#personally i've been wanting to have long hair for a good few months now

[mingi-s-dimples]

Accidentally Roommates - Yunho

~"Best friend's brother with yunho × reader- where reader has intense crush on her besties brother. She's so flustered whenever around him but never dreams of making it obvious, it would be mortifying. Especially because she's insecure about her appearance and thinks he's way out of her league. You could say shes the nerdy type while hes the this popular, attractive athlete. Not cliche in any way, slow, gut wrenching build. I want just the right amount of angst especially because she sees him with other girls a lot. And then it dips into fluff and sweet smut. Plot twist he ends up living with them for a few months which complicates things and her feelings as she tries to avoid him and not make her crush obvious."

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

genre, 18+, college au

summary: your roommate ends up being no one but your absolutely handsome crush.. and this switch is caused by your bestie, which does you good in the end.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: college au, sweet smut, making love, slight bulge kink, slight size kink, a lot of kissing and making out, reader is kinda insecure about herself, athlete x need typa shit, protected (we cheer in unison), forced proximity, friends to lovers, sweet love, lots of praising, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: heyy sooo this came oit sweeter than expected wusjsujs but my reader wanted it to be sweet smut so I guess it works 🤞🏻 i've never been this gentle in my fics ngl 💀😂 but hey it's a fresh breath of air (an absolute menace and filthy fic with jongho coming next week stay tuned), i hope you like it ml! 💖💖💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way!

You knew moving into the dorms for your second year of university would be an adjustment. What you didn’t expect was walking into your new room, suitcase in hand, only to find Yunho standing there, shirtless, with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Your best friend’s brother.

Your secret crush since forever.

And, apparently, your new roommate.

“Oh, hey,” Yunho grinned, running a hand through his damp hair as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Took you long enough.”

You just stood there, staring, struggling to breathe, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of him in your shared space. “W-What are you doing here?” you finally managed to stammer.

Yunho cocked his head, amused. “You mean in my room?”

His room?

Your stomach dropped. There had to be a mistake.

But before you could process, your phone buzzed.

**[Bestie]: Okay, don’t freak out.

[Bestie]: Sooo... I *might* have switched rooms with you.

[Bestie]: I really wanted to live with Alex [her bf] aaaand Yunho didn’t care so—surprise… I guess?**

Surprise.

You wanted to scream.

Your best friend had traded you like a deck of playing cards, leaving you to share a room with her ridiculously hot, athletic, popular older brother—the same one who made your heart race every time he looked at you.

You could barely function around Yunho in casual group settings. How the hell were you supposed to live with him?

“Oh,” you mumbled, still gripping your phone, voice embarrassingly small. “I—uh. I didn’t know.”

Yunho just smiled, so effortlessly relaxed. “Yeah, I figured. She was too scared to tell you in person.”

Of course she was.

He nodded toward your suitcase. “Well, since you’re here, might as well unpack. I don’t bite.”

That was debatable.

Because being near Yunho always felt like standing too close to a flame.

And now, there was no escape.

—

Days turned into weeks, and you slowly fell into a routine. Yunho was surprisingly easy to live with—clean, respectful, easygoing.

But the problem wasn’t Yunho.

The problem was you.

Because you were hopelessly in love with him.

And every single day in this room was pure torture.

You’d sit at your desk, desperately pretending to study, while Yunho lounged on his bed, scrolling through his phone or tossing a baseball between his hands, his stupidly muscular forearms on full display.

Some nights, he’d come back from practice, sweaty and breathless, shaking his damp hair out before stripping off his hoodie like it was nothing.

Like he wasn’t ruining your life.

And then there were the girls.

Because, of course, girls flocked to Yunho.

And why wouldn’t they? He was tall, insanely attractive, the star athlete everyone adored.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

But it still stung.

Every time you overheard a flirtatious giggle over the phone. Every time you saw him talking to some gorgeous girl in the cafeteria. Every time he left the dorm late at night and came back with his hair messy, lips bitten.

You hated it.

You hated how much you cared.

And worst of all? Yunho noticed.

Yunho wasn’t stupid.

He noticed everything.

How your fingers tensed when he stood too close. How you bit your lip whenever he walked around shirtless after practice. How you refused to meet his gaze whenever another girl’s name popped up on his phone screen.

And Yunho, being Yunho, decided to have fun with it.

"You’re bad at hiding things, you know," he mused one evening, leaning lazily against your desk while you pretended to focus on your laptop.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard. “Hiding what?”

He tilted his head, grinning like he knew a secret.

“You tell me.”

You swallowed, refusing to take the bait. “Go away, Yunho.”

“Why?” he asked, all mock innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

Yes. Painfully.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

So, instead, you rolled your eyes, keeping your attention firmly on your screen. “I have an exam.”

“Right, right,” Yunho nodded, before casually hooking a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

Your breath hitched.

His eyes burned into yours,

amusement flickering beneath something darker.

“Then why do you always get so nervous when I’m near?” he murmured.

You opened your mouth—nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?*

Yunho let out a low chuckle, thumb barely grazing your skin before he pulled away, pleased with himself.

“See?” he smirked, walking off like it was nothing.

Like he hadn’t just set your entire body on fire.

And that’s when you knew.

He wasn’t just teasing you.

He was waiting.

Waiting for you to finally break.

—

It started as a normal evening.

You sat at your desk, typing away, lost in your usual routine. Glasses perched on your nose, a silk blouse draped over your frame, tiny silk shorts barely covering your thighs. Hair tied in a messy bun.

You didn’t think much of it.

But Yunho did.

Because when you glanced up, you caught him staring.

Not his usual teasing glance.

A real, lingering, dark stare.

Something in his expression shifted.

“Yunho?” you asked cautiously.

He blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Huh?”

“You’re staring.”

His lips curled into something wicked.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, voice lower, rougher.

Your breath hitched.

“What?”

Yunho leaned forward, resting his hands on your desk, invading your space.

“You look good,” he said, tone slow, deliberate.

Your stomach flipped.

His eyes dragged over your frame, slowly, like he was committing every inch to memory.

“I—uh—” You swallowed hard, completely losing your train of thought.

Yunho exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

And then—he kissed you.

Not a hesitant, testing-the-waters kiss.

A deep, slow, searing kiss.

Like he’d been holding back for too damn long.

Your mind short-circuited. Your body froze before melting into him, his lips coaxing yours apart, the warmth of his hands branding your skin.

Every suppressed feeling, every stolen glance, every bottled-up longing between you—

It all unraveled at once.

And you were helpless to stop it.

The moment Yunho kissed you, the world seemed to tilt.

His lips crashed into yours, warm and desperate, like he had been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. His hands found your waist first, fingers pressing into the silk of your blouse like he wanted to memorize the shape of you. Then, his palms roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left between your bodies.

You gasped.

He took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, gripping your bare thigh.

You shivered.

It was too much.

Too good.

Your heart pounded so violently it hurt. His scent—clean, warm, intoxicating—filled your senses, making your mind foggy as his lips moved against yours, slow but needy, like he was savoring every second.

Like he was starving for you.

But then—the doubt crept in.

Why you?

He could have any girl he wanted. He did have any girl he wanted.

And yet, here he was. With you.

It didn’t make sense.

What if this was just another conquest for him?

What if you were just another girl he’d grow bored of the next morning?

Panic surged through you, and suddenly, you were pulling away.

"Yunho, wait," you gasped, pushing against his chest.

He stilled instantly, panting, eyes dark and glazed over with something deep—but he let you go.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, voice hoarse.

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for what you were about to say.

“This—” You gestured between you two, still breathless. “I just… I don’t know if this is—if I’m—”

Yunho’s brows furrowed. "If you’re what?"

You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but his face.

"I don’t want to be just some girl to you."

Silence.

Yunho’s jaw tensed.

“You think that’s all you are?”

You let out a bitter chuckle, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Come on, Yunho. Look at me." You motioned to yourself—small, shy, nothing like the girls that usually clung to him. "And then look at you."

His lips parted slightly, as if in disbelief.

"You’re…" You hesitated, then sighed. "You’re too handsome. Too popular. Too out of my league."

A muscle in Yunho’s jaw ticked.

He hated that.

Hated that you thought so little of yourself.

Hated that you saw him as something unreachable, when all he had ever wanted was you.

"That’s bullshit." His voice was lower now, tinged with something raw, something that made your stomach twist.

Your breath caught when he stepped closer, his fingers brushing along your jaw, gentle but firm.

“You think I want just anyone?” he murmured. “You think I’d do this with just anyone?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

His thumb traced your cheek, eyes locked onto yours with something so deep, so intense that your knees almost gave out.

“You don’t even realize how fucking beautiful you are, do you?” His voice was soft, yet aching.

Your stomach flipped.

“Yunho—”

He cut you off, tilting your chin up, kissing you again.

And this time, you didn’t resist.

Because you believed him.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had wanted you all along.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Yunho’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. His eyes burned with something deep, something that made your chest feel too tight.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice was softer now, but still rough with restraint.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

"You think you’re out of my league?" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "God, if only you knew."

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his touch delicate, reverent.

"I’ve spent so long trying to keep my distance," he admitted. "Telling myself you were off-limits. That I had no right to want you the way I do." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "But it didn’t matter. I still wanted you."

You blinked up at him, heart racing.

His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper.

"I still want you."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"You don’t even see yourself, do you?" Yunho’s fingers slid into your hair, cupping the back of your head. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every damn time you look at me, I feel like I’m coming apart."

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck.

"Every guy on campus watches you, you know that?" His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "But they don’t get to have you. They never will. Because I’m the one who’s going to have you."

Your breath hitched.

"I don’t want anyone else, sweetheart." His lips brushed against yours, not quite a kiss, but almost. "I only want you."

And this time, when he kissed you, you didn’t pull away.

Because how could you?

The kiss deepened, and this time, you met him with just as much eagerness, fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself closer, needing more. His lips molded to yours with a gentle hunger, the kind that made your heart race and your body tremble.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, and there was a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes were dark, filled with longing, and for the first time, you could feel it—how deeply he desired you.

"God," Yunho murmured, his voice hushed and thick with emotion. "You’re so beautiful… I can’t even begin to describe how much you’ve been driving me crazy." His hands moved to your waist, holding you close, eyes roving over your face, drinking you in.

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your skin, before he spoke again, voice low and sincere. "I…I want to make love to you," he said, his gaze searching for yours, his words carrying an intensity that made your breath catch. "But not just because of how you look… it’s because I want to show you how much I love everything about you. Your heart, your mind, your body…"

You felt your cheeks flush, heart beating wildly in your chest. Was he serious? Did he really want that with you?

Yunho smiled softly when he saw the nervousness in your eyes, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently, almost reverently. "I’ve loved your personality from the very first moment I met you," he continued, voice tinged with admiration and something deeper, more possessive. "But when I saw you tonight, with your glasses on, hair in that bun, and wearing that silk set… I swear I’ve never wanted anything more." He ran his thumb along your lip, his touch like fire. "You were so sexy, so… effortlessly beautiful. It’s been driving me wild, wondering if you even realized how incredible you are."

You swallowed hard, the mix of his words and touch leaving you dizzy, your shyness making you hesitant but the desire inside you growing stronger with every second. You knew how vulnerable you were right now, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t help but feel desirable in ways you never had before.

"Yes," you whispered shyly, voice barely audible but full of desire, a blush creeping across your cheeks. "I want you, Yunho."

His eyes softened, and a low, appreciative hum left him as he leaned in again, kissing you with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. When he pulled back, he slowly reached up and took the glasses off your face, his gaze lingering on you as though he were savoring every detail.

With a quiet, almost reverent smile, Yunho gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

He paused for a moment, forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply. "You’re mine now," he whispered softly, his hands trailing down your back. "And I’m going to show you just how much I need you."

The soft smile on his lips was gentle but possessive, the way he held you close spoke volumes, and you melted against him, unable to resist. Yunho was everything you had imagined and more—strong, protective, tender—and now, he was yours.

Yunho’s patience had been tested enough. The second he closed the door behind him, he knew he was done. No more restraint. No more slow, teasing build-up. His control was shattered—he wanted you. Now.

He pulled you onto the bed with a swift motion, his hands grasping your waist and lifting you gently, his lips pressing against your neck, murmuring low praises. But as soon as he stood up, his gaze was unwavering as he looked at you, consuming you with his eyes.

You felt small, almost overwhelmed under his intense stare, the hunger in his eyes so palpable that it made your chest tighten. Yunho was towering over you, all power and confidence. His shirt was the first thing to go, discarded carelessly onto the floor as his muscular chest was revealed in the dim golden light of the bedroom.

You were breathless. His presence was intoxicating—his eyes never leaving yours as he took in your every detail. You felt so vulnerable, yet so incredibly desired. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you, almost like he was taking his time, savoring the moment before he finally spoke.

"Can I continue?" Yunho’s voice was a low, husky growl, the kind that made your legs weak and your pulse quicken.

"Y-Yes," you whispered, the simple word barely escaping your lips as you stared up at him, feeling smaller under his gaze.

His smile was feral. "I can’t hold back anymore."

With that, his hands moved with unrestrained urgency, undoing the buttons of your blouse. He pulled the fabric off you, exposing your smooth, glowing skin to him under the dim light. His eyes darkened as they traced every curve of your body, mesmerized by the sight of you.

You shivered at the intensity of his stare, feeling completely exposed in front of him. Yunho leaned down slightly, brushing his lips over your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re so fucking beautiful," he murmured, cursing under his breath as he took in the sight of you.

The silk blouse was discarded, leaving you in nothing but your delicate silk shorts. Yunho’s eyes locked on your lower half, and with a low growl, he removed the shorts, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled them off your legs, revealing your bare skin.

His gaze flicked back to your face, his breath hitching as he took in how vulnerable and perfect you looked, completely at his mercy. His chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took, fighting to maintain control, but it was clear he was already losing the battle.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "You’re killing me."

Yunho quickly discarded his pants, and as he stood there, you saw the bulge in his briefs, straining and growing more impatient by the second. You swallowed hard, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You knew what was coming, and the anticipation made your heart race.

He took a step closer, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in the bed, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "Hey," he said softly, his voice oddly tender despite the urgency in the air, "it’s okay. I’ll take care of you."

And you knew, deep down, that he meant it. Yunho was here to make you feel everything. And more. He wasn’t going to let you go until he had shown you just how much he wanted you.

He climbed over you in the bed and his lips trailed down your neck again, each kiss deliberate, deep, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands moved with purpose, exploring your skin with a tenderness that contrasted the desperate hunger in his touch. As he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to your thighs, drawing slow circles that made you gasp softly.

The praise he had showered on you earlier filled your mind, emboldening you, making you feel seen, making you feel wanted. It was a new sensation, the weight of his words settling into your chest, making you feel lighter yet more grounded at the same time. Slowly, your hand moved from his hair to the smooth expanse of his back. The muscles beneath your fingers rippled with each shift he made, making your heart race.

His body felt so close, so perfect against yours, and with newfound boldness, your other hand drifted down, feeling the tautness of his abs as they contracted beneath your touch. Your fingers hovered near his waistband, just over the bulge that was still pressed tightly against the fabric of his briefs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and before you even realized it, your fingers brushed over his hard cock.

Yunho’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes darkening as he met your gaze. “Mh?” he murmured, curiosity and desire mixed in his voice.

You hesitated for only a moment, but the way he looked at you, with all that intensity, made you forget your doubts. You felt a momentary surge of confidence. Slowly, you moved your hand away and met his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest as you realized the effect you had on him.

Yunho chuckled softly, a knowing smile curving his lips as he looked down at the way your hand lingered. His fingers moved to your waistband, gently peeling your panties away, his touch reverent. His hands were steady, each movement laced with affection and desire.

Then, with equal care, you slid his briefs off, your breath catching as you glimpsed him fully for the first time. The sight made your pulse race, but his touch was always gentle, always considerate. He reached out, his hand brushing your hair away from your face, a soft smile on his lips as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

Every word felt like a balm to your soul, washing away any doubts, any insecurities. The connection between you both was undeniable, and the tenderness in his voice only made it feel deeper. Yunho leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours, eyes closing as he exhaled softly.

“I want to take care of you, to show you just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with emotion.

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you nodded, feeling his love surrounding you in ways words could never fully express. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, savoring the moment as if he never wanted it to end.

Yunho’s hands traced the curve of your hips, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body. His lips brushed against yours, soft and lingering, as if he were memorizing the feel of you. When he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender, “if you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

The word seemed to unravel something in him. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, and he pressed his forehead to yours again, his breath mingling with yours. He murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll always cherish you.”

With deliberate care, Yunho shifted and took a condom out of his private nightstand. Your eyes widened at the sight of the unopened box of condoms, making you think he'd gotten them just for you. His body aligned with yours right afger he slid it on. His hands guided you gently, his touch reverent as he positioned his cock right between your wet folds. The first brush of contact drew a soft, involuntary moan from your lips, the sound escaping like a secret you hadn’t meant to share. His eyes darkened at the sound, his gaze locking onto yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”

The air between you was electric, charged with a longing that had been building for what felt like an eternity. Yunho’s movements were deliberate, each touch designed to make you feel cherished, adored. He thrusted in slowly, his hands steady and reassuring, as if he were handling something infinitely precious.

Yunho’s movements began with a slow rhythm, each thrust measured and tender, as if he were savoring every second of this connection. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, before settling on your hips to guide you gently against him. Your own hands explored the expanse of his back, fingers skimming over the taut muscles that flexed with every movement. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His breath grew ragged, his voice roughening with each passing moment. “You feel… incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his words breaking into a low groan as he deepened the kiss. The sound of his voice, coarse and filled with need, sent a shiver through you, your body responding with a surge of warmth that made your breath catch.

Your whines escaped in soft, breathy gasps, rising from your chest as the pleasure built within you. Each thrust of his hips sent sparks coursing through your veins, the intensity of the moment overwhelming yet perfect. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered with a kiss, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your hips.

The rhythm between you grew more urgent, yet Yunho never lost that tenderness, his movements still filled with reverence. You could feel the tension coiling within you, your body trembling as you neared the edge. “Yunho,” you whispered shyly, your voice trembling, “I’m… I’m close.”

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he nodded. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice strained but gentle. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

His words were all the encouragement you needed. The pleasure crested, crashing over you in waves as your body shuddered beneath his. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a low, guttural curse from his lips. He stilled for a moment, his breath hitching as he fought to hold on, but the sensation was too much. With a final, shuddering thrust, he followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and his cock deep down your cunt.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the shared rhythm of your breathing. Yunho’s hands gently caressed your back, his touch soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice still rough but filled with warmth. “So amazing.”

Yunho stayed close, his body still draped over yours as his breathing slowly steadied. His hands moved gently, brushing strands of hair from your face before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice warm and tender, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his shoulder. “That was… perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and content, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. His touch was soothing, his fingers trailing lightly up and down your back as he held you close. “You’re perfect,” he corrected, his voice filled with affection. “I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

You nestled into his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The world felt quiet, peaceful, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you in this moment. But then, the sharp buzz of your phone on the nightstand shattered the silence.

You groaned, reluctantly reaching for it. “Who could that be?” you muttered, squinting at the screen. It was a text from your best friend, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, what does she want now?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Your bestie?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Or whatever she is, she did the best thing by moving in with her boyfriend.”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Because now I finally get to show you how much I love you without any interruptions.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “And trust me, I plan on doing that a lot.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you set your phone back down. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, though the warmth in your chest betrayed how much his words meant to you.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’m yours.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his chest once more. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was the man holding you, the love in his touch, and the promise of countless moments like this to come.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[johntayjinf]

how are we feeling about grown-out hair

[adorerio]

Whatever you say captain

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haikyuu ! captains and how they plot on fem!reader because who doesn't love a guy that puts in the work

fluffy fluff ~ word count: 1.8k

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Daichi he first met you during 1st year and was instantly hooked. Maybe because it was how you carried yourself or your personality but he knew for sure he would make you his girlfriend. Now just because he met you during 1st year didn't mean he made his move then. Nope, he made it during 3rd year.

Daichi He started small (with the help of Kiyoko and Hachi) first it was compliments.

"your hair looks lovely l/n"

"you gotta tell me how you always make people smile"

"you really are funny l/n"

Daichi then started inviting you to practices because he wanted to show off needed a 3rd opinion on his new move. This was all part of his plan which was to impress you sooo much you would ask for his number. Did it work?

nope

Daichi showing off didn't work neither did his constant compliments so now what was left?

"KIYOKO PLEASE LET ME HAVE HER NUMBERR"

"No, ask for it instead. She likes a guy who has confidence."

and so that's what he was going to do man up and ask for it himself.

Daichi who after class sprinted to your class to catch you and ask for it. When he did make it he saw you talking with your group of friends

"excuse me ladies may I borrow l/n for a moment?"

your friends who started teasing and whispering about how you actually pulled

"shes all yours"

After your friends left it was awkward for just a moment he was trying to put it into words I mean it was supposed to be simple right? But-

"Is there something you need Sawamura?"

"oh right, well l/n I've been trying to court you all year which maybe it was my fault for not being straight forward but is it possible I could get your number? So we can get to know each other and maybe ask you out?"

He scaratched his neck waiting for your response..

"well I'm free right now if you want to come with me to a cafe.."

"that would be lovely then l/n"

--------------------------------------------------

Bokuto he first met you because you were friends with Akaashi. Now he noticed you really didn't have friends to hang out with during break and lunch. So he started inviting you to hang out with him and Akaashi and a trio was created.

Bokuto after a few months of your new found friendship he started getting that feeling. He was always nervouse around you and definitely always wanted to be in your good graces. Of course he didn't realize it was a crush until he saw another 2nd year try to ask for your number. Now he knew he would not let you give your number away to anyone that wasn't him. Even tho he already had it.

Bokuto now his approach to plotting wasn't the best but it was definitely something- scare off any guy until he was your last option. Did he even realize he was being overprotective? No, but it was bound to work at some point. Or that's at least what he was telling himself.

Bokuto It actually took you a while to find out what was happening. After another case of ghosting you started to question it. Was it your appearance? Or the long distance? Of course you would tell your friends about your problem and how you scared away guys.

"Wait so there just ghosting you? They clearly don't know what their missing y/n"

"Yes they just are! I don't even know why it's happening Keiji"

"Its because of me y/n!!"

"Whatever do you mean Ko?"

"Because they aren't worthy of courting you y/n so I tell them to go away"

"Why would you even do that?"

"Because I want to be the person who courts you not someone from Karasuno"

Bokuto got a talking too after his little confession about how that wasn't the way to get your attention but safe to say you did give him that chance and in the future its something you would never end up regretting.

--------------------------------------------------

Oikawa now he definitely thought something was wrong with you. You were never apart of his group of fans and never reacted differently towards him. Games you attended? You would cheer on anyone BUT him. And this, caught his eye. He was gonna make it his mission to get you to go out with him one way or another.

Oikawa since he had never struggled before trying to charm a lady he was more confused then ever how was he supposed to do this? Well the only thing that came to mind was make you feel special. This resulted in you being embarrassed ever single time.

Oikawa every single set he would do during a game? Point you out and give you a wink. During school he would start ignoring his fans and would only talk to his team or you. He always offered to carry your bag or help you with work but you were still warry about his true feelings towards you.

Oikawa hoping he at least he made his intentions clear to you he would now leave small stuff at your desk. Sometimes it was small snacks with a note, or a small tricket that reminded him of you.

Oikawa the way he finally got you to agree on a date was when he gave you a boquet of your favorite flowers. It was special to you because you had only told him once what flower it was and he had still remembered it.

"Here l/nn its your favorite flowers just for you"

"You still rememeber what type of flowers I like?"

"Of course and I'll keep remembering small details about you - like how when your favoring song plays you start forgetting the worlds around you just to pay attention to the lyrics."

Now this had touched your heart, after weeks of chasing you maybe it was time to allow him to ask you out. Because he had clearly put effort into this.

"Fine, just one date trashykawa"

"You wont regret it l/n!"

--------------------------------------------------

Ushijima he didn't even know he was "courting" you until Semi told asked him when he was going to ask you out.

"You know l/n is a sweet girl why haven't you asked her out yet? I'm sure she already likes you."

"What on earth are you talking about? I havent been courting our manager-"

Lets just say it hit him like a brick when he started connecting the dots that it did LOOK like he was indeed courting you.

Ushijima You were the manager of the team and dealing with a group of teenage boys wasn't easy- so he as the captain of the team decided he would be the one to show his gratitude. He would give you chocolates every day after practice or invite you to grab lunch with him alone.

Ushijima after thinking about it for days about how own feelings towards you he decided he was going to invite you on a real date. Because even if he wasnt completely sure about how he felt he wanted to at least give it a try. So, one day after practice as you were cleaning and packing up everything he decided to shoot his shot.

"l/n are you perhaps free this evening?"

"Yeah I don't have any plans. Is there a reason for asking?"

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me on a walk in the park. It would be nice having someone - you around"

"Sure! let me go get my stuff and I'll meet you outside."

"Yes absolutely, its a date then."

As he walked away you stood there dumfounded, he finally had the balls to ask you out huh.

--------------------------------------------------

Kuroo now he was crushing on you HARD. But, he always found it hard to talk to you. Different group of friends, different hobbies, different clubs there was practically no way to start a conversation without it being difficult.

The 3rd years were preparing for the English final when your teacher suggested forming study groups within the class so you could prepare. Now this was his chance.

Kuroo had to work up the courage to ask you to be his study buddy and when he did you were almost surprised that he asked you but you didn't say no. You moved your stuff to your left so he could sit next to you.

You started asking him what was his strong and weak points in English. When he asked the same thing back he wasn't focused on your answers, more like the view Infront of him. The way you talked and the way you explained things was magical.

Kuroo The two of you exchanged phone numbers so it was easier to communicate. You didn't say it was only to text about the final - so he started sending memes he found funny or goofy cat pictures in hopes of it turning into a conversation.

Of course the way you texted back was short and fast but when he sent you a meme of your favorite video game it was like he had found a cheat code. You started geeking out and explained the story and characters to him. Although he didn't know anything about the game it was certainly working and after talking about it until wee hours into the night you decided to call it off and go to sleep.

"Goodnight Kuroo thanks for listening to me yap lol"

"Of course l/n, I'll always listen to you talk."

You hearted the message and he knew this was only the beginning of a new found frienship and hopefully a relationship.

--------------------------------------------------

Kita he never really thought about dating he was always more focused on his studies and vollyball. You were more like a close friend then anything. Sure he thought you were cute but he believed there was nothing there but pure friendship.

"My parents aren't home I guess I'm gonna have to order food.."

"Y/n you cant cook?"

"Nope, my parents do"

"Well I believe I'm gonna have to teach you then"

"yayyy"

Kita 3 times a week Kita would go over to your house (with your parents permission) and show you the basics + a few recepies. He enjoyed spending time with you outside of school but something had changed inside of him. Maybe the proximity but the way you *preferred hair style while cooking* looked on you was mesmerizing.

Kita Knew your parents travelled alot for work and even days without a lesson he would leave a bento on your desk early in the morning enough for the whole day. Even if it was more work added to his plate he didn't mind doing it because it was for you.

Besides, the best way to get to someone is through the stomach.

I swear I don't have a favorite. Anyways that concludes my first post! I'm open to criticism on my writing!

[faggotboulevard]

drabble about fucking logan (wolverine) because @embry-garrick implanted it into my brain

synopsis: holy shit u have a big dick n logan is having a field day

cw: riding, size kink, pain kink, reader has a huge dick, anal sex, no prep by choice, unsubstantial lube by choice, unprotected sex by choice, subtop logan dombot reader, established relationship, first time (in the relationship), 2nd person

dni minors, fems/mlm fetishizers, etc

You knew you were massive, that's why way back in high school you were pressured to join sports. You had admirers from both sexes and people would jump at the opportunity to date you in hope that you were as big down there as you were, body wise.

You were, and unfortunately scared off many potential fuck buddies with your size. You vividly remember an ex walking out mid make-out session when they saw your dick, and the situation you were in now was strikingly similar.

That train of thought was bouncing through your head like a pinball machine as you multitasked getting hot and heavy with Logan on the foot of his bed.

"You're distracted. Come on, focus, it's like kissing a brick wall," Logan complained gruffly, hands tangled in your hair as he bit playfully at your jawline to snap you out of whatever thoughts you were in.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. Maybe we're going a little fast?" you suggested, meeting his lips again as you attempted to focus on him.

