#i just need them to SIT and talk it through cause

[sturnsrecord]

CLIMB THROUGH MY WINDOW

PART THREE — [fuckboy!chris x smart!reader. alcohol, drugs, blowjob]. somethings changed between you and chris, but you’re a smart girl and you know what it is — telling yourself to ignore how you feel and what’s going on.

ʚ part one ɞ — ʚ part two ɞ

you walk around the house, desperately looking for bella. “oh my god, where have you been?” she looks up at you from her position on a random couch, her words slurring slightly. “i was with chris.” you mumble watching as her expression shifts to a sly grin. 

you roll your eyes at her insinuation. “shut up.” you huff, sitting down next to her.

“have you just been sat here alone?” you ask, subtly changing the subject. she scoffs, taking another swig of her drink which she definitely didn't need. “no- i was making out with some guy, but he left to get himself a drink.” she explains, her words a little jumbled.

you raise your eyebrows. “oooh, who is this guy?” you question, showing more interest in the hopes she doesn’t ask about chris. but she shuts it down, clearly more interested in your life than talking about her own.

“did you finally fuck him?” she asks, blurting out the words. you drop the act, letting out a sigh. “no, i didn't.” you mumble, pausing as you hesitate to continue. “he went down on me.” you add quietly.

she lets out a shriek, before gasping and grabbing your arm. “oh my god, was it good?” she leans in, whispering the last part.

you look over at her before slowly nodding your head, unable to hold back the grin on your face. her hand tightens on your arm. “holy shit! that good?” she questions, knowing that the way you responded meant it must’ve been really fucking good.

“would you calm down?” you usher, looking around to make sure no one was witnessing this interaction. she pulls back, a guilty look on her face as she motions locking her lips. 

“so when are you having sex?” she says quietly, clearly not abiding to shutting up. you roll your eyes at her nagging questions. to be honest, you had no idea, so you hesitate to answer.

“do you think your parents are having any effect on this?” she asks carefully. you frown. “what no?!” you exclaim wanting to deny it to the ends of the earth. but then you think, looking down as you fiddle with the bottom of your skirt. “i know i'm not gonna go to hell for having sex before marriage.” you mumble out.

bella sighs, leaning into your space. “yeah i know you know that- you’re not fuckin stupid.” you let out a little sigh at her reassuring yet slightly inconsiderate words. 

“i'm sayin, maybe you don’t wanna disappoint them.” she elaborates. 

you think for a second, her words taking you back a little. did she just completely hit the nail on the head? no, because you were gonna have sex with chris. right?

“i wouldn't disappoint them.” you mumble out. “cause i wouldn’t tell them.” you explain, trying your hardest to rationalise against bella. 

“so you’re saying you wouldn’t feel even a little guilty?” she pushes, holding her thumb and her index ever so close together.

you turn to her, pushing away her hand. “what do you know, you’re just a drunk girl with too many talking rights.” you mutter playfully.

she scoffs at your words slumping back against the couch as she crosses her arms over her chest. “wow.” she scoffs again, shaking her head. “i can't believe this.” she mumbles dramatically. 

she continues to complain, incoherently mumbling about how she was completely right and you were just stubborn. 

but you weren’t listening.

your attention was fixed on chris who you had spotted across the room. it’s like your mind and body just knew when he appeared, your gaze automatically shifting to him like an alert had gone off in your brain. 

you usually looked a few times, took note of what he was doing and then returned your attention back to whatever you were doing. 

but this time you were unable to look away, your stomach turning at the sight of him talking to another girl. 

it’s not like you’d never seen him do this before, in fact you’d probably be able to completely mimic the way he flirts just by the copious amount of times you've seen him do it.

what made you feel nauseous right now wasn't the thought of him with another girl but rather the fact that your stomach dropped at the sight. 

you’d never cared before, and that was easy. 

but watching him right now, smiling every time that stupid girl put her hands on him, ‘mindlessly’ grabbing his arm- it made you feel sick to your stomach. 

you weren’t naive, it was obviously jealousy, which came from a place that you were willing to ignore. 

“hello- i swear to god you actually just don’t fucking listen to me, like holy hell.” bella complains beside you, which makes you turn back to her.

“sorry, i'm here.” you mumble. she lifts her head back up, looking over to where your gaze was before, taking in the scene of chris flirting with some girl. 

“you told him you didn’t care if he fucked other girls.” she mumbles out unhelpfully.

you playfully smack her arm, although she’s completely right. “yeah because i didn’t.” you huff, still looking his way. 

“past tense… interesting.” she mumbles, pretending to be in deep thought. you turn back to her, your mouth slightly open in shock. “would you stop analysing me, it’s freaking me out.” you tell her, not loving her drunk personality right now. 

she holds her hands up in surrender, letting out a small giggle at your situation. “i hate you right now.” you mumble, letting your head fall to your hands.

“no you don’t.” she mumbles, pulling you into a hug. “you love me.” she mocks, dragging you down so that the both of you are slouched into the sofa, half your body on hers.

at this point you've given up the grumpy facade, giggling with her. but you both quieten down when someone approaches, a drink in their hand.

“uh, bella?”

you turn to see an attractive man with a confused look on his face. “oh my god.” she chuckles beside you as you awkwardly sit up. “this is the guy i was talking about.” she shrieks, one hand gripping his top whilst the other held onto your arm like she was introducing the two of you. 

you smile up at him awkwardly as he gives you a little nod of acknowledgement, although his attention quickly returns to bella as she tugs on his shirt.

you're not sure how it happens, but when you look up from fixing your skirt his drink is on the side and his lips are on hers.

“oh, wow.” you mutter in slight shock, shuffling along the couch as they begin to make out. “jesus.” you sigh under your breath before standing up and leaving.

you never enjoyed walking around a party alone. and sober.

you found it so awkward, especially when you were mindlessly walking with no place to be, just hoping you'd find a situation you could involve yourself in.

what you hated even more was feeling like a complete loser when the guy you'd just gotten with was taking a girl upstairs right before your eyes.

you stood in the other room, looking through the doorway as she led him up the stairs, watching like some creep at their every interaction for all of five seconds.

you told yourself you were fine, that it didn't bother you. you tried your hardest to jump back into your precious carefree mindset, trying to hone in on the old feeling.

but something had changed.

something had switched in you because all you could feel was pure jealousy and most of all dread.

was he gonna fuck her? was he gonna do exactly what he did with you? was he gonna enjoy it more?

the thoughts rattled in your head. you knew you were overthinking, but it was hard to combat the intense feeling in you with rational thoughts.

you decided on a cup of straight vodka and a cig out front, sat alone on the steps to the house.

occasionally people would walk past, either leaving or joining the party. maybe it was the increasing alcohol intake or the lack of acknowledgement from others, but for once you weren’t embarrassed to be seen alone.

“you sat all alone?”

you turn to see chris, hands in his pockets as he looked down at you with a smirk. you give him a weak nod before looking back down at your feet.

“you good?” he asked, concern in his voice as he sat down beside you. “yeah, i'm fine.” you mumble, smiling a little, usually the move that would make chris actually believe you.

“you got an almost empty cup of somethin,” he peers down at it in your hand. “and you're smokin.” he points out, making a point against your pathetic stand.

you shrug like this is your usual state. “what's wrong?” he presses, his voice slightly softer.

you're taken back by his unusual care and attention to your emotions, used to him usually just moving on when you told him you were fine.

but now how could you tell him what was wrong.

you think, swirling around the remaining vodka in the cup. now would've been a great time for him to not care.

“is this neat vodka?” he questions with a frown. you zone back in, looking over at him. “...yeah.” you mumble out. he motions towards it before gently taking it from your grasp.

he takes a swig, wincing at the taste. “you’re fucking insane.” he tells you before handing whatever was left back. 

“you're also upset.” he circles back. “or y’know- not doin too hot.” he says, evidently not very good with comforting words.

“not doing too hot?” you question, subtly trying to avoid answering the question.

he shakes his head, giving you a look. “y;know what i mean.” he huffs, his gaze turning into warmth, like he was trying to coax the information out of you with a look.

you shrug again, rummaging through your mind for an excuse, or another reason why you would feel shit. but as you think, horrendous images of chris and that girl pop up into your brain, stilling your train of thought for a second as well as your heart.

“you don’t have to talk t’me bout’ your issues.” he mumbles, reassuring a little as he pulled out a paper to roll a joint. 

you look over, snapping back into reality and out of your stupid thoughts. “it's not that- i just…” you sigh, unable to explain yourself. 

“m’just not used to you asking me shit like that.” you mumble out meekly.

the corner of his lips turn up, his eyes remaining on the half rolled joint in his hands. you take note of the small, amused reaction. “are you only asking me what's wrong because you're coked?” you blurt out, an almost shot in the dark.

he frowns a little, but the amusement on his face never leaves. “nah.” he shakes his head, denying your accusation. “might be why i'm persistently askin’.” he admits.

“big word for you chris.” you hum, mocking him in retaliation. he rolls his eyes, biting back a smile, but you could see it seeping through. the way he genuinely found you funny, even though he liked to keep you in check by never admitting it. 

“shut the fuck up.” he chuckles, shaking his head as he speaks. 

a peaceful silence settles between you as he delicately licks the paper, smoothing it over into a perfect cone. despite what he was doing, she admired how good he was. 

“i could teach ya y’know.” he says, clearly taking notice of her attention. “i don't wanna learn how to do that.” you tell him.

he shrugs, fiddling with it as he looks over at you. “why not?” he asks, like you were crazy for turning that down. “just don't.” you mumble, looking over at him.

you'd forgotten how close he'd sat, the both of you looking at one another shining a light on the lack of space between your bodies.

close enough to kiss him.

the thought flashes through you before you can even think, and now your lips are on his in a soft delicate kiss. 

you can't tell if he's shocked and frozen or just kissing back so gently it almost felt like nothing. but then his free hand wraps around your waist, caressing the skin through your top.

it's a slow careful kiss, with no intention of anything further.

he pulls away, clearing his throat a little before his hand comes back to the joint. he shifts to find a lighter, almost trying to do something to distract his mind from that kiss. 

you on the other hand stare at his very move, almost infatuated with him. it's like that kiss had put a spell on you, completely consuming your mind.

you craved the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel that soft touch from him again. but you know it won't happen again. like you'd both  been caught in a loophole, into another universe where you weren't you and chris… but you also were.

he brings the zoot to his lips, lighting it before he takes a long toke, exhaling it as his body relaxed.

you want to speak, break the silence before it becomes awkward, but it never does. the two of you sat there not exchanging a single word, which made you think that he felt it too. 

he passes the joint to you, brushing the tobacco crumbs off his lap with his other hand as he holds it out for you.

you raise your eyebrows before taking it from him, taking a small puff as he leans his elbows on his knees. “don't have too much, y’already tipsy.” he suggests.

it's not an order or a demand but rather a playful comment from a place of care. “i'm not tipsy.” you scoff, keeping up the light conversation. 

“ok fine, drunk.” he huffs, correcting himself sarcastically as he rolls his eyes. you smack his arm lightly. “i'm fine, practically sober.” you tell him, lying straight through your teeth. 

he shakes his head a little, clearly debating between staying quiet or continuing the conversation. “you initiated a kiss- you ain't sober.” he says, lightly mocking you for being tipsy.

you roll your eyes at his light insult, looking over at him before talking. “you think i wouldn't kiss you sober?” you question, your voice quiet yet clear.

his eyebrows raise at the change in vibe of the conversation as he motions for you to pass the joint back. “not like that.” he responds before inhaling. 

you squint your eyes, the corner of your mouth tugging up. “like what?” you ask, your voice barely loud enough for him to hear.  

he lets out a small chuckle at your teasing tone, loving the way you were testing him. but he doesn't respond, giving you a small look which said everything and more. 

“you're funny when y’drunk.” he mumbles with a small smile, clearly finding this whole ordeal very funny. “m’not-”

“yeah, yeah- i know.” he interrupts, motioning you to stop, not wanting to hear you defend yourself anymore. 

he focuses in on smoking as you finish the last sip of your vodka, earning a judgemental glare from him. you watch as he hesitates to speak, clearly ready to say something.

“can i take y’home?” he asks, his tone making it obvious that he was trying to keep it casual. “i'm sleeping over at bellas.” you respond in a whisper, feeling bad for indirectly rejecting his offer. 

but he just nods, not showing a single care in the world that you didn't immediately say yes. “you guys gettin’ an uber?” he asks, although it's more of a suggestion. 

you press your lips together, nodding.

“good.” he muttered before taking another toke, watching the smoke as it left his lips. 

you sit in another calm silence, something that had been happening more often. you thought that it was because of all the unspoken words between you that you would be saying in these times. but you didn't talk- at least not in the way you should be. letting every tension-filled moment pass until it faded into the past. 

he takes a final toke, flicking the butt to the floor before he stood. “lemme know if your plans change, yeah?” he mumbles out as he walks back in, leaving you sat alone again.

you go to respond but he's gone, his offer hanging heavy in the air. for once you felt yourself buckling at his words, the sudden urge to put him above all else looming over you, like he was in your head. 

did he know how to get in there? was this all a mind fuck to get you at his demand?

you turn your head to the door, almost as if you were looking at him again. god did you feel stupid for wanting him so badly, a silly little fuck boy who gave you just enough attention to get you hooked.

of course you knew all about his ways before getting yourself here, you just thought you were smart enough to not fall for it. 

but did chris’s mysterious, charming personality really trump your intelligence and self respect? 

“wait, why can't you go home?” he asks as the both of you walk down the road, you explaining that you couldn't just walk into your house this late at night. 

“because i told my parents i was sleeping over at bellas.” you say, watching as he rolls you a cigarette whilst walking. he nods a little, but it's obvious he doesn't completely understand.

“you always smoke this much when you're drunk?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he hands you the cig. you put on a thinking face, slotting the cig between your lips as you search your bag for a lighter. “difficult to answer.” you ponder. “considering i'm not drunk.” you say with certainty, giving him a look.

“sorry, how could i forget.” he mumbles, bringing a lighter to the end of the cigarette. you watch as the flame lights the paper, blowing in and out to get it lit. 

you’d caved.

going back into the party to find chris, subtly hinting that you did want him to take you home. bella was more than ok with it, getting excited for you. (which you shut down quickly).

but here you were, on your way to sleep over at a boys house. chris’s house. you'd never been in his room before, and quite frankly you were shocked he even agreed to take you to his house.

but there was something comforting about how he let you in, not shutting you out, and if anything encouraging to spend more time with you. 

after walking in silence for a while, he motions you to pass the cigarette to him. “you always smoke this much when you're drunk?” you mimic his previous question as he rolls his eyes. 

“shut up.” he scoffs, holding it between his fingers as he exhaled. “m’not drunk.” he mumbles under his breath before bringing the cigarette back up to his lips. 

“huh, sure.” you scoff back to annoy him. he rolls his eyes again in response as he passes the cig back. “m’actually not drunk- so zip it.” he snarks.

“yes you are.” you tease, pointing your hand at him, smoke trickling out of the cigarette. “you wouldn't be letting me sleep over if you werent.” you continue, raising an eyebrow as you brought your hand back to your own personal space.

“would’ya stop mimickin’ our entire convo from earlier?” he accuses, his brows scrunching together. “wha- what?” you halt, holding your arms out dramatically. 

“keep walkin.” he huffs, motioning you to get a move on. but you took it as avoidance, to move away from his previous statement. 

“what convo?” you mumble as you catch up to him, a look of confusion on your face. he shakes his head, as if that's a response. then it clicks in your brain. “when you said i wouldn't kiss you like that if i was sober?” you tease, a smirk playing on your lips as you look across to him.

he lets out a sigh, like he's given up when it comes to light conversation with you. and like he knew what you were about to say next.

“so what did you mean by that again?” you tease, pushing his buttons a little. he shrugs, playing it off as he casually slips his hands into his jean pockets.

“that it was a random kiss is all.” he responds. “but you said ‘like that’- what does ‘like that’ mean?” you press.

he lets out a small chuckle. “was a good kiss.” he shrugs, looking over at you. you send him a sweet smile, letting the soft compliment seep in. “oh shut up- dont look at me like that.” he huffs, turning to look the other way, but not before you spot the soft blush across his face.

no fucking way. 

“like what?” you question after a beat, just pushing him further. “okay, we're movin’ on.” he tells you warningly.

“ok, ok.” you nod, watching as he relaxes a little. you both walk in silence for a bit, abiding by his wish to stop talking.

“so what did you and that girl do?” you mumble quietly, and oh so stupidly. your words leaving your mouth before you could think, probably because of the alcohol in your system. (not that you'd admit it).

he scoffs, an amused look on his face. you couldn't tell if he was shocked that you'd asked, or somewhat admired it. but he gave the same back, answering your question just as bluntly as you'd asked it.

“she sucked m’dick.” he mumbles, looking over to gauge your reaction. 

it was hard to hide your own shock that he’d actually answered, not beating around the bush. but you nod a little, looking ahead. 

he hesitates for a second before speaking again. “why, you jealous or somethin?” he asks with a sly grin.

“do you want me to be?” you respond, just as cocky. 

he's taken back a little but doesnt let it show, shrugging yet again. he goes to say yes, but stops himself realising how that looks. “nah.” he shakes his head, looking down for a second. 

“then i'm not.” you hum, passing what's left of the cig back to him. he takes a toke, clearly thinking for a second as the both of you walk. “you don't have to be.” he mumbles, peering over at you, clearly not believing you. “could always just, y’know.” he looks down at his crotch, the suggestion clear as day.

you smack his arm, scoffing at his audacity. “you serious? is this how you get girls to do shit, use their jealousy against them?” you question, only partially joking, because of course you wanted to. 

“so you are jealous.” he points out with a cocky smirk, flicking the butt to the road. you roll your eyes, looking away momentarily. 

“fuck off.” you mutter, your cocky facade crumbling as you feel your shyness take over again. he nudges you a little, a grin plastered on his face. “don't get shy on me.” he teases. 

you simply blush at his words, only getting more and more timid. but he smiles, finding it sweet as he hangs his arm over your shoulder.

you get to chris's house, following behind him as he unlocks the front door and walks in. it's a nice house, similar to yours. 

you quietly creep up the stairs behind him, taking in his room as he opens the door. it's a typical teenage boys room, but with more posters and decorations than you thought there’d be.

“will your parents care that i'm here?” you mindlessly ask as your eyes roam over the room. he shakes his head as he empties out his pockets onto his desk that's already piled with junk. “nah, they won't come in.” he responds. 

you nod, walking over to his unmade bed to sit, taking a closer look at his bedside table, noticing a picture stuck to his wall. “you have a sister?” you question.

he whips his head round in confusion before noticing what you were looking at. “yeah, but she's in college.” he says, taking his coat off to throw it onto his chair. 

“huh.” you nod, wondering why he'd never spoken about her. but then again, when did you and chris ever sit down and talk about your family trees?

“you can borrow a t-shirt or somethin’.” he says, motioning towards his draws. your gaze follows, taking in the furniture, some of the bottom drawers not fully closed because of how stuffed they are. 

you stand, opening the top drawers to find his socks and boxers. you shut it before opening the next ones down, pulling out a random t-shirt. 

“pornstar?” you question, reading out the graphic on the shirt. he cocks his head round from where he's sat at his desk, raising an eyebrow as well as the corner of his lip. “what? you dont fuck with it?” he taunts.

you shake your head with a smile, shutting the drawer before taking your current top off to slip into his t-shirt. “got any pyjama bottoms?” you ask.

“uh, nah.” he responds, looking your legs up and down, clearly wanting you to not cover up. “don't own any.” he teases wickedly.

you roll your eyes, slipping your denim skirt off to leave you in just his t-shirt and underwear. he smirks before returning his attention back to his desk. 

“what’re you doing?” you question, walking over as you rest your hand on the back of his chair. the view of him rolling a joint answers your question as you nod, raising your eyebrows. 

you weren't one to comment on someone else's habits, but it was honestly impressive how much he smoked. 

you stand behind him, watching as he does his thing. “wanna sit?” your eyes tune in immediately, your hand dropping from the back of the chair. “oh sorry.” you mumble out, backing away to go sit back on the bed.

he turns, face contorted in confusion. “the fuck you doin’?”

“huh, i was jus-” you go to explain but he cuts you off. “meant on m’lap.” he explains, amused at your misunderstanding. 

your face heats up slightly before you stand up. “gladly.” you mumble, sauntering over to sit sideways across his lap, chris's upper body leaning back slightly to give you space. 

then he leans forward into your space, continuing his previous activity. your arm wraps around his shoulders, the other leaning against his desk that was digging into your side ever so slightly.

“you wanna crumble some in?” he offers, holding out the clay-like chunk of hash. you take it from him, observing it curiously. “you giving me a tutorial?” you tease, removing your arm from around his shoulders, leaning further onto the desk.

“somethin’ like that.” he murmurs, his eyes darting down to your ass, nothing but your black lacy underwear covering it. 

“ok, so what do i do?” you frown, completely oblivious to his ogling. “uh, jus’ use your fingers to pick small pieces off.” he instructs, now looking over your shoulder to watch your movements. “yeah, yeah. jus’ like that.” he praises as you crumble small pieces over the line of tobacco in the paper. 

he watches you closely. “make sure it's even across the tobacco.” he tells you.

“like this?” you question, crumbling more at the front and end. “uh-huh.” he nods, before his gaze lingers back down to your ass, his hand following suit as he gently squeezes the flesh.

you smile as you feel his hand on you, his fingers digging into your ass. “is this why you wanted me on your lap?” you ask, your attention focussed on what you were doing. 

he shrugs, a lazy grin on his face. “jus’ an added bonus.” he mumbles, tilting his head back to get a better look. 

“hmm, sure.” you hum back, knowing that it was all calculated. not that you minded the groping. 

“s’that good?” you ask, handing back the chunk of hash. he turns his attention back, his hands returning to the table. 

“mhm.” he hums, picking up the paper to roll it into a neat cone. you keep your arms on your lap, watching as he licks the paper and does whatever. then he taps your thigh, telling you to get off.

you scooch off his lap, chris standing up with a sigh before he lightly slaps your ass, 

“awfully touchy today.” you taunt, following as he sits on his bed, opening the window. “shut up.” he scoffs in response, clearly not wanting to address it. 

you climb onto the bed, sitting by the window opposite him, legs crossed. he lights the joint, making no effort to keep it out of the window. it was obvious that he did this a lot. 

you smoke in silence for a while, chris passing it to you before leaning against the wall. “you still drunk?” he chimes, an undertone of care and worry in his voice.

you shrug, exhaling out of the window unlike chris had been doing. “i was never drunk.” you mumble, looking over at him with a teasing glare. 

“hmm.” he nods. “so you're still keepin’ that up.” he mocks. you shake your head slightly, rolling your eyes.

“i was tipsy at most.” you huff, ashing the zoot on the window ledge. he raises his eyebrows. “so you admit it.” he retorts. you playfully shove him a little, only spurring on his cocky grin.

“you're so annoying.” you sigh, handing him the joint. “you love it.” he murmurs under his breath, taking a toke. 

you pull a face, furrowing your brows as if to deny his accusation. but you both knew it was true. 

“so how was she?” you ask, pettiness drowning out your words. he scoffs, his tongue darting out in his cheek.

“what? don’t wanna talk about it?” you taunt stupidly. maybe you were lying about not being drunk, or you just liked to prod and push him in ways he didn't like. 

“don't do that shit.” he scoffs, not quite as amused as you. but you don’t let out, just shrugging at him. “god, y’really know what to say.” he mutters sarcastically, shaking his head. 

it was stupid of you to bring it up again, especially like this. you’d told chris from the start you didn't care about other girls, yet here you were. acting like a bratty, petty girl, desperate to be his no.1 in a swarm of girls. 

“m’just curious.” you mumble, lying through your teeth.

he scoffs again, getting slightly annoyed at your attitude you were keeping up. “you're curious?” he echos, raising an eyebrow. “curious about another girl suckin’ my dick?” he snaps, his voice slightly harsher than usual.

“yeah.” you sigh, acting like this was a normal conversation, or that it hadn’t come out of the blue. he takes a toke of the joint before passing it back to you, refusing to answer by staying quiet. 

“we're friends, i don't care.” you shrug, inhaling some of the joint. “just curious.” you repeat.

he lets out a huff, reluctantly answering. “was alright, nothin’ special.” he mumbles, looking over to see your reaction.

“did you come?” you blurt out, choosing to prioritise your curiosity over the logical idea to stay quiet, absentmindedly ignoring what chris does with his dick.

he chuckles under his breath, now finding it funny how serious you were. “no.” he responds, looking over at you. 

“so, can’t have been that good.” you tease. he raises his eyebrows, letting out an amused chuckle. he didn't know if he loved or hated this side of you.

“you're on one right now.” he says, shaking his head as he motions for you to pass the zoot. 

“why?” you chuckle, acting innocent in your intentions of the horrid conversation you had started. he takes it from your hand, taking a toke before speaking. “cause you ain’t even sucked a dick before.” he retorts, knocking you down a peg or two.

you pull a face, shrugging. then something takes over your body, the same thing that has made you act like this in the first place. 

you shift in your spot on the bed, leaning forward to begin unbuckling his belt. he kisses his teeth, rolling his eyes. “the fuck you doin’?” he questions, thinking you were teasing him or pulling his leg.

“what do you think?” you whisper back, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. 

he looks down, watching your hands. almost waiting for you to stop and say that you were messing with him.

but then your hand dips below his boxers as you tug out his soft dick like you'd done it a million times. “seriously, what're you doin’?” he scoffs, thinking you wouldn't go through with it considering you’d made it pretty clear that you weren't exactly up for everything.

you sigh, looking up at him with all seriousness. “sucking your dick.” you say as if he was stupid for even asking.

his throat goes dry realising you're serious, his dick twitching as it immediately begins to grow hard as the words leave your mouth.

you wrap your hand around his cock, pumping it a few times, before you scooch back to give yourself more space. you bring your mouth to the tip of his half hard dick, experimentally licking the slit.

he takes a toke of the joint, watching you with dark eyes, watching as he takes in the fact you weren’t bluffing.

he doesn't say anything, letting you do what you want at your own pace, turned on by the fact you'd never done this before. 

you take his dick further, going about half way as you slowly slide it in and out of your mouth. he takes in a sharp breath, his dick stiffening fully now that he was in your mouth. 

he tries not to speak, but his desperation gets the better of him. “go further.” he mumbles, his voice hoarse. 

you look up at him through your lashes before abiding, taking his dick further down your throat until you feel the need to gag, pulling off before you do.

you recover quickly though, collecting the saliva in your mouth as you duck your head back down, sucking this time, your cheeks hollowed. you don't go as deep, instead stopping before you can gag, as you bob your head up and down.

“oh shiit-” he groans, the unexpected change in pace driving him crazy. you wrap your hand around the base, pumping it as you suck him hard. “fuck, you sure you never done this before?” he breathes out, taking another look at you. 

you mumble around his dick, sending shivers down his spine.

you'd never done this before, and you were making it up as you went along. maybe part of the motivation was to prove yourself, a petty part of you wanting to make sure this was ten times better than what any other girl could give him. and maybe that extra motivation is exactly what made this a mind blowing blowjob. 

“holy fuck – you’re good at that.” he breathes out, his free hand threading through your hair, whilst he held the other out of the window with the now forgotten joint.

his praise only spurs you on, bringing out something within you that just made you want to please him, and make him feel good. 

he lets out low groans and breaths as you continue, taking on whatever he told you to do. catering to how he wanted it. 

it had been about ten minutes and you were already doing a lot more, your wrist twisting in rhythm as you harshly sucked him, your tongue occasionally darting out delicately over the tip, the way he told you he liked it.

