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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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Where You Want My Lipstick Part Nine

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Notes: This turned out way longer than I thought this chapter would be, soz If you’re viewing on mobile, I’ve noticed that the italics can get a little wonky. For the conversations below, the texts that start with ‘-’ indicated Reader’s texts. Thanks for all of the likes/comments/reblogs/replies. I’ll be honest, I was pretty nervous posting this story and the positive feedback has made me feel way more confident, so yeah. Thank you!! Not beta-read

The warnings below lists a running/growing list of warnings that vary from chapter to chapter. Not everything on the list below will be in every chapter.

Warnings: This fic has explicit sexual content.

Sugar daddy-esque relationship, oral sex, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex, Daddy kink mention, Dom/Sub dynamics, alcohol, under-negotiated kinks, possessive behavior, jealousy, public sex, cock warming, shower sex, phone sex, praise kink If you dislike these, please don’t read. Thank you. Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Andy wouldn’t give me any hints or clues about what he had up his sleeve.

After our little... talk, we seemed to have defined some of the invisible lines. Andy still teased me about coming into his office to fool around, but he never pressed, knowing I was wary of becoming the talk of the office. Our meet-ups weren’t limited to his place or weekends anymore. I told him when I was going out people (I hadn’t seen Max again after our drink, and hadn’t gone on anything that could be classified as a date) and he told me when he and Selena got another drink...And then another (though it seemed to stop at that).

AB: What are you doing this weekend?

I glanced at Andy. He rarely messaged me during meetings; he was typically too immersed in work, but the staff meeting had devolved into whether ketchup should be drizzled over fries, or left on the side.

I’ve got some stuff to do.

AB: Stuff you can put off?

Maybe. Why?

Andy’s eyes narrowed at me playfully.

AB: Can you clear your schedule, yes or no.

What are you planning?

AB: Yes or no. I leaned back in my seat, eyeing the chat window before I minimized it, opening my email and pretending to skim on as I considered the question. I had loosely made plans with a friend of mine, but we hadn’t set anything in stone; I needed to do some laundry, but besides that and maybe a Breaking Bad marathon, I didn’t have any pressing business. I glanced up at Andy, knowing he was still watching me, before I opened the chat window.

Yes.

Andy wouldn’t give me any hints or clues about what he had up his sleeve. He wouldn’t even come in when I invited him up that night. “What was the point in following me home, then?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest. He tipped his head to the side, amused at my irritation as he kept his distance, hands tucked in his pockets as he leaned against his car. “To tell you to be ready to go at one tomorrow afternoon,” He said. “Could’ve told me that over the phone.” He quirked a brow. “And because I feel like I never get to see you anymore. I mean outside the office, and besides...You know.” I averted my eyes, shifting from foot to foot. There was some truth in that. When Andy and I had had our disagreement, I hadn’t been ready to own up to the feelings I had for him - I still wasn’t, especially not to him. Before we’d fought, I’d gotten used to spending my weekends curled up in bed with him, or hanging out on his couch, ribbing him for the boxes left unpacked. We’d order takeout, or I’d talk him into letting me poke around in his fridge, making do with what he had there for dinner before we wound up back in bed. It felt sweet, domestic. It was one of the reasons I had felt so fucked up when we finally talked. What we had worked better now - I’d un-planted the mental flag I’d once staked at Andy’s apartment, on Andy, with that stupid, possessive, vicious little voice in me that whispered, “mine,” when I looked at him. Spending less time with him took the sting out of the truth: the relationship Andy and I had was sexual, full-stop. “We’ve both been busy,” I pointed out, lifting my head again to meet his eye. Andy didn’t say anything to that, just pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out to me. When I didn’t take it right away, he asked, “What, you think I’m going to bite?” I rolled my eyes. “No, I’ve seen your face pre-bite. This face is much more calm,” I waved my own hand in the direction of his face before taking hold of his. Andy smiled, pulling me closer. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I felt myself relax a bit. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” He said. I sighed, nodding. “Alright,” I agreed, looking up at Andy, “Are you coming to pick me up?” His eyes glinted mischievously, and I groaned. “Come on, you can’t even tell me that?” I whined. Andy leaned in, giving me a soft, teasing kiss. His tongue skimmed over my lower lip, then his teeth. He leaned away before I could chase the feeling. I groaned, closing my eyes. “... I deeply dislike you right now,” I sighed. Andy laughed, giving me another quick peck. “One o’clock. Don’t be late,” he said as he let go of me.

It felt like it took me ages to fall asleep. I couldn’t fathom what Andy was even planning. When I woke up the next morning, I had a text.

Sir🖤 Good morning, princess

I was glad he wasn’t there; every time Andy started in with a new term of endearment, it threw me at first. I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks and a warmth spreading through me. I read it over a couple more times, imagining how he’d say it - as a murmur, or a moan, or a growl. -Good morning, sir

Sir🖤 Pack an overnight bag. What time are you gonna be ready by?

A bag? I had at least one outfit’s worth of clothing at his place.

-One o’clock

Sir🖤 Good girl

I squeezed my thighs together, groaning in frustration. This wasn’t making me any less impatient for the day ahead.

I dressed casually; Andy hadn’t given me any indication that we’d be doing anything outlandish or fancy, so I figured casual was a safe middle. I had gotten a text at 12:58 that the car was downstairs. I had assumed he’d meant his - with him in it. I was wrong. There was hired car waiting for me. The driver introduced himself as Joey as he took my bag from me, setting it in the trunk. “You’re not allowed to tell me where we’re going, are you?” I asked as I go into the car. He smiled a little, shaking his head. “I’ve been told it’s a surprise.” I leaned back in the seat, pulling my phone out.

-What are you up to? Sir🖤 Just relax, baby

I shook my head, narrowing my eyes at the phone. ‘Relax’. Like that was so easy.

-- Our first stop was a lingerie boutique. I was told we had half an hour before I got out of the car. I’d been there before with Andy - it had been a pretty quick trip, as we’d both wanted to get back to his apartment as quickly as possible. I flashed the salesgirl a smile as I began to look around. I fingered a few price tags, thoughtful. I found myself looking for things with Andy in mind. I usually didn’t - I focused on what made me feel hot - but I also knew from experience that when Andy was feeling impatient, he tended to get a bit hurried and rough, and was more likely to rip something off of me than to try and get it off the right way.

I picked out two sets - one white and one black. The white bra underwire framing, with no fabric anywhere else but a band than stretched across the nipples; the matching underwear were equally sparse - thick elastic bands to hold up the lace that covered what needed to be covered. The black set had a similar underwire cut, but there was a vertical black band to cover the nipples, as well as a floral crochet pattern that decorated the cup; the matching underwear was black mesh, high-waisted and cheeky. I knew we’d both love how my ass looked in them. I headed over to the counter to pay and when I passed the salesgirl my card, she frowned at it. “Something the matter?” I asked. “Oh! No, the opposite. It’s already taken care of,” She passed my card back to me before she turned, rooting around for something on her station. She produced a small handwritten card, passing it to me before she turned away to bag my order. I looked down at the card, reading Andy’s message, Can’t wait to see what you picked, sweetheart. Get back in the car for your next surprise. I smiled down at the card, unable to help the giddiness I felt. It was like a treasure-hunt where I didn’t actually need to do any hunting. I thanked the salesgirl before heading back out to the car.

-Thank you, sir Sir🖤 You’re welcome, princess

-- The next stop was a clothing boutique. Joey mentioned that I had another half hour, and I thanked him. I was a little irked, though. Half an hour did not feel like enough. -I’m gonna need a tiny hint about what we’re doing

-Please, sir?

Sir🖤 Dinner.

And that was all I got. I raised a brow. Dinner. Well, if he was going to all this trouble, it was safe to assume he wasn’t going to just take me to grab takeout and then back to his. Us going out somewhere like that would be...New. I looked over the dresses, keeping the lingerie I’d just bought in mind. The black set would be easier to pair with something. I grabbed a few dresses that caught my eye right off the bat and tried them on. I settled on a low-cut, burgundy dress that hugged my body and had a hemline that stopped just above my knees. I figured I had finished with a few minutes to spare, but when I reached the cashier and handed over my card, the sales attendant looked dubious and said, “Mr. Barber asked me to tell you not to forget shoes and a purse.” So I wouldn’t be heading back to my apartment? I grabbed a pair of gold heels and a matching clutch, texting Andy as the sales attendant bagged the purchase. -How’d you know I’d forget?

Sir🖤 Just a hunch, sweetheart. You happy with your pick? -Yes, sir

Sir🖤 Good

-Am I heading to see you now?

Sir🖤 Not yet. Get in the car

I took the bag from the sales attendant with thanks and did as I was told.

-- When Joey pulled up in front of a spa, I was confused. “Um... You’re sure we’re at the right place?” I asked when he opened the door for me. “Positive,” He smiled. I thanked him before I headed inside. I gave my name and the receptionist smiled, informed me that I was right on time, and that my esthetician would be with me shortly. I sat in the reception area, pulling my phone out. I glanced at the ‘No Cellphones Beyond This Point’ sign and hurried to text Andy.

-You’re spoiling me.

Sir🖤 You deserve to be spoiled, princess

-I have to shut my phone off when I go in

Sir🖤 I know

-I like being able to talk to you :(

Sir🖤 You’ll get to talk to me later

I looked up as my name was called at I stood, still texting.

-I’m heading in now.

Sir🖤 Have a good time, princess

I had never been so relaxed in my life. Andy had pre-arranged for me to have a Swedish massage, a body polish, a manicure and pedicure, and for my hair and makeup to be done. I spent the entire time almost in a daze. There were moments when I selfishly wanted Andy to be there with me, but I pushed those thoughts away in favor of happier ones - how nice tonight was going to be, how good I felt... How much I liked Andy.

Joey drove me to a hotel a couple of towns over. I had no idea where we were going; Andy hadn’t answered my text asking when I got to see him once I got out of the spa. He helped me out of the car, getting my bags for me. When I went to tip him, he waved me off saying, “Mr. Barber’s got it.” There was a chilled bottle of champagne waiting for me in the hotel room when I got inside, and a handwritten note from Andy on the bedside table.

I’ll pick you up at 6:30, princess -Andy

I smiled, putting the note back down where I’d found it. I opened the champagne, pouring myself a glass and setting it down beside the note. I took a picture of the two, texting it to Andy and adding Wish you were here. x

Sir🖤 Soon

-Can’t you come by and have some fun before dinner?

Sir🖤 Don’t be a tease

-Then can I have some fun before dinner?

Sir🖤 Don’t be a brat

I pouted, picking up the glass of champagne and taking a sip. When I didn’t answer his text, I got another one.

Sir🖤 Don’t touch yourself. Promise me. -I wanna

Sir🖤 I know you do. I want to, too, but we’re gonna wait. I’m gonna take care of you tonight. Understand?

-Yes, sir.

Sir🖤 Good girl

I didn’t know why I was so damn nervous. This wasn’t a blind date, it was Andy. But there I was, standing in the middle of the hotel room with paper towels folded in half and tucked under my arm pits to stop the stress sweat. I jumped at the knock on the door. I pulled the paper towels out from under my armpits, tossing it away and doing a quick double-check to make sure there were no bits stuck or left behind before I walked over to the door. I smoothed the fabric of the dress down before I opened the door. He looked good - he always looked good - in a slate grey button down and a pair of black slacks. “Damn,” I commented, looking him over. He laughed, cupping my cheek. “I was about to say the same about you,” He murmured before he leaned in, kissing me gently. I smiled, resting my hands on his chest. That smile quickly turned to a pout when he leaned away. “None of that, sweetheart, we don’t wanna be late,” He said, tapping the tip of my nose with his finger, “Grab your bag and let’s go.” As soon as I’d made sure I had my phone, room key, wallet, and lipstick, I met Andy at the door. He took hold of my hand, intertwining our fingers as we walked down the hall. I had the immediate urge to pull my hand away from his, but pushed it down. We weren’t in our town, where it was highly likely anyone could see us. No one around here knew us.

Dinner was at an Italian bistro a couple of blocks away. It was a quiet spot; Andy got us a table in the corner, where we could play footsie, hold hands, sneak the occasional kiss. It felt foreign to me, but definitely not unwelcome in any way. Even when we weren’t being touchy, things with Andy just felt comfortable. We could talk about work, sure, but that wasn’t all we had to talk about. It felt a little bit more like it had when my burgeoning crush on him had yet to be a fling, when we would still eat lunch together on a regular basis. It felt domestic and romantic and sweet. I ached for that.

