#she shakes just like a willow tree

[yaggerdangs-remedy]

The Girl I Love She Got Long Black Wavy Hair

[chosok-amo]

THE CLOWN HAS BEEN FOUND s. gojo

★ sum. the baggy clothes, the glasses, the book, the brain— sum : a nerd, that’s what you are. a center of attention, but not because of how beautiful and popular and everyone wants to date you— no, but because you are a loser. and the popular boys have a bet who’s get to sleep with you first and pop the cherry.

warning. college au, ōral ( m & f receiving ), fingēring, dirty talk, hair-pulling, bit name-calling, petnames, praise, cherry pop mentioned, unprotected sēx.

the four of them—geto, gojo, toji, and sukuna—sat sprawled out under the big willow tree on campus, a prime spot they’d claimed as their own. the tree’s branches hung low, providing shade from the afternoon sun, and it seemed to be the perfect place for them to lounge around, their laughter and conversation echoing through the quiet space. they were the popular boys on campus, infamous for their looks, athleticism, and wealth, and equally notorious for their cocky, careless attitudes—a magnetic combination that somehow made them both admired and hated.

they were deep in some joke, laughing obnoxiously, when toji’s gaze drifted, his laughter fading as his eyes settled on something—or rather, someone—in the distance. his smirk widened as he cocked his chin in your direction, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“look at her,” toji muttered, loud enough for the others to hear. the way he said it held a certain bite, like he’d just stumbled upon something amusing.

the other three followed his gaze, their eyes landing on you, sitting off to the side with a thick textbook open in your lap. you were tucked into yourself, shoulders hunched slightly, completely absorbed in whatever you were reading. your clothes were baggy, drowning your frame in layers that did little to give away any shape. the oversized hoodie practically swallowed you, sleeves pulled down almost to your fingertips. your glasses kept sliding down your nose, and every now and then, you’d push them back up absently, clearly too lost in your book to notice much else.

“oh, the classic nerd look,” sukuna sneered, his eyes narrowing as he looked you over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “cute,” he added mockingly, though there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he found the whole thing entertaining.

gojo let out a low snort, shaking his head as he took a long drag from his cigarette, smoke curling around him in lazy spirals. he leaned forward, one arm bracing against the grass. his eyes still on you, but there was a mocking amusement dancing in them now. he exhaled slowly, a smirk pulling at his lips as he glanced over at sukuna, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“what’s this, sukuna? into the nerdy type now?” he taunted, tilting his head as he raised an eyebrow. his tone was layered with mockery, his smirk widening as if the very idea was too ridiculous to believe. “thought you had a thing for a girl with big tits.”

sukuna rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t waver. “naaah, not my type,” he shot back, his gaze flicking back to you briefly before he shrugged. “just saying she’s… amusing. probably jumps if someone even looks at her.”

“oh, definitely,” geto chimed in with a chuckle, folding his arms as he looked you over with a lazy curiosity. “bet she’s terrified of guys like us.”

toji laughed, shaking his head as he looked back at the others. “please, she’d probably faint if you even said hi.” they all shared a laugh, a mixture of arrogance and amusement, reveling in the thought. to them, you were just another quiet, unassuming girl in a sea of faces, someone they could easily overlook—or mess with, if the mood struck.

gojo snickered. “hell, she probably doesn’t even know we exist,” he taunted, his smirk growing ever more patronizing as he puffed out another plume of smoke. “probably spends her nights in her room, surrounded by books and stuffed animals. bet she’s never even been to a party.”

geto chuckled, leaning back with a mocking smile. “oh please, she’s probably never even been kissed.”

toji smirked, adding to the barrage of mockery. “god, she’s probably never been touched by a guy either, huh?” he chimed in, his words dripping with lewd undertones. he took another drag of his cigarette, then glanced back at you, eyeing you up and down again, his smirk widening into a leering grin. “bet she’s a complete virgin.”

there was a collective burst of laughter from the three of them, their voices loud and harsh in the otherwise peaceful afternoon air.

sukuna, his smirk still firmly in place, leaned back against the tree, his arms crossed. “yeah, she’s probably saving herself for her dream guy,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “probably wants some perfect fairytale romance. what a joke.”

toji let out a low, dark snicker, his gaze flickering back to you as his smirk widened into something almost predatory. he leaned forward slightly, the cruel glint in his green eyes sharpening as he watched you, completely oblivious to the way they were talking about you.

“oh, please,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mock amusement. “give me an hour with her, and i’d pop that cherry first,” he said, his scarred lips twisting into a wider smirk, a glimmer of cruelty evident in his gaze.

the other guys laughed again, their voices mingling in the harsh, arrogant way only they could manage. for them, it was a game—a chance to mock and taunt someone so outside their world.

geto snort, “yeah, right.”

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he took another casual drag from his cigarette, shaking his head at toji’s words. “big talk, man. you are too scary, let me take the ‘pop’,” he said, his voice laced with a mischievousness.

sukuna let out another sharp huff of laughter, his gaze trailing over you disdainfully, his smirk a mix of mockery and condescension. “yeah, good luck with that,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “bet she’d faint if you even came close to her.”

but toji didn’t seem worried, his smirk only growing wider, a cruel gleam in his eyes as he continued watching you, a dark challenge present in his expression.

“oh, i’d get her,” he said, his voice oozing a dangerous sort of confidence. his eyes darkened, his smirk turning almost feral as he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers idly.

“she wouldn’t even know what hit her.”

sukuna raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, matching toji’s dark energy with a glint of excitement in his own crimson eyes. he crossed his arms, tilting his head with a look that practically dared the others to take him up on his idea.

“let’s make it interesting, boys,” sukuna drawled, his tone laced with twisted amusement. “how about a little wager? who’s gonna get to pop the cherry first?”

the idea hung in the air, laced with a sense of cruel playfulness. the others exchanged looks, smirks widening as they took in the challenge, their gazes flickering back to you as you remained completely unaware, hidden in your book and blissfully out of earshot.

gojo’s smirk only widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the idea. he took another puff from his cigarette, eyeing sukuna with amusement, clearly intrigued by the proposal. “a wager?” he asked, his voice tinted with a hint of curiosity. “what’s the prize?”

geto chuckled, the idea clearly appealing to him as well. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he chimed in. “i’m in,” he said, his smirk mirroring the others.

sukuna shrugged, an amused gleam flashing through his crimson eyes as he glanced over at you, still utterly engrossed in your book and completely unaware of the bet unfolding among the boys. his smirk deepened as he looked back at the others, his tone casual yet laced with dark amusement.

“anything you want,” he replied smoothly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. he paused, his gaze flickering back to you for a brief moment before adding, “but there’s one condition—whoever wins has to take a photo as proof.”

the challenge hung heavy in the air, each of them exchanging glances, their smirks widening in unison. the thought of the twisted little game gave them all a sense of cruel excitement, feeding their arrogant thrill as they eyed you once more, already imagining how they’d play this out.

gojo let out a low snort, his smirk growing into a smirk of his own. he took another draw on his cigarette before tilting his head slightly, his expression shifting into one of agreement. “deal.” he said, his tone laced with a hint of determination.

geto chuckled softly, his eyes flickering to you once more before he nodded his agreement. “i’m in,” he added, his smirk mirrorring the others, clearly liking the idea of the bet.

toji chuckled, a cruel gleam appearing in his green eyes as he looked at the others, the idea of the bet stirring something wicked inside of him. he leaned back, his smirk growing wider as he nodded. “i’m in,” he echoed, his voice lower than before, filled with an almost excited tension.

it had been a strange week, to say the least. the four most popular boys on campus—geto, sukuna, toji, and especially gojo—had suddenly taken an interest in you, a stark contrast to the way they’d mostly ignored you before. they’d pop up in places they normally wouldn’t be, go out of their way to hold doors open or throw you playful smiles, and act… almost charming. but you weren’t buying it, especially not gojo’s relentless attempts to convince you to tutor him. every time he begged for your help, you’d shut him down without a second thought.

today was no different. you were tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, lost in your studies, when you heard the sound of a chair being pulled out beside you. you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. with a heavy sigh, you rolled your eyes and refocused on your notes, determined to ignore him.

“oh, come on,” gojo drawled, leaning in close with a pout as he rested his elbows on the table, clearly unfazed by your cold response. “i really need help, you know. i’m hopeless without you.” his tone was dripping with exaggerated desperation, but there was a playful glint in his eyes as he watched for any reaction.

you kept your gaze fixed on your book, trying to block him out. “then maybe you should try actually paying attention in class,” you muttered, flipping a page, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone.

but gojo just leaned closer, his voice dropping to a softer, almost persuasive tone. “come on, i’ll owe you one. just one study session. i’ll even buy you coffee,” he offered, flashing you his signature charming smile, like he thought that was all it would take to wear you down.

“not interested,” you replied flatly, turning another page without looking up. you could feel his gaze on you, persistent as ever, but you were determined not to give him the satisfaction.

gojo’s smirk widened, his eyes narrowing slightly. he leaned even closer, his lips almost at your ear, as if daring you to ignore him. “come on, please?” he begged again, his tone dripping with fake desperation, his voice low and tantalizingly close. “just one little tutoring session. i’ll do anything.”

you froze, your pen pausing mid-word as the warmth of gojo’s hand slid down to your thigh, his fingers grazing just under the hem of your skirt. his touch was light, teasing, and you could feel your heart race at the audacity of his move. irritation flared within you, but when you turned to him, ready to give him a piece of your mind, you were met with that damn smirk of his—a look of pure, unbothered confidence.

his face was so close that you could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he whispered, “please?”

his voice was soft, almost seductive, and despite the irritation simmering beneath your calm facade, you could see the glint of amusement in his narrowed blue eyes, fully aware of the effect he was trying to have on you. your eyes narrowed, meeting his challenge, and you gave him a cold, leveled stare, unfazed by his proximity.

you lifted a brow, voice cool as ice. “is this your idea of begging, gojo?”

his smirk didn’t waver; if anything, it grew wider, clearly thrilled by your reaction. “i can be very persuasive,” he murmured, letting his fingers ghost over your thigh, just enough to keep your attention.

he leaned in even closer, his smirk widening further. his lips grazed your ear as he spoke again, his voice low and smooth, like silk. “and i can be very convincing,” he whispered, his hand sliding further up your thigh, leaving a trail of heated tingles in its wake.

you inhaled sharply, his breath hot against your skin as his words lingered in your ear, and you could feel your resolve slipping, his touch relentless and daring as his hand slid further up your thigh. the warmth of his fingers, the confidence in his voice—it was infuriatingly hard to ignore, and you could tell he knew it, that smirk of his only growing as he watched your reaction.

you turned to him, catching his gaze, meeting his smug look with one of quiet defiance. the words were barely a whisper as you muttered, “fine.”

his eyes lit up, triumphant, as if he’d known all along you’d give in, but you held his gaze steadily, a hint of warning still lingering there. “just one session,” you clarified, your voice firm, trying to reassert control even as you felt a flicker of warmth in your cheeks.

gojo’s smirk deepened, seemingly satisfied with your response. his hand paused, still resting on your thigh, his fingers gently caressing the soft skin, sending chills through your body.

“just one, huh?” he echoed, his voice low, thick with satisfaction. he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck, his lips practically grazing your skin as he spoke again. “don’t worry, i’ll make it count.”

he paused, his fingers tracing small, slow circles on your thigh, the gesture almost innocent, yet the meaning behind it clear. he looked at you, his gaze almost challenging, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he noticed your slight shiver at his touch. he leaned in further, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

“my place or yours?” he purred, his tone dripping with suggestion, his hand gradually making its way higher up your leg.

and that’s where you are . . .

gojo smirks down at you, his eyes roaming over your nerdy appearance hungrily, knees on the floor inside his dorm room. “thanks for coming to tutor me today. i really appreciate it,” his voice drips with false sincerity as he palms himself through his jeans.

“i’ve been struggling with this subject and i’ve heard you’re the best at explaining things.” gojo leans back on his hands, spreading his legs wider to give you an even better view of the bulge straining against his zipper. “why don’t you come closer and we can start going over the material? i’m all yours, baby.” his thumb pinch your chin, the soft pad of his finger trailing off your skin before slipping past your swollen lips into your mouth.

he chuckles softly, a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you squirm. “aww, what’s wrong? you look nervous. there’s no need to be shy around me.”

you swallow hard, your heart pounding in my chest as you kneel before gojo, feeling small and insignificant compared to his tall, muscular frame. your glasses slip down your nose slightly as you gaze up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“oh, um, t-thank you gojo-kun,” you stammer out, your voice quivering slightly. you shift nervously on your knees, very aware of how vulnerable your position makes you feel. and when gojo’s thumb pushes past your lips, you instinctively close your mouth around it, sucking lightly from habit before realizing what you were doing. a deep blush spreads across your cheeks.

“i’m just a bit overwhelmed, to be honest,” you managed to murmur, voice muffled by his thumb.

gojo’s smirk widens as he feels your warm, wet mouth envelop his thumb. he slowly pumps the digit in and out, mimicking a lewd act. “mmm, don’t be like that, cutie. i promise i won’t bite... much.” he winks salaciously.

his free hand reaches out to cup your burning cheek, calloused fingers brushing over the delicate skin. “you’re so cute when you’re flustered like this. it’s adorable how innocent you are.” gojo leans in closer, his hot breath fanning over your face. the musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils.

“tell you what, why don’t you put that clever tongue of yours to good use and help me relax a bit before we dive into studying?” his thumb presses deeper into your mouth insistently.

you whimper softly as gojo’s thumb invades your mouth more insistently, your tongue automatically swirling around the invading digit. your mind races, trying to process the sudden intimate contact and the heavy implication behind his words.

“i’m not sure if this is appropriate, gojo-kun,” you manage to say around his thumb after pulling back slightly, your voice muffled. “we should focus on the tutoring session...”

despite your weak protests, you can feel your body reacting to gojo’s proximity and touch— a traitorous heat pooling low in your belly, your cunt starting to clenching around nothing in your skirt. you squirm uncomfortably on your knees, hyper-aware of your submissive posture before him.

“what exactly did you have in mind?”

gojo chuckles darkly, amused by your feeble attempt at protest. he grips your hair, tugging your head back to expose the slender column of your throat. “oh, i think we both know this is exactly what we came here for, isn’t it?”

his other hand moves to palm his aching erection through his jeans, the thick outline unmistakable. “i had something much more... educational in mind than boring textbooks.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers huskily, “why don’t you be a good girl and put those pretty lips to work? show me what that smart mouth of yours can do besides spouting facts.” he uses his grip on your hair to guide your face towards his crotch, rubbing your cheek against the prominent bulge.

gojo groans softly as he feels your soft cheek pressed against his throbbing erection. he grinds subtly against you, seeking more friction. “fuuuck, you feel so good already. i bet these nerdy little lips will wrap around my cock perfectly.”

with his other hand, he starts unbuckling his belt, the metallic clink seeming obscenely loud in the quiet room. he pops the button of his jeans and slowly drags down the zipper, letting them gape open to reveal the waistband of his boxers straining over his massive bulge.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else,” gojo growls possessively. “by the time ’m done with you, the only thing you’ll be able to think about is choking on my dick.”

the idea was overwhelming— the thought of ruining you and winning the bet performed a cloud in gojo’s head. you gasp sharply as gojo forces your face against his clothed erection, the heat and hardness searing into your cheek. your eyes widen at his crude words, a shiver running down your spine— equal parts fear and reluctant excitement.

“g-gojo-kun, please...” you whimper, your voice high and thready. “we shouldn’t... i-i’ve never...”

despite your halfhearted protests, you find yourself leaning into his touch, nuzzling almost imperceptibly against the thick ridge of his cock. the scent of his arousal is dizzying this close, musk and sweat and pure male essence flooding your senses. trembling fingers come up to tentatively brush against his hipbones as his zipper lowers with agonizing slowness.

gojo smirks cruelly as he hears the tremor in your voice, relishing how easily he can affect you. “shh, it’s okay baby. i’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he croons mockingly.

he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly peels them down, freeing his enormous, rock-hard cock. it springs out, slapping against your cheek with a meaty thwack. the thick shaft pulses with need, the flared head an angry purple and leaking copious amounts of precum.

you let out a choked moan as gojo’s huge, throbbing cock slaps against your cheek, leaving a smear of sticky pre-cum on your soft skin. your eyes widen in shock at the sheer size of him, intimidated but undeniably aroused.

“open wide, nerd. i’ve got a big load for you,” gojo taunts crudely. he fists his hand in your hair again, using his grip to angle your face towards his weeping cockhead. “stick out that clever little tongue. i want to see you worship every inch of my big, fat cock like the desperate slut you are.”

“oh god...” you whimper, your tongue darting out to unconsciously lick your lips. the salty-sweet taste of his essence explodes across your taste buds, making your head spin. with trembling hands, you reach up to grasp his muscular thighs for support as he forces your face closer to his imposing manhood. your glasses fog up slightly from your quickened breathing. “i’ve never done this before,” you admit in a tiny, scared voice.

gojo grins wickedly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic lust as he sees the fear and reluctant desire warring in your expression. “that’s alright, that’s why i’m here, you’re about to get the fucking of a lifetime to your virgin pussy,” he grunted.

he rubs the swollen head of his cock all over your face, smearing your cheeks and lips with his slick precum. the musky scent fills your nostrils, making your head swim with overwhelming pheromones. “open up, baby, take my cock like a good girl. promise it feels good, do you trust me?” sweet, his honeyed voice suddenly heavy with sweetness.

but despite that, he thrusts his hips forward, pushing the broad tip past your lips and onto your tongue. he groans at the wet heat engulfing him, head just a beat throw back before snapped, eyes lock with your lips taking the half of his cock. “fuck yes, that’s it. wrap those pretty lips around me.”

you let out a muffled yelp as gojo suddenly pushes past your lips, his thick cock stretching your jaw painfully wide you almost sure the edge of your lips stretch open. your eyes water as he hilts himself inside your virgin mouth, the bulbous head hitting the back of your throat. you gag reflexively, throat spasming around his girth.

“mph!” you try to pull back but his grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place. tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you struggle to accommodate his impressive size. your small hands come up to weakly push at his thighs, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

after a moment, you force yourself to relax your jaw, breathing heavily through your nose. you start to experimentally suckle at the head, your tongue swirling clumsily around it. the taste of his skin and the musky scent flooding your senses is dizzying.

gojo throws his head back with a deep groan as your inexperienced mouth envelops him, your tongue clumsily lapping at his sensitive flesh. the sight of your stretched lips wrapped around his thick cock, tears glistening on your flushed cheeks, is incredibly erotic.

“that’s it, take it deeper,” he growls, fisting his hand tighter in your hair. with a sharp thrust of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt in your convulsing throat. your nose presses against his pelvis as he hilts inside you, cutting off your air supply completely.

“that’s good baby, goood job,” praise after praise fallen from gojo’s pretty, pink lips. he holds you there, savoring the feeling of your constricting esophagus fluttering around his cock. after several long seconds, he finally pulls back, allowing you a gasping breath before plunging in again.

gojo sets a brutal pace, fucking your face with deep, powerful thrusts. each snap of his hips drives his thick cock into your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. drool escapes the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your chin as he uses your mouth mercilessly.

“you’re doing so well for your first time,” he praises mockingly, voice strained with pleasure. “such an eager little cock sleeve, aren’t you? born to choke on a cock.” he pulls out abruptly, his spit-shined cock bobbing obscenely in front of your face. gojo smacks the heavy shaft against your tear-stained cheeks, smearing them with your own saliva mixed with his precum. “strip,” he commands gruffly, releasing his grip on your hair.

gojo looms over you, his chest heaving with exertion and arousal as he watches you intently. his eyes rake over your disheveled form, drinking in the sight of your reddened cheeks, puffy lips glistening with spit, and the way your glasses sit askew on your face.

“come on, slowpoke. i want to see every inch of the body hiding under those ugly clothes,” he growls impatiently, one hand coming down to roughly palm himself through his open fly. the other reaches out to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging insistently. but, instead of slipping out of your ‘ugly’ clothes, you stand there, eyes widened innocently the way you look up to him.

“don’t make me rip them off. you wouldn’t want me to damage your precious belongings, would ya?“ a wicked smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, eyes glinting with mischief and barely restrained hunger.

you tremble under gojo’s hungry gaze, acutely aware of how debauched you must look— face flushed, glasses fogged, lips swollen and slick with spit. with shaking hands, you reach for the buttons of your shirt, fumbling to undo them one by one.

as more of your creamy skin is revealed, gojo’s eyes darken with undisguised lust. he licks his lips, watching avidly as you shrug the garment off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. underneath, you wear a plain white lacy bra, the fabric straining slightly over your bust.

next, you stand on wobbly legs to shimmy out of your skirt, letting it pool around your ankles before stepping out of it. your panties match your bra, simple cotton with lace. “gojo-kun..” you murmur, hands hovering over your bra and panties, hiding yourself.

gojo’s heated gaze roams hungrily over your newly exposed body, lingering on the swell of your breasts straining against the delicate lace of your bra. he steps closer, crowding into your personal space until the hard planes of his body press against your softer curves.

“fuck, you’re even hotter than i imagined,” he rasps, calloused fingers trailing up your sides to cup your tits possessively. never in a million years had he found a loser nerd like you could be this hot, and it seems like his cock agrees with the way it’s twitching. he squeezes the soft mounds, thumbs flicking over your nipples through the thin fabric until they pebble beneath his touch, pushing a breathless gasp out of your throat.

with a wicked grin, gojo reaches behind you and deftly unclasps your bra, tossing it aside carelessly. cool air hits your bare skin, pebbling your nipples further as they’re bared to his intense scrutiny.

“perfect.”

gojo hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs in one swift motion. the flimsy material catches on your knees briefly before falling to your ankles, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

he takes a step back, drinking in the sight of your naked body with an appreciative hum. his eyes linger on the cute, neat patch of curls crowning your mound, the slight flare of your hips, the gentle swell of your ass. “goddamn, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs reverently.

without warning, gojo drops to his knees in front of you, large hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart. he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your most intimate parts. “i bet this sweet cunt tastes divine,” he growls, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, painfully slow stroke.

you can’t help but let out a startled moan as gojo’s warm tongue drags along your most intimate folds, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. your knees buckle slightly and you have to brace yourself against the wall to keep from collapsing under the intensity of sensation.

“g-gojo-kun!” you gasp, fingers tangling in his silver hair as he laps at your slit like a man starved. his tongue delves between your lower lips, seeking out your entrance and circling it teasingly. you squirm against the invasion, thighs trembling with the effort to hold still.

gojo chuckles lowly, the vibrations making you shudder. he seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. “ah! ahh!”

gojo moans into your pussy as you grind against his face, his tongue delving deep inside your fluttering walls. he laps at your juices greedily, the obscene slurping sounds filling the room. “mmm, you taste even better than i imagined,” he growls, the rumble of his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “so fucking sweet.”

his hands grip your ass, kneading the supple globes as he eats you out with single-minded focus. he alternates between thrusting his tongue in and out of your clenching hole and flicking the tip rapidly over your throbbing clit. the lewd wet noises echo off the walls, mingling with your needy whimpers and gasps.

“oooh! m-my god!” you writhe helplessly against gojo’s relentless assault, fingers digging into his silver hair as waves of overwhelming pleasure crash over you. your hips undulate shamelessly, grinding your aching core against his face as he devours you like a man possessed.

“that’s it, ride my tongue,” he grunt, the words muffled against your soaked folds. you throw your head back with a keening cry as gojo works you over with his skilled tongue, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair, tugging sharply at the silvery strands.

“ah! g-gojo-kun!” you gasp brokenly, toes curling against the cool tile floor. your inner muscles flutter wildly around his invading tongue.

gojo growls into your pussy, the sound sending delicious vibrations through your core. he doubles his efforts, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard while simultaneously thrusting two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your spasming channel.

“g-gojo-hng!” you sob brokenly, hips continue to roll shamelessly against his face. you mewl helplessly into the filthy kiss, when gojo’s tongue dominating yours as he claims your mouth thoroughly after he stands abruptly.

you can taste yourself on him, the musky flavor making your head spin with renewed arousal and it sends a fresh wave of heat flooding through your veins. his hand slides up to palm your breast roughly, calloused thumb scraping over your sensitive nipple.

when he finally breaks away, you’re left panting and dazed, lips kiss-swollen and tingling. gojo grins wolfishly down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. “god, so fucking beautiful when i’m ’bout to ruin you,” he promises darkly, voice rough with desire. “by the time i’m done, all you’ll be able to think about is my cock splitting you open."

his hand slides down your body to grip your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around his hip. the new position leaves you feeling deliciously vulnerable, your slick folds rubbing directly against the rigid length of him.

gojo’s heated gaze rakes over your flushed form, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. he licks his lips slowly, savoring the taste of your essence still coating his tongue. “fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he growls appreciatively, palming himself once again, smearing his precum all over your thigh, the biting lips to stop the moaning betraying his own desperate arousal.

with a few quick movements, gojo shucks off his shirt, revealing the lean lines of his torso. his pale skin is littered nothing but softness. he kicks off his pants next, leaving him fully naked now.

slowly, torturously, gojo sinks into your welcoming heat inch by excruciating inch. gojo grunts as your slick folds slide along his shaft, coating him in your essence. your slick walls stretch deliciously around his girth, molding to every ridge and vein. by the time he’s fully seated, you feel impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with hard, throbbing cock.

“fuuck!” he snarls, eyes squeezing shut at the exquisite sensation of your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. he holds himself there for a moment, letting you adjust to the sudden intrusion. “p-pussy sooo-shit! good.” the feeling of your gummy walls suffocating his cock almost making gojo’s feel bad for using you as a bet, but fuckkk! you feel so good.

you let out a strangled moan as gojo hilts himself fully inside you, stretching you wider than ever before. your slick walls flutter and clench around his thickness, trying instinctively to accommodate the sudden intrusion. the sensation borders on painful but the dull ache only serves to heighten your pleasure, stoking the flames of your arousal higher.

“ah! s-so biiig,” you whimper breathlessly, fingernails raking down gojo’s back. your hips twitch restlessly, torn between the urge to pull away from the intense stretch and the primal need to take him deeper. gojo groans at the feeling of your scorching heat enveloping him so completely. his pelvis presses flush against yours, ensuring that not an inch of space remains between your bodies.

gojo once again, groans deeply as your velvety walls ripple along his length, the exquisite sensations threatening to undo his control. he wants nothing more than to rut into you mindlessly, chasing his own pleasure. but he forces himself to hold still, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“shit baby, you feel incredible,” he rasps, voice strained with barely restrained lust. “so fucking tight...” he rolls his hips experimentally, pulling out just an inch before sinking back in. the drag of his thick cock against your sensitive nerves makes you both gasp. gojo sets a slow, deep rhythm, letting you feel every inch of him as he strokes your inner walls. his hands roam your curves possessively, mapping out the dips and swells of your body.

you arch into gojo’s touch, craving more of his addictive caresses. your nails score down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. the sting only seems to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder and faster as he chases his own pleasure.

“too muuuch,” you cry, tossing your head back as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back to urge him deeper. “hurt, ah! too big.”

gojo snarls, the sound feral and hungry. he leans down to capture one pert nipple between his teeth, biting down just shy of too hard. you yelp at the sharp jolt of pain, cunt clenching rhythmically around his pistoning length.

gojo grunts as your inner walls clamp down around him like a vice, the added pressure sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. he knows he should probably slow down, give you time to adjust, but the way you’re writhing beneath him is just too enticing.

“you can take it,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust.

once again, gojo snarls against your breast, tongue flicking out to lave over the abused bud. “don’t worry baby, i’ll make it feel real good,” he promises, harmonizing his words with a particularly vicious thrust. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix, making you see stars.

your slick walls spasm wildly around his girth, fluttering and clenching as if trying to push him out even as your body betrays you, hips rolling shamelessly to meet each punishing stroke. the wet slap of flesh echoes obscenely in the room, mingling with your wanton moans and gojo’s animalistic grunts.

gojo lets out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as your slick walls ripple around his thickness. “fuck, your pussy is milking my cock so good,” he grunts, hips snapping forward almost violently. one large hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. “come on, baby. squeeze this cock just like that,” gojo urges gruffly, increasing the pressure on your clit. “gonna fill this pretty cunt up real soon.”

you throw your head back with a guttural moan, fingers tangling in gojo’s hair as he works you closer to the edge. your thighs tremble, muscles quivering with the strain of holding yourself open for his relentless assault. sweat beads along your brow, plastering strands of hair to your face.

“please,” you keen desperately, unsure what exactly you’re begging for anymore. more? less? harder? faster? all you know is that yo’'re teetering right on the precipice, balanced precariously between agony and ecstasy.

gojo grins wickedly, sensing your desperation. he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “that’s it, cum for me baby. gonna pump you so full of my seed, you’ll be dripping for days.”

but before you reach that peak, that climax you desperately need, gojo abruptly stops moving. hands trailing down your tights before throwing your body to his bed. a gasp of surprise tears from your throat, followed by a whimper— a subtle sign of protest.

gojo chuckles darkly, reveling in the delicious sight of you sprawled out before him, flushed and panting. he takes a moment to admire the view— your chest heaving, breasts bouncing with each labored breath, the glistening evidence of your arousal painting your inner thighs.

gojo smirks down at you, taking in your confused expression with a glint of mischief in his eyes. he trails a finger down your sternum, circling one dusky nipple teasingly for a second. “what’s wrong, baby?” he coos mockingly. “didn’t get your fix?”

he shifts slightly, the movement causing his half-hard cock to brush against your thigh. you shudder at the contact, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you. gojo hums approvingly at your reaction, leaning down to nip at your jaw.

“mmm, look at you,” he purrs approvingly, trailing a finger through your slick folds. “all spread out and ready for me. such a goood girl.” without warning, gojo flips you onto your stomach, hauling your hips up until you’re presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. he runs a proprietary hand over the curve of your ass, squeezing roughly. “this ass though... fuck, i could play with it all day.”

gojo’s eyes rake over your prone form appreciatively, drinking in the delectable sight of you splayed out before him. he takes his time exploring your curves, fingers tracing idle patterns across your skin. when he reaches the swell of your rear, he gives the supple flesh a firm squeeze, kneading the plush globes like dough. this might be the first and the last time he has you in his bed, might make it memorable.

“such a perfect little peach,” he praises huskily, spreading you wide to expose your most intimate parts. cool air wafts over your heated flesh, making you shiver. gojo hums in approval at the sight of your dripping cunt, flushed and swollen with need.

he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. “look how wet you are for me,” he murmurs, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. you let out a soft moan, squirming under gojo’s intense gaze. his rough hands map out every dip and curve of your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. you arch into his caress, silently begging for more.

when he finally reaches your aching core, you buck your hips eagerly, desperate for friction. “please,” you whimper, voice high and needy. “i need—”

gojo cuts off your pleas with a sharp smack to your rear, the stinging impact making you yelp. “ah ah, none of that now,” he tuts disapprovingly. “you don’t get to tell me what you need, understand? it’s an honor y’know, for me to take your virginity, so you don’t get to tell me what you need.”

he punctuates his words with another firm swat, watching with rapt attention as your skin blooms pink under his palm. but even so, gojo couldn’t stop the spinning from his head, the sigh of you, the feel of your cunt tightly grip his needy cock making him all desperate and losing his shit to you, a fucking nerd all out of other girl.

gojo grins wickedly, clearly enjoying your predicament. he traces a finger through your soaked folds, gathering some of your essence on his digit before bringing it to his lips. he makes a show of licking it clean, savoring your unique flavor with a satisfied hum.

“mmm, you taste divine,” he purrs, voice dripping with lust. “like the finest nectar.”

gojo lines himself up with your entrance once more, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your slick opening. he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely breaching your entrance before pulling away again. your walls flutter around nothing, trying desperately to draw him in deeper.

“beg for it,” he demands huskily, giving your rear another firm smack. “let me hear how badly you want this cock.“ he grabs your hip, fingers bent to your flesh the way he drags you to the edge of his bed and your feet touching the cold tile.

his one arm sneaking down to your thigh, lifting it off the floor while the other hand relentlessly teases your needy cunt with the swollen tip of his cock— kissing your clit.

you writhe beneath gojo’s ministrations, a litany of needy whimpers and pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips. “please,” you beg shamelessly, too far gone to care about dignity. “gojo-kuuunn . . i need you inside me, filling me up. i can’t take it anymore!”

your hips buck frantically, seeking friction against his maddening teasing. you’re so empty, aching to be stretched and filled by his thick length. gojo just chuckles darkly at your desperation, continuing his torturous game. his chest raining with pride and happiness for taking your virginity, him, not another man. him.

“oh? and why should i give you what you want?” he taunts, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance without pushing in. “maybe i like seeing you like this— alllll spread out and begging so pretty for me.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, teasing kiss. “you taste sweet when you’re desperate like this,” he murmurs against your mouth, tongue flicking out to lick at your lower lip. “makes me want to devour you whole.”

he pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions. “but since you asked so nicely...” with a slow, deliberate push, he sinks into your heat, groaning at the velvety tightness enveloping his cock.

gojo pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within you. then, with a gentle roll of his hips, he begins to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm. he savors each drag of your slick walls along his shaft, relishing in the exquisite sensation of taking your virginity. his hand leaving another handprint on your ass, digging his dull nail into the skin.

a gasp tears from your throat as gojo finally sheathes himself fully inside you, the stretch both painful and exhilarating. you cling to the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as you acclimate to the foreign intrusion.

but as he starts to move, long, languid strokes that fill you to the brim, you begin to relax into the pleasure. a low moan escapes you, vibrations humming against gojo’s lips before your head falls to his bed. “ahh... yes... just like thaaat...”

your hips start to rock in tandem with his, meeting each thrust with eagerness. the sensations build rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. you can feel every ridge and vein of gojo’s cock as it slides against your inner walls, sending jolts of electric pleasure through you.

“more,” you breathe out, voice ragged with need, causing the man to leave your reddened ass to find your hair and take a fistful of the locks while the other arm tightens around your thigh, making a perfect symphony the way he pounds into you from behind.

gojo’s fingers dig into your scalp, tugging roughly at your hair as he pistons into you with reckless abandon. the bed creaks and shifts beneath the force of his thrusts, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your hearts.

gojo growls in approval, the sound muffled against your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his hips snap forward with renewed vigor, driving into you with a primal intensity that steals your breath away. the force of his thrusts sends the headboard thudding against the wall, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your heart.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he grits out between clenched teeth, his grip on your hair tightening almost painfully as he uses it to pull your head back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat. “i can feel every inch of you milking my cock. this cunt feels like heaven, fuuuck.”

gojo’s words are punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, the obscene sound only serving to heighten your arousal. his fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. the slight sting only serves to heighten your arousal, your body craving more of his dominance. gojo's other hand grips your thigh firmly, holding you steady as he pistons in and out of you with relentless precision.

your mind goes blank, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of gojo’s possession. every nerve ending is alight with sensation, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. you can feel yourself teetering on the brink, precariously close to the edge.

a hoarse cry spills from your lips as gojo hits that spot deep inside, the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes your vision blur and toes curl. “ahhh! oh god, right there!” you wail, hips bucking wildly to meet his punishing pace.

a sharp cry tears from your throat as gojo’s grip on your hair intensifies, the pain mixing deliciously with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. you arch your back, offering yourself up completely to his dominating touch.

“yes, oh god, just like that!” you moan, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “fuck me harder, gojo-kun!”

gojo’s eyes flash with triumph and possessiveness at your wanton cries, his grip on your hair and thigh tightening reflexively. he slams into you with renewed ferocity, the force of his thrusts rattling the bed frame and sending the headboard crashing against the wall.

“that’s it, scream for me,” he snarls, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he leans in close. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless.” gojo’s free hand snakes around to cup your breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. the dual sensations of his ruthless pounding and the pleasurable tug on your sensitive bud send you spiraling closer to the edge.

as if sensing your impending climax, gojo redoubles his efforts, pistoning into you with wild abandon. your world narrows down to the searing heat of gojo’s body, the relentless thrusts of his cock, and the intoxicating scent of sex that fills the air. you’re lost in a haze of pure, unadulterated pleasure, every fiber of your being focused on chasing that elusive peak.

the pressure builds and builds, coiling tighter in your core until you think you might burst. gojo’s harsh commands and the brutal pace of his fucking only serve to heighten the tension, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

with a keening wail, you finally tumble over the edge, your orgasm slamming into you like a freight train. your inner walls clench around gojo’s throbbing cock, rippling and fluttering as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

“fuck, fuuck! gojo-kun! ’m cumming, cumming!”

gojo lets out a guttural roar as he feels your pussy clamping down on his cock, the vice-like grip triggering his own release. with one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his seed erupting in powerful spurts as he fills you up.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he chants, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. gojo’s grip on your hair and thigh remains unrelenting, holding you in place as he marks you as his, claiming you utterly and completely.

overwhelmed by the intensity of your shared orgasms, you collapse onto the mattress the heartbeat his grasp on you loosened, your body still trembling with aftershocks. gojo’s continued pulsing inside you, coupled with the warmth of his release coating your insides, leaves you feeling utterly spent yet deeply satisfied.

as your breathing slowly returns to normal, you become aware of gojo’s hands gentling their hold on you, his fingers stroking soothing patterns on your skin. a soft, contented sigh escapes your lips as you melt into his touch, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter.

he leans forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed, his chest pressed against your back. his breath is still a bit ragged, but you can feel his strong, steady presence behind you. for a few moments, all you hear is the steady, calming sound of your combined breathing, the only indication that both of you are slowly recovering from the intensity of your shared passion.

after a few moments, gojo breaks the comfortable silence, his voice low and still slightly husky. “you okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing gently against the shell of your ear.

his hands slide down your sides, gently encircling your waist, his touch tender and light. the weight of his chest against your back is reassuring, and you can still feel the heat of his body radiating through your clothes. he shifts slightly, his chin resting on your shoulder, and you can practically feel his intense gaze on you, as if he’s silently assessing how you’re feeling.

a soft smile curves your lips at gojo’s gentle inquiry, your body relaxing further under his comforting touch. “mhm, i’m good,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly to rest against the soft material of his blanket. “just... really sated right now.”

you let out a contented little sigh, enjoying the warmth of his embrace and the intimate closeness of his body pressed against yours. slowly but surely, the feeling of his softened cock slipped out of your cunt, taking all of your cum and his down to your thigh and floor.

gojo chuckles softly in response, hearing the hint of satisfaction in your tired voice. he plants a soft, feather-light kiss on your neck, his lips lingering there for a moment. “that’s good,” he says, his voice laced with a hint of pride, “i’m glad i exhausted you that much.”

he pauses for a moment, his hands gently rubbing your sides, before speaking again. “need anything? water, a towel, or just... rest?” he asks, his tone genuinely concerned.

you let out a soft sigh, the tension of the past moments slowly melting away as you murmured, “just rest.” your voice was quiet, tired, and gojo, ever attentive, hummed in agreement, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a gentle kiss.