“mgh, so fuckin’ good.” he groaned,the hand that wasnt in your hair gripping onto his duvet beneath him. the joint now out and resting on the window ledge. 

you shift your position, your ass now up, as you got into a sort of doggy position between his legs. 

“shit, that’s fuckin’ hot.” he breathes out, looking over at your ass in those lacy black panties. the ones that had been consuming his mind the entire night.

you mumble around his dick again which just pushes him further to the edge. his eyes shutting tight as he tries to hold off his orgasm in order to enjoy the feeling of your mouth on him longer. 

“you're gonna make me cum.” he moans, his voice breathy and rough. you feel your stomach bubble at his words, your brain going back to the fact that that other girl hadn't, and here you were, about to push him over the edge despite the fact you'd never given a blowjob before.

you suck harder, if that were possible, motivated to make him come. you wanted to make him feel good, better than any other girl ever had or could.

it consumed your mind like a plague. you hated how much you had begun to care, but right now you were ignoring that. focusing on chris's dick instead.

“oh fuck -” he whines, his hips thrusting up ever so slightly, making you gag. you pull off reluctantly to avoid throwing up as he removes his hand from your hair, your eyes now watering. 

“jesus christ.” he breathes. you finally get a look at him, and he looks hot – completely fucked out. “i'm so close.” he mumbles out shamelessly, his usual casual demeanour completely gone.

“sorry.” you mumble, swiping your thumb across your bottom lip to remove the excess saliva. 

“no no, you're good.” he says, his voice horse and desperate. you take his dick in your hand, jerking him off as you catch your breath for a second. “i can cum like this.” he mumbles, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly as he leans back.

you shake your head. “you can cum in my mouth y’know.” you tell him, not thinking twice about the offer.

his eyes widen a little. it's not like he'd never come down a girl's throat before, but he hadn't expected you to be so willing to do so.

“you sure?” he whispers. you don't respond, simply taking him into your mouth again which causes his mouth to fall open, his head tilting back slightly. 

it only takes a few more minutes before he's rutting his hips upwards ever so slightly, his breaths coming out rugged. 

“gonna cum.” he mumbles, letting you know. you continue the same rhythmic movements, wishing you could see him coming apart right now.

then he lets out a strangled moan as you feel the warm salty liquid spurt into your mouth. you wince your eyes a little at the taste, sucking it out of him until there's no more. then you swallow, pulling off him, immediately looking around the room for some water. 

“holy fuck.” he breathes, falling back on the bed as his limp dick rests on his abdomen. 

you hop off the bed, taking a sip of water from the glass on his bedside table. 

“i don't even know whatta say.” he sighs, brushing his hair off his forehead. you swallow the water as you look over at him laid on the bed. “was it good?” you ask.

he scoffs. “shut the fuck up.” he huffs, eventually tucking his dick back into his boxers before sitting up. he picks the joint off the ledge, lighting it as he takes a toke. 

you crawl back onto the bed, crossing your legs under, holding your fingers out for him to pass the zoot.

“youre somethin’ else - fuckin’ hell.” he says, still in an orgasmic bliss. he hands you the joint before gently grabbing the side of your head to press a soft kiss to your forehead. 

you let out a small chuckle at his touchiness and affection. “i should make you jealous more often.” he murmurs, his cocky attitude returning promptly. 

you roll your eyes before, playfully smacking his arm, giving him a stern look. “why would you do that when you know what i can do?”

he lets out a soft chuckle at your comment, smirking to himself in pride of your skills. “good point.” he agrees, looking you up and down as if he's still trying to process what just happened.

it's like something had switched between the both of you, new territories of vulnerability seeping through. you had done more than you told him you would, and to be truthfully honest, he cared about you more than he'd like to admit. the both of you acting like you were fucking dating.

©sturnsrecord

notes . finally posted the next part, hope everyone from my previous account manages to find this. enjoy xx

tag list . @iizzyyy @sophsturns @strnilolover @sturniolossss

[sir3n-s]

Steve knew that one day he wouldn't be able to refuse to play dnd. 

Especially since he was now dating a dragons master or whatever it's called. He can't keep up with all the names. 

And don't get him wrong Eddie is great and dnd sounds sort of interesting but he's been against playing for so long he doesn't want to give up the act. 

But he if was going to give up the act he was going to get something in return. 

The kids were all gathered at Steve's house for a movie night. 

They had 2 different kinds of movie night, one where they all actually watched movies and the other where the movie was just there for background noise while everyone either talked or worked on something.

Tonight Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin were making character sheets for Eddie's new campaign while trying to get Steve to join as well. 

"Just play one campaign" Dustin whined for the 20th time that night. And probably the 100th time in his life. 

"Are you ever going to let this go?" 

"No! You have to play one now that you're dating Eddie. Aren't couples supposed to try out each other's hobbies?" He got him there.

"He's got a point Stevie," Eddie says finally engaging in the conversation after being glued to the TV. Despite the volume being low he was still watching it with intense interest. 

"You're right, couples should try each other's hobbies" Steve agreed. 

"Uh oh," Robin says without looking up from the puzzle she was going with Nancy, knowing what he was going to say next since he ran his plan through her first.

"I will play a campaign but!" He says before the kids could get too excited, "you all have to play basketball with me" 

They all groaned. Except Lucas who was completely fine with this arrangement.

-

It was Saturday and they were all at basketball court in the park. Most of them were wearing their gym clothes. 

Except for Lucas and Steve who actually had basketball jerseys. 

Max and el were also playing since they wanted to join despite the fact they won't play dnd either. 

And who was he to say no to them? The more the merrier.

Robin and Nancy were sitting at the bench in the shade, Robin saying she refuses to play a sport because she's too clumsy and Nancy saying Robin shouldn't have to sit alone. But Steve knows they just want to talk shit about them. 

He wasnt going to stop them, he knew it was a lost cause to try to get them to join as well. 

The only rule they had before playing was that Steve and Lucas couldn't be on the same team, 'it wouldn't be fair' Dustin said and everyone else agreed. Even Robin and Nancy. 

So they ended up being the team captainsin on each team. 

Steve's team was Max, Mike, and El while Lucas had Will, Dustin, and Eddie. 

And it was going well! Better than Steve thought it would. Especially with how unathletic most of them were. 

Steves team was winng, and despite Dustin whinning about how it was because Steve was older and had more experience he hasn't even made all the points. 

He did score the first point but El scored the last 2. 

It's was 3 to 1. The only point they had was from Lucas. Eddie couldn't throw for shit, Dustin kept dropping the ball, and Will was actually doing pretty well but was kinda being ignored because Lucas and Dustin wouldn't stop arguing.

He can tell eddie was getting annoyed with having to constantly break up their fights.

Their team only needed one more point to win and Mike had the ball.

"Pass it to me!" He yells towards Mike and he does pass it to him. Just way too hard. 

Because it goes past his hands and right towardd his face. Smacking him hard in the nose and knocking him over. 

He hears everyone gasp as he groans on the ground.

He heard the tapping of people feet on concrete, and on grass, get close to him. 

"Holy fuck are you okay?" Despite his eyes being closed he can easily tell that's Eddie's voice.

"Damn Mike why did you throw it so hard" he hears max says. He also hears a light punch but doesn't comment on it this time.

"I didnt mean to!" 

"I'm okay" Steve says while getting up, grabbing his nose when he felt something on his lip. Blood, of course.

"That would've been a great throw if I was a little bit farther from you," he says towards Mike as Eddie helps him off the floor and leads him to the bench despite saying he was okay to keep playing.

Everyone gather arounds him as El hands him some of the napkins she keeps in her pocket.

"If this is how you all act everytime someone gets hurt it's going to get extremely annoying as we keep playing" Everyone makes weird faces, except for Robin who was grinning.

And Nancy because Robin definitely told her. 

He smiles. "You guys are going to want me to play more than one campaign, so you will all be playing more games of basketball."

While Lucas smiled, everyone else groaned.

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- to winning at MAMA awards

a/n: in celebration of our boys winning both AOTY awards at MAMA last night. i am so incredibly proud i feel like i raised them or something. like guys- it is that serious they are my family and im going insane.

SCOUPS: you're the first one he's calling once he's offstage - he's dialling your number and a whole string of nonsense rattles off him the moment you pick up. he can't string together proper words as you congratulate him. tells you how fucking happy the boys are - you should've seen them, love - did you see woozi crying? and DK - he smiled so big - needs you to bring him back to earth and remind him that this is his award too. he deserves it just as much as they do.

JEONGHAN: he's literally been bored out of his mind as you guys sit at home, watching the award show live. the only times he's acc been paying full attention was whenever groups he knew personally were on screen - and even then - you know you're losing him to how tired he is. lets out the tiniest, babiest gasp when seventeen is announced as the winner. is crying but turns away so you can't call him out on it.

JOSHUA: he runs home to you right after their dinner together and collapses into your arms. he's spent from the sheer chaos and adrenaline. mumbles sweet nothings about how this award is also yours. we won, baby. we share everything - this award is because of you - all because of you.

JUN: he's hiding out in his filming trailer so he can watch the award show through your phone on facetime - it's grainy and glitchy as HELL but he does not care. there's a 3 second lag when seventeen's announced as the winner - so he can hear you screaming but he doesn't know why. his mouth drops once the wifi catches up and he's practically glowing the entire day on set.

HOSHI: comes home wasted and a bundle of pure energy. he's on a high from the win- rushes home to yell into your ear how ecstatic he is as he tackles you for a hug. tells you he's literally so down to name your firstborn child AOTY just cause.

WONWOO: he comes home rather calm despite the chaotic evening he just had. runs you through his whole day- from getting his makeup done to winning the award to having celebratory dinner. you sit and listen happily, cause this is the most yapping you've ever seen this man do and you're SO happy. finishes his yap session by telling you that you make it all worth it - you're the real award, not MAMA.

WOOZI: tells you not to watch their acceptance speech even though he knows you already did :( is uber embarrassed at how emotional his speech was. I was gonna go up and accept it like a nonchalant cool mysterious man but NO! I just had to cry. he doesn't talk about the win much to you, preferring to just enjoy a quiet night in after the crazy evening. whispers to you once you fall asleep that this is why he does music and thanks you and the boys for being his biggest fans.

THE8: sends you the badass photo of him with all their trophies, followed with a long paragraph about how grateful he is to have you next to him through it all. he's unbelievably bright and happy for the next couple weeks, resulting in you kind of missing sassy Hao and asking for him back. side eyes you when you ask and quips "you didn't win a daesang- I did." Well...he's back ig.

MINGYU: comes home and the first thing he says to you is: aren't you proud i didn't cry? pouts when you rewind the clip to point out: he did in fact cry, he was just hiding his ginormous body behind his members. vows to you he won't cry the next time they win- and yes, he promises there will be a next time. and many after that.

DK: a bundle of joy upon his arrival home. keeps telling you he doesn't know what he did to deserve all this- completely floored when you start ranting about why he deserves it all. blushes and hides his face cause the compliments have him shy.

SEUNGKWAN: comes home fully ready to unleash his bragging rights. asks you to only address him by AOTY daesang winner for the next hour, until the joke gets old and he just wants to relax with you. gets a little sappy retelling stories about their trainee days as you both walk down memory lane together.

VERNON: hands you a wad of cash the moment he enters your shared apartment. oh well. i lost the bet. he literally bet against his team winning and ofc you took him on it cause obv seventeen is gonna win?? tells you he was confident svt was going to win he just wanted an excuse to give you cash.

DINO: promises to shout you out the next time svt wins a daesang. obv you don't believe him, so he defends himself, promising that he will 100% name drop his girlfriend on global television for shits and giggles. yeah, i'll just grab the mic and say "i dedicate this award to my WIFE" and watch the internet explode. why not?

[puckinghischier]

last time quinn got a penalty i thought about him being angry and taking it out on you but tonight im thinking about you comforting him bc he starts spiraling that he’s not worthy of the c on his chest and you’re the only one who can ground him

he was off from the second he walked in the door. shoulders slumped and eyes rimmed red. he came over to you immediately and draped his large body over yours, needing your comfort.

you don’t say a word, letting him lay for as long as he needs to, one hand softly scratching his back while the other lightly scratches his scalp. when he finally sits up, alleviating the pressure on your body, you see how dejected and sad his features are. you sit up with him, standing and grabbing is hand, leading him to the large bathroom attached to your room. you turn the shower on and start removing his clothes, not a sexual motive to be found.

it’s like he’s a ragdoll, limbs heavy and easily manipulated. he lets you undress him fully before you undress yourself, leading him into the warm shower. you take your time, washing his hair thoroughly before switching to his body. you massage and caress every muscle. leave a trail of kisses along his chest as you rub your sudsy hands across his back. even take a cheeky handful of his ass, causing a hint of a smile to ghost over his face.

after the shower you dry his hair for him, bring him clean pajamas — stealing one of his shirts as your own pajamas — and let him rest his head back on your chest when you crawl into bed.

he still hasn’t said a word, but you figure he will when he wants to. so until then, you just keep playing with his soft hair.

“d’you think i’m good at this?” he breaks the silence, feeling the movement of his words against your chest at his refusal to raise his head.

you’re shocked at the question, wondering where it came from. “at hockey? yeah, of course i do? you’re one of the best defensemen in the league, q, and you have the trophy to prove it,” you reference the james norris somewhere in your shared apartment.

he shakes his head back and forth. “no, i mean the whole captain thing,” he clarifies. “just…feel like maybe it’s not for me anymore.”

you sit up straight, forcing quinn to sit up, too.

“excuse me?” your shocked tone echoes around the quiet room.

quinn just shrugs, not looking you in the eye.

“where’s this coming from?” you ask him, not understanding the sudden lack of confidence.

he still won’t look you in the eyes, his tell-tale sign of being anxious. “i don’t know i mean, i let them down by getting ejected in the first period, and then they get out there in the second and thrive without me,” he says earnestly, sounding so defeated that your heart breaks.

“oh q…” you wrap him in a hug. “quinn you didn’t let anyone down, you hear me?” you grip his face in your hands, ensuring he hears you and pays attention to your words. “they thrived without you because they didn’t want to let you down. they wanted to show you that all of the guidance and wisdom you’ve given them has paid off,” you reassure him, watching his eyes change from sadness to recognition.

“i think the fact that your team can hold their own on the ice, even without their captain, is the sign of a great captain, not a shitty one,” you continue, trying to ensure he never doubts himself like this again. “so, yeah, i think you’re good at this. you just…had a bad night.”

his eyes have shifted full to nothing but love now, knowing that you’ve always been the only one that can get through to him when he gets like this. you lean in and press a small kiss to the tip of his nose, watching him scrunch it after the action.

he clears his throat, sitting back so he can talk. “have i ever told you i couldn’t do this without you?” he blurts out, causing your cheeks to flush. it’s your turn to look away from him.

“i’m being serious. you’re the only person who can snap me out of hockey world for a few minutes, good or bad,” he continues. “just needed to hear all this from you, i guess.”

your heart swells knowing you’re the sole person he wants to reassure him.

“well, i’ll tell you whatever words you want or need to hear, always,” you run your hands through his hair once again, simply because you can. “but right now, i’m telling you the words ‘i’m sleepy and want bedtime cuddles.’”

he laughs at you, knowing how much you love being the little spoon, and he basically just deprived you of it for hours.

“whatever you say, my personal motivational speaker,” he earns an eye roll, but lays his body back down and opens his arms up for you to crawl into.

[spacecatdet]

Already seen victim blaming on xitter 👍 Lets not do that and lets leave the hermits alone. Make up your own minds on if you should support Iskall. But I feel like if one of his VH team members leaving for differing morals, the hermits going back 6 plus years to remove him from thumbnails and titles, and removing him from the site and merch should be enough Doc even said they can't talk about it which could mean anything, including something legal. Mumbo said there were no minors invovled but doesn't mean others weren't since there ARE victims Just leave the hermits be, and let the victims decide if they want to come out. And stop victim blaming lmao

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[patrywoso]

22. Ewa Pajor

+18 smut

Warnings: Spit kink. Strap-On. Fingering. Degradation/Humiliation. Praise kink. Choking. Collars 

As always thanks to @ljs-woso-vibez for being the best proofreader out there and to @footballfan118 and @ellieee45 for the help cause this fic wouldn't have been done without them.

You had a bad day today.

On your way home, you call Ewa to update her on your shitty day. She tells you to hurry if you can, an instruction you are all too happy to obey. When you get home, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, with a blanket draped over her shoulders, waiting for you. She adjusts her legs to make room for you.

“Come here baby.”

You walk over to Ewa and sit down between her legs, facing forward. She wraps the blanket over you, shielding you both from the outside world. Before kissing a spot on your neck and nuzzling into it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ewa asks after a moment.

You pause to gather your thoughts, and fidget with the hem of the blanket before answering. “I’m just feeling anxious about every little thing today... Like I can’t do anything right...” You look down and feel your chest flush, slightly ashamed for some reason.

“Oh, honey, that’s okay. It happens.” Ewa kisses the crook of your neck. “What can I do to help?”

“Hold me?”

You grab the blanket again to keep it closed over the both of you, and in turn, Ewa drops it. She wraps her arms around your waist, keeping you secure. You lean back into her and, for the first time since you left the house today, you start to relax. Already, you can feel your nerves settle in the safety of her arms. It comforts you to know that the only thing that can hurt you here is her, and she’ll only do it if you ask her first. Ewa starts kissing up and down your neck again. As she kisses a spot behind your ear, you let out the tiniest noise. Ewa trails her kisses down from that wonderful spot to your shoulder, your head tilting to give her more room.

“Ewa please...”

“Hmmm?” She asks without ever lifting her lips from your skin.

You don’t say anything, instead, grabbing her legs on each side of you, just above her knees. Showing that you need to steady yourself is a wordless way of telling her what else she can do if she wants to cheer you up. Ewa grazes your neck with her teeth, making you squirm and dig your fingers into her legs. It’s starting to get hot under the blanket. She knows, and holds you tighter with her left arm, using her right hand to reach up and massage your breasts through your shirt.

“Please...” you gasp as Ewa squeezes you and bites down on your neck at the same time. She grabs your neck with the hand that was on your chest and reaches in your pants with the other. She snaps the band of your underwear against your pelvis once before reaching in to rub your clit, tilting your chin up as she does.

You might be able to see her with your head like this if she wasn’t buried in the crook of your neck, kissing and biting over your shirt. You start to roll your hips under her touch, as your breathing speeds up and you close your eyes tight.

“Are you ready baby girl?”

“Yes!” You moan out and nod eagerly, not even knowing what you were agreeing to.

Then, she lays back flat on the bed and uses her hold on your throat to bring you down with her, you laid on top of her. Once you’re both settled, Ewa tells you to take your pants off. You lift your hips and get them down to your knees, before Ewa gets too impatient and slides 2 fingers inside you. You cry out and fist the blanket that’s below both of you. Ewa lifts the fingers around your neck enough to drag her tongue along the side in one big swipe, causing you to shudder around her. When she’s finished, she lifts that hand up completely and puts it down on your clit to rub it as she’s fucking you.

Rubbing your clit roughly, Ewa watches the way your body shakes underneath her, as her fingers thrusted in and out, getting faster and rougher.

Gripping the bed sheets underneath, you look up at Ewa, the look she has on her face, as if she had been hypnotised by your pussy.

“Harder, please, please harder” you moan as you feel your legs shake a little.

Ewa didn’t say anything in response, as she continue to hammer her fingers into your pussy. She took her hand off your clit and began to kiss it, her tongue licking and sucking your clit and you moaned loudly, her fingers knuckle deep inside of your pussy.

You could feel her tongue slowly licking your clit as her fingers fucked you harder, louder and louder moans leaving your mouth as your eyes slammed shut.

“Such a good girl” Ewa whispered as she went back to sucking your clit.

You squealed to yourself as you felt yourself become wetter and wetter from the different patterns, she began to lick and suck your clit. Joined with the constant fingers making your body shake from the force behind them, every time going knuckle deep inside of your pussy.

Your stomach began to rise at an unfamiliar rate as your breathing picked up getting quicker and quicker.

Ewa bites your earlobe and tugs on it when you shout out, “Oh god... Oh god, I’m almost there!”

“That’s it. Be a good girl and cum for me... It’s okay...” Her praise rebuilds your opinion of yourself, after a few little mistakes today broke you down. You look to the side and kiss her in appreciation. It’s a bit of a reach and the kiss isn’t the best, but when she moans into your mouth with excitement, you tip over the edge.

“I love you...” You moan into her mouth as the wetness coating her fingers starts to drip down to her knuckles.

Ewa kept the same steady pace through your orgasm and dipped her tongue into your mouth. She flicks your upper lip with the tip of her tongue when she brings her hands back up to your body. She moves you so that you’re lying next to each other. You kick your pants off and turn to face her. She kisses your nose with a smile and says, “I love you too, baby girl.” A moment passes with you staring into her caring eyes in awe.

“Are you feeling better now?”

You shake your head and straddle her hips. What she just did was plenty nice, but after a long day of feeling like you can’t do anything right, you need her to boss you around to make you feel competent again. But you know that you must ask nicely first.

“Daddy” You grab her hands and put them on your thighs.

“Yes, honey?”

You take your shirt off, leaving you in just a bra. “Will you play with me?”

Ewa raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure baby? If your day was already rough, I don’t want to push you too far.” She sits up on one elbow and runs her thumb back and forth over a spot on your hip while she talks. It feels nice, but you take that hand and bring it up to your sternum to see what she would do. 

“Yes, daddy, I’m sure. Please. Make my day better and fuck me.”

Ewa slides the hand you put on your chest to your neck and sets it there, only squeezing down when you groan. Ewa smiles because she knows you well enough to know why and readjusts her hold on your neck so she can run her thumb along your cheek. You turn your head to take her thumb in your mouth, flattening your tongue against the pad and groaning around it. You put your hands on her stomach and start to grind into her lap, dropping her thump and setting your lips.

“Don’t hold back.”

And just like that, Ewa’s look changes from concerned to downright evil, and she’s helping you grind into her by pulling down on your hips. You ride her for a moment, and start to feel another orgasm build-up, so you close your eyes tight to try and chase it down before she stops you.

You should know better.

Ewa digs her nails into your hips as a way of telling you to proceed with caution, but when you throw your head back in response, she slaps your ass and forces you off with a growl. You look at her with wide eyes, wondering why she did that as she stands up and starts to undress. You lean forward on your knees and nibble on your bottom lip, thinking about all the new opportunities that just became available.

“Don’t even think about it.” Ewa cuts off your train of thought and you let out a whimper in response.

Once all her clothes are on the ground she starts to dig around in the nightstand. She pulls out a strap-on and fastens it on. You’re staring at her wide-eyed and your breath hitches when you see her take out your collar next. She opens it and holds it down below the toy so that if you were eye level with it, your neck would fall into place on the leather. By this point, you’re practically drooling in anticipation.

“Come over here and get this toy wet before I fuck you with it, slut.”

Ewa stands beside the bed, and you crawl towards her on all fours, dipping your head down as she guides the collar into place around your neck. She clasps it and you try to proceed before she tells you to stop. You look up and she has a mischievous look on her face when she says, “Here, let me help you.”

She takes your jaw in her hand and brings your face up to hers, squeezing your cheeks with her fingers.

“Open.”

You figure out what she’s going to do immediately, and open your mouth, making sure to stick your tongue out too. The second it’s all the way out, she leans over you and spits in your mouth. She shoves your head back down towards the toy and you make a surprised noise at the use of force, careful to keep your mouth closed. When you’re back on all fours in front of the toy, you open your mouth and run your tongue along the entire length of the silicone. You can smell her, and it makes you even more eager to please.

With her hands on your head, Ewa watches you coat the toy, she lets you just use your tongue to do that. Even when she’s in mean mode for you like she is now, she still never makes you take the entire thing in your mouth. The same cannot be said for other places, and you’re reminded of that as she pulls your head back from the toy. She pushes your shoulders as you sit up, so you fall onto your back. You lay there trying to register what just happened, and she uses that opportunity to put a dab of lube on the toy before grabbing your ankles and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. When your hips meet, you squeal with excitement and it turns into a gasp as she points the toy to your clit, swaying her hips the tiniest bit forward to put pressure on it.

She parts your lips with the toy and uses it to spread the mix of your saliva and the lube between them and after what feels like forever, she finally lines the toy up with your entrance, but she doesn’t push in just yet. Instead, she leans down to kiss you, she takes your bottom lip between her teeth and drags her tongue over it in apology, and you gasp into her mouth. Her kisses are so rough, you can tell she’s just as eager as you are, Ewa just wants to tease you for as long as she can handle it first. The thought of her being unable to contain her excitement makes you so impatient that your legs start to close on their own around her to try and create some friction. She responds to that by standing up straight and forcing your legs back down onto the bed.

You lift your hips as much as her hold on you will allow in a silent plea. Ewa answers it by pushing the toy in, going at a painfully slow pace until it’s completely buried inside of you. She gives you a moment to adjust to the stretch before moving her hips at a steady pace. Once the tiny noises that have been flooding out of you start to get louder, she increases the speed. Only bending over a little bit, she loops a finger into the collar and tugs, looking over your body while maintaining the quick pace. Your mouth drops open as you lose your fight to keep down screams.

“You look so good like this. Getting fucked so hard you can’t keep that whore mouth of yours closed.” Ewa pinched a nipple between two fingers to accentuate her point.

You moaned at the rough treatment and cried out, “I’m only a whore for you daddy! I don’t want anybody else but you…”

“Just me?”

You nod so fast your head might fall off, making her laugh. “Yes daddy.”

It’s true. Your mind spent all day chasing itself around in circles, making you sick, and it only took Ewa a matter of minutes to make it stop. It feels like bliss when she pushes all the negative thoughts out of your head with touches and some mean words. It’s not your fault that all you can think about is her right now, especially when she lets go of your collar to give the same treatment to your clit that she’s giving your pussy.

“Ah!” You shout at the touch.

“Are you going to cum already slut?”

“Yes daddy, please don’t stop, I’ll do whatever you say!” You beg.

Ewa dips her tongue under the collar and whispers next to your ear, “You'll do that anyways baby.” You squirm. “Go ahead.” She kisses your cheek and says, “You can hold onto me if you need to.”

Ewa stays close to you so you can wrap your arms around her back and practically hang off her. You finally tip over the edge and squeeze around the toy when she bites the area she had just kissed. Your nails dig into her back and your legs wrap around hers, pulling her closer and the toy deeper inside you. You cum with just a gasp and she doesn’t still her hips until yours drop back down into the bed. You hadn’t even realized that you lifted them up so high until they fell. Her hips don’t follow yours, allowing you to slide off the toy at your own pace, then, she uses your hold on her to scoot you both a little farther up the bed. Ewa shifts her weight so that you’re laying beside each other like you were before you begged her for round two. Not that either one of you was complaining. Even after the workout she just gave you, you get a little burst of energy when you think of a way to repay her.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

You blush and start peppering her chest with desperate kisses, so you don’t have to look at her in the eyes as you ask her to take the strap off. Ewa chuckles at how prude you suddenly became after she fucked you, but does what you ask, tossing it to the floor with a thud. You hum with approval and latch onto her, sucking just beside her nipple, only giving it attention once you were satisfied with the mark you left on her. Her legs shift to make room for your hand, but you still ask for permission. “May I touch you daddy?”

“Yes honey,” she says, and holds the back of your head as you resume kissing and biting across her chest.

You bring two fingers to her clit and start to rub featherlight circles over it. Ewa tries to suppress the noises that sneak out of her to keep up the persona you asked for when you asked her to play with you. 

You look up at her from between her bruised tits with puppy dog eyes and think about the things that she’d like to hear.