-- I was on him the second we got back to the hotel room. “Slow down,” Andy laughed. I didn’t even care that he was laughing at me; I didn’t look away from where my freshly manicured, carnation pink nails were making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. “Hey,” He added when I didn’t stop, catching hold of my wrists to get my attention. I looked up at him, biting my lip, a bit bashful as I lowered my eyes back to his chest. “You’ve been taking care of my all day,” I said softly, “I wanna take care of you, too.” Andy’s eyes softened. “You know that just because I give you something doesn’t mean you have to give me something, right?” He asked, letting go of one of my wrists to push a lock of my hair behind my ear, “Sometimes I just wanna do things for you.” “This was more than just something, Andy, today was so much, I just--...” I trailed off, closing my eyes. I didn’t trust my words right now. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to his neck, then another, then another. I pressed my released hand to his chest, sliding it down over the skin I’d exposed and slipping it into his shirt. “Let me,” I begged, “Please.” I could feel Andy hesitate before he let go of my other wrist. I leaned up, brushing my lips against his a few times and drawing away before he could press in for a kiss. His hands settled on my hips, squeezing whenever I drew away, frustrated. I smiled as looked up at him. I hooked my fingers in his belt loops, pulling him further into the room. I nudged him to sit on the bed, watching as he went down. I reached behind myself, unzipping my dress and pulling it up over my head. I watched Andy’s eyes wander my body as I tossed it aside. I felt a swell of self-satisfaction as Andy’s lips parted, speechless at the sight of me. His hands came up to skim over the outside of my thighs as I stepped closer, resting my hands on his shoulders as I straddled his lap. “Do you like it?” I teased. Andy’s eyes lifted from my chest to my face as he slid his hands up to cup the swell of my ass. “You look beautiful.” I dipped my head, hiding my flushing face in his neck and peppering kisses along the skin there as he squeezed my ass. I pressed back against his hands before I pressed down against his hardening dick, gently rolling my hips. I felt Andy’s lips skim over my shoulder tenderly, a hand slipping up my side to slid under the bra’s strap, thumbing over the skin. It slid back down then, settling on my rib cage and gently pushing me back. I sighed as he kissed over my collarbones, mouthing a hot, wet line down to my breasts. His tongue traced along the skimpy floral pattern, teasing the exposed skin. I slid a hand into his hair, lightly scratching my nails along his scalp as he lapped at me, tongue lapping over the fabric covering my nipple before he moved on to the other breast. I whined, pressing my breast against Andy’s mouth as he gave it the same teasing treatment.

When I couldn’t take it anymore I tightened my hold on Andy’s hair, pulling him up for a kiss. He groaned into it, tightening his grip on me.

“Careful, princess,” he growled. I squirmed at the tone, unable to ignore the throbbing between my legs as I ground down against him harder. “Sorry, sir,” I breathed. I dropped a light kiss to his lips, then another, and another as I undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Once I’d undone them all, I reached up, pushing it away. He let go of me for a moment, pulling it off and tossing it atop my dress.

I climbed out of his lap before he could reach for me again. I felt him watching me as I got down on my knees. I slid my hands up his thighs, taking my time as I undid his pants. I saw his hand in my periphery. I figured he was going to slide his hand into my hair, but he cupped my cheek, tipping my face up to look at him. When he didn’t say anything, I turned my head, pressing a kiss to his palm. He smiled, trailing his thumb over my lips. I leaned out of his touch to take him into my mouth. Andy hummed low in his throat as I swirled my tongue around the head. I didn’t take anymore of him into my mouth, just trailed my nails up and down over his shaft. I did this a couple more times, then flicked my tongue over the slit. I leaned back, letting the head go and flicking my tongue over it once more before I leaned down, kissing along the underside. I started with gentle pecks at the head, then increased the pressure as I moved down, adding my tongue. Andy’s hand slid into my hair as I reached the base, and I tipped my head to peer up at him from under my lashes. He was watching me with this unguarded lust, licking his lips as my tongue flicked out before I pressed another wet kiss to his dick. I trailed the kisses back up, getting sloppier as I got closer to the head. I kept my eyes on his as I took him back into my mouth, hand working over what I didn’t take into my mouth. “Feels so good, princess,” he breathed as I swirled my tongue around his head. I moaned around him, clenching my thighs as his grip tightened in my hair. I pulled off of him, hand still working over his shaft. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” I murmured. “Yeah? You’ve been thinking about getting on your knees for me?” Andy asked. I nodded. I didn’t know why the admission made me feel so open and dirty. “What else have you been thinking about?” He asked. I leaned down sucking a kiss against the side of his dick before answering, “I’ve been thinking about you fucking me,” I murmured, “Just thinking about you gets me so fucking wet sometimes-- It was so hard not to touch myself earlier, I wanted to so bad--” “But you didn’t, right?” Andy gave me a sharp look and I shook my head quickly. “I didn’t, I promise,” I pouted. That look melted and he leaned down, catching my lips in a heated kiss. “I believe you, baby,” He murmured, “I know you’re a good girl for me.” I nodded, leaning up for another quick kiss as I murmured, “Yours.” Andy’s face changed after I said that. It was like something overtook him, something hungry and frantic. He hauled me up, back into his lap. I gasped against his mouth as he kissed me greedily. I could feel his dick pressing against my clit through the mesh of my panties. “Please,” I mumbled, pressing down against him harder. He reached down, slipping his hand into my underwear and pressing a finger into me. I sighed into his mouth, working my hips against his hand. He added a second finger, then a third in quick succession, working me open faster than he had before. I leaned away from him, reaching under one of the pillows where I had stashed a condom earlier. Andy lightened for a moment, turning and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Someone’s prepared,” he teased. “I need you in me,” I whined, not in the mood to be teased anymore. I rolled the condom onto him, stroking him a couple of times once it was on. Andy slid his fingers out, slapping my clit once before he pulled his hand out of my underwear. I keened, hips bucking at the pleasure that chased the sting. Andy pulled the seat of my underwear aside. “Go on, sweetheart,” He murmured, “Take what you want.” I rested my forehead against Andy’s, closing my eyes. “Look at me,” he ordered. I opened my eyes, watching him as I took him in. I didn’t bother trying to cover up the desperate little sighs and moans that fell out of my mouth; now and again my eyes would start to drift shut from the feeling and he’d squeeze my thigh, reminding me. I kept my eyes on his as I settled in his lap. “Feels so big, Andy,” I murmured, kissing him gently as I began to move. “Yeah?” He breathed. I smiled, watching a flush spread over his cheeks. I felt his hands on my hips, even as I took control of the pace. I nodded. “Mhm,” I murmured, “You feel so good-- You always feel so good.” I leaned in, biting at the hinge of his jaw. "I‘ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” I murmured, “Never liked being anyone’s the way I like being yours.” Andy groaned lowly, arms wrapping around me to still me. His hips drove into me in quick, sharp thrusts. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, moaning as he fucked me. I closed my eyes, pressing my face into his shoulder and meeting his thrusts as best I could. “Fuck-- Andy,” I warned, feeling myself growing close. Andy turned his head, catching my mouth with his. “Cum,” He murmured, “Cum on my cock, princess, I wanna feel you tighten up on me-- Fuck that’s it--” I threw my head back as I came, gasping his name as his thrusts quickened. He drew me into his chest so I didn’t tumble off of his lap and I slouched against him, flushed and panting. He nuzzled into my hair, gently laying us both on the bed. I curled up against his chest, closing my eyes for a few moments. I felt his hand drift over my back in slow, soothing circles. I whined when he got up, but let him go. I didn’t open my eyes as I felt Andy take hold of my ankle, undoing the strap of one shoe and removing it before removing the other. He gently peeled my underwear off next. I lifted my hips to help him, settling down again once they were off. “Lean up just a little for me, baby,” Andy’s voice was soft in my ear. I did as I was told, propping myself up on my elbows as Andy reached around, unclasping my bra. I sighed as he eased it off my shoulders, settling back down onto the bed. Andy chuckled, pressing a kiss where one of the straps had been. “C’mere,” He laughed softly. I opened my eyes, watching him settle by the headboard. I pushed myself onto my hands and knees, crawling up the bed to join him and climbing under the covers. I curled into Andy’s side as he pulled me in, wrapping my arm around him and sliding a leg between his. I heard him murmur, “Sweet dreams, baby,” before I drifted off.

#Andy Barber #Andy Barber x Reader #Andy Barber x You #Where You Want My Lipstick

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ursoself-satisfying · 6 years ago

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Whole Lotta Love

P A T M U R R A Y (Undrafted) x F!Reader, SMUT

Warnings: smut, lots of it, language, like all the sex guys all of it guys,,, SPOILER: UNSAFE SEX THEY DISCARD THE CONDOM WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP IT BOYS N GIRLS

A/N: this is my zenic,, its 10k words n I am v tired,,,, I hope you all enjoy sorry its late lol

an accompanying playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/criceloni/playlist/5sP9FcSsFcPjFodxN1E5RY?si=dNK4SdE2RoSRcqhN99dntg

The engine of your car sputtered weakly as you turned the key for the third time. You pursed your lips and grunted as you screwed your whole arm around, twisting the key in the ignition again. The hot sun beat against the grimy, untinted windows of the old van and your skin boiled under the magnification of the glass. Drops of sweat limply slipped down the side of your face, sizzling when they hit the leather between the seats. The day was nice, but the interior of the vehicle was sweltering and stunk of burgers and sex. You groaned loudly and threw your head back tiredly. With your eyes closed, you tiredly and hopelessly went to turn the car on one last time, dreading the spitting sound that you expected to greet you. You were indeed greeted by the same annoying noise, burned into your eardrums by now, but it faded after a moment, the harsh metallic sounds blending into a solid purr as the engine started, radio turning on to the classic rock station. Shooting up out of your seat in shock, both at the sound and the unexpected success, your hands slammed against your steering wheel and your mouth hung open. “Oh my God,” you muttered, “Oh my God! Thank you, God!” You shouted at the roof of the car and you let out a dry sob. The wet lines down your face could have been sweat or tears, or both at this point. Loud thrums echoed through the cabin of the vehicle as you drummed your hands against the soft roof excitedly, shaking your head in a grateful spasm of relief. “YES! Oh my God, yes, thank you.” The soft whispers left your lips in the form of a laugh and you gripped the steering wheel tightly, taking a deep breath and smiling widely. The next thing you did was roll down the windows and sigh as the clear, blue sky blessed you with fresh air, letting The Who play you out. The gas pedal was pushed down and you made your way from the curb where you’d been sitting for the last half an hour. The VW bus bounced, “My Generation” fading as you turned a corner and made your way to the game.

Your sputtering horseless carriage shuttered to a stop and felt like it would cave in and collapse once in park. With a shake, you turned off on a ‘don’t text and drive’ PSA, the engine and rolled up the dirty windows. Manually locking the door behind you, you exited the rusted green car and headed towards the greener field. You rolled your eyes as you passed a large bus undoubtedly belonging to the opposing team. You doubted it was necessary and would have guessed it was more of a petty power move if anything. A small group of people, not yet a crowd, was gathered by the fences of the baseball field watching the game. It had already begun and you’d missed the first few innings. You searched the crowd for a familiar figure until you spotted a red shirt and jogged over to it. “Brian!”

The man turned to see you waving your hand happily above your head. He turned once he recognized you and laughed heartily with open arms. “[Y/N]!”

Once you reached him, he wrapped his strong arms around you and lightly picked you up. You did your best to return the embrace but he held you too tightly. His cotton button up smelled strongly of a flower-scented detergent and a gas station, comforting and familial. Your laughs mixed and you remained leaned against him when he put you down. “Mr. Murray,” you started playfully, “How are you on this fine day?” The older man patted your back and chuckled.

“Well, I could be doing a hell of a lot better.” Brian looked out at the game, Barone at-bat, and took a deep sigh. You scanned his face with concern, catching the glaze of sadness in his eyes. You softly placed a hand on his shoulder, unsure of what happened exactly, but having an idea.

You turned your head back and look around you for Brian’s almost other half, but seeing the older Mazzello nowhere. You felt safe enough to ask, “He didn’t get it, did he? John-” He shook his head quickly, not turning towards you. You wanted to ask how Pat was taking it but you could figure it out based on your past experiences. You weren’t sure Brian would know at this point anyway. For a moment, you just watched the game. Barone wouldn’t slide and Ty was clearly upset. All you could hear were the curse words carried to you by the light wind picking up. You squeezed Brian’s arm gently and gave him a sympathetic smile, before gulping and beginning to say something. “So then where’s-”

Joe walked up beside Brian and handing him a bottle of water from his trip to concessions. The shorter man glanced over and stopped when he caught sight of you. “Oh, [Y/N]-”

“Hey, Joe,” you replied softly. The man beside stepped back to allow you to give a quick embrace to the new arrival. You stepped back and smiled, biting your lip. “I’m sorry,” you spoke quickly, “He deserved it. John’s-” A stifled laugh interrupted your sentence, but you continued, “Not that I would know, but he’s the best, I hear. He should have gotten it. That’s- That’s so stupid-”

“He’s got some offers, but there’s not much we can do now that it’s over.” Leaning against the fence, the dark-haired man took a swig from the bottle he held and smiled faintly back at you though he kept his attention on the game before him. “Now we just play.”

Though you’d missed the first five innings at least, Brian filled you in on how the game had gone on with as many bumps and hitches as you could possibly imagine. The D-Backs were down (though you honestly wouldn’t have expected otherwise) and hoped for a comeback. Ty interrupts Barone’s play to demand he dirty his uniform, a call is unfairly continued and Ty (again) interrupts and demands his complaint be noted, which had been happening just as you’d arrived.

You were there just in time to see Pat’s second at-bat. “C’mon, baby, you got this! Hit it out of the fuckin’ park!” You were screaming and hollering encouragements at your boyfriend. His father chuckled and gave you a side-eyed glance, a glint of understanding gleaming on his face, seeing again why you and his son got on so well. “He’s not gonna get a hit,” you said quietly to the man beside you, not taking your eyes off the boy at bat.

Brian nodded, smiling. “Never does.” Both of watched as the third pitch was thrown and Pat unsurprising did not get a home run. He let out a long and frustrated scream and hit the bat against his helmet instead before heading to the dugout. The bat Pat had used broke against the fence pole as he hit it repeatedly and cursed the ‘loaded fucking bases’.

