#though I've done this once already so it's also

[supernotnatural2005]

In the Eyes of a Hunter

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean finally had a few days spare from hunting with his dad to come see you at college. Though you weren’t exclusive, seeing you with another man opens up a can of feelings Dean had so desperately been trying to keep closed, and a confession that could change everything.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Angst, self doubt, Dean really needs to appreciate himself more 😩

AN: I know the gif is of Alec (Dark Angel) but, i couldn’t help but see a young Dean and this idea came to me 😅 It's a little more on the angsty side, but I promise the fluff is there. Also Happy New year! I know I've been away, not posting for a little while, but I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things. I hope you guys enjoy this one, let me know what you think?

Masterlist

2003

The crappy daytime shows weren’t cutting it, even in their static form from the ancient TV the motel provided. 

You were supposed to have been here two hours ago. That was the plan. Your class finished at 2, and then you were free for the day. Free to see him. 

After all, he had come all this way for you. What little time he could get away from hunting, he gave to you. He actively ignored the reason as to why he did, not wanting to admit the truth of it. Knowing it would cause more harm than it was worth. 

But as he sat here, aimlessly staring at the fuzzy figures on the screen, time slowly ticking away, his mind restless and full of scenarios that only seemed to bother him the more they spiralled, he realised maybe the harm had already been done. 

Deciding he’d waited long enough, he dropped the remote in his lap with a huff and took another look at the digital clock beside him. 

4:15 pm. 

He stood up from the bed and gathered his leather jacket and keys to the Impala his dad had officially given to him last month and headed out. Maybe you’d just gotten held up in class. He was no ‘Mr. College,’ but he understood there was a lot on your plate. At least from the last few times he’d come to see you. The stress had almost brought you to tears more than a few times, so he couldn’t understand Sammy’s desire to go. But hey ho, what did he know? He killed monsters for a living.

The rumble of the engine purred beneath him as he started the ignition. The sound echoed in the almost empty lot, bringing a proud smirk to his lips. He still couldn’t believe she was finally his. 

This car had been one of the only other constants in Dean’s life, getting them from A to B, sometimes even calling her home for the night. He knew as soon as his dad handed him the keys and handed him the responsibility of looking after her, he’d do everything in his power to do just that. 

As he drove toward your campus, the signs of autumn were heavily present with the flutters of orange and yellow leaves falling from the trees; his mind drifted to thoughts of you again. 

He had met you a year ago, having rolled through town to deal with a simple salt and burn case. He was riding solo, his dad dealing with more dire matters, like a fresh trail on Yellow Eyes. Sam had left a few months prior to go make it as a hotshot lawyer in California, leaving Dean alone in the aftermath. 

The fight between Sam and John had been ugly. Dean resorted to the middleman, as usual. He was proud of Sammy, more so that he was actually able to stand up to John, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of abandonment. What did he have other than this job and his loyalty to finding the thing that took his mother?

After he wrapped up the case, he’d treated himself to a celebratory drink at one of the local bars, which happened to be a student hot spot, and that’s where he’d met you. 

He had noticed you almost immediately. You were breathtaking, and he’d found himself glancing in your direction more often than not, watching as you’d laughed and drank with your friends. You were so carefree, beautiful, and way out of his league for many reasons. Those reasons only multiplying once he’d gotten to know you, and they still rang true to this day.

You’d caught him staring; eventually, he’d seen your eyes flicker in his direction a few times. Despite his own self-deprecations, Dean knew he was good-looking, knew the effect he had on women, and he was surprisingly good at playing the confident ‘bad boy.’. 

He’d never really given much thought to anything other than a one-time thing. For one, it was easier that way. He never stayed in one place for longer than a couple of days, and secondly, his job wasn’t your normal 9 to 5, and having attachments was dangerous. 

However, as soon as you’d made your way over to him, after what had looked like some encouragement from your friends, and introduced yourself with that faux drunk confidence, he was hooked. 

At the time, you had just entered your senior year, and you had told him of your plans to take a gap year once you’d graduated. Like Dean, you felt a little lost in life, though for completely different reasons. Your major was something your father had insisted on, despite it not being what you had wanted to do. Apparently his plan was to have you work at his company, maybe even take over for him one day, but you hated all that corporate bullshit. 

So Dean already could relate. A demanding father whose opinion was the one and only. Maybe he did understand why Sam had left more than he originally thought. Like right now, he had this mission, his dad’s mission, yet once that was over, what next? Did he just continue what he was doing? Living off of stolen credit cards, diner food, and cheap motel rooms?

The more he got to know you, your desires and dreams to travel the world, live, and experience life, he found himself picturing that, wanting that too. You had a way of making everything seem brighter and more hopeful, making him feel like there was more to life than just a ‘job.’. 

He knows now why he kept coming back to you, why he still keeps coming back. Because for once in his life he felt seen, felt wanted, understood. And maybe it was time for him to tell you that. To tell you the truth. Consequences be damned. 

However, it was all wishful thinking, and Dean’s search for you was cut short when he spotted you walking out of the student library, your beautiful smile and sounds of laughter filtering through his open window, and beside you, another man. 

He felt his chest constrict, his stomach churn uncomfortably at the sight. His knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. He rolled to a stop and watched as you continued to laugh at whatever this douchebag was saying to you. 

He knew he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t exclusive. He was the one who’d made that clear, and surprisingly you had been okay with it. You didn’t know what he really did for a living, just that he had to travel a lot for ‘the family business.’. 

Though, with his recent self-revelation that his feelings for you ran much deeper than something casual, this felt like a punch to the gut. Maybe this was a sign that this whole thing was a bad idea. Why getting close to someone was not on the cards for him. Of course you would’ve met someone else. How could you not? You were beautiful, smart, funny, and sweet. Why would you wait around for some drifter like him? 

With his insecurities rearing their ugly head, threatening to swallow him whole, he failed to notice the two pairs of eyes on him. It wasn’t until there was a light rap at the window that he snapped out of his thoughts. He jumped a little and looked to where you were leaning down beside the partially opened glass, your expression surprised, but you were smiling nonetheless. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Came your innocent question, but it just seemed to rub him the wrong way, that and he noticed that guy lingering a few feet behind you, looking around awkwardly. 

“It was getting late; I thought I’d come see if you were okay, but I can see you’re busy.” He spoke the last words with a little more venom as he nodded to the lingerer. And he hated the slight dip in your brow and the downturn of your lips. 

“I was actually on my way to see you now.” You began, your voice light but weary. “I’m sorry I got held up. Alex just needed some help, and time got away from me.” Your explanation did nothing to calm his nerves. In fact, it made him feel worse. Like he didn’t matter. Again he had no right, but he was already spiralling. 

“You know what? It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged you off. “I’m going to have to cut this trip short anyway. Dad called; gotta meet him a few states over.” The lie came easily, but the knife in his heart twisted with each word. You frowned at him, he saw it in his peripheral, but he refused to meet your eyes. He couldn’t. 

“Alex, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He heard you say before you walked around the car and abruptly slipped into the passenger side. 

“What are you doing?” His question came out more snappish than he intended. You folded your arms and sat back in your seat, looking much like a stubborn child.

“We’re going to talk.” You shrugged as if that were obvious. “We can either do that here or back at the motel; your choice.” You levelled him with an unwavering stare, one that crushed his resolve and had him grumpily starting the engine and driving back to the motel. 

You walked past Dean as he opened the door for you, your eyes widening a fraction at the state of the room. It had certainly seen better days; the wallpaper was faded and peeling from the walls, and the carpet had a questionable amount of stains on it. From what? You didn’t hope to find out. He usually stayed in much nicer rooms, but seeing as it was close to the holidays, this was probably all he was going to get. 

You plopped down on the squeaky mattress and looked at him. He was avoiding your eyes, shifting awkwardly in his spot. You’d never seen him this worked up. You liked to think you knew Dean rather well, at least him as a person. He still kept some things to himself, like the details of the job he did with his dad. Sometimes he came to you looking so haunted, but those times weren’t spent with much talking. 

You were beyond curious; Dean was a mystery you were still trying to unravel. However, you knew your standpoint: that you weren’t his girlfriend and never would be. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t want to make a commitment, yet he kept coming back for you. You didn’t push him as to why he did, in fear he would stop altogether. 

If you were honest with yourself, you had fallen in love with him months ago. Yes, your situation was complicated, and he never stuck around longer than a couple of days. But Dean was special; he wasn’t like the guys you knew at college or in your life in general. He was wise beyond his years, thoughtful, funny, and smart, despite how much he called his younger brother the “brains of the family.” And he was also one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on. 

“What was that back there?” You decide to just rip the Band-Aid off. You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted to hear it from him. He finally looked to you then, his posture straightening, his arms folding across his chest as if in a defensive stance.

“I told you, I was just checking to see if you were okay.” He spoke as if he didn’t really care for the conversation, but his jaw was ticking, and his brow remained furrowed. “I have to leave, so can we make this quick?” 

It was your turn to frown then. Admittedly, his words stung; you hadn’t even had the chance to see him yet, and now he wanted to leave all of a sudden. 

“Is this because of Alex?” 

“What? No!” His response was quick and higher in pitch, and it only confirmed your assumptions. He was jealous. 

“You know he’s only a friend, right?” You offer, biting back your smile. 

“And? Why would I care who you’re friends with?” He grumbled and looked down at one of the stains on the carpet beneath his boot, fixating on it as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. 