“Thank you, daddy. You’re the only one that can make me feel like that.” Your fingers press into her clit and start to speed up with each word. “Will you cum on my fingers? I just want to be a good little slut for you and make you feel good too. Pretty please, daddy...”

Ewa is already tightly wound from fucking you into the mattress, so it only takes a few more strokes before she’s holding you by your collar and yelling your name. You help her ride through the final waves of her orgasm before she tells you to stop. You run your hands up her stomach and she pulls your head up to lay on her chest, on its side so you can’t start teasing her again.

You hum at the touch, and she asks, “What did I do to deserve such a good girl?”

You blush and wrap around her, feeling your body rise and down with every breath she takes. As you lay there, you can’t help but smile at how small she makes all your problems feel when you’re together.

The smile stays in place as you drift asleep on top of her.

[hidden-poet]

Poison: part 2

Summary: Coriolanus always hated Sejanus Plinth. He had everything that Coriolanus should of had; money, influence, and you.

Warnings: Coryo being de-lu-lu, unrequited love, Reader insert, dark!Coriolanus snow, unedited, dead dove to not eat

Word count: 15,053

Part 1 here

Part 3 coming.

Coriolaus wakes early the next morning and races to the Citadel to drop off Dr Gauls homework. 

He carried his anxiety about Dr Gauls potential comments along with him to his session with Lucy-Grey. 

He struggled to sit still, twirling his pen around and around in his hand. It was not how he wanted to present himself to Lucy-gray. 

What he wanted was her trust, her loyalty, her obedience. Things that would be hard to gain if he gave off a school-boy impression. 

Instead he forced his nails into the palm of his hand under the table, and tried to focus on Lucy-Gray as she spoke. 

“I am sorry about your friend”, she offered. 

“Thank you”, he returned. 

“That other girl. Was she okay? The guards whisked you away so fast. I couldn’t see-”. 

Something about her asking about you made Coriolanus irritated. 

He supposed it was just the image it brought back. The sheer shock upon your face, the fear that he wouldn’t get to you in time. 

“She’s fine”, he interrupted. His pen began twirling in his hand again. 

He wished he could have seen you this morning to check on you. You most likely woke up in the arms of Sejanus. He wouldn’t check on you like he should. His first words would have been complaints about the games. 

He shouldn’t be here really. Who choses mentoring a boy sure to die rather than taking care of you at home. Coriolanus bet he made no protest when you got ready for school. 

If it had been Coriolanus, as it should be, he would have ensured you stayed home in bed. He wouldn’t have left your side after yesterday. He wouldn’t have even let you be there yesterday. 

First Sejanus causes the wound, and then he isn’t man enough to take care of you properly. How sweet it will be, the day you finally belong to Coriolanus Snow. 

“I need you to sing in these interviews. It’s your last chance to win people over. I can’t send you gifts in the area without their money”, he states. 

“Maybe a guitar could persuade me. Maybe”, Lucy-gray offers. 

“Snow. Dovecote” Dean highbottom calls. 

Coriolanus whips around to see Peacekeepers waiting for them by the door. 

He could piece the clues together to come to the conclusion that Dr Gaul had called them. 

Clemmie on the other hand waited until they were climbing the Citadel steps to ask her obvious question. 

“She can’t actually have expected us to write that report. Could she? I was crying for hours last night”. 

Corionaus sighs. If Clemmie had kept her mouth shut he would have been next to you. You’d be nervous and in need of comfort, no matter how tough you talked.

“We did write it. I handed it in this morning”, he states. 

This time Clemmie sighed, “Great, give me the highlights”. 

Coriolanus obliged her if only to keep his mind focused. His bullet points took him up the entry stairs and through the doorway to Dr Gauls lab.

The lab exceeded coriolanus horrific expectations. 

It was cold and the large space only housed a long corridor of strange creatures in glass cabinets. 

Coriolanus taps the casing of a fish-type creature only to see if it moves. 

Its eyes shoot open only for a second before falling back into a drugged sleepy state. 

What exactly was Dr Gaul doing? What were these things? For what purpose could they be used for? 

“Mr Snow. Ms Dovecote. Come and see my new babies”. Dr Gaul's voice boomed in the empty space.

Coriolaus left the fish, following Clemmie as Dr Gaul led them to a new section and over to a large tank of colorful serpents. 

The rainbow moved within the glass in perfect sync. It was hard to tell where one snake started and another ended. 

“Is there a point to the color?”Clemmie asked. 

Dr Gaul scoffs at her as she ascends the stairs to the top of the glass cage.

“There’s a point to everything, Ms Dovecote, or nothing at all”, Dr Gauls answers. 

She spins to face the children, and rests against the side of the enclosure. 

“I must say I was expecting Miss y/n, in your place Ms Dovecott”. 

“As I said, Dr Gaul, Coriolanus and I do all our assignments together”, Clemmie defended. 

“Which is exactly why I was expecting the other one”. Dr Gauls eyes flick to Coriolanus, “exactly, which part did you write Miss Dovecott?”. 

Coriolanus tries to pull Clemmie out of the hole she was in but Clemmie talks over top of him.

“There was-”.

“I was inspired by Coriolanus, of course. But the sponsorships, and the gifts in the arena. They were all mine”, she cut him off. 

“Clemmie”, he warns. Dr Gaul already knew she played no part. Lying to her would only aggravate her sadistic tenancies. 

Dr Gual takes the bait. Crossing her hands in an almost gleeful manner she addresses Clemmie. 

“So it’s your sweaty handwriting on that page? Very impressive, Miss Dovecote”, Dr Gauls fawns. 

Coriolanus knew it was a tease. He anticipated the come down and the potential consequences of her lie. 

“Unfortunately’, Dr Gaul continues, “My assistant mistook it for trash and lined the shelf of this very terrarium with it”. 

Dr Gaul slides back the hatch to show the students the paper that was trapped between the snakes. 

“Retrieve it for us, won't you? So we might all consider your inspired ideas”, Dr Gaul smiles. 

Coriolanus hand twitched. He imagines you in Clemmies place now. How close he would have pulled you. How his own hands would latch themselves over yours and shield them against your chest. 

He wondered if he should do the same for Clemmie. She was an old friend, and her grades helped him to the top. 

Still he only stood back and watched. Half-Curious as to what would happen. 

The snakes couldn't be poisonous. Dr Gaul wouldn’t play with a students life. Especially a student from a high status family like Clemmie’s. 

Maybe. Coriolanus thinks back to the weird, mutated animals that lined the hallway. There was really no telling what Dr Gaul was capable of. 

“Don’t worry. My little predators are perfectly docile with those they can trust. So if they’re used to your scent, if you’ve handled their food, for example, or if they have inhaled the sweat of your palm on a page..they’ll leave you alone. If not, You’d be on your own, little girl”. 

Coriolanus knew from her words that Dr Gaul words were a threat. Those Snakes would harm Clemmie. 

Yet she reached her hand into the enclosure. 

“Clemmie!” Coriolanus grits. 

He is ignored to her own peril. 

As soon as her hand brushes against the edge of the page, a Snake lashes out and strikes the flesh that proposes to retrieve the paper. 

Clemmie screams upon impact. Trying desperately to shake the snake from her hand, she loses balance and topples off the stand. 

“Clemmie! No, no!” Coriolanus attempts to catch her as she falls, but Dr Gaul hinders him by pulling him back by his arm. 

She lands with a heavy thud on her back. Gasps fill the air as she tires to regain her breath. 

Already she looked pale. The skin on her hand turned a pale green color, and her eyes refused to blink or look anywhere else but directly in front of her. 

“You asked about the colors, Ms Dovecott.  I want my enemies to see a rainbow of destruction engulfing the world. I am not above using spectacle to create a little terror. A strategy your classmate here articulated very well in his proposal”. 

Coriolanus watches as two peacekeepers and assistant come running over. The assistant administered a large needle which helped Clemmie regain her breath but not her composition. 

The Peacekeepers then, without care, began to drag Clemmie across the floor and out a near door. 

Coriolanus was left alone with Dr Gaul who turned her attention to him. 

“I wonder if y/n would have chosen the same decision?”, she questioned. 

“Will she die?” Coriolanus asked in a hard tone. More than Dr Gaul mentioning you, he hated the image of you lying in Clemmies place. 

Dr Gaul shrugs her shoulders as if it didn’t really matter. 

“The pleasure of breaking ground in one’s research is one gets to find out”, she dismissed. 

She smirks as she turns back to the enclosure. Her hand reaches in and she begins to play with her pet snakes. 

“You don’t like me talking about her do you?”, Dr Gaul picks up a loose piece of paper and thrusts it at Coriolanus, “for a boy who came up with these proposals, you sure do wear your heart on your sleeve”. 

The paper crumbles in Coriolanus' grip. He looks at it to avoid eye contact with Dr Gaul. 

“What would Miss y/n think if she saw them? They’re good, these proposals. I am planning to implement as many as possible”. 

This causes Coriolanus to look up at Dr Gaul. If you knew, you were sure to never forgive him. 

“Don’t worry” Dr Gaul said, as if she could read his mind, “I’ll take credit for this one. Miss y/n is yet to realize her place in this world”. 

Dr Gaul closes the hatch to the snakes enclosure, turning her body towards Coriolanus. 

“And who is to be beside her, wouldn’t you say?”, she taunts. 

Coriolanus straightens up, dropping the ruined paper to the ground. 

“Y/n isn’t part of this conversation”, Coriolanus snaps.

Dr Gaul grins at him in response, stepping closer so she could talk quieter but still be heard. 

“We both want a new world, Mr Snow. My only question is how far are you willing to go to get it?’

She doesn’t let him answer. Seemingly, now bored of the conversation. 

“Now run along, you have an arena to promote and it’s time for my milk and crackers”, she dismisses. 

He takes the chance to leave. Storming down the steps and back along the hallway as fast as he could. 

Coriolanus tries to keep himself from running out of the Citadel. He nearly stumbles over his feet trying to get out as quick as he can. 

Turning behind him every so often to make sure no one was following him. 

The whole scene plays in his mind again and again. 

He was glad it wasn’t you in the end. You were already so traumatized after yesterday, it was a relief to not have to put you through that ordeal. 

The walk through of the arena was not for another hour. He had time to check on you. 

He was sure you were at school. Your parents wouldn’t let Sejanus into the house, and you wouldn’t have left Sejanus after yesterday. There was little chance you would have stayed at the Plinths. A smaller chance of Sejanus forcing you to as he should have. 

Suddenly, Sejanus’ lack of care turned out to be a good thing. 

Sejanus would be with his mentor getting ready for the tour. Which meant Coriolanus could see you without company. 

He knew your class schedule well. He liked the knowledge while he was in one class, he knew which one you were in. 

So he knew where to go and wait until the bell rang. 

A group of people rushed out of the classroom before you. You were the only one walking alone so you were easy to spot. 

You almost walk past him but he grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the line of people to a quiet staircase. 

“Coriolanus?” you question. 

You don’t fight him as he pulls you against the wall and stands in front of you like a shield. 

The people who walk past eye the scene but make nothing of it. 

“Coriolanus, are you okay?” you question. 

He couldn’t tell you about Clemmie and Dr Gaul but he was also so desperate for comfort. 

“Is it Arachne?” you ask. He nods his head ‘yes’ although his mind was far from it. 

You put your hand that was free from the weight of your books on his shoulder. 

“It’s not your fault’’, you console. 

“I just wish I could have done more”, he lied. 

He had thought little about Arachne since last night. But she was once again bringing you closer to him.

You shake your head, a sad expression pulls across your face and he instantly regrets his lie. Yesterday was traumatic to you, he shouldn't have played it up just for some sympathy. 

“No” you repeat, “what happened was no one's fault but her own”.

He wanted to make the argument that perhaps the fault lies with no one else but the tribute, but it would open a conversation he did not want to have. 

Instead he reaches up and places his hand on your elbow that had reached out to him.  

“Are you okay?” he asks. It should have been his first question.

“I am fine” you say. 

Your hand drops from his shoulder and he is forced to put his hand on the brick wall next to your hip. 

The position wedged you in a corner. With his tall frame towering over you and now his arm blocking you in. It felt as if you were trapped. 

“You should talk to someone. Arachne was your friend”, you state.

You shuffle slightly forward to hint to him that he was too close but he remains stagnant in his place. 

“Arachne was not my friend”, he deflects. 

You never liked her which meant Coriolanus never liked her. 

“You're my friend. Arachne was just someone I grew up with. I hardly knew her”, Coriolanus tried a softer tone as his previous speech came off harder than intended. 

He offered a kind smile that you did not return. 

“I’ve been worried about you all day” he breathes. 

His hand moves to your hip, and you are quick to push it off. 

“Coriolanus you are acting strange, perhaps you should go see the school doctor. No one would blame you if you chose to drop out of mentoring after yesterday”. 

Strange you called it. Not a man desperately in love. But a mad man that needs to be taken away. 

This causes him to take a step back away from you. His eyes go down to the ground but shoot back up at you. Mentoring. In a haste he checks his watch. 

He was supposed to be at the Arena in fifteen minutes but he is twenty minutes away. 

He groans, cursing the length of the Citadel from here, and cursing your late class.

 “I have to leave”, he says, “i just came to make sure you were okay”. 

“I am”, you acknowledge. 

He steps forward again, placing his hands on your shoulder blades and pulling you forward into his chest. 

You stumble into him, timidly raising your hands to pat his lower back. 

“Forget your last class, you should go home”, he begs. 

He feels you push back against him so he lets you go and takes a step back. 

“You should worry more about yourself. You look so pale”. 

When you reach out to touch his forehead, he leans into your touch. Loving the way your little warm hand felt. 

He knew it didn’t mean anything. You were kind. He could have been anyone and you would have done the same thing. 

Still he allows himself a second of pretend that it meant more. 

“I have to go”, he says again, “Just promise me that you’ll go home”.

“Sure, Coriolanus”, you amuse. 

It was enough to hear it. He didn’t need to believe it. 

With a final smile, he reaches up to touch your elbow once more and leaves you in the dark corner. 

His run to the arena would have been easier for him if he had any fuel to burn.

His breakfast of a single potato did not provide enough energy to make the distance, yet he pushed himself further than his body wanted him to. 

It paid off when he reached the arena just in time for walk-in. 

He filed in next to Lucy-Grey seconds before the doors opened. 

“I didn’t think you were going to make it”, lucy-Grey admits. 

“We’re going to win this” Coriolanus vows, “Together”. 

The arena is dark. An ominous red glow from the ticket vendor invites them in. 

The camera crew are already there, pointing their large frames in the faces of the tributes. 

Lucy-Grey smiles at it, before it pans to a Solomon looking Sejanus walking behind his tribute.

When the shutters open, the streaming light startles Lucy-Grey who pulls back against Coriolanus. 

He steadies her, looking around for possible strategies. 

“Please” Lucy-Grey grabs his arm to turn him towards her, “Please, Coriolanus, don’t let me die in here tomorrow”.

Before he can answer he is knocked off his feet by a large explosion. He feels heavy gusts of wind from three other directions meaning there was no safe direction he could turn too. 

Lucy-Grey lands beside him, and he scrambles to help her to her feet. 

The dust is heavy and clouds them. He could feel lucy-gray in his grasp but could only faintly see her.  The screams and commotion make it impossible to hear what she is trying to say. 

Another loud explosion tore the roof down over them. 

He releases Lucy-gray so they could both run for cover. 

Days of the war spring to his memory. The rebels were back to finish him off. 

The force of the explosion knocked him off balance and onto the floor. 

He could see peoples feet as they scramble past but none stop to help him. 

A louder, cracking noise spoke of his bigger issue and he turns to see a large pailing coming down towards him. 

Knowing he wouldn't have enough time to get to his feet, he began to crawl as fast as he could. 

It wasn’t fast enough. The hot metal pailing pins his shoulder to the ground. He could smell his own flesh burning as he lay trapped. 

Was this how it ended? He regrets not kissing you today. He had always been reserved. Afraid of your rejection. But he should have just took. Now he’ll die without ever getting to taste you. 

Through the smoke he could see Lucy-Grays boots come into view. 

“Help me” he begs. He still had so much to do. 

She looks to be bending down to assist when she is interrupted by Marcus flying across towards the open door. 

“Leave him” he demands, “He wouldn’t save you”. 

Marcus doesn’t stick around for her decision. Running to his freedom just across the room. 

It was true, if it come down to it Coriolanus would save himself. But Lucy-Gray needed him to survive. She would only get caught in the Capitol and then thrown in the area without a mentor. 

She must have realized that too because she bent back down to lift the burning metal off Coriolanus. She didn’t have to lift it far for Coriolanus to roll out from under it.

He is panting heavily he realizes, and is unable to move his shoulder.When Peacekeeper came to take lucy-gray away. Coriolanus couldn’t even rise from the floor to stop them. 

He throws out his good hand in an attempt to do something. But the searing pain in his shoulder and his cloudy head hindered him from being able to help. 

The last image he could see was her looking down at her burnt hands before it all went black. 

His pounding headache woke him to the sight of you by his bed. 

He didn’t believe it. He had to be dead. 

His hand lashes out to take a hold of your wrist. You felt real. 

Your reaction seemed real. A startled look of surprise and discomfort. 

“Woah, Corio, take it slow”, the voice of Tigres calls to him. 

He looks away from your face to see Tigres sitting in the chair next to you. 

“What?” Coriolanus questioned, “What happened?”. 

He lets go of your wrist only so he could rise from the bed. The ache in his shoulder becoming more apparent as he moved. 

“It was a rebel bombing. They must have been planning it for months. Four tributes were killed”. 

Coriolanus almost scowls hearing his voice. 

Sejanus sat in a chair positioned on the other side of the bed. You hadn’t come to him in his hour of need. You were merely tagging along with your boyfriend. 

“Everyone is terrified, Corio” Tigres explains, “Fliex Ravenstill is on life support”. 

“The rebels released a message. They said they want to tear down the symbol of the Hunger Games. Marcus got out. He’s the only one. Peacekeepers are hunting him in the streets but at least he has a better chance out there than he would tomorrow”, Sejanus gravely mutters. 

“Tomorrow?” Coriolanus expounds, “They’re not still going ahead with the Games?”

“We can’t look weak in front of the enemy,” you spat, “Everything is going ahead as scheduled. I don’t even know if Lucy-Gray will be able to play tonight”.

“The interviews”, Coriolanus guessed, still hazy. 

He pulls himself up out of bed, holding out his arm for you to help his rise. 

You do, automatically, hooking his good arm over your shoulder and wrapping your arm across his waist to keep him up. 

‘‘You shouldn’t get out of bed”, you criticize him. 

Normally he wouldn’t ignore you, but the interviews started fifty minutes ago. 

Sejanus rises to in order to assist Coriolanus as he shuffles forward, but Coriolanus barks another order at him. 

“Sejanus, turn the Tv to the interviews”. 

Like a good dog, he obeys. Leaving another man hanging onto his girlfriend. 

“Careful, Corio” Tigres directs. 

Coriolanus takes tigres arm as he couldn’t lift his shoulder so all his weight wasn’t passed on to you. 

The Tv turns just in time to watch Lucy-gray come out with a guitar, and a big smile. 

Sejanus makes his way over to you, offering to take your place as Coriolanus’ anchor. 

He is quick to speak for you. Stating that the change would topple him to the floor. 

Sejanus relents and takes his place beside you. You made no complaints so Coriolanus’ weight couldn’t have been hurting you. 

Coriolanus had missed the opening introduction due to Sejanus, but was now focused enough as Lucy-Gray went into her song. 

“Where did she get the guitar?” Coriolanus asks. He had been too busy to organize her one before the bombing. 

“I brought it for her”, you answer, “i went to see if she was okay after the bombing and she said she needed a guitar for her interview. Said she’ll feel naked without it”. 

“Thank you. That was very kind”, Coriolanus commended softly. 

Coriolanus always knew someday that you and him would make a great team.

Your eyes are trained on Lucy-gray, and Coriolanus followed suit. 

She sang about a boy back home and a betrayal. Was that what she was referring to when she said it was complicated back home. Will she fight with everything she had in her or does she secretly hope that she will die just to spite her past lover. 

It was additional stress Coriolanus could have lived without. 

“The poor girl” you mutter with tears rolling down your face. 

Coriolanus squeezes your shoulders in comfort. 

‘She’ll be okay” he promises. He would ensure it for his own survival and your personal satisfaction now that you and his tribute were friendly. 

“Thank you for being here”, he says looking down at you, before turning his sights to Tigres, “All of you”. 

“It’s what friends do”, Sejanus answers. The only person Coriolanus was not speaking to. 

“I don’t think you should be standing”, you say, trying to turn Coriolanus back to bed. 

He allows you to lead him there where you tuck him back into bed. 

You ruin the moment by going straight back into Sejanus’ arms once Coriolanus has settled. 

“We’ll leave you to rest” Sejanus states. 

He looked too unhappy for a man who held you in his arms. 

“Goodnight” he bids, ‘and y/n, thank you for helping Lucy-Gray tonight”.

Her performance wouldn't have been half as moving with the soft, sad melody accompanying it. 

“Good luck, Coriolanus. I hope she wins”, you remark. 

With the Plinth prize and the love of his life on the line; lucy-gray was going to be the 10th annual winner of the Hunger Games. 

Coriolanus just had to figure out how to give her a competitive edge. 

He visited the zoo later that night after scouting out the new arena. With four tributes already dead and the new tunnels revealed, the bombing may have been the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“Lucy-gray!” he calls softly, “Lucy-gray!”

He can hear the pounding of her footsteps as they come closer. He checks for Guards and woken tributes as she made unnecessary noise. None were aroused so he remained in his spot. 

“You’re alive!” She exclaims as she nears the fence. 

“Those bombs have changed everything”, he wastes no time to explain his purpose here, “They blew the walls out. So that means you can escape up into the stands. Theres a hole down in the floor, it leads down to some tunnels. You can escape there, I tried it.So the moment you hear that bell ring, you run as fast as you can for that hole and find a palace to hide down below alone”. 

‘Alone? No, jessups my friend”, she argues. 

He shakes his head ‘no’. 

“The moment that bell rings, you can’t trust anyone. Not even jessup. Just lay low down there until its safe to come out”, he demands. 

Couldn't she see that she was risking not only her own life, but his, with her undying loyalty. 

“Thank you. You and y/n have been so nice to me. I don’t know what I would have done without you both”, Lucy-Grey declares, “I don’t know how i’ll ever pay you back for your kindness”. 

“You can win”, Coriolanus orders, “you winning will be life changing for y/n and I. We can finally live the life we want to live. When you win, you’ll win for all of us”. 

‘I’ll try, but-” she begins but never finishes as Coriolanus cuts her off. 

“Theres no ‘buts’. Theres no other option”, he asserts. 

Lucy-Gray begins to cry from the pressure of it all. 

“Hey”, he whispers in sympathy. 

“I am sorry. I am more hopeful in the day light but when it gets to night”, she whimpers. 

“It’s okay” he consoles, reaching for his handkerchief in his pocket. The same one he used to wipe your tears, he now used to wipe the tears of Lucy-gray. 

“We are going to win, Lucy-Gray. I promise.”.

“Y/n, real lucky to have a friend like you” Lucy-gray comments. 

He knew that. Who else would be willing to risk everything for your happiness. It didn’t even bother him that Lucy-gray referred to him as your friend. 

All that matters is that someone else realizes the depth of his love. 

“I am very lucky to have her”. He breaths. He was cautious to say too much.

“Look, that song, I need to know that you are serious about winning”, he demands. 

“That song? That was just pay back, that’s all”, she defenders, “my old boyfriend Billy taupe was cheating on me with the mayor's daughter. She got crazy jealous, had her pa read my name out on stage, and now everyone will know what they did to me”.

The look upon her face told him that she was serious, so he reached into his breast pocket to pull out his most prized possession. 

“Here” he shoves the compact into Lucy’s-Grays hand.

“I can’t” she resists, “It’s too fine”

He clasps his hands over hers to stop her passing it back. 

“It’s not a gift. It’s a loan. His large hands wrap entirely around Lucy-Gray’s little fingers. 

“Whats in here, don’t touch it. Don’t even breathe it in because small amounts can be deadly”. 

He could faintly see Lucy-gray staring back at him in the dark. Her big brown eyes caught the lighting of the Zoo and shined back at him. 

“I have seen what war does to people, okay?”, he lectures, “I’ve seen it, and there will come a time when you need this, when you need to act. We all do things we’re not proud of to survive.”

Unexpectedly she brings her head forward to bars in an attempt to kiss him. He lowers his head slightly to dissuade her. 

The last thing he needed was word getting back to you through a Tribute pretending to be asleep, or just his poor luck to have a Capitol citizen decide to visit the Zoo at the exact moment of weakness. 

“I am sorry”, she gasps, “you said it was complicated with y/n, and y/n said she was with Sejanus so I”. 

She doesn’t finish her sentence, too embarrassed. 

Coriolanus shakes it off like it was nothing, in an attempt to ease her. 

“It’s fine. I just”, Coriolanus wasn’t sure what to say. 

You were with Sejanus. There was no real reason why he couldn’t kiss lucy-gray. 

It was mis-guided loyalty to a woman who kissed another man. Sometimes right in front of Coriolanus. 

Still it didn’t feel right. He wanted you to be the only person he kissed. 

“It’s”, Coriolanus begins. 

“Complicated”, Lucy-Gray finishes. 

Coriolanus moves closer, bringing his head as far as he could to the bars.

“We’re gonna win this Lucy-Gray. We’re gonna win this together. I’m going to get you home, back to the Covery, okay? I promise”. 

Coriolanus looks at his victor. His dog in the race. He’s bet it all on her, and he’ll be damned if she was going to let him down.

The morning of the Games, Coriolanus couldn’t even eat his cabbage soup that Tigres had worked so hard to prepare. 

He kisses Grandma’am and Tigress goodbye before beginning his long journey to school. 

There would be cameras and crowds of people. He had to look composed, but inside he felt the most scared he had ever been. 

The feeling eased seeing you across the auditorium. 

Your hair was down, and your uniform looked freshly pressed. Sejanus held you by the waist as you spoke to him, and you rested your hands on top of his. 

It didn’t matter you were here for Coriolanus just as much as you were for Sejanus. His tribute wasn’t even participating. If anything you had come to support Coriolanus and Lucy-Gray. 

“Coryo!” Sejanus called for him as he approached the mentors chairs. 

Sejanus lets go of you, which is something Coriolanus would never do, to place a hand on Coriolanus shoulder. 

“Hey” Coriolanus greets. His eyes remain on you and how you smile at him. 

“How you doing?  You alright?” Sejanus asks. 

“Better”, Coriolanus dismisses. 

He sees a photographer approaching from the corner of his eye, and takes the opportunity to take a step back to invite you between Sejanus and himself. 

With a hand on your lower back, he propels you forward. The hand remains as you shuffle next to him. 

“Over here please!”, the man with the large camera calls. 

Coriolanus smiles at the camera, and he hoped you were too. The flash blinds him, and your smiles fades too fast to be certain it ever was really there. 

“How are you this morning?”, Coriolanus asks softly. 

“Not about to be forced to fight to the death”, you snap.

You don’t look at him as you speak as you often choose not to do. 

“Here we go. Here we go, everyone, come on”, Lucky flickerman diverts people back to their seats, before Coriolanus has the opportunity to comfort you.

Sejanus' large hand goes to the back of your neck, and he leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“Wait for me over there?” he asks, flicking his head to the nearest bleacher to his seat. 

It was the furthest from Coriolanus’ seat, but you nod in agreement and move to his direction. 

Coriolanus is ushered into his own seat. He has to crane his neck to look at you sitting on the end of the bleacher all by yourself. He hates to see you as a social out-cast. 