Pat then ran to his position in the outfield as he was told but it was clear he hadn’t cooled down yet by his continued yells. If you knew Pat Murray, you knew what he sounded like when he said ‘fuck’. By now, his curses were carved into your ears and you could hear them in your dreams. He yelled and yelled as the game continued, with some concern shown by his teammates and some confusion by the competition. Vinnie had attempted to diffuse the situation by engaging in a friendly game of catch between bats but Murray firmly stuck the ball in the scoreboard. He very nearly took Zapata’s head off.

“Is he like this at home?” The elder Murray let a smile tweak his lips upwards for a moment, then looked away from the comment. You leaned over the fence n suppressed a laugh at what John had said.

As the game went on, you could tell things would only get worse until it all imploded, and you were right. Brian shared a tired, knowing look with you as you could both hear him yelling from the dugout. “YOU THROW LIKE A BITCH AND YOU BAT AT .250!”

Brian rocked back and look between you and his friend, shaking his head. “Patrick, relax!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, DAD!”

He nodded and leaned back against the fence. “That’s my boy.” Laughing, you bounced against his side. John shrugged his shoulders and gave an exaggerated frown of acceptance. The game lasted a while before another notable event occurred. This time, was an unsportsmanlike fight erupting after an unfair play and a sudden injury. It all happened so quickly it was hard to comprehend.

Garvey was slammed into the ground by an opposing player and when they hit the dirt a cloud of red dust rose around them. An audible thud echoed as the crowd went silent. Your mouth hung open and the world stood still for what felt like forever as the small catcher laid there unmoving. Then Ty erupted. He grabbed the assaulter from behind and held him down, Vinnie running to leap into a punch. That was the instigator. The rest of the team, with the exception of Fotch, raced to the scene. The riot on the field got worse and once John ran out, Joe bounced off his arms on the fence and rushed just as you had to stop his son. You could hear your boyfriend shouting and mentally cursed, knowing how this would turn out.

“Pat, fuck-” You went to lift yourself over the fence and attempt to run after your lover in an effort to keep him from hurting anyone, but his father pulled you back. He gave you a stern look and shook his head.

“I don’t need you getting in any more trouble right now.” Without anymore protest, you huffed and took your place again. Brian yelled after the boys and jogged out onto the field himself, though he was sure to look back and give you a strict but caring sign to stay back.

You had been right in your earlier assumptions, as Pat charged with a battle cry and pounced on the bobbing mass of bodies, all angrily entangled with one another. More and more athletes seemed to be absorbed into the huddle the longer it went on until it's magnitude reached the crowds of onlookers, who soon after went to join. As the fathers ripped their sons from the mess, Brian stopped a member of the other team from adding a bat to the fight, but by the time the teams had been surgically separated, enough damage had been done. Garvey was in bad, bad shape and the rest of the team was covered in scrapes and bruises, uniforms in shambles and carrying expressions that could kill.

Brian remained out on the field for a few minutes, post scuffle, and Joe went to his son at Garvey’s side. With no one left to stop you from making your way to the scene, you stepped for the first time onto the sacred ground and jogged over to the pit with a wave, “Patrick!” The man turned at his name being called and you stopped in your place when he looked at you. For a moment, you thought you saw a small smile grace his shaking lips as his eyes shone with recognition and he made his way to you. Closing the distance between the two of you, he took you into his sweaty arms and held you perfectly against him. You fit like a puzzle piece together as your own arms were slung around him. He held your head tightly to the crook of his neck and you could smell on him all the events of the day. As you inhaled the scents of dirt and a bit of blood caked onto sweat-soaked skin and leftover aftershave, maybe the hints of a citrus shampoo, you pulled handfuls of his team shirt into your balled fists. Together you swayed for a moment in the middle of the field and he muttered, “Fuck, God- Fuck, I’m so glad you’re here- So fuckin-” He stopped his profane murmurs as he bit back something directly in between happiness and anger. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

You responded with pressed whispers against the skin of his neck ignoring the previous events and focusing on the moment you were in. “Hey,” you breathed, “I wouldn’t have missed the D-Backs’ last game for the world.”

He smiled, though you couldn’t see. His muffled response was kissed into your hair. You couldn’t quite understand what he’d said but it sounded like something along the lines of, ‘God, I fucking love you,’ which you completely reciprocated.

One hand of yours strayed from his back to his head and held the hair protruding from beneath hat. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said again, softer this time, emphasizing how much your being there for him meant. “But I can’t fucking wait to get you alone.” He finished his statement quietly, in a voice that sent shivers down your spine, hot and dark, every vertebra quaking. His own hands mapped the back of your neck, threading his calloused, bloody fingers through your locks, holding you with a fear of losing you.

“I’m just glad you’re o-”

The quiet conversation was interrupted. “Get a room, Murray!” A voice yelled from the group of red behind him. It was most likely Barone or Polacco, the only two in a good enough mood after the previous events to pay enough attention to you to make any kind of crude comment like usual.

Pat pulled away, lips spread thin and eyes low. His hands moved to grip your upper arms tightly and he slowly turned his head back to look at the clever commentators. “Shut the FUCK UP ABOUT MY GODDAMN GIRLFRIEND!” Your eyes widen and a sheepish grin spread widely between your cheeks. When he turned back to you, you lifted your hand to hold his face. His eyes were tied to yours, but your gaze soon drifted down to the lightly bleeding scratches on his neck. You frowned and your fingertips dropped to trace over the red lines. The man holding you still, softer now, hissed at the raw contact and his pleading eyes twitched.

His hand rose to wipe at your left cheek, stained from his wound and your place in the crook of his neck. He didn’t move it though after placing it there. “You- There was some blood- Fuck, that’s so gross, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-” His head shook lightly as he stared at you, lip twitching with slight distress.

You responded with a soft laugh, breathed through your nostrils. “It’s ok- It’s ok! I’m sorry you got hurt,” you said as you wiped some of the blood from around the new wound. Pat looked pained, but your presence overcame any discomfort he had. “What a game, huh?”

You chuckled and he hummed near your ear, a pleased puff of air pushed through his nostrils. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here- It’s a better game now. I know it’s not gonna actually get better, but-” Pat moved back and looked at you with gleaming eyes. You could never resist those eyes. He seemed so hopeful since he’d learned of your arrival and you weren’t going to even think about how vain it might have been. “But you’re here, you know.”

You moved your hands swiftly to the sides of his face and pulled him down for a kiss. Though it took him a moment, he quickly pulled you against him and his plush lips pushed against yours. His arms around your waist were the only things keeping you upright as the two of you collided so passionately you arched against him. He pulled slightly back to turn his head and slip through your parted lips. He tasted of vanilla ice cream and blue raspberry Gatorade. Tongues pushing needily against each other, for just a moment, the field around you was lost and all you had was the sensation of Pat Murray buzzing through your lips.

“Ey, Murray-!” A sing-songy voice interrupted again and immediately Pat painfully yanked your face from his. With a clenched jaw and white knuckles still on your figure, he wiped the shared saliva from his mouth and looked like he was refraining from erupted in a trembling angry fit. One hand swept down the side of your face with a dazed expression of admiration and he made eye contact with you, sending you his concern through soft, hazel eyes. You felt the sudden sadness of his body leaving yours, the physical contact high of your love crashed down and you were left hot and alone. The player ran back to the benches spewing foul curses at his ogling teammates as they threw around playful jabs at his PDA. He turned to wave you off and that made you smile. You stepped backward, slowly at first, then turned to jog back to your spot at the fence.

The crowds grew but the sound shrunk. Spectators came from around the neighborhood as word of the fight had spread. It was silent now, in the aftermath. It felt like a sort of mourning period, perhaps for the final chances of the D-Backs at winning today’s game. Reverence was the word to describe what was emanating from the home team. The dugout looked morbid and the only eyes that weren't cast down were furrowed in anger, confusion, and concern. Sirens cut through the still, religious air as an ambulance and a police car drove onto the game dirt.

Two EMTs came barrelling from their vehicle with a gurney and lifted Garvey into the back of the ambulance. The teams cheered him on before the vehicle doors closed and the ambulance left the field. The last image of Garvey was that of him in a neck cast with a thumbs up and the biggest smile.

Two cops then got out of their car that had parked itself on the dirt and went over to the D-Back dugout. Vinnie and Ty sat against the fence as the policemen approached them after speaking with the umpires. “Tyler Delmonica and Vincent Maltzan?”

You watched with the fathers as you had before and smacked Brian’s arm with fever as you saw the lawmen approach the team. “What the fuck- What’s- What the fuck are they doing?” With a slightly irritated side-eyed glance, Brian observed the same scene you did with concern. The elder Mazzello on the other side of him grunted and spoke, “Nothing good.”

The two from the fence had gone over to the cops and were now in handcuffs. The entirety of the red team had come swarming from the shaded dugout to defend their friends. Curses were thrown back and forth and the policeman threatened to arrest Dells as well. “Dude, what the fuck-” you muttered.

“Finish the game!” Ty urged as he and Vinnie were dragged away. The other policeman countered Ty’s plea, announcing for an end to the gathering, at which time both teams emerged from their holes and agreed upon something for the first time. ‘We’re almost done!’ they said, ‘We’re winning!’ The crowd, which had grown exponentially since the scuffle, jeered and booed at the officer. He then complied to the masses as Maz promised they would go on with no further complications. The Bulldogs player that had put poor Garv in the hospital was expulsed and that was the end of it.

The game went on, not without some drama, of course, but it went on. It was an incredible sight. Dells was on fire, throwing out after out after out. Zapata gets a hit, Fotch walks with a dead arm (breaking Dell’s front car window in the process), then it was Pat at-bat, again.

He hit the first one and your breathing stopped, then it was announced a foul. You held tightly to his father’s arm, praying for the impossible as you did every game. The second ball went in slow motion as it headed towards him. The world stood still for you. The sudden smack of wood against hot leather shook you from your trance. Patrick ran with a fury you’d never seen before, sliding into first base in a red dust cloud of victory.

You could barely recognize your own voice in the scream you let loose as you watched your significant other accomplish such a rare feat. “YES, PATTY, YES! FUCKING GET IT!” You were jumping up and down, shaking the fence, hitting Brian when your hands weren’t waving excitedly in the air. Brian laughed at your reaction and held you with an arm when you settled down.

Patrick screamed and jumped just as you were. “I GOT A HIT!” The crowd was still roaring, the D-Backs yelling for him.

“Way to go, Pat!” Brian hugged you and wiped tears from eyes you hadn’t noticed falling before. The older man shook you affectionately against his side.

“I GUESSED! I FUCKING GUESSED!” The ginger was kept his yelling as the blue team called for time. “I’M NOT OUT!” He clapped and laughed, calling after his team as they prepped during the other team's timeout. Maybe it was just you but the air smelled sweet now, beside your considered family in an epic and cherished moment. It may have been bittersweet but it was worth savoring every second of.

“GO PALACCO! KILL HIM! MURDER HIM!” Pat was still screaming as his teammate took to the batting mound. It went Palacco, then David, then Maz. Having two strikeouts lead to your star didn’t seem like a good sign, but Maz was a miracle man. A home run, last bat, and they- They won. The D-Backs won. Maz hit home and the entire game, everything leading up to it erupted in the field and the crowds. The culmination of an entire season, all the stress of the game, the fight, the disappointment of the draft, the love of the team and the camaraderie and support they all show through all this exploded.

Red shirts were glued in a huddle at center field. “For Garvey!” You heard someone yell. Vinnie and Ty came running back on, leaping and whooping. The crowd roared and the cheers rolled over the hills beyond the field. You shook with pride, sure you must have been glowing like the sun looking out upon the victory. Brian looked on the verge of tears, but you couldn’t quite tell through wet eyes of your own. Sound seemed to escape the reality you existed in and all that mattered was the team. Time slowed and your focus went to tunnel vision on a very specific first-time hitter.

Patrick ran over to you the second you set foot on the beaten dirt of the outfield, ambushing you with the tightest embrace you may have ever been in. It took a second but you thrust your arms around him as well as he lifted you from your waist. Holding onto him around his neck, he spun you in tight circles as you both laughed heartily, buried in one another’s soft scents. As he put you down, you started to speak but he cut you off immediately by pushing his face into yours. You did not mind one bit as you resumed your position from earlier, curving against him, your front flat against his chest, hands tugging at his sweaty hair as his limbs slipped down your back. Tracing the dimples at the bottom of your spine, pulling at the hem of your shirt and letting his thumb kiss your skin. His other hand gripped your ass, wanting you impossibly closer. Your open-mouthed kiss was outlined by a smile as you groaned every time he found a new place on your body to caress. Pat was lost in your taste, like lemon cookies and cherry slushies and little league baseball games.

“C’mon, man! Your fucking dad’s here!” Zapata groaned and Palacco smacked his arm with a laugh as the team, those distracted by the couple, made faces and sounds to tease. Barone made a thrusting motion and mouthed ‘Get it!’ as his own girlfriend stood neglected behind him.

The pair of you separated to see the what antics the boys had come up with this time around. Though you thought Pat’s good mood after the win couldn’t be bent, this came awfully close. His grimace was incomparable yet that was just another reason you loved him. Somehow it was still adorable. “He’s right, you know,” you patted your lover’s dusty chest and smiled, “I’ve been hanging out with Mr. Murray the whole game and he probably saw all that.” Pat glanced back at you before looking behind you and quickly, guiltily, pulling his hands from your ass.