“It just seems like you do it all.” You shrugged nonchalantly, though your voice tinged with something akin to a teasing tone. His eyes flickered back up to yours, darker than you were expecting. 

“You think I care who you hang around with? Who do you date? I don’t own you. If you want to meet guys and have boyfriends, then go ahead; I’m not stopping you.” His voice rose an octave with each word, his body trembling slightly as he unleashed kept feelings out into the open. 

“It’s not like everyone I’ve ever cared about or loved sticks around. I mean, why would they? I’m a freak, a loser.” He reveals, his eyes widening slightly at his unmeant confession. You sit in stunned silence, not expecting that outburst from him. 

“So if we’re done here, I have to leave.” He quickly adds, embarrassed and angry at himself for saying those things. Things he’d wanted to keep buried and never allow to see the light of day. He hastily begins collecting his things; there's not much, but there’s enough to give you time to snap out of your stupor. 

“Hey.” You grab onto his arm with enough force to stop him from picking up his duffle. He obliges you, but you know you have to select what you say next carefully; otherwise, you’re uncertain as to if you’d ever see him again.

“I don’t know where all that came from, but I don’t think you’re a freak or a loser.” You frown sympathetically at him. It hurt you to hear him speak so lowly of himself.

“Dean, I think the world of you.” You admit it, and his eyes flicker to yours, uncertainty shining in those pools of green. “I know our situation isn’t ideal or even normal, but in this last year of knowing you, I think you’re amazing.” 

“You do?” The question slips out involuntarily, but your responding smile is warm and calms his nerves a little. 

“Dean, you’re the best person I know, the only person I want to see. I haven’t said anything because I know you didn’t want a commitment, but dammit, I love you. I am in love with you.”

Your last word is cut off by the sudden press of his lips. Your surprise squeak quickly turns into a grateful sigh. And you wrap your arms around his shoulders and neck as he hugs you closer to him. 

He breaks away after a few minutes, your breaths mingling in the small gap between where his forehead rests against yours. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s not what you were expecting him to say, but you allow him the time to speak. “I overreacted, and I had no right to.” 

You cup his smooth cheek, which he leans into, and offer him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.” You swipe a thumb across his cheekbone, and he takes comfort in your touch. 

“I just. I have something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you, been keeping from you.” He sighs, his face tormented and sad as he pulls away. It’s worrying you, but you try to internalise it for his sake. He takes your hand and guides you to the bed until you’re both sitting side by side. 

“Dean, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” You tell him honestly. He seems to be battling in his own mind, his internal struggle present in his rigid form and fidgeting hands. 

He huffs out a humourless laugh and rubs a hand down his face before looking at you. Really looking, and you sit quietly, but strong, showing him you’re there and are willing to listen. 

“There’s a reason I never told you what I did for a living.” He begins. “For one thing, I didn’t even think we’d even get this far, and there was no point to put that on you.” He shakes his head, his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach in knots. 

“And secondly, it’s dangerous. My job is dangerous, and I’d never want anything to happen to you.” He looks at you pleadingly, and you nod, despite the swarm of questions flooding your mind. 

Meanwhile, Dean blows out a nervous breath; he can’t believe he’s going to tell you the truth. Something he’d been the most adamant about not doing. Though he is in too deep, he knows that now, and you had a right to know, a right to run for the hills about what he was going to confess. He’d even agree with you when you called him crazy and walk out that door and never bother you again if that’s what you wanted. Selfishly, he hopes that isn’t the case, but you had a right to choose. 

“I’m a hunter.” He begins, and it hangs heavy in the air for two different reasons. For you, you’re a little confused, not understanding the dire build-up and Dean because he was unveiling his and his family’s biggest kept secret. 

“To clarify, I don’t hunt deer, elk, or critters in the woods.” He explains, but the alarming look on your face at the only other possibility to you has him panicking. “Not humans either.” He adds with a nervous chuckle, and you visibly relax. 

“I hunt monsters.” He reveals, and you stare at him dumbly for a moment. 

“Monsters?” You repeat, and Dean nods in confirmation. “As in the bogeyman?” 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Dean shrugs as if that was a casual thing to admit. You blink at him, as if you’re trying to process his words, but they don’t quite fit together in your mind. Monsters?

Your heart is pounding now, your mind racing, but all that comes out of your mouth is a shaky laugh, laced with disbelief. “Monsters?” You repeat, your voice thin and tight, like you’re testing the word on your tongue to see if it makes sense.

Dean’s face falls, and for the first time you see him as vulnerable as he’s ever been. There’s something desperate in his eyes, a plea for understanding that only seems to make the pit in your stomach widen.

“Yeah,” he says softly, nodding, but his voice cracks with the weight of the truth he’s just unleashed. “I hunt things that go bump in the night. Demons, ghosts, things like that. Creatures that don’t belong in this world.”

The room feels suddenly smaller. The air thicker. You look at him, your head spinning, and you can feel your pulse quicken as panic starts to creep in. A part of you wants to laugh it off, because this is crazy. There’s no way this could be true, right? Dean isn’t telling you the truth. It has to be some messed-up way for him to push you away.

A cold, sinking feeling settles deep in your chest. “Are you... are you serious?” Your voice comes out shaky, a whisper of disbelief hanging in the air. “Is this some kind of joke? You’re telling me... You hunt monsters?”

His expression tightens, lips pressed into a thin line, as if your question just added a fresh layer of weight to what he’s already carrying. “I’m not joking. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. Since one of those bastards took my  mom." The room grows silent, both of you respectively reeling from his admission. 

You had always figured Dean’s mom wasn’t in the picture for the pure fact he’d only ever spoken of his dad or younger brother. For what reason you never knew; however, the truth of it was more devastating than you could comprehend. 

When he looks at you again, there’s a pain in his expression that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, and it’s then you decide this isn’t some elaborate story to make a break-up easier on him or to spook you just for the fun of it. This was very real, and this man had been living it. 

“This life… it’s dangerous. The people I meet, the things I fight, they’ll come after anyone I care about. I never wanted to put you in that position.” Dean says, his voice breaking. “I wanted to keep you safe; you deserve so much more than this, than me. You deserve the truth.”

You stand there, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of the words he’s spoken, but it’s like your entire world has been turned upside down. Dean is telling you about this huge part of his life that he’d kept from you, and you can’t tell if you should be running for the door or if you should stay and try to understand him, to understand this.

“But why? Why did you even let me in?” You ask, your voice catching on the last word. The question haunts you, and you need to understand the answer, even though a part of you is scared of hearing it.

Dean’s eyes soften, and for a moment, you see the man behind the mask, the man who is so full of fear, so full of love, and so completely torn apart. “Because I love you,” he says simply, his voice soft but resolute. “I love you, and I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to make you understand what I do. How dangerous it is. How it’s too late for me to just stop, even if I wanted to. It’s all I’ve known.”

You’re frozen in place, the weight of his words hitting you harder than anything else. He loves you. It’s the last thing you expected to hear, the last thing you thought you’d ever get from Dean, especially now. But somehow, despite the chaos of it all, you feel your heart calm, just a little. Because the truth is, you really do love him. Despite everything.

You close your eyes for a moment, your mind racing with the enormity of what he’s just confessed. You want to scream, you want to run away and pretend none of this ever happened, but you can’t. You’re not that person. You can’t walk away from him, not now, not after everything you’ve felt for him.

You take a deep breath, forcing the words out, even as they feel foreign and strange in your mouth. “I... I don’t understand this. I don’t get it. But I do get you, Dean. I know who you are, even if I don’t know everything about your life.” You pause, letting the silence hang between you, both of you drowning in the weight of the moment.

And then, almost in defiance of the terror bubbling up inside you, you take a step forward. “I’m scared, Dean. I don’t know what this means for us. But I don’t want to lose you.”

Dean’s eyes flicker, relief and gratitude flooding his face. Slowly, carefully, he reaches out and takes your hand in his. “You won’t lose me,” he promises, his voice barely above a whisper, but the conviction in it is enough to make your heart steady, even if just for a second.

You reach up and press your lips to his, the simple action bringing you the sense of comfort and relief you both needed after such a heavy moment. Dean responds in kind, his hands firm and strong as he holds you close, his kiss soft yet purposeful, charged with an unspoken understanding of what kind of life you were agreeing to embark on. 

There’s so much left unsaid, so much you’re both struggling to understand. But for now, in this small, broken room filled with the weight of the truth, you both know one thing: neither of you is ready to let go just yet.

As you both part, Dean exhales a long, tired breath. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and in that simple gesture, you can feel the conflict in him, the rawness of everything he's kept buried for so long. And yet, as much as he's terrified of the future, of what this could mean for both of you, there's something almost peaceful in his presence now, as if admitting the truth has, for just a moment, allowed him to let go of the weight he’s been carrying.

“I don’t want to drag you into my mess,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But I want you to know, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Whatever it costs.”

You look at him, really look at him, seeing all the layers that lie underneath the bravado, the smirks, and the jokes. The broken man who’s been carrying this burden alone for too long. Your heart aches for him, for everything he's had to endure. And as much as the idea of what he does terrifies you, as much as the danger and uncertainty swirl around the edges of your thoughts, there’s still a part of you that feels steady.

You take a deep breath, your thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand. “I’m scared too, Dean. But I won’t walk away from you. Not because of this. But you’re right, we need to figure out what this means. All of it.”

