#where was i even getting at i got carried away

[sunnylucy31]

TheShatteredQueen posted in /r/AmITheAsshole:

AITA for doing whatever I can to save my people from genocide?

So obviously that title needs a bit of clarification. I (21f) am leader of a very small and tight knit minority group that's being persecuted by a very rich and very powerful man (3200m) and his family. For anonymity's sake we'll call him "Thunderbeard." He wants us all exterminated and our souls sent straight to eternal punishment, just because he has beef with our parents, my father (10000m) in particular. My father is also his father, but that doesn't really matter to him so we'll leave that aside.

We don't want anything to do with our parents; they made us solely to use as expendable soldiers, and we want more out of life. I literally diced one of them (7400m) and threw the pieces into super hell so we could avoid that. Unfortunately we only got a couple days of peace before Thunderbeard learned about us and had a bunch of his "employees" start hunting us. This was about five years ago.

I've lost good people. I can't imagine how they must be suffering right now, for no good reason. We'll all join them if we don't do something. I have a long term plan, but to enact it I need to buy us time.

Here's where things get complicated. Thunderbeard and his co-tyrants have kids similar to us, and a lot of them. Some are much younger than us, a few are much older, but they definitely outnumber us by a sizeable margin. Whenever Thunderbeard and Co need a job done, they typically send a few of the kids out to do it, more depending on how big the job is. The only reason they haven't been sent against us yet is because Thunderbeard thinks there's not enough of us to warrant it. My worry is that once he realizes he's wrong, he'll "rally the troops," as it were, and we'll be overwhelmed.

So I looked for ways to mitigate that, and happened on one that's a bit morally contentious. See, their kids are split into two groups (the criteria for which is a bit hard to follow and not really relevant atm) that have fought each other in the past. My thought was, if they fight again, maybe they'll weaken each other enough that we stand a chance against them. We've been laying the groundwork for that for a few years now, and earlier this week we kicked things firmly into motion. Barring any unforeseen mishaps, it could be the saving grace we've been praying for.

Now clearly that's not a good thing to do, I'm fully aware of that. It's already putting strain on my personal relationships. I just learned that I have a half-sister (19f) who I'd love to get to know, but she thinks I'm a "warmonger" and won't hear me out at all. It's all I can do some nights to fall asleep while the guilt eats away me.

But what else should we do? My people are counting on me to save them. We're damned even if we do nothing, so isn't the moral thing to fight however we can, even if it's sneaky and underhanded?

AITA?

StrengthAndEndurance: NTA. It's your job to think about what's best for the people under you, not anyone else. Keep your head high, don't let the guilt get to you.

FerrumMemoria: NTA. The oppressed have never gained anything by playing fair with their oppressors. In any liberation movement, bloodshed is inevitable. The ruler who does not recognize this is not fit to rule. Carry on as you have, and worry not about the judgement of history until you've survived to write it.

StargazerButch7: NTA. I understand feeling guilty, but there's no easy way out of this mess. We all appreciate the hard choices you have to make for our sakes. Keep the faith!

WaterloggedRedhead: NTA! Thunderbeard is the real asshole! Keep up the good work, we're all behind you!

Write an r/AmITheAsshole post told from your OC’s perspective. (Bonus: include replies from your other OCs.)

[cherie-doll]

Hellu, could you maybe do a drabble or hc or whatever you feel comfortable with, of the cod men reacting to reader being in a car crash??

(I was just in a car crash, my head hurts, I’m coping 💀)

If not then that’s okay ❤️❤️

my goodness, are you okay dear?? ૮ ㅇㅁㅇ ྀིა

𓏲 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

🝮 Price finally got some downtime to rest and catch up on his sleep debt at home. You insisted he stay home while you go to the grocery store only a few blocks away. Now imagine how his body tenses and he's up from the recliner in a heartbeat the moment he receives the phone call about your accident. He's supposed to drop the tense and hard face off while he's at home with you but this is worse. He's trying to keep calm on the surface but a can of worries within, just wanting to spill out. Thankfully, the accident didn't result in fatalities nor major injuries. He's holding you and checking you all over, listening to everything you're saying. Does something hurt? Feel dizzy? Need water? He's taking you right home, don't worry about the wrecked car.

🝮 Simon's mood when he picks up the phone initially is that he's annoyed, his answering "yes?" is a little sharp because you had just had a small argument over him once again not paying attention to the list of items you insisted he take when grocery shopping but didn't. So now you had to pause everything and go get the thing yourself, which means he'd have to wait at least another hour before he could eat dinner. Your voice over the phone was weak and scared, your frail voice that barely answered because your mind was all over the place and fading. You couldn't think straight after the crash. Simon dropped everything and staying on call with you made it faster than the cops would've. He carried you out of the car and cradled your body in his arms even in the ambulance, all the while muttering lowly how reckless you could be and how stupid and idiotic he was for letting you drive while mad. He swears he'd never let it happen again.

🝮 Johnny wasn't expecting you to answer with "was in a car crash" to "how was your day?" Like why are you telling him just now that you're arriving home. He gets off the couch he's by your side in an instant. Why didn't you call him? Because you thought it was nothing big? He almost thinks you're bluffing, why he can't help but assume the worst or imagine a terrible accident. You're sitting down this instant and- did you go to the hospital? And if you did he's surprised they just let you walk out. You argue back that you barely got a bruise but he insists you're going again and getting an examination done just in case. You have to tell him these things else he'll have a hard time letting you go out alone again.

🝮 The only thing Kyle knew was that you'd be hanging out with friends. And that's how it was supposed to be, he could expect you to come home late in the evening or maybe nearing night. But the clock marked the midnight hour and you hadn't walked through the front door yet; very unusual of you. He paced the living room from one wall to the other, he had the right to be worried so he wasn't being a controlling nor clingy partner if he just wanted to know where you were past midnight. The worry only increased when he called and it went straight to voicemail. Okay, maybe your phone died. And he kept trying to come up with plausible reasons as to why you weren't home yet when the bell rang and he threw the door open to a distressed looking friend of yours explaining the car accident you had been caught up in. You were conscious when taken away but in pain, your friend was still explaining this when Kyle grabbed his shoes and was already walking to the driveway.

🝮 Roach and you frequented bars pretty often and usually took a cab home. You hadn't had more than one drink however and decided to drive home while he dozed off in the backseat. He woke up to the sound of tires screeching and before he could make out what was happening his body was jerked and thrown forward. Groaning and rubbing his neck he called your name only for you to weakly respond. A soft gasp left his lips followed by his fingers reaching out to the bleeding gash, blood staining his fingertips. When he called emergency services and had you taken to the hospital, the cops has questioned how the accident happened and he was ready to take the blame on insisting you drive despite both having consumed alcohol. He knew there wasn't any other believable lie he could sputter, surely the one drink you'd had would show up on the tests.

🝮 Alejandro didn't think it'd ever happen to you. An accident bad enough that you had to be taken to the hospital? He's there as fast as he possibly could get there. He ignores the nurses who are trying to tell him that you're okay for the most part, just a little shaken. But he's checking you all over and almost loses it when he sees a bruise, demanding for the doctor. It takes you forcibly holding him back and holding his head so he can meet your eyes and see that you're fine, you're not in severe pain. From now on you're not driving anywhere alone because he doesn't another scare like that to happen again.

🝮 Rudy is worried sick when you insisted on driving the last stretch of the way home, at night too. Your driving skills are passable during the day but at night it can be difficult to tell from the high beams of other car's lights flashing at you. When you tried braking at a stop sign you saw last minute, due to the ice already forming on the road the car didn't come to a complete stop and nearly skid off the road. His hand instinctively reaches across to hold against your body, making sure you don't fly forward despite you having the seatbelt on. It's just instinct for him to protect you in every situation. He gets off, running over to your side and the time doesn't matter anymore. He'll sit out on the hood of the car however long you need to recover from the close call until you're ready to go back home. Except he's not letting you drive.

🝮 Phillip was waiting at a second location for you to come pick him up after his car was getting fixed for something. He wouldn't have bothered you but the repair shop was half an hour drive away, something was just bound to happen. And he doesn't realize this because his mind is so preoccupied with the petty shop owner over what was the problem with his truck that when his phone rings and he picks up he sounds a little mad, not at you though. Soon he hears a dispatcher's voice instead of yours his mind goes to the worst place. Don't know where he gets the car from but he's speeding down the highway praying that you're fine and he gets to you. But he gets there and sees you sitting on a strip of grass off to the side of the mess and holding an ice pack to your head.

🝮 Makarov is hiring a chauffeur to drive you everywhere and anywhere you need from here on out and finding out who was the idiot who rammed into the back of your car while at a stoplight. He can't believe you didn't ask the other driver for their information, doesn't matter though, he'll get the information later. Maybe you should quit going out altogether, no? Okay it was worth a try, whatever you want. From now on you have to promise to not ever get into an accident ever again. "How am I supposed to control tha-"

🝮 Keegan didn't freak out after you told him you just veered off the main road and were now stuck in some rundown road. He calmly gathered whatever tools he thought he might need and started his truck. The scene he encounters when he arrives is somewhat off, you're waving him over, sitting on the hood of your car with a sheepish smile. He walks around the car and finds the dent on the side and back of the car. And before he can ask what the hell happened- shit, you're bleeding? You're going to have to start from the beginning if you don't want him ignoring your requests and taking you to the emergency room instead.

🝮 König left the car parked with you waiting for him in the passenger seat, and when he came back he sees his car in pieces, absolutely destroyed from a car speeding off the road and ramming into the side. He panics, tries to pry the door open to get to you, even breaks a window before you're tapping him from behind. "I'm right here" He turns around, lifts you off the ground and lets out a sigh of relief. He seriously thought he would have to search through the wrecked car for you. How had you even gotten out? You saw stray cat and got out before the car had been hit. But now you have to be the one worrying over König's hand and forearm which has glass embedded.

🝮 Horangi blames himself for the car crash. He wanted to teach you to drift because you'd seen how he does it and you're eager to nail it too. Things escalate rather quickly and it's no longer a smooth Saturday drive when you loose control and drive off the road, the tires slipping onto the grass and slamming sideways into a tree. He's holding your head, not knowing if you're got knocked out unconscious or not, but his mind doesn't fully register the bigger dent is on the rear doors not the driver nor passenger side. With one hand he's holding your head to his chest, his other shaky hand attempting to dial emergency services, feeling faint himself before you come to and look around confused. He's grabbing your face in his hands looking you all over making sure you didn't receive a single bruise.

🝮 You assumed Nikto would be cross if he saw the state his car was in. He was hesitant to let you drive out alone knowing you still went a little hard on your turns and it had been raining frequently. The moment he arrives, you're fixed on his eyes, carefully determining whether he's already thought of what he'd do to you the moment he saw the disaster his car was. But you're surprised and speechless when he strides over to you, silently looks you over, barely assesses the car and just picks you up. "Aren't you mad?" "About what?" "Your car!" And he barely glances at it, shrugs and drives you home.

[keikikait]

ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.4k

summary: rafe gives you an ultimatum, and in the setting sun, you see another

warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, kook!reader & kook!rafe, suggestive but no outright smut, ultimatums, jj is alive, arguing, not proofread

a note: i'm sorry this is late!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:��ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Were you being punished by your love for him?

You tried to move on, you really did. You tried everything you could think of, bar from ignoring Rafe all together. You had even joined a dating app, where you met a fellow Kook named Alexander, and you went on a few dates with him. He was a great guy, handsome, smart, and charming, but he wasn’t Rafe. Alexander didn’t draw your attention away from your best friend that you were hopelessly still in love with, even after trying to gaslight yourself into believing that you had a crush on him.

You kept Alexander around for a while. He was a fun guy, he paid for your little lunch or coffee shop dates, and he was a good fuck. You had lied and told him that you just weren’t a very vocal girl in bed, but in reality you were biting your tongue to keep from moaning Rafe’s name into his ear. It had been a few weeks, and even after everything, Rafe was still the only person you thought of when you slipped your hands under your panties at night. You eventually started to feel bad about leading him on and tried to break things off amicably. He didn’t take it well, but you didn’t expect him to.

You had tried to distract yourself, going to party after party and club after club, making out with whatever guy you could get your hands on. But nothing worked. You couldn’t stop thinking about your Kook prince, the most feared man on Kildare that had a soft spot in his heart for you. 

You had almost hoped that Rafe would’ve ditched you, would’ve kicked you to the side like a dog. At least it would be easier to move on that way, and you wouldn’t be stuck under his thumb, thinking about the ways you could get out of the hold he has on you. He still wanted to see you and be around you, constantly calling and texting like it was normal, like you hadn’t professed your undying love to him only three weeks ago. You felt like a two-headed monster. One head was his best friend, one head was deeply in love with him.

You know he’s fine, but what about you? What do you do?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Even after everything, you still have to show up for your Friday night tradition; sitting on Rafe’s sofa, tucked under his arm, watching a shitty 80s zombie movies while eating a Costco pizza. You shouldn’t have agreed, knowing it would only make things harder, but you would do anything for him. Your poor heart would always surrender to him.

Maybe this time he would start falling for you, too.

You pull into the driveway of his new house, grabbing the pizza from the backseat before heading up to the front door, balancing the giant box with one hand as you knock.

The door swings open a second later, with Rafe standing in the doorway, grinning at the sight of the pizza box in your hands. He steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. “You’ve arrived with the goods, I see.”

You swallow hard. He looks so fucking good, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a pair of dark green sweatpants. You hug him with one arm, burying your face in his shoulder and inhaling deep. Your eyebrows furrow slightly and your free hand clenches around your keys. He smells different. Sweeter. Almost like candy.

Sofia must’ve been here earlier.

You pull away, carrying the pizza box into his living room. “Yup. I got you extra cheese, too.”

He follows behind you, shutting the door behind the two of you. His arm wraps around your shoulder when you reach the sofa, pulling you in tight to his side. “Extra cheese for my girl.” he teases, taking the box from you to set on the coffee table. You’re on the edge while he’s so goddamn polite and composed.

You tense up slightly as you settle into his sofa, grabbing the remote. You turn the TV on, trying to distract yourself from the empty feeling building up inside of you and gnawing at your guts. “Which movie are we watching tonight?”

“Mm…” He stretches out on the sofa, his legs tangling with yours as he looks over your shoulder at the TV. His body is pressed up against yours, and as usual, his proximity starts to stir up feelings deep inside of you. Feelings you thought you had managed to repress. “How about Romero?”

Your eyebrows furrow again. This man was going to give you wrinkles. “I thought we were watching zombie movies. Not ones about a Salvadoran archbishop.”

“No, not Romero like the actual archbishop, I mean like--” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “The man who invented the zombie film genre, dumbass. Do you need me to find a new best friend or something? Because you’re starting to get a little too idiotic for me.”

What the fuck? “Excuse me?”

He snorts, watching you get defensive. “Come on, it was a joke,” he says, nudging you with his knee. “Lighten up, I’m just teasing.”

“It wasn’t funny.” You say.

It’s then that he notices the way your shoulders are tense. Your jaw is clenched, and your eyes focus on the screen in front of the two of you with a bit too much intent. You’re upset. He can feel the agitation radiating off of you, and he hates it. He’s too used to his best friend being comfortable with him, happy around him. He lets out a breath, sitting up straight. “Don’t be like that,” he mutters. “Relax.”

“You don’t get to call me a dumbass, Rafe.” You say, your tone sharp.

Rafe stares at you, his irritation rising bit by bit. He takes in your expression, your sharp tone, the agitation that was practically coming off of you in waves. This was new territory for him. You weren’t just being cold, you were pissed. He’d never seen you this pissed at him. He didn’t like it.

He wanted the old you back, the you he thought you were. His best friend, his confidant, not the girl who’s helplessly in love with him, not the girl who lies awake all night thinking about him. Not the girl who moans his name into her pillow as she cums, hoping one day he would fall in love with her, too. He wanted you to just move on, to give up, to completely wipe your romantic feelings for him clean. He wanted more, while leaving you with less.

“You didn't use to care about this shit,” He says. “Not until you decided you were in love with me or whatever.”

“Decided?” You ask, scoffing. “It isn’t something you just wake up and decide.”

Rafe stares at you, his gaze hard, almost like he’s trying to search for the words that he wants to say. He was never good at this, talking about his feelings. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I… I don’t know.” He mutters, staring down at the floor. “I just wish things were the way they used to be, okay? I didn’t ask for all this bullshit. I never asked you to feel this way, so why are you making things so difficult?”

“I didn’t ask for this either.” You say.

“Well, you’re the one whose in love.” He says, the words almost bitter on his tongue. “You’re the one who made things difficult. I didn’t ask you to feel this way. I didn’t tell you to go and fall in love with me. So why are you getting pissed because I’m not in love with you too?”

“I’m not pissed, Rafe,” You say, although deep down you truly are. “I knew from the very beginning that I had no chance with you. I wouldn’t love me, either.”

He falls silent, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew that wasn’t true. He knows that you’re beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and funny. He knew that you should have every chance with him. But he just didn’t love you that way. “How many times do we have to go over this?” He asks, his voice soft. “I’ve never loved you like that. You’re my best friend, you know that.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” You say bitterly.

He grits his jaw, frustrated now. He hated how bitter you were when it came to this. He hated that you expected him to be in love with you back when he just didn’t see you that way. He hated that he had to keep explaining this over and over again to you, and he hated the fact that you were just sitting here, pouting like a toddler. Like a girl who was in love.

He was tired of being the bad guy in this. “Then you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.”

“I wish I never did.” You say.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say. He just turns to look at the movie, his jaw clenched. He hated that you said that. He hated that you wished you’d never fallen for him. He didn’t want you to wish that. If you didn’t fall for him, how long would it be before you fell for someone else? Someone who wasn’t him? He didn’t want the thought of you with another guy to piss him off so much.

Rafe sighs. “Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here.”

“Do you want me to pretend you’re a good guy?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I am the good guy,” He snaps, his eyes narrowing. What the hell? He knew he wasn’t an angel by any means, but he was a good guy. He took care of his family, protected his friends, and stayed loyal to his girlfriend. “You’re the one who fell in love with me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sigh, looking away. This was pointless, even more pointless than the daydreams you filled your mind with when you couldn’t sleep. “Whatever.”

He looks at you for a moment, jaw clenched, his body tense.

“You know, this whole self-pitying, 'woe is me, Rafe is the bad guy' bullshit is starting to piss me off. It’s getting annoying.” He says.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Rafe.” You say.

“Stop acting as if I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve wronged you,” He says, exasperated. He can’t understand why you’re being like this, and it’s pissing him off even more. “I don’t like you that way. I’ve never liked you that way. Why is that such a hard concept for you to accept?”

“It isn’t,” You say, your voice starting to get thick with emotion. “I know you don’t like me, I know you aren’t attracted to me, I just… it’s just so hard for me to move on, and I don’t know why.”

Rafe is silent for a moment, watching as your face starts to crumble. He can’t help but sigh. He moves closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh. Normally, it was the opposite. Normally it was you comforting him, not him trying to comfort you. “It’ll pass. You’ll get over it eventually.”

It’ll pass.

It’ll pass.

It will never pass, will it?

You sniffle, one hand reaching up to wipe the corners of your eyes. “I should go.”

He catches your wrist, tugging you back down on the sofa. “Sit down,” he says, his voice firm. “You’re not going anywhere yet. We need to talk about something.”

“About what?” You ask, not looking at him.

He lets go of your wrist, crossing his arms over his chest. “This,” He says simply, gesturing towards your face. “This…depression, sadness, self-pity bullshit. I hate seeing you the way you are right now, like you’ve just been kicked down. It’s pathetic. It’s not you.”

You don’t reply, finally looking over at him, eyes red rimmed with tears.

He stares back, his expression unchanging. You think he would’ve softened up at the sight of you, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see you like this anymore. You’re supposed to be his best friend, the person he confides in and takes comfort in. “You’re supposed to be the person I come to when I’m upset. Not the other way around. This pity party you have going on needs to end. You’re better than that.”

You look back down at your lap, starting to pick at the skin around your thumbnails. “What do you want me to do?”

“Move on,” Rafe says, his tone harsher than he intended. “Move the fuck on. I want my best friend again, not this whiney, insecure brat. I don’t have any romantic feelings for you, and I’m tired of treating you with kid gloves because you can’t handle the truth. Get a grip and get over it. You either move on, and things go back to normal, or we stop being friends.”

You feel your stomach drop, your throat constricting, air getting caught in your windpipe. You don’t look at him, continuing to dig your fingernails into your skin. He watches you for a moment, noticing the way your chest shakes as you try to keep back the tears. He knew your habits by now, and he noticed the way your hands started to fiddle and pick. You did that when you were trying to distract yourself. You did that when you were upset, hurt. 

“Stop that,” He mumbles, reaching out and grabbing your hand.

You pull your hand away and stand up, fists clenching as your chest shakes. You couldn’t break down. Not here, not in front of him. “I should go.”

Rafe reaches out, grabbing your wrist again. He stands up too, using his grip to tug you back towards him. “We need to talk about this. Sit down.”

You pull away again, taking a step back, a soft squeak tumbling out of your mouth as you start to cry.

The squeak causes his stomach to twist. His face falls. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pleads softly, his hand reaching out for you again.

You retreat again, shaking your head as more tears start to fall. Your legs shake, your hands coming up to cover your face.

He grabs your wrist again, gently pulling you into his arms. “Stop it,” he says firmly, pulling you in close to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling frame. “Stop.”

You sob into his chest, your hands still covering your face, shoulders shaking violently as you try and take a deep breath.

He stays quiet, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you firmly against him. His other hand comes up to tangle in your hair, playing with the roots of it as his chin rests on the top of your head. “Stop crying,” He repeats, his voice a bit gentler. “I’m not worth it.”

“Yes you are.” You mumble, wiping your tears with your fingers, palms still pressed against your face, mascara smearing across your cheeks.

“No, I’m not,” He says firmly, his breath fanning over the crown of your head. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. Not to offer comfort. No, he knew that wouldn’t work. But to just keep you where you were, firmly held against his chest. “I’m a disaster. Even after everything, after trying to change, I’m still a disaster.”

“You're not a disaster.” You say, pulling back to look at him.

He stares down at you, his expression hard to read. He has his usual, guarded look on, but the way his hand reaches up to gently wipe away one of your tears gives away the fact that he’s affected. “I am,” He repeats, his voice quiet. “And I won’t ever be the man you think I am.”

You hesitate. “I want the Rafe I’m looking at. Not the picture of you in my head.”

He lets a huff of air out through his nose, his expression softening for the briefest of moments as he looks down at you. You were so beautiful, even when you were crying and on the edge of a breakdown. But he couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in it again, like in high school. He had moved on. At least, in his mind. “You’ll never be satisfied with that. I’m no saint, and I’ll never be the romantic, fairy tale guy you want me to be.”

“I just want--” You try to correct yourself, although you meant the former. “I just wanted to be yours.”

He stiffens for a second, his gaze hardening again as he studies your face. “No,” he mutters, a tinge of something you can’t place in his voice. “You can’t be mine. I’m not yours, and I’ll never be yours. You’re not mine to keep, you’re not the one I want, you’re not the one I’m in love with.”

You sigh, your voice soft. “I know.”

He lets out a breath, the expression on his face pained. He cupped your face, wiping away some of the smeared mascara. “I don’t want to keep hurting you,” He says softly. “I don’t want to keep making you cry. I don’t want to keep disappointing you.”

“I’m hurting myself,” You say. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who just can’t move on.”

“You’re not the one at fault,” Rafe says, his thumb still wiping at the tear stains on your cheek. “I’m the one who can’t love you the way you want to be loved. And I’ll never be able to. You deserve someone who can, and I want you to find that person.”

You did find that person, the one holding your face and looking at you like you’re his saving light in eternal darkness. You had ignored so many bad omens, hoping that the universe was wrong, that they made a mistake, that your red strings of fate were intertwined in the stars.

But they weren’t.

You swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. To get over you.”

“Good.” He says, his thumb brushing under your eye one last time, wiping away a tear. His thumb brushes across your cheek, pressing down slightly to feel the softness of your skin. He moves his other hand to your jaw, moving his thumb side to side on your neck, feeling your pulse. 

His eyes meet yours before his gaze travels over your face, soaking in every detail of you. They linger on your lips, just for a second too long, and much to his dismay, you notice it. His eyes move back up to look into yours.

Your breath hitches ever so slightly, your lips parting. Rafe purses his lips together slightly, rubbing them together, his eyes looking back down at your mouth. He mumbles your name quietly, his voice soft.

“What?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer. 

His eyes are still looking at your mouth. He watches your lips move as you speak, watches how your tongue peeks out of the corner of your mouth ever so slightly. 

He can’t think straight. He can’t think at all. His mind has gone fuzzy, and every cell of his body is telling him something he knows he shouldn’t do. 

His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in closer.

He places a kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing.

Your eye twitches, your stomach churning, your face getting hot with shame and embarrassment.

He pulls away, looking down at you. “I’m sorry, alright? Can we just… can we just chill and watch a movie?”

You should say no. You should scream at him, yell at him for manipulating you, for looking at you like that and acting like he was going to kiss you.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to hate him, even after this. 

You swallow hard, blinking a few times as you look at the long forgotten pizza box on the coffee table. “Yeah. We can watch a movie.”

He feels relieved. That’s good. 

He gives you a small smile, placing a hand on the small of your back and ushering you towards the sofa. He turns you towards the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down, his hand still lingering on your back, the feel of your skin under your sweater making his heart race. 

His eyes linger on you for a moment, before he turns to grab the remote off of the coffee table. He sits down next to you, trying to keep a normal distance between the two of you, instead of pressing himself up against your side. He opens the pizza box as he opens Hulu, handing you a slice. 

You take it, your fingers and hands numb and tingling as you try to suppress the bile in your throat.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The Outer Banks is truly paradise on Earth.

Although The Boneyard isn’t the nicest beach on the island, it has a few secluded spots that still manage to take your breath away. You find your favourite spot easily, a small sandbank by the entrance to a long-forgotten cove. It was once filled with rumours of pirates and treasures, but now it’s full of seaweed.

You settle into the sand, holding your sandals in your hands, arms draped over your knees. You watch the sunset pink and orange streaking across the sky, listening to the soft crashing of the waves and the distant call of a seagull. The wind gently pulls through your hair, and you push some behind your ears, closing your eyes as you feel the sun on your face.

It’s peaceful.

Another soft breeze brushes over you, carrying with it the scent of weed, an uncommon occurrence for this particular spot. Not a lot of other people on the island knew of your spot, mainly just Rafe and Sarah.

You turn your gaze to your left, finding a familiar figure sitting about a yard away from you.

JJ smiles, head tilted to the side, a lit joint between his fingers. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You say, smiling softly. You had always had a little soft spot for JJ, considering him to be one of the few Pogues you could actually stand, maybe other than Kiara.

JJ takes a hit of the joint, looking out over the ocean, the sun starting to descend towards the horizon. He sighs contently before turning to look at you again, raising his eyebrows as he studies you. “What’re doing out here all alone?”

“Just watching the sunset.” You say. You pat the sand next to you, inviting him to take a seat.

“Yeah? Me too,” He says, moving closer to take a seat next to you. He stretches out his legs, leaning back onto his hands and resting his head against the sand. He takes another hit from the joint, sighing out the smoke before offering it to you. “Want a hit?”

You nod, taking it between your thumb and pointer finger. You take a deep hit, sucking in the smoke and blowing it out in a thick white cloud. You hold it out towards him. “Thanks.”

He takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Anytime,” He says, leaning back. He watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. The sun is setting in front of you, casting a warm, orange glow illuminating you that catches on your hair. He can’t help but admire the way the sunset looks against your figure, casting a glowing haze around you. His gaze softens in the presence of your soft glow. “You look pretty tonight.”

You smile softly, feeling your face get warm. “Thanks, JJ. So do you.”

He smiles back, his eyes locking with yours. It’s just the two of you out here, and JJ likes it that way. Just you and him sitting alone on the beach, watching the sunset. “Just pretty?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Handsome.” You add.

He’s silent for a moment, staring back at you. He lets out a breath through his nose, trying to hide the grin on his face as his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, but it’s still clear on his face. “Damn right, I am.” He mutters. The two of you just stare at each other for a minute, the quiet sounds of the ocean in front of you and the distant sound of a fish jumping, trying to catch a bug flying across the water.

You smile at him again, looking back over the water.

JJ studies your profile for a moment, taking a hit off of his joint before passing it back to you, still staring at you. His eyes linger on your eyes, before slowly dropping down to your lips. He watches you, the soft expression on your face and how your hair blows in the wind. He’s always liked the way you look when you’re relaxed. You always look pretty, but you really look beautiful when you’re relaxed, when there’s no stress or worry in your mind. 

He studies your face, committing every detail to memory. He sits up straighter, placing the joint back in his mouth. He hesitates before throwing one arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. You oblige, slotting yourself against him, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

He smiles to himself, feeling you move closer. His arm tightens around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles into your shoulder. He watches the sun over the ocean, noticing how the light dances over the rippling water. He takes the joint from his mouth once again, taking a hit. He holds it in his lungs for a second, before leaning forward slightly, his gaze shifting down to your cheek. He lets out a cloud of smoke from his mouth, the smoke hovering in the air between the two of you.

You take the joint from him and take a hit before handing it back, holding it in your lungs before exhaling slowly. You look up at him, watching as he puts the joint in his mouth as he shifts in the sand. You smile softly again, admiring the way his eyes shine in the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.

Sometimes the one you want is not the one you need.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part three?

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife, @maybanksgirl69, @evermorx89, @ivy-34, @marlenee3e, @koibleufish, @user381963, @monkey-d-juliana, @ursogorgeous1313, @drewstarkeysstuff, @ts1mp0ne, @kayreblogs, @rafeycameronsgf, @lulbabes, @karmasloverrr, @greyswaren, @tini5, @witchmoon10, @xcinnamonmalfoyx, @arivh, @devils-blackrose, @goldsainz, @vonhoe, @exhaustedbutelated, @enjoymyloves, @rinasauruss, @danikasthings, @danicl25, @outlawedmando, @lucifersie, @wtfisastiles, @maybankslover (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

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[jasvtsc]

daddy's home

at first glance, you were the epitome of innocence.

perfectly manicured nails. neatly styled hair, often with a pinky ribbon added to the mix. lips always shiny, your lipgloss being a necessity in your purse. knee-high stockings highlighting your smooth legs, paired together with some heels. and short dresses, barely hiding the soaking wet lace panties underneath.

yeah, you looked innocent.

but behind closed doors? you were a filthy needy little whore—just what ben liked to call you.

for such a small thing, your sex drive was actually insane, and it shocked him for the first time when you eagerly jumped up and down his softening dick. you were so cockdrunk he couldn’t help but find it adorable. you tried so hard to act like a perfect and innocent girl, but as soon as he was near you, you were a whiny mess, desperate to be filled.

you were like a bunny, always eager and energetic.

and honestly? he was living for it.

he could do whatever he wanted to you, and he just loved fucking you into oblivion, watching tears stream down your face as you turned into a blabbering mess.

hard day at work? he’d aggressively pound into your wet pussy, making you unable to walk for the next few days.

hughie annoyed the fuck out of him? he’d dug his fingers underneath your panties first thing after coming home, sighing in relief at the familiar feeling of your drenched walls sucking them in.

his favourite team lost the game? you were on the bed, down on your knees, ass up as he slapped it, leaving red marks from his calloused hand while fucking you.

lazy afternoon smoking some weed and simply unwinding? he’d have you cockwarming him, just sitting on his lap and looking all pretty with his fat cock buried deep inside your tight hole.

or when you simply wanted to pleasure him, getting down on your knees in front of him, his foot between your legs as you bop your head back and forth, your cheeks hollowing with every suck, his tip hitting the back of your throat as he sunk fully.

you were his drug that he couldn’t get enough. you were his perfect little girl.

and he hasn’t seen you in so long. too long.

butcher sent him on a mission on the other side of the country. he spent almost a week away from you, and even though you were religiously sending him photos he could get off to, nothing compared to the real thing of him nestled in your welcoming heat.

so as soon as he got home, he was met with your pouty lips and tears flooding your cheeks. you hugged him tightly, your arms barely able to wrap around his broad frame as you wanted to squeeze him tightly. he smirked and wrapped one hand firmly around your body, keeping you close and tight without much effort. the other hand moved to your hair, where he stroked the back of your head with his thumb, looking down at your pretty face covered in tears, pressed against his chest.

“well, well, well. look what we have here. missed me that much, hm? don’t worry, baby girl, daddy’s home,” he chuckled and patted your head.

then, he lifted you, the hand on your head now going under your dress. he rubbed your core with his fingers, feeling how wet you already were through your panties. he sighed in contentment, a cocky smirk on his face as he pressed his fingers, making the fabric stick between your folds.

“already so eager to see me. i think i should take care of ya, f’being such a good girl and missing daddy,” he hummed, carrying you to the bedroom.

not even five minutes later, you were already bent over on the bed, your panties stuffed in your mouth to muffle any sounds you’d make. he held your wrists in a firm grip on your back, so you were completely at his mercy as he was sliding in and out of you, your pussy squelching. you were breathing through your nose, whimpering against the fabric in your mouth as he kept your head pressed on the pillow.

“so fuckin’ tight, all f’me,” he growled, reaching his hand between your bodies and delivering a firm slap to your clit. “too tight, though. did your little pussy already forget what daddy feels like? we can’t have that. no fuckin’ way,” he panted, thrusting into you even harder, making you cry out as he pinched your swollen bud. “yeah, just like that. cry for daddy, you filthy whore.”

he flipped you on your back and sunk in your heat again, repeatedly hitting your cervix. with a grunt, he took the panties out of your mouth, instead replacing them with his fat fingers. you almost gagged as he shoved them in, pressing on your tongue, but quickly, you swirled your tongue around the rough digits, eagerly sucking on them.

“yhym. good girl. suck while daddy fucks you,” he growled, stroking your chin with his thumb as he started moving even more aggressively with a clear intention of filling you up with his cum.

when your walls began to clamp down on his cock, he pulled his fingers, now coated with your saliva and roughly grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks. you whimpered and opened your mouth, and that was exactly what he wanted. he smiled and then spat in your mouth, one look enough for you to know that he wanted you to swallow.

and that’s what you did, seconds later squirting on his thick length, making him tumble over the edge as well. with a loud groan, he stilled and pressed deeper inside you, shooting his load into your tight channel.

“fuck, that’s it. daddy’s home,” he chuckled lowly, pulling you closer and crashing his lips on yours in a hungry kiss.

oh, he missed you so fucking much.

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Pls pls pls pls pls Lilia with consentual sex with reader!!! He just wants babies (baby fever)

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, Breeding with the intention of impregnation, Reader is ovulating, Reader’s species is not specified (human or fae), missionary position

Lilia Vanrouge

Your wedding day. A day that you and Lilia were excited for. A day that the entire village was excited for. After all, a high-ranking general like Lilia getting married was a big deal.

However, what you both were actually excited for was the wedding night, where he carried you over the threshold of the door and into the cottage to begin your honeymoon. An entire month, as per tradition. Of course, there would be no consumption of honey mead, but an entire month of fucking.

He set you on the ground of your bedroom before getting started on removing your wedding dress and helping you take your makeup off and hair out. Then, he removed his armor, as he got married with it on, and laid you on the bed.

His lips met the sensitive skin of your neck, his fangs gently prodding it to elicit small gasps from your lips. Then, when he got to a particular area of your neck, he sank his fangs in far enough to draw blood before licking it all up.

Lilia slowly trailed his kisses down your neck… your collarbone… your chest… your stomach… before he reached your underwear. A lacy pair… but he didn’t have the patience to admire it as he ripped it off.

All of a sudden, he was hit by the alluring scent of your pussy. Fuck… you were fertile. All Lilia could see right then and there was an image: you round and pregnant with his baby. Babies. He wanted twins.

His tongue delved into your folds, and he put your legs on his shoulders so he could make sure you wouldn’t squirm as he indulged in your taste. Your thighs wrapped around his head, and he swore to all the Seven that he could die happy right then and there.

He feasted like a man starved, drawing moans, gasps, and choked sobs from you. 

“H-Honey… fuck!” You squeal as his tongue flicked against your clit, making your entire body tremble as you came all over his face.

When he pulled away from your cunt, he smiled and your juices glistened on his skin. “The first of many, my dear wife… Now, I want twins…” The look in his eyes made you realize that you would have a lot of trouble walking tomorrow morning… but that was irrelevant at the moment.

He shifted his body so that he was on top of you, grabbing his member to line it up. Despite his smaller stature compared to his soldiers, he had seven inches of pure pleasure. You would know: this wasn’t your first time with the fae general.

Once he started sliding the tip into your soaked pussy, your legs wrapped around his hips. You felt yourself seeing stars, and your nails dug into his back as he started pulling his member out before thrusting it right back in… where it belongs.

“My pretty wife… s-so full of my cock…” He whispered, your walls clenching down on him in the best way possible.

You felt so full with him… and you always felt so warm and loved despite him basically having to bully his cock into you each time he thrusted his hips forward.

“Lilia… fuck!... baby, please…” You couldn’t even make a coherent thought aside from ‘more’. You wanted him to get you pregnant. You wanted to swell and get round with his children. You wanted to be the mother to his kids… You wanted it all. But mostly, you wanted him.

Soon, he felt his cock throbbing inside of you, and as you clenched tightly around him, he thrusted more ravenously into you until you came again. Then, he spilled his load inside you, letting out a groan as he felt your walls greedily suck him in like a magnet.

For a few seconds, you both just sat there, him still inside you to make sure that nothing spilled out. He pressed kiss after kiss to your face and your neck, trying to bring you back down to Earth.

“You’re gonna look absolutely wonderful when you’re with child, darling,” He smiled softly down at you, pressing one final kiss to your lips. Then, he stood up to grab a warm towel and clean you up, making sure you weren’t all sweaty before going to bed. “Good night, my bride…”

[2cool4ghoul]

I'm on Fire

Long time no see, eh?

sorry for my prolonged period of absence, I got shit going on!!!!

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, I hope everyone enjoys, maybe it could be a two parter if people r feeling it! I haven't edited this because honestly who has time for that?

Summary: Reader asks for help with being taught hunting, gets stuck with Joel, who she thinks hates her, but we all know how that ends? Reader grew up in a cult situation where girls r taught they need to repopulate the earth after the outbreak and thinks sex is just for baby making, Joel wants to show her it could be more. I been listening to I'm on fire by bruce Springsteen and that song inspired this.

Warning: under 18 DNI! age gap not specified but allusion to it being gargantuan and ludicrously capacious, Smut, unprotected p in v (do I need to say it? WRAP IT), fingering, oral f receiving, slight daddy kink, doing it from behind, Joel is kinda mean, perv Joel, allusions to masturbation, innocence kink, religious imagery?, mentions of pregnancy, kinda public I guess, post outbreak, can be game Joel or Pedro Joel, any Joels a goal, no use of y/n, reader is female gendered, pussy pronouns, size kink if you squint, Praise kink, yearning, Joel feeling guilty and sorry for himself , boohoo, if I miss anything please tell me!!!! I love feedback!!

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

You had been walking for hours.What was meant to be a simple hunt had now turned into aimlessly walking through the forest, staring at Joels back as he stalked in front of you. He refused to admit that he had gotten the two of you lost in the midst of chasing a rabbit, or a deer, or whatever it was he says he saw. When you did suggest heading a different direction, you were met with a sharp rejection, or a grunt telling you to keep your mouth shut. You knew he was angry before you’d even left, saddled with the burden of dragging you along with him. 

You didn’t particularly know Joel and you didn’t particularly like him either. His stand-offish demeanour and deep glare whenever you were around made you feel small in his presence. You had given up on the smiling and politeness that you gave everyone else in an attempt at self preservation, yet deep down you so badly wanted him to like you. You weren’t sure what you did and at what point you did it, but Joel made it very evident that he’d much rather be torn to shreds by infected, than teach you the basics of hunting. Which, with the sun becoming low and darkness threatening to spill over into the sky, you thought maybe he didn’t know the basics of hunting either. 

Frustrated, you huffed whilst adjusting your backpack on your shoulders, rolling your eyes slightly as he stopped to try and grasp any familiarities in your surroundings. “What’s got you all huffy and puffy?” He quipped, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at you.

“I am tired, Joel, we’ve been walking for hours now, I want to go home.” Sighing, your head fell back on your shoulders and he carried on walking.

“If I remember correctly, this was your bright idea, was it not?” His fists clenched at his side and you furrowed your brows.

“It was, when I thought I’d actually be able to learn something, I thought you were meant to be good at this-“

“I am good at this, you’re scaring ‘em all away, with your bitchin’ and moanin’” You’d obviously bruised his ego a bit there, yet the reaction you’d gotten was the most exciting thing that had happened all day. 

Well, that and being able to watch him closely whilst he furrowed his brow, focusing down the barrel of a gun. Laying on the ground next to him, so close that you could nearly smell the musk that seemed to radiate off of him. Yes, you didn’t particularly like him, but looking at him? You liked that very much. You liked the way his arms looked when he rolled up the sleeves of his flannels. The way he looked when he started the day, fresh out the shower with his greying hair slicked back and slightly damp. The way his voice was low when he was trying to teach you a lesson. The way he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes when you made a joke, a suggestion, or even just breathed. Seeing all of this things was enough to put a pit in your stomach, a pit that you’d been carrying around all day with little idea what to do about it. It ached and it throbbed. 

“Well maybe in your old age, your losing your touch.” You said it quiet, thinking that he wouldn’t hear you. But he did. He responded with a scoff, clenching his fists again. He wasn’t even going to dignify it with a insult back, his reaction alone was enough to make you feel insufficient. You both retreated to the silence and you kept yourself to your thoughts on how you were going to deal with the ache between your thighs.

______________________________________________________________

Night had fallen and Joel had still not managed to find your way home. Instead you’d found an old shack, barely together but good enough shelter to sleep for the night. Joel figured it was tomorrow’s problem, that and he couldn’t be bothered to listen to your complaints about how tired you were.

The dim glow of the campfire lamp created a yellow cast over Joels features and you couldn’t help but stare as he sat opposite you, eating a sandwich you’d given him earlier in an attempt to lift his spirits. His features were rough and frown lines had been permanently etched into his skin. This life had worn him down, toughed him up like leather. Maybe that was why he was mean to you. Maybe he’d ran clean out of kindness. His large hands made whatever he was holding look small, they were calloused and scarred across his knuckles. You didn’t want to imagine what things those hands had done. But you did want to imagine what they could do. Running over your skin, fingertips grazing your lips, leaving goosebumps and a shiver down your spine. Grabbing at your skin, creating bruises and marks, his fingers, thick and strong, spreading you open and filling you-

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?” Gruff and fed up, Joels voice snapped you right out of the darkest corners of your mind, your eyes widening slightly as you realised you had obviously been staring, eyes hazed over.

“I, uh, I was looking at my sandwich, I don’t think you deserve it.” Nice save, you praised your self internally and he raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were some stupid insignificant thing.

“How come I don’t deserve it?” 

“We caught nothing today, you didn’t teach me shit.” You tried your best to mimic the facial expression he was pulling, hoping that just maybe you could make him feel how he did. 

“Hmm.” He grumbled after putting the last bite in his mouth. “’s'all gone now.” There was almost a smirk playing on his lips, his gaze making you squirm and squeeze your thighs together. What was happening to you? It felt like every fibre of your being was betraying you, begging for you to climb over to him and beg him to take you whatever way he wanted. “What’s the deal with you anyway?” 

“With me?” Taken aback, you went slightly rigid, why would he want to know anything about you? He hated you, he made it perfectly clear. He nodded, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to work you out. “What do you mean?”

“Well, why do you want to learn to hunt? And don’t you have some boyfriend around to teach you?” This was the most he’d spoken to you all day, and he had you spluttering on the sip of whatever you’d just taken. 

“I want to hunt so I can be useful,” you coughed out, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt to look casual, “and no I don’t have a boyfriend to teach me, so I suppose you’re just gonna have to put up with me for now.” Shaking your head, you tried at being playful, but it still didn’t crack his prying exterior.

“Pretty young thing like you, ‘bound to have ‘em falling at your feet.” It was said as almost a passing comment, but your shock was visible on your face, blinking and biting your lip trying to make up a response that was witting and defensive but you couldn’t.

Before you’d scrambled your way to Jackson, alone and bewildered, you had grown up in a cult, whose goal was primarily to restart civilisation. They’d taught how it worked, making babies and all that, and for a while you were happy playing the part, letting your father chose a man, who would be forced with the task of putting as many babies as he could inside you. You endured, what felt like a chore, with your partner, watching your friends fall pregnant. Your inability to fall pregnant was what made you run in the first place, hearing of what they did to the girls who could birth a child had frightened you, fearful that you’d be reduced to another mouth to feed. A drain on resources. So with all of that in mind, finding a boyfriend was never something that crossed your mind, nor was it something you greatly desired. But with Joel sat in front of you, legs spread with his thick thighs in your direction, you felt strings inside you being pulled that had previously been untouched.

“You think I’m pretty?” You swallowed, maintaining eye contact with him for a moment, trying to catch a hint of softness. 

“I think you’d be doin’ better tryin’ to find a nice young man,” He adjusted his position and met your gaze, “rather than spendin’ the night in and old shack with’an old man like me.” This was him trying to be nice you thought, but it was having the opposite effect. It made you defensive and you narrowed your eyes.

“Oh because I’d be better off finding a man-” 

“You’re puttin’ words in my mouth.” His interruption was calm, yet stern, shaking his head at you and rubbing his face with his hands. He’d succeeded in silencing you as you looked down at the ground in front of you, slightly embarrassed.

“I’ve had a boyfriend, or a lover, I don’t know what to call him,” You avoided him, you had no idea why you felt the need to be vulnerable, “and I don’t know what the whole big deal is, y’know?” You sighed, cheeks flushing a bit pink. “I don’t understand why someone would put themselves through that.”

“Through what?” He leaned forward slightly, curiosity shadowing his face in the dim light. Finally you lifted your head, showing him your red cheeks.

“That.” You hoped he understood your insinuation. And due to the sudden rigidness of his body recognised that he understood. He pursed his lips for a moment and then opened them as if to speak, yet nothing came out. Embarrassment was flooding your body, you regretted even bringing it up due to the sudden tension in the air. And there was that pit in your stomach again, aching and throbbing as you watched him stumble over words to say.

“Because it feels good.” Was all he could stifle out, watching your reaction carefully as your knitted your brows, screwing your face up in confusion slightly.

“Maybe for the men,” You scooted up onto your knees, looking up at him as he sat taller than you, “but for me, as a woman, its just so much pressure.” He was now looking confused, squinting his eyes, trying to understand.

“Pressure to what?” 

“To make a baby.” He was beginning to patronise you, making you explain the obvious like it was some sick game. It got you all defensive again. “It doesn’t feel that great when all you can think about is if you’re going to be able to make-“

“It’s not just about that.” Adamantly he shook his head, eye scanning over your body watching as frustration overtook you. “It’s not just about making a baby.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Miller, I’ve had sex, I know what its about.” You bit sharp, heart thumping in your chest, moving closer to him to try and assert some dominance.

“I don’t think you do.” You could’ve sworn there was a ghost of a smirk hiding behind his beard. “Christ, I should not be the one telling you this.”

“Telling me what? What Joel?” You were now practically between his legs, kneeling, begging to understand what he could possibly be talking about. “Please, tell me, I don’t understand.” His eye were trying frantically, to look everywhere except for you.

“Darlin’, I cant be tellin’ you this, s’wrong.” His voice was lower, speaking to you quietly and firmly, grabbing a hold of your wrists. You felt hot under his touch, his rough hand wrapping around your wrists, staring into your eyes. “M’old enough to be your daddy.” 

“Whats that got to do with it?” Your voice lowered to the same volume as his, you were searching for the answers in his eyes, and he looked conflicted. Like he was balancing options. 

Your body was betraying you again, it wanted to reach forward, wrap itself around him, be as close to him as possible, as if the proximity now was not enough. As if the feeling of his fingers and palms on your now hot skin, was not enough.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you’re always starin’ at me? Hmm, sweet girl?” God, if you were red before, now you were purple. Your skin was prickling, not just at the acknowledgment of your behaviour but at his sudden use of pet names. You couldn’t force words out even if you tried. “Why’d’you think I avoid you like you’re the plague?” With his face inches from yours, it was now easy to see that there was almost desperation in his eyes, like he was losing a battle, unable to let go of his grip still. 

“B…Because, you, you hate me.” You finally stuttered out, your throat dry from the heaving breathing.

“Christ, no, I don’t hate you, darlin’, I just can’t stop myself when you’re in front of me, staring at me with those big o’eyes, looking like you’re just about ready to drop to your knees.” There was still no answer to your question, you still didn’t understand, you so desperately wanted to understand. Especially after watching the way he licked his lips, his burning stare taking in every inch of you, “And to think, you’ve been sat there, squeezin’ your legs together, and you don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“I, I, I don’t understand, what you’re saying, Joel.” Your chest was rising and falling, a sweat blanketing the both of you, his grip loosening but letting his hands travel further up your arms until they were at your back. 

“Let me show you.” Was all he could muster out until his lips were on yours. He crashed against you, pulling you into him by your back. You fought for a moment at first, out of shock at his abruptness, but it did not take you long to be pressing your body against his, your fingers getting lost in his hair, gripping and tugging whilst he groaned into your mouth. His tongue found its way against yours, tasting every part of you, savouring the moment as you whimpered. You pulled away for a moment to catch your breath and he rested his forehead against your, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” The ache was taking over your body now, like it was all for him, making you force your lips on him again.

“Please, Joel, please,” You purred into him, his hand reaching down to your ass, gripping it hard, “please, I’m aching.”

“Baby, you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me,” he growled, his free hand reaching up to your neck, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Please show me, I need you.” Begging, you ignored how right he was, you were sure what you needed but you needed it fast. The tension was becoming unbearable, you needed release.

He held you close by the small of your back, gently lowering you down until your back touched the ground and he was on top of you. Looking up at him through your lashes, you were ready to do anything he asked of you, your entire body feeling like it was electric. He continued kissing you, moving his lips down your jaw, down your neck, sucking and unbuttoning your shirt with an experienced hand. There was still a little bit of disbelief inside you, a failure to believe that Joel Miller, who 2 minutes prior you believed hated you, was on top of you undressing you. The anticipation for his next move was unlike anything you’d experienced before. “God, I’ve thought about this,” His voice vibrated across your chest, your body lifting to meet his lips, your bra exposing your cleavage, “now look at you, angel, whimperin’ for me like a bitch in heat.” He was grinding his hips, pressing his hard bulge into where you needed him most. 

“Please, it hurts, Joel.” There was nothing you needed more than what he was giving you, the friction of denim rubbing together was nothing cooling the burning sensation between your legs. 

“I know, baby, I know.” He grumbled, “m’gonna show you, jus’ takin’ my time.”

Kisses were descending south down your body, soft red marks left in their wake. He was taking his time, occasionally glancing up at your wide, blown out eyes. He wanted to show you exactly what he’d meant. Exactly what he’d meant. When he finally reached the waistline of your jeans, he tapped your thighs, signalling for you to lifts your hips so he could begin to pull them down your legs and then off your body entirely, taking your white cotton panties with them. You instinctively pressed your knees together, immediately feeling exposed in front of Joels large frame. 

He tutted, “Ain’t no use bein’ shy now, sweet girl, you gotta show me where you need me.” 

You did as you were told, spreading your legs, whilst he knelt back, palming the growing tent in his jeans. “that’s it, good girl.” groaning, he leant forward, lowering his body to meet yours, “Look at how wet she’s got f’me, you might not know what I mean, but she definitely does.” A sadistic chuckle left his throat, watching you squirm under his intense gaze. 

Your body jolted when one of his fingers gently slid up your folds, collecting the wetness and slick, leaving you unable to breathe. No one had ever touched you there, not even yourself, and here was Joel Miller, slack jawed, toying with your hole however he pleased. He did slow motions up and down, watching as you glistened in the dim light. You had no idea you were capable kf feeling this feeling, a tingling sensation rippling in waves along with his touch. You were absentmindedly grinding your dripping cunt in motion with him, your eyes flickering shut whilst your head rolled back. “that’s right, baby girl, feels good don’t it?” Joel cooed through a smirk, watching intently as you rubbed against him. 

“mmhmm,” You hummed in a daze, this must’ve been what he was talking about, “so good.” And with your admission of pleasure, a small smile dancing over your lips, he took his hand away. Your head snapped up and you propped yourself on your elbows, looking down at him with pouted wet lips. He took little notice of your reaction, instead he wrapped his arm around your thighs positioning his face opposite your throbbing pussy. 

Before you had time to question why he was so close, he showed you. He dove into like a you were water and he was in a drought. Gasping, you watched with your jaw wide, panting whilst he licked and sucked at you, his tongue exploring every inch of you. “Joel, fuck, my god, what are you doing?” you panted, your chest rising and falling heavily. 

“Well,” he spoke between breaths, “I’m tasting you, darlin’ and boy, don’t you taste sweet.” he continued on, watching your breathing growing erratic, the torment his tongue was bestowing on you causing your eyes to roll back into your head, a hand holding onto his forearm. “your old boyfriend never came down for a taste?” 

“No” Just when you thought you couldn’t feel any better, he brought you to a new high. One which made you sure that this was what he was talking about surely it didn’t get better than this. Feeling his beard scratching against your thighs, seeing the absolute sheer pleasure in his eyes as his tongue fucked itself into your hole. 

“He was missing’ out, I’ll tell you that much, sweetheart.” It was a smug scoff. He was immensely enjoying the effect he was having on you. See you wriggle, unable to keep still, holding your hips firmly down to the ground so he could have his way with the sweet pussy in his mouth. Knowing that his mouth was the only one to taste you, to savour and relish in the taste of you, god he felt like one lucky man. 

The pit that started in your stomach had now grown and blossomed to take over your entire body, it was consuming and controlling you. Your back arched off the ground, only remaining anchored by Joel firm hands, you let one of your hands grab fistfuls of Joel’s hair, pushing him closer against you, whilst your other hand took to your breast, pinching at your hardened nipple underneath the restrictions of the bra. You cared not for the noises you made, filling the otherwise silent forest with salacious moans and Joel’s name. If a search party had been sent out for you, they’d definitely find you. They’d find you laying half naked, fucking yourself on Joel tongue. It was nearly shameful how much you were at his expense. The grip was gone from one of your thighs, your weak leg dropping to the ground giving him a wide access as you planted your foot on his back. He leant back for a moment before pursing his lips and spitting directly onto your already drooling cunt, making you flinch. 

“look at me, pretty girl.” He took a breath, your eyes meeting his, “god, what a sight for sore eyes, so pretty, look at me.” babbling his took your moment of distraction as a invite to insert two of his thick fingers into your hole, smiling again with wet lips, the juices from your pussy dampening his beard and shinning off of his prominent nose. Your eyelids fluttered as you struggled to make eye contact with him, your lip between your teeth to hard you were sure it was going to draw blood. at first he made sure to slowly let you adjust to the stretch of his fingers, feeling your walls constrict around his digits. “mmm, thatta girl, taking my fingers so well, is that nice?” His praise made you fumble, unable to form sentences, only being able to respond with a over ambitious nod of your head, pouting with beads of sweat dribbling down your temples. “I bet it’s nice, no one’s ever touched you like this, huh? My needy girl, following me around, so full of desire with no where to go.” You continued nodding, hypnotised by his words, his fingers curling to reach a spot, overwhelming you, tears prickling in your eyes. Your stomach was tight, the pressure building and building, your knees growing weak. “My girl.” He repeated to himself, looking your up down as if he was admiring his handiwork. 

“M’all yours.” It left your throat involuntarily, strangled and choked, pathetic. 

“All mine?” He huffed incredulously, “Yes you are, all mine, christ girl.” His mouth returned to the mess he had made made, lips wrapping around and pulling at your clip, releasing with a wet pop. You hissed and tugged at his hair, his nose smushed against your skin, sniffing and smelling as much of your natural scent as he could. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate a pussy this intoxicating, or if he ever even had. 

Something was about to rupture in you, it panicked you, washing over your body. You were unable to breathe, unable to release the grip you had on him, your eyes widening as you trembled against joel’s mouth. “Joel.” you squeaked out and he looked up at you with dark eyes, “what’s, fuck, I’m…” Your heart pounded in your chest and in your ears, you could barely focus, unable to form a sentence, or even get a word out. 

“that’s right, go on, let it out,” his warm breath fanned against your sensitive area, “make a mess, let go f’me, soak my finger.” He was rattling you and egging you on, seeing your pathetic, writhing, sweating body in front of him. 

Once more, you did as you were told. And holy shit. 

It was like your entire body was on vibrate, toes curling, unable to even make noise. Stars were bursting behind your squeezed shut eyes, body lifted forward off the ground. “That’s my girl, there she is, fucking hell, give it to me, darlin’” He groaned, digging his hips into the ground, watching you come undone. The tension was being released in constricting waves, your walls clenching and squeezing around his fingers, which remained still, but still putting pressure on the spot they had previous being stroking relentlessly. 

“oh my god, Joel, fuck me, oh my god, fuck, fuck.” When you could finally breathe again, you whined his name, cursing and crying a stream of profanities, his fingers leaving you empty whilst his tongue lapped up every precious drop of your high. It took a couple blinks for your vision to come back at when it did, you were met by the proud grin plastered on his face. 

“what was it you said earlier? somethin’ ‘bout me losin’ m’touch in m’old age?” He teased, before putting the fingers that had been in you, into his mouth. He sucked them dry, letting his eyes roll back into his head for a second. “Sure didn’t seem to mind my touch when you were choking my fingers.” 

“what was that?” You almost lost your voice, your throat dry. Joel was working his way up your body, kissing you and nibbling at your salty skin. 

“That, my darlin’, was what I meant.” His teeth pulled at your earlobe and you took deep breaths before letting your fingers nimbly start to unbutton his own flannel. 

“Do it again.” You pleaded, staring into his brown eyes, trying to rid him of his shirt as quickly as possible. 

“Christ, you are needy,” He stopped his kisses, “she’s already wanting more? it feel that good?” 

“Please, do it again, I want more.” You were completely possessed by the pleasure you had felt, gagging to feel more, you wanted him carnally, to have as much of him as possible. 

“Use your words, what do you want?” He was enjoying this too much for someone who had previously stated how wrong it was. He was going to give in, there was no way he couldn’t with his cock so painfully hard in his pants, he just wanted to relish in having you beg for him some more. 

The truth is that he’d spent plenty of time watching you. When you first came to town and Maria set you in the cabin next door, Joel had watched you. In fact, his bedroom window had been so perfectly placed so that at the right time of night, when you stepped out the shower he could make out your outline behind your curtains. In these moments, Joel would let himself indulge in all the dirty, perverted thoughts he’d kept locked up. He take his manhood in his hand and pleasure himself at the thought of feeling your skin against his, the thought of you whimpering and offering yourself, spread apart, for him. He’d thought many times about bounding through the door, ruining whatever was left of your innocence. He hadn’t, however, imagined that you had this much innocence left. And he would’ve never imagined in his wildest dreams that you’d be begging him for more, for him ruin you. 

“I want you, I want you to fill me up, to stretch me.” You were speaking whatever came to mind, no thinking, just action, tumbling over your words with the grace of a bull in a china shop. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, your eyes fucked out, hair matted and wild. This was enough for him to give in, allowing you to push his shirt down his arms, revealing his tanned skin and soft belly. Hair scattered below his waistline and you were eager to find where it lead to. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, girl.” He cursed, watching your small hands struggled with his belt buckle. When he’d agreed to help teach you hunting, this is the last place he thought he’d be. 

He ended up undoing his belt himself, your frantic hands proving useless, but this meant you got to watch with wide, hungry eyes as his cock slapped his lower stomach, red and swollen with pre-cum beading at the tip. You were speechless, gulping, unsure of whether it would even fit. After he’d discarded of his jeans, reaching round and pumping his shaft in his fist. You were starving for him, the way he looked in this light, completely bare in front of you. He came down to your height, lips against yours, tongue in your mouth. “Can you taste yourself? Taste how sweet you are?” You purred a yes into the kiss and he pulled away, grabbing your chin between his thumb and finger. “taste good don’t you?” His half-lidded eyes remained fixed on the way you licked your lips and smiled sweetly at him, as if you were completely angelic. “yeah, you like it? ‘Course you do, jesus.” He shook, he wasn’t gonna last long with you looking the way you did, feeling the way you did. “how do you want it?” He was buying himself time, his cock already twitching just at the thought of being inside you. 

“I’ve never done it, from behind.” Your voice was quiet and unsure, you’d clearly never been asked how you wanted it and now you felt like there was a right and wrong answer. However with the way Joel immediately grabbed you, flipping you over with a squeeze so that you laid on your stomach, you realised that maybe you picked right. 

“Now,” he straddled your thighs, grabbing and kneading at your bare ass, spreading your cheeks and planting his cock between them, “it’s been a while,” he rocked his hips gently, watching the way his cock pushed through your plush cheeks, getting lost, “I ain’t tryin’ to make excuses-”

“Please, please, I’m begging you,” you pleaded, arching your back and pushing against him, his balls dragging against your pussy causing him to shiver, all the hairs on his body standing on end, “I want you to give it to me again, Joel, it’s aching again, I’m aching for you.” You tried your best to crane your neck, so that you could make eye contact with him and he took it as an opportunity to grab you by the neck. 

“M’gonna give it to you, baby girl, you ready?” His lips brushed against your forehead before resting there, so you whimpered in response before he plunged into you. 

He stretched you out in a way that burned. It felt like you were being torn and you evidently winced and hissed and the intrusion of his cock. He, on the other hand, had just entered into heaven. The way you wrapped around him so tight and perfectly had him choking on his low groans, basking in watching your pussy so delightfully swallow every inch he had to give you before stopping at the base. You needed a moment, clenching your fists and squeezed your eyes shut, you needed to adjust to having something of his sheer size inside you. He needed a moment because he was sure if he made any sudden movements, he was going to spill inside you immediately, before he had even had a chance to get you remotely close to your climax. “god, you’re so fucking tight, she’s takin’ me real good.” He kissed at your forehead again, trying to distract himself from the way you were squirming. You knot in your stomach was growing again and the pain was soon numbed out, awaiting his movement. 

“you’re so big.” whining, you fluttered your lashes, splaying your hands out in front of you, preparing yourself. 

“I know, baby, you ready for it?” 

“Yes,” You were practically gasping for air, making puppy dog eyes at him through your eyelashes, watching him twitch, “please, Joel, please.” 

Against his better judgement, Joel began thrusting his hips slowly into you, watching your expression twist, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open. You mewled and whimpered, knuckles turning white as you gripped at nothing. You looked pathetic beneath him, surrendering yourself entirely. And he ate it all up. He was enthralled, blinking down at you, watching tears form at the corners of your eyes, your freckles hiding beneath a red flush. This was heaven.

He rocked into you fervently, pushing in and pulling out moans. His grip around your neck kept your face in constant view, his breath fanning over your skin. “You look so beautiful, baby, taking this cock.” He grunted out between the snap of his hips, reaching deeper inside you than anyone had before, your soft velvet walls wrapping around him, clenching and contracting to accommodate his girth. Your lips couldn’t form words, stuck open wide, panting, your tongue resting on your bottom lip.  

You felt so full, feeling him in your belly, grazing your cervix with ease. His free hand traveled from your hips, holding you safe and firm, to squeeze a handful of your ass, painfully hard. It caused you to yelp, pushing your hips into him, making his thrust halt for a moment as he shuddered. He was trying desperately hard to not cum embarrassingly fast. He felt like a teenager again, trying to divert his thoughts to anything other than the writhing body he was currently impaling with his throbbing cock. But the way you were pushing back on him, begging him constantly with that drunken look in your eyes, like he was the only other person on the planet. He couldn’t ignore it, no matter how much he though about what needed fixing at home, all his thoughts returned to you. 

“More.” You choked out. And he raised an eyebrow.

“More? More what, sweetheart?” He punctuated by giving a hard thrust that left you shaking. 

“Harder, I want it- Oh fuck!” Interrupting you, he took advantage and began ramming into you mid sentence, taking immense pleasure in watching you become undone around his relentless torment.

He let go of your ass and your neck, picking you up by your hips so you were on your knees, check pressed against the ground. There was an excited smile on your face, cheeks aching and hot. “You smilin’ girl? Yeah? You like it like this, feel good don’t it?” Whilst you couldn’t see his face, you could hear he was groaning through a grin too, keeping your legs steady so he could quicken his already brutal pace.

There it was again, that growing pit, the flush of electricity that erupted into your body. Your grin only grew, whining and spreading your legs out further for him, allowing him to go deeper and deeper with each groundbreaking thrust. Your legs were trembling, your knees aching and surely bruised up. But it was the last thing on your mind, all you could think about was the impending surge of pleasure. “Hell, look at you,” Joel growled, swallowing hard, “You fuckin’ love it.”

“I… Do, don’t stop!” You spread your legs further, thighs falling downwards, ignoring the burning sensation at the slightly uncomfortable position that you knew you’d regret tomorrow.

“Oh darlin, I ain’t gonna be able t’hold on much longer, not wit’you spreading your fuckin’ legs like this f’me.” Joel was holding on for dear life, becoming desperate. He knew you were close, he could feel it in the way your cunt was becoming tighter and tighter, dripping with arousal, slick running down his thighs getting lost in the hair.

“Mmmhmm, I want it daddy, fill me up.” Your words were slurred and he tensed at what you’d called him. 

“Yeah, baby girl, you want daddy deep in you?” He leant over you, palm pressing against the side of your head, pushing you further against the wooden floorboards. His thumb fell just above your mouth, sitting on your lips until you wrapped them around it, sucking gently. You nodded, your body beginning to tense and tremble.

This was shameful stuff, Joel thought, stuff people go to confession and repent for. Here you were, on your hands and knees, offering yourself up, sucking his thumb, fluttering your lashes. You were either the most beautiful angel or a demon sent to lead him astray. Either way, he was relishing in it. 

“Come on baby, I know it’s-”

“Oh, Daddy, I'm gonna- it’s coming, I’m-” Your frantic moans came out tumbling over his, interrupting him, arching your back up, your entire body clenching at you were engulfed in pleasure again. “Oh, Joel, Oh my god, you, f, f, feel, so good!” You didn’t care about your volume, you just cared about how amazing it felt to have Joels cock deep inside you as you twitched and writhed around him. You pushed your ass against him, trying to get him as far in you as possible.

Joel couldn’t stop himself, spilling into you will a prolonged broken groan, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, the other grasping on your hip, his head snapped back. He could’ve been having a heart attack, the way his heart was pounding in his ears. You could feel him pumping inside of you, each twitch and rope painting your insides. 

“Oh, sweet girl, Christ!” He panted out of breath, riding out his high, jutting his hips forward into you as you breathed heavily beneath him, sensitive to every one of his movements. “You’re gon’ be the death of me, girl.” He fell over you, his weight pinning you down, pulling his softening cock out of you.

He rolled to the side of you, you remained laying on your front, thighs trembling, aching too much to move positions. “You still in there?” He raised his eyebrows, brushing hair behind your ear as you look up at him in adoration, big eyes filled with want. A giggle left your lips as his chest rose and fell in deep loud breaths. “What’re you laughin’ at?” 

“Is it like that every time?” Coarse, your voice creeped out, wiggling closer to him as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his calloused hand.

“No,” sighing, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling your tired frame into his, immediately soaking in the warmth, “that was… somethin' else.” 

You were quick to fall asleep in his arms. You knew you were safe, your body aching and weak. You were engulfed in his scent, head resting nestled into his armpit, soaking it all in. 

He’d opened a can of worms, swarmed by thoughts he’d tried to suppress, watching you curl up next to him. He could not shake the image of you coming undone around him, surrendering so easily to him. It was so much better than he’d ever imagined, but now he’d acted on these thoughts, he could no longer suppress them. He couldn’t avoid you, the only act of indulgence he’d allowed himself was watching you through your window. Now he hadn’t just indulged himself, he’d submerged himself in you. He was ashamed. He should’ve known better.

______________________________________________________________

“Get up, gotta head back.” 

You were awoken, your shirt being thrown at you, crumpled over your chest. Your eyes took a moment to adjust, sunlight seeping into the cabin. You blinked a few times, a shadow breaking up the sunlight. Your body ached like you’d ran a marathon. “Hey, Kid, wake up.” His stern abrupt voice, causing you to pout, instinctively bringing your shirt up to cover your breasts. 

Joel was standing opposite you, fully dressed, bag on his shoulders, towering over you with a fed up expression painting his features. You blinked up at him a few times, frowning, confused. “Do I gotta say it a third time? Jesus Christ.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head, turning his back on you to walk out the cabin.

A tsunami wave of embarrassment and shame flooded through you. Feeling your cheeks turning hot and purple, scrambling to get your bra and clothes on, eyes scanning the floor for your belongings. You pulled your socks on, searching for your panties. They’d seemingly disappeared. But due to Joels passive aggressive sighs outside, you decided they were a lost cause. Pulling your jeans up your legs without them. You felt dirty, your inner thighs still sticky and wet, his cum smeared across them. His coldness was causing you to do flips in your tummy. When you finally met him outside the cabin, he muttered something else under his breath and then began walking without a word.

You kept your eyes down to the ground, tail between your legs, walking in silence. You felt the tension in between you two. Like you’d upset him. Like you’d done something wrong. He didn’t dare look back at you, ignoring every noise you made, cursing every twig you stepped on reminding him you were there. And reminding him where he’d been. Reminding him of the touch of your soft skin, how small you felt in his arms, the way you were whimpering his name begging for him. He couldn’t bare it, knowing you were behind him, eyes distraught, the carpet swept from beneath you.

Your mind was elsewhere, trying to figure out where you’d messed up, what it was that was wrong. Everything had felt so right, so so good. What was it that you did that had angered him so much. You didn’t notice the branch within the leaves in front of you and you tripped slightly, falling forward, only to be caught by Joels strong hands. “Would you just watch what you’re doin’?” He bit, lip twitching, staring you directly in the eye, hands gripping onto your arms for a moment too long. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You swallowed, watching him turn around on his heel, shaking his head again, like you were asking something outlandish, “I mean.. was I… was I not very good? I know I don’t have much experience but-” You were fumbling over your words again, insecurity threatening to spill from your eyes, Joel freezing in front of you.

“What we did was wrong, no matter how good it felt, for both of us.” He spoke stiff, refusing to look you in the eye when he turned around, refusing to acknowledge that you were holding back tears. “It was wrong.” He lifted his hands in front of him, as if to signal “enough”.

“But-”

“No, no, thats it end of.” 

“You’re not even letting me-”

“Listen to me,” he stepped forward, now staring too directly in the eyes, inches from your face, steadying his breathing, “Last night should not have happened, It will not happen again and I’d appreciate you keepin’ it to yourself, it was a mistake, a lapse in judgment.” 

His words stung. Like falling on your palms on gravel as a kid. Quick and lingering. You tried your best to hid your quivering bottom lip. You didn’t know how to respond, you didn’t know if he’d even let you. You decided against it. He’d humiliated you enough, you weren’t about to cry in front of him too. 

You carried on the rest of the walk in silence. Like nothing had changed. Like you couldn’t still feel him dripping out of you. Like the ghost of your taste wasn’t still dancing on his tongue, on his lips. He could smell you all over him. 

When you finally got back to town, you parted ways, the awkwardness radiating off of the both of you as you were welcomed back. He made you feel sick. It was all so embarrassing. The way he wouldn’t even look at you. But why would he? You were just one great big lapse in judgment. The return to your small cabin was lonely and you had barely gotten to your front door when you finally allowed yourself to cry. You allowed yourself one glance back at Joel, who was entering his own home, already staring you down. You sobbed a little, shooting him a cold glare before slamming you door shut behind you, sliding down it with your hands in your hair.

Joel felt guilt rotting inside him. 

He entered his home alone, it was cold and he could still smell you all over him. 

He took one hard step at a time, ascending his stairs, his bed creaking beneath his weight as he sat down, sighing. 

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the white cotton panties, the little satin ribbon on the front crumbled and slightly undone. Lifting them to his nose, he inhaled, your scent filling his nostrils and his brain. The image of you playing on repeat behind his eyelids, like an old movie on a projector.

And with one hand holding your panties to his nose and mouth, eyes fixated on your bathroom window, he let his other one fist his cock out of his jeans, stroking it slowly.

Back to square one.

[hidden-poet]

Poison: part 2

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

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

Word count: 15,053

Part 1 here

Part 3 coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you”, he returned. 

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

Something about her asking about you made Coriolanus irritated. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Snow. Dovecote” Dean highbottom calls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lab exceeded coriolanus horrific expectations. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There was-”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet she reached her hand into the enclosure. 

“Clemmie!” Coriolanus grits. 

He is ignored to her own peril. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whole scene plays in his mind again and again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coriolanus?” you question. 

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

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

“Coriolanus, are you okay?” you question. 

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

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

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

“It’s not your fault’’, you console. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am fine” you say. 

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

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

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

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

“Arachne was not my friend”, he deflects. 

You never liked her which meant Coriolanus never liked her. 

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

He offered a kind smile that you did not return. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am”, you acknowledge. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, Coriolanus”, you amuse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He steadies her, looking around for possible strategies. 

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

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

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

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

Another loud explosion tore the roof down over them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus almost scowls hearing his voice. 

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

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

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

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

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

“The interviews”, Coriolanus guessed, still hazy. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Sejanus, turn the Tv to the interviews”. 

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

“Careful, Corio” Tigres directs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was additional stress Coriolanus could have lived without. 

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

Coriolanus squeezes your shoulders in comfort. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head ‘no’. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey”, he whispers in sympathy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t finish her sentence, too embarrassed. 

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s”, Coriolanus begins. 

“Complicated”, Lucy-Gray finishes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The feeling eased seeing you across the auditorium. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better”, Coriolanus dismisses. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coriolanus watches as you go with a heavy breath.

‘And they’re off!” Lucky announces. 

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

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

“What are you doing? Run” he groans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could only imagine the sobbing it would cause. 

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

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

The sound of the drone coming near broke her concentration. The water attached swung in the air as it flew too fast towards her. She rose, reaching out to catch it. 

Coriolanus almost laughed when it drove straight past her and smashed into the rocks. 

The night dragged on, but Coriolanus remained. Eyes glued to the screen in hope of a glance of Lucy-Gray. 

The camera stayed mainly above ground where the action was, but sometimes he got a dash at what Lucy-Gray was doing. 

She was still alive. Or at least was, ten minutes ago. 

The other mentors, and most of the audience had left as the night bled. 

Nothing had really happened for hours. A squabble or a chase here and there but most of the fight had left the tributes. 

“If only you could trap y/n as easily as you have trapped that poor girl”, Dean Highbottoms voice surprised Coriolanus.

“I’ve trapped her?”Coriolanus fought, “I didn’t create the Games”.

He saw Dean Highbottom flinch ever so slightly. If he hadn't been looking so intensely, he would have missed it. 

“No”, Highbottom concedes, “but you’ve fueled its continuance. You’ve turned dying children into spectacles , Mr Snow. Congratulations”.

Coriolanus ignores him, turning back to the screens. 

“Are you honestly hoping that winning the plinth prize will win you the girl?”, Dean Highbottom mocks. 

“I am hoping my hard work will pay off”, Coriolanus bites. 

“I saw you before with miss y/n, trying to stop her from leaving”. 

“I was trying to stop her from making a fool out of herself”.

“What do you want from that poor girl?”. 

Coriolanus knew there was no point in lying. Dean Highbottom had already figured out Coriolanus’ intentions. 

“Only whats best”, he answers. 

“Hm and you think winning the Plinth prize will help you decide what is best for her?”, Hightbom begins to laugh, his voice taking on a sing-songy tone, “Wake up mr Snow. Who do you think decides? Even if your songbird wins, I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you don’t see a single dime of that prize money’. 

Coriolanus turns back to Highbottom with his anger logged in his throat.

The older man smiles back. Coriolanus knew the man was trying to get him to slip up. But his aggravation won’t lose him the prize. If Highbottom wanted it, he would have to rip it from Coriolanus’s hands. 

Instead he turns back to the screen. Lucy-gray was still underground, feeding Jessup water. 

He could hear Dean Highbottom walking away which left him with a small victory. 

Coriolanus takes a deep breath, and sits straightener in his chair. 

It wasn’t over. Dean Highbottom wasn’t the only authority. When Coriolanus won, surely Dr Gaul would fight for him. The other teachers too. The star pupil robbed of the victory? Coriolanus would see to an up roar. 

At some point Coriolanus began to doze off. The late night and the slow turn of events left him the last one in the auditorium. The quietness of it all had his eyes shutting.

“Coriolanus?”. He heard your voice call. 

He ignores it ,sure it was a dream. But you tap his arm, and his eyes shoot open to see you standing in front of him. 

You were still in your school uniform, your hair slightly more messy than a couple of hours prior and you looked on the verge of tears. 

It panicked him greatly to see you in such a state. 

He reaches out, quickly taking your wrist in his hold. 

“Huh, what happened? Are you okay?”, he asks. 

“Has Sejanus been here?”, you quake. 

Coriolanus shakes his head ‘no’. 

He could have rolled his eyes. Of course, Sejanus was behind your tears once more. Coriolanus had never made you cry. 

“Why would he be here?”, Coriolanus asks. It seemed an unlikely place to visit while his old friend lay dead on several different screens.

Tears begin to roll down your cheeks causing Coriolanus to spring up, attempting to bring you in his arms. You push him away, keeping an arms length distance between you both. 

“I thought maybe he would come see you. We were sleeping and I woke up, and he was gone”, you explain with a shaky breath, “I don’t know where he could have went, Coriolanus. He’s not in a good place. I am worried-”

“Not in a good place, indeed” Dr Gauls voice booms through the open space. 

This time when Coriolanus touched you, he was given permission. He pulls you next to him to face Dr Gaul together. 

Dr Gaul was disinterested in the couple, taking the master remote and turning all the channels  to the same camera. 

“Sejanus!”, you gasp upon seeing your boyfriend knelt down next to his old friend in the arena. 

Your hand takes a hold of Coriolanus' arm in a tight grip. Your painted nails dig into his uniform jacket. 

“Breadcrumbs” Dr Gaul annotates while the room watches Sejanus spread the food over his friend, “I believe substance for a fallen comrade in his final journey. A district 2 superstition”. 

“How did he get in there?” you question, never once tearing your eyes from the screen. 

“I’ll work on finding the peacekeeper he bribed to let him in, and remove his tongue”, Dr Gual snarls, “in the meantime I need you to get him out right now”. 

Dr Gaul looked directly at you which spiked Coriolanus heart rate, 

“You should send Peacekeepers in”, he demanded. There was no way you were joining Sejanus in the arena. 

“Only to have him bolt and hide like a rabbit?”, Dr Gaul retorts. “Fleix Ravenstill is fighting for his life in a hospital bed, Mr Snow. I will not have these rebels make a further mockery of my games. Anyone sees us lose control of this arena, it might as well be sounding a horn to the districts to revolt!”. 

Dr Gaul takes a breath, trying to regain the composure lost. She turns her sight back on you, who had dropped Coriolanus' arm during her speech. 

You stood brave, staring straight back at her with discontempt. 

“You choose to be lovers with the radical. Don’t you want him out?”, Dr Gaul gages you. 

Coriolanus steps forward trying to take Dr Gauls attention away from you. 

‘‘Sending her into the arena will get her killed. It’ll look a lot worse if the tributes kill two Capitol students”, Coriolanus justifies. 

“A volunteer then?”,Dr Gual pushes.

“I’ll go”, You say too quickly, “I can get him out”.

“I’ll go”, Coriolanus declares. 

The mere thought of you in the arena left a sick feeling in his stomach. He wouldn’t watch helplessly on the other side of the screen while you risked your life for Sejanus. 

He couldn’t believe Sejanus had put you in this position. Coriolanus’s every move was calculated with you in mind. 

It was pure luck that you had chosen to seek Coriolanus out. If you hadn’t he would have woken the next morning to see you dead in the arena next to Sejanus. 

He would go into the arena to save Sejanus if it meant saving you. 

“No!” you protested, once again grabbing hold of Coriolanus arm to pull him back. 

He turns to you with a look of irritation on his face. 

“What chance do you think you stand if one of the tributes decide to attack? I am stronger, faster”, Coriolanus explained. He hated being irritated at you, but you wouldn’t see sense, “I’ll get him out, y/n. I promise”. 

“Unless you are both secretly hoping he’ll die in that arena, we need to move fast”, Dr Gaul utters.

Her expression had changed from one of anger to quiet amusement, but she had not forgotten the task at hand. 

She turns, expecting the children to follow her as she talks. Coriolanus follows suit, leading you as you wrap yourself around his arm. 

He would have shaken you off. You had no place being even near the arena, let alone outside of its gates, but he loved the way you clung to him. 

Your tight hold told him you would fight if he tried to leave you. Really it was the way you should be holding him. Not just now, in a state of emergency. 

“I’ll freeze the feed for one hour”, Dr Gaul says as she moves out of the school, “I expect thats all the time we have until someone notices”. 

A Peacekeeper van is waiting down the steps of the school. Dr Gaul jumps in, leaving the back of the van open for the children. 

Coriolanus helps you up into the back of the van before lifting himself up behind you. The doors are closed shut as he enters, and the van takes off before he is fully sat next to you.

You are unusually quiet. Coriolanus could tell you were scared from the way you sat. Arms crossed across your chest, looking straight ahead of you with a glazed look. 

Coriolanus places a hand on your knee in comfort but you don’t seem to register it. 

He tries not to mind Dr Gauls' searing stare from the other bench. He focuses on you and your state of worry. 

You begin to chew your lip absentmindedly. He wanted to pull it from between your teeth to get you to stop, but the van lurched forward as it stopped. 

The drive wasn’t long, but the peacekeeper sped to it anyway. 

As the doors are pulled open, Coriolanus takes a deep breath. There was no guarantee that he wouldn't be beaten to death by a tribute trying to save a man he loathed. 

Grandma’am and Tigres wouldn’t survive without him, but if he died, he would at least make sure Sejanus died along with him. 

If he couldn't have you, Sejanus definitely couldn’t. 

“Lets go, Mr Snow”, Dr Gual urges. 

She jumps out first. Coriolanus could hear her directing the Peacekeepers on what was about to happen. 

You rise with Coriolanus. But He doesn’t allow you to get to the door as he does. 

He jumps down and spins, placing his hand on the doors and bringing them closer together. 

"Stay in the van”, he orders. 

Surely, even on the off chance that a tribute managed to get through the gates, you would be safe in a locked van. 

You nod your head in understanding, trying to ease his worry. 

It doesn’t work but he appreciates it anyway. 

He smiles up at you, taking the time to have a good look at you in case it was his last time. 

With the doors shut on you, he could focus more clearly. He wasn’t going to die in that arena. He wasn’t going to die by a district hand. 

He was going to get out alive. You were going to wake up to yourself and realise that you had been hopelessly in love with Coriolanus this whole time. 

The gates are unlocked and he feels his confidence waver. Nevertheless, he persits with his mission and with a careful step he enters the arena. 

It’s dark and quiet. The moonlight does little to help. A tribute could jump out at any time and Coriolanus would never see them coming. 

He was cautious to make any sounds,  stepping softly on the fragmented rocks. 

The gate makes it stupid welcome message as he passes through it under the belief the game makers would have been smart enough to disable it. 

His breath gets caught in his throat while waiting to see who it attracts. He doesn’t move. 

He feels the blood rush to his ears, and his body ready itself to fight. No one comes. 

Coriolanus’s eyes scan the room for whatever movement he could pick up on. It seemed there was none. 

With a shaky breath he attempts to continue on, when his heightened ears pick up on a scuffle behind him. 

He spins quickly, ready to dodge an attack. He wished it had been a tribute, and not you trying to climb over the turn stalls. 

On its own accord, his face scrunches in anger. His footsteps are louder than he liked as he stormed over to you. 

He takes your hips into what he was sure was a painful hold, and looks past you to see