‘Perfect timing,’ you thought, as you could guess exactly who it was. Brian was kind enough not to mention anything as he approached his son. The father gave you a pat on the back before embracing his son. The moment was tender as you looked on at the scene of the father/son bonding, albeit a bit awkwardly. Brian held Pat by the shoulders for a moment and they both had shining streaks down their cheeks. You didn’t hear anything that had been said but you smiled softly, overcome with love for the both of them. The graying man approached you next, rubbing your shoulder and giving you a quick hug. “You kids have fun,” he said as he walked back to Joe, “and be safe!” He winked.

“God, your dad-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Love him, though,” you joined the number 15 player as you followed the others to the snack shack, walking arm in arm, holding as much contact as you could while still being able to walk.

Maz ended up beside you when you all sat at the picnic tables with rainbow sprinkles on vanilla ice cream in a casual post celebration gathering. This gave you the opportunity to congratulate him and at the same time express your sympathies after the draft. “I mean, it’s alright,” he’d said to you, “‘cus this is really what it’s all about right here, you know? I mean these guys-” He laughed gently as David and Palacco ‘lovingly’ assaulted Ty with several scoops of ice cream to the face, “Dad was right. They’re what it’s about. Winning is awesome, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t be here without them and- and it’s all just-” Without getting emotional, he could barely say anymore. “It’s not about me. It’s about family.” John sat back against the table and chuckled.

You patted his knee as you stood. “They wouldn’t be here without you either, Maz. Regardless of where you go from here, everything you’ve done has mattered to someone, to all of them, at least.” Your boyfriend approached you and you said one last thing to the star batter before moving out, “I mean, if you could hear the way Pat talked about you, you’d think you were his girlfriend.” He laughed at this and you grinned knowing he would appreciate it. “Be proud, no doubts, you’re loved, and all that shit.”

“Thanks, [YN],” John nodded happily at you and looked down for a moment at his melting cone dripping on the grass below him. Pat stood next to you now and whispered some suggestive suggestions in your ear. Shooting the younger Mazzello a sorry look he sent you off and waved you and your lover goodbye with a sly grin. “Go on, go have fun. I’ve had enough of the longing looks, get it out of your system.”

Pat laughed lightly and slipped an arm around your waist, furrowing a confused set of eyes at his friend’s comment, then at you. It made him wonder what type of conversation the two of you’d had. He led you towards the parking lot, flipping off the team he left behind as they wolf whistled, making a lot of correct assumptions of what the two of you intended to do in your early departure. You’d left your van parked around the side of the field in the nice shade of a small grove of trees. The keys clicked in the quieter, cooler, fresher air around you. Patrick leaned against the side of the vehicle, one arm up to support himself and the other placed on his hip, ankles crossed. He watched you a bit too intently as you unlocked the cabin of your old car.

“I can feel you looking at me,” you smiled, opening the passenger’s side door to manually reach around and slide open the spacious back of the bus, turning on the car battery in the process. Leaving the keys in the ignition, turning down The Damned, but leaving it loud enough to cover what sounds may come. He watched you do this every time. It came as no wonder to him why your cherished car was in such bad shape as you left the battery running to supply a soundtrack to your lovemaking. Eyes distractedly stalled on your midsection as he looked you up and down, Pat faltered as the car shuddered when the door opened and he was thrown off his balance. He caught himself, though, and shot you a slanted grin.

“You’re just-” He bit his lip, “-so fucking hot, and you’re all mine.” Settling into the cushy, creaking back part of the carriage, you grinned expectantly.

“Am I?” You cocked your head, “Maybe you should remind me again who exactly I belong to.” Dragging every word out, you purposefully teased the impatient man, unbuttoning the top of your shorts slowly.

Like a switch, something clicked in him. His entire demeanor shifted from his almost toddler-like temper to something much more mature. Sitting spread eagle on the plush blankets you kept in the back for such occasions, you waited. He stared at you darkly, a towering shadow that filled the van’s open portal to the rest of the world. He filled in the empty space, deciding what he wanted to do first, how he would defile you in so many ways and what he would start with.

The interior smelled liked fast food, rubbing alcohol, and sweaty sex. Seeing as the main things you did in this car were eat bad food, try to clean up the stains left behind from said bad food, and, of course, fuck, the medley of scents came as no surprise. Around you were an array of cushions, blankets, and pillows all extremely soft to the touch. Not an inch of the original upholstery could be seen under the collection of plush covers. This made for the ideal landing as Pat pounced on you like a starved jungle cat as you look so very appetizing against the grey of the fur throw you laid on.

With him on top of you, you grabbed his cap and threw it to the side, kicking the door closed with your foot. Already against your lips, Pat straddled you, one hand on your waist and the other your cheek. The tops of your thighs pressed against the backs of his laying sideways in the cramped space. Holding his face to yours, his stiff, sweat dried hair curling between your fingers, you moaned. He smelled hotly of dust and fire, like a childhood summer day. The intimacy of the flood of memories he reminded you of only increased the sensation for you, heightening your attraction to him in a familiar, safe emotion.

His lips moved against yours, both of you sharing the same rhythm like singing along to an old song you never really could forget the words to. Open mouths clashed, teeth hit teeth, tongues knotted with tongues. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek as his wet kisses traveled down your face hitting your chin, your neck, your collarbone. Simultaneously, his hand pushed up your top, the other lifting you to help you pull it off. You let your arms drift above your head as he peeled the first layer off your body. It was only fair you would start unbuttoning his jersey and pulling at it, signaling him to take it off.

Before you could rip his undershirt off, he attached his lips to your neck, sucking hard to leave behind a noticeable deep purple love mark high enough it couldn’t be covered. You could feel his teeth graze your skin in a proud smile as your hot and heavy breaths turned to desperate, squirming moans. You gasped, gripping the fabric over his chest. He was glowing knowing only he could leave you in such a state.

Dragging a hot trail of saliva down your body, Pat stopped at your chest. He pulled away and stared down at your breasts with a shake of his head. “So fucking gorgeous,” he whispered. With one knee on either side of you, he sat up and pulled his red top off. Then he swept back down, suctioned back to your skin. He started behind your ear and peppered bites around your jaw, hands pulling your body to arch, allowing him the opportunity to remove your bra. You threw your head back and shimmied off the upper undergarment.

Your hands skimmed Pat’s bare chest, traveling upwards to his shoulders and past. Palms pressed against the sides of his face, you wiped your thumbs at the smeared eye black on his cheeks. His gaze was tied to your exposed chest and his breathing was heavy and hungry. Lips hanging parted, he slowly looked up at you through hooded lashes.

You smiled at the man hovering above you. Neither of you moved as you established eye contact while Jimi Hendrix played in the background. The van was hot between your bodies and the setting sun shining through the front window. Sweat beaded your forehead and your boyfriend went to push your hair back from your face, damp from the growing heat. “You’re-”

“You’re beautiful,” you finished. He laughed and it was like a Baroque painting before you. In a golden haze, his hair looked soft and he was glowing in muted tones. The tapestry pinned to the ceiling gave a dusty rose background to compliment the halo you saw around him. You pushed his hair back and pulled yourself up to kiss him. He took this chance to explore your body, mapping every inch of your warm, welcoming skin.

His fingertips were calloused and grey, dirt caked in the ridges of his prints, proof of the aftermath of the game. Rough pads walked down the center of your torso, stopping at your breasts. He took one mound in his hand, pinching your nipple between his thumb and his palm, rolling it slowly. You bit your lip and tucked your fingers under the waistband of his baseball pants and briefs, pulling them back and snapping them against his hips. Your eyes hung on the happy trail leading up his stomach. You traced it with the tip of your nail and his dark gaze settled on your face.

From his perspective, you were hidden in the shadows below him, hot and vulnerable. Buds of your breasts perky and hard, the dips of your stomach like a flowing river to your hips where your shorts sat a little too low, you were buried under filters of lust. The retiring sunlight hit the dust particles between you, floating through the air in slow motion like a love scene in an early 2000s, warm-toned, rom-com, the kind you spent Friday nights watching under three different blankets on the couch. You were dreamy, always, but especially now, a hazy, golden goddess.

“I want you, Pat,” you interrupted his daze, stroking his face and pushing his loose hair behind his ear. “Now.”

He blinked at you and grinned. “Oh, let’s go.” You smiled wickedly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around his back and slipped your hands on his ass. He engulfed you then gripped your shorts and panties, ripping them down all at once. A guttural groan left your throat and you wiggled out of your clothes. Pat had moved to one side of you, maintaining skin on skin contact whenever he could, and kicking off his shoes. Your body arched towards him as he retracted his touch. You shook your pants off your leg and laid baring it all for your lover in the cramped space of the vintage vehicle.

Pat was awestruck as you sat up, spread out for him, back to the driver’s seat. He paused with his pants stopped just high enough not to be truly explicit. You looked on with anticipation, one finger slinking its way between your legs. “Keep going,” you nodded at him. He complied with a lopsided grin and hot, hooded eyes. You rubbed two fingers against your clit and bit your bottom lip as he yanked his pants down, cup painfully sliding over his hard erection. He sat back and pulled off his bottoms, socks included, cock slapping against his stomach as he did so.

You snorted at him, unceremoniously slouched in the back of your small van. The sight was both pleasing and amusing, and far from being unfamiliar. Every time you’ve watched him undress in these four fabric covered walls, it felt the same. It had become something of a post-game ritual, defiling the backspace of your car while the oldies stationed tuned out the lewd sounds you made together.

‘She said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side’, your lover crawled towards you as you spread your lower lips to welcome him, ‘I said, hey honey, take a walk on the wild side.’ Patrick took in the sight of your glistening sex and licked his lips. He sat back on a plush green throw blanket and pulled you onto his lap with a soft chuckle. He hummed contently at your lips against his ear, tightening his arms around your damp skin. You were straddling him, one arm slung over his shoulder and the other reaching for his member. The pre-cum leaking from his tip spread against your stomach as you pressed onto him, limber fingers wrapped precariously around his length. You pumped him slowly, hanging off his lobe by your teeth. This pulled a whimper from deep inside him, nuzzling against you. Thumb sliding over his head, you dragged the slickness down his shaft and sucked on his neck as he had yours. You were dripping for him and he could feel it. His knuckles went white, gripping your thighs with bruising strength. He nipped at your shoulder, leaving behind wet, fading love bites.

You were jostled as your boyfriend lifted you by your waist so he could easily access your tits, supporting you against the back of the driver’s seat. Pace quickening as your hand slid up and down his cock, his mouth latched onto your nipple, teeth brushing against it as he sucked hard. His thick fingers inside you scissored with fervor and you could feel every bend of his knuckles between your walls. Your free hand held his face against your chest and you moaned. Slowly, the cabin filled with the sweet scents of both yours and his arousal and sweat. You pulled yourself towards him and pulled gently on his hair as he replaced his lips with rolling fingers and paid his attention to your other bud.

“Fuck, Pat,” your breath hitched and you could feel him smile against your breast, “Pat, I want you-”

“I fucking need you, [Y/N],” his breathing was heavy as he detached from your chest, moving to look you in the eyes, “Soon.” It was a pleading look he gave you, far different from his on-field persona. With one last soft squeeze of his erection, you let go. He moaned at the release and you were up on your knees. He looked up at you from between your breasts as you flattened against him.

One of his hands slid between your thighs and your composure faltered, his cold fingers pressing past your nerve center and straight to your hole. He watched your face carefully, one hand on the small of your back, the other letting digit after digit push into your sex easily, slick secretion assisting in his effort to stretch you before his anticipated penetration. Blinking quickly, you twitch your hips at the knuckles deep in your pussy. Patrick grabbed your ass and began going in and out and in and out of your entrance with a quiet slap. To the rhythm of the Bowie song blowing out your damaged speakers, you hump his fingers and ride your rising pleasure ut before you can peak, you’re filled with emptiness.

“You fucking ready for me, babe?” Want was dripping from every syllable of his words as you looked down just in time to see him pull his slick fingers from his mouth, appreciating your taste every chance he could.

“Let’s drag this out, baby, today we got something to celebrate.” You caressed the side of his face and smiled softly. He couldn’t resist your whims and he knew exactly how to make this special.

He laid on his back and pulled you up by your ass, sliding your wetness along his torso. He lifted your waist and you compliantly moved your knees to either side of his head. “Then let me finish you off before we start on the good stuff, hm?” His smile was sexy as he adored you from between your legs, willing to put your sexuality before his need. His arms wrapped around your pillowy thighs, on hand holding your slit open and the other stroking your clit. A shiver ran through you as he lifted his head to break your first contact.

This was his chosen place of worship, kissing your core surrounded by the satin skin of your voluptuous legs. His religion was you on your knees and him on his back, the ecstatic expression you wore his deity. The fluid stained woven rugs and fur throws that shaped the interior of your chosen mode of transportation was the altar he so admired in the temple of you. Your skin was scripture and your acts together sacred, the hard rock you left on the hymns of your love. His metaphor was worn but as the last of the daylight threaded through the fallen waves of your hair, he couldn’t think of any words more true to describe this image of you.

He dove into you, starved of your taste. You were pulled down to his face, feeling his tongue probe the space between your lower lips, sucking at the labia and fully drinking up your nectar. You ground against his tongue, utilizing what he could to maximize your pleasure, the texture of his muscle overwhelming your senses. His nose pressed against your clit as his hands moved to go from grabbing your ass, supporting your waist, then giving his hands’ attention to your breasts. Your nipples were well loved as your pussy continued to be stimulated to the point of pushing you over.