“Five, four, three, two”, the music signals the start of Lucky Flickerman's introduction. 

Coriolanus ignores him mostly. Turning in his chair to watch you engrossed in the large television in front of you. 

Your hands grip the seat underneath you. He would give anything to be able to comfort you. 

He wanted to tell you that it was all going to be okay. If he sat you where he wanted, he would have been able to hold your hand, but Sejanus had put distance between you and him, so he would have to watch from afar. 

Suddenly you gasp, bring your hand up to your mouth with a frightened expression. 

Coriolanus turns back to the screens to see what could have caused such a reaction. 

They had found Marcus and left him strung up and half-alive in the arena. It was cruel even for Coriolanus. 

You shouldn’t have had to see that. Coriolanus wished he could have protected you from it. A district boy taught a lesson, at the expense of your poor, soft heart. 

You’ll be crying about it for weeks with only Sejanus for consolation. 

Coriolanus wasn’t sure who would be comforting who with the way Sejanus jumped from his chair. 

As soon as he is out of it, the chair was flying across the room. Only stopping when it hits the force of the wall. 

“You’re monsters! All of you!” He screams to the audience. 

He storms past Lucky flickerman who begins the countdown to the Games as if Sejanus had never existed at all. 

Coriolanus gets up, rushing over to you as you rise to follow Sejanus. 

He manages to catch your arm just as you make it to the exit way. 

The scene was out of the line of camera-shot. Past the first three rows of seats, and hidden by the depth of the stands. 

Coriolanus felt hidden enough to not let go of your arm, despite you struggling against him. 

You turn back to see how had stopped you with an angry expression, but it doesn’t soften when you see it’s him. 

“Don’t”, he begs. He wanted you to stay and support him. 

It didn’t matter if you knew it or not, but you were his biggest comfort, and that’s what he needed as he watched Lucy-Gray fight for his life. 

You don’t listen to him, tugging your arm out of his grip and chasing after Sejanus without looking back. 

Coriolanus watches as you go with a heavy breath.

‘And they’re off!” Lucky announces. 

Coriolanus turns to watch Lucy-Gray run from her mark.

“Run”, he demands softly. He takes a few steps forward but is halted when Lucy-Gray remains in the same spot, looking around. 

“What are you doing? Run” he groans. 

He staggers back to his seat, gripping the plastic back tightly in his hand. 

His eyes shut when Lucy-Gray narrowly avoids a strike from Reaper.  

Why won’t anyone ever listen to him, he wondered. 

A district 2 kid gets slaughtered which gains the Cameras full attention. When it pans back to a field shot, Lucy-Gray was crossing the broken fragments with Coral hot on her heels. 

Coriolanus felt the need to take a seat as he watched. A few of his eliminated classmates wished him well as they left, but Coriolanus remained slumped against his hand. 

It wasn’t until she had gathered Jessup and began racing for the hole in the ground that Coriolanus lifted his head again. 

“Go, go, go”, he muttered. The pack was closing in. Hell bent on taking out Lucy-gray. 

They almost manage to, but Lucy-Gray slips through the broken door, and a squabble prohibits the hunters coming in. 

He sighs. At least she was safe for now. He would worry about Jessup when it came time for it. Whats the point of worrying now? It was still anybody's game. He could very well die within the next hour from a surprise attack. 

Coriolanus squirms in his seat watching as another child is hacked apart by dull weapons. 

He pushes it from his mind as soon as the camera shifts. Lucy-Gray was safe, thats all that mattered. She still has a shot at winning. 

Nothing more happened. All the tributes found shelter in one corner or another. Only Reaper paced the opened space, willing someone to come attack him. 

Coriolanus wonders if you will be back. He hoped you would come check on him. 

Coriolanus rises his head to the screen once more as Lamina makes her way up the broken fragments to where Marcus hung. Reaper gave her space, seemingly knowing what she was doing. 

A small conversation between the two preceded Lamina swinging her axe down. 

Coriolanus shudders hearing the impact. He hoped you didn’t see that. 

He could only imagine the sobbing it would cause. 

Lamina cuts marcus down and he falls like a bag of bricks. 

She gazes down at him. Coriolanus couldn’t tell if it was in remorse, or in quiet pride of giving him a merciful death.

The sound of the drone coming near broke her concentration. The water attached swung in the air as it flew too fast towards her. She rose, reaching out to catch it. 

Coriolanus almost laughed when it drove straight past her and smashed into the rocks. 

The night dragged on, but Coriolanus remained. Eyes glued to the screen in hope of a glance of Lucy-Gray. 

The camera stayed mainly above ground where the action was, but sometimes he got a dash at what Lucy-Gray was doing. 

She was still alive. Or at least was, ten minutes ago. 

The other mentors, and most of the audience had left as the night bled. 

Nothing had really happened for hours. A squabble or a chase here and there but most of the fight had left the tributes. 

“If only you could trap y/n as easily as you have trapped that poor girl”, Dean Highbottoms voice surprised Coriolanus.

“I’ve trapped her?”Coriolanus fought, “I didn’t create the Games”.

He saw Dean Highbottom flinch ever so slightly. If he hadn't been looking so intensely, he would have missed it. 

“No”, Highbottom concedes, “but you’ve fueled its continuance. You’ve turned dying children into spectacles , Mr Snow. Congratulations”.

Coriolanus ignores him, turning back to the screens. 

“Are you honestly hoping that winning the plinth prize will win you the girl?”, Dean Highbottom mocks. 

“I am hoping my hard work will pay off”, Coriolanus bites. 

“I saw you before with miss y/n, trying to stop her from leaving”. 

“I was trying to stop her from making a fool out of herself”.

“What do you want from that poor girl?”. 

Coriolanus knew there was no point in lying. Dean Highbottom had already figured out Coriolanus’ intentions. 

“Only whats best”, he answers. 

“Hm and you think winning the Plinth prize will help you decide what is best for her?”, Hightbom begins to laugh, his voice taking on a sing-songy tone, “Wake up mr Snow. Who do you think decides? Even if your songbird wins, I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you don’t see a single dime of that prize money’. 

Coriolanus turns back to Highbottom with his anger logged in his throat.

The older man smiles back. Coriolanus knew the man was trying to get him to slip up. But his aggravation won’t lose him the prize. If Highbottom wanted it, he would have to rip it from Coriolanus’s hands. 

Instead he turns back to the screen. Lucy-gray was still underground, feeding Jessup water. 

He could hear Dean Highbottom walking away which left him with a small victory. 

Coriolanus takes a deep breath, and sits straightener in his chair. 

It wasn’t over. Dean Highbottom wasn’t the only authority. When Coriolanus won, surely Dr Gaul would fight for him. The other teachers too. The star pupil robbed of the victory? Coriolanus would see to an up roar. 

At some point Coriolanus began to doze off. The late night and the slow turn of events left him the last one in the auditorium. The quietness of it all had his eyes shutting.

“Coriolanus?”. He heard your voice call. 

He ignores it ,sure it was a dream. But you tap his arm, and his eyes shoot open to see you standing in front of him. 

You were still in your school uniform, your hair slightly more messy than a couple of hours prior and you looked on the verge of tears. 

It panicked him greatly to see you in such a state. 

He reaches out, quickly taking your wrist in his hold. 

“Huh, what happened? Are you okay?”, he asks. 

“Has Sejanus been here?”, you quake. 

Coriolanus shakes his head ‘no’. 

He could have rolled his eyes. Of course, Sejanus was behind your tears once more. Coriolanus had never made you cry. 

“Why would he be here?”, Coriolanus asks. It seemed an unlikely place to visit while his old friend lay dead on several different screens.

Tears begin to roll down your cheeks causing Coriolanus to spring up, attempting to bring you in his arms. You push him away, keeping an arms length distance between you both. 

“I thought maybe he would come see you. We were sleeping and I woke up, and he was gone”, you explain with a shaky breath, “I don’t know where he could have went, Coriolanus. He’s not in a good place. I am worried-”

“Not in a good place, indeed” Dr Gauls voice booms through the open space. 

This time when Coriolanus touched you, he was given permission. He pulls you next to him to face Dr Gaul together. 

Dr Gaul was disinterested in the couple, taking the master remote and turning all the channels  to the same camera. 

“Sejanus!”, you gasp upon seeing your boyfriend knelt down next to his old friend in the arena. 

Your hand takes a hold of Coriolanus' arm in a tight grip. Your painted nails dig into his uniform jacket. 

“Breadcrumbs” Dr Gaul annotates while the room watches Sejanus spread the food over his friend, “I believe substance for a fallen comrade in his final journey. A district 2 superstition”. 

“How did he get in there?” you question, never once tearing your eyes from the screen. 

“I’ll work on finding the peacekeeper he bribed to let him in, and remove his tongue”, Dr Gual snarls, “in the meantime I need you to get him out right now”. 

Dr Gaul looked directly at you which spiked Coriolanus heart rate, 

“You should send Peacekeepers in”, he demanded. There was no way you were joining Sejanus in the arena. 

“Only to have him bolt and hide like a rabbit?”, Dr Gaul retorts. “Fleix Ravenstill is fighting for his life in a hospital bed, Mr Snow. I will not have these rebels make a further mockery of my games. Anyone sees us lose control of this arena, it might as well be sounding a horn to the districts to revolt!”. 

Dr Gaul takes a breath, trying to regain the composure lost. She turns her sight back on you, who had dropped Coriolanus' arm during her speech. 

You stood brave, staring straight back at her with discontempt. 

“You choose to be lovers with the radical. Don’t you want him out?”, Dr Gaul gages you. 

Coriolanus steps forward trying to take Dr Gauls attention away from you. 

‘‘Sending her into the arena will get her killed. It’ll look a lot worse if the tributes kill two Capitol students”, Coriolanus justifies. 

“A volunteer then?”,Dr Gual pushes.

“I’ll go”, You say too quickly, “I can get him out”.

“I’ll go”, Coriolanus declares. 

The mere thought of you in the arena left a sick feeling in his stomach. He wouldn’t watch helplessly on the other side of the screen while you risked your life for Sejanus. 

He couldn’t believe Sejanus had put you in this position. Coriolanus’s every move was calculated with you in mind. 

It was pure luck that you had chosen to seek Coriolanus out. If you hadn’t he would have woken the next morning to see you dead in the arena next to Sejanus. 

He would go into the arena to save Sejanus if it meant saving you. 

“No!” you protested, once again grabbing hold of Coriolanus arm to pull him back. 

He turns to you with a look of irritation on his face. 

“What chance do you think you stand if one of the tributes decide to attack? I am stronger, faster”, Coriolanus explained. He hated being irritated at you, but you wouldn’t see sense, “I’ll get him out, y/n. I promise”. 

“Unless you are both secretly hoping he’ll die in that arena, we need to move fast”, Dr Gaul utters.

Her expression had changed from one of anger to quiet amusement, but she had not forgotten the task at hand. 

She turns, expecting the children to follow her as she talks. Coriolanus follows suit, leading you as you wrap yourself around his arm. 

He would have shaken you off. You had no place being even near the arena, let alone outside of its gates, but he loved the way you clung to him. 

Your tight hold told him you would fight if he tried to leave you. Really it was the way you should be holding him. Not just now, in a state of emergency. 

“I’ll freeze the feed for one hour”, Dr Gaul says as she moves out of the school, “I expect thats all the time we have until someone notices”. 

A Peacekeeper van is waiting down the steps of the school. Dr Gaul jumps in, leaving the back of the van open for the children. 

Coriolanus helps you up into the back of the van before lifting himself up behind you. The doors are closed shut as he enters, and the van takes off before he is fully sat next to you.

You are unusually quiet. Coriolanus could tell you were scared from the way you sat. Arms crossed across your chest, looking straight ahead of you with a glazed look. 

Coriolanus places a hand on your knee in comfort but you don’t seem to register it. 

He tries not to mind Dr Gauls' searing stare from the other bench. He focuses on you and your state of worry. 

You begin to chew your lip absentmindedly. He wanted to pull it from between your teeth to get you to stop, but the van lurched forward as it stopped. 

The drive wasn’t long, but the peacekeeper sped to it anyway. 

As the doors are pulled open, Coriolanus takes a deep breath. There was no guarantee that he wouldn't be beaten to death by a tribute trying to save a man he loathed. 

Grandma’am and Tigres wouldn’t survive without him, but if he died, he would at least make sure Sejanus died along with him. 

If he couldn't have you, Sejanus definitely couldn’t. 

“Lets go, Mr Snow”, Dr Gual urges. 

She jumps out first. Coriolanus could hear her directing the Peacekeepers on what was about to happen. 

You rise with Coriolanus. But He doesn’t allow you to get to the door as he does. 

He jumps down and spins, placing his hand on the doors and bringing them closer together. 

"Stay in the van”, he orders. 

Surely, even on the off chance that a tribute managed to get through the gates, you would be safe in a locked van. 

You nod your head in understanding, trying to ease his worry. 

It doesn’t work but he appreciates it anyway. 

He smiles up at you, taking the time to have a good look at you in case it was his last time. 

With the doors shut on you, he could focus more clearly. He wasn’t going to die in that arena. He wasn’t going to die by a district hand. 

He was going to get out alive. You were going to wake up to yourself and realise that you had been hopelessly in love with Coriolanus this whole time. 

The gates are unlocked and he feels his confidence waver. Nevertheless, he persits with his mission and with a careful step he enters the arena. 

It’s dark and quiet. The moonlight does little to help. A tribute could jump out at any time and Coriolanus would never see them coming. 

He was cautious to make any sounds,  stepping softly on the fragmented rocks. 

The gate makes it stupid welcome message as he passes through it under the belief the game makers would have been smart enough to disable it. 

His breath gets caught in his throat while waiting to see who it attracts. He doesn’t move. 

He feels the blood rush to his ears, and his body ready itself to fight. No one comes. 

Coriolanus’s eyes scan the room for whatever movement he could pick up on. It seemed there was none. 

With a shaky breath he attempts to continue on, when his heightened ears pick up on a scuffle behind him. 

He spins quickly, ready to dodge an attack. He wished it had been a tribute, and not you trying to climb over the turn stalls. 

On its own accord, his face scrunches in anger. His footsteps are louder than he liked as he stormed over to you. 

He takes your hips into what he was sure was a painful hold, and looks past you to see they had already locked the gate. You were now trapped in here with angry Tributes with nothing to lose. 

Previously, he had never thought it possible to be angry with you. Now he wanted to scream in your face until you cried. 

He helps you down, softly to the ground, and catches your hand harshly in his. 

“You’re an idiot”, he whispers, “Stay close”. 

He squeezes your fingers into the palm of his hand, but you make no complaint as you follow him into the arena. 

Coriolanus felt his anxiety and senses heightened. He could faintly see Sejanus in the moonlight still knelt on the ground next to Marcus. 

He felt you pull against his hold as you near Sejanus, but he refuses to let you go an inch. 

If there was a tribute lurking he wanted to know where you were. 

“Sejanus”, you whisper when you are within earshot. 

He spins straight away upon hearing you. The panic he should have had all along, comes crashing all at once. He looked like a man who had seen a ghost as he rose from the floor. 

‘What are you doing here?”, he questions in a strained, soft voice. 

Sejanus takes your arms in his hands. Coriolanus wanted to yank you out of his hold, but a squabble would cause unnecessary attention. 

“Get her out of here, Coryo”, Sejanus demands.

“I would like to. Believe me”, Coriolanus scolds. His eyes darted around the room, ensuring that all was still unnoticed. 

“I am not leaving without you”, with your free hand you reach out to take a fist full of Sejanus shirt. 

“I have to do this” Sejanus justifies, “I have to go where the cameras are”. 

“You think anyone is watching this?” Coriolanus spat, taking a step closer to the couple, “Gaul cut the feed. Tributes kill you in here, she’s just going to say you died from the flu”. 

“They won’t kill me”, Sejanus vows. 

“Yes they will!” you reproach. 

Maybe there was hope for you, Coriolanus thinks, Maybe Sejanus hadn’t brainwashed you fully. 

The moonlight as it bounces off Lamina’s axe catches Coriolanus’s eye, and the safety net had now disappeared. She wouldn’t attack, but she could draw attention at any time. 

“You need to decide right now”, Coriolanus demands, he breaks Sejanus' hold on you in case you need to run, and focuses Sejanus attention on himself, “do you want to fight these tributes or fight for them? Because if you want to make real change, you need to stay alive”. 

“How can I make any change from out there?”, Sejanus discredits his power. 

He was not worthy of his power if he had no brains on how to use it. 

“You’re rich, smart. You care. You stood up to Gaul in that class, didn’t you? Spend your fathers money, do some real good”, a clash of the metal resounds in the arena. More would wake from the noise, and the group wouldn’t stand a chance. 

“We’re dead. Y/n’s dead if we don’t leave right now”, Coriolanus reprimand, “Come with us, or just be another body in Gaul’s war”. 

He knew he would have to fight to get you to leave Sejanus. But he was only allowing a few more seconds before he raced you to the exit. 

Worried that you would get yourself killed in the struggle to save Sejanus, Coriolanus turns to begging as a last resort. 

Placing a hand on Sejanus' shoulder, he brings the delusional boy closer. 

“Please, Sejanus. We’re friends. Trust me”, Coriolanus pleaded. 

You tug on Sejanus' shirt to move, “Come” you implore. 

His large, dirty palm goes over your hand, “Alright”, he whispers. 

The attack came at the perfect time. Coriolanus heard the shuffling of the boys shoes giving him time to pull you back towards the exit, before the war cry resounded through the arena. 

“Go, Run!” he demands, pushing you ahead of him. 

You sprint as fast as you can across the broken floor. Coriolanus caught up easily, pushing you forward urging you to move faster.  

Sejanus lagged behind, choosing to look at the fast approaching tribute. 

“Go! Go!” Coriolanus yells at you when you turn around to see where Sejanus was. 

You don’t look back again, until you reach the turn stalls. 

Coriolanus jumps over with ease, turning back to help you over. You stumble as your foot gets stuck on the rusty metal turn, and Coriolanus drags you over it as fast as he could. 

His hand takes a hold of yours once more as Sejanus approaches the stand with the tribute hot on his heels. 

He runs forward with you, eager to get you to safety beyond the gates. 

Sejanus screams as he stumbles over the hard metal and you halt your quick pace to safety. 

You call for him, trying to tug your hand out of Coriolanus’s. He resists, trying to get you to leave Sejanus.

Coriolanus promises to go back for him once you were beyond the gates but you wouldn’t have it. 

He drops your hand, rathering his own life to be in danger for Sejanus than yours. 

Coriolanus reaches Sejanus quicker than you do, and yanks him off the ground. 

‘Come on, get up!”Sejanus tries to regain his feet but his knee refuses to take any weight, “y/n, get to the gate!”, Coriolanus commands. 

You don’t turn, running towards Sejanus instead of away. You take his other arm over your shoulder, trying to assist Coriolanus. 

The screaming of the tribute came closer, and before Coriolanus could move, the sharp edge of a blade hacked into his shoulder. It was a far swing from the tribute but with enough force to split skin. 

He drops Sejanus to dodge the next attack. You fall into the wall, unable to support Sejanus by yourself.

The tribute now closer, stalks over to you with his sword held high. Sejanus tries a feeble attempt to shield you, but Coriolanus takes hold of a metal ruin that was stuck between cement, determined that not one hair on your head would be touched. 

He scrambles off the ground and swings the cement at the tribute with a loud scream. 

The young boy stumbles off balance, but readies himself again. He swung back with the blade which Coriolanus narrowly missed before bringing the cement down across the boy's head. 

It lands him on the ground, but Coriolanus doesn’t stop there, bringing it down once more on the boy who threatened his girl 

“Coriolanus!” you call to him. More tributes were coming out of the shadows. 

He drops his weapon, going back over to you to help lift the weight of Sejanus. 

Sejanus pushes through the pain to quicken the pace of the shuffle, but comotion had inlived  the most dangerous pack. Corals groups hooped and hollered as they approached.  

“Y/n, open the gate!”, Coriolanus demands, wanting you to be first out. 

Sejanus drops his arm from your shoulder, and you take the permission to take off ahead and bang on the gate until it opens. 

Coriolanus could hear the tributes as they run. They weren’t far off. He wasn’t sure they would even make it to the gate in time, but you would and that’s what matters. 

You push yourself out with the gate as it opens, turning back to look at the boys with wide, fearful eyes. 

Coriolanus pushes himself to be faster, taking nearly all of Sejanus' weight onto him. 

They make it just in time, and fall to a heap on the floor next to Peacekeepers boots. 

Corioanus pushes Sejanus off him. His hand reaches for his shoulder that now weeped blood. 

He groans as he feels the ache of the gash, next to his still searing burn mark.

He is distracted momentarily when Coral reaches the gate, and throws her spear into it. 

“Keep your eyes on the screen, gorgeous”, she taunts Coriolaus, throwing her head in the direction of you, “ I may have missed her tonight, but your songbirds next on my list”. 

The Peacekeepers demand that her group get back and the tributes disappear back into the dark tunnel.

He had followed Corals gaze to you on the floor. Your tears run down your cheeks now that the adrenaline is gone. 

Coriolanus moves to get you off the floor and into his arms, but you move as he does, and crawl across the floor to where Sejanus lay. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and sob into him. 

“I am okay”, he promises. His large hand rubs soothing circles on your back. 

You pull back in anger and begin hitting his chest as you speak. 

“How could you?”, you reprimand, “how could you do that?”.

“I am sorry, I had to do something”. Sejanus winces as he tries to sit up. His knee no doubt, completely ruined. 

“You could have been killed”, you cry with a push against his attempted hold. 

Was this the end of the bleeding heart couple? Coriolanus felt a spark of joy, watching as you fought. 

“Coriolanus could have died!”, as if you had forgotten about him you now turn to him, ‘Oh, Coriolanus”, you cry, “Are you okay?”. 

Coriolanus hand went back to his shoulder, feeling the wet patch of blood soak through his school jacket. He had no other uniform, even Tigres wouldn't be able to fix it. 

“Coryo, I am so sorry”, Sejanus apologies. It meant nothing to Coriolanus who ignored him. 

A car screeches to a stop and two car doors slam. 

The car is sleek and expensive with its own full time driver waiting with the lights on. 

Next to it stood Ma and Mr Plinth, who were well dressed as always. 

Ma was crying, but Mr Plinth stood stoic and angry. 

He gave Coriolanus a thankful nod but remained far away expecting his son to come to him. 

Ma runs over to her baby, wrapping herself around her sons head. 

Coriolanus takes the opportunity to move closer to you. You stand upon seeing him approach. 

“Are you alright?’, he questioned. 

You reach up, taking his neck and bringing him down into a hug. He gratefully goes, never expecting a hug before the relationship began. 

“Thank you, Coriolanus. I would have died in there”, you muttered. 

The hug is too short, before he is ready you are pulling away to look at his shoulder. 

“Coriolanus needs help!’, you announce, “Somebody needs to take him to the hospital!”. 

“Come with me”, he begs you.

“Don’t worry, Miss y/n. I’ll take care of our hero here”, Dr Gaul inserts herself where she is not wanted once more. She looked amused at Coriolanus’s physical and emotional pain. 

“Y/n, baby”, Sejanus calls to you. The driver had left the car to assist Sejanus while his father looks on. 

Coriolanus reluctantly lets go as you move to the sound of your name. 

“You’ll look after him?”, you question Dr Gaul. Coriolanus wanted to beg you not to believe her. 

“He’ll be good as new. You have my word”, Dr Gaul promises. 

He shutters as you move further back. 

Mr Plinth does not cross for his son, but he crosses to come collect you. 

He wraps an arm around your shoulder to lead you to the car. 

You look back at Coriolanus as you are led. Taking one final glance before entering the car with Sejanus. 

Coriolanus watches as the car takes off. He wondered if you had your arms wrapped around Sejanus in the back. 

He decides it is best not to submit his body to further stress and pushes it out of his mind. The walk home would help him clear his head, and focus only on the positives of the night. You relied on him tonight. Even acknowledged that he had saved your life. That was a step in the right direction. 

“And where do you think you are going, Mr Snow”, Dr Gaul calls out after him. 

“Home”, he announces over his good shoulder. 

‘And make a liar out of me?” she walks in the opposite direction towards the Peacekeeper van, “Come”. 

The ride back is silent. The same hurry to get there was not offered on the way back. Coriolanus shoulder ached, the blood would not stop pouring, sticking his shirt to his back and irritating his wound. 

Dr gaul doesn’t speak again until they are back in her lab. 

He couldn’t believe she had taken him back to her experimental freak show instead of a hospital. But he was in pain and in need of medical care so he didn’t verbalize his complaints.

“How did it feel?” she asks as she readies her station for him, “when you killed the boy to save y/n?”. 

He should have known she was watching. 

‘I didn’t have a choice”, he spat as he unbuttoned his shirt and took a seat in front of her. 

She laughs at him as she begins her first stitch. 

“All your fine manners, education, background, stripped away in a blink of an eye. Fueled with the terror of becoming prey, how fast we become predators".

Coriolanus lets out a shaky breath as the adrenaline dies down and the needle stitches him together. 

“Who would have thought that one day Crassus Snow’s boy would be fighting for his life in the area over a girl?”, he feels her stop stitching while she waits for the answer to her next question, “That's why you did it no? It wasn’t until news of her involvement that you volunteered. Or did you still wish to proceed with the guise of friendship?”

“Sejanus is not my friend”, Coriolanus declares. 

Her needle work began again, pleased with his answer. 

“You want to protect y/n, Mr Snow? Then it’s essential that you accept what human beings are, and what it takes to control them”. 

He feels her knot the thread into his skin

“So I’ll ask you again, when you beat that boy to death with a club, how did it feel?”. 

“It felt”, Coriolanus breathed, wondering if he should give the honest answer. Deciding he had nothing to lose from it, he answers. 

“It felt powerful”.

“Answer this next one honestly and you won’t have to walk home”, Dr Gaul teases, “Were you hoping that Sejanus died tonight?”

“Yes”, Coriolanus croaks. His own tears welling in his eyes. He refuses to let any more than two fall, which are wiped away harshly. 

“How did it feel to have her life in your hands tonight?”, Dr Gaul pushes. 

Coriolanus nods, unable to form words. 

A hand is placed on his good shoulder. She squeezes to let him know the sincerity of her words. 

“People will do anything to survive, Mr Snow. It doesn’t matter how miserable of an existence it is”. 

Coriolanus thinks to his bare apartment, and cinder block bed. It was true, and he was living proof. 

Survival meant hope. 

He closes his eyes, feeling more tears forming and remembers how malleable you were tonight. You trusted him wholly with your survival, and with that came power over you. 

Lucy-Gray was the same. Tonight you showed him the same loyalty, and respect that you had denied him previously. 

Lucy-Gray had tried to kiss him, and you melded your body to him when you could. He was sure if you were alone, you would have kissed him for saving your life. 

If only he could trap you as easily as Lucy-gray. Keep you in a state of panic that rendered you totally dependent on him. 

He lets out a low, breathy laugh, remembering Dean Highbottoms words. 

Maybe the old man could see more than Coriolanus would like. 

Despite the pain in his shoulder and his little sleep, Coriolanus arrived back at the auditorium bright and early.

Lucy-Gray was still alive. He could see her sleeping against a pole next to Jessup. 

The dead tribute was noticed, but soon forgotten. Only Lysistrata pushed to know more, but she too dropped the subject as the tributes began to wake and fight. 

There were ten tributes left. Not an impossible task for Lucy-Gray to outlive them all. 

He kept careful watch of the screens.  While the rest of the mentors took lunch, and socialized, Coriolanus sat with his head in his hand, hoping for a split second of screen time that told him Lucy-Gray was okay. 

“Coriolanus!”. Your voice shocked him as it appeared. 