His gaze softens, the hardness in his face fading just a little. “You don’t have to be a part of this. You don’t have to be involved.”

You shake your head, smiling gently. “I don’t know what the future holds, Dean. But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I don’t want to face it without you. Not if you’ll let me.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s not suffocating anymore. It’s not filled with uncertainty or confusion. It’s a quiet understanding, the kind you only get after sharing something raw and unfiltered. He studies you for a long time, his expression softening, before he finally nods. There’s something fragile in that nod, something unspoken that passes between you.

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper, like he’s afraid saying it out loud might shatter something delicate. “But I’m glad you did.”

You cup his face softly in both of your hands, a simple gesture that means everything right now. “We’ll figure it out,” you say softly. “Together.”

Dean lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it for a lifetime, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders loosens. The truth may have ripped through the air, but it’s not the end. It’s only the beginning.

AN: Hi all, I'm baaaack lol. This purely came out of the gif above and took on a mind of it's own 😅 what originally started as a jealousy fic turned into a; show some young Dean love fic 😂 I guess this can be perceived as a more positive outcome of him confessing his true life to someone he loves. I hope you guys enjoy ☺️

[media-thots]

Coming to a piece of media years late is really interesting in how it affects your approach to it once you finally get around to enjoying it.

I'm finally playing the Portal game duology. I've been hearing about both games ever since they were released. I've been exposed to many spoilers just through internet osmosis. Because of that, my experience is likely nothing like it was for the people who played the games on release. But I don't think it ruins the horror entirely.

I've already completed Portal (1) and prior to playing that, I was aware that a robot named Glados was not to be trusted. I didn't know exactly why she shouldn't be but cake was involved somehow. Once I started playing, I was already on guard/edge, looking for something threatening related to this robot. It wasn't hard to deduce that she must be watching me though the surveillance cameras but otherwise she didn't seem so threatening, at least the first few levels.

The testing environment turned dangerous due to the toxic water, plasma pellets, and the gun turret robots, but these were all created by Aperture. This unethical company created these unsafe environments and tools, it's their fault I'm nearly dying. While I was still unsure about this robot I kept hearing through the levels, I began to chalk up her lack of concern for these hazards to the scientists who programed her. They were unconcerned/uncaring therefore so is she. This still makes her dangerous, but not malicious.

Well. I learned to my frustrated horror that she actually is maliciously out to kill me and now I'm in a 'kill or be killed' scenario. I was frustrated because I should have known better, everything I've picked up on about this game for years says Glados cannot be trusted, Glados will hurt you. And even with the warnings within the game itself by the past test subject who left messages, I still was ready to believe that this advanced robot did not have the agency to actively choose to hurt me. And yet she did, and I had to reflect on the fact that she watched me complete test after test in eager anticipation for when she would kill me. And now I had to kill her to have a chance at escape.

Once I destroyed Glados and she claimed that this collapse would kill me too, I was okay with that, knowing that if there are any other people to be "tested" that Glados couldn't torture them. I land outside, clearly hurt but Glados lies in ruins, it's okay. And then I'm dragged back inside. And I'm newly horrified by the realization that, of course, Glados isn't the only robot in this insane facility and everything I did to get out of there didn't matter. Also, Glados must have a backup somewhere because what testing facility wouldn't have a fail-safe?

I had so many spoilers and I still was taken in by the story and got to experience the horror of it. I think that just goes to show how well it was made. Very glad I finally got around to it.

I've started Portal 2, I'm already aware Wheatley is not to be trusted but I've so far avoided the exact reason why. (Please don't spoil). I'm not happy that I'm Glados' test subject again but the puzzles have been fun. I'll update with a Portal 2 reflection once I'm done.

[kbookblurbs]

Wind and Truth - Brandon Sanderson (Stormlight Archive #5)

4/5 - midseason-finale ass book; he needs to scrap this editor; this book simply never ends

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW!! LIKE FIRST LINE!!!

We finally come to the end of the first arc of the Stormlight Archives and they are going to need a new name. Before we dive in, I want to clarify that I did enjoy this book! I think it tackled a series of very hard-to-conclude plotlines in a relatively good way, and I think it sets Sanderson up for success in the latter half of this series. With that said, I'll be splitting this review into four parts:

Kaladin, Szeth, & therapy speak

The Spiritual Realm plot

Azir

Book mechanics

Kaladin, Szeth, & Therapy Speak

Now first of all, anyone who's read anything I've written knows I love Kaladin - he's one of my favorite characters of all time and his journey through depression is one of my favorite parts of this series. That said. I find the whole timeline of this healing to be highly suspect, and his attempts at therapizing embarrassing at best and deeply annoying at worst. What context is there for him to go from literally attempting suicide in the last book to semi-competent therapist in no time at all? Need I remind Sanderson myself that there is no time skip between the end of RoW and WaT?

The language is also just bafflingly modern in a way that nothing in this series has been before, but we'll get to more on that later.

The flip side of this criticism is that Szeth's plotline was easily my favorite of the book. His completed arc might rise to rivaling Kaladin's (thus far) in terms of how much I enjoyed it. His backstory is so tragic (slay for the almost successful military coup though?) and I truly believed he wasn't going to make it through the book until the very last page. His moments with his father, in the past and present, brought me to tears more than once.

The Spiritual Realm Plot

This whole plotline took too long and frankly, it was boring. Watching Shallan slay her demons for the umpteenth time and deal with Formless again and kill her mother again was, and this may be controversial, not a very interesting plot point to me. She's done all this before. I feel that this book, as a whole, gave diminishing returns on her pagetime to character development ratio. I also don't feel that Shallan, with all her everything else, needed a Herald as a mother as another twist, but maybe that will be more relevant in the future. For that reason, and that reason only, I'll bite my tongue on criticizing it unnecessarily

While it was nice to see Renarin and Rlain get together, I have to admit that Renarin's POV didn't add much for me. I think Sanderson could have written the entire plotline for these two from Rlain's perspective and it would've been far more interesting since he is, in my opinion, the more interesting character between the two of them. Renarin's POV does not reveal anything that isn't already clear from other POVs.

I also just wanted more of Ba-Ado-Mishram. She was haunting the story but not present. I understand that's likely for later plot reasons, but it did make this section drag. Dalinar contributed to that but  we don't have time to get into that right now. I was happy he died though (long overdue, in my opinion).

Azir

Adolin #1 character of all time? The only one to save their assigned city and did it with 0 Radiants and the power of friendships? Nobody is doing it like him.

I loved the founding of the Unoathed and, particularly, Yanagawn's development. I'm really hoping that Yanagawn becomes a more important character in next major arc, since he was so sweet here.

I did not love that we spent probably 25% of the book in Azir fighting battles. Contrary to the opinion of Sanderson many fantasy authors, there is an upper limit on how many battles you can include before I get tired of reading them. There's only so many ways you can swing a sword or block a pike etc etc before I'm bored.

Book Mechanics

Overall, I find this concluding book to be much weaker than the other 4 in the series. Whereas it had seemed that the pacing was improving in Oathbreaker and Rhythm of War, here we were back to all over the place. While I liked that he split the plot into each day leading up to the contest, the timeline genuinely made no sense.

Beyond that, this entire book was filled with oddly YA-style prose that has never appeared in the Stormlight Archive until now. I think whoever edited this book must be different from the other four because, in my opinion, it was much too modern, not as tight, and frankly, not as good. And I know this might be controversial, but I did not think Maya calling Adolin a slut was funny. Why would she even use that word? Whore or prostitute would've been acceptable because they've been referenced here before but I found that example and others like it to be jarring.

Conclusion

I liked this book, but it's by a longshot my least favorite in the series. It was too long and frankly, some of the characters didn't even sound like themselves. I know that Sanderson can do better than this, but it leaves me a little wary for the next arc.

There's lots here I didn't cover (Jasnah my beloved, Sigzil! I'm in mourning) but this was already quite long. DMs / ask box are always open if you'd like to chat more.

[twilight0wanderer]

Probably over half of the fandoms I regularly read fic from I've never consumed the original media. In some cases, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't enjoy the original for one reason or another, while for others I just haven't had the time/bandwidth/access to get into the original. In at least one case (BtVS), I started reading fic first, then went back to watch the show.

A lot of the time it does start with authors I know already and/or crossovers with familiar fandoms. On occasion though, I have also gone onto message boards or TVTropes pages for fandoms I'm aware of and think I might be interested in, looked through the fic recs for something that looks good, and given it a shot. Either way, once I have a basic familiarity with the source (usually from TVTropes, fandom wikis, and fics which largely recap portions of canon), I'll branch out fully into the fandom.

Part of the reason I do this is that with fandoms where I consumed the original media, especially if I enjoyed it, I'm usually more content with how things stand in canon. I can still enjoy a well done fic, but I'm a lot pickier, because I have strong opinions on and attachments to the characters and the world. For fandoms where I started with the original and then branched out to fic, they've mostly been those with one or more of: plenty of space to expand within canon (e.g. Pokemon, Animorphs, early RWBY), aspects I was dissatisfied with (e.g. Twilight, prequel-era Star Wars, later RWBY), or are a snarled mess of continuity that defies canonicity (e.g. DC/Marvel comics).

