightly for stability, to ground myself, “I am alive because Yunho came back, because he saved me. What were you doing, huh, Mingi? Saving yourself, that’s what you were doing, I’ll tell you.”

Mingi gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as he glanced at Yunho briefly, “I was just…trying to find the creak. I knew you’d follow me, I—”

“So much for being a team, huh?” I chuckled but it was humourless, “Is this what you did with Katniss, too?”

Mingi froze, eyes slightly widening as a hurt expression crossed his face. I heard Yunho exhale sharply but I was focused on Mingi, my eyes narrowing as he continued avoiding eye contact. My heart was still racing but for different reasons now, I could hear the gears in my head turn, twisting my thoughts and whispering at me that I was right all along. Mingi and Yunho weren’t my allies, they were my enemies and they were trying to lure me further and further away from other possible tributes that could maybe help me if I needed it. I scoffed, feeling my skin burn underneath my suit.

“Tell me, Mingi, did Katniss really push you into the lake?” I raised my eyebrows, watching as the guy’s eyebrows furrowed some more, “Or did you jump in because you were planning on betraying her at some point, huh?”

“Y/N,” Yunho hissed, abruptly standing up, “stop talking to him like that, what are you even saying? Do you hear yourself right now? How delusional do you sound?”

I chuckled, turning around to face Yunho as Mingi remained unmoving, frozen, dark eyes staring into the water as his hands clenched and unclenched, “Really, now, Yunho? I am delusional? I didn’t even want to team up with you two, you forced me into an alliance with you and Mingi and look where it got us! We both could’ve died out there while Mingi ran for his life! Did you forget what he’s done to his allies in the past—”

“Shut up.” Mingi snapped, standing up from his rock, jaw clenched and eyes ablaze with anger. He was breathing hard and his height was intimidating, looming over my shorter build as he approached me rapidly, “You don’t know shit about why I did that, Y/N. They were going to kill me that night, I heard them talking about it. I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for it to happen!”

I paused, licking my lips as I shook my head in disbelief, “And do you think at some point Yunho and I won’t turn against you? Do you think we won’t try to kill you?”

“We won’t.” Yunho hissed as he came closer too, his cheeks flushed and his expression conveying the simmering rage he must’ve felt underneath his skin. Yunho was rarely angry, but when he was, his voice thundered and his eyes turned sharp, lips pulled back in a snarl that was both frightening and almost comical, “Because I didn’t come here to kill anyone. We are getting out alive, but we have to find the others first.”

My jaw clenched as I looked between the two, shaking my head as I felt disappointment lick at my insides, somehow disheartened by their naivety. We weren’t going home, not all of us would survive, why could they not understand that finally?

“Are you fucking making fun of me, right now?” I said, voice hard as I looked at Yunho, “What games are you two playing, huh?! You’re insane if you think I’ll stay here with the two of you for one more second—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Yunho hissed, stepping so close I had to crane my neck back to be able to look him in the eyes. My jaw clenched as I felt the axe slip from my fingers and I scoffed, raising my eyebrows tauntingly. The heavy weapon made a splashing sound once it collided with the water, and I could feel Mingi’s anxiety radiating off himself, his eyes watching us carefully, fingers curling around the edge of his hunting knife. I gulped, very aware that I was at a great disadvantage if the two decided to attack me right now, there were few chances I’d make it out alive. But even so, I would fight until my last breath, they couldn’t take me down that easily.

“Mingi is very clearly trying to kill me, why else would he separate me from Finnick? And the fact that you’re standing here and defending your good old buddy just proves to me that you are in on it too, Yunho. You didn’t even let me try and look for Finnick, you just dragged me away.” My heart was beating fast as my voice had started rising. Yunho looked a mixture of hurt and confused as his jaw clenched, not once looking away. I couldn’t see Mingi from my spot, but I could feel his gaze burn into the side of my head, “And the fact that he would’ve left me there for the snakes proves my point that he gives zero shit about me—and maybe about you too, Yunho, because he didn’t even think about coming to help you out. So maybe next time reconsider who your true friends are before making allegiances. If you want to kill me, come at me now.”

“Nobody is trying to kill you—” It was Mingi who spoke, sounding exasperated, “We are a team, I didn’t stop because I didn’t realize you two weren’t following me anymore. And when I finally did, I fucking turned back around and came running to help, but you had already figured it out! Do you think I wanted to separate from Katniss? The only person besides Yunho that I know and trust?! No, I didn’t fucking want to! She pushed me into the lake to save me and I freaking lost sight of her! Do you think I’m not trying to find her? Do you think I want to win these fucking Games again just to be tormented some more and more by Snow, by the memories and all the trauma?! I want to fucking die, Y/N, I hate my life and I hate myself. So killing you is the last thing on my mind, okay?!”

Something broke in my heart at how broken Mingi sounded, the way his tear-filled eyes just spilt down his cheeks, wetting them and making his eyes even redder. He was sniffing as he rubbed at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, looking hurt and betrayed. I gulped, feeling torn between my own thoughts. I wanted to trust them, I really did, but what if they were just trying to soften me up with sob stories? What if it was all a ploy to get me to trust them, only for them to kill me? I wouldn’t put it past Mingi, and neither Yunho, we were in the Hunger Games after all and it wasn’t about forming bonds and long-lasting relationships, it was about survival, it was about killing until the strongest one was last standing. I shook my head, chewing on my bottom lip as I averted my eyes, looking up at Yunho with conflict, but knowing that I had already made my decision. I couldn’t stay with them, not when I distrusted them so much.

“It makes no sense to turn against each other,” Yunho spoke softly despite the anger still displayed on his features. He gulped and licked his lips, wanting to touch my cheek but he must’ve seen something on my face because he dropped his hand last minute, “Y/N, please just think rationally for a second and trust us. I don’t—I could never harm you, I just—I want all of us to go home and—I don’t know, but don’t do this. We will find both Katniss and Finnick, that’s what I’m trying to do, okay? But it’s hard tracking them down in this forest, we—”

“I’m not going with you anymore.” I cut Yunho’s rambling off, my jaw set tight as I released a sigh, stepping back to put distance between our bodies. Yunho and Mingi looked confused for a second, glancing at each other uncertainly, “And you have harmed me before, Yunho, but it seems like you wiped it all from your memory. It’s sweet really, I wish I could’ve too.”

Yunho’s mouth parted in shock, hand reached out but I raised mine, shaking my head, “I’ll find Finnick on my own, you two find Katniss and play besties with her, I guess. Just don’t—don’t cross my path because I won’t spare you, I can promise you that.”

Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed and he tried to reach for me again but Mingi held his shoulder, his jaw set tight. I grabbed my axe out of the water and took a deep breath, looking at the two for a long second before turning my back to them and rushing away from the creak, down the pathway we had explored earlier today. My jaw was tight and my muscles tense as I kept walking and walking, mind spinning as I concentrated hard to catch even the slightest shift around myself.

I had to put distance between myself and the other two, otherwise it wouldn’t be safe.

            Three days had passed since I left Yunho and Mingi behind. I had no success finding Finnick thus far and being alone in the Arena was getting to me. I couldn’t sleep as nobody had my back while I did so, hunting was slightly harder as it took more time than with others to help, and I also had to be constantly on the lookout for the traps the Gamemakers would send my way. I was struggling, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel more relaxed on my own than I did with Yunho and Mingi by my side. I couldn’t trust them and it was driving me crazy. Yunho was supposed to be the last one to keep watch but he had accidentally fallen asleep, leaving us defenceless. He was incompetent and I could put my life into the hands of a person who couldn’t as much as stay awake to make sure no one killed us in our sleep. Alone, without anyone to keep watch, I couldn’t exactly sleep, but I had fallen into a light slumber more than once. Climbing the trees to shelter myself from others for the night seemed like a reasonable thing to do, having learned it from Katniss as she had done the same last year in her Games.

The small fire I managed to conjure up by the spot I had claimed as my campsite was small and it crackled as I had waited for the frog to grill so that I could have dinner. Walking away from Yunho and Mingi also meant no support from the Capitol, and I wasn’t surprised when nobody sent me any gifts, not even a soothing balm after I had accidentally fallen into poison ivy. My skin was itchy and I tried to stop myself from scratching it raw, but it was hard when I had nothing to do but stay attuned to the sounds of the forests and watch out for anything that seemed misplaced. Yesterday, I was forced to kill two more tributes when they tried to take over my campsite, taunting me and laughing in my face, until I had decapitated the male tribute with just two swings. The two were the siblings from District 1, the Capitol’s most beloved victors after Finnick Odair, of course. It didn’t surprise me that nobody sent me gifts, given that I had just killed two people they seemed to really love. Without dwelling too much on what was already done, I continued searching for Finnick.

The forest felt huge and never-ending, and it felt like we were on different ends of Panem despite being enclosed inside a limited space. I was doing what I had been doing for the past three days when I suddenly heard leaves rustling behind me. I didn’t pause nor walk faster, I continued as if I hadn’t heard anything, trying to see if someone was following me—or something—or whether it was just the breeze that would blow through the Arena at times. I had opted not to go uphill anymore as I had a suspicion that Yunho and Mingi would continue searching for another cave to claim as theirs, unless it was infested with poisonous snakes once again. I gripped my axe tighter as I heard twigs snapping to my left, just behind some bushes. My steps halted and my head turned to look towards where the sound came from. I didn’t move, I didn’t breathe as my eyes bore into the trunk of a tree, narrowing when I saw something shift. I gulped and squared my shoulders back, ready to fight another tribute if needed. To be fair, I preferred the tributes over whatever mutants the Gamemakers had prepared for us, they were easier to kill and predictable, unlike the animals that shouldn’t even exist.

I took a step towards where the noise came from, but another twig snapped just behind me, making me whirl around. I couldn’t panic right now or else I’d lose my cool and make mistakes, which weren’t affordable here, especially since I was completely on my own. I gulped and narrowed my eyes, listening closely to the quietest of shifts, my eyes widening when I saw a head duck back behind the tree to my right. Was I surrounded? Who were these people? Did Yunho and Mingi find me? Did they have another ally to replace me?

I gulped, raising my axe to my chest as my jaw clenched, eyes trained on the tree where someone was hiding behind. But when I felt someone move past behind me, I was forced to whirl around and hurl my axe at—nothing. My heart was beating fast in my chest as my eyebrows furrowed, muscles tense as my axe fell to the forest floor, whoever passed behind me faster than my axe. I gulped and swiftly ran to get my axe, but paused just as my fingertips were about to reach it. Someone was breathing heavily to my right, behind a large tree, and with shaky fingers I grabbed the axe and stood up straight, pulling my arm back to swing it at whoever was taunting me.

“Come out!” I screamed, my jaw clenched as I firmly planted my feet on the ground. My chest fell and rose quickly as my eyes narrowed when I saw movement from behind the tree again.

“Y/N?” And just like that, I froze. My muscles didn’t turn more tense, instead, it felt like my whole body was a puddle as my mouth fell open, and my heart almost stopped in my chest, “I’m scared.”