He stood to greet you. It was a welcomed but unexpected visit. The games were announced a public holiday, you had no obligation to be at school. 

He would have thought after last night that you would be glued to Sejanus’s side. Was this the beginning of the end? 

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”, he questioned. 

In the daylight he could see a bruise on your temple from when toppled into the wall, under Sejanus. He reaches out to run his finger across the black spot, and you hit his hand away. 

“What are you doing here?”, you push back with a hard tone “I went to your house to check on you, but Tigres said you were here?”. 

Coriolanus felt his body twitch at your words. You went to his run down apartment? How much did you see? Surely, Tigres shielded his shame. Your eyes didn’t carry pity, maybe you didn’t know. 

“Don’t you ever go to my apartment without my permission again”, he scolded. 

That was close. Too close. He was days from getting the plinth prize. Days from burying his decade long shame. 

You seemed drawn back at his harsh tone. He had never spoken to you unkindly before. 

In an effort to ease the mood once more, before you left, he threw his hands up as if it wasn’t a big deal. 

“My Grandmother has severe social anxiety. We can’t have unexpected visitors”, he lies with a soft and airy tone. 

“Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t know”, you offer. 

Coriolanus tuts, bringing his hand up once more to brush the hair off your bruise. 

“You shouldn’t have been in there”, he complains. 

The bruise looked painful. He was sure it would cause you a headache. You should be resting with ice upon it, not here talking to him. 

“No one should be in there”, you return. 

His hand is pushed away again, but he attributes it being too soft to touch, rather than disdain for him touching you. 

"Thank you for checking on me”, he says. 

“You shouldn’t be here, Coriolanus. Not after last night”. 

“Lucy-Gray needs me”, he observes.

Your eyes flick to the screen behind him, before back to Coriolanus’s eyes and nod in agreement.

“Sejanus is in the hospital. They have him on morphline. His knee will never work fully, but he is alive and that's because of you”, you proclaim, “Lucy-Gray is fortunate to have you looking out for her. We all are”. 

His heart flutters. ‘We all are’, yes! Yes! You were lucky to have him looking out for you. Have you finally come to appreciate all he does for you?

He smiles down at you. If his shoulder didn’t ache, he would have reached out for you. 

“If there’s anything I can do”, you offer.

“There is!” He responds too quickly. 

He clears his throat, trying to conceal his eagerness. 

“There is”, repeats more even toned, “You could stay. I could use the support”. 

You looked unsure of the request, but he had saved your life just hours prior, so you felt an obligation to do as he asked. 

“Sure, Coriolanus”, you finally say, although you still looked unsure, “I can stay for a little bit”. 

He could barely breathe. The “great” he manages to get out is hardly above a whisper. 

He leads you to the front bench just in front of the first row of mentor chairs.

You sit obediently and he takes his new seat in front of you.

The tributes have become more lively. Coral was on the hunt for Lucy-Gray trying to convince one of her group members to go down and flush her out. 

None would so they go back to making traps to catch Reaper. 

Coriolanus reaches his hand back to you, trying to see how far his luck would take him. 

You do take his hand into your own, but only for the time it took to give him three encouraging pats to the back of his hand. 

It was close enough. Leaving Coriolanus with a feeling of satisfaction. 

The feeling stayed for less than a second. His good mood disappeared when the camera flew back to Lucy-Gray underground. 

Jessup was getting agitated. Yelling at Lucy-Gray and twitching uncontrollably. 

“What’s he doing?”Coriolanus jumps out of his chair and moves closer to the screens. 

“They’re friends. He wouldn’t hurt her”, you comment, coming up beside him. 

“Somethings wrong”, Lysistrata agrees, “He wouldn’t turn on her like this”.

Lucy-Gray makes a mad dash away which only further angers Jessup, determined that he had done something. 

Coriolanus watches in panic. Lucy-gray couldn't defend herself. She would never hurt Jessup, even in his mad state. 

“Go to the stands, go to the stands!”, he directs. 

Lucy-gray does go to the stands, climbing up as fast as she could but Jessup was determined to catch her. 

Coriolanus couldn’t watch. He turns and paces, trying to figure out a way to save Lucy-Gray. 

It couldn’t be over. You had only just come around, he needed more time.

The camera zooms in on Jessup allowing full view of the white form dripping down his lips. 

‘Wait, look”, he tells you. 

Your hand balls at your mouth. He hated to see you so frightened yet again. 

As soon as this was all over, he would ensure nothing would ever worry you again. 

“I think it rabies," he announces. 

He could have danced. There was a way out of this mess. The game wasn’t over yet. 

“That bite from the train”, Lysistrata deducts. 

“Send him water”. He demands of Lysistrata. 

“What? No”, she denines. 

He leans across her desk so she is forced to look at him. He was half tempted to just take control of her computer himself. 

“You remember the posters from the war. Rabies. It makes you scared of water. Send him a drone”, he demanded. 

“That’ll scare him”. 

He knew Livy had come to care for Jessup

“Yes” Coriolanus agrees in a hard tone, “away from her”. 

Lysistrata still looked in denial. There was no other option, both their tributes didn’t have to die. 

“Jessup is done”, he says with haste, “Livy, you’re the only one that can get it right to him”. 

Coming to grips with reality, Livy does as she is told, sending a water drone in the direction of Jessup. 

“Thank you”, Coriolanus feels better watching the drone fly in. 

“Nothing to be proud of”, Livy mutters. 

As planned, the drone smashes into him just as he reaches Lucy-gray. 

He hears you gasp as Jessup falls to his death and hits the bottom with a heavy thud. 

He turns to see you still with your hand pressed tightly against your mouth, and eyes squeezed shut. 

The sight makes him feel horrible that he had asked you to stay. 

You were on the side of his sore shoulder so he had to reach across with his good hand to touch you. 

“Coryo”, Livy called as Carol’s group came out of hiding. 

The hand on you balls watching as Corals group surrounds Lucy-gray. 

“Oh no”, he complains. 

He needed to make a distraction, so she could run and hide. He couldn’t just stand and watch. But the only thing he could do was send food and water in on badly operated drones. 

The same badly operated drones that just took Jessup out. 

He reaches for his communipad, and selects as many bottles of water as it would let him. 

He didn’t need to kill the group. Only give Lucy-Gray a chance to get away

The drones go flying in. He hoped Lucy-Gray wouldn’t give the surprise away, but she managed to keep her cool until it was time to duck. 

“Hey! You can’t attack the tributes” a fellow mentor complained. 

“I am just sending water”, Coriolanus jeered. 

He could hear your chuckle of approval behind him. You reach out to his good shoulder and murmur in his ear. 

“Good work”, you encouraged. 

He wished he could have stayed in the moment but it wasn’t over yet. Lucy-gray disappears into the dust, taking with her a bottle of water. 

She hides in the shelter of the ruin and he can faintly see her take something from her dress pocket. 

No there, he wanted to say. What if someone saw her poison the water and he was disquailified. 

He looks around the room to check no one else is noticing. All eyes seemed to be on the group turning against Lamina. 

Lucy-Gray ducks back out with the water, placing it back on the ground before emptying the others collected. It wasn’t a bad idea. 

Lamina's death stopped the clock and the attention was once more turned back to Lucy-gray. 

“Go” you mutter, flicking your hands out as if she could see. 

Lucy-Gray takes off with Coral and her group chasing her back up the stands. She finds an air duct and dives to close it in time. 

Coral catches it before it fully closes and it begins a tug of war against the two. 

“No, No”, you complain. 

He wanted to shield your eyes from the screen. With every inch Coral got, Lucy-Gray found the strength to tug it back. 

When it finally closes, sealing Lucy-gray in safety, Coriolanus lets out  a sigh of relief. 

“She’s Okay” he says to you. 

Coral takes out another tribute over a squabble over the water, and Dill drinks the poisoned water. 

So that was three dead tributes in less than 20 minutes. With this pace Coriolanus would be announced winner before the night ended. 

He sat you back down on your seat, and retook his in front of you. Your fingers cling to the bench underneath you, and your posture is tight and unnatural. 

He expects you to leave him, but you remain watching as Reaper collects the fallen tributes into a neat line and draps the Panam flag over him. 

“Are you going to punish me now?” reaper yells to the cameras. 

He begins to scream again but his words are cut off by a broadcast from Dr Gaul. 

“Capitol Citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our games to announce a tragic loss. Fleix Ravienstill, son of our beloved president, has this morning succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing.Out there, in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boys death. I will not allow my games to give our enemies such a victory. I swear to you here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these games”. 

The broadcast ends, and the tributes go back on screen. 

“What?” you spit, “What does she mean no victor? That's not fair. She can't do that”. 

You rise from your outrage, ranting to Coriolanus. Your anxiety has been taken over by your anger. Coriolanus agreed it was not fair. All his hard work gone down the drain because of the death of Felix,  who was never going to amount to anything anyway. 

A rainbow of destruction. The snakes. There was no way he could protect lucy-Gray from them. 

He would need something with her scent. Could he get the string of her guitar that she played in the interviews? He didn’t even know where it was. By the time he found it, the Games were sure to be over. 

Maybe, he could go to the zoo. Toss as many things as he could into the snake pit and hope one of them was hers? It might mean the survival of everyone but her too. 

The zoo, he remembers. He digs into his breast pocket to pull out the handkerchief he used to wipe her tears away. If the sweat of his palm can keep him safe against the snakes, then surely her fresh tears dried on the handkerchief could. 

He had to get it to the lab before it was too late.

He grabs your forearms and turns you away from the screen to him so he had your full attention. 

“Stay here, okay. I’ll be right back”. He commands. 

“Where are you going?”, you ask astounded that he could be leaving after such news. 

“Just stay here. Don’t move”, he reiterated. 

You nod sensing his urgency and he dashes out of the auditorium into the empty hallway. 

He knew he couldn’t walk into Dr Guals lab without a reason, and begging for Lucy-Grays life wasn’t a good one. 

As he jogs down the steps, he claws at the stitches in his back, reopening the wound. 

He groans from the pain but ensures all eight stitches have torn open. 

His body is weak as he sprints to Dr gauls lab. It barely gets him through the front door, where he demands to see Dr gaul. 

As if she was expecting him, the Peacekeeper lets him directly through. 

“Come to beg for her life?” Dr gaul asks uninterested. 

“No” Coriolanus puffs, “No, my stitches. They came loose. I didn’t want the doctors asking questions”.

She looks at him suspiciously but relents, going to her work table. 

“Come, pull down your shirt”, she directs. 

He walks past a row of black birds locked in cages. Her newest toys. 

“The news must have shocked you Mr Snow. With no tributes, no victor, with no victor, no girl”. 

Coriolanus faces the birds as Dr Gaul stitches the needle into his shoulder. He eyes the large snake tank in the corner and the people who ready it for transport. 

“Y/n’s actually at the auditorium. She came to support me. She’s the one who noticed the stitches”, Coriolanus lies. 

“Support you and not her boyfriend in hospital? Things are looking promising”, she says. 

"Looking promising, looking promising” her voice echoes across the room. Seemingly from the mouth of the birds. 

She sighs and stops stitching to click a receiver. 

“Jabberjays”, she explained, “We sent them out during the war to pick up rebel conversations. A failed experiment. They only pick up useless phrases unless manually operated. I am collecting them to see what better purpose they serve”. 

Coriolanus remains quiet trying to figure out how he could reach the cage before it was too late. 

The needle knots in his back, a feeling Coriolanus had come to know to mean that the stitching was done. 

“I’ll see you and your girl back in the auditorium for the finale, Mr Snow”, Dr Gaul dismisses, “you should be proud of yourself. Your songbird put on a wonderful show, and you didn’t need money to steal the girl after all”. 

Coriolanus quickly buttons up his shirt, watching as the cage was wheeled out. 

“Thank you, Dr Gaul”, he says. 

He races to catch up to the assistants wheeling the cage, pretending to be following them out. 

They don’t see him as a threat so pay him no mind. He falls back as they take a hallway just off the exit, and watches as they leave the cage out for an airlift. 

He stays hidden behind a pole until it was time. Leaving his jacket to keep the door wedged open. With their back turned, he dashes out to cage. The snakes are upset when he slams into the large cage, beginning to move and fight with each other. 

He finds an air hole large enough and stuffs the handkerchief in. it moves along the bodies of the snakes until Coriolanus could no longer see the white in between the rainbow. 

When the harness is lowered, Coriolanus makes a run back to the door, taking his jacket and making his own exit from the Citadel. 

He pays for the taxi this time. Sure that his body couldn’t take anymore strain. 

It cost him his fathers watch, but he arrived back in the auditorium before the entrance of the snakes. 

“What happened?” he quizzes you, taking a hold of your arm, “Lucy-gray is she okay?”. 

You point to the screen where Coral and Treech poke and prod a vent. 

“She’s in there”, you address with horror in your voice. 

Treech points up and Coral takes his palace directly under the vent. 

Blocking the camera, Treech begins to sway of balance and nose begins leek small amounts of blood. 

“Wait, what's wrong with Treech?” his mentor asks. 

Corilanious was worried about his own tribute, who was three lucky strikes away from being impaled. 

Coral hits the metal too many times and the vent collapses on top of her. 

Coriolanus' hand latches out to yours, which you accept with the same nervous tension in your fingers. 

“Run, run” Coriolanus begs. 

She runs back into the arena. Not the safest place with reaper still sitting by the dead tributes. 

Coral chases after her, too slow to catch up. 

The whole arena stops when the chopper lowers in the cage. 

“Please work”, Coriolanus whispers. 

“What is that?” you ask. 

“Wouldn’t it be fun if it was candy?” Lucy Flickerman answers you. 

Coriolanus feels your hand tense in his, then open in surprise when the glass cage cracks and the snakes fly out. 

“Not candy!” Lucky Flickerman announces as three tributes are overtaken in rainbow. 

The Snakes chase the last two tribute who head to the stands for higher ground. 

“Lucy-Gray, please” Coral begs. The snakes lash at her heels as she tries to drag herself up the stands, “Please it couldn’t have all be for nothing”.

It was. More snakes latch on and Coral dies with two loud screams. 

“Now all colors lead to Gray” Lucy Flickerman narrates. 

The snakes slither up and around Lucy-Gray but none bite her. 

Coriolanus lets out an unbelievable scoff. 

‘She’s..She’s won” he says watching as the snakes continue to follow Lucy-Gray. He had won. The 10th annual victor. She was last standing, even Dean Highbottom couldn’t contest his win.

“It’a over. She won”, he says in a louder voice. Why was no one doing anything to stop the snakes, “Let her out!”

“Afraid that’s not your call to make, mr Snow”, Lucky insists. 

He turns to the audience. Dr Gaul had come to see the final show. She sat high up in the breeches and must of come in when Coriolanus was distracted. 

He drops your hand so he could turn and face her. She stared back with the same hateful and curious gaze. She knew what he had done. 

But if she squealed on him, he would return the favor. 

Your hands fly up to your face once more when Lucy-gray begins to sing. Tears pour from your eyes watching the young girl sing her last song. 

Looking to get away from the camera that played on your pain, you pushed your way to the back.  

“Dr gaul. She’s won”, Coriolanus yells, “It’s over let her out”. 

“Why aren’t they attacking her?” Festus asks. 

Dr Gual raises her eyebrows at him in a mocking fashion. 

“It must be the signing. It’s calming them”, he deceives. 

“She can’t sing forever”, Festus comments bitterly. 

She just needs to sing long enough for Coriolanus to figure out a way to get her out. 

“Dr Gaul, please”, Coriolanus tries, “Get her out”. 

He could see the audience engrossed in the scene. He just needed to figure out how to turn it against Dr Gaul. 

“Get her out!”, you yell across the room, following Coriolanus stare to Dr gaul. 

Her eyes flick to you and you scream at her once more to release Lucy-gray. 

Others join, chanting in protest. 

“Who will watch the games if there is no victor?” he threatens. 

Dr Gaul raises her hand to silence the audience, before turning to her assistant. 

“Get her out”, she says loud enough for everyone to hear. 

A cheer erupts the auditorium and Dr gaul wades herself through it to the silence of the hallway. 

“She’s won! Lucy-Gray! Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the tenth annual Hunger games!” Lucky announces. 

People rush from the stands to swarm him. Offering him congratulations and applause. 

It all felt real now. He had done it. The plinth prize, you, were all his now. 

He pushes to the crowd to get to where you stood in front of the bleaches. 

You were smiling and clapping. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely for him, or if you were just glad Lucy-gray would live. 

You looked beautiful and for once Sejanus was nowhere by your side. In this moment, you were entirely his. 

You treated you as such, taking your face between his hands and stilling you for a kiss. 

His lips smashed against you, his teeth nipped at the skin of your bottom lip asking you to part them for him. 

You don’t pull away at first, but his lips are on you for less than ten seconds before you are shoving against his sore shoulder. 

He is forced to drop his hand upon the impact. His shoulder ached from pain of being moved, and on reflux he lowered his arm to ease it. 

Coriolanus could tell by the look on your face, you did not enjoy the kiss. Did he come on too strong? Did he accidently hit your bruise when he kissed you?

He opened his mouth to apologize for the above, but you took off before he could catch you. 

It was impossible to follow you through the crowd of people. People would not part to let him through. 

Some jeered at him for being pushed away but most still rode his victory wave. 

Had he made a mistake? Where you not ready to leave Sejanus for him yet?

You had no right to reject him. He had won. Saved your life. Risked his own. 

Coriolanus took a seat while the crowd surrounded him, and then disappeared. He stayed there until he was summoned by a peacekeeper much later. 

He figured he was to see his victor before they sent her back home. The Peacekeeper led him to a chamber, but Lucy-Gray was nowhere to be seen. 

“Lucy-Gray?” he called, “Lucy-Gray?”. 

He sees a table in the middle of the room with his fathers handkerchief and his mother compact. 

“To think, Mr Snow, you almost had it all” Dean Highbottom's voice taunts him. 

“Where’s Lucy-Gray?”Coriolanus demanded. Had they hurt her for Coriolanus’s mistake?

“I would be more worried about yourself” Highbottom answered, stalking towards him. 

“First y/n rejects you and now the prize money slips through your fingers”, Highbottom torments, “it’s fitting that both your parents could be here for your big moment”. 

He gestures to the items on the table in front of Coriolanus. 

“That compact, how many times did I see your mother use it? Come now, we both know that child from eleven didn’t die of disease. And that old handkerchief, we found it in the snake tank, condemning you with your fathers own initials”. 

Highbottom rounds Coriolanus completely before standing in front of Coriolanus across the table. 

“President Ravenstill has left your form of punishment up to me, and I’ve decided banishment to the districts where you’ll serve your Capitol in exile for the next twenty years as an anonymous, peacekeeping grunt”. 

Dean Highbottom grins at Coriolanus who felt too frozen to do anything. 

“You’ll never get your hands on y/n. She’s too good for you Mr Snow. By the time you get back I imagine her and Sejanus will be married with three or four children”. 

It was true. Coriolanus wouldn’t be able to block the ongoing turn of events that was sure to happen with Sejanus. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He had worked so hard to have you, only to be taken away as soon as he got on equal footing with Sejanus. 

“You hear that boy? That’s the sound of snow failing”, Highbottom proclaims. 

He’ll be left with nothing more than a memory of you, while you will forget completely of the man who loved you so. 

[woodywood101blog]

Experimental: Postpartum

It was a rough 24 hours following the birth of the babies, but the quick-thinking duo of Mike and Anna were able to rapidly stabilise the internal bleeding resulting from Yazan’s body rejecting the uterus. Randy barely got any sleep as he stayed by Yazan’s bedside to make sure he and the babies were okay. The team fed Yazan through a drip to ensure that he could produce milk for the babies. Randy helped get the breast pumps set up to feed the babies by bottle.

After a week in a medically induced coma, the team decided to try and wake up Yazan. In what could only be described as a miracle, Yazan woke up. He groaned and turned to face Randy. Randy tightly gripped Yazan’s hands as he burst into tears. “Oh my god, Yaz! You scared me for a hot minute!”

“Wh-where’s my babies?” Yazan looked down at his breasts being pumped and his smaller belly and rapidly looked around the room.

“Yaz, your babies are alright. They’re in the nursery next door. We can bring them in.”

Yazan started crying intensely as he realised just how close he was to never being able to see his kids that he grew so attached to over the months. Randy got up and hugged Yazan tightly, kissing his head as they both cried together. “You’re alright, babe.”

After a further two weeks at the RPA, the team provided clearance for Yazan and the babies to be discharged. All four of the babies passed their tests with flying colours, which Randy had great pleasure in running. Yazan felt sore from both being in a coma and as his body started to readjust back to a vague presentation of itself before he got pregnant.

“Hey, before you go, I just have something I need to sort out with you. Can we talk privately?” Mike said to Yazan. They walked towards a courtyard table and sat, Yazan groaning as he tried to contort his legs to sit.

“You are one incredible man, you know that right? I truly cannot believe how incredibly strong and courageous you are. Take away the history of being the first man to successfully carry children to term, you are now a father to four beautiful children. And that man over there,” Mike said as he pointed towards Randy. “That man loves everything about you. He literally did not leave your bedside until we forced him to go back to the apartment to ‘grab things’. He ran all the tests and did all the feedings of the babies. That is true love right there.”

Yazan glanced back at Randy, who was holding a coffee while chatting with Anna. Randy looked back and smiled at Yazan.

“I can’t be a barrier to true love. So, I spoke with a family lawyer, and I’m going to get the process started on relinquishing my parental responsibilities. I have also arranged for Randy to speak with another lawyer to get the ball rolling on getting the kids American passports, because technically your kids are just Australians at the moment.”

Yazan looked up at Mike and quietly said, “Thank you. I am so sorry for being an asshole.”

“I’ll blame the hormones, it’s fine.” Mike and Yazan chuckled as they sipped their cups of coffee.

***

After a couple more weeks of interviews, urgent Family Court hearings and interviews at the United States Consulate in Sydney, Yazan was granted sole parental responsibility of the four kids, and the four kids were granted American citizenship. From there, it was just a matter of getting the kids back to the United States to start their new life together, alongside Randy.

Randy relished the opportunity to be a father, and took a strong lead in supporting Yazan to settle into a routine. This also included selling his apartment downtown and moving in with Yazan to the newly expanded family home. Randy did a lot of the day chores, like cleaning, cooking and bills, while Yazan focused on feeding the babies and other odd bits of chores as needed.

Yazan awkwardly had to explain to the hospital’s HR that he needed to move to part-time work as he had four babies to look after. His cause was not helped when his breasts started to leak milk during the meeting. However, he managed to arrange 3 full months of leave, and would slowly transition back to 3 days a week. Randy also took two weeks paternity leave, which he was surprised HR agreed to.

Over the days and weeks, Yazan and Randy found their groove as they settled into their new life with Anna, Michael, Tanner and Richard. Yazan chose Anna and Michael to recognise the incredible support they gave during the birth, and Randy chose Tanner and Richard after other close colleagues at work.

They never truly explained to friends what happened. However, their friend Tanner was clued into Yazan’s growing belly, but never commented in fear it was just regular weight gain. Yazan quietly told Tanner the full story over lunch one day as he brought the kids in to see his haematology colleagues, plus Randy.

***

Yazan was getting himself ready one morning before the kids woke up, and sighed as he looked in the mirror. His entire body had transformed from the muscular hunk he was known to be at the hospital to an overweight man with actual breasts that needed to be pumped to avoid unexpected leakages. He started to wonder whether he could ever get his pre-baby body back.

As Yazan walked out of the bedroom and into the living room, Randy noticed Yazan’s demeanour.

“Hey, babe, how are you feeling today?”

“I feel disgusting today.”

“What brought that feeling?”

“I just.. I mean, look at me! I’m a fucking cow with full-grown double-D tits. I still look like I’m pregnant and I just… I just want this to go back to normal.”

Randy stood up and slowly walked towards Yazan, who felt ashamed.

“I know I should be proud because my body went through so much to bring these kids into the world, and I get to sustain life with these breasts, but I’m not a man anymore. I’m just… a baby machine!”

Randy chuckled as he hugged Yazan tightly, kissing him on the forehead. “Rightio, Yaz. As you said, you have gone through so much. And you know what, you’re alive, the kids are alive, and if the price to pay at the moment is that you have some love handles, is that really the end of the world?”

“No…”

“Right. I love you, Yaz. I love all of you, every nook and crevice. And yes, I even love your belly and your tits. Why? Because you are so much stronger than any other man on Earth. You have literally done what no other man has done: bring new life. That is beyond incredible, babe! Heck, if I could, I would.”

“Don’t say that too loudly, I still have Mike’s number.”

“You get the point! I love you and I will be there for you, regardless of how you look or how you’ve changed or what’s happened. You are who I want to be with for my whole life.”

Yazan raised an eyebrow as he saw Randy step back and bend down on one knee.

“Randy.. What are you doing?”

“Look, I don’t have a ring, but I’ll ask anyway: I love you, Yazan. I want to spend the rest of my life with you… Yazan, will you marry me?”

Yazan’s eyes widened as he realised what Randy just asked. He beamed and quietly screamed out “Yes!”. As he ran towards Randy to hug and kiss, they heard the baby monitor squeal with the four babies awake.

***

Six months later, Yazan and Randy managed to tie the knot. They didn’t want to wait much longer, and didn’t necessarily care for a lot of the formalities, given the unconventional nature of how they became a family, so it was fairly easy to arrange the wedding at a civil registry, and then arrange a low-key dinner with friends, family and other loved ones.

They invited Mike and Anna to come along from Australia to the ceremony. They were delighted to be invited, and eagerly accepted a separate invite from Yazan to come to their place and see the kids.

As Anna was holding up baby Anna, Mike got to chatting with Randy and Yazan. “So, we have some news from the research side of things. The university provisionally approved further research.”

“Oh, amazing! That’s good to hear.” Randy said.

“Yeah, it was a bit stressful trying to explain at a high level what happened, but the university saw the merit in continuing the research into the hormone supplements to see what sort of expanded uses it could help with. And, Yazan, you’d be pleased to know that the research approval had nothing to do with your pregnancy.”

“Wait, what? How?” Yazan was confused.

“Well… I hadn’t actually told anyone at the time, but when you were being discharged from hospital, I was actually 12 weeks pregnant.”

Randy and Yazan’s eyes widened in shock. Mike pulled out his phone to show his lock screen photo. It showed a small baby girl. “This is Shayna.” Randy and Yazan joyfully hugged Mike as Mike started to tear up in happiness too.

“I’ve been doing this research for years because I so desperately wanted to have a child of my own. My dream has come true.” Mike said through tears.

***

A year later, the four kids had grown into their own distinct personalities. Anna was the boss and had no hesitation in getting her brothers to do what she wanted. Michael was inquisitive, always waddling around the house looking for something exciting to do. Tanner was quieter, sometimes in his own world, but always happy and joyful. And Richard was energetic, always running around the house and making Yazan and Randy’s lives busier than it already was.

As they settled the four kids into bed, Yazan and Randy slid onto the sofa and sighed.

Randy sighed, “Ahh, isn’t this bliss? The kids are asleep, the house is clean, everyone is fed, and I now have a nice glass of red.”

“Yep, cheers to that.” Yazan replied as they clinked their glasses. “Hey babe, I was thinking today…”

“You know I don’t like it when you start phrases like that!”

“Randy, you’ll like this idea! I was thinking… about seeing whether Mike was really correct about the uterus and ovary being fully-functional?”

“Huh, what?”

“You know how I vented that the magic salt -”

“The hormonal supplements?”

“Yes, the hormonal supplements caused me to grow a fully-functioning uterus and ovary… I was wondering whether you wanted to see if that hypothesis was correct?”

“Are you saying you want another child?”