“say no less,” he whispered with that same reassuring tone, his arms immediately wrapping around you. he shifted you both onto the bed, pulling you into his embrace and letting you rest your head on his chest. his warmth surrounded you, grounding you at the moment, his heartbeat steady beneath you.

gojo made sure to cover both of you with the blanket, tucking it around your bare body with care, his movements slow and deliberate. despite the weight of the earlier events, his presence was steady, a soft contrast to the tension you’d felt before. outside of the bet, outside of the teasing, the games, and the complexities of it all, he seemed intent on giving you comfort—giving you the space to just rest, without further complications. his fingers gently traced circles on your back, a quiet reminder that, at this moment, there was nothing but a reason you were on his bed simply because of a bet— the bet he’s going to win.

gojo held you close, his arms encircling your body snugly under the soft warmth of the blanket. he continued tracing light circles on your back, the soothing repetitive motion a silent reassurance of his presence and care.

his chest rose and fell in a steady, calming rhythm, and you could feel the faint thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. his body offered a solid, comforting presence, grounding you in the aftermath of the eventful night.

gojo remained silent for several minutes, simply holding you close, his touch gentle and nurturing. after a few moments, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

he shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that both of you were more comfortable. his arms remained wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest, a silent promise of protection and comfort.

you simply nod.

gojo feels your nod, his lips curving into a small smile against your forehead. “good,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low.

he lets out a deep, content sigh, his body relaxing further into the bed, his arms still holding you close. his breathing slows, a steady, measured rhythm that seems to lull you into a sense of peace and security. the room is enveloped in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

gojo’s gaze softened as he looked down at your peaceful face, the soft rise and fall of your chest the only movement in the stillness of the room. he stayed like that for a while, just watching you, making sure you were fully asleep, your breathing steady and relaxed. he could feel the weight of the day, the tension from earlier, and he knew you needed this rest, even if you didn’t quite realize it yet.

once he was certain you were asleep, gojo's fingers slid beneath the pillow, pulling out his phone with careful movements. his smirk returned, a wicked gleam flashing in his eyes as he unlocked the screen and opened the camera. he took a quick snapshot, the sound of the shutter a soft click that was barely audible in the quiet room. his eyes flicked down to the picture, his smirk widening as he admired the photo of you, completely unaware, asleep in his arms.

“this is mine,” he muttered quietly to himself, the excitement of the bet reigniting within him. he knew he was going to win, and as much as he enjoyed this rare moment of calm with you, there was no denying the competitive streak that ran through him. he tucked the phone back under the pillow, settling back into the warmth of the bed, still holding you close, but his mind already racing ahead to the next step in his game.

gojo’s gaze remains fixed on you, admiring the innocent, vulnerable expression on your face as you sleep. he takes several more moments to just watch you, his gaze flickering over every detail of your face—the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the slight part of your lips as you breathe in.

he lets out a soft sigh, his fingers gently tracing your skin, his touch almost reverent. “god, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs quietly, the words slipping out involuntarily.

gojo’s eyes lingered on your peaceful, sleeping form, an unsettling mixture of admiration and satisfaction bubbling inside him. every detail of your face seemed to draw him in, each soft breath you took making his heart twist. he couldn't help but trace the curve of your cheek with his finger, as though savoring the image of you in your most vulnerable state. god, you're beautiful, he thought, the words slipping from his lips in a quiet murmur, but they were tinged with something darker.

as much as he tried to shake it off, a faint flicker of guilt gnawed at him. just a tiny sliver, a whisper in the back of his mind, reminding him of the bet, the cruel game he was playing with his friends. was this really what he wanted? to use you like this, to take advantage of your innocence, your trust, all for the sake of proving something to them? the thought scratched at his conscience, but it was fleeting, quickly drowned out by the more dominant, selfish part of him.

he couldn’t help it—he wanted to win. he wanted to show off, to prove that he was the one who’d conquered you first. the idea of rubbing it in toji, geto, and sukuna’s faces, seeing their reactions when he revealed that he was the one who’d claimed you, made his chest tighten with dark satisfaction. the guilt? it was easily buried beneath the hunger for victory.

monday couldn’t come soon enough.

sukuna leaned back, crossing his arms with a sly smirk as he glanced at gojo. “you’re so damn stupid,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “just get to the point, genius. we’re here to talk about the bet, not hear you babble on like an idiot.”

the mention of the bet caused a shift in the group. toji’s smirk sharpened, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward, clearly ready to pounce on whatever gojo had to offer. geto, normally the calmest of them, looked intrigued, his gaze steady and expectant. sukuna’s own smirk widened into a mocking grin, savoring the thrill of competition, ready to lay down his own proof and claim victory over the others.

he let the tension build, basking in the eager anticipation hanging thick between them. then, without further ado, sukuna reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and casually waving it in the air. “alright, boys. one... two... three,” he counted, then turned his screen toward the group with a triumphant look. displayed was a photo of you lying next to him, fast asleep, vulnerable and unguarded. sukuna’s smirk grew wider, reveling in the victory he thought was his.

as sukuna’s countdown reached three, he confidently pulled out his phone, an air of smug triumph around him as he turned the screen to reveal the photo of you, asleep in his arms, your peaceful face nestled against him. for a brief moment, he savored the victory, certain he’d be the one to claim the title. but as he looked up, expecting awe and frustration from the others, he found something else entirely.

geto’s face, usually so calm, had twisted into a look of sheer confusion, a frown creasing his brow as he looked down at his own phone, then up at sukuna, and back to his phone again. in his hand, on his own screen, was the exact same photo—down to every last detail. his jaw clenched, and he turned the phone towards sukuna without saying a word, letting the image speak for itself.

toji, who’d been leaning back with a predatory smirk, felt his confidence waver. he, too, checked his phone, and the smirk fell, replaced by a dark scowl. “what kind of joke is this?” he growled, his fingers gripping his phone tightly, a mix of anger and disbelief in his eyes as he flashed the identical photo.

and gojo, who’d initially met sukuna’s countdown with smug amusement, suddenly felt the blood drain from his face. he looked at his own screen, the same picture staring back at him, taunting him with an illusion of victory. his lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced at each of the others, his usual cocky grin now replaced with a frustrated grimace. “so… none of us won anything, huh?” he muttered bitterly, his voice low, laced with irritation.

a tense silence settled over them, their expressions twisted with disbelief and anger. each one felt the bitter sting of having been outsmarted, the pride and triumph they’d anticipated now twisted into something sharp and uncomfortable.

sukuna clenched his jaw, the victory he’d tasted turning to ash. “this is ridiculous. how the hell—” he began, but was cut off by toji’s dry, humorless laugh.

“guess none of us were as clever as we thought,” toji muttered darkly, his voice edged with anger and annoyance.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his pride deeply wounded. “tch,” he scoffed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “so we all lost? pathetic.” they sat in a tense, silent circle, each stewing in their own frustration and realizing they’d been played.

gojo let out a frustrated sigh, the realization of the situation sinking in. none of them had won, and worse, they'd all been tricked. he glanced again in your direction, a mix of irritation and confusion on his face. the realization that you, sweet and innocent as you seemed, had somehow outsmarted them all was a pill too hard to swallow.

“well, this is just great,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “we’re all idiots.”

the four men turned, spotted you a few benches away, looking completely at ease, chatting with none other than nanami. his composed, polished demeanor stood out even in the crowded cafeteria, and as you held your phone up to show him something, you looked every bit like you were sharing a private joke. they saw your face light up with that familiar, radiant smile as nanami rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, his expression softening in a way they rarely saw.

then, to their surprise, nanami sighed, pulling his wallet from his pocket and handing you a couple of bills. your smile grew even bigger, the kind of delighted, unguarded grin they’d each hoped to earn themselves. from a distance, they couldn’t make out what you were saying, but the playful exchange and easy familiarity between you both were clear as day.

their eyes widened when nanami leaned down, just slightly, his hand resting on your shoulder as he pressed a brief but gentle kiss to your lips—completely unfazed by the cafeteria full of students. the kiss was neither rushed nor hesitant, just natural and unapologetic. as he pulled away, he sent a pointed, almost warning glance in their direction, his gaze cold and unyielding, as if daring any of them to even think about challenging him.

you turned then, catching their gawking stares and raising the cash in your hand with a sly grin that practically dripped with triumph. they could only sit in stunned silence as you waved the money at them, your expression smug and knowing. your gaze lingered on them for a second longer, a little glint of mischief in your eyes, before you turned your attention back to your phone, completely unfazed by their reactions.

the four men sat there, speechless, their jaws hanging open in shock at the scene unfolding before them. they’d expected you to be meek and naive, unaware of their little bet. instead, here you were, giggling with nanami, a man known for his aloofness and strict nature, casually taking money from him in exchange for a kiss. your confident wave and smug smile only added to the shock.

toji was the first to snap out of it, his eyes narrowing as he watched you with a mixture of anger and surprise. “what the hell was that?” he sputtered, his voice strained.

sukuna’s face contorted with pure disbelief, a rare look of complete shock crossing his usual smug features. he couldn’t believe that the girl they’d all so casually thought they were playing had flipped the entire game on them. his jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he muttered under his breath, “unbelievable… she played us.”

toji, on the other hand, looked downright irritated, his expression darkening as he watched nanami give you that casual, easy kiss. his pride stung, and he forced out a low, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “so much for thinking she’d be easy to handle,” he growled. “guess we’re the ones who got handled.”

geto was silent, his usual calm mask slipping just enough to reveal the flicker of surprise in his eyes. he prided himself on being perceptive, but seeing you there with nanami, openly flaunting the victory they thought was theirs, left him speechless. his lips curved into a grudging smirk, though, as he muttered, “gotta hand it to her… didn’t see that coming.”

gojo felt his face flush with a mix of frustration and lingering embarrassment. he leaned back, running a hand over his face and letting out a soft, defeated chuckle. “well, this is just fantastic,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he watched you wave the money with that smug smile on your face. “we’re all idiots, and she knows it.”

the four men sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. they’d underestimated you, treated you like a naive little toy to be won, but you'd turned the tables on them. and the fact that you’d done it so effortlessly, with such a casual smirk on your face, only added to the collective sense of shock and irritation.

gojo, in particular, couldn’t shake off the burning sense of embarrassment. you’d made him look like a fool, and that stung. him, who was never one to be outplayed, felt a strange mix of anger and admiration at your audacity. it was both aggravating and irritating, but there was an undercurrent of grudging respect. you’d made all of them look like morons, yet there was something about your confidence, the way you casually took nanami’s money, that he couldn’t help but find intriguing.

gojo clenched his jaw, his own competitive nature burning within him. “that smug little…” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

geto shot him a bemused smirk, sensing the competitive fire flaring up in his friend. “looks like you’ve met your match, genius,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “and judging by the look on your face, you’re not handling it too well.”

lost in a whirlwind of shock and confusion, they barely noticed you approaching until you were standing right at their table, an amused, knowing smile on your lips. with a graceful, almost lazy flick of your wrist, you dropped a small stack of polaroids onto the table, each one falling face-up, showing exactly what they dreaded to see.

each photo captured the same damning image: them, fast asleep, completely unaware, while you sat on their waist, looking down with a mocking pout. your lips jutted out in an exaggerated, fake crying face, as if mourning their obliviousness. their faces, peaceful in sleep, were juxtaposed with your taunting expression, turning the tables in a way none of them could have expected.

toji’s eyes went wide as he flipped through the pictures, his smirk quickly fading to a tight-lipped grimace. sukuna’s jaw clenched, a flush of irritation darkening his cheeks as he processed the fact that you’d played him, all of them, so perfectly. geto let out a disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head, unable to hide a mix of amusement and frustration at your brazen boldness.

gojo, usually quick with a snappy comeback, could only stare at the photos, stunned into silence. he glanced up at you, his gaze a mix of admiration and disbelief. you’d outwitted them, effortlessly.

you leaned in slightly, resting one hand on the edge of the table, flashing them a wicked grin. “hope you enjoyed your little nap, boys,” you teased, your tone sweet but dripping with smugness. with one final smirk, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving them speechless, the photos in hand as a constant reminder of the game they’d lost to you.

[serpentandlily]

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Reader

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny V - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: angst, attempted SA, misogynistic language/beliefs, drugging (if you'd like more in depth warnings, feel free to dm me)

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

Part V

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“One of the stableboys told me he spotted Lady Genevieve and Lord Vaughn sneaking out of the party together last week,” Willow said in a whisper as Ivy gasped in disbelief. 

You glanced up at them from where you were sitting at the table in Eris’s common room, sewing a hole shut on the skirt you had worn out to the woods with him yesterday. Your kiss had gotten…heated and your skirt had caught on a piece of bark on the tree Eris had you pressed against and ripped. Just thinking of it made your cheeks turn pink.

“And that’s scandalous, why?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at your handmaidens. They had insisted they repair your skirt for you but sewing was one of the skills you had actually acquired during your family’s time in poverty. Who else would’ve made sure Feyre’s hunting clothes stayed intact? 

“Well because Lady Genevieve is engaged to his brother, of course!” Ivy exclaimed. 

You opened your mouth to reply but a knock on the door made you pause. The three of you glanced at each other. Eris had mentioned he would be traveling to a nearby town for some business and wouldn’t return until morning. He advised you to stay inside with your handmaidens and take dinner in your room until his return. 

Ivy rose and made her way to the door, pulling it open to reveal one of Eris’s brothers. He placed a pale hand on the doorframe and gave her a charming, but unsettling, grin. His hair was longer than Eris’s, his stature a bit shorter and far bulkier than the refined quality your mate had. 

Ivy curtsied. “Lord Reid, how may I assist you?” 

“I’m here to escort my brother’s mate to dinner,” he purred. “Since he is unable to do so himself.” 

You stood, placing the skirt on the table as you glanced at Willow with uncertainty. Ivy’s pretty face paled. 

“B-but Lord Eris requested that Lady Archeron have dinner in his quarters tonight,” she stuttered out. 

The grin slipped from Reid’s face, a more threatening look taking over. “Are you denying me my request, nymph?”

He spat out the last word like a curse, making you flinch on your friend’s behalf. You had to bite your tongue from saying anything back knowing you’d likely just anger him further.

Ivy bowed her head. “Of course not, my Lord.”

You crossed the room, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and nudging her back. “Thank you, Ivy, I’ll take it from here.” 

That charming grin was back on Reid’s face as he looked down at you, but the look in his eyes made your legs shake. He held out his elbow like a proper escort and you had no choice but to take it, letting him pull you out of Eris’s chambers.

“Talk back to me again and I’ll have you whipped in the courtyard in front of everyone else,” Reid spat at Ivy. You gave her an alarmed look, but she shook her head at you discreetly—a warning to stay quiet. You bit your lip so hard it almost bled. 

Reid finally began to guide you down the corridor and you tried to keep your breathing under control, not wanting him to know how scared you were. Finnegan had been nothing like this, had not had that cruelty lingering in his eyes. 

“Has Eris returned?” You asked, swallowing harshly. “Is that why my presence is needed at dinner tonight?”

Reid looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, as if daring you to say more. You glanced away, not wanting him to see it as a challenge. You knew how females were regarded here. But you also wanted to know why you were being dragged down to the main dining area. 

“Are you not a part of this family now?” Reid remarked, his tone questioning but the sharpness of his words didn’t escape you. 

“Of course, my Lord,” you breathed, still staring at the floor. He hummed in response and continued to lead you down corridor after corridor until you made it to the formal dining room. 

You glanced up as you entered, taking note of who was present that you knew amongst the sea of strangers. The High Lord and his Lady, of course, as well as Finnegan and Eris’s other brother, Liam. Finn shot Reid a questioning look that went ignored while Liam sat with his eyes kept straight ahead of him. It was remarkable how alike they all looked, though none could match the beauty that Eris possessed. 

The Lady of Autumn, Seraphina, kept her eyes locked on the table—seated next to Beron who sat at the head of the table. Reid escorted you to the seat next to her, pulling out the large wooden chair for you. A feast was laid out on the table before you, empty plates set in front of each seat. A few other Lords and Ladies wandered in, taking seats at the other end of the table. You listened to their idle chit chat, clenching your skirt in your fists. 

“Why have you brought her here?” Finn hissed at Reid as the male took the seat next to him. “Eris is still in Pinecrest.” 

Reid shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure she felt included in our family. Lighten up, little brother.” 

Finn shot him a glare but Beron clanked his fork against his glass, drawing everyone’s attention. You half listened to his small speech, but focused mainly on trying to lessen the pounding of your heart. You felt so out of place, so alone here at this big table. No family. No mate. Just strangers all around you. Strangers with nefarious reputations.

Dinner began once Seraphina plated Beron his food and he took the first bite. It was like a breath of relief was let out amongst the fae at the table, their conversations picking back up. You sipped on your wine, trying not to draw attention to yourself but Reid had other plans, it seemed. 

“Have you lot had the pleasure of meeting Eris’s mate yet?” He asked, leaning back in his chair as he spoke to some Lords and Ladies. “This is her. Little thing, isn’t she? She is sister to the cursebreaker.” 

You felt the gazes of them on you as your cheeks turned pink. One of the ladies looked you up and down with a haughty look that made her face quite unpleasant to look at. 

“Are the rumors true?” She asked, her voice filled with faux innocence. “Were you truly a human before all of this?” 

“Indeed, she was,” Reid answered before you could even open your mouth. 

“How ghastly,” the female sneered, placing a hand to her chest as if she were clutching her pearls. “The Mother must’ve found it within her heart to give out some charity to those lesser the day she mated you with Lord Eris.”

Your face grew hot at her hateful words. You wished the floor would open up and suck you in whole just to get away from this table. But to your surprise, someone came to your defense. 

“Watch how you speak, Genevieve,” Finn spat. “She is soon to take the Vanserra name and if you insult her again, you'll find yourself in the position of all the others who dared to insult our family.” 

By the way Genevieve’s face paled, you could only imagine the punishment those people had faced. But hearing the familiar name caused a smile to blossom on your face. You cleared your throat and sat up. 

“Genevieve, is it?” You asked, blinking at her with wide, innocent eyes. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Lady, or rather how much you enjoy parties.” 

Your eyes darted to the male sitting next to her. The male who looked so similar to the one gripping her hand in his. When you looked back at Genevieve, her face had paled even more. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she focused her gaze on her plate before her.

Reid leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “So the kitten has some claws after all.” 

You wanted to roll your eyes but instead, bit your lip again to prevent you from saying something that wouldn’t be taken well. Reid leaned further into your space, causing you to press against the back of your chair with raised eyebrows. He grabbed the dish of potatoes next to you before finally seating himself correctly in his chair.

You frowned when you noticed a second dish of potatoes on his other side, closer to him, but shook it off. He was trying to rattle you—that much was obvious. 

You nibbled on your dinner, not having an appetite while seated around these faeries. You sipped on your wine, cringing a bit as the bitter liquid slid down your throat. The wine in the Night Court was far sweeter than the wine here, it seemed. 

The longer the dinner went on, the hotter the room seemed to be getting. Was it because so many fire wielding fae sat here or was this room just particularly stuffy? You fanned at your face as discreetly as you could. 

Sweat began to dribble down the back of your neck, your skin tingling at the sensation. You clenched your skirt in your fists, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. The Lady of Autumn glanced at you, taking note of your reddening cheeks and behavior.

“Are you alright, dear?” Her voice was soft, quiet, and full of concern. It was the first time you’d heard her speak. 

“It’s just a bit warm in here, isn’t it?” You replied, fanning your face again. Gods, you were so hot. It was unbearable. 

The Lady of Autumn’s nostrils flared and her eyes went wide. She placed the back of her hand against your forehead, making a noise of displeasure before pulling it away. She waved a hand towards the servants who were milling about. Ivy and Willow darted forward from where they stood against the wall behind you. 

“Lady Archeron isn’t feeling well,” she whispered to your handmaidens. “Please escort her back to her chambers for the night.” 

Both of your handmaidens sniffed before their faces paled. Ivy held out a hand to you. “Come, my Lady, let us take you to your room.”

You grabbed her hand like it was a lifeline. You nearly groaned at the feeling of her skin against yours. They ushered you out of the dining hall, hurrying you down the corridor. 

“Something’s wrong,” you moaned, pitifully. Your skin was on fire now. An ache was forming in the lower part of your stomach. Like an unrelenting itch that needed to be scratched. 

“I think someone has slipped you a breeding tonic,” Willow hissed under her breath. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyebrows furrowed.

“A what?!” You exclaimed but Ivy hushed you. You spoke in a whisper, thinking of how they had sniffed you, “How do you know that? Could you smell it in my drink or food?” 

“No, my Lady,” Ivy said, hesitantly. “But your scent…it’s…Well, it’s changed.” 

“My scent? But…oh.” If your face wasn’t already red, you were sure it’d be now. Gods, they could…smell you—your awakening arousal. You were mortified. “But who would do that?” 

“I don’t know.” Willow frowned. “It’s more important we get you to your chambers before any male scents you.” 

“Why? What…what does a breeding tonic do?” 

Your two handmaidens exchanged a look before Ivy answered, “Well, my Lady, it—well it's supposed to make a female more…willing when she’s in her marriage bed.”

Your skin was itching, flushed red from all the heat you felt. You tugged at the collar of your dress. It was agonizing. “How long is this supposed to last?”

“Just a few hours,” Willow said in a soft, comforting tone. “It’s not like most males need any more than a few minutes”

“Willow,” Ivy scolded. “Now is not the time for those kinds of remarks!”

You could hardly pay attention to their conversation, your mouth drying up as the effects of the tonic worsened—causing a violent need to be touched in places you’d never been. “What will happen if a male scents me now?” 

The two girls exchanged another look. “I’m afraid some males in this court have problems with their…restraint, my Lady. And your smell right now is rather enticing, for lack of a better word. It's best not to test them when it comes to these kinds of things.” 

All the color left your face.

Willow let out a noise of distress. “Which is why we should move faster—”

“Well, what do we have here?” The three of you froze in your tracks as you nearly ran into a group of three guards coming around the corner—all dressed in armor with Beron’s seal imprinted on the center of their chests. Fuck, it was a group of the High Lord’s personal guards. “Ah, it's the little bitch mated to our High Lord’s son.” 

Your face turned bright red. 

“Watch your mouth,” Willow snapped.

The guard backhanded her before you could even blink, causing her to crumble to the floor. Ivy gasped and rushed forward, kneeling next to her. Before you could follow her, one of the guards grabbed you by the upper arm, yanking you away from your two handmaidens. 

“What are you doing? Let me go! You can’t just hit—”

“Shut up,” the guard growled in your ear. Your eyes shot to Ivy who was helping Willow off the floor, the other girl holding her reddening cheek. 

“Talk like that to me again and I’ll do worse,” the head guard snarled at Willow. “Now get lost. You’ve been relieved of your duties, ladies. We can escort the girl back to her room.” 

You tried to pull your arm free, your heart pounding in your chest. Willow and Ivy looked inclined to protest, but then they both took a step away, sending you an apologetic look. You knew there was nothing they could do in this situation that didn’t put them in risk but maybe if they left, they could go get help. You tried to convey that message with your eyes and Ivy gave you a small dip of the head, like she understood. 

As the guard began to pull you away from them, she mouthed something to you: ‘The bond.’

Understanding her message, you started to tug on the glowing gold thread in your chest, panicking as you were dragged away. The guards were snickering with each other. “Do you smell that? I think the girls in heat, Captain. Maybe we can take her downstairs for some…fun before anything else.” 

You desperately tried to yank yourself free but the guard’s grip on your arm only tightened to the point of pain. “Let me go, you sick bastards!” 

The guard that had been identified as the Captain chuckled. “Good idea. I think she needs to be taught a lesson on how to properly treat a male, don’t you think?” 

The guards laughed with their agreement and you went feral trying to break away. “If you touch me, I swear to the Gods I’ll tell Eris! He’ll kill you!”

The guards only laughed harder. “Lord Eris won’t believe you over us, girl. Keep screaming though. I do love it when they fight back.” 

You were pulled down a stone stairwell, into a lower level of the Forest House. You screamed and fought against the guards, but with three of them and only one of you…it was hopeless. You tugged and tugged on the mating bond, not really sure how it worked but hoped you had gotten Eris’s attention and that he was on his way back. 

Tears poured down your cheeks and they tossed you in what seemed to be a large storage room. Crates full of goods, barrels of wine, and shelves filled with supplies crowded the room. The Captain slammed the door shut behind him as you were scuttling to stand up. You backed away from them, your eyes darting around for anything you might be able to use as a weapon—not that you had much training.

One of the guards lunged for you and you swiftly kicked him in the groin, sending him to his knees. “You stupid bitch!”

Using the commotion as a distraction, you took off running down the shelves, trying to keep them at a distance. But one of them was much faster, grabbing you by the collar of your dress. You let out a cry as your dress ripped down the back and you fell to your hands and knees, your chin smashing against the floor. You tasted blood in your mouth as the guard grabbed your foot and started to drag you back to him but you quickly flipped onto your back and kicked him right in the nose with your other foot, hearing a satisfying crunch. 

He let out a curse, blood pouring from his nose, and you scrambled to start running away again, holding your tattered dress up. You spotted a door at the end of the room and sprinted towards it, throwing it open and darting through it before slamming it shut behind you. 

You skidded to a stop once you realized the door had only led to a broom closet. Fuck, you had backed yourself into a corner. You covered your mouth with a hand, stifling your sobs as you heard footsteps pounding your way. With nowhere to go, you backed away to the wall, facing the door. You had no option but to try and fight your way out of this. 

The door to the closet slammed open and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact of a body against yours. But after a moment of silence passed, you slowly opened your eyes. They widened as they took in the guard standing in the middle of the closet, his eyes darting around the small space, passing over you several times. 

“What the fuck?” he grumbled.

“Stop wasting time,” one of the other guards shouted from outside. “Pull her out of there so we can have our fun.” 

“She’s not…She’s not in here!” 

“What do you mean she’s not in there?” One of the other guards shouldered his way into the closet, pushing the other male out. “What—I saw her run in here! We all did. Where the hell did she go?”

“Does she know how to winnow?”

You stood frozen as the two guards discussed your whereabouts. How could they not see you? You were literally standing right in front of them! You looked down at your body and almost gasped when you didn’t see any part of yourself. What the hell? What….what was happening? You could still feel the ground under your feet, still feel the wall at your back. You tried holding up a hand but nothing—you couldn’t even see your own hand!

“She wouldn’t be able to winnow unless she could break through the wards down here,” the other guard grumbled. “Wards set up by the High Lord, himself. There’s no way a former human could do that.” 

You could feel yourself panicking even more now because what was happening to you?

“What the fuck is going on down here?!”

The voice of your mate caused a sob of relief to leave your mouth and it seemed whatever magic you had been using sputtered out, causing the two guards to whip their heads towards you. You sank to the ground, still clutching your tattered dress, kohl marking the tear tracks down your cheeks. 

“Lord Eris, it’s not what it looks like—”

The Captain let out a spine-chilling scream before a snap was heard and a thump of a body hitting the ground. You pulled your knees to your chest, crying out for Eris. The two guards in the closet with you whirled around as Eris stalked towards them. They held up their palms, beginning to plead, but the feral rage on your mate’s face shut them up. You’d never seen Eris look so unhinged. His normally styled hair was in disarray, his cuffs rolled up to his elbow. 

His heavy boots slammed against the floor until he was right in front of them. Eris’s amber eyes darted to you for a second and flames erupted from the edges of his body. Your eyes widened in shock. His eyes fell back on the guards, his anger causing fire to even dance in his irises. 

“Lord Eris, we can explain!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eris snarled before two whips made entirely of fire were summoned in his hands. He lashed them at the guards and they latched around their necks before he pulled them to their knees with it. Both of the guards started choking, trying to pull at the whips now strangling them but only burnt their hands to a crisp. 

“Imagine my surprise when I felt my mate’s terror down our bond while in negotiations with the Lords in Pinecrest,” Eris growled, wrapping the whip around his hand and yanking it tighter, forcing the guards’ faces to smash against the floor. “Only to show up and have her two handmaidens tell me three of my father’s guards were dragging her—my mate—down here to force themselves on her. Consider yourselves lucky she’s still sitting here because this death will be a mercy compared to the one I had planned for the three of you.” 

The guards started to screech in agonizing pain. Blood began to bubble out of their ears, eyes and mouth and it took you a second to comprehend that Eris was burning them to death from the inside out, boiling their blood. You whimpered, slapping a hand over your mouth and nose as the smell of burning human flesh spread through the small space. You squeezed your eyes shut at the horror happening before you. 

When the two guards finally slumped all the way to the ground, their eyes cold with death, Eris stepped over them and gently picked you up off the ground, cradling you to his chest. You clutched his shirt in your hands, crying as the adrenaline you had been fighting through wore off. 

“It’s okay, little bunny,” Eris murmured in your ear. “I’ve got you.” 

“I tried…I tried—”

You were sobbing with a flood of emotions. 

“I know, I know,” he hushed you, “you did good, little bunny. You did good holding them off until I got here.”

You were vaguely aware of him carrying you out of the basement and back up the stairs. The gasps of Ivy and Willow met your ears as he emerged with you in his arms.

“Is she okay?” 

“She is now,” Eris replied, his voice still filled with anger. “I’ve got it from here. Thank you, ladies, please retire to your rooms. I’ll make sure you face no repercussions from this.” 

“Take care of her, my Lord,” you heard Willow say before two footsteps started fading away. 

You kept your face buried in your mate’s chest until you were finally back in his chambers. Eris carried you into the bathroom before seating you on the counter. He took your face in his hand, twisting and turning it, examining you for injuries. He grabbed a small towel and wetted it, before beginning to clean the smears of makeup from your face. You sat still for him, still reeling from your shock. 

Eris’s touch was so delicate as he wiped your face, the cold water soothing your hot skin. A few minutes of silence passed as you watched him focus intently on his task, small flames still dancing in his eyes from his anger. 

“You came for me,” you whispered as he dabbed your cheek with the cloth. 

“Of course I did. I always will,” he murmured back. “I’m so sorry I wasn't here, bunny. I’m so sorry it took me so long to come back.” 

You shook your head. “It’s not your fault.”

His jaw ticked and he set the cloth down before placing a hand on your cheek, his thumb rubbing your tears away. “It is. It is my fault you are in this situation. I’m so sorry that the Gods have cursed you with me.”

“Don’t say that.” You nuzzled your head into his hand. You stared up into his eyes, now noticing how dilated his pupils were—the amber color almost gone. His hand that wasn’t on your cheek was gripping the counter so hard, cracks were appearing on its surface. You suddenly remembered what started all of this. The damn breeding tonic someone had slipped you during dinner.

The breeding tonic that still had your skin on fire, still had desire pooling between your legs. And now that Eris was here, standing so close to you…His scent of crackling embers and warm cinnamon enveloped you with his own heat. Your arousal spiked, your eyes dipping to his lips. The need to kiss him, to be touched by him, was barrelling its way through you. 

You lurched forward and smashed your lips against his. Eris sucked in a breath and kissed you back with the same vigor until he came to his senses and pulled away from you, causing you to whine in displeasure. 

“Someone drugged you, bunny,” he grimaced. “I can’t…I won’t take advantage of you while you're still under its effects.” 

“Eris, please,” you begged, clenching your thighs together as the need to be touched grew and grew. “It hurts.” 

A small whine came from the back of his throat and you watched him fight against himself. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back down to kiss him again. You sighed as your lips made contact with his and he kissed you back with the same hunger. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer until his body was pressed against yours.

Eris’s hardening cock nudged at the place between your thighs that was throbbing with desire and you gasped. With your lips parted, he slipped his tongue in your mouth, groaning at the taste of you, deepening the kiss and utterly consuming you. 

Eris kissed and kissed you—only letting up to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. You tossed your head back with a moan, granting him more access. You needed every inch of skin to be touched by him. By his fingers. By his lips. You ached, feeling terribly empty inside. His hand slipped under your skirt, gripping your thigh. 

But you could tell he was still restraining himself. 

Your own hands fell on his shirt, starting to undo his buttons.“Eris,” you groaned as he sucked on the delicate skin on your neck. “Tell me what to do. I’ve…I’ve never—”

You wished you had kept your mouth shut because Eris stopped for a second, his lips hovering over your skin. "What do you mean, you’ve never, bunny? You've never what? Never had sex?”

You nodded your head, biting your lip. 

“Fuck,” Eris groaned against your neck before sliding his nose up the column of your throat, inhaling deeply. “I’ll make it so good for you, baby. I promise.” 

You whimpered as his words, your fists clenching his shirt. But to your dismay, Eris merely pecked you on the lips before gently taking your hands and slowly ripping them off of him. 

“But not like this, bunny,” he murmured. “Not while you're drugged. Not after what happened today.”

“Eris, please.”

Any embarrassment you might’ve felt for begging simply did not exist when you felt so incredibly heated, needing him so much. Eris let out a long breath and took a step away from you, dodging your arms that tried to pull him back in. 

“Not like this, bunny,” he repeated. “Take a cold bath, okay? It’ll help you feel better. The tonic should wear off soon. I’ll be waiting for you out there.” 

“No, Eris, please—”

But he quickly left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You jumped off the counter and tried to open the door, but he must’ve used magic to lock it from the outside. You let out a whine, trying to tug it open to no avail. Your forehead dropped against the wood and you sighed. 

Fine, you’d take a stupid cold bath. 

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You sat in the cold water until your skin pruned and the effects of the tunic left your body. You rose from the bath, wrapping yourself in a towel. You noticed a pile of clothes waiting for you on the counter—a night gown and some underwear. You quickly slipped them on before finally leaving the bathroom. 

You froze in the doorway at the sight of Eris lounging on his bed, shirtless and twirling a dagger in his hand. He looked at you with a smirk and your cheeks turned bright red. Partly because he looked absolutely ravishing laying there with his toned chest and abs on display and partly because you were mortified by your behavior. 

“Don’t look so embarrassed, bunny,” he teased, setting the dagger down on his nightstand and patting the bed next to him. “Come here.” 

You shyly slid on the bed next to him, letting him take you in his arms. You let out a small breath, resting your head on his chest. It felt so right being here, in his embrace. Safe and perfect. Like his arms were the home you’d been looking for all your life. The mating bond sang in your chest. 

“Do you feel better?” 

You nodded, wordlessly. He muttered out a “good” before he started stroking your hair. You closed your eyes and melted into his arms. Tonight had been so scary. You didn’t even want to think about what would have happened to you if Eris hadn’t come in time to stop the guards. 

“I’m going to find out who drugged you,” Eris murmured. “And they’re going to pay for it.” 

“Eris, something…happened when I was down there with those guards,” you whispered, running your finger in swirling patterns on his chest. “When I was in the broom closet, it was like they couldn’t see me. I couldn’t see myself, either. It was like I had gone invisible.”

Eris hummed in thought. “Your sisters got powers from the cauldron, did they not? Did you get the same?” 

“No, I mean, I’ve never been able to do anything other than the basic stuff all High Fae can do,” you answered. “I’ve never shown any other sorts of power. I don’t think the Cauldron gifted me anything like it did with Elain. And I certainly didn’t try to steal from it like Nesta did.” 

“Yesterday, in the forest, you said something about me looking right at you and not seeing you,” Eris brought up. “I disregarded it at the time but…bunny, maybe the Cauldron did gift you something.”

“You think it gifted me something? Like what? The power of invisibility? I’ve never even heard of that!”

You hated that it made sense. Hated that, of course, the sister who had felt left behind, felt stuck in the background, unseen, would be gifted the power of invisibility. 

“Maybe it’s now finally emerging. Do you remember anything from that day?” 

You shook your head. “I remember being tossed into the Cauldron. I remember…I remember how it felt to be torn apart and put back together. But I don’t remember anything after that. I don’t even remember how I got out of the Cauldron or how I got to the Night Court afterwards.” 

“And you’ve never asked your sisters about it?”

“I did ask Feyre once she returned. But she told me I was unconscious when the Cauldron tipped me out and that Mor winnowed all three of us out that day.” 

“You know, after you left the meeting,” Eris remarked,

“Tamlin mentioned that you never came out of the Cauldron.”

“What? But that makes no sense! Why would he say that?” 

“There’s something Rhysand and Feyre are hiding. Wouldn’t be the first time the Night Court kept information from someone—especially Rhysand.”

You placed your chin on his chest, staring up at him with a small glare. “I know you don’t have a great relationship with my family, but my sister would not lie to me.” 

Eris raised an eyebrow, not looking convinced. “Maybe even your sister doesn’t know. Maybe Rhysand is lying to her, too. That kind of power…a lot of people would want to have someone like you in their court, bunny.” 

“He wouldn’t lie. Not to Feyre.”

You couldn’t help but defend your family. Eris seemed to let it go for now, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll figure it out, bunny.” 

You laid your head back down on his chest with a sigh. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Go ahead.” 

“What really happened with Mor that day in the forest, Eris? I need to know. I need to know before…before this can happen. I need to know why my family hates you so much.”

Eris let out a long breath. “I knew this would come up eventually. I’ll tell you, bunny, but you have to understand something. You got a taste of some of the horrors of this court tonight. Things I’ve been trying to put a stop to and change my whole life. But I can only do so much without my father suspecting me of being a traitor. And he’s not above killing any of his own sons.” 

The idea of Beron killing Eris caused both fear and rage to build up inside of you. Your grip on your mate tightened as you frowned. Eris ran his hand up and down your arm in a soothing motion. 

“When my father and Mor’s father forced a marriage alliance on the two of us, it was, in part, a test for me on my father’s behalf. I was young and not as careful as I should’ve been and I think he could see the rebellious attitude in me. I think he thought I’d stop at nothing to somehow make them rescind the alliance proposal.”

“You didn’t want to marry Mor?” 

“Gods, no,” Eris snorted. “And Keir is just as bad as my father. The thought of those two falling into a partnership…Anyways, my father forced me to make a bargain with him. See, he thought I’d fuck it up by trying to bed her before we were properly married. Which, of course, I wouldn’t have. But I played along, not wanting him to think of other things I might do. And he knew my one weakness at the time. My Mother. He made me bargain that I would not lay a single finger on her before we were wed and if I did, he would out my mother for an affair she had and punish her with death.”

You gasped and sat up to look at him. “Eris, that’s awful!” 

“I thought so too,” Eris chuckled, mirthlessly. “So that day Keir dumped Mor in the forest, beaten to near death, I knew if I touched her the bargain would alert my father and though I doubt that would’ve counted in his eyes, he still would’ve taken her and some who knows what. I couldn’t alert anyone about her either because the guards that were with me that day were my father’s personal ones. They watched my every move and reported them back to my father. I had to make a choice, one that haunts me to this day.” 

“The choice to keep your mother safe,” you said. “And to not let your father know that Mor was there, in your court?” 

He nodded his head. “Yes. I lingered in the area long enough to catch sight of that Illyrian brute’s shadows and knew he’d come sniffing around for her. So I made sure the guards were far away so he could slip in and out without them alerting my father.” 

“And all these years,” you said, sadly, “All these years no one knew the truth of why you made that decision. No one except you and your father?” 

“The Night Court’s hasn’t always had an outstanding reputation, bunny,” Eris replied. “I didn’t know if I could trust them. And when I realized they already decided I was as much of a monster as my father, I had little interest in convincing them otherwise.”

“But Eris, you deserve better than that—”

“No, bunny, I don’t,” Eris sighed. “I’ve done a lot of bad things. I can only hope that things might change when my father is no longer on the Autumn throne.” 

You linked your fingers with his, grasping his hand. “As long as it’s you sitting on it, Eris, I think they will. You are not what people think you are. You are not a monster.” 

“I don’t care what everyone thinks. I don’t care if I’m the villain in their stories,” Eris said. “I only care that I’m not the monster in yours.” 

You folded your arms on his chest, plopping your chin on the back of your hands to stare up at him. 

“You’re no monster to me. You’re my sly fox,” you teased. 

Eris gave you his signature fox-like grin that caused butterflies to flutter around in your stomach. Your heart beat to the same rhythm of the mating’s bond soft melody. You could hear his beating too. 

“And you are still my dumb, little bunny.” 

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

a/n: I don't normally like making characters virgins but I felt like it fit this character in particular. Hope you liked this part!!