"You're fuckin' kidding me. No, we've been dating for months, I'm ready," Logan disagreed. "You got something you're worried about?"

"No," you muttered, shaking your head to get the thoughts out. You steeled yourself to focus and gripped Logan's waist to pick him up and move him into your lap. He eagerly ground down onto your quickly hardening cock, groaning into your mouth as he felt the pants you were in tighten.

Logan quickly took off his own shirt and hurried to remove yours. Once the clothing was gone, he abandoned kissing your lips to kiss your neck and moved down your collar. He sighed and his eyes fluttered closed as he felt both of your hands snake in two different directions; one down to squeeze his ass and the other up to grip his hair.

"Need you. Been waiting long enough, want you in me. Wanna ride you," he whispered into your ear.

"Logan, I'm big," you warned warily, earning a confused pause.

"Big? Damn right you are. What's your point?" he grumbled, trying to get back to imminently fucking.

"My dick is big. I've had people up and leave because of it, so—"

"Well aren't you self-assured? Babe, let me judge if I want to get fucked or not," Logan answered playfully as he pressed tender kisses over your jawline to make up for the bites. "C'mon. You think I'm shy of a big dick?"

As you tugged off his pants, he undid your button to reciprocate and froze as he stared at your half-hard cock straining the fabric of your boxers.

"What's that, six inches? I mean, I can take it," he huffed, his face a mask of bravado. He pulled your pants all the way off and swallowed. "Okay... little more than six inches..."

Logan stroked you to hardness, muttering out quiet curses and "come on, come on... fuck," as he was eager to feel you. You were completely hard in just a few strokes, but his rough hand and the lack of any lubricant made you shy from the touch.

"Logan? Lube?" You reminded, to which he growled.

"Don't need it, bub."

"Yes you do! At the very least, I need it!" You protested.

"Relax," he rolled his eyes and attempted to take you in his mouth, but instead just let some spit dribble down since he'd ravish you with his mouth later. "Happy?"

"Let me prep you."

"Hell no."

Logan pushed your shoulders to the bed and hovered over you, to which you fished in your pants for a condom. "No condom, Lo,"

"Good."

"Go get one."

"Hell no," he repeated.

"You're gonna tear yourself," you said, sitting up.

"I can take it. I can take you. Just lay down," Logan demanded, to which you scoffed.

"Fine. It's not my bed that's getting blood all over, anyways."

Logan perched over you and lined your dick up, hissing as the wet head grazed his hole. "You're gonna be the end of me..."

"Fuck... fuck! Slower!" You demanded, worrying for Logan's poor body despite the fact that he healed instantaneously.

Among the shrill gasps and low groans, Logan uttered out a gravelly, "Please, just let me have this. You're splitting me in half, fuck, [Y/n], you're gonna make me cum like a virgin."

You grabbed Logan's hips and forced him to slow down, he was barely even a third of the way down and already tears were collecting in his eyes. "Easy, Logan," you said, but he suddenly grabbed your wrists and forced himself down to the base of your cock, a punched-out moan escaping his throat followed by a series of whimpers and gasps as he caught his breath. A hot stream of cum spurted from his unattended cock and onto your chest.

"Logan? You're bleeding. And you came..."

"I don't care. Fuck me like a man," Logan rasped out as he steeled himself to begin moving his hips.

[iocles]

Kaiser hcs (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

MY GOAT MY GOAT MY GOAAATTT

• Avid Rammstein listener.. any playlist he has has at least 6 Rammstein songs in it

• there never was much food in the house growing up for him, so other than bread crusts he used to heat up sugar when his dad was gone and he'd make weird little lollipops and that's what'd he eat as a snack sometimes

• used to be terrified of krampus, but now he looks at videos of kids getting scared of people dressed as krampus and lets out a genuine giggle

• he wanted to get his tattoos all on the same day, but decided against it because he wanted to be able to go practice without pain

• he knows where his mom is, but doesn't ever plan to go and meet her; or any of his relatives, really.

• found comfort in stray dogs because they reminded him of himself as a kid, scruffy and unloved- that's why they're his favorite animals now

• If he had a partner, he'd try not to be too touchy in public but behind closed doors he'd be ALL over them, depending on the day

• worst person to watch a movie with, yaps the whole time

• During any match with a foreign team, he'll say dumb remarks in German because he knows they have no idea what he's saying

• doesn't like having his hair touched. only a selective few can, and that's just his barber, himself, and whoever he'd allow

• he wears strong ass cologne, so strong you can smell it FROM 2 ROOMS AWAY💔

• he feels he's impossible to keep up with, has always been hesitant to get into a relationship with ANYONE, so he has no experience

• that being said, even if he comes off as flirty, he doesn't actually know what he's doing

• he can't ride a bike because he never owned one

• SPEEDWALKER. the type to walk with someone then speed up because of how damn long his legs are

• his back is like an Achilles heel to him, but not in the way that if he hurt it he'd be done for- just in the way that it's sensitive.

• even though he wears cologne and stuff, his skin just smells naturally sweet?? nothing wrong with him health wise or anything, he's just like that.

• now that he has money, he'd spoil his partner rotten if he had one.

• actually has no idea what to do with his money other than that. LMAOOO

• not a dry texter, despite the fact that he looks like he'd probably be a dry texter

• wanted a puppy as a kid, obviously couldn't get one due to his circumstances

• got chased by a pitbull while hanging out around a bunch of stray dogs

�� best believe baby kaiser didn't step near pitbulls for a month or two after that

• if he hadn't done soccer and did a different sport, I feel like he'd be a volleyball player

SO SORRY I DIDNT POST IN A WHILE i literally couldn't think of anything and I've been busy with school🦧 I know a majority of people on tumblr want bf hcs and all that so maybe I'll do that next if I can come up w/ something good

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Promise You'll Call

Prompt: hi first i just want to say i love you writing so much. Do you think you could write something where luke finds out the reader’s significant other is harming them (mentally or physically)? I understand this is a rough topic but i was just going through a hard time with flashbacks. I understand if you can’t, thank you!

Word count: 7k (idk how this got to be so long)

Warnings: DV mention (in detail), blood tw

A/N: ayyyyooo, it's been forever since i've posted, but enjoy! i wanted to post, so i haven't proof read yet, so please excuse any grammatical mistakes, I'll go back and fix tomorrow :)

Luke honestly didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It just so happened that he was still in his truck, finishing up the burnt bagel he’d made in a rush this morning when you pulled into the parking garage. At first, Luke didn’t recognize that it was you in the black BMW that stopped in the middle of the garage, right behind his own truck. But when he peeked through his rearview mirror, he saw you sitting in the passenger seat, tucking a curtain of hair behind your ear. 

Luke’s stomach flipped, the same way it did every time he saw you. 

Except this time, he actually felt guilty for it, because he was pretty sure the guy driving the car was your boyfriend. Luke was new to the team in the last year, and while he’d done a pretty good job getting to know everyone at the BAU, he still hadn’t met partners or family yet. You were one of the few agents who never talked about your personal life at work. 

But even though Luke couldn’t see the man driving the car, as soon as you cracked open the passenger side door, he certainly heard him. 

Was it even considered eavesdropping if the entire parking garage could hear? 

“I’m not done talking!” The man’s voice echoed across the entire garage, causing Luke to straighten in his seat.  

“Will you lower your voice?” You snapped back in a hushed tone, before looking around the space, clearly embarrassed. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!”

“The whole city is going to hear you, Justin, please.”

“I don’t care if they do– get back in the fucking car!”

Something in Luke’s chest began boiling at the sound of his tone. Did he always speak to you that way? He fought back the urge to peel himself out of his truck. You were his coworker– not his girlfriend. It wasn’t his place to knock this guy down a few pegs, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

“I have nothing else to say to you right now–”

“Good, don’t talk. Fucking listen for once in your life!”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said, voice eerily calm. It was like you were almost used to this kind of fighting– like you knew the exact steps to take to attempt de-escalating him. “I have to get to work. We’ll talk about this later.”

“If you shut that fucking door, you’re walking home. I swear to–” but the man’s voice was abruptly cut off by you shutting the door. 

Luke secretly felt proud as he watched you turn and walk away from the BMW without looking back. 

Suddenly, music blared through the speakers of the car before Luke heard tires squealing while the car drove away. Luke remained in place while he heard your footsteps fade into the distance, not wanting to embarrass you further or let you know he’d been heard the entire conversation that just played out. 

But while he gave you a moment to catch the elevator without him, Luke didn’t like the feeling that settled in his stomach. If your boyfriend acted like that in the middle of the bureaus parking garage, what the hell was he like behind closed doors?

…

You fought back tears for the entire elevator ride. Thank God no one got into the lift with you, so you at least had a moment of peace before having to pull everything together. 

Justin woke up mad– again. That had been a regular occurrence for the last year. And for the last month, he’d been convinced you were cheating on him. With zero evidence aside from a “hunch” he was apparently going on, there was no amount of convincing or location sharing or reminding him that your job came with sporadic hours that would change his mind. And things were getting worse. Each day it felt like he was angrier– more out of control. And each day you told yourself that you could handle it. You were literally trained on how to de-escalate murderers, for God’s sake. But this morning, when you woke up to not one, but four flat tires on the car you parked in the garage, you knew things were escalating again. 

As the elevator climbed, your phone suddenly pinged in your pocket. You pulled it out to read the text back from your mother. You’d reached out to her earlier, letting her know what you’d suspected– that Justin had slashed your tires so that you couldn’t take your own car to work. 

Mom: He wouldn’t do that. I know you are going through a rough patch, but Justin’s a good man. Did you reach out to that couple’s therapist I told you about?

You let out a sigh. 

Typical. 

Justin had worked at the local hospital with your father before he retired. As a world-wide renowned cardiovascular surgeon with a strong handshake and charismatic demeanor, he could do no wrong in your parent’s eyes. 

In the few instances you actually had reached out to them for support in the last year, the burden always fell back on you. What had you done to piss him off? What were you doing to mitigate the situation? You should have learned by now not to reach out to either one of them. You wouldn’t get the response you wanted. 

The elevator slowly climbed and you knew you had to pull it together. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You reached the fifth floor and stepped out of the elevator, trying to forget about everything that had just happened. 

Within an hour, a new case rolled in. You sat around the round table and listened to Emily give the rundown while Garcia clicked through slides of gruesome crime scenes she blatantly refused to even glimpse at . You tried to pay attention– to compartmentalize your home life like you had always been so good at doing. But as soon as you heard that the case was in Idaho– across the country, worry began creeping back inside of you. One of the biggest problems that Justin had was your constant travel for work. Although he was allowed to put in consistent, 16-hour days at the hospital, he got upset every time you told him where your next case was.

Which, honestly, you understood. When you took the job with the BAU, you never expected to have much of a life outside of it. You were gone more than you were home, and you knew that sort of lifestyle wasn’t for everyone. Except when you met him, Justin had known what you did for work. You didn’t lie or keep it a secret. He said he was okay with the traveling and the long hours. Until he wasn’t. 

Suddenly, there was a gentle tap on your shoulder. Every thought racing through your mind blew away and you refocused on the present moment. 

“Everything okay?” It was Luke asking. 

You looked around to realize that everyone else was packing up their belongings to board the jet. Turning to face Luke, you nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Just daydreaming, I guess.”

“Daydreaming with those crime scenes in the background?” he asked, nodding towards the gruesome picture still up on the screen. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that.”

You let out a breath of laughter. Luke hadn’t been on the team for long, but you realized within a few weeks of knowing him that he always knew how to make people laugh– no matter what was going on in the world around you. That was one of the many reasons he fit in so effortlessly with the team. 

“We can do a mindfulness class sometime,” you joked. 

He smiled, dimples popping from his dark, smooth skin. “I’d attend consistently.” 

Something fluttered in your stomach.

You just chalked it up to stress and nerves. 

…

Luke was supposed to be reviewing the case on the flight. Instead, he couldn’t stop watching you. Out of all the open seats, you chose one right across from him. You had the file open on your lap while your eyes scanned the page. Luke could tell you weren’t reading either, though, because the jet had already been airborne for almost half an hour and you hadn’t flipped the page. 

Meanwhile, Reid, who was to Luke’s right, had already read the entire file, front to back, probably three times by now. 

“Can you give me the Sparknotes version?” Luke leaned over and asked him.  

“What’s Sparknotes?” Reid asked, no hint of humor in his voice. 

Luke’s jaw fell open. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”

“I don’t really think that intelligence can be measured or quantified in the way humans have tried to in the past. Technically I have an eidetic memory, which allows me to recall information with accurate precision. Meaning I’d actually have to see the information once to be able to recall it. I’ve never seen a Sparknote… or whatever you called it.”

A smirk spread across your lips, your eyes darting up to meet Luke’s. 

Luke shook his head in disbelief, offering you a small smile before turning back to Spencer. He’d been with the team nearly a year now and he still hadn’t gotten used to Reid’s demeanor. He wondered if he ever would. 

“You never had to Google the summary of a book when you were younger?”

Reid gave Luke a perplexed look. “Why would I do that if I have the book in front of me?”

“Because it’s faster.”

“I can read–”

“20 thousand words a minute,” Rossi interrupted as he walked by with an empty cup of coffee. “Yeah, we know, kid.”

He placed a free hand on Luke’s shoulder, patting it gently. “I have no idea what prompted this conversation, but trust me when I say it’s not worth it.”

Luke heard you stifle a laugh as Rossi walked past. 

…

You’d been on edge the entire plane ride. Justin never responded to your message, letting him know you’d be away for at least the next couple of days on a case. Maybe he was in the OR today, or maybe the hospital’s cell service was just spotty. 

Or maybe he really was just that mad at you. 

You knew the way he treated you was wrong. You recognized the red flags that had been staring you right in the face. But slashing your tires? Maybe your mom was right– maybe there was another explanation. Because no matter how much he yelled, or got in your face, or tried to intimidate you, you really didn’t think there was any way he could do that. 

You hated being this distracted while you worked. Emily was having to repeat instructions for you, JJ was throwing you worried glances, Spencer had asked three times now if you were okay… It was like you were the one being profiled in Idaho. 

Of course that wasn’t really the case, though. You were in Sun Valley because of a string of murdered women, each left dumped and discarded in ditches off the parkway. Each with ligature markings around their necks. Each with evidence of sexual assault. And each deserving of your undivided attention. 

You tried your best to give it to them. But in reality, when the case finally wrapped up six days after you’d arrived, you knew that everyone had picked up your slack. 

And while you were grateful to be part of a team that could pick up the slack of others, you hated that you had to utilize it. 

‘Unbelievable.’

That had been the only message you received from Justin the entire week you were away. You sent a practical novel back– trying to apologize and explain your side. Then you tried calling at least twice a day. But each time you went straight to his voicemail. Normally, space wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Except the jet was about to land back at Quantico, and you were terrified of what was next. 

Not to mention you had no ride home. 

“Hey,” a soothing voice suddenly said, stirring you from your thoughts. 

When you glanced up, you saw Luke gesturing towards the open seat across from you. 

“You mind? Everyone else is asleep.”

For a moment, you looked around the jet and noticed that Luke was right. Practically everyone was sprawled out or curled up against a window, passed out. You couldn’t blame them. It had been a rough case. If circumstances were different and you weren’t currently overthinking everything in your life, you’d probably be passed out too. 

Eventually you turned back to Luke and nodded. “You couldn't sleep?” You asked him. 

He shook his head. “Nah. I never sleep on planes. I think it’s a control-thing. I can never calm myself down enough to actually sleep.”

You frowned. “Now that you say that, I’ve never actually seen you sleep on the jet.”

“And you probably never will.” 

You grinned back. “Does that mean I’ll never get to know if Luke Alvez snores?”

“I’m afraid that information is classified,” he smirked. 

“Such a tease.”

Luke let out a low chuckle before casually leaning forward in his seat. “I did want to see if everything was okay, though.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, probably sounding too defensive. 

He shrugged. “I mean you just didn’t seem yourself this week. Not in a bad way or anything– just off.”

Shit. You knew it had been noticeable. But even still, the small part of you that was hoping it wasn’t deflated at Luke’s words. You actually debated telling him everything, which was so out of the norm for you lately. Ever since you and Justin had been having problems, you’d turned into a shell of who you used to be– you never hung out with Penn, Emily, or JJ anymore. You never had time for getting your ass kicked at chess on the jet with Reid, because you were too busy worrying if Justin was mad at you for leaving. You never joined everyone at Rossi’s evening dinners because you felt guilty for spending nights that you were home away from the house and Justin would never go with you. 

Suddenly, the harsh reality slapped you right in the face: You didn’t like who you were becoming. You didn’t like who you were when you were with Justin. The thought made you want to curl up and hide from the world– from Luke. But there was something about the way he looked at you– so earnest and intentional, like he was hanging onto every word, like he actually wanted to be someone you could trust, that felt prevented you from doing so. 

“You’re chewing on your lip,” Luke pointed out. “That’s how I always know when you’re overthinking.”

You relaxed your jaw instantly. That’s how he always knew? How often was Luke paying attention to your moods and mannerisms? The thought made something flutter in your stomach, but not in the anxious way it had been fluttering recently. This was softer– less scary. 

“Stupid profilers,” you muttered under your breath, desperate to break through whatever tension was boiling between the two of you. 

It was enough to earn a chuckle from Luke. “We are pretty annoying, aren’t we?” He sat back in his chair, cracking his knuckles casually. “You know, my last two girlfriends have broken up with me because of this job. One was serious– the last one, not so much. But still. They said it was too demanding– that I couldn’t make them a priority. I don’t know if you remember the Orlando case last fall. The one with–”

“The fourteen year old boy. We were too late to save him, but we got his sister,” you finished for him. “I remember.” Not only did you remember, but that very same case had been burned into your brain for months. 

Luke nodded. “Yeah. Well, when we got back from that case, that’s when she broke up with me. She said she was trying to deal with me being gone all the time. But if I couldn’t even be present when I was home, she was done. God, I had nightmares about that case for weeks– still do sometimes.” 

You gazed at him sympathetically. Unfortunately, his story wasn’t that out of the norm. Aside from you, everyone on the team in a relationship was already married. Once you had a solid, established relationship, most times it was doable. But the reality was, it was hard to date someone and be part of the BAU. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“Don’t be,” he waved you off. “They were right. I put my job first. And I’d like to think that the person I’m supposed to be with would understand how important this work is to me, even if each case takes a little piece from me.”

You thought about Justin– always criticizing, always making comments and remarks about how much you worked. You thought about the last few weeks and all the late nights you’d sat and done unnecessary paper at your desk just to avoid going home to him. 

“Or maybe you’d actually want to make the person you’re supposed to be with the priority,” you suggested softly without meeting Luke’s gaze.   

Luke had just been so vulnerable with you– telling you about his relationship problems like you were someone he could confide in. And the scary part was, you liked it. You liked being someone he came to with these types of things. You wished he’d do it more. 

Justin never confided in you– never let you confide in him, either. You stared intently down at your lap and wondered what it would feel like to have someone who would. 

“Justin and I– we’re having some issues.”

Finally, you dared to look up at Luke. His brown eyes looked black in the dimly lit jet, but they still glistened as he listened. “He’s just so mad at me,” you whispered, voice faltering. You’d barely said anything, but you could already feel all of the emotions you’d been masking and forcing down start to bubble towards the surface. “All the time. And I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if I want to do anything about it.”

Luke leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees while he wound his fingers together. “I heard him when he dropped you off in the garage the other day,” Luke said honestly. Instantly, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I swear, I was just waiting in my car because I was early and well–”

You took a shaky breath, embarrassed beyond belief. “Anyone in the vicinity would have heard him that day.”

Luke’s voice lowered. “Does he always talk to you like that?” 

Yes, you thought. 

“No. That was just a bad morning.”

Luke nodded, but pursed his lips like he didn’t quite believe you. “I know it isn’t my place, but you don’t deserve that. I mean, fuck, no one does. But especially you.”

You smiled softly, trying to believe that he was right– that you didn’t deserve Justin’s harsh comments or anger. And on some level, you knew you didn’t. But another part of you always wondered why you didn’t try harder– why you didn’t care if he ended things or not. 

“Thanks Luke.” 

He nodded, leaning back once again. You gazed out the jet window, seeing familiar city lights in the distance. You’d be landing soon. And then it was back to whatever grim reality faced you at home.   

 “You don’t have your car today, do you?” Luke asked suddenly, stirring you from your thoughts. 

You shook your head. “Uh no. When I went to leave for work, my tires were flat.”

“All of them?” he asked, sounding shocked. 

“All of them.” 

“What’d you do, park in a pile of glass?”

“No, I think they were slashed.”

Luke’s eyes widened, a wave of concern washing over his face. “You don’t think–”

“I have no proof,” you said, knowing instantly what Luke was implying before he even said it. “But yes.”

“Jesus–”

You took a slow, steadying breath, doing your best not to fall apart in front of Luke. 

“I think your place is on my way home,” Luke said after a moment. “I can give you a ride.”

You looked up, instantly ready to decline the generous offer. Luke was good– too good. And you didn’t want to ruin whatever type of friendship was blossoming between you by being too needy right from the start. 

“Don’t even try to say no,” he spoke first. “Please let me give you a ride.”

By habit, you chewed on your lower lip. 

“Don’t overthink it,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t have offered if it was going to be an inconvenience.”

You felt guilty– you really couldn’t help it, and you weren’t used to accepting help from others. But something about Luke’s tone was so earnest, you believed him. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t expect you to say yes. After a moment, you nodded slowly. “Okay,” your head hung, gaze falling to your lap. “Thank you.”

The two of you spent the final minutes of the jet ride sitting quietly, gazes fixated out the window as the pilot landed you safely back in Quantico. When the lights flickered on, your other team members stirred in their seats with exhausted sighs and groans. You grabbed your go bag and followed closely behind Luke as he stepped off the plane. 

“Need anything inside?” he asked. 

You shook your head. “No, I’m good.”

With that, he adjusted the bag on his shoulder and veered towards the parking garage with you just strides behind him. 

Luke made small talk on the ride home. It was like he knew how nervous you were to see Justin and was trying to lighten the mood. You mostly just smiled and nodded in response, and felt grateful when Luke didn’t pressure you or point this out. Only when you got close enough to offer him instructions to your house did you actually utter any words. 

Then, before you knew it, Luke was putting his truck in park on the street near your house. You swallowed thickly as soon as you saw Justin’s car in the driveway and a single light still on in the house. 

The harsh reality was that you had no idea what to expect when you walked through those doors. But here… now… sitting in this truck with Luke, you felt safe. It was hard to leave that. 

But of course you had to. Luke couldn’t wait here all night. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you said softly, trying to conceal how shaky your voice sounded. 

“I don’t mean to overstep,” he said quickly. “But… I just– I mean, I don’t feel good about leaving you here.”

You shook your head quickly. Again, not wanting to feel like a burden. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine. He can be controlling and he gets angry– but he’d never hurt me or anything.”

Luke nodded, although the furrow in his brow told you he didn’t quite believe you. 

“You have my number. Promise me you’ll call if you need anything.”

You weren’t used to this kind of generosity. But before you could overthink things, you nodded earnestly, believing that you would actually call him if it came to that. If nothing else, Luke had proven how trustworthy he was in the last few hours alone. 

“Alright,” he nodded carefully as you slid out of the front seat of his truck, feet colliding with the pavement. 

“Thanks again,” you did your best to muster up a genuine smile. 

The corner of his lip tugged up slightly, but concern was still plastered over his face. “See you on Monday then.”

“Monday,” you agreed. 

With that, you closed the door– putting a literal wall between you and the only person who had made you feel safe in the last week. 

You turned towards your house, the knots in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. When you reached the front door, you turned one last time to see Luke leaned forward, eyes trained on you. Your chest softened when you realized he was waiting for you to get inside safely before driving off. Offering him one, final wave, you turned to unlock the front door. 

When you first stepped inside your house– everything looked normal. The light above the stove was on and the fridge hummed softly. You placed your duffel bag on the floor and stepped into the kitchen for some water. As you filled up a glass, you began to wonder if maybe you’d overreacted. Maybe Justin had been busy with work this week– just like you’d been. 

But your wishful thinking was short lived. 

Because the second you turned away from the faucet, you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sight of Justin– standing on the other side of the island counter. You hadn’t even heard him approach you. 

“Jesus, Justin–” you gasped, setting your glass of water down on the counter. “You scared me.”

Instead of replying, his eyes just narrowed. He looked angry– angrier than you’d ever seen him. An eerie chill crept down your spine, sending an eruption of goosebumps across your skin. 

“Where were you?” he asked, voice menacing and icy. 

“I told you– there was a case–”

His hands slammed down on the counter, causing you to take a step back as you jumped. 

“Don’t lie to me!” 

“I’m not lying–” you said quickly, trying to keep your own voice even. You knew how important it would be to remain calm. 

But despite your efforts, Justin swiped his hand across the counter, sending your cup of water colliding into the wall, where it shattered. 

You winced, unable to completely contain your shock. Because despite the yelling and the screaming, Justin had never done that before. Something inside of you told you that you had to leave… now– but you couldn’t react in time. Because before you could even turn your body to head towards the door, he was already turning the corner around the island, eliminating the only barrier between you and his violent outburst. 

“Where are you going, huh?” he challenged. “Gonna take off again?”

“I was at work, Justin– I told you that.”

He took another step closer to you, sending you a step backwards. Like a choreographed dance, you alternated steps until you heard the crunch of glass beneath your shoes. You’d reached the wall. You were cornered. 

Panic flooded through you. And suddenly, logic went out the window. You couldn’t think rationally– you couldn’t problem solve. Everything just went blank. 

“Who brought you home tonight, hm?” 

He was close enough that you could smell the alcohol melting off his breath. You lowered your head, trying to appear as submissive as you could– because what the hell else were you supposed to do?

“I saw the truck– the white one? Who the fuck was that?”

“Just someone from work,” you answered quickly. 

“Just someone from work, huh?” He took another step forward. There was practically no space between the two of you now. “Look at me when you talk.” 

You were trembling so hard, you couldn’t follow his commands as fast as he wanted. 

“I said–” he snapped harshly. Instantly, you felt fingers wrapping around your throat, forcing your head up. Justin’s hand squeezed, cutting air off. “Look at me when you talk.” 

His grip tightened. “Go ahead– say it. Tell me where you were.”

You opened your mouth, but you couldn’t even get air in your lungs, let alone formulate words. 

Justin’s eyebrow raised. For a moment, he actually looked like he was enjoying this. 

“No?” he asked. “Nothing? Are you finally done lying to me?”

You tried to inhale– but when nothing came, more panic settled in your stomach. You squirmed, needing air fast. Your hands raised to grab his forearm, desperate for him to let go. You tried to breathe again– but when air still didn’t come, you dug your nails into his skin without thinking– scratching him, hoping that would help. Except, you were so panicked, you had no concept of how hard you actually scratched him. Your nails broke through the skin– causing him to release your throat.  

“You bitch,” he hissed. Before you could even take a breath, you felt something collide with the side of your face, sending your head whipping to the side. 

Your head hung for a moment while your brain tried to comprehend what was happening. 

Justin had hit you– and there was currently something warm dripping down the side of your head. As you were hunched over, you felt something then collide with your stomach– hard. His knee maybe? You couldn’t tell–

“You let some man drive you home to my house!” he yelled, hand closing around your throat again. This time, he launched you backwards, whipping your head into the wall forcefully. “And then you come in and you fucking lie about it?” 

You grasped at his wrist– not scratching, but trying to get him to loosen his grip. You couldn’t breathe– no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t breathe. 

“Please,” you tried to say, but all that came out was a gasp. 

You attempted to look at him– hoping he could see how sincere you were being. But when you gazed up, your stomach just dropped. His eyes were menacing– black, empty. He looked like he could kill you right here and now and not care in the slightest. 

Justin’s grip tightened, you could feel each individual finger as it dug deeper into your skin, cutting off your airway– crushing your windpipe. 

You were going to die– You were going to die and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

You dug your nails into his skin again, you flailed– you slapped with what energy you had left. But nothing was working. Your vision was blurring– dark edges starting to create a tunnel around the world. He was too strong– and you were going to die. 

Until suddenly, with no warning, Justin’s grip loosened. 

Instantly, you slid to the floor– coughing and choking as you gasped for air. 