Meanwhile, with fandoms that I solely or primarily engage with through fic, I don't (usually) have strong feelings or attachments to the canon, so I can enjoy all the different places authors take the characters and the world. Also, as mentioned above, there are certain properties that I've fairly certain I personally wouldn't enjoy the original for one reason or another (e.g. ASOIAF, Worm/Ward, later MHA), but I can still appreciate a lot of the fic out there in those fandoms (especially when they address or avoid the aspects of canon that turn me off), which broadens my potential pool for enjoyable reading.

[deeper-x-deeper]

puzzle games are so satisfying, aren't they? especially the ones that don't take much thought. match three style games are the best in that regard.

so what would happen if I laid some hypnotic traps? ones that would make an already mindless game even more so?

how long would it take before you notice how you've been getting fractionated with every click? how the bigger combos send you deeper than the smaller ones?

how long before you're too blank, too empty, too mindless to even see where to click next?

maybe then I'd change the rules. switch out the traps. making each combo into a wave of arousal, each stage cleared giving you waves of pleasure until playing the game feels as though you're masturbating.

how long would you last after that, before the pleasure overwhelms you into orgasm?

would you still chase after just one more click?

[ghost-proofbaby]

What do I have to do to get YOU to write the Quiet Place AU with Eddie though

and if i told you it's already dangerously close to becoming another wip? then what?

no but y'all can't encourage this truly i need to focus on finishing my current fics WAAAAH

[thoughtpeek]

I'VE FINALLY FINISHED BROTHERSHIP IT WAS SOOOOO GOOD!!!!!!!

[ruelpsen]

Honestly, as someone who has been going through fictosexual attraction for years and also didn't know how to deal with it at first: Just write and think about the most self-indulgent bullshit you can picture. It is the only way to keep sane or so I've found.

Oh I'm already on it, believe me. In fact, here's a little snippet from what I've been working on...

"Are you... turned on by this too?" you ask. "I'm not sure," he growls. "I will admit it's not something I've ever involved in my... liaisons before. But seeing you so desperate like this is always sure to awaken a hunger in me. Or rather-" he pauses for a moment, burping again- "a thirst." With that, he kisses you deeply once more. You feel his fangs press against your lips as you moan with pleasure. You grip the back of his shirt as your hips instinctively buck against his, suddenly jostling his body. He abruptly breaks his lips away from yours only to turn his head to the side and release a short, thick belch. "Apologies," he says. "I didn't want to be..." He trails off, lost in thought for a moment. He eyes you for a second, observing the redness in your cheeks and the pleading look in your eyes. "On second thought, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" "Yes," you moan. "God, yes." "My, my, what a nasty little creature you are..."

[gojosprettyprincess]

Jujutsu Kaisen Men + How they'd moan w/audios.

Tw - dirty talk, assplay in Suguru's, daddy kink in Nanami's, (Got a bit carried away in the geto one haha) also not proofread cause I got tired.

A/n this was requested so tysm to the person that requested it but a part of it is kinda a repost because I've already done something similar before but I hope you guys like it! Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Nanami

Gojo Satoru

This is how Gojo sounds when he's close. (Ik this because he fucked me before so you can trust me on this)

He's very loud when he fucks you and he'd also whisper a lot of nasty shit to your ears while he's rutting his hips inside you, fucking you deeper into the bed while he has your legs over his shoulders, hissing and groaning at the way your tight cunt sucks him in so well, while your sinking your freshly manicured nails that he paid for into his back, decorating it with angry red marks and when he's close he'd be panting and breathing heavily on top of you, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead onto you from how much he's been fucking you.

"Fuckfuckfuck gonna fill you up so good baby, m'gonna stuff you so full of my cum, bet you'll like that yeah?".

Geto Suguru

This is how Suguru sounds while you're riding him in cowgirl position, he has a clear view of the way his cock slides into your soaked cunt every time you bounced on it, he just can't take his eyes off of it, the way your cunt would swallow his cock in and the way your ass jiggles every time you moved your hips, it was so hot. One thing that really caught his eye though was the way your asshole looked so neglected and desperate to be filled, he thought this would be the perfect opportunity to try something.

he spat on his right thumb, making sure to gets his spit all over it to use as lube before circling it around your hole, spreading his spit all around it then sinking his thumb slowly into the tight rim. He hisses as he felt how tight your ass was, clammed around his finger. He noticed how you started slowing down, and how your moans got so much louder, he lands a sharp slap on your ass. "Fuckkk sweetheart k-keep going, Fuck yeah, keep bouncing on my cock, yesss that's it, don't worry princess I'll make you feel s'good". He groans, feeling your cunt fluttering and cleaching around his cock.

He starts thumbing your ass, fucking his finger in and out of you matching your rhythm. "Holy fuck need you to cum, Be a good girl and cum f'me yeah?". He hisses, feeling you thrusting your hips faster and faster onto him, your brain gets all fuzzy and blank it was too much, both of your holes were getting stuffed and penetrated. You start feeling yourself getting closer and closer as you bounced yourself on top of him. "F-fuck sugu gonna cum, M'gonna cum!" you cried out. "Go ahead, cream on my cock baby you can do it fuckk", and that's all you needed to hear before you came undone, creaming all over his cock, rings of your nut appearing at the base of his cock, his thumb still buried in your ass to the hilt. He lets out a loud groan, looking at how your creamy cunt covered in cum. "Good fucking girl, see the mess you made on my cock baby?".

Toji Fushiguro

This is how he sounds when he's close, he doesn't really make that much noise while he's fucking you, maybe you'd earn a few groans and grunts once in a while because of your cunt but most of the time it's just dirty talk.

But when he's close, he gets so much louder and faster, he picks up his pace, hammering into you harder from behind while your face is buried into the pillow beneath you and landing harsh slaps onto the soft flesh of your ass while looking down to watch it jiggle everytime he thrust his hips against you. the sound of his cum filled balls that's waiting to be emptied inside your little cunny, slapping against your clit filling the room with each thrust along with your muffled moans. Your cunt was clamping around him like crazy because one thing about Toji, he always fucks you so good every damn time.

"Holy fucking shit, tight little cunt milking my cock so well, you gonna give me another kid baby or what?".

Choso Kamo

This is how he'd moan while you're on your knees sucking his cock and he's getting close; he'd be whimpering and moaning loudly while saying stuff like "pleasepleaseplease m'so close don't stop please" with tears prickling from his eyes while he's looking down at you. He begs you alot and he's also really sensitive so that makes him moan and whimper even more.

Nanami Kento

This is how he sounds when he's ramming his cock up into your poor messy cunny in his work office, purposely molding your tight hole into the shape of his thick girth as his large beefy hands gripping onto the back your thighs to hold your legs up into a full nelson-type positon but the difference is that he's sitting down and your back is leaning against his board chest.

His thrusts was hard and fast as he continues feeding your greedy tight cunt with his fat cock, loud pants and groans escaping his lips at the way your cunt tightens around his cock while he stretches you out. "Hah- oh fuckk such a good little slut, taking daddy's cock so well, s'good f'me baby". His deep and husky voice made you throbbing around his cock while he ruins you.

[redsray]

i do love the idea of the wayne kids giving bernard shovel talks about taking care of tim and all that but also give me batfam who are just as protective of bernard as they are of each other.

give me bernard, attending his first wayne gala as tim's significant other. having a suit custom tailored and funded by bruce even if bernard insists it's not necessary because he already has one. arriving at the gala anxious because of course he is, it's a goddamn socialite event, but being protected from every side by the wayne kids even when tim is dragged away.

Socialite: Oh, and who might you be?

Bernard: Oh, um, hi. I'm Bernard Dowd, nice to meet you.

Socialite: Dowd? I've never heard of your family before. Who...?

Bernard: I'm not here with my family, miss, I'm here with my boyfriend.

Socialite: ... Boyfriend?

Bernard: Yeah, I'm here with Tim.

Socialite, frowning: Tim... as in Drake-Wayne? He has a boyfriend?

Dick, coming up next to Bernard: He sure does! Bernard here is practically one of ours now, aren't you? He matters to Timmy, so he matters to us.

Bernard: Dick—

Dick: C'mon, let's get you back to Timmy. Farewell, Mrs!

Bernard: I could've handled that.

Dick: All the rules that apply to my siblings during galas apply to you too. I'm sure you could've, but you shouldn't have to. I've got your back too, now, yeah?

Bernard: ... Yeah. Thanks, Dick.

Jason, coming up to Bernard at the bar: Not to freak you out, kid, but there's a guy starin' at ya from the other side of the bar. Y'know him or should I encourage him to look away?

Bernard, startled: Huh? (looks around) Oh. No, I don't know him. Why... is he looking at me like that, actually?

Jason, scowling: 'S just how the slimy fuckers at these events are. Can't keep their eyes off anything that's small, young or pretty. Disgusting. I'll deal with him— where's your annoying other half gone, inferior blondie?

Bernard: Tim? He got pulled away for quote; 'something important' by some lady. He said he'll meet me here after he's done, so I've been waiting.

Jason: Huh. If I see him I'll point him yer way. Hey, don't be 'fraid to ask any of us questions or for help if ya need it. We know the best how daunting this shit can be.

Bernard, genuinely touched: ... Thanks, Jason.

Jason: Yeah, yeah. Don't tell Timmers I said that, though, he'll call me a loser.

Bernard, laughing: I won't.