“In other words, yes.”

Randy scooched over towards Yazan and sensually kissed his lips. “I’ve been wondering whether you would ever say yes to having another child.”

Yazan moaned, “I want you to breed me with your kid, or kids.”

They slowly took each other’s shirts off and continued to make out on their sofa. We’ll clean this up tomorrow, Yazan thought as he took his shorts off and prepared to take Randy’s dick once again in his manpussy.

***

One lazy Saturday morning, Yazan was sitting at the dining table, making sure the kids ate their scrambled eggs and toast. Randy turned around with two plates filled with a classic Yazan breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, avocado, salt and pepper and toast.

As Randy put the plate of food down in front of Yazan, Yazan’s nose twitched. He felt a sudden wave of nausea.

“Babe, are you o-”

Yazan ran to the closest bathroom and vomited into the toilet. Randy quickly calmed the kids down then moved across to Yazan in the bathroom. He knocked on the door. “Babe? Are you okay?”

Yazan groaned. Randy opened the door and saw Yazan sitting near the toilet bowl, looking worse for wear.

“Should I run past the pharmacist and get a test?”

The End

Note from Woody: Just want to send a massive thank you to everyone for their lovely words and motivation to get this over the line. It's been a labour of love, so to speak... In particular, a massive thank you to @bigmpregnm for both the morphs and the support!

[srslyblvck]

the devil you know, avengers

pairing: avengers x fem!reader

synopsis: the avengers seem really desperate as they come to you—the person who went under their skin like no one else to help them win against hydra. while they are walking on eggshells around you, you are having fun causing chaos.

warnings: mentions of y/n (maybe), blood, violence, gore, sexual assault

word count: 3.9k

chapter: 10/?

series masterlist

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE SUN WAS SETTING, casting long shadows over the quiet, empty road as you and Bucky drove on, the old Cadillac’s engine humming as it sped down the rural highway. The landscape was sparse, fields stretching on either side of the road, with only the occasional farmhouse breaking up the horizon.

As the car rounded a bend, you spotted two figures up ahead—a couple standing by the roadside, looking a little worse for wear and waving their hands in an attempt to flag down a ride. You instinctively tensed, narrowing your eyes as you watched them. Something about it felt… off.

“Keep driving,” you muttered under your breath, eyeing the couple suspiciously.

But Bucky slowed the car, giving you a sidelong glance. “They look stranded. It’ll be fine.”

You let out a quiet huff, still watching them closely as the car slowed to a stop. “Fine,” you muttered, reluctantly. “But keep your eyes open.”

The couple hurried over, expressions of relief plastered across their faces as they climbed into the back seat, each settling into their spots with quick, grateful smiles.

“Thanks so much!” the guy said as he jogged up to the car. “Our car broke down a few miles back, and my phone’s dead. We just need a ride to the next town.”

“Sure, hop in,” Bucky replied, giving you a reassuring nod as they settled into the back seat.

As he pulled back onto the road, you leaned back in your seat, watching the couple through the rearview mirror. They were sitting a bit too straight, their eyes darting to each other every now and then, like they were keeping up a silent conversation. Something about their body language felt… practiced.

The guy noticed you staring and gave a polite smile, but there was a glint in his eyes that didn’t quite fit the friendly image. You smirked to yourself and casually unbuckled your seatbelt, causing Bucky to give you a sideways look.

“What are you doing?” he muttered under his breath.

Ignoring him, you turned around in your seat, eyeing the couple with a grin that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You know,” you began, voice low and calm, “for two people hitching a ride, you sure seem pretty unprepared for this.”

The woman’s eyes flickered with a brief flash of recognition. But the guy kept up the innocent act, looking at Bucky as if for support. “I—sorry?”

“You heard me,” you continued, your voice dangerously calm. “Two ex-Hydra soldiers with a knack for sniffing out trouble. One’s a super soldier, the other one controls shadows.” You leaned forward, your gaze sharp. “So, why don’t you tell me who sent you?”

The couple exchanged a quick, fleeting glance. Bucky frowned, clearly baffled by your sudden change in tone. “What are you talking about?”

“Just drive,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on the couple.

The man’s friendly smile melted away, replaced by a smirk as he leaned back, letting out a dark chuckle. “Our boss said you’d figure it out. Knew you’d recognize us.”

At that, Bucky’s jaw clenched his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Your boss?” he repeated, his voice low and cautious.

The woman beside him grinned, pulling a sleek handgun from her jacket pocket and aiming it at you. Her partner did the same, two barrels glinting in the low light as the car kept moving down the desolate road.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, shadows coiled around your fingers as you reached out, controlling their shadows as they twisted up from beneath them, wrapping around their necks like tight, black tendrils. The guns fell from their hands, clattering to the floor, as they struggled against the suffocating darkness.

Your smirk grew wider. “Tell your boss to go to hell,” you whispered, grabbing one of the guns.

Then, without hesitating, you pulled the trigger twice, silencing both of them in an instant. Their bodies slumped, and the eerie silence filled the car, save for the low, continuous hum of the engine.

Bucky glanced back, face a mix of shock and confusion as he stared at the two bodies in the back seat. He looked at you, mouth slightly open as if trying to find the right words but coming up empty.

You wiped a stray speck of blood from your cheek with the back of your hand, giving him a look that was part exasperation, part amusement. “Did you really forget how Hydra plans things? They’re not just going to let us walk away without trying to stop us.”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head as he struggled to process what had just happened. “You could’ve warned me,” he managed, voice barely above a whisper.

You shrugged, slipping the gun into your bag. “Thought you could use the surprise. Besides,” you added, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth, “I didn’t want to ruin the fun.”

Bucky let out a sigh, finally finding his voice, though it was edged with disbelief. “There are two dead bodies in the back seat.”

You met his gaze, eyes glinting with that familiar hint of mischief. “Guess we need to find a new ride.”

After a good half-hour of driving in silence, with the two bodies stiff and slumped in the back seat, Bucky pulled the Cadillac off the main road and toward an old bridge that spanned a shallow creek. The bridge was rusted, the wood on the sides splintered, and no one else was around for miles. Bucky parked and cut the engine, giving the car one last, almost regretful look.

“Alright,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and glancing at you. “Let’s dump the car and get out of here.”

You nodded, grabbing the bag of supplies you’d picked up at the gas station and stepping out of the car, breathing in the cool, night air. The two of you pushed the Cadillac until it was just teetering at the edge of the bridge. With one last shove, it tipped over, crashing down into the creek below with a splash.

“Well, that’s taken care of,” you said, brushing your hands off. “Now, let’s find a way to blend in.”

A few minutes of walking brought you to a slightly rundown McDonald’s, its faded sign buzzing faintly. It wasn’t much, but the thought of greasy fries and a stolen vehicle to get back on the road was a relief.

“This place might be even sketchier than that car we just dumped,” Bucky muttered as you both approached.

You snorted, glancing around the empty parking lot. The one saving grace? No cameras. That was a small miracle. “Perfect. All we need now is a set of keys.”

As you walked into the McDonald’s, your eyes scanned the patrons, looking for anyone with a half-decent car and, ideally, someone who wouldn’t notice they’d been robbed until you were long gone. Then you saw him—a lanky, thin man sitting alone in the corner, scrolling through his phone and sipping from an oversized drink. His car keys were lazily dropped on the table beside him.

“That’s our guy,” you murmured to Bucky. “Stay put. I’ll take care of it.”

You strolled over casually, taking a long route around the tables before “accidentally” bumping into him, your hand brushing the keys off the table in the process. “Oh, sorry about that!” you said, offering an apologetic smile as you snatched the keys up in a swift motion.

“No problem, sweetheart,” the man replied, looking up with a grin that immediately sent a chill down your spine. He looked you up and down, a little too long, his gaze landing on your waist as he leaned in closer. “Though, maybe we could make it up to each other?”

Your polite smile froze, and you stepped back, already disgusted, but his hand darted out, resting on your lower back as he leaned into your ear. “You came over here for a reason, didn’t you?”

You fought the urge to shove him, trying to stay under the radar. “Back off,” you said, keeping your tone low but firm. When you tried to step away, his fingers closed around your wrist, holding you in place.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he murmured, his grip tightening. “You wanted something from me, didn’t you?”

Just as your patience snapped and you were about to clock him across the face, a hand gripped the back of his collar and yanked him out of his chair, sending him sprawling onto the floor. You looked up to see Bucky standing beside you, his eyes dark with anger as he stared down at the man.

“Touch her again,” Bucky growled, his voice low and lethal, “and you’ll regret it.”

The guy looked up, stunned, and wisely kept his mouth shut as he scuttled back, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Bucky. Meanwhile, Bucky turned to you, his hand unconsciously resting on your waist as he guided you away from the scene. You barely noticed, too busy glaring at the guy as you left him to nurse his bruised ego.

Once you were clear of the crowd, you turned to Bucky, feeling a mixture of irritation and relief. “I was handling it just fine.”

He rolled his eyes, releasing his hold on your waist. “Oh yeah, you were doing great. Right up until he was about to assault you.”

You huffed, looking away. “Fine, thanks. Or whatever.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, softer than you’d intended. You didn’t mean for him to hear, but he did, and he stilled.

Bucky gave you a curious look, his brows furrowing as though trying to process the fact that you’d actually thanked him. But you quickly averted your gaze, pressing the button on the stolen car key fob to find the vehicle. Somewhere behind you, Bucky was still standing there, half in shock.

The sound of the car unlocking drew both of your attention to a sleek, black Jeep in the back of the lot.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” you said, raising an eyebrow, satisfied.

The black Jeep rumbled along the desolate road, the landscape gradually shifting as you and Bucky crossed into Michigan. You’d been driving for the past hour, much to Bucky’s visible discomfort, as he occasionally clutched the edge of the seat like it might save him if you veered off course.

“Relax, Barnes,” you muttered, smirking as you glanced at him. “I’ve got this.”

“Sure, because that last turn didn’t almost kill us,” he replied, his tone dry as sandpaper.

You waved him off, turning your attention back to the road. The tension eased slightly as the first signs of civilization began to dot the horizon—a tiny, rundown tourist shop with a weathered sign boasting MAPS, SOUVENIRS, AND SNACKS. You pulled into the gravel parking lot, killing the engine and hopping out.

“Alright,” you said, stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s get this over with.”

Bucky frowned as he followed you toward the shop. “What are we even doing here?”

“Mapping things out for the others, obviously,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I can’t have them wandering around like clueless tourists. Well… not that they’ll find this place easily even with directions.”

Inside, the shop was as rundown as the exterior suggested. Dusty shelves lined with expired snacks and faded postcards greeted you, along with an elderly man behind the counter who barely looked up as you entered. You made a beeline for the map stand, grabbing three identical folded maps of Michigan.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as you grabbed a red marker from a nearby display. “What’s with the marker?”

“Watch and learn, old man,” you said, plopping the maps onto the counter and spreading one open. With quick, precise strokes, you drew a route leading to your safe house, marking each map with a red circle at the final destination. “Now everyone gets their very own DIY treasure map.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” Bucky deadpanned.

“Right?” you said with a grin, folding the maps and tucking them into your jacket.

As you walked outside, you scanned the area until your eyes landed on a red trashcan far enough from the shop to seem inconspicuous. With an exaggerated flourish, you dropped the maps inside.

“There. Done,” you said, brushing your hands together. “Now, all we have to do is wait for them to catch up.”

Back in the Jeep, you grabbed the walkie-talkie and leaned back in your seat, your voice cutting through the static.

“Hey, everyone. Just thought I’d point out that none of you seemed even slightly concerned about where the safe house is. Not a single word about it. Kind of hurtful, really.” You smirked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “But since I’m a generous and very nice person, I’ve left you all a little present.”

The walkie crackled before Steve’s voice replied, cautious as ever. “What kind of present?”

“Oh, nothing major,” you said, dragging it out for effect. “Just some maps. You’ll find them in the trashcan at the tourist shop right after you cross into Michigan. Red trashcan, can’t miss it.”

Tony’s voice cut in, sharp and skeptical. “Wait, you made maps? And put them in a trashcan?”

“Yes, Stark,” you said with mock patience. “And I even used a red marker. It’s very professional.”

“Professional?” Clint chimed in, laughing. “You’re sending us on a scavenger hunt!”

“It’s not my fault you guys didn’t think to ask where the place is,” you replied, feigning innocence. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Natasha’s voice came through next, calm but clearly amused. “I’ll admit, this is better than wandering aimlessly.”

“See? Nat gets it,” you said smugly. “Anyway, maps are there. Don’t lose them, or you’re on your own.”

“Noted,” Steve said, his tone dry.

“And hurry up,” you added, smirking as you leaned back in your seat. “Bucky and I might finish all the snacks before you get here.”

There was a pause before Sam’s voice came through, chuckling. “If you don’t kill each other first.”

You grinned, setting the walkie down and glancing at Bucky, who was giving you his usual unimpressed look.

“What?” you asked innocently.

“You really put the maps in a trashcan,” he said, shaking his head.

“Hey, it adds character,” you said, starting the Jeep again. “Now, let’s go. We’ve got bonding to do.”

Bucky groaned, leaning back in his seat as the Jeep rolled onto the road again. “This is going to be a long day.”

The Jeep rolled along the bumpy countryside road, the faint glow of the setting sun casting warm hues across the fields. You had your hands firmly on the wheel, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the quiet. Bucky, sitting in the passenger seat, looked out the window with his usual stoic expression, but his fingers tapped absently on his knee—a telltale sign of his irritation.

It wasn’t until the silence stretched into something a little too long that you decided to break it.

“So, Barnes,” you said, throwing him a quick glance, “you got any favorite road trip songs? Or do you just sit in silence, brooding like a moody teenager?”

He turned to you, eyebrow raised. “Brooding?”

“Yeah, brooding,” you repeated with a grin, keeping your eyes on the road. “You know, arms crossed, staring out the window, thinking about your tragic past or whatever.”

Bucky sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t brood.”

“Sure,” you said, drawing the word out. “You don’t brood. You just sulk in a very manly way.”

He gave you a pointed look. “You talk too much.”

“Thanks. I try.”

You reached forward, flicking on the radio, and immediately regretted it as static filled the car. Frowning, you twisted the knob, cycling through channels until you found something halfway decent—a peppy pop song that instantly clashed with the rugged energy of the Jeep.

“Oh, this is perfect,” you said, cranking up the volume.

Bucky looked at you like you’d just committed a crime. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence as you started bopping your head to the beat. “You don’t like it? I think it suits the vibe.”

“The vibe of what? A clown car?” he muttered, reaching for the dial.

You smacked his hand away. “Hands off. Driver picks the music.”

“Driver also nearly killed us twice today,” he shot back.

“Oh, relax,” you said with a laugh, swerving the car slightly just to mess with him. His hand immediately shot out to steady himself on the dashboard, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of something lighter in his expression—a hint of amusement he didn’t bother to hide.

After a while, the two of you pulled into a tiny rest stop—a place that looked like it had been forgotten by time, complete with peeling paint and a vending machine that seemed more decorative than functional. You stretched as you stepped out of the Jeep, glancing around.

“Well, it’s not exactly five-star, but it’ll do,” you said, heading toward the vending machine.

Bucky followed, watching as you squinted at the dusty selection of snacks behind the scratched glass. “What are you even trying to get? Those things are probably older than I am.”

“Funny,” you said, pointing to a packet of chips. “I bet this bag’s fresher than your jokes.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue as you fished some coins from your pocket and punched in the number. The machine whirred, the chips moving slowly toward the edge before stopping halfway.

“Are you kidding me?” you muttered, crouching down to glare at the stubborn bag.

Bucky crossed his arms, watching you struggle. “Karma.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, shaking the machine. It didn’t budge.

With a sigh, you stepped back and gestured to him. “Alright, big guy. Time to put those super-soldier muscles to work. Get my chips.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you said, crossing your arms. “Come on, Captain Metal Arm. Impress me.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle but stepped forward. With one casual push, he tilted the vending machine just enough for the bag to drop. He grabbed it and handed it to you, his expression unreadable.

You took the chips, opening the bag with exaggerated flair. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“Next time, you’re on your own,” he replied, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, betraying his amusement.

As the two of you sat on the hood of the Jeep, sharing the chips and watching the sun dip below the horizon, the tension of the day began to melt away.

“You know,” you said after a while, tossing a chip into your mouth, “you’re not as bad as I thought.”

Bucky glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really,” you said with a grin. “You’ve got this whole brooding, tough guy thing going on, but deep down, you’re just a big softie.”

He shook his head, but there was a trace of a smile on his lips. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Never,” you replied, smirking as you held up the bag of chips. “Want the last one?”

He reached for it, but you pulled it away at the last second, popping it into your mouth with a mischievous grin.

“Child,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Grump,” you shot back, leaning back on the hood with a satisfied sigh.

The quiet between you was lighter now, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. For once, the weight of everything—the mission, Hydra, the constant running—seemed to fade, if only for a little while.

The Jeep creaked as it rolled along the uneven dirt road, kicking up small clouds of dust in its wake. The countryside around you gradually began to shift into something more picturesque—open grassy fields stretched endlessly on either side, dotted with wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. The sky above was a brilliant shade of blue, unmarred by pollution or city haze, and in the distance, you could see small cottages scattered across the rolling hills.

You pulled the Jeep to a stop near the edge of the village, cutting the engine. For a moment, neither of you moved, both taking in the view before you.

Bucky was the first to step out, his boots crunching against the gravel as he surveyed the area. His expression softened—confusion giving way to quiet amusement, and then to something almost admiring.

“This is it?” he asked, his voice low.

You stepped out, standing by the Jeep as the breeze ruffled your hair. “This is it,” you said softly, your tone carrying a hint of nostalgia.

Bucky turned, looking around with a kind of cautious curiosity. The place was nothing like he’d expected—serene, untouched, almost too peaceful for someone like him, or even for someone like you. He caught sight of a small group of children running across a grassy field in the distance, their laughter rising above the whisper of the wind.

“It’s… nice,” he said, his voice almost hesitant.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you stood there, your gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting golden light over the landscape. The breeze shifted again, and for a moment, Bucky was distracted—not by the scenery, but by you.

The way the sunlight framed your face, softening the usual sharpness of your features. The rare, peaceful expression you wore, as if this place had pulled you into a memory too distant to touch but impossible to ignore. Your hair moved gently with the breeze, and the faintest trace of a smile played on your lips—one that was neither sarcastic nor guarded.

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly, his confusion mingling with something he couldn’t quite name.

“This place… you’ve been here before,” he said, more a statement than a question.

You glanced at him, the momentary warmth in your expression replaced with your usual mask of indifference. “Yeah. A long time ago.”

He didn’t press, sensing that whatever history this place held for you wasn’t something you were ready to share. Instead, he looked around again, letting the calmness of the village settle over him.

“This is a good spot,” he said finally, nodding to himself. “Safe. Quiet.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, your gaze drifting back toward the horizon. “It’s the kind of place that makes you forget the rest of the world exists.”

The two of you stood there for a while, the silence filled with the sound of the wind rustling the grass and the distant clamor of life in the village. It was a rare moment—one where neither of you felt the weight of everything chasing you.

After a while, Bucky glanced at you again. “How long do you think it’ll take for the others to get here?”

“Knowing them?” you said with a smirk, leaning against the Jeep. “Probably long enough for you to fall asleep waiting.”

Bucky huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back against the Jeep beside you. The two of you waited, side by side, as the peacefulness of the village continued to wrap around you like a cocoon, keeping the chaos of the outside world at bay.

dividers by @dollywons

[obwjam]

a small surprise part 4 (gravity falls g/t)

back with a new chapter!! parts 1 • 2 • 3

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The fist came down at an alarming speed, like it had materialized out of thin air. Jay was thrown backwards, and her head instantly smacked against the table, causing stars to pop in and out of her vision. The only thing she could hear was a faint, dull static, like her brain was a television that wasn’t getting a signal. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would break through her chest. She didn’t have the strength to push herself to her feet. All of her limbs felt like they were paralyzed.

“Shit!” Stan yelled. Oh, he instantly regretted it. He didn’t even realize what was happening until his fist had already connected with the table. His subconscious must have saved him from actually touching her, but he got pretty damn close. He blinked, blinked again, and fully realized he almost just killed somebody. 

Again.

“Oh, god, kid, are you alright?” He bent down, putting himself at eye level with the writhing tiny. “Kid? I’m sorry, I didn’t — I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you, I just — got carried away, that’s all!” She wasn’t responding, so he began to reach his hand out toward her, ready to nudge her back to reality. 

“DON’T!” she screamed, louder than anything he’d ever heard before. She managed to scramble farther away from him. “PLEASE! I–I’M SORRY – I WON’T – P-PLEASE! Don’t…”

Stan’s expression shifted. He knew what this was. She was begging for her life. Something had switched inside of her. Something Stan was not expecting. His hands were shaking, and he was unsure what to do with them. He hovered awkwardly, watching, before realizing that he suddenly felt grossly uncomfortable looming over her. The sheer force of his fist caused her to fall over. She was barely as tall as it. Stan could pinch her between his fingers and never feel the weight. She was miniscule. How was any of this real?

Jay was too busy rolling in pain to notice, but Stan sat in total silence for 10 minutes, his mind racing to figure out what to do next. Maybe Poindexter has some kind of cheat sheet on her somewhere. Maybe all those secret codes were about her and he didn’t want her to read them. How does she even read, anyway? The letters must look huge. Focus, Stan, focus. Maybe she needs some water? But I don't want to move right now. I could just ask her. But I don’t want to talk again. My voice might shatter her eardrums.

Eventually, Jay came to. She had shut her eyes tight for a while, hoping the pain would melt away on its own. Soon enough, it did, but even with her senses thrown off, the feeling of being loomed over was incredibly persistent. She didn’t want to see Stan, so gigantic and destructive, towering over her after he just tried to murder her. And she certainly didn’t want to hear his smarmy jokes about her begging for her life – the embarrassment of that was beginning to hit her hard. How could she even be in the same room as him ever again, knowing she had become the helpless, controllable little thing he so clearly saw her as?

Stan, trying to stay patient and silent, was only increasing Jay’s anxiety more. Why was he just… sitting still? She dared to take a peek and only saw Stan’s massive elbows pressing on the tabletop, his torso so big it looked more like an endless wall. She wasn’t prepared to hear him speak.

“Look, kid, I–”

But he stopped as soon as her eyes met his. The shock of her expression sucked all the air from his lungs. Her face was red and puffy, her eyes burning from tears. She was staring at him in horror, like he was some kind of – some kind of monster. Someone who acts so callously toward other people’s feelings and needs. A killer. Now’s not the time for this! But Stan’s mind wouldn’t let him rest. Not even as his hand twitched in his lap, unable to stay still. He jumped when she jumped; he had no idea how she was able to pick up on that movement. Disoriented and filled with anxiety, Jay slowly scrambled backwards until she found a stack of books to dive behind for cover. Stan just watched. There was nothing he could do.

Jay pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. Not being able to see Stan’s movements was probably a bad thing, but she couldn’t bear to be in his line of sight right now. She hadn’t cowered like this since first meeting Ford, and it all felt so eerily similar. Stan was just like Ford in as many ways as they differed – even if they didn’t share a face, she would be able to suss out their relation to each other. They both had this air of unpredictability and superiority, and Jay was now twice caught in the crosshairs. She had to get her hook. She had to get out of here. She had to…

Stan felt sick, just as he did in this very basement a week ago. It had been so long since he actually interacted with people, and he found that a lot of his survival instincts he prided himself on were not transferable to the real world; or even to tiny little people in the real world. Why did he think he needed to use violence to assert himself over someone as tall as a golf pencil? Why did she react so scared this time? Probably because you almost killed her. But nobody ever took him seriously. Why did she have to be different?

Stan sucked in a breath. Quit it, Stan. You can’t be doing this. But if he kept sitting there and staring at the books, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Fine. Then go work on the portal. Go be useful for once in your life.

It took Jay a while to notice he had left. She was too busy trying to stop her hands from shaking, and it took everything in her not to black out again from how fast the blood was rushing through her body. The sound of her own hyperventilating snapped her back to reality. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t even have any thoughts going through her head. It was completely, totally silent. She wasn’t even sure she could remember what words to use. But she eventually noticed that the vibe in the room had shifted considerably. The silence had become eerie, and the suffocating feeling was largely gone, replaced by an anxious panic. She hoped her senses weren’t betraying her, but a quick, subtle peek around the books confirmed that Stan was no longer sitting at the table, waiting for her to come out. She couldn’t see through the window, but a lot of clanging and a lot of cursing confirmed Stan had gone to work in the portal room.

Jay took the opportunity to finally stand up. She needed to grip the spine of the books to pull herself up because her legs were completely drained of energy. In a moment of panic, she thought she was maybe paralyzed from the incident, but she was able to take a few shaky steps. She blinked as her brain oriented itself, her eyes stinging, her world still turning. She didn’t quite understand why Stan had left the room, but she didn’t care. The only thing her brain had the capacity for right now was escape.

She stumbled over to her hooks, which were still woefully incomplete. Fuck it, she thought, wiping the sweat off her hands, I’ll just slide down the table leg – link these together, she managed to hook one piece of bent metal around the other with her trembling hands, then use this, she picked up, dropped, and picked up again what she had tied together for rope, and I’ll just wrap it around myself, and I can – I can – I just need –

Jay tried her best to assemble something that could get her safely down from the metal table, but she was trembling so hard that she could barely keep the hooks from slipping from her grip. And the more time she took, the more she panicked, and the more mistakes she made. The risk from falling from such a great height couldn’t be any worse than seeing Stan again. She had to hurry, quick, before he—

The stinging sound of scraping metal made Jay freeze so fast she could feel her blood turn cold. She was too numb to turn around, but having her back to him was even more terrifying. She slowly turned around, gripping her hooks so tight she thought she’d crush them.

Stan gaped back, eyes wide. It felt like he glitched temporarily before getting his ability to speak back. “Oh. You’re still here.”

She shrunk back, whimpering a bit and putting her hands in front of her chest in a protective position, tightening her white-knuckle grip on the hooks. She didn’t dare move an inch.

To her surprise, Stan, very slowly, lifted his hands up placatingly. “Don’t worry,” was all he managed to say in a scratchy, hoarse voice that barely sounded like his.

Jay couldn’t budge even if she wanted to. She was frozen.

“Oh. I see. The, uh, metal things,” Stan said clumsily, nudging his head at her hooks. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. I’d want to get out of my sight if I were you, too.”

Jay knitted her eyebrows. This was not the tone of voice she expected from him.

“Look, I didn’t – I didn’t mean to – I’m – I’m sorry, Jay,” he stumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Her heart skipped a beat when he actually said her name. “You probably won’t forgive me, and that’s alright, I don’t deserve it. It’s just – my life hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park. I don’t always… handle things the best,” he said, sounding profoundly embarrassed at admitting such a thing. “Never have, and I guess I never will. I’m just the Pines family screw-up.”

Jay arched an eyebrow. Her mind was telling her this was all an act – a pity party to draw her back in so he could do something awful. But her gut kept asking one thing: Why would he need to do that?

After a few tense moments, Jay lowered her hands and loosened her hold on the hooks. Stan, taking this as a sign of trust, slowly sat down, pushing the stool back a bit to put some distance between them. Now Jay felt comfortable enough to inch backwards until her back hit the stack of books. She didn’t even blink, in case Stan did something again.

“I know Poin–uh, Ford didn’t tell you anything about me,” he began, wringing his hands together, “but I, uh, don’t exactly have the most admirable past.” He took a deep breath. Why was this so hard? “I’ve had to do a lot of lying, a lot of stealing, just to scrape by. I lived out of my car for a while. Hah, I don’t even know how Ford tracked down the motel room I was staying in to send me that postcard.” He stole a glance at Jay, who wore the same skeptical look on her face. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s been a while since I’ve had… company. Or been around people who weren’t convicted felons. And when I came here, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else but Ford. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting anyone three inches tall. So I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, I just… need to remember how to act normal again.”