You waited for whatever would come next– a kick to the ribs, something clattering over your head. But instead, you heard his footsteps retreating. 

You willed yourself to look up– through foggy vision clouded by tears, you saw Justin backing out of the kitchen, his eyes wide. 

“I-I–” he stammered. “I didn’t–” For a moment he paused, like he was frozen in place, before shaking his head. 

You were too focused on trying to breathe regularly again to make sense of the look of remorse seemingly on his face before he darted out of the room. 

Although he was out of your sight, you knew Justin couldn’t be far. And you knew that, despite the fact that you were sputtering and could barely breathe, you had to get out of that house. With what little strength you had left, you pushed yourself off the floor. Your back throbbed from being thrown against the wall, while a wave of dizziness overcame you. You all but staggered to where you’d dropped your bag earlier, doing a quick scan of the room before grabbing the strap and hauling it over your shoulder. 

You hurried to the front door, hand on the knob, when you paused. 

Where the hell were you supposed to go?

And then Luke’s words from earlier flashed through your mind. 

Promise me you’ll call if you need anything. 

You couldn’t– you thought. You’d already asked him for so much. But he did make you promise. And honestly, you couldn’t think of anyone in the world aside from him that you’d talk to about what had just happened. 

Suddenly, you heard movement from upstairs. 

You didn’t have time to toggle back and forth. You had to make a decision. 

Before you could second guess anything, you grabbed your phone from your pocket, pulled up Luke’s contact info, and hurried out the door. 

…

The second your name flashed across his screen, Luke knew he shouldn’t have left. Granted, he was only four minutes down the road– but he wished he had listened to his gut and just stayed. 

He slid his thumb across the screen. “Hello?”

He was met by an eerie silence.

“Hello?” he repeated. 

“Luke–” Your voice sounds so small– so choked up. “I’m sorry– I–” 

He waited a moment, hanging on to each word you spoke like it was a prayer. 

“Could you– maybe… could you come back? I’m so sorry– I–”

Luke was already turning his truck around before you could finish your choppy sentence. 

“I’m on my way,” he assured you. “Stay right there, okay?”

He was pretty sure he heard you agree before the line went dead. But regardless, Luke was back at your house in an instant. The second he put his truck in park, he was already undoing his seatbelt and launching himself out of the car. 

He had no idea what he was walking into– all he knew was that he had to get you out of there. What the hell could this asshole have said to you to have you so shaken up over the phone? 

He imagined knocking on the door– finding you tear streaked and trembling. It made his insides roar with anger before even seeing you. 

Except, when Luke turned the corner of his truck. He didn’t have to reach the front door to see you. He didn’t even have to walk across your lawn. Instead, you were hunched over on the curb, face buried in your hands while your whole body shook. 

Luke’s shoulders fell– your name tumbling from his lips as he approached you.

He had prepared for trembling– he had prepared for crying. But what he wasn’t prepared for, was seeing your face, bloodied and bruised when you looked up at him. 

He stopped dead in his tracks, everything inside of him turning to ice at the sight. 

“Where is he?” Luke managed to choke out. His voice sounded muffled and distant in his own ears. 

You let out a shaky breath before attempting to smile– like you were trying to somehow convince him that you were okay. The cut on your lip stretched as you did, making you wince. “Inside,” you whispered. 

He nodded once. As much as he didn’t want to leave you out here alone, Luke couldn’t help himself. 

“I’ll kill him,” he said through gritted teeth. And just like that, he was off– taking long strides towards the front door. He had no idea what your house looked like– no idea where he’d find that asshole lurking. All Luke knew was that he was going to pay for what he did to you. 

He had tunnel vision– the only thing in front of him was a blind, rageful desire to hurt that piece of shit as much as he had hurt you. He was narrowing in on the front door– just a few steps away… until he heard something break through the fog. 

It was you– your voice so soft and broken, calling out to him desperately. He turned around, blinders widening to see you standing on the lawn, chest heaving and tears falling down your cheeks quickly. 

“Please Luke–” you begged. “Please don’t. I want to leave. Please, can we leave?”

He paused, but only for a second before all of his anger melted away in an instant.  

He nodded, knowing right there– in that moment, that he would do absolutely anything for you at the drop of a hat. In a few quick steps, he was back at your side, hand hovering near your lower back just in case you needed extra support. 

“We can go,” he said gently, purposely keeping his voice as calm as he could. “Let’s get you in the truck.” 

After only a couple of steps, Luke noticed that you were limping. He felt a wave of tears burning behind his eyes. He was frustrated– angry. With your boyfriend, but mostly with himself. He knew he shouldn’t have left. He knew it in his gut. He should have been there– maybe if he’d stayed, he would’ve heard the yelling– he could’ve stepped in before things got this bad. 

“Can you get up, okay?” he asked as he opened the passenger door for you.

You nodded, reaching up for the handle bar. He watched as you winced– just the extension of your torso causing your breathing to increase. 

“You’re alright,” he said. “Let me help.” 

He made sure to wait for you to nod before he placed his hand against your lower back. Ever so gently, he supported your weight so that you could hoist yourself up into the front seat. 

“There you go,” he said, once you were safely tucked inside. He closed the door and turned to head to the driver’s side. Just as he did, he caught a flash of movement from the direction of your house. When he looked, he saw Justin standing on the front porch. Even from the road, Luke could see the tears glistening in his eyes. 

He felt the familiar anger from earlier resurfacing inside of him. It tightened in his chest– burned in his stomach. He envisioned himself crossing the lawn– grabbing Justin by the shirt collar– launching his fist right into his jaw. 

Luke inhaled deeply before looking back towards you. You were staring at him, crying again, your face riddled with fear. Because you knew exactly what he was imagining, and it made you afraid. 

Luke’s insides softened. 

No. 

He would not just be another man who scared you tonight. Luke wanted to be someone you felt safe with. 

Without looking back, he hurried along the front of his hood and climbed into his side of the truck. He put the truck in drive and calmly accelerated down the road– away from everything that had ever hurt you. 

…

It was only when you were in the safe confinement of Luke’s truck that you realized how bad you were shaking.  

The further you got from the house, the more the events from that evening sank into your brain. You’d seen this before with victims– once their adrenaline calmed down and they actually realized they were safe, fight or flight wasn’t protecting them anymore.

There was so much you wanted to say to Luke. But you could barely muster up the strength to breathe, let alone explain yourself. 

But you knew that you had to say something. You inhaled shakily and picked at the loose hangnail on your thumb. “Luke, I’m so sorry,” you said, breaking through the thick silence. 

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from how hard he was holding on. He hadn’t said a word since you’d been on the road and you found yourself wondering what was going through his mind. Was he angry? Annoyed? Frustrated?   

Luke grimaced. “Please don’t apologize,” he said softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You bit your lip to keep any tears from spilling out– you’d cried enough in front of Luke for one day. “I just meant that I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything.”

Something in his tone just seemed so off– so curt. You desperately needed to make this right. 

“Is there a hotel or something on the way to your place? You don’t have to go out of your way– you can just drop me off, I don’t want to inconvenience you–”

Luke hit the breaks, his truck coming to a stop as he pulled over on the side of the road. After shifting the gear, he turned in his seat to look at you. 

“I’m not inconvenienced by you. And I’m not dropping you off at a hotel. You’re coming to my place, and I’m going to clean up your cuts, and then I’m going to make you dinner.”

“Luke–” you started to protest but he shook his head. 

“Please,” he said, voice cracking. “Please, let me do this– Otherwise… otherwise I won’t be able to forgive myself.”

Your brows furrowed. “Forgive yourself? What are you talking about?”

Luke shook his head, his dark mop of curls unruly after the long day. Slowly, he lifted his head and gazed out of the windshield, like he was deep in thought. 

“I knew something was wrong– I mean, I heard the way he spoke to you in the garage. After you told me he slashed your tires… I just knew. I knew something bad would happen when I dropped you off, but I tried to convince myself I was just being dramatic– or paranoid. But I knew– and I didn’t listen. I left you, and you got hurt. So please, let me make you dinner and give you a safe place to be tonight. It’s the least I can do.”

Your mouth hung open– whatever you thought was going on in Luke’s mind, it wasn’t that. Before you could think twice, you leaned forward in your seat and gathered his hand in yours. His warm skin touched yours– sending shockwaves through your entire body. 

“None of this was your fault,” you assured him. “In fact, you've shown me more kindness in the last few hours than I think Justin has shown me in the last year. I’m so grateful it was you who came and got me tonight, Luke.”

The words came out so easily– probably because of how true they were. 

His gaze flickered towards yours– eyes glistening with unshed tears. He spun his hand, so that your palms pressed against each other, before lacing your fingers together and squeezing gently. 

“You know I’ll never let him hurt you again, right?” he asked. 

His words sent chills down your spine. You did know, but you weren't sure if you were ready to admit that or not. So instead, you changed the subject.

"Are we almost to your house?"

Luke shrugged. "Not really- I'm closer to Stafford, probably thirty five minutes."

You frowned. "Stafford? That's the opposite direction. I thought you said my place was on your way home."

A smirk crept across Luke's face. "That might've been a tiny lie."

"Luke!" you exclaimed.

He let out a laugh. "What? I knew you wouldn't have gotten in the car otherwise. Am I wrong?"

You let out a huff of air, hating the fact that he was right.

As he put the truck in drive and continued down the road, you squeezed his hand back.

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦

summary. reaping day. something ellie is rather indifferent towards, wanting only to return back to the warm embrace of nature. meanwhile you're the complete opposite, today being one that'll determine your fate, as well as your placement in your family. this chapter follows the alternate experiences that the two of you go through.

content warnings. depictions of dead animals, domestic abuse, implications of slavery (avoxes). if you see anything else that i missed, pls let me know!

total wc. 10,815

notes!! she's here!!! chapter one of this beauty!!! i've proofread this at least fifty times and i'm still not happy with it, but! here's the reminder that this fic is formatted and meant for ao3, not tumblr (hence why it's so goddamn long). anyway, i advise you read it there rather than here for that reason. it's updated sooner and i actually make sure that it's intelligible. the link is right here ↓

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

11:46.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

“Again?” Ellie’s groggy cavil is muffled against the crook of Cat’s neck. Her freckled face is buried into the warmth of the woman’s bare skin, chasing the comfort her proximity provides.

Cat huffs an airy laugh, her fingers absentmindedly running along an auburn scalp. “We’ve gone over this.”

“Yeah, but,” Ellie props up on her elbows to frown at her, “You went last year.”

“It’s a good thing if they’re asking me to attend again, Ellie.” Cat reminds her as she’s done at least fifty times by now. Despite her dwindling patience, Cat’s eyes are filled with naught but fondness as they clash with a pair of viridescent irises. Ellie continues to frown at her, adamant in her show of defiance. Cat continues to fiddle with her choppy hair as she speaks. “The Capitol is extremely picky with their stylists. It’s an honor to work for them, not to mention being chosen by them.”

Ellie has to swallow back the words that crawl up her throat and threaten to spill. Words of which vocalize her personal repugnance for the Capitol. She and Cat have gotten into plenty of fights regarding this topic and she refuses to cause another — especially considering the news she’s been trying to avoid facing all morning.

“I won’t see you for, like, a month.” Ellie grumbles before flopping back down onto Cat’s chest. She turns her head so her ear is pressed against her ribs, the gentle thudding of Cat’s heartbeat almost soothing enough to distract her from the world that envelops them.

Their bare bodies are pressed flush together as Ellie continues to listen to the repetition of her palpitating organ. She can feel Cat’s fingers toying with her hair, the soft caresses providing a sense of calamity. Her chest rises and falls, Ellie’s head shifting alongside each breath she takes. The intimacy it takes for to be near someone in this way — especially for Ellie — is oftentimes overlooked and seen only as crude or lustrous. However, in this case, they’re simply enjoying one another’s presence. Nothing vulgar about it.

Oh how Ellie wishes she could stay like this forever. In this little oasis of solace she’s founded for herself. Waking with Cat in her bed whilst morning sunlight filters through the window and casts golden hues over hardwood flooring. It’s nigh impossible to imagine that in only a few hours they’ll be separated for an indefinite epoch as Cat is escorted off to the Capitol while Ellie remains here.

She shuts her eyes, arms tightening around Cat’s waist as she wishes to cherish what little time she has left with her. Cat doesn’t dare cease playing with her hair, delicate fingers toying with the strands. 

Comfortability, domesticity, safety. That’s what Ellie feels when she’s near Cat — like nothing in the whole world could reach her. Like they’ve left the horrors of their District and are now floating through the cosmos all alone. Just the two of them. Though she knows better than to voice that to Cat, having found out the hard way that she doesn’t feel the same.

What they have is impermanent, said Cat when Ellie questioned her on fidelity, it has to be, she’d said. Even now, Ellie is unsure what that was supposed to mean. But she didn’t pry any further, for fear of damaging the fragility of what relationship, or lack thereof, they’d formed. Ever since, Ellie has learned to keep her feelings locked away in a hidden corner of her mind, making sure they never come forth to have the dust blown away. 

“Ellie!”

They both jolt to attention as the bedroom door flies open, doorknob slamming against the thick wooden wall behind it. Ellie sits up and narrows her eyes at the perpetrator, only to roll them once she comes to realize who it is.

“What do you want, Riley?” Ellie grumbles, flopping back against Cat as Riley enters the room. 

“I want to know why you’re still in bed.” Riley responds, stepping over the clothes on the floor with an upturned lip. Half of them are Cat’s from the night prior. Riley seems to instantly realize this, likely because she’s known Ellie well enough to know that she doesn’t wear Capitol-made dresses. Riley puts her hands on her hips, frowning at her best friend who remains cuddled up against her– Cat. “The Reaping is today and you’re still in bed.”

“It’s in two hours.” Ellie is quick to point out.

“I don’t care if it’s in twenty hours, you’re getting out of bed.” She says, picking up Ellie’s discarded clothes from the floor and tossing them at her. They land where her legs are tangled with Cat’s underneath the thin plaid blanket that’s draped lazily atop them. Riley begins to walk out of the room with a pointed expression before calling over her shoulder, “Oh. And these are Marlene’s orders, by the way.” Then she shuts the door.

Ellie sighs heavily, not yet ready to get up. If anything, she cozies even closer against Cat’s bare chest as she once again listens to the comforting thumps of her heart.

“God, she’s so demanding.” Cat scoffs. “I don’t understand how you put up with her.”

“I barely can.” She responds, causing Cat’s eyes to widen at the unexpected concurrence. “But she’s taken care of me since I was a baby, I owe it to her.”

Cat’s initial shock instantly dissipates. “I don’t mean Marlene, Ellie. I’m talking about Riley.”

Ellie sighs once more, her lips thinning. She knows that Cat and Riley don’t exactly get along. Well. Okay, that’s a major understatement. They literally despise each other. In every aspect that Cat admires the Capitol, Riley loathes it. They butt heads all the time, only ever speaking when it’s absolutely necessary and, even then, it oftentimes ends up in fighting. Ellie tries her hardest to keep them as far apart as possible, hating when they speak ill of the other.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” She mutters, having to force herself to sit up. The plaid blanket falls from her shoulders, pooling around her waist. The cool air chills her and goosebumps instantly begin to adorn her fair skin. She quickly reaches to the foot of the bed to grab the clothes Riley had tossed her way. Cat remains in bed as Ellie stands to get dressed, pulling on a frayed hoodie and worn jeans. “I just don’t want to have to choose between you two, that’s all.”

As she laces her shoes, it’s hard not to take notice of Cat’s lack of response. Ellie lifts her head to see the frown that’s plastered onto her features, the sight of it causing her to sigh. She walks over to the bed, shoes lightly padding across the old wooden floor. She leans one hand on the mattress beside Cat’s head, her other coming up to lift her jaw. She presses a kiss to her lips.

“You know where I keep the key.” Ellie whispers, pulling back only slightly as her hand remains on Cat’s chin. “You can get back to sleep and leave whenever you want, yeah? You need rest.” 

Cat nods, “Okay.”

With one final kiss goodbye, Ellie leaves. On her way out the door, she grabs her backpack from under her desk, swinging it over her shoulder before shutting the door gently behind her. Not yet ready to part ways with Cat, she stands in the hall for a few long minutes, using this time to straighten out her thoughts. 

After the Reaping, Cat will be gone for an indefinite duration as the stylists are taken to the Training Center alongside the two tributes. Not to mention, if the opportunity is provided, she knows Cat wouldn’t hesitate to stay to live in the Capitol forever. And everyone knows how much they love her there. It’s truly a matter of time before she’s promoted to a full-time Capitolite. The mere thought sends a chill down her spine.

Ellie heaves a sigh, mentally cursing anything and everything that relates to their fucked up government before she turns to walk down the hall. Her shoes thud against the floor as she attempts to calm herself, the repetition of her stride mocking that of Cat’s heartbeat. Nigh tauntingly. 

Turning a corner, she spots Riley standing in the kitchen. Her back is facing her as she peers out the window at the passerbyers that straggle down the street. District seven isn’t usually this busy, most citizens at work by now. But it’s Reaping Day and therefore one of the few days of the year that everyone gets off work. Parents cater to their kids, teens get into mischief with their friends, pets are walked through the neighborhood. Though, regardless of how one’s morning is spent, everyone will be amassed in town square by two o’clock. If not, they’re to be imprisoned.

Ellie slows her movements, footsteps now inaudible before she jumps out at Riley, causing the other girl to shriek. She nearly drops the glass in her hands as she whips around to scowl at Ellie. “You scared me!” She reprimands her, frowning.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughs, “That was the whole point?”

Riley rolls her eyes at this. “Whatever.”

She leans forward to set the glass back on the counter, a light clink sounding throughout the space as she does so. Ellie had expected it to be a glass of water or some other form of drink. Instead, it’s a vase holding an array of flowers that Ellie has built the habit of collecting on their daily outings. At first, it annoyed Riley the way Ellie would stop whatever she was doing to pick a flower and stuff it between the pages of her journal. It would interrupt the flow of their expedition. Though, with time, she’s grown used to it and even finds herself taking notice of pretty flowers in Ellie’s absence.

“Are you finally ready to go?” Riley asks, turning back around to face her friend with her eyebrows raised. Ellie gestures down to herself — dressed and obviously ready. Riley chuckles, rolling her eyes fondly before brushing past her.

The two of them exit the small wooden home and begin their journey toward the treeline. Four buildings down, they pass Riley’s house. After graduation, they’d chosen this neighborhood due to its proximity to the woods and the fact that two houses were simultaneously for sale closeby. And here they are, three years later, still fleeing to the foliage every morning.

The low hum of conversation isn’t foreign to District seven, but it’s rather uncommon way out here. To get this type of commotion, you’d usually have to be closer to town where the markets are. That’s where most people spend their time, trading supplies. The circumstances aren’t nearly as dire as in District twelve, but they’re certainly not as wealthy as the Capitol. Starving to death here is rare, but not at all impossible. 

“So,” Riley speaks up after a few minutes of comfortable silence before turning to Ellie with a regaled expression, “You’re sleeping with Cat again?”

“I never stopped sleeping with her.” Ellie says pointedly. 

What she doesn’t say is, It’s just grown more common as you’ve grown more distant from me.

She sighs. “I’m not gonna give you shit for it because you already know how I feel about her. But I want to know, is she going to be a stylist again in this year's Games?”

“Ugh,” Ellie groans, “You know I’m not allowed to go around telling people. She’s technically not even supposed to tell me. We could be arrested for disclosing information about the Games prior to their airing. We could be made into Avox for it. And, I don’t know about you, but I quite like my tongue.”

“Yeah, so does Cat.” Riley adds with a disgusted expression.

Ellie laughs, slapping her in the arm. “Gross!”

“What’s gross is walking in on your best friend naked on top of some Capitolite.” She grumbles. 

“We weren’t even doing anything!” 

“Yeah, luckily!” She replies with a laugh before another repulsive thought dawns on her. “Oh, and you didn’t even lock the door!”

To that, Ellie has no excuse. “Well– Okay yeah, fine. That’s definitely on me.”

Riley grins at her victoriously as they continue down the sidewalk. The air is practically buzzing with activity. With naught else to occupy their time, the people of the lumber District naturally swarm toward the woods. It’s in their blood. Even more so for Ellie and Riley, who spend their mornings in the woods even when they should technically be applying for jobs.

Yeah, the two of them have received that lecture from Marlene more times than anyone could count — that they’re adults and should therefore be forming some sort of a career path before they’re rendered undesirably old to any future employers. But, unbeknownst to Marlene, the two of them do have a job. Perhaps not a formal one, but it’s enough to keep the bills paid and water running. And, to a pair of girls in their early twenties, that’s more than they could ask for.

See, Riley and Ellie have built a routine. One where they awake at dawn, meet up at Ellie’s house for breakfast, then walk to the woods and spend the following few hours there. They cut trees, chop wood, hunt animals, etc. Then, at noon, they head toward what’s known as the Hob — basically a black market for those desperate enough to trade their hard earned quarry for a bit of cash. It’s located inside an abandoned paper mill, packed full with hundreds of buyers meandering about the derelict space. Every District has their own version of a Hob, well, perhaps not the richer Districts, but twelve is sure to have a huge one that would make seven’s dull in comparison. That thought alone is enough to ease Ellie’s conscience whenever she feels guilty for the illegality behind her line of work. If any of the Peacekeepers in her District found out about the Hob, all participants are sure to be hanged or, at bare minimum, given a whipping — both of which would be public as to make an example of the persecutors. To imagine Ellie hanging from a noose or tied to a pole whilst everyone else watched, while Marlene watched? It makes her stomach churn. So, habitually, she simply ignores the lack of validity to her actions. Plus, there's no malice to her intentions. She’s just a young woman who wants to put food on the table. Is that so much to ask for? She thinks not.

Anyway. Riley and Ellie basically run that place. Everyone knows them there, recognizing the two women the instant they enter the mill. They always have the good shit — perfectly chopped wood alongside undamaged game — and are willing to be paid less than others because they tend to have a higher quantity and manage to amass a large sum in spite of their lowered payment. However, seeing as everyone is off work today, it’s rather awkward to see the people of the Hob out on the streets. Because they all know better than to acknowledge the illegal trading they participate in religiously. 

Ellie walks silently beside Riley, the unspoken tension in the air doubling in size whenever they recognize someone. The Peacekeepers are large in aggregate today as well, managing to make this impossibly more nerve wracking. The town square is packed full with Capitolites who are setting up for the Reaping, hence everyone now on this side of the District as they look for something to busy themselves with. And, as said before, the woods are evidently everyone’s collective first choice.

“You nervous?” Riley asks as they enter the woods, the familiar scent of pine and dirt wafting toward them. The air is chilly, yet not unbearably so. It’s a nice medium that Ellie finds herself enjoying. She turns, raising a brow in inquiry. Riley digresses, “For the Reaping.”

She shrugs, “Not really. The Hunger Games are morbid, yeah, but they’re a fact of life. If I get Reaped, what good will it do to have worried about it that morning? I feel that fate is predetermined. Whatever happens, you can’t change it so you might as well live regularly until it’s foisted upon you.”

“Um, wow?” Riley gives her a peculiar look. “Since when did you get all philosophical?”

Ellie huffs a laugh, “I’m just saying.”

“I agree that the Games are morbid.” Riley shakes her head with a sigh, dry leaves crunching under their feet as they trek further into the woods. “But why should we have to live in fear while those in the Capitol live in ignorant bliss? It’s immoral and dehumanizing.”

Ellie agrees with her, of course, though she finds herself glancing over their shoulder fretfully before turning to frown at her friend. “Be quiet, Riley. Peacekeepers are fucking everywhere today.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She huffs. “But I mean it.”

“Yes, I know you mean it.” Ellie rolls her eyes. “And I mean it when I say I don’t want to see you punished for your brutal honesty. Truly, it’ll be the death of you.”

Riley laughs before they fall into another comfortable silence. 

Despite the wordlessness being one of easement, it’s foreign to them both. As of late, Riley has been progressively growing more and more distant, causing an awkward rift between the pair. They still go about their usual routines each day and share moments of fond laughter, but it’s different. Only a few months ago, there’d not be a single second of silence as the two would oftentimes end up talking over the other in a coveted rush to share random information. Even after a day’s work had finished, they’d frequently wind up at one of their houses for the night — watching television, feasting on game, or just sharing the space. It got to the point where it was more rare to be without the other than with them.

But now, Ellie feels as though they spend more time in silence than in conversation. Take present for example. Had this happened in July, one of them would undoubtedly be rambling on about something. Though, as it turns out, that’s not currently the case.

Ellie has yet to bring it up to Riley, fearing she’ll say something she’s not ready to hear. She hasn’t even a guess in her mind what could have brought this upon them, but whatever it is, it’s drastic. Hence why she’s recently been hanging around Cat more often, using the woman to both distract herself from her childlike friendship issues as well as make herself feel better. Because Cat always knows how to comfort Ellie, even when she’s not entirely aware of what the problem is.

They continue to walk through the woods, their footsteps nigh inaudible as they’ve grown skilled at adapting to nature. After a few minutes of trekking through the foliage, Riley stops and turns around expectantly. Ellie instantly removes her backpack and crouches to the ground as she sifts through it. She pulls out an axe — which barely even fits inside the bag — and passes it to Riley, who takes it gratefully. Ellie then hands the bag to Riley, who positions it on her back with a few shoulder shrugs.

Where they stopped wasn’t randomized, though. Not entirely. Because, a few yards away is a fallen tree, hollowed out in the center to create a tunnel-like log. They walk over to it, Riley tossing the axe back and forth between her hands. Ellie crouches down and reaches into the log, feeling around the dampened bark until her fingers brush against the coveted items. She pulls out a bow and quiver, adding them to her newly emptied shoulders. 

See, they can’t exactly be caught carrying weapons through the District or the Peacekeepers will know they’re hunting illegally. So, as an alternative, they hide the weapons deep in the woods where nobody else would think to look. Fairly smart on their part, Ellie thinks.

“So,” Ellie muses as they begin walking through the woods once more, “This morning, you said you woke me under Marlene’s orders. What exactly did she say?”

“I talked to her last night.” She explains, swinging the axe back and forth. Had Ellie not done this with her a million times before, she’d likely be fearing for her life. But that axe is quite literally an extension of Riley’s arm, moving as though it’s a part of her. It's, admittedly, rather impressive. “She told me to make sure you’re awake at least an hour prior to the Reaping.”

“Ugh, she doesn’t trust me to do anything.”

“Can you blame her?” She laughs. “You were nearly late to the Reaping last year. Had you arrived less than five minutes after you had, the Peacekeepers would have placed you under arrest.”

“I think my timing was impeccable.” Ellie argues, pointing her chin up in an act of superiority. 

As she does, something in the trees catches her eye and she suddenly stops in her tracks, Riley quick to do the same. She nocks an arrow, the head instantly pointed in the direction of the movement. After a few seconds of tense silence, a squirrel chitters before ignorantly traipsing across the branch. She releases the arrow and it lands right in its eye, so as not to damage the meat. It hits the ground with a thud. Ellie grins widely as she walks to retrieve the corpse as well as the arrow.

“Talk about timing.” Riley whistles, following close behind.

“What did I say?” She responds, positioning the squirrel to hang from her belt. “Impeccable.”

“Yeah, maybe in terms of your aim, but not in your vigilance.” Riley points out.

“Whatever.” Ellie waves her hand to dismiss the accusation. “Shut up and go chop your wood.”

Riley laughs but obliges, turning to leave the scene. Ellie can’t even listen to her footsteps depart, as she’s rather adept at masking their boistry. But she can tell when she’s gone, though, because the atmosphere alters — shifting from one shared between lifelong friends to one of solitude in the middle of nowhere. And yet, despite the latter being far less preferred by many, Ellie relishes in it. The lack of eyes on her is comforting rather than eerie. 

She treks through the trees until she finds a slightly elevated patch of land, allowing her to look down on the forest below her — though, only by a couple feet. But any altitude is better than nothing. She crouches behind a bush and nocks a second arrow, waiting for something to pass by.

Ellie manages to shoot a few more squirrels and a couple of rabbits throughout the following hour they spend in the woods. She then lets out a three-note whistle as she stands to her feet. She’s brushing off her jeans when the same whistles tune is repeated back to her a few hundred yards to the East. Riley. 

They’d come up with this tactic a few years back, where once one of them had finished up for the day, they let out a whistle to let the other know of their completion. Then, if the sound reaches the other, they’ll return it.

