#he also thinks she looks better when she wears nothing but that's beside the point

[twogravesinsomecemetery]

Headcanon that Mulder hates the satin pajamas Scully always wears to bed because they just make her so goddamn Slippery and he can't fucking Hold Her when she's just sliding around under the duvet like that

[inkedbybarnes]

unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?”

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you to the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[g0dlyunsub]

it takes two.

spencer deals with a lot on the field, but nothing can prepare him for when he’s stuck inside a locker with you.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: 18+ due to sexual themes but no smut, slight claustrophobia triggers

word count :: 2.2k

author’s note :: inspired by a scene from s9e23, i'm imagining spencer in a fitted collared shirt and tie, reader wears a skirt

accompanying song :: stuck between by dutch criminal record

“nothing’s showing up on vicap. i’ve cross-checked records against everything you’ve mentioned, sir, but there’s literally nothing. zilch,” you hear garcia let out an exasperated groan as she ferociously taps at her keyboard. 

you watch as hotch kneads the skin between his brows with growing impatience while morgan starts to pace around the room. you’re not doing any better yourself, your stressed-out fingers threatening to tug at the strands of hair neatly holding your ponytail together. 

it’s too frustrating. the leads are clearly there, but your team is lacking the final puzzle piece to complete the profile, to confirm that it’s someone in the department that’s deliberately injecting themselves into the investigation.

“your answer is probably written down on paper. ugh, i hate when bad guys try to act all smart,” garcia fumes, and sulks as she gives an apologetic wave from her side of the screen. hotch nods, relays a thank you, and cuts the call before rounding the whole team together.

“think about it, those two are the perfect scapegoats. all of these agents have everything to lose, so why not just blame them? they’ve been in and out of cells already, and it makes perfect sense to craft a narrative that’ll point fingers at them,” morgan starts, making small gestures as he speaks with his signature cadence, topped with a honeyed rasp.

“and they’ve got all the authority to influence the public’s opinion,” jj nods in agreement.

“we need to try to get those two to talk again, but we also have to take extra precautions. jj and prentiss, go interview them one more time to see if they’ll spill any names. morgan, i need you to work with garcia to look for other possible leads. reid and l/n, go to the records room to review the files of the agents working with us. dave and i will try to hold down the fort,” hotch instructs, nodding at each of you as he rolls out the orders. 

“and try not to draw suspicion. if all else fails, say that you need to run to the bathroom,” rossi adds with a wink. it always amazes you how calm the italian agent is during such high-pressure situations, a trait you’ve grown to immensely appreciate.

“shall we?” you say as you nudge spencer, and he hums back in response. you bid a wish of good luck to emily and jj and traverse the hallway to the records room with the doctor, your heels clacking beside the cushioned steps of his slightly worn converses. 

after looking left and right to make sure no one’s around, spencer opens the door. you silence the sounds of your heels as you follow inside, and let the bolt of the lock plunge into the frame by slowly closing the door. 

“alright, you take the left, i’ll take the right,” you whisper, and spencer gives you a thumbs up. 

the two of you work silently and as fast as possible, sifting through the piles of records that lie on the tables and beside the cabinets. you feel your heart jump into a cartwheel every time a sheet of paper slips out of the manila folders, the sounds of rustling and creasing setting you on edge. 

“i found mcgregor and drew, but i don’t think it’s either of them,” spencer declares with a voice that isn’t supposed to sound loud at all, but it feels hundreds of decibels higher than the bare whisper you spoke with earlier. 

“okay, i found weaver and lee, but they don’t fit the profile either. let’s continue looking for the other two,” you call back. 

spencer walks over to you and kneels beside your left to help you with your search. once you spread the folders on the floor, you spot one of the two remaining files, and spencer soon finds the other. you’re about to turn through the sheets in the folder when the doorknob starts to shake, startling the both of you.

“shit. spence,” you blurt as spencer takes his file in one hand and grabs yours with the other, and shoves them into an open drawer. after he slides the compartment back with his careful and nimble fingers, you grab his arm and squeeze into a spare locker. you barely manage to seal the opening shut in time.

you could say that it was quick thinking that saved your and spencer’s cover, since the door jiggles and thrusts open a mere second later.

you never would’ve imagined that the day would come when you would draw air directly from spencer’s breaths, let alone enclose yourself in the same room as him. 

and yet here you are, perched on top of spencer’s knee, the scratchy fabric of his trousers resting under the hollow space of your pencil skirt and between your legs. his other leg presses against your side of the wall with an uncomfortable bend, while his chin sits an atom’s width from your forehead.

it’s a nonnegotiable consequence that comes with his tall figure, the way his clothed knee has to rub against your inner thighs under the draped fabric.

one of your hands lies awkwardly on his chest while the other is on his thigh, right above the knee that’s using you for leverage. your attention immediately shifts to your left when you see the rays of the intruder’s flashlight scope through the room. 

you stop mid-exhale when the light pours through the gaps of the locker, casting shadows on spencer’s face and your body. he looks stressed, anxiously wetting his lips with closed eyes, face turned away from you.

and he looks overwhelmed. rapid bursts of inhales and exhales fire from his body, likely due to the collar of his shirt being bound tightly around his neck with the tie. with shaking fingers, you slowly reach for his tie, waiting for approval to loosen it. 

you feel his forehead bury into the cave of your shoulder, and he whispers his desperate ask into your ear: “please.”

despite the lack of light around you, you’re able to locate the small end of his satin tie, and you tug lightly. the knot unfurls as you pull, and spencer lets out a small sigh of relief before breathing a low thank you in your ear.

as this happens, you hear the intruder surf through the piles of papers, unlocking drawers and lifting boxes left and right. hurry, hurry, hurry, you pray desperately in your head. beads of sweat start to form at your temple and threaten to fall down to your exposed neck, which happens to be situated directly in spencer’s line of sight.

“come on,” you hear the guest in the room complain, angrily flipping through papers and slamming the cabinets. you think it’s finally time for him to leave when you hear the high-pitched ring of his phone. 

but your eyes widen when instead of heading to the door, he makes strides towards the locker right across from yours, and leans his back against it before holding the phone up to his ear. holy shit.

“jensen speaking,” he says with a gruff voice, and plays with the button of his flashlight so it turns on and off spontaneously. as the light flickers, it dimly shines the space inside your locker. 

spencer turns his head to meet your eyes, a panicked expression covering his face. you’re about to mouth a small sorry for the helpless situation you’ve dragged him into, but just as you’re about to do so, spencer’s trousers slide against your legs, creating friction so unbearable that you let out a squeak. 

you freeze, looking up to see spencer’s eyes flash warningly. he instantly clasps your mouth with his hands to cover any further sound from escaping your lips, but with no form of support to maintain his position, he starts to slip, and his shirt lightly skids against the locker’s slippery walls. this is somehow even worse for you, because spencer’s knee starts to dig further up your legs and into your cotton underwear, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

luckily for the both of you, jensen seems to be distracted by whatever words are being spewed from the other end of his phone call to pay any mind to your suppressed yelps. 

“i think their agents might be on to us,” he scowls, and you watch from the corner of your eye as he tosses the last of his files into a box and opens the adjacent locker to ram it inside.  

“yeah, i’ll try to stall them for as long as i can. they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into.” 

jensen curses and promptly ends the call, returning his phone into the pocket of his shirt. he finally walks to the door, sighing as he twists the knob and steps out. the two of you lie in wait for an additional three minutes before trying anything. 

“i think we’re good,” spencer huffs, finally opening the locker door with a thud as the sounds of steel clashing against steel echo throughout the air. 

“yeah,” you nod, taking a breath to collect yourself as you step out. you watch as spencer runs a hand through his hair and moves his fingers down to adjust his tie. 

he returns the stare, his adam’s apple bobbing when he eyes your wrinkled shirt and scrunched up pencil skirt – which looks more like a mini-skirt with how it sits right below your hips.

“i um, i need some air. how about you?” spencer asks at last, clearing his throat. you bite your lip when he starts to brush the dust off his thighs and knees, the moments of earlier flooding into the back of your mind like the warmth pooling between your thighs.

“yeah, i could use some fresh air too,” you respond breathily, averting your eyes and focusing instead on smoothing out your shirt and retying your loosened ponytail. when you’re done, you turn around and stagger to the door, not looking twice to see if spencer’s following you. an intense flush spreads across your cheeks, and your only viable path of escape is to the bathroom.

“you, um, missed a spot,” you hear from behind, and you follow spencer’s gaze to see that he’s referring to the back of your skirt.

“oh,” you say as embarrassment swamps you, and you hurriedly pat at the fabric. “does that look better?”

“it’s still folded there. if you want, i can- may i?” 

the question tumbles from his pretty lips and messes with your head. his hand hovers right around your waist, the same way yours lingered on his tie as you waited for his consent. and his softening eyes. his slightly smoldering gaze looks so innocent and alluring at the same time, your heart starts to feel heavy with the weight of desire. 

note to self: never wear a pencil skirt again.

“please,” you utter like a silent prayer, and mentally prepare yourself to endure the test of his fingers against your skin.

as soon as he receives your word, his hand lightly brushes against your thigh and trails down your skin. he takes the hem of your skirt and pulls down, giving several tugs before releasing the stretched garment. 

he clears his throat when you don’t move even after he’s retracted his hand.

“all good now.” 

spencer’s words drown out your thoughts and snap you back to reality. he’s already standing by the door, holding it open for you with a patient smile.

“thanks,” you say as you walk out and rub your hands together, nervous for what you’re about to say next. “spencer, um, i’m so sorry about that whole ordeal, it was really unprofessional of me to drag you in there, i wasn’t thinking when i-”

“you did the right thing,” spencer interrupts your ramble with the shake of his head, and his flawless smile pulls at your heartstrings.

“i would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn't. that door’s the only way in and out if you don’t count the windows,” he continues, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walks you to the elevator.

“oh,” you shyly murmur back, your cheeks flushing with a shade of bright pink as his words pour over you like warm water. he would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn’t?

“yeah, but how about we try a bigger locker next time?” spencer almost reads your mind as he half-mindedly jokes, causing you to drop your jaw in shock. he doesn’t acknowledge your reaction, however, because he starts to dial rossi’s number on his cell.

“by the way, the uh, new look suits you. the grey skirt and all,” spencer says with a lopsided smile before he raises a hand to excuse himself and call rossi. you’re saved the embarrassment of responding when rossi accepts the call, but your palms are already profusely sweating at his compliment.

note to self: maybe wear the pencil skirt again.

[palskippah]

Hi! Nimona told him to do a thumbs up (also I hope you get the reference image because I couldn't find it ajkdsad)

There's some mpreg headcanons and drawings under the cut! :D

By the way the limit of images is 30 so I had to make some longer images with comics to save space and put more drawings 😭

-Also, small continuation from the previous drawing:

(I wrote baby album but maybe it should be those albums that people keep of the pregnancy process ajskd)

-When Ballister first started showing, he was a bit insecure about it, but Ambrosius helped with that, in the romantic sense of worshipping and whatever, but also like this:

Translation (did my best to see how to translate it sorry sdjksd it works better in spanish)

1 Ballister: I think it's too soon to be getting fat- Ambrosius: You know what else is getting fat? 2 Ambrosius: Who said that

-Ballister goes through the denial of needing new clothes, so imagine him still wearing the stuff he usually wears and Nimona coming from behind and picking at the clothes by his shoulder and going in a high-pitched voice, as if the shirt was talking - I'm tired, boss while Ballister swats her away and say, leave me alone, it still fits me >:(

(it doesn't)

>Also Ballister absolutely refusing to wear maternity clothes, the only one he got he was like, wearing it and looking very unimpressed, and Ambrosius' like, you don't like it? :( and Ballister says, No. It's ugly as fuck >:(

>So, he just gets bigger shirts and stretch-ier pants and that's it. Also he gets an oversized hoodie and he says that's gonna be his best friend the rest of the pregnancy, and both Nimona and Ambrosius gasp offendedly at that.

So-

Ambrosius (turning to look at Nimona): What the- hey, I am his best friend. Nimona: Course not! You lost that privilege with what happened that one time (she means the movie events, more than five years ago) Ballister: Ambrosius' my best friend, Nimona. Ambrosius: HAH >:D Nimona: Aw :( Ballister: Because you're my sidekick :) Nimona: :D Ambrosius: Hey, what now- that sounds better than best friend :(

-Ballister during most of the pregnancy is like, woo baby :) but at the very last months he's at least half of the time pissed off, tired and done with being pregnant.

(my incredible math skills in the next point)

>70% of that time he's mad at Ambrosius (who made him pregnant), 20% mad at Nimona (who consciously (and sometimes unconsciously) gets on his nerves) and the remaining 10 he's pissed off at Baby (and he gets sad about that one, because he's just a baby, so he redirects it at Ambrosius instead 😔)

>Ambrosius does his best to be of help but usually there's nothing he can do aside from being there (and sometimes getting out of Ballister's sight, if he's really angry- in the sense of 'I don't even want to see you now')

>Most of the time Ballister just cools off.

-Also Ambrosius giving him massages, sometimes randomly on his shoulders or his feet, and sometimes something more elaborated, like Ballister laying down and him using body oil, setting the ambient and all to massage his back (and Ballister almost always falls asleep in those).

>Sometimes tho he just does a 'chop chop chop' at his shoulders (it doesn't do anything besides amusing Ballister and keeping him company)

>Also Nimona said that of course he'd just randomly start chopping Ballister while Ballister does nothing about it, so Ambrosius starts chopping her instead

(made these two drawings with like three weeks of difference ajdkad)

(N/SFW thingies on the next four points and the next four images)

-Also with that previous point imagine Ballister waking up all angry, and Ambrosius just not knowing what he can do for him to stop being mad, but it turns out that Ballister had just woken up horny and pent-up.

>And once he realizes, he's like Ambrosius... (with intentions of getting some), and Ambrosius is like 🧍? because a second ago Ballister wasn't even looking at him.

-Also with this, Ballister is just very much hornier now (after the first trimester which was the worst) and Ambrosius doesn't mind at all - except when his jaw gets sore or he's running late for work because they lost track of time and also other situations ajsdks but usually he's delighted.

>(In the drawing Ballister just crossed one leg over the other once he heard Ambrosius coming in, because he can't maintain the position too long without getting uncomfortable sdjksj)

-Whenever Ballister is like >:c and looking in Ambrosius' direction, he immediately assumes that his husband is angry at him.

>Y'know when you look intensely at someone so they feel your gaze and look at you back? Ballister here is trying to apply that, but it doesn't work bc of the previous point askdad

-I had written sometime (I think) about them blaming Baby on literally anything that has more or less to do with him. If Ballister's crying, if he forgets stuff, if Nimona coddles Ballister too much and pisses him off, if Ambrosius wastes all the cleaning product in two weeks because he had been cleaning too much (he's nesting and realizes that sometime later), if Nimona and Ballister eat the weirdest stuff that at least he wouldn't eat in normal circumstances- and a long etc.

-During Ballister's pregnancy, Nimona works the most she had ever worked in her existence (in the biscuit factory):

-Both Nimona and Ambrosius are the most supportive c: yippie. Supportive husband/best friend and supportive sidekick/friend/sibling/etc

>An example would be of Ballister being tired, and if the time allows, the other two will immediately suggest a nap.

>Their collective naps usually last hours and they wake up disoriented, sweaty, with drool and the sheets marked on their faces.

>Also they wake up almost always stacked, Nimona always under the other two.

Translation

Nimona and Ballister: (snoring) Ambrosius: Fuck- what year is it? (tries to lift himself up)

-Also Nimona is the self-assigned pregnancy pillow, and at first Ballister had refused to let her do that, but as a sidekick she took it upon herself to make sure that her boss was comfy and could sleep well - and Ballister reminded her that that's not what sidekicks are for. She said, fuck off I'll do it anyways >:c

>Anyways he sleeps great with her help and earns himself a huge told you so from Nimona.

>I had written a thingy where just when she woke up she was like good morning boss :D while Ballister also said good morning and she hugged him while pushing Ambrosius away, even out of bed. I can't remember where I left it but once I find it, I'll see if it's good for posting pipipi Also Ballister and Ambrosius are corny husbands

>Also here I drew my vague idea of a bear bc I was too lazy to look for Nimona bear references sowwy

-Nimona sometimes shapeshifts into Ballister to make fun of him.

(This one joke gets lost in translation which is a shame but I'm gonna share the comic anyways sdjs)

>(She's messing around about names, doing a play in words using Gloreth's name while Ballister is already warning her to stop)

>Nimona urges them to get a name soon because Baby is almost born, and they're like yeah chill we're on it - and they're both sitting on the sofa, with Ballister's legs over Ambrosius' lap, while Ballister goes through their list on his tablet and Ambrosius focuses on giving him a massage on his feet.

They're like-

Ballister: So, Cyril? Ambrosius: No, my horse at the Institute was called that. Ballister: Right, then not that one... What about Casper? Ambrosius: Hmm... no. Ballister: Why not? Ambrosius: I don't know, I just don't really like it. Do you? Ballister: Eh, it's alright, I guess. I don't think Baby looks like a Casper, though Nimona: You don't even know how he looks yet! Ballister: You shut up, kid >:v Ballister: So, what about…

And they're making nearly to none progress but yeah sjdsd

>Also imagine Nimona (as Ballister) imitating what he does now that he's pregnant but x10 times more.

Translations

1 AUGHH- MY BACK 2 FUCKING AMBROSIUS! 3 Ambrosito? Can you get me a sweet treat? 🥺 4 I'M HUGE WAAA

>And while Ballister is like wtf I don't act like that, he turns to Ambrosius like, do I act like that? 😥 And Ambrosius, who was laughing to himself, goes, well... not so intensely, which is good enough for Ballister.

>But Nimona points out to what Ballister is eating with a mocking smile (and it is weird to be mocked by a version of himself that has a pink strand on his hair, but whatever), and he's like ? what? and realizes that he did ask for a sweet treat almost like Nimona depicted he does, because he did pull the big sparkly eyes and he did call Ambrosius Ambrosito while at it.

>Then he's wondering if he really complains about his back like that (he does, but as Ambrosius said, he isn't so intense about it, usually just holding his lower back and throwing his head back as he winces. Normal)

>(the yelling insults at Ambrosius is definitely not true. But he does throw daggers at him with his eyes when he's angry, he has to admit to himself)

>Now, about crying because he feels huge- yes. Very much true, but he doesn't wail. Just sobs and cries a river like the sensible, serious adult he is.

-Also that thing of knights don't cry and whatever. This one knight does cry, and he cries a lot (at least while he's pregnant).

>He cried once because he dreamt that Nimona was a little spider and even though he warned Ambrosius to be careful, he accidentally crushed her and he woke up not only incredibly sad but also upset with Ambrosius, even though he was aware that it was silly to get mad with him over a dream.

>Nimona was like boss :( while hugging him, and Ambrosius had to scoot a bit away because Ballister didn't even want to look at him as he wept. Ambrosius said a lot of reassuring words of I'm sorry, I think I didn't see her :( while Ballister was like, but I warned you so many times :'[

>Then he was like, I promise you, I'd never hurt Nimona. And Nimona herself said, yeah boss, I'd crush him first, don't you worry about it :) and Ballister said, but I couldn't protect you :''[ while hugging her harder.

>And both Nimona and Ambrosius are (internally) like, ohh, so that's what it's about.