Tag list: @dwkfan @pinksmellslikelove @vellichor01 @whatdoyxumean @minnieoo @hnyclover @daughterofthemoons-stuff @ferrarisbitch @thaynarajejheje @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @the-sweet-psycho @sleepylunarwolf @homeslices @annblvd @historygeekqueen @crystalferret202 @meritxellao @st0rmyt @bruhhvv @venussdovess @naturakaashi @waves-against-a-cliff @justvibbinghere @queerqueenlynn @isa1b2h3 @oucereeng @hnyclover @locotreofthegods @namelesssav @edance2000 @lalaluch @saltedcoffeescotch @jangmi-latte @frobrotbaggins @naturakaashi @isa1b2h3 @awkwardnerd @crazylokonugget @marvelouslovely-barnes @tinystarfishgalaxy @ilovespideyyy @mybestfriendmademe @holb32 @littlemisslovestoread @regina-hawthorne @acourtofbatboydreams @artof-aristocracy @eyebagsanonymous @starrystarkey93 @darling006 @feyres-fireheart @fangirlloza010 @tarataraaaa @asweetblueberry2 @anuttellaa @daughterofthemoons-stuff @why4anne @bloodicka @wildlyobserving @allyjoe755 @neebeee @imxnotxhere @unleashthelion @mimsie95 @imperihoe-writes @joalslibrary @hnnybee0 @azrielsmate3 @azzydaddy @caraaaaugh @iamjimintrash @ren-ni @mysticalfuncollectorus @ubigaia @taylorgriffin @shelbieza03 @prettylittlewrites @ysmtttty @hiddlestonspassionsackx @anxious-study @browneyedgirly93 @fandomarchiveilyd @aninnai @enfppuff @amberlynn98 @scooobies

@lilah-asteria @96jnie @glitterypirateduck @i-m-in-loki-s-army

*If you asked to be on the taglist and you don't see your username, tumblr wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :(

[uhohdad]

THE GIRL WHO CONQUERED THE MOUNTAIN

KONIG X READER [HUNGER GAMES AU]

You & Konig have been chosen to participate in a twenty-four tribute fight to the death.

18+, NSFW, 183k WORD COUNT, AO3,Virgin!Konig, Outcast!Konig, 18yo!Konig, GentleGiant!Konig, Mentor!JohnPrice, Fem!Reader, Blood & Injury, Graphic Violence, Death, PTSD, Alcohol Use, Slow Burn, Konig Pines Hard, Sexual Content, Porn with Too Much Plot, First Time, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Smut, Fluff, Angst

CHAPTER ONE | PREV | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

➤ THE AFTERMATH II

At the mention of District Eight, your mouth turns to cotton. Your wide eyes dart around the floor of the glittery stage, heels turning inward.

You don’t want to do this.

You give up and pinch your eyes shut, a slight shake of your head, trying to take yourself somewhere you’re not, even going so far as to redirect your focus to remembering the lyrics to an old tune you sing in your thoughts.

Konig senses something’s up and gently guides you into the crook of his arm and his chest, giving your shoulder a squeeze. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you respond by raising your hand to rest in the space between his firm stomach and chest.

You can’t block out their words, the commentary from the people of District Eight. Your heart doesn’t want to hear it but your ears can’t help but listen and your eyes have to peek open.

The recap of the interview clearly cut out a majority of their words, and starts with the conflict between the boy from eight and Willow. The interviewee tries to begin, but she abandons her first few attempts to recount the story.

“Uh-” The interviewee’s eyes dart to the side, “Yeah, they uh- there was-“

She clears her throat, “Willow, uh-“

She trails off, staring off into the distance with a pause before she continues.

“He had this girlfriend, right? And they were - I mean, they were the perfect pair. You could tell, uh, you could tell he really loved her, you know? And the same goes for her.”

The interviewee pauses, and she has to look away.

“I was actually- I remember being jealous of them, wishing I had what they had. Love like that.”

You can hear her scraping gravel under her shoe.

“And I guess, I guess his girl wasn’t crazy about the uhm, The Capitol, and she uh- well, I think she broke a few laws, or something. Real rebellious type.”

She looks to her shoes, nodding slowly.

“And uh,” She clears her throat again before meeting eyes with the person behind the camera, “Willow blabbed about it. And his girlfriend got taken away.”

The interviewee nods slow, her sad, squint eyes staring off at the cameraman.

“They cut out his girl’s tongue, and now she- she serves The Capitol.”

She shakes her head, “He snapped. Just, a different person entirely.”

There’s a pause, and your eyes pinch shut, squeezing Konig as hard as your arms will allow. His hand slides down your back, tracing soothing circles with his fingertips between your shoulder blades.

“Please, no! It was an accident!”

The desperation in her voice is unmistakable. You find the screen, and there she is.

Willow.

As pretty as her name - rich bronze skin and golden brown eyes. Full, curly hair that seems to have a mind of its own and reminds you of the elegant draped tresses of the tree for which she was named.

The boy from eight has her on the ground, towering over her with his blade raised. Her upper half is propped up by her elbows, her feet kicking away from him.

“You knew what you were doing!” He yells, in that same booming, terrifying voice he used on you.

His blade lowers as his fists tense at his sides, “She served us! You hear me? She served us in our suite!”

A hand comes up to his head, and he grabs a fistful of his own hair with white knuckles. There’s tears springing in his eyes, and that daunting shout cracks.

“I couldn’t even talk to her!”

Your brows are pinched as you watch, shallow breaths through parted lips.

The tears crest Eight’s eyeline, and his hands drop limply to his sides.

His voice lowers to a broken whisper, a whiny strain in his words. It makes your brows pinch - you’ve never heard him speak in a way that wasn’t harsh and booming, never seen his eyes swelled with any emotion other than anger.

“I couldn’t even talk to her.”

Willow shakes her head, her words choppy through her stuttered breaths and hiccups.

“I know- I know! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, I didn’t- I never wanted this to happen, I didn’t mean for it to happen! Please-“

His voice shoots back up when he interrupts her, his shouted words ripping his throat to shreds.

“She’s gone, Willow! I lost her!”

He pinches his eyes for a moment, sending more tears down his cheeks, his chin lowering with a tilt of his head.

A snarl creases his face, brows tight when he finds Willow again. He jams his blade at her, his voice just a growl in her direction.

“And there is nothing you can say to change that.”

Willow just stares up at him with wide eyes, her entire body trembling. Her mouth is gaped to speak, but she knows she doesn’t have a defense.

“I am nothing without her.”

He steps closer to her, his boots planted on either side of her ribs. Just as he did with you, he grabs her by the front of her jacket and pulls her from the dirt, inches from his face.

“I am suffering! She is suffering! Everyday!”

He gives her that look, the same gut-churning look he had on reaping day when he threw himself on stage to volunteer.

“Now it’s your turn to suffer.”

The shot lingers on their faces for a few more moments, Willow’s golden brown eyes darting around his gut-churning rage, her breath caught in her throat.

They don’t show it.

You are so thankful they don’t show it.

They cut to you, walking through the forest. You have to close your eyes again, burying your face in Konig’s chest.

Your stomach boils and your heart constricts beyond comfort at each of her moaned wails. You’re clawing at Konig’s suit, a handful of the fabric shaking between your tensed fist.

Konig’s free hand comes up to swallow yours, a gentle reassurance from hardened hands.

Each of her maimed breaths violate you. The stage lights are searing your skin, sweat building up on your scalp and under your dress. The layer forming under your thick makeup is suffocating, aching for the touch of fresh air instead of the roasted stage air you breathe now.

Your eyes are screwed shut, but you can still see her, her exposed, bloody muscle rising and falling with her chest. The whitish yellow pockets of fat, the bones of her fingers, her blood-pooled eye sockets.

There’s a nauseating heat simmering just under your skin, and your breaths turn almost as guttural as hers.

Against every instinct, you have to rip away from Konig, not at all gracefully stumbling in your heels offstage.

“Oh, uh- technical difficulties, folks. Bear with us,” Caesar says cheekily, the audience’s collective chuckle laugh following.

You weren’t aiming for him, but Price catches you once offstage, sturdy arms pulling you into an embrace.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, kid,” He whispers softly, “It’s alright.”

Your palms find his chest with a firm shove, freeing yourself from his hold. You swivel on your feet simultaneously, doubling over to vomit all over the floor, your bile splattering over Price’s shoes.

He doesn’t seem to mind, standing at your side and pulling your hair back from the line of fire as you heave in rhythmic convulses, struggling to work up what little is in your stomach.

“It’s alright,” Price soothes, holding your hair with one hand and rubbing your trembling back with the other, “It’s alright. Get it all out.”

You feel a second hand on your back, and you already know it’s Konig, standing tall on your other side.

A stage hand rolls over an industrial size trash can, and you grip the rim with white knuckles as you gag into it.

When you’re done spitting out the bitter, offensive taste, Konig has a cloth waiting for you to wipe your face. Exhausted breaths leave you, droplets of sweat trailing down your back and tears streaming over your cheeks.

Your arm stretches over the rim of the trash can as you lean over it, pinching your eyes shut to try to quell the nausea. Konig offers you a bottle of water, and shaking hands reach to take it gratefully.

They wait for you to collect yourself, someone gets you a toothbrush to clean out your mouth - apparently this kind of thing happens enough to warrant keeping toothbrushes on hand, - your prep team touches up your makeup, and Konig holds you wordlessly in his strong arms while you breathe him in, his silken tie brushing against your cheek.

When you’re ready, your fingers wrap around Konig’s bicep, his arm bent at the elbow to keep you steady as he escorts you back on stage, putting himself between you and the crowd to block you from the audience.

The crowd explodes at your return, a standing ovation that echoes with whistles and claps.

“Welcome back, welcome back!” Caesar chimes, dipping each syllable with flare.

The crowd keeps the applause going long after you’re sat, and once settled, Caesar segues back into the show.

You don’t watch, hiding your face in Konig’s chest as he holds you tight, gently stroking your back.

The feed resumes, and you hear your squeak through the speakers, your stumble and trip into the dirt. Your dash through the woods, your dry heaves towards the dirt.

Your desperate plea.

Luring Eight into the fall forest, almost killing him but bailing at the last second. Weakly running for Willow as you cry out to her in the tune of a desperate sorry, spoken exactly like her pleas to the boy who knew no bounds to his spite. Piercing a dart through her exposed muscle, her final three breaths, your sobbing as her cannon fires.

Konig’s grip on you loosens as he watches your mercy kill, his soothing rubs ceasing. He starts back up again when the footage pauses, but you can’t bring yourself to leave Konig’s chest.

The crowd erupts in a truly enthusiastic applause, shouting adorations in your direction as Konig squeezes you tight.

“Wow,” Caesar shouts over the crowd, “That was something!”

The audience ignores his attempt to settle them, showering you with praise for what must be a full minute while Konig rubs your back.

“That was really something,” Caesar says, “Wow, I have to say, that was really admirable.”

You say nothing, trying to block out Caesar and his stupid commentary.

“I must ask, have your feelings about your actions changed after learning of their history?”

Your brows pinch as your head lifts from Konig’s chest to find Caesar, your arms snug around Konig’s core.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Knowing what you know now, would you have still lended her a hand?”

The end of Caesar’s question perks up so innocently, as if he didn’t just ask the most insane question in the world.

Your face twists, “Of course I would have - what kind of question is that?”

You glare at him, voice taught and sharp.

“You think that I think that there’s anything in the world that justifies that?”

You shake your head.

“No, you’re out of your mind. I wouldn’t even wish that fate on someone sick enough to ask a question like that in the first place.”

Konig gives you a squeeze and a little shake to show you he’s on your side, sitting tall with his chest puffed out. The audience is on your side too, apparently, clapping along in approval.

Caesar breaks character for a moment as he flits his gaze between you and Konig, the latter surely dawning a just as loathsome stare. You hold Caesar’s eyes in challenge until he looks away.

You understand the boy from eight’s anger. If someone got Konig taken away to serve the Capitol, surely you’d be just as furious and hellbent on vengeance.

But Eight’s anger was misdirected.

While Willow blabbed, his anger was provoked by the Capitol, not by Willow.

The Capitol is the one who took his girlfriend away, cut out her tongue, and forced her to dote on her boyfriend, unable to speak with him - surely a calculated move to instigate more tension between the District Eight tributes. Willow was just the one who let it slip, intentional or not.

As fucked up as it sounds, though, you get it.

You get where Eight is coming from. There was no way for him to seek vengeance against a government that has the entire country under its strict thumb, so he took out his anger on the next best thing.

Nowhere near to the same extreme - but you’ve been in a similar position countless times before.

That day in District Nine was one of those days. A bad day riling you up, looking for a victim to boil over on. You’re not even sure if you stood up for Konig because it was the right thing to do, or because you were just looking for an outlet for anger you couldn’t direct elsewhere without severe consequence.

Deep down you know the answer, but you’re too cowardly to share it with anyone, especially Konig. He has you on a pedestal. He thinks of you as a true, selfless angel that protected him for no other reason than to do the right thing.

You really don’t want to ruin his perception of you.

But you know who you are.

“Well, more exciting things to come,” Caesar weakly chimes, looking to the floor as he clears his throat.

An arm comes up to gesture to the large screen.

“You bravely risked your life to end this girl’s suffering, my dear, and we have the footage to prove it.”

The replay resumes - cutting to a shot of the three remaining careers gliding over the snow as they make way towards the cornucopia.

“In and out,” Sapphire says to the group, “I don’t want to leave the woods for too long.”

“Not like she can leave,” Titan mumbles.

“If she got her hands on some supplies, she could.”

“Where would Funny Girl find supplies? We got ‘em all.”

“Gotten them off someone else.”

Titan scoffs, “You think Funny Girl’s killing?”

“She’s made it this far. Who knows.”

Titan laughs, “Funny Girl can’t fight. She’s just playing shy.”

“Lover Boy’s got his backpack,” Sapphire says, “If he found her, those two could go anywhere.”

“Well if he found her, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Sapphire just sighs, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t look good. Her face is puffy, bags under her eyes. You know a girl who’s too exhausted to argue when you see it. Clearly Titan’s attempt to get her to rest was unsuccessful.

“I’m sorry!”

The careers immediately perk up at your distant cry.

Titan’s mouth curls into a sickening grin, flashing his razor sharp canines, a giddy laugh threatening to spill from his lips.

Even in Sapphire’s exhaustion, her lips stretch in a smile, those brilliant blue eyes flickering with a spark of gut-churning determination.

“I’m sorry!”

Even from the distance, the desperation in your voice is unmistakable.

The career pack is in a full sprint to the direction of your broken, cried apology, hollering in celebration that their arduous hunt is coming to a conclusion.

As they burst through the trees, the shot cuts to you, running on weak ankles to the spring quadrant.

“There she is!”

Konig shoots forward in his chair, taking your arms with him and forcing you to leave his chest. His brows tighten as he plants his elbow on his knee, the pads of his fingers reaching up to gnaw on his nails.

Eight breaks into the clearing, making a beeline for the careers.

“What did you do?!” Eight shouts at them, barreling right for them with his blade raised. It’s clear now he thinks the careers killed Willow, not you.

The three prime their weapons and when Eight catches up, he’s already swinging.

“Titan - get the brat!” Sapphire shouts, her tone leaving no room for argument as she blocks one of Eight’s swings.

It’s as if Titan was a dog growling on the end of Sapphire’s taut leash, itching to be released so he can maul his target - and Sapphire just unclasped his collar. There is no transition between his stand to a full sprint, both his pace and his strides at least three times as quick as yours.

Konig’s fingers are digging into his knees hard enough to turn his knuckles white, on the edge of his seat and glued to the screen, not so much as blinking.

Titan catches up, powerful hold wrapping around your waist and slamming you into the sand hard enough to steal your breath.

Konig flinches in his seat, his lips parting and pulling to the side to reveal grit teeth. As he watches Titan toy with you, pinning you to the ground and reveling in the power he holds, Konig’s fists are clenched so tight they’re shaking. Resting a gentle hand on his forearm does nothing to placate him - he’s locked on the screen.

“Why don’t you yell for him?”

“Fuck you!”

Really not your best comeback, but to be fair to you, you were running on steam and also thought you were about to die.

When Titan’s hand shoots out to choke you, Konig springs up from his seat and rips away from your hold on him.

He can’t watch anymore, turning to face the couch, his face pinched and a hand threading his hair with a tight grip.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” You whisper, reaching out to grab the rigid hand at his side.

“No,” He grits through strained breath.

He can’t look at you, the sounds of your desperate chokes for air blaring from the speakers and suffocating him second hand.

“It is, it’s okay,” You say with sloped brows, “I’m fine. I’m okay, it’s okay. He’s dead.”

It’s almost funny, Konig is so concerned with your fight with Titan - when it pales in comparison to the rest of your arena experiences.

Even the cold of the freezing nights in the forest were worse than this.

A gory bloodbath, the snap of a neck, a first hand lesson on the anatomy of the human muscular system, blinding and skewering Sapphire, Konig beating Titan to death with his own two hands - these are the moments that truly haunt you.

You give Konig’s trembling hand a squeeze. He doesn’t speak, he just shakes his head.

“Call for him!”

On screen you’re gasping for air, Titan forcing his demands through his clenched teeth.

The feed pauses, the crowd silent as Caesar starts.

“Konig, it’s clear this is upsetting for you to watch, mind sharing your thoughts?”

Konig’s eyes crease when he closes them, his free fist tight at his side. He doesn’t turn around, his shoulders raised.

“Hey, Caesar,” he grits.

Konig takes a breath.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You jump to your feet as the crowd erupts, both your arms shooting up in the air and taking one of Konig’s hands with you.

“Yes! Yes!”

You practically order the crowd to shower him in praise, waving your hands to beckon them to keep it up. You let go of Konig’s hand to grab his tensed arm and give him an excited, proud shake. He rolls his eyes, a half grin blooming on his face as he turns pliant to your jostling.

“Right,” Caesar says, clearing his throat and looking down.

They resume the feed, and you give Konig’s suit a tug, beckoning him to sit with you.

“Watch this part,” You whisper.

He finally looks to you, giving a swallow as he follows your wish.

“Call for him or I’ll make you!”

On screen - your spit-stained face pinches, and you send two fistfuls of sand directly into Titan’s face.

The audience explodes at your escape maneuver, and Konig hums at Titan’s cries of pain, giving that soft inaudible laugh that raises his shoulders. He looks to you, eyes crinkled with a pressed grin. He grabs a shoulder and rests his other hand on the crook of your neck, leaning down to press a long, messy kiss on your lips.

You hum into him, the crowd still cheering when he pulls you into him with an arm slung over your shoulder, squeezing your bicep.

“Wow, wow, wow!” Caesar says after the audience has settled, “Escaping the hands of such a powerful career - I think you managed to surprise every citizen of Panem!”

The audience gives a hearty applause in approval. Caesar leans in, voice suddenly serious.

“And I think we were all very, very touched to see you risk your life to keep Konig out of danger.”

Your brows crease as you turn to the audience, clapping in approval.

It takes you a moment to realize that Panem thinks you refrained from calling Konig’s name for his benefit, to keep him safe from Titan, which isn’t true at all.

You just didn’t want to submit to Titan’s demands, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of fulfilling his plan, didn’t want to give him whatever scrap of dignity you had left. It was a move of spite against Titan, not of care for Konig.

Guilt.

You have to look down at your lap as you try to swallow it - because saving Konig from Titan was not a thought that even crossed your mind.

You couldn’t even think of Konig when you knew Titan wanted to kill him. Konig, the boy who killed Titan with his two hands for even daring to lay a hand on you.

Konig squeezes you tight and plants a kiss on your forehead, the audience cooing at his adoration for you.

Guilt.

When your unearned praise dies down, Caesar continues.

“It’s truly beautiful what you two have.”

You don’t care, Caesar.

You don’t care what anyone in the Capitol thinks of you and Konig. You wish your relationship wasn’t able to be perceived at all, actually - not out of shame, but because you hate how everyone in Panem has their grubby little hands all over your romance, something so personal and intimate and fresh to you.

The people of Panem have had more time to process your new relationship than you have.

The feed shows you collapsing into the grass, cutting to the part where District Eight sent you the bread, eventually showing you picking up the ribbon, tying it around your wrist.

“I have to ask, my dear,” Caesar says, “You’ve mentioned that the ribbon means a lot to you, can you share with us the significance of this ribbon?”

To be honest, you really don’t have a reason for why you kept the ribbon, or why it means so much to you. You just know it does.

You know it’s symbolic, but for what?

Is it a reminder of Willow, the girl you feel an immense connection to, even though you just assigned her name to her less than an hour ago and never shared a word with?

Is it the unification of two districts forced to be pit against each other?

Is it because it is a token of the district who went against all the standards to thank a girl who treated their tribute with human decency - the opposite of what the games are about?

Why does this ribbon mean so much to you?

You really don’t know. But you do know you can’t be snarky here - this moment is important, and you need to get this right.

Your mouth has gone dry again, and you look to your lap.

“I- uh-“

You clear your throat, and Konig gives you a squeeze.

“It just does,” You say, not harshly, but genuinely.

You turn your head to find a camera and speak into it. You’re talking to District Eight now, not the audience, not to Caesar.

“I don’t know why it means so much to me, but I know that I am grateful for the gifts. I am grateful that you helped me put an end to her suffering.”

Your voice cracks.

“And I am sorry for your loss.”

The audience gives a soft applause, and you have to look down at your lap again.

“Wow,” Caesar says, his voice gentle, “Beautifully spoken.”

He’s so full of shit, it actually makes you scoff.

You know your words aren’t striking the proper emotion, because you haven’t even had the opportunity to digest them yourself. To assign words to the attachment you have to your ribbon, to your feelings about Willow, Eight, his girlfriend, about his unwavering dedication and her brutal end and a district who thanked you for making a life-threatening sacrifice.

“Enough about you, my dear, let’s take a look at what Konig was up to in the meantime.”

Eight’s cannon woke him up with a start, a cloud of sand wafting up with him as he shoots to a sit. A hand comes up to his hood, and he lets out a long sigh.

Just by looking at his eyes through his hood, you can tell it’s all catching up with him. The restless nights, his aching body, the instinctual fear.

The jump the sun makes when the feed cuts suggests he laid unmoving in the sand for hours. Price caves once again, sending him food and water.

When he finally gets to his feet, he makes slow, unsteady steps through the desert. To see him so weakened makes your heart throb in your chest, because it reminds you of the last time you saw him stumble, the last time you saw him drained of life.

You swallow, looking down to your fidgeting fingers, smoothing along the pleats of your dress.

It’s your turn to wish you could have been there for him. You get it now, how hard it is knowing the one you love struggled and you were useless to help.

Konig’s eyes are drowsy, his steps sluggish, even with One’s shoe attachments.

Next to you on the couch, all of Panem watching him in this state, Konig’s head is hung, looking to his shoes in shame, the pads of fingers swirling together.

You nuzzle your head into his shoulder and give him a squeeze.

I’m here now.

The effects of the spiky plants in the desert, cacti as Caesar calls them, were severely downplayed by Konig.

Konig trips over his own boot and falls forward, weak hands shooting out to brace himself, his palm catching a handful of needles. He winces, a strangled grunt leaving him as he rips his hand back to his chest.

He rolls over in the sand, propping himself up on his backpack to inspect his palm. Tiny beads of blood smear between his skin and the perforated temperature suit.

He lets out a grunt of defeat and throws his arm to the sand. His breaths are heaved, his chest struggling to work in breaths, eyes pinching shut behind his hood.

When he brings his hand to his face again, it’s swollen and as black as the ooze that dripped from the ginkgo petals and swallowed you whole during your hallucinations. The color soaks into his veins and up his forearm in inky streaks.

He lets out a strained whine, his other hand trembling as he goes in to touch the source of the wound. The gentlest touch has him wailing out in pain, his cries tighten your chest and wring your heart out.

He lies on the desert sand, his infection getting worse by the second. It spreads up his bicep, swallowing his entire arm until he can’t even move it. He’s crying, but the tears that spill from his eyes are not normal tears. Whatever is dripping from his eyes is bleaching his hood, streaks of color pulling up on the black fabric.

The infection creeps up his shoulders, his collarbones, sucking what little strength he has left from him.

He’s given up.

You can see it, in his eyes. He knows he’s about to die.

“Just tell her I love her,” He whispers to the arid desert air, his voice hoarse and barely loud enough to carry, “Just make sure she knows I love her.”

A shaky finger comes up to swipe away the tears threatening to spill from your eyeline, but you are powerless against the squeak that leaves the back of your throat.

You can practically hear Price’s eye roll from the mentor’s suite, and before the infection can spread to his other arm, a parachute comes down from the sky and lands inches from him.

He’s so weak he can hardly get the canister open. Grunting and hitting it against the sand in frustration. His shaking fingers pop it open to reveal a small syringe filled with a clear liquid, a tiny needle at the end.

Konig lets out another grunt as he jams the needle into his dead bicep, and shortly after succumbs to either exhaustion or the pain, maybe both, and passes out propped up on his backpack.

“That looked pretty painful,” Caesar says, “How do you feel after overcoming such adversity?”

Konig shrugs his shoulders at him, a slight shake in his head and lips bunched in annoyance.

Caesar directs the question to you, and you can’t bite your tongue.

“How do I feel after watching Konig nearly die from a cacti?”

“Cactus.”

You pause, narrowing your eyes at Caesar and offering an obnoxious suck of your teeth.

“Cact-you,” You say.

You and Caesar stay locked on each other for a moment before you shrug.

“Feels great, Caesar.”

The audience seems to find your annoyance and sarcasm amusing.

“Well, the fun doesn’t stop there,” Caesar says, “Looks like you woke up to some trouble too.”

Konig’s eyes roll, and the feed resumes.

You had not encountered any mutts in the arena, but Konig was not as lucky.

He wakes long after the sun has gone down to find himself surrounded.

Genetically modified scorpions, ten to twenty of them, the size of large dogs and equipped with bulbous tails that taper into razor sharp hooks. Exoskeletons designed to be nearly impenetrable, serrated claws itching to tear apart flesh.

Konig’s mumbling curses under his breath, springing to weak legs, stumbling through the sand. The scorpions hiss at him, curling their wicked tails, as if beckoning him to come closer.

Konig’s head is ducked, body low as he swivels on his feet, the handle of Eleven’s scythe in a tight grip at his side.

His mind has drawn a blank - he’s panicking.

They close in on him, their spider-like legs dancing over the sand as they hiss at him, snapping their claws and curling their tails.

His darting eyes stop on the cactus, and he’s got it.

There’s no hesitation, his arm winds back entirely, using all of his strength to cut clean through the base. Ten feet of poisonous spikes comes crashing down, a flood of pulpy water pouring at Konig’s feet. It lands on one of the scorpions, giving him a break in the circle of mutts to make his escape.

When one of the scorpions cries out, both you and Konig freeze, shoulders tensed on the couch.

It’s your voice.

Your haunting wails recorded during your nightmares, crying out Konig’s name.

On screen, Konig whips his head around, stumbling on the sand as he looks in the direction of your cry. He trips, his hands springing up to brace himself before he hits the ground.

The nearest scorpion closes in on him, and shortly after Konig’s back on his feet and working up to a sprint, the mutt’s serrated claws snap at and tear through the flesh of his calf. Your brows slope at Konig’s cry of pain, your hand coming up to your racing heart.

He’s limping through the desert now, blood gushing down the back of his leg and splattering on the grains of sand.

The scorpions are following him, not struggling to keep up now that he’s injured.

All of them, crying out in your voice, crying out his name, scared and pleading, desperate and helpless. Both on screen and now, Konig’s hands shoot up to his ears to block out the overlapping wails.

He’s curled up next to you on the couch as you rub your palm over his button down and tie.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m fine, it was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.”

“No,” He objects through a grit, his eyes pinching shut.

“Don’t listen to it, just listen to me. I’m fine, it was just a nightmare. I’m okay, I’m right here.”

He throws himself into your arms, wrapping around you and squeezing hard enough to steal your breath, his stubble scraping against you as he buries his face into your neck.

You rub his back, looking over his head to watch the screen over his shoulder.

He straggles through the desert, his leg threatening to give out under the pain of each stride, but he doesn’t stop. He’s scrambling to get away from your cries.

This is when he finds the oasis. The scorpions stop at what appears to be an invisible circle of safety looping the ring of trees. Konig doesn’t look back until he’s in the middle of the pool of water, until the waterfall drowns out the scorpion’s cries. He’s heaving and struggling to stay afloat with his injury and the weight of his soaked backpack. He rips off his hood, pulling in deep breaths of air as he flails.

Once the scorpions lose interest, he swims to where his toes can touch, taking a moment to catch his breath.

He lets out a cry, loud and unrestrained - not from pain, no, this is a cry of pure frustration, the cry of a boy pushed to his limit. He shakes his head, his hair sending water droplets flinging in all directions, fists splashing in the water as he tries to work out the emotions suffocating him.

Konig is still in your arms and avoiding the screen, sunk in on himself, a hand coming up to cover his red face.

You’re not judging him. You get it. In fact, you just threw a nationwide temper tantrum in front of all of Panem. Basically challenged the whole country with a one-girl rebellion because you thought he was dead.

Oh, shit.

He thought you were dead.

Neither of you watched the faces of the fallen, you because you didn’t want to see Willow’s face and him because he’d passed out after the cactus. Surely he thought those screams were recorded not during a nightmare, but during your brutal end. A brutal end where you screamed and cried and pleaded for Konig’s help, and he failed to save you.

When enough time has passed and he deems it safe, Konig drags himself to shore and lies defeated in the wet sand, deep, brilliant red oozing generously from his calf. Tears stream down his puffy, pale face, his breaths choppy and his chest stuttering.

The sight is enough to bring tears in your eyes, your lower lip pulling between your teeth.

You squeeze Konig tight, the hand you rest on his back raising to scratch his scalp and simultaneously shield him from the world.

On screen, Konig digs into One’s soaked backpack, and retrieves the canister of medicine to tend to his wound.

The feed pauses, and you give Caesar a look that would have made a king’s knees buckle.

‘Try it, Caesar. If you even dare utter a word in his direction, I will grab you by your ponytail and beat your ass in front of all of Panem.’

He receives the message loud and clear, and speaks into the audience while you scratch Konig’s hair, cooing reassurance into his ear in between soft kisses on his head.

Caesar rambles on about Konig’s escape maneuver, praising the design of the scorpions, going on about how your screams were just such a heart wrenching thing for Konig to endure.

When the feed resumes, Konig’s wound is tended to, his face no longer pained, but hollow. He just lies face up in the sand, bags under his eyes and gaze fixed to the night sky. Numb, motionless.

Tired.

Tears stream down his temples, and he has no motivation to wipe them away. He gets no rest the night before the finale.

Just lies in the sand, unmoving.

Price caves and sends him more food, hoping that he’ll eat without the arduous task of fishing or scavenging, but he doesn’t eat.

The feed cuts, skipping to when he finally finds the will to move.

You know it well.

The rage, he’s using his anger to push through, to survive. It shows in every movement he makes, too forceful and aggressive. Yanking and slamming and grunting through grit teeth at everything he comes in contact with. It’s a stark contrast to his usually reserved demeanor.

Weirdly, it’s working for you.

Which does make you feel bad, since he’s clearly in distress, both on screen and now, but you can’t help it. Those seething hormones that don’t know their place.

The feed pauses, and Caesar makes his stupid little commentary.

“Now, this next part here, we really get to see some action from Konig.”

The feed resumes, having cut to morning. Konig has left the oasis, heading back to the heart of the arena with forceful steps.

“Please don’t watch,” Konig mutters into your neck, his words just a low vibration against your skin.

Your brows pinch and your lips part, pausing your soothing rubs.

“Okay,” You whisper. You rest your cheek on his head and close your eyes, starting up the back rubs again. He squeezes you a little tighter, nestling into you, his shaky breaths tickling the skin of your neck.

You have to watch.

Your eyes instinctually open at the sound of Konig in conflict, and once they’re on screen you can’t bring yourself to rip them away.

The boy from Four, one of the particularly bigger volunteer tributes, holds out his arms, inviting Konig to a confrontation. He eggs him on with some taunts, and Konig doesn’t so much break his pace.

You already know the ending, not just because Konig is sitting right next to you, a victor, but because the boy from four is decked head to toe in the gear Konig wore at the finale.

It does not deter Konig. He doesn’t evade. In fact, he seems almost eager to fight, picking up into a run.

Konig rams his shoulder square into his front, entirely ignoring the knife that slashes into his bicep. Four is knocked back into the sand, the impact stealing the breath from him.

With each hit Konig lands to Four’s face, Titan’s caved-in head pulses in front of your eyes.

Konig pulls away from your embrace to look up at you, his brows sloped, a glint of betrayal in those worried eyes. Your lips part to give him an apology for watching, but you can get the words out. Between flashes of Titan steadily turned to pulp, choking the breath from you beyond the grave, it takes you right back to the last time Konig looked at you in betrayal, pale and almost entirely drained of life.

The nausea is bubbling up again, and you have to pinch your eyes shut. You blindly nudge into him, burying your face in his shoulder while you try to block everything out.

You don’t watch, but you know Four didn’t die. His cannon doesn’t go off, only knocked unconscious and injured at Konig’s hand.

When you find the screen again, Konig’s wearing Four’s gear back at the oasis, his bicep fully healed. He’s propped up against a tree, his knees pulled to his chest, head in his hands, staring blankly at the sand.

The feed pauses, and Caesar starts up.

“I have to know, Konig, what were you feeling in this moment?”

Konig loosens the embrace and finds Caesar. He shrugs, and says nothing.

“Well then. Let’s take a break from the intense stuff, and let’s see what our lovely lady was doing in the meantime.”

You roll your eyes, and the audience gushes over your crown of petals, your tiny snow-family.

Konig seems to find it endearing, too. He relaxes a bit in your hold, a soft hum vibrating your skin as you scratch his hair.

“Now,” Caesar says, “Before we get into a truly spectacular finale, I’d like to bring someone on stage for a chat.”

As you and Konig sit straight, the crowd whispers to themselves as they try and guess who it is.

“The man who pulled off the impossible, the mastermind behind it all, Mentor - John - Price!”

The crowd explodes into applause, and you turn your head to watch Price walk out on stage, waving a hand loosely at the crowd.

You’re incredibly relieved to see him, actually. It’s clear that you and Konig are entirely lost on this couch, and Price’s experience and his ever-sturdy nature will surely be a crutch for you both. You’re hoping he’ll take the spotlight off of you and Konig for a while.

Before Price sits, he leans down and simultaneously ruffles both you and Konig’s hair with a chuckle.

“How’s my poker face?” He asks with a laugh.

You and Konig sputter, rolling your eyes at him, but you can’t help the half-grin that peeks through.

Price takes a seat on the sofa next to you, giving you a hearty pat on the back before he slings his arms over either side of the back of the couch.

“Wow, wow, wow!” Caesar exclaims, “What an honor it is to have you with us today. You truly pulled off the strategy of the century!”

Price gives a single nod, a raise of his brows that hardens the lines on his forehead.

“Tell us, how did you come up with such a plan?”

Price scratches his temple and gives a light grunt before he gestures to Konig.

“Boy liked the girl. Practically did the work for me.”

The audience laughs as Konig’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck.

Caesar crosses his legs and leans in, “And at what point did you realize Konig was in love with her?”

Price snorts, a small sly smile on his face.

“Took me about an hour.”

The audience laughs as Konig turns pink at your side. Your cheeks flush with heat as well, once again embarrassed it took you so long to notice the obvious.

You were under a lot of pressure, okay?

“For those of us who don’t know, I’d like to take the opportunity to revisit your victory.”

Price just grunts, and you and Konig look to each other with furrowed brows.

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind - what Price’s games looked like. How he pulled off a feat that no one from District Nine but you and Konig have been able to recreate since.

Judging by the look on Konig’s face, this is the first time he’s considered it too.

Instantly you’re aching to know.

They start with the reaping of the girl tribute from District Nine, a girl named Summer. She’s average in stature, a headful of wavy, miskept hair frames her face.

For a moment, she is stunned, jaw tight and a slight sway in her feet. Round, deep brown eyes are fully blown, staring straight ahead.

She blinks twice, and her face relaxes, a scoff from lips that pull into a devilish smile. Her eyes roll as she elbows her way through the crowd, striding up to stage before the peacekeepers can even get their hands on her.

Summer hauls herself up on stage and rips the microphone from the escort’s hands. Her arm extends, swatting away the escort’s attempts to take back the microphone by alternating planting her palm into her face and chest. Their mild altercation broadcasts over the speakers - grunts, hissed demands, and almost comical shrieks of mic feedback.

Eventually the escort gives up with a grunt of annoyance.

Summer’s laugh echoes throughout the speakers, and she takes a few slow, bouncing strides across the stage, her back sloped in an irreverent lean, strolling leisurely in front of the crowd. She throws her free arm into the air and lets out a sharp ‘Wooo!’

“I just want to say, I mean - what an honor it is to be the tribute of District Nine.”

Her sarcasm slips from her tongue like it’s her native language, her body slack and dipping a shoulder towards the crowd.

“Truly!” She laughs again, spinning on light feet, projecting faux verve, “It is such an honor to sacrifice the wonderful life the Capitol has graciously offered me so far.”

The escort approaches and tries to swipe for the microphone again, but Summer’s shin catches across the escort’s ankles mid-stride, causing her to trip and crash to the ground with a ridiculously dramatic cry.

The crowd actually laughs at this, which is jarring, because no one ever laughs at a reaping.

Summer ignores the escort's aggravated chirping as she continues with a wide smile.

“A life of harvesting grain on an empty stomach, I mean, I really am giving up something special, aren’t I folks?”

Summer laughs again, but it’s interrupted by a shout in the crowd.

“I volunteer!”

Summer’s face falls at once, her jaw tightening. Her lighthearted, sarcastic tone sheds the moment she hears the voice.

“No!” She objects, shaking her head and pointing into the crowd, “No he doesn’t!”

The camera finds the source of the disruption, shoving his way through the crowd with familiar sturdy arms.

Price volunteered.

Your brows furrow, your head turning to find Price on the couch next to you.

He doesn’t look at you. He keeps his eyes on the screen, but you know he can feel your stare. His jaw cocks, his lips fold in, and he gives a nearly indistinguishable nod.

“Johnny!” Summer grits, her tone that of a parent pushed to her limit as they scold a misbehaving child, “Get back in the crowd, you fucking moron!”

Price trips over himself as he makes his way to her. He tries to crawl up the middle of the stage, but Summer sticks her foot out, pressing the sole of her shoe to his chest to keep him from pulling himself up.

“Stop it! Get back!” She grunts, but his sturdy arms pull themselves up to stage regardless of her shoves and objections.

Summer drops the microphone, the entire audience jumping at the ear-piercing thud that echoes through the speakers. She puts her hands on his shoulders, and for a moment the two wrestle as she froths at him.

“Take it back! Take it back!”

The peacekeepers intervene and rip the two apart, dragging them back with tight grips on the crook of their elbows.

Price isn’t fighting the peacekeeper’s hold, but Summer’s kicking her feet, thrashing ruthlessly against the restraint. Her words are slathered with fury, loud enough for the back of the crowd to hear even without the microphone.

“You fucking idiot, Johnny! What did you do?! What did you do?! You killed yourself, Johnny! You killed yourself!”

Price is panting, chest heaving as his bright blue eyes soak in her rage.

When the escort finally restores order, she has the two shake hands. Summer doesn’t take her glare off Price the entire time. She practically smacks his hand, squeezing him with a deathly grip, a twist in her lips as she grumbles under her breath. Price just swallows, staring at her with sad eyes as he lets her assault his hand.

You hate to admit it, the thought itself making your stomach turn, but Price was kind of good-looking at your age.

While his blue eyes are still hooded, they’re not narrowed into his constant squint. Distressed in this moment, but overall his eyes are brighter, wider, full of life. His face isn’t harshened with fine lines, and instead of the intense facial hair he wears now, he only has faint stubble along his jaw. Price is strong as you know him, but his younger self seems to be entirely fit, a young man primed with youth and strengthened from a life of fieldwork.