Your whole body curved forwards, gripping his hair and supporting yourself with a fistful of the blanket. Uneven breaths drifted from your open mouth, heaving chest painted with small drops of sweat. Pat’s palm was flat against your back. Your hair flipped out of your line of sight as you threw your head back, lips forming a solid ‘o’. A wave of ecstasy rushed over you in your first orgasm of the evening, a musical moan, broken by sharp breaths. The lover beneath you lapped up every release of your spasming pussy until your curses died down to soft shudders. To avoid overstimulating you, Pat moved from your sensitive mound to drop hot kisses on your inner thighs.

The pulsing of your core subdued as you spent the next minute catching your breath. The van was filled with salty, hot air and Patrick held your midsection tightly as he sucked dark hickies on every inch of your shy skin he could reach. His face was coated in your juices, which was smeared across your legs, both sets of hands, and down your boyfriend’s chest. Letting his tongue glide over a fresh bruise just left in the crux of your crotch, his melted autumn eyes stared up at you with intense lust. He threw his head back when he was satisfied with his work and snorted, “You taste like a Goddamn fucking angel.”

His smile was goofy and gross, the juvenile delinquency of your act written all over his face. It made you feel like a teenager again, sneaking around with the angry boy your parents didn’t like. God, you loved him. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the situation. There you were, sitting on your boyfriend's face in the back of your musty van by the neighborhood baseball field and you weren’t even done yet.

You grinned down at him, “Shut up and fuck me, Murray.” The man smiled and sat up, catching you as you fell off him. You grabbed his face and pressed his lips to yours for a moment, tasting your own sticky, semi-sweet love on his lips before he pulled away to reach around you. Popping open the center console compartment with a click, he grabbed a condom and ripped it open with his teeth. “Care to-”

You took the contraceptive from him without letting him finish. He could understand the eagerness in your eyes and moved back expectantly. Holding up the plastic package, you frowned. “I thought we were celebrating?” You tilted your head innocently. Recognition flashed across his face and he raised his eyebrows. For the first time, the mood was broken, a Honda commercial really solidifying it for you.

“Are you- Are you serious? Are you sure?” The sweaty athlete’s eyes were wide at your implication.

You smiled slyly and nodded at him. “I’m on birth control and,” you shrugged, “I trust you not to have any weird, contagious rashes.” He laughed at you, happily, and you joined him.

“I can promise you I have no transmittable diseases, inspect me if you want.” His arms moved out to present himself to you.

You dragged a nail across the length of one of his arms and he cocked a half smile in your direction as he eyes your movements. “I’ve seen plenty.” You grinned and put your hands back on his cheeks, pushing against him in a kiss. Pat was quick to move, but you stopped him, hand flat against his chest. “You need a little prep, first, don’t you?” Slowly, he figured it out and sat back to give you more space to do your deed. Folding over yourself, thighs spread and arousal tickled by the thick woven rug beneath you, your face reached the waiting cock.

All the man could focus on was your long, batting lashes and your ass sticking out behind you. His tip was cold and wet from being untouched, but your spit dripped down it as you kissed the slit briefly. Patrick’s breath was shaky as you licked from the base up to the tip, making eye contact as you did so. His body weight was put on his locked arms behind him, leaning away from you, but he feared one more sex filled look from you would break him and he would collapse.

He nearly did when you first took him into your hot mouth. A groan vibrated through him and you felt it in your connection. Slowly at first, sparingly, you bobbed up and down on his length, soft lips sliding over every ridge and every vein. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-” You picked up speed with his encouraging curses. Head thrown back, your lover focused on not cumming right then and there, doing his best to save himself for what came next, but Goddamn it, [Y/N], he thought. He’d let you know him far too well if you could break him into so many pieces so quickly. Tongue scraping at the side of the sensitive skin, balls being treated with care in your hands, and the pace leaving him a sputtering mess- You name filled the compartment like a rolling sea fog, all your senses overcome with his apparent need for you. His scent, his sounds, his taste- hot and salty. Seeing his chest rising with labored breaths, you decided he was getting too close and hilted him in your throat as best you could for a moment, teeth grazing his base and your nose buried in his happy trail, before pulling off at a painstaking pace, detaching from him with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva falling from between you.

It took a quiet moment for him to get his bearings at the disappointing cutoff. The drops of sweat sliding down the sides of his face were tinted with red from the adobe colored dirt he’d spent so much time on. Sitting back up and leaning towards him, you went to wipe the moisture away and he held your hand to his face, kissing your palm with closed eyes. He saved his high and gave you a quick, and ironically chaste, kiss before pushing aside discarded clothing articles and repositioning the two of you so he was above you once again. He took you by your middle and moved you to the side, growing increasingly impatient, seemingly recovered from his edge. Holding firmly to your ribs as he laid you down before him, he then pulled away to admire you again.

Under a young night sky, you were the only star he saw. Glowing in a post-orgasmic haze against the shadows cast by street lamps, you were a constellation of an impossible creature. Contrasting the true space you both existed in, his view of you was divine. Every beautiful thing in the heavens and the earth, he saw in you.

“Pat?” You furrowed your eyes in concern at his momentary stillness.

He blinked the clouds from his eyes. “God, sorry, fuck-” Shaking his head, he smiled slightly, “I got so fucking lucky. I may not be able to get a hit but, uh-�� He chuckled before completing his favorite line, “You sure are a catch.” He winked and you gently kicked him in the shoulder. Catching your ankle, he held your leg up and held it over his shoulder as he moved to position himself at your open hips. “C’mon, it’s my best line.”

You impatiently rolled your eyes. “Are you gonna fuck me or not?” You motioned to your waiting sex, ready and slick for him. “I’m waiting-”

“-And I’m ready!” Patrick held up his free hand defensively before grabbing your hip with bruising strength. His dripping, neglected tip sat waiting at your entrance. His tone turned serious, “Are you?”

His genuine asking was comforting and you nodded quickly. His position over you turned you on even more, if possible, loving that he could see you melt in his hand and drip between his fingers. With one hand holding your leg up and the other stroking his excited cock, preparing to enter you. The sparkling space between your welcoming thighs glistened in the little bit of moonlight making its way into the vehicle. He slid his thumb through the wetness and you groaned in need. He chuckled at your response and you squirmed against the soft fabrics you’d been set on.

It was the moment of final satisfaction that you’d been building to all afternoon in the back of your sex-soaked bus. Your eyes were trained on his focused downward gaze and you could feel him press into you. It was a pleasant stretch you looked forward to but it was different this time, void of the protection you’d so cautiously used. You felt unequivocally full, natural, and satisfying like you were made to fit together like this. Scary, but exciting, this new sensation left you unable to control your breathing. Sharp inhalations were a sign to him he was doing something good. Pushing into you was easy with how much arousal dripped your sex, all the fluids of the night mixing together for a pleasurable experience. In and out, he took his time deepening the contact, holding tight to your hips, a nice pain shooting through you when he squeezed the old yellowed bruises he’d left behind from past rendezvous. Your eyes focused on him when they were closed in ecstasy, hands swiping furiously at your clit or alternating between your breast. Pat was in awe at the bolts of hot pleasure that traveled up his body at the raw feeling of you around him, tight, wet, and warm. He thought sex couldn’t get any better, especially not with you, but he was wrong. He felt every dip and fold of your tunnels against the ridges of his own skin.

You were sleeved around him as he picked up speed. Grunts fell from his pouting lips every time his hips slapped against yours. The sound could be heard over the still playing radio in the front seat. It seemed the amount of teasing the two of you subjected each other to left little resilience to the sudden relief of penetration as your boyfriend’s rate jumped from calculated, appreciative thrusts to messy, needy, heavy ones in a matter of minutes. “You feel-” He groaned as he hilted in you again, balls deep to the pleasure of both of you, “So fucking amazing-” The words barely came out. You tried to formulate a response but the heat filling your abdomen stopped you. What came out instead was a gurgled moan of agreement. Smiling at the sights and the sounds you produced, Pat was absolutely enamored by you in this new sensation. Tits bouncing as you shook with his slamming thrusts, your eyes rolling back with guttural groans from deep inside you.

Drawing from that pit of white-hot pleasure, you neared your peak and a higher pitched plead cam as a warning to your partner, “Can’t- Fuck, Pat- Almost there-” He got the message and the two of you shook together, his whispers of ‘me too, me too’ barely heard through the whimpers. No longer could sounds be differentiated from one source or the other as your bodies melted together in a moment of bliss. For the first time, the vehicle noticeably shook in your passionate lovemaking. His hands slipped down your legs, attention drifted from your clit to your navel to your hair as he doubled over to float parallel above you. Sweat from his tiring body rained on you and you pulled him closer. His face was buried between your ear and shoulder, biting away curses as he humped through his high.

“Fuck, that’s it-” The sliding stopped as his back arched first, pressing so hard into your crux, you were sure your entire lower half would be purple by the next morning. His member pulsed inside you and you could feel it swell with anticipation before your own pussy milked him for all he was worth. Streams and streams of hot, white pleasure flowed into you and you swallowed a scream. The sound that managed to escape was otherworldly and Pat loved it. You’d never felt this before, his love directly inside you, hot sloshing, liquid driving you past your point of return. You thought maybe it hadn’t been the physical sensation but the idea of how intimate the action was that had really given you your final orgasm. Either way, you had simultaneously arched against him and he held you up by your back as you squeezed with every muscle. Nails dragging down his spine, no doubt leaving red territorial marks down his sides as you rode out the ocean of intensity that washed over you. It made you curl your toes and tense your appendages around your lover like a boa constrictor and their prey.

Love came gushing from your connection and pooled beneath the small of your back, sinking into the layers of covers that cushioned the two of you from the hard vehicle floor. You didn’t think about the mess you’d made or the unfortunate task of cleaning it up and instead focused on the weight on top of you. Still, inside you, Patrick’s cock twitched as he’d nearly collapsed over you. The rhythm of your breathing synced with his and your pussy pulsed sorely, your entire body sensitive and raw. A shiver ran through your bones as you felt the hot mouth of the body blanketing your’s suction onto your neck one last time, licking over its handy work with a weak laugh. Your fingers laced through his damp hair and you turned your cheek to kiss his.

Your eyes were watering, maybe from the tense situation or the exhaustion that suddenly overwhelmed you now that the wire strings of arousal no longer hold you up. Pat felt the same way as he slowly pulled out of you and you winced. On his side next to you, you felt him pull you closer, nestling into your equally wet and disgusting hair. The entire car smelled awful and hot, the windows were grey and fogged up, blankets beneath you covered in God knows what. Closing your legs and turning towards the warmth beside you, you nestled into him, the feeling of your post-coital calmness was immortalized in the music you’d left on. ‘Goodbye stranger, it’s been nice. Hope you find your paradise.’

Maybe the lyrics weren’t a perfect fit, but somehow the melody found it’s way beneath your hot skin and soothed you. You remained this way for, you weren’t sure how long. Time seemed lost to the two of you then. Engulfed in his arms, you felt safe. The scene was grimy and explicit, your nakedness blending together, the leftover ejaculate dripping from your slit without care, the stained and discarded undergarments left unnoticed and hanging off the steering wheel. It wasn’t clean or safe, but for the two of you, it was nice. What that said about your situation, you didn’t care. This was your heaven.

“Good morning, Orange County! And what a lovely morning it is! We’d like to start the day with a little Springsteen, huh?” A hard drum intro led into a twangy guitar and the sonorous voice of Bruce Springsteen, ‘In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream. At night we ride through the mansions of glory in suicide machines.’

“Is it weird,” you’d said, “knowing all the boys are well aware of what we do? Including your dad?” You laughed a bit, leaning against him, still bare, under a furry quilt. The carriage of the vehicle creaked at your movements, audible now that it wasn’t masked by the heavy breathing of your fucking. The bohemian tapestry behind you shrouded the rising sun from your sensitive eyes, half open in a dream-like state.

Patrick planted a quick kiss in your hair, “I like they know you’re mine.” He took a deep breath, “And my dad can fuck off.”

After a pause, you looked at him and erupted in laughter. “He’s pretty cool, you know, for having to deal with a kid like you.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

‘Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend, I want to guard your dreams and visions. Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims and strap your hands 'cross my engines.’

Brian glanced at the phone as he prepared his breakfast. He was sure his son was fine, he’d gone nights without calling before, but by morning he usually had a message waiting for him. He tried not to think about what may have distracted him in order to keep down his first meal of the day. The radio played in the background.

‘Girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors and the boys try to look so hard. The amusement park rises bold and stark, kids are huddled on the beach in a mist. I wanna die with you Wendy on the street tonight in an everlasting kiss.’

The groundskeeper stared on worriedly at the shaking VW bus that had been parked behind the trees since before he’d gotten there in the small hours of the morning. “Fucking teenagers, disgusting,” he shook his head and turned away, earphones back in as he started up the lawnmower.

‘Oh honey, tramps like us, baby, we were born to run.’

1K notes · View notes

spacebrick3 · 7 years ago

Text

WHG - Kjiersten’s Victory

Alright, so I felt I should make something to describe Kjiersten’s victory in the Writeblr Hunger Games; (I can’t do any of the other days really since this turned out to be like 3k words already and I do need to actually get other stuff done haha)

It’s going along with the rebellion/conspiracy started by @ratracechronicler and @concealeddarkness13 - also, @writer-denois and @owlsofstarlight your characters Ra’ae and Maldl showed up as the only other two in the final days of the Games.