>Anyways, just a bunch of hugging and comforting gets him to feel a little less sad and also Nimona saying, but you're great at protecting me now :D so, there's all that sdjksd

-Sometimes Ballister just breaks down over seemingly the most trivial stuff too (which is usually just the last straw over a bunch of other stuff going on)

Translation

1 Ambrosius: Balli? What happened? D: Ballister (with one eyeline going up and the other going down): Ambrosito, my eyeline's crooked* *the straw that broke the camel's back (his hair isn't cooperating) (his back hurts) (done) (clothes feel uncomfortable) (the baby won't stay still) 2 Ambrosius (doing Ballister's eyeline): Stay very still, love (focused) 3 (they're in front of the mirror) Ballister (laughing his ass off): BUT HOW DID YOU MAKE IT EVEN MORE CROOKED?! Ambrosius (embarrassed): Aw Ballister (holding his belly): Ow, Baby, don't kick me, sorry, sorry! I'll stay still now-

>(Y'know when a pregnant person laughs the baby inside gets all shaken skdsd I find it funny, so imagine Baby being like ??!! because Ballister keeps laughing too hard and shaking him all around and his kicks are like him going, stay the fuck still D:<) (Ballister's still weepy but now he's crying with laughter, which is better than him crying from being overwhelmed)

-Also Ballister's very scared of giving birth but he's very good at pretending that Baby will simply materialize in his arms rather than him having to push him out.

(Drawings based over this)

Translation

1 Ballister happy because his baby is almost born 2 (Remembers that he has to give birth to him)

-The day that he was in labor and all, imagine the water just breaking and stuff and Nimona being like 'okay everyone DON'T PANIC' while panicking and also Ballister's panicking too (Ambrosius' at work and when he's told he also panics and arrives at the hospital in record time still wearing his armor. The power of first-time father panic)

(But someone gotta be not panicking in the situation, so Ambrosius calms the fuck down and becomes the calming presence that Ballister can rely on c: also Nimona calms down too and goes back to being herself and is very good at distracting Ballister while he goes through contractions and the hours before pushing.)

>Also y'know how in TV sometimes someone else imitates the pregnant person's breathing exercises by going huff huff huff quickly ajsdkjd

>Also Ballister going Nimona what about the bags and also don't carry me there?! and her going shit right and ignoring the second half, then returning for the bags and grabbing them, all while holding Ballister like a doll (a doll with a little doll inside SJDS pregnant barbie)

En español pensaba que fuera = AYÚDENLO, SE LE SALE LA WAWA - NIMONA DEJA DE HACER SHOW

-Wrote a lil something about Baby's birth and Ballister going through kinda a rollercoaster of emotions because at the very beginning of the pushing stage he almost had a panic attack, but then everyone in the room helped him calm down, and when he thought everything was going great, the doctor offered Ambrosius to receive their baby, and of course his husband was very excited about it and said yes, getting dressed up in the medical gown, the facemask, the gloves and all that.

(Initially everything after that was supposed to go swiftly, but I thought, no, what if Ambrosius faints like some dads do? and after watching a TikTok of a woman whose partner did faint and they had to pause her birth to hold him up because he was like over 6 feet tall, I was like hell yeah that's it)

>When Ambrosius finally got between Ballister's legs to look, his blood pressure went the fuck down. And since he's pretty tall and the nurse that tried to catch him was pretty short, the other one had to join in and then the doctor too to avoid him slamming on the ground. The thing was that Ambrosius was clearly fighting very hard against unconsciousness, giving the three people holding him false hope about him finally holding his own weight, making them almost drop him multiple times.

>Sensibly, the situation was kinda scary, because the three people assisting his baby's birth were busy trying to hold his husband from fainting. Said husband was clearly fighting with everything he got to keep himself conscious, and Ballister could very much feel his baby crowning.

>But seeing three short people trying to hold Ambrosius up and yelping when they almost dropped him several times, and remembering that Ambrosius had been so excited about it but hadn't been able to even stand the view, and feeling pretty nervous because his main emotional support couldn't even keep himself awake-, made him crack up.

>So, he's laughing out loud and going every once in a while, owfuck- because it still hurts like a bitch, while the other three keep going, YOU'LL DROP HIM. BE CAREFUL, SIR?? SIR, CAN YOU HEAR ME? and Ambrosius' like, yea- (faints again)

>(they're well aware that they gotta deliver the baby, so they're doing their best to hurry Ambrosius to get out of the way)

>The whole thing had made Ballister's body feel weak from the laughter, and he had to try and calm down to have strength again and push the baby out.

>As you'd guess, Ambrosius didn't receive their baby, and had to sit down and eat something sweet to not faint again, but he managed to stay on his feet well enough to cut the umbilical cord yippie.

>So anyways, Baby out, wrapped and all that, Ballister kept laughing more quietly about it and saying that they should mark the date in the calendar to celebrate Ambrosius fainting over almost delivering their baby. And Ambrosius' like hmm, I don't know Balli, maybe we could use this date for our son's birthday, don't you think? and Ballister's like OH RIGHT and now started laughing at himself.

I keep thinking of new stuff that contradicts what I already have posted, sowwy

>Imagine Ambrosius practically begging Ballister to not tell Nimona, while the other says she'd love to know but also is aware that she'd never let Ambrosius live it down, so he agrees on not telling her. Both eventually tell both Nimona and Baby when the latter is older and inquired about his birth, and indeed, Nimona loved the anecdote, and never let Ambrosius live it down, since then.

-Ideas about Nimona infiltrating the room in the form of a nurse after Baby is born and blowing up her cover when she commented on the baby's nose being just like Gol- Mr. Goldenheart's. And also, his hair being black like Bo- Mr. Goldenheart's.

>At the beginning when they had been admiring their baby, Ambrosius had said, he got your hair D': pipipi (he cried the second Baby got placed in his arms, got a drawing of that but I don't like how it came out wah, Ambrosius' wearing a facemask and being all tear-eyed pipipi) and Ballister had said, he got your nose :D but Ambrosius had said no? that's just a baby's nose, how can you even tell. But after Nimona commented on it, Ballister's saying told you so, it's your nose, while Ambrosius' like, Mr. Goldenheart could be either of us (both smiling amusedly because Nimona's too silly and they clearly know it's her, but she's all idk who's Nimona?)

-Also, I don't know how to make that work with the idea that when she got kicked out to the hall for the pushing bit, she went to steal some flowers and balloons with 'it's a boy!' on them for Ballister. But anyways, I'll write that bit too.

-Also this is Goldenheart with their baby, and I drew it a while back but realized that I don't like it anymore, so I'll do a redrawing someday sdjksd

>Imagine that Ambrosius was in the hospital bed with Baby while Ballister was getting ready so they could leave to their home, and Nimona said pictures timeee and then took that pic, with Ballister pointing at Baby and being all :D Also, Ambrosius looked pretty good and all, and Ballister was all unshaven face, kinda messy hair, the hospital band with his name still wrapped on his wrist as he pointed at Baby, and yet there were some people online that were like ??! Ambrosius Goldenloin Goldenheart was pregnant??

>And the people that knew even if a little bit about the Goldenheart's life, and also because they still went out and whatever, were like ? no? didn't you see Ballister like, a week ago? (Where he was very obviously pregnant and Ambrosius clearly wasn't sdjkdj)

>Every once in a while, Nimona would remember about this and repost it again, even after Baby is much older.

And that's it! If you read till here, bless you ajsdkadj

I've got more stuff about mpreg, both written and drawn, so I hope to make another post like this sometime, they're very fun to make :D

[tender-rosiey]

can i have more gojo fluff plsplsplspls i crave for more gojo fluff

gossip — gojo satoru xf!reader

a/n: gossip with husband gojo is here everyone! next up is sick gojo ;)) ( also sorry to all the stacy's out there; i am sure you are all wonderfull <33)

you and your husband love shit-talking people and the thing is you don’t even have to say anything. one look at each other and you both know what you’re both thinking.

consequently, it makes you guys absolutely terrible in a meeting.

and this is something that happens ever since you were students.

for example, yaga was lecturing you and the others about something. you and satoru locked eyes for a single moment, looked at yaga, then at each other once again.

both of you are barely able to contain your smiles.

in this relationship, you’re supposed to be the mature one, at least, before gojo mouthed a “tennis ball” pointing at his own head.

it looks like that was your breaking point because you started cackling loudly and almost fell off your chair if it wasn’t for satoru teleporting beside you and holding you up— barely holding back a cackle of his own.

yaga merely sighed, pinching his nose.

you tried your best to breathe out a sorry, but satoru is merciless as he continues joking about his teacher’s hairstyle which makes you laugh even louder.

yaga could smack gojo across the head and lecture you both separately.

but he guesses that with the way gojo’s eyes are brimming with adoration and the way you’re laughing and making the others around you laugh as well, he can let it pass.

even if it’s at his own expense this time.

everyone needed a laughing break every once in a while, especially as sorcerers.

now nothing has changed. you’re both married, completely in love and are teachers.

and you’re supposed to be teaching your class, at the moment.

but your dumbass of a husband thought it would be better to teleport to your favourite café and judge every poor soul out there.

“he looks like he eats deodorant.”

“he looks like he has a body pillow for a wife.”

“she looks like she thinks babies come from storks.”

“she looks like she eats soap and chia seeds for breakfast.”

“satoru, please,” you wheeze, hand over your mouth to muffle your laughs, “I c-can’t take it anymore!”

“but y/n, I can’t help myself! also that couple over there looks like the ones that wear matching hello kitty pijamas.”

you perk up at that, “satoru, we did that too.”

“I know, honey,” he quips, eyes locking with your own, “it’s cool when we do it, not anyone else,” he argues with a proud smile.

you shake your head as you mumble, “hypocrite,” and satoru gasps while trying to defend himself.

another instance is while training the first and second years.

naturally, you were sat beside satoru, but the idiot could not keep his mouth shut and you were, too easily, dragged into it.

he leans towards you, “I can’t believe that that yuuji went into the water with socks. what’s wrong with him?!”

“I know, right?” you whisper, amidst the yelling of nobara and maki.

after that, you and gojo don’t leave a student without making a comment about them—ruthless you are.

yuuji, self-esteem dragged through the mud and having enough, heads snaps towards you both, “can you stop bullying me?!”

satoru smiles while the both of you raises your hands in innocence then looks at you, “sweets, you know how megumi said todo’s head is like a pineapple?”

you nod and he gladly continues, “don’t you think it’s ironic that it’s him, out of everyone, that said that?—“

“DON’T DRAG ME INTO YOUR GOSSIP!”

and even though you talk about the kids, you also talk with them about everyone else.

you can never forget that time you went with the first years to get some sushi.

you had left no one in the restaurant without butchering their entire life or alternatively said: you made up stories for every person you saw.

but that shall be the story of another time.

along with judging every creature that has come to existence, you and your husband love to gossip, a lot.

nothing happens without one telling the other; you always keep the other updated about everything.

so today as you slam the door open, you are barely able to contain yourself as you yell out, “satoru, you will not guess what just happened!”

in an instance, he gets all the snacks and sits in front of you on the couch, face eager as ever.

he is wearing that bunny headband you got him for the self-care nights and you smile: you have both a best friend and a husband in the same person.

he leans forward, eyes wide, “is it about stacy?”

“how did you know?” you gasp before taking a bite from one of the many snacks laid on the table.

he shrugs, “lucky guess, plus! I’ve been curious ever since you told me about what she did! it’s hard to believe that she is dating 4 guys at the same time and they don’t even know that the other exists.”

“right? I’ve heard about two-timing but never four-timing, and speaking of them not knowing about each other,” you smirk and his eyes light up in excitement, “they found out today!”

satoru cackles before pulling you in to cuddle you, “I bet a story like that will take the entire night to tell.”

you look up at him, “and you don’t mind?”

he kisses your cheek leaving an obnoxiously loud sound, “of course not! I get to listen to some juicy and hot tea and I get to hear your gorgeous voice for a really long time! so practically heaven for me, sweets,” he grins.

a giggle escapes your lips, “gossip is heaven for you, my dear husband?”

“gossip with you is heaven for me, my dear wife,” he murmurs as he peppers your face with kisses before abruptly pulling back, “now tell me! I am dying to know!”

you laugh, “okay, so one of them…”

and so you tell the story of stacy, the four-timer.

satoru is hung up on your every word and you’ve yet to figure out whether it’s because two of the boyfriends end up fighting each other or because of something else.

to satoru, it’s clear, your voice and the way you’re so excited while telling him about how the third boyfriend ended up being the son of the ceo makes him smile contently as he hugs you closer.

he doesn’t know what else to do, but he has a feeling that he should thank stacy for providing the both of you with a very interesting story like that.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[pricegouge]

hi hello just wanted to tell you that the wellies story with gaz and price is such a delight, everything about it is *chef's kiss*

I think Price would keep the hat, though, and wear it to the bar where Reader is having her date/make up date. Because then she HAS to storm up to Price and demand it back??? HOURS of handcrafting, Gaz unhelpfully being like "the color suits him :)" Price not-so-subtly delighted at ALL of this (also he does kind of like the hat. Maybe he can convince you to make him one in a different color?)

Gaz asks you to point out your date (someone who immediately clocks as ick. Like a stock broker finance bro type?) and Gaz immediately vetoes that. That guy isn't your date anymore. He and Price are! Now, about this camera they owe you....

Price in a knit fuchsia cap got me fuckin' good. Sorry this took so long! Even more sorry I'm posting unedited, but if I look at this any longer I'll blow up so here we go

(follow up to this)

The worst part is, once you see him in it, shining like a neon sign from clear across the bar, you understand completely why they'd had to unceremoniously rip it off your head that day. Even here, surrounded as he is by the general visual noise of the city and patrons who are by no means dressed to blend in, the man sticks out like a sore thumb. (Made no better for the fact that he still stands head and shoulders above all those around him, of course, but that's beside the point.) You can only imagine how garishly you'd stood out among the stretch of that green meadow, how much you'd jeopardized not only their mission but their very lives by simply being there.

Of course, that knowledge does nothing to soothe the anger that rises within you when you see the men responsible for ruining your last (better) dating prospect waltz in on your current one as if their only new objective is to ruin your night again while wearing the handmade hat you're now realizing they'd stolen from you. (You'd thought you'd misplaced it on the bus last week. One moment it was there, the next gone. Now you wonder how you could have missed either of them sitting aboard public transportation, or how long they'd been following you to now conveniently show up in at least two of the same places you were.)

You stare daggers at the two of them. John ignores you, pink cap bobbing through the crowd as he makes his way to the bar. Kyle posts up at a booth and smirks at you openly, unabashedly. He's impossibly more attractive outside of the grease paint and twig mass. You ignore the delightful flip your belly does when he clocks the way you take in the breadth of him, how he tests the seams of his button down, and his smirk turns to the kind of smile that should require a legal registry.

"What are you looking at?"

You startle a bit when a big head floats into your field of vision, Jeremiah's frown completely obscuring the much better view you'd just been staring down. He swivels to look behind himself, head rotating like an automatic, unmanned security camera. Observing, but not seeing anything. 

As far as prospects had gone, Jeremiah had been one of the least favorite matches you'd made on your little dating app; but after the failure from a few weeks past you'd been getting desperate, and his nice hair combined with his clever sales pitch tongue had eventually wooed you after enough messaging. Unfortunately, thirty seconds after meeting him in person you'd realized your initial instinct had indeed been right when he'd tried negging your outfit in the same breath he'd used to greet you at the door. He hadn't even chosen a good place to meet. With the way he dressed and spoke, you'd almost been looking forward to the novelty of some swanky bar uptown, but the pub he'd given you the name of was barely better than a hole in the wall. A dying fern stood in the corner, its only source of sustenance the light up dart board on its right, and the empty mugs surrounding it, the tacky puddle in its water pan suggesting it was a popular place to pour one's dregs out into. The sticky table felt like a fly trap, suggesting either years of buildup which had grown resistant to bleach, or a general incompetence on management's part as to how proper cleaning worked. You've no idea why you'd even stayed. Perhaps just a desire to stay out of the house. Part of you knows it's actually a desire to get laid so strong you're willing to overlook his shortcomings so long as you can clamp a hand over his mouth later and ride him until you're satisfied, but you don't want to look too closely at that part of you.

"Apologies. There's a man over there I recognize."

"Oh? Should I be worried?" His expression is genial enough when he asks, but his eyes keep something slightly colder at bay. Annoyance, perhaps. Not jealousy, you don't think. Not yet, at least. Probably hasn't actually clocked Kyle yet.

You should soothe him, you know. Coo reassurances, stutter through excuses and make up lies about just knowing them from your uni days or something. But then you remember Kyle's clever tongue, his blatant flirting. You remember John's heavy hands on you and the way they'd joked about keeping you all night. You're annoyed with them, more so when you remember how they'd left you high and dry after handing you off to the wolves back at base to tear into and question. But they're here now, have been for days, potentially, you're reminded when John ducks his head back into the booth, the subtle streaks of tinsel in the yarn you'd used glowing under the pendant light. He's got three drinks with him, sends you a casual wink when he spots you staring.

"Yes."

Jeremiah sputters. "Sorry?"

"Yes. You should be worried," you clarify casually. "Excuse me."

The boys aren't subtle about watching you as you approach, though Gaz leans into his captain's space to whisper something in his ear which makes his mustache twitch distractedly. It takes you a minute to pick your way over to them. You don't have much of a game plan beyond demanding your hat back, and hopefully garnering some insight as to why they're following you, but that doesn't explain the thrill you feel when their eyes trail you, or the way your mouth runs dry when you realize you're going to have to talk to them this time, no convenient excuse of situational silence keeping you from putting your foot in your mouth. You tell yourself you're at least not likely to drift off under one of them this time, and then suppress a heavy swallow when you realize you don't actually want that to be true. It's why your voice isn't quite as strong as you'd hoped when you approach their table, skipping formalities and demanding to know what they're doing here.

It's like they can smell your apprehension, John content to just keep smirking at you while Kyle responds with the kind of cocky voice you would hate on anyone else, but just serves to remind you how much the tone is earned when he uses it. "Can't a captain treat his favorite sergeant to a drink after work anymore?"

It's the phrasing that catches your attention, momentarily distracting you from reaching out and ripping your hat off John's head. It's too familiar to Jeremiah's own proposition for the evening, too jarring when used in relation to military work. "You've been following me," you state bluntly, wondering if it's possible they've even bugged your phones.

"Only a lot," Kyle agrees cheekily.

"Why?"

"Had to make sure you weren't going 'round telling everyone what you'd seen, petal," John grumbles, voice just as deep and dark as you remember. It's hard to hear him over the din of the pub. You tell yourself that's why you lean into him a bit when he speaks, though you turn it into a snatching motion easily enough.

"That why you stole my hat?" 

John deflects you casually, turning your hand away somehow both deftly and gently. His grip changes once he has you under control, turning instead to guide you into the booth next to him. His arm finds the seat back behind you, but you stubbornly remain leaning forward, refusing to ease into him this time.

"Cap didn't steal it," Gaz corrects, eyes lingering on the captain's hand where he still grips your wrist. "I did."

It's hard to accept the fact that Kyle could ever escape your notice, but you suppose he's earned his position in life for a reason. "Right." You round on John, "So did you lose a bet?"

The captain chuckles. His thumb smoothes along the heel of your hand and then is gone, tipping the amber whiskey of his drink absently. "Won one, actually. Gaz here wanted to be the one to wear it."

"Would've looked better with my complexion," the other man reasons, batting his pretty eyes at you exaggeratedly. Far behind him, you spot your date sputtering indignantly to a waitress, the poor girl's face clearly disinterested. So much for your shoe-in. You refuse to acknowledge why that doesn't bother you as much as it would have even just five minutes ago.

"Yeah, well, if I only got to wear the things I wear better, I'd be walking around naked," John gripes goodnaturedly. "Isn't that right, flower?"