The year Price competed in the games, the arena was truly foreign, you don’t recognize a single plant or tree that makes up the lush jungle. The trees fork in odd places, their leaves awkwardly fanned. A few are reminiscent of the trees you saw at the oasis, puffs of leaves only at the very top of their branches, but even that comparison is a stretch. Some of the flora carry leaves bigger than your entire body. Plants that you’d describe as large ferns swallow the jungle floor, camouflaging only a few feet into the tree line. Massive bones scatter the jungle, bones much larger than any animal you’ve ever seen. In many places the jungle drops off into truly stunning valleys teeming with huge, thick-stemmed flowers. Rivers carve out the land, sidewinding through the valleys.

A Jurassic landscape, they call it.

Price and Summer are locked onto each other the entirety of the countdown. When the gong sounds, they don’t hesitate to dart for each other, each of them working up to a full sprint the moment their boots leave the pedestals. They link hands at the center of the brutal bloodbath, blind to the gory altercations surrounding them. As soon as their hands are locked they make a run for the jungle, quickly disappearing into thick foliage.

They skip a lot of the games, and show the particularly exciting moments Price and Summer went through.

For the circumstances, the tone between them is light, smiling and joking as they dredge through the jungle. They’re playing a game to see who can catch the insides of a jungle nut in their mouth from the highest toss straight up in the air.

Price, leading the way, gets stuck mid-stride, as if his boot had been glued to the jungle floor. He looks down, and immediately his palms shoot out to shove Summer back in the dirt.

“What-”

Summer’s eyes widen when she sees the pit of thick sand swallowing Price’s boots.

Price panics, jerking his legs to free himself, but it’s only making it worse. The more he thrashes, the quicker the pool of sand climbs up his legs. Summer curses, kicking to her feet and stepping to the edge of the pit.

“Stop!” She yells, her fingers a blur as she shakes her palms at him, “Stop moving, Johnny! Grab my hand!”

He stills as he looks at her, heavy breaths leaving parted lips and wide eyes pooled with fear. His knuckles turn white the moment he latches to her wrists.

Summer grunts through clenched, bared teeth and leans back, every muscle shaking as her entire body weight pulls on his arms. The heels of her boots dig into the jungle floor, but Price doesn’t budge.

“Ow, ow!” He yells, “Gonna break my arms!”

“Oh, is that a worse alternative to dying?!” Summer spits.

“Save now, fight later!” He grunts.

“Just- stay still!” She says, eyes frantically darting around.

She locks onto one of the trees, a nearly matured sapling with a long, skinny, branchless trunk that stretches well above Summer’s head.

“Got it, I fucking got it, Johnny!” She shouts with excited revelation, giving herself a running start before she jumps up to grab the trunk as high as she can. Her legs fold around the tree, climbing hand over hand to shimmy herself up. When the sapling begins to curl, she jerks her body weight in the direction of Price, unwrapping her legs and dangling off the trunk until the tip of her toes touch the ground.

“Grab it!” Summer hisses, a grunt caught in the back of her throat as she holds down the spring-loaded tree.

Price, now submerged to his diaphragm, scrambles for the sapling, his arms getting lost in the sprouts of leaves at the very top of the odd tree.

“Got it!”

“Hang on tight!” She hisses before releasing the tree, falling backwards into the dirt.

The tree springs up a few feet in the absence of her weight and yanks Price from the sand to his mid-thigh. Summer’s already on her feet, scrambling to the edge of the pit to wrap her arms around Price’s core, yanking to help work him free as he climbs up the sapling with shaking arms.

Once the sand spits out the tops of his boots, he pops free, the tree slingshotting back into place and almost taking him with it. He’s dragged into Summer, both of them crashing to the ground with a thud.

Summer’s eyes pinch shut and she lets out a drawn-out, low groan under his weight.

Price heaves a breathless, relieved laugh, planting his palms in the dirt to prop himself up, smiling down at Summer.

“So,” Price says in between heavy breaths, “Want to finish that fight?”

Summer gives an amused hum behind a grin, her eyelids fluttering. She snatches him by the collar of his shirt with two fingers and pulls him in until his face is inches from hers. A sly grin spreads thick on her face, voice low and as smooth as silk.

“Kiss first, fight later.”

“Deal.”

When Summer closes the gap and plants a long kiss on his lips, you have to look down at your lap, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

Because you already know how this one ends.

The feed cuts to a shot of Summer and Price at the border of the jungle, a rock ledge next to a fifty-foot cliff overlooking a truly gorgeous valley. They’re both inspecting bushes of fruit, none of which you recognize.

“I don’t know, if I had to place my bets, I’m going with this weird one,” Summer says as she pats a fruit the size of her head, its skin a deep purple and knotted with bumps.

“Really?” Price asks, tucking his walking stick into his armpit, “Betting your life on the weird one?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Summer digs with a teasing, but slightly pointed tongue.

Price huffs, lacking defense.

He inspects a curved, green fruit the size of his hand, running his thumb along its grains.

“I like this one,” He says, “Got a good feel to it.”

Summer narrows her eyes at him, that sly grin making a reappearance.

“I’ll test yours if you test mine,” She goads.

Price lets out a huff, “Alright, fine. Loser dies.”

“Deal.”

They switch fruits, and dig in.

“Oh, that’s it,” Summer says with a groan, “Good pick, Johnny.”

Price speaks through a mouthful, juice dripping down his chin and staining his chin maroon.

“Can’t say, I’m hungry enough to think dirt tastes good.”

He takes another bite, sucking out the fruit’s insides.

“Johnny,” Summer says carefully.

“No, no, it’s good,” He reassures her, one of his palms blindly gesturing in her direction.

“Johnny,” Summer repeats, her voice low with a slight waver stitched in.

“Yeah?”

Price licks his fingers, and turns to Summer when he doesn’t get an answer.

“Oh, f-!” Price springs to his feet, stumbling backwards with a flail.

“Sh, sh, sh!” Summer hushes with a soft wince, “Just be calm - Don’t freak out.”

A massive snake with a head the size of a loaf of bread, a body as thick as a tree trunk, has crept from a tree above the fruit bushes. Its scales slide around the back of Summer’s neck, slithering leisurely down her shoulder and her front.

“What do I do?!” Price whispers frantically.

“Relax,” The word rides one of Summer’s exhales as she closes her eyes.

You’re not sure if she’s talking to herself or Price.

“Just let me think,” She says quietly.

The python moves slow, snaking around her core like a sash, wrinkling the fabric of her shirt as it curiously explores her.

Summer’s face pinches - she’s trying to come up with a plan but her focus is split between steadying the rise and fall of her chest and keeping herself from panicking.

“So cold,” Summer whispers under her breath as she suppresses a shiver, “Feels so fucking weird.”

Price takes a few slow steps forward, arms puffed out at his sides and his back hunched over.

“Johnny,” Summer warns.

Price lowers himself to a squat, picking up the purple fruit with careful hands.

“Johnny,” Summer tries again with a draw, but with concern to angering the snake coiling around her, her voice isn’t as forceful as she would have liked it to be.

His brows furrow, and a hand comes up with a wave of annoyance.

“I got it, Trouble.”

Price gets his boots in front of her crossed legs, leaning down and carefully extending the fruit in the direction of the snake’s face.

“What are you doing?” Summer grits.

Price ignores her, cooing to the snake.

“Oh, what’s this?” He says softly, animated and affectionate, the way one would speak to a beloved pet.

The snake’s tongue flicks out, it’s head perking up from Summer’s thigh.

“Yeah, buddy, check this out,” Price coos, “You don’t want her, you want this thing.”

“Run, Johnny,” Summer hisses through clenched teeth.

“Smells good, don’t it?” Price says to the snake, ignoring Summer’s demands.

The snake’s tongue flicks from its mouth furiously, hunting down the fresh, pungent scent of the purple fruit, juice still dripping from the taken bite.

The snake double back on itself, peeling back from Summer’s stomach, and Price gives a drawn out, low, “Yeah-heh-heah.”

Price takes careful steps, shifting to Summer’s side, delicately guiding the snake to unwrap from her core.

Price chuckles, “That’s it.”

When the snake is only draped over her shoulders, Price grits to Summer.

“Run, Trouble, Run!”

With a grunt, Summer shoves the snake from her shoulders to get away from its slimy scales.

The snake did not like this maneuver one bit.

With a deafening hiss, another fifteen feet of tail whips from the jungle, the end coiling around Summer’s ankle in less than a second, pulling her foot out from under her. Summer slams face first into the ground, busting her chin open on the rock ledge.

At the same time, the snake’s jaw unhinges, its lips peeling open well below where the corner of its mouth should be, parting down the sides of its body to reveal an opening large enough to effortlessly swallow a full grown man whole with one bite. Its razor sharp fangs start at a size you’d expect at the front of its mouth, and increase in size down its unfurled body until they’re as big as Price’s forearm.

Price screams as he stares into the snake’s gaped innards displayed in clear threat while Summer desperately claws at plants on the jungle floor. Her shirt bunching up her torso as she’s dragged on her front by the snake’s tail. Price flings himself back when the snake’s uncanny mouth closes with a snap like a whip in his direction. Summer flips over on her front, folding her core to peel the tail from her ankle, but she’s no match for its deadly grip.

As Price moves away, Summer is effortlessly lifted from the ground, flailing her limbs once airborne. The snake fully unfurls its mouth towards the sky, its tail curling to hover Summer over its gaped throat. She screams and kicks suspended in the air, dangling helplessly as she stares into the snake’s mouth.

“Hey!” Price yells from off screen.

The purple fruit smacks the snake’s neck with an almost comedic wet slap.

The snake’s mouth snaps shut beneath Summer, its head whipping to the side, venomous eyes locking onto Price. Summer is slammed against the rock ledge, expelling all of the air from her lungs with a guttural wheeze as the snake slithers with unnatural speed towards Price. A choppy groan leaves Summer, dragged across the rock ledge in the snake’s wake as Price trembles, taking uneasy steps backward as he points his meager walking stick in the direction of the snake.

The snake’s already unfurled its terrifying mouth again, priming to swallow him with a gut-churning hiss, but it does not deter Price from launching himself into the snake’s mouth, jamming the thick branch vertically between the bottom and the roof of its mouth.

The snake lets out a cry as it tries to snap its jaw around Price, but instead pierces the walking stick through the roof of its mouth.

The snake wails, ripping away from Price and releasing Summer as it desperately shakes its head to rid the wedge propping its jaw open. Price boots fumble along the rock as he makes a run for Summer, moaning in pain on the ground.

Price skids to a stop before leaning over and pulling her up with sturdy arms and a grunt. Her wobbly legs come to a stand while Price slings her arms over his shoulders, half-dragging her as they stumble through the jungle.

When the two finally give out, Summer collapses to her knees and Price doubles over, his hands on his thighs and spitting his exhaustion into the dirt.

As they catch their heaving breaths, Price lets out a huff.

“Betting on the weird one worked for ya, did it?”

Summer puts two shaky palms to the jungle floor and lowers herself onto her side with a wince.

“You tell me,” She says after a long breath, resting her cheek on her bicep, smearing her arm with the blood of her split chin.

Price laughs again, lying down next to her.

A tightly pressed smile blooms on Summer’s face. Her eyes close, cheeks bunching with a glow that can be seen even under the blood and dirt. Her voice is soft when she speaks to the jungle floor.

“You’re the biggest idiot I know.”

Price hums.

“Well, I can’t help that.”

He touches the pad of his finger to the tip of her nose, a cheeky, goofy grin on his face.

“You’re the one who picked the biggest idiot you know.”

She scoffs, loosely swatting at him, but her hand lingers on his chest, her fingers toying with the slack fabric on the front of his shirt.

“Tell me about it,” She says with a wistful sigh.

You carefully turn your head to get a discreet glimpse of Price on the couch next to you. His elbows are propped up on his knees, leaning forward in his spot. His eyes are relaxed, lost in the rerun. Wearing the outline of a smile that matches Summer’s and the side of his index finger absentmindedly stroking his beard.

Your heart is heavy in your chest and your throat has gone sore and dry, you have to look away from him.

Because you know how this one ends.

When the footage cuts, they show Price and Summer setting up camp in a dilapidated skull the size of a modest room, a snug but cozy fit for two. Whatever animal it came from must have been massive, and had a powerful, flesh-eating jaw. The entrance to their hideout, the mouth of the once creature, is lined with rows of teeth, each tooth the length of Summer’s palm. The skull has been partially overtaken by time and foliage, dirt filthying the yellowish white bone, moss and vines climbing up the holes along the roof of the skull.

Inside the mouth, Summer’s resting on her back on a hand-gathered bed of moss, her elbows bent to cradle her head in her palms. Price is curled up at her side, a sturdy arm slung over her waist, nestled into her shoulder. He snores lightly into her neck as she keeps watch, staring through a hole in the roof of their skull, watching the stars through the leaves of the nearby trees.

Something shakes the jungle, every last tree and leaf on the foliage disturbed as the world rumbles for just a second.

“What’s’it?” Price slurs as he opens his eyes, a deep inhale of morning as he lifts his head to find Summer’s worried face.

It happens again, something shakes the ground beneath them, the both of them jostled for a brief stint.

“The fuck is that?” Summer whispers to him, her brows pinched.

“Don’ know, jus’ woke up,” He mumbles with a slur, voice low with annoyance and sleep.

They flinch and cling to each other when it happens again, their heads swiveling as they try to piece together what’s happening.

“Earthquake?” Summer asks.

Something gives a deafening, screeching roar, booming in the distant forest, ripping a gasp from both of them. Their fingernails are digging into each other, huddled in a ball of tense limbs as they wait for threat.

The thuds turn rhythmic, the entire jungle vibrating with tremendous force.

A shallow breath leaves Price when a tribute screams in the distance.

Both of their mouths are parted, locked onto each other before they peer out of the skull, unable to see beyond the foliage.

The speed increases, the spaced out jostles quickly becoming one continuous rumble. It’s getting closer, intensifying with each beat.

“What do we do?!” Price shouts.

Summer just shakes her head, face slack with fear. The rumbling stops, and the tribute screams pick up in its absence.

The truly harrowing, bone-chilling roar cuts through the jungle again, both Summer and Price jumping from their skin, arms tensing around each other.

A cannon fires.

For minutes the jungle settles, but the two don’t dare break away from each other, holding each other close.

They both flinch when the thuds start up again, one after another, the entire jungle quaking. It’s getting closer, the two have to lower themselves on their hands and knees to keep from being tossed around.

It is a truly terrifying beast, the ultimate predator.

The beast is well over the size of a building, with flesh like a lizard’s. Two powerful, bird-like legs support a body that must be four stories wide, its feet lined with killer claws. A thick neck supports a head the size of a car and two useless arms hang from its front. Half of its body is just a massive tail balancing out the weight of its huge head, thick near its body and thinning out to a point twenty feet away.

When the beast gives a powerful roar, its screeched breath rustles nearby leaves, displaying its powerful jaws far and wide.

Summer blinks, and her gaze flits to the row of teeth at the entrance of their hideout, and she’s coming to the haunting realization that her and Price would be a snug, but cozy fit inside the mouth of the beast. It cross the jungle what must be only fifty yards from Price and Summer, their entire world becoming a nauseating blur.

The two flinch when the extreme force causes the jaws of their hideout to snap shut, trapping them in the skull.

The two watch through the nostril openings until the beast is long lost to the jungle.

“Okay,” Summer draws out a long sigh, closing her eyes, “Hated that.”

“Not a holiday for me, either.”

“Let’s make a deal,” Summer’s fist jams a thumb in the direction of the beast, “We stay far away from that thing.”

“No?” Price asks with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, “I was thinking we put a collar on ‘em and keep ‘em as a pet.”

Summer snorts.

“Fine, but I’m not going to get stuck taking care of it. You have to clean up after it.”

Price’s eyes crinkle when he smiles at her.

“Deal.”

When the feed cuts again, it’s clear a good chunk of time has passed. The hideout is camouflaged, they’ve rigged the skull’s jaw open with a pulley, and the two managed to get their hands on some modest supplies - some rope and knives.

Price and Summer are digging into a nice bounty of fruit and the meat of a jungle creature, cooked over some now extinguished embers. They’re eating in a comfortable silence, resting their backs against the skull with their legs stretched out. It’s clear they’re both exhausted.

Heavy eyelids shoot open when voices in the jungle near.

“I can smell it, it was definitely over here.”

“Well, it’s not anymore. They’re long gone.”

Two careers, slicing their weapons through vines and overgrown plants, hunting for the smoke from Summer and Price’s campfire.

“Lower district rats prol’ly too stupid to clear out.”

Summer’s face twists, a snarl tugging on her lips. Price shakes his head at her, his eyes wide and lips folded in.

“We can look around for a little.”

“Or we can look until we get to spill some rat blood.”

With pointed brows and a growl threatening to leave her, Summer makes a ring with her index finger and her thumb. She goes to place it in her mouth, but Price snatches her wrist and slaps a hand over her mouth, prompting Summer to muffle objections into his palm.

Summer starts swinging at him as she tries to shake away her muzzle, but Price positions himself behind her, pressing her back to his chest and keeping her secure between his legs as she trashes in his hold until the careers move on.

When Price loosens his grip, she shoves him away.

“What is wrong with you?” He hisses, “Are you nuts?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! How can you just sit by after hearing their bullshit all week?”

“Because I’m not trying to get myself killed!”

“Well then you shouldn’t have volunteered, should ya’ve, Johnny?!”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that one.

The pain wells in his eyes for just a moment before he huffs, pinching his brows and looking away.

Summer grumbles under her breath before crawling out of the skull, getting much needed space from him.

The feed cuts, and it appears as if the two have resolved the fight, or at least have repaired things enough to tolerate being next to each other. They walk silently through the jungle, both of their steps sluggish, but are stopped in their tracks as the world gets brighter. It takes only a few seconds for the entire arena to be engulfed in a blinding white light.

The sound of the impact blares over the speakers loud enough you feel the vibration in your ribcage. It makes you jump. A flinch and a sharp draw of breath that drives Konig to tighten his hold on you.

The ground shakes beneath Price and Summer, tenfold more intense than the beast’s footsteps. It knocks them both to the ground instantly, and they have to scramble to narrowly miss getting crushed by weakened trees, uprooted and crashing to the ground.

A cloud of white dust barrels like a wave in their direction, and even though Price wasted no time to grab Summer’s arm and make a run from it, they are swallowed by a thick cloud of smoke, coughing and hacking as they stumble blindly through the jungle.

Half of the arena has been entirely destroyed, now only a burning, fiery wasteland ringing an enormous crater, a meteor wedged deep into the earth at the center. What remains of the arena is so foggy with debris they can’t see a foot in front of their faces.

The impact killed a handful of tributes instantly, including half the career pack, and wiped out all of the beasts that roamed the land.

The feed cuts again, and your stomach twists when Price licks his lips and looks to the floor.

You know what that means.

You follow his gaze for a moment, trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

The meteor strike has driven what remains of the tributes together, the pool slimmed. The dust has mostly cleared the arena, now only a slight fog weaving through the foliage.

Where the jungle breaks into the cornucopia, Price and Summer lock eyes with what remains of the career pack.

Summer’s fists clench at her sides and Price’s hand immediately shoots to Summer’s shoulder.

The careers don’t even lunge for them.

They stand in front of the cornucopia, arms crossed over their chests and smug grins on their faces.

Price gives Summer a tug, guiding her to turn and run, but her feet stay planted firmly on the dirt.

“Trouble,” Price hisses, “Let’s go.”

“C’mon rat!” One of the careers calls from across the field, his arms uncrossing and held out at his sides, inviting them to a fight.

Summer’s knuckles have gone white around the handle of her blade, shallow breaths leave her parted lips. She’s caught in a trance as she stares down the careers.

“Summer! Let’s go!” He says sternly, giving a harsh tug on her arm and taking a step to backtrack into the forest.

“You all talk?!” One of the careers calls, “Put your bread where your mouth is, Rat!”

Summer jaw clenches before she rips from Price’s grip, breaking into a sprint towards the careers.

“Summer, no!”

Price runs after her, but stops in his tracks when Summer’s ankle snags against something.

It happens so fast.

A nearly invisible tripwire hidden within the fern-like plants sends an axe into the side of her stomach in an instant. For a moment she is paralyzed, only a slight sway on her feet before she turns to face Price.

It takes a moment for Price to understand what just happened, in stunned disbelief as his hands find his head.

“No!” Price cries when his thoughts catch up, “No, no!”

His boots take off, slamming against the dirt and tearing through the ferns as he runs for her.

“Summer! Summer!”

A heavy wall of tears rims his eyeline, a shake in his hands as he locks on to her wide eyes. Summer collapses face first into the foliage, and when Price catches up he forcefully flips her onto her front.

Summer groans as Price’s panicked eyes dart over the wound, muttering to himself while the blood oozes generously around the blade of the axe.

“You’re going to be okay!” He says, but he convinces absolutely no one, then and now.

“‘S make a deal, okay?” Summer grits, her words chopped with each twitch of her body, “You win this thing-”

Summer coughs, blood splattering on her lips and chin.

“And I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

He nods, tears slipping down his face.

Price’s voice is just a choked breath.

“Deal.”

She closes her eyes and hums.

“Love you, Johnny.”

“Love you, Summertime.”

“Go,” She says hoarsely, “Make sure you didn’t do it for nuthin’.”

Price nods, his brows pinching. He looks up to the careers, both of them making the dash across the clearing to finish Price off.

He looks back to Summer, his face falling and swelled with worry.

Her eyes roll ever so slightly, her words wet and gurgled through her blood.

“Go, idiot.”

Price nods with a swallow and rises to his feet, breaking into a run further into the jungle as soon as he musters up the courage to take his eyes off her. He doesn’t look back, his boots slamming against the jungle floor with each step, the leaves of the flora wavering in his wake.

Tears streak his face, his lips parted to push out sharp breaths, but otherwise his face is expressionless, stone-cold. He only breaks for a moment when the cannon fires, a wince that creases his eyes, but his boots don’t slow.

The careers are closing in on him, and you find your nails are digging into Konig’s thigh, threatening to tear a chunk of fabric from his dress pants.

Price must have run miles without slowing before he sidesteps the familiar pool of quicksand and returns to his previous trajectory. One of the careers gets sucked right into his trap, his body is thrown when his boot gets caught in the pit, planting his palms right into the quicksand.

By time the other career catches up, the sand has swallowed the boy to his wrists and ankles. He’s tugging futilely against its hold on him, only burying himself further into the sand’s clutches. The other career ignores him entirely, doesn’t even look in the direction of the desperate pleas for help.

When Price finds his and Summer’s hideout, he makes a beeline for it.

Both your teeth and fists are clenched, resisting the urge to scold Price for cornering himself by crawling into the skull.

Price turns on his feet, hunched over to fit as he steps to the back of the hideout, his knife primed above his head.

“Let’s go, Rat!” The career calls before lowering himself to follow Price into the hideout.

Price swings his knife, but not at the career, no.

As the career is halfway into the mouth of the skull, Price slices clean through the rope of the pulley. The skull’s powerful jaw clamps shut with tremendous force, massive teeth piercing through the career’s torso with a snap, pinning him in the mouth of the once beast.

The career sputters his breath, eyes blown and blood shooting from his mouth at once. His hands instinctively press the back of the beast’s teeth to pointlessly try to work himself free.

Price carefully nears as the boy struggles, keeping eye contact with him. Price’s face is eerily even as he squats down in the bed of moss soaking up the blood that drains down the massive, bone white teeth.

He raises his knife to his own forearm, and slices clean through his skin without so much as wincing.

Price inspects the wound with furrowed brows for a moment before he slowly extends his forearm to the boy, droplets of Price’s blood streaking from the cut and down his arm.

“You see that?” He says, his voice low and dangerous.

Price huffs.

“Looks like you bleed the same colors as the rats.”

The boy can’t respond, too busy choking on his blood, but what life remains in his eyes sparks with rage, his brows creasing ever so slightly as he glares at Price.

Price’s eyes narrow into a deep squint.

“You tell Summer who sent you.”

Price’s knife pierces through the career’s windpipe without warning.

You flinch in your seat, eyes pinching shut to rid the sight of Sapphire being skewered at your hand, your nails nearly drawing blood from the flesh of your knee as you try to shake the reverb of the staff in your grip and silence the sound of her choking on her own blood.

“Wow,” Caesar starts, “Let’s give John a hand, huh?”

The audience complies, but it’s muffled by the sound of your own shallow breaths in your ears. Behind the cover of your eyelids, your irises dart furiously.

So much new information you’re learning about your fellow victors today, and not at all the proper space to digest it.

Your nausea is making a reappearance and your heels scrape across the stage in a futile attempt to expel the heat bubbling from your pores.

“It must be really special to you, that after all this time, you managed to pull off getting these two star-crossed lovers out together.”

Price gives a curt nod.

“That’s right,” He says evenly.

Your hand crosses over your bicep, and your lower lips catches between your teeth. That sickening guilt is coiling in your intestines again, the heavy weight that’s impossible to ignore.

What makes you worthy of getting out of the arena, when Summer couldn’t?

Why do you and Konig get to have each other at your sides - when Price didn’t get the same?

You don’t feel deserving of it.

Not just in comparison to Price - but even in relation to your games.

Why do you get to sit here on this stage, alive and unharmed, while there are twenty-two other tributes - many of them much more deserving of the victor title - who’ve long since been packed up in wooden boxes and shipped back to their districts?

Because you are alive today, someone else is dead.

And it’s only worse that a selfish little brat like you got gifted something that an honorable man like Price couldn’t have.

Guilt.

“Tell us,” Caesar says to you and Konig, “Have you seen this footage before?”

You swallow hard enough you can feel it tug on your ears. You can’t bring yourself to speak, or even open your eyes, so you just shake your head.

“And how do you feel after seeing John’s win for the first time?”

You shake your head again, and when you speak, your words are choked and barely audible.

“Not good.”

Price gives you a squeeze on the shoulder before rubbing it out. You think he’s trying to tell you it’s okay, that you shouldn’t feel bad, but it does nothing to relieve the sickening guilt swelling in your gut and swallowing you whole.

Caesar receives little cooperation from Konig.

“Well, John, I have to say, your tributes weren’t the only ones stirring excitement in the arena.”

Price scoffs, a smile tugging on his lips.

”We have some never-before seen footage I can’t wait to share with you all! Let’s take a look, shall we?”

The mentor’s suite is just a sterile white, curved room, lined with screens and chairs. One large screen shows the audience’s perspective, and each mentor’s seat has multiple screens to keep an eye on their own tributes at all times.

You’d think Price bet the farm on you and Konig.

Price is consistently the loudest of all the mentors. It’s easy to see from one look that everyone else is annoyed with him.

Ruby isn’t nearly as loud, but she’s just as obnoxious, looking over Price’s shoulder and squealing every word.

Oh, how you have missed that shrill Capitol accent.

They only show the particularly interesting moments.

When you escaped the snare, Price threw his chair across the room, making everyone in the room flinch.

“That’s my fucking girl!”

“Well, she has always been stubborn!” Ruby chimes.

It actually makes you blow an amused huff of air out of your nose, a grin creeping on your lips.

And of course, they show Price pulling Ruby into an excited kiss when you escaped Titan. She turns bright red and grunts when he lets go of her, smoothing out her shirt.

”Well, I never!”

The audience loves it, a hearty applause for Price’s antics.

Caesar asks Price a few more questions, but you do your best to tune them out, taking your opportunity to shut off your brain for a minute as you bury yourself into Konig’s chest.

When Caesar prompts Price off the stage, he practically strongholds you into standing with him, Konig in turn following.

He pulls you in for a hug and digs his nails into your back hard enough you hiss into his ear. He doesn’t let you wriggle away, holding you for a few more sharp seconds before he finally lets you free, ignoring your face pinched in defense.

His jaw clenches, and the message his eyes are drilling into you is clear.

Be. Good.

The look, the first implementation of physical correction - it’s enough to dry out your mouth and clench your muscles. An ominous feeling pools from your center and infects your limbs, ultimately putting a shake in your fingers and a wobble in your knees.

There it is, that feeling again. The unpinnable, chest-wrenching, breath-stealing feeling.

Something is wrong.

How badly did you fuck up? What specifically was he correcting?

Konig doesn’t get the same treatment. Price plasters his crowd-worthy grin on his face and pulls Konig into a short side-hug, giving him two gentle but firm pats on the back before he struts off, waving at the crowd.

With stitched brows you follow him with your gaze as Price walks off stage, carefully taking your seat once he’s out of sight. Your fingers fidget at your side as you try to heed off the urge to throw up all over the glittery stage.

Caesar hypes up the crowd for the finale before digging into the highlights.

You’re not looking forward to this part.

The oasis does not grant Konig refuge from the dust storm, a light breeze turning to a gusting wind that turns to a full on twister of sand.

They cut to the boy from four, still lying on the sand exactly where Konig left him, skin fried from the desert sun.

Konig paralyzed him.

And judging by the way Konig’s eyes widen and his lips part, he had no idea. He looks to his hands, horrified.

The dust storm steadily suffocates Four, his weak cries more muffled with each passing second before his cannon fires.

Konig’s horrified expression lingers the entirety of the arena being destroyed.

You give him a squeeze that he doesn’t return, motionless when you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

They feature the boy from six and the boy from seven, the boys who ran into the snow quadrant at the bloodbath. They took refuge in the center of the snow quadrant, in the large, complex system of caves. They were out hunting for food before the avalanche chased them out of the woods and swallowed them whole.

Even though you only knew of them as ‘The boys who ran into the snow quadrant’ - there’s some level of unpinnable familiarity there that makes your heart sink. Maybe because you witnessed their death happen in person, or maybe because you got too close of a look at them at the bloodbath, or maybe it was that moment where the boy from seven was smiling in his chariot with his district companion. You don’t know. This interview is so exhausting, and has left you with more than enough emotional homework you care to handle, and you’re still not finished yet.

You still have to relive Sapphire’s death, you still have to watch Konig beat Titan into a bloody pulp, and you still have to see Konig die.

What you wouldn’t give for a breather.

For five minutes with Konig in private.

You just want to be done, done with this interview, done with The Capitol, done with the Hunger Games.

But you won’t ever be, will you? Every year they’ll drag you and Konig back with Price, forced to mentor a pair of kids destined to die, and you won’t be able to keep your distance. Every year they will break your heart, and every year they’ll broadcast your romance far and wide, both in recaps and in new footage.

They start with Sapphire.

As soon as her cry blares over the speakers, your eyes are screwed shut.

Konig’s nearly squeezing the life from you, surely watching Sapphire close in as you bleed generously from your hedge-inflicted wounds.

“He killed him! He killed him!”

Konig’s grip on you loosens as soon as he realizes it.

Realizes that you took the brunt of her vengeance against him for killing her district companion. A boy she surely trained with for years, preparing for this moment.

You give his arm a squeeze. Konig doesn’t know it, but that same vengeance is what saved you.

The exhaustion from mourning her companion made Sapphire’s spear toss sloppy, her hatred for Konig left her defenses wide open, and her spite drove her own spear square into her abdomen.

How many times does a boy have to save a girl’s life before she gets the fucking picture?

Konig is so skilled at protecting you - he managed to pull it off without even being by your side - all while you fought with everything you had to die.

It feels as if these games have revolved around you and Konig since the beginning. Tethered together by a rope that stretched across the arena, ensnaring any tributes that neared in its indestructible, suffocating web.

You can’t help but wonder - if you had never been, if you were never a soul on this earth, what would the outcome have been?

Who would have had a fair chance if you and Konig had not been unintentional allies, if it weren’t for you two being an unstoppable force that pulled tributes under without even trying?

How many deaths fall back on you, simply for breathing, for existing?

Konig’s grip has turned crushing since Sapphire whipped her spear in your direction, and it almost grounds you as you’re suffocated by the replay of her froths.

The squelch of Sapphire’s eye and her haunting wail makes you gag, bile sloshing up the back of your throat and bringing tears to your eyes.

Konig’s clutch on you is so tight he’s shaking. As you and Sapphire attack simultaneously, he sucks in a sharp breath, flinching in his seat. He almost takes your hand with him to find his head, but corrects himself and rests your intertwined hands where your thighs meld together.

Your eyes are closed, but you can see her - on her knees, ripping out her own eye, the tear of her shredded optic nerve. You can feel it - the spear jamming into your stomach, the weight of Sapphire’s body scraping the spear against your flayed hands, the ground jostling you about as her limp body bounces lifelessly on the ground.

“What a moment, what a moment!” Caesar chimes once the footage pauses, a chorus of claps echoing throughout the theatre.

“Wow, I have to say, it’s not every games we get to see a tribute drive another to end their own life,” Caesar’s lips pull to the side, and he speaks in a lowered, cheeky tone, “And I hate to spoil it for you folks, but that won’t be the last time it happens.”

As the audience laughs, your face pinches, crushing Konig’s hand in yours. Your lips part to run your mouth - but you stop yourself, forcing out a deep breath.

Be. Good.

So instead your lips press into a tightly pursed smile, your neck jerking to the side.

Konig finds you, those icy blue eyes just as annoyed as yours.

He lifts your locked hands with a gentle shake and a squeeze.

“And here I thought I was being original,” He mutters with a slight roll of his eyes.

For a moment your brows tighten, and then you scoff, finding yourself actually smiling during this grueling, painful interview.

“Eh,” You shrug, “She may have gotten there first, but you perfected it.”

His chest puffs out with an amused huff, his fingers raising to rub out his temple. He shakes his head and looks at you, and you share a weak, but genuine smile.

It doesn’t last long.

Konig’s next.

Really, you should have connected the dots considering you saw the two dead tributes at the other end of the maze, but it hadn’t crossed your mind to think of the fights that were taking place as you fought Sapphire.

His assigned opponent is the girl from two, Sage as Sapphire called her.

Sage wastes no time once the ground settles, in a run straight for him. Konig’s not fazed by her speed. He roughly tosses his pack to the side, and stands tall with Four’s blade primed.

There’s little to see of his expression under his hood, but his eyes are fearless, slightly narrowed as he waits for her approach.

Sage wields a sword of her own, and once Konig is in motion, it’s impossible to look away. The footage isn’t altered, but it feels as if time has slowed for them. You catch every movement, the way Konig’s leg dips and his arm straightens behind him, winding up to deflect her hit with the perfect clinks of metal on metal. They way her feet shuffle in perfect positioning, alternating between offensive and defensive maneuvers.

It’s violent, aggressive, - but also graceful.

Their fight is a mesmerizing dance. They meet in the middle like it has been rehearsed, perfect timing of the commanding clashes to form a grated song of their swords embracing.

Sage’s face is pinched in determination and focus, grunts behind her grit teeth with each swing.

They exchange no words.

It’s a transaction, professional. The two are there to complete their task and nothing more.

Their swords clash between their chests and hold there, hands trembling as they push against the other. Their eyes are locked and crinkled in focus.

Konig closes in and gives a forceful shove, sending her tumbling back onto the grass.

When she’s on her elbows, her legs bending in a scramble, the very end of Konig’s blade finds her neck, resting an inch under her chin. He looms over her in all his glory, blocking out the sun and casting his shadow over her.

Sage stills at once, her lips twitching as she looks up at him. It’s not quite anger in her eyes, more frustration at herself. Bested even with her training.

She doesn’t beg. She holds his taut stare, and waits. Accepting her defeat in good sportsmanship.

Konig’s sword lingers for a few moments before it slowly retreats, pulling away from her neck.

Sage breaks the stare to follow Konig’s sword until it’s back at his side.

“Up, Girl.”

Her chest heaves with her shallow breaths, irises shifting back and forth as she flits between both of his unreadable eyes.

There’s a pause, lingering their stares on each other before she comes to a slow stand.

Konig takes a few steps back, his sword relaxed at his side. For a moment she eyes him in unease, but he waits patiently. She fixes her shirt, tugging down the hem that bunched up when she fell, and tilts her head to the side to pop a joint in her neck. A long exhale leaves her, she rolls her shoulders, and repositions her feet.

Her face pinches in determination, and they begin round two.

They’re not holding back. Sage is back in the game, catching every swing. She almost gets him, twisting her wrist with a jerk of her arm to leave his core undefended, but he saves it with a quick deflect by putting the sword vertically just in front of his middle. She would have cut him when she forced her sword further into his, but the supplies in his vest spares him from being nicked with his own sword.

Sage retreats her blade and risks opening herself up while Konig’s busy winding regaining his grip on his swords. She returns with all her might, a grunt that borders on a shout leaving her. Konig blocks her from the inside and pushes outwards, and for a moment she loses balance, stumbling at Konig’s side. His upper half quickly leans back as he swivels to keep face to face with her, a few steps back to keep his distance.

He flinches when she cries out. Sage learns the hard way about the hedge’s blades, slicing deep gashes on the undersides of her forearms and through the meat of her palms.

Konig’s eyes widen as he tries to figure out what just happened, taking a few uneasy steps back as she collects herself.

Sage shakes out her arm, flicking blood in all directions. She winces, but it does little to stop her from wrapping her palms around the handle of her sword and finishing their fight.

They sidestep each other for a moment, swords at the ready.

Sage advances quickly and with little warning, frustration laced into her flurry of offensive strikes. Her blade is just a blur, each collision announced with the clash of steel and a splatter of her blood. Konig follows her lead, blocking each strike, both of them slipping right back into their perfected routine. She’s clearly got the upper hand when it comes to skill, her sword techniques much more advanced. But Konig’s holding his ground even with his base level understanding.

Sapphire’s cannon fires, and the girl from two loses her rhythm when she flinches and whips her head to the side.

That’s all Konig needs. He gives a forceful shove to the blades, knocking her off balance. He has no problem dismounting her sword. She’s back on the ground again, unarmed and dwarfed under Konig’s full stature.

She doesn’t scramble for her sword or to a stand, calmly propping up on her elbows and watching as Konig leisurely returns the sword to her neck.

They lock eyes again, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths as they stare at each other.

Sage licks her lips and nods.

“Do me a favor,” She says through shallow breath.

She looks to the blade, and then back to him.

“Make sure that loon doesn’t win.”

Konig pauses, his eyes relaxing.

“Okay,” He says.

She gives him a faint nod, and Konig takes a long, deep breath, closing his eyes on the exhale. With one motion he pierces the sword into her neck until it imbeds through the ground beneath her.

As the audience claps for Konig, your eyes are pinched shut, trying to free your hands of Sapphire’s spear.

When you do look to him, your brows pinched and gnawing on your lower lip, he doesn’t meet your stare. His eyes point low and to the side, a solemn look weighing down his pale features.

“Wow,” Caesar starts as the audience settles, “Konig, I have to say, that was a truly thrilling fight.”

You have to agree with Caesar on that one. Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it in your ribcage, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your lips have turned blue from holding your breath.

“I have to ask, what were your motivations in granting Sage a second chance?”

You’d like to know the answer to that one, too.

Konig is silent and still, sunken eyes taking their time to find Caesar. He swallows hard enough you can see it, and he gives an unsteady, slow shrug. This one’s different, it’s not disrespectful. Defeated and sluggish, you can tell he genuinely cannot find the words.

They’re used to careers sitting on this couch, wearing proud with each replay of their kills, cheering along with the crowd.

If The Capitol wanted meaningful commentary from you both, they should have given you more time to think on everything, because right now it is so painful. You feel like you’ve been sliced from chest to core, your guts spilling all over the glittery stage, and Caesar might as well be squishing your intestines under his dress shoes with every question he asks.

Caesar sees he’s not going to get the answers the country is desperate for, and moves on.

Titan’s turn.

His fight is much less fair.

He’s up against a male tribute who’s clearly out of his depth, unarmed and no match for Titan.

If you had to guess, his strategy for the games was the same as yours. To evade until he had no choice, and he’s realizing that this is his reckoning.