Bernard, being talked to by several people at once and a bit overwhelmed by the attention: Uh— I'm—

Damian, stepping between him and the socialites: Dowd. I require your assistance.

Bernard: Um— hi, Damian— with what?

Damian: You will see when we get there. Follow me, Drake's more tolerable half.

Bernard: Okay... so what do you need from me?

Damian: Nothing. You seemed to dislike the attention from all of the nosy adults over there. It was the most efficient way of extracting you from the situation.

Bernard: Oh. Thanks, Damian.

Damian: Tt, don't thank me yet, Dowd. I am still criticising your choice in romantic partners.

Bernard: Didn't you threaten me with a katana to not dampen Tim's mood in any way shape or form?

Damian: Slander. I said quote 'if you make Drake more annoying by breaking his heart I'm going to maim you.' I don't see how you got the message you did from that.

Bernard, grinning: Sure, Damian. Sure.

[unladielike]

    Considering the burgers themselves were very much based on Japanese cuisine, Vivian had been excited to see Mizumachi's reaction to the food truck... and just as she had predicted, it seemed he was pretty psyched, causing her to curl both hands into fists she'll subsequently prop up through the air.

    "Right?! I knew you would like it!" came her triumphant proclamation. Why, Japan might be a much cheaper place to live in compared to Vancouver, but it does admittedly have it's charms, which was something she hopes to have sufficiently conveyed to Mizumachi. Though, given how loudly his stomach then proceeded to grumble away, Vivian supposes that was enough of an actual indicator to prove he wasn't currently feeling all that homesick, and with a laugh, she'll hastily trail after him.

    "Hey, relax! It's not as if the food truck would suddenly grow legs and run away, you know?" Vivian playfully teases before settling to an eventual halt beside him. By that point, one other individual happens to be waiting in line ahead of them due to the fact he had gotten there first after the last customer left, meaning on a rather fortunate note, they wouldn't have to tolerate a super long line. "Anyways... you good with me ordering us ten teriyaki cheese burgers?" Vivian goes on to question.

    "Oh, and while we're at it, how about some soda as well, so the salt from all those burgers won't make us dehydrated? Then again, I guess water would do a better job at quenching our future thirst... still, good ol' H20 just doesn't hit the same compared to Coke; therefore, I'm inclined to believe the more appropriate refreshment would be something less healthier. What about you, though, Kenny? Which beverage would you rather pick?"

[水]

"Haha! I know someone who could eat like 20 burgers."

Mizumachi nods his head sagely, in total agreement with her assessment about the fries. He could still eat 5 burgers along with fries on a regular day, but he did try to consume more burgers than he did fries. Eating too many oily foods weren’t good for athletes, but he had to get his source of calories and meat from somewhere!

“That’s a healthy appetite! That’s a good thing!”

He knew a few girls on the cheerleading team who basically ate like rabbits because they cared a lot for their figure, and it was a bit worrying at times. It was good to know that Vivian wasn’t going to be starving herself because she was worried about her image. The teriyaki cheese burgers sounded so good though that he was already salivating at the thought.

Was paying for the meal a manly thing? Yeah, he could see it. In many countries it was socially the norm that the guy pays for the meals if he’s out with a woman, right? Manners and all that?

“Yeah, that makes sense. Do you hang out with guys more than girls, then?”

He asked because she said something about feeling like she was ‘one of the boys,’ and it made him curious about who she normally hung out with. Of course, there was absolutely nothing wrong in his eyes for a girl to have lots of guy friends (what, with most football club managers being girls?), but he did hear some people call that a flag or whatever. Just sounds like insecure dudes to him.

“Wooww! It looks great! Smells great too!”

He was just salivating a little bit before, but now he was at risk of drooling buckets from the smell. His stomach was just as excited if the sound of his stomach grumbling loudly was any indication.

“Let’s go!”

He basically zooms over to the food truck looking for the end of the line to stand at the end. With his long legs, his strides were large and fast. Perks of being tall.

[lostingrayrain]

hello hello!! i bought homicipher the day it came out and i'm so in love with it.. but there's no content whatsoever and i'm so sad 😭😭 could you write literally anything for any character.. i just need to see more homicipher content!!! 😭😭💗

I GOT YOU ANON I've clocked in like 20 hours since the release on November 1st omg....

I've been cooking up something for my first Homicipher post.....here's some general thoughts on the relationships/dynamics with the main guys.

Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: sfw, some mentions of canon-typical violence

Mr. Crawling

He loves you!! He loves you so, so, so much!!!

Do you love him?

He asks you that. A lot. He loves to be reassured that you adore him. And he's always vocal about how much he adores you.

He follows you everywhere, like a lost puppy. It's honestly so endearing and sweet. He's constantly on the lookout for you.

He also adores physical touch, once he knows it's fine. Other than the little headpats, he likes to touch your legs, especially your calves. In times of rest he's incredibly cuddly and loves to nuzzle into you.

Pet his hair and he'll melt immediately. It's so relaxing to him.

He's usually with you, but when he's not he's often on the lookout for gifts and trophies to bring to you. He just wants to make you happy, in any way possible. The second there's anything you mention liking or being fond of, it's a priority for him to see if he can scrounge it up.

If you'll let him, he'd love to touch your hair. He will play with it and make silly nonsensical braids and giggle quietly to himself all the while.

He's a bit of a chatterbox. He loves to talk to you. Any time he's been away he likes to give you little reports of what he's done or what he's seen. And he wants to hear all about your day or your dreams, too. There's never a time he won't want to hear what you have to say.

Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair

You are so very interesting to him! He wants to study you.

But not hurt you. Normally, he probably would have already dismembered you to watch how your body pulls together again, but since you're friends with Mr. Chopped, he's put aside that urge.

Instead it's been replaced by something else, though he doesn't really understand what it is. He's never felt it before. Or maybe he has? Maybe he doesn't remember? Could you help him remember?

Whenever you’re feeling ill, he finds that he wants to make you feel better. He’s trying hard to learn how to keep you together just as you are.

He’ll get you to lie down when it seems you’re feeling faint, and carry you to bed when you collapse in the middle of an errand. Before he realises it, he's massaging your hair. Think nothing of it. Your head hurts, right? So it makes sense to pet you.

He likes to watch you sleep. He can’t put a finger on why. He likes to tell himself he’s doing armchair research when he’s really just….zoning out.

He's extremely perceptive and observant. He's always checking your reactions to things and events to figure out what you like or don't like, or to try to understand how you're feeling in the moment.

He's the type to politely ask if it's okay to touch you before doing so.

He would never hurt you unless your urges became unbearable, in which case it's self-defense, right? He'll make sure you'll turn back to normal and he'll be there for you every step of the way.

Mr. Gap

He's probably...one of the strangest denizens of the otherworld. You're still not sure if he has a body. But he has helped you on multiple occasions. You've found yourself growing fond of him.

You often see him peeking at you from various holes and gaps. Sometimes he tries to get your attention, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he just watches.

When you find a bag in the underworld, you begin carrying it around with you.

He's usually inside, but sometimes not. You have no idea where he goes.

He'll often bring back little gifts like weapons or food, like some bizarre cat. When he finds out you like candy, he tends to focus on that.

He always asks for your heart before he gives you anything, and you always say no, and he always grumbles.

But somehow you'll always find those same things coincidentally in your path or somewhere in the room after you wake up, if you've taken a nap.

He likes to scope out newspapers and magazines too, and show them to you, especially if they feature himself. He's so proud of that.

Over time, his requests for your heart grow less and less frequent. Sometimes, you forget he used to ask you for it at all, until he suddenly pipes up with the query again.

Is his wanting your heart the same thing as wanting your love? Things to ponder.

Mr. Hood

He's quiet and reclusive but he's there for you whenever you need him.

You need or want anything? Just ask. He'll give it to you immediately with hardly a question.

No harm will ever come to you whenever you're with him, and he hardly lets you out of his sight. He's incredibly protective of you.

He loves to carry you in his arms or on his shoulder, whether you're small or not. It's no bother to him. He's more than strong enough.

Hand touches are so pleasant to him -- whether you're touching his hands, or he's touching your face. He's secretly touch-starved. As long as you don't shy away, he'll continue to hold onto you.

He enjoys quizzing you on your knowledge of the otherworld language. When things are slow, he’ll randomly ask you if you know the names of certain things.

Whenever you both encounter something new during your travels, he’s quick to ask you if you know what it is or outright tells you what it’s called.

He seems a bit self-conscious of having minimal form. What is under his robe? If you don't ask he'll be grateful. He doesn't know himself.

But if you're not repulsed by his anomalous form, that's just -- incredibly touching.

He claims to not understand love, but he'll never abandon you.

Maybe he doesn't understand. Maybe he's forgotten.

But there's something about you that comforts him, and makes him feel safe. Quite paradoxical -- he's the one doing the protecting, after all. But your presence soothes him.

Mr. Machete

He's just looking for a way to not be bored. And being with you -- somehow, it's fun.

Maybe because he's usually alone, so he doesn't often have anyone else to talk to. It's...fun to banter with you, even if sometimes your words confuse him.

It's unquestionable that he's the brawn, you're the brain of this duo. Maybe the beauty and the beast, too?

He's always, secretly, been a little bit of a coward. The second things don't look like they'll turn out well for him, he ditches and flees.

But, oddly, you give him the courage to stand against things or monsters he would have thought were impossible to defeat.