I gasped loudly, my axe slipping from my grasp as my knees shook, mind reeling in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening, she—my little sister was dead. But her fragile voice called out again, shaking with fear, and I didn’t think as I sprinted towards the tree, desperate to catch a glimpse of her. How was she here? Had President Snow tricked me into believing my family was dead? I had never seen their bodies, after all, only their headstones upon my arrival to District 7, and I felt like fainting the more I thought about them being alive all this time.

“Ye-Yena?” My voice cracked as my fingers trembled just as I was about to round the tree. But my little sister whispered again, from a different spot this time, and I turned towards her voice again, hurrying over, “Where are you, Yena, please come out!”

My voice was breathy as tears obscured my vision, and I was on the verge of hysteria as I tried to find her, but she was always in some other spot, “Yena!”

I was panting from both adrenaline and fear as I tried to grab after my sister when she dashed from behind another tree, crying out in frustration. But I froze when a tall frame materialized in front of me, eyes dark and sharp, a contrast to Yena’s soft features.

“Jaebom?” My older brother didn’t move nor say anything as we stared into each other’s eyes, the first tears spilling down my cheeks as I sprung forward helplessly, my arms circling his torso, which was cold to the touch, “Jaebom, what’s happening?!”

But he didn’t answer me as more tears streamed down my cheeks, fingers grabbing onto his t-shirt tightly, shaking his unmoving body when he remained unresponsive, “Jaebom!”

And then, I heard a sinister cackle come from behind Jaebom, eerily similar to Yena’s childlike giggles. I untangled myself from Jaebom and looked past his shoulders, eyes widening when I saw Yena twirl my axe around in her hands as if it were made out of plastic. Her face looked ashen as she smirked, pouting her lips at me mockingly as my eyes shook. Her expression looked nothing like my little sister's. I didn’t understand what was happening anymore. Why were my siblings here, and why were they acting unlike themselves?

“Look at you,” Yena’s voice wasn’t light anymore, instead it was an angry snarl, “Living your happy life, rubbing it in our faces right now. What are you crying for, huh? Are you crying because you have to kill people again, like you’ve killed us?”

“What?” I whispered in confusion, flinching when Jaebom suddenly grabbed my bicep, his touch hot and burning, “I don’t understand—”

“You never do,” Jaebom snapped, and I whined as he started gripping my bicep painfully, “You always thought you were better than all of us, look where that got you. You’re just a pathetic excuse of a human being, everyone is ashamed of you. Mom and dad think you should’ve died instead of us, and now, you will die!”

In my confusion, too focused on the ache in my heart, I almost missed the huge knife Jaebom grabbed out of his belt, aiming it towards my heart. I gasped and punched him in the jaw, jumping away from him, “What are you doing—”

“Die, bitch.” Yena hissed as she took off towards me, making me scream in fright when she tried to lodge my own axe into my body. I was panting as I realized my siblings were trying to kill me, and without wasting another second, I pushed Yena to the ground and took off in a sprint, running away mindlessly as I could hear them pursuing me. My heart was beating like crazy in my chest as my siblings made weird noises, they were almost howling, and they sounded like animals. I couldn’t look back, too afraid that I’d lose my footing again, so I was forced to blindly run from them, making sharp twists and turns in hopes of losing them. But my worst nightmare seemed to materialize in front of me, as suddenly, I started seeing my mother's and father’s faces from behind trees, peeking at me with sinister smiles on their faces, cackling loudly as Jaebom hurled his long knife at me. I was lucky enough to take a right turn as he did so, the knife lodging itself into a tree as I gasped, eyes filling with tears again.

“Why are you doing this?!” I screamed as something suddenly burned my arm, and as I looked to my right, I was horrified to see my mother running alongside me, her hand burning into my arm as she had a wicked smile on her lips, “Stop!”

“You’re coming with us this time, daughter.” It was my father who was suddenly standing by the creak, holding a sword in both of his hands as I tried to steer clear of his path, but my mother’s grip was unnaturally strong and she kept dragging me towards it. I screamed and trashed around, feeling suffocated as my mother continued to cackle, my father’s eyes filled with hatred as he angled his sword so that he could gut me alive. I was a sobbing mess as I struggled to free myself, trashing around, and even trying to punch my mother but nothing seemed to work. I could feel Jaebom looming over me from behind, the heel of my own axe pressing into my back as I cried harder, whimpering when Yena appeared next to my father, twirling a knife in her hands.

“Poor Y/N.” Her voice dropped low, almost as if it was a man talking, and it made me realize that whatever was happening right now wasn’t real. It was something created by the Arena, it wasn’t their ghosts nor their vengeful spirits here to take me away, and yet, I still couldn’t fight my mother’s grip off as I clawed at her hand, biting her cold flesh in hopes that she’d release me.

“Let me go!” I screamed again, twisting my body away when my father’s sword came dangerously close, Jaebom’s burning grip tight on my nape as he angled my body to be strung on the sword, “No!”

I didn’t want to die, not like this. I was shaking from head to toe as I tried one last time to get out of the grip of my mother and brother, but nothing was working as I felt the tip of the sword press against my belly. The four cackled loudly as my ears rang, and I gasped when the sword pressed deeper into my tummy, drawing blood, but all the external pain disappeared abruptly as I felt my body pushed to the side aggressively, wrenching me out of the tight grips of the mutants that posed as my family. I screamed again when I felt hands on my shoulders trying to turn me around, and I drew my fists back, the only thought in my mind being to harm anyone who touched me.

“Y/N!” Despite being so lost in my mind, I registered the familiar ring of the voice, the panic and fear in them as I threw the first punch, breathing hard and loudly as if I were a rabid dog. I wouldn’t fall victim to the Capitol, not like this, they couldn’t kill me by using mutants. I couldn’t give Snow the satisfaction, I had to fight until my last breath, until a tribute killed me. I couldn’t go like this, I wasn’t ready. I was scared. I was alone and nobody would be there with me when I took my last breath, nobody would reassure me that it would be okay, and nobody would smile at me for the last time. I would be alone, and that thought alone was scarier than the fact that I would be dying. So I didn’t stop as I screamed and punched blindly, my sight hazy and my mind a jumbled mess as someone continued calling out my name like a mantra, the sounds around me slowly registering inside my brain, “Y/N! Please, please, it’s us. Y/N, it’s Finnick.”

I gasped, my eyes widening as if I was seeing for the first time. My lungs burned, my muscles ached, and my heart was beating so fast I was having palpitations as suddenly I could see the person standing in front of me, his face pained as tears streaked down his rosy cheeks. He had me in a deathly grip, my biceps sore from it, but it wasn’t to harm me, it was to stop me from doing anything to myself or him, to the others, “Finnick?”

A beat of silence passed as I stared into chocolate-warm eyes, so utterly confused and pent. Then, an arrow wheezed past my head and I jumped with a gasp, wide eyes falling onto the body of my brother, no blood flowing out of his body as he crumbled to the ground. He looked lifeless as he turned into nothing and I felt my bottom lip starting to quiver as I looked back at the person holding me. I had no fight left in me as I attempted to push them off of me, but I was tackled to the ground before I could make another move. The wind was knocked from my lungs as my head thumped painfully, eyes hazy as a weight settled on top of my body, pinning my hips to the cold forest floor, hands above my head as long, cold, fingers intertwined with mine.

“It’s not real.” The man holding me down whispered, his voice shaky as he gulped, “They weren’t real, Y/N. But I am real, I’m here now.”

“Yun-Yunho?” I stuttered, my throat hoarse from having screamed so much. I felt a fresh wave of tears spring into my eyes as Yunho’s filled with tears too, and without thinking, I untangled our fingers and threw my arms around his neck, yanking him down into a tight hug, “Yunho.”

My whole body shook as sobs wracked it, tears wetting Yunho’s jacket’s collar as his warm body slowly melted into mine, offering me the warmth I had been craving so much all this time. His musky scent was comforting and felt like home as I buried my head into his neck, inhaling until my lungs burned and I had to exhale once again. Yunho was safe, he was the pillar I needed all this time unknowingly, he was the one to chase the darkness away and protect me from my own dark and twisted mind. I only cried harder when Yunho started shushing me, pressing kisses against my temple, rubbing my back once he sat back and brought me with himself, letting me settle in his lap as I clung to him. I had been terrified these past three days, scared for my own life, but also wondering whether Yunho had made it past another day every time the canon shattered the quietness of the Arena.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice raw as I gulped, hoping it would help, “Yunho, I’m—I—”

“Shh, it’s alright.” Yunho whispered, gently prying my tight grip off himself as he pushed me back to gaze into my eyes, “I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again, Y/N, I don’t care what you say—”

“Please don’t leave me, Yunho.” I gasped, words tumbling past my lips before I could stop them, “I can’t live without you, Yunho.”

I was vulnerable, I wasn’t in the right headspace, but I knew my confession was true. I had always suspected it, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. I was afraid President Snow would kill Yunho like he had killed my family. I didn’t want him around because I was scared to love again, to offer my heart to someone who could crush it so easily both with words and actions. Yunho knew me best and vice versa, I couldn’t live another day not knowing whether he was safe or not. I didn’t want him out of my sight ever again, I just couldn’t lose him too.

“I’m—” Yunho gulped, his voice deep as his eyes shook, jaw clenched tightly, “here.”

I released a shaky breath and leaned forward, pressing our foreheads together, feeling the safest in the past three days. The rustling of leaves made me tense up again and my head whipped around, eyes widening when I realized multiple people were watching us. I felt my cheeks heat up as I tried to scramble out of Yunho’s lap, but his fingers only tightened into the fabric of my jacket and he held my waist tightly, shaking his head at me when I gave him a sharp look. It seemed like he wouldn’t let go of me anytime soon, so I was forced to swallow my shame as I looked back at the other tributes, who seemed to be looking at me with pity. I ignored it, it made me feel weak.

“Those things are vile,” Mingi muttered, his jaw clenched, “But you should be fine the next time you see them if you ignore them.”

“And if you don’t, don’t let them grab you.” Katniss said, her tone harsh but features soft, “Kill them before they can.”

I nodded, eyes falling on the male tribute from District 3, Beetee. He wasn’t looking at me, his eyes trained on the sky as he muttered something to himself, apparently unphased by the whole ordeal. However, when my eyes landed on the fourth person, my heart skipped a beat, and even if Yunho didn’t want to release me, I pried myself out of his arms and ran to Finnick, jumping into his arms as he laughed while twirling me around.

“Finnick.” I whispered into his neck as his laughter subsided into a chuckle, his smile bright as ever as I pulled back, gazing into his beautiful blue eyes, “I found you.”

“Technically, I found you.” Cheeky as ever, he winked before he pressed a wet kiss against my forehead, lowering me back onto the ground. Our fingers intertwined as I couldn’t help but beam at him, my heart still heavy due to everything that’s happened though, “I’m glad you’re fine.”

“Well, I’ve been better.” I muttered as Finnick and I chuckled, swinging around hands as I glanced around, eyebrows furrowing, “Where’s…Mags?”

Finnick’s expression fell and I knew as I felt tears flood my eyes once again. A shaky breath left his lips as I pressed on my tiptoes to pull him into a tight and warm hug, rubbing his back as he hugged me back just as tightly, “I’m sorry, Finnick.”