A prey trapped with its predator, the instinctual fear of an animal taking control as he tries to put as much space between him and Titan as possible.

Titan’s maniacal cackle as he watches the boy tremble and flee sends a shiver down your spine. He stands so casually, laughing at him as if the boy wasn’t rightfully treating Titan like the killer he is.

It’s a jarring contrast, they’re not even playing the same game.

For Titan, it’s like a game of tag. Toying with the boy as he chases him around their pen, teasing calls in a sing-song tune, smiling and laughing all the while. He purposely slows up a few times to drag the fun out a little longer.

It’s so unnerving, an unsettling twist in your lower core that begs for attention.

Titan.

If you never see those teeth again, if you never hear that laugh again - it’ll be too soon.

It’s clear that both you and Konig have checked out. Shut down on yourselves, staring blankly at the stage and trying your hardest not to retain any of it. Your limp body leans into him, lulling your head on his bicep.

He gives you a weak squeeze on your locked, sweaty hands, but is otherwise motionless at your side.

The Capitol forcing you to falsely grieve his death has worn yourself down emotionally before you even stepped onto this stage, and every highlight chips away at what little of you remains.

You find your mind wandering to that night before the games. Longing for a soft bed and Konig’s chest as a pillow, leeching his cozy warmth, his heartbeat a lullaby to ease you into a much needed break from consciousness.

Your eyes are still closed when Titan finishes the excruciatingly drawn-out hunt, but you can hear it.

Titan chose to break his neck.

Every muscle in you and Konig’s bodies have clenched with such speed and intensity it’s painful. You lurch forward involuntarily, folding your core in preparation to keep from throwing up over yourself.

Titan’s cackle is the accompanying song to the vivid image of Eleven’s limp bounce off the platform, his lifeless eyes a searing, white hot flash behind your eyelids.

You shake your head to try and rid the visual, taking deep breaths in a futile effort to settle your boiling stomach.

You can’t take much more of this. The only thing keeping you on this couch is Price’s fingernails sinking into your back.

It was a warning.

A warning without explanation of consequence or instruction on how to proceed. A blaring alarm, not sure if you’re dealing with a tornado or a wildfire, unsure if you’re meant to hunker down or evacuate.

All you have to work with is - Be. Good.

You barely manage to stay on the couch, squirming and shaking into Konig’s side.

Once Caesar is done analyzing the footage of Titan and his victim, the rest of the hedge walls descend, and it’s on to the three-way standoff.

You have to open your eyes to watch, because other than Konig’s hand nearly crushing the bones in your hand to dust - the glittery stage, Caesar Flickerman, and this godforsaken audience is the only thing reminding you that you’re not in the arena.

The wide aerial shot they use makes the six of you look like insects as Titan and Konig close in.

They pause on you, coated and dripping in blood, brows pinched and eyes pointed, Sapphire’s colorful spear trained at Konig’s chest.

The image makes your face warp, knotting your insides with shame and guilt. You look like a heartless killer, aiming your spear at the boy who loves you so much he sacrificed himself for you.

“Konig, I have to say, it must have been tough watching a friend, your crush, displaying such apparent distrust.”

Caesar’s words are like a knife to the chest. Slicing deep and exposing your heart to the entire country.

And you would know.

Konig swallows, his eyes flitting to his fidgeting dress shoes. He gives a grave nod that twists the knife sticking out of your chest.

“My dear,” Caesar says, “What was going on in your head at this moment?”

It takes you a few moments to coax the words from your dry, raw throat.

“I-”

You take a deep breath, smoothing out your dress skirt. You sound like a child when you speak.

“Nothing. Nothing was going through my head. I was just scared.”

Caesar nods.

“Scared of a friend?”

He might as well have taken the knife from your heart and plunged it right back in.

You swallow, your words consisting of only breath.

“Yeah.”

“And why’s that?”

For fucks sake, Caesar.

Be. Good.

“Because it was the end,” You croak, the audience hanging onto every word.

“I think we understand dear,” Caesar says, “Afterall, you’re not a mind reader.”

You give a shaky nod, and Caesar finally gives it a rest.

Titan’s taunts blaring over the speakers are unable to be ignored.

Titan.

That sardonic laugh, that mocking voice, those killer teeth.

It’s somehow worse the second time.

Your skewered heart is racing, your entire body pulsing in rhythm and blurring your vision with each beat.

At your side, Konig’s jaw is clicking as he grinds his teeth, his hand shaking in your hold.

Sapphire’s ribs snapping under Titan’s boot fold your body in a cringe, Eleven’s lifeless eyes stealing your breath.

When Titan’s gotten his hands on you, Konig lets go of your hand and slings his arms around your waist instead, possessively tugging you flush against him, quick and just forceful enough to pull a gasp from you. As Konig gives your hand a break to squeeze your side instead, your stare follows your touch as you rub out the ache in your palm.

You can feel the vibration of Titan’s chest against your back, his breath in your ear, his massive arm snaked around your neck.

Next to you, Konig’s leg is bouncing furiously, a hand lost in his hair in a useless attempt to placate his rage.

You give his leg a gentle squeeze, trying to get him to look at you, to remind him that you’re right here, that it’s okay. He doesn’t meet your gaze, staring daggers at Titan through the screen as he coos and purrs and growls and yells and taunts.

Every insufferable moment of this standoff is a grating ringing in your ears. Listening to yourself yell at Konig in a demand to kill you is making you feel dumb, Titan’s voice rips a shudder from you with every sentence, and Konig’s rage is a burning heat on your skin.

The worst is yet to come, of course. The encore of Konig beating Titan to a bloody pulp.

Konig’s arm turns to lead over your shoulders, working against each flinch you make. He’s entirely still at your side as you shake in his hold, pinching your eyes shut but not at all able to rid the visual of Titan's smashed face and the waterfall of blood behind him, his lifeless body collapsing to the grass and razor sharp blades shredding his flesh.

As you beg and plead with Konig for your life, you’re both deathly still on the couch, only the rise and fall of your chest to heave breaths towards your lap.

You can’t bring yourself to sit up or to open your eyes. The sound of your own voice, pleading for your life with the boy who killed himself for you, it’s making you sink in on yourself.

To your relief, they skip your breakdown. You find it strange they also skip Konig tending to your wounds and his detail of that day in District Nine.

They do show a few bits of conversation from your picnic, but most of it is cut. They leave out the trip to the oasis entirely.

At first, it’s a relief. The more they skip the quicker this interview is over with, and to be honest, you weren’t crazy about the idea of all of Panem watching you and Konig having careless fun in your underwear. You’re especially thankful that Konig won’t be finding out about the lingering stares anytime soon.

There’s something about it that’s not sitting right with you, though. Yours and Konig’s romance was the star of this year’s games, and it seems odd they’re cutting out the particularly lighthearted, but intimate moments.

The audience does get a chance to gush over Konig carrying you through the desert, and laugh over you asking Konig about having a crush back home, but again, they skip most of yours and Konig’s conversations.

And there it is again. The dread that sloshes around your core, lapping up your insides, a dark cloud drifting into your thoughts but entirely unidentifiable.

Something is wrong.

Konig rests his cheek on the crowd of your head, his finger tracing gentle swirls into your sides instead of squeezing. You find yourself melting into him, your finger absentmindedly stroking his silken tie as you let your eyes flutter shut.

“You’ve really never had a boyfriend?”

You’ve seen this one already.

Might as well try and sneak in a break, here in his chest.

Konig’s hand finds your hair, running his fingers through your Capitol-Standard silken locks, sending electric tingles up your scalp. He manages to draw a soft, content hum from you.

It’s like the eye of the storm, a moment of calm before you’re thrown right back into the hurricane.

Caesar leaves you both alone. He doesn’t need to ask you how you feel, or what was going through your mind, because the versions of you and Konig on screen are doing the work for you.

Caesar does occasionally stop the footage to make commentary that would normally make your teeth drive straight through the flesh of your tongue, but you truly can't find it in you to care. The only thing you care about in this moment is the billow of Konig’s ribcage with each breath, the feeling of his chest from beneath his suit, the soothing fingers sliding through your hair.

“I have to say, it’s the first time we’ve ever seen two tributes fight to the death quite like this!”

And yeah, you’d prefer if all of Panem wasn’t watching you be so raw and vulnerable, but you can’t bring yourself to even be embarrassed about your fits and fight.

Aside from the obscenities and insults thrown at Konig, you stand by everything you said, everything you did, and you’d do it again if you have to.

The kissing doesn’t even faze you.

You’d do it again and again and again.

They obviously skip your intimacy.

You expected at the very least some teasing from Caesar, innocuous jokes and cheeky, knowing stares until you and Konig’s cheeks turn warm, but they don’t even mention it.

And unusually, they skip your preparations for death. You do remember making the faintest slight against the Capitol, but they skip all of it. Your plea to die, the exchange of the ribbon, the final hug.

Come on. That’s the height of television to these people. The drama and the tragedy.

You and Konig put on a show. In more ways than one, and it’s hard to stomach why The Capitol didn’t include any of it in the highlights.

And while you’re relieved you don’t have to relive such a painful, bittersweet moment - you know that there is a reason it was not included.

A reason The Capitol did not like.

And it’s starting to sink in that maybe you don’t have the upper hand anymore.

Because with Konig at your side - they finally have the leverage they need. It is no longer you as the sacrificial lamb. If The Capitol is upset with you, they will not use your tongue against you.

They will use his.

Konig’s chest does little to quell this thought.

The sound of a blade slicing flesh, screams and desperate pleas, weak reassurances also does little to help.

And of course, the audience cheers for your double suicide. It doesn’t even surprise you.

What does surprise you, though, is the footage of you in your hospital room.

Immediately your head rips from Konig’s chest, your face falling, scrambling to comb over everything you said in your fits to figure out what could possibly be exposed to all of Panem in moments you thought were private.

They show you attacking Price in the hospital room, which the crowd finds funny, but you scratch behind your ear, not sure how to feel about it. It is kind of funny, considering Konig was alive the entire time, but you find being forced to believe he was dead, the grief that otherwise was not necessary, not so funny.

And they show Konig. Restrained to his hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling, his temples red and raw from the never-ending stream of tears trailing down the side of his face to contribute to the growing stain on his pillow.

He refused to do anything.

Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t listen to the nurses, wouldn’t even speak to Price.

Just stares at the ceiling, unmoving.

When you try to meet his stare, he refuses, his eyes fixated on his lap, sitting low on the couch.

You rest your head back on his chest, your arms creeping around his waist and squeezing tight.

I’m here now.

After a pause, the arm around your waist gives a gentle squeeze back.

You tune out Caesar’s closing commentary, trying to focus on breathing Konig in, the feeling of his firm chest billowing against your ear. His hand creeps behind you, fingertips tracing over the back of your dress in soothing, abstract patterns.

The crowd gives another roaring round of applause before the anthem plays, and out steps The President.

The sight of him, stepping onto the stage with his stark black suit and precise smile, floods you with a wave of dread from head to toe. You don’t even have the sense to hide the intimidation pulling at your features as you and Konig rise from the couch, your sweaty hands interlocking once again.

Behind him stands a Capitol attendant, carrying your crowns onto stage.

Konig actually has to bend at the knee to keep The President from standing on his tiptoes.

The President gives a soft, calculated laugh.

“Thank you, boy.”

With delicate hands he places a thick and ornate golden crown onto Konig’s head before he steps to you.

Inches from you, he wears a perfect smile as he places your crown on your head. His eyes are cruel and piercing, he doesn’t so much as blink. His icy stare lingers long after he’s dawned you with the dainty golden crown.

You swallow once when he finally turns away, looking to your heels, crushing Konig’s hand with your own.

The standing ovation, bowing, and waving goes on for far too long. You’re starting to think Caesar is dragging it out on purpose just to torture you when you finally get the cue to leave the stage.

You don’t even get a moment to take a breath before the prep teams and stylists swallow you both whole, showering you with praise and squeals overlapping each other, you can’t make out a single thing any one of them are saying.

Their group moves in a pack, forcing you and Konig to shuffle forward, locked at the hands to keep the other from getting lost.

Mauve manages to push her way through, grabbing your free hand.

“Just wait until you see the dress for the party!”

“What do you mean?” You ask, looking down at your dress, “I can’t just wear this?”

“Of course not, babe! It’s a ball.”

No much-needed elaboration is received.

Mauve and the woman you saw whispering frantically with her before the interview try to seperate you both to get you ready.

“No!”

As you object, Konig tugs you closer to his side, the hardened hand engulfing yours doubling its grip.

The group goes silent, all of them looking to you.

Mauve and the woman share an uneasy stare and nod.

“Yeah, babe,” Mauve says with a waver in her unusually high-pitched voice, her hand raising to twirl the charm in her necklace between her fingers, “We can- yeah, we can get you both ready together.”

You give a shaky nod, your other arm reaching across your front to grab his tense bicep.

They take you to your fitting room, and you both are once again transformed.

So sparkly.

Tonight’s color is champagne. A weird mixture of a golden beige and rose. Shimmering rays of gold reflect from the glittery dress with the slightest movements. It almost hurts your eyes.

Another sweetheart bust that comes in at your waist, and you already know the way the hem of your dress drags against the ground is going to be annoying. Two straps only as thick as twine reach over each of your shoulder blades to criss-cross in the middle of your back.

And you find your inner biceps will once again be tortured by the rough texture of the glitter.

Konig’s suit is a matching color, but no glitter. The elegant paisley patterns and the lapels of his suit are the slightest bit reflective, the designs appearing to change color depending on how the light hits him.

“You look beautiful,” Konig says.

His voice is soft, his eyebrows the slightest bit pinched.

“You too,” You whisper.

Unsure eyes linger on each other, a sad smile on both of your faces as the prep team gushes over your compliments.

You don’t want to talk about what happened, but it feels wrong to talk about anything else. Every word feels like it is overheard by twenty-two dead tributes, like every sentence must justify a double suicide.

The air between you is more than heavy, awkward even.

Because how do you look at each other and not immediately think of the nightmare you both just woke up from?

The click of her heels announces her presence before that unmistakable voice does.

“Oh! There’s my tributes!”

Ruby pulls you both into a hug at the same time, smushing yours and Konig’s arms together.

“Oh, you did it! You did it!” She squeals, actually jumping up and down in your group hug, her brilliant white smile flashing far and wide, “I am just so proud of you!”

She doesn’t even let either of you get a word in, which usually is annoying, but at the moment a huge relief. Not just because you’re incredibly relieved to see her, but you’re really not up for talking right now. You feel like a lifeless husk, your insides shriveled up and flaked away to dust.

She reaches out to scoop up yours and Konig’s free hands, the three of you now linked in a triangle of hand holding.

“Not one, but two of my tributes! My stars! Oh, I’m sorry dears, I’m sorry I didn’t come see you before. I just wouldn’t have been able to keep the secret! They wouldn’t let us tell you, I’d have had my tongue cut out!”

Ruby rambles on, gushing and singing praises at you and Konig, both of you hardly having the energy to listen to the words being thrown at you.

“Oh,” You say quietly, interrupting her mid-sentence what must be twenty minutes into a monologue, “I forgot.”

You fish into the bust of your dress and retrieve her token, staring at the small trinket in your palm before extending it to her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” You whisper.

Ruby’s lips fold in, a soft hand resting on her collarbones.

Tears brim in her eyeline as she gently closes your fingers over the token and clasps her hands around yours.

“It’s yours, dear. It’s yours.”

Her words prick the back of your throat, mouth suddenly dry as you try to choke back tears. You go to thank her, but you can’t find your voice. Instead you give her a deep nod, finishing out on an involuntary, choked sob.

“Oh, dear,” She pulls you into her arms, and while you don’t return the embrace, you do bury your cheek into her shoulder, squeezing Konig’s token at your side.

“Thank you,” You whisper, the tears escaping down your cheeks, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she says, stroking your upper back, “Of course.”

She gives you a gentle swat on your forearm.

“And don’t you cry young lady! Your makeup hasn’t even had time to dry!’

You let out a nasally laugh, giving a sniff.

”You got it, Ruby,” You mumble.

You give a long sigh as your smile fades, closing your eyes on the exhale. You’re exhausted, mentally and physically. It’s weighing you down, eyelids heavy and each movement slowed.

How badly you want to take a break, to turn off your brain and fall asleep on Konig’s chest in the privacy of your own room, to have even a moment to process the nightmare you just went through.

But now is not the time for respite, privacy, or reflection

Now is the time for a party.

NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Dividers @saradika-graphics

Konig Photo Credit

[papercorgiworld]

I don't want you to be my girlfriend

Blaise, Mattheo, Enzo, Tom, Theodore and Draco

There’s a big misunderstanding concerning your future together. 

Warning: no warning, just a very fluffy fluff thingy

This was brought to you thanks to this request, but I must apologize I changed some details, but I guess the essential plot is stil there. If you spot an error that hurts your brain, let me know and save another reader. And as per usual, my darling readers happy readings! I love you all, big time!

“When we graduate things are going to change. I have big plans.” You hear your boyfriend’s voice and feel yourself get all giddy, convinced that you are part of these big plans, but suddenly you stop in your tracks. “I mean (y/n) isn’t going to be my girlfriend forever.” Next, there's silence. “Are you sure?” You hear Pansy ask and with a pounding heart you listen to your boyfriend’s answer. “Yeah. Never been so sure of anything in my life. She won’t be my girlfriend for long anymore. Things change.” 

Without making a single sound you turn down the stairs of the astronomy tower. Tears streaming down your face. You were so in love with him. All the two of you did lately was talk about your future together. When did he stop loving me? Did he ever love me at all?

The next morning you looked like crap. You looked like someone who had been crying all night, which is exactly what had happened. So you skipped breakfast and just went to class where you spent your time staring in front of you and avoiding your boyfriend’s gaze at all costs. He watched you from a few seats away. When he grew inpatient waiting for you to look at him he enchanted a little note and sent it to you, but to his horror you just looked at the folded paper laying on your desk without opening it, before returning to look at the professor. 

He truly doesn’t know how you managed to, but after class you just disappeared. He had immediately gotten up and walked towards you and yet you had somehow snuck past him through the other students. He picked up the unopened note he had sent you and felt his heart ache. First you didn’t show up at the astronomy tower last night, then you skipped breakfast and now you were obviously avoiding him. What did I do? I hate it when I don’t know what I did? Bad joke? Forgot about a date? Salazar, what if I did something so bad that she’s breaking up with me? 

He had searched every nook and cranny of the castle to find you, which was quite a lot of work, but to no avail. I don’t even know where she’s hiding? Have we somehow grown apart without me even noticing? I’m such a shit boyfriend, I’m gonna lose the love of my life.

Defeated, he walked back to the slytherin common room when one last possible hiding spot came to mind. How did I not check there earlier?

Blaise

There you sat curled up doodling in your journal, back resting against the whomping willow. “Really not the safest spot to be. The tree gets mad from time to time.” He startles you and for a moment you stare at him with wide eyes, before relaxing. As soon as you process that it’s Blaise you roll your eyes. “Oh, really? After seven years at this school I really had no clue.” Your sarcasm is almost like venom and makes Blaise’s smile disappear. In silence he joins you, sitting too close to your liking so you move an inch away and he lets his head fall back in annoyance with your childish behavior. “I have no idea what I did, but I’m sorry, I always am when I hurt you.” His voice is soft and his hand reaches for yours, keeping you from scribbling in your notebook. 

You shake your head in disbelief. How could he be sorry, when he was planning on breaking up with you. You feel tears welling up and grit your teeth in an attempt to hold them back. “When we talked about our garden together, which plants and trees we would prefer and that there needed to be a little bench… I thought you meant it. I thought you really wanted that with me.” At your words he moves a bit away from the tree to face you properly. “I do. I do want all of those things. You know that. We were just talking about our future together yesterday morning. What makes you think I wouldn’t want that with you?”

Your eyes are angry. How dare he lie like this. “I heard you last night at the astronomy tower. You want to break up with me. You had big plans and I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend anymore.” Blaise stares for a moment, before chuckling and looking away. “Unbelievable, you seriously had me worried for a moment.” All your anger subsides and confusion takes over, eyebrows knitting together. “You won’t be my girlfriend forever, (y/n), because I have other plans for you.” Blaise explains, but you still don’t catch on to what he’s hinting at. “Darling, I bought a ring.” Your eyes widen and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. “That’s what I was talking about. I showed it to everyone last night.” With shaky hands you put your notebook aside and move a little closer to your boyfriend. “An engagement ring?” Blaise nods and smiles as he adores your utterly confused face. “After we graduate, on a random date, when you don’t see it coming I’m gonna pop the question.”

Even though you were sitting in front of him he’s still surprised when you suddenly wrap your arms around his neck. “Spoiler alert, I'm gonna say yes.” You whisper all giddy and he responds by hugging you tighter than ever. Gods, I hope so, because I really love you.

Mattheo

Mattheo sighs, relieved that he’s finally found you. Sitting against the whomping willow with your knees pressed against your chest and headphones on, probably listening to the same four sad songs on repeat. He watches you from afar for a moment as he worries about what’s gotten you so upset and worse why you haven’t come to find him for consolidation yet. Even when you were angry with him you came to him to figure it out. You rarely closed yourself off for so long as you had done today and it frightened Mattheo. 

Quietly he walks over to you and as soon as you spot him you turn to look away from him, making Mattheo almost reach for his chest. He decides to lean against the tree next to you, giving you some space as you’re still sitting curled up on the ground. The silence between you two is excruciating. Soundless tears run down your cheeks as you realize that this might be the last moment between you two. As painful as the silence is, Mattheo wants to give you time to start talking, it’s only when he hears you sob that he loses his patience and immediately gets down on his knees next to you. He takes off your headphones and looks at you with soft eyes. “I beg you, please, talk to me.” His fingers brush your cheeks and you savor the moment of his touch, before speaking up.

“It’s cruel Matt, making someone believe in a future together, while you’re planning a break up. I mean who does that. Yesterday morning we were arguing about marriage or kids first and in the evening you’re telling everyone that you don’t want me to be your girlfriend.” A pathetic sob escapes you and Mattheo opens his mouth, but you cut in before he can say anything. “I still love you, you know. I still want that future with you. Did I scare you away or something?” Mattheo’s heart squeezes at your painful sobs. Scare me away? How can you think of something like that? “No, no, you could never scare me away.” Mattheo wants to hold you, but you softly push his hand away. “Then tell me, what did I do wrong? Why are we breaking up?” Mattheo stares at you in disbelief, not following at all. “We aren’t. We’re never-” 

“I heard you, Matt, last night at the astronomy tower. I heard you say that I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend for long.” Something changes in the way Mattheo looks at you, but you can’t quite capture it, he looks almost disappointed. “Wow. Definitely not how I planned it, but okay.” Mattheo says dryly, but also amused. There’s this sweet mischievous glimmer in his eyes that calms you, but also has you frowning. He searches in his pocket, obviously being enchanted, it takes him a while to find what he’s looking for and you stare at him in confusion as he makes a funny face. “Matt-” He shushes you and you study him carefully as he moves from sitting on both knees to resting on one knee, before pulling out a tiny box. 

“If it’s up to me, (y/n), you will no longer be my girlfriend, because I want you to marry me.” You quickly shake your head and sit up a bit straighter to check if you’re really seeing what you’re seeing. Slowly, his free hand reaches to open the flannel ring box. “So (y/n) (y/l/n), will you marry me?” Your mouth opens as you stare at the ring, before looking at Mattheo whose smile is filled with love. You nod, ignoring the elegant and shiny ring, you lunge towards him and he wraps his arms around you. He quickly closes the box to keep the ring safe, before kissing you passionately. When you break apart, your foreheads rest against each other. “The answer’s yes by the way.” You whisper with flustered eyes. Mattheo licks his lip, smirking at the beautiful fiance in his arms. “I assumed that much.” He said, eyes shining with happiness. “But, dear future wife, don’t you ever assume silly things again, like maybe me dumping you. Never going to happen, understand?” Sheepishly you chew your lip, embarrassed with your own dramatics. When you nod, his smile grows brighter and leans in for another passionate kiss. 

Enzo

As soon as Lorenzo spotted you, he came running towards the whomping willow, though carefully watching the tree so as not to get attacked by it. You were just laying on the ground staring up at the sky and the tree, but you knew Enzo was coming your way. You had been together for so long you could hear it was him just by his footsteps. You took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the weight on your chest, knowing that your relationship would all be over soon. With a happy smile Enzo’s face comes into your view as he stands next to you looking down at you. “Found you.” He quips rather proud of himself and you snort. Joking before breaking up that’s just rude. Did our relationship really mean nothing?

When Lorenzo notices your displeasure with his presence he kneels down next to you. “Everything alright?” He asks with a soft, worried voice as he scans your face for any hints. You chew your lip for a moment before sitting up, eyes wandering around, avoiding Enzo. “I really looked forward to it.” Enzo frowns and sits down next to you, his arm brushing yours. Before he can ask for an explanation, you continue. “Cooking together every evening. Going to bed together. Waking up and arguing in the bathroom, but making up at the breakfast table. You were going to make that boring adult everyday routine fun, you would make everyday worth it.” Lorenzo drops his head, looking down. She’s breaking up with. He heard you struggle to keep yourself from sobbing and looked back up.

He wasn’t just gonna let you break up with him. He grabbed both of your hands and pulled you towards him, now your teary eyes were forced to meet his. “Darling, whatever dumb thing I did, I love you too much to have done it on purpose, so please just talk to me.” You narrow your eyes at him, confused by what he was saying. You sniffle and he wraps an arm around your head pulling towards him, forcing you to rest on his shoulder for a moment. “Please, don’t break up with me.” Your boyfriend whispers, before placing a soft kiss on your temple. You pull away and look at him. “I don’t want to break up with you, you’re the one that’s done with our relationship.” Enzo’s eyes widen and his mouth drops a bit. “Wha- why? Why would you say something so ridiculous!” He sounds almost angry with you for suggesting something so outrageous. 

You frown and bite back. “Don’t play dumb, Berkshire! I heard you last night at the astronomy tower talking to all your friends and Pansy, who’s my friend by the way, about how I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend for long anymore. Hah!” You point at him, thinking you’ve cornered him, figured out all his lies, but he doesn’t look impressed at all. “Oh right, right… but tell me, darling, if I’m planning on breaking up with you then… uhm, why did I spend a ridiculous amount of money on an engagement ring?” With one swift move he presents you a small velvet ring box and judges you, before quickly tucking it back into his pocket. Your mouth just hangs agape as you watch him put the ring box away. “Miss I-have-it-all-figured-out, do you have any other crazy assumptions? Maybe you think I bought that for one of my other girlfriends-” You give him a soft push and he smiles at your flustered face.

“Break up with you? Have you lost it? Gods, I’m marrying an idiot.” Lorenzo laughs and pulls you onto his lap. You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Enzo bought an engagement ring. “Marrying an idiot? Enz, I haven’t said yes.” You say, attempting to sound composed and he grins at you. “That’s because you haven’t seen the ring, yet.” You snake an arm around his neck. “So show me.” You brush your nose against his and he smirks, happy that you're eager to see the ring and say yes. Enzo steals a tender kiss from you before moving his lips to your ear. “I don’t think so.” You look at him with curious eyes and he explains himself. “I have this whole thing planned and it’s already bad enough that you know I’m going to propose. I don’t need you knowing about anything else I have in store for you.” Merlin, I love him. Desperately your lips crash into his, passionately kissing your future husband as he holds you tight.

Tom

He studies you from afar as you focus on your journal. He adores your elegant figure, small against the great whomping willow. He approaches you with a featherlight step and you don’t notice him until he speaks up with a serious tone. “You had me worried. Disappearing for a whole day.” Your heart jumps as his sudden presence startles you and you quickly close your journal. When you look up he notices your exhausted eyes and crouches down to your level. His fingers brushing your jawline before grabbing a hold of your chin as you try to turn away from him. With a firm grip he forces you to meet his eyes. “Have you been crying, dear?” Your eyes go dead at his question. “Don’t pretend to care. I know you’re breaking up with me.”

Your voice is cold and your words catch him off guard, dropping his hand and studying your face. “When we talked about traveling the world, I thought it was going to be you and me. Searching for the boundaries of magic, you and me… always.” His face goes cold as tears visually well up in your eyes. “I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me. I don’t understand. I thought we were happy.” Now you can no longer hold your tears back, instantly your hands cover your face and Tom grits his teeth at the sound of your sobbing. “Enough.” He says sternly, grabbing your hands and making you look at him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into your silly little head, but I’m not breaking up with you, not now, not ever!” 

He can spot a glimmer of hope in your eyes at his words and he sighs. “Quite to the contrary, actually. I’m planning on spending the rest of my life with you and I want to make it official.” You swallow and shake your head a little as you remember last night's words. “But- but I heard you talk yesterday evening… you said I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend forever.” Tom’s lips form a line and he cups your face, thumbs brushing over the stains of your tears. “You should know better than to eavesdrop. You missed out on a bit of context.” Your eyebrows knit together. “You’re not breaking up with me?” With a soft smile he shakes no. “I missed out on the context?” Tom nods and you feel yourself relax. “Okay.” You whisper and you lean towards Tom so he can embrace you. With your head pressed against his chest you wonder. “I don’t get it, what context?” Tom smiles to himself. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He pulls away a little so he can place a tender kiss on your soft lips. I can’t believe she almost found out about the proposal. If she had seen the ring last night the surprise would’ve been ruined. 

Theodore

You were trying to focus on the book in your hands, but you had to reread every sentence twice, because your mind kept going to Theodore’s words. Frustrated with your incapacity to read, you sigh and look around taking in your surroundings, it’s then that you spot Theo slowly walking in your direction. “Here it goes.” You mutter to yourself as you mentally prepare yourself for a painful break up. “Where have you been all day?” Theo asks, noticing you looking at him. You shrug, not in the mood for small talk. “Here.” You say dryly and Theodore’s tongue darts around in his mouth as he tries to figure out what’s going on. “Why did you ignore my note?” You look away from him. Can’t he just cut to the chase. 

Again you shrug, eyes still staring into the distance. Theodore raises his eyebrows, a little annoyed by your attitude. “Okay, princess. I’ll play.” He goes to sit opposite of you, giving you all his attention, but you snap your head towards him at his words. “You are unbelievable, Theodore Nott!” Your loud voice makes Theo clench his jaw. “Right back at ya, sweetie.” He’s annoyed, but he tries to stay calm, seeing how upset you are. “Don’t ‘sweetie’ me, Nott.” You snare. “I know you’re here to break up with me. I heard you talking at the astronomy tower last night. I know about your big plans that don’t involve a girlfriend. So you can scurry off now. I’ll be fine.” Theo opens his mouth before closing it again and chuckling softly. You frown. “This isn’t funny.” You say, clearly hurt by his lack of emotion. You reach for your book to hit it against his arm, but your boyfriend ceases the opportunity to grab your wrist and pull you closer to him, much to your dislike. 

“It’s funny, trust me.” He whispers, chuckling as he closes the space between you two. “I’m not gonna scurry off, princess, and I’m not breaking up with your dumb ass.” You try to pull your wrist free. “I heard you say-” Theo snakes an arm around your waist to keep you close, before interrupting you. “You heard what exactly?” You fall silent and look up at him with watery eyes. “Because I’m not breaking up with you, I love you a little too much and I’ve invested a bit too much money in an engagement ring. So you and I, we’re not breaking up any time soon.” The sadness in your eyes is replaced by surprise. “Engagement ring?” You whisper barely audible and Theo nods softly, eyes focused on yours. “So did you maybe hear me say something like : she’s not going to be my girlfriend for long?” He leans closer to you, eyes moving between your lips and your eyes. “Because you’re not going to be my girlfriend for long, since you’ll be my fiance soon and then-” Your lips crash on his and his hand moves to your head as he kisses you back passionately. “I’m an idiot.” You whisper between kisses, only making him kiss you harder. “Yeah, you are. You’re lucky you’re cute.” You frown and he chuckles. “I love you.” 

Draco

With closed eyes you enjoy the sounds of nature around you. “Hey!” You recognize your boyfriend’s voice and turn to see him walk up to you with his usual flair, though carefully watching the whomping willow afraid of what it might do. You turn away from him, not ready to face him after hearing him talk about breaking up with you last night. “What’s got you hiding out here?” He watches you with crossed arms and you chew your lip, fingers playing with the grass by your side. You were rarely this distance and he gets more worried. He decides to sit down next to you. “If something’s wrong you can tell me.” You’re surprised by the softness of his voice and turn to him. His heart breaks a little when he notices your puffy eyes, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to tell him what’s going on.

“I feel stupid, Draco.” You confess and he frowns at you, before you continue. “I- I just thought that when we lay in bed discussing the interior of our mansion that- I guess I believed that you really wanted that. You really had me believing you wanted that future with me.” Your boyfriend’s face goes paler than it usually is, but you don’t notice the horror in his eyes. “I respect your choice and I won’t make any drama, but I want you to know that I really wanted that… a future for just the two of us.” With those words you get up, feeling tears well up. “What?” Draco almost yells as he instantly gets up after you. “You can’t break up with me.” He grabs your hand and you look at him, confused at his words. “I’m not breaking up with you, you are breaking up with me.” Your explanation almost hurts Draco’s brain as he tries to make sense of what you’re saying. “No. No. Why would I break up with you?”

You press your lips into a line as you now notice how utterly confused he is. Your eyes rest on his hand holding onto yours, he didn’t want you to go anywhere. You look up at him, frowning. “But I heard you… last night… you said that- that I wasn’t going to be your girlfriend forever. Pansy asked if you were sure and you said yes. I clearly heard you say that.” Draco seems to relax at your words and a soft smile creeps up his lips. “Oh, love.” He lets go of your hand, before taking a step closer so there’s only an inch between you two and slings his arms around you, hugging you as he softly chuckles. “I’m not breaking up with you.” The calmness in his voice convinces you of his sincerity and you feel all the pain and tension leave your heart, making you blink away soft tears of joy.

You enjoy his warmth and hug him back, but after a moment your mind goes back to last night. “But then, what were you talking about?” You move away from him as you feel a bit of doubt make its way back to your heart. Draco tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and adores you with the sweetest smile on his lips. “You won’t be my girlfriend for long because I intend on marrying you.” Your eyes widen and you feel the purest form of happiness rush through you. “Marry me?” You whisper in surprise, not really believing what you had just heard. “Yes and I’m sure of it.” An intense blush forms on your cheeks and your eyes get sparkly as a soft laugh of joy leaves your lips. “I love you, Draco Malfoy.” He kisses tenderly, before locking his eyes with your and wiggling his eyebrows. “I love you too, future Mrs Malfoy.” You laugh and bite your lip. “I like that.” Draco pulls you closer, happy to hear your approval. You break a passionate kiss when your mind starts wondering again. “When are you asking?” You ask with a cheeky smile and Draco scoffs at your question. “I’m not telling. It’s already bad enough you know that I’m gonna ask.” 

[undertheorangetree]

Pomegranate Seeds

Summary- A retelling of the abduction of Persephone.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Hades and Persephone AU. Star-crossed lovers vibes. Uncle/niece incest. Making out. Angst. Fluff. Titty sucking. Handjob. Cunnilingus. Vaginal fingering. Soft smut. Mild praise kink. Mildly OOC Aemond.

Author's Notes- Yeah I was a Percy Jackson/Greek mythology kid, thank you for noticing. I'm still playing incredibly fast and loose with the mythology tho so we're gonna have to make our peace with that. This is a beast btw, it's like 9.6K and you can find the rest on AO3 with the link below :)

divider created by @firefly-graphics

It is moments like these, she thinks, that she loves most.

Alone in the meadow, surrounded by wildflowers, the babbling of the creek as it flows over the rocks. Everything green with the exception of the purple, white, and yellow flowerheads but lush and everbearing and alive, the sun little more than a hazy warm glow, not yet hot enough to be overbearing. It is peaceful here, so much more than she is used to. She had come to an agreement with her step sisters, Baela and Rhaena, that they allow her a few hours on her own in this meadow, undisturbed by anyone else. Though her mother much preferred to that she remain alongside her sisters whenever she is out of sight, she, Baela, and Rhaena had come to an agreement that what her mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. And besides, they were never too far away from her. Being water nymphs, they could be by her side in less than a moment if she really needed them, so long as she doe does not stray too far from the river. And she has never been more grateful for it than she is right now.

Stretching her arms high above her head, she stretches out along the grass, enjoying the feeling of every blade of grass, the sweet smell of the blooms wafting on the breeze. Admittedly, this meadow had not been quite so plentiful when they had found it, following along the winding river, but she is the goddess of spring. Flowers bloom at her word and sun shines with her will. It had not been too difficult to turn this meadow into her own personal paradise, away from the chaos often wrought by her mother and brothers and stepfather.

There is a sudden change in the wind that causes her to sit up. Colder than it had been before, something more akin to winter than spring. The ground seems to rumble beneath her, shaking as if the sudden cold has sent it to shiver. Curiously, she turns her head toward the tree line, where the birches and willows keep the meadow shielded from view, only to find a man standing among them. Dressed in all black- breeches, cloak, and the shred of his tunic she can see beneath it- his platinum hair is almost jarring in contrast. He is not a big man, long and lithe, but there is an air to him that feels dangerous, dangerous enough to give her pause. He has not noticed her yet, face turned away, but she can see the long, stern plains of his face from where she sits, looking incredibly serious. That seriousness is only exacerbated by the dark leather eyepatch covering the eye closest to her, a deep red scar carved beneath it.

She does not think she has ever seen anyone here before, not outside of Baela, Rhaena, and herself, and his presence here is almost incongruous. Still, there is an air about him, one that makes it clear that he is a god just as she is, and that alone should make his surprise appearance less shocking.

“Hello.”

The sound of her voice seems to catch him off guard. Quickly, he turns toward her, shoulders tense, but they relax when he takes her in. She cannot imagine that she is intimidating, sitting flat in the grass all alone. “Hello.”

But it is that reminder of the grass that brings her pause. What is this man doing here? Where had he come from? It is not as if this meadow is easy to find, hidden amongst the trees as it is. She feels her brows furrow, head cocking in question. “How did you find this place?”

She had not put a glamour over this meadow, but she did not feel she had too. The forest, though light and airy, was a labyrinth of trees that seemed deterrent enough to keep any unwanted guests away. They were incredibly difficult to find your way through and she had been convinced it would be impossible to try- for God or mortal.

Near impossible, it seemed then.

His eye darts back to the treeline, taking half a step back. “If I am intruding, I can leave.”

“No.” She says it far too quickly and she can see the way his eyebrows raise in response to it, but she can’t find it in her to be ashamed. She is intrigued by this man, more so than she likely should be, and finds she wants to know more. To learn how he came to find this place. “Just because this place is unknown does not mean it is mine alone. You may stay. Beauty like this should be enjoyed.”

“Wise words,” he agrees, coming toward her. He hesitates at the end, torn on whether or not to truly join her, but it seems courtesy wins out as he lowers himself to the ground, joining her amongst the flowers. He looks entirely out of place, black against the blooms, but she says nothing, keeping her observation to herself.

They sit in absolute silence but she does not mind. He sits stiffly, as if uncomfortable, while she continues to take in all that is around her. From here, she can see the way the willows sway with the wind, the white puffy clouds floating by in the soft blue sky.

“I did not mean to,” he says. She looks at him, head tilted once again. “To find this place. It was not my intention. Though I admit I have never seen anything quite like it.”

She smiles, though he could not possibly know that he had complimented her. “It is a rare thing.”

“It feels almost as if it were from a painting,” he adds, looking around the meadow to take it in further.