Sometimes, you die -- whether by accident or because something else got to you before he could. But he always sighs and waits for you to wake up again. If you're mad, it's a little funny. You were just too slow that time.

He likes sparring with you. You have to get faster, right? Your weapon is pretty funny, too. So small and yet somehow you manage to not get overwhelmed by him. He's not holding back. He never would. Right?

He likes to pick you up and sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Likes to hug you like a teddy bear, too. You're soft and warm. You feel nice against him.

He's not the type to ask, but if you made any indication of not liking anything, he'd stop. He doesn't want to break you.

Mr. Scarletella

You are his queen. He literally worships the ground you walk on.

You are so fascinating to him. He just can't believe he's found someone as perfect as you. Someone who likes to destroy and kill people, just like him? Immaculate.

You haven't and never will give him your name. That's fine. He can live with that, as long as you're with him.

You've likely given him something else to call you. It's not quite your name -- maybe it's not your full name, and he knows it, because he can't quite grasp your essence. But it's enough to be able to give a sound to the person -- thing -- he likes most in this world.

He likes to say that not-quite name, and he says it often, just to get your attention.

He's fascinated by everything about you -- including how small you are in comparison to him. He loves that he can easily dwarf your form and loom over you. It's exhilarating in a completely different way from mindless violence.

Speaking of which, his favourite thing is without a doubt to commit violence with you. There's a new urban legend steadily growing in the human world, of a pair of murderers characterised by their red and white umbrellas. You're the perfect perfectly awful duo, truly.

Even when he's not with you, he's always somehow got an eye on you. Most of the otherworld residents know by now who you belong to, and they'd never lay hand on the one cherished by the red umbrella man.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. 

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him. 

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags. 

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told. 

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps. 

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway. 

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself. 

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way. 

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms. 

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.” 

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur. 

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag. 

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.” 

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.” 

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag. 

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.” 

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him. 

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you. 

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes. 

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point. 

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.” 

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh. 

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless. 

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath. 

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power. 

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright. 

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur. 

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him. 

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him. 

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.” 

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.” 

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation. 

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you. 

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.” 

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...” 

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?” 

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.” 

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.” 

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks. 

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.” 

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?” 

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.” 

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.” 

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.” 

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price. 

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask. 

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.” 

“Exercises?” You ask warily. 

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” 

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose. 

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change. 

How easily he could take everything from you. 

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them. 

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor. 

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly. 

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now. 

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes. 

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.” 

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t. 

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door. 

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment. 

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door. 

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?” 

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door? 

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.” 

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to. 

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.” 

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.” 

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?” 

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’” 

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.” 

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.” 

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you. 

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess. 

You wonder if he feels responsible. 

You hope he does. 

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind. 

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room. 

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office. 

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too. 

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why. 

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy. 

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you. 

 “I don’t know.” 

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs. 

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts. 

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!” 

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?” 

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!” 

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.” 

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.” 

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.” 

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?” 

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear. 

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say. 

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.” 

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.” 

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again. 

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.” 

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well. 

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand. 

“No. We’re going into town.” He says. 

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?” 

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room. 

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better. 

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to. 

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing. 

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door. 

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening. 

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being. 

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.” 

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.” 

“From the institute?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.” 

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.” 

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says. 

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car. 

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story. 

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.” 

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.” 

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks. 

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.” 

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern. 

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by. 

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.” 

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.” 

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.” 

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too. 

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.” 

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options. 

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.” 

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well. 

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.” 

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one. 

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart. 

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.” 

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.” 

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles. 

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout. 

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone. 

It must be exhausting. 

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt. 

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?” 

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming. 

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car. 

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat. 

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot. 

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop. 

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to. 

You don't want to think about the things they've done. 

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you? 

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior. 

You know nothing about them. 

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.” 

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it. 

It’s only been two weeks. 

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs. 

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha. 

It had been expected of you. 

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with. 

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck. 

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap. 

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.” 

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.” 

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.” 

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs. 

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms. 

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement. 

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car. 

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha. 

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly. 

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?” 

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.” 

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you. 

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.” 

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk. 

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off. 

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you. 

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think. 

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you. 

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place. 

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash. 

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.” 

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again. 

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear. 

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time. 

Just past one a.m. 

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts. 

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room. 

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest. 

“S-Sorry.” You stutter. 

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence. 

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle. 

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger. 

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place. 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows, @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10, @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

[eclipseslayer]

SIT. DRINK.

➭ TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

➭ SUMMARY: Your dad calls you over to sit in front of him, and he orders you to finish off his beer. Enthused with your obedience, he takes advantage of that.

➭ CW: DARK CONTENT. Incest, forced drinking, cockwarming, deep throating, Toji is meanish, Toji calls you 'kid' and 'sweetheart'.

➭ WC: 1.5kish

➭ A/N: Hello! I've done a drabble with icky!dad!Toji before, and honestly I really like doing them... so I'm wondering if I should make a series/compilation or something with icky!dad!Toji?? 👀 lmk in the comments or my ask box!! :) N e wayz enjoyyy.

"Come 'ere. Sit."

Toji points at the floor in front of him with his beer bottle, and you look up from your book you're reading.

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly, knowing your dad wants something. It always puts a little fear in you, because your dad is disgusting. He's a grumpy, divorced, old man who got stuck with some kid out of wedlock, who happened to be you, so now he treats you like some sort of object, something to be used.

As much as you loathe him for it, a part of you actually loves it, though you don't think you'd ever admit that to yourself, at least, not out loud.

You close your book, and you get up. You slowly walk over to him, carpet brushing against the soles of your feet as you drag them, trying to take your time as you walk over to the old man.

Toji sees you taking your sweet time and he scoffs. He points to the floor again, and his beer sloshes in his bottle.

"I said, sit," his tone is harsher this time, almost spitting out his words.

With a huff, you nod and you pick up your pace. You then plop yourself onto your knees in front of your dad, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, already knowing what he wants.

He leans back against the couch to get a good view of you. A wry grin appears etched onto his face as that scar of his quirks up, and those green eyes of his darken while a drunken gaze drinks in the sight of you.

His gaze makes you nervous, as you hardly ever know what he wants from you. You know you're here to be used, but you just don't know how, and that's what makes you so nervous. His jade eyes always make your heart thump in your chest as they always have something conniving cooking.

Suddenly, he thrusts his bottle out to you and he presses the glass opening of it against your lips. You blink quickly as you catch a quick whiff of the beer—cheap, and wheaty—and look back up at him.

"Drink. Finish this off for me."

"I—" You're about to try to defend yourself, as you're not looking to drink tonight, but your dad tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly. He reaches out and grips the root of your hair with his free hand and pushes your mouth against the tip of the glass bottle, forcing it into your mouth.

"I said, drink. Jesus, are you having a hard time hearing me tonight?" He mutters, and his words slur, clearly drunk.

You let out a whine and a grumble and you tilt your head back, allowing for the liquid to pour into your throat. There's about a half of the bottle left, so Toji makes you chug it, and he watches with narrowed as eyes as you drink.

"There we go... good girl..."

Fuck. You hated it when he praised you. He only praised you whenever you did his "evil" bidding, which is why you didn't mind doing it so much. You loved the praise, and he knew it, which is why you're so obedient to him. It's a constant cycle of you needing praise, and receiving it after you do something for him, and, you couldn't get enough. Sometimes, some of the things he made you do felt so good that you truly hadn't minded at all.

It was toxic, but... you honestly couldn't get enough of it, which is also why you hadn't moved out of the house yet.

His praise was addicting.

Once you finish the beer, your mouth leaves the bottle with a satisfying pop, and Toji hums. He runs a hand through your hair and sighs as he places the empty bottle with the rest of them, on the stand next to the couch.

He pats your face with a large, calloused hand and sighs, leaning against the couch again. His large frame takes up the majority of it, and his thick long legs are spread out in a man-spread.

He reaches down into his pants and you hear the faint sound of scratching. He yawns, looking at the TV briefly before turning his head back to you. You look at him, awaiting further instructions, and he chuckles, and you assume another idea has popped into his head.

"You got an oral fixation, right, sweetheart?" He slurs, and, honestly doesn't care if you do or not as he starts pulling down his sweatpants, the hem of them fits around his thighs so well.

"I... yes, I do," you reply, watching him as he now takes his hand and slides down his underwear around his thighs, as he reveals his, big, hard cock, sitting heavily on his stomach.

Toji raises an eyebrow and he hiccups. He nods and sighs. "That's right... I knew ya did, kid. I know you like suckin' on my dick, but you just don't wanna admit it, right?" He grins, and he watches as you shift on your knees, your gaze averting his. His grin widens.

"Ah, knew it," he sighs, and he leans forward with his cock in one hand, and presses the tip against your mouth, and, so willingly, you open it up for him, accepting him into your mouth.

He groans once he feels your warm, wet mouth, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back. He takes a minute before he looks down at you.

"Just keep your mouth like this for me while I watch TV. I'll get you a fuckin' candy bar or somethin' if you suck me off," he chuckles, and you furrow your eyebrows because he still treats you like a little kid, rewarding you with dumb shit.

Nevertheless, you sigh, accepting this as you keep him in your mouth. Not like you're going to complain anyway. This was one of your favorite things to do for your dad, simply because it just felt so good to have something so thick fill up your mouth.