Kyle saves you from sputtering out an answer by sighing wistfully. "If only."

John smirks indulgently at him and you blink away, feeling like an outsider when you see the older man's hand disappear under the table, movement suggesting he's rubbing Kyle's leg. You try not to remember how it felt to have those heavy hands on you. "Can I get my hat back, please?"

"Well, at least you remembered your manners this time," John grumbles. You'd try snatching it off his head again just for the commentary, if you weren't becoming increasingly certain it would land you sprawled across his lap.

"Where you rushing off to anyway?" Kyle adds. He slides the third drink in front of John your way. "Drink with us."

You eye the fruity, fluorescent monstrosity before you skeptically. They don't seem the type to meet barely legal ladies out for a drink in a tiny place like this, but you can't imagine they'd had anyone else in mind when John had ordered whatever this was. "You expecting someone younger?"

John's low laugh makes his mustache twitch. "Heard once that a good rule of thumb if you don't know someone's drink order, is to try and match their outfit." He ducks his chin, looking you over from under his brow. In theory, it should seem more judgemental than appraising, but you still feel like he's assessing your outfit by removing it first.

Self consciously, you run your hand over the flowery blue dress you have on, distracting yourself from thinking too hard about what it meant that he'd bought you a drink. You suppose the color is a bit electric, but the way it fits more than makes up for its flashiness. Or at least, you'd thought it did. Now, seeing it paired with some stomach turning blue curaçao concoction, you feel much less certain about that. "You heard wrong. Besides, I can't stay. I'm on a date," you sniff. You probably shouldn't drink anything handed to you by men you knew were stalking you anyway.

Kyle shrugs agreeably, swapping your drink for his simple rum and coke as he asks who you're out with. You eye it warily, but spot the smudge of Kyle's own lips on the edge so you figure it's safe enough to drink, though you make a point of wiping it off, sneering at Kyle when he laughs at you. 

"Stock broker Jeremiah," you recite, trying to keep the jeer from your tone. You motion back behind yourself. "Over there." 

"Stock broker?" John repeats, voice so thick the words fall from his lips like smoke. You think you spot a smirk hidden in his chops. 

"That your type, luv?"

"Not particularly," you admit. "But he'll have to do, seeing as the last one didn't take too kindly to being stood up."

Kyle tuts, tone too amused to be sympathetic. "Didn't believe you'd been laid up?"

"Should've had him call us, flower. We could've vouched for you," John suggests. Somehow, you know introducing these two to any prospective partners would be a terrible idea.

Still, it sounds amusing.

You shrug, wishing you had a beer bottle to peer the label off of. "Jeremiah makes good money," you offer, the only thing you can really remember from Jeremiah's profile. John hums, lower than the din of the room. Kyle's face is too blank, the same strict discipline he used with his cheek glued to his rifle. Briefly, you're back under John, the din of the surrounding crowd swallowed up by your twin heartbeats. Your eyes flick between the two, take in the tight control of their expressions. It would probably fool most, but you've spent your fair share of time studying the minutiae of faces, the way muscles twitch under stimuli no matter how properly trained the model. Even dead tissue will contract when properly motivated. "He's just bought me a new camera, in fact."

Gaz scoffs. John's eyes narrow. The two exchange sidelong glances and you sip your drink. You'd believed John when he'd said he'd replace your camera, but after being split up at base he'd never located you again and no one had been very forthcoming with information as to how you could contact your new friends to collect. A week after the incident, a cheap, basic camera and a base model macro lens had appeared on your step, the packaging cold and impersonal, shipped direct from the warehouse. No new boots ever came. The camera hadn't been anywhere near as nice as the one you'd lost, but it wasn't like there was a calling card you could air your grievances to so you'd cut your losses and just thanked whoever was listening that you'd even made it out of that valley alive. Now, however, watching the men who'd promised to take care of everything have their pride bruised by some asshole in a button up too expensive to deign resting his silken elbows on the dirty table of the bar he'd decided you were fit for, the weeks of frustration almost seemed worth it. And so what if it wasn't true anyway?

"Excuse me." 

Your date's sudden appearance nearly makes you jump out of your skin, the prospect of introducing him to these men suddenly far less appealing when John rumbles, "Don't think I will."

Jeremiah sneers at him before turning to you. "I'm heading out. Don't think this -," he motions between the two of you, lets his finger swirl around the table to include the boys when the motion peters out, "- is for me. Have a good one, yeah?"

"Oh, um, okay. Sor-."

John stops you. "Don't apologize to him, petal. It's him there owes you one."

"And why would I need to apologize?" 

"Existing?" Kyle suggests.

"Wasting her time?" John tacks on. 

"Insulting my dress," you decide.

Kyle's tsk noise draws your attention. When you look, he's got those exaggeratedly huge eyes darting between you and your date. "When it fits you like that?" he clarifies, making you blush.

"Right wanker," John agrees. His voice is still playful, but the look he's leveling Jeremiah with is anything but. 

"It's - it's -. It's blue!" your date sputters, waving at you as if your offense should be obvious.

John leans close, mustache tickling your ear. "Sounds like a man who can't appreciate a good pair of obnoxiously yellow wellies."

"You threw my wellies in the creek," you counter, too amused to muster much anger.

"Bought you new ones," Kyle offers and you narrow your eyes at him because, following you or not, there's no way they could know -.

"What size?"

Kyle just grins. "On the first date?"

"On our first date," Jeremiah reminds you.

You ignore them both, rounding on John. "And you ripped off my hat!" To illustrate your point, you attempt to snatch it back again, but the captain ducks it just as easily as he did the first time.

"I'll give it back when you make me a new one."

"Wait, I stole it fair and square," Kyle counters. John doesn't dodge him as easily, the silver streaks of his dark, mussed hair catching the light just like your yarn did. He doesn't even bother trying to snatch it back, watching with fond eyes as Kyle replaces his hat with your own. He'd been right, he does wear it better.

"If I make you one too, will you give it back?"

"Fat chance," the sergeant scoffs, and with an expert toss, he saucers his own hat onto your head, grinning like a fool when you let John tug it more firmly on. 

A scoff behind you draws their attention. John glares over your shoulder again, but Kyle just waves, cheeky enough to elicit another humorless laugh. Byt the time you turn around, your date's already on his way. You're not particularly upset by it, figuring even if… whatever this is… doesn't pan out to anything, at least you'll have spent the evening in better company than originally planned.

The boys are both staring at you when you look back. You don't bother acting disappointed, though you know there's a version of this evening that sees you spitting mad, being soothed and gentled like a finicky horse with big hands and hushed tones. As appealing as it sounds, you'd rather spend your time actually talking, making up for your first meeting with them when you couldn't do much beyond gripe about your position, or whine about being bored. So instead you shrug, and the boy's smirks turn leery, and you suppress a shiver when Kyle leans across the table toward you, voice low when he asks what kind of camera 'the suit' bought you.

You panic in your response a bit, all higher end models you've had your eyes on for weeks fleeing your brain. Instead you tell them about the cheap thing you'd received in the mail and John scoffs.

"Got you something much better," he promises, pulling his phone from one of his many pockets and flicking through it. When he turns it toward you, an email confirmation tells him his package has been delivered, the details of the order showing the next model up from the very one he'd thrown in the brook. The description of the lens is cut off at the bottom, but you've no doubt you'll be happy enough when you see the pricing details. "You'll forgive the delay, of course. Man's gotta do some research, after all."

You'd even forgive the wellies continuing to go unreplaced, though in your excitement you forget to express that. "Of course. Of course! Thank you so much, John!" You're still gushing gratitudes when you slip out of the booth, turning to excuse yourself so quickly you even forget to snatch your hat back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To go get -?" You stall, taking in their confused - even slightly miffed - expressions. "Look, if that package sits on my stoop too long, my neighbors will -."

Kyle laughs, crooks his finger at you. It's embarrassing how quickly you oblige, slipping right back into your seat just because his eyes are too warm and inviting to disappoint. 

John's voice is much closer than you remember it being before you'd stood, the low rumble in his chest a physical thing you feel against your shoulder when he leans close. "No need to worry, petal. It's back at mine. Safe as houses."

"Didn't have your address," Kyle winks. 

It's weird, the way you can laugh at jokes about being followed. You decide not to think about it too much. "Sounds more like an elaborate plot to get me back at yours."

"Well, we're unused to not getting our mark," John confesses, "had to have another shot at it."

Kyle's cheeky when he responds, his boyish grin enough to have you settling against John before you even know what you're about. "For the record, I never did take a shot the first time."

[saetoru]

tee tee tee i wanna share rich boy gojo thoughts that have been on my mind. imagine him pouting in the corner as you gossip and laugh with his mom in the living room while she shows you his baby pictures!!! i feel like he would be the cutest (and more embarrassing) child ever lollll it would be a good opportunity to tease him a bit

[ BABY ] GOJO SATORU.

satoru is pouting—which, truthfully, you don’t think there are all that many moments where he’s not pouting—but he seems to be pouting a little extra right now. maybe you should feel bad, and maybe you should feel a little guilty that he’s sulking because of you…but then his mother flips the page of the baby album in her hands, and you suddenly don’t care as much about your petulant boyfriend anymore. 

“this is satoru after he scraped his knee for the first time,” she giggles, pointing to tiny, red and teary-faced satoru staring up at the camera, making you snort as you lean closer for a better look. 

“he looks ridiculous,” you laugh, and distantly, you can hear satoru gasp at the comment, crossing his arms and sending you a glare from across the living room. 

“i was in pain,” he huffs, “extremely excruciating pain! and my mother stopped to photograph my misfortune. who does that?”

to his dismay, you don’t even spare him a glance, pointing to the next picture of the album and giggling away with his mother, whispering what he’s sure is yet another mean and rude comment making fun of him. what kid doesn’t fall and scrape their knee? and what kid doesn’t cry when they fall and scrape their knee? normal children shed tears in the face of extreme pain, and gojo satoru is not an exception to this fact—in fact, he likes to think he was one of the braver children.

“satoru, you were such a crybaby growing up,” his mother shakes her head, amusement lacing her tone as you chuckle and shoot him a sly grin. 

“so nothing’s changed,” you hum, “he’s still a crybaby now too.”

“am not!” he gasps, “take that back, you liar—”

“—and this is satoru on his first day of school,” his mother hums, cutting him off and pointing to a picture of a young satoru waving at the camera, missing what you’re sure is his entire front row of teeth. you grin, letting out a small chuckle as your eyes soften at the image. 

usually, gojo satoru is a handful. he’s loud and annoying and he talks far too much for his own good. he makes your life increasingly difficult with the stubbornness he wears like a second skin, and he makes you want to crawl into a hole half the time you’re in public for all the scenes he seems to always cause. but sometimes…sometimes gojo satoru is also very cute—like in this photo for example, with chubby cheeks and a bright grin on his face as he stands in his school uniform. 

“aw,” you coo, making him perk up a little at the sound, “how cute.”

“i was a cute kid, wasn’t i?” he grins, and almost as though he was never pouting in the first place, his mood switches at the slightest bit of praise. you roll your eyes, giving him a flat look as you eye him while he walks over to you, flopping onto the space beside you and looking voer your shoulder. 

“you were,” you nod, making a point to eye him up and down and raise a brow, “i wonder what happened.”

he gasps, and the pout from earlier returns once more—and you can’t say you’re surprised. “rude! i’m still super cute,” he grumbles, and because he’s gojo satoru, the most annoying man you’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering on the face of the planet, he pokes your shoulder repeatedly. “admit it, you find me cute,” he whines, “you literally called me cute this morning.”

“that’s cause you were sleeping,” you shrug, “you’re really cute when you shut up.”

“yes, my favorite satoru was always a napping satoru growing up,” his mother adds from the side. 

“wha—mom!” he protests, watching as you and his mother snicker together. satoru wonders how the both of you can claim to love him when you treat him like this—wounding his pride with every insult thrown his way. he crosses his arms, angling his body away from you as you giggle and wrap yourself around him. 

“we’re just kidding, toru,” you grin, reaching to pinch his cheek, chuckling when he swats your hand away with a grunt, “you’re really the cutest. promise!”

“you’re a liar,” he mumbles, shooting you a glare as you fight back an amused smile, “you said you loved me, but clearly you lied to me.”

“i do love you,” you insist, “and i love your baby pictures too.”

usually, satoru feels his heart soften when he watches you and his mother get along—he thinks he falls in love with you just a little harder every time he watches your eyes light up when you see the women who raised him. but sometimes (like right now), he wishes he never introduced you to his mother—he’s not so sure he’s your favorite gojo anymore, and the idea wounds his pride more than a little. he’s also almost certain you prefer spending time with his mother over him, and he’s even more certain his mother wishes you were the one she raised instead. he almost feels like the third wheel half the time he brings you over and his mother’s home—and he can’t help but wonder…who do you even love more, him or his mother? 

he thinks he has his answer though when you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his jaw. no matter how often you two giggle at his expense, you do not kiss his mother on the jaw, and satoru can’t help but shoot a smirk her way as she rolls her eyes and stands.  

“there are more i have to dig up sometime,” mrs. gojo hums, making satoru groan as you nod eagerly, “i’ll leave you two alone for a while.”

“i’m starting to think you come over for my mom instead of me,” satoru huffs as his mother leaves the room, making you roll your eyes as you lean into his side. he wraps an arm around you, pulling you flush against his body, relaxing as your hand finds his chest and rubs slow circles. 

“only you would be jealous of your own mother,” you snort.

“i’m not jealous,” he protests, “i’m simply concerned that you ignore your boyfriend for hours to make fun of him with his mother.” 

if there’s one thing you’ve learned after flipping through page after page of crying baby pictures, it’s that gojo satoru has been dramatic since the day he was born—this fact doesn’t change even in his adult years. but if there’s one other thing you’ve learned—it’s that he’s endearing, just a little too cute for his own good, just a little too dangerously charming whether it’s the camera he’s pouting at or you. you can’t help but shuffle closer, hugging him tightly as you smile softly into his shirt. 

“c’mon,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his chest, “you know you’re my favorite. i do wish i had a baby satoru to cuddle, though.”

“you have me,” he glares, “i’m satoru and i’m your baby and you can cuddle me.”

“it’s not the same,” you tease, “you talk too much.”

“i’ll have you know i got in trouble quite a lot as a child for talking too much. adult satoru is a lot better.” somehow, you’re not surprised—and a small part of you is almost grateful you didn’t know satoru in his young, obnoxious days as a child. an even bigger part of you feels bad for his mother and the strength she must’ve needed to raise the handful of a boyfriend in your arms. “and besides,” he smirks, leaning down to pull you into a brief kiss, “if you want a baby gojo, i can easily give you one—”

“satoru,” you hiss, swatting his shoulder and making him pout as he rubs over the spot you’ve hit, “one of you is more than enough. we don’t need another.”

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Their Weapon

Requested: a preference of femreader being the boys' main weapon, that homelander doesn't even know of..? 😫 dialogue prompt 27 & 60 - anon

A/N: Reminder my loves! Prompts only go with fic requests, no other kind of requests. It's all in the pinned post, please be sure to read! I've updated it recently to be as clear as possible :) I also only write gn!readers as it states in my rules linked in my bio. Hope you can understand! I based it loosely off this fic because I think the Supe abilities would fit perfectly! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher didn't like you and you didn't like Butcher. He punched you, he hit you with his gun. He knew you thought about killing him that day, grabbing his wrist and killing him instantly, but Frenchie stopped you. When you agree to help them, you make sure it's known that you're not doing this for Butcher at all. That if it were just him asking you, you'd let him die. He thought you were stupid. Stupid and dangerous and unstable. Kicking them out like that only proved him right. Regardless of what Hughie or Frenchie or Kimiko said, nothing would change the way he felt about you. He would never admit that he was grateful for your help, but he was. If everything went to hell, at least they'd have you. Still, he couldn't help but eye you every time you came in. He didn't like what you could do. If you decided you weren't interested, if you felt threatened even a little bit, you could kill all of them without even trying.

Hughie had no problem with what you could do. It's not like you could control what the V did to you. And you never wanted the V in the first place. It was intimidating sure, but he wasn't scared of you because of it. Underneath the fear, the resistance, was someone who just wanted to be treated with a little kindness. He could do that. He could do more than that. He tried to talk to Annie about why she was so hesitant, but she just couldn't explain it. You warmed up to Hughie pretty quickly. He was curious about your powers. You showed him what you could do with plants, fruits and vegetables mostly. They'd rot in your hands. You could kill everyone and everything. You admitted to him all the things you missed, but were too scared of doing, even with gloves and protection. Hugs mostly, petting animals. He hadn't realized how much your powers would affect you. The least he could do was not be scared of you. The least he could do was be your friend.

Annie tries not to stare. Alongside the whole "killing people with your touch" You were a little cagey. The last time she saw you you were screaming at everyone to get out of your apartment. Now you stood beside Frenchie, trying not to draw attention to yourself. You clung to Frenchie and Kimiko, keeping everyone else at a professional distance. She tried to be nice, she tried not to flinch when you moved too fast or abruptly, but she couldn't help it. Like M.M. she was wary about you. You'd all done things you weren't proud of, but you turned your Supe-ability into a prpfession. A dangerous one that left a lot of innocent (and not so innocent, you'd like to point out) dead. She knows your upbringing wasn't the most traditional, but was that really an excuse? You could tell how she felt just from the way she looked at you. You tried not to take it personally.

M.M likes you, but he doesn't like the idea of you. Killing people just by touching them is just too much. Too dangerous. He makes sure he's never too close to you. Unlike Frenchie who is quote affectionate and far more easygoing than everyone else, Marvin was stressed out. He watched you carefully, keenly, making sure he only came near you when you were wearing gloves or something else that prevented any skin from showing. You know he feels this way and you don't push it. There were tons of people in your life like him, scared of you, petrified even. You knew it was better to keep your distance and not to try anything funny. It was just easier. No jokes, nothing. You didn't mind keeping your relationship professional. Marvin knew how important you were, that it was a big sacrifice given your past to accept this offer, but he couldn't let go of the idea that you could kill any number of them with your pinky alone.

Frenchie is the first person you trust out of the whole group. He comes back to see you alone. If you truly don't want to help, he won't force you. He just wants to talk. Despite yourself, you let him in. Maybe loneliness is finally getting to you. You're still wary, but eventually you let go a little, realizing he was going to keep his word. You become friends. He's the first friend you've had since you were a kid, before being locked up. He wasn't as afraid of you as everyone else was and you were constantly reminding him to be careful around you. You start to ask questions, logistical ones about what it would mean to join the team, what it would mean to take down Homelander. He assured you they would never let anything happen to you. You trust him. When he brings you to meet the team officially, there's a collective sign in relief. If the plan went wrong, if they ran out of options, they would always have you. You were the perfect weapon. To Frenchie though, you were just a new friend, teammate.

Kimiko likes you. If Frenchie likes you, then she does too. You're a little hesitant to start signing with her. Your hands flying everywhere wasn't such a good idea given that you could kill someone. Still, she didn't mind. She understood the fears, your past. The both of you had been used. The both of you had been given Compound V. You both killed people. Kimiko was the second person you trusted and this tome it was immediate. She wasn't scared of you, though she understood your hesitation. Good things were never truly good. There was always something horrible lingering just behind it. Friends were nice. Friends were a good thing. But doing this? Killing Homelander? That could lead to something awful. You had to be hesitant. You had to be careful. She wasn't going to hold this kind of thinking against you. You had as much a right to be afraid as they did.