Jay was floored. The depth of sorrow in his voice was something she didn’t think a human was capable of. And as freaked out as she was, she could clearly see this was an attempt to reach out to her, to offer an olive branch without having to keep apologizing and reminding himself of the terrible thing he’d just done. He acted impulsively, and he knew it. Even after what he just did, he was making the effort to at least try and patch it up.

Ford did the exact same thing.

“I, uhm, I can relate. Kind of.” 

Stan’s eyes lit up for the briefest of moments at the sound of her voice. He didn’t think that would actually work. 

“Uhm..” Jay had to pause. This all felt so foreign to say. She had never related to a human about anything. “About the stealing part. And the not being used to company part.” Stan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Jay sighed. Was she really about to do this?

“I’ve told you a bit about… borrower stuff,” she said, keeping it vague in the hopes that he forgot most of it. “A huge part of the lifestyle – probably the biggest part, really – is the… stealing from humans part.” She gave Stan a chance to insert a witty remark, but he stayed silent. “We basically take anything and everything we can get while they’re not looking. Food, supplies… whatever we can get our hands on. And it gets pretty lonely, because most of us – we travel in small groups, or pairs. It’s not safe to be in a big group. I’ve…” She debated if she wanted to say this, but judging from the small tidbits Stan had revealed, she guessed it wouldn’t be so embarrassing to him. “I’ve been on my own for a while. It’s – well, it’s hard to remember times with other borrowers. I could go weeks without speaking, and it – it would have been normal. This… this is all pretty new to me, too.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s new to me. I know how to handle myself,” Stan interjected, immediately regretting his defensive tone when he saw her exasperated expression. “I mean… that sounds like it was really tough on you.”

Jay huffed a laugh. “Yeah. It was.”

There was an awkward silence as both of them tried to figure out what to say next. Stan was remorseful, and a little freaked out, but he just wanted to feel okay with himself as quickly as possible. He could barely handle the nervous side-eye she was giving him right now, and he wasn’t even doing anything.

“Look, uh, you don’t have t’be scared of me, okay? I did somethin’ stupid, I know I did. I shouldn't have tried to – it was just a reaction. I’m used to havin’ to punch my way outta situations. Sometimes I forget how… tiny you are.” Jay felt her stomach sink at the direct call-out to her size, and she shrank even more as Stan peered at her. “Like, I could breathe on you and hurt you.”

Jay crossed her arms. “Yeah, okay, I get it. Weak and helpless.”

“Well, you’re a pipsqueak, that’s for sure,” Stan said callously before shaking his head. “But no, you – that’s not it, I just – I know this is weird for you, but come on, you gotta admit it’s even weirder for me. Up until a week ago, I didn’t even know something like you even existed. Now I’m talkin’ to a person who can fit in my hand, and you… you’ve been hangin’ around Ford for months. I’m just a… different version of him.” A stupider, worse version of him.

Jay thought about it for a moment. She hated to admit it, but he did have a point. Stan wasn’t the first giant she’s ever dealt with, but she was his first tiny. And he just lost his brother after not seeing him for a long, long time. That was a lot to deal with. She didn’t really know what Stan had been through, but judging from the way he spoke about it… it didn’t seem normal by human standards.

“...I know,” Jay said quietly, sheepishly, but Stan still heard. “And I’m… sorry, for riling you up. I said those things to make myself feel better, because – you may think I have this superiority complex thing, but I mean, how else am I supposed to compete? You… Ford, Fidds, you guys are gigantic. You can do things I can only dream of doing. Hell, you do things I can only dream of without even thinking about it. It’s… hard not to feel worthless in comparison. It’s hard to feel like I even matter.”

Jay immediately flushed red. Why on earth did she just say that? Why was she confiding in Stan? She was saying things she had never even told Ford. This is so embarrassing. He doesn’t care! He doesn’t have sympathy for you! 

But to Jay’s surprise, Stan didn’t laugh at her or make another joke about her size. Instead, he sighed. “Trust me. I know how that feels.” Jay’s look of pure surprise and skepticism told Stan he needed to elaborate. “You only knew my brother for a couplea months, but I spent my entire life with the guy. I grew up in Ford’s shadow. He was the smarty pants know-it-all twin, and I was the trouble-making, dumb twin. My folks cared more about Ford’s homework than whatever I was doing.” Stan stopped himself. The last thing he wanted to do right now was relive this. Why was he even saying this to her? “Hah. Looks like we’re more alike than we thought, pipsqueak.”

Jay crossed her arms. “Woah, let’s not get crazy now,” she said, slightly defensive. But her small smile betrayed her. Stan smiled in return.

“Hah, right.”

Stan rubbed the back of his neck, and after a few seconds of silence, he stood up, ready to leave and be done with this. He said his apology – he said more than he wanted to, in fact – and that was more than enough. The exhaustion was clearly getting to him. He’d slept maybe a total of 10 hours over the past five days. Yeah, that was it. He was just tired, not thinking straight. He needed a good night’s sleep. Maybe a day’s break from code-cracking and journal reading and tiny little people who could sit in his palm would do him some good.

He made his way toward the exit, but stopped at the threshold. Something was nagging at him, and he needed a clear head.

“You, uh… you gonna be alright, kid?”

Jay’s eyes lingered on Stan. Her heartbeat still felt elevated, her breath hitching every time his fingers twitched as he wrung his hands together. The thought of being picked up by him again made her head start rocking. It took everything she had to look up at him, and even then, she could only hold her gaze for a few seconds before the bile started to rise to her throat. She had to take a few concentrated breaths once she realized her breathing was still shaky.

“Yeah,” she said finally. She wasn’t sure how much she meant it.

“Okay,” Stan replied. He wasn’t sure how much he believed her.

Stan stood for a few moments, sorting through his feelings. Nothing about this felt real. It was all happening so fast. But he would go to sleep tonight and wake up in the morning and she’d still be here while Ford was gone. Just like it had been for the last week. Just like it was probably going to be for the foreseeable future. It was stupid, and unfair. But Stan was used to unfair.

He found himself staring, still unable to process how he could barely make out her form among the clutter of the table. If he didn’t know she was there, he wouldn’t have noticed her. He hated how much that freaked him out.

Ugh.

“I, uh, I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

Jay stared straight ahead, then down to the table. Her hooks sat on either side of her. She had tied up enough rope. She had thought everything out. She knew the way out.

But then she looked back up. Stan leaned on the doorframe, hands in his pockets, his expression cautious, his eyes hopeful. He regarded her with curiosity, not disdain. He was waiting for an answer. She let out a long, deep sigh.

“Yeah, Stanley. I’ll see you in the morning.”

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Loyalties chapter 2🔞

Loyalties Masterlist

Simon was almost sure that hell had to be a one month long leave. His skin itches from not being able to rip and maim any targets. His nerves were jumping because he so desperately needed the structure that was base. He could count on training recruits, doing simulations, anything to exercise the testerone from his system. Before he took his leave he had requested another shot of suppressants and was promptly denied by the base doctor. Now that had irritated him to high hell. Didn't they know that his alpha, unless it was chemically sedated, would want to rip and run free, gnash and gnaw until it felt satisfied? It was suggested that he find relief in a barracks bunny, but the snarl that left his mouth told the doctor to shut up. In the end while it wasn't suppressants he was given, he was instead supplied with relaxants that while wouldn't chemically sedate him, it would keep his instincts calm. Simon could at least appreciate that he wouldn't cause issues or lose his carefully crafted control when he was released into the general public. After all, he was certain that Johnny wouldn't want to be bedridden because Simon tore his ass a literal new hole. He and the Scott , while often intimate, never had sex with Simon off of his suppressants. He didn't want to hurt him and couldn't trust himself to not accidentally knot the poor lad.

“Aye, ye okay Simon?”

Simon was brought out of his thoughts and into the present by Johnny. He only offered a grunt for a response and brought his pint to his mouth for another sip of his beer. The pub that they ended up in was the same one they were regulars at when they were in the city. It was always dimly lit, moderately loud, and always a bit more crowded than he liked and the cocktail of scents made his head hurt. But Klye and Johnny fancied the place and Price actually liked the food here, so he didn't complain about being dragged out by his pack mates.

“If you say so Lt.” Kyle shook his head, “Soap and I were thinking we could do a rage room tomorrow night, we heard some of the recruits talking about it.”

Johnny nodded his head, “yea, an hour to just fuck around an’ smash thing!”

Simon thought it was stupid, why pay for the fake experience when they were paid to actually fuck things up during missions? He didn't understand the novelty of it, because Price was agreeing, saying something about “it seems like a good idea.”

His nose twitches as he scents the air, a habit really of unconsciously searching for danger. But the scent of something sweet cuts through the other smells of salt, beer, musk from other alphas. It was pleasing, made his teeth ache in a way it hadn't ached since he met Johnny. His eyes scan the pub looking for even a hint at what it could be. Whatever it was, had caught the eye of several other alphas and a few betas in the pub, both male and female. The hostess, a slip of a thing, had walked by and following after her were three women, all of them omegas. They were talking to each other, and he recognized from how they carried themselves and the accent and the chosen words of referring to the place as a hole in the wall bar, that they were American. All of them had pretty brown skin and two of them were holding hands, while the third followed behind them. If the walkway was wider, he had no doubt that they all would be side by side holding hands and laughing.

The hostess had shown them to the booth that was right next to theirs and Simon watched as Kyle and Johnny caught a whiff of the women. Johnny, was sitting with his back towards the group of omegas, it was adorable how he tried his best to not turn around and gawk at them. His eyes had caught sight of them, but he so desperately wanted to scent the third woman who had walked past their table. John and Simon were seated facing the booth that the women were at, and for the first time in history, he swore he saw his captain’s nostrils actually flare. He wasn't normally the type to scent places openly, he was the type to do so discreetly by just simply breathing, but this was clearly a deep breath.

“Symphony, are you sure Malik and Aaron are gonna be able to find this place?” The woman who had burnt orange hair asked. She was one of the ones that walked in holding the woman with black hair that was cut into a bob by the hand.

“Gloria girl, if they can't follow Google maps, then they should have gotten off work earlier.”

A waitress had come up to the booth, smiled and asked the women what she could start them with. The ones named Symphony and Gloria both looked at the third woman who had her eyes trained on her phone. Simon was watching her closely even as his pack mates continued to chat about the rage room. But it was clear that all four of them were listening, zeroing in on the table of omegas.

“Bambi, the waitress asked you a question.” Symphony had prodded who was clearly the lead in their group.

Bambi. What a sweet and shy name. Simon kept his eyes on her and took her in. Her pretty brown hair faded to a honey blonde, and when she looked up, Simon was greeted with the lightest brown eyes he had ever seen. Her lips were shiny, gloss probably, eyes lined in deep black eyeliner that swooped up and lids painted in a light shiny pink. American omega girls really did things differently, because coming to a regular pub so dressed up seemed overkill.

“We're starting off with tequila shots, two for us each. And we insist that you bring us something good that you recommend.” Bambi's voice was smooth and sweet but also commanded the listener to pay rapt attention.

The waitress, a beta, shivered and wrote down the order. “We have some of the best fish and chips around if you ladies want to try that!”

Bambi looked at her two companions and they nodded along. “Yeah, whatever works, and after our shots the fruitiest drinks on the menu.”

“Are you ladies celebrating something fun tonight?” The waitress asked, she was planning to upsell them.

They all laughed and Bambi nodded her head, “It's my birthday, I just turned twenty-six and me and my pack mates are gonna do a bar crawl. This is our first stop.”

Johnny grinned when he heard that. It was an in to speak to the nice smelling omega in the booth next to them. Who would turn down free shots ordered by handsome men? The waitress wished Bambi a happy birthday and when she went to put the order in Johnny stopped her.

“Aye lassie, the birthday girl, ya send her and her mates another round of shots from us yea?”

The waitress raised an eyebrow and smirked. She was well aware that the table with the foreigners was about to have drinks sent to them left and right from alphas trying for their attention. And she was about to get tips because of it. “Sure thing hun.” And she went to put the orders in.

Johnny looked at Simon, who still hadn't stopped staring at the booth behind them. So badly he wished he sat next to him instead of across because all he could do was smell the sweet scent coming from those women. Underneath it though, he could scent (and Johnny was sure everyone could scent this), the musk of an alpha. Two of those women were off limits and he prayed it wasn't the one that was wearing what had to be the world's shortest pink dress and a cute little sash that says birthday girl.

“Here are your shots,” the waitress had come back with the nine shots of tequila, “your other drinks are being made now.”

“We only ordered six in total.” Symphony had an edge to her voice.

“Oh the gentlemen behind you sent the extra, for the birthday girl.” She explained.

Johnny pulled a few notes out to slip to the waitress as she walked by. All four of them gave the waitress a knowing look, no other drinks were to be sent to that table unless it was them sending it. The woman of the hour laughed and finally looked directly at Simon and her gorgeous brown eyes slid over to Price.

“Symphony, switch places with me.” Bambi stood up and the woman with the burnt orange hair got up and traded places with her. The two of them traded spots, and Simon and John watched as the girls cheered.

“To twenty-six years and counting! Bless me and bless the shots!” Bambi then downed the shots, three of them back to back. When she was done she turned in her seat and leaned between Johnny and Kyle. She folded her arms across the back of the booth.

Kyle, who had been busy talking, stopped abruptly and turned slightly. “Good evenin’ lass”

“Which one of you darling men sent me and my sisters the extra shots?” She smiled and her eyes were half lidded. With her this close up they could now discern that the musk that accompanied a claimed omega was absent on her.

“From us all yea.” Johnny smiled, “Names Johnny, that's Kyle, John and Simon.” He was all bright and friendly. Simon knew that his boy was going to try his damndest to fuck her this evening (if they were all lucky they would all get a turn, even if that would be a bad idea). He could scent the underlying hint of arousal from him.

“Aw thank you, I'm Bambi.”

“Like the deer?” Johnny teased.

“Maybe,” she batted her eyelashes at him, “but I've been told it's a variant of Bambina. But either way it's a name that sounds good being said when a person cums.”

The sweet voice didn't match the dirty words at all. Johnny's smile widened and Kyle turned to face the girl completely. John cleared his throat, unable to believe she had said that out loud (he was a traditional alpha, and often thought that while omegas garnered respect, they were supposed to be sweet and shy. Bambi was clearly not that.)

Simon however wished he hadn't put his surgical mask back on because he wanted a stronger hit of the arousal that wafted from Johnny, Kyle and Bambi.

“Aren't ye a tease.” Johnny laughed, “how long ye be in England for?”

“Hmm, we're immigrants, following my brother here for work.” She answered carefully.

She was hinting that she was not claimed and the pack she was in was headed by family. She looked at John and smiled. “Love the facial hair set up, it's a very unique and handsome look.”

“Thank you sweetie. I hope you're going to be safe this evening.” John smiled as he brought his mug to his lips.

“I'll be safe.” She watched his neck closely as his adam's apple bobbed while he drank his beer. Smart girl, she already figured out who the alpha of this pack was despite them all having that as a second gender. She licked her lips as she kept eye contact with John and then slowly those brown eyes landed on Simon.

It's rare that Simon feels unrestrained lust at the drop of a pin, but when she looked at him his alpha wanted to desperately growl and find a way to claim her. There was electricity between the five of them and Simon for a second was glad he had the relaxants to help him reel in his instincts (if he had suppressants he wouldn't be able to experience this and all of the full context of this encounter. He's glad he didn't get a suppressant shot). He kept her gaze and nodded his head only once in acknowledgement. She smiled sweetly, pleased at him.

“Bambi, Malik said that he is lost!” The tension was effectively cut as Symphony got her sister’s attention. “The dummy said he can't find the damn bar!”

Bambi rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder, “Did you drop a location pin?”

“I did, but you know he's with Aaron and that damn Aaron is probably leading the way.” Symphony sighed. “He wants one of us to wait outside for them.”

Bambi sighed and slid from her booth. “I'll go outside, you two sit tight and pretty.” She then looked back at John with a sly smile on her face.

John already had one of his infinite cigars out and standing to follow after her. Johnny had a shit eating grin on his face and so did Kyle. Simon was mulling over quietly if he was going to even try to fuck the omega with his pack mates. And boy was that a fucking thought, he declined a barrack bunny, but a nice smelling omega that he just barely met, was where he was willing to cross the line?

There was the sound of a throat clearing and Gloria was looking at the three of them. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, “I hope you fellas don't think Bambi is gonna give it up right away.”

Johnny frowned, deciding to play dumb, “Nae ‘ure what ye are talkin’ bout.”

“Bambi likes to flirt and tease, and you buying us those shots puts you all on her radar.” She chuckled, “if she likes whatever your alpha says to her, then I'm sure you'll all have her number and be in a group chat before the night is over.”

“Does she act like this often?" Kyle asked.

“Hmm, no.” She looked at Symphony, “Sym, when was the last time Bambi even showed intrigue in another alpha?”

“Two years ago I think, and that ended because the alpha didn't like the idea of her calling the shots and at the same time demanded and tried to force her submission.” Symphony shook her head, her eyes still trained on her phone, “I'll be straight up honest, if you just want to get your knots wet be upfront with her. Can't promise she'll go for that though.”

Outside Bambi took in a breath of the early night air. Inside the bar it was suffocating with so many scents, but outside was where she could finally get a clear smell of one of the alphas that caught her attention. John seemed older than what she normally went for. His beard was the first thing she noticed, she was a sucker for facial hair. The smoky scent of his cigar paired with the natural woodsy fresh air that came from him, made her stomach flutter. She leaned against the side of the building and watched as he lit his cigar and took a slow drag from it. He was tall, not as bulky as the one in the black hoodie and black surgical mask. But his muscles were defined. Actually all of them were quite larger than average, not in a body builder way but in a kept physically fit way.

“Who exactly got lost?” He asked her as he exhaled the smoke in rings.

‘What a show off.’ Bambi smiled to herself.

“My older brothers are lost.” She giggled, “they wouldn't be able to find their way out of a paper bag.”

He chuckled and nodded his head, “how are you liking it here so far?”

“I like it alot actually. My folks used to vacation here during the summer and anytime my father needed to check on his business here. You ever heard of Temple Ballistics and Weaponry?”

John looked at her with a raised brow and nodded his head, “I have sweet heart.”

“Yeah, my brother is the CEO and we moved here for his work.” She shrugged her shoulders and shuffled closer to him. She very obviously took a deep breath and stared up at him.

John took a deep breath as well, enjoying the sweet scent of her. She obviously was going to be trouble and knew it. Personally in the past he went for the more demure and shy omegas but something about her scent and flirty personality drew him in. He supposed it was multiple layers of cultural differences that he was already starting to like. He knew American omegas in general were more open and forward, African American omegas from what he heard tended to take charge and demand that their submission be earned. She was not going to just roll over and let him and his pack claim her, not without them asserting dominance.

“What do you do for work?” Bambi asked, “I actually work as a public relations specialist.”

“You do PR?”

“Yes, my other brother and a few of his friends need my services. But I mostly do freelance.”

“I'm in the military. Can't say much more than that.” John smiled down at her.

“Hmm,” she leaned up off the wall and faced him completely. She was sizing him up, her gaze drifting down to his chest and then right before she got to his waist, those brown eyes were back on his. “You don't sit behind a desk do you?”

“Not often, no.” John thought she was a smart girl. And observant to boot. He finally took in her full body, she was thick like most omegas, her thighs looked soft and jiggly. She had a slight stomach pooch that was just barely noticeable in the short pale pink dress she wore. Her legs were bare and seemed to go on forever due to her matching pink platform pumps. Nothing about her was traditional, but John knew he was willing to overlook that. He was willing to do that because she was a deviation from the norm that he has experienced. That and the fact that she was sending his alpha howling, it made his blood run hot and he needed to know why. Why was she different?

“And I suspect the other three are what both your pack mates and subordinates?”

Another drag of his cigar and slow exhale, “How do you figure that?”

“You military men are all the same. You form packs based on rank and relationships built through training and battle.” She nodded her head like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Do you know anyone in the military?” He asked.

“No, but my brother does and I've heard stories from him, especially when he talks about the contracts he's allowed to complain about.” She laughed.

“You're a smart girl.” John was surprised when she preened from his compliment, the soft trill of a purr made him lean in closer to her. He was gently invading her space, backing her up to the wall again. Trying to subtly test the waters. His alpha was scratching at the back of his mind, quietly pleased by her response to him.

“I know I am John.” She placed a dainty manicured hand against his chest. Gripping his shirt and pulling him forward and closer. She wanted him to invade her space, blocking her from the view of people passing by them.

“You are certainly going to be trouble aren't you?” He whispered as he leaned in closer to her. She tilted her head up, but was careful not to lean over and expose her scent gland too much. Bambi, he realizes, will not be offering that to him unless he and his boys worked for it.

“Maybe I can be trouble for you and your pack.” Bambi was doing her best to suppress the shiver from John being so close. There were not very many alphas that she was attracted to, but when passed by his table she knew she had to at least try. She blamed it on the fact that her mother and father's and her uncle's dynamics set the bar high. And seeing how her brothers treated Gloria and Symphony over the past years made her want the same thing. But most alphas, be they men or women, always fell short of her expectations. John and his group looked like they may be able to successfully earn her submission and understand that she would not just be rolling the fuck over. They seemed strong, disciplined and they all probably worked well together.

John placed his free hand on her cheek and then slowly slid it down to just straight up hold her neck. He didn't apply pressure, just held her, just to feel her pulse quicken. His alpha was screaming at him to just mark her, pleased that she was even letting him do this. It's never acted up like this before. He glanced down at her lips and then back at her eyes. “What exactly is your scent Bambi?”

“I've been told I smell like cocoa butter with a hint of vanilla.” She whispered as she stared up at him with doe-like eyes.

Fuck he wanted to kiss her and then press his nose against her neck.

“BamBam we found you!”

Bambi snapped her head to the right and pushed John away from her gently. Coming down the sidewalk, finally were her three brothers instead of two. She scowled at the fact that they ruined her moment with John. Actually, why were all three of her brothers here? She was only expecting two. John took a respectful couple of steps away from her and breathed in deep. The cool air around them both smelt slightly of arousal and he was sure the three men approaching them could smell it too.

“BamBam, just for the record, we would have been here sooner if it wasn't for Aaron.” The young man who had shoulder length dreads smiled and scratched the back of his head.

“Way to throw me under the bus Malik.” The other young man who was tall but slender punched Malik in the arm. “If we didn't take a detour to grab Xavier even though he said he didn't want to come, we would have been here earlier.”

The last one, who was wearing a black balaclava (there was a heart and a flower stitched on the right cheek of the fabric), was staring directly at John. He didn't look too happy about what they all stumbled on. Out of the three alphas, he was the only one that was somewhat bulked up. They were all quite tall but the two that were arguing were lithe in their build.

“For fucks sake.” Bambi sighed and their petty arguing stopped, “get your asses inside, I'll be there in a moment and we can get the night going.”

Malik and Aaron, John assumed both looked at Bambi and muttered fine. They gave John a once over but did not say anything and just went inside. The only one not moving was the one in the balaclava. He slowly looked towards Bambi, a low rumble of a growl could be heard. It made his back straighten and John put out his cigar, but before he could say anything to diffuse the situation Bambi spoke up.

“Xavier, glad to have you but I really don't need an opinion.” Bambi was no longer the sweet and flirty woman from even five minutes ago. She was commanding the alphas in her pack. Xavier huffed, shoved his hands into his pant pockets and meandered inside.

John found it to be a strange dynamic. He wasn't sure how his boys would handle a bossy little omega. He could imagine Soap would lean into it seeing as how he came from a family of women. Maybe his Kyle would tolerate it. But Simon and him would want her to know who was in charge at all times. Then again, siblings in a pack wouldn't need to earn or give submission and dynamics looked different in packs where the parents weren't around.

“Sorry about them, they don't know how to mind their manners or business.” She turned her sweet smile back at him. “Can I have your number John?” Once again she batted her eyelashes up at him and he found himself helpless to say anything other than yes.

So they exchanged numbers, he watched as she put a cute pink heart next to his name. “If this is the type of pack that I think it is, share my number with the rest of them.”

“Will do Miss Bambi.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek before she went back into the pub. John immediately sent the contact information to the group chat and right after made a group chat with the five of them.

[yuyuyunnie]

Beyond Bag End | C.JH

pairings: hobbit! jongho x hobbit! reader (fem)

summary: Before heading on an adventure to rid of the ring that was meant to be ruined years ago, Jongho has some choice words, and actions, before you take off on your once-in-a-lifetime journey.

warnings: literally soft sex with jongho, unprotected sex (pls wrap up!), slight name calling from other characters and jongho, talks of dying but not crazy

word count: 5.2k

Author's note: If you are into The Hobbit or LOTR franchise at all, please—I beg of you—DO NOT imagine Jongho's feet as normal hobbit feet! That will be the one thing I don't do right 😭.

p.s. i also shamelessly listened to I Don't Understand But I Luv U by Seventeen and it changed me.

⁂𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽⁂

Your finger twirled the golden ring, the wind blowing your hair as you sat on the hill leading to the Shire. The ancient writing on the ring glowed, your eyes studying the small script. To your dismay, you came upon this ring after sifting through your cousin's home. Ironically, you were related to the Baggins, and you came from the Took side of the family. 

Frodo left plenty of items in his home when he left with Bilbo for the Undying Lands. You were shocked to see the ring fall out of the book that Frodo had completed. The leather was worn, the edges ruffled as if Bilbo clung to the book for dear life. In the back few pages where Frodo had filled the rest of the book out of his adventures with Samwise, Merry, and Pippin, you came across a little hole, the perfect size of a ring carved with a small blade. 

Everyone knew of the story. Bilbo went on his adventures with the dwarves and Gandalf. Years later Frodo went on a journey himself to destroy the ring that Bilbo stole from Gollum, and from what you heard, as years have passed, Frodo supposedly tossed the ring into the fires of Mount Doom, along with Gollum, but, here you were, sitting on the grassy fields with the ring sitting heavily in your hand. 

You huffed, shoving the ring back into the pocket of your skirt. Why did Frodo keep the ring? You had so many questions and the one person to ask was miles away in the Undying Lands. You never knew if Bilbo passed—or even Frodo for that matter—but you had to figure out why the ring continues to haunt your family. 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you trek back into the small town. The chatter was nonstop; Hobbits tending to their gardens, smoking pipes, having their second breakfasts, and living peaceful lives. You were tired of this mundane life; living the same day every single day and nothing new happening. You admired the stories of Bilbo and Frodo growing up, wishing you could experience what they did—and by that, you mean leaving the Shire. 

You made your way back up to your home, your garden looking terrible compared to everyone around you. Your tulips were sulking, your daisies thirsty, and your vines curling into themselves. In all honesty, you needed to come out here and tend to the poor things but you had no motivation. Ever since finding the ring a month ago, your mind has stayed on the golden piece. 

‘And there the ring went, down into the flaming mouth and Gollum along with it. I have done it, for now, we are safe and sound.’

“Gone down the mouth my butt,” You grumbled, pushing your door open. 

The sun was hitting your stained windows perfectly, and your floors were different shades of color. Your home was quiet, the plants inside needing just as much tender care as the ones outside. Your eyes drifted to your kitchen, the thick red leather book on your table. If your mother knew that you had this book—had the ring at that—she would personally throw you into the flames of Mount Doom. Your mother was never too fond of the Baggins side of her family. She said all they did was cause trouble and bring bad luck with them wherever they went. 