They split up like this because Ellie requires quiet in order to hunt whereas Riley tends to make quite a bit of ruckus during her wood-chopping. Ellie’s still gathering her things when a twig snaps a few feet away. She doesn't need to look up to know who it is.

“What’d you catch?” Riley asks as she approaches her from behind.

“Nothing good.” She admits. “Just squirrels and rabbits.”

“That’s not bad, though.” 

“Yeah, animals are so scarce today due to all the people’s proximity to the treeline. I could sometimes catch the sound of their talking. Even from way out here.” Ellie says as she finishes packing up and turns to face Riley, who’s holding an armful of chopped wood. “Here, turn around.”

Without question, Riley does. Ellie unzips the bag and holds out a hand for a piece of wood. Riley passes it back to her and she loads the wood one-by-one into the pack. She then adds the axe and zips it — well, partially. A few inches of the handle remains sticking out, though it’s doubtful anyone will question the contents of the bag. Not when so much is going on today.

They head back to the mouth of the woods, making sure to return the bow and quiver into the hollowed log on their way by. In minutes, they’re emerging from the trees and walking back through the streets, which appear to have grown even busier in their absence. They’d walked in silence the entire way.

“Welp.” Riley says once they’ve reached Ellie’s porch and she’s returned the bag — which has tripled in weight with the addition of the axe and wood. “See you at the Reaping?”

She sighs dramatically, “I guess so. Not like I want to go anyway.”

“Marlene would fucking kill you.” Riley laughs and Ellie joins in, imagining the enraged expression on Marlene’s face had she not shown up. She couldn't get away with it regardless, though. Riley was right when she said the Peacekeepers would either imprison or hang her. It’s happened to someone before — an old man ripped from his home and put in an icy cold cell for the rest of his short life. He’d apparently used the excuse of saying he was in a wheelchair, but that wasn't enough for the District’s law enforcement as they claimed he could easily be wheeled to the square. So, yeah, maybe the jokes of Ellie not showing up shouldn’t be pondered on but so much.

Once Riley has left, Ellie grabs her key from the top of a nearby windowsill. She notices that it’d moved a few inches to the left. Cat. She unlocks the door and enters her home, almost screaming to see the silhouette of a woman standing in her kitchen. Though she quickly regains normalcy when she recognizes the person’s frame.

“Fuck, Marlene.” She curses, putting a hand to her chest as she — as subtly as possible — slips the bag from her shoulders and places it on the floor next to the door. “You scared me.”

Marlene is wearing a dress, a nice one. The neck is in a deep V shape that shows off her collarbones and shoulders. The sleeves come to her elbows, the skirt to her mid-calves. It’s a soft maroon color, complimenting her dark skin and brown eyes beautifully. Ellie would accolade her for it had she not known it was for the Reaping and thereby the Capitol. However, being aware of that fact rather mars the beauty of her accentuated appearance.

Marlene turns to face her with a frown, “What were you two doing?”

“Seriously?” Ellie groans, walking over to grab a glass cup from the cabinet over Marlene’s head, having to shift around her to do so. “I was hanging out with my best friend before we witness two people being shipped off to die. Do I truly have to walk you step-by-step through everything I do?”

“Yes.” She begins filling the cup with faucet water, Marlene looming like a shadow over her shoulder. When Ellie doesn’t respond, she frowns. “Whatever. I don’t even care what you guys were doing, I just seek the consolation of knowing it was safe.”

“I’m an adult, Marlene. When will you–”

“Was it safe, Ellie?” She repeats, tone growing more agitated. 

“Yes.” She replies, the lie coming easy to her now. After all this time of being untruthful, it’s nearly second nature to withhold the truth from her mother-figure whenever she’s pestered on this recurring topic. She has a great poker face, too.

 She raises her brows as she takes a sip from her glass, peering at her from over the rim.

“Was it legal?” She questions and Ellie nearly spits out her water. Marlene scoffs at her reaction. “Okay, so I got my answer.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t need to!” She crosses her arms and gives Ellie that disapproving mom expression that could make anybody feel remorse. Ellie places her glass on the counter and holds her gaze, trying her hardest not to falter under it. “I assume you saw how many Peacekeepers are here, Ellie.”

“I’d be an idiot to not notice them.” She grumbles defiantly, sounding far more childlike than she’d care to admit. Marlene always manages to bring this side out of her — a scorned child who has no choice but to agree with everything she says. Despite how hard she tries to be mature and release herself from Marlene’s iron fist, it’s so far been proven impossible.

“So what were you thinking? I don’t care for the details of what you guys go out doing everyday so long as it’s legal.” She says. “You know that. It’s one of my only rules for you.”

The acknowledgement of their daily repetition is enough for Ellie to stiffen, not having realised Marlene even noticed their outings. However, now that she’s thinking of it, it makes sense. They've been doing this same routine for three years now. You’d have to be a fool to not notice. And Marlene is no fool.

“I know, I just–”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, cutting Ellie off with a sigh. “Just go wash up. I don’t want you smelling like a dead animal for the Reaping.”

The closeness in her comparison of the miasma to a corpse is nigh to laughable. Except it’s not. Because Marlene is unnerving. She cares for Ellie more than anything, yes, but she’s absolutely terrifying in her vehement need to protect her. 

But Ellie is an adult now. She doesn’t need protection.

Despite this, she follows her orders and trudges off to the bathroom, making sure to scoop up her backpack on her way down the hall.

She discards the bag of wood and lays the dead squirrel and rabbit corpses out on her bedroom floor. Normally, she’d place them in the kitchen to ready them for gutting but that’s, clearly, not a viable option. If Marlene were to see the quarry from their expedition, she’d absolutely lose her head. First, she’d force Ellie and Riley to get a job, and likely a boring one. She’d forbid them from using the forest for income. And, in those two short acts of discipline, Ellie’s life would be over. The woods are her home; her place of solace. Without it, who is she?

She then heads into the bathroom and takes a bath, scrubbing all the dirt and grime from her skin before redressing into something a bit more fancy — though it’s definitely not Capitol material as everyone else typically aims for. She’s simply wearing a nicer pair of jeans and a flannel. The collar and buttons make it fancy. Kinda.

When she returns to the kitchen, she’s still drying her hair with the towel. Marlene looks her up and down and frowns, though she says nothing. 

See, if one is Reaped today, they’re taken to the Capitol. As such, they’re traditionally expected to wear their nicest clothes to the Reaping, just in case their name is drawn. But Ellie cares naught to make any lasting impressions on the Capitol, so she doesn’t give a shit what she wears. The sole reason she’s wearing even a button up is to please Marlene enough so she’s not forced into something else. 

Because, when she was fourteen, she tried to wear a t-shirt to the Reaping and was instantly reprimanded. As punishment, she had to wear something Marlene picked out. Needless to say, never again will she do that. Even now Riley laughs at her for the outfit, though Marlene insists it was the most distinguished Ellie had ever looked. She begs to differ.

“Okay, you ready?” Marlene asks.

Ellie shrugs, “Yeah.”

They head down to the square, the entirety of District seven doing the same. The waves of people grow larger and larger the closer they get to the square until it’s practically a tsunami of them. Once they reach their destination, they pause and turn to each other. Marlene looks down at Ellie, a glint of something unreadable behind her gaze, almost as though she wishes to say something to her prior to parting ways. But instead of voicing whatever it is that’s weighing on her, she just pats her shoulder and walks away.

The crowd is sorted by generation. Everyone between the ages of twelve and fifty are required to be within the crowd as their names are among those able to be Reaped. The younger kids are positioned closest to the stage whilst the older crowd is near the back. Ellie stands with her age group, picking at the peeling skin around her nails as she awaits the ceremony’s exordium. 

The stage before them has been added purely for the Reaping, as it’s not usually present. Atop it resides a podium, a table with a bowl of tiny slips of papers, and three chairs at the back of the stage — one for the District’s mayor, one for the escort, and one for the mentor of this year’s tributes. Camera crews are perched like buzzards atop the neighboring buildings, readying themselves to document the coming show. Each District is going through the exact same procedure. Tonight, each footage will be broadcasted across all televisions in the country.

About twenty more minutes pass, the square growing supplementarily crowded with each passing second. When the clock strikes twelve, three people are in their corresponding chairs. Ellie hadn’t even noticed their arrival. 

The mayor, whose name she doesn’t know despite having heard it repeated throughout her entire life, sits in the far right chair, his jaw set as he overlooks the citizens. The District escort resides in the center chair, a Capitol woman with bright blue hair and a smile that’s so pearly white that it’s almost inhuman — Ellie doesn’t know her name either. The only person whose name she’s sure of is the man sitting in the left chair. That’s Joel Miller. The victor of the 56th Games. Word is, he’s not a pleasant man. Though, Ellie supposes no sane victor would be. Returning from a murderous arena after all other twenty-three tributes have fallen must be the emptiest feeling known to man. She has a deep respect for Joel, despite never having properly met him.

The mayor steps up to the podium and begins reading off his script. The story of how their country came to be. Ellie tunes it out, instead glancing around the crowd for Cat. It takes her an embarrassingly long time before she remembers that she’s absent from the ceremony due to her being the District seven stylist this year. Ellie turns back to the stage just as the escort steps up to the podium.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Says she. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!” 

The slogan has grown old and worn out by now, everyone having heard it an indefinite quantity of times. Ellie wouldn’t be surprised if she mumbles it in her sleep. 

Once more, she finds herself tuning out the rest of the woman’s speech. Despite her lack of listening not resulting in anything beneficial, it makes her feel better. Like she’s showing the Capitol that they don’t control her. Not like the Capitol gives a fuck if one measley twenty-one year old is tuning out the speeches. But whatever. It makes her feel ameliorated and that’s all that matters.

“Here we go.” The escort says before diving her hand into the bowl of names. The glass sphere is packed full with slips of paper, each one reading a citizen’s name. The entire square is holding their breath as they await the name. The entire country is — as every District is being Reaped at the same time. The woman pulls a slip of paper from the bowl and reads it aloud with a grin. “Riley Abel.”

Ellie’s heart drops to her stomach, body frozen in place as the name is spoken. The world feels far away as she watches Riley walk up the stage and stand beside the escort. Riley’s chin is held high, her eyes dullened; they lack the vibrancy that Ellie adores so much. She’s the epitome of strength, standing on that stage as she’s set to be broadcasted across the entire country. 

Ellie knows that expression though. Riley isn’t sad or mourning. She’s pissed.

Fuck. She should have done something. But it all happened so fast. And now the escort’s hand is diving right back into the bowl for a second tribute.

“Aaaand,” She sing-songs before lifting her head joyously, “Ellie Williams.”

11:46.

DISTRICT 4.

“Again.” Your mother’s tone is sharp as a dagger as she thumps the end of her cane against tiled flooring, demanding more, more, more from you. Her voice is tinny, filed through an intercom overhead. To your left is a one-way mirror that scales the entire 20ft wall, through which she pedantically watches your every movement. Though you’re unable to see her, she sees you. And that fact in itself is enough to make you vigilent.

Sweat coats your skin as you reposition yourself, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet in preparation. Your expression is hardened, purposefully so under your mother’s gaze. Her scrupulousness is nigh to tangible, made palpable by the heavy weight on your shoulders, the stiffness in your muscles, the tell-tale feel of her eyes scanning you. 

Then, in a flash of flickering blue, holographic opponents begin to charge at you. These humanoid figures are translucent in visibility, but their hits land just as genuinely in spite of their pellucidity. You’ve been fighting them all morning — another cause of the fatigue in your bones.

A few sessions prior, you’d been permitted the use of weapons. Your mother had instructed you to train with each one interchangeably. She wished to see which you were best and worst at — which ended up being throwing daggers and a trident, respectively. The daggers allow you close-combat, which you’re rather skilled at, as a product of these training sessions, whereas the trident’s weight is off balanced and leaves you fumbling with it for a few seconds prior to use. She soon grew bored with the weapons, though, and instructed you to fight bare handedly. Just to be sure you can. 

There are currently three holograms presented to you — one with a burly build, one with a dainty build, and one that resides between the two. 

The muscular opponent is the first to strike, swinging a right hook toward your jaw. You dodge it, ducking easily under its arm. Whilst straightening back up, the smaller figure grabs you by the hair. Your head is yanked backward. You whip around, snatching the figure by the wrist and throwing its body over your head onto the floor. It lands with a hard thud before you bring the heel of your boot down onto its throat. With a light puff of air, the hologram disintegrates.

One down, two left.

Without a moment’s pause, you spin around to face the other two diaphanous forms. The intermediate combatant surges forward, arm reeled back in preparation for a punch. You swerve out of its way, the figure staggering forward as it misses you by a mere three inches. You kick it in the back of the legs, sending the hologram on its knees. You’re positioned behind it, pulling it into a headlock. 

The sounds it makes is eerily human as it coughs and sputters, blue fingers grasping with desperation at your forearm. You’re used to this though, the cruel personification behind these lifeless things. You snap its neck with a deafening crack. It disappears.

Two down, one left.

When you turn around, the burly one is already behind you. It’s at least three times your size, but you’re undeterred. You stand upright and ready your fists. 

With a grunt, it charges toward you. You sidestep, but it anticipates this and turns in unison. You back away, putting yourself out of reach, your arms coming up to block your face. It swings and you duck subsequently. While crouched, you grab its left calf and pull, lifting the leg uncomfortably high. The oversized figure hops awkwardly on its right limb. You then hook your foot behind the ankle of the remaining leg it’s balancing on, sending it plummeting toward the ground. 

You’re quick to position yourself atop it, straddling the hologram’s chest. It thrashes beneath you, squirming around like a trapped insect. It’s only a matter of time before it throws you aside due to uneven weight advantages. But you had surprised it and therefore withhold the ascendancy. So, while you still have the upper hand, you lift your leg and drive your knees into its neck. With a gag, the hologram vanishes.

Done.

Your chest aches with exertion, lungs fighting for air as you pant. As such, you remain with your knees on the black matted floor in an attempt to catch your breath. You’ve been killing these things on repeat for the past three hours, your mother having woken you at seven in the morning to train. 

Frayed hair clings to dampened skin as sweat traces lines down your face. It drips from your chin onto the floor beneath you. Your pants and tank top are soaked, causing you to feel gross and sticky. You yearn for a shower.

You oftentimes have to remind yourself that your mother means well, that she’s pushing you so hard because she cares. But, at times like these — where your body is on the verge of collapse — you find yourself questioning her morality.

“You’re getting slow.” Comes her voice through the speaker system, as though on cue with your thoughts. A tap of her cane against the floor is heard prior to that singular word you dread so vehemently. 

“Again.”

It's truly no shock that you’re growing amble considering how long you’ve been at it. But to protest your mother’s orders would be a death wish. You’re still catching your breath as you push yourself to your feet, fully expecting another hoard of holograms to appear. 

Though, in their stead, a spear materializes before you. It’s equally as holographic as the figures you’re fighting, blue and crackling, but it kills them just as viable as you would.

As you lean over to pick it up, something kicks you hard in the base of your back. The force of impact sends you to the floor. Your elbows take the brunt of your fall, causing you to feel rather grateful for the mat. Still in a heap, you whip to face the perpetrator. A hologram; a singular female figure with a lean build. 

You should’ve known better than to let your guard down.

You glance at the spear concurrently, the weapon lying at a perfect distance between you two. Without vacillation, you hurriedly crawl toward it. The figure notices and kicks you hard in the face, its shoe slamming into the bridge of your nose. You land hard on your back as a wave of pain shoots through you, warm liquid tracing down your face. 

By the time you regain your sense, the hologram is thrusting the stolen weapon toward you. You roll out of its way, though the blade manages to slice your bicep. With a reverberated thud, the spearhead burrows into the mat where your head had just been.

You push to your feet, tugging the spear out of the cushioned floor. Now armed, you turn to the hologram. It doesn’t have a face but if it did, you’re sure it’d be glaring at you. The two of you circle one another like vultures, the hologram waiting for you to attack whilst you wait for the perfect angle. Then, once you’re positioned to your liking, you strike. You throw the spear at the diaphanous form. 

The blade whizzes through the air too fast for it to dodge, too fast for anyone to dodge. Your aim is undeniably precise as the point wedges right between your opponents eyes. With that, it disintegrates alongside the spear.

Even once the combatant has elapsed, you remain in that position — chest heaving, brows furrows, fists balled. A metallic taste fills your mouth as your nose continues to bleed down your face, getting past your lips. Your bicep mocks it, crimson tracing down your arm.

You await your mother’s reprimand via the intercom. Instead, you hear the door click open and her cane tap against the floor with every other step. She remains in the doorway, not wishing to enter the abhorrent room. She stands expectantly until you walk up to her.

“Your fatigue impairs your ability to fight.” She tuts, wrinkled lip upturned in distaste. You don’t respond, lowering your head as you wordlessly accept her criticism. “Had you been in the arena and those figures sentient, you’d likely have been long gone. Debility is no excuse for inadequacy. L/ns don’t lose.”

You nod, knowing better than to defend yourself.

She goes through each of your performances, telling you how every one was worse than the last. A few times, she mentions your brother, comparing the two of you in a way that makes your chest cave. Ruben wouldn’t have gotten his arm cut, Ruben wouldn’t have had his hair pulled, Ruben wouldn’t have hesitated when she added a child hologram into the mix.

Once she’s had her fill of castigation, she waves a hand to dismiss you. 

Your first course of action is to shower. Since your mother woke you so early, you were unable to change or eat prior to training. You enter the bathroom, peeling your sweaty clothes from your skin before stepping into the cool water. Your presence tints the liquid pink with blood as your arm and face stain its cleanliness.

You stand in the shower for a long time, relishing in the feel of the water as you allow your mind to roam. Though, despite how hard you try not to think of it, your thoughts continuously lapse back to your mother’s ceaseless mentions of your brother, her favored child.

See, Ruben won the 67th Hunger Games when he was only thirteen years old, becoming a legend in the Capitol and the light of your parents’ lives. He is the Capitol’s favorite victor, deemed the most attractive man in the country. Anyone would die to get a moment of his time, of his attention. People who the Capitol favor, idolize, and center their entire lives around are known as a ‘Capitol Diamond’. And Ruben is the shiniest of them all.

Your father won his Games two years prior to Ruben when you were only six, so you never knew him all that well. The memories you do have of him are rather bitter, invoking flashes of flailing fists and deafening shouts. Though, acting as a warm blanket to the chill of your father’s acerbity, Ruben appears in your memories like a deity. He’d cover your ears when your parents’ shouting bounced off the marble walls; he’d argue with your father whenever he’d hit you for breaking something trivial; he’d always take your side, even if you did technically break that vase. As a child, Ruben was an angel sent from above. But, now that you’re older, you know better than to deem him as such.

Anyway. Ruben and your father’s triumphs earned them both irrevocable places in the Capitol as diamonds as well as homes in District four’s Victor’s Village — leaving you and your mother to live alone in the house of which you were raised. In fact, your entire lineage is among the victors, aunts and uncles and cousins all diamonds of the Capitol and residents of the village. Well, most of them. Some of your relatives moved to higher Districts after their Games, seeking as much proximity to the Capitol as possible.

A L/n has never lost the Games, not in the entire seventy-three years they’ve been running. The mere thought of someone in your family failing to prevail is something unprecedented. 

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself into a towel, grabbing a suture kit from the cabinet under the sink. You pop it open and sit on the closed toilet seat before threading the needle. You’ve stitched yourself up plenty of times, the damned holograms annoyingly good at what they’re made to do — challenge you. 

By the time you’ve finished and your bicep is newly adorned in neat stitching, it’s one o’clock. You only have a short bit of time before the Reaping. As you put the kit back into the cabinet, a second thought dawns on you. 

Fuck! You think, eyes widening almost comically. Mister Alden will be here in ten minutes.

You tighten your towel around your body before padding down the hall to your bedroom. It’s overlarge, making you feel small. The walls are white with golden mouldings, the floors are made of marble tiles. To some, your family’s mansion would be a dream come true. Though, to you, it feels more like a prison than a home. It has ever since your brother left.

Your mother had an Avox lay your Reaping outfit out on your bed. It’s blue — as most clothing made for District Four is. It’s made of a deep navy satin, jewels embedded into the fabric. It’s absolutely gorgeous and you hate it.

Though, your personal thoughts on clothing matter naught. You once tried arguing with your mother on how extravagant your clothes were, saying it was ridiculous when people in lower Districts struggle for food. That comment earned you a week with minimal food. She said that if you pitied the peasants so greatly, she’d gladly treat you like one, claiming empathy to be far more valuable than sympathy. You’d never made another comment on your clothes again after that.

Though, you both knew her anger was rooted far deeper than your mere clothing preference. It was rooted in the underlying criticism you’d made in regards to the governing of your country — the unfair hierarchy of Districts. You never made a political comment after that, either. Not aloud anyway.

You pull the dress on, something symbolic always laced within the act of holding your tongue. 

Each curve and stitch is made specifically for your body, fitting perfectly. Trading fish in this gown will make for an odd sight, but you haven’t a choice. Mister Alden should be here any minute and the Reaping begins in less than an hour; multitasking is your only option.

The halls are just as pristine as your bedroom, walls decorated with fine art and the tile floor kept sparkling. Thanks to the unpaid Avoxes — which are former criminals whose punishments are to be made into servants for the Capitol. You live in the Districts, but your family is so cherished by Capitolites that you’re permitted to have an abundance of your own servants. Despite the fact that your mansion is tended to by over twenty Avoxes, you’ve never spoken to a single one. Not due to your own ignorance, but because their tongues are removed and they’re unable to speak.

One of them holds the door open for you on your journey out to the docks. You thank him shortly, though he doesn’t respond. 

Your house is beachfront, back porch providing a wooden path down to your own private piling dock. It’s unnecessarily fancy for your mother to inherit — who just happened to marry into a wealthy family — and you, who hasn’t even become a victor yet. And, if you’re never Reaped, you’ll have never deserved an ounce of what’s been given to you.

The path to the dock is a downward slope. Your house is built on a rocky cliff, hence the path’s existence. You hike your dress up as you rush down the wooden trail, though as soon as you do, you hear your mother’s past lectures ring through your head. “Never above the ankles!” She’d once said, slapping your hand with a stick to force you to drop the dress. Instinctively, you lower it.

You walk down to the dock, happy to see that it’s empty, Mister Alden not having yet arrived. Though, once you’ve reached the end of it, you hear the low hum of his boat’s motor putting through the salty water. He coasts up to the wooden structure. You reach out to catch him as the motor comes to a halt.

His boat is small, just big enough for one man to fit in. It’s made of metal with only one seat at the helm, situated beside the tilling outboard. 

Your family has bought from mister Alden all your life. When you were a kid and it was Ruben’s job to retrieve the fish, you would traipse behind him. You’d hobble behind him, small legs having to run in order to keep up with your elder brother's long gait. Then, once at the dock, you were rendered useless. You’d peer over mister Alden’s boat, nosily searching his belongings. You watched as Ruben would speak to mister Alden shortly, pay him graciously, hoist the net of seafood over his shoulder, then head back inside. Due to this, mister Alden watched you grow more than your own father had. And even though his presence is short and biweekly, you know the old man rather well.

Well enough to know that he has three grandkids and the oldest of them is a twelve year old girl whose first ever Reaping is today. 

“Oh, what a lovely outfit.” He smiles, crows feet creasing. He remains seated as you moor the boat to the cleats. The metal is so hot from endless days spent in the sun that it burns your hands at the touch. You don’t dare wince, knowing how fast mister Alden would rush to your aid. You’re sure he has enough on his plate what with his granddaughter. “I can carry the fish inside, if you’d like. Wouldn’t want you staining such a stunning dress.”

“It’s okay.” You’re quick to assure him, offering your hand to help him out of the boat once it’s tied off. He takes it, the man nigh senile in his old age. His hand shakes slightly as he steps onto the dock. “I can get the fish, mister Alden, I don’t mind.”

He smiles kindly, “You remind me so much of your brother.”

You don’t respond. You know he’s only saying that out of kindness, he has to be. Your mother ceaselessly reminds you of how different the two of you are. You try to ignore the comment as you lean over the boat to pull the huge net of fish from the creased hull. They’re blue in color, almost mimicking that of your dress, though their scales shine silver in the sunlight.

“Did you ever hear the story of Ruben’s first Reaping?” Mister Alden asks as you drop the net onto the dock, pausing to converse with him for a while despite knowing it’s a bad idea with your lack of time. “He only attended two Reapings, that poor boy. But his first one, I’ll never forget. It was the first time I met your mother, too, the nasty woman. He was out here retrieving fish, as our exchanges always seem to fall on Reaping Day. He was only twelve, but so determined to carry the fish all on his own. I offered my help at least a hundred times, to which he refused each one. He was strong, though, for his size. He managed to carry them all the way to the porch before the net caught on a twig and the fish fell all the way back down the pathway. Every single one.”

Your eyes widen. You recall this, though the memory is rather blurry to you as you were only seven at the time. That, and also because most of your memories with Ruben are tainted, not to be trusted in your bias. 

“What’d my mother do?” You ask, unable to help your childlike curiosity from rearing its head.

“Well,” He chuckles, though it lacks any sense of humor. “She wasn't happy, that’s for sure. Ruben instantly began to cry when he saw the effects of his mistake. I tried to assure him that it was okay and I could always deliver more fish, but he said that’s not why he was sad. He wasn’t mourning the loss of the fish. Instead, he was terrified of what your mother would do to him.” Mister Alden shakes his head, grey brows turned in an expression of dispirit. “No child that small should fear his own parent so vehemently.”

You frown. In every aspect where your mother lacks morality, mister Alden has a myriad of it. The old man is practically overflowing with sympathy at all times. He’d always treated you and Ruben as his own, offering comfort whenever you seek it and kind words whenever you forget they even exist.

Just as he’s about to continue his story, your mother’s voice is heard. It’s shrill as she shouts your name. Chills trace down your spine at the sound. Mister Alden gives you a pitying expression before you pass him a small pouch of coins for payment, lift the net over your shoulder, and begin the trek back up to your porch. The sound of his motor starting up carries through the air as you approach your mother.

She’s wearing a baby blue dress, just as fancy as yours — if not more. Her usual wooden cane has been swapped out for a fancier golden one. Her hair is done up in a neat braid, gold heeled shoes adorning her wrinkled feet. 

She shoots you a scowl before entering the house, dropping the door on you despite knowing you’re carrying a huge weight of seafood. It slams into your side, the corner of it landing on your stitched bicep. You wince, struggling for only a moment before an Avox rushes to your aid and holds it wide for you. You don’t dare thank her in front of your mother.

You enter the kitchen, placing the bag of fish onto the marble counter.

“We have less than twenty minutes before the Reaping!” She spits, rage evident in her tone as she watches you set it down. “Your feet are dirty and bare, your hair is matted, and you reek of fish!”

“I didn’t—” You begin, though you’re quick to stop yourself, remembering her order of not speaking unless asked to do so.

A sharp pain shoots through your cheek as she slaps you across the face for having spoken out of turn. You lower your head, mouth now sealed shut. She turns to give orders to the Avoxes — instructing two of them to put your hair up, one to put your shoes on, and three to gut and clean the fish prior to your return from the Reaping.

They’re quick to do so, rushing around to oblige.

You’re directed to a stool, two servants doing your hair into some intricate design whilst another crouches in front of you to slip on your shoes. They’re a pair of silver heels that match the jewels on your dress. In record time, the other two complete the updo, holding out a hand mirror for you to examine the design. Two thin braids wrap around the crown of your head, a neat bun resting at the nape of your neck. It’s beautiful considering how little time they had.

“I love it.” You whisper, quiet enough only they can hear it.

Your mother approaches you, thankfully not having heard your words of thanks. She circles around you, looking at the hairdo before she tuts, “It’ll do.”

The journey to the town square is only a few minutes. Though, as you walk beside your mother in deafening silence, it feels like an eternity. Everyone knows who the two of you are, the entirety of the Capitol fond of your family lineage. Their eyes are wide as they watch you and your mother pass through the streets. See, due to your partnership with mister Alden and your large quantity of Avoxes, neither of you ever leave the house unless it’s mandatory, which only adds to the peoples’ astonishment. Not to mention your unnecessarily extravagant clothing. Most people are only wearing plain gowns or linen shirts whereas you two look like you’re about to meet a monarch. It’s humiliating.