[bedsyandco]

pairing — violet x luke

summary — in which violet does a tiktok! “having my bf’s brother be mean to me to see how he’d react,”

note — I loved writing this so much! I hope you guys liked it and I’d love to hear what you think so don’t be afraid to drop by the inbox and share your luke and vi thoughts

“okay, are you guys ready, i’m starting it,” violet announces starting the video and leaning back against the couch as she glances at jack who’s sitting next to her.

“are you posting this?” luke asks from behind them, a hand at the nape of her neck, wanting to touch her since he can’t sit next to her

“maybe. depends on how much I get embarrassed by the answers,” violet teases and luke drops a quick kiss to her head before leaning back in the chair they dragged closer behind the couch

“are you sure you wanna post it when you look like that?” jack asks, giving her a judgemental look up and down and luke immediately frowns glancing between his girl and his brother

“what’s that supposed to mean?” luke asks before violet has a chance to respond and jack already has the urge to backpeddle knowing how protective luke got over violet, but the small smile on her face encouraged him to continue

“nothing. just that if she’s thinking of posting this for the public to see she might wanna put in a little more effort into her appearance. wear some makeup or something,” jack mumbles and luke throws him a sharp look

“she doesn’t need to wear makeup if she doesn’t want to jack. let’s just start before he has another dumbass comment to make,” luke says directing the last part towards vi and she nods

“okay first question, who’s the better athlete?” violet asks

“can I say me?” luke questions and violet laughs softly when jack scoffs

“no, it has to be between me and jack,” violet says and luke bites his lip

“don’t know what’s taking you so long, it’s obviously me. I literally play a sport for a living,” jack states sending luke a questioning glance

“yeah but violet dances for a living. she’s a pretty good athlete. I mean she was en route to be a D1 soccer player before she gave it up to focus on dance,” luke argues and violet smiles slightly at her boy’s need to defend her even when they both know jack is the superior athlete between the two of them

“stupid move. dance isn’t even a sport, don’t know why she would give up soccer to pursue it. besides she’s always gasping for breath like a fish on dry land after she does any type of exercise,” jack says and violet has to bite her lip to keep her mouth from dropping open

luke clenches his jaw, not wanting to snap at his brother on camera.

“just shut up. jack’s the better athlete. but you’re a great athlete baby. one of the most dedicated and hard working people I know,” luke says, bending to drop a kiss on her temple. he doesn’t say what he really wants to. that her shortness of breath is also most likely a symptom experienced due to her anemia, but he doesn’t state that just in case she really does wanna post the video and doesn’t want other people to know about it.

“okay next question. who’s smarter?” violet asks and smiles when luke immediately points to her

“how?” jack questions and luke shoots him a “are you fr” look

“you barely made it outta highschool and she’s currently going to university, something you didn’t do at all remember?” luke says and jack reluctantly lets that one go

“who’s the better driver?” violet asks and both jack and luke immediately laugh

“oh come on,” violet complains knowing they’re making fun of her

“that’s not even a question. it’s obviously me. you literally crashed his car a few weeks ago,” jack says

“well what does that say about you two? cause you’re the ones who taught me how to drive… maybe if Quinn taught me like he taught you I would be a better driver. It’s your own fault,” violet says

“s’okay baby, you can’t be good at everything,” luke comforts her

“yes you can. prime example right here,” jack says shooting him a cocky smile and luke just shakes his head

“who’s meaner?” violet asks and luke points to jack

“literally how?” jack asks turning around to look at his brother

“all you’ve been doing since we sat here is be a dick, I think that’s a bit self explanatory bud,” luke says drily and jack sends violet a look but she only shrugs slightly playing with luke’s fingers that are draped over her shoulder

“who has better style?” violet asks and luke points to her

“her whole style consists of sweats and your hoodies and tshirts. at least I actually wear my own clothes,” jack argues and luke shrugs

“she looks good in my clothes. and I have good hoodies. besides she has a sick sneaker collection,” luke says

“fair enough,” jack relents and luke smiles in victory raising his eyebrows at violet as she she giggles

“who has better taste in romantic partners?” violet asks and luke rolls his eyes

“obviously violet. she’s dating me. that’s superior taste,” luke brags wrapping both his arms around her chest as he scoots his chair closer to her

“yeah she has a thing for athletes I guess,” jack says offhandedly and luke frowns

“what?” luke asks leaning back in the chair and folding his arms across his chest

“I’m just saying. all the guys she’s dated has been athletes. she obviously has a thing for hockey players and football players,” jack says and luke stands up picking the chair up and putting it back at the kitchen counter

“she’s only dated like two people her entire life and yes both of us happen to be athletes. it’s not the insult you’re trying to make it out to be since you’re also a professional athlete in case you forgot. are we done now… I don’t wanna do this anymore,” he says to violet, tired of watching his brother try to insult his girlfriend, a sour taste in his mouth after the football player comment, and he walks out of the room silently when violet nods and ends the video

“I wasn’t even that mean,” jack says to vi as soon as they hear luke upstairs

“I feel kinda bad now,” violet says and jack throws her with a pillow

“you know I was just kidding right? about everything” jack asks

“I know. It was my idea to do the video. you going soft on me hughesy?” violet teases and he gives her a teasing glare as she stands up and ruffles his hair as she walks past him

“tell him it was a joke before my brother tries to drown me in the lake later,” jack says, going to the kitchen as violet makes her way upstairs

“baby?” she says softly as she makes her way into the room finding luke on the bed, scrolling on his phone

he puts his phone down and opens his arms indicating that she should lie down with him and she complies; laying on top of him and snuggling into him, pressing a kiss to his chest

she kisses his pout softly as he lets out a sigh and he gently frames her face with his hands, pressing a small kiss to the tip of her nose

“you okay?” violet asks and luke frowns

“no, i’m pissed off. he was being an asshole for no reason. he has no right to speak to or about you like that. and I don’t care if he’s my brother if I see him even look at you rudely today I’m punching him in the face. he should just stay far away from me today” luke mumbles and violet smooths out the furrow between his brows with her thumb

“it was just a joke baby-“

“no you’re not defending him. do you know how many girls he’s dated that I haven’t liked? almost all of them. but I’ve always been nothing but polite to them because I know he cares about them and that’s enough for me to be happy for him and if I’m not, I’ll pretend because that’s what you do. and it makes no sense that he’s acting this way because he’s known you for years and he was so happy when we got together. and he’s allowed to have a bad day, but he’s not allowed to take it out on you. we’ll see how he likes it when I take my next bad day out on daisy-“ he rambles, but violet interrupts him with a kiss

“It was a prank lu. we planned it. I knew he was gonna say those things. in fact it was my idea and jack was hesitant but I bribed him with baby sitting time,” violet says and luke only frowns at her in this adorable way that makes her wanna kiss him until it goes away

“so he wasn’t actually being mean to you?” luke asks, hands resting on her lower back

“no. he was just feeding into the prank,”

“you promise,” luke asks, not knowing if she was just covering for jack, and violet nods

“promise,” she whispers against his lips, pressing another kiss to them and he smiles

“well damn kingston, that almost just ruined my whole day. I thought you and jack were really on the outs for a bit. that would be so weird, I can’t imagine you not getting along with my family,” luke says

“me neither. I love them,” violet says absentmindedly playing with luke’s curls

“they love you. I love you more though. never forget it,” luke whispers, pecking her nose and her lips as his hands move down to her ass, sending her a teasing little smirk as he squeezes the flesh

“you know, jack said he was gonna take a nap on the porch. and I found the water guns we bought last year,” violet says suggestively and luke’s eyebrow raises

“this is why you’re my best friend,” luke says

comments on violet’s tiktok!

[ user55 ] thank you for the luke content queen 😌

[ user52 ] and jack🤭 they both look so good omgg

[ user59 ] she’s so so hot

[ user66 ] no fr😵‍💫 can I have her and luke please

[ user90 ] oh luke was not having that 😭

[ user21 ] the disgust on his face every time jack speaks really gets me 💀

[ user24 ] you can just tell he was over jack’s shit form the very first comment

[ user43 ] poor guy he seemed genuinely sad that his brother would talk to his gf like that. love that he defended her every time tho. she didn’t even get a chance to react before he was jumping to her defence

[ user65 ] i love how close the hughes bros are with each other’s girlfriends and friends. jack and vi are such an iconic duo honestly

[ user69 ] yes but quinn and daisy tho >>

[ daisy ] agreed 😌

[ trevor ] only you could get them to do this

[ violet ] cut your simp activities short and come to lake house. you’re missing all the fun

[ trevor ] aw you miss me

[ violet ] maybe a little 🥲

[ user21 ] can we just talk about the way luke progressively moved closer to her every few seconds until she was wrapped up in his arms. bro cannot be far away from her for even a few minutes

[ user13 ] the way he was trying to be slick with it but it was so obvious 😭

[ user22 ] no stop the way he was touching her necklace the entire time and she was playing with his bracelets I cannot

[ user11 ] its the hand placement for me. the way his arms are like crossed over her chest 😵‍💫 why is that hot

[ user19 ] oh to be violet kingston dating luke hughes and spending summer at the hughes lake house 🥲

[ user12 ] this is so real😭

[ user23 ] I love how you can tell jack felt bad saying some of these things

[dlysthings]

Little crush

AN: Hi! This is the first time I am posting sometning here and i hope you like it. I got the idea from @darylsgarden. Any constructive critisism is apreciated. Also english isn't my first language so i apologize in advance for any gramar and punctuacion mistakes.

Word count: 678

Daryl stood in the buzzing high school hallway ,fidgeting with his locker, watching you. There you were. With your back to him, happily chatting with your friends, laughing at whatever one of your girlfriends has said. With your shining hair, framing your beautiful face, an angel like smile grazing your lips. God, you were perfect.

So beautiful. Nothing like him. Not some white trash reddneck.

 He turned around. He’d been watching you for months. Weeks and weeks of secretly sneaking glances at you in class or in the hallway. But only that. Nothing more.

He didn’t have the courage to go and talk with you, only to be met with rejection and mocking laugh. He couldn’t. And what other reaction could you have. He was just damaged goods. What could you possibly see in him beside that?

Thinking that, he went into class. He entered the classroom and plopped down in his seat. Next think he knows you sit in the seat beside his. You glance at him and shoot him a small smile.Fuck.

He turns the opposite side, his face growing redder by the second. There is no way you just smiled at him, no. You probably were looking at someone else in his direction. That must be it. No other reason, he tries to convince himself. No way she is smilin' at ya, dumbass