“She’s in a better place now,” Finnick whispered, sniffing when we pulled apart, his eyes trained on the ground. My jaw clenched but I knew I couldn’t do anything now, just carry the grief with myself and bury it deep down until the Games would be over. Katniss, looking like she wasn’t keen on all the affection, averted her eyes and looked around the forest, pointing towards the creak.

“We should probably set camp here after we have scoped the area out.” Mingi nodded as he went and helped Yunho stand, his eyes trained on Finnick and me. I gulped and only looked away, body tense. I didn’t want to talk to him, I had nothing else to say, not now. I couldn’t believe I had admitted something so personal, something that was supposed to be buried deep down in my heart and mind. I wasn’t ready to face the fact that without Yunho I would be nowhere right now.

“Let’s go.” Yunho sighed, taking the lead with Katniss as I remained glued to Finnick’s side, eager to catch up with him if it meant I could ignore Yunho and his burning stare. I was most certainly grateful that he had saved me, but he was still not someone I could fully trust. Maybe it was all a ploy, an act to earn my trust, only to backstab me later into the Games.

My only true ally was Finnick.

            Something felt different, weird, almost. Beetee was a genius, everyone already knew that, and yet the way his mind works still amazed me. Apparently, the lightning that struck the largest tree in the Arena each time at midnight, could be used to our advantage. Beetee had the resources to create a sort of electrical fire that would leave the Gamemakers no choice but to rescue the remaining victors if they didn’t want the Capitol to riot for not having a victor for the 75th Hunger Games. President Snow wanted a year of epic games? Beetee was right here to deliver and I was more than willing to help him out. Everyone from our small group was in on his plan, and we were planning to strike tonight as everyone remained unassuming about our great plan. There was something else, however, that nobody was telling me about. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, The Mockingjay, seemed to be the nucleus of it all. She had to be protected at all costs and she was supposed to remain on Beetee’s side as long as someone who could fight remained with them. We had to look out for each other and remain close, but I didn’t fully understand why protecting Katniss seemed to be our most important mission.

Nobody tried clearing up my confusion, and when Finnick reassured me that everything would be alright and that he’d have my back no matter what, I decided to stop asking or wondering. Two days had passed since I joined the small group and things had been quiet—a bit too quiet. Nobody had died in the past two days and there was a simmering tension in the Arena, as if the Gamemakers knew we were about to ruin their so-called ‘perfect’ Games. There was nothing perfect about it, it was purely terrifying and torturous, a barbaric form of entertainment as this just proved that the Capitol didn’t see the people from the districts as human beings. That was nothing new, but being forced back into the Arena made me realize once again that I couldn’t let President Snow control me anymore, I was done playing his games.

I wanted the Capitol to burn, I wanted President Snow to die and suffer like so many of us had under his reign. He could’ve been a better president, a better person, but he chose violence, he chose to punish us for something that we, the ones born after the revolution, had nothing to do with. The cycle of life wasn’t always fair, the trauma parents carried with themselves would pass onto their children, who would carry it with them for generations—unless there was just one person who decided to put an end to it. To change, to prosper, to start a new cycle.

That new cycle started with us, with Katniss, Mingi, Yunho, Finnick, Beetee, and me, here, in the Arena, as a form of riot against the oppression we were forced to endure, the pain and grief buried deep in our souls. I have heard about the riots, people in District 7 were loud and proud about taking the Capitol down if given a chance, and it only took me two days to realize why it was only happening now. A spark had been sensed, turning into a catching fire that would reach us all, either burn us or help us return from the ashes as a new person, as a new nation. The pain and anguish would never be forgotten, instead celebrated and honoured in respect to those who have lost their lives to such atrocities. And we would all thank one girl, Katniss Everdeen, who unknowingly gave the nation the spark of hope they desperately needed. I had no idea whether I’d survive whatever was about to go down tonight, but I was sure of one thing, I wouldn’t regret it. Not now, not tomorrow. I was doing it for myself, for my siblings, for my parents, and for everyone else who has suffered as much, or more, than I have. If Panem had to burn, President Snow would burn with us.

The morning passed by in the blink of an eye as we went over our plan once again, assigning partners and positions. I was supposed to stay with Katniss and Beetee, close to Finnick who’d be watching Mingi from afar. Yunho, who refused to separate from me at first, was supposed to go with Mingi until a certain point, and then he’d have to secure the area, map it out and alert us if anything seemed amiss. He’d be the last one, the one furthest from me, and despite the unsettling feeling creeping deep in my guts, I ignored my anxiety and focused on my task at hand. I had to protect Katniss and Beetee if anything were to happen. I was strong and merciless, everyone knew I could handle myself, but if I needed help somehow, then Katniss would be there and even Mingi. They weren’t people I trusted, but something told me nobody in our small group was out there to kill me…not yet, at least, and I could live with that for the time being.

Knowing that we’d need to be at our best, Finnick, Katniss, and Yunho went out to hunt something for lunch so that our bellies would be full for the rest of the day. Because Yunho and Finnick were so liked by many, thankfully we were also provided with various canned foods from the Capitol, their fans were desperately sending in supplies, and letters too, confessing their love and dread that they might not return. It made me chuckle whenever one of them had to read the letters out loud, looking at a camera with a sad, but grateful, expression in order to keep up the façade. We really needed these provisions, they couldn’t ruin their A-game just now. Finnick had returned with plenty of fish from the lake, meanwhile, Katniss and Yunho had opted to hunt for wild ducks and frogs. The meat had been cooked by Mingi and me while Beetee revised the plan over and over again, asking us questions to make sure that we had memorized what we were supposed to do.

Once the food was done and everyone settled down for lunch, the tense air surrounding us seemed to dissipate as we silently ate our meal, relishing in the comradery that’s formed between us. Finnick was by my side as we sat leaning against a tree, sharing a loaf of bread he had gotten from a fan, as he preferred to eat the fish he caught while I continued to eat the frog Yunho had caught for us. Mingi, very surprisingly, had gotten a package filled with nutrients that we hadn’t even heard of before, and while we were wary of consuming them, Beetee reassured us that he knew what these were and that they were safe for consumption as they used the same nutrients in District 3. As my stomach was finally full and I finished eating everything I had claimed, I continued sitting next to Finnick, leaning against his body.

He was warm and smelled like the ocean despite having been away from it for so long, and I had always found solace in the silence that felt comfortable between us. Finnick knew when not to push someone, and I knew when to speak up to cut through the tranquillity, “Do you think we’ll survive this?”

“Yes,” Finnick’s voice was a mere whisper as he scoped up a good chunk of meat and handed it over to me, “I must, for Annie. She lost Mags, I can’t let her lose me too.”

I gulped, all too aware of Annie’s situation as I accepted the fish despite feeling full. It tasted salty almost, so very different from the frog meat, but I think I could get used to it after having it for more meals.

“I have no one to return to,” I muttered under my breath, bringing my knees up to my chest as I let my arms circle them. I gulped, looking down at the dirty ground as the sounds of the other’s conversing became background noise, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of dying, of being alone, of never having been enough.

“That’s simply not true.” Finnick’s voice sounded strained as I felt him shift, gorgeous blue eyes boring into the side of my head, “You have me, and if I make it out alive, I can’t lose you. You’re just as important to me as Annie is, as Mags was. I never had a little sister, but thanks to you I know what it means to have one.”

I chuckled, turning my head so my cheek pressed against my knees, eyes falling on the frown on Finnick’s face, “Technically, I’m older than you. But I understand you, you’re, well, you’ve always been like a brother to me. And I love you, Finnick, I hope you know that. I have no idea what the outcome of our plan will be, but if we both make it out alive, I want to visit District 4. I want to meet Annie and maybe—maybe I’d like living in a house next to yours, maybe I’d like to see the ocean for real and not just through pictures.”

Finnick’s features softened as he placed his palm over my cheek, warm and calloused, offering me much-needed assurance, “I’d love that, and Annie would too. She has always wanted to meet you, but President Snow never allowed it. Which is for the better, honestly, I would’ve hated the thought of Annie at the Capitol. I fear I would’ve done something unforgivable.”

I hummed and nodded as Finnick’s warm palm fell from my face, his head turning as he gazed ahead. He sniffed and then cleared his throat, glancing at me for a brief moment, “But you’re not alone, Y/N. Even if I’m not there, you’re never alone. He’s—Yunho is always there, even when you don’t see it, Y/N. I think—I think you should let him in, he’s not a bad man.”

I gulped, stomach dropping at the mention of Yunho, and I sighed as I sat up straight again, jaw clenching when I averted my eyes from Finnick’s. Just to my luck, however, I spotted Yunho sitting not too far from us. Mingi was sharpening the axe for him as Yunho’s chocolate brown eyes were fixed on Finnick and me, his eyebrows deeply set and his jaw tense. I gulped and then averted my eyes once again, shaking my head with a huff, “He doesn’t know me, not the real me, at least. He only wants the good and pretty, he only sees those qualities in people. Once the perfect image is shattered, he’ll be gone, he’ll abandon me. I don’t want him to lodge himself into my heart when I know just how quickly you can lose someone.”

“You’re scared of loving him,” Finnick’s tone was full of compassion as I felt him look at me, Yunho’s gaze still burning into the side of my head as I gazed off into the distance, feeling nervous all of a sudden, “And you’re drowning in guilt and unspoken questions and feelings, Y/N. I know you don’t trust him, but you already love him, you just refuse to acknowledge the fact, and it’s doing you no good, trust me. I’m afraid too that I’ll lose Annie, I’m terrified of Snow snatching her away from me, but if I refuse to love and live the life I want, then that would mean I am letting Snow dictate my everything, it would mean that I am robbing myself of the pleasures of life. And you know Yunho would never do anything that you are uncomfortable with, no, he’d bring down the stars for you if he could, Y/N. Stop being foolish and—”

“Excuse me.” My body grew rigid as Yunho’s stern voice interrupted Finnick’s heartfelt speech, “Do you mind if I talk to Y/N?”

“Not at all.” Finnick’s smile was friendly as he nudged me, making me clench my jaw as I glanced at Yunho. He stood in front of me, looking down at me with a glare, rather standoffish for a person who was always smiling, happy and oh-so bright. I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, talk if you—”

“In private.” Yunho snapped, and before I could react, his firm grip around my bicep was pulling me up to my feet, not even letting me argue as I was tugged away from our camp, but not too far so that we’d be in hearing range if anything were to happen to either them or to us. I pulled my arm out of his grip and glared at him, feeling nervous for no reason as Yunho continued to glare back at me. It was unusual, out of character for him.

“What’s your problem with me?” I did not expect that question, and neither what he said next, “What’s so fucking horrible about me that you go willingly into the arms of the biggest playboy known to Panem, that you find solace and trust in that man when I’ve always been by your side, there for you, offering you a shoulder to lean on, a man you can trust and—and love. What does Finnick have that I don’t, Y/N?! Why do you continuously brush me off and treat me like shit, but then you laugh at anything Finnick says and you look at him with so much adoration, I-I just don’t understand, Y/N. I was there, I was always there, I helped you when you saw no outcome, I was there when you grieved your family, I was there when you struggled with the consequences of winning the Games, I was there even when you continued to push me away! I never stopped trying to make you feel safe, to comfort you and to—show you that it’s okay to open up and that you can love again without being scared of death. Why can’t you just—give back even just a little fraction of my affection?!”