So, you sit for awhile as he leans back against the couch, watching TV. You don't move your mouth—just enjoying how good he feels—for about ten minutes until you feel your jaw start to hurt.

That's when you start moving your head, pushing your mouth all the way to his pelvis, and then pulling back until you're suckling on his tip.

Toji groans at this and turns his head back to you. He sighs, and he grips your hair, and begins guiding your wet mouth along his cock.

He revels in the feeling of your mouth, enjoying how tight and warm it gets when you hallow your cheeks, and when you do that little thing with your tongue.

His head leans back, looking down at you as he admires how good you look, sucking on his cock. Sure, it was wrong, but that was why he drank, to get the mental block out of his head so he could easily get his dick wet. You were never one to say no. Hell, he wasn't sure why you were so easy, but he wasn't going to knock the opportunity.

You, on the other hand, are having such a good time as you moan softly on his cock, loving the feeling of how good he feels in your mouth. He feels so good that you're drooling on his cock, making a mess of it all over his length. You soon add your hand to the mix, pumping the length of his shaft while your mouth drools all over the tip, licking and sucking so fervently that it has Toji cursing under his breath.

"Shit, kid, fuck, your mouth does such a good job..." He groans and a big hand grips your hair tightly once more, guiding you along his cock, except, he decides to cruelly change the pace up, making it so his cock hits the back of your throat.

You let out a gag in surprise, your eyes widening and your hands quickly move to grip his thighs. His thick cock bullies into the back of your throat as you let out choked moans.

Saliva coats his dick, and drips down to his balls as you're uncontrollably salivating all over him, simply because that big tip of his bruises the back of your throat, allowing for no control over your mouth.

He groans with almost every thrust, and his breath gets heavy. He chuckles as he sees you struggle to take him, your hands gripping his thighs so tightly that he finds it so hilarious as he lets out yet another mean chuckle.

"That's right... gonna cum in this mouth, yeah? How's that for ya?" He grins wickedly, and, with one, two, three more thrusts, he slams your nose against his pelvis, leaving you choking on his dick as his cum suddenly spurts into your mouth. Load after load fills your throat, and you swallow it quickly.

Your nose scrunches up at the taste, as it damn near tastes like battery acid from the amount of beer he just had. You want to choke it up, but you know better, and so you swallow each spurt of cum until he rips his cock out of your throat.

He watches with a satisfied gaze as you choke for air, leaning over his thighs.

"Good girl." He reaches down into his pants pocket and fishes out a couple yen bills. "Go buy a candy bar at the corner store or somethin'. I don't fuckin' know."

[kitscutie]

hi! i saw your post about snow omg, can i request a coriolanus x mentor!reader where she’s similar to like clemensia but she’s more close to corio and they have a secret relationship? thank you in advance if you do this rq! love ur tsitp writings sm 🥹

snow and roses: part I (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none!

summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.

a/n: first time writing for snow and I'm very excited about it! I've always loved the hunger games and this movie was insane in the best way so please enjoy! I will be making this a series and this is only part one so stay tuned for the rest!

word count: 2.2k

join my taglist here.

"You're going to get it Coryo, don't stress." You soothed the boy as you sat next to him. It was barely even six in the morning and the pair of you had woken up, well he had woken up and you with him as he blatantly needed your support, desperate for the Plinth Prize.

You didn't need the prize, already coming from a wealthy Capitol family and yet you felt the same hope that he would win as you would for yourself, stomach twisting into knots at the thought.

"There's good candidates Y/N, it feels as if the odds are already stacked against me." He sighed, leaning over as he sat so his elbows rested on his knees, head in his hands.

"The odds are in your favour Coryo, you're special. Different." With that he looked at you, a small smile gracing his pale lips. He leaned up kissing you gently, fully embracing the special moment before he got up from his place next to you.

"I'll see you at the Academy?" He asked, knowing you had to leave quickly back to your own house in order to change but also in order to avoid the suspicions of your own family who had no idea of your relationship with Snow.

"Of course." You replied, also standing up and pulling on last nights clothes as you left.

You studied the dark an empty halls of his house, ensuring Grandma'am was nowhere to be seen before you quickly walked to the door, exiting un-noticed until Tigris came around the corner, seemingly equally in a rush and holding a shirt you knew must be for Coriolanus.

"Oh, hello Y/N." She smirked as you both stopped, unsure how to approach the conversation. She was one of the only people who knew something was going on between the pair of you and still she wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Hi Tigris. You look lovely today." You said quietly, feeling like a scolded child even though you hadn't done anything wrong.

"Well if you're here I can only assume Coryo is awake, I'll see you again I assume?" She replied.

"Yes and yes." You answered awkwardly before hurrying away once again, letting out a sigh of relief as you heard her enter the house. You could only hope she wouldn't mention your interaction to Coriolanus.

You walked into the Academy at the same time as you did everyday, conveniently when Coriolanus would also show up.

"Coryo!" You yelled, spotting him across the room. He turned his head to you as though it was a surprise to see you, it wasn't.

"Y/N. What a pleasure." He smiled with his typical Snow charm, allowing you to link your arm with his.

"How are you feeling?" You asked him, thumb gently rubbing his bicep through his shirt. You rounded the corner past the food and yet you both avoided it for different reasons. You having already been fed by your family and their lavish lifestyle and he too nervous to even look at it.

"Never felt better." He replied with false confidence but no one else around you had to know that.

"Snow always lands on top." You teased as you entered the hall, spotting your friends if that's what you could call them stood in the centre of it all, as they usually did, talking about everyone around them no doubt.

"Y/N and Coriolanus, finally some real competition has arrived." Said Arachne, a glass in her hand and a smirk on her face as she always seemed to appear in public.

"Be humble now Arachne, you never know who will be chosen." You smiled, turning on your Capitol attitude in order to fit in. You were Capitol born and raised but your family taught you to be humble and kind. It was clear this wasn't common among parents here.

"Have you tried this lamb? It's scandalous." Said Felix, it made you chuckle how he used such a word to describe food.

"Only the vulgar eat with their fingers Felix, daddy not teach you table manners?" Snarled Festus, it was as though there was always a secret competition between the two of them, never quite made clear, never making sense.

"Maybe he would've if he wasn't so busy running the country. Hey they called us here for the Plinth prize right? 'Cause I heard Doctor Gaul's in the building." Felix changed the subject, knowing he had won. It was impossible to lose as the President's son you supposed.

You hadn't noticed but now Felix had mentioned it you took in the strange atmosphere, tense and mystery lingering in the air. "That is peculiar." You said, holding onto Coryo's bicep tighter subconsciously.

"Plinth. Look at his spawn. Who would've thought you could buy your way into the Academy." Felix once again snarled, he was always filled with such anger though it seemed todays anxiety only heightened this.

"Well you can't buy class. Did you see his mothers outfit? Sorry his Ma's." Festus joked, seemingly over his small tiff with Felix.

"Dress a turnip in a ball gown and it'll still beg to be mashed." Said Coriolanus, playing into their pompous ways. You knew he didn't agree, not really.

"Don't do that we all know you like him." Arachne spat with her spider like venom, raising her eyebrows at Coriolanus.

"I don't like him Arachne, I tolerate him. He's district." Said Coriolanus and he seemed pleased with his answer as you felt him relax under your touch. You however did like Sejanus and weren't afraid to show it.

"If I hear one more time how immoral these Hunger Games are I'll put him in the arena mys- Sejanus. You made it to the Reaping for once." Festus cut himself off, caught by Sejanus himself.

"And you made it to graduation Festus, we're both shocked." Sejanus replied and you couldn't help but snicker, hiding it as you realised no one else shared the same reaction. "Y/N, always a pleasure." He smiled at you politely. You couldn't help but note the way Coryo's jaw clenched, neck twitching as he looked at you to gaze your reaction.

"As are you Sejanus." You nodded. Arachne scoffed quickly mentioning the only thing she really cared about, the prize.

"Spill it, who won the prize." She asked.

"Well, no I'm not gonna ruin my father's big day. No one here actually likes him, but they do love his money." He once again hit back at the group around him, you felt sorry for the boy. Alone in a room full of people. "You know what that's like don't you Arachne?" He dug the hole deeper and you internally smirked, grateful someone was brave enough to stand up to a powerful woman like Arachne.

As the Captiol's anthem began to play you made your way to your seats, sat next to Coriolanus you placed a kiss on his cheek and whispered 'good luck' in his ear, though you didn't really think he needed it.

Doctor Gaul's chuckle resounded around the room in a menacing echo that always managed to make you shrink into your seat.

She commended you all for being star students before untroducing the creator of the games: Casca Highbottom.

He went on to tell you all that today was not the day the prize would be given out but instead there would be one more task to challenge you all and gage your true worth. Everyone seemed confused but not Sejanus.

"What's going on?" You whispered to Coriolanus. He sensed your anxiety placing a calming hand on your knee but gave you no other response which reassured you that you had not been left completely in the dark.

"The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who was the best grades. But by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games." With that there was outrage, to you it was dehumanizing for the tributes, 'mentored' by people their own age but for the others they only seemed to care whether they were given someone strong or weak. A 'runt' in Arachne's words.

The reaping commenced and you couldn't help but wish to be anywhere but here. You didn't want to do this, you didn't need the money yet you were forced to have another's life in your hands.