I should have an ‘after-the-games’ post made for Kjiersten as well sometime, but here’s my take on how the Games ended;

Day 19:

Kjiersten stood at the edge of the forest, thinking. All three of the tributes had managed to get together the night before, but with the Capitol clearly listening in, there had been no way to discuss how they would get out. It had been an awkward conversation, then, none of them able to say what was on their minds, but there had been some interesting topics brought up, and they had been able to learn a bit more. Like the fact that Maldl had once served in a communication outpost left over from the days before Panem, handling the wires there.

They glanced over at the trees. It seemed like a nice day for some whittling.

Grabbing a vaguely straight tree branch, they hiked back into the forest, around where they knew the other two tributes had been last night. They were both District 11, so they’d likely stick together. Then, making sure he was close enough to the clearing that the tributes would be able to hear them, they started scraping at the edge of the branch with their knife.

Scrape. Scrrrrrrrape. Scrape. Scrape. Pause. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Pause. Scrrrrrrrape. Pause. Scrrrrrrrape. Scrape. They kept methodically slicing at the edge of the bark, making as much noise as possible, until they were almost sure they had to have attracted the attention of at least one of them. Then they repeated their small statement, making sure that Maldl would be able to understand it:

Lstn. Msg. Rply w 1 arw e.

They were sitting about to the southeast of the clearing. Ra’ae had been carrying a massive longbow the day before, and Kjiersten waited for about five minutes before a long, black-shafted arrow came whistling through the trees a few meters away from them, directly east. They had their attention. Again they turned their attention to the branch, clearing another section of bark to get the next message across:

hg nds. tdy o tmrw. o Cp wl snd smthg. Y? N?

Another few minutes passed, presumably while the two of them translated the message. Then came the sound of an axe chopping at wood, five strokes delivered quick, then the same five to repeated the message.

Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. Pause. Chop.

SN. Understood. Maldl and Ra’ae were agreeing, and also implicitly stating that they would follow their lead on this. Kjiersten mulled for a second about how the other two could fake their deaths. It would be the best course of action, especially since the Capitol had always been suspicious of their leadership of the Connection Project. Losing the Games would mean losing that - at least in the open - and that couldn’t happen. And besides, he thought a little ruefully, it would be nice to win the Games, at least in practice if not theory.

R, they finally sent. expls at nw cnr. st off nd rmv trckr. hc pk. QSL? (Do you acknowledge?)

QSL, came the reply. Acknowledged. Ra’ae was going to go find the explosive Kjiersten had rigged up back - was it two weeks ago now? The Games were really starting to blur their perception of time. Ra’ae would set it off from a distance, with any projectile he could find, then rip his tracker out. The others - Tom and Kallias especially, although they guessed a majority of the mentors might be in on it by now - would come collect them then, and most of the Capitol would be none the wiser.

What about Maldl, though? Both of District 11 dying together, especially after having been alive so long, would be suspicious. And if they died simply setting off a trap, the Gamemakers would be even more incensed. Best to let things go out with a bang, then.

M. Tmrw. Hr. Fht s Cp wnt spct ayt. Fg ot wo srv thr. QSL?

More silence, and they worried that they’d omitted too many letters in the interest of speed. But finally the reply came back QSL, and they sighed in relief. Tomorrow morning, they and Maldl would meet back here for a fight, and they’d decide then who would win and who would fake their death. But until then, there was nothing to do but kill a few hours until the next day, although hopefully not literal killing.

What to do until then? They looked down at the now mostly-shaved stick in their hand, and shrugged. Why not whittling?

Night 19:

The anthem had just finished playing. They had managed to get to a hill overlooking the northwest part of the forest, and looked up just in time to see a blinding flash of light illuminate the edge of the dark mass of trees. Flaming debris lit a few of nearby trees ablaze, and they burned with bright yellow light. Smoke billowed into the air.

Even though they knew it was fake, they couldn’t help but wince. That was a much bigger explosion than they had expected, and they hoped Ra’ae had known more about the explosives than they had and had been able to get out of the way in time. But they couldn’t know, not until after the Games ended. Even as they still stared down at the conflagration, a pitch-black Capitol hovercraft descended through the smoke and fire to retrieve him. It hovered only a second over the edge of the flames before launching itself back into the sky.

Kjiersten watched it go until it was only a speck in the sky. They hoped desperately that Ra’ae was alright, and that they hadn’t just witnessed a sacrifice like Val had performed the Games before in order to make Dean’s win believable. Something like that shouldn’t have to happen here. Everyone else had been able to get out fine - Veth, Kaine, Erya, Kallias - they’d watched them all get rescued, picked up in nondescript hovercraft and taken to the safe house. Sadie too, although they were sure there’d be no shortage of teasing about the fall that had allowed her to rip her tracker out. Especially since they themselves had managed to get up the trees several times to rest.

Tomorrow was coming fast and with it, the end of the Games, one way or another.

Day 20:

It was time. Early this morning, they had hiked back down from their hill and back to the clearing, trying to decide which weapon would be best for a theatrical fight. They found a mace they didn’t remember picking up or even carrying around, as well as a few different knives and one Molotov cocktail, but no matches. Barring anything else, the mace would probably be best to give the Capitol a show. At the very least, it looked interesting. They shuddered at the thought of having to actually use it, though, and hoped Maldl had either a way to convincingly fake his or their death.

Maldl had gotten there before them, and stood, bored, leaning on a massive longsword. They were taken aback slightly - where had he managed to hide that when the three of them had been talking? - but recovered, trying to adopt the same casual position with the ‘mace-over-the-shoulder-“ look. Since that nearly overbalanced them and made them fall over, they decided against it.

“So!” he called, voice echoing. “This is where it ends. Right here, right now!”

Typical theatre. The Capitol would be eating it up. “Unless you want to keep chasing each other back and forth. There’s just the two of us now. No point in dragging it any further!” they shouted back.

“Well then, who’s it going to be? Me or you?” he shouted again, raising the sword and charging. Kjiersten managed to drag the mace of the ground and block his stroke, the longsword locking against the head of the mace. “So what’s our plan?” Maldl hissed against the rasp of steel on steel.

“One of us has to fake dying!” they whispered back, pulling the mace away and stumbling back. He spun the sword in his hands, an impressively agile move for a five-foot-long blade, then spun an underhand stroke at them, which they were only barely able to block.

“Again, me or you?”

“I don’t know! Are you a good actor?”

He grinned. “The best.” Then he twisted his sword, wrenching the mace up and out of Kjiersten’s hands. Dimly, they heard it clatter to the ground behind them. “At acting, that is.”

“What?” they asked, taking a nervous step back. “No - no, you’re not doing this.”

“I am,” he said, his face changing from his amiable smile into something harder. “But you’d know about it, wouldn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” they asked desperately. “Please - I just want to help everybody get out of here alive? Why are you trying to stop that?”

“Get everybody out alive?” he asked mockingly. “You tell that to Ra’ae too, before you killed him?”

“I-“

“You modified that explosive last night! Gave it a bigger radius and everything! I watched him die, Kjiersten! He thought he was safe and then you killed him!”

They felt their blood run cold. So their suspicions last night had been correct. The blast radius of the mines had been changed to be larger than usual, probably by some sadistic or ‘tech-savvy’ sponsor. They hadn’t known, even though probably even a cursory inspection could have revealed it. And now Ra’ae was dead because of it. Actually dead, not all this Games faking-your-death stunts they’d been trying to arrange. “Why?” they whispered to themselves. “Why did this have to happen?” they asked again, louder this time. Falling to their knees, they stared at the ground as if it could hold the answers now.

“He was my friend!” Maldl shouted. “So now I’m just paying you back! You thought you were safe here, and now you’re going to die! Sound familiar?” As he shouted, he spun the sword again, then brought it down in a sweeping arc. Silver flashed bright in the morning sun as the blade whistled through the air.

Just before it hit, Kjiersten looked up at it. Time seemed to slow, and they realized something. Even though it felt like a part of them had been ripped out at the news of Ra’ae’s death, they hadn’t done it. They hadn’t made the mine or even modified it. Maybe they were complicit, but they were not at fault. Maldl was wrong.And despite everything, they still didn’t want to die.

With a cry of despair, they dove out of the way. A tearing pain split their left side as the sword came down, but they managed to get far enough that they could claw their way back up to a standing position. “Not ready to die quite yet?” Maldl asked, venom in his words. “That’s alright. Ra’ae wasn’t either.”

“I didn’t do it!” they managed to choke out. “Can’t you understand? I wasn’t the one who modified that mine!”

“Sure. Tell that to Ra’ae.”

“Damn it, Maldl, I’m trying to help you!” they shouted, wincing as the pain in their side flared again. Pressing a hand to it, they found it sticky with blood. “We can still both make it!”

He lowered the sword for a second, eyes blazing with anger. “One of us is going to die here today. If the only way to live is to accept the help of a murderer, then I believe I will be happy to go down fighting.”

“Please! No matter who dies today, Ra’ae’s still going to be dead!” They stumbled over to where the mace lay. Suns of Thiorna, they didn’t want to fight. But they didn’t want to die either. And they had a terrible feeling that, in just a few minutes, those desires would enter direct conflict.

“Yes, he is,” he agreed. “But, personally, I have a feeling that it might be more than a little dishonorable to his memory to accept the help of his murderer.” He adopted a fighting stance, sword held out straight in front of him. “No more words. It ends here.”

“PLEASE!” Kjiersten shouted, but it didn’t do any good. Maldl charged. They managed to dive out of the way, raising the weapon defensively and listening to the shrieks of metal on metal. No theater this time. “I didn’t kill him! I had no idea the mines were changed! Just listen!”

“No. You broke your word to Ra’ae,” he said, swiping at their head and missing by just a few inches. “I’ve no reason to trust whatever you say.”

They raised the mace to fend off a particularly vicious swing. “Maldl. Please! I am begging you – just let us get out of here! Continue-“ Metal clashed on metal again as he slowly drove them back, their feet sliding uselessly on the ground. “-continue your vendetta later! But right now you’re just playing into the Capitol’s hands!”

“So were you!” he shouted. “Betraying Ra’ae with a trap! I’m sure the Gamemakers just loved that!”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill him!” They knew it was useless, though. Maldl had seen Ra’ae die and blamed Kjiersten for it, and in all honesty it was an understandable reaction. If they had watched Sadie die – following orders from someone who had promised them safety – they suspected they’d react similarly. “Please, Maldl!”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don’t think so.” Then he started to advance again, swinging the sword wildly in front of him.

They stumbled backwards, frantically looking for a way out. In a perfect world, they would have had the advantage here – Maldl was almost blind with rage now, and any experienced fighter would have been able to slip through his defense. The problem, of course, was that the world was not perfect and that they were far from an experienced fighter. Plus, they didn’t want to kill Maldl if it could be helped, but he appeared to have no such qualms.

So what could they do? Kjiersten was fairly sure almost the entire Capitol hovercraft fleet was under their control – if they could make it look like Maldl was dead, and remove the tracker somehow, then he could be picked up. But he was getting closer, sword still windmilling in front of him, and they were running out of places to go to.

Their gaze fell on their backpack, on the other side of the clearing, and something resembling a plan began to form. There were weapons there, weapons he wouldn’t know about. That could give them enough of an edge, at least for a few seconds, that it was possible they could overpower him and win the fight. It’d be hard to get around him, though, and-

You know what? they decided. Screw the worrying. Either I do it right or it’s not my problem anymore. And with those inspiring words, they grabbed the mace and threw it at him, whipping it through the air towards his head.

He flinched and ducked, which gave them the opening they needed to dive past him and start running. The backpack was close, and they had just managed to scoop it up when Maldl tackled them from behind. They crashed to the ground, managing to keep their grip on the backpack but screaming in pain as the fall seemed to rip open their side again. Somehow they managed to roll over, and found themselves looking up into a face contorted in rage.

“This is how it ends!” he shouted, levelling the sword.

“Maldl-“ they managed to gasp out. “Just – one – Ra’ae said something – for you – he talked to me-“

“Did he now?” he asked, putting a little less pressure on.

No.“Yes – he was talking to me – about you – and he said-“ While they were trying to think what a fictional Ra’ae would have said about Maldl, their other hand scrabbled in the backpack, looking for – where was it? – there.

“What did he say?!” he almost screamed at them, pressing the sword once more into their neck. “Tell me nowor you die!”

“He – he said-“ In one movement, they pulled their hand out of the backpack and threw what they had managed to grab at Maldl. The Molotov, though it wasn’t lit, was still a fragile glass bottle full of liquid. It shattered in a burst of glass shards and alcohol, sending him reeling back, almost dropping the sword as he clawed at his face.

They didn’t wait. Closing their fingers around one of the knives, they lunged at Maldl and buried it in his upper arm. He screamed in pain, but they still twisted the knife, burying it deeper until they saw a glint of gold and copper instead of the silver knife. A flick of the blade, and the small computer chip was out.

Maldl was still fighting, though, and he managed to backhand Kjiersten with the butt of the sword. They managed to stay upright, but it gave him the time he needed to clear the blood, glass, and alcohol from his face. If he had been murderous before, they thought distantly, now he was pushing the verge of madness. His eyes gleamed with a burning light through the mess of cuts and bruises, and his mouth was twisted into a snarl.

“Now-“ they started, but he cut them off. With an incoherent scream of rage, he threw himself towards Kjiersten, who only barely managed to dodge in time. They dropped the knife, leaving themselves with only the mace – a knife wouldn’t help against this kind of fighting. No more time to think as Maldl barreled towards him again, sword whistling in a deadly arc.