The whole day you were somewhere around him. The table beside his at lunch, the desk next to him at class. Always smiling at him. At some point he decided you knew about his crush at you and were mocking him. But how could you know? He’s never told anyone. He didn’t even have someone to tell it to. So this couldn’t be it. So why were you smiling at him?

~~~~~~~~~~

Later the same day Daryl was at the supermarket in town. He needed to grab a few things to make himself something to eat. He was just about to go and check out when he saw you.

You were wearing a red sundres, that was making you look even better. You were triyng to reach an item from a higher schelf and failing miserably. You were on your tip toes, with a streched out arm, fingertips barelly missing the item you were trying to grab.

That was his chance. He can go and help you,starting a conversation. But could he. He wasnt like his older brother,Merle,full of confidence. But if he didn't do it, there probably wasn't going to be another oportunity to leave a good first imresion. Fuck it he thought.

He went to you and grabed the item you were strugling to get. Handing it to you, he looked for the first time at your face from that close. You were even more beautiful from closer. Eyes with vibrant colour and such perfectly shaped features. Your eyebrows were lightly raised in slight surprise.

But then you smiled at him. Such a sweet smile, directed directly to him and only for him. You were gorgeous. that was the only thought in his head until he heard your sweet voice.

"Thank you,Daryl" you said in that sweet voice of yours. You were looking expectanly at him. Respond ya dumbass! Cant ya see she's waiting for you?

"N-No problem. Yur welcome" he said and baschfuly ducked his head, scraching his neck. He stood there not knowing what to say, luckily you said something.

'Well, again, thank you. I will see you tomorow at school." you said and with that you squezed his hand, that was still outstreched to you. After that you went your way, turning around once but Dryl didn't saw you.

Daryl was satring at his hand that you had just squezed. He couldn't believe it. You, the girl of his dreams had just touched him. He could still lightly feel your hand on his. I'm never wasching my hand again.

[coolyum]

𓍯𓂃 𝓟ink 𝓟ony 𝓒lub

warnings : probably ooc dallas, fem!reader, mention of puke, mention of hooking up (nothing happens), hungover!reader, kindahungover!dallas, i've never been hungover b4 so i'm really bad at writing it, not proofread

pairing : dallas x reader

your vision was blurry as you slowly woke up, everything seeming dull at first. your eyes felt heavy and your mind felt fuzzy. a headache hit you like a train, pulling a soft, raspy groan from your throat. that's when you heard a similar sound from beside you. a little grumble could be heard followed by the rustling of bedsheets, causing you to lazily turn your head.

you could just tell that you were going to be so hungover today. your brain hurts, your stomach aches, your limbs are asleep. it feels awful. but you try to focus on whoever is laying next to you at the moment. you blink heavily, but even with blurry vision, you can see that it's a boy. not just any boy, dallas winston.

what's dallas winston doing here? why is dally laying next to you? you furrow your eyebrows and rub your eyes. you don't even notice he's awake until he says something to you.

"you feelin' better?" he mumbles, sleep evident in his voice. he's probably hungover, as well. his head rests against the pillow, and you can't help but notice at his position that he's not wearing a shirt. he's still wearing his signature necklace, though. you can't help but wonder something. it may be awkward, but you're too sleepy and hungover to care much. for now.

"did we hook up?" you ask, lazily forcing yourself over onto your side. you can't even make sense of how you feel. you've never drunkenly hooked up with someone before so you don't know how it'd feel the next morning.

a low chuckle comes from dally's throat. he shakes his head. "nah, we didn't. i wouldn't take advantage of ya like that."

it was a nice reassurance. your eyes slowly adjusted to the light streaming through his bedroom window. this is when you realize you're in his bedroom, in his bed.

"why am i in here?" you ask softly, genuinely wondering but also too tired to comprehend too much information.

dally caught this, so he made sure to keep his answer simple and understandable for your poor hungover brain. "you were really drunk. you ended up blackin' out so i brought you up to my room."

you let out a half-assed mumble in response. your eyes slowly closed as you couldn't keep them open any longer. you slightly adjusted yourself, pulling blanket up a little bit higher. that's when dally reaches out to gently brush something off your collarbones. he lets out a little grunt.

"damn glitter won't come off," he complains, giving up on getting it off of your chest.

at this point, your body feels aware of the body glitter you sprinkled on yourself the night before, and the makeup still on your face. you'll take care of it when you feel better. your shirt is slipping off of your shoulder, but then you realize it's not your shirt as you become more and more aware.

you open your eyes tiredly and look down to see if it's any of your shirts. nope. it's a simple, oversized black tee. dally notices how you look kind of confused. he finds it endearing. he finds you endearing.

"oh yeah, you puked all over your shirt last night so i gave you mine."

dally is acting kind of unusual. at least in anyone else's eyes. he's not the kinda guy to leave a severely drunken girl to fend for herself, but he's also not the kinda guy to care to the point of bringing her to his room to make sure she's alright. you, of course, couldn't grasp that information at the moment.

"think i'm gonna puke again," you say simply, the sickness evident in your voice. dally sits up, gently pulling you up with him. he's sure to be careful as he attempts to hold your limp body in his arms and pick you up without causing more sickness. he knows you need some time to sober up and feel better.

he brings you to the bathroom successfully, gently holding your hair back as you bend over the toilet. although he's this tough guy or acts like one for everyone to see, he cares about you. you and him aren't that close, so he sees pampering you today as an opportunity to get to know you better. he's never felt like this before. he's tried to avoid it, but now, he knows he can't. so as he holds your hair back and rubs his hand up and down your cold back, he realizes that this is almost if not completely at your lowest. he wants to see you at your worst and at your best. he's seen both. he knows he likes both. he wants both.

he's willing to try for you, even if it just starts with making sure you don't get sick and you sober up today.

xoxo,

coolyum!

[milaisreading]

Can you do something for Hetalia Valentine's Day? The Axis and Allies are arguing with each other about being y/n's Valentine's date. While they are arguing Sealand goes to y/n's house with flowers on his hands and he is wearing a cute suit. When y/n opened the door Sealand asked y/n to be his Valentine date. Y/n found him so cute and she agreed. How would the Axis and Allies going to react after seeing this?

🌱🩷: Hii! Thank u for the request and happy Valentine's Day! Hope u like this! I had a lot of fun while writing!

Warning: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open!

🌍Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya🌏

"Achoo!" (Y/n) let out a loud sneeze, causing Finland and Denmark to look at her in surprise.

"Are you alright?" Finland wondered as he handed her a tissue.

"Did you get sick or something?" Denmark chimed in as he checked her temperature, which was normal as he could conclude.

"I am fine. I just think someone is gossiping about me, you know." She joked as the two looked at her in confusion.

"Weird."

"Yeah. Who would gossip about you?"

The country shrugged her shoulders, unsure what to answer them back.

'I just hope it's not Belarus scheming something! I already said I have no interest in Russia!' (Y/n) thought in fear, but tried to brush that image out of her head.

"I dunno. By the way, I am off to meet up with Belgium and her brothers. Have fun staying at home."

"Stay safe!"

"Call us if you need anything!"

Before she could answer back, there was a knock on the door and (Y/n) went to open it.

"Yes? Huh?" She stopped while looking down at a bouquet with red roses while Sealand was grinning up at her.

"Happy Valentine's Day! Please be my Valentine!"

"Huh... Sealand..." She muttered in confusion as the boy stared at her.

Meanwhile, the country was partially right with her assumptions. Eight countries were talking about (Y/n), just not in the way she expected it to be.

"You?! What makes you think you are compatible for (Y/n)?!" America yelled, pointing at Russia. The two countries were never on good terms ever since the Cold War started, now with Valentine's Day being right around the corner, and both going after the same country things got much more tense.

"And I don't see what makes you think we are not. (C/n) and I do share some history with each other. Meanwhile, you are just a little kid compared to me. Why would she want you?" Russia laughed as America got into his face.

"And you creep her out! Weren't you the reason she isolated herself to begin with?! Also, my present is way better!"

Meanwhile, Germany was glaring at Italy, who was fawning over the present he had prepared for (Y/n), which was a painting he painted for her.

"Ve~ I am sure mia bella will love this! I can't wait for her saying yes to being my Valentine-"

"Hold up, Italy! Who said she will agree to be you Valentine! I have a gift for her as well." Germany interrupted the Italian, who frowned at his words.

"Because my present is just better. And besides, I am the one who is more of a passionate person than you are." Italy giggled as he saw Germany's face turn red in anger.

"That means nothing! My gift is just as good!"

"I have to disappoint you on the last part, mon ami Italy." France laughed as he held England back from chocking him.

"After all, I am the country of romance and love. She will definitely pick me." France boasted as the German and Italian glared at the man.

"You?! You pervert have absolutely no chance! Didn't you scare (Y/n) the last time you saw each other!"

"That was months ago!" France said with a red face.

"And besides, she would rather have a gentleman, like me."

The four started arguing among each other as Japan and China looked at them with unamused expressions.

"They are so loud, aiyah! Stupid Westerners." China exclaimed as he covered up his ears. Japan silently nodded his head.

"And this whole argument is useless as well. (Y/n) will definitely pick me. I always cook her good meals."

Now this was something Japan wouldn't stay silent on as he sent the older nation a glare.

"You? Aren't you too old for this? Besides, (Y/n) likes me more than you. We have a lot of common interests as well."

"You?! Don't make laugh, Japan! You can barely look her in the eyes, let alone confess anything! I will be her Valentine!"

"Dream on." The two Asian countries were about to start arguing as well, but got interrupted by Sealand walking into the living room, looking at all of them in confusion.

"Why are you old people arguing now?" The countries tensed up and looked back at the micronation, who was holding a box with some sweets inside.

"Nothing a kid like you should know about." Russia smiled, causing Sealand to shiver in fright.

"Stop scaring him. He is still a kid." Germany warned as Italy hid behind him. Sealand pouted at that when England spoke up.

"What did you need? You usually only come to me when you need something."

The micronation looked back at the former empire as the rest looked between them.

"Nothing much. Just wanted to say that France's idea on how to woo someone over worked. I just had to act cute, and got a Valentine and sweets from her." The other countries stared at him in confusion as France laughed.

"Well of course it will work when you listen to me! So, your little lady friend likes you back?"

"Hold up! Since when do you have a crush?" England questioned as America and China chimed in.

"We could have totally helped you out, dude!"

"Besides, I am the oldest around here. If anyone knows how to treat a woman, that would be me." Que Japan rolling his eyes at China.

"Nah. I was fine like this. And Ms. (C/n) didn't say directly she likes me back, but she gave me sweets and said the flowers were nice." Sealand said as the countries froze in their spots.

"(Y/n)... you asked her out?" Italy asked as his face got pale.

"Yup! In a few years she might agree to be my Valentine for real! But for now, the sweets she gave me will do.' Sealand cheered as he left the room.

Immediately after he left, Japan took his phone out to call (Y/n), which was an action that didn't go unnoticed by Italy, China, and America.

"Hey! Put her on speaker!"

"She is making a huge mistake! She can't wait for Sealand to grow up God knows when!"

"Ve~ I am a way better pick!"

Meanwhile, Russia, Germany, and England were glaring daggers at France, who was both mad and frightened.

"I will give you 10 seconds, da?"

"You are too kind, I am giving him 5 seconds."

"Both of you gits are wrong! Kill him now!"

"Wait! I had no idea who he liked!"

Meanwhile, with (Y/n)....

Belgium pouted as she declined Japan's call for the 5th time while Luxembourg looked at her in amusement.

"You know, she will find out what you did, big sis."

"I am fine with her knowing. As long as her and Netherlands get together, I am saying this was a worth sacrifice."

The two siblings looked back at the said 2 countries. One looked like struggling to say coherent sentences, while the other one had his usual stoic look.

"It doesn't look all too well." Luxembourg chuckled as Belgium sighed in frustration.

"Don't worry! I am sure big brother will catch on to it and be the perfect gentleman! He even bought her hot chocolate." Belgium smiled as the two silently looked at (Y/n) and Netherlands. The girl's face was a dark shade of red as Netherlands stared at her intensely.

"You know...."

Luxembourg and Belgium held their breaths as the oldest spoke up.

"That hot chocolate costed me around 4 euros. Please pay it back when you can."

The two watched in disbelief as he said that and (Y/n) started to scramble for her wallet.

"O-oh! Sure, no worries!"

"Is he nuts?!" Belgium silently yelled as Luxembourg stared at his brother in annoyance.

"Money rules the world for him..."

[river-of-wine]

I hate the attitude that so many people in the RDR2 fanbase have that gun = strong. When discussing the women - Abigail, Molly and Mary specifically here because they are who I was talking about when I was told these things - who are, to me undoubtedly, strong women who withstand horrible circumstances, I am told that no, actually, they’re not strong. Only women like Sadie are strong, or maybe Miss Grimshaw, on a rare occasion Karen, but always Sadie, because Sadie has a gun and she kills people with it.

I know I pin a lot of things on misogyny in this fanbase, but in a gaming space mostly full of men, you’re going to see a lot of it, and the way men and some women who like Sadie discuss her has always reeked of it to me. They reduce her down to only being a gun, taking away the actual depth and emotion of her character in favour of seeing her as one of the men, because she wears boy clothes and has a gun and she’s nice to Arthur, so she’s cool. Not like Molly who cries all the time and wants to die, not like Abigail who’s doing everything for a man, who aren’t strong at all despite what they have been through because they never go on a shooting spree, which as we know is the only thing that makes a woman strong.

The way Sadie is viewed by these people also completely diminishes the person Sadie actually is. I have so often found that Sadie is only held in such favour by certain men in the fanbase because she is the easiest woman to turn into a man, as it were, or they’re attracted to her. She dresses like them, spends most of her time around them, kills lots of people like them, and she’s still very pretty, so if you only value women for fitting in with men or for how attractive you find them, Sadie is the perfect candidate. She challenges plenty of men, but not Arthur, so she’s a good one, and she’s even got a more neutral stance on Dutch, so she’s doubly a good one, because now she’s not angry with the cool leader either.

This is not to say Sadie gets no hate. She absolutely does, and it’s all as unwarranted as you’d expect. Sadie has established skills with her gun, she’s going to be skilled with it when she picks one up, her and her husband shared the work as she says. She is rash and she has a short fuse, but her husband was murdered and she’s not going to be at all calm about that. Her final mission is optional. If you don’t want Arthur to go on that, don’t make him. She got a lot of people killed unnecessarily. She’s flawed, she’s very, very flawed, and she’s also not the only character to cause the deaths of innocent people during the game. But just as much as overly criticising her behaviour and looking at no motivations or reasoning she might have had, treating her more critically than you would the men, reducing her down to her flaws is an unfair view of her character, so is reducing her down to a generic cool woman character with nothing happening besides guns and chest, because that’s apparently all women are good for to plenty of the men in the fanbase.

The point of this ramble is just that Sadie is more than her gun, she has a whole personality in there, and while I do think it’s a shame that the entirety of her character was hinged on her revenge until the epilogue since it gave us quite a limited perspective on her, we still get to meet her properly when the epilogue comes around and she has mostly gotten over her grief. Sadie isn’t just a gun and her strength doesn’t just come from her killing lots of people, and there is no lack of strength in Molly, Abigail and Mary because they either kill very few people or none at all.

The strength these women have does not come from the bodies at their feet. Arthur Morgan isn’t a strong man because he kills people. Why is that only a condition for the women? Why does Abigail coming from being a teenage sex worker, a dangerous industry at the best of times, to a very young mother trying her best to keep her family together, to give her son a better life than she had not constitute as strength? What about that does not make her a strong person? Same for Mary, same for Molly. Both went through a lot of abuse, Mary did all she could to protect her brother and Molly’s drove her off such a frightened, paranoid edge, leaving her convinced everybody in the gang who she already knew weren’t the biggest fans at her were laughing at her, and yet she still went through multiple sessions of being sweater by the Pinkertons - who, I’ll remind you, treated Strauss rough enough to kill him - and didn’t say a word. How aren’t they strong?

They don’t have guns. Abigail kills Milton, but he’s a character you 100% hate by now. Mary and Molly never kill anybody. If your one condition for a female character being cool and strong is they shoot a lot of people, these three don’t fit that, but if that’s your condition for the women, that says more about you. Stop using Sadie Adler to back up your misogynistic feelings about the other women, she’d hate that

[ilguna]

From expired medicine number 66 with sejanus pls 😌

☼ forget-me-nots (Sejanus Plinth) ☼

warnings; swearing, bombs, blood, ehh gore, death, death mention, starvation mention.

wc; 11.1k

prompt; 66. amnesia au

notes; slow burn, all they get to do is hold hands. also coryo slander.

--

“What’s the matter, pretty boy? You in the wrong cage?” One of the other tributes asks, eyes on a blonde Capitol boy dressed in bright red. He’s standing at the back of the truck, hand reached up to hold onto a bar to keep from falling over.

You let out a breath through your nose, giving a look to Marcus, who seems just as unimpressed as you are. Leave it to someone from the Capitol to think it’s a good idea to jump in the back of a truck with a bunch of teenagers that hate his guts. He might be untouchable anywhere else, but here it’s fair game.

“No, this is exactly the cage I was waiting for.” The blonde boy tells him.

The tribute jumps to his feet, hands encircling the Capitol’s boys throat, proving your point. He slams the boy back, forearms pinning him against the bars. The Capitol boy is quick though, bringing his knee up to the tribute boy’s crotch. You watch as he doubles over, releasing him.

“He might kill you now.” The girl from the same district coughed, wafting straight into the Capitol boy’s face. “He killed a Peacekeeper back in Eleven. They never found out who did it.”

“Shut it, Dill.” The boy from Eleven growls.

“Who cares now?” Dill asks.

“Let’s all kill him.” A tiny boy grins. “Can’t do nothing worse to us.”

A few of the other tributes murmur in agreement, taking a step forward to close in on the Capitol boy. The truck hits a bump, the heels of your feet rise, and then fall flat when it comes down harshly. You sway into Marcus, and he uses his free hand to steady you.

“Not to us, maybe. You got family back home? Someone they could punish there?” A girl from the corner asks. She’s wearing a colorful dress, which has since been turned dirty from the cattle car they kept you in on the way here. She crosses the small space, wiggling herself between the tributes and the Capitol boy. “Besides, he’s my mentor. Supposed to help me. I might need him.”

“How come you get a mender?” Dill asks.

“Mentor. You each get one.” The Capitol boy says.

“Where are they, then?” Dill challenges. “Why didn’t they come?”

“Just not inspired, I guess.” The colorful girl says, turning her back to the rest of you.

The truck turns into a narrow street, where the cement must not be completely flat, because it hits a bump every second. It makes a wide turn, before you’re jostled back, as the car begins to move backward into a dimly lit building.

Your face twists, as a new smell invades your nose: a mix of rotten fish and old hay. Your hand tightens on the bars, unable to see through the darkness. The sound of two metal doors opening fills the air. You think you can see a Peacekeeper opening the back door of the truck, and then the ground beneath you turns into a slope.

You’re able to hang on for the first couple of seconds, watching as the tributes in front of you tumble out. Your fingers slip when you try to adjust to hold on better, afraid of where they’re sending you. You hit wet cement, and continue to slide, until you hit a drop.

A scream rises up your chest, clogging in your throat as you hold your breath. You fall for what feels like forever, and land hard at the bottom. The heap breaks your landing, but a shooting pain flies up your back. You hiss, face twisted as you reach back to grab your lower back.

A pair of hands grabs you beneath your arms, pulling you out of the way of another tribute coming down. Marcus places you on your feet, where you hunch while the pain subsides. When you can’t feel it anymore, you stand up fully, looking around to see where they’ve dumped you.

It’s another cage, only bigger. There’s a stretch of sand, with rock formations in the middle that twist high in the air. A shallow, dry moat separates the island and the row of metal bars on the far side. And beyond them are the faces of small Capitol children, their eyes wide at the sight of the group of you.

You begin to wander away from the pile of teenagers and hay, as they pull themselves out to be on their feet. Marcus moves with you, letting you decide how far you want to go. The faces on the other side of the bars begin to multiply quickly, filling with adults, too.

They begin to shout, pointing at the Capitol boy, attention shifting from the rest of you, to him. You glance over, finding that he’s standing taller now, expressionless as he stares where he should be. In no time, the audience begins to call out to him, asking him why he’s in here with you. One of them must recognize him, because the crowd grows thicker.

“It’s the Snow boy!’

“Who’s that again?”

“You know, the ones with roses on their roof!”

A smirk creeps to the corner of your lip, a laugh making its way out of you. You begin to walk again, around the Capitol boy, like a wild animal pacing their lunch. “Snow, huh?”

His eyes snap to you, slightly wide. 

“Do you like to play games, Snow?” Your words have an edge as they leave your mouth. You stop when your back is partly turned to the Capitol people. “Because it looks like you do.”

The other tributes have caught on, beginning to surround him. The two tributes from Eleven, the boy that suggested you should kill him, and a few more, coming to build a circle around him. He notices this almost immediately, eyes darting between each of you, like he can’t decide which one of you is more dangerous. 

His breathing is picking up, chest growing and shrinking. He really didn’t think this through, did he? He thought he’d be able to come in here and do whatever he wanted. A dribble of sweat begins to run down the side of his face, heading for his jaw. He’ll be so fun to tear apart.

“Own it.” A soft voice says.

It’s his girl tribute, sitting on a rock. Snow takes in a deep breath and turns to see her, where she’s fixing a white rose behind her ear. The same one that he’d brought to the train station for her. 

He holds his hand out for her, she smiles slightly, taking his hand. You watch as he bows, and she gets up like a lady. When he raises his head, he asks, “Would you care to meet a few of my neighbors?”

“I would be delighted.” She says, as they begin to walk off together.

He leads her up to the bars, where the people are gawking. You roll your eyes, taking several steps back as you pivot to take a look around the area. There’s not many places to hide if you wanted to. Which means that the cameras will reach you at almost any point in here. 

Snow and his girl tribute—Lucy Gray—introduce themselves, going around the crowd, talking to the children. You manage to find a nice spot behind a rock that’ll block their view, which Marcus joins you behind.