You thought differently. 

You yearned for the life that Bilbo and Frodo endured. You longed for an adventure outside of the Shire and you yearned for friendship as they had. You have friends, just one to be exact. Jongho has been your friend since you were children and has never left your side. You two were inseparable and still are to this day. 

You did have a slight crush on him, but only you knew.

Jongho was taller than the average Hobbit, his broad body towering over many. You’re not too sure what his mother fed him when he was young, but he definitely stood out from everyone else. However, with his larger frame, Jongho was the most tenderest Hobbit you have ever come across. He was sweet, helped in your garden, was by your side 24/7 when your mother passed, and helped you stay afloat. He was truly the best thing that has ever happened to you. 

Tearing up at the thought, you plopped down in front of the book. Your fingers traced over the lettering, ‘Red Book of Westmarch’ trembles going through you. Flicking to the back of the book, your eyes bore into the perfectly cut circle before a loud BANG interrupted your thoughts. 

“You know, you really need to tend to your garden or else everything will die,”

Jongho’s voice rang throughout your home. You let out a quiet squeal, dropping the ring back into the book before slamming it shut. Jongho walked into your dining room, his eyebrow flicked up, his eyes falling onto the book. 

“How many more times are you going to read that book?”

“As many—“

“Honestly, you could probably relive everything that Bilbo and Frodo did with how many times you’ve read the book. Better yet, you could probably—“

“Jongho,” You cut him off, your eyes glaring at him as he plopped down in the chair beside you, “I feel very connected with my family when reading this,” 

“A family line that ended,” He said quietly, his hand laying on top of yours gently. 

Your heart fluttered at the contact. You and Jongho have held hands, hugged, and cuddled, your body should be used to his touch, but here recently sparks keep shooting throughout, making you feel warm. 

“What’s so wrong with me reading up on my family history?” You retorted. 

He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back into his chair, taking his warm hand with him.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, but you know how the Shire feels about your family. Especially Bilbo and Frodo. You know, sweet Mary-Ann is afraid that you’ll take off on an adventure yourself,” He chuckled. 

If only, you thought to yourself. Letting out a loud huff, you prop your chin up on your hand, your eyes gazing at the book once more. Your hand itched where the ring sat for so long. Is this how Frodo felt when Bilbo left the ring for him after disappearing at his 111th birthday party? You were a mere child then, not too aware of who Bilbo and Frodo were. Your family kept their disappearances a secret, never telling you of the great adventures. 

“Would it be so bad?” You mumbled, cutting your eyes to him. 

He scoffed, “You? Going off frolicking in the fields, killings orcs and riding off with a wizard in the sunset? Yeah, no.” He shook his head, letting out a sweet laugh, “You’re much safer here, in the Shire, staying in Bag End with me,” He whispered the last part, his hand falling on top of yours again. 

Your eyes fell onto your hands, your hand fitting so perfectly underneath his. Jongho was right but you would never let him know. You’ve longed for an adventure for so long, but could you do it? Could you manage leaving Bag End and going off to do god knows what? 

“Jongho,” You whispered, turning your eyes back to him, “There something I have to show you.” 

“Oh,” He quipped, “What is it?” 

Your heart started pounding, your ears feeling like they’re on fire. You gently remove your hand from under his and grip the leather book. Your finger tips burned; pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you peeled the book back open and landed on the page where the ring sat comfortably, snug. 

“A ring?” He quirked his eyebrow once again, “And I assume this is…”

“It’s the ring, Jongho,”

“The ring?” He sounded confused, dumb even. You wanted to smack your hand against your forehead, but you saved the dramatics. 

“Jongho, the ring that Frodo supposedly tossed into the flames of Mount Doom and destroyed. This,” You grabbed the ring., “is the ring.” 

Jongho gulped, his eyes enlarged at the sight of the ring. He knew of the stories, knew of Bilbo fighting off the dragon and Frodo riding Samwise’s back up to the top of Mount Doom. Everyone in the Shire knew of the tales in some shape or form. Could he believe that the ring was right here, in front of him? No, but here it was, twinkling in-between your little fingers. 

“Are you sure?” He whispered, tugging at his shirt. 

You nodded, eyes falling back onto the lettering that was now glowing a red shade. Your mind tingled, begging for you to slip the ring on and see what Bilbo and Frodo seen so many years ago, but you grunted, dropping the ring back into the book before shutting it closed. 

“I thought Frodo tossed it into the fires of Mount Doom?” He gulped, eyeing the leather bound book. 

You sighed, leaning back into your chair, “I thought so too, but clearly he didn’t.” 

You both stared at the book, all you could hear were the birds chirping outside and the slight shuffling of Jongho as his mind went a thousand miles per hour.

Weeks have passed since you showed Jongho the ring. He left your place in a panic, stumbling over his words as he stumbled out. You've never seen Jongho so flustered, not since that one time he glanced at your naked body behind your home, but that was years ago! Jongho was your only person and now it feels like you have no one. 

You pulled harshly at the weeds that flourished in your garden over the few weeks you neglected it—due to the Jongho incident of course—and small mutters left your mouth. 

“This is why I stay to myself,” You grumbled, ripping another weed from the soil, “Mind my own business! That’s what I’ll do from here on out—“

“I'm afraid that won’t be happening,” 

Your eyes widened, your head slowly turning around. A tall elder gentleman stood behind you, his body blocking the warm sun from your body. You cocked your head to the side, your eyes taking in his figure before everything clicked.

Oh, fuck me.

“And you are?” You could barely get that question out, your throat closing at the realization. 

“I believe there is no reason for any introduction, but if I must, I am Gandalf the White.” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Of course Gandalf would be here, at your doorstep; probably here to send you on a god forsaken quest, but that’s what you wanted right? 

You huffed, pushing yourself up off the ground, wiping your hands off on your apron. 

“YN Took,” You sent him a curt smile.

He smiled, “I know who you are. May I come in?” 

Gandalf took it upon himself to let himself in your home, whether you wanted him in there or not. Your mouth gaped open, awed at the audacity of the older man. You rolled your eyes, followed behind, and shut the door, watching Gandalf take in his surroundings. You didn’t say anything, you didn’t know what to say. What if he unleashes some sort of spell on you for having the ring? It’s not like you went out and sought for the damned thing. 

“I assume you know why I’m here,” His gaze fell onto you, his eyebrow quirked up. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” 

Before Gandalf could retaliate, your door flung open and Jongho stood there, panting and red in the face. Anger completely took over your body, wanting to cuss him out for ignoring you for weeks. 

“YN you won’t believe it! There’s a weird, taller older man here that looks just like—oh,”

Jongho’s eyes laid on Gandalf who sent him a smile, a deep rumble of laughter leaving his chest. Jongho’s ears turned a deep shade of red, a small ‘sorry’ leaving his lips as he shut the door. 

“Now where was I,” Gandalf hummed, “Don’t act stupid, YN Took, you know exactly why I’m here. Where is it? Where’s the ring?” 

You fidgeted, your fingers picking at each other as you weighed out your options. If you give the ring to Gandalf, all your troubles will be gone! If you refuse to tell Gandalf, then what if he cast a spell on you? Or, what if he knows where the ring is but is seeing if you will cooperate? What if—

“It’s in that red book over there,” Jongho quipped, pointing over to your kitchen table. 

“Jongho,” You hissed, swatting at him. 

Gandalf turned swiftly, taking three large steps, grabbing the book, flipping through the pages before coming to a halt. His breath hitched, his fingers trembling as he pulled the ring out from its hiding spot. You gulped, your eyes frantically watching as Gandalf studied the gold piece. The air was thick with silence, nobody said anything, who could? 

You took a tiny step forward, the feeling of Jongho’s eyes boring into your back. A wave of possessiveness overcame you, your body aching for the gold ring to stay here, with you, safe in Bag End. 

“Alright,” Gandalf huffed, shutting the leather book and tucking the ring into his pocket, “I will be heading out now,” 

With no goodbyes, Gandalf shoved past you and Jongho and made his way down your stone path. A low growl emitted through your throat, with clenched fist you followed behind Gandalf, faint calls of your name following behind you. 

“You can’t just take that!” You erupted, “Frodo left that here with me for a reason!” 

Gandalf came to a halt, his white hair flowing faintly in the wind. The air was thick with tension, your body growing hotter with the thought of Gandalf taking the ring away from you. Frodo left this ring for a reason and you’ve been taking care of it for months, not letting anyone know of the secret hidden inside your hobbit hole. 

“You Took’s are quite bold at times,” He chuckled, turning around to face you, “Do you know what dangers you have had tucked away in your home, YN? Frodo was dumb to not let this go into the fires of Mount Doom. The journey itself almost killed Frodo. He’s a fool for leaving this in the hands of another family member. You Took’s are a fool,” 

You were fuming, your nails digging into your palm as you bit your tongue. The faint touch of Jongho’s hand on the small of your back sent waves of calmness throughout your body. His thumb rubbed at your lower back gently.

Here we go, you thought. 

“Let me go with you then, to Mount Doom, or wherever you plan on taking the ring,” 

Your sentence felt rushed, and eager, and all this brought was a low chuckle from Gandalf and a quick shake of his head. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of another trip, another journey with the same family. It’s like he couldn’t get rid of you hobbits. Gandalf has kept a keen eye on you, your family, and your surroundings for years. He knew Frodo didn’t toss the ring into the fire. He knew the dangers that Frodo brought along to his family, but he didn’t expect to see a feisty, young hobbit like yourself be the new bearer of the ring. 

His fingers gripped his cane, “I’m sure you know of the dangers?”

You quickly nodded, stepping forward, the feeling of Jongho’s fingers leaving your back. 

“YN,” He mumbled, taking a step forward, wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

“I think you two need to do some talking,” Gandalf sent a small smile, “If you decide to come with me on this journey, meet me at the Prancing Pony Inn, and talk to Azo, he will know what to do,” 

Tipping the brim of his hat, Gandalf set off, leaving you there with a fuming Jongho. 

The air was thick, and silence hung between you and Jongho. Your fingers traced the rim of your cup, your eyes boring into the table as Jongho’s bore into you. You’ve never felt this kind of rage from your best friend, this thick tension. You could slice it with a knife, cutting through multiple layers. You’ve been waiting for a chance like this to come your way. You’ve been eager to leave the safety of Bag End to experience what your family did. You knew you made the right choice. 

Jongho’s jaw clenched, his mind going a thousand miles per hour. He couldn’t stand thinking about you walking away to your death. What if you didn’t come back? What if you get caught by an orc and he’s not there to save you? There have been plenty of times when Jongho had to rescue you from some sort of situation that you put yourself in. Jongho felt like your protector whether you knew that or not. 

His fingers twitched, your precious face seemed clueless to the dangers you were putting yourself in. Your cheeks were rosy, your eyes filled with wonder, the gentle waves of your hair cascading down your shoulders, your dress clinging to your chest tightly. How could someone as sweet and perfect as you go to the fiery pits of hell? 

Letting out a slow breath, Jongho finally spoke, “I think this is a bad idea, YN”

Your eyes fell onto him, his brown eyes boring back into yours. His black hair fell messily into his eyes, his plump lips swollen from the constant nibbling while thoughts rampaged through his mind. Your heart fluttered at the sight, blushing at the intense stare-off between you two. If you didn’t know the anger that Jongho had with you right now, you’d pounce on him. You don’t know if the feelings are reciprocated, but something about Jongho being mad at you sends warmth throughout your body. 

“Jongho,” You breathed out, “You know how bad I’ve been wanting to leave the Shire—“

“Not to go to your death, YN!” He yelled causing you to jump at the suddenness, “You’re absolutely stupid if you decide to go with Gandalf!” 

“I’m not though,” You whispered, your feelings shattered at him calling you stupid. “I want to finish my family’s curse once and for all, can’t you understand that?” 

You looked at him with pleading eyes. A soft grunt left his lips as he turned his fixated gaze onto something else in your home. He couldn’t stand hurting your feelings, let alone make you look at him the way you’re looking at him now. It caused his stomach to stir, his dick twitching at the thought of you looking at him like that underneath him, all sprawled out. 

“Jongho, please,” You whispered, your hand resting on top of his.

His eyes jerked over, and his breath hitched in his throat. He felt like his body was going to explode. Taking a deep breath, Jongho finally looked up at you. Your bottom lip was slightly pouted, glistening from the afternoon sunlight. How could he say no? 

“You’re reckless,” He whispered, his eyes twitched as they filled with tears. 

You sighed, pushing yourself up from your chair, your legs taking you over to him. Taking in your body in front of him, Jongho stared up at you, licking his plump lips as he took you in. Fuck, he thought, his dick strained in his pants, your precious eyes not noticing the bulge growing.

“You know you love me,” You smiled at him, reaching your hands out, silently asking for a warm hung from him. 

Jongho hissed, “I can’t,” He mumbled, gripping the side of his pants. 

“What?” 

You cocked your head to the side before your eyes fell down to where his eyes lingered. A small gasp left your lips, your eyes widening at the view before you. 

“Jongho-“

“Fuck, YN,” He growled standing up, “I’ve loved you for years,” He started, his hands came to cup your face, your cheeks filling his hands perfectly, “I can’t sit here and watch the love of my life walk away to her possible death,” He breathed out, tears falling silently. 

You didn’t know what to say, your words caught in the back of your throat. He felt the same way. Jongho felt the same way as you. You brought your hands up, cupping Jongho’s. You studied his face, the tip of his nose turning a slight rose color from him holding in his tears. 

“You love me like that?” You asked quietly, letting a low giggle slip. 

He rolled his eyes, “Please kiss me,” He whispered. 

You couldn’t make the move first if you wanted to, Jongho slammed his lips against yours, moving rhythmically against yours. His plush lips felt so warm against yours, a soft moan rumbling through your throat, Jongho swallowing them. His hands fell down to your waist, pulling you into him, his growing bulge pressing against your tummy. You gasped at the feeling, Jongho took this opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, skimming your mouth. 

“I need you now,” He whimpered, his hands gripping your waist, definitely leaving bruises. 

You nodded swiftly, wrapping your hand with his, dragging him to your all too familiar bedroom. Jongho knew your home like the back of his hand. He’d move in if he could, stay here with you, forever. His body was burning with desire, his fingers tingling at the feeling of your hand wrapped around his. He couldn’t believe that you reciprocated, that you were dragging him to your bedroom, whimpering like that to him. His mind was fuzzy, his heart thumping, his ears loud with the beat. 

Coming to a halt, you quickly kick off your boots, Jongho following right behind. Your body felt relief it was finally getting what it has been yearning for longer than the ring. You were finally making love with the man of your dreams. Granted you would have done this in different circumstances but, due to what has happened, this felt only right because what if he’s right? What if you don’t make it back alive?

“You’re so beautiful,” Jongho mumbled, his fingers untying your corset, your breast slightly falling as the corset came off. 

Pulling your shirt off and tugging your skirt down, you were bare. You stood there, the afternoon sun beaming on your skin, soaking in the warmth. Jongho stopped breathing, his eyes soaking in your naked form. You were beautiful. Your wavy hair falling down to the middle of your back, your peach fuzz glistening in the light, goosebumps rising over your body at the mixture of warmth and cold. 

You glanced back, taking in the shocked expression of Jongho before smirking, laying down on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

“Don’t act so shocked, Jongie,” You whispered, “You’ve seen me naked before,”

He blushed, tugging his shirt over his head, his torso coming into full view. You sighed, mesmerized at his form. Jongho helped around town lifting heavy objects, building doors, barns, all the heavy lifting. God did it showed. 

“That was by mistake.” He smirked, climbing onto the bed, his large frame hovering over you, “And I thought about it for months,” He whispered, bringing his lips back down to yours.

Soft kisses were exchanged between you and quiet ‘I love you’s’ mixed in there. Taking his hand, Jongho traced down your body, feeling the smooth skin on his hands, his cock aching at the touch. Pushing his knee back, Jongho placed it between your thighs, wedging it in between the soft skin so his hand could finally find your soaking cunt. 

You slung your head back, the feeling of his fingers tracing your slick folds sending you into oblivion. Jongho traced small circles around your lips, spreading the sticky wetness around. 

“Fuck,” You whimpered, picking your head back up, staring at Jongho who was staring down at your soaking pussy. 

“Fuck is right,” He mumbled, dipping his finger into your cunt. 

A yelp escaped your lips, the feeling of his finger stroking your insides causing your brain to stir. Glancing up at you, Jongho smiled softly, pressing another finger into, scissoring his way in, stretching you out to fit your pretty pussy around his cock. His mouth salivated at the sight of your cunt sucking his fingers back in every time he pulled out. God, you were beautiful, ethereal, and here you were, all spread out for him. 

“Want me to eat you out, baby?” 

Your pussy clenched at the pet name, a quick nod and a soft whimpered followed. Jongho smirked before shuffling himself between your thighs. His nose skimmed your soft thighs, his lips pressing delicate kisses, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Your nipples hardened at the feeling, your hands coming to rest in his soft, thick locks. 

Jongho nuzzled his nose against your throbbing clit, your body jerking at the sudden touch. 

“Relax, baby,” He whispered, peppering sweet kisses along your drenched lips, “Let me take care of you like I always do, like I was born to do,” 

Your heart fluttered and so did your pussy at the obvious confession. Jongho licked his lips before pressing them against your clit, sucking on the sweet pearl. Gasping, your slightly arched your back, the feeling becoming too intense with Jongho softly fucking you with his fingers. 

“Hold still,” He mumbled against your folds, bringing his arm up to hold your hips down. 

Whimpering, you softly ground your wet pussy against his face, his lips sucking at you, loud slurps filled the room as he finger fucked you to your orgasm. 

Loud moans fill the room, your eyes filled with black dots as you rode out your orgasm.

“That’s it, baby, use my face,” He mumbled, kitten licking your clit as his fingers came to a halt inside you. 

Propping yourself up, you caught Jongho sucking on his fingers. His big, brown eyes gazing back at you as his tongue swirled around them. 

“Oh fuck,” You whispered, in awe at the sight between your legs. 

Pulling his fingers out with a loud pop, Jongho pushed himself off the bed, his dick suffocating in his pants. Smirking at you, Jongho pulled his pants down, his dick smacking against his stomach. Your mouth dropped open, your mouth salivating at the sight of him. His tip was scorching red, precum coating the tip, shining in the light. You sat up, ready to push yourself off the bed but Jongho stopped you, gently pushing you back. 

“That can wait,” He breathed out, his hand gripping his throbbing cock, a faint whimper passing his lips, “I need to feel you around me, baby” 

You licked your lips, nodding before laying back down. Jongho gazed down at you, his eyes filled with love and lust. You looked beautiful underneath him, just as he had imagined. Your breast rose with each breath you took, goosebumps surrounding your perked nipples. Bending down, Jongho took a nipple in his mouth, sucking on the sweet mounds, abandoning his dick to grip at the other breast. A soft moan passed your lips, your legs wrapped around his waist as he took his time with your nipples, switching back and forth from each one. 

His dick twitched at your entrance, your legs wrapped around him bringing your soaking cunt closer to him. He couldn’t wait any longer, not when you were whiny and needy underneath him. Abandoning your breast, Jongho gripped his dick, swiping his dick up and down your folds, coating his tip in your essence. 

“Want me to fuck you, baby?” 

You nodded, wiggling your hips as he continued to circle your clit with his tip. He tsked, smacking the side of your thigh, “I need to hear you, sweet girl.” 

“I-I want you to fuck me, Jongho,” You breathed out, your pussy fluttering at the smack. 

“Good girl,” He whispered. 

Wrapping an arm underneath the bend of your knee, Jongho pressed himself into your sopping entrance, pushing himself in slowly, your warmth surrounding him. A long, drawled out moan left his lips as your pussy swallowed him completely.

“Fuck,” He groaned, pushing himself all the way to your cervix, your pussy clenching at the feeling, “You feel so good around me.” He whined, his hips jerked. 

You couldn’t respond, your body in full bliss at the feeling of being filled to the brim with his dick. As if on cue, Jongho started rocking his hips, slowly, and passionately as he soaked you all in. His eyes hazed, staring down at your body as it jumped with every thrust. He couldn’t handle himself. With the sight of your breast bouncing with each thrust, your lips parted and soft whines tumbling out, Jongho started ramming himself in you. The obscene sound of your pussy squelching around his cock filled the room. 

Your body was overcome with goosebumps, all you could feel was intense pleasure as Jongho made love to you. Panting, Jongho brought his fingers down to your clit, rubbing quick but soft circles around your swollen pearl. 

“Jongho,” You drawled out, your back slowly arching, “I’m about to cum,” You whined, gripping  bicep. 

Jongho smirked, leaning over slamming his lips against yours. Wrapping your hands around his neck, lacing your fingers in the hairs that settled in the back, Jongho groaned at the feeling and started speeding up, his thrusts and fingers going the same speed, sending you into a complete spiral. 

“Come on, my sweet girl, cum for me. Cum around my cock and show me how much you love me, please,” He whined the last part, sending you into your orgasm. 

Your back arched into his chest, a long, drawled out moan escaped your lips as Jongho pressed light kisses along your jawline. 

“That’s it baby,” He grunted, trying to hold himself together, “Cum around my cock,” 

With a few more thrust, Jongho moaned, his seed feeling you to the brim as you still rode out your own orgasm. Soft pants filled your room as you both came down from your high, Jonah’s body laid on top of yours, your hand softly caressing his head. 

“Fuck,” You whispered, tucking a few of his longer hairs behind his ear, rubbing your thumb against his cheek. 

“That was amazing,” He mumbled, staring up at you. 

Jongho pulled out, his cum flowing out after. The sun has finally set, the moon now glowing on Jongho’s naked body. You were in awe of him and what just happened between you two. As if he didn’t notice, Jongho got dressed and headed to your bathroom, bringing a rag back to clean you up. 

“You know,” He mumbled, tossing the rag to the side and folding your blanket onto your naked body, “If you go, I’m coming with you,” 

He flopped down beside you, propping his head up on his hand as he stared down at you. You took in his rosy cheeks, his swollen lips, and messy hair.  God he was beautiful. 

“You sure?” You whispered, caressing his hand that was laying on top of your stomach. 

“Looks like we’re going on an adventure,” 

© yuyuyunnie, 2024.

[centrally-unplanned]

This article on how the Teamster's union turned away from the Dems and couldn't even endorse Biden/Harris due to a split membership reminds me of a point I wanted to spell out more explicitly. As the article details, the self-reported issues (which aren't 100% reliable but are perfectly valuable) that caused "switch" voters were increasingly cultural ones, people actively opposing liberal values and all that. At this point the data is quite firm on this point, this is just data source #871 I have read of swing voters talking about these as priorities, so for now I am operating as it being true.

You can imagine an ideal democracy as one composed of voters who vote based on enlightened altruism. They have a sophisticated understanding of how politics and policy works, only value the collective, and their choices aim to maximize utility or uphold moral axioms or whatever. Most votes are unanimous as you can imagine, and everything is great. You also will never have this.

But paradoxically, you can argue the opposite is also quite good; a system where every voter is a selfish asshole. They respect the fundamental norms, but otherwise vote for whatever benefits them most. Because people's selfish preferences are very heterogeneous, and economics is so often not zero sum, you generally have to build coalitions of compromise, and they can be pretty welfare maximizing! "making 51% of the country better off" is a bar many, many political systems do not clear. This is the "patronage" model of yore - Ol' Union Boss Tweed sits down with the Dems and says "give us X, and you got my vote".

You used to have a lot of that, but nowadays you can't even swing it. Voters are not selfish, they are ideological. Loosely so, and they are also selfish, but they have a lot of grand ideas about The Country that they slot those desires through. People vote on immigration despite never interacting with a single immigrant except maybe their house cleaner who they like and get for cheap. People vote on education issues over how "the system" is falling apart despite loving their local school and having no problems. Vibes dominante, and that tears apart the patronage network. Boss Tweed can't turn out votes because this members don't care about union shit the way they care about crime.

Some of this, to be clear, is that the political system is too complicated to hand out massive benefits to subgroups these days (if you wrote them all blank checks then you'd prob get some votes). And there are real local issues that people authentically care about, it's all margins here ofc. But generally it is a genie out of the bottle of culture - you can't hold coalitions together like this anymore. People have a vision for how "the country" should be, and that drives people more. Inflation will make people mad even if they personally are doing fine, because they perceive the country as doing worse. You increasingly need to meet those visions in elections, and every year another "interest group" fractures and decays.

[tarithenurse]

Just once more

Fandom: Spy x Family. Pairing/starring: Yor x Loid Forger. Word count: 650. Content: Pining, fluff. A/N: One of my best friends came with a suggestion...it was supposed to be smutty but it turned soft instead. Enjoy! As usual not betaed. If you want on my tag list just throw me an ask or a DM if you got questions about it.

Just once more

He’d kissed her (yes, on the lips). It’d been to keep the cover in front of her colleagues: he had to leave and so he kissed her. Lightly. Just a peck really. But for that brief instance, he knew he’d changed.

It’d felt like coming home.

It’d been all that existed for a second. Her surprised intake of air through the nose. The way her fingers curled around his shirt to tug him just a little bit closer. And the way her lips moulded to his, soft and pliable and all too tempting – he’d wanted to sweep his tongue out to taste her but instead he’d pulled back, sent her a smile and walked off like nothing was different.

Since then, he’d been lost.

His mind would stray to that moment unless he actively kept his focus on whatever he was doing. He’d been so good at compartmentalizing all his life but now...now that memory and the sight of her soft gaze afterwards would suffuse every single corner of his mind.

That’s why he’d made a plan: to kiss her again this evening.

His mission might sound simple, but he found himself confounded. None of them had talked about the kiss they’d shared and around Anya they both acted the same as always...but now that the little girl had been put to bed, Forger found that the mood had changed. It was like they kept bumping in to each other, kept nearly touching each others’ hands only to stop short. Averted gazes. Clipped sentences in rushed voices. It was killing him.

“Yor...” he sighs, not even meaning to say it out loud.

“Yes?” she puts her cup down and turns to him as they are sitting on the couch.

His mind chooses the safe route: “I owe you an apology,” he begins, causing her pretty face to scrunch up in confusion.

Pretty? When had it become more than just the face of the woman who pretended to be the mother of his pretend child? Was he going soft?

But he barrels on: “For what I did...the kiss when I left you with your friends.”

“Oh nononono!” She shakes her head vigorously. “No need to say sorry! It’s okay and it was good and they’d been doubting anyone would marry me so it was fine and they’re not really my friends and -”

She’s rambling and he can barely keep up with the stream of words but he does and he’s upset by what he hears. Frustrated. Saddened. Why would anyone doubt that she could find love? Why aren’t they her friends – does she have any friends? But then something else clicks in his brain. It was good. Was the kiss good?

Looking at her, he sees how flushed she is, how she averts his gaze. It wasn’t part of his plan to do it like this but as she keeps talking (he isn’t even hearing her words any more), his eyes are fixed on that perfect mouth and he reaches out a hand to cup her cheek, leaning in to kiss her again.

It shuts her up.

The same surprised intake of air through the nose but this time accompanied by a little sound from the back of her throat and his heart melts.

Deepening the kiss, he can feel her lean in. Her hands find his shoulders, holding on tightly as if she’s afraid to float away. When his tongue sweep past the seam of her lips, his entire body lights up at the sensation, the taste. Tea and biscuits.

They break apart a second or an eternity later. Struggling for air and not minding it at all as long as they still hold on to each other. He’s afraid to open his eyes and see her face...afraid to see that she might not approve.

But he does. And there’s the softest smile he’s ever seen.

And he’s home.

[astralwukong]

i so want to believe that those Inside's voice overs hint at a serious bees conversation but im scared to believe bc if we don't get it i will simply d-word and throw up.