Your mother loves the attention, basking in it. You, on the other hand, feel as though it’s rather embarrassing.

You reach the square and part ways with her, wordlessly joining your respective age groups.

Your shoulders are set and your chin is raised as you know everyone is staring. Their gazes feel like spiders crawling all over your body. You fucking hate it, the prestige. Especially since you didn’t do anything to deserve it. You were just born into the family. To you, nothing makes you any different from the people living in the hovels of your District. Even in other Districts. The only thing that separates you from a starving child in Twelve is chance.

Mayor Marriott steps up to the podium and she tells the story of your country’s origin. You already know it by heart, having been taught by your father to memorize it at a young age. Her hair is platinum blonde, younger than most District mayors, though she’s just as strict. Her father was the mayor before her, causing her to take over the career. You oftentimes wonder if she hates lineage inheritance just as much as you do. You doubt it.

Following her speech comes the District escort. You know her by name, you know everyone in the Capitol by name. That’s Alice Reymond. Her hair is bigger than her head, her eyes adorned by lashes longer than her fingers. Capitolites are fucking weird, looking more like disfigured abstract pieces than human beings.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Exclaims Alice Reymond. “And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

She goes on to tell a speech on how much of an honor it is to serve as this District’s escort. Though every escort says that, you’re sure she means it more so than any others. Escorts are paid based on how many victors their District is able to produce. And, what with your family’s abundance of them, you’re sure she’s swimming in more cash than even District One’s escort is. However, more importantly, the bragging rights must be immeasurable.

Behind the podium of which she stands, mayor Marriott watches with a piercing gaze. Her blue eyes are intimidatingly sharp as she overlooks the crown. Though, the man sitting in the mentor’s chair has a gaze even sharper than she. 

Ruben. Your brother.

He’s tasked with training and keeping the tributes alive each year. He’s rather good at it. And, even when he fails, nobody blames him. How could they when he’s so perfect? You tune out Alice Reymond’s speech, taking in the sight of your brother after having not seen him in years. The closest you’ve gotten to talking to him is watching interviews on the television. 

His features are almost a perfect copy of yours — the same nose shape, same hair and eye color, same lips. But he’s got a certain look to him that erases any sort of similarities you two happen to share. A certain Capitolistic look. His eyes are highlighted with golden eyeliner, all the wrinkles in his face surgically removed. The brother you’d cherished all those years ago no longer exists. In his place sits the shell of a man. A Capitolite and thereby not your brother.

“Here we go!” Alice Reymond grins, yanking your thoughts back to the Reaping. She then begins digging her inhumanly long fingers through the bowl of names. She pulls out a slip of paper and smiles widely before calling it out. “Remy Wilson!”

The crowd murmurs lowly, looking around for the owner of the name. A pause. Nobody steps forward. Then, two Peacekeepers suddenly storm into the crowd and rip a little boy from his parents. The boy, Remy, is frozen in place, unmoving. The Peacekeepers pull him up to the stage. He’s crying, as he stands on the elevated space, trembling under the gazes of the District. Of the country.

He can’t be older than twelve. His cheeks are rounded, his big brown eyes even rounder. His skin is pale with a rosy nose, his wavy hair is an ashy brown that forms a messy crown of innocence around his head. Ruben is watching the boy closely, likely examining whether or not he’ll survive the arena. The answer is obvious, though. This child won’t be making it out.

“And for our second tribute,” Continues Alice Reymond. She pulls another paper from the bowl, her eyes widening slightly as she reads it. A great, pearly smile splits across her face before her spider-like eyes land on you. Your heart sinks.

You already know what she’s going to say when she calls out your name.

[post] notes!! While dual POV will be in this story, this is the only time I'll be showing two perspectives of the same event. This chapter followed Ellie and the reader both experiencing the reaping. It was needed for the plot but grew repetitive at the end, I promise this is the only time that'll happen 🤞 Also, this was a shit ton of exposition & I apologize for that, but the backstory of both characters are very needed. You def needed to see Ellie's relationship w everyone around her as well as have explanatory bg with the reader's family and everything. Also x2, I hope the amount of dialogue in Ellie's pov made up for the lack thereof in the reader's pov. I hate reading huge paragraphs of straight monologue so I try to refrain from writing it, but sometimes it's unavoidable (bc reader literally has nobody to talk to) Anyway, hope you enjoyed!!

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[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit.

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

chapter Four

You got the shoe back to the grieving mother. Helped her bury it before you got home and rested your tired eyes.

It was over. He let you leave.

But a pestering feeling told you that it wasn't true. That instead you had just painted a target on you back.

You walked to work the next morning with the same feeling. You tried to shake it. Peacekeepers would have knocked down your door last night if he ordered. He wasn't going to grab you now. It was over.

But as you saw you boss guarding the entrance to work, you knew it wasn't.

You tried to pass her anyway. maybe commander Snow had taken the Panems back off her and all she wanted from you was payback.

You reach the bottom of the steps but your boss blocks the entry to your work. Dread pools your stomach. Without this job, you and your mum don't eat.

She was only 5-foot but her fiery personality, and dark features made up for her short frame.

"I never thought you were stupid" she spat.

"I've got to get to work".

She steps forward to stop you, "You already know there's no work here for you".

"Six years I've worked for you. Never turned up late. Never took a day off. And now with a click of his fingers you wanna toss me aside? I never thought you were a coward". You snap back.

In the six years you worked for her you never rose your voice at her. Always gave in to her demands to work late, do something outside of your job description.

"Anyone not a coward to Commander Snow is dead. You're looking to end up the same way".

"Commander Snow!" you heard a voice holler from behind the door. She popped her head out to show Vanessa. She was a pretty girl with long red hair and blue eyes.

"I heard you were receiving parcels from a peacekeeper but from Commander Snow! God. I'd let that man root me for free".

"Get to work" Your boss snaps, and Vanessa disappears behind the screen doors. Her laughter following her.

Now sensing sympathy for her loyal worker, your boss takes the journey down the steps coming up beside you, and placing her hands on your shoulders.

''Can i give you a piece of advice; men love the chase but hate the catch''.

You pull back from her stunned that she would suggest such a thing to you.

"It could be worse" She continues, "Uglier men. Men who take with nothing in return. He could prove to be useful to your survival".

You shake your head no. You had never even flirted before. You were so timid, you needed someone gentle and kind for your first time. Coriolanus Snow was no such man.

Your boss nods back understanding your temperament.

"Maybe he will bore" She tries.

"He will". Your voice was shaky and unsure.

"Good luck until then". Your boss turns from you and walks back up the stairs.

You feel your chest tighten as you turn and walk home. You still had two panams that would keep the house afloat for at least two months on a stingy budget.

But you were unsure how much patience that the commander had. Could he outlast you. Would his infatuation run you dry in time. What then if not?

Your mother wage could cover the rent but not much more. You had a few candles, a few sellable things. But who would buy them for what they were worth. Had Coriolanus got the message to all the community that you were to suffer.

You move past people in the opposite direction going to work as you walked. You kept your head down ashamed until you made it to your gate.

Only the opened letterbox lifted your sprits. You reach in pulling out a thin letter with a re-attached capital seal. Your brother had always been resourceful and smart. The letter would not have even left district 8 if not for the seal.

You peel it off carefully, planning to re-attach it once you had enough money to send the letter back.

The letter itself did nothing for your confidence.

The first line demanded to know why your letter had a capital seal. He called you silly if you stole it, and stupid if you traded for it. He reprimanded you for sending the coins which he sent back. He was fine in district 8 and didn't need any help. You only had one job; look after yourself and look after mum. It seemed to him you were failing, consorting with Peacekeepers. If he was still around he would smack you until you saw sense. Stay away from Peacekeepers and look after yourself, the last line read,

I love you, Archie.

You fold the letter, keeping the coins in your hand. He always knew what to do even if he had no idea about the circumstances. You thumb the place where your ring was suppose to be, wishing you fought harder to keep it.

The door was already unlocked as you reached it and you called out surprised.

"Mum?".

You hear cries coming from her bedroom and you rush to get to her.

"Mum!" you call again.

"Bernard fired me" She sobbed on her bed. You sit on the edge and pat her back.

"Mum, I am so sorry. This is all my fault".

She doesn't deny it but places a warm hand on your knee.

"We're going to be ok. It won't last forever" You console. You were going to beat him at his own game. You could endure, you've been doing it all your life.

"Look what Archie sent" You showed her the coins in you palm. She smiles at you through her tears and you smile back.

You would endure.

He would bore.

You hold your Saturday market stall using the last of your ingredients.

You had only just started but sold four cakes already. You smile brightly at your customer passing him the brown bag. But he doesn't take it, scurrying off.

The Peacekeeper coming up explains it. He picks up a cake and expects it before throwing it to the ground. Four more peacekeepers come up, and start going through your things.

You stand still with the bag pressed to your chest. You wanted to protest but interfering with peacekeeper work was punishable by whip.

You watch as they turn violent. Throwing over your table and stomping on the baked goods. They kick at your things until they break.

You watch them as he watched you.

You hadn't realized he was there until one of the peacekeepers addressed him asking what was to be done about your money box.

His blue eyes remained on you. "Take it".

All of your days profit and your change was taken.

He stands tall in his commanders uniform, his hat upon his head, and hands in his pocket as the peacekeepers left a mess.

You stare at each other until he calls them off. There was nothing left to destroy. Their time there was now wasted.

He takes a step to you as they went back to the van through the parted audience.

You expected him to say something as he nears but his lips never parted. Instead he takes the brown bag from your hands and follows his men to the van.

You stare at your ruined things but don't cry. It was going to take more than that.

You were going to endure.

You got some work on the side doing laundry. Your clients underpaid you and you had to deliver in the dead of night, but the supplement income took the pressure off.

You had to rebuild your stall, but now that word got out that Commander Snow had it out for you everything tripled in price. No one was willing to be labeled a traitor by him for the going rate of materials.

Food was also tripled. But you didn't tell your mother that. Choosing to tell her you had a reduced appetite given the circumstances.

You had found a macadamia tree behind a row of houses to pick from. You went late afternoon to avoid being seen as you tried and fill your belly.

You stood there now. Plucking the small nuts off the large tree. You had to climb the base, already have taken the lower hanging offerings. You deshelled some, putting them in a pouch for the walk home.

You had been there for nearly an hour but your basket was only a quarter full. It would take another hour to crack all the nuts out of their shells before you could eat them to your full. Your belly ached at the thought.

"Careful you don't fall". Your foot slipped at the voice.

There was no one around to watch you pick the nuts so no one around to hear you scream.

"What did I just tell you" He scolded.

You look down from the tree to see him staring back. He had you crawling higher up but he caught your foot and tugged you gently down. As you lowered yourself he held the deseeding body part as if he was tugging down on a rope.

First your ankle, then your calf, your thigh, your hip, the your upper arm before finally resting on the side of your neck.

In his other hand he held a capital issued duffle bag, and his fingers curled around an apple.

You push off the tree away from him and he lets you.

"What do you want" You ask.

"I heard you were washing laundry" he threw the duffle bag at your feet, "I'll pay double what everyone else is paying".

"I am booked out" you lied. As the series of events escalated people were too scared to even cheat you of work. You had lost two clients just yesterday.

"a trade then" he smiles and it puts you more on edge, "an apple for 10 minutes of your time".

He holds up the apple in his hand. You eye it hungrily. It was red and large, looking juicy in his hand. But you couldn't bare the thought of spending a minute in his presence let alone 10.

"5 minutes" you try.

He smirks, brining up the apple to his teeth and taking a large bite.

"10" he resolves, chewing the apple.

He could see how hungry you were. Your eyes never leaving the apple.

You nod slowly, walking up and taking the apple from his hand. You retreat as soon as you take it, going back to your place.

"You look tired. Have you been sleeping?".

You were right the apple was juicy and delicious. He waits for your answer, not moving on.

"Hard to sleep when you're hungry". You take another bite of the apple, avoiding where he bit.

'You miss my packages" He said it as more a statement then a question. He said it pridefully as if he was proud that you were starving without him.

"Not even a little bit, Sir". it was the truth. The care packages scared you more then anything.

"I miss my job, I miss my stall".

Your answer perplexed him. His strong features locked, and his body tensed.

"Yes, well self-inflected" he dismissed.

You were finally forced to eat the side he bit and he watched with eager eyes as you did.

"Will you sit?" he gestures to the steps of the old house. There was only three of them but they were long and looked stable.

You do take a seat and he follows you.

Once seated, he places his head on your lap, laying down along the step. It causes you to jump up and he lift his head in an uncomfortable position as his cushion jumped away.

He sits back up on the step and reaches for something in his breast pocket. He pulls out a peanut chocolate candy bar. They were popular in the capital and Tigress thought he might want to try them in her care package she sent.

He had no interest but knew you would.

"Here you want this?" it was wrapped in shiny plastic, "All you have to do is sit and let me rest".

You shook the feeling off and returned to your seat. If he tried anything you could just move again.

You tear open the bar, ripping it in half and putting the remainder in your pocket for your mother.

he rests his head down and lays quietly.

"todays the anniversary of my mothers death. Both her and my sister died in child birth together".

he had wanted some condolences. Maybe for her to stoke his face and tell him to sleep.

But she scoffed at him. "last week was the anniversary of little leo lerman's pa. It will always been the day you hung him".

Little Leo Lerman's pa was a traitor to the capital, his mother was a victim of the war they started.

"I've had a long journey back from the Capital. If you can't be kind, you can be quiet".

"I thought you were away" you comment.

"I went back to the Capital for a few days. Returned this morning".

A funeral for a old academy school mate required him to return home. He had to look in touch with Capital matters. But truth being told, he never cared for the man who died. Couldn't remember even talking to him, only ever speaking over him in class when he gave the wrong answer. He was used once more to make Coriolanus look good.

He was glad to see Tigress and Grandma'am too. They both swooned over commander Snow in his uniform. It was nice to be doted over but still didn't itch the need he had. If anything it only grew it.

He longed to return to you. He had hopped that his effort were enough and he would return to you begging for his forgiveness.

Hearing you now noticing his absence gave him a renewed confidence that you would fold sooner rather than latter.

You had only noticed his absence due to the halting of your suffering. No more being stopped and searched by every peace keeper who crossed your path. The 10pm door knocking to check you were home stopped. People even began to talk to you again. You were beginning to think it was over until moments ago.

You chew on the candy, looking around to see even a shadow of a person.

"I heard a rumor while you were gone that you were a peacekeeper in district 12 before commander".

"Most Commanders are Peacekeepers first."

Your hand clutched the railing ready to pull yourself up. But first your gnawing question had to be answered.

"And that while you were a peacekeeper you ran about with a girl named Lucy-grey". His eyes shoot open upon her name. dead and still ruining his life.

"Expect Lucy-grey went missing, and no one's heard from her since".

He sits up and leans against his knees, "It's just a rumor".

You jump back to your feet now the weight of him was off you. Getting as much distance as you can. He reaction confirmed it for you.

"I don't want to disappear" you admit, your eyes tearing up. Your family would never recover. Especially your brother.

He gets up with you, closing the space you created and taking your face into his hands despite your struggle against him.

"And you won't, okay. I never even knew Lucy-grey".

He was going to find whoever told you about her and string them up.

He could see the panic in your eyes, and he wanted to stamp it out.

"It's just a district rumor" he consoles.

The look in his eyes told you the truth.

"No it ain't".

You pull free from him, grabbing you basket as he stood frozen.

"i owe you an apple". You try and move past him, unable to spend any more time in his presence but he grabs your arm and flings you back into the macadamia tree.

You gasp as you make impact. It was a beautiful sound to Coriolanus's ears. He would have enjoyed it if he hadn't been so angry.

"Who do you think you are walking away from me?" his hands reach your throat applying pressure. It wasn't enough to cut your air supply completely off but it was enough to make it difficult to breathe.

You struggle underneath him, trying to push him off.

"I am Commander Snow, you are district scum. You think i am going to let district scum treat me this way?"

His hold tightens as he shakes you a little bit.

"Are you mad? bringing up lucy-grey. mocking the death of my mother."

this was not his sweet girl that plagued his mind.

"Get off me!" you scream at him with all the breath you had left.

His hand comes down. One-two-three times across your face. Tears fill your eyes from the stinging sensation but he doesn't relent.

This was the man who ruled district 12. He wouldn't have to make you disappear he could just leave your body were it laid.

Your hand reaches out, touching his neck and it stilled him from his rage.

"Stop" you beg, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to".

You feel his fingers loosen from your neck, and you take gasps of air while you can.

"I am sorry" you say again and his hands rest on your collar bone rather then your neck.

He lifts one hand up stoking your cheek,

"That bruise will never heal if you keep this up".

"I know". You wrap your hands around his wrist. He seems receptive to your touch.

Keeping his hands on your collar bone he rests his forehead on you.

You needed to get away from him. His temper flared so quickly, you were sure to make a mistake that would lead to his hands reaching for your neck again.

If codling kept him kind then you were going to lay it on thick until you were back to safety.

You rub his back like he was a child, while your other arm laid across his shoulders.

He presses further into you, moving his hands so there wrapped around your waist.

It looked like a lovers embrace but you felt like a mouse in the mouth of a snake.

Commander Snow was a mummy's boy, you learnt. It seemed logical that he was trying to replace the hole she left.

"Can you walk me home?" you ask. The walk home was nearly 15 minutes but you knew of you tried to leave without him again, his anger would flare back up.

You feel his nose rubbing your skin as he nods but he doesn't move.

"come on" You urge pushing against him. He straightens, heaving off you and picking up the basket you dropped and the duffle bag he threw.

He held out his hand to you, and you take it without hesitation.

You walk behind the houses to avoid being seen together. He leads and you trail slowly behind him.

Your eyes drop with tears from the pain of your cheek. He only notices when you snuffle.

It halts him in his tracks. He turns to you, wiggling his hand free and wiping away your tears.

"Hey, I am not angry anymore" he consoles.

You nod your head, taking his hand back in yours and coaxing him forward again. You were almost home. Just a few more meters.

Night had just begin to overtake the sky as you saw your house come into view. You let go of Coriolanus hand and press yourself against a neighbors house as man covered in coal returns from work.

You had expected that he would leave you at the gate but he continues past it, staying just behind you as you reach the steps of your house.

"Thank you for walking me home, Commander". You reach for your basket but he keeps it out of your grip.

"I'll bring it in side for you".

You freeze at his words. The last thing you want is for him to enter your home were he would be given free reign to do what he wanted behind closed doors. At least out in the open you had a chance of a good Samaritan coming to your aid.

But you couldn't tell him that.

You nod instead. Unlocking your door you turn to him.

"Could you check the mail for me?"

His hand touches your elbow as he turns, "Of course".

You wait for him to open the empty mail box at the end of your house before you rush inside. Locking the door behind you. You double check the windows on the side, ensuring they are well secured.

He heard the door slam and turned back up the drive. He tries the door nob to see it locked. If he was upset he didn't show it, keeping his face emotionless.

He walks to the window where you stood, eyeing you through the glass.

"vanessa lives by the lake. House 1-02" He begins to eat the de-shelled macadamias that you planned to have for dinner.

"she's very pretty and less troublesome then me. You'll like her".

He smiles a tight smile, no longer looking at you he turns, tipping your basket as he walks back to the gate. You would pick the nuts up later for dinner.

You felt as if you won watching him walk away. You bested him today.

But he didn't want Vanessa, he wanted you.

No one was willing to have their clothes washed by you. He must have figured out your clients, and scared them into submission.

With the loss of income, you were forced to use your savings that were fleeting fast with the rising prices.

The macadamia tree was no more. He had cut it down to a stump the next day. You only had a small basket left to last you.

Your mother was depressed by the isolation of the community. She rarely left the house, unable to beg for a job any longer.

You tired to lift her spirt by using the last of your flour to make her a small cupcake. You surprised her with it after dinner.

She hadn't even taken a bite before the sound of a van pulling up was heard. You both froze waiting for what was next.

Peacekeepers knocked down the door, coming in full force in a single file.

One grabs you and pushes you against the wall while the others tear apart your house. You feel his hands upon you as he searches for valuables upon your body.

Your mother is subjected to the same treatment by another.

A tight hold on your neck kept you from turning but you could hear the house being turned over. Crashing sounds could be heard from every direction. Smashes from things being broken, sounds of cheering as they found something valuable.

One had taken your mums silver necklace that was gifted by your dad just before he died. She had beg the Peacekeeper to leave it but you knew their orders were to reek havoc.

Breaking up the sound of looting was a drill. You could see out of the corner of your eye that a peacekeeper was taking your door.

You yelled but it was drowned out by the sound.

Once it was off its hinges, the peacekeepers released you and your mum, beginning to return to their truck with the door and your valuables.

You rush to your bedroom, falling to your knees seeing that the loose floor board panels that you hid your savings under was opened.

You and your mum were officially destitute.

The open door way let the cold air and bugs in. You had put up a old blanket but it did little.

It also didn't offer you any protection from unwanted visitors.

Coriolanus walked right past the blanket into your home. You shoot up from the table. Standing in front of the hallway to block him from going any further into your home.

"what are you doing here"

"I came to see if you had changed your mind about apologizing. I thought coming to the compound might have been a little scary for you".

He takes a step forward coming across to you. His head turns as he examines the damage his peacekeepers did.

"i want my door back" you demanded.

"I want my apology". He continues to you

"an apology for what? look at my house". He backs you into the wall

"an apology for treating me so cruelly".

"get out" you demanded.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn't have to be this way".

"get out of my house" you repeat.

He places a hand on the wall next to you, leaning in. You feel his hand on caressing your cheek.

"you showed me the other day what a sweet girl you can be. Must i wring it from you?".

You think about shouting for your mother. She took to lying down in her bed to starve off the cold. But you worried for her safety if you did.

His stoking hand stopped, bracing itself against the side of your face.

He leans his head closer, his lips brushing yours. You knew what was coming next, and tried to move your head out of the line of attack.

He takes a stronger hold on your chin to keep you in place, and kisses you with the same hunger as the night against the wall.

He comes back for more before he had fully pull apart his lips from yours.

'Commander Snow". Your mother voice broke his kiss, and he turns to see her in the living room.

"Ma'am" he greets.

He doesn't move from you, unashamed as your mother glares down at him.

"What an honor it is to have you in our home" She pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for him. One of three that didn't break. "Can i offer you some water".

"No thank you, Ma'am. I just came to check on your daughter".

"As you can see, she's fine. Thank you, Sir". Your mother walks to the door way, holding up the blanket, " If anything changes I will be sure to let you know. So there's no need to come back down. We would hate to keep you from your important duties".

Commander Snow scoffs at the women. She was a bad influence on you.

He turns back to you and places a quick, deep kiss on your lips before following his directions to the door.

"No trouble at all. I'll be back to ensure the safety of you both" he pins your mother under his stare as he spoke, "District 12 is a dangerous place".

"Good night, Commander" your mother voice wavers.

"Ma'am" he nods in her direction and disappears behind the sheet.

Your mother rushes to you once he goes, pulling you into her arms. You were too frozen to hug back.

You knew your mother was going to pay for her interference.

But as peacekeepers invaded your house once more and dragged her down the road. You had no idea what awaited her.

You shout at them to get off her. Hitting and pulling the Peacekeeper that had her.

People come out from their houses at the noise. Watching as the women is pulled to the town center with her daughter carrying on behind her.

You feel arms secure you to a chest and you turn expecting to see Coriolanus giving you an out only to find a faceless peacekeeper.

You beg him to let your mother go but he continues silently, pushing you along.

You watch as they lock her on the whipping post.

"Commander Snow" you yell out for the only man who could stop this but he was no where to be found, "Commander Snow".

You scream as the whip came down upon your mother.

The cries of your mother will forever be engrained in your brain. You stood helpless as you watched her be whipped unconscious. Only then was she unlocked from the post and the peacekeepers moved the crowd on.

You rushed to her as the Peacekeeper released you. You cradled her head in your lap. it was you who should have been whipped. You wished you could have taken it for her. But he knew the only way to hurt you was to hurt the people you loved.

Your friend, Lydia saw the ordeal and helped you get your mother back to the house. You didn't have anything that could help her. The best you could do was clean the blood with water which caused her to wake from the pain and put her to bed.

"it's my fault, Lydia" you cry reaching out to hold her but she retreats from you.

"I am so sorry. I can't be seen with you". she rushes back to the entry way, "I shouldn't have even helped with your mother".

You fall to your knees as you watch her leave. You were utterly alone.

Your mother is bed ridden from the pain. Unable to eat or sleep. Two nights later, you receive a letter from him. In it was two small bottles of morphling.

I have what you need. Come see me

-C

The note read.

You rush to your mother giving her the small bottle. It worked instantly to relieve her pain. You stroke her head as she sleeps.

You remember what your boss has said; men love the chase but hate the catch.

Perhaps if you let him take what he wanted it would mark the end of this torture. You wouldn't be the first women to loose your virginity to a peacekeeper. the consequences weren't worth the effort in keeping it.

Your pride lumped itself in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it.

The next morning you gave your mother her breakfast and second dose of morphling before rushing over to your bosses house. You knew she was the only one who would see you.

She doesn't allow you in but greets you on the front porch.

"Have you come to your senses?" she asks.

"He whipped my mother"

"I heard. What do you plan to do about it?".

"The only thing I can" your voice was low and soft but she heard you.

"What do you need?"

"Two cups of sugar and a cup of flour".

She goes back inside and returns with your request. You could feel her neighbors staring out at you from their windows.

She comes down to the steps to where you stood and you take the whole pouches of ingredients.

"Thank you", Your boss was not known for being generous.

"When he is done, come round and i'll pour you a drink".

You nod your head unable to form a thought.

"Oh and Y/N, relax. It will hurt less the less you fight it".

She offers a comforting hand on your back, but you shake it off quickly to return home.

You make a batch of brownies with the ingredients.

You give a small patch to your mother and box the rest up in your basket.

You had showered and prepared yourself. Putting on your nicest dress, a soft blue one that ties into a bow in middle of your back. You borrow your mother worn black high heels, and brush your hair a hundred times.

You feel your pride bubble back in your throat as you reach the compound. You have to push it back down to give the guarding peacekeeper your name.

He repeats it into his communicator and the gate swings open.

You follow the guard to the well known building to see Coriolanus waiting at the bottom step.

He dismisses the Peacekeeper as he takes your basket from you and places a hand on your back.

"Thank you for seeing me, Commander". You talk to him as he leads you to his office.

"I was going to visit tonight. Is everything ok?"

You stare at him. He was so detached from his actions.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior".

You reach his large oak doors, which he opens for you.

"i am glad to hear it" he follows you in.

"Are these for me?" he asks looking through your basket.

"yes'' you answer.

He pulls out one of the chairs for you to sit in, choosing to lean against the desk as he eats the brownie.

"These are good" he praises, taking another bite.

"I used the macadamias".

He reaches into the basket and offers you one. You decline it.

"I don't think i could ever eat another one. It took a hundred just to keep me semi full".

He nods in understanding, putting it back. He leans forward over you as he speaks.

"one time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach".

"that must have been awful".

he feels his heart lurch at her words. Finally sympathy. How he longed for it. For someone to care about his suffering.

But he tried to remain nonchalant. Not wanting her to think he was weak.

He shrugs his shoulders, "it was a long time ago".

He brushes his hand together, clasping them shut on his lap.

"So your apology. Lets hear it".

You thought you already had done it with the brownies but he wanted you to grovel some more.

That pesky pride bounces in your chest. But no, you wouldn't let it interfere. Your mother needed the morphling not only for the pain relief but to warn off infection.

"Commander Snow I-"

"Coriolanus" He interrupts.

"Coriolanus" you start again, "I don't know what came over me".

You don't look him in the eyes, keeping your eyes on his shiny shoes. You can't. But you can feel him looking at you.

"My actions are not reflective of the respect I hold for the capital".

The flex of his shoe tells you that he was unpleased with you apology.

"Or you". Yes, the shoe pointed back down. He wanted the focus on him.

"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I would never repeat my actions again. You would have my undivided loyalty for your kindness".

He stands up going to his desk chair and folding his hands on top. You eyes rise to watch him. You half expect him to pick up the phone and call a peacekeeper in.

"If you are after my forgiveness you have it. But if you are after my services there are no longer free".

You press your legs together and repeat your mantra; men love the chase but hate the catch.

It was time to be caught. You rise from your chair to stand in front of him. He angles his chair to face you. His legs brush against yours.