“What’s the plan here?” You murmur, eyeing the other tributes, who are scoping out the land, themselves.

“Survive.” Marcus has his arms crossed, leaning on the wall across from you. “Wait it out.”

“For how long?” You ask, you wrap a hand around your stomach when it rumbles. “I’m starving here, Marcus.”

He tilts his head, “What do you want to do? Eat one of the other tributes?”

“That’s not funny.” You tell him.

“They won’t give us food, (Y/n), I told you this.”

“I didn’t think that they’d keep it from us completely.” You hiss. 

You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. It’s been three days since the last time you’ve eaten. A small portion of bread and oatmeal, which was on the morning of Reaping Day. If you’d known that your name was going to be pulled, you would’ve eaten more.

You sigh, “I’m sorry, I know it’s not your fault.” You push your hair back. “And you’re hungry, too.”

You peek out from behind the rock to see that the pair have moved over to the cameras, having an exchange with the reporter, you presume. You watch them through squinted eyes.

“So, do you know my mentor? Says his name is Coriolanus Snow. He’s a Capitol boy and clearly I got the cake with the cream, ‘cause nobody else’s mentor even bothered to show up to welcome them.”

“Well, he gave us all a surprise. Did your teachers tell you to be here, Coriolanus?”

Snow steps forward. “They didn’t tell me not to.” The crowd laughs. “But I do remember them saying that I was to introduce Lucy Gray to the Capitol, and I take that job seriously.”

“So you didn’t have a second thought about diving into a cage of tributes?” The reporter asks.

“A second, a third, and I imagine the fourth and fifth will be hitting me sometime soon.” Snow says. “But if she’s brave enough to be here, shouldn’t I be?”

You scoff, Snow turns his head slightly to find where the noise came from. Brave, as if you all didn’t end up here by chance. By their hands. 

“Oh, for the record, I didn’t have a choice.” Lucy Gray says.

“For the record, neither did I.” Snow says. “After I heard you sing, I couldn’t keep away. I confess, I’m a fan.”

Lucy Gray moves her skirt to show off the color, as the audience erupts into applause.

“Well, I hope for your sake the Academy agrees with you, Coriolanus.” The reporter says. “I think you’re about to find out.”

As if on cue, the metal doors nearby squeal against the concrete, as if there’s not enough space to allow them to move. A group of four Peacekeepers march out, heading straight for the Capitol boy.

Snow turns back to the camera. “Thank you for joining us. Remember, it’s Lucy Gray Baird, representing District Twelve. Drop by the zoo if you have a minute and say hello. I promise she’s well worth the effort.”

Lucy Gray holds out the back of her hand to him, which he takes and presses a kiss to. After that, he waves to the audience once, before joining the Peacekeepers and leaving the exhibit. The doors shut tightly behind them.

They dumped you in a fucking zoo.

Lucy Gray mingles around the bars for a few more minutes, before she comes down the moat to join her tribute partner. The crowd thins out considerably, now that they don’t have a source of entertainment. You disappear behind the rock, lowering yourself to the ground. Marcus doesn’t move from where he stands, looking down at you.

You pull your knees up. “Do you think our mentors will show up?”

“It won’t matter.” Marcus says. “They can’t do anything for us. All they’ll do is bring more people to stare.”

You rest your head back. “Right.” For the first time in days, you feel at peace enough to relax, the drowsiness coming in waves. You sigh, letting your legs down. “Will you wake me if something happens?”

“I will.” Marcus nods.

His confirmation is good enough for you. You settle on the cement, shoulders square with the rock. It’s uncomfortable, but your body doesn’t seem to care, focused on the idea of being able to sleep. The moment you shut your eyes, you’re practically done for, as the chatter of the Capitol people acts as perfect background noise for you to doze off to.

When you wake, it’s on your own accord. There’s a pain in the side of your neck, due to sleeping with your head at an angle. You squeeze your eyes, face twisting as you reach up to massage the area. When you look around, you find Marcus standing nearby, face hard.

You stretch, letting out a groan. It must be getting dark out because the artificial lights on the other side of the rock have been turned on. There’s no telling how late it is. You wonder if they’ll even bother to turn them off when the zoo does close.

You push to get to your feet, swallowing the nausea that rises with the movement. It’s due to hunger, but it’ll pass soon if you take it easy. Marcus looks over when he sees that you’re on your feet, his face smoothing out briefly.

“Anything big happen?” You ask, arms above your head. You can hear your upper back pop, relieving the pressure.

“No, but we have a familiar face in the crowd.” Marcus says.

“Like who? Snow?” You sneer, coming out from behind the rock. 

You squint through the white light, holding a hand up to shield your eyes. The tributes that you’re in here with have spread out to keep from getting in each other’s space. You look up to the bars to see that the crowd has grown again, peering down at the group of you. 

To humor Marcus, you search for the blonde boy that belongs to Lucy Gray, yet you come up blank. A joke begins to form on your tongue, as you turn your head to tell it, you hear your name being shouted from the other side of the bars. You glance back at the crowd, eyebrows together, wandering away from your partner to find who it is that knows your name.

You make it all the way to the moat before you see who it is. He’s crouched, hands wrapped around the bars, forehead pressed to them. His brown hair and brown eyes are unmistakable. You used to stare into them everyday when you were friends, before he moved away to live in the Capitol.

Sejanus Plinth is dressed in the same bright red uniform that Snow was wearing when he came into the truck. He looks just like he did when you went to school together, only older now because it’s been ten years. He still wears that innocent look on his face, which is unsurprising. His heart is big enough to house dozens of people.

“(Y/n).” Sejanus shifts on his feet, leaning away from the bars as he turns to a black backpack at his side. He opens it up, reaches inside, and pulls out something that’s wrapped. It’s reflecting the light. “Please, take it. Marcus won’t.”

“Sejanus.” His name is foreign on your tongue. “I don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s a meatloaf sandwich.” He says, holding it out between the bars. “Please, I know you’re hungry.”

He’s right, your stomach begins to hurt at the thought of the sandwich, but you don’t move from where your feet are planted. You glance behind you, to Marcus, who’s still standing against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s determined to stay there.

He was Marcus’s friend, too. The three of you were very close during grade school. If there was one of you, the other two would be following close by. That is, until the Plinths upgraded from District Two to the Capitol, due to their loyalty during the Dark Days. In many people’s eyes, the Plinths are a bunch of traitors. 

Including Marcus’s.

You would think the same, if he weren’t a child at the time. And especially not now, with you being stuck in this situation. With Sejanus being on the other side of the bars, maybe he can help, beyond just giving you sandwiches. If all the tribute mentors are wearing these red uniforms, that means he might be one, himself.

So, you move forward, crossing the moat and climbing the hill that’ll lead you to the bars. You don’t lower yourself to his height right away, looking between the faces behind him. With your presence, they all seem to shuffle a step back, unsure if you’re one of the hostile tributes or not.

You breathe through your nose, amused. You grab onto the bar with one hand, using it as support as you get down. Sejanus is still holding out the sandwich for you to take, which you do so carefully, setting it on your knee. 

Sejanus nods, happy that you’re trusting him. “I tried to get any of the other tributes to come over but they won’t.”

“Can’t blame them.” You say, not being able to focus on his face when the people behind him peer over his shoulder. “I wasn’t going to, either.”

You jerk forward, a threat to the Capitol people. A few of them let out gasps as they return to where they’d been standing, hiding behind Sejanus. When your eyes make their way back to his face, you find his face screwed.

“Marcus doesn’t want to see me, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“But he knows that I’m sorry? You know I’m sorry, right?”

You shrug. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s angry. Or that we’re both here in a zoo cage.”

Sejanus swallows.

You’re tired of this conversation already. “I hear that we get mentors. Where’s mine?”

“I am.” He says. “I’m your mentor, and Marcus has Florus.”

“Oh, how fortunate.” You shake your head. “Did you ask for me?”

“No, I was assigned.” Sejanus says, glancing behind him. His face lights up as he raises a hand to wave someone over. Your eyes shift in that direction, finding the Snow boy coming your way. He weaves through the crowd, and stops two feet away from the bars. 

“Trouble?” He asks, paying no attention to you.

You scoff, “Great, you’re friends with Snow.” You grab the sandwich with one hand, pulling yourself to your feet with the other. By then, the blonde boy has his eyes on you. 

Sejanus looks between you two. “Do you know each other?”

“Of course not.” Snow says first, face twisting, seemingly disgusted by the idea.

You laugh, it’s venomous, “You know, I think I do pride myself in not hanging around Capitol scum.” You spit, holding out your hand that has the sandwich. “Give me another, Sejanus. I’ll see that Marcus gets it.”

Sejanus doesn’t need you to tell him twice, grabbing another. You don’t break the eye contact you have with Snow, which is growing tense by the second. 

“Capitol scum?” He repeats, smiling. “That’s funny.”

“Is it now?” You steal the second sandwich from Sejanus’s hand before it’s fully through the bars. You look over Snow, taking in how big he is. “For a Capitol boy, you look pretty starved. You belong more in here than you do out there.” You take a couple steps over so that you’re directly in front of him. “Except, you wouldn’t last ten seconds before getting ripped apart.”

You look at Sejanus to find that he’s holding out two plums. You pluck them from his hands, giving a nasty look to Snow before you go back down the hill with your winnings. There are several pairs of eyes that watch you return to the rock that you and Marcus have claimed. You return their stares with pressed lips. 

You step behind the stone, Marcus following you. When you hold out the two sandwiches and plums, he shakes his head. “I don’t want that.”

“If we want to win, we need to be strong.” You tell him. “Take one.”

He sighs, irritated, but grabs one of each. You sink back to the ground, unwrapping your sandwich, resting the plum in your lap. The moment that you sink your teeth into the soft bread, every ounce of self control leaves your body. It’s perfect, delicious, and gone within a minute. The plum, too.

Once Marcus has finished his sandwich, he wipes his mouth, sucking the ketchup off of his finger. “Who’s your mentor?”

“Sejanus.” You tell him, “You have someone named Florus.”

“As long as I don’t have him—I don’t care who I have. They won’t make a difference.”

“That’s what you think.” 

—

“Get up!” A voice shouts.

Your eyes pop open as you fly into an upward position, looking around to see where the danger is. Your eyes land on Peacekeepers, dressed in grey uniforms, standing next to the steel doors that are swung wide open.

The other tributes are shuffling toward the Peacekeepers, hardly awake. You rustle in the hay to look at Marcus, who’s already getting to his feet. A yawn escapes you, holding out your hand. Marcus takes it to pull you to your feet, steadying you when you stumble a step.

“What’s happening?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes.

“No idea.” Marcus says, walking away. You follow him, briefly looking at the bars to see if there’s an audience, finding it empty. The zoo must not be open yet.

On the other side of the building is a truck, similar to the one you rode here on. Marcus steps inside first, and then turns to give you a hand, pulling you inside. The two of you choose a spot in the middle, where you grab a rod and try not to touch anyone if you can help it.

Once you’re packed inside, they slam the doors shut. The car jolts forward a moment later, and then they begin to take you through the streets. You sigh, watching the blur of buildings and people on the sidewalk. Occasionally, you glance at the people around you, taking in details in increments to avoid setting them off. The last thing you’d want is to cause a fight in here.

Your eyes linger on the boy from Eleven and the way he hovers over Dill, feeling a need to protect her. It’s the same for Lucy Gray and her tribute partner, who she seems to be close with. Last night, you weren’t the only one to take a sandwich, soon after, Lucy Gray went to have one too. When she decided that it was good, she told her friend… Jessup, that’s his name. She told Jessup to grab one too, which then prompted the rest of the tributes to follow.

For now, you can’t find anyone else that sticks out in your mind. You’re sure that they’ll reveal themselves as time goes on, all you have to do is wait until then. You know that you should keep a distance from Four and Eight, at the very least. They have previous experience with weapons, much like you.

The truck comes to a hard stop. A Peacekeeper comes out to stand on your side of the truck. You look down at him, finding a pair of handcuffs that he has gripped in his gloves. 

“We will take one district at a time. When you step out of the truck, hold your hands out in front of you, palms up.” He instructs. “District One.”

The boy and girl get up from where they’re sitting. The doors open, allowing them to step out. They don’t bother shutting the doors again, letting you take in the amount of Peacekeepers they have on standby in case something goes wrong. The tributes get handcuffed, and then led inside of the building by four Peacekeepers that have a tight hand on them.

“District Two.”

Marcus moves first, stepping out of the truck. He turns to help you, which you accept when you jump off the ledge. On the ground, the two of you turn to the Peacekeeper, holding out your hands as you were told to. The steel is cold against your wrists, he squeezes the cuff, tightening it as much as he can. He repeats the process for Marcus.

With that, he instructs you to move forward, heading inside of the building. The floors are polished, reflecting the dull sunlight, and with how big and empty the hall is, the sounds of your shoes echo. You move down several hallways, until you spot the open wooden doors with a Peacekeeper standing post outside of the room.

When you step inside, you can see that the boy and girl from One have each been sat at their own table. There’s a cement slab on top of it with a metal loop, where the handcuffs are fed through to keep them in place. You grind your teeth, looking at Marcus to see that his face has hardened.

“Girl, sit down.” The Peacekeeper tells you. 

Biting your tongue, you decide not to tell him your name, just listen to the directions. You sit in the folding chair, scooting it up slightly to close the gap between you and the table. You hold up your wrists, he unlocks the one side of the cuffs, guides the open side through the loop, and then closes the cuff on your wrist again.

He crouches down, reaching for your feet. Your face twists, feeling him pull up the bottom of your skirt just high enough, before the coldness encases your right ankle. When you give it a pull, you can hear the rattling of chains on the cement. You look over at Marcus, raising your eyebrows. The Peacekeeper secures your left ankle before getting to his feet.

If anyone had any plans of escaping this afternoon, they’re going to have to rethink it.

Marcus sits at his table unprompted. Right as his shackles are being double-checked, the pair of tributes from Three come through the door. It goes on like this, all the way around the circle, up to Lucy Gray and her tribute friend.

While this is happening, you take the time to look around the room you’re in. It’s classically wealthy, with the columns, the arched windows and the tall ceilings. The best you can compare this building to is the Justice Building at home in Two, but even that’s lacking in several departments.

Halfway up the wall, you find a balcony. You sit back in your chair, forearms resting on the edge of the table. There are faces up there, staring down at you. From what you can see, they’re all wearing the red uniform that Snow and Sejanus were wearing yesterday.

“Eyes up.” You murmur to Marcus.

Out of your peripheral, you’re able to watch him tilt his head back to see what you mean. He straightens up in his seat, hands curling in to form fists.

A door slams, the people on the balcony jump and turn to see where the noise is coming from. “Stop eyeballing your tributes and get down there.” A feminine voice orders. “You only have fifteen minutes, so use them wisely. And remember, complete the paperwork for our records as best you can.”

The first person to come down the spiral staircase is none other than Snow, heading straight for Lucy Gray. When he passes in front of you, a laugh leaves you at the sight of his determined face. He’s quickly forgotten when you see Sejanus bouncing your way, a smile spread across his lips.

“Hey, Marcus.” He says, but he doesn’t get a response. Sejanu takes a seat in the chair across from you. “(Y/n), they’re just having us do interviews today.”

“I’m sure that’ll be easy.” You say. “Considering you know everything about me already.”

He swings his bag into his lap. “I still have to go down the list.” He pulls out a piece of paper and a pen, setting it on the table. His hand dips inside again, and when it surfaces, he has a pair of sandwiches. “I hope you’re hungry.”

I am, you think. All you do is give him a smile. “Thank you, Sejanus.”

“One more thing.” He says, bringing out a clear container. He opens the lid, revealing a slice of brown cake with a fork inside. “Ma made it. Help yourself.”

You nod, “What’s on the paper?”

“Just the basics so the Capitol can get to know you better.” He says, reaching for the pencil. 

You manage to grab one of the sandwiches, unwrapping the paper. With the limited mobility your hands have, you have to lean forward to take a bite. The bread crunches under your teeth, meaning it must’ve been toasted. The roast beef inside is cold, and it must be freshly bought. You hum, closing your eyes.

“I can fill it out, just correct me if I come across something wrong.” Sejanus says. 

You listen as he reads out the list and his answer to them. Your name, district address, your date of birth, hair and eye color, height and weight, and any disabilities you may have. You give him the answers when he pauses to look up at you, for the most part, he nails them.

“Family makeup. If I remember right, you’ve got your mom and dad and two sisters, right?” He asks.

“Mom’s dead.” You tell him, balling up the paper when you finish your sandwich. “One of my sisters is sick, she probably won’t last much longer.”

Sejanus’s hand stops, face twisting as he looks up at you. “(Y/n), I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” You tell him, pressing your lips together. “Do you need their names or is that it?”

“That’s it.” He says, voice quieter. “You’re not married, are you?”

“Nope.” 

“Do you have a job?”

“Not legally.” You sit back in the chair. “I help out in the warehouse and earn money for it, but I’m not supposed to be in there.”

He nods. “I’ll put you down as no.”

“Thanks.” You murmur, looking at the paper. “That’s the last question?”

“It is.” He says.

“Five minutes.” A woman announces, she’s wandering around the room.

“You should give the other sandwich to Marcus.” You tell him. 

“He won’t take it from me, only you.” Sejanus shakes his head.

“I don’t have pockets, so I can’t give it to him later.” Your eyes wander away, finding his mentor, Florus. “Why don’t you hand it to Florus?”

“He’s not having very good luck with Marcus, either.”

You sigh, “All I’m hearing are excuses.” You roll your eyes, looking over. “Marcus, there’s an extra sandwich. You should take it.”

“Excuse me.” Florus says, eyebrows drawing in. “I’m trying to interview him.”

“Looks like you’re havin’ a lot of luck.” You smile at his blank paper. “I can’t smuggle it out of here, and you’re the only one that has pockets between us.”

Marcus looks at you, but nods. Sejanus seems pleased with this, handing the sandwich over to Florus, who begrudgingly stuffs it into one of Marcus’s pockets. You turn to the cake, digging out the fork.

“It’s carrot cake.” Sejanus says.

“I’m sure it’s good either way.” You stick the fork into the icing. “Your mom always made the best sweets.”

“She’s gotten better.” He says. “I’ll tell her about your ma, I’m sure she’ll be apologetic.”

“Don’t make her feel too bad.” You place the bite into your mouth. The sweetness explodes across your tongue. You can’t remember the last time you were treated to something so good. All your money goes to your sister’s medicine, you can’t get sweets like this anymore. “It’s not her fault.”

“I wish we hadn’t moved away.” Sejanus swipes some of the icing off the corner of the container. “It’s harder to make friends here than it is there, but I have Coriolanus.”

“Snow?” You ask, looking to your right. He’s three tables over with Lucy Gray, leaned forward to talk. “He doesn’t look like much company.”

“He is.” Sejanus sighs. “How is it in Two?”

“Worse.” You shrug. “Or the same, depending how you look at it.”

“You said you work in the warehouse, at least you have the job lined up.”

“It’s district work, it’s always going to be available. It’d be a different story if I was a blacksmith but they won’t take me until I’m eighteen.” You say. “Or rather, they wouldn’t.”

He frowns, “I’m really sorry you’re here, (Y/n).”

“I know.” You murmur. “Nothing that we can do about it now.”

A whistle suddenly blows, making you turn your head to the woman by the door. She drops it, allowing it to hang over her chest. “Time.”

You look back at Sejanus. “When’s the next time I see you?”

“I can visit tonight.” He says.

“That would be great.” You drop the fork into the container. “Thank you, Sejanus.”

—

The Capitol people standing on the other side of the bars is an irritating sight, especially since they’re holding food with seemingly no intention to give it to any of you. It’s gotten to the point where the tributes around you don’t bother to go up anymore, knowing that they’re all going to take a collective step back.

They don’t really matter to you, anyway. You have Sejanus, and as long as he’s feeding you and trying to keep you company, you don’t need them. You’ll suffice just fine with one of your old friends. As for Marcus, he wants to be left alone, but you won’t let that happen.

He’s currently laying on his bed of hay. Last night, the Capitol had released a couple of bales into the enclosure. While the tributes fought over them, you and Marcus sat back and watched, slightly amused. When he decided that he had enough, he went and grabbed the last bale from two tributes, throwing them away.

He split the hay with you, but you wanted enough to act as a pillow to rest your head on. You’re fine with sleeping on the cement, because it feels like your bed back home. Except, that one is a little more broken in, and you don’t wake up several times throughout the night. 

Marcus ate the roast beef sandwich from Sejanus, and even admitted that he was glad you had Florus give it to him. He doesn’t want to forgive Sejanus for what he��s done, even though you’ve tried to explain the fact that it’s not necessarily his fault. He was only a child at the time they moved, and he has no choice but to mentor tributes now. It’s just bad luck that it’s the two of you and not anyone else.

You push to get to your feet, kicking the hay into a pile once you’re upright. You wander out from behind the rock, curious to see where the tributes have moved and what the bars look like. The crowd has surely tripled in size since the last time you looked. They’re still up there, holding food.

There was a pair of twins in the corner earlier, a boy and a girl. They’d brought lunch for their tributes, but they’re gone now; replaced by Snow and Lucy Gray. You wander, arms crossed over your chest, looking for Sejanus. He must be coming through the crowd now, because you find his dark hair a second later, when you’re doing another sweep.

You immediately start for him, crossing the moat and climbing up the hill. Your arms fall, as you crouch to join. “Hello.”

“Hey.” He murmurs. “Did Marcus eat?”

“Yes he did. He says that the sandwich was good.”

“Ma sends her regards. She’s been upset since I told her.” Sejanus pulls out two eggs and a couple wedges of bread. “For an egg sandwich.”

“I told you not to make her feel guilty.” You tell him, holding out your hand. He places them inside. “Are the eggs raw?”

“No, hard boiled. I just didn’t peel them.” He says. “And I couldn’t help it. I told her what happened to your ma and she asked about the rest of your family.”

You nod. “I see.”

“(Y/n), they might be implementing new rules.” He laces his fingers. “They’re thinking about letting the Capitol citizens sponsor tributes. Which means that you’ll need to gain their favor somehow.”

“I’m not a circus animal.” You tell him. “Unlike Lucy Gray, over there.”

“I know, but if you could come up with something with Marcus, then Florus and I might be able to pool together. We could feed you and give you water, at least.” Sejanus says.

You shake your head. “These Games never go on longer than a few days.”

“That’s because they didn’t have food to eat in the past.” He reasons. “Now we’re able to feed you and they’re taking suggestions for different ideas.”