To say that I was stunned was understandable. My face fell in shock and my mouth hung open as Yunho became erratic, his expression a mixture of frustration and helplessness as his eyes shook, his hands curled into fists. I gulped, letting his words settle so that I could answer, but I felt utterly speechless. How was I supposed to respond to something that felt like a confession but a complete scolding as well?

“You don’t understand me like Finnick does,” I gulped, licking my lips as Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed, “And you never will, Yunho, because you were never forced to sell your body unwillingly to men that only saw you as a piece of meat. Physical closeness, intimacy—it scares me because I’ve only suffered from it. I’ve never felt the loving touch of a man, no loving words were ever uttered to me, and I was told more often than not that I didn’t deserve love, that I was too rough and scary, too intimidating and manly for a man to love me despite being beautiful. Finnick, he knows what it feels like to be used, to do things you don’t want to out of fear of losing someone. And even if this wasn’t the issue, Yunho, how could I trust you when you’ve tried to kill me?”

“What?” Yunho seemed shaken, his voice breathy as he reached out just to let his hand drop before he could grip my wrist, “What are you talking about—I have never tried to kill you, why would I—”

“Seriously?” I snapped, sudden anger flaring deep in my bones, “You’re still going to act clueless when I call you out on it? Think, Yunho, think for one second for fucks sake! You were supposed to be my mentor, the person that looks out for me, that protects me and helps me win these fucking Games, yet you send in food that’s poisoned?!”

Yunho looked like he had no idea what I was talking about and I scoffed, stepping closer to him as my jaw clenched, “District 6, the female tribute, I was cornered three days before my Games came to an end, and I was hungry. You sent me a package but I couldn’t reach it and it landed between the tributes that were hounding me. The girl decided to eat what was sent for me—she died in four minutes, Yunho.”

And just then, recognition finally flashed in Yunho’s eyes, but it didn’t last for long as suddenly he seemed to look desperate, grabbing my wrists as he shook his head, “It wasn’t food, it was never food, Y/N. If you had seen the small letter, you would’ve known it was poison from the get-go. It said, ‘sweet like honey’, and you know what we use that for in District 7, you would’ve known. I was trying to help you, I knew you’d survive, I was never trying to kill, why would I—I’m in love with you, Y/N. I wasn’t back then yet, but I-I knew I couldn’t watch you die in that Arena.”

My mind was reeling. I gulped, suddenly feeling my lungs constrict as Yunho’s grip felt like it was burning my wrists. I pried them away and took a step back, gulping as my hands started shaking. I have been living in a lie this whole time. I have made myself believe that Yunho was the enemy, that Yunho wanted me gone. I took a shaky breath and gulped again, watching as sadness spread over Yunho’s features like wildfire. His features softened as I felt my heart ache more, disbelief written all over my face. Why had I been so stupid? Why did I let Snow make me believe anything he said?

Why was I so afraid to lose Yunho?

            Nightfall came sooner than before. The tension was back and I felt sick to my stomach. Something felt wrong the longer we trekked, the closer we came to the tree. Everyone was silent, focused on our surroundings and making sure we weren’t being followed by any other tributes. But something was very wrong and I just couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore as I released a shaky breath, my eyes settling on Yunho who was walking in front of me with Mingi by his side, huddled closely together as they conversed quietly. Finnick’s pinkie was laced with mine as he swung our hands between our bodies, I ignored his playful smile when he pretended to stumble on a rock. I needed to speak to Yunho, nothing made sense anymore. I haven’t said anything since he told me he never tried killing me, and Yunho was keen on offering me space as he remained by Mingi’s side, occasionally giving me a soft smile if he noticed me looking his way.

Bothered by the incessant tension in my body, the gut feeling that something would go very wrong, I marched forward and grabbed Yunho’s wrist, making him halt in surprise. Finnick glanced at us as he passed by us and then grabbed Mingi’s shoulder when he stopped to wait for us, whispering something to the taller one before Mingi walked with Finnick again. My heart was thundering in my chest as I gulped, my eyes boring into Yunho’s as it was dark in the arena, yet his chocolate brown eyes were unmistakable.

“Are you okay?” Yunho asked with a gentle tone, letting his axe drop to the ground as he stepped closer, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“No.” I gulped, tone shaky as I glanced past Yunho, at the others who hadn’t noticed our absence yet, “Something is wrong, Yunho, I don’t have a good feeling about this. What—what if we die? Yet worse, what if the Capitol captures us and we—we never see each other again? Yunho, I—I don’t want to do this. Let’s find another way, let’s run away, let’s—”

“Y/N.” Yunho's smile was gentle as he stepped even closer, cupping my cheek with his big palm, leaning slightly down, “We can’t run away, and it’s completely normal to be scared of the unknown. I’m nervous too, but remember, we are doing this to make a statement, to show them that they can’t mess with us anymore. If Katniss manages to pull this off, we’ll be free. We’ll go home and we…we’ll see what happens next, okay?”

No, he didn’t understand. We wouldn’t go home, something just didn’t feel right. It was too dangerous, too risky, what were the odds our plan would be successful when there were other tributes still in the Arena with us?

“It just doesn’t feel right.”

“But we’re doing the right thing.”

I exhaled, jaw tense as I looked up into Yunho’s eyes, stepping closer until our chests were almost brushing together, “Then don’t let them separate us.”

“What?” Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed, his gulp audible as his fingers flexed around my wrist. I released a shaky breath and licked my lips, hesitant to touch Yunho, but I managed to grab the side of his neck, his skin soft and warm to the touch.

“Yunho, I’m asking you to stay by my side no matter what happens.” My tone was firm as he gulped, his eyes searching my face, “I can’t—I’ve been afraid, all this fucking time unknowingly, of losing you. And when we are so close to being free, of exploring whatever could be between us, I—I’m scared that Snow will find a way to snatch you away from me, so please, don’t let go of me. Don’t let me out of your sight, don’t walk away, I know I’m a horrible person, but I’m asking you to hold on just a little more and—”

“Y/N.” Yunho’s sharp tone cut my rambling off, and I gulped, on the verge of tears as I realized just how afraid I was. He didn’t say anything else as our eyes bore into each other’s, he just gulped, jaw clenched and then, he started leaning down, closer and closer, until—our lips touched.

And I don’t think I have felt euphoria like this one in my whole life before. The sounds around us seemed to become mute as my legs felt weak, my body melting into Yunho’s as I didn’t waste any more seconds and pressed up on my tiptoes, circling my arms around his shoulders to pull him incredibly close. Yunho’s lips were warm and soft despite our circumstances and I felt a shudder rake my body when his hand slowly slipped into my hair, holding the back of my head firmly as we parted for a second. His other hand grabbed my waist and as my eyes opened, I realized I wanted this. I wanted Yunho to hold me, to touch me, to kiss me. I wanted to be in his embrace and I wanted to feel his scent on me, I wanted his warmth to envelope my body, and I wanted him to shield me from this cruel world forever. Words that were heavy threatened to tumble past my lips, so instead, I closed the gap again and this time I made sure my intentions weren’t questionable, or hesitant, but full of passion and unspoken words.

Yunho was intense in everything he did, he laughed with his whole body, and he loved with his whole heart, whenever he did something, he put his all into it and his kiss was no different. His lips were demanding as they moved against mine, a little bit frantic as we were pressed by time, and even more desperate when I let my lips part for him, a silent request for him to deepen the kiss. I wanted him to know that I desired him, that it was completely fine to touch me and enjoy our actions. Yunho whimpered as he took my bottom lip between his teeth, and I felt warmth crawl all over my body, settling in my cheeks as my whole face felt like it was burning up. I had never enjoyed a kiss before in my life, but I prayed this would never end. When Yunho’s tongue finally slipped past my lips and reached my own tongue, I wished there was something to support my weight, to ground me into reality as I lost all senses, body and mind alive in a way I had never experienced before. It was careful, but it was intense and demanding, yet I didn’t feel pressured nor disgusted as saliva pooled in the corner of my mouth, fingers tangling into Yunho’s hair at his nape.

As his tongue played with mine and Yunho’s loud puffs of air hit my face, I moaned, unable to keep the sound down when I felt his fingers digging through my tight suit, fingernails leaving dents in my body. I wanted him to mark me up, I wanted him to show the whole Capitol that I was his, that no trashy man could ever again touch me, that President Snow couldn’t do to us anything anymore because we’d always have each other’s backs. I wanted Yunho’s mouth on mine for an eternity, never growing tired of him and his passionate kisses. Our noses bumped together when I tilted my head slightly more, giving Yunho more access as my heart thundered in my chest, so powerful that I could hear it in my ears. It was consuming, Yunho’s love was scary as it swallowed me whole, but I was greedy and I needed more. I had been a fool, such a fool, to deny us this feeling, this moment, this experience. It was too late to go further, even if I threw all dignity away, I knew we couldn’t, but I hoped it wasn’t too late for us. For us to have this in the future, to love and to be loved.

I gasped as we parted again. Yunho was loudly panting as his eyebrows furrowed, cupping my cheeks with both hands as his fingers dug into my skin painfully. A shuddered breath left my lips as I blinked my eyes open, gulping as I copied him, holding his cheeks tenderly as Yunho’s bottom lip quivered, nuzzling his cheek against my hold. He looked at peace, but the furrow of his eyebrows told me that he wasn’t satisfied, that he was bothered by something. In a hopeless attempt to offer him just a fraction of the comfort he’d given me throughout the years, I pressed a kiss to each eye, then to his nose, and a swift peck to his lips. It made Yunho smile as his eyes opened, shining in the dark affectionately as I felt a lump in my throat. It was scary to allow him in, but I was done hiding, I was done fearing the unknown.

“When we’re out of here,” Yunho gulped, determined as his eyes melted into mine, “I’m going to marry you.”

I would’ve gasped if I could’ve, but I was too stunned to even react as he kissed me again before we heard Mingi call out our names. We didn’t have time for this right now, but we’d have plenty in the future. I wasn’t ready to marry Yunho just yet, but with time, I was sure I’d be able to fully trust him, to give my all to him.

“Just don’t let me go,” I whispered as Yunho very reluctantly released me, our hands finding each other as our fingers intertwined, a motion I was used to but found something new in it now. It wasn’t just for show, it wasn’t just to show me that I had someone next to me, it was to seal our promise and tell me that Yunho wasn’t going anywhere.

            Beetee’s plan failed. Someone had sabotaged us, the wire had been cut, and the lightning wouldn’t bring the Arena down. We were stuck here, forced to kill each other, forced to choose between two people I loved and myself. Katniss looked frantic from my spot, I was watching her from the bush just as planned. Electricity was gathering in the air, tension filling the Arena as the lightning prepared to strike. Katniss was too close to the tree, hell, even I was too close to it, but Katniss was in danger right now and she wasn’t moving away. I could hear rustling coming from behind but it was supposed to be Finnick, I wasn’t worried about it. Just as the sky became lighter, energy crackling above our heads, Katniss did something I never thought anyone would do. She grabbed the wire and tied it to her arrow, standing up strong and tall as she pulled it back, her eyes set on the lightning that was just about to strike her. As I was about to shout her name and tackle her to save her from her insane plan, it was too late. The lightning struck as the arrow shot straight at it, the wire frying off and sizzling as a deafening boom shook the arena.