"My mother needs morphling". Would it be hint enough.

It seemed to be as he places his hand on your hip.

"And what do you need?". He tugs you down with his hold on your hip and you land awkwardly between his legs. You hold yourself up on the arm of his chair.

"Morphling," you answer. You face was inches away from his. The closest you've ever been without his hands wrapped around your neck.

"Maybe to not have to eat macadamias again?"

His smile throws you off guard. You find yourself dazzled by his straight white teeth poking out behind his plump lips.

"A new dress perhaps?". His hand goes to its favorite place on the side of your face and you can feel his thumb moving back and forth.

"Morphling" you repeat and it earns a laugh from him.

He loved that your needs came second to everyone else's. To his.

"Okay, morphling," he laughs, "What are you willing to trade for morphling? It's not easy to come by".

"Anything". This was it. You would loose you virgnity on the floor of the Commanders office for a case of morphling.

"hm" he muses. He picks up your right hand from the arm of the chair and wraps it around his neck. It throws you off balance.

"How about dinner?". You look at him. Maybe the floor didn't suit a man of his stature. Too animalistic.

"Where?". Did he want to go to a backroom of the hob?

"Your place".

"Tonight?". You had nothing to cook.

"Tomorrow". You still doubted your ability to find something. You doubt your boss would extend her kindness anymore, and all your friends had deserted you until it all blew over.

"do you like macadamias?". You think you still had a handful left. Did it matter. He wasn't truly coming to eat.

"They taste like paste in my mouth", he leans forward and presses a button asking someone to bring in the box.

"I'll be there around 6:30. Keep your mother in the backroom. I don't think she likes me very much".

"She can't even get out of bed" you admit.

He reaches into his draw, pulling out two small bottles of morphling.

"These won't help that but will ease the pain".

You take them fast. "Thank you".

"They aren't free. You owe me".

You jump as you hear the door open. Getting off him, just in time for a women in grey to enter with a small box. Coriolanus remains in a relaxed position in his chair.

"Commander" she greets as she places the box on the table and walks away. You peer into the box to see a small lot of vegetables, a bag of apples, two pears and a small bundle of meat wrapped up in parchment.

"For dinner tomorrow night".

He gets up from his chair taking the box with him, and directs you to the door with a hand on your shoulder.

"Now as much as I have loved seeing you. I have to get to a meeting, and you have to get home".

He leads you back through the building and down the steps to were peacekeepers were loading up into their van for night patrolling.

You buck against him as he pushes you to the van. You felt safer making your own way home.

They salute him, halting their process.

"14 Cherry lane", he nods in your direction. A young peacekeeper nods back.

He places the box on the floor of the van so he had two hands to lift you up. You protest telling him you could get home yourself but you were grabbed by a series of hands and placed on the bench

The men stood, hanging on to the material of the roof to avoid sitting down next to you. You felt safer at least knowing that they were too sacred of Coriolanus to touch you.

The leader of the group, dressed in smarter uniform comes to Coriolanus and confirms it will be done with a salute. Coriolanus pays him no mind, handing the box back up to you.

Two Peacekeepers lock the gate in and the van takes off. Coriolanus watches it go, and you watch him get smaller and smaller as you pass the boundary out of the compound.

The van ride is bumpy and silent. The men look out for protentional danger and you look out for familiar landmarks to track how far you were off.

You see a large red sign that marks the beginning of your neighborhood.

"wait, just here, please" the sound of the van would have the neighborhood looking out the window, and after tonight the judgemental looks of your negibours would be too much to bear.

The driver pulls over and the same peacekeepers unlock the gate for you. As soon as you jump out the van takes back off and your grateful for the darkness that covers you.

You walk back in your uncomfortable high heals. They snag every rock as you walk, and your ankle twists so many times you loose count.

Tomorrow night he would come, and it would all be over.

The next morning Peacekeepers come and reinstall your door. It was a welcomes surprised that earnt a few head nods from your community. It was a mark of the end. Things were returning to normal.

The new door even allowed you to trade the two pears for some pastry and 2 eggs. People were no longer afraid to do business with you.

You spend the rest of the day baking an apple pie for desert, tending to your mother who could now eat and bathe without pain, and tiding up the house for your visitor tonight.

You hopped he would bring more morphling. Your mother woke screaming in pain as a bird entered the house without the door and landed on her back. You had to give her the second bottle to ease her. But it left her dry for tonight.

Extra food would be nice too. The box only really fed a meal for two, and he had expected you to prepare dinner for him tonight with it.

You had thought about feeding your mother first and leaving a plate for him. But knew it would upset him. Dinner involved two people eating together. Instead you would only take small bites until he finished his meal and give the rest to you mother once he leaves.

You wouldn't be able to eat much with the anxiety in your belly anyway. But you assured yourself it would be fine.

He would come and take. And tomorrow morning you would go to work, and then your mothers work to earn both wages. With that and a tightened budget you could afford black market morphling, until that too was just a bad memory.

5 o'clock comes and you busy yourself with cooking and cleaning. When that was finished you dressed yourself back in your best dress and mothers shoes. Your feet cried as the shoes pressed down on the sores they made.

You stare at the clock until it hits 6:30. he didn't appear out of thin air. You wait at the table still.

It hits 6:31 and you think maybe he changed his mind. But a hard knock at the door tells you he hadn't.

You don't keep him waiting. he was an impatient man, and you also didn't want people to see him on your porch.

You yank open the door to see him standing tall in his official uniform and another small box in his hands. His smell hit you instantly. It was fresh and masculine. It was the first time you didn't hold your breathe around him, and his smell invades your nose.

Checking behind him for a peacekeeper van, you found none. Did he walk here, you wondered. But there wasn't a drop of sweat on him. It was unlikely.

"Hello" He greets.

You step back to let him in. He juggles the box in one hand while the other closes the door behind him.

'Hi" you return half-heartedly.

He offers you the box and you take it to the kitchen. He follows you like a lost dog, never allowing more then an inch between you as you walk.

'Dinner's ready. If you're hungry". You look through the box digging for the morphling, but disappointment fills you as you fail to find it.

"Starving" he responds.

He turns you towards him by your hips and smashes his lips down upon yours. he is a needy kisser, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth to stop you from moving before returning to your top lip to restart the kiss.

He pulls way breathless.

'For the morphling, yesterday" He justifies with a peck to your cheek.

What about the morphling, today, you wanted to ask but you weren't sure how he would respond to the question.

Instead you tell him to take a seat at the table and you would bring it out to him.

He sits as he is told. You set two places across from each other. One with their back to the wall leaving the other to face back from the door. Coriolanus takes a seat at the one facing the door. It allowed him to watch you in the kitchen as you plate the food.

He drags the other place mat across the table and seats it next to his. Traditional face to face dinning would not do tonight.

You come over with the plates, noticing the new arrangement. You go with it. Tonight would be about what he wanted.

"It smells amazing. Thank you". He praises.

You smile a tight smile at him. Unable to form words. Your mother would wake soon in a great deal of pain.

he watches you take small bites of your food while he demolishes his.

Your feet ache under the table, the shoes pressing hard into you. You slip the backs off, letting your heels rest on top.

The air carried a awkward silence. He was eating his food while eyeing you. You could tell he was trying to figure out why you chose to spend ten minutes eating a single potato. He knew how hungry you must be.

You needed to keep him focused on himself.

"I didn't hear a van. Did you walk?". You ask. You push your food to the side to make it look like there was an empty space on your plate.

"I parked it in the woods behind. I heard you asked to be dropped off before your stop last night. Figured you didn't want the attention".

"Thank you" you say earnestly.

"You know" he places some stake into his mouth, "people are going to know about us. Most already do".

Us. There was no us. It was commander Snow and a district girl. Entirely separate.

"you're my girl. People should know it".

Your eyes shoot up to his. No. he was going to catch and release.

"the people here-" you start.

"If some one gives you a hard time, you write their name on a piece of paper for me".

You would never do that. You felt your anger flare up and you stomp it down. The door was closed and your mother was injured. No one would come to your aid if you did something stupid.

"Okay?" He presses.

You nod your head in tune to your mothers crying.

Your head snaps back to the bedroom, and then back to Snow.

he made no offer of morphling, as he ate. You wondered how he could stomach it hearing another person cry out.

"Commander Snow".

You were going to ask, saying no wasn't the worse thing he could do but you were desperate.

"Coriolanus. You can call me Coriolanus in private". He wipes his mouth from his dinner with a handkerchief.

You couldn't call him Coriolanus. It was too familiar. So you just continued your sentence.

"I am very grateful for the food that you brought".

Your sentence filled his eyes with light.

"But" they darken at your ongoing, "I was wondering about the morphling that was promised".

"You think you deserve morphling? I told you favor has to be earnt".

Your mother cries out again, calling out for you.

"How would I earn morphling?" here it was his proposition.

"You could try being nicer to me".

You hands ball in frustration. Just say what you want, you begged, You couldn't be the one to offer it.

"I will. I will be nicer, but could I have the morphling now and then we can go to my bedroom?".

"Why would we do that?"

"Please!" you grunt, lunching onto his arm.

"You think I want to fuck you?".

You mother screams for you to come to her and you dig your nails into his uniform.

'You don't?" what the hell was this all for.

"Not until I get back to the Capital".

You lurch up, holding out you hand.

"Coriolanus please"

"who's to say I brought it?".

You knew he did.

''You're welcome to check". He grins, holding out his arms for a pat down.

A sob from your mother had your hands roaming his uniform. Pressing over his arms, and chest for small pockets that he could hide them in.

You pressed against nothing but soft flesh. You go to his uniform belt that was tight around his waist, checking the small compartments built in. He had taken off his hand gun but his handcuffs were still linked over his belt.

He takes hold of the back of your neck tugging you closer so he could brush his teeth against your throat. He kissed and bit as he pleases while you continued to search.

You shake you head at him, trying to keep you throat from his mouth but his hold tightens, going up to your hair.

You pat along his torso. The Commander peacekeeper uniform was intricate there could be a secret compartment anywhere.

When you get to his pant pocket you feel the shape of the small bottle. You dig into his pocket and he catches your wrist.

You tug back but don't make it far. You beg him to release you. You had found the bottle. You had won.

Your mother calls out for you again and he does release you. Letting you go to her.

You run down the hallway to her bedroom. falling to your knees beside her and uncapping the bottle.

"here" you bring it up to her lips but she doesn't take it.

"is he here" .The darkness of the room covers bites on your neck but she still eyes them like she can see them.

"No, mama. No one is here. Drink".

You tilt the bottle to her lips and she sucks it down hungrily. Her eyes droop as she rests her head back on her pillow. You stoke her hair until they close fully.

You couldn't let you emotions get the better of you. You just had to grin and bare it until he leaves. But now he has left you confused. He told you he didn't want to sleep with you until he's back in the Capital.

You thought you knew what tonight was going to hold but now everything is up in the air. Still, at least you knew he had plans to return to the Capital. You wouldn't have to endure him forever.

He could continue the morphling supply. That would save you having to consort with rebels. If you could avoid making him mad.

With your mother asleep you return to the living room where Coriolanus had started to eat your mothers dinner. If she won out in your attention, she lost out on dinner.

You clear you throat, "Thank you".

He looked pissed in his chair, and you were eager to return him to a good mood.

You clear the empty dinner plates from the table,

"Would you like some desert? I baked apple pie just for you".

He liked being center of attention and you would give him special treatment tonight.

He notices your pained walk to the kitchen. The way your knee slightly buckled as you put weight on your left foot. When you reached for the powered sugar in the top shelf, your foot rose from the heal and he could see the redness from where it rubbed.

You pat the sugar on top of the slice of the apple pie and bring it back over to him at a slow pace.

You place it in front of him. You didn't cut a piece for yourself, your throat hurt from bites.

Still he looked unhappy and you worried as he pushed the bowl away from him, and took you into his arm.

With his chair scraped back he positioned you in front of him, shoving you into a sitting position on top of the table.

His hands trailed down to your shoes, and he took them off, rubbing your sore heals. He knew what it was like to wear shoes that were too small.

He sat rubbing your sore feet, you slightly pull away as his strong hands dug into separated skin.

"What about your desert?" You asked. You had planned to try and send him on his way as soon as he ate it.

You strong finger latched themselves around your ankle and threw it over his shoulder. His other hand pushed your dress up around your hips.

You push his shoulders back as his head came between you thighs.

"you said you wouldn't" you squabble.

"I said I wouldn't fuck you. I didn't say we couldn't do other fun things".

His fingers find their way to your panties and he pulls them off, pocketing them.

"Lay down" he demanded, "i have some more morphling if you're good".

You lay flat against your dinner table and squeeze your eyes shut.

he takes both your knees and hooks them over his broad shoulder, pulling you closer to his mouth.

Your body jolts as he lays his lips across your center. Sucking as if it were a juicy stone fruit. You could feel your own wetness and you felt ashamed. But as your boss had said, there were uglier men out there.

As his first lick lands your hand shot out to his head. If he still had his curls you would have grabbed them but you clutched at air.

He laps and sucks hungrily as you wiggle beneath him. You bite back soft moans. This had never been done to you before, and you had no idea you could feel so good.

You could feel him as he spelt out his name with his tongue. C-the O had your hips bucking-R-I- another hard O and a sound crawled its way from your throat- L-A-N-U- he sucked as he finished the S.

You felt his teeth graze your pearl, giving you a second of pain before he went down and started to poke at your entrance.

He was slow and lazy as he ate you out, keeping your thighs in a strong hold. It felt your stomach form knots as he went up and down. Never letting you fully build from one spot.

You could hear him slurping and moaning as he worked. You tried your best to keep quiet. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing it felt good.

But as you came undone, the orgasm that ripples through you demanded to be known. You hand claws at your own face unsure of what to do while the other clamped down on Coriolanus hand on your thighs.

He added his thumb from his spare hand to your pearl and massaged you through your organism. The over stimulation was too much and you kicked at him to release you.

"Just feel it" he ordered.

You did and it left you spent on table.

"Good girl. You took it well". He tugged you down from the table to the floor beneath him where you sunk.

He undid he belt and you guessed it was his turn.

"Hold out your tongue". You did as he asked poking out your tongue to him.

He freed himself just enough to release his throbbing cock. It stood upright begging for attention. You thought it was going to look scarier, but it could have been your own arousal that soften the member.

He grips your chin, pulling down so your mouth was open as he slowly stokes himself over you.

"Kiss it" he challenged.

You press a soft kiss to his tip and he shudders. Was this all it took for the great commander Snow to crumble.

"Take it" he breathed, "Just the tip".

You take just the first part into your mouth, and he reaches down for your hand. You give it to him and he places it around his cock. He moves your hand for you back and forth.

"Get off" he barks but keeps his hand pressed tightly around yours. You take his mouth off him, and watch as he pumps himself with your hand.

You watch him with his head thrown back and eyes closed. You could see his quick breathes passing through his tummy.

He looks down, seemingly irritated by you, he grabs your hair and yanks it back.

"Open" was the only word he could get out.

You resume your position of sticking your tongue out with your mouth open and he goes back to his state of pleasure.

"That's it, baby" he moans, "like that. Yeah".

His hand over yours quickens and you can see him clutching the arm of the chair.

"Fuck, baby" he says as his milk spills out of him.

The salty taste hits your tongue making you instantly close your mouth. It goes all over the floor and your best dress. Your mothers terrible shoes were safe through.

With his claw still in the back of your head, he maneuvers you out of the way as he bends down and scoops some of his cum off the floor.

He pushes it back into your mouth, through your teeth.

"taste me, baby".

He lets you get up after his fingers are clean. You both straighten out your dress wear. He kicks your chair out for you and you take it. Slumping into it, feeling sick.

He reaches for his pie, taking a bite. He groans in appreciation of its taste. Digging his spoon back for more, he lift it to you.

You stare at him dazed before you eat from his spoon, wanting nothing more then to get the taste of him out of your mouth.

He leaves later on with a kiss goodnight and two more bottles of morphling. Enough to last you until tomorrow night. Where you expected to see him and earn some more.

--------

taglist; @namelesslosers @urfavnoirette

[hinamie]

Sending this as anon bc I'm shyyyy but hi!!! Ive been following you for a while and I LOVE the way you draw Yuji so so so much. Adore him even. He's my baby and I love him. You draw him so GOOD I go emotionally feral every time you draw a new Yuji thats how much I love him I was wondering if you have any tips when it comes to rendering his hair??? I've been drawing him for months now and I still struggle every single time I draw his hair and it's beginning to annoy me so much. I really really love the way you render his so I was sort of wondering how you go about doing it??? If thats not a bother of course. I can't stress this enough but I love your art and you've been a big artistic inspiration for me for the past few months!!! Hope you're doing well :)

hi anon!!! ik your question was about hair specifically but i got carried away and ended up with a timelapse of the whole render ..but i figured it's been a while so consider it a bonus! I'll go into a few specifics under the cut in case i get Also carried away rambling :'> it's a lot easier to Do than to explain but I hope u can still take something away from this <3

i'm on a painting kick so that means i mainly work by taking big swatches of colour blocks and then going in and refining them. u can see in the beginning of the video i start by just throwing down approximate colours and values according to where i want my light source to be before cleaning everything up. I use a combination of a hard angled chisel for flats, a chalky/textured oil brush to blur edges, and a textured tapered brush pen for detail.

rn the way i draw hair uses a lot of Big shapes that i try to separate into somewhat believable layered hairstyles by using small, high contrast shadows to give the illusion of depth. speaking of shadows, smth i play around with when it comes to yuuji specifically is shading his hair with colours that border on either brown or grey--depends on th piece ofc, there are times when i saturate this boy to hell and back, but i find using neutral shadows Grounds the pink a lot

honestly a good rule of thumb when rendering layers is light on top dark underneath fshdsdh a lot of the time hair rendering is just one big convoluted gradient. i break up the monotony with thin sharp lines around the edges where colours meet to imply individual strands, but lately i'm trying to cut back with how many strands i render in detail. i don't think this video is the best example of it (or maybe yuuji's hair in general doesn't lend itself well to what i'm trying to achieve), but ideally I'd like wider swaths of colour with fewer interrupting fine lines. megumi is a lot more forgiving w this i find

in a similar vein , i think in general it's rly hard working with hair like yuuji's which in official art is just . a nondescript spiky puff on top of an undercut... if u want to be more faithful to his design be my guest but i personally try to rectify his hairstyle by picking a few points of origin for the hair chunks in order to make the growth direction and volume make sense. since i draw yuuji's hair a lot longer than it is in canon, for reference i tend to look at a lot of women's undercut/pixie cut styles to get a better idea of how to layer everything. i like making his hair swoopy and fwippy rather than Spiky, if that makes sense

those r just some things i do, but honestly i wouldn't worry abt being terribly precious with it. hair is rly forgiving in that there are a million ways to make it look good , i think that the most important thing is being aware of your light source and adjusting your values accordingly. play around, see what works, have fun with it! and don't resist it if u find yourself being led in a completely different direction lmao ik i just went over my current process but i think i've brought up before how hair is often the most volatile of all the features i draw and i change up how i approach it A Lot .

i'll shut up now bc ive Already been talking too long but thank u so much for your kind words and I hope u found something abt this helpful!!!

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter One

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : The full first chapter. For anyone that missed the first sneak peak, this is going to be a vampire fic, so it's going to have smut, dark themes, and blood mentions. I've been reading a lot of gothic novels lately so there's a bit of inspo from that in here. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

Chapter One

It was official; you'd lost your fucking mind.

You’d been standing outside the building for five minutes now, the paperwork tucked in your coat pocket feeling heavier by the second. Were you sure that you wanted to do this? Could you really give up a year of your life to serve a vampire?

What other choice did you have?

A lithe and pale figure watched from behind the tinted, UV proof glass while you changed your mind a dozen times over. After a few more minutes, the sun finally disappeared into the New York skyline, plunging the street into shadow.

The door opened.

The figure called your name, and you stepped forward, almost mesmerised by the lilting, lyrical tone of her voice. You shook your head a little, trying to keep your wits about you. 

You took in the sight of her as she held open the door; taller than you with a willowy figure, long white hair down to her hips, and eyes of pale blue that seemed to look right through you. You’d seen enough vampires to tell one by sight.

Your small suitcase was clutched in your hand, the few possessions that meant anything to you had been hastily packed before you’d headed to New York, and now felt like all you had left in the world. She glanced at the suitcase with disdain, but said nothing.

“Do you have the paperwork?” She asked, the soft but icy sound of her voice sending a shiver up your spine. You nodded and she held out her hand expectantly, waiting while you fished the folded mess of documents from your coat. She gave the contract a cursory glance, making sure you’d signed every dotted line, before; “good. And are you sure you understand everything that this position entails and what will be required of you?”

You nodded again.

“Speak up,” she prompted. “This is your last chance to ask questions.”

Despite the impatience on her face, you took a moment. Only minutes ago you’d had at least half a dozen questions about the job and the mysterious vampire who had hired you.

“What happened to the last person who took this job?” Her eyebrow rose, obviously not expecting that question. “The contract is for a year, but I’ve seen this job advertised three times in the last ten months.”

“There are a lot of people who mistakenly believe that they can do what is required of them. Many have come to work for Mr Russo, and many have disappointed him,” she shrugged.

“What happened to them?”

“The same thing that will happen to you if you breach your contract; immediate dismissal with no severance,” she explained, slowly starting to step towards the elevator. “During your time here, everything will be provided for you and you will only be paid once your term of service is completed.”

“A million dollars,” even though that was the amount in black and white on the contract, it still didn’t seem real to you.

“Yes,” she pressed the call button, putting an obvious timer on this conversation. “Like I said, this is your last chance to ask questions. Once I take you upstairs, your contract will officially begin, and you will forfeit the agreed upon rights.” 

You swallowed the lump that had risen in your throat and nodded, knowing you had no choice. You needed the money and a year wasn’t that long if you really thought about it. 

The elevator doors slid open and you took one last deep breath before stepping inside.

“What floor are we going to?” You asked, not wanting to stand in silence.

“The penthouse,” she answered, allowing another moment of quiet before adding; “you’ll find that Mr Russo has been more than generous with your living quarters, far more generous than most.”

“Do a lot of vampires do this? Hire people to feed from, I mean?” 

“For those that can afford it, or those with particular... tastes, it’s quite common, yes,” she replied offhandedly, not even bothering to look at you, knowing that it didn’t matter anymore; it was too late for you to change your mind.

“And which is Mr Russo?” You dared to ask, which was enough to earn a glance from her.

“Both,” she answered coldly, “as you no doubt saw in the advertisement, Mr Russo is very particular, and you’d do well to remember that. He is a man who likes everything in its place.”

Your lips parted, more comments and questions about your mysterious employer on your tongue, but they were cut off by the opening of the elevator doors. She led you out into the penthouse; a large open-plan living and kitchen area, with an open fireplace and wrap-around sofa, decorated in dark colours and dark-stained wood.

“Leave your suitcase there,” she instructed. “You won’t need it.”

You did as you were told, speechless as you took in the huge space in front of you. The windows drew your attention; tinted and obviously UV proof, but spanning from floor to ceiling, giving an amazing view of Central Park.

“This is the main area of the penthouse,” she started, as if she was a tour guide, reeling off facts that she no longer found interesting. “You may use this area as you see fit during daylight hours, but between 9pm and 6am it is off-limits. You will clean up after yourself.”

You nodded, following her as she slowly started towards the kitchen, leaving your suitcase at the elevator.

“All food will be provided, and should not be left in this kitchen area. You have your own private kitchen in your quarters. As per your contract, you will keep to the list of acceptable foods, and will receive grocery deliveries once a week on Fridays.” She stopped for a moment, letting you get a look at the main kitchen.

While there didn’t seem to be much in the way of food in the main kitchen, there was a large wine rack, filled with bottles. But it was the small glass-fronted refrigerator that caught your attention. That was where he would keep your blood. Suddenly it all started to feel very real to you.

If your guide cared, she didn’t bother to show it. She started to move again, and you followed after.

“Behind that door,” she pointed, “are Mr Russo’s rooms. You are forbidden from entering. Any breach of that rule will result in your immediate dismissal.”

You nodded, eyes lingering on the door, wondering if he was behind it right now, if he was listening in to everything being said. The thought caused your heart to beat a little faster and, that, you were certain she did notice. She led you away, towards the other end of the apartment.

“Through that door is Mr Russo’s library, you may use it as you see fit during daylight hours,” she didn’t linger or allow you to look inside, so you decided that was the first place you would explore once you were alone.

“And this,” she pushed a door open, “is your private suite.”

The door led to a small corridor with three doors. You continued to follow her. 

“Your kitchen,” she pushed open the first door and let you glance inside before moving to the door on the opposite side of the hallway, “your bathroom.” Again, she only gave you a second before moving to the door at the end of the hallway. “And this is your bedroom. For your privacy, the door can be locked. Though once you’ve slept here, no vampire will be able to enter without permission.” 

You were almost speechless as you stepped into the room, immediately noticing the floor to ceiling windows that wrapped around the corner of the room, giving you amazing views of Central Park and the city. The room contained a large bed, a sofa and TV, as well as a small gym area in the corner. There was a wardrobe, the doors of which had been strategically left open so you could see that it had already been filled with clothes for you. Beyond that, there was a desk and several mirrors, and everything was decorated with the same dark palette as the rest of the penthouse. 

“As per your contract, you are expected to remain clean and healthy at all times,” she continued while you slowly stepped around the room, cautiously running your fingers over the desk and opening drawers. “Mr Russo requires that you shower at least once every day and that you wear only the clothes provided. If the clothes provided are not to your tastes, reasonable adjustments to the wardrobe can be made.”

You opened a drawer and felt heat rise in your cheeks when you realised that it was filled with silk and lace lingerie sets. Closing the drawer, you decided to look elsewhere, moving towards the nightstand. There was a silk sleep mask beside the lamp, with your initials sewn into the fabric.

“You will not leave the penthouse without permission. Any attempt to do so will result in your immediate dismissal,” again, on paper, it had sounded easy but now you weren’t so sure. “Part of remaining clean for Mr Russo means that you will forgo sex for the duration of your contract, and you will not allow anyone to touch you in a sexual way. However, Mr Russo understands that this can be... difficult for someone your age, so he has provided everything you need to keep yourself... satisfied.”

Your confused glance was met by a raised eyebrow and the slightest dip of her head, indicating the drawer which, stupidly, you opened without hesitation.

“Oh...” you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but a drawer full of sex toys certainly wasn’t it. Your cheeks got hotter and your heart raced in your chest.

“I would suggest getting that under control, your embarrassment is quite distracting to vampires,” she stated before leaving the room. You quickly pushed the drawer of toys closed and followed after her. 

She led you into the kitchen, a clean and sterile looking room with everything you’d ever need to cook for yourself. Waving at the only chair at the small table, she instructed you to sit, take your coat off and roll up your sleeve.

“For the first week, I will assist you in drawing blood and showing you how to store it, after that it will become your responsibility. You will do this at least once a day, and it is your job to ensure that Mr Russo never goes without,” she explained, opening a drawer and removing what she needed.

You felt queasy the moment the needle punctured the skin, and you were sure she scoffed when you looked away from the sight of blood. Clearly, she didn’t think you were going to last in your new job.

“While your contract is in effect, Mr Russo is the only vampire who may drink your blood,” she continued to list rules and stipulations. 

“And he’ll only drink it like this? He won’t -” you hesitated, trying to decide if the question could be seen as offensive to a vampire.

“It is, legally speaking, entirely up to you whether or not you would allow Mr Russo to feed from you directly,” which, of course was something you knew - since vampires revealed themselves to the world, lots of safe-measures had been put in place to protect humans from being involuntarily fed upon. “However, Mr Russo prefers to feed this way, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

After almost ten minutes she pulled the needle from your arm and began to explain how to seal the blood before handing you a bottle of supplements and a glass of water. 

“Take one of those every day after bleeding, they will help your body replace what you’ve given.” She watched as you took one of the supplements without questions and then led you back out into the main area of the apartment, showing you how the blood was to be stored in the fridge, with the day's date clearly marked on the jar.

“Now, you should go shower and change into the clothes provided. I can either dispose of what you’re wearing or it can be placed in storage with your other things until your contract is complete.”

“Wait - storage?” You asked, your heart skipping a beat.

“As per your contract, everything is provided -”

“I get that, but... you’re saying I can’t keep my things? What about my phone?” Sure, you’d read the contract, but you’d never realised that that was what it meant.