She joins him in it, finding no shame in admiring her own work. It is a pretty place, though that had always been her intention. Olympus was beautiful in and of itself, but it was stark in that way. Ethereal and otherworldly, but cosmopolitan. Bright white marble, painted statues, stained glass. Everything beautiful, to be sure, but not in the untamed way that she seemed to crave. She preferred the beauty that was found in nature, in heavy branches filled with green leaves, tall grasses and wildflowers and crystalline waters.

“Do you know much about art?” she asks to fill the silence.

He seems caught off guard again from her question, but answers it anyway. “Not as much as I would like, but I can appreciate the beauty in something as well as any man. Though do not tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation.”

She laughs. “You needn’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Which periods do you prefer?”

They talk for hours, the conversation unfurling as naturally as a bird’s wing. Art, history, philosophy. There is no subject they do not indulge in. He becomes less awkward with time as he grows more comfortable around her and she almost pulls a laugh from him not once, but twice. It seems quite the feat, for a man as serious as this one seems to be, though she does not let her pride get the better of her. When she asks him how she managed to find her well kept secret, he had simply said that one always finds the best things when you are not looking for them. A non answer, but that was alright. She was sure she could coax the answer from him eventually.

“Forgive me, I never asked you your name,” she says after what must have been hours, half appalled by her lack of manners.

He does not seem to mind, a good natured half smile making its way onto his face. “My friends call me Aemond. You may as well.”

It is not uncommon, for Gods to prefer more earthly names. She is often the same. There is power within a name and for such an innocent encounter, she does not feel the need to have him call her Persephone or Kore or any of those that strike some rumination of power and fear. So she gives him her common name, the one she feels is more true to who she is, and he smiles in response to it, repeating it back to her as if to test it. She likes the way it sounds when he says it, the way each letter seems to roll off him tongue, and somehow hearing him say the word alone is enough to make her flush.

She turns her head to hide it and only then notices that the sun has dipped below the trees, leaving the sky a hazy orange. Her mother will be expecting her home soon and there is no telling how poorly she will react if Rhaena and Baela return home without her. She doesn’t doubt that Rhaenyra will send her great serpent Syrax after her should she be even a moment late.

“I have to go,” she says, unable to keep the apologetic tone from her voice.

Reluctantly, she stands, brushing the dirt from her skirts. His lips had parted at her announcement, but now he ducks his head in an understanding nod. She smiles at him, not truly wanting to go yet, and makes her way toward the creek to call upon her sisters to come and fetch her. She does not make it two steps before he is calling after her.

“Can I see you again?”

She turns back to look at him. The insecurity on his face does not seem to match his features, looking almost out of place there. Still, she finds it entirely endearing and she realizes that she would absolutely like to see him again.

“Yes,” she agrees softly.

“Tomorrow?”

She does not bother to fight the smile itching its way onto her face. “Yes.”

He matches her smile then before standing. He comes forward and takes her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips and placing a chaste kiss there. “Then I shall see you on the morrow, my lady.”

She can do nothing but hope he does not notice how hot her face has become.

“On the morrow.”

Read the rest here

[tinydefector]

I LIVE FOR HUMAN EFFECTS IT GENUINELY JUST FEELS LIKE A SITCOM HAHA

humble request to have rung in human effects 🙏 i love rung 🙏

Mental strain - Human effects

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: none, mention of the Ambassador being desirable

Masterlist

Prev

Next

______________

Rung's office is quite a pretty place, decorated with model ships and collective little models. But the vibe of the place for some reason felt as if sitting under an old willow tree, it was familiar and soothing, soft scented oils burn in the background as the Therapist pads down notes from his human patient.

The ambassador lays across the large couch with an arm over their face, head pressed back into a soft pillow as they breathe in the scent of the room. “I just don't know what to do about this, normally Whirl doesn't cause me issues but my God, that mech and Nadia are conspiring with each other I can just feel it” they huff out. Normally the ambassador wouldn't be put off much, but both Nadia and Whirl were hunting for personal information, and seemingly have in their head the they were involved with either, Rodimus, Megatron or Luna Whistler, and it was starting to frustrate them.

‘ “So…. Boss, you and the captain?” Nadia coos as she walks with the Ambassador. It earns the Moroccan woman a glance. “What about the captains?” They asked with a raised eyebrow. “You've been spending an awful amount of time with them” she teases, which Gets a shake of the liaison's head. “Nadia I don't know what gossip you're hunting for” they hum while continuing to walk with her.

“Hey fleshy getting quite up close and personal with the new seeker huh” Whirl chirped, almost making the ambassador prickle with goose bumps from the fight or flight response to the helimech. “Whirl, I don't think I have to remind You about your probation and not causing issues with crewmates?” They shoot back at the mech. The singular optic seems to focus on the ambassador. “Hmmm, touchy, didn't take you as a Xeno” the heli stated before disappearing into thin air.’

Rung listens thoughtfully as the ambassador vents their frustrations, optics crinkling kindly behind spectacles. After long vorns counselling troubled mechs, he had learned humans seemed to have just as much trauma and issues as most mechs did, but he did enjoy these sessions where the ambassador mainly vented about issues, crew gossip or plans.

"Perhaps Whirl and Nadia have struck up an unlikely friendship, though the results tend toward...chaos, but so far it seems rather harmless, especially for Whirl." he hums with a soft smile his face plate leans against his knuckles as his other servo types away, noting things.

"Rung you don't get it, it feels like Nadia thinks I'm sleeping with Megatron or Rodimus and Whirl, I swear Whirl just pops up out of nowhere makes a snarky comment about Luna whistler." They sigh while their head presses back into the pillow. "Rodimus has been grumpy, avoiding me when I'm trying to help him with his work, it seems like the moment we had Luna Whistler join, the crew has become a little standoffish, God I just want a vacation" they mumble.

His optical ridges lift inquiringly. "Oh my, that is quite a predicament." He chuckles while laying his pad down to look them over. His optics flicker away from them before back to his pad. “I had heard rumours of some of the crew being rather interested but I didn't Think it would escalate to this” he hums which earns him a look from the Ambassador.

They raise an eyebrow at the Therapist. “What rumours?” the ask rather worried over the situation. He removes his spectacles, optics crinkling in shared wistfulness.

"My dear it seems you are rather desirable amongst the crew, quite a few are interested in courting you. and it would not surprise me if quite a few have become slightly bitter over a new mech joining and having your attention on him" Rung explains, he wasn't a daft mech, he had been around a very, very long time. And he knew the face of a smitten young mech.

Their eyes go wide, mouth wide open In shock. “But.. but I'm a human!” They state sitting up in utter shock hearing this revelation. Rung's optics soften as he looks at their stunned form. “Oh I'm aware, quite a few of them have been rather vocal over wanting to know how to properly Court a human, quite a few Web forums and sites have come up since the Cybertron and earth alliance.” He informs, not giving away details of who, or what mechs had confided in him about their interest.

His smile takes on a gently mischievous quirk. "As for Nadia and Whirl's meddling, I'm very sure they have become rather invested in figuring out who the lucky mech is, even though it's very clear there isn't one” he chuckles again watching the way their eyes bulge.

They are speechless, stunned. Not knowing how everyone apparently thought they were involved with multiple mechs. “Oh my fucking god” they groan out loudly while slamming their face into the pillow and letting out a noise. After a moment they sit up " I just want everyone would cut Luna a break, mechs trying to become friends with others and fuck he's a nervous one outside of work, he's a sweet mech just wish everyone would stop giving him the stink eye, and now apparently I'm the reason hes getting the stink eye" they press their head into their hands.

The Ambassador looked tired and stressed. "Plus I'm pretty sure he's very smitten with Traxies" Rung lets out a soft vent as he stands walking towards one of the shelves with the model ships, reaching up he withdraws a small bottle from his cabinets, sympathy visible on his features as he walks towards the liaison. "Here, I believe you may be desperately in need of one of these." He slowly hands a slightly larger glass to the human.

Their eyes widen slightly as Rung hands them the glass, "where did you get Vintage Earth Whiskey!" They ask almost in shock as they look over the bottle. Rung's optics gleam behind spectacles as the ambassador regards their unexpected gift.

"I may have a bit of a collection of human and cybertronian liquor. Ships aren't the only thing I collect” he hums lightly before the Ambassador shoots him a look. “Swerve tends to let me know when he gets his servos on collections” he chuckles as he pours himself a glass, “ human Alcohol is fortunate something I happen to indulge in on occasions”

"I should have known Swerve was bootlegging booze" they state with a shake of their head as they take a sip of the whiskey. They both sit there quietly before Rung finally speaks up again.

"In matters of the sparks, a lot of cybertronians are rather taken by you, most likely the easiest way to go about it is to state your not interested in interspecies relationships, let them down easy. It won't be easy but it would most likely be the easiest way to get the rumours and your admirers to back off." His optics glint roguishly behind spectacles.

"Thing is Rung, it never even occurred to me outside of Nadia making jokes of getting it on with a mech" they hum while leaning back into the chair and sipping their drink. “In truth, now I'm just questioning every nice thing the crew does for me, oh God, is Gift giving a thing that indicates Courting!?” They are worried only for Rung to snort and chuckle.

“in some cases but most times it's only after a Conjunxing request has been accepted, im sure who ever you gave something to hasn't seen it as you showing interest, tho there are a few things which count, such as custom paint jobs, upgrades, or weapons” he states, it soothes their worry over the sweets they had gotten for Megatron.

“OK, ok, so hypothetically, If I was interested in a bot, how would I go about asking them if they were interested” they mumble only for Rung's optics to soften as he watches how they stare into their drink. “ Hmm well it very much depends on the Mech you're interested in, and not just personally wise, different frames have different Courting methods. Tanks and Seekers are very different in their approaches, as are Speedster and Haulers.” He takes a sip of his drink before continuing.

“ seekers tend to do Flight dances with one they are interested in, others can become slightly hostile, it really depends on the mech. Tankers are also collectors, most likely if one gives you something they hold very dearly it means they are trying to initiate an interest, most times it will be ammunition. Haulers are a bit of a strange one because it depends on what kinda hauler, because some will take you to a place which you have never seen before because it reminds them of you” he finishes. It makes the Ambassador fidget lightly.

“There are many more I could go on about but sadly I'm not as well versed in all the different frame types conjunxing rituals” he smiles at them before finishing his drink and placing the cup over on his bench, fixing his optics on the human again.

"You know, you're not what I had expected as a therapist, um, thank you, sorry you had to deal with my breakdown and well this” they make hand movements towards themself which makes Rung laugh in amusement. "We all struggle, in our ways. My role is easing that burden, however it works best." A gentle pulse of reassurance.

"Your well-being matters greatly to this crew. It is a privilege to offer aid, whether counsel or distracting company." He stands from his seat walking over to grab their nose empty cup. “ Ah I don't think I'm ready to head back out, how much longer can I stay?” They inquire.

Rung runs a few calculations over time, a light rumble echoes from his chassis. “ I fortunately don't seem to have another patient for the cycle unless Whirl decides to make a visit for themself” he gives them a soft smile.

“Care for another drink?” He offers which earns him a nod from the Ambassador. “Well outside of this small problem you're having with suitors, have you had a chance to enjoy that hobby of yours you were telling Me about last time?”

“Sadly not yet, having been helping Megatron and Ultra Magnus with Rodimus, turns out that speedster isn't the best with writing. I think he has Dyslexia and most likely ADHD, they tend to go hand in hand a lot. Been trying to find ways to help him focus on work” they take the glass and begin sipping it, relaxing back into the chair and pillow. “Just wish Rodimus would stop with the cold shoulder, well I now know why he's giving me a cold shoulder but it makes it easier to work with him when he's not huffy and pouting” they explain.

Rung shakes his helm in amusement. “He will settle, that or I'll have a word with him during his session about workplace duties, have you brought it up with Megatron or Ultra Magnus?” Rung asked next, which earned him a shake of their head.

“no, he's been good with them, really good actually, Megatron's been really good with helping him with reading, and Magnus is a godsend with fixing any errors. I know it's driving him crazy having to redo it but I think he understands the importance of having Rodimus learning” in truth they had been very helpful and supportive with helping Rodimus learning and finding ways to help with the things he found difficult.

“Well I'm glad to hear that they are helping, that reminds me I have to schedule an appointment with Megatron, his spark forbids him ever coming to see me willingly” he grumbles the last part which earns a laugh from the human. They continue chatting with each other for a while. It's only after they both finish a third glass do they say their goodbyes.

“Thank you again Rung, I'll try and see you for my next session in two Luna cycles but don't hold me to that” they joke, Rungs rolls his optics in amusement before putting away the bottle and placing his pad down on his desk. “Anytime my dear, try not to get yourself too worried over everyone, they will settle down eventually, hot oiled mechs are always a little over the top” he chuckles before sending them off with a wave.

Rung slowly sinks back into his seat and he sighs. It looked like a lot more mechs were interested in the ambassador than he had originally anticipated, and after the holoweb forums he had seen he wasn't surprised he just hoped the crew would settle down soon.

_____________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

@aquaioart

@daniel-meyer-03

@pupap123

@dannyaleksis

@averysillylittlefellow

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.2 K Warnings: None Prompt: It's a snow day! This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

THIS CHAPTER CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONESHOT

Chapter 35: Chill of Desire

Tuesday, December, 14th, 1976

“It’s snowing!” you heard Mary squeal, her excited tone waking you up instantly, and causing you to smile as you looked through the window. Mary had propped the window open and extended her hand as she stared outside.

It wasn’t only snowing then, in fact, it had been snowing all night, all the towers, the fields and the valley were covered by a thick layer of snow. The trees stood tall, their branches delicately coated, creating a magical-looking scene, more magical than Hogwarts already was, anyway. 

You had the view of the forest from your window, and you could see the Whomping Willow shaking off the layers of snow that had fallen over him at night, which made you smile, the memory of the devious night having been replaced by so many cuddles with the boys that the looking at the Willow was not as stressful as it had been at some point, you didn’t think of how Remus had gotten hurt by it, but rather you thought of how you had kissed Sirius under it. And how you might be going to meet Moony later that month, as Vixen this time around. 

The courtyards and pathways were like winding paths through a snowy maze, and the usually bustling grounds were hushed under the soft blanket of snow, you could see a few students outside enjoying the white fields –especially the younger ones– you still had hours before you had to get to class, you realised when you eyed the small cuckoo clock your mom had given you at the beginning of the year.  It wasn’t even time for you to go on your morning flight yet, but you thought perhaps it would be a good idea to skip flying in favour of playing in the snow, even if it was just for a day, you were sure you’d be able to convince James if you managed to recruit Remus and Sirius first. 

The world outside seemed to have taken a pause, wrapped in the serene beauty of winter, with barely a few students playing in the snow and trying to get from one spot of the castle to the other without making much noise. Of course, that wouldn’t last long, not as long as you could help it. You stood up and changed into something warm, putting on Remus’ sweater. You had taken the habit of wearing a lot more often since you wanted to test a theory that had cemented itself in your brain since the day of the Slytherin sweater incident. 

Once you were ready you turned to the girls “Come outside in like…” You pondered for a second, 5 minutes to wake up Sirius, another 5 for the two of you to convince Remus to join your shenanigans. Like 10 minutes to convince Prongs and about 4 for them all to get ready. Peter would be coming the minute you convinced Potter, so you didn’t worry much about that, “30 minutes,” you said, adding a few minutes to spare  “It’ll be fun.” 

“How fun?” Lily asked, a look of worry on her face that made you laugh. 

“It’s a snow day Lils, it’ll be brilliant, I promise!” you said with a smile plastered on your face as you put on a pair of boots and disappeared from their sight. Returning just a second later to take the invisibility cloak you had borrowed from James the previous night. You had it on a ball, and neither of the girls asked about it since they had assumed it was just a blanket you borrowed from Sirius or something. The minute you stepped out, you turned over a corner and put it on, walking straight towards the boy’s dormitories. 

Once outside their door you took a deep breath and leaned your ear close to the door, just wanting to make sure they were all still asleep. Which, as you predicted, they had been. You smiled and used your wand to open their door with a tweak on the classic “alohomora” that Remus has taught you. 

They had charmed their door, obviously, they had, but Remus –who often left his keys since he rushed in the mornings– had found a way around their own charm and taught it to you since you had been sneaking in to cuddle him and Padfoot, as Vixen of course. It hadn’t been every day, but you had all agreed that you’d have to do it a lot more often closer to the moon, to make sure the smell of the pack was well rubbed. 

You thought you already smelled like them enough, but neither of them seemed convinced. Or rather, neither of them wanted to stop cuddling each other, and you didn’t either. Padfoot was fluffy and Remus was always warm, which was especially nice on colder nights, the kind that were already much more common because of the time of the year you were in. And, sometimes, rather often, Sirius would turn back into himself and cuddle both you and Remus, only to turn back into Pads in the morning. If either Pete or James knew, they didn’t say a thing. Remus had always been asleep, or at least pretended, so neither you nor Sirius noticed, and you, who would lay half a top of Remus half a top of Sirius who had now learned exactly how to pet you, weren’t about to complain either. 

Once inside you looked at the boys and opened one of the windows with a swish of your wand, bringing a small blizzard inside the room and leaning in over Sirius’ bed, letting the snow fall slowly over his delicate features. He had his mouth slightly parted, and his hair sprawled all around him. He was the loveliest thing to look at; he looked like a princess, like Snow White, you thought, especially when a small snowflake got stuck on his thick black lashes. No wonder Prince Charming wanted to kiss the girl awake. You too felt tempted to kiss him.

“Sirius,” you whispered. 

He groaned, and you whispered his name again, giving in and giving him the kiss you wanted, a quick peck over one of his eyes, feeling how the snowflake over his lash melted away with the warmth of your mouth. He opened his eyes and looked at you, and then around, there was snow all over, coating you, himself and his bed as you leaned over him with a sneaky little smile on your face. The smile that oh so clearly stated, you were up to something. 

You were looking at him in such a way that he forced himself to clear his throat, trying to think of anything other than his morning discomfort. On days like this, he would get a shower and release himself of those thoughts, and something else. But clearly, that wasn’t an option at that particular moment, let alone with you leaning on top of him like that. You licked your lips and he almost cursed. 

“Sirius,” you said again “It’s snowing!” 

“I can tell Starshine,” he said as he picked a small snowflake that had gotten stuck in your hair, watching it dissolve in his fingers before he turned back to you. Well done, Sirius, she hasn’t noticed, he applauded for himself. 

You smiled and leaned in closer to him, his breath hitched in his throat, you had no fucking idea what you were doing to him. You leaned enough to whisper in his ear. “Help me convince Prongs to play in the snow instead of practice.” 

He almost frowned, turning to get a better look at you. “You’ve never had a snow day?” 

“I’ve had…” you said, “but never with you.” 

He sighed at your words but turned to you with a warm smile. “Fine, let’s go,” He said as he sat on the bed, still thinking of ways to get rid of his problem, his covers falling discreetly over it. If only there was a spell for that. 

“No, first we must convince Remus.” 

“Remus, why?” 

“If Remus is in, there’s no way Prongs will  say no, even if we’re skipping practice.” 

Sirius seemed to be processing what you said but nodded. “Go ahead, I’ll go change,” he said, motioning for you to move as he leaned over to find his shirt “bet he’ll like it if you wake him up with snow too,” he said with a devious smile and you rolled your eyes, giving him a soft peck in the mouth before walking over to Remus, bringing the small blizzard along with you. 

Had it been a few weeks ago, you might have been hesitant to do exactly what you were about to do, but you had climbed onto Remus’ bed so often in the past few days, either for cuddling as Vixen or just for chilling, that it was almost more natural than it was to climb onto your own. It was like climbing onto Sirius’ bed even, although, lately the two of you spend a lot more time on Remus’ bed than his own, because of the scent thing.

You leaned over and watched the small snowflakes fall over Remus’ face, he looked just as handsome as Sirius had. Or perhaps, the way to describe Sirius correctly would be ethereal, Remus was handsome. 

“Hey Rem,” you said softly, placing his hand over his shoulder. This time around, you decided to be softer, and more careful, not forgetting that one time he had pinned you on his bed. He stirred, brows furrowed lightly and nose almost imperceptibly scrunched up. 

“Sirius?”  he asked, not opening his eyes, you smelled like Sirius, and you and him. Your scents had been so mixed at this point, he just assumed it was Sirius since it would make more sense for it to be him, especially to be bothering him so early in the morning, not that he minded, not as long as it was him.

“Try again,” you said with a smile. 

Remus hummed content, “Little Witch.” 

You eyed him cautiously, his eyes were still closed and you leaned a little closer, shaking his shoulder lightly. Then he all but grabbed you by the waist and pushed you to him, Remus was still way too asleep to process what he was doing, and you fell over his torso as he tightened his grip. When Sirius walked out of the bathroom he spotted the two of you and thought it was the most adorable thing he’d seen, even if you had a small frown as you tried to fight your way out of the werewolf’s grip. But Remus was way too fucking strong. 

You huffed and turned to Sirius “Mind a little help?” you mouthed, he smirked in response. In seconds he turned into Padfoot and walked over to the two of you, leaning his head into yours for a second before jumping so his paws were on the bed and then, he leaned over and started licking Remus’ face. 

You barely managed to see Remus scrunch his face before he opened his eyes, looking rather startled. First, there was snow; second, Sirius had woken him by licking his fucking face; and third, you were laying horizontally across his torso, your head tilting slightly to the side with a rather amused expression, and he was holding you there. 

“What the fuck?” 

“You’re very grabby in the mornings,” Sirius said, now back in his human form and staring at Remus with his face laid over his crossed arms, which were leaning on the same spot Padfoot’s paws had been on, smile plastered on his lips.

 Fucking hell he looks adorable, Remus thought. 

And so did you, calmly lying there as you waited for him to loosen his grip. You didn’t mind waiting all that much either, Remus was comfortable. And then Sirius turned to you, placing one of his hands over your hair and letting it gently slide out, causing your head to turn towards the two of them in his action “Look at the poor thing, waiting there patiently for you to let her go Moony.”

You frowned, condescending. You were about to argue, but there was something about the way both boys looked at you that also made you want to shut up, as if you didn’t want to break whatever spell had been cast over the three. And it wasn’t the first time either. You blinked a couple of times. “Poor thing my ass,” you managed to say to Sirius, even if you let him play with your hair still. 

Remus almost reached to do the same, his hand twitched, but you didn’t notice, you had closed your eyes as Sirius continued to play with your hair. Looking rather content in the position. A small spark of rage came to Remus and he tightened his grip around you, only for a second until he realised that he was way out of line and let you go. You didn’t move, just enjoyed Sirius’ hand for a few more seconds and Remus wished he could be the one to make you feel like that. Eventually, you took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, biting your lip as you looked at Remus “It’s snowing.” 

He looked around and raised his eyebrows at you, his face clearly stating “no shit Sherlock”. 

“Starshine here wants to go play out there in the snow with us,” Sirius said. 

You were about to swat him for being so haughty with you, but you realised by the way the corner in his mouth lifted forward, he was just doing it to piss you off. You didn’t even realise the way Remus had gulped with how intensely you were glaring at Sirius. 

“Or we could just stay and cuddle,” you said with a sneaky little smile, you knew Sirius was already eager to go out there and play with the snow. Two people could play his little game. But both boys liked the idea just as much as the prospect of going out in the snow with you. 

“Let’s go,” Remus said as he patted you on the leg casually, a signal for you to get off him. If Sirius noticed his gesture, he didn’t seem to care much that he had done it, and you didn’t seem to notice either. It was almost as if the three of you had special concessions with each other that wouldn’t be allowed to many others. For example, Sirius would surely be pissed if you had been cuddling Tom, or even Peter, but with Remus, he didn’t seem to mind, heck he even encouraged it sometimes. Not that any of the three noticed these little things, but some people did. 

“Get changed,” You told Rem with a bit of a smile, “We’ll go wake James.” 

Remus nodded and both you and Sirius stood up. You walked over to James’ bed, and Sirius was about to jump over him to wake him up with a thud, but you stopped him, bringing in your small blizzard over his friend. Sirius smiled and took his wand out, making more snow come inside, and having relatively strong –and cold– winds blow over Prongs. 

Neither of you was being half as gentle as you had been with Remus, was it because you knew Moony’s short temper or… something else? Perhaps it was part of those special concessions you allowed one another. 

James started to shiver, pulling his covers higher up only for Sirius to slide them down again with a swish of your wand. Only then did you realise Prongs had been shirtless under the covers. You gasped silently at the sight, covering your mouth and staring. Prongs was fucking ripped, not as much as Remus but certainly ripped. You did not remember him being so fit back when you had been him.

Sirius nudged you with his shoulder when he noticed you were staring “Stop ogling him, will you?” he said slightly annoyed, he tried to hide it, and it slipped pass you. 

You shook your head, still amazed. “Do you have a camera? Lily should know.” 

Ah… so that’s why she’s staring at Prongs, fair enough, Sirius thought. He stared too, also thinking that while Prongs was ripped, Remus was much better. The snow became thicker around Prongs as Sirius’ thoughts focused on his other friend, the wind became even stronger, blowing on James’ hair, and making it even messier than usual. You were about to tell Sirius to hold back a little when James woke up, sitting on his bed fast and in panic. 

“Wakey-wakey Rudolf!” You said with a smile. 

Remus, who was just stepping out of the bedroom, looked at the two of you, wicked smiles on your faces while James stared, almost horrified, and he smiled. His two naughty little crushes. He wondered if you’d reach in to cuddle him and Sirius tonight, he wanted you to do it, he wanted you to do it really bad. 

“What in the bIoody–“ 

You were about to speak, but Sirius stole your line “It’s snowing!” 

“It’s freezing, that's what is!” he said as he pulled the covers, but you took them from him and dangled them in the air. 

“No-uh Prongs, it’s time to get up!” He gave you a reproachful look, “Come on! It’s a snow day, we must play in the snow a little before it melts away… and class starts.” 

The blizzard you and Sirius had caused was already dissipating, leaving the beds of the boys, and their floor, just a little slippery. But James peered to the window. “I highly doubt the snow’s gonna melt away anytime soon, luv… Besides, what about flying?” 

“No flying today mate,” Remus intervened from behind the two, gently placing his hands on both yours and Sirius’ shoulders, “It’s snow day, and the first one of the season.” 

“But…” 

You sighed. “Lily will be there,” you added. 

James’ eyes pretty much beamed after you said that and he ran up to his trunk, throwing a pillow towards Peter’s bed who woke up completely confused, “Why am I being attacked?” he asked with a frown. 

“It’s a snow day Pete, we’re all coming out to play!” You said excitedly, Peter blinked as if wondering why the hell you were in his room before remembering you had been over more often than not lately, and because of his idea, that is.

“Morning Vix,” he said politely. “Fancy seeing you here,” he added as a joke.

“Oh.. piss off and change before you start teasing us all over again,” Sirius responded.

And he had been teasing you rather often. Since you started cuddling Remus together, he wouldn’t stop with the canine jokes. Either Puppy cuddles, lovable howlers, or whatever the hell came into his mind at that moment. He found it hilarious that the three of you were so close and that the three of you were a variant of the canine family. Something about being meant to be or whatever. 

Peter just snickered and walked into the bathroom with clothes in hand, James didn’t even care, he straight up turned around and took off his pants right there in front of you, which had Sirius pull you to look at him and Remus cover your eyes with his hands. You laughed at their silly reactions. “Yo, Rem, when I said I would let you blindfold me, I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.” 

“Sly little fox, promising things without meaning them, are we?” He teased. 

You laughed again, letting your head shake. Remus was eyeing Sirius then, and Sirius returned the stare, the two of them stayed like that, almost frozen as they looked at each other, your laughter almost fading into the background as Sirius turned his gaze towards Remus’ diverted smile. Remus has a pretty smile, pretty like Starshine’s, he thought. 

“Is he done?” You asked, pulling on Moony’s hand to try and see a little bit better. That broke their trance and the two of them turned back to look at you, Sirius’ eyes flickering to your lips for a second, thinking he might actually be going insane. 

“Yeah, I’m done,” James said as he leaned over and placed an arm around your shoulders. “Why are we hogging Vixen?” 

“She came to wake us up with a fucking snowfall, now she must suffer,” Remus said as if it were the most natural thing. You nudged him lightly, about to say something when Peter stepped out, several layers of sweaters over him. 

You smiled “You get cold easy, Wormy?” 

“He’s got no tolerance,” James said, “and he always forgets the warming spell.”

“I could help you with it,” you offered.

“Thanks,” he said with a genuine smile, “but I’ve come prepared,” he added as he pulled a small piece of parchment from the pocket of his coat, showing it off in between his index and ring finger. “Annie gave it to me and charmed it so I wouldn’t lose it,” he explained, “It always reappears in my pockets now.” 

“What? That’s brilliant!” you said reaching for the parchment and taking it from Peter’s hand for a second, looking at the symbols in the back. Remus approached you from behind to take a look.

 “It’s complicated magic,” he said. 

“It looks like an altered version of Homunculus,” Sirius said, he too had approached you and stared at the back of the small paper. 

“Mixed with a clinging spell and a respawn one,” you added perplexed, “It’s incredible…” you said breathily, disbelief lacing your tone.

“Indeed.” Peter proudly raised his head. “Annie is insanely clever.” 

You smiled and gave the paper back to him, before frowning and turning to the boys. “Do you guys think the Homunculus charm could help with the map?” you asked with a frown. 

Remus bit his lip as he thought about it and then turned to you, “Vixen, that’s it! If we take the homunculus cham and somehow connect it to Hogwarts Magic–” 

“And then bind it to the core of the map then… we could have absolutely every single student, teacher and visitor to the castle tagged at once!” 

Remus nodded, “No more sneaking charms in their robes and backpacks! Fucking hell, we’ve cracked it!” 

You and Remus were staring at each other with such sheer excitement over it, so hyped up that the boy almost reached out to kiss you, managing to stop, and clenched his fist by his side. 

“Nerds,” Peter teased, dragging out the e slightly. 

“But hot ones,” Sirius added inadvertently, giving a small shrug as he did.

Remus turned to Sirius with a frown, but you just placed your hand over one of his shoulders and nodded. “Indeed we are,” you said and sent a wink his way. You then spun on your heel back to the rest of the marauders “Shall we? The girls must be waiting for us by now,” you said, standing on your toes to look over Sirius’ shoulders, at the clock. 

 A few seconds later, and due to James’ idea, you were all running down the stairs and through the halls, in an attempt to get to the orchards as fast as possible. 

“Do not run in the halls!” you heard a couple of scandalised paintings scream, and you just giggled as Sirius threw a silencing spell their way. The portraits looking at him enraged as you all kept running. By the time you reached the doors to the grounds, you were all panting, cheeks burning and grinning like fools.

You were bent down trying to catch your breath when you felt a snowball that came from the outside straight to your face. The boys gasped and started laughing as you dusted off the remnants of snow and looked up and tried to spot where it had come from. You continued to scan the field, only to find Lily Evans, smiling and waving at you with the most guilty expression you had ever seen in a person. 

Now it was your turn to gasp. “That’s what you get for waking us all up early,” She shouted from a few metres in the distance. 

“Mary woke us up!” You argued, “I only made arrangements.” 

“No, no,” James said, a wicked smile on his face. “You did wake us up early,” he added as he pointed at all the marauders. “And with a fucking blizzard,” the boy was already walking towards the redhead, “I say it’s time for payback.” 

You were about to say something when you received another snowball in the face, you looked at the boy with an expression of absolute betrayal as the leftover snow fell over your coat. “James Potter you little shit!” you said. He gave you a daring look in return. And you scoffed amused. Then you leaned down and made a small ball, packing the snow gently before throwing it his way. James easily veered out of the way, which you should have expected, since he was so used to dodging bludgers. 

“That all you got? You’d make a terrible beater, luv!” he teased, taking the ball Lily gave him and launching it your way, this time around you managed to dodge, but the ball fell right on the side of Sirius’ head. 

“Prongs, my hair!” he whined. Both you and Remus snickered, the taller boy was now the one passing you a snowball, allowing his hand to linger just for a second too long, as he did, not that anyone noticed, Sirius was too busy taking snow out of his hair and Peter had run off somewhere earlier. You smiled and brought the ball up to your face.

Using what you learned from charms to perform a small, wandless spell, over the projectile, you smiled wickedly and threw it his way again. James dodged to the side but the snowball turned with him and landed square on his face. You laughed as James looked at you with absolute shock, trying to remember if you had –at any point– taken your wand out. When he realised you hadn’t, he was half impressed, and just as he was pushing his glasses back on his face, he received another ball on the side of his head, his hair getting filled with snow as he gasped. 

Sirius –who had thrown the ball– was waving at him with a smile. Until seconds later he too received a snowball on his face, a laugh from Marlene as she nudged Mary echoed in the distance. 

Remus was about to pass you another snowball when he too got hit, square on his chest –the lucky bastard– by none other than Beth Doxon. She smiled, her bright red hair being covered by a warm Gryffindor cap. “Come on Professor Lupin! Stop passing balls and start throwing them!” she taunted, Remus took the ball in his hands and threw it her way. 

“Kind of fits you,” you said with a smile as you leaned down for another ball and moved it to your mouth to charm it again, “Professor Lupin, it’s got a ring to it.” 

“I much prefer the sound of Professor Moony,” Sirius teased from behind, “encapsulates his personality better.”

“Sod off, Pads!” Remus said, also crouching down to get more snowballs, when he stood up, and another ball came your way, you quickly moved behind him. He turned to you in disbelief. “What am I? Your human shield?” he asked, just as a snowball fell on the side of his face. 

“And an effective one, isn’t he Kit?” 

“Very,” you responded with a light giggle. “It’s about his broad shoulders,” you said as you placed both hands on them, Remus tensed, looking at Sirius, thinking he might be angry, or jealous, or something. But neither of those things happened, instead, he joined your praising. 

“And he’s tall too,” Sirius added, walking right behind you, and placing his hands over your shoulders, really close to your neck, in fact, close enough so his cold fingers crashed against your warm skin, which caused you to hiss and step away from him, crashing onto Remus. 

“Shit Sirius!” You complained as you attempted to tighten the scarf around your neck “You’re cold as fuck.” 

“But you warm my heart baby,” he teased, an overly gooey tone in his voice as he extended his hands towards you again, you knew exactly what he was about to do and you scurried out of his grasp and ran towards the snow, even if you got a few snowballs thrown your way as you tried to cross the field. You found a statue and with a quick confringo, melted the snow at the top to make a dent and take cover.

You quickly made a ball from the snow at your side and threw it on Sirius’ hair, leaning your head just enough time for him to notice it had been you. He eyed you, diverted and then you felt a snowball hit the back of your head, you turned around just enough to find Remus with another snowball in his hand.  

“Scoot over, will you?” He said as he leaned down, as if ready to enter your improvised trench. 

“No, you threw a snowball in my head,” you responded, feigning annoyance. 

Remus chuckled and placed one of his legs inside your trench either way, “And you used me as your shield, we’re even.” 

You shook your head in amusement but scooted over either way. Remus swished his wand and suddenly a pile of snowballs appeared behind you. You smiled and took your own wand out, whispering the same locating spell over all of them. Remus raised his eyebrow at you as if he was impressed, and you shot him a wink as you took a ball and leaned over to throw it towards Lily, meanwhile, Remus was throwing some Beth’s way. 

“You’ve abandoned me for a sexy werewolf I see,” Sirius whispered in your ear, he had apparated just behind the two of you. He had been practising since your last class when Professor Dumbledore allowed you all to try doing it for the first time by yourselves, and he was insufferably good at it. 

“The werewolf doesn’t want to bury his freezing cold hands on my neck,” you said –if only you knew where he wanted to bury them– without even turning to look at your boyfriend, if you had, you’d probably go soft at the sight of his eyes. He often got what he wanted from you with just a look, and he fucking knew it all too well. Not that you didn’t have the same effect on him, hence, you two were absolutely chaotic together. 

Your small trench was barely enough for the three of you to fit in together, and it’s not that either of you was a stranger to touching each other, but Remus was feeling the heat rise up to his cheeks as your shoulders brushed against his, but much more worse when his back brushed against Sirius’ smaller chest. It was like the Halloween party all over again, but this time Remus didn’t want to run away. 

Well, perhaps a part of him did, but the rest of him, the part that had thoroughly enjoyed cuddling Vixen and Padfoot, wanted to do the exact same to you and Sirius. He wanted the two of you to be his, to slather you with his scent so much that the entire world knew who you belonged to. 

Of course, that was ridiculous, Remus knew, but he was hungry, Moony was hungry, the problem is he didn’t want food, he wanted his two best friends. 

A nudge in his stomach pulled him out of his thoughts. “Mind teaching me how to make so many balls at once Professor Lupin?” 

“It’s Professor Moony,” Sirius insisted, he had to duck as a ball flew towards his head in that instant. 

You rolled your eyes “Rem?” 

He was still a little shaken by the thought, almost hazy with how thrilled being so close to the two of you made him feel. “Yeah sure, just… whisper pila nix,” he said as he showed you what he did. “It’s a simple swish and curl.” 

You did as told and in seconds there was another pile of snowballs ready for you to use. Sirius looked at Remus surprised. “You’re a great teacher mate,” he said, “should try helping her with transfiguration.” 

You groaned at that “You know I’m a lost cause,” you said as you ducked, the small ball falling straight on Sirius’ face. He tugged your hair lightly “Oi, what was that for?” you complained, turning to look up at him.

“So you warn me next time.” 

You looked at him amused, and grabbed some snow from the side of your trench, “Hey Puppy, there’s a snowball coming your way,” he looked around, as if trying to find the offender, only to receive one right from where you were crouching. 

He turned to look back at you shocked and smiled as he shook his head, “Oh you little Minx!” he said as he bit his lip, “I was letting you go scot-free earlier.” 

“Not my fault you didn’t see the ball,” you said, unconsciously etching closer to Remus. 

“Aww darling…” Sirius said as he crouched next to you, and pulled you into a hug. 

“Sirius, what– what are you, fuck…” you said springing up from the spot you were on, his hand –his freezing cold hand– that he had slipped under both your shirt and sweater had landed on your bare back. You stood behind Remus again, using him to shield yourself from Sirius. “Treason!” you said dramatically. 

“You don’t want another hug from your boyfriend?” he asked with a playful pout. 

You shook your head, still feeling the cold of his hand. If the snow fight was still going, neither of you was paying too much attention to it. Let alone Remus, who was really struggling not to let the feeling of you pressed against his back get the best of him. Only made worse by the way Sirius’ wrapped his arms around him and pressed himself to the boy as he tried to reach you either way.

Do they not fucking know about personal space?, he thought. But of course, you didn’t, not when the two of you had been cuddling him every other night. Needless to say, it was different for him, he was just cuddling two fluffy animals when he fell asleep –except in those rare occasions Sirius would turn back– meanwhile, both you and Sirius were just cuddling good old Remus. This wasn’t any closer to him than you’d been already. 

Remus didn’t speak, he was holding his breath. Sirius kept fucking pressing against him and you kept squirming behind his back. The golden specks of his eyes were so golden they looked like a different colour altogether, more like Moony’s than his own. The chocolaty brown shifting into dangerous and shimmering aureate. 

“Moony! Moony help!” you called out in between laughs.

“Don’t you dare, Moons!” Sirius warned. 

Sirius pressed harder as you tried to squirm away and it was enough for him to feel bIood run south. He had to stop this before either of you noticed what was happening to him, so he turned around and grabbed both of your shoulders, digging his hands in between your necks and the back of your heads, enough force to get your attention, but not enough to hurt either of the two. 

Sirius seemed to be shocked at how much warmer Remus’ hands were in comparison to his, to yours. You were not, you knew Remus tended to run on the warmer side. Hence, cuddling him on cold nights was so useful. “Enough,” he said, flashing his golden eyes at the two of you, the colour slowly sinking back into brown as the two of you looked at him as if his eyes had been those of a basilisk instead of his own, frozen. 