The blast was so strong that I couldn’t react before the explosion sent me flying feet away from my initial spot, my back cracking when I hit a tree. My spine tingled in pain as I fell to the ground, groaning and wheezing for air as my body trembled from the shock of the hit, panic rising in my disoriented state. I couldn’t hear as my ears were ringing, and my vision was so hazy it made me sick and unable to stand as I tried to find my footing, instantly tumbling back to the ground. Then, something even worse happened. The darkness of the Arena was slowly disappearing as the sky cracked and tore into heavy metal pieces that were plummeting straight at us. I knew I was in danger, and I knew both Yunho and Finnick were too. I pushed myself up and ignored the aching of my body as I heaved for air again, crawling on my fours towards where I knew Finnick was at. But I didn’t get any far when I was tackled back onto the ground, Mingi’s blurry face appearing above me. I panicked, trying to find my axe, but I was so powerless that it was easy for him to get on top of me and press a hand against my mouth as I tried to scream for help. His forehead was bloody and the top of his suit torn, jacket long lost somewhere in the Arena. His bow and arrow were missing and were replaced with a knife he held menacingly.

I gasped against his sweaty palm when I felt a sharp pain in my lower arm, close to my veins, somewhere close to where the tracker had been injected. I screamed against Mingi’s palm when the knife was twisted into my skin, feeling warm blood trickle down to my wrist and hands, a burning feeling spreading up my arm, to my shoulders. And then, as fast as he came, Mingi was gone, running off into the distance as my body convulsed, shaking even more as I turned onto my back, pieces of the Arena’s roof shaking the ground as they fell around the forest. I was petrified, I was disoriented and my throat wouldn’t work as I tried to call for Yunho, frantically getting up to my feet to look for him. I stumbled into every possible tree and almost slipped on the weeds as I went downhill, searching for the one man who’s always been there for me. I couldn’t abandon him, not now, not ever. But when I finally found him, it wasn’t the way I hoped to be.

Yunho lay on the ground, unmoving and sickly pale as blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, coating the collar of his jacket and suit a deep red. I could faintly hear myself call out his name again and again, feet carrying me over quickly, only to tumble to the ground and bruise my body more, but at least Yunho seemed to stir awake. His eyebrows were furrowed as his eyes opened and he clutched at his chest with a pained expression. I scrambled to get to him, but the ground shook and my legs were so weak I couldn’t stand again. I felt tears in my eyes and dread grip my heart as Yunho turned onto his side, coughing and spitting up some more blood.

“Yunho!” A scream so shrill my ears rang left my lips, and he finally seemed to realize he wasn’t alone as his eyes snapped up, rounding when he noticed me. I couldn’t hear him as I tried to drag myself over, feeling nauseous and on the verge of passing out, but it looked like he was saying something, like he was calling out to me. And then, the ground shook another time and I lunged myself forward as the light in Yunho’s eyes dimmed, his hand extended towards me as I fell not far from him, reaching out desperately towards him. Our fingers touched as dark spots started coating my vision and I gasped for air, fighting against the urge to give in to the darkness, waiting to aid Yunho, but I couldn’t. As blinding light flooded the whole Arena, the roof completely caving in, all I could do was mutter a prayer to see Yunho once I woke up again. If I’d wake up.

The next time I was conscious again, however, what I heard despite the unbearable headache and the dull ache of my spine, didn’t sound at all good, nor reassuring, “Katniss, there is no District Twelve.” And all I could think about was, where is Yunho?

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[discordiansamba]

lee can't bring himself to look at jin.

they've been dating since he was sixteen. they've been married for almost two decades. they've had three kids together. they run his tea shop together. they'd been planning to spend their entire lives together- watching as their children had children. passing the tea shop down to one of them. growing old together. he's always had such a clear cut path in front of him.

his life always seemed so simple.

"when we first met," jin slowly asks after an eternity of silence, "-were you still...?"

he thinks so. he can't say for sure. his mind is telling him that yes, he was lee then. he's always been lee- but he knows that's not true. he can't trust himself. the logbook says they'd met prior, so it must be true. lee remembers having an awkward dinner together. he'd tried to juggle for some reason. then they'd gone to see the firelight fountain together, and they'd shared their first kiss.

he asks jin if she remembers that.

she does. only...

"the lanterns weren't lit when we got there," jin says, "-you asked me to close my eyes for a few seconds. when I opened them, they were."

lee stares at her, because he doesn't remember that at all. he was pretty sure the lanterns had been lit when they'd arrived. he puts his head in his hands, and lets out a bitter laugh. because not only is that proof that everything written in that logbook must be true, but... spirits.

he'd lit those lanterns by firebending, hadn't he?

"lee-" jin says softly.

"-my name's not lee," lee says, "-apparently."

jin pulls his hands away from his face. she brushes back his bangs, cupping the left half of his face. he forces himself to meet her eyes. they've known each other forever, but she's also never really known him. he's never really known himself. somehow she manages to quirk a grin, and says she'd really managed to marry up if she'd nabbed herself a prince.

lee snorts. he can't help himself.

he doesn't feel like a prince. he's just lee. he runs a tea shop in the middle ring of ba sing se. he's ordinary in every way. he's been told he's one of the best tea brewers in the city, so he has that going for him at least. he tentatively asks jin to call him zuko, but when she does, it just doesn't sound right. it's not his name.

jin asks him what he wants to do. lee has no idea. his entire life is a lie- except, that's not really true, is it? it was a lie, but he's turned it into truth. everyone in this city knows him as lee. he's lived in ba sing se for longer than he ever would have lived in the... it's the caldera, right? that's where the fire nation capital is? spirits, he should probably at least study fire nation history a little more, if nothing else.

...he's been lee longer than he ever was prince zuko.

it's a sobering thought. he tries to think back. tries to pinpoint the exact moment when he'd opened his eyes and was lee for the first time. it's a futile effort, but he tries anyways. it had to have happened at some point when he was sixteen, after the fall of ba sing se. he remembers being forced to serve princess azula and her two friends tea.

before then, maybe.

he pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking back on it. princess azula had complimented him on being so polite and well-mannered. for knowing his place. most peasants these days don't seem to. he was always perfectly polite and well-mannered with those above his station- including his close friends. he quite literally could not help himself. the logbook detailed that this was a personal request from princess azula.

...who was his sister. apparently.

"this is so messed up," lee says, then glances at jin, "-how are you not contemplating divorce right now?"

jin leans over the table, and kisses him. she loves you, that's why. come to bed with her, lee. rest up. you can face this fresh tomorrow. lee sighs and lets her lead him into their bedroom- though he makes sure to take the logbooks with them, tucking them away in their dresser. they won't tell the kids. not yet.

(tomorrow he'll wake up and make breakfast for everyone like usual. get dressed in earth kingdom green like usual. braid his hair in earth kingdom style like usual. open the tea shop like usual. he half-expects the usual will feel all wrong.

it doesn't.)

still thinking about the bad end variant of the lee from the tea shop au and just. it's been years since the gaang met lee for the first time. he might not have gone on an adventure to save the world with them, but he's become their friend all the same during the time they've known him. his tea shop is a safe haven in ba sing se, away from their duties. away from all the political intrigue.

then katara sees his scar, and it turns everything on its head.

katara's so shocked that she doesn't say anything to him in the moment- and no one else saw it. lee's wife literally just gave birth. she holds it in desperately, until it's finally time to go. toph immediately demands to know what's got her heart racing like an ostrich-horse, so she tells them.

lee's scar looks exactly like zuko's.

it clicks when she says it. that's why lee has always felt faintly familiar. he's zuko. she wants to be angry. did he hide his identity from them on purpose? but he's so... different. it's been over twenty years since they saw zuko last, but he couldn't have possibly changed that much during that time, could he? she can't imagine the prince zuko she knew settling down and peacefully running a tea shop.

something's not right.

they pour over the dai li's records. sokka's the one who finds the logbook in code. it's accompanied by several others, but the dates in this one match up to after the fall of ba sing se. sokka spends a few weeks decoding the logbook, carefully transcribing the it into a separate volume. he doesn't get very far before he has to stop, hurling out the contents of his lunch into a bucket.

katara's right. lee is zuko. or he was.

sokka decodes the entire thing in one day. he doesn't want to have stop and come back to it later. everything in it is awful. tui and la- he didn't even like zuko, but he doesn't deserve this. to be rewritten into a completely new person, with new memories and a new personality? it's horrifying. it makes sokka's skin crawl. the way the person keeping the records writes about it is even worse.

the bulk of the logbook is from the four years after the fall of ba sing se. after that, it was only ever updated periodically- small updates. the last entry before the drop off simply says that the brainwashing is no longer simply permanent- it is self-sustaining. the subject's brain is now inventing its own answers to questions he asks about their past- answers which were not provided for him. the alteration is now complete.

i have good reason to believe it is irreversible, it says.

once he's done, sokka shoves the transcribed version on the others, and lets them deal with it. he collapses in bed- and it's only exhaustion that lets him sleep. when he wakes up, he just has to take one look at everyone's face to know they've read it- and told toph about the contents, judging from her equally green look.

zuko wasn't their friend.

lee is.

...how can they possibly face him now that they know the truth?

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Two personalities that clash, you and your lieutenant rarely get along, but when it comes to light that Lt. Riley has been messing with things behind the scenes of your life, what will happen when you confront him? Is it really hate that makes you stay in the argument the ensues...or is the tension a little too heavy to ignore?

Word Count: 7.5 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: I was planning on having more out this week, but storms here where I live have set me back a bit in getting things out due to power constantly going down. I'm behind, but I promise things are still coming. We have the steamy risking it without protection fic and the angsty Truth or Dare part 6 coming, so stay tuned!

Lt. Riley doesn’t really want to be here, stuck in the middle of the loud, crowded bar right off base on his night off and yet here he is amidst it all. Just wanted to, he will repeat if pushed for an answer as to why he’s come out and a part of him might even mean it, at least that is what he will try to convince himself of because he can’t accept that he knows it’s a lie. 

A strong grip wrapped around his glass from his large hand, he brings his bourbon to his lips as those brown eyes scan the place from within the recesses of his thinner black balaclava that he wears when back in civility. His dark eyes are constantly on the move to disguise their true target, flitting from Soap to Garrick to whoever else is speaking around the small group of tables the taskforce has claimed for the evening only to dart back to one person: you. 

He eyes you across the bar chatting up some bloke with mid length black hair and a prominent neck tattoo, smiling and giggling in what looks to be a lively conversation of shared interests and it makes his blood pressure rise until he can feel the heat in his face. Lucky for him that the mask conceals enough, only being pulled up from time to time for him to take a drink or grab a quick smoke.