You got a small girl from 8 named Wovey, seeing her face on the big screen left you determined, determined to help her in anyway you could on the path to being a victor. Even if that meant Coryo may lose the prize.

Snow's tribute left the room in horror, her stage presence and brutality sent shivers down your spine, though you supposed that the outer Districts had it harder and that sort of survival must be built into her.

Standing up on shaky legs you grabbed Coriolanus up from his chair and outside of the room, you needed fresh air and you needed to talk to him about what you were about to face, arguably harder than any other test the Capitol could give you.

"Slow down Y/N, I can hardly keep up." He said, words laced with worry.

"I don't believe I can do this Coryo, did you see my tribute? She's hardly eligible for school never mind to be put into an arena where she's going to be killed. She's only a child." You paced while he leant against a pillar, beginning to eat some food he a had smuggled from the buffet table.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice Y/N." He tried to help but only made it worse as you realised you were trapped in yet another one of the Capitol's games. He seemingly realised this. "Hey, hey. If there as anyone in that room who would get that tribute, I'm glad it was you. Arachne would've given up on her by now. With you she has a fighter. A chance at surviving." He said while grabbing your wrists to stop your pacing.

"It's not that simple Coryo-" You tried but he cut you off.

"It is Y/N." He said sternly and you understood what he meant. It was either play into their games or become apart of them, no other choice. "You're a born winner Y/N, give her some of it hm?" He stared down at you as he spoke and his blue eyes while at times piercing sucked you in, heart rate lowering almost immediatley.

"Okay." You said.

"Okay." He smiled, reaching a hand around your neck to bring you into a kiss. It started off slow and caring though quickly intensified as he turned you both around so now you leant against the pillar instead of him.

His hand tightened around your neck, not enough to actually cut off air but just enough to make you feel dizzy as he pushed his body further into yours, keeping you against the cold cement and trapped in his arms.

Your mouths clashed together intensely, tongues colliding in a rhythm you though you would only ever be able to find with him in this lifetime. He was your everything, your light in a blizzard.

"Ahem." Coughed Casca, drawing the two of you away from each other with baited breaths and rosy cheeks. "Just like your father, yes we were best friends. Once." He said, and with that it felt like you weren't even in the room.

"Tell me Mr Snow, what are your plans after these games?" Casca asked.

"I hope to go onto the university sir, naturally." Coriolanus answered, pulling his waistcoat straight where it had been wrinkled by your tight grip.

"And if you fail to win the Plinth Prize, what then?" Asked Casca, it suddenly became clear to you that he knew something, just what he knew you were unsure of.

"We'd pay the tuition of course." He scoffed, insulted at Casca's insinuation even if it was true.

"Look at you, in your makeshift shirt and too tight shoes. Trying desperately to fit in when I know the Snow's don't have a pot to piss in." Casca said. You felt your own heart drop and so you couldn't imagine how Coriolanus felt, the insult to his pride was one you knew he wouldn't take well and so you grabbed his hand subtly, hiding it behind your back as to not show any sign of weakness to Casca.

"Goodluck with that poor little Songbird." He said, and with that he left. Leaving you to do damage control.

"Ignore him Coryo, he's trying to get into your head." You reassured him, moving a Snow white hair from his face. His jaw looked similar to the way it did earlier when Sejanus had so much as acknowledged your presence.

"He's right Y/N. From the moment my father died I lost. The odds were never in my favour." He spat out, though his actions didn't match his words as he gently removed your hand from his hair before beginning his exit of the Academy. "Come on now Y/N, I've got a songbird to catch." He said sarcastically.

You sped after him hoping Casca's words hadn't knocked him too much, after all, Snow lands on top and he wouldn't be the one to change that.

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am, @riordanness, @suvgs, @charmed-asylum

[woso-dreamzzz]

If You Were My Little Girl II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Things are looking up

Alexia watches from the stands.

They're mostly empty, like almost all Barcelona B matches.

Women's football has only really started picking up steam recently but only at the top flight. The lower level leagues are still having a bit of a popularity issue.

But Alexia, for once, finds that she doesn't mind.

Because it means she can sit practically alone in the stands as she watches the home match.

A notepad sits on her lap, a pen tapping against the pages thoughtfully as she watches.

Barcelona B are good and Alexia has never expected anything different. She's seen the system at work many times as La Masia churns out players like Aitana and Pina and Jana, and more recently Vicky and Martina.

There's a reason so many clubs wants La Masia products.

They're all good players but even now, Alexia can tell a great player when she sees one.

You rise up among the crowd in the box and slam the ball into the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.

The best part, Alexia thinks, is that you didn't even need a moment to control the ball, hitting it in on the volley and grinning as your teammates practically dogpile you.

A hattrick in ten minutes is impressive in any league and Alexia makes another note in her notebook, humming softly to herself.

She rises out of her seat at the end of the match, disappearing into the building and out the doors.

It takes another half an hour for you to appear again, hair damp and an old crew neck sweater that Alexia's pretty sure is Alba's being tugged over your head.

You slip into the passenger seat, throwing your bag into the backseat and Alexia pulls your head down to press a kiss against the side of it.

You smile shyly at her as she offers up the fries she'd bought for a job well done.

"You did good, kid," She says," Very impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. But I think we're going to work on evading slide tackles next," Alexia says as she drives off," We're trying to keep those ankles of yours intact, alright? I'm going to need them this season."

You roll your eyes and Alexia clicks her tongue.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," She says," I've got a good feeling about that meeting later in the week. A great feeling, actually. You should have one too."

"I'm managing expectations."

Alexia looks at you fondly. "Well, we'll see which one of us is right in a few days."

She lets you choose the music in the car, like she always does when you've scored a goal and you pull up to the apartment a lot quicker than you want to seeing as you're in the middle of singing along to your favourite song but, still, you drag yourself out of the car and up the stairs.

"How was the match?" Olga asks as she greets Alexia with a kiss on the lips.

"She did very well," Alexia brags," A hattrick within the first ten minutes and another goal in injury time."

"Exciting," Olga says indulgently as Alexia grins, already giving her running commentary of everything that happened during the match.

You escape though, hurrying to raid the cupboards before Alexia finally comes to her senses and tries to stop you 'spoiling' your dinner.

You don't know if there's any way to thank Alexia for what she's done for you.

Just three months ago, you were convinced that you were going to quit. You had no passion for the game, no hope of what your future was going to be but now all of that had changed.

You had direction. You had a manager. You had new boots and a place to live that wasn't a group home and support and love and everything seemed to be coming together for you.

A toe pokes you in the leg.

"Move."

"Alexia says that if you're trying to nap on her sofa again then I don't have to move," You tell Alba, who huffs and pokes you with her toe again," She also says that you have your own apartment and should stop mooching of us."

"But Olga's a better cook than me," Alba complains and you roll your eyes.

"Aren't you an adult? Even I can cook."

"Yeah but it's not like you could mooch off your sist-"

Alba falls silent quickly and you pretend to not notice what she was going to say for both hers and your own sakes.

The topic of your sister is kind of off limits when you're in the room. It's not completely banned because Alexia's still Jenni's national teammate but she's not really spoken about if you're in the room.

Alba's face flashes with terror for a moment so you pretend you don't notice her slip up ever though it sends a bolt of lightning into your stomach, a deep pit forming there.

It works for the most part, everyone in the house pretending Jenni isn't who she is to you, pretending that she's just Alexia's teammate and not her friend and ex, pretending that Alexia fostering you isn't her walking on a tight rope because Jenni doesn't know.

All Jenni knows is that you didn't quit when she told you to.

Jenni doesn't know that you live with Alexia. Jenni doesn't know anything. You doubt she even thinks about you when she's got a life far away in Mexico.

She lives there, far away from you and your life here in Barcelona.

She lives there and her presence is hardly ever mentioned around you.

Life is good at Alexia and Olga's house. Life is even good at training, though you could do without the smug little smirk Alexia has on her face when she picks you up.

"You already knew!" You accuse her, waving a finger in her face.

"Knew?" She asks, lips curl up in what can only be described as pure smugness," Knew what?"

"Right, who told you? Go on. Who was it?"

Alexia grins. "You do realise I am the captain? Any time they're looking to bring someone in, they ask me my opinion."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm sure you gave it."

"You're a good player. A great player," Alexia says," All I did was tell them what they already know."

You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to be mad at her, to yell at her for keeping this from you. Maybe even yell at her for promising to the staff something you're not but you know she hasn't done that.

If she thought you weren't ready, she would have told them that.

But Alexia didn't. She didn't tell them to let you have a bit more time with the B team. She didn't tell them that you don't quite have what it takes.

"Thanks."

Alexia smiles at you as she drives home, a comfortable silence enveloping you both until your hand is on the door handle.

You stop.

"When I open this door, there's going to be a party, isn't there?"

"I may have told Olga...who told Mami...who told Alba...who told the rest of the family..."

"Is that a yes?"

"Possibly..."

"And there's no getting out of this?"

Alexia ruffles your hair, a soft kiss being pressed to the side of your head. "They're here to celebrate you."

You suck in a breath, just ready to turn the handle when the sound of the lift doors opening chimes down the corridor.

Both you and Alexia turn your heads towards.

It's just a fleeting second.

Just a moment.

But your good mood plummets as the door opens.

Alexia's hand tightens on your shoulder, pushing you slightly behind her and putting herself between you and the elevator.

Between you and Jenni.