“Mr Russo is a very private man, your phone or other electronic devices would be a security risk,” she answered sharply. “If you wish to terminate your contract -”

“No - no, it’s fine. As long as they’re kept safe.” As much as you hated it, you knew the alternative was worse. No, you could live without your phone and laptop for a year if it meant earning a million dollars, if it meant finally being free.

Without hesitation, you removed your phone from your pocket and handed it to her. She seemed almost amused that it was already turned off, and quickly slid it into her own pocket.

She nodded and started to walk away. “Leave anything you want put into storage by the elevator.”

It was then that you realised that she was about to leave you all alone and you’d have no more chances to ask her questions.

“When will I meet Mr Russo?” You asked as she pressed the call button.

“That depends on Mr Russo,” she shrugged, “you may never meet him if he doesn’t wish it. He’ll decide when he returns to New York tomorrow. For now, I’d suggest you spend your time getting comfortable. A year is a long time for warmbloods...”

The elevator doors slid open and she carried your suitcase inside.

“I’ll be back after sunset tomorrow to draw more blood.”

It wasn’t until she was gone that you realised you’d never even gotten her name.

Alone, you remained in the kitchen for a few minutes, half expecting her to come back to explain more rules but, when she didn’t, you decided to explore.

It felt strange and you didn’t dare touch anything, practically creeping around the apartment, even though you were fairly certain that you were all alone now. You got yourself familiar with the main living area, taking a moment to enjoy the view from the windows before heading for the door that led to Mr Russo’s library.

Whatever thoughts you had about it, you weren’t expecting what you found behind that door. The book cases covered two of the walls and, in the corner of the room sat a grand piano. There was a worn looking leather sofa and, towards the back of the room, you realised that there was a set of shelves filled with vinyl records. Suddenly, being stuck in this apartment for a whole year didn’t seem like enough time. 

There was a strange mix of old and new about the room, things that made you wonder about the sort of person your new employer was. How old was he? How long had he been a vampire? 

You decided that you were definitely going to spend a lot of time in the library but, for tonight, you settled on taking a battered looking copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray from a shelf, hoping that no one would mind if you took it back to your room.

While it wasn’t getting late, it had been a long day and you were still feeling a little shaky, so you decided to do as instructed and have a shower before changing into one of the silken pairs of pyjamas that had been provided. Once you’d neatly folded and piled your old clothes by the elevator, you returned to your bedroom.

Paranoia had you checking around the room, beneath the bed and in the wardrobe, before you finally felt safe enough to lock yourself in. While it had been your plan to read until you fell asleep, you were too distracted by thoughts of home; had anyone noticed that you were gone yet? Were they looking for you? Had they been trying to call?

The only thing that you knew for certain was that no one would find you here. And, once you’d completed your year and had your million dollars, no one would find you ever again.

The next morning you realised why you’d been provided a sleep mask; as stunning as the floor to ceiling windows were, the moment the sun rose your room was filled with light. Grumbling, your hand reached for your phone on the night stand before you remembered exactly where you were and that you no longer had your phone.

There was a clock in the kitchen, on the wall above the small table where you sat and had breakfast, telling you that it was far too early to be awake. 

After breakfast you showered and decided to spend the day getting used to your surroundings, starting with the bedroom. 

The contents of the wardrobe left you speechless. Even the leggings and jeans were expensive brands, and some of the ball gowns... honestly, you didn’t even know why they were in there, but you’d spent enough time attending balls and gala’s back home to know that each was easily worth tens of thousands of dollars. Some of the garments felt a little more questionable; corsets and dresses that would probably reveal far more than you were comfortable with.

And the shoes.

You’d never seen so many pairs of shoes. Everything ranging from cute sneakers, to thigh-high boots with heels so big you’d break your neck if you fell over in them. Every kind of shoe for every sort of occasion, and they were all stunning.

Then, in the drawers, you had your more everyday items; underwear, tee-shirts, leggings. And, again, it seemed like no expense had been spared. Admittedly when you finally changed out of the pyjamas, it felt a little bit weird to put on underwear that you hadn’t bought for yourself, and weirder still to think about how soft the lace felt on your skin.

You picked out a pair of jeggings, an oversized sweater and a pair of Uggs to wear before continuing to search through your room. There was everything you could think that you might want or need, with the exception of a laptop or phone. (And you were very mindful about ignoring the drawer of sex toys, not even wanting to think about it.)

It took you almost the whole day to get through it all and find where everything was. Once you were done, you decided to cook dinner; a simple pasta in sauce with some bread. You hadn’t even stepped out of your suite and into the main apartment, you’d almost managed to forget that anything existed outside of your bubble until the sudden knock on the suite's door. 

You opened the door to find her standing there, remembering she had promised to return at sunset.

“Have you found everything to your liking so far?” She asked as she stepped past you and made her way into the kitchen. 

“Everything is fine,” you told her, following after. “I did have a few... questions about some things?”

She indicated that you take a seat and moved to the cupboard that contains the equipment for drawing blood. You rolled up your sleeve without being asked.

“Yes?” She prompted.

“In the wardrobe, there are ball gowns?” More statement than question and she looked at you with a raised eyebrow until you clarified; “why?”

“Mr Russo occasionally likes to host parties or attend events in the city,” she answered, piercing your skin with the needle. “If he decides he enjoys your company, he may ask you to attend with him.”

“Oh,” you decided not to ask the ridiculous follow up and instead change direction completely. “And, while I’m here I’m not allowed a phone or the internet?”

“As I told you yesterday, Mr Russo is a very private man. If you wish to contact loved ones, I can -”

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly cut her off. “What if there’s... I don’t know, an emergency? Or something I need?”

For a second she paused, the slightest look of realisation on her face, as if she’d just remembered something. 

“By the elevator, there’s an intercom. You can use it to contact me or, if I’m not available, you can contact the doorman.”

Which, of course, brought you to the next awkward question.

“... you never told me your name.”

“Lissa,” she quickly responded, off-handedly, almost dismissively, like she thought you’d never need it. 

Once she was finished drawing blood, you followed her out into the main area of the penthouse and over to the fridge where, to your surprise, yesterday’s blood was gone.

“Is -” you started to ask, glancing towards that foreboding door that was off-limits to you, “- is Mr Russo here?”

“He’s back in the city, yes.” 

You took that to mean that he wasn’t in, so you decided not to ask any more questions - what had she told you yesterday? That he’d decide whether he wanted to meet you when he got back. Well, he was back now and, obviously, he didn’t.

Lissa asked if you needed anything desperately and you told her you didn’t; she didn’t exactly make it seem like she was interested, more that she felt obligated.

The next few days passed in much the same way; you’d spend your afternoons exploring the penthouse, trying to get some idea of what Mr Russo was like. Then Lissa would help you draw blood and, by the end of the first week, you no longer needed her assistance. Every morning you checked the fridge and found it empty. He was there, in the penthouse. But, as the days passed, you started to think you’d never cross paths and maybe that was by design.

Maybe that was for the best, maybe it would be easier to get through the year without meeting him. You could just pretend that the penthouse was yours.

But it seemed like a lonely way to live, especially once Lissa no longer had a reason to visit. You weren’t used to space or privacy, not like this. You took to muttering to yourself, moving from room to room of the penthouse just to get a little bit of variety in your life.

The first day you were completely left alone, you decided to start the morning with a run on the treadmill. It was raining outside but you tried to picture what it would be like to run through the winding paths of Central Park, all the way to the fountain. Then, after showering, you rummaged through the cupboards in the kitchen to find all the ingredients you needed to make chocolate muffins.

By the time the sun started to set, you were quietly impressed with how well you’d managed to distract yourself. But it was only one day, and you had over three-hundred and fifty more to fill. You made yourself some dinner, drew some blood and took it out to the fridge for Mr Russo, whenever he decided to get it.

Then, you ended up on the sofa.

Initially you’d only wanted to sit down for a few minutes, feeling tired and a little bit unsteady after putting today’s blood in the fridge. You had a feeling that you might have drawn a little too much, and you found your eyes drifting shut. 

The alarm on your watch woke you, set to remind you every night when it was approaching 9pm so you could retire to your suite, as per the rules. You felt groggy as your eyes opened, taking a second to sharpen.

And there he was, sitting on the opposite side of the wrap-around sofa, a glass in his hand, dark eyes set on you.

You sat up quickly - so quickly that it made you feel dizzy.

Your cheeks warmed, though you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or nausea.

If he cared about your display of discomfort, he certainly didn’t show it. In fact, for a moment you were sure you saw a flicker of a smirk cross his lips. For a second you found yourself staring, taking in the sight of him; dark suit, dark hair, and even darker eyes. He was stunning, even by vampire standards.

“I’m sorry, I -” you started, flustered. You didn’t even know what you were apologising for. It wasn’t like you’d broken any of his rules.

“So you’re the new one,” his voice didn’t sound like you thought it would. For the look of him, you’d imagined a smooth but commanding tone, instead there was something rough to it.

“Yes, sir,” you answered, quickly introducing yourself to him rather than addressing what exactly he meant by the new one.

“Drink that,” he instructed and you noticed the glass of orange juice on the table. “It’ll help with the blood loss.”

Your cheeks warmed a fraction, embarrassed that he’d figured out why you were sleeping on the sofa. (Just how long had he been sitting watching you sleep, anyway?)

You gave a muttered thank you before reaching for the glass and slowly starting to drink. You’d forgotten to take your supplement too and that probably wasn’t helping.

“So, what are you running from?”

“I'm sorry?” You asked, not understanding the question. 

“You've agreed to spend a year living in the home of a man you've never met - a vampire, no less - so, what are you running from?” He looked at you as if he could look through you, as if he expect a lie and he’d be able to catch you in it

“I’m not running,” you answered, forcing yourself to sit a little straighter, despite the light-headedness. “I just didn’t want to be at home anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?” You answered flippantly before realising that that wasn’t the best way to talk to your new employer. “I mean - I already signed all of your contracts, so does it make a difference?”

“It does if I end up with your parents at the door screaming about how I spirited away their daughter and have her under my thrall so I can drain her blood.”

“Has - has that happened before?” There was something about his face, his eyes, it made it impossible to tell if he was joking or being serious. “Things like this are legal, so it’s not like they could complain...”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

It was only then that you realised what was in his glass, the dark viscous liquid he was gently swirling. He was sitting and having this conversation with you while cradling a glass of your blood.

“I’m not avoiding it,” you decided to tell him, “I just don’t want to answer it. I appreciate how this could look to some people, but I can promise you my family won’t be an issue. They don’t even know that I’m here and they have no way of finding me.”

“So, not running, escaping,” he stated like he didn’t want a response and already knew he was going to get one. And, finally, he lifted his glass and took a slow drink..

You didn’t want to watch him drink, but you found that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, watching the gentle bob of his throat and the way he licked his lips after draining half the glass. When he caught you looking, you dropped your attention to your own glass and took a slow drink.

“I’m not your first am I?” 

Sputtering, you almost choked on your drink and, for some reason, your mind immediately went to the drawer of toys in your bedroom. Your cheeks continued to warm as the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“My first what?”

“Vampire.”

“No. I mean, I’ve never -” you took a second, trying to regain your composure. “I’ve met other vampires, I’ve just never let them...”

He lifted the glass and cocked an eyebrow before taking a drink. This time when he drank, you let him see you watching, feeling your heart stutter in your chest. Again, his tongue wiped away any trace of your blood from his lips and he looked oddly satisfied.

“Do you like it here? Are you settling in?” He asked, and you were starting to realise he was trying to get a measure of you. “Are your rooms to your liking?”

“Yes, you have a lovely home,” you answered before taking an awkward drink. You weren’t sure what else to say about it because, outside of the library, there wasn’t much to the penthouse. In fact, once you started thinking about it, you couldn’t help but realise that it seemed a little cold and lonely. But, perhaps it was different in his rooms, perhaps that was where he’d made his penthouse into a home.

“You like the library,” a statement more than a question.

“Yes, I - how did you know?” Had he been spying on you? Watching you?

“My copy of Dorian Gray,” he stated softly, and you felt your breath catch, “it doesn’t seem to be where I left it.”

“It’s in my room,” you answered, worried that you might have already done something wrong - you couldn’t afford to lose this job, not after only a week. “No one told me that I couldn’t take it out of the library, I just wanted something to read in bed and I -”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. “You can take as many books from the library as you want, as long as they’re returned undamaged.”

It seemed to mean a lot to him and, perhaps, you should have asked why but, instead, you found yourself feeling indignant.

“I’d never damage a book,” you told him, “especially one that didn’t belong to me.”

Again, he seemed more amused than fazed by your response. “So, you like to read?”

You nodded.

“Why?” His eyes stayed on you, staring through you, right to your soul. At least, that was how it felt. Your lips parted, but you didn’t have an answer for him. Why did anyone like to read? “Escapism? Perhaps to imagine a better life? Or is it love and fantasies of fictional men who will treat you better than anyone in the real world that you enjoy?”

“Is that why you have all those books? To fantasise about fictional men?” you found yourself responding, trying desperately to ignore the heat burning through your cheeks.

He let out a laugh, a deep and dark sound that sent a shiver up your spine. The smirk on his lips grew and, for a moment, he just watched you before shrugging.

“Sometimes men, sometimes women,” he admitted with ease, lifting his glass and draining it, leaving nothing but a pinkish stain on the inside of the glass. “I like you,” he decided and you weren’t sure if he meant you or your blood. “This is going to be fun.”

With that, he got to his feet and all you could do was watch, getting some idea of his height and how he held himself once he was standing. He moved with the confidence of a predator who knew his own strength even if others couldn’t see it, and you knew immediately that you shouldn’t underestimate him.

“You should return to your rooms,” he told you, turning and heading for the kitchen to get rid of his empty glass. “I wouldn’t want Lissa finding out that you’ve already broken your contract.”

For a second you weren’t sure what he meant, but then you saw the time. Twenty past nine. He’d kept you talking for almost half an hour. (Could he really fire you for that when he was the reason?)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the time, I -” you got to your feet so quickly that you almost fell back down

“I’m joking,” it hadn’t sounded like a joke. He glanced back towards you, offering something of a smile. “You should go back to your rooms and rest, though. And tomorrow, take more care when you’re drawing blood. I wouldn’t want you fainting.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before moving towards the elevator and slipping inside once the doors opened.

For a few seconds, you stood, at a loss over what had just happened, before quickly making your way back to your own rooms.

CHAPTER TWO

End Notes : Sooo... there it is. I honestly hate starting new fics because I always feel like they start a little slow. I'm not sure what the posting schedule will look like for this one, I'm hoping once a week (on Friday evenings) but I'll post an update or something if that changes.

Thanks for checking this out, I know it's a bit of a departure from Catch Me if You Can. Have a wonderful weekend.

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

[lucy90712]

heyy love your writing:>

Could you pls do clingy jude x fem!reader?

This season has been an incredibly long one so many games so many ups and downs but it has been a lot of fun. I have loved watching Jude blossom at Real Madrid and win trophies which he has very much deserved. The one big downside is that we haven't spent as much time as we would like together Jude is always away for games or at training and when he's not I'm at work and even now the domestic season is over the euros start in a few weeks so we are going to be apart again. 

Just yesterday Jude was at the champions league final which I couldn't go and see in person and now in a few days time he has to head back to England to join the England team. When I went to bed Jude was still at Wembley but now that I've woken up he's asleep beside me so he must've made it home at some point during the night. His arm was loosely hung over my waist as he slept soundly. I wished we could stay like this forever but I have work and I'm sure Jude has celebrations to attend later with the team. As much as I should get up I can go without breakfast and use that time to just lay in bed with Jude for a few more minutes, out of habit my hands went to his hair playing with it which woke him up. Once he realised where he was he pulled me closer to him and just held me tightly which is really going to make getting up even harder. 

"Good morning" he said in his morning voice which I love so much 

"Morning and congratulations you played so well last night I'm so sad I couldn't be there" I said 

"Thank you but don't worry I know you had work I'm just glad you're here right now" he said 

"I wish we could spend more time together you've got to leave me again in a few days and then I won't see you until the euros have started" I said 

"Do you have to go to work today?" He asked 

"I'm afraid I do there's a few others off this week and we've got a lot to get done" I replied 

That made Jude frown and hold onto me tighter. The time indicated that I should've got out of bed 10 minutes ago but I still don't want to leave and I don't think Jude will let me just yet. My routine is completely ruined but I don't really care as I love to soak up moments like this as they have been rare recently. As time went on Jude only held me tighter and started pressing kisses to my face and neck almost teasing me as he was yet to reach my lips but eventually he pulled me down to give me what I had been waiting for. I've missed Jude's kisses so much so I let him keep kissing me for a few more minutes before I pulled away and tried to get out of bed. Jude didn't let me get up I tried but he was just too strong for me to be able to break free. 

"I have to go to work love" I said 

"Do you really have to" he whined 

"You know I do" I said 

Jude didn't say anything else he simply just grabbed my phone from my bedside table and started looking for something which confused me until he put the phone to his ear. He had called my boss and phoned me in sick which had me laying there completely shocked. I never thought he'd do something like that just to spend time with me but I can't say I'm mad about it because I've missed him so much and I haven't had a day off in months. It didn't sink in for a few seconds that I really didn't have to go to work but when Jude put my phone down smiling I realised I could snuggle back into his arms for as long as I wanted to. 

We stayed in bed for a while until we were both starting to get hungry but before we could eat I wanted to brush my teeth. Jude joined me in the bathroom to brush his teeth too but he didn't let go of me even for a second he even stood behind me with his arms around my waist as I washed my face and did my skincare. Once I was done he picked me up and put me over his shoulder and carried me down the stairs which I would complain about but he used to do it all the time when we got to see more of each other so I just enjoyed getting to be like we used to. He took me to the kitchen and put me down and just stared at me which to others might seem weird but I knew exactly what he was asking. He wanted to order breakfast and I wasn't going to say no as I didn't really want to cook. 

I let him order whatever he thought I'd want as he usually gets it right then I suggested we make some fresh orange juice as for some reason we have a load of oranges that we definitely won't eat before they go bad. Jude got the juicer we have for whatever reason and I cut the oranges so they can go in the machine but I wasn't tall enough or strong enough to actually press the oranges into the juicer. I needed Jude to help me so he got the little step stool we have in the kitchen to help me reach things and put his hands on mine to help me push all the oranges through the juicer. We made a pretty good team and made a good amount at least enough for a glass for both of us which I poured while Jude answered the door as our food arrived. 

We ate breakfast before sitting on the sofa where we stayed for pretty much the whole day just cuddling and catching up on the shows we like to watch together but have become quite behind on. Both of us are normally quite active people and hate to sit around all day but I loved spending all day just cuddling with Jude and that's how I know we've both missed each other's company. Thinking about the fact that I'm just a few days we will have to be apart again made me so sad. I didn't realise just how much I missed him and our days together until we actually got to be together and now I don't want him to leave again. 

"Have you got work for the next few days?" Jude asked 

"Yeah sadly I really wish I didn't but if I want time off the the euros I can't take any more they will fire me" I said 

"You don't need this job if you want to work you can find another company to work for that is more flexible we never see each other as they always make you work overtime and extra days" Jude said 

"I know but my coworkers will end up with so much more to do and then I'll feel awful" I said 

"If that wasn't a factor would you prefer to stay or leave?" Jude asked

"I think I'd prefer to leave" I admitted 

"Then do it spend the summer with me and then look for a new job once the season restarts" Jude said 

"Are you sure I have some savings but not enough for a few months of not working" I said 

"I'm completely sure I can afford everything and I'd much rather you be happy and I want to enjoy the summer with you" he said 

"Then it's settled I'll hand in my notice later today and take the rest of my holiday to cover my notice period" I said 

Jude didn't say anything else he just kissed me and held me tighter. This definitely feels right and I can't lie that I'm really happy and relieved that I can spend the whole off season with Jude and experience pre season and the euros with him properly. 

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: (folded up and hunched over with chin in hands) (brooding)

Vaggie: "Someone's got a lovely long face today."

Charlie: (sighs) "Sorry..."

Vaggie: "Don't be, sweetie." (sits and hunches over too, hands clasped) "What's got you down?"

Charlie: "You, kinda."

Vaggie: "Me?" (terrified) "What did-"

Charlie: "And all this." (waves at vaggie next to her) "Specifically."

Vaggie: (edges away) "Is it the 'sweetie' thing? 'Cause I'll stop-"

Charlie: "No. No, I like it." (sighs again) "Vaggie, in the wonderful, amazing, dream-like over a YEAR we've known each other now, have you ever, like..."

Vaggie: (edging closer again) "...have I ever...?"

Charlie: "Killed anyone?"

Vaggie: "Wh- No!"

Charlie: "Not even a little?"

Vaggie: "What would 'killed them a little' even look like..? I mean, sure I've thought about maiming people, and probably would've a few times if you hadn't been there, but-"

Charlie: "What about when I wasn't looking? No... sneaking out for some midnight murder sprees?"

Vaggie: "Charlie- I can't even get up to use the bathroom without you tearing up half the bed with your claws looking for me. We've had to get new sheets three times this month. And last time I took a midnight shower, I found you curled up on the floor just outside the door afterwards. I almost STEPPED on you!"

Charlie: (pouting) "You were gone when I woke up."

Vaggie: "I was gone maybe ten minutes."

Charlie: "And I was missing you."

Vaggie: "Yeah. I figured." (smiles) "So how the fuck am I supposed to be sneaking out to kill people, when I'm best friends with the biggest cuddle bug in all creation?"

Charlie: "I don't know!" (frustrated) "NONE of this makes any SENSE!"

Vaggie: ".... now I feel like I'm missing something."

Charlie: "You're not though! That's why-" (GROWLS) (yanks at hair)

Vaggie: "Okay, hey- Charlie?" (takes her hand) "Talk to me?"

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "...why're you still here?"

Vaggie: "Do you... want me to move out?"

Charlie: "NO! Never! I, you- I don't even know how I'd-"

Vaggie: "So that's not the problem here. What is?"

Charlie: "The PROBLEM is- I want you here, but you shouldn't BE here! You're not a bad person! Whatever you did or used to do- you haven't been for a whole YEAR, and I'm just- just being stupid and selfish wanting you to stay, but you-"

Vaggie: "You're not-"

Charlie: "-aren’t doing anything bad! So WHY-"

Vaggie: "Charlie, hold on- no- you're not stupid or selfish. You've been alone, and that's not something you did anything to deserve, okay?"

Charlie: "...."

Vaggie: "You can be sad without apologizing for it too, you know."

Charlie: (slumping) "Why are you still in hell, Vaggie?"

Vaggie: (wryly) "Not like I've got wings to flutter off with."

Charlie: "You deserve them."

Vaggie: "..... thanks for saying so, sweetie."

Charlie: "It's true."

Vaggie: “Pretty sure it’s not, since I don’t have them.”

Charlie: “You should. You should have them.”

Vaggie: “I’d rather have this.”

Vaggie: (lifts their hands)

Vaggie: “Who needs wings, when you’ve got the best cuddle bug ever. Right?”

Charlie: (holds tight) “…heaven’s probably better. Full of people you wouldn’t want to even maim. That’s where you belong, not down here in hell…”

Vaggie: “…with you?”

Charlie: “Oh I’d be fine!”

Vaggie: (lifts brow)

Charlie: “Really!” (looks away) “It’d be good. Knowing you’re up there in heaven, and, happy.”

Vaggie: “I wouldn’t be happy.”

Charlie: “Sure you would.” (miserable) “It’s heaven.”

Vaggie: “Hell’s better. It’s where you are.”

Charlie: “Vaggie…”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Charlie: “Be serious? Please?”

Vaggie: “I am. But it's not gonna work if you don’t listen to it.”

Charlie: “Fine.”

Charlie: (deep breath) (looks vaggie in the eye)

Charlie: “Vaggie. Do you want me to try getting you into heaven?”

Vaggie: “No.”

Charlie: (voice crack) “Are you SURE?”

Vaggie: “I’m not going anywhere. I’d miss you too much.”

Charlie: “...okay.”

Charlie: (laughs wetly) “Okay. I’d. Same.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Vaggie: (dabs away charlie’s tears)

Vaggie: “You’ve been feeling extra lonely haven' you, thinking about all that on your own.”

Charlie: “Maybe. A little.”

Vaggie: “…sorry I didn’t, you know. Make sure you knew sooner. ”

Charile: (laughs for real) “Don’t be. Not like I asked.”

Vaggie: (smiles) “Sorry for making you feel like you even had to ask.”

Charlie: “Um. Uh.” (clears throat) “You’re forgiven?”

Vaggie: (chuckles)

Charlie: “…and, you’ll tell me, if you change your mind? About the whole heaven thing?”

Vaggie: “I won’t change my mind, Charlie.”

Charlie: “But if you do, you’ll say so?”

Vaggie: “Mmm, kinda feels like you’re saying it like you think I will.”

Charlie: “No. I mean you can, I just… don’t wanna worry about it like this again.”

Vaggie: “Oh. Then I promise-”

Charlie: “Thank you.”

Vaggie: “-if you promise me you’ll let me know what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours.”

Charlie: “Pfft- More silly than brilliant. Didn’t wanna bother you.”

Vaggie: “Bother me? Now you're really sounding silly. You’re not the only one who’s been lonely.”

Charlie: “Huh? You? Why were you- Ohhh…”

Vaggie: “You’ve been a million miles away lately. Welcome back.”

Charlie: “Aww Vaggie! Were you missing me, even when I was right in front of you???”

Vaggie: “Don’t even.”

Charlie: “That’s so cuuuute~”

Vaggie: “Don't. You've been worse. You were impersonating a rug- You clung on so hard after I picked you up I couldn’t even get the blankets over us again.”

Charlie: “Lucky I make a good blanket!”

Vaggie: “The best. But you still gotta stop sleeping in front of the bathroom door.”

Charlie: “I can, try?”

Vaggie: “Is it really that hard to stay in a warm soft bed?”

Charlie: “It is when you’re not there!”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, please. I’ll be coming right back.”

Charlie: “…then I can wait.”

Vaggie: “Good.”

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: “Probably. I think I can probably wait.”

Vaggie: “Ugghh...”

Vaggie: (playfully bumps shoulders) (leans in as charlie hugs her instead)

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎthrowing a halloween party as coriolanus' first lady (part two)꣑ৎ౨ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

The contents of your list hadn't stopped banging around in your head for the last few weeks. Every second you were awake you were thinking, planning, imagining something to do with your party.

You felt as though you were moving in slow motion while the rest of the world raced by. And some days it was the other way around. Either way, time did not move the way it was supposed to, and you suffered for it.

Now as you looked at the various papers spread across your desk, it was like the clock was taunting you. Leaning back in your chair, you tried to view it all from a higher perspective. It felt like a mess now but maybe it would be better put together?

Running a hand through your hair, you shut your eyes briefly, trying to ward off the headache that had been pounding at your head for two days. The flowers, the food, your costume. Your eyes flew open. Your costume. You needed to go pick it up so ensure the measurements were correct.

Standing up so quickly that spots dotted your vision, you smoothed the front of your sleek sweater dress and searched for wherever you'd discarded your shoes. Sudden movements only made your head pound worse but still you rushed. There was no time to slow down.

Even as you sook out your heels, you were going over details. Make sure it's the right brand of champagne, approve the decoration sketches-

Aha. You reached for one black heel, cramming it onto your foot and doing the same with the other. Maybe after stopping at the seamstress you could pop into the flower shop instead of calling them back. Surely it'd be better to view the arrangements in person?

Standing up straight, you turned to the nearby floor-length mirror, straightening your dress. It had gotten rumpled from sitting down for so long. Behind you, the door opened and your husband appeared, shutting it behind him.

"Coryo," you greeted absentmindedly, raking your fingers through your hair as a makeshift brush.

He stood behind you, setting his hands on your waist, but you made no movement to turn into him or tilt your cheek up for a kiss as usual. "Sweetheart."

"I've got to head out," you said, stepping out of his grasp to snatch your handbag from the floor by your desk chair. "But I might be back before dinner."

"Where to this time?" He sounded a little wary, but you brushed it off. All this time you'd been carefully piecing together your event he'd been quietly supportive, asking you tentatively about what you wanted to be asked about, which was very little. But you could feel him growing worried and you weren't sure why.