For whatever reason you both have never really gotten along with one another, even from day one. There is something about your personalities that just does not mix, a tension that always leads to an argument. Maybe it is the similarities in your natures, maybe it is because you aren’t afraid to speak out where he is more subdued and calculated. Whatever the reason doesn’t matter, whenever you are in proximity it is like trying to force gasoline and fire to coexist in the same place without causing destruction. Sure, you can both be professional in the right setting, force yourselves to work together for a common goal as sergeant and lieutenant and you are good at it, but once the threat is gone and you are back on safe ground, the feud ramps right back up.

So it surprises you when the lieutenant immediately agrees to tag along tonight. He usually isn’t too keen on this type of rowdy fun, preferring quieter company, but over the past couple of months it seems like wherever it is you find yourself he is never too far away. It is a free country and he can do as he damn well please, even though it is obvious the way his stare keeps coming back to you.

He may have everyone else fooled, but not you, no. There is no mistaking the feeling you get whenever his gaze falls on you.

You have noticed it more and more in the past couple of weeks the way that somber glare subtly finds you when you are near. Clearly you are doing something right to piss him off and there is something euphoric about forcing his attention to constantly stick to you. Why not play it up? Maybe you like the idea of making him watch as you finally score. 

You hope it makes him seethe to see you happy.

Those dark eyes stick to you for a couple hours until finally he has caught what he has been waiting for. He follows your form as you get up from your seat and make your way over towards the bathrooms. He can’t stop himself from taking the opportunity and before you have even let the bathroom door shut behind you, the lieutenant is already on his feet and drawing down his mask as he stalks towards the bastard you were just chatting up a second ago with only one goal in mind. 

The same goal he has had for months now anytime you start to get too close to anyone.

Your mystery man has just brought the neck of his beer bottle up and put it to his lips when the shadow from the lieutenant’s large stature casts over the table he is still sitting at. As he looks up he is met with the most intimidating face he has ever seen staring right back at him. The firm stance mixed with the glare in the lieutenant’s eyes within the skull mask gives the man pause and the confidence he once had slips away as he struggles to find his voice.

“Can I help…?” the dark-haired man barely gets out before he is cut off as the lieutenant steps up to him.

“That bird you’re talkin’ to just a moment ago,” Lt. Riley says, his thick British accent deep and viciously harsh from the very first syllable; he’s only got a few minutes to get this done. “Ya best leave ‘er alone if ya know what’s good for ya.”

The man swallows hard trying not to choke as he is caught off-guard by the intense hostility that has seemingly come out of nowhere. “Dude, if she’s with you I’m sorry, I didn’t know. She’s the one that approached me, honest,” he chokes out his apologies, hoping that it will be enough not to get his face bashed in by this hulking specimen of a man. 

Lt. Riley ignores his comment and leans down closer to his face, his stare sharp and cruel as he places a heavy hand on his shoulder. His fingers dig in hard until the man winces. “Don’t let me catch ya talkin’ to ‘er anymore tonight, got it? Cause if I gotta come over again you’re gonna wish I didn’t and by then it’ll be too fuckin’ late for ya. I’ll make sure ta put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Do ya understand?”

Eyes wide in fear, the man slowly nods; there is no need to be told twice, not from a man like this. He knows the type of guys that frequent the bar as the military base is not but a few minutes from here and he isn’t looking to get pulverized by a trained professional. A slight tremble in his hand, the man grabs his beer bottle and takes off into the bar with a worried look on his face. 

Lt. Riley watches as the man hides himself behind a large group standing around the L-shaped bar near the bartender and a smug sense of satisfaction fills him as he heads back to his own table to finish his drink, content that once again he has succeeded in his mission. It’s not even a couple minutes that pass before the corner of his vision catches a familiar figure exiting the bathroom and heading back to the table he had just left from.

You return to your seat only to find your new friend nowhere to be found. Looking around, you second guess yourself that this isn’t where you are supposed to be, but this is your table; your rum and coke is still right where you had left it. You take your seat and pick up your drink; it’s possible that he had just scurried off somewhere and would be back any second. But as the time passes with no man in sight, frustration begins to wash over you as you realize that this shit is happening again.

It’s been months since you’ve been able to have your needs met by something other than your fingers and for some strange reason no matter how good things seem to be going, it ends in you getting ghosted. Why? Even the few times you’ve had encounters on base the guys you had flirted with for days suddenly go cold and avoid you like the plague.

Is there something wrong with me? you question yourself silently. 

Across the way, Lt. Riley downs the last swig of bourbon in his glass, setting it back on the tabletop gently as he situates his mask back down. He doesn’t say a word or offer a goodbye, opting to silently slip out from his seat unnoticed to head outside with a smirk contorting his lips beneath the fabric covering his mouth. 

He has gotten what he wanted…well, not all. There is still something else that eats away at him, a specter at the back of his mind, and even as he convinces himself that he is only doing this to make you mad it still lays there in waiting. 

Back at your empty table, you finish your own drink and are about to call it a night when you spot your potential lover tucked away at the far end of the bar, hunched down in his seat. It’s odd the way he is sitting; it almost looks like he is trying to avoid being spotted, but that can’t be right, can it? Moving your way through the noisy crowd of people, you make it over to him.

“Thought I lost you,” you say cheerfully and watch him choke into his drink. 

He coughs a few times before he is able to get it under control and speak. “Think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says. His response is quick and dismissive as he sets his bottle down and turns to leave, but you are determined to at least get some feedback as none of this is making sense. 

You block his path with your stance and watch as his whole body tenses. “Did something happen? I thought we were having a nice time.”

The man uneasily looks around the area, searching for something that he ends up not being able to find, but that only alleviates some of the tension in his brows. “Look,” he says as he turns his attention back to you, “you’re really nice and all, but I’m not interested in getting my head caved in tonight, okay?”

Your cheerful expression falls. “What are you talking about?” you ask in confusion.

He takes a breath; he needs to get out of this conversation fast. “Some big masked guy came over while you were gone and threatened to put me in the ground if I didn’t leave you alone, so that’s what I’m going to do. Don’t know if he’s your ex or something, but I don’t want any part of that,” he confirms. “So, if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna get out of here before he comes back.”

You want to convince him to stay, that there is nothing going on that he needs to worry about, that it’s just your vindictive lieutenant trying to ruin your night, but the way he is shaken up you know there is no stopping him. All you can do is defeatedly watch him walk away as you say goodbye at any chance you had at getting laid tonight. 

But this encounter isn’t completely useless; with his revelation things begin to add up now. All this time you thought it was you who scared off your potential lovers somehow, that there was something wrong with you that kept driving them away, but no. It is Lt. Riley who is going around threatening people to stay away from you, you are sure of it now.

And that makes you see red. What even is his endgame? Things have always been tense between you two, but this is going too far. You need to find out why and now because this is becoming unbearable. He has messed with your life long enough without your knowledge; tonight it is all going to end. 

You turn your head back over to where the lieutenant had been seated and you spot his glass still sitting on the table. He couldn’t have left that long ago if his empty cup hasn’t even been cleared yet; if you leave right now and hurry, you probably will catch him. Quickly getting the bartender’s attention you pay your tab and immediately head out into the night ready to get your answers.    

Each step makes your heartbeat pound a little faster the closer you get to base. Fueled by the uninhibited state you find yourself in from of the couple of drinks you had, you don’t want the moment to dissipate; you need your anger to power your words so that your lieutenant knows just how far over the line he has crossed. 

You make it back on base and head in the direction of the barracks, passing by the dark offices and other buildings that are seemingly empty for the night. It’s late so there are not many places he can be and soon you can see them come into view. That is when you catch a figure leaning against the brick, the light from a cigarette glowing orange dimly in the shadow and you know you have him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” you spit the venom-filled words to him as you come to stand at his side, arms crossing tightly across your chest as you stop.

The lieutenant ignores you, keeping his face straight ahead as he brings his cigarette up to his lips, ignoring your presence like you aren’t even there as he takes a long drag. The audacity he has to disregard you completely after all he’s been up to behind your back makes your blood boil over and you react fast. Instantly you reach out and rip the dwindling cig out of his fingers to flick it angrily to the ground; only then does he acknowledge your existence.

“Don’t know what your fuckin’ on ‘bout princess,” he grumbles as he pulls out the pack of smokes from his jeans pocket and takes out another cigarette, placing it in between his lips as he lights it up and takes a few short puffs to get it going. 

Christ, did you fucking hate when he calls you that, all condescending and shit and he knows it too. That’s why he always uses it, just to watch the way it makes your skin prickle and your pulse race as it riles you up…just like it’s doing right now.

Your cheeks are burning red hot with your anger and you know by the feeling alone that it is visible even in the low light. “You know damn well what I’m talking about,” you accuse. “Thought you could ruin my fun and I would just never hear about it, did you? Well, guess what, I did. Guess you didn’t intimidate the guy back at the bar as good as you thought ‘cause he told me all about how you threatened him into staying away from me and now things around here are starting to make sense.”

So, pretty boy talked after all that scaring he had done; fucking hell, he wasn’t planning on being found out tonight. He can’t deal with this right now; he needs to get away before this gets out of hand. “I’m not doin’ this right now,” he mutters as he flicks away his second cigarette and begins to walk off.

You are right on his heels. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” you say as you quickly follow him as he takes off inside to a random room not far from the entrance. You barely register anything about the place, only caring about making sure you are on the right side of the door so he can’t lock you out until you’ve said your peace. 

Slamming the door, you press your back up against it. There is nowhere for him to go, not with how you are blocking the exit and it is clear that you won’t be leaving. Goddammit, why tonight? The lieutenant isn’t drunk, but he still has enough liquor running through his veins and he is weary of being alone with you.

You aren’t going to let him be, though; your anger won’t let you. “Well, you got anything to say or are you going to stay silent like a fucking coward?” you ask pointedly.

His fist at his side clenches and unclenches to match his jaw beneath the mask. Gasoline and fire; he can’t stop himself from matching your energy. “Fine, ya wanna know the truth? It was me. You’re distractin’, sergeant,” he says, that heavily accented voice harsh with his assertions. “Throwin’ yourself ‘round like a bloody slag ‘tween the men here and at the bar. Ya like that? Being a cheap piece a meat? Ya think that’s a good look for your rank on this team, hmm?”

You shake your head with a forced incredulous laugh before turning your gaze back to him. The only person who is ever allowed to make decisions about your actions is you; whatever you choose to do or not do isn’t up for debate with any outside party. “What I do on my own time is none of your goddamn business. If I want to screw every member of this operation, I will. If I want to fuck a rando from the bar, so be it. It’s my choice and you need to stay out of it.”

It’s a lie, you have no intention of becoming some barracks bunny, but that doesn’t make the point any less true. There’s nothing wrong with a little companionship from time to time and you aren’t going to let him take that from you. This job is hard enough as it is. Still you can’t shake the question that is floating around in your head.

Why does he care so much to go to all this trouble? Why not just stay away?  

The Lt. peers down his nose at you, those striking amber eyes looking at you through the opening in his balaclava to give him a dangerous appearance as they are cloaked in shadow. Standing in front this beast of a man has left many shaking in their boots, but not you, never you. Fuck him if he thinks this bit of intimidation is going to do anything; it’s not.  