You sigh, looking at the sandwich components in your hands. “I’ll try to brainstorm with Marcus, but he’s pretty set on not participating. It’s a fight just to get him to eat food, Sejanus.”

He reaches through the bars, placing one of his hands over yours. You look down at it, and then up at him. With his other hand, he grabs onto the bars, leaning forward. “I want you to live, (Y/n).”

“I do too, Sejanus. It’s just not that easy.” You tell him.

“Well, they’re going to have you do an interview on television. That’ll be your chance.”

Laughter erupts around you, making you break eye contact. You follow the gaze of the crowd, and find a mentor a few feet away. She’s sitting on a towel or blanket, a picnic displayed in front of her. On the other side is a tribute, you think the girl from Ten. The mentor holds out the sandwich, the tribute reaches for it, and the mentor pulls away.

She turns to give the crowd a smile before taking a bite out of the sandwich. You roll your eyes, sighing. The tribute’s face drops, no longer hopeful, as her hand slips between the bars. You watch as she grabs the knife on the blanket, leaning forward to grab the front of the mentor’s shirt, and then slitting her throat.

The crowd screams in shock, the sandwich is dropped from the mentor’s hand as she reaches up to her throat, pawing at her neck. The tribute lets go of her, giving her a shove for good measure.

You get to your feet this instant, Sejanus’s hand falling from yours. You clutch the food to your chest as you turn to the hill, wanting to put distance between you and the scene. Sejanus grabs you, pulling you back down to the ground.

“Help her!” A voice shouts. “Medic!”

“Sejanus—”

“Put your head down.” He tells you, you lower to your knees.

“Is there a doctor? Please, someone help!” The voice belongs to Snow, who’s holding the girl mentor in his lap. She reaches up to grab his shirt, choking on the blood. Snow turns to the crowd. “Come on!”

The Ten tribute leans through the bars, snatching the cheese sandwich into her hands, raising it to her mouth. The sound of metal slamming into concrete fills the air, as the Peacekeepers burst through the far side of the enclosure, raising their runs, presumably aiming for the district girl.

She manages to take a bite of the sandwich, before the bullets are fired, piercing her body. You duck your head, squeezing your eyes shut, as Sejanus presses down on your back to keep you down. Another round of screaming, no more shots fired.

You sit up, Sejanus’s hand retreating. He opens up his bag, showing you the bread and eggs that he has inside, all meant for the tributes you’re trapped with. You know what he’s asking, so you lift the bottom of your skirt to create a bowl, letting him dump the food inside so it doesn’t go to waste.

The people have begun to flee the area, Sejanus rising to his feet. He leaves his backpack behind, holding a single wedge of bread. You get to your feet with shaky legs, turning to look at the Peacekeepers, where they have the others lined up against the wall, hands on their heads.

You carefully step down the hill, breathing slowly to keep from panicking. You glance over your shoulder at Sejanus, to find him sprinkling the bread over the Ten girl. His lips are moving, whispering the prayer, before a Peacekeeper grabs him by the back of his shirt, yanking him away.

You make it all the way to the wall. When they take notice of you, they grab the underside of your arm, pulling you to stand next to Marcus. They don’t tell you to put your hands on your head, letting you tremble.

They wait for the zoo to clear out, and as soon as the last person has left, they begin to search each one of you thoroughly. When it’s clear that you’re not hiding any weapons, they brandish the shackles. They go down the line, slapping the metal on your wrists, tightening the cuffs, and then moving on to the next person.

And when the last restraint is secured, they leave. The doors scraping on the cement before slamming shut. 

—

The Peacekeepers work silently as they direct the truck to back in as far as it possibly can into the alleyway without damaging the bricks. When it comes close enough to the doors, they hold up a hand, making it stop. A few of the Peacekeepers gather together briefly to speak, before turning to the line of you. 

They bring you up to the long truck bed, where they make you get down so they lock you to it. You start by crouching, but as the minutes tick on with no sign of movement, you tuck the skirt beneath you as best as possible so that you can sit. The heat from the metal burns through the fabric, and it feels like there’s nothing under you at all.

Marcus is placed a few feet away, where he shifts on his feet, opting not to sit. The two of you share a long look, where you raise your eyebrows and he shakes his head. Neither of you have a clue what’s happening. The Peacekeepers haven’t said so much as a word to any of you.

They just gathered you up, they sent someone to retrieve the body of the Ten girl, who had been slumped against the bars all night. Since the incident yesterday, no one has been allowed to visit the zoo. Except for Snow, where he briefly spoke to Lucy Gray before leaving.

There’s a large metal structure attached to the truck bed in front of you. You have to tilt your head all the way back to see what it is. It’s a crane, it seems. A metal hook hangs off a chain, swaying in the air from the small breeze. It’s so hot out that it isn’t that much of a relief. You’ve been baking in the cage all night. Forget the food that Sejanus has been giving you, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for a cup of water.

Machinery begins to whirr, the hook slowly coming down at you. You look over your shoulder, curious to see why they could possibly need the hook. You can’t find the Peacekeepers, only the faces of the tributes behind you, who are avoiding eye contact, or staring at the ground.

The chains and hook begin to curl on the ground, when suddenly it stops. A Peacekeeper grunts, there’s a hard stomp on the truck, making it vibrate. It’s quiet for a second, as the sound of something dragging across the uneven surface is all you can hear, until there’s a violent gag, followed by desperate coughing.

As you turn to see, a closed fits smacks the side of your face, causing you to jerk away. You lean as far as the shackles will allow, looking up at the Peacekeeper. You realize quickly that it wasn’t done on purpose, because he’s clutching a pair of handcuffs between his gloves. They’re attached to a pair of wrists, and furthermore, a body.

The rancid smell of a decomposing body hits your nose, making you sick. You bury your nose in the cloth on your shoulder, deeply inhaling to rid the assault. Tears pop into your eyes, which you struggle to blink away. The Peacekeeper reaches down to grab the hook, sliding it between one of the chain links. 

He lifts a hand, indicating to lift the hook. A moment later, it does. The Peacekeeper keeps a hold on the body, setting it straight, making sure that it won’t come loose. It isn’t until he twists the body to get a look, do you see that it’s the dead girl from Ten. In the open air, you’re able to see the bitemarks along her skin, a few chunks missing from the rats that were nibbling on her all night. 

A gag rises, you turn your head to the other side of the truck, teeth grit tightly together while you try to calm your stomach. It isn’t a full minute before they’ve decided that she’s up high enough in the air, which is when the Peacekeeper leaves the truck, jumping down.

They wrap up the area, closing the door to the enclosure, getting in the vehicle. They drive out of the alleyway and down the streets, where a few pedestrians stop where they stand to stare. You drop your head, lips pressed together.

The car comes to a stop a few short minutes later. When you peer around the front of the truck, you can see the grey uniform of Peacekeepers. There’s hundreds of them too, perfectly in place. Your eyebrows twitch, lips parting. This can’t possibly be for the twenty-three of you, can it?

You look back at Marcus, who’s on the inner side of the row, making it impossible for him to see. “Peacekeepers, hundreds of ‘em.”

A few heads rise, eyes landing on you. Marcus’s face contorts, “Why?”

“No idea.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then the beginning notes of the Capitol anthem cuts through the silence. The Peacekeepers straighten, finding their places. 

“Gem of Panem,” A male voice starts. “Mighty city, through the ages, you shine anew.”

The next three minutes are filled with the lyrics to the anthem. They’re vaguely familiar, you haven’t heard them in a couple of months, at least. They used to have you chant it every morning at school, but it fizzled out because it took up precious learning time. Now, they play the instrumental to allow the teachers to talk over it.

The applause that follows after the final note is thunderous, coming from far down the street. You can’t see anyone, though. Only the Peacekeepers, standing still as they wait for their cue to move. A heavy feeling weighs in your stomach, as the thoughts of what may be waiting for you begin to claw.

“Two days ago, Arachne Crane’s young and precious life was ended, and so we mourn another victim of the criminal rebellion that yet besieges us.” A powerful voice says. “Her death was as valiant as any on the battlefield, her loss more profound as we claim to be at peace. But no peace will exist while this disease eats away at all that is good and noble in our country. Today we honor her sacrifice with a reminder that while evil exists, it does not prevail. And once again, we bear witness as our great Capitol brings justice to Panem.”

There’s a slow, deep drumming that starts. The Peacekeepers move forward, as if drawn to the sound. The truck doesn’t move until they’re a good fifteen feet ahead, it jolts, you catch yourself by placing your hands on the metal bed. The scorching heat licks your palms so aggressively that you jerk back, chains rattling, cuffs digging into your wrists.

For a good stretch, you can’t see anything, it looks like any other road. And then, you spot the stands, the people dressed in black on the left, mourning. On the right, it’s the same, but there’s also a choir of the mentors in red, standing together. You search quickly for Sejanus, yet you’re unable to find him.

Behind the truck is another army of Peacekeepers, marching in sync. The car continues down the avenue until you’re out of sight completely. And instead of stopping at the end of the street, like the Peacekeepers, it continues moving. You expect it to bring you back to the zoo, but you’re going in a different direction.

The wind caresses your skin from the car picking up speed. It temporarily cools the burning on your shoulders, but not by much. The group of you are brought across the river, where an amphitheater stands. The truck comes to a stop out front, and it stays here for the next thirty minutes, until the brigade of Peacekeepers show up.

After that, you’re brought off the truck, one by one, with two Peacekeepers flanking one tribute. With you being so far up, it takes them fifteen minutes before it’s your turn to get freed. They line you up numerically, in girl-boy order, and make you wait an additional half hour while the mentors get here.

They step off the bus, instructed to stand next to their tribute. Sejanus comes out with a grave look on his face, eyes on the ground. He lets out a sigh when he squeezes between you and the boy from One.

“I’ve got nothing for you, I’m sorry.” Sejanus murmurs. 

“It’s fine.” You whisper back. “They fed us last night and this morning.”

When all tributes and mentors are counted for, the Peacekeepers remove the bars from the entrance, swinging open the large doors to reveal a grand lobby. Inside, there are boarded-up booths and old curling posters from wartime. The Peacekeepers lead the way through the lobby, to the turnstiles.

Two soldiers stand at turnstiles on opposite ends, feeding coins into the machine to allow you to pass through at the same time as Sejanus. As soon as you step through, a cheerful voice says, “Enjoy the show!”

There’s a long cement hallway leading to where you’re going, lit up by only the red emergency lights. It’s too dark for you to walk with sure steps, so you reach over to Sejanus, chains rattling as your hands wrap around his elbow. He briefly glances over, where you give him a small smile. 

He places his free hand over yours, squeezing your fingers. He doesn’t let go, either, not until you’ve made it to the end, where you walk into the sunlight and onto a giant field. Your pace slows considerably, eyes sweeping the area, wondering why this is so familiar.

“Where are we?” You ask.

“The arena.” Sejanus tells you.

You stop, wanting a moment to take in just how large it is. What should be a healthy and green field is now dead and dried up. There’s a scoreboard hanging over the opening you just came through, with thousands of seats circling the arena behind it.

If this is where you’re going to come to fight in a couple short days, then you’ll have no issue hiding, at least. No matter where you go on Game day, you’ll be safe as long as you’re careful.

The Peacekeepers move off to the side, letting you spread out. Sejanus begins to lead you away immediately. “Did you come up with anything for the interview?”

“No, not with Marcus.” You sigh. “He’s dead-set on figuring it out on his own. I figure that I can play the sick sister card, maybe earn some sympathy.” 

“That could work, but they’re looking for talent.”

“I don’t have much of that.” Your feet come to a halt, you pull away from Sejanus’s arm. Your fingers are warm from where he’d been holding them. “You don’t need to worry about the interview, I’ll have that covered. It’s not a half-bad idea. People like to help the poor, and that’s all the districts are, right?”

Sejanus’s mouth turns downward, but he doesn’t object. “Right. I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re already doing enough, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.” You say, “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Arachne? I could hardly call her that. She was closer with Coriolanus than me.” Sejanus shakes his head.

“Still, it’s hard losing someone in your class.” Your eyes land on a stray eyelash laying on his cheek. “Don’t move.”

You reach over, hand resting on the side of his face just long enough for your thumb to swipe away the eyelash. You hold it out for him to see, before brushing it away.

“Thank you.” He says.

“You have to keep up your appearance.” You laugh. “Mine doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“That’s not—”

An explosion shakes the arena, the fiery blast throwing you to the ground, head cracking against the cement. Through blurry eyes, you’re able to make out Sejanus in the smoke, hovering over you, before the black blotches eat away at your vision completely.

—

“Follow the light.” The woman tells you, clicking on the flashlight.

As you adjust the pack of ice against the side of your head, you listen to her directions, eyes flickering to keep track of the light. When she’s satisfied, she clicks it off, dropping it into a pocket on her lab coat. There’s a badge hanging from her neck with an old picture of her and her name.

Magnolia Peacescape. Her occupation is a veterinarian.

Your eyes land on her again, squinting suspiciously. The Capitol couldn’t even afford to give you a real doctor? They had to insist on someone who works on animals?

“What’s your name?” She asks, grabbing a clipboard.

“(Y/n) (L/n).” You murmur, attention shifting to the Peacekeepers who are dragging tributes into the zoo cage.

“How old are you?” She asks.

You open your mouth to speak, the number on the tip of your tongue before it slips away. Your face twists as you search the open air as if it’ll have some answer. All you come up with are blanks, you resort to staring at Magnolia.

She looks up from the paper. “How old are you?” She repeats.

“I’m not sure.” You admit. 

Her face contorts, she reluctantly looks away to write something on the paper. “District?”

“Two.”

“Who’s your mentor?” Her pen pauses.

Once again you have nothing, so you shake your head at her. “Am I supposed to know?”

The wrinkles on her face are deepening with every passing second. She licks her lips, looking over at the Peacekeepers briefly, before turning back to you. “Honey, what’s the name of the boy you came here with?”

Your eyes fall to the cement as you try to picture his face, or any features that may belong to the boy that she’s referring to. When that doesn’t work, you try to conjure up details about him, like his name, his age, his height. All of which she’s withholding.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, trailing off.

She sighs, “Wait here.”

Magnolia Peacescape lowers the clipboard, pulling it against her chest. She walks over to one of the Peacekeepers standing by the metal doors, beginning to speak very quickly, none of it that you can hear over the moans of pain. The tributes are spread out through the enclosure, varying in how hurt they are from the bombing.

Most are covered in soot and smell like smoke from the fire. Their clothes are ripped or burned at the edges, exposing their skin. From what the Peacekeepers were saying, a good number of tributes were injured, but not as severely as the pair from District Nine, who were caught in the fire for an extended period of time.

And of course, a few of them died in the attack. Like the tributes from Six, who got caught by shrapnel, and the two from One, who had tried to escape the arena but got shot before they made it out of the entrance. There was one tribute that managed to escape, though, and that’s the boy you came here with.

As for the mentors, they don’t say much about them. You heard in passing that a pair of twins had died and three mentors got hospitalized. You couldn’t get any more than that, because they pushed you inside of the zoo.

“She needs to go to the hospital!” Magnolia’s high voice suddenly cuts through the noises. “She has a concussion.”

“We aren’t authorized to take them out of the exhibit.” The Peacekeeper drones. “If you have a request, you need to submit it to Dr. Gaul, she’s overseeing the mentoring program and the treatment of the tributes.”

She shakes her head. “So I’m going to have to go through that process for each one of them?” She motions to the cage. “They don’t have time for that.”

“It’s your only option.”

She waves her hand in the air, turning away, coming back in your direction. You move the ice pack the wrong way by accident, making the throbbing come back full force. You wince, pulling it away from your head as you fix your holding.

Magnolia grabs it from you, pats on the ice to make it flat, and then presses it against the dressed cut. “Keep it there until it melts.”

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t done much to deserve that.” She says, looking down at the clipboard. “It says here that you have two sisters, what are their names?” When you don’t respond, she takes a deep breath. “And your mother is dead, can you recall from what?”

You blink, “My mom is dead?”

She writes on the paper. “This is information we gathered from the interview that took place with your mentor.”

Your eyes wander away, thinking about your mom.

“Do you remember the interview?”

“No.” 

Magnolia sighs. “(Y/n), you’re eighteen years old. Your mentor is Sejanus Plinth, and the boy you came here with is Marcus. He escaped early this afternoon.”

Your face twists.

“I suspect you may have anterograde and retrograde amnesia. It’s caused by head trauma.” She stops long enough to write something on the clipboard, then clicks her pen and slides it into her pocket. “From what Mister Plinth told me at the scene, it would make sense. I’ll make a request for them to admit you to the hospital, but I can’t treat you any further. I don’t have the equipment.”

“Amnesia.” You mutter.

“I’ll be checking in on you as much as Dr. Gaul will allow it.” She presses her lips together. “You need to rest and take it easy. If you have any allies, I would suggest asking them to watch over you.”

With that, she walks away, heading to the next tribute. You stand there for a moment, watching as she begins to assess them. And then you turn away, to two piles of hay behind a rock formation. You wander toward it, lowering the ice pack, blinking away the tears that appear in your eyes.

—

In the three days that… that veterinarian visited, you were never actually taken to the hospital. Despite the numerous requests she made, and the notes stating that your memory is gradually getting worse, the doctor—the one in charge of the Games—never had you admitted. 

You weren’t the only one, the tributes from District Nine, who were in much worse shape than you, were neglected. They died sometime during the night, and their bodies were retrieved in the early morning yesterday. A few hours later, the rest of you were packed into two different trucks, separated by gender, with bars, where you were paraded through the streets for what you assume was another funeral.

When they got you together again this afternoon, you were afraid that more people had died, but the Peacekeepers said something about a second interview with your mentors. Which might as well be your first, because you can’t recall a single thing that happened the last time.

The two chairs on either side of you sit empty, their tributes long gone. You know that one of them is dead, but the boy you came here with is still missing. The Peacekeepers have questioned you five times in the past few days, demanding to know where he could’ve possibly gone. Each time they come around, you have to tell them that if he did mention a plan, you don’t remember due to the bombing.

You don’t remember anything.

A group of students dressed in bright red uniforms come down the spiral staircase on the far side of the large room. It really is nice here, with the tall ceilings, the engraved pillars and the arched windows. You haven’t seen anything like it before, the closest building that would come to this in District Two is the Justice Building, but even that’s too worn to compare.

A boy with curly brown hair comes in your direction, with brown eyes so wide that you can see into his soul. He sets his book bag on the ground, settling in the chair across from you. Without saying a single word, he leans forward, placing his hands on top of your shackled ones.

“(Y/n), I’m so glad you’re okay.” He says, face twisted with worry. “When I saw the amount of blood…”

The veterinarian… fuck what was her name? She kept telling you that you needed to be testing your memory, but it’s so hard when you can’t recall the smallest detail. She must’ve told you this boy’s name easily over three dozen times, and how he meant something to you. He’s your mentor of course, you know that much. He’s supposed to be beyond that.

“How are you feeling? Ma made a couple of cold cut sandwiches, you must be hungry.” He says, taking his hands away, opening his bag. “She told me that Doctor Peacescape saw all the tributes.”

Peacescape, that’s the veterinarian’s last name. Whether or not it’ll stick in your mind this time is a complete mystery. Just like the rest of the names, faces and events that should be ringing a bell but don’t.

The boy places a wrapped package on the table, presumably the sandwich. He sits back up in his chair. “It looks like she’s treated you well, the cut on your head is healing nicely.”

You stare at him, face contorted as you struggle to dig through your mind for his name, a significant memory, anything.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, beginning to shake your head.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not your fault. They suspect it was rebels from the districts that placed the bombs.”

“That’s not why I’m apologizing.” You say, “The veterinarian…” You grit your teeth, you just heard her name. “Peacescape, that’s it. Doctor Peacescape diagnosed me with some amnesia disorder due to the concussion. She tried to get me admitted to the hospital but the um… the head doctor for the Games denied her requests.”

The boy has visibly paled. “You don’t remember anything?”

“I mean, I remember some.” Your eyes drift away, to the empty desk to the left, where your tribute partner should be. “There’s a lot of gaps in between.” You look back at him. “I know you’re my mentor, but I don’t know your name. And I know that the boy I came here with ran away in the bombing, but there’s no picture of him in my mind.”

His head has lowered, staring down at the sandwich. He doesn’t say anything for a long minute, thinking to himself. You reach as far as the handcuffs will allow you, which isn’t much. Still, you’re able to place a couple fingers on top of one of his hands.

“Peacescape said you mean something to me. I don’t think she was referring to the fact that you’re my mentor.”

He breathes out, defeated. “I used to live in District Two. Me, you and Marcus went to grade school together.” 

Your eyebrows draw in, waiting for there to be a hint of a memory. “Marcus?”

“The boy that escaped.” He says.

“And what’s your name?” 

“Sejanus Plinth.” 

A part of you wishes that the memories would suddenly flood in at the mention of his name. Like the dozens of times before, there is no reaction, nothing magically clicks. It sits there, at the front of your mind, where it’ll stay for the next few hours until its spotlight is gone. Then, it’ll fade like everything else.

“Sejanus, I’m sure we’re great friends.” You tell him.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n). You shouldn’t be here.” He’s back to holding on to your fingers, tears appearing in his eyes. “You and Marcus should be at home.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now.” You shake your head. “How far are we into the process?”

A tear slides down his cheek, he wipes it away. “Dr. Gaul has approved the sponsorship program, so we need to get you support from the Capitol.”

You nod, “That’s vaguely familiar.”

“Well, they’re still doing the interviews for that, it’s on a voluntary basis now, so it’s no longer required.” He sighs. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“I feel like I don’t have much of a choice. If that’s a factor that’ll help me win, I should do it.” You press your lips together. “Did I have any ideas?”