Think – what could they use? They weren’t more experienced fighters than Maldl, not even in his state of unthinking rage. So they had to be smarter. He had brute strength on his side, but he wasn’t using it as well as he could have. So how could they use that to their advantage?

The first thought that came to their mind was leverage. Their mace was heavier than his sword, and with the way he was swinging it…They waited for Maldl to take a particularly vicious swipe, bringing the sword in from the left. Then, gritting their teeth and knowing that there were about a hundred ways this could go wrong, they stepped betweenhim and the blade, using the mace and the weight of their body to twist the sword from his hands.

Maldl tried to step back and recover, but Kjiersten didn’t let him. This might be their only chance, and they didn’t want to let it slip away now. They wrenched the mace up and over and slammed it into his head. As they had brought it down, though, they had let their fingers slip down the handle to the point where only the handle, and not the spiked end, had slammed into his head. He was unconscious, cut and bloody, but he was alive. The Games were not going to claim another victim.

He looked terrible, though – crumpled on the ground, with his face covered in blood. His arm looked a mess, and they hoped they hadn’t damaged anything while they were trying to cut the tracker out. But it was necessary – Maldl had to both look dead and act dead, and they didn’t think he would have done either of those willingly.

After just a few minutes, a silvery-grey hovercraft descended from the sky. They knew they should get out of the way, but they had a question they needed to ask. The pilot, who they recognized as one of the mentors, emerged from the ship to pick up Maldl, and shook his head. “You should get out of here,” he said. “Dangerous for you to be seen too close.”

“Wait – please,” they said, raising their hands in a pleading gesture. “I just need to know – is Ra’ae really dead? Did that explosive really kill him?”

The pilot was silent for a second. “I don’t know,” he said. “It wasn’t one of ours which picked him up – it was a genuine Capitol hovercraft. How they got there before us, I don’t know. So Ra’ae might be alive, just in the Capitol’s custody. We’re thinking of mounting a mission to get inside – possibly with the help of your Connection Project – and seeing if we can find him. You’ll be updated as things happen.”

They nodded. “Thank you.” The pilot saluted, and turned back to the craft with Maldl’s limp form in tow. Kjiersten watched as the hovercraft lifted off again, engines rotating back to horizontal once the ship had cleared the trees.

It was over. They had won the Hunger Games. Almost all of the tributes from this Games had been rescued – a greater percentage than they’d ever managed before. They were people who would be able to build or continue their lives back home, or join the rebellion and help to build better lives for everybody.

It should have been an achievement. They should have felt proud – after all, winning the Games was almost the ultimate status symbol in Panem. But it felt like a hollow victory. It felt like they had failed the people they were supposed to be protecting.

Just one, he thought miserably. One tribute. One out of the six. Five others got rescued. That’s a pretty good percentage, isn’t it?

No. Because it’s one tribute who I failed. Who’s not going to get back to their family. Who’s not going to be able to live the life they could have had. And that’s the problem here. Rescuing tributes from the Games is just treating the symptoms. The Capitol needs to fall for any of this to be worth it.

But you did the best you could. You couldn’t have known that the explosive would have been modified.

I could have checked. Because there’s no room for ‘good enough’ in engineering and there’s no room for it here. I should have done better.

It’s too late now, isn’t it?

No .Because it wasn’t over yet. There was still the messy business of revolution to come, and they would need people to help, to protect those who were trying to make the world better. They’d been hesitant, before, about committing the resources of the Connection Project to the revolution. But the revolution would need it. And now they knew what the others had been through. How they’d suffered just to stay alive. And as they stood there, hovercraft long vanished into the clear blue sky, they promised themselves that nobody else – not a single person– would have to go through it again.

A note: Transcript of each of the messages in Day 19:

Kjiersten: Listen. Message. Reply [to acknowledge] with one arrow east. [arrow is shot east] Kjiersten: Hunger Games end. Today or tomorrow. Or the Capitol will send something. Yes or no? Maldl: Understood Kjiersten: Ra’ae. Explosive at the northwest corner [of the forest]. Set it off and remove your tracker. Hovercraft will pick you up. Do you acknowledge? Ra’ae: Acknowledged Kjiersten: Maldl. Tomorrow. Here. Fight so the Capitol won’t suspect anything. Figure out who survives there. Do you acknowledge? Maldl: Acknowledged.

#writeblr hunger games #hg: kjiersten #but i like it #sorry if i got either of your characters wrong #but here it is #kjiersten as a revolutionary #bonus rebellion material #is that the right tag?#i hope so

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jainarepellista · 7 years ago

Text

Tower of God S2ch268 Rough Translations

This is The Bards' Village, a place where we greet our newcomers and help them out into a greater world

We welcome you.

You heroes who shall battle the demons within the "Forbidden Fruit", [T/N: previously translated as Fruit of Good and Evil; too long -zumi]

and who, upon victory, shall drag them to hell.

..... // Who are you..?

I am the Head of this village, C~

Village Head "C" [T/N: There are weird names in this chapter, in that they are characters from the Korean alphabet (ㄷ and ㅁ). These two are what would be called Di-geud, and Mi-eum if you try to pronounce in Korean. Instead of the literal pronunciations, we are going to use "C" and "D", which are the corresponding characters of the same position in the English Alphabet, for reading convenience- Suu]

(Fufufu-)

Did they just smash the keyboard to come up with the names of the people in this town..

After finishing your perilous journey in the Train~

You great heroes, will banish the demons of the Forbidden Fruit and bring peace to this stage!!

For the peace of this village~ // Will you heeelp us~?

She was talking to us like that too // It seems suspicious, so we said we'd never do it.

You should reject them too.

(She seems like a mental patient. She can't even sing.)

..This has to be the condition to clear this stage..

I don't really get it but

Let's give it a shot.

Alright. We'll help you.

We give you our thaaanks~

What..!?

(Oi Koon!!)

??F Hell Train - Hidden Floor - 05

So would you like to accept this quest first?

Quest?

Yes. There are quests for each stage.

When warriors take on and complete quests // we call it a good deed.

The practice quest for this is

E-rank quest, hunting the "reed monsters".

Reed..? What's that?

They are boisterous monsters that disturb the peace of this village.

When you open this scroll, you will see a "quest code"

And if you illuminate upon the code with your "sin meter" // the quest will begin.

Once it begins, a "villain" will be summoned in a specific place

If you defeat the "villain", you will complete the quest and receive "goodness points".

Which means, you'll have to complete quests to collect "goodness points".

........

Once you've collected enough goodness points and your "sin meter" is filled with white light

You will receive the scroll for the "main quest" from "Big Breeder-nim", which will drop the forbidden fruit to hell!

...Are you really doing it, Koon?

..Of course.

It looks like you guys are the only ones in this village.. // The others might be in different stages, so we have to act quickly.

(Because we're "intruders"-)

Stage?

Something like that.

By the way- // where did you get those clothes?

(Oh my)

(They're the heroooeess!!)

(Kyaaa~)

Come again, heroes~!

Amazing.

All the clothes were for free.

(And this is more comfortable than I thought)

Not only the clothes. All the food and drinks are free too! // We're welcome everywhere we go saying it's because we're heroes.

(Even the flowers here are delicious.)

(Booze is free too.)

(Aren't you changing your clothes?)

(This is more comfortable, turtle)

(These guys haven't come on the train multiple times to try and get here right....)

Well then // Let's open the quest!!

..You're doing it so soon?

Well, it's a quest with low level difficulty.

(It's not dangerous.)

It'll be good practice.

Illuminate it with your sin meter, Boro.

Something came out!!

It's on the mountain-side!!

At the same time // Quarantine Area inside the "Forbidden Fruit"

Y..ou met.. th..em // wh..ile taking... a.. sho...rt cut?

Yep~

(Who is he..?)

(I don't know..)

They blew up the road.. // It was really terrible.

I've never seen such a big soldier before.

Hm..

I'm gl...ad. That you're ali..ve.

(Haha-)

Yeah. // We were lucky you appeared in such a moment of crisis, Batis-nim.

If.. that giant soldier.. // is.. their "chief.."

then.. it came.. be..cause of.. that guy

You.. must b..e a dang..erous.. existence... to them.

...?

(Them..?)

What is that huge and unpleasant sounding person talking about. // No matter how you look at it, he looks more dangerous than you. Don't you think so too, Baam?

A..Androssi-ssi, that's rude.

What do you mean I'm talking rudely.

Batis-nim may not look like it but he's a really nice person.

You guys will be safe with us. // I "guarantee" it.

(Trust me!)

........... // But aren't you the most suspicious person here?

Haha-

Beep- // Beep- // Beep-

Inside the Quarantine Area

Shelter (General name for seed)

Oh....

...?

Batis-nim..!

Who are those people?

T..he "h..eroes"..

th..at.. we've been.. waiting for..

Open.. the door.

Ppappa!!

Ppapa!!

Ppa.. Ppappa!! // Ppappa!!

Hello, Medley!

(Who are those?! They're suspicious!!)

Ppappa..?

Ppappa-!!

H.. // Hello?

(W-we're not suspicious people)

Co..me in..

We.. have to escape from this.. "forbidden.. fruit" // before the.. "he..roes outs..ide" clear.. this stage.

..? // Forbidden Fruit?

They're pretty noisy!!

Hup-!!

Fire!! Gator!!

Wow!! You warriors are awesome!! // You subdued the reed monsters in an instant!!

..........

Will the black gauge really diminish by doing this?

(It's much simpler than I thought)

It is!! // Your evil gauge will drop when you clear quests!

Fyi, you got 50 goodness points just now!!

Look. // Haven't you noticed that the dark parts in your sin meter have diminished?

This stage's "evil energy" has lessened by that much!!

The gauge really did go down. // Although just by a bit.

If all your "evil" gauge disappears // and clear this stage, you'll get a chance to play the "Grand Quest"!

Alright. Come on, let's go.

(Urk!)

(A puddle..!)

Why are we doing this..

What..!? // We'll be dragged into the underground forever?!

That's.. right. // A..nother name for this.. Quarantine Area is the "Forbi..dden Fruit"

This place.. appears as.. a huge ball.. from the outside.

If.. the "heroes" outside.. cl..ear this stage.. // The giant will bury us underground.

And.. even if they fail to cl..ear it, the giant.. will still eat the.. fruit. // W..e don't.. ha..ve much.. time.

So we have to escape this place before that happens. // Otherwise, we'll be trapped in darkness until the next heroes arrive.

Is that so...

We.. have repeat..ed this sta..ge.. a lot.. of times.. already.

N..no matter ho..w many times.. we've tried // we..'ve a..always faile..d to escape.

Why were you quarantined here..

Everyone.. has their.. own.. story. Some.. were guilty of a crime.. and got imprisoned. // I.. was originally a "da..ta human".. of a "ba..rd"

..Bard..s wait for.. heroes.. like y..ou

to.. tell and sing.. about.. this.. world and.. guide them..

A..nd.. w..e // worship.. the Big.. Breeder.. who is the.. ruler of.. this Floor.

"Big Breeder.."?

"Big Breeder" is like the guardian of this Floor.

He decides the rules and setting of this data world // A god-like being that mediates to right the wrong.

W..we were made.. to worship.. // the Bi..g Breed..er.

B..ut.. one.. day..

I.. saw the.. "truth".

Big.. Bree..der and.. the sol..diers // were.. mercilessly.. beating the.. civilians

I.. saw them.. laughing and.. smil..ing as they.. do it.

They.. erase.. and manipu..late their me..mories. // And.. with..out knowi..ng anyth..ing, they sing.. songs of prai..ses to Big.. Breeder.. again.

I.. was fur..ious.

S..o I..

Wr..ote a song re..vealing.. the tr..uth..

An..d sang that.. song in.. front of.. the people..

The..y did not.. be..lieve my.. song at.. first.. // but.. as they list..ened to my.. song

From the.. depths of.. their me..mories, Big.. Breeder's evil.. deeds

resur..faced..

My.. song.. started to spread.. to the peo..ple.

It.. finally.. lit a fire.. in their.. hearts..

And.. many.. of the.. resi..dents.. start..ed to fight back aga..inst Big.. Breeder..

Big.. Breeder was upset

and soon.. became.. angry.

He.. had his.. so..ldiers raze.. through the to..wn.. / and tram..ple its peo..ple..

They.. reset their.. me..mories.

All.. the songs.. were burned.. away // Until in.. the end.. the only one who.. remembered the truth.. was me..

Only a few people.. stayed by my side.. and I was.. ostracized..

A..n..d one day.. // B..big Breeder came to me.. and said.

To you.. who hu..miliated me.. with that.. filthy song..

You.. will suff..er never.. ending.. pain.

A..nd.. he.. took me.. here..

The.. place where.. warr..iors who were.. quaran..tined // were kept.. frozen un..derground

An..d in.. here.. we will.. continue to..

face.. and repeat.. nume..rous deaths.. and failures.

Big.. Breeder.. also..

ma..de sure.. that I.. can ne..ver sing.. again..

And.. ripped apart.. // my.. mouth.

M..y daugh..ter..

...!!

was cursed.. to never.. // learn.. how.. to speak..

I.. want to escape.. from this place..

........

and get.. revenge on.. Big Breeder.

Where.. // are they right now?

So what's the villain // for the "Grand Quest" like?

Yes. For the "Grand Quest", "Big Breeder"-nim will directly summon // a "champion-rank villain" for you to defeat.

Champion..? Are they specially strong?

Only Big Breeder-nim holds the scroll that contains champion-class villains. // It's different for every stage but they're strong!!