“It is my goddamn business,” he growls. “Ya talk a big fuckin’ game, but ya don’t know what the hell your doin’. Gonna get yourself in trouble one a these days.”

“Oh, so you’re just looking out for me is that it?” you ask. “I don’t need a savior. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Even he can’t deny that you can handle whatever it is that comes your way. He has worked beside you for quite a while now and there is a reason you were selected to this task force in the first place. No, it isn’t his need to protect that causes him to put himself where he doesn’t belong, but he can’t face the truth; he can’t…can he?  

“Besides, what the hell do you care, Lt.?” you spit the question harshly into his face to break him out of his thoughts. “Just like to screw with my life as a part of some goddamn powerplay? You got nothing else better to do than fuck everything up? Pathetic, even for you.”  

The lieutenant’s jaw shifts as his dark eyes are silhouetted within the confines of his mask silently stare back into your own. There is a glint in their depths, a catch of the light that makes them glisten as he locks your vision in that stoic glare.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone there, princess,” he warns as he moves in closer until the tips of your shoes are nearly touching. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, you’re gonna get fuckin’ burned. Ya best quit it now or else.” 

Taking your pointer finger, you lean forward and poke the tip of the digit directly onto his sternum over his t-shirt and push down. “Make me.”

Hearing those two deadly words come from your mouth while being this close with emotions this high makes his brain short-circuit and he scrambles to get control of the thoughts at the back of his mind; no, he can’t let them get out. For a split second you catch a flash of something in his gaze that gives you pause and leaves you with a strange but familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach before it is gone just as fast as it came on. 

Flustered and confused, you don’t notice that his hand has moved from his side until it is wrapped around your wrist as he wrenches yours off his chest and smacks it against the door, pinning it there next to your head. “You’re on thin fuckin’ ice right now,” he threatens as he gets into your face. “Keep it up and see what happens.”

The lieutenant is so close now the sensation from the warm air leaving his mouth is felt against the lower half of your face even through the fabric of his mask. You can smell the bite from the tobacco and liquor as he exhales a weighty, ragged breath. There is a curious tension permeating the space now, filling the area around your bodies until your chest begins to ache with anticipation for something you can’t put into words.

What are you wanting to happen? You aren’t entirely sure you want to admit it, but still there is a growing impatience that makes your limbs tingle as you wait for the moment to break. “You’re not going to do shit,” you scoff. “I haven’t been touched in fucking months and it’s all your fault; you think I care about showing you respect? The way I see it, you have two options: either leave me the fuck alone or I make your life a waking nightmare until you do.”

Why aren’t you shoving him away? Your wrist is still gripped in his fist and yet you haven’t even tried to free it. Sure, your words are ruthless and heated, but you’re still here and he doesn’t understand what is happening. The atmosphere is shifting and he can feel it like a perplexing magnetism, a push and pull that he is finding harder and harder to fight off. He needs you to leave and quickly as he isn’t sure how long he can last under this growing torment.

“Ya best get out, now,” he growls under his breath. “It ain’t a good idea for you to be here anymore.”

His threat does little to make you back down and instead you tilt your head with a cocky smirk on your lips. “Why’s that? Can’t take the fact that someone can actually stand up to you?”

“Not that,” he says curtly.

“Then what?” you push him for the answer.

Lt. Riley stays closemouthed to your question. How the hell is supposed to answer that when your pulse is pounding through your veins and he can count the rapid beats through his palm that is around your wrist?  He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves the feeling of it. 

The silence is heavy and dangerous, too much and you aren’t sure what is going to happen, but you can’t leave with nothing; one of the many questions you have has to get a response at least. “Fine, you don’t want to answer that one I’m not gonna make you, but if you want me to leave you are going to have to give me something. I’ll go back to my original question: why do you care about any of this?”

The lieutenant is suffocating on the strength of the tension shared between you. It’s intoxicating, more than the whiskey he’s consumed tonight. Try as he might, he can’t stop himself from wanting more and suddenly the fingers on his free hand are lightly grazing along the waistband of your jeans in that sliver of space between your shirt and your pants where just a millimeter of skin can connect with his touch. It’s too late for him now; he can’t let you go.

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat at the electricity of the contact. The longer his touch lingers on your body the more disoriented your thoughts become until you aren’t sure what is happening. You desperately want to slap him, shove him off and storm out, but a secret part of you that has started to glow like a tiny ember in your chest quietly begs for him to keep going. 

Why can’t you tell him to stop?

“I can’t let anyone get to ya,” he murmurs with a labored inhale. “Don’t care what it costs.” Those hazel eyes with their blown out pupils never break the connection with yours as his fingers draw a line over your warm, soft skin and suddenly it’s near impossible to pull in enough air to keep you sane.

“Why?” you ask. “Hate to see me enjoying myself? Just want to keep me miserable, is that it?”

Those rough, thick fingers risk a bit more as they slip ever so slightly up so that his palm can rest against the meat of your hip and that’s where he stops. His gaze drifts down just a moment to admire how far his touch has gotten. This is the closest you both have ever been in the time you’ve known each other and it is overwhelming.

A shift in his stance, a half step in closer, his hand still resting against that soft, balmy flesh, and is that the pounding beat of your heart you hear pulsing in your ears? You need him to say something, anything, in hopes that it will break the spell that is making you more delirious by the minute.

“Say it!” you demand as you wrestle with the flood of sensations.

His eyes drift back to your face. “ ‘cause,” he says, that gruff, masculine voice making his words firm, “if I can’t fuckin’ ‘ave ya, then no one can.”

The confession knocks the wind from your lungs and you struggle to intake a breath. This has to be a new game he’s playing at; that’s it, a new tactic to make you lose your shit and destroy you in new ways. There’s no way he is serious, right?  You study his gaze for any sign of deception, for him to crack and mock you for falling for it, but all that meets you is a fervent stare that makes your body burn.

“Fucking bastard,” you snarl as your resolve to break away from him slips silently away.

“Slag,” he responds.

A few seconds drag on into eternity as you stare back into those dark eyes, your heartbeats racing  faster and faster with each labored breath you intake from one another. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, you are supposed to hate each other, but is that really what it is?

You’re the only one who has always treated him like a person, not some monster to be feared. It’s true you fight and bicker and drive each other mad at times, but not once have you ever backed down from him. You’re headstrong and steadfast in yourself and that is something he respects. And more than that, he desires. 

His words, why do they sound so good? If it was anyone else you would have slapped them silly and told them to fuck off, but the way he covets you feels like ecstasy. You enjoyed his attention before and now that you have all of it, it’s all you could ever want. There is an ache in you now that can only be quenched one way and that is from him.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins blurs that thin line between hatred and desire until it no longer exists. As if another is piloting his body he cannot stop. All at once something snaps and before you can fully comprehend the action, he is shoving his body into yours as his hand wraps around your throat. A wall of massive, bulky muscle presses tightly into your curves, pinning you to the surface as he wrenches that god-forsaken mask above his lips and grabbing your face between his hands, those large, rough things that have more experience holding a weapon than something soft and tender within them, he meets your mouth with an insatiable intensity that sends your fucking head spiraling.

Things you’ve both buried deep rise to the surface as the dam breaks wide open, feelings that you both had suppressed under the guise of hatred because you couldn’t…no, you wouldn’t admit that maybe there was something there. It all comes pouring out into the kiss with a feverish urgency as you unsuccessfully scramble to contain them. 

There is no restraining this fire of desire from catching you both ablaze. 

Lt. Riley’s grip is strong, holding your head in place so there is nowhere for you to turn as the brunt of his need is forced upon your lips until they sting the harder he presses into you while the stumble along his jaw pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth. The taste of the bourbon that he had been imbibing all night is on his breath, crisp and sharp as it hits your tongue with its bite, but it does nothing to deter you from taking every ounce of his embrace and matching it with your own.

You want him tighter against you still and your hands run up the back of his head through the cropped bits of hair that have popped out from below the edge of his pulled up mask. The feeling of your fingers running through the short hairs near his neck as you bear down on his mouth make that hulking military man shudder and you sigh delightedly into him at the reaction. 

Is it really that easy to make that big man fold? Oh, you are going to use that against him.

Strong fingertips jab themselves into your hip so that he can pull your pelvis flush against his while he shoves his boot between your feet to pry your legs apart, widening your stance so that he can fit his bulky thigh between them. The curve of your hip is accentuated by the position and he runs a heavy hand across the length of it as he pushes up against your pussy and you both gasp into each other’s mouths from the feeling.

That instant pressure against that gnawing ache in your clit has you grinding on his thigh. “Christ, Simon,” his name falls from your lips onto his while you cling to his neck to hold your body up as you push down on him as hard as you can to get enough friction through your clothing. He lets you have at it, using his leg however you see fit until you can feel the gathering moisture in the crotch of your panties.

“Do you even know how much I’ve fuckin’ wanted to do this?” he growls, the feral lust in his words palpable on your tastebuds as he shoves his tongue into your mouth past your lips to meet your own so that they can dance.

He has a taste for you now, a craving that cannot be quenched, an insatiable hunger that eats him alive. And he needs more.

Catching your bottom lip, he sucks it in between his teeth to give it a fierce nip that smarts, but you like the pain; it only makes you feel more alive as the aggressive nature of your attraction makes you feel like you are drowning. 

“Fuck, need it now,” you demand desperately. “Where can we go?”

The question makes him pause and Simon pulls from your mouth to look over his shoulder before returning his attention to you. “Ya know where we are, dontcha?” he teases.

Your eyes drift from him and really look at your surroundings for the first time since you got in here; you are in a bedroom, not just a random room like you thought. There is a small chest of drawers beside a bed not far from where you stand and on top is laying that familiar hard shell skull mask. 

You’re in his room.

“Shut up,” you breathe. “Just fuck me already, bastard.”

“So fuckin’ nasty,” he says with a smirk before he is back on your mouth again.  

Coarse hands desperately paw at your clothes as softer ones claw at his, undoing buttons, pulling off shirts, shoving down pants; a flurry of lips caressing while limbs frantically move until both of you stand bare naked before each other. The last is his mask that he removes himself; he is about to be inside of, there is no need to hide from you anymore.

You barely have time to take in his striking features: that strong jaw accentuated with old, faded scars, that prominent nose, that stern brow, before two strong arms pick you up and carry you the few short steps to his bed, forcing you down and shoving you onto your back so that you are pressed down against the surface as he clambers on top with you. His hands part your legs like warm butter and he keeps them spread as he positions himself on his knees between your thighs.

Quickly he leans over to the short chest of drawers and flings open the bottom most one, reaches inside, and grabs a small, square packet. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger he brings it to his lips and grabs it with his teeth, shredding the top to pull out the rubber. He tosses the packaging to the floor and in one swift motion, slips the condom over the fat tip of his girthy cock and rolls it down the long shaft.

That is it, without another sound he sits back up and clenches his abdominal muscles while his strong fingers hold onto the meat of your hips as he makes sure he is aligned with your entrance. “Ready, princess?” he asks through short, quick breaths.

Your hands grip into his shoulder blades. “Stop fucking talking and get inside me,” you order aggressively. 