“You said you wanted to gain sympathy by telling them about your sick sister.” Sejanus murmurs.

“My sister is sick? Which one?” You ask.

“You didn’t say.” He says.

You tilt your head back, looking at the balcony above. You could honestly scream from how stupid this is. It makes no sense, how could you forget a detail that important? Or the fact that your mom is dead? Why is this happening to you?

“I’ll think of something else.” You tell him, closing your eyes. “I can’t use that anymore because I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay, (Y/n), you don’t have to.” Sejanus says.

A whistle is blown, you jump in the chair, yanking your hands toward your head to cover, but they don’t even make it halfway before the cuffs dig into your skin harshly, halting the movement. You squeeze your eyes shut as your hands begin to tremble.

A hand is placed on your arm, squeezing your shoulder. “You don’t have any pockets, so you need to put the sandwich in your shirt somewhere. I’m out of time.”

You breathe out shakily, leaning into the table to hook a finger around the inside of your shirt. “If you can wedge it there.”

He does, and no matter how hard you jostle, it keeps in place, giving you hope that it’ll make it back to the zoo enclosure. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says, getting to his feet. “Okay?”

You have to force yourself to nod, raising your head. He doesn’t move from where he stands, waiting for your confirmation. “Okay.” You breathe.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 5: Heaven + Back

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Heaven isn’t even half as far as you’d thought it’d be. It’s barely out of town.

Word Count: 2,181

Content/Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, kissing, sundresses, size difference (applies to all readers bc Ari is just THAT HUGE), dry humping (imma call this technically smut), like sickeningly loving glances but don’t call it love, dancing, getting fed dinner

Author’s Note: I’ve never written anything sexual before, so go easy on me. Also, nothing gets me going like a man who treats his partner equally, taking care of certain things and not expecting anything in return, even though the relationship is full of equal exchanges. I hope this chapter shows a little bit of that back-and-forth. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. Kinda a sweet little flouncy tune.

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You and Ari had been officially dating for about two months now, but had agreed to take it slow for the sake of both of your hearts.

At this point, you were much more aware of the other’s schedule and trusted each other enough to share your locations, something he made sure of so you never had to stress over where he was like that one night. The one night that changed everything for him, for the better.

As you were getting off work, you looked down at your phone to see a text from Ari:

‘I’m picking you up at six. We’re going for a picnic. Rest is a surprise😘’

You smiled at the device in your hand. Ever since that night, he also made sure to tell you a general plan of the dates to ease your worries. Whether or not to eat before, what you might want to wear, could all be implied since he gave just enough detail without spoiling the whole plan.

Ari smiled down at his phone when he saw your reply:

‘I’ll be ready, see you then, Bear❤️’

Ari’s buddies at the ranger station took note of his dopey smile, the way he was always checking his phone unlike anything they’d seen in years of working together. Not even when he was dating his ex, Savannah, or as they all said amongst themselves, ‘the she-devil who must not be named,’ had he ever been this plugged-in.

She never cared to be around, and Ari never cared enough to check his phone for his messages while on the job, and that’s all they needed to know. You, however, they all really liked you. You had come by to surprise Ari during one of his later shifts, so only a few of them were around. Rachel and Max sat with Ari in the dim shack, lit mostly by the golden light that came through the blinds facing the west, a product of the sunset.

You knocked and came in, wearing a sundress and carrying a light dinner you had made using croissants you got from the bakery in town, along with a few baked goods for Ari and the other rangers. It was your day off, and another day of trying a new spot, so you’d figured it was as good a time as any to see where he worked and make a good impression on the closest things he had to friends besides Sammy.

You introduced yourself and sat with the three of them for dinner, everyone raving about the food and thanking you for the rare treat. When you got up to leave, Ari walked you out, giving a bear hug and kiss before he opened your car door and watched until you drove away.

He returned to the station to be greeted by two smirking faces as they chewed their desserts. “We like this one. Don’t mess it up.” Rachel quipped.

Ari went to sit back down at his desk, thinking about you in that sundress, unable to wait until the next time he could get you alone.

Ari was far from a home cook. All that his fridge really housed was enough to get by, but not enough to impress you, so Rachel helped him pick the best restaurant to get some takeout for your picnic date tonight. He’d cook for you someday, but he figured it was better to have enjoyable food now, while he was still learning. You didn’t deserve to be fed garbage.

He stopped by town to grab the meal before heading up the winding road to your place. You stepped out on the front porch in another one of your sundresses, hair down and sunglasses perched on your head to combat the evening light. You weren’t wearing a jacket, but this was by design. Maybe Ari could keep you warm. Little did you know, he had the same plan. He had purposely not said anything about needing one, excited for the chance to put you in a jacket of his own. It made him feral.

Ari walked up and greeted you with a peck, holding your hand to guide you back to the truck. Well, more like him holding out his pointer finger for you, with your smaller hand wrapped around it. You learned that first night after holding his hand that it was a little difficult to spread your fingers to accommodate for his large ones, so this was one of the solutions, besides holding hands without interlocking fingers, just as good of a fix.

He opened up the driver’s seat of his truck, knowing you would’ve slid as close to him as possible anyway, and grabbed your waist to help you get in as you jumped and slid, scooching over. Ari followed and held your hand once again as he drove.

“So where are we going?”

Ari glanced between you and the road with a smile. “Somewhere very special.”

He took a turn off the paved road and onto a dirt path, an access route that was part of the lesser-used hiking trails. Ari pulled past a creek, and through the evergreens, until he reached a rocky clearing, turning the truck around so the bed was facing a cliff.

He hopped out of the truck as you scooted to the edge of the bench, legs dangling over the side as Ari moved to stand between them. He rubbed your sides, leaning in and placing his forehead against your chest. He took a deep inhale, comforted by the scent of your perfume, but you could tell it was more than that. He was about to say something important, something that made him feel vulnerable. You ran your hands over his hair to comfort him, an attempt of telling him he could take his time, you would wait. His eyes raised to meet yours.

“This is my favorite place. I don’t think many people come out here, but it’s probably the best view you’ve ever seen. I used to run up to this spot just to get away from everything. Seeing town so small really put everything into perspective at a time where I was so fragile and everything was falling apart. I wanted to share it with you.”

You looked down at him, grateful that he trusted you with something he valued so much. “Thank you, Ari. Thank you for bringing me here.”

You leaned down and kissed him before he helped you down and led you to the edge of the cliff. He was right, it was a phenomenal view of the town below, framed by the rest of the mountains that created a valley for it to sit. A haze was falling down the mountainsides, covering everything in a light mist that caught the golden-pinkish hue the sun began to cast.

Ari opened up the truck bed, where you saw pillows and blankets wrapped up. He helped you in before joining, the two of you working together to lay them out before he pulled out the food through the back window of the truck.

You offered a hand, but he insisted on finishing the setup himself, pulling you across his lap and feeding you bites, alternating with his own.

As you finished up and Ari set the containers aside, you shifted to straddle his lap, your sundress draping over both of your legs like a puddle of fabric. From his point of view, he swore the setting sun formed a halo over your head. You looked angelic, and it was fitting, for the grace you always gave him. Sunday morning had nothing on you and the miracles your simple existence had done for Ari. He didn’t know he had needed saving, and that was just what you had done for him and then some.

Ari admired everything about you. It’s like there was magic in your eyes. For all he knew, this gravel road was a street of gold because you touched it. The only thing he hadn’t seen you do yet was turn water into wine. But to be fair, he hadn’t asked.

As you looked into his eyes, searching back and forth, you could see how deeply he was looking into your soul.

“Hey, Bear, what’s going on in your head?” You leaned in closer. He always looked at you with such deep care, but it was too soon to call it love, right? Maybe it was longing? Maybe it was trust, or appreciation? What was a word to describe all of those things together?

He looked up at you with the dopiest grin. “Just thinking about how amazing you are.”

His hands rubbed your back, slowly pulling you down closer to him until your lips met. Your fingers ran through his hair, nails scratching his scalp, causing him to moan into your mouth. This kiss which was soft and tender at first became needier. Ari’s hands moved to your hips and squeezed.

His grip pulled you forward, creating a delicious friction against your core. You could feel yourself growing wet through the thin fabric of your panties as he continued to guide you back and forth in his lap. You pushed yourself against him harder, feeling his erection grow through his jeans as you maintained a rhythm.

You finally pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air and tucking your face into his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his sun-kissed skin. The salty taste of a thin layer of sweat hit your tongue, swirling with his familiar cologne and the surrounding pine, creating a comforting musk that was so him.

One of Ari’s hands moved to your cheek, guiding your head so you could look into his eyes again.

“Eyes on me, Duchess. You look so beautiful right now. You’ve gotta be an angel, this feels heavenly.” Ari panted between his words.

You began to move your hips furiously against his, whines leaving your mouth as you could feel yourself cresting towards a peak. You could tell Ari was getting close, too, his moans growing deeper and raspier as his fingertips dug into you.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. I can feel how wet you are through my jeans. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

His eyes, his words, his body. They were all begging for release. The combination pulled you towards the edge as you felt a warmth flush over your entire body, your eyes squeezing shut, abs tensing, and pussy clenching around nothing. Ari’s strong hands kept you moving, riding out your high as he finished below you with a low grunt, your open mouths against each other, exchanging air.

When you opened your eyes again, you were met with Ari’s, half-lidded and hazy with satisfaction. You scooted back towards his knees to see a shared wet spot on his pants from both of your releases, but Ari wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed at all. He had just shared an intimate moment with his favorite person in his favorite place, and every second of bliss was worth the slight discomfort he was beginning to feel. You grabbed his hands and pulled him to sit up from his spot leaning back against the truck cab.

Ari could see the shiver that ran through your body now that the sun had set, taking the heat with it.

“I’m, uh, gonna change into some of the spare clothes. You want a jacket?”

He vaulted over the side of the truck bed, landing in the dirt with a soft crunch of the pebbles under his feet as he opened the back door.

“Yes please.” You had moved to the edge of the bed, looking out over the cliff at the lights that now glowed in the windows of homes and shops below. It was picturesque, almost like a model village.

You turned over your shoulder as you heard music start to play. Ari had turned on the radio, low on the dash, a familiar type of music coming through the speakers and open driver’s side doors. You could see he had changed pants as he reached out a hand toward you.

“Care for a dance?” You jumped down and joined him as he slipped a hoodie over your head and pulled you close. Once a couple songs has passed, Ari stopped swaying and pulled away, looking at you sheepishly.

“I kinda didn’t think this through, but I need to turn off the radio so I don’t kill the truck battery.” You laughed and nodded, heading back to push yourself up and sit on the edge of the tailgate.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. As much as I love being out here with you, I’m sure being stranded bear bait is not a good look on me.”

Ari returned to you and scrunched his nose, leaning close. “Too late.” He whispered in your ear before playfully biting your neck and joining you up in the bed again. You giggled as he pulled you closer, the two of you eventually falling back, laying there and looking at the unobstructed sky full of stars.

Next >

Bonus A/N: How badly do you think a person needs a pinky toe? Because I would definitely cut mine off for a truck bed date with Ari.

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part two

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

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"Trust I seek and I find in you Every day for us something new Open mind for a different view" - Nothing Else Matters, Metallica

(CANADIAN HEIGHTS, DRAGONVIEW. JANUARY 3, 2023)

"You couldn't have told me about Rhaenyra?" the sentence slips off your tongue immediately after the door slams shut. He takes a deep inhale, further expanding your doubts as he places his coat on the rack. "I don't like her - never did." he grumbled while walking towards the living room - you trail after him.

"I didn't think that you'd meet each other." he reasoned while opening a bottle of beer. "- it's the first time in twenty years that I've seen her work. She got the majority of Dad's trust." he avoided your gaze.

You continued staring at him - waiting until he tells the truth. "You could've told me that she was your sister." you pointed out. A scoff exits his mouth. "Half-sister." he corrected while taking his mug off the counter and storming straight to his office.

(STARLIGHT STEAKHOUSE, DRAGONVIEW. JANUARY 4, 2023)

The dinner came sooner than expected. Soon, you found yourself in the middle of a crowded steakhouse with all the school's faculty. It was pleasant to be in this atmosphere - they all had a familiar aura. One that you'd find in the Mayor's Office or a Family Reunion. They were all cool - nonchalant almost.

"The political climate in Dragonview is relatively calm. I thought all hell would break loose after Viserys died - but Corlys seems to be running this city well." Harwin, Rhaenyra's husband, proclaimed. You were about to ask a question, but a man walks in.

He had an impeccable posture, shoulder's straight - with the same command as a military officer. He was wearing black trousers and a polo shirt that was tucked in neatly. You could hardly make out the Lacoste logo on his chest - if it weren't for the smell of Le Labo Santal 33 that blinded you.

Your eyes trailed from his clothes to his face. Those fucking purple eyes - those eyes that you've been searching for. They looked like a field of Lavender, and all you wanted to do was drown in them. "Is she the new teacher in lucky St. Goretti?" he opened his mouth, his voice was velvety and deep. It made your head spin.

"Yes, the middle faculty's attractive levels are rising." Rhaenyra pats your back and you share a small chuckle. "I'm Daemon, Daemon Targaryen." he says his full name - like it was something that you needed to remember. He looked important, who was he?

"(Your Name)" you responded while shaking his hand. Electric sparks course through your body. Enchanted by a guy that you only met? Unethical. The man sits beside you - tracing his muscles through his tight polo-shirt. He was familiar. You knew him somewhere.

You knew everything about his body language - the way he leaned back when something was hilarious - the way that he took up space because he knew that he was entitled to it. His face looked like coming home. He looked like a thousand sleepless nights cuddled near the fire. But you shouldn't be feeling this way.

It was wrong that time stood still for a man other than Aemond.

"He's my uncle, actually. He owns the land where the school is standing in." Rhaenyra confirmed and your eyebrows merged into each other. "He's your uncle? Is he also Aemond's uncle?" you inquired, seeing an unsettling resemblance between him and your boyfriend. "He's our father's brother." Rhaenyra answered with a smile. "It's a small town, everyone's related." Harwin says.

You felt outcasted one more. Aemond knew everything about you, but you hardly knew anything about his past. When you asked him about it, he'd ignore you and move to 'better' topics. It felt like you were purposefully in the dark about him - like he was hiding something important.

"It's nice to finally meet you. My first meeting with Rhaenyra was quite rocky." you chuckled nervously, everyone in the table was searching for something behind your eyes. Waiting for you to remember? "So she's told," Daemon flashed you a rare smile.

"Of course, he's arrived fashionably late as usual." Rhaenys teased her cousin while cutting through her steak. "Do not get too cocky with me Rhaenys, just because you're the mayor's wife now." Daemon jested and everyone laughed at his joke. "You can't blame him, ever since his ex-wife died and left him that massive public library - he's spent all of his time there." Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, taking a sip of a diet coke.

"It's free and I will use it." he shrugged, turning his knees in your direction. You knew what it meant - he liked you. Was it possible that you weren't the only one with this feeling? "I must admit, I'm a little curious. Where did you meet my brother? What was his job again?" she placed a finger on her lips, attempting to remember her brother's job. Since her father's death, they've all went their opposite ways.

"He streams," you answer and the entire table falls into silence. They weren't luddites, but they were oblivious when it came to modern technology. "It's a work from home type of thing." you expanded and they all nodded. "How did you meet him?" Rhaenyra repeated her question and your face relaxes.

(BERNINA EXPRESS, SWITZERLAND TO ITALY. AUGUST 23, 2018)

Europe was beautiful, really cold, but beautiful.

It was your eighteenth birthday, also the death anniversary of your mother. It's been a decade since she died - life has never been better. "Coffee or hot chocolate?" the attendant inquires and you look at her, "Nothing, thank you." you popped those headphones back on.

So you're leaving, in the morning. On the early train.

It's been ten years since you've last listened to this song - it's humble melody still brought you comfort. You looked towards the vast horizon, soaking in the beautiful scenery of Switzerland. Never in a million years did you expect stepping foot in this country.

Well, I could say everything alright. And I could pretend and say goodbye.

"Miss, you're in my seat." a man leans down, standing beside you.

Your gaze hikes up to his face - he was an ethereal wisp of a man, he had a buzzcut and his hood was partially covering his face. Although, the hood wasn't enough to cover his missing eye. A purple eye?

"What? My seat is 13B." you stared at the ticket in your hands. You reached towards your phone, exiting Spotify and deciding to give him your full attention. "Yes, and you're in 13C." he clenched his jaw. Your cheeks turned crimson red.

"I'm sorry. Here, I'll move." you apologized, moving your body until you were seated beside the window. "It's alright, I'd sit there but I don't like window seats." he settled his backpack on his lap. A frown is etched upon your face, "How? It's the best seat." you voiced out.

An amused chuckle escaped his mouth.

"For you, maybe."

(STARLIGHT STEAKHOUSE, DRAGONVIEW. JANUARY 4, 2023)

"How did you meet him?"

"Europe, it's a romantic place." you smiled fondly at the memory. You always believed that you were lucky to meet him - the perfect strangers. It came straight out of a Disney movie. "Oh, where? Harwin and I met there too!" Rhaenyra cheered, quickly leaning on her husband's shoulder. "The Bernina Express."

Harwin's eyes narrowed - seemingly remembering an experience of his own. "Oh, remember that family trip when we went to in Italy? We took the Bernina Express too, was that where you met?" Harwin asked and Rhaenyra grumbled. "What date was that again?" she inquired and Daemon answered this time; with a shaky breath.

"August 23," he gulped.

It was the day where he remembered. The day that he began looking for you. "Exactly, it was my birthday." you smiled and Rhaenyra couldn't help but laugh. "We could've known each other sooner. Although, me and the others took the first class seats. Aemond insisted on getting the normal ones." she reminisced.

Daemon's teeth burrowed into his lower lip.

Did Aemond plan for this?

"Invisible string theory?" Mysaria inquired, but no one understood her reference. "We're glad to know you now," Daemon nodded - seemingly convincing himself. "Likewise," you smiled.

"(Your Name) can I get your Instagram? I took a really cool photo and I want to post it." Rhaenyra asked while pulling out her phone.

"Yeah sure!"

RhaeTargaryen: Dinner with the #SJTWSID Faculty! ❤️ Anyone know the full name of our beloved school?

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>comments

cordenciagomes: st. Joseph the worker's school in dragonstone 🤣 a mouthful isn't it? - RhaeTargaryen: Quite 😅

HarwinStrong: Beautiful picture!

(RED KEEP MANSIONS, DRAGONVIEW. JANUARY 4, 2023)

"I hope that you don't take the entire thing to heart." Rhaenyra stands outside of her uncle's mansion, half her foot was inside the door - half was still splayed on the concrete. "Everything happens for a reason," he responded with a thin lipped smile.

Rhaenyra becoming his close confidant was a surprise. In his other life, he was older by decades - in this life, there were only four years between them. They could relate to each other now - know each other in ways deeper than shared blood.

She breathes a sigh of relief.

"I'm glad that's all sorted. Just don't think much about it, I'm sure that Aemond doesn't remember. We haven't seen him since that trip 5-years ago, where he met her." Rhaenyra whispered. "Do you think that he remembered there too?" he couldn't help but inquire.

Rhaenyra ponders for a moment, before seeing her son descend from the Grand Staircase. "Don't think about it, uncle." she moved past him. "Jace, it's time to go home." she smiled.

Daemon did think about it.

It was 12:00am. Four hours past his bedtime.

All he could think about was you. The thought of you being engaged to his nephew brought shivers down his spine.

You were his wife for gods sake! The woman that healed his wounds, showed him what true love meant. Aemond did not deserve you.

He closes his eyes, trying to remove the mental image in his head. His nephew's arms around your waist, pressing kisses on your neck. Aemond standing beside you, usurping Daemon's rightful place.

There was an indescribable feeling in his heart. Hopelessness.

He'd exchange all the money in his bank account just to feel you in his arms again, seeking comfort in him like you used to do before. He misses the way that you'd talk to him about healing, and sometimes he'd tell you stories about his past in the battlefield.

Most of all, he misses the way that you'd plan about the future. Naming all the sons and daughters that you wanted to have.

Sons and daughters that he promises to have with you.

Please remember. Was the last thought that went through his head until he fell asleep.

(TIRANO, ITALY. AUGUST, 23 2018.)

Daemon exited the building carefully, excited to finally be back in this beautiful place. The country where Renaissance began. He sees a woman - walking past him and he can't help but feel drawn towards her. She was beautiful, slender and with alluring eyes.

The world stood still for a moment, before he finally got the guts to open his mouth. "Miss, can you take a picture of me?" he requested, pulling out his vintage camera that he bought especially for this trip. "I really have to meet someone," she tried to reason, clearly panicked and staring at the floor.

"Please, just one picture." he pleaded - feeling that familiar pain in his head. Hopefully the dreams wouldn't return tonight. "O-okay," she stuttered, reaching for his camera. He adjusted his suit, leaning on one of the airplane statues that they had in the courtyard. She clicks, taking a picture of him - before running off.

All without staring at his face.

"Thank you," he whispered - holding his camera and feeling electric sparks course through his body. She was the last thing he remembered before falling out of consciousness.

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DaemonTargaryen.phd: Beautiful day here in Tirano. 🇮🇹

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Posted August 24, 2018.

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