..Who is this Big Breeder you're talking about?

"Big Breeder", so to speak, is like the guardian from outside!! // How should I put it..? A god?!

...God?

Yes!! He controls us, our birth and our death // The only data human in this world who is capable of "altering" (alt. tuning/mediating) other data-

A transcendental being that rules over data!! // The great god of this world, "Big Breeder"-nim!!

Aaah~ They were also like us at first~ // Just mere data~ // But one day, they were able to get over their limitations by their own will~

"Big Breeder", huh..

If it's that person..

Maybe he knows where the "data of Young Zahard" is..?

Once we take on a quest with high difficulty // If we call that "Big Breeder" person

we can ask him where the "data of Young Zahard".

Alright.

(That cunning look on turtle's face makes me uneasy..)

I'm a bit motivated now.

Those who are trapped.. in quarantine..

It looks like.. they have not been eliminated yet.. // That damn mirror spread out their companions.. in different stage..s.

Watch.. over the..m

There is.. something suspicious.. about them.

Oh Great "Big Breeder"-nim-

...........

..I’ll continue watching over all of them.

There is no need to worry. // I will take care of them.

Zahard-nim

#Tower of God #translations #S2ch268

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agreementtale · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 8: There are two rules in life:

Step one eat the whole pie

Step two take care of Mother (A laugh a day) In progress

-> Bath (Too yellow) Bleaching (Maybe?)

-> Sewing clothes (Can you even?)

-> Pie => Get cinnamon (Where?) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-> Tidy the house (Doesn’t count)

-> Fix her relations with other monsters (especially Flowey)

Step two 3 gather materials => Boot, Toy, Ribbon(on inventory)

Step three 4 go to ‘icy place’

Step four 5 befriend the hell out of monsters

Step five 6 break the barrier

They eyed the list, unimpressed, ten days after they wrote it and the only thing they managed to do was eating pie… She was the one doing all chores, more interested in them learning school things than helping her around the house… it was frustrating, but they wouldn’t give up.

Seemed that the only incentive she needed to tidy the house was a guest, since they got there the house was spotless. They tried helping her on the kitchen without success, after their lucky strike the first day, she always beat them to washing the dishes… Always with a concerned expression, if they were present she would wear a uncertain smile, but they could see right through it.

She didn’t trust them.

They didn’t blame her.

“Is there something on your mind, innocent one?” She asked making a move to grab something.

They promptly handed her the dish towel “Just kid stuff” they watched her drying the dishes with the old towel, everything in Toriel’s house has either rather old, but incredibly well conserved furniture, books and utensils, or plain fresh, ingredients mostly.

“If you have a problem, you can always come to me, child” She said patting their head “I am your mother after all” They could barely suppress the pride on hearing that remark, but now wasn’t time for this, she wasn’t happy, they shouldn't feel proud yet, not when it was their responsibility change that in the first place.

“Can you teach me how to sew?” Clothes were on the old category, smelled like old, but wasn’t bad for the touch, neither caused them any skin reaction, they tested, and were fairly well conserved. But her clothes, on the other hand, were ripped around the edges and had a few holes on them.

“Of course” They actually had tried to fix them and surprise her, only to find out they definitely did not knew how to sew “I can insert this on our curriculum for this semester” They could feel warmth radiating from her voice just at the thought “On the condition you only use a needle in my presence” she added, half teasing.

“Ok” whatever they had done on the other resets, this run gained the cup of having their fingers stabbed by needles… those little pointy things were evil “Only with supervision” which was odd, sewing seemed like a useful capacity to have.

The thought of them ignoring a survival ability like this made them question their wisdom.

If it was survival, they had to learn it.

It’s not like they could rely on other people to do it for them all the time. Who on these days knew how to sew anyway?

“Then I’ll be delighted to teach you” That is outside of their wonderful mother, of course.

“By the way, yesterday I wanted to cut myself some pie, but I couldn’t find any knife” Not a single one since they appeared, they kept waiting to catch her using one, but she seemed not to like using the it, which strike them as odd.

“Well… you could have asked me child, I would give you a piece” If she was uneasy, she didn’t show, maybe they could be a little more clear without alarming her.

“And today there aren’t any knives on the sink either” She stopped putting the plates away.

“You… are a very observant child” Now she was unease, great…

“I am old enough to use a knife, you know” She didn’t answer “and I like pie!” she chuckled a little.

“I have no doubt about it” just a little, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes “but I still worry”

“I could have a dull knife if it makes you feel better” They would feel better with a sharpened one, but a dull knife was better than no knife.

“How about a pie knife?” uneasiness again creeping into her voice.

“Perfect!” Anything to not listen that borderline painful intonation.

She placed a kiss on their forehead, and moved back to the shelf, her hand way above her field of vision to grab something high, what must be at least 3 meters. She must have noticed their confusion.

“See, I was hoping to find children, even younger than yourself” she handed them a simple silver pie knife, it wouldn’t serve as a tool, but now they knew where she had the silverware hidden, carefully they put it with the other cutlery “I had to make sure the house was safe for the little ones” it wouldn’t needed to be this tall for children...

Maybe younger humans wouldn’t be her only concern.

Smart move.

“Are you playing with your brother today?”

“Yep” It had become a routine.

“Come back before dark this time” Every morning she would give them lessons, every afternoon they would explore the ruins with Flowey.

“Ok” They were sure that the ruins hadn’t any more equips, but random encounters with monsters and regular exercise had made them happy on the small place they called home.

“And I mean it this time” She followed them to the door “If you are late, you are getting no dinner, young one” it was an empty threat, she was always so relieved they came back she mysteriously forgot to keep her word... That is until the next day, when they got no dessert for making her worry, pity, they liked desert.

“Bye mom” They waved at her, asking themselves if she would follow today, Flowey had confirmed she had done it the first week they went out, at first he got jumpy with the idea, but then he got used to it.

Now it seemed she got used to the idea as well, since she hadn’t followed them for two days in a row.

“She’s not joining us this time?” As always, he waited for them on the distance, from a position she couldn’t see.

“Maybe” he looked a little grumpy, did he wanted her to follow them around? “How was your morning?”

“Awful, that Froggit keep following me, don’t matter how many tunnels I use, he always find me, every single day”

You mean that one?” They pointed to the innocent monster, listening to Flowey’s frustrated screech.

“Stop following me you idiot!” The Froggit just hopped closer looking them in the eyes.

“Hi” they waved.

“Don’t encourage him!” ignoring the Flower, the Froggit croaked back.

“Are you the guy from before? The one with a strong headbutt?” until today, that Froggit and the ghost were the only ones that got away before they could spare them.

Froggit croaked timidly, while Flowey grumbled.

“You want to show me the place around?” the frog croaked decisively, leading the way, they promptly followed.

“Are we really doing this today?” Despite his ‘tired of your bullshit’ air, he followed.

“Why? Have anything better to do?” since they fell he seemed to spend all of his time with them, except for when they were on the house, then he just waited outside, that had to change one of these days…

“Don’t let him outsmart you again” he warned morosely.

“Why so serious?” they joked.

“Can’t believe that I would end up as a babysitter for two dummies” he murmured, the Froggit did not paid any attention to it, going ahead on strong jumps.

“It’s not that bad” They were heading to a part of the path containing the pitfall traps, the Froggit dodged them expertly, they let him lead the way, despite having it memorized by now.

“It is when a frog is the smart one” They only smiled and let him rant about their stupidity on not becoming stronger and stubbornness on not escaping her house while she slept.

This Froggit was a particularly smart one, he managed to avoid all the traps, follow Flowey until he tracked his way back to them. It almost took away the sting of dying… almost.

He led them to other monsters, apparently his own family, they spent a nice afternoon complimenting and playing catch. Flowey complained about a wasted afternoon, but after he found a playmate, they caught him smiling every once in a while, a little Froggit, small enough to fit on his leaves, jumped and dodged his vines, while he pretended to be a giant monster.

With the diming of lights they waved goodbye to their new friends and headed home, he followed without any complaints, it gave them an idea. They asked him to wait for them on the entrance of the spider baking sale, his good mood allowing the detour without too much of a fuss.

Getting there they quickly approached the biggest web, whispering to the spiders about the two items they needed, leaving a few coins on the web. Spiders were resourceful, they remembered that.

Going back to Flowey they made conversation for the rest of the way home. The reflecting stones on the ceiling of the cave were already dim for a while, it was night out there, they kinda missed seeing the moon and stars.

“You will miss dessert again” the flower said, bringing them back to reality.

“That’s fine” although they liked the homemade sweets, their mission was more important.

“I though you liked cookies”

“And caramels, and chocolate, and sweet sweet pie” their mother knew how to cook, the memory tantalizing, they could almost taste it, all they had to do was get home in time and they would have a delicious reward.

“You’re drooling” They clasped their mouth shut and tried to clean themselves, only to find out they were not drooling, what a liar! They shoot him an irritated look, he meet the stare with his ‘whatever’ face.

“Greetings children” They both looked at the old monster hidden behind the tree, they with mildly surprise, he with growing anxiety.

“Hi mom” they promptly gave her a hug, he mumbled something, but her fur made it inaudible.

“And you should be Flowey” he nodded, making an effort not to tremble on his roots “The little one told me all kinds of good things about the valiant brother that protected them all this time”

“…m… ot… …t” he didn’t met her eyes, all the time looking at the ground, his damaged petals seemed to wither under her gaze, they never saw him that emotive before, not when they called him brother, not even when they called her mother, maybe he was more scared than they realized.

“Pardon me?” If he was that terrified, maybe they should give him a way out? She was never going to hurt him, they’ve been putting in a good word for him every night, but he didn’t know that.

“I’m not valiant” He repeated still quietly, his stem trembled, he looked small. They let go of her arms, determined to save their brother, but quicker than they could react, she beat them to him.

“Of course you are” She said gently, kneeled before him, they did not know if he got even smaller, or if it was just the subconscious comparison to her massive size that made him appear like that “You are very brave and very kind, young one, I can see that” they stood at her side, maybe it would turn out ok, if they didn’t interfere “Why don’t you join us over dinner?”

Like a sudden wave of fireworks in an empty night.

His face lifted to meet hers, an expression of wonderment and uncertainty, his petals gained color, on his eyes the shine of a precious memory, his mouth opening slightly to give her a reply.

Then it was gone… like the dying lights on the dark sky.

“Thank you, but… I’ll… I’ll just…”

“Please, I insist” She remained calm and gentle.

Avoiding her gaze “I would just destroy your floor” he laughed humorlessly “and dirt your house” He looked defeated, that wouldn’t do. They knew this expression, they had worn it too, he had tried it more times than what he could afford to fail.

“It is not a problem, we can–/”

“I can’t be uprooted, my roots have to have something firm to cling on” he interrupted her. Well, he didn’t have to be uprooted, they could put him in a pot.

“Then–/”

“Pots won’t do either” Or not… thinking about it, it was a too obvious of an answer for him not to have already tried “It’s too compact, I can’t breathe, the roots get squeezed” It had to be a solution somewhere.

“We could–/”

“Eating outside it’s a bad idea” they just had to think outside the box “without fire it would be all too dark to see”

“I could easily–/”

“A fire would be a bad idea” She was getting more frustrated at each interrupted attempt, he had already gave up “the Whimsuns would be attracted by it and catch fire”.

“We could–/”

“Thr–/”

“A boot!” they interrupted his interruption, with a raised finger “We could use a boot!” wasting no time, they took the Old Boot and the Toy Knife out of their inventory.

“To what? Stomp the fire down?” They used the piece of plastic as a shovel, filling the boot with dirt.

“It’s big, so you have enough space” they struggled to pierce the ground, ruining the knife, but getting earth enough to fill the recipient “There you go!”

Flowey eyed them incredulously “That’s like a pot, but worse”

“Please child, at least try it” She encouraged him, opening space for them to approach.

“Humor me a little, please?” he still stared at them, without any expression “pleeeeease?”

Rolling his eyes he lifted is vines, entering the boot. It was a fun sight, he looked bigger, but so much thinner than they had imagined.

“So?” they asked expectantly.

“It’s like a pot” he paused, looking them in the eyes “But worse” they gave him a displeased face, he had to at least try! “It have no space, I’ll suffocate in here!”

“You can untie those strings for more space” they pointed to shoelaces “or even pass your roots through these holes” he looked at them and tried a few experimental wiggles, poking two of his main vines out of the boot.

“What about now?” she asked him, he looked uncertain again.

“Maybe?” a few more movements and him using his roots to put more earth on the makeshift pot morphed his expression to something lighter “I guess…”

“Wonderful!” she said haply.

“Finally! Now we can share a room again!” They caught the boot on their arms, like a precious treasure.

“I just agree to a dinner” he seemed to adjust to the new environment, holding on their arms with a vine for extra support.

“And a sleepover!” they added with little jumps of happiness.

“She didn’t invite me to stay the night, stupid!” he said between hisses as he struggled to maintain balance, they stopped jumping.

She coughed “Flowey, please refrain to name calling, this child found a solution for a puzzle both of us could not, they are anything but stupid” he gulped “Besides, they are right, you two can share the room as long as they wish for”

“And I’ll tell you right away, brother, if it depends on me we are sharing it until the end of times!” He scoffed at them, but they could see how his petals looked vivid, his posture upright, his stem and leaves doing little happy wiggles.

After all this time, a dinner in family was all they wished for.

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#AgreementTale #undertale #fanfiction #archieve of our own #long fic

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