The tip of his cock is prodding against your opening and you are panting with anticipation as you wait to feel it break through the threshold. It’s right there, right at the point you need it to be to give you the relief you’ve been seeking after the months of agony during your dry spell. Then all at once Simon’s hips rock forward and the head slips inside, stretching you wide open.

You gasp and buck your hips as he gathers the strength for another thrust to slip it in a little more; you are taking him so well. God, he could not ask for more. One more strong thrust and his cock rips into you deep until he reaches the base, bottoming out with a loud, guttural moan.

“N-nh… ah…” Simon groans as he twitches from the constriction around him. “Fuckin’ hell princess, your so tight…oh, f-fuck.”

Breathing through the intense feeling of being stuffed full you roll your hips into him to send shock waves of ecstasy through his shaft and his head falls forward to hang limply as he attempts to calm himself enough that he doesn’t blow his load right here and now just from that initial contact. 

“Gimme a second,” he growls, but you shake your head. 

“No,” you say, “waited too long for this.”

You will be the death of him and what a fucking sublime death it will be. 

Fine, if you want fast and rough that is what you are going to fucking get. He holds on tight as he begins to pound into you hard, making you bounce with the force of his thrusts up and down as he takes you at this unyielding pace. You are anything but fragile and he uses that to his advantage to be as animalistic as he wants.

The longer he drills his cock into you in that relentless tempo the more lost in the feeling he gets until he is completely ravenous only for the sensation of your body. He has waited so long for this, dreamt endlessly of this, yearned in secret for months for this, and it feels exhilarating to finally have it.

His primal grunts fill the room the harder he gets and you are suddenly swept up in it all as your needs are finally being met. You lose yourself in the moment, whimpering and whining as the euphoria washes over your body to make your limbs tingle. Soon you are so loud that you are surely going to draw unwanted attention. 

Reaching out his fingers find your lips and roughly he pries them apart so he can shove two of those thick digits inside your mouth. “Keep quiet,” he grunts as he continues to thrust. “Don’t need anyone hearin’ us before I’ve finished with ya.”

Getting you quiet, he needs something for himself and he knows just the thing. Leaning down over your body, his hot mouth latches on to the side of your throat just below your ear and you feel the sharp sting as his teeth dig into the supple flesh. The pressure is so hard from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up further into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow if he keeps at it. A token of who has claimed you.

And he is going to make sure it sticks.

It is a while before he unlatches his mouth and when he does he brings his lips up from your throat to your ear to fill your mind with only his voice as his hand finds the top of your pussy so that his finger can stroke over your clit. You’re gonna come and you’re gonna come hard if he has anything to do with it. “Look at ya, fallin’ apart just for me, princess. God, I wanna fuckin’ ruin ya.”

Simon pulls his fingers out of your mouth so that he can kiss your raw lips, making you swallow all his desperation until you are gasping for air. “I’d do whatever it takes just have ya all to myself,” he says, the words husky in his throat as he groans them into your mouth. “Need ya to belong to me and only me.”

Simon leaves your mouth to sit up higher, taking the pressure off his knees and pulling your body up slightly with him, and that’s when he catches a glimpse of your bodies at the point of their union and fuck is it a beautiful sight. The way he disappears inside of you is mesmerizing and he doesn’t want to look away, but he also needs you to see it. You need to know how both your bodies are made for each other.  

His hand moves to the back of your neck and tilts your face down. “Look at how well your gorgeous body takes me. Do ya think anyone else can give ya this?” 

Your dreamy gaze drifts lower between both of your bodies and stares at Simon’s imposing figure with his chiseled abdominal muscles as they contract and release with each thrust, his hips plowing into you, filling you up completely as each of his thrusts go down to the very base of his shaft. Your mind is in a daze as you feel him hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you time and again before his shaft reappears covered more and more with your juices over the condom.

There is something so primal about watching his cock slip in and out of your tight body, watching as you slowly fall into oblivion. 

His amber eyes catch yours and he smirks. Your cheeks are flushed bright and it thrills him to know that it is because of how he makes your body feel. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re a picture wrapped ‘round my cock like this,” he groans, his strokes becoming more sloppy as the slapping sounds of your overly wet cunt get louder. 

The longer he thrusts the more his sanity wanes until there is not a single thought left except for the animalistic need to rut into you until he comes. You can see the change wash over his face and through his eyes and it only thrills you more as he becomes a hunter ready to catch his prey; it makes you shiver.

“Ya like the way my cock feels inside ya, dontcha?” he asks in a low growl. “Fillin’ ya full, stretchin’ ya out. Ya think anyone else can give it to ya like this? Ya think anyone else is gonna make ya come as hard as I’m gonna fuckin’ make ya? This pussy is gonna belong ta me after I’m done with it.”

Ragged, broken moans escape your lips while your hips rut up to meet him at the height of each thrust as his voice begins to push you over. Your hands around his shoulders tense and as he strikes into you again your nails dig in, raking across his back in angry red lines that tingle and burn as you drag them down over his muscles. Oh, you are definitely close. 

“Ya gonna come for me, princess?” he teases mercilessly, desperately clinging to you as he too is about to spill and wanting you to go first. “Do it then. Come on my fuckin’ cock.”

The way this beast of a man is wrapped around your body, you are completely at his mercy, his size letting him do with you as he pleases and you have no say whatsoever. And yet here he is furiously pounding into you harder and harder as his fingertip strokes at your clit; he is doing his utmost to get you off even though he could leave you high and dry at any moment. 

Never have you ever wanted someone to take away your power more than you want him to right now.

Your hands leave his body only to gather in the sheets, gripping them so tight you can hear threads popping and feel the strain on your fingers. Each slam of that throbbing cock into you causes the warmth to grow in your stomach, each second that passes the pressure gets stronger and stronger. Finally at long last, you fall completely silent and with a few more desperate thrusts that pressure is released and shoots through you white hot as you come hard and fast.

Simon continues to grind into your pussy through your whimpers as he lets himself go and within a few more seconds he too is falling over that ledge, his torso shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he pumps all that built up frustration into the tip of the condom inside you. His hips buck and are punctuated with deep groans until he has nothing left to release and he slowly comes to a stop, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs to help him catch his breath again.   

You both stay locked that way as you calm yourselves back down from the high, your legs trembling around his waist, the sound of his inhales the only thing to break the quiet that falls over the room. Once he is able to he pulls out and falls down onto the bed beside you. 

Moving onto your side, you look over at him with a smirk. “Well, shit, never would have expected that,” you mutter sleepily.

He turns his head to face you. “Is that right?” he asks in that low, gravely tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “As if you haven’t been flauntin’ yourself to keep my attention. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes for months now,” you push back. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me.”

Reaching out his arm, his fingers lock into your hair, tying it into a ponytail in his grip before he gives it a strong tug. “Yeah well we’re gonna change that. Cause I wanna be the only person ya look at, princess,” he says harshly so you know he means business, “the only one that holds your attention, the only that gets ta be in your ‘ead. I’m gonna be the only one that gets between your legs and no one else; I wanna be the one that knows just how ta make ya fall apart. And any bastard that tries to get in my way is going to fuckin’ get it.”

You chuckle. “Possessive much,” you say snarkily only to receive a solid tug on your hair. 

“Absolutely gonna be selfish with ya,” he returns as he brings your face in closer, “cause I would rather fuckin’ die than watch anyone else take this away from me.”

Pulling your head to him, Simon licks the smile from his lips before latching onto your mouth one last time. Maybe you two can find common ground after all…can’t be too mad at each other when you’re making each other orgasm.

[kithtaehyung]

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one  rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments. 

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes. 

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding. 

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over. 

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch. 

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen. 

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology. 

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too. 

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience. 

However. 

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction. 

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar. 

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other. 

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home. 

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps. 

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted. 

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!” 

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look. 

“Suit yourself!” 

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?” 

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued. 

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle. 

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?” 

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already. 

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave. 

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier. 

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable. 

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :( 

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car. 

And all you can do is stare at your screen. 

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :) 

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile. 

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!! 

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser 

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre. 

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there! 

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench. 

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard. 

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar. 

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same. 

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?” 

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?” 

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone. 

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can’t stop your cackling when he responds, 

“Turns out Jimin was right.” 

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.” 

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!” 

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.” 

—

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fin. :)

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how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK short please. Gojo is frustrated because someone he likes never faces him. But one day, she turns away and is facing a window/mirror; he sees her reflection and discover she only does that because she's trying to hide her blushing face from him.

He’s acting ridiculous and he knows it, staring at you like a creep while you didn’t even noticed his presence yet.

It’s always been this way. You, the most precious girl and now woman he’s ever met who acts kind and adorable around everyone else.

Fuck, you even manage to force a smile out of Nanami.

“I’m glad you’re okay, (y/n). That wasn’t an easy mission, especially since you were all alone”, Nanami comments while patting your shoulder.

“Yeah, we’re all glad”, Gojo blurts out.

Your face freezes. How did you not notice Gojo entered the room while you were talking to Nanami? Almost immediately, your heart starts pounding roughly against your ribcage, a wave of butterflies violently traveling through your stomach.

The truth is you adore Gojo Satoru. The way he walks, the way he talks, how he acts around his students. Since the first time you saw him with those shades that cover his bright blue eyes, so were lost.

But way too afraid to ever tell him.

“I need to get going. See you, (y/n).”

No, no, no. Panic starts rising up your throat, heat spreads through your cheeks. Nanami can’t leave you alone in that room with Satoru-

“Is there a reason why you’re always facing away from me? You don’t like me?”

When those words leave Satoru’s mouth on top of his steps that draw closer and closer, you feel like dying. Oh, if he only knew it’s actually the opposite, that you can’t stand looking at him without getting lost in his sight. You’re acting like an obsessed teenager with no self-control. What would he think about you if he saw you like that?

Instinctively, you yank your head to the side when he enters your vision. You can’t let him see you like this, with your cheeks so red that you look sunburnt.

Why would you hate him like that? Your body tells him more than urgently to just walk away, your face directed towards the window opposite of you. When was the last time he saw your beautiful features, your cute smile? He can’t help but stare at your reflection in the glass.

And your bright red cheeks.

“Are you flustered?”, he speaks up before being able to stop himself.

“What?”, you shriek back.

No, he caught the way you blushed. Does he think you’re obsessed now, that you’re a freak, maybe?

“Don’t tell me you’re flustered because of me”, he mumbles while grabbing your wrist gently.

“I…I…”

You can’t find the words. In fact, that minor touch of his hand against yours is enough to almost send what’s left of your mind over the edge.

“I just like you!”, you finally blurt out.

“You…like me?”

“And I get flustered when you’re around! Because I…I’m kinda into you!”

Thick silence hangs between both of you when panic starts to settle in your pounding heart. Oh, you messed it all up. He’ll never look at you again, might even make fun of you in front of the others. Would he do that? What if the director finds out? What if you get fired?

“Good for you.”

All it takes is a swift motion of his strong arms to devour you between them, his uncovered eyes now so near and clear that you’d definitely lose balance without him. Is this really happening.

“That I’m into you too, (y/n).”