"Seamstress. Then to look at the flowers." You brushed it off, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm not sure how long it'll take. And when I get home I have to go over a few more things, maybe call the catering and ask them-"

"Darling." Coriolanus took you by the arms, his blue eyes boring a hole into you. "You need to relax. Stop for a minute."

"I can't," you said hurriedly. "I'm behind. And there's still so much to do." Taking in a deep breath, you squeezed your fist, manicured nails digging into your palm for a moment before you released. "I'm fine."

"I've watched you running around for nearly a month," he countered, still holding you by the arms. "You should take the night off. I feel like I haven't seen you when you aren't asleep in weeks."

"You can see me after the party's over." But that didn't work on him, and he smoothed that same stubborn strand from your eyes and exhaled softly.

"Darling..." he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "You've been doing such a good job with everything but you're going to wear yourself out."

"I want everything to be perfect," you insisted, fussing with your purse strap. "I don't have time to stop-"

"Hey." Coriolanus tilted your chin up, looking you right in the eye. "It's okay. No need to get worked up over something like this." He rubbed your cheek. "Sweetheart. You're going to leave all this in here and come with me."

"No!" The forcefulness of the word surprised both of you. You tried to remedy it. "I'm sorry...I just...I can't. I need to do this."

He must have seen the determination in your eyes. Or maybe those blue eyes could stare straight into your soul, and see the new dreadful feeling that was poking its head from where you'd shoved it so many times. Either way, now Coriolanus was gently pulling you to sit back down, taking your bag and setting it to the side.

You stared at your lap until he knelt and took both your hands, squeezing them lightly. When you looked up at him, his eyes tore it all from your lips.

"If I don't do a good job..." your lower lip began to tremble.

"You will do a good job," he cut in, rubbing your hands with his thumbs. Coriolanus' brow furrowed and he reached up to cup your cheek with one hand. "Is this what all this is about?"

Silence. You nodded, blinking quickly to still the tears in your eyes, an effort that did not work. Coriolanus hummed, stroking your cheek.

Then in a quick movement, he stood up, bringing you to your feet too. Before you could ask what he was doing, he crushed you to his chest, holding your head to his shoulder. You let out a little cry at that, arms twining around his waist and hugging him close. All the tension and stress from the past few weeks came pouring out of you in the form of tears, and it was almost relieving.

"I'm going to run you a bath," he murmured, lips finding the top of your head. "And then we're going to relax. You can pick up where you left off some other time. But tonight is for us."

Melting in his hands, all you could do was nod. He rubbed your back soothingly, ironing the places where your dress had bunched up. You sighed, some of the pieces of your mental list tearing away and dissipating into smoke. Breathing in once, his rosy scent engulfed you. It was his flowery soap. Your favorite smell in the world.

He filled your bath in the room adjacent to his own, wanting you to step further away from your work, you gathered. There, soaking in his pale porcelain bathtub, you began to relax for the first time in who knew how long.

Coriolanus sat with you, pulling a chair from the other room and propping it close, obliging when you reached out a hand for him. He kissed your knuckles, letting you grasp his fingers even though yours were wet.

It all began to spill out the more you sat with him. What had been causing all the stress in your mind and body this last week was now in the air, and he listened intently.

"What's your costume, sweetheart?" he asked, smiling as you played with his hand, bubbles frothing at your wrist.

"An angel," you said, looking away shyly with a smile.

Squeezing your hand, Coriolanus stroked your thumb with his own. "Well isn't that perfect?" It made you giggle, maybe the first time you'd laughed in a long time.

Later he had you wrapped up in his arms, cozy under the plush blankets as he ran his fingers through your hair. You breathed easy now, every semblance of tension wrung out of your body with nothing remaining but exhaustion.

"Go to sleep, darling," he whispered, kissing your damp hair.

The covers smelled like him. You shifted your bare legs, smooth against the sheets, and let your eyes fall shut. He whispered that he loved you before you passed out.

And you could feel it surrounding you, breathing air into your lungs and soft under your back.

How much he loved you.

tagging @kellielovesmovies because <3

mixedfandxms <3

[hwanchaesong]

━⁠☞🍽️First Course: It's always this, it's always that. The never ending demands you have failed to meet. How much more can you take of this bitter situation? 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Enough For You

wc: 1.4k

genre & warnings: angst angst angst (no happy ending here with hj), reader learns how love must work in a relationship, lovers to exes, marriage, other idols appearance, cursing, insecurity, just pure angst :D

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You watch Seonghwa and Mina sway to the romantic music for their first dance as a newly wed couple, and your heart flutters with joy seeing them so happy.

No, jealousy was never an option for this one because you've seen their journey together. How their relationship blossomed and now, they are entering a new phase of their lives together. It was truly magnificent.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?" a voice brought you out of your reminiscing, turning your head to look at the source and you were dumbfounded to the core.

The man that you have been avoiding for the rest of the day is standing in front of you in his full glory, an awkward yet hopeful smile on his face as he awaits your answer.

"Yeah, Hongjoong. Go Ahead." you replied, returning the smile before sipping the now warm champagne in the goblet that you have been ignoring for the past few minutes in lieu of admiring the pair in the middle of the reception area.

A moment of silence, and he dared to break it.

"It's been a while since I last saw you. How's life?" he inquired, making small talk and you fight off the urge to leave him there alone, but no can do, you're not gonna be childish in the presence of your ex-boyfriend.

"It was good," then you paused, blinking and correcting yourself, "no actually, I have been living the best life."

He was taken aback at your slightly ironic tone, not used to the way you're speaking, like you're a completely different person after your separation, and only a month has passed since.

"Well, as for me.."

He trails and you roll your eyes, you did not ask how he's doing and certainly not interested. But you maintain your poise, not wanting him to see that he's having a negative effect on you.

"I've been miserable... without you, at least."

You whipped your head to look at him incredulously, an aghast scoff coming out of you unconsciously at his audacity to tell you that.

Wasn't he the one who decided to end your relationship? He was the one who destroyed a 5-year long bond, so what the fuck is he on about?

"Are you serious?" he looked offended when you asked him that, like he was pulling a stunt or something but who could blame you?

"Why would I even joke about that?" he mutters back, frowning when your confused expression turns into an appalled one.

He really isn't serious, right?

After all the shit that you have to go through because he's always wanting, needing, and looking for more in you.

You've never really seen the importance of going outside all glammed up, your friends and family have always complimented your bare face. A natural beauty, as they liked to call you. Then you saw the girls that he dated back when he was younger, and it made you insecure.

So you learned how to do hair and make-up. Buying expensive ass hair curlers, eyeshadows, foundations, lipstick, brushes and all that shit just for him to say to not notice what you have been doing.

You observed him to no end, taking notes of his likes and dislikes. His favorite dishes and drinks, colors and style of clothing, heck, you even memorized the song that he's been humming to for days.

The books beside his bed and on his shelves weren't left untouched by you. Every page was read dutifully so you could relate to him whenever he tells you a story about a recent book that he had bought.

But it seems that your efforts were all in vain, as there is always something that is lacking in you.

"The colors of your outfit are not matching."

"Oh, I'm actually trying a new kind of coffee today."

"No, wrong author, I can't believe you'll make a mistake about this."

It may be the emotional attachment or the undying commitment that you hold dear for him are the reasons why you continued to change yourself for him. In your eyes, he is absolutely perfect, and you're determined to fit in his aesthetic.

You were determined to make him accept you.

But as they all say, the more you burn, the more you turn yourself into ashes that will inevitably crumble.

And the snapping point was nigh when you're tired and he couldn't even bat an eye on your well-being.

"Is that what you're wearing tonight?" Hongjoong eyes your appearance, black dress and clean hair and make-up, and if you ask anyone, they'll say that it's simple yet elegant.

Truth to be told, you don't have the energy to go all out for the event that you're attending. Still, you did your best to look presentable, and you did a great job, you think.

It was a hellish week for you. Finals are coming up and you're dying from all the studying, you're also struggling in your part-time job because of the lack of sleep. The worst one was the nagging of your parents, constantly asking you about your plans for the future.

Everything was taking a toll on you and the last thing that you wanna hear came from the very same person that should have been a source of comfort.

Hongjoong sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Just.. stay put in one place. I can't have you embarrassing me further than this."

There you go, you lost it.

"Embarrass you?" a deriding tone rode along with your words, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Y/N, do you see yourself? I told you to do your best, and this isn't what I envisioned." he mumbles, expression souring when you exuded such an attitude in his words.

"Ah." it was flat, the way you said it, as you were suddenly hit with the realization that even when you restart and destroy yourself, it will never be fucking enough for him.

Gosh, he could've at least acted better. Feigned care and faked affection, but he can't even give you that.

And you're so fucking done with his bullshit.

"I will not come with you anymore. Go alone." you muttered, turning in your heels and heading to the bedroom.

"What? Y/N, stop being a child."

"No, Hongjoong. I need you to stop being a know-it-all, go fuck yourself."

That was the first time you stood up for yourself, and damn did it feel good. Like you're finally free from his restraints, and it's addicting.

He rolls his eyes at you, muttering a 'Suit yourself.' and exiting the house, not even an ounce of concern at your sudden outburst, and that was all you needed to make a cathartic decision.

That was the day you left without a trace, and you can finally breathe without him cursing you into the darkness of being inadequate.

He blew your phone up, messaging and calling you, and you were disappointed when it ceased just after a day. It says a lot about him though, on how much of an asshole he is.

Especially after a mere three days and he's already posting a new bimbo in his social media accounts.

At the present time, you're tempted to spill the alcohol in his face and probably ruin his expensive suit.

How could you even believe him that he's serious, that he's not kidding when he made you feel like a clown.

You chuckle, staring straight ahead, "Did your new girl dump you or something?"

"No. I just realized that it's different, you know? If it's not with you then it doesn't feel right." he admits, looking down at his shoes because frankly, he is ashamed of gazing into your eyes.

You couldn't help but ridicule him, standing up from your seat and straightening your dress, shooting him a dangerous glare, "I told you this before, and I'd repeat it a thousand times."

You smile wickedly, flipping him off, "Go fuck yourself."

You walk away, not paying attention to his desperate calls, the polite facade is gone in the wind and the only thing that you could think of is that you're not gonna allow him to break your heart and soul anymore.

You have only started to regain your true self, not the image that he wanted you to have, and you'll be damned if you'll let him get inside your head again.

Kim Hongjoong was a lesson, one that you'll never forget and never forgive. Maybe you loved him too much, but at least you now know that if someone truly loves you, that person will accept you for who and what you are.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @shakalakaboomboo @xdannix @nsixns

[vid-writes]

Takuma Ino x Female Reader

I know you guys wanted the Kento fic first but I've wanted to write this for a few days so you get this one first. Don't worry I'm getting to that Nanami fic

There really aren't any TWs other than sexually explicit content so no one under 18 needs to interact with this.

You and Takuma Ino had been together for almost six months now, but you guys hadn't had sex yet. His job as a sorcerer kept him so busy that when he got home, he was always tired and crashed right after he ate dinner. Tonight was one of the nights you were staying over and as much as you enjoyed cuddling with Ino you really wanted to escalate your relationship more.

As you were finishing up dinner, the door to his apartment banged open, and he called out, "Babe, I'm home." You giggled as you plated the food and waited for him to round the corner into the kitchen. When he did, his jaw hit the floor. Instead of the cozy pajamas you usually wear when he gets home this late, you wear a new bright yellow summer dress.

"Welcome home," you said as you rounded the small island in the kitchen and pulled him into a hug. I've missed you." His arms snaked around your waist, and he kissed you deeply.

"I don't know what I did to deserve coming home to you dressed up, but I'm going to make sure I keep doing it," he said as he finally pulled back from his greeting kiss. You smiled and playfully smacked his chest.

"Would it make you feel too terrible if I said this is because of something we haven't done," you whispered as you felt heat creeping into your cheeks. Takuma pulled back more and studied your face for a few seconds before his eyes lit up.

"No, because I actually got a day off tomorrow. I even told Nanami I'm turning my phone off to spend the day with my girlfriend," he said before he kissed you deeply again.

"Well then, let's eat dinner, and whatever happens, happens," you replied as you tugged him by the wrist over to the two-person dining table he had tucked into the back corner of the kitchen.

"So tell me about your day," Takuma inquired as he poured wine for the both of you, making sure not to fill your glass the "wrong way." Once the liquid was millimeters from the brim of your glass, he set the bottle down.

"My day was incredibly boring compared to that of a sorcerer," you teased as you both dug into dinner. A few minutes of comfortable silence ensued as you guys ate, but it soon turned tense.

"My day really wasn't all that great. I nearly let a cruse escape and got lectured by Kento for over an hour," he grumbled after he drained half of his glass of wine. You offered him a soft smile and squeezed his hand, which was resting on the table near yours.

"Now, Ino, you know that doesn't make you a bad sorcerer," you soothed as your fingers drew senseless patterns on the back of his hand. A warm smile crossed Ino's face, and then heat filled his cheeks.

"Can I confess something to you?" He asked and laced his fingers with yours.

"You know that you always can, Takuma, my love," you replied and squeezed his hand.

"I have had sex but only once before, and it was a long time ago," he whispered as he made to pull his ski mask over his face. It was in the key bowl near the front door, so his hand threaded into his hair instead.

"Can I confess something to you?" You asked, and he looked up at you through heavy lashes.

"Always Y/N, my dear," he replied.

"I've had sex before too. A few times with my last boyfriend, but he wasn't any good," you admitted as you felt heat creeping into your own cheeks. He lifted his head with a shy smile on his face, and you returned it.

"I've been scared that you wouldn't want to be with someone who has been with someone before. That's stupid, I know, and we never discussed our histories, but that's just how I felt," Ino said as he rubbed the back of his neck. You laughed softly and drank some more of your wine. This night was going according to plan and not at all at the same time.

"Takuma, I've never cared about that; I just want to share that special connection with you," you admitted. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up with his hand out to you.

"Then let's go in my room so I can find out if you're wearing panties underneath that pretty little dress of yours," he said as his face turned redder. You put your hand in his and allowed him to pull you to your feet. The answer to his curiosity was dangling on your tongue, but you swallowed it as you followed him to his bedroom.

In the room, Takuma turned to you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His bed sat against the wall to the right, and across from it was the door to his bathroom. A few posters hung on his walls from movies or manga, and some other furniture filled his room. It could really use the touch of a woman, but moving in with Takuma was still another six months away at a minimum. Nerves seemed to be making him hesitate, so you grabbed his hand and led him to the bed.

You climbed up onto the big plush mattress with your hand still in his so he had no choice but to follow you up. You scooted Ino, so he sat against the headboard and then straddled his lap, making sure your dress still covered your pussy.

His hands settled on your hips, and you slowly kissed your way from his ear, across his cheek to his mouth. Not wanting to rush him or make him feel like you were judging his skills, you planned to take your time. When your mouth finally met his, you could feel the desire burning underneath his skin. His hands tightened on your waist as he pushed his tongue between your lips. Takuma's taste filled your mouth, and you moaned as his desire flooded another one of your senses. Your tongues licked at each other as his hands slid up and down your sides. Moans slipped from your throat as Takuma sucked your tongue into his mouth, and you scratched his chest a little bit. He sucked your tongue more as his hands slid down to your thighs. Keening sounds of pleasure spilled from your mouth as you scratched down his chest more, and he licked your tongue while still sucking it.

"You really like that," he panted when he finally pulled his lips back from yours just enough to speak.

"I've kissed two other guys, and neither one ever did that. Hell, I've kissed you before, and you've never done that. It felt so fucking good, Ino," you moaned as his hands squeezed your thighs. Blush filled his cheeks again as he pulled back more to look at your face. His eyes searched yours and found nothing but desire darkening them more and more.

"I really want to take this dress off of you, but I don't want you to be unfairly naked if it's all you're wearing," he whispered as his hands pushed the dress up your thighs. You bit your lip as his hands moved the dress up to your hips. Without saying anything, you raised your arms above your head. His eyes danced with conflict before he pulled the dress over your head. And, like he guessed, you were naked underneath. Your small breasts hung freely with hardened nipples, and your recently, but not freshly, shaved pussy was on full display since your legs were on either side of his.

"Fuck I don't know why I waited so long. You're gorgeous all the time, but seeing you naked is damn near religious," Ino murmured as he shifted you off of his lap. He slipped off the bed and stood. Quietly, he faced you and pulled off his shirt. Defined muscles lined his chest and stomach. You only had seconds to take those in because his pants and underwear were pushed off at the same time. His cock stood half-hard in front of him, and your mouth watered. Even from here and half hard, you knew Ino's cock was your favorite kind. Six, maybe seven inches and thicker as you went down more. You might have only had sex with one man, but you never lacked new toys to masturbate with, and being small meant you had a thing for smaller dicks.

"Takuma, promise me you won't let me out of this bed tomorrow," you said as he climbed back on the bed. He laughed and claimed your lips in a deep kiss in response. As he parted your lips with his tongue again, he leaned his weight into you until your back was against the bed. Your tongues danced together as you lightly scratched down his back. His hands brushed the underside of your breasts a few times before cupping them both fully in his hands.

"Your breasts are the perfect size," he groaned as he kissed his way to your ear and kneaded your breasts in his hands. Your nails dug deeper into the skin of his back as he rolled your nipples in his hands. He kissed down your neck and along your collarbone as his weight slowly shifted down a bit. When his mouth claimed one of your nipples, you arched into him.

"Mmmmmm, so good, Ino," you purred as his tongue and fingers worked your nipples into hard points. Your hips rutted up into his as your hands squeezed his ass. He moaned around your other nipple, and your pussy throbbed. Men who made noises were your favorite. So you squeezed his ass again, and he moaned again.

"Please keep making those noises," you nearly pleaded as his mouth left your now-wet breasts and trailed further down your body.

"I'm going to make you make beautiful noises first, dear, and then I promise I'll moan right in your ear the whole time," he murmured as he kissed across your stomach. Your pussy throbbed again, and you nodded eagerly. A sultry smile crossed his lips at the same time he blushed. It seemed you had a thing for shy men, too, because your ex had been overconfident, and you had hated it. Ino's lips met the soft fuzz covering the mound above your core, and you threaded your fingers into his hair.

"Have you ever done this part before?" You asked. He shook his head as the blush spread to his ears.

"That's alright, I don't mind guiding you a bit if you need it," you reassured him as you ruffled his hair. He grinned and kissed your mound again. His next kiss landed squarely on your clit, and your hips bucked up into his face. Gently he pushed them back down and kissed your clit again.

"Lick right there in slow and deep strokes," you guided Ino as your breath started to catch in your throat. His tongue hesitantly licked up your clit, and a near-guttural moan tore out of your throat. "Yes, Takuma babe, just like that. It feels so fucking good."

Feeling reassured by your words, he licked your clit again just as you had instructed, and your moan filled the whole apartment. His fingers dug into your hips as he held you into the bed, still licking your clit slowly and deeply. You were writhing and tugging his hair as you moaned. The heat and pressure of your impending orgasm were building quickly.

"Suck on it to please, babe," you whined as your pussy started to ache from the incoming release. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked tightly as his tongue continued to work it in deep and slow strokes. Pleasure nearly blinded you as you came hard and fast, hips bucking up so hard that Ino had to dig his nails in to keep you down on the bed. His teeth dragged across your clit as he pulled away from it, still sucking, so when it left his mouth, a whine left yours loud enough to echo.

"Please, Takuma, I want more. Your mouth is so good; you're such a natural at eating pussy," you panted as he licked down your folds. His response was to shove his tongue into your gushing core until his mouth was flush with your lips. A groan from his throat vibrated your pussy as Ino started to tongue fuck you. His lips and teeth moving as if he indeed intended to eat you.

The combination of constant stimulation to your whole pussy made you cum again so suddenly that this time you screamed out Ino's name. Despite trying, he was unable to keep you pinned to the bed as your thighs closed around his head. After a few seconds of grinding your pussy into his mouth, you collapsed into the bed, still writhing. He pulled his mouth away and picked up his shirt from the floor to clean his face.

"Don't even apologize; that was incredibly hot, baby girl," he said as he kissed his way back up your torso slowly. His mouth claimed yours as his cock pressed against your mound. You rutted into each other as your tongues danced together in between your mouths. His cock dragged through your soaked folds, making you whimper in his mouth. The kiss turned fervent as you tried to angle your hips, so he slipped inside of you without notice.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" Ino asked as he pulled his hips and mouth back from yours. Another whine tore from your throat as you lifted your hips to try to meet his.

"Please, Takuma," you pleaded as he pinned your hips to the bed with one hand.

"Please, what, baby girl? You've done so good guiding me thus far; don't lose your words now," he teased as he kissed you softly.

"Make love to me, Takuma," you whispered, and he pulled back further so he could see your face.

"Make love to you, huh? I can definitely do that, sweetheart," he said as his hand moved from your hips and wrapped around his cock. You lifted your hips to meet his and felt the head of his cock push against your entrance. The need to writhe filled your body, but you held still as you locked your gaze with Ino's. He moved his cock inside of you slowly and let go with his hand, which he used to grab yours. Your fingers threaded through his and landed on the bed next to your head. He wasn't pinning you. He was holding your hand.

Ino's hips bottomed out into yours as you both moaned. Neither of you had yet to look away from the other. His mouth claimed yours again as he slowly slid out to the tip and started to move in slow, deep thrusts. Your tongue stroked his slowly as he continued his slow and deep thrusts. This time, the heat and tension in your stomach were building at such a slow burn that you thought it might drive you crazy. He pulled away from the kiss and stilled his movements.

"I love you," he whispered, "and I know you're probably not supposed to admit that for the first time during sex, and I know it's way too-"

You cut him off with a deep kiss as you squeezed his hand, which was still holding yours. "I love you too, Takuma," you whispered against his lips. He moaned softly as his hips resumed their previous pace. Slow and deep. Your tongues tangled again as his other hand snaked between the two of you and rubbed slow circles into your clit. Not deep enough to make your orgasm come faster but just enough that every nerve in your body lit up. You writhed and moaned into Ino's mouth as he continued to make love to you just as you had requested.

His hips never once quickened or stilled as his mouth trailed kisses up and down both sides of your neck. His hand holding yours never left, and the one teasing your clit never let up. Seconds felt like hours. Minutes felt like days. All of it was heaven on Earth, and Ino was worshiping you like you were holy. Your mouths met again as the tension in your stomach broke, and you came so hard you saw stars behind your closed eyes. Walls clenched and body shaking, and yet Ino's hips never stilled. His fingers on your clit never deepened. The orgasm seemed to last forever.

"I know you're not on any birth control, and I should have worn a condom. Should I pull out?" Ino whispered in your ear.

"Takuma, please cum where ever makes you feel most comfortable," you panted out as his hips struggled to maintain rhythm.

"Then I'm going to unload right here in your warm and sinfully wet pussy," he said as his mouth claimed yours again. Tongues danced as his fingers on your clit deepened and quickened. It seemed that Ino was going to make you cum again before he did. The orgasm built and hit all so fast that you nearly missed him cumming at the same time as you. Hips stuttering as he came inside you in thick hot ropes as the pulsing of your pussy tried to drive him out.

"I really do love you," he panted as he pulled out and nuzzled into your neck. His weight draped over you like a warm and sweaty blanket, but you didn't mind.

"I really do love you too, Takuma," you said as you kissed his hair.

Buy me a coffee?

[wannaeatramyeon]

THANK U FOR THE RECENT SAMUEL SEO im literally so obsessed with him i cant-

but!! he’s not the only one!!

could u try goo with a childhood friends!lover? (im just going through my list of red flags boyfriends with this trope heh)

To my requests. sorry for not answering in order. Btw I've got a school day/teenager long fic with Goo in the Gun + Goo masterlist... but how about this.

Goo Kim x Reader: Childhood 'friends'

G/N. Sorta childhood friends to lovers.

Goo descends into your life like an angel.

"Will you pay me if I beat up these boys?" he shouts over, giving the wooden baseball bat in his hand a few practice swings.

(He takes in your cowering body, cornered against the wall, the group of older boys slinging insults first.

Then your pristine, limited edition trainers and the expensive label on your clothes second.)

You look over at the short figure with the badly bleached blonde hair. He seems small for his age, same as you.

Best case scenario, he makes good on his word. Worst case, they beat both of you up.

You give a nod and all hell breaks loose.

.

.

Goo isn't an angel at all. He's a demon that has ascended and strutted into your life.

"Is this enough?" You ask, peeling open your velcro Sanrio wallet and removing a handful of bills.

"Thanks!" Goo swipes it out of your hand, tainting the notes with blood before tucking it away in his pocket with a reassuring pat.

A body at his feet lets out a groan and he gives them a hard kick. You think there’s a crunch of bone breaking. It’s not as sickening as you thought it would be.

"That one's for free." He gives you a gigawatt grin and you return it. In your eyes, not even what you just witnessed this boy doing could tarnish his shine.

"My name is Goo," he signals for your phone and you hand it over without a second thought. He taps in what you assume are his contact details before giving it back.

"Call me if you need any help." You reach out to take it and he leans in, smile taking a dangerous edge, "You'll need to pay though."

.

.

For fear of retribution, you ask Goo to walk you back home from school everyday for the next few weeks.

You text him a time and an address, and he texts you back his price. It's enough to drain your allowance, but not enough for you to risk your safety.

He waits for you by your school gates everyday, with his patchy hair and a scruffy jacket three sizes too big, and gives you a wave with both arms whenever he spots you.

He's chatty. Much chattier than you expected. Always just seemingly rattling off whatever is on his mind. Animes he has watched, manhwas he's reading. What he had for lunch, what he's craving for dinner.

You piece together that Goo is only a few months older than you. He should be in 6th grade by now but he never mentions school. You don't think he even attends school.

He also has a terrible sweet tooth, that you pay for of course. Stopping off at a convenience store together as he picks out a snack.

"Get whatever you want." you say the first time you catch him deciding between a drink or a bar of chocolate. "I'll pay for it."

He buys both.

That should have been a mistake. He drains your allowance further everyday. Yet you can't help thinking it's fine as he gives you a toothy grin that reaches his eyes.

The weeks pass by in the blink of an eye. When you reach your front door on the last day, Goo shuffles, fidgets uncharacteristically.

"I can keep walking you home," he says, eyes on the floor and kicking at dirt. "...I can give you a discount."

.

.

Goo starts seeing you at the weekend too.

You're the first person that sees him after getting his hair professionally done.

"I'm handsome, aren't I!" his bravado masks his nervousness. He doesn't know why he's nervous in the first place, but when you agree and ruffle his newly coiffed locks, it evaporates completely.

Payment comes in the form of food and drinks, snacks and street food, cinema tickets, small little gifts he has his eye on.

As consolation, at least he always shares.

.

.

When you first met you're sure he was shorter than you.

You don't remember when he matched your height, but now you notice you have to tilt your chin up to look at him.

You miss the scruffy jacket he used to have. The one that he rapidly grew out of, body filling out with muscle. It gets replaced by more and more luxurious brands. His hair looks more and more polished. He picks up glasses along the way to complete the look.

He still makes you pay every time you meet. You feel like he lets you off easy with cheap choices because his taste these days seems anything but cheap.

You wish you had more time with the boy you used to know, but you love the man he's growing into.

Goo never lets you sway too far away from him, keeps you by his side most weeks. Reaches out to send you silly memes or calls you just to ramble his thoughts when you're apart.

You're two peas in a pod.

.

.

The longest time you spend apart is when Goo is sent away to juvie.

An unknown number texts you, says they're Goo's cousin and breaks the news.

It doesn't come as a surprise, considering how you first met, the person he is. You've spent years together at this point and seen him at his most violent and bloodthirsty.

Still. For you, nothing can tarnish his shine.

.

.

On the day Goo is released, you're waiting for him outside the juvenile detention centre.

You're the first person he sees, and he waves at you with both arms before opening them, welcoming you, offering himself.

He’s even taller, more muscular. His features distinguished and jawline cutting. His hair, just like years gone by, is bleached and patchy. 

The grin is the same. It’s always the same.

You sprint and throw yourself full force into Goo, knocking the air out of his lungs.

He holds you tight. Clings on harder than he ever has. Missed you more than he will ever admit.

As if you're reading his mind, you murmur into his collar, "I've missed you.'

Goo takes a deep inhale, nose nestled in your hair and breathing in your familiar scent. Relishing your touch, your presence, you.

He doesn't plan on spending this long away from you ever again.

"Me too, Sweetheart."