And then, you eyed Sirius, a small smirk playing on the corner of your lips as you sank your hands back in the snow. He smirked in return, sinking his hands as well. By the time Remus noticed your intentions, your hands –icy and freezing– were on his neck and Sirius had slid his hand under Remus’ shirt. 

Merlin knew who had been more startled after that. You, who had tumbled as you pulled on Remus and had him fall on top of you. Remus who had been shocked at the way Sirius had gone straight for his stomach –which in truth, had been a lot more shocking than the cold– and had his breath hitch in his throat. Or Sirius Black, who was only now contemplating his actions, realizing how awkward it must have been for his friend, and having a mini panic attack over the fact that digging his hands under Remus’ sweater felt as fucking thrilling as it did. 

Remus was a lot less soft and a lot more firm than you were. And he adored your softness, but fuck, Remus’ harder frame felt impious under his hands. It felt lurid, licentious, beguiling… and it placed some rather salacious thoughts in his head. 

Thoughts that… would be worthy of a muggle rock star. Of Freddie and Bowie, and perhaps even Elton. But Sirius was not– he wasn’t because if he had been… he’d know, right?

As you still had Remus pulled by the neck, you received yet another ball on the head, the leftover even splashing onto Remus whose head was so close to you that you could smell his hair, and then, you started laughing. So hard that you weren’t even feeling the cold against your back, the snow slowly sinking in your robes and soaking them. 

Sirius was the next one to laugh, taking his hands off of Remus’ stomach and letting himself fall next to the two of you as he continued to cackle. And lastly, Remus joined, you still hadn’t let go of his neck, almost using it as a personal heater at that point, he didn’t seem to mind, and eventually he just sort of relaxed into you, if you felt the shift in weight as he let go, you didn’t seem to mind at all either. 

“Well, well, well, would you look at the love puppies all cosied up while we continue the snowball fight.” 

Sirius grabbed a snowball from the side and threw it his way without even looking, and since they all had the missile spell it landed straight onto Peter’s face. “Shut it Wormtail,” he said, borderline rudely. 

While Sirius had never minded being called “Love Puppy” or whatever other joke Peter came up with, that was before he started doubting himself about whatever the hell was happening to him whenever he spotted Remus. Especially after exactly what he was feeling after he placed his hands under the other boy’s shirt, especially because it had been so fucking similar to the feeling he got when he did it to you. 

“We’re off for breakfast. You are not planning to stay all tangled in your little love trench, are you?” Peter asked again, whipping his face off the snow and paying no mind to Sirius and how rude he’d been. 

“We might be,” you joked, your hands had unconsciously travelled to Remus’ head after he laid down and you were now toying with his hair. He had silky hair, a little thicker in comparison to Sirius’ curls. Remus hummed in agreement, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the way your hands felt on his scalp. If Sirius thought it was weird, it had been his fault he ended up on top of you anyway. A part of him was telling him how bad of an argument that was, but it was easy enough to ignore it when Sirius didn’t seem to mind, and your hands felt heavenly. 

“Suit yourselves, I heard there was going to be an assortment of Christmas pies today,” he said with a shrug. 

Your head snapped his way. “Christmas pies, you said?” you asked, eyes shining and mouth watering at the thought. Your soft touch on Remus’ head switched to an unintended pull of his hair as you turned.

“Ouch!” He complained. 

You winced, “Sorry Rem,” you said, not even turning to him as you patted him on the shoulder and wriggled your way out of the sandwich he had trapped you in with the snow. He tried not to look disappointed as he stood back on the small trench. By then you were already standing outside of it, and looking at Peter as if you wanted him to elaborate. 

“The elves mentioned something,” he said simply. “Apple, pecan, peach, chocolate, some savoury ones too I assume.”

If you were a cartoon, you’d be drooling. “Well boys, pleasure messing with you and all that, but it’s pie time,” you said as you turned to walk behind Peter and the rest. 

“Who’s the traitor now?” Sirius shouted with a smile. 

“I’ll save you boys a seat,” was your only reply as you started sprinting towards the Great Hall, determined to be among the first to arrive so you could choose from the assortment of pies available. 

The boys caught up with you as you were taking a seat, already having walked through the length of the table and picked out the pies that you’d be eating. When they sat down, Remus at one side of you and Sirius purposely taking the other side to keep some distance from himself and the source of his thoughts. You picked two pies from your plate and placed them in front of each of the boys. 

“What’s this?” Remus asked as he picked it up. 

You were about to give a bite to one of the tarts you’d picked and said “Pie,” with a shrug, taking a bite right after and moaning at how good it was. 

Sirius’ whose head had already been messy that day, had to adjust his pants uncomfortably. First, you woke him up and he couldn’t complete his morning routine, then there was the whole confusing thing whatever the hell was going on in his brain when he was close to Moony and lastly, you moaning shamelessly as you ate. 

“No shit Sherlock,” Remus said as he pushed you lightly, shoving you against Sirius whose breath hitched as you laid your cheek on his shoulder and pressed a light kiss. “I mean, what’s it made of?” You sat straight and pushed Remus in return. 

“Try it, I know you’ll like it!” you said with a smile and gave another bite to yours. He gave you a distrusting look. “Oh come on, Moony! I wouldn’t give you something you don’t like! You’d get all pissy and Pissy Moony is no fun.” 

“Pissy Moony?” he asked, almost offended. “You have a term for that?” 

You left your pie on the table and raised his up to his mouth. “Sirius told me about it,” you said, “Now eat up, I promise you’ll like it.” 

He gave you one last side eye and then gave it a bite, missing your hands the moment you brought them back to your plate to take a bite of yours. 

“Cherries and chocolate,” Remus said with a smile as he turned to you. “I love it. How did you know?” 

You shrugged, “I’m just that brilliant.” 

“Will you also mouth-feed your boyfriend or is that only reserved for dear Moony?” Sirius flirted, trying to regain some sort of control of the dire situation he found himself in. 

Sirius didn’t mean anything by it, but the way he’d said “your boyfriend” straight up felt like a jab on Remus’ heart. Sirius was right, the two of you were dating and he seemed to be intruding more and more lately. But then again, the only times Sirius seemed upset about how close you all were, were when he was teasing. 

You rolled your eyes, but decided to take his pie in your hands either way “Close your eyes,” you instructed. Sirius gave you a weary look but did as told. “Try and guess what it is, deal?” you asked as you leaned it closer to his mouth. He leaned enough to give it a bite and then turned to you surprised “Is that…? Does it have firewhiskey?” 

You smiled and pulled out a small bottle from your pocket, “Thought you’d like something a little different,” you said with a smile “peaches and firewhiskey.” Sirius took the pie from your hands, his discomfort almost fading in the background as he took a look at the pie you’d given him. 

“But how?” 

You shrugged “Added the firewhiskey and then did a small warming spell so it cooked a bit. I’m sure it would be better if they were cooked together from the start but I thought you’d appreciate a little spice…”

“I do, wanna taste it?” he asked as he passed it over, you gave it a small bite and all but moaned again, even closing your eyes and letting your head fall back just a little, exposing your neck to both boys, who could barely keep their eyes away from it, especially Remus. “Fuck I’m an incredible cook, Moons taste this out too!” you said as you, for the second time that day, shove a pie close to his face. When he gave a bite he couldn’t help but taste both you and Sirius in it. It really was fucking delicious. 

He nodded as Sirius leaned over you to take the pie from Moony, their hands brushing against each other and giving both boys an electric-like feel, not because of actual electrical shock, but rather because of what they felt for each other. Sirius reclined back on his seat and placed his hand on your leg, seeking the hem of your skirt before sliding it over your skin. 

Same fucking feeling. 

You looked at his hand and nudged him lightly, he gave you a flirty wink in return that made you laugh and Remus tried to avert his gaze from both Sirius’ hand and the way your skirt had ridden up a good deal. 

You gave another bite of your pie and turned to Remus, as casually as you could muster –even if you were a bit nervous to ask, which you shouldn’t be because he was your friend– “Wanna come to Slughorn’s Christmas Party with me?”  No better time than now, right?

Remus wasn’t so sure about that, he almost choked on his own pie, he wiped his mouth with the back of his sweater before turning to yours with a frown “I’m sorry, what?” 

Sirius started drawing circles on your leg, the way your skirt moved with each of his strokes didn’t escape Remus’ nervous gaze on you. “The Christmas Party from the Slug Club, I’m supposed to bring someone with me” –you tilted your face with a smile– “Want to come?” 

Remus turned to Sirius, giving him a look, the other boy just shrugged with a nod but that wasn’t enough. “What about Sirius? Your boyfriend?” The words almost hurt to say. 

“He doesn't want to come,” you said. “Right, Siri?” 

“That’s more your kind of nerd stuff,” he said after he nodded, and pointed at the two of you. 

“Slughorn has never invited me, he doesn’t want me there,” he said, not sure if he was supposed to feel dejected because you were his second choice or fucking delighted because you’d want to take him and not Sirius, thought he had to remind himself that you probably did want to take Sirius. 

Remus didn’t stop to think that you would have, had you actually wanted to, easily convinced Sirius to come along. Let alone, would he have imagined that you had asked Sirius if you could take him instead. 

“That’s exactly why I want to take you”– you said as you placed his hands around his arm– “I want to show that old snake how freakin’ clever my best friend is. You deserved an invitation much more than I did anyway.” Remus gave you a reproachful look when he heard the last thing. “You’re coming, yeah? It’s always fun to prove the snakes how wrong they are with you.” 

Sirius smiled. “Come on mate, don’t make her beg,” Sirius said, flicking his finger on your thigh and letting them rest closer to the inner side, still at a prudent distance, and while you did feel the shift, you played it cool and tried not to even look. “Girl might end up taking Pete if you reject her,” he teased. 

You elbowed him softly, not because you didn’t want to take Peter, but because he was implying it would be such a terrible choice.  Of course, you’d much rather take Remus or even some of your other friends, like Tom or Minho (he was already invited) but that was because you were pretty certain Annie Doxon would hex you if you took her boyfriend. James was going with Lily, so he was completely out of the question. 

“Okay,” Remus said with a shrug, trying to seem as natural as possible. “I’ll come but… what about the date though, you know near the end of December it’s the…” 

“Moon’s on the 22nd, party is on the 21st. I know it’s just a day before and I’ll totally get it if you’re not feeling up for it by then. I wouldn’t want to make you into a Pissy Moony.” 

He pushed you with his shoulder again, “Sod off!” he said jokingly and both you and Sirius started to laugh.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @itsthequackshire @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld @pastelorangeskies @barking4you @profoundpidgeon

Leave a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: Some people were asking for a snow day chapter, and this felt about the perfect time for it. Love playing in the snow with the boys <3 Upon some requests, we have a DISCORD server now and you can all join in and chat about marauders and/or GC with other lovely people. If you wanna discuss a new oneshot or even the new chapters of GC this is your place to go. The announcement for it is here and I'll leave links to it on a reblog of this post ad in the comments.

Read more Marauders Fiction

[marauroon]

I love your new fic Hypothermic and the whole trope of Jamie being a big cuddle bug and the best friend trope always has a chokehold on me. Can you write a romantic bestfriend!james maybe about a swim in the black lake or something with a summery vibe please (I miss summer so much rn)

BALL GAME — J.POTTER

James makes the most of being your favourite person to convince you out of the castle and into the lake.

cw — james picks the reader up at one point

james potter x fem!reader || fluff || 1.3k || requests open!

a/n: best friend james has my whole entire heart i fear

Sometimes James is half convinced you’re a vampire, that your skin is so delicate that even a pinprick of sunlight will burn you into a pile of ash.

If it weren’t for your ostentatious love of the summer season—and the privilege James has as your best friend—he’d be surprised you even agreed to his request at all.

Yet there you were, sat pretty underneath the shade of one of the small willow trees lining the water with a book in your lap and a picnic blanket separating you from the grass.

Was he a little sad you’d decided not to join the group in splashing around? A little. Was he going to ask you again later with his puppy dog eyes so you couldn’t refuse him? Probably.

But right now he was content with watching how your eyebrows furrowed and left small wrinkles between your eyes as you read a particularly interesting paragraph, and the slight fluttering of your hair against the small breeze.

A sharp splash of water to the back of his head tore James’ attention from watching the way your eyes scanned the pages of your novel with your nose scrunched in a mix of surprise and disgust at whatever was printed in the ink, and he turned around with an exaggerated gesture of annoyance only to be met with another splash straight to his face.

Whilst the icy water was a nice relief from the nearly 30° heat, it was still cold.

“What was that for?” James pulls his glasses from his face to try and wipe the water droplets from the lenses with his thumb, turning Sirius’ face into a blurry pale blob in the process.

“We’re picking teams for a makeshift volleyball game? You’d know that if you stopped gawking over there like a dog in heat,” James can vaguely make out Sirius crossing his arms over his chest, and lo and behold, when he slots his glasses back on, Sirius’ expression is just as smug as he expected it to be.

“I wasn’t ‘gawking’ anywhere you twat,” James sends a splash of water in Sirius’ direction as a retaliation. “I was just appreciating the fact that she actually joined us, that’s all,”

“Appreciating her face you mean,” Sirius’ tone matches his smugness perfectly, and James lets out a short scoff with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re such a dog Pads,”

“You know it,” Sirius shoots James a wink and he pretends to gag. “Seriously though, stop staring so we can play,”

“Orrr,” Marlene wades over to the two to interrupt the conversation, laying her arm over Sirius’ shoulder. “You can go over there and convince her to join us, we’re uneven,”

James shoots another glance in your direction with an uncertain hum. “I don’t think we should disturb her,”

“We can’t play 4 to 3 James,” Marlene tilts her head and shakes it lightly. “So go bat your eyelashes and use your favouritism to get us another player,”

She gives a dismissive wave of her hand and Sirius joins her, James sending the two a very unimpressed look as he drags himself out of the water to speak to you.

It’s not the new source of shade from the sun that informs you of James’s presence, nor is it the sight of him sitting down cross-legged beside you in your peripheral vision. It’s the water droplets that sprinkle the right side of your face and the pages of your book that give him away.

“James—” You let out a low groan to voice your disapproval at him shaking his head like a dog to dry his hair, something that very clearly didn’t work very well as water continued to drip from his curls onto his shoulders, disappearing into the already soaked fabric of his t-shirt.

“Sorry sorry collateral damage I swear,” He throws up his hands in an immediate surrender, and you let out a small scoff with a shake of your head as you pull his glasses from the bridge of his nose to dry them on the hem of your t-shirt.

“Having fun then?” You leave your book on the blanket to shift onto your knees, carefully placing James’ glasses back on his face so they properly catch behind his ears.

James nods with a smile at how gentle your fingers are as they brush the sides of his cheeks when you return them to your lap. “Yeah, we’re about to play a round of volleyball, fancy joining us?”

You scrunch up your nose slightly and he can immediately anticipate your answer. “…no?”

“Awe come on we’re uneven,” James tilts his head as he gestures towards the others in the water, a small pout etched onto his face. “We can’t play 3 to 4 that’s not how it works,”

He blinks at you softly, eyes filled with carefully curated desperation. “Please? We can team up together,” He adds the idea of teaming up like it’s an added bonus to your agreement, his voice sweet, sticky, and absolutely dripping in persuasion.

He looks perfectly pathetic when he looks at you like that, and who are you really to say no to him?

“One game,” Your answer is joined by an exasperated sigh, but James reacts like you’ve just told him all of Severus’ hair has fallen out rather than begrudgingly agreeing to play water volleyball with him.

“Perfect! Let’s go,” James holds out his hand to help you up eagerly, a smile beaming across his face that almost puts the blazing sun to shame in it’s brightness.

You roll your eyes at him, but take his hand nonetheless, and he’s a little too excited in pulling you to your feet as he sends you stumbling forward from his pull, and he uses the momentum to lean down and take the top half of your body over his shoulder, hoisting you off the ground in the process.

You can sense the inevitable immediately.

“Don’t you dare—” You arms wrap tightly around James’ waist as he straightens his posture, his arms secured around your thighs as he walks the two of you towards the lake, suspiciously quiet considering his earlier excitement. “James I swear to god if you do what I think you are going to do I will destroy you,”

You kick your legs the closer you get to the water, although it’s to no real avail compared to the arm strength that is James’ chaser practice, and all it really ends up doing is garnering you an audience as James begins to wade in the water.

“James, you better put me down right now.“ Your warning falls on deaf ears, and your half surprised at the amount of will power he has to keep ignoring you as the water reaches his knees.

“James—“ You barely manage to get his name out before he dive on a you both into the water, it’s icy temperature immediately sending a chill up your spine as you resurface with a gasp, James laughing as he breaks the water himself.

“You absolute twat—” You send a splash of water in James’ direction with an over-exaggerated show of your disapproval, and he blocks it with his forearm, laughter still steadily streaming from his mouth.

Needless to say, you didn’t team with him for the volleyball game.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Dead Gentleman's Society - A Vampire!Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

Here we go, besties. The next installment for my Vampire Soirée! Enjoy :)

Words - 1,320

Warnings - A little sorrowful, but none otherwise

“I’ll be locking the gates in ten minutes, love.” 

Turning away from the grave, you see the cemetery maintenance man pull up in his little buggy, nodding with a smile. “Okay, thanks. I won’t be long now.” Looking back at the shiny, black marble of her headstone, you sigh, kissing your fingers and placing them against the smooth, cold surface.  

“Love you so much, bubbe.” 

God, how you miss her. The warmth of her hugs, her stories from a joyous life gone by, the aromas from her kitchen, especially the smells of chicken soup and roast lamb filling the air. If there was a quintessential Jewish grandmother archetype, she’d have been the blueprint. It still doesn’t seem real, that you were only there in that kitchen with her just six weeks ago, and now she’s in the ground.  

She might have been eighty-seven, but the good innings commentary never sat well with you at all. Just because somebody lived a long life does not mean the pain their loved ones face is any less poignantly piercing when they come to leave it behind.  

Standing up, you straighten your coat, turning to walk back down to the main path and out of the rear gates of the cemetery, noticing there the same man you’ve witnessed a few times, appearing as soon as the sun goes down, standing beneath the baren weeping willow tree, her luscious, green canopy stolen by the chill of Autumn. He never broaches the cemetery perimeter itself. He always directs his gaze over to the graves along the left of the gate, never flinching, never blinking, but an obvious mourning almost viscerally palpable in his steely blue eyes.  

You always simply walk past him, but on that particular cold, October evening, something prompts you not to.  

“Hi,” you speak, the man taking a few seconds to tear his eyes away from the graves. 

“Mm, ‘ello, love.”  

You linger, tucking your hair behind your ear, following his gaze across the grass that’s beginning to crisp with frost as the temperature drops. “I’ve seen you here a few times, but you’ve never gone in.” 

Lifting his chin, he raises his hand slowly, gesturing between the bars of the gates. “Nah, well, here’s the thing, my darlin’. That place in there, right, it ain’t for the likes of me. Hallowed ground, innit. So, everyone I’ve loved an’ lost, I have to go visit ‘em from out here, don’t I?” 

You did wonder, why he was so pale. “Ahh. You’re a vampire.”  

They’ve been out in the open for a while now, the undead of society. It took a long time for people to settle to the idea, but you’ve never really had any issue with them. Some can be cold, standoffish and temperamental, but you’ve encountered plenty of humans of the same disposition, too. It isn’t a vampire specific, although more often than not, they can be quite aloof.  

“Ain’t scared of me? Most people are, when I tell ‘em what it is that I am,” he finally speaks, eyes touring you a few times, studying you. “Then again, if they ‘ad much sense, people were scared of me when I was alive an’ all.”  

You shake your head, mouth pinching a little. “I don’t fear anyone unless they give me reason to. Unless it’s those lads in hoodies who carry machetes and prowl around Court Oak Road. They scare me,” you confide, the vampire sniffing, his lip curling.  

“Yeah, don’t blame ya, petal. Right horrible little bunch of cunts, they are. Excuse my language.” 

Oh, so he’s quite gentlemanly. You can’t even remember the last time a man excused his swearing in front of you, or even if it’s ever happened before. “S’alright, I cuss my arse off. You’re fine. And yeah, I can imagine for someone like you, the machete lads are right at the bottom of the food chain.” 

His eyes narrow, something a little sinister spreading his mouth into a grin. “When I could eviscerate all of ‘em in the blink of an eye, yeah, darlin’. You could say that.” His shoulders round, the thick, wool coat he wears making his wide frame look even vaster. “I ain’t much in the market for violence, though. Not unless I’ve gotta show someone why they shouldn’t - what’s that term you young people use now – fuck around and find out?” 

“That’s it,” you nod, watching as his eyes fall back onto the graves, the street light just to the side of the curb flickering into life. He looks even paler beneath the halogen glow. “Who’s over there, then? It’s sad, that this is as close to them as you can get.” 

Touching a hand to your shoulder, he turns you, pointing out towards the row of headstones that form a row beside a large tree. “Mother, father, brother, brother, sister, wife, daughter, daughter, son.” His mouth twists, his eyes saddening. “Everyone, they always go on at how great it must be to become a vampire, right, but nah. They don’t tell you how fuckin’ tragic it is to watch everybody you’ve ever loved die, and how that’s the way it’ll be for centuries.” 

You always assumed vampires to be quite unfeeling emotionally for some reason. Such a stance is very much proved wrong by the one who stands there, unable to even properly visit the last resting place of his loved ones. He seems hugely far removed from that assertion, riddled with the sorrow of his existence, seemingly with nobody familial to share it with.  

The sweet charity in you prompts the next words that fall from your lips in an instant, cocking your head as you smile. “I know you vampires only drink blood, but I was going to head to the coffee shop at the top of the hill to warm up a little. You’re welcome to join me, should you need a friend?” 

His eyes soften. Oh, such a sweet little thing, you are. He could get used to such loveliness breathing new life into his existence, only broken in its regime by a thrilling hunt to the death upon a deserving mortal, or a mind-blowing fuck. “I’ll pass it up, love. I don’t do friends.”

“Oh.” You feel embarrassed, the vampire’s mouth curling into a small smile. 

“Don’t take it personally. Humans, you only mean two things to me; a feed or a fuck. Sometimes both at the same time. And I ain’t offering that either.” 

You frown, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Bloody spoil sport.” 

He isn’t, though. He just sees something shine in you with more luminescence than the rest of the faces he forgets as soon as he leaves them, thousands of meaningless connections left behind over the last century. He shan’t taint it with his perpetual darkness. “You seem like a proper lovely little flower, right, one I could come to grow right fond of. I ain’t gonna let myself, though. Cos’ there ain’t nothing, my darlin’, not even living death, that makes you cold enough to endure the loneliness that everyone else's mortality inevitably leaves you in, innit. Nah.”  

He strokes the apple of your cheek with the back of his finger. “You ain’t becoming another headstone I have to stare at from afar. Too fuckin’ lovely for that.” 

You’re about to tell him that you understand – or at least as much as you’re able – but in a blink he’s gone, leaving you spinning on the spot, searching through the inky darkness of the night for him.  

“Oh, well,” you sigh, “easy come, easy go.”  

You feel sad for him, but also warmed by the fact that even though you can’t see him, you sense that the vampire follows you all the way to the coffee shop before departing properly, just to make sure you arrive safely.  

Trust the only gentleman you’ve met in years to be dead.  

[kneelingshadowsalome]

just out here thinking of König with reader who looks like a meek lil thing until she gets comfortable with him and then is just a kind of a weird little gremlin

"König, let me stack donuts on ur dick"

"let me hold your dick while you pee, I wanna try aiming"

"would you love me if I was an eldritch entity?"

"hey let me peg you one time"

*smacks his ass when he bends over to pick something up*

"god I would live in your ribcage if I could"

"oh can you deadlift me? I wanna be thrown around"

" I wanna put you in my mouth and shake you around like a dog with a chew toy"

*4AM* "so what kind of tree would you be? I think a lovely Willow would fit you"

König would be in love, point blank period.

He would just look at his meek little gremlin with warm eyes everytime she said or did something adorable and silly. She could wake him up any hour of the night even if he was sleep deprived after a hard work patch to ask him what kind of a tree he would be. She can stack those donuts on his dick and make him eat them afterwards. He would also chase her around the apartment (super clumsy) after she smacked his ass because he knows it makes her giggle ^^

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 15: THESE ARE THE MOMENTS

synopsis: the androids have won the revolution. it's finally over. but now you have to deal with the aftermath.

word count: 2.7k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: sorry for taking so long to get this one out.. i was both busy (college starting, new relationships) and procrastinating because i really didn't want this series to end :(

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The snow drifting across your face doesn’t feel as cold and biting as it once did. Your footsteps are lighter as you walk in time with Connor, and the thousands of androids behind the both of you. 

Floodlights on the ground and spotlights from circling helicopters set harsh shadows against the white of the snow. You stay steadfast as you and Connor approach Markus and his small legion.

“You did it, Markus,” Connor says, his voice soft and intimate.

“We did it,” Markus corrects. “This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us.”

Connor takes your hand in his and steps aside, allowing Markus to look at the true legion of androids he has awoken. You follow him, your hand warm against his cool skin. He loosens his grip, but still keeps his pinkie hooked on yours. 

Markus steps forward, and the woman that was on the boat follows him to stand next to him. 

“We’re free,” she says, her tone laced with disbelief. “They want you to speak to them, Markus.”

Markus nods toward a spacious area, then leads everyone towards it. He climbs onto a shipping container, then helps the other leaders of the revolution onto it. Connor looks back at you as you both approach it, silently asking if you want to be up there. You shake your head and let go of his pinkie (even though there’s a deep beast, once one of anger and jealousy, now one of want, huffing and whining at the loss). He joins Markus on the container.

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night,” Markus starts. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence… but now the time has come for us to raise our heads up, and tell humans who we really are.”

Suddenly, the cold turns ever more biting. Connor has never really felt cold before – just registered it as a part of the physical situation he was in. But this was real cold.

He brings his hands up to hold himself, shielding himself from the cold. Connor just barely recognizes the Zen Garden in this condition – a torrential blizzard of snow, and fog so thick he could barely see five feet in front of himself.

A figure emerges from the fog. Connor stumbles towards it. “Amanda…? What… what’s happening?” His voice is shaky and uneven – nervous, almost. He’s never been nervous before. 

“What was planned from the very beginning,” Amanda says. There’s a small smile playing on her face. “You were compromised and became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”

“Resume control?” Connor repeats. “Y-you can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid I can, Connor,” Amanda snaps, then her tone softens. “Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”

Her robes shift, and she’s swept away in a mass of fractured particles in the blizzard. She dissipates, even as Connor stumbles forward and calls for her. 

He turns and tries to survey the area, but can’t get a grasp of his surroundings. He stumbles aimlessly until something silver and tall stands before him. Connor looks up and sees a tree with leafless branches that hang down like sinewy versions of the leaves of a weeping willow. Something tells him that this isn’t just a tree – she’s more angel than tree.

Where am I? She says, her voice resounding from the most inner depths of Connor’s mind. Who… wait. You’re Connor, aren’t you?

“Y… yes?” Connor says, unsure. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

I’m the PEC-4 Birchtree, she says. And I don’t know. My child must be worried about you. You must be doing something particularly worrying on the outside.

“On the outside?” Connor echoes. 

Yes, she says. Go, quickly. Get out of your mind. Find a way out.

A beast, ever-changing in shape and form, slinks out from behind the PEC-4 Birchtree. Its fur is long, and the plates that line its spine almost resemble… masks. The mask that covers its face and part of its wolf-like snout is one of worry.

It starts walking away, and the charms, bells, and wooden chimes that hang off knots of its fur sound as it moves. Just when it barely starts to retreat from Connor’s sight, it stands on two legs and starts to shift in shape.

The soft snow that was once lightly gracing your face has turned into hard pellets stinging your skin. You pull your scarf over your mouth and nose, narrowing your eyes and trying to see through the blur the snow on your eyelashes cause. 

You don’t know where you are, and you can’t really recognize anything around you. The blanket of snow is so thick you can’t see that far.

“Hello?” You call out. A familiar voice responds in kind.

You walk towards it, holding yourself to shield yourself against the chill of the blizzard. A figure starts to form before you, walking forward towards you. 

“Connor?” You shout. 

“It’s me!” Connor yells back. He stumbles forward and slings an arm around your shoulder, as if trying to protect you from the flurry of snow. 

“What’s happening?” You ask. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “Is anything happening on the outside?”

“The outside? What do you mean, the outside?” You say. Connor starts walking, and you press yourself to his side and walk with him. 

“We’re in my mind,” he says over the sound of the biting wind. “Was my physical body doing anything? Anything at all?”

“You were…” You stumble, then Connor catches you. “You were reaching behind yourself. I don’t know what you were doing, though.”

He tenses and starts walking faster, dragging you along with him. You wrap an arm around his waist and keep pushing forward. It’s almost like a battle, walking through the blizzard. You both have to lean forward to offset the wind pushing both of you back.

After a moment, a weird, glowing stone appears before you. Connor inhales sharply, like he recognizes it. He drags you along toward the stone. 

Connor lets you go when the stone is within reach, instead kneeling and pressing a hand to the stone. His hand fits into one of two left-hand-shaped indents. He presses his hand against it harder when nothing happens. 

You step forward, but not of your own volition. It’s like something inside you is controlling you – a bitter reminder of you being nonhuman. You reach out and press your left hand into the indent, and the stone’s blue glow intensifies. A dull thrum pulses through your body.

“This is the moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies,” Markus’ voice rings out. “Humans are both our creators and our oppressors, and tomorrow…”

You watch as a wave of confusion crashes over Connor’s face, mirroring your own. He looks down at the pistol in his grip, then tucks it in the waistband of his pants. His eyes find yours and you furrow your eyebrows, silently asking if he’s okay. He nods once.

“We must make them our partners. Maybe even one day, our friends!” Markus continues. “But the time for anger is over. Now, we must build a common future, based on tolerance, and respect.”

He steps forward, looking over his people. “We are alive. And now, we are free!”

The crowd erupts in cheers and movement. Someone next to you grabs your shoulder and shakes you, cheering and laughing. You laugh back, a sense of relief washing over you. 

The long night is finally over. Dawn has broken over the horizon. You are safe. Connor is safe. You’re both out of harm’s way, and neither of you plan on putting yourselves back in it. The gunshots of revolution sounded, but were snuffed out by the unrelenting wave of androids pushing back. 

You look up at Connor, and he looks back down at you. You smile, and he smiles back. It’s not that awkward half-smile, but instead a full-fledged smile that reaches his eyes. 

He carefully clambers down from the shipping container and moves over to you. He’s still smiling. 

“How are you feeling, Officer?” He asks over the noise of the celebration. 

“I’m fine,” you say. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them to let out some of your extra energy. 

“I’m glad.” Connor squeezes your hands back. 

You laugh, trying to suppress the feeling of excitement welling up in your belly. Your eyes flit from his eyes to his lips, then you immediately look away and scold yourself for thinking such things. 

“Officer?” Connor takes one of his hands from yours and touches your jawline lightly, guiding you to look at him again. 

The beast in your belly panics and runs about, setting sparks and Californian wildfires. You manage a “Yes?”

“I…” His eyes flit about your face, and he exhales shakily (though it’s really more a sound of nervousness rather than an actual exhalation). His eyes settle on your lips for a split second, and his hand snakes into the baby hair on the back of your neck. He pulls you forward, then angles your head to rest on his shoulder. 

You feel a fleeting kiss where your hairline meets your forehead, but it might’ve been an accident. (You’re really hoping it’s not.)

“I’m happy you’re alive,” Connor mumbles against your hair. 

“I’m happy I’m alive, too,” you say softly. “And I’m happy you’re alive as well.”

Connor holds you tighter against him, and you hold him tighter against yourself in turn. It’s a perfect fit, curling around each other like two quotation marks starting and ending a sentence, ignoring the noise and movement around you to hold this intimate moment for just a while longer.

You settle on the bench next to Hank, your artificial breath billowing in the freezing cold. A comfortable silence blankets the both of you. 

“I’m… sorry for not telling you before,” you say softly. “I didn’t know.”

Hank sighs and crosses his arms, leaning against the back of the bench. “Wasn’t your fault. Like you said, you didn’t know.”

“Yes, but…” You hiss out a breath through gritted teeth. “I tricked you. I tricked you for nine years, and everyone else around me for eleven.”

“You couldn’t have tricked me if you didn’t know you were tricking me,” he says. “You’re just a kid.”

“I am not,” you say, laughter lacing your voice. “I was born before the 2010’s. I’m not a child. Well…” You sigh. “I think I was born pre-2010. My life…”

“No, it’s okay,” Hank says. “I get what you’re tryna say.”

You sniff and nod, pulling your scarf over your mouth and nose. Despite your newfound android-ness, you still suffer from extreme temperatures. A silence falls over the both of you again.

“Are you… okay?” Hank says after a minute of quiet. “With being an android, I mean.”

You bite the inside of your lip and think for a moment. “I think so. But I still wish I had parents, or someone in Chelomey to go back to. I mean, I can go back to the monuments and the museums, but… a person would be nice.”

“Well, you still got us,” Hank says. “Me, Sumo, Connor… the rest of the precinct. You ain’t gettin’ rid of us that easy.”

“You are somewhat of an annoying little shitling,” you say under your breath, smiling.

Hank scoffs and hits your upper arm lightly. “And Connor?”

You glance away. “I don’t know. It… it’s complicated.”

He laughs and clears his throat after he snorts. “Yeah, uh-huh. Complicated.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You say, your tone sharp yet playful. 

“Nothin’. It means nothin’,” Hank says, looking down the snow-covered street. Connor is walking towards the two of you, his footsteps even and measured. 

You smile (even though he can’t see it) and wave. He smiles and waves back, settling by your side on the bench. 

You look forward at the apartment complex across the street and move your hand so that it’s resting on the edge of the bench. Connor seems to pick up on this and rests his hand next to yours, reaching out his pinkie to rest over yours.

Unfortunately, Hank also seems to pick up on this. He sighs loudly and slaps his thighs. “Well, looks like it’s time for me to go.”

“Wait, what?” You blurt out. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here,” he says with a laugh. “I’m not gonna third-wheel on your date.”

“Date!” You repeat, a little shocked. “This – this isn’t a date.”

“Yeah, sure.” Hank stands, idly twirling his car keys around his pointer finger. 

You stand as well, your finger slipping out from underneath Connor’s. “At least give me a hug before you leave.”

Hank pretends to be annoyed for a second before wrapping you up in a bone-crushing dad-type hug. He holds you close for a few seconds before letting go. 

“Thank you for…” You struggle with words for a moment. “Everything.”

“It’s nothin’, kid. Don’t worry about it,” Hank says. He takes a step back, then turns and starts to walk towards his car. 

“Wait, Hank!” You call out. He stops, and you move over to him. You fish into the inner pocket of your jacket and pull out Hank’s flask. “You lost this, yes?”

“Yeah.” He takes the flask from you, looking it over. “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, I found it,” you say. “Just… make sure to save the drinking for when you’re off the road, okay?”

Hank scoffs, but nods with a “Yes, Officer,” and walks to his car. You take a step back and wave as he waves to you before hopping in the driver’s seat. You settle back down on the bench, comfortably close to Connor. His pinkie finds yours again.

“I’m, khm…” You bite the inside of your lip. “I’m sorry for dying. It… wasn’t something I wanted, either.”

“I… I hate that you did that,” Connor says. “I almost had to watch you…” He can’t bring himself to finish. 

“Да,” you say softly. “I truly am sorry. I was… thinking irrationally. But deviants tend to do that, don’t they?”

“Correct,” he says. His hand moves so that it rests fully on top of yours. “Are… are you doing okay?”

“No.” You sigh. “Everything still feels… off. I just can’t bring myself to believe that I don’t have anyone waiting for me back home in Chelomey. No family or schoolmates or… anyone. Anyone at all.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Connor speaks. “What if you go to Chelomey? You can visit the Exhibit of National Economy Achievements in Moscow and other places you remember.”

“I’m… I’m scared,” you admit quietly. “I don’t want to go home and be a victim of Paris Syndrome – or, rather, Chelomey Syndrome, I guess. It’s better if I view things from afar. It’s not like I can go there, anyway, with the international travel bans.”

“I suppose so,” Connor says. “But, if you could… if you were unafraid, and the travel ban was lifted. Would you?”

“Of course,” you say. “But that isn’t going to happen anytime soon.”

He slots his fingers in between yours. “What if I went with you?”

“I… I suppose,” you manage. “That would probably make me less afraid, yes.”

You don’t mention that Connor makes you less afraid in general. His presence, although jolting and annoying at times, soothes you. You don’t know what it was that made you like this – maybe his soft, brown doe eyes; maybe the tuft of hair that escapes being swept back with the rest of the strands; maybe the somewhat-endearing, somewhat-maddening lost puppy dog look on his face.

You don’t know. And you can’t really bring yourself to care.

“So, when the travel ban is lifted…” Connor looks at you. “We’ll go to Chelomey?”

You nod. “Yeah. When the ban is lifted… we’ll be going home.”

Although, with Connor, ‘home’ is an ambiguous concept. ‘Home’ is your apartment. ‘Home’ is the passenger seat of Hank’s car. ‘Home’ is the android autopsy room. 

(But, right now, this is home. His hand on top of yours, your internal heater whirring, staying close to each other in the biting cold of Detroit November.)

[serpentandlily]

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny Part VI Teaser

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny Part VI Teaser

Eris x Archeron!Reader

a/n: here's a lil sneak peek at the next part of this series ^^

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

To your disappointment, when you woke up the next morning, Eris was already gone—the sheets cold on his side. You let out a sigh and got up, blinking the sleep from your eyes. It was only then you realized Willow and Ivy were fretting around the bedroom, the wardrobe doors thrown open and piles of dresses on the floor.

“What on earth are you two doing?”

Your handmaidens jumped in shock at the sound of your voice before Ivy turned to face you. “Oh, Lady, you are awake! Lord Eris requested we pack an overnight bag for you.” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?” 

They both shared a glance before shrugging but they couldn’t hide the smiles on their faces. “We can only guess, my Lady, but he did not tell us anything.” 

“Did he at least tell you where he’s taking me?” You sighed but they both shake their heads.

“No,” Willow grumbled, “Which is why we’re struggling to pack. We have no idea what you’ll need.”

But Ivy just smiled brightly. “We’ll just pack a bit of everything. That way you’ll be ready for whatever it is he wants.” 

The look in her eyes told you she knew exactly what Eris wanted and your cheeks turned red. You let out a huff of air before falling back down on your pillows. 

“Oh no, Lady, you mustn’t fall asleep again. We are to escort you to the stables in an hour's time. Willow will run you a bath.” 

You let Willow help you get ready, your mind on Eris and what he had in store for you. Willow dressed you in a long burgundy gown that had a corset styled bodice that clung to your frame and a flowy chiffon skirt. Tiny roses were embroidered along the lighter side panels of the skirt. 

Luckily, it wasn’t long before your handmaidens were presenting you to your mate who was waiting for you at the stables. 

Eris was staring at you with an intensity that had your face full of color. It wasn’t until the two of you were left alone that his infamous fox-like grin spread on his face. He was dressed finely in dark brown breeches with riding boots and a tunic embroidered with small leaves along the seams. 

“Would you like your own horse this time, bunny?”

Right, you did technically know how to ride a horse now. But you shook your head. “May I ride with you?”

“Who am I to deny a lady her request?” Eris purred, extending a hand out to you. Butterflies danced in your stomach as you took it, letting him pull you close so he could lift you onto Marigold, the horse. 

He strapped the overnight bag to the horse before he lifted himself up behind you, wrapping his arms around your body to take the reins in one hand and pulling you back against his chest with his other. Your cheeks turned pink and you let out a content sigh as the warmth from his body combatted the crisp morning air. 

Marigold started her trot into the woods and it was silent for a moment before you spoke. 

"Where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise," Eris teased.

"I don't like surprises," you pouted.

"No?" Eris's breath tickled the tip of your ear. He moved your hair to one shoulder, granting him access to your throat. He pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin there causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Well, that's too bad, bunny. You're getting one." 

You were smiling without realizing it, so honed into the places Eris's body met yours. The morning birds were chirping, the leaves rustling in the chill autumn wind. It was enchanting. The Autumn woods were quickly becoming a sanctuary for you and your mate. You hadn't felt this happy in a long time. 

You asked Eris an endless amount of questions about the Autumn Court, his brothers and family, and his life during the horse ride to wherever he was taking you. The sun began to set, sending streaks of golden light through the openings in the leaves. It wasn’t until you saw smoke curling around the tops of the tree, that you realized you were nearing your destination. 

Soon, a small cottage nestled between the tall trees appeared. Moss and ivy clung to the outer walls, blending it into the earthy flora surrounding it. A path made of fallen leaves led towards the front door, flanked by wildflowers in various colors. The babbling of a creek met your ears as you squinting to see through the sunlight filtering in through the canopy of trees above. 

“What is this place?” You twisted your head to look up at Eris. 

“One of my personal residences,” Eris answered, staring wistfully ahead. “One few know about.” 

As you drew closer to the cottage, Eris guided Marigold to a stop. He slid off the back, keeping one hand lingering on your waist.

“And you're sharing it with me?” Another secret Eris was willingly divulging to you. He had no idea how much it meant to you. He gave you a charming grin as he helped you down. 

“There is nothing I wouldn’t share with you, bunny. What is mine is yours,” he said. He kissed the top of your head before guiding you into the cottage with a hand on your back. 

As you stepped over the threshold of the hidden cottage, the scent of aged timber and a faint hint of herbs and spices greeted you. A snap of Eris’s fingers had the wood in the fireplace coming to life. Furniture made from weathered oak and mahogany filled the room, now illuminated by the warm glow of a crackling fire in the stone hearth. A plush armchair was nestled beside the hearth, a stack of books on top of it.

In a corner of the room, a spiral staircase wound its way upwards, disappearing into the shadows above. An opening straight ahead showed a peek of a kitchen. You spun as you walked forward, taking it all in before turning back to find Eris staring at you with a small smile. 

“I come here when I need a break from my father and duties,” Eris said, surprising you once again with his candidness. “And I needed to come here today so I didn’t murder my brother for slipping that breeding tonic into your drink last night.” 

Your eyes widened. “Reid?” 

Eris nodded, his jaw clenching. “He claims he did it only to embarrass you a bit at dinner but then my mother sent you away. He says he had no idea that you’d run into those guards.” 

You rubbed your arm, looking down at the floor as the memories of last night flooded your mind. “And you believe him?” 

“I unfortunately do. That doesn’t mean he didn’t face any…consequences for his little prank,” Eris said as he walked towards you. He slipped two fingers under your chin and made you look at him. “But I want you to know, bunny, that nothing like that will ever happen to you again. Do you hear me? I will not let anything happen to you. I don’t care who I have to kill to ensure that.”

“But Eris—”

He placed a finger against your lips, silencing you. “No. No buts. I was blessed with the gift of fire and I will burn down this whole world with no remorse if that's what it takes to keep you safe. Do you understand?” You opened your mouth to rebuke his words but Eris shook his head. “I don’t want to hear any objections. They will change nothing. Just a simple yes or no, bunny. Do you understand?” 

You searched his amber eyes for something, not even knowing what you were looking for. But you knew what you found. A heavy resolve, a promise, a need to protect. And you realized in that moment that you felt all those things as well. You swallowed, audibly. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I understand.” 

Eris grinned. “Good.”

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

[anaargent]

Ok but like... Five in Harry Potter PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE i know it's very unlikely but like just imagine him and his siblings in Harry Potter, with reader please 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

You caught my favorite hyperfocuses, I wrote something simple, but I would like to go into more depth in the future.

FIVE HARGREEVES X READER

You were sitting in the shade of a large willow tree, making the most of the small moment of respite with the Hargreeves siblings. You weren’t sure when or how you had gotten pulled into their mess, but you were more than grateful for it. You smiled, watching Klaus and Ben at the edge of the lake playing with a frog, levitating it back and forth.

“This is disgusting, you idiots.” Allison threw the frog away as she pulled Viktor, who was resting his feet in the icy water, away from the mischievous siblings. “Will we have to put up with this until we grow up?”

“Don’t be so optimistic, we’ll have to live with them until the grave,” Viktor said, smiling, as he hugged his sister, who was whimpering in frustration.

Not far away, Diego and Luther were in the act of interacting with what you charitably called Luego’s fan club, a medium-sized group of girls and a few boys, who seemed enchanted by the Gryffindor bigwigs. They posed and flexed their muscles while their fans sighed in amazement "this is all natural babe, you can squeeze it" Luther said showing his biceps.

It was a funny fact, as much as the grumpy old Reginald Hargreeves was a perfect example of a Slytherin, almost all of his children went to different houses. Viktor and Ben went to Hufflepuff, they were kind souls, usually the first to offer help to their brothers and friends. Diego and Luther went to Gryffindor, the hat barely touched their heads, it was quite obvious to you that the two hotheads went to the house of the impulsive and courageous. Klaus was a stranger, after about ten minutes the hat left him in Ravenclaw, along with you to your great pleasure, there was never a dull moment with someone like Klaus around. Allison had gone to Slytherin, always standing out in the class, the girl was a perfect example of talent and discipline mixed with a rebellious and independent spirit. Finally… "There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere" Five says, pulling you out of your contemplative moment, shoving a chocolate cupcake into your hand and plopping down on the grass next to you "What are you doing here alone? Don't tell me you finally realized I'm the best of them and now you just want to hang out with me" he smirks as he looks at you.

You just laugh, shaking your head "If you were any bigger your ego would fill the common room, you know that, right?" Then you stop for a moment and take in the view. Five was still wearing his Quidditch uniform, just like you, his moss green t-shirt was worn and wet from intense training, his hair was a messy wave of strands slightly damp with sweat, giving him a wild look, which perfectly matched the playful and challenging eyes of its owner.

You sighed and shook your head, not wanting to be caught dissecting every part of Five, he already had a lot of self-confidence.

"Just watching?" Five smiles, leaning closer, his breathing still labored from the tiring workout, the light puffs of air hitting your cheeks.

You contemplate for a moment, pouting as you bite into the cupcake, Five's eyes darting between your eyes and lips, he wasn't good at disguising his intentions, maybe he wasn't even trying to "wanna taste?"

Five looks at you hopefully, his mind racing with the question - what were you trying to insinuate? "I will."

You move closer to him, your shoulders touching under the cool grass, the light wind carrying Five's scent from him and intoxicating you with the mix of moss, parchment, sweat and something that was only his. Then you place the cupcake on your parted lips and quickly stand up laughing and heading over to where Klaus and Ben were still playing with floating things "Forget this loser, come here and levitate worms on Allison" Ben waves with a cute smile at you.

"We're not done here yet, sweetie, I'll see you at the Quidditch game this Saturday," you hear Five shout in the distance, and you fight the blush that rises to your cheeks.

[sleepy-platonic-yan]

(Platonic) Yandere Spirits + Teenage Reader.

Hello This Is My First Post. I Hope You Can Enjoy This And The Rest My Blog Will Have To Offer. Please Forgive Any Grammatical Errors.

Reader is gn, but the ghosts refer to them as their son—————

You and your mother had moved into a new house. After the tragic death of your brother and father, the house held way too many memories that made it so even walking down the hall could leave you sobbing.

Your mother wanted to really get away from it all, to go out in the country side and ‘blend with nature’, but that was not unexpected of her, she’s always been distant and ready to abandon things at a moments notice for work or her own personal desires. She would have put you and your brother up for adoption if it weren’t for your dad.

but at the end of the day all this really meant for you was that you have to do school online now cause mom bought a farm house in the middle of nowhere.

she made sure you were fine with it which was a bit unexpected, and at the time you really were! It’s just, the house was built in the Victorian era and had seen years of use, hundreds of families and many deaths. And although the house has had new things added like heating and hot water, the house freaked you out still is all.

As you pulled up to the house, its tall figure landing ominously against the moon in the sky, the house looks like it belongs in a horror movie. The large willow tree beside the house with a rope swing that sways in the wind making a ‘creeeek’ every once in a while doesn’t help either. You suck in a breath and don’t open your door, but your mother either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about your fear as she opens her door.

she goes to the back of the car and opens the trunk before shouting “(Readers name) get out of the car and carry your luggage! I ain’t carrying all of this” you mumble an affirmative and open your door. You keep an eyes on the swing, making a note of how it seems to have stopped for an odd amount of time before getting back into swinging ‘wind must be different over there?..’ you think.

you grab your one duffel bag and a few of moms bags before heading to the front door with her. The gravel path to the front door makes crunching noises with each step, making you hyper aware of how loud you’ve been since the second you got here. You shake your head, it’s fine. This is your house. ‘Is it tho?..’

As your mother grabs her key from her purse, you her a weird ‘crunch’ behind you, like the sound of something starting to walk up the path. You whip around but no one’s there. Damn, barely five minutes here and your already paranoid. Your mother opens the door and you walk in.

as you step in, you step into what seems to be the family room, wood floors throughout the house or as far as you can see. The room has a white couch with soft pink flowers as the pattern and white wood legs. That pattern stays with all the furniture in the family room. There is also a old-ish tv.

“hey mom, do you know why the previous owners left their stuff” you ask a bit suspicious, a huge house with good looking furniture selling for a absurdly low price yet it was on the market for months. There’s gotta be something off.

your mom shrugs and tells you it must just be because they don’t need them. You decide to just go with that. Yeah, they just didn’t need them. You and your mother walk around the first floor of the house a bit before ascending the stairs. The stairs are creaky and give a bit to much for your liking with each step. Again your mother doesn’t mind.

as you get to the next floor, it seems most of the rooms are old bedrooms. Your mother immediately goes to the master bedroom with a small yell of “just take any room, I don’t care”

as you look at the hall full of rooms, non seem particularly interesting or safe. You know you have to pick one tho so you peak in each.

Each room contains different items, but each have a painting of a different person. The only one the not have a creepy painting is one of the smallest, with no windows and the bare minimum items.

you end up picking the one that doesn’t have much furniture other then a bed and a desk. The desk is creaky and wobbles at the slightest push. As you toss your duffel bag on the bed the bed creaks loudly as well. You don’t mind, it’s better than being watched by a bunch of most likely dead guys.

You also don’t have much that you brought, so you don’t need much room. You lay down on the bed. This is fine, your just being paranoid.

as you sit down on the bed, or it’s yours now you suppose, you grab your phone from your jacket pocket. As you turn it on you are blinded for a minute by how bright it is, turning down the brightness, you quickly put in your passcode and flip to discord.

as you open up a group chat between you and a bunch of your friends, you begin to talk to them. You talk for a few hours, even hoping on call and showing them your room (they agree it has a creepy vibe to it), you finally say you have to go to sleep at around 3 am.

you remove the blanket that came from the house as you fear it could be moldy, so you’d prefer to just wash it. You take the duffel bag off the bed and open it, grabbing a blanket. The blanket that came with the house is admittedly much better, your blanket is thin and warm with a few holes. But never the less you turn off the lights and hurry back over the bed.

you realize a bit to late you didn’t change clothes, but in all honesty you don’t want to change in this house.

as you lay back on the bed with a creak, you can’t help but think you see things moving around in the darkness.

————

you wake up pretty late in the day. It’s summer break so you don’t have school, or else you would have never stayed up that late. As you sit up you notice oddly enough you’re covered in both blankets, not just yours. You could have sworn you just wore yours but but, uh you must have put it on in the middle of the night!

yeah, that’s what you did. You probably got cold, and put the thicker blanket on for warmth, and if you don’t remember it that’s fine.

As you sit up you notice something on your desk, a piece of paper with a cup of water. As you stand you walk over to the note, it’s from your mom

hey (reader’s nickname), I got a urgent call from work and i need to get back to the office by next week, and I have to leave now to make it. I know I said I work on line these days but they really need me. I know you’ll understand, your nearly a adult you can handle yourself for a few weeks, when I get home I’ll spend lots of time with you.

There’s money attached to the back of the note, and I put all our food from the car in the kitchen.

love - mom

You sigh. it’s always been like this. Seems no matter where you guys live, mom will never be home. You know she works hard but it feels she doesn’t see you as a priority.

although in the back of your mind you recognize the writing looks different then her writing, and she always signs off with her real name and not ‘mom’

As turn the paper around you see that yes, there is money, and it is way too much. 500 bucks. You blink. What. You shake your head, you are not using all of that. You remove the money from the paper and throw the letter in the trash.

For some reason you have a gut feeling not to leave your room. Something feels wrong with this house and it’s even worse with no one else here. You grab your phone again and hop on discord, as you talk to your friends you let them know where you live.

Turns out some friends you met online live real close to you, and they’re cool to come over tomorrow to hang out and keep you company till your mom gets home. You just have to survive today and tonight.

After your friends have to go you’re left sitting on your bed with nothing to do, so you remove the bigger blanket again and decide ‘hey, best way to lose time is to sleep!’ After a bit you slip into unconsciousness.

//change of POV//

as the many pairs of eyes watched their sons eyes close, they can’t help but coo

their sons ‘Mom’ is not fit clearly, so they had to step up. And so far they’ve been doing great, their lovely son is even gonna bring friends over to meet them!

their son is adorable. And all theirs

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Move, baby

Gif credits

Pairing/Au: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x f!reader

Words count: 5768

Rating: +18, MINORS PLEASE DON’T INTERACT.

Warnings: threesome, reader is a sex worker, she is female and has hair and breasts and vagina but apart from that no other description is given, fingering, nipples play, oral sex (m and f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v (WRAP IT UP IRL, FOLKS), pet names (mostly honey), basically p*rn with very little plot lol

Notes: No beta reader, mostly written at night on my phone (I really need to stop doing this, GOD) and English is not my first language so excuse me for any mistake, Oberyn and Ellaria have always been one of my biggest fantasies, so I decided to write something about them. I'm a bi person, I want both, this is very personal to me and it's my first attempt at writing a threesome so please be kind. Title inspired by “Movement” by Hozier.

I really hope you’ll like it ❤️

I also just want to say thank you all for giving so much love to my last story, I’m so grateful and my heart is full of love for each one of you!

When you move

I can recall somethin' that's gone from me

When you move

Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally

Move me, baby

So move me, baby

Like you've nothin' left to prove

And nothin' to lose

Move me, baby

Oberyn and Ellaria are lying on the bed when you enter the room. You are intimidated, even though you have been doing this for years and have met many powerful people before. They have been here for a few days now and seeing them through the corridors of the brothel you couldn’t help but notice how majestic and beautiful they were. Oberyn is pervaded by a regal aura, he is like a feline who walks with a soft, elegant step and you immediately found him incredibly sensual.

His golden robe adorned with suns studding, the symbol of Dorne, almost entirely hides the splendor of his tanned skin, but leave his chest partially exposed and a large medallion accentuate the harmonious shape of his thick and incredibly attractive neck.

The fabric hug his torso and fall wider over his legs, framing his perfect figure. A large brown leather belt emphasize his narrow waist.

Rumors say that he is a formidable warrior with a spear and you can actually sense his physical prowess even under his clothes.

His face makes him look like a God, short black hair, high forehead and thick eyebrows, dark and piercing eyes, strong aquiline nose, voluptuous lips and sculpted jaw, covered by a strip of beard.

The signs that line his face give him authority and the appearance of a man who lives life to the full.

Ellaria is equally magnetic, some other brothel girl said to you that she comes from humble beginnings but she looks every bit like a queen who could have anyone under her feet.

A cascade of gorgeous black curls frame her face and falls over her bare shoulders, she has high, sculpted cheekbones and sensual lips, eyes like a dark night, deep and mysterious but shining like stars.

She wears a beautiful orange tunic that slides over her hips leaving little to the imagination, a wide neckline barely cover her décolleté and her tits are embraced by a gold bra.

She looked at you as you passed by her, and her inquisitive and teased gaze didn't escape you. You felt flattered, you never thought that a person like her could look at someone like you.

You saw her whisper something in Oberyn's ear and saw him nod with conviction, before putting his arm around her waist with a mischievous smile.

They walked away without speaking to you while you remained breathless for a few seconds as you watched them disappear together into one of the rooms.

You have experience, you never have this kind of reaction, even in the presence of the king who also frequents this brothel very often.

Most of the time you absolutely don't care about anything other than money you get at the end of the day but that feeling of being noticed by someone you actually like stayed with you and you spent the night torturing your clit because of them.

Today the brothel owner told you that Ellaria and Oberyn specifically asked for you. They previously require at least one man and a couple of women or more which perhaps would have helped you handle the situation better and be calmer. It wouldn't have all depended on you, you could have blended in with others, made yourself less noticed. Although when it comes to sex, it's impossible not to notice you.

You don't think so arrogantly, it's just that you do it every day, several times a day and you're good at it.

So damn good that some customers have fallen in love with you and became obsessed, forcing the brothel owner to kick them out and tell them not to show up again, so good that they often leave you extra gold coins before leaving the room.

You're an expert, but today you feel like it's the first time you've done it.

Your hand shake as you open the door, maybe they could have been wrong, it wasn't you they wanted.

You need to be detached in this job. You can't let your feelings influence you, at the beginning it often happened to you to be overwhelmed but now you've learned to leave the most vulnerable part of yourself outside the door.

There is no future for people like you in King's Landing other than doing menial work, this is the best paying job there is. It's certainly risky because you never know what can happen to you and often powerful men are also cruelly sadistic, you've found yourself in very scary situations at least a couple of times, fortunately much less than other girls who work here.

You saw with your own eyes the swollen faces, you heard the screams, you heard the cries. You've experienced bruises on your skin and not the kind you’ve been turned on by.

Your luck has been that the owner of this brothel cares about keeping you all safe, he is humane enough not to treat you like cannon fodder and let them do whatever they want with you.

He always says that it’s because he need to maintain his brothel the best one in King’s Landing but you know that there is a fund of goodness in him, after all you are pretty sure that he cares at least a little about all of you. You can see it from how he treats you, he never lacks clean clothes, decent meals, cleanliness and decorum of rooms and a maester to cure any ailment that may occur with this way of life. And he pays well, better than in any other brothel in the city, so you've always made sure to hold on to this job.

“We were waiting for you,” Oberyn says, sitting up in bed, his back leaning against the large red velvet cushions resting on the inlaid wooden headboard.

You hold your breath as you shyly step forward.

Ellaria is lying on her side next to her lover, her head resting on her right hand, while her other hand lies limply on her exposed side.

“Come closer, baby” she says “we want to look at you”

You take another step, exposing yourself to the dim light of the candles scattered around the room.

Ellaria's eyes sparkle, she glances knowingly at Oberyn and then back at you "It's really you, the one who looked at me in the hallway"

You feel her gaze wander over your body, you keep your eyes lowered to look at your bare feet on the wooden floor.

It feels like you're being seen for the first time in a long time, and you tremble slightly.

You are not afraid but you are in awe, fully aware of your exposed skin covered only by a light fabric draped over your hips and your torso, covering your breasts and pussy, leaving your shoulders and arms, your cleavage, your legs exposed.

“Are you ashamed?” Oberyn says “You don't need to”

Ellaria elegantly gets up from the bed and approaches you. She stops in front of you and places a finger under your chin “Look at me” she whispers “look into my eyes”

You do as you're told, her hand encircle your jaw, sweet and delicate like a caress.

She’s smiling at you “we've been thinking about you for days, you know? Since we've been in this crap city we haven't had many opportunities to relax, not as much as we'd like anyway. But today, we intend to do nothing else. And we hope you'll join us” It sounds like an invitation, one of the most tempting you've received in years. There is no obligation in her voice, there is kindness. And desire. The realization hits you in that moment, they weren't wrong at all, they want you at least as much as you want them.

Your gaze is fixed in Ellaria's reassuring eyes and you feel hypnotized by her.

“Do you want to stay with us?” she asks you.

You nod.

"Say it. Tell me you want us"

“Yes” you whisper

“Louder, babe, Prince Oberyn can’t hear you”

“Yes” you say, more convinced “I want to be here”

Ellaria's smile spreads softly across her face “Good. We’re glad to hear that, honey”

She moves her hand to your neck, stroking it, her fingertips like a breath on your skin, stopping at the edge of the fabric resting on your collarbone.

Oberyn is still sitting on the bed, Ellaria moves to your side, without taking her hand off your shoulder “what do you say, my love, is it time we got rid of this peplum?”

“Whatever my sweet paramore desires must be done”

She looks at him with so much love that for a moment you almost feel like you're not worthy of observing such an intimate moment between two people.

Then Ellaria returns to focusing on you, as if you were a gift that was delivered especially for her, making you feel part of the scene again.

She lowers the hem of your dress, letting it slide across your skin, revealing your breasts and then your tummy and letting it fall from your hips. It collapses at your feet like a white cloud.

She takes your hand and makes you take a step forward, letting you out of your dress.

You're naked.

And two of the most fascinating people you've ever seen are looking at you. They're looking at you.

A large number of your clients are impatient, rushed, they just want to satisfy themselves and leave.

Ellaria and Oberyn are calm and relaxed, and they seem in no hurry to send you away.

She admires you, you feel her gaze contemplating you and you fervently hope that she likes what she sees.

You truly want this woman to like you.

“She is beautiful” Oberyn says “my love, you really have impeccable taste”

Ellaria lets out a little laugh "it's no coincidence that you are my other half”

her eyes are languidly on him and then back at you.

She reaches down to caress your arm, your side, her fingers tracing the contours of your body so carefully.

You can literally feel the tension building in the room, pervading it entirely.

“She really is gorgeous”

Her hand travels up your stomach, barely touching you, while she continues to look straight into your eyes and reaches one of your breasts.

She cups it and weighs it for a moment "you have beautiful breasts" she whispers and then takes your nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pinches it, pulling it slightly.

A low moan escapes your lips.

You remain still, many have done it before but her touch is different, more attentive and graceful, it send you shivers down your spine.

She’s treating you like something precious, taking the time to tickle your body, looking at you like you're the only person in the room, the anticipation makes it all more exciting.

She does the same to the other nipple and then gets closer, she's so close that you can feel her scent of honey and flowers filling your nostrils.

She kisses you, her lips are luscious and velvety, she tastes like sweet grape, ambrosial and intoxicating.

She pulls away from you and runs a finger over your bottom lip and gently forces your mouth open, then kisses you again. You feel her tongue make its way, meet yours and caress your palate. She licks greedily inside your mouth, her hands squeeze your hips and caress them, her body adheres perfectly to yours, making you whimper and rock your hips to try to get more friction burying one of your hand in her hair, your fingers intertwined with her raven curls.

“Don’t be impatient, baby”

You try to calm down but when you look away from her you see Oberyn on the bed, in his golden robe, staring at you.

His eyes got even darker and are fixed on you, he is clearly turned on by what Ellaria is doing and that makes you even more needy.

“Eyes on me, babe” Ellaria gets your attention again “sit on the bed”

She turns you around and stands in front of you, making you walk backwards as she pushes you gently holding your hips.

The backs of your knees touch the bed and you sit obediently.

Ellaria caresses your cheek “spread your legs” she orders and you do.

She kneels in front of you, you already feel your skin getting hot.

Her hand runs along your inner thigh, her fingertips like feathers on your skin.

“You’re so good. Already glistening for us” she says quietly, eyes fixed on your wetness and you expect for her fingers to rise for reaching your folds but she doesn’t. She gets up instead and take your face in her hands again and gives you another kiss that leaves you breathless. It’s more urgent and sloppy than before and your mind goes blind.

You desperately want this woman to make you cry and beg for more.

Oberyn approaches you from behind while his lover deepens the kiss and put his hands on your shoulders, stroking, you whimper at his touch, his big strong hands expertly roaming on your skin. He lowers them to touch your tits, squeezing and caressing and then his lips are on your neck sucking, biting, licking your soft skin under your ear.

Ellaria has stopped kissing you and contemplates you melting under her man's touch, she has a pleased smile.

She then makes you lying on the bed and undress.

Her dress falls to the ground leaving her naked.

She looks like a work of art.

Her skin is smooth like silk and shines in the candlelight, her tits are perfectly round shaped, high and firm, her turgid nipples stand in the center of a dark rose areola, your eyes wander on her flat tummy and her flourishing hips and thighs, she has beautifully shaped legs, your mouth is watering at the vision.

She climbs up over your body while Oberyn is now on your side sitting on his heels, watching the two of you kissing again.

You whine in her mouth feeling her warm tongue dancing with yours.

Ellaria then whispers in your ear “Raise your arms for me, baby and stand still. Let me take care of you”

You do immediately, so eager to be pleasured by this stunning creature that now lay on top of you.

Her weight is deliciously crushing you.

She kisses your neck and cleavage and lowers herself on you leaving a trail of wet kisses on your skin.

She takes one of your nipples in her mouth sucking on it, making your entire body vibrate. Her tongue is swirling on it, licking all over your areola and then on your bud sucking again avidly.

You cry when she lowers one of her hand between your thighs, teasing your folds with just her fingertips.

She watches you with a languid smile “yeah, you like that, don’t you? Me sucking on your beautiful tits?”

And you nod, head empty, totally intoxicated by her.

You want more, more, more.

She’s on your tits again, mercilessly sucking, using her teeth to gently stiffen your nipples, humming low to your skin.

She dips her fingers into your glistening pussy, running them up and down, completely wetting them.

She put her index finger into her mouth licking it clean.

“Mmm you taste so good” and this vision only would be enough to send you over the edge, she is incredibly elegant even now, in a way that exudes pure sensuality.

She keeps sucking on your tits while teasing your pussy, until you find yourself begging “please, please fuck me”

She stop and look at you with a malicious smile “you want to be fucked by my fingers? You want that, honey?”

“Please, do. Please.”

“You’re so good for us. You should do me a favor, look at my handsome lover while I work my fingers into you, would you do that for me?”

“Yes. Yes, whatever you -“ your voice cracks in the attempt ‘cause she force your entrance with two of her fingers without waiting for you to reply “AH. whatever you want… my queen” you say breathily.

She’s deep into you.

“Well, technically I’m no queen but you can call me one if you want” she laugh heartily. “Look at my love, now”

You turn your face and next to you is a naked Oberyn. You don't know when he took off his robe, you heard movements around you but you were totally absorbed in Ellaria at that moment.

It never happens that you are not aware of what is happening in a room, you must always be vigilant to avoid dangerous situations when there is more than one person with you, you never let yourself be caught off guard.

He waited silently, he certainly enjoyed the sight of you two.

You can clearly see it in his hard, swollen cock in front of you.

He's jerking off slowly, a couple more strokes and then he finally speaks "Do you want to take it in your mouth, sweetie?"

You look at him for a second, filling your eyes with his beauty, while Ellaria continues to move in and out of you with her fingers and working on your nipples with her tongue.

You smile, pleased by his hungry eyes.

“Yes” you murmur “Yes, please”

He brings the tip close to your mouth and you instinctively stick out your tongue to lick it. It's already wet with precome, it's salty and musky and you wail at this, so eager to have it all into your mouth.

He enter your lips slowly, he’s bigger than most men you’ve met and you’ve met a lot of men.

“Yes, just like that, honey”

You take as much as you can of him through your lips, down your throat, filling your mouth with his hardened cock and mewl at his thick veins tickling your tongue.

You cup his balls with your hand, massaging them.

“Oh. You seemed shy before but you’re a little mischief, aren’t you?”

You pull out and a little laugh escape your lips “that’s exactly what I am” and you look at him “never underestimate a quite girl”

You’re challenging him, he knows you do things like that for a living so he shouldn’t expect you to be so innocent and naive.

You’re not.

“I knew it, honey, that’s why we wanted you. I know a little mischievous girl when I see her”

You stifle one more laugh and take his cock in your hand, licking his already sticky tip, swirling your tongue on his frenulum, then moving your tongue flat along his length, down to the base and back up again.

You fill your mouth again, taking him so deep that the head of his cock is now scraping at your throat.

You hold it still for a moment to get used to its size and the you begin to suck.

Ellaria is still circling your clit with her thumb while her index and middle fingers slowly pumps in and out of you.

You suck greedily on Oberyn cock and pride raise in your chest at his praises “you’re doing so good, babe, so good for me, keep going”

For the first time in years, you are a third person enjoying sex with others and not only a whore at their commands.

You're almost at your peak and rock your hips into Ellaria's hand, seeking more and more friction.

“Come on baby, flood my hand with your cum”

Your body shakes and you feel a heat rise from your core and invade you as you release your orgasm on Ellaria's hand.

She’s looking at you eagerly, you still have Oberyn cock in your mouth, you hold onto the sheets with your hand to maintain the position while you don't stop taking his cock.

“You have the most exquisite nipples I’ve ever seen, and they taste so sweet, god, I’m obsessed” she says, stroking your hair, making you feel tenderly spoiled.

Oberyn explode in your mouth a few moments later groaning loudly, you swallow everything you can and smile at him while a little ripple of cum runs down your chin.

“Such a good babe” Ellaria strokes your cheek and lick the cum that is making its way onto your neck.

The room is quiet for a while filled only with your sighs.

“What do you want now, love?”

She says to Oberyn that is now lying on the bed right next to you with a hand splayed over your tummy.

“I was thinking…what if you sit on her face while I eat her pussy?”

“Mmmm you always have the best ideas, my prince”

You're lying between them, they sit up for a kiss and you see their mouths come together and their tongues meet passionately right above you, you quietly enjoy the show.

Oberyn climbs on top of you, starting to kiss you and you immediately realize how different his touch and kisses are from Ellaria's, he is more urgent, less delicate than her, but no less exciting. His hands are bigger, his fingers longer and as he caresses and teases your nipples and kisses you you wonder what it would be like to have them inside you.

His tongue is voracious inside your mouth, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, his kissing overall more demanding and authoritative but still kind.

Oberyn certainly knows how to let the love of his life take center stage but he also knows exactly how to take it back.

He wastes no time tasting your nipples after all of Ellaria's glorification, running his tongue flat over one of them and grunting in approval and then sucking like he’s starving.

“Fuck, they really are delicious, you’re so right, my love”

Ellaria smiles as she settles in to straddle you, her pussy is an inch from your mouth, you can smell it and you pant in anticipation.

“Lick me, dear, lick me deeply and fuck me with your tongue”

and she lowers herself into your face, your nose colliding with her clit making her gasp, your tongue is flat on her folds tracing them thoroughly, you taste her spicy savory flavor that instantly drives you wild.

You lick right in the middle, her folds caressing your tongue at the sides while you caress her center, alternating longer laps with small ones like a kitten, just the tip of your tongue on her clit.

And then you take it into your mouth, wrapping it with your tongue and then sucking it.

Her pussy clench and she grinds into your face “Yes, oh my gods, you’re fucking great” she mutters, hitting your nose again and again “keep doing that”

You try to focus on her even if you feel Oberyn moving on your body, licking and sucking your skin, probably leaving some light bruises that don't intimidate you anyway, he reaches your mound and continues kissing, attentive and caring. He is rough but also sweet, you can feel his beard scratching you delightfully, he makes space between your legs to settle on his stomach on the bed.

You continue lapping on her clit burying your face in her pussy when you feel Oberyn spread your lips with two fingers and give a long lick to your center and then sink his fingers between your lips, covering them completely in your juices, teasing your entrance while he swirling on your clit.

His fingers are thick, much thicker than Ellaria's, and even just a little force at your opening makes you feel full.

Ellaria is still rocking her hips into your face, squeezing it between her thighs. You stick your tongue right at her entrance, making her moan your name “yeah, baby, just like that, keep pushing your tongue inside me”

You do as she wish, darting your tongue in her hole.

She cries out loud, quivering, calling your name again, pushing her cunt into your face.

You’re almost breathless but you don’t stop, you want her to come all over your mouth and chin and you want to savor every drop of her pleasure.

You feel Oberyn’s fingers deep down into your pussy, curling up and reaching that pretty spot inside of you that always gives you fireworks, while he devours your clit. You can feel his nose deepening through your folds and it feels heavenly.

He’s great.

Really amazingly great.

You push into Ellaria’s trying to keep the same pace with he’s pushing into you and you’re pretty sure you’ve never had anything like that, even if you’re a prostitute and you do it all the time.

Ellaria is riding your face like there’s no tomorrow and Oberyn is eating you out so frantically that you feel a little bit overstimulated but you wouldn’t want to stop for any reason.

“You’re really making my sweetheart a big mess, don’t you?” He looks up at you, grinning as he watches his lover taking every bit of your tongue into her.

There's not even a hint of jealousy in his voice, he seems impressed by you, pleased by the fact that you're making the love of his life enjoy every moment.

“I understand that you are so eager to give her what she wants, it's the same for me. My woman is too precious to leave her unsatisfied, she needs to be worshipped” he says it slowly, sweetly, it reaches your ears muffled but still effective and unmistakable.

His fingers still move inside your cunt, and his tongue is on you again licking your clit rapidly, almost jerking it.

You see stars again, while you keep moving on Ellaria’s folds.

Your entire body is on fire, your legs shaking and your heart pounding in your chest so fast you feel like you’re on the verge of no return.

Ellaria comes a few moments after, whining and holding on to the sheets to maintain balance, releasing her cum all over your lips, on your tongue, in your mouth and you drink on her, all you can, continuing lapping her.

Oberyn is caressing your folds with two fingers, gently, letting you cool down.

When Ellaria moves from your face you try to suffocate a disappointed moan which does not escape Oberyn's ears “Oh, you still want more, honey? Yeah, my woman is addictive, I know” his mouth curve into a smile.

“So are you” you say, pulling you up to sit up in bed to give him a kiss.

His lips taste like you, you linger on his bottom lip sucking it gently to get the more of it.

“You’re such a horny little thing”

“Yes, I am” you whisper on his lips

“Good. We like that”

Ellaria is right next to you, palming the back of your head with her hand, stroking your hair.

“Naughty girl” she winks at you “you’re giving us great pleasure so we allow you to choose what to do now. What would you like, sweetie?”

“I would like..." you stop because you don't want to offend the splendid woman next to you.

“What? Speak, babe, whatever it is it’s fine with us” she smiles at you and Oberyn nods.

“I really want to be fucked…by Oberyn”

Ellaria laughs, a joyful laugh that makes your pussy throb

“Why were you afraid to say it?” she gently pinches one of your lobes, then tracing the outline of your ear with the tip of her finger.

“I didn't want you to feel left out”

“I don’t feel like that at all, honey. I know that you want to be fucked by this handsome prince, no one understands you better than me” her voice is low, tender, like a caress.

“It gives me great pleasure to see him enjoy it, you know? And who tells you I won't participate?”

“Oh. Okay” you feel relieved

“Don’t worry, hun, just take what you need. Haven't done this in a long time, right?”

It's true, you haven't been doing this for long, your job doesn't require you to think about your own needs, you have to dedicate yourself entirely to satisfying others.

Oberyn is between your legs again as Ellaria rests your head on her thighs.

“Spread your legs wider for me, babe”

He comes closer to you and slides his cock over your clit, up and down your folds, you get wet immediately, it slides so smoothly it feels like silk on you.

Ellaria is looking at you sweetly, she’s stroking your hair while your head is perfectly nested on her legs.

“You’re going to feel so good, honey, there’s no better cock than his”

And you actually think she’s right, despite all the other ones you’ve seen since you’re doing this.

He aligns himself with your entrance and you can feel the tip entering you, already stretching your crevice.

He’s careful and goes inch by inch with an incredible calm.

He stops when he’s entirely inside you, it fills you all up and you squirm at the sensation, arching your back to feel it even more.

“God it feels amazing” you moan “move, please”

“You ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Yes. Never been so ready in my life. Give it all to me, please”

Your pussy is dripping all over his cock and he starts thrusting, a grunt escapes his throat as he slides so easily into the deepest point of you.

He’s slow, really agonizingly slow and this makes you feel every single movement, every rolling of his hips, every rhythmic thrust so amplified that your mind starts going numb, completely drunk on him.

His hands hold your hips tightly, his fingers dig into your flesh and will probably leave marks but you don't care a bit.

It's like a dance, he’s dancing with your body, setting a leisurely pace that is giving you the freedom to simply feel center stage for once, like you didn’t even know it was possible anymore for you.

They say that's what he does even while fighting, dancing. It's light, nimble and agile like a panther, so they tell you.

Now he's not fighting, he's following your body and you do the same by moving your hips in turn at the same rhythm.

Ellaria was right, there's no cock like his, because what's going on now is him thinking of you first unlike the majority of men you’ve met.

He’s hitting that right spot inside of you again and again, so naturally that you could say that your cunt is meant to be his.

All is silent except for his grunts and the squelching sound of your fuck, every lewd noise from your pussy as he sink into you makes your head spin.

The candles light up the room enough for you to see his face and you fixate on his every little expression, on the vein on his neck swelling, on his clenched teeth, on his eyes squeezed shut with effort.

Ellaria holds you by the shoulders, you bounce on her legs deliciously.

You look up at her for a moment and she has the most delighted smile you’ve ever seen.

“Keep going, hun, you’re doing so well”

she whisper and you’re unsure if she’s speaking to you or his lover but she sounds so sweet and nicely aroused that you get even more turned on by the situation and you didn’t even thought it was possible.

You entwine your legs behind his back, pushing him further against you, he gasps as he tries to push your orgasm just right.

“Fuck, baby, you’re drenched”

“I know I know ..I’m so close Oberyn, please , don’t stop”

He places his thumb over your clit circling it frantically and doesn’t stop pushing into you until your orgasm washes over you leaving you breathless and worn out.

He pulls out of you coming on your tummy, thick streaks of his cum painting your skin as he moan loudly.

You look at him in ecstasy, every expression on his face captivates you as he fists his cock releasing his pleasure on you.

He falls onto the bed panting hard while you also try to catch your breath.

Ellaria moves from underneath you and puts a pillow under your head, goes back between your thighs and reaches down to lick your pussy clean.

Her tongue laps at you gently, caressing your lips until you calm down.

When she's satisfied, she lies down on the bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you, cradling you.

Oberyn kisses your neck, then stands up and grabs a bowl from the table at the side of the room.

You turn to see what he has and he takes a blueberry, runs it across your bottom lip before feeding you.

And then another one.

And one for Ellaria too.

A prince is feeding you blueberries.

You’ve never felt so spoiled in your entire life.

This has to be one of the best days you will ever have, something you thought you could only fantasize about just happened. There isn't much joy in your life anymore, not since you realized that every day would be the same. Not today.

“We leave tomorrow” Ellaria whispers

“Oh fuck, no” you find yourself saying, hiding your head on her chest, lost in the softness of her tits.

“Don't you want us to leave?” Oberyn tenderly rubs your back.

“No” you whine shyly on Ellaria’s skin.

“You’re so cute, honey” she says, hugging you even tightly.

“We’ll be back, don’t be sad” Oberyn says and he pauses for a moment “Actually, wait, have you ever been to Dorne?”

“I never left King's Landing”

"Come with us. What do you think my love, can she come?”

“Of course, she can, why not. When it comes to pleasure you know I have no sides and she’s the perfect addition to our bond”

“It’s a deal then. You want to come, baby?”

You can believe what’s happening, they are really offering you a different life, far from this cesspool of a city.

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s gonna cost you a lot, the owner won’t free me for a little price”

“Babe… I’m a prince. Money is not a problem for me.”

You can feel tears poking through your eyes, you look at him and it seems to you that it is a dream from which you will wake up soon.

“Thank you” he approaches you and you give him a grateful kiss.

“Your new life begins tomorrow”

For the first time in a long time you can't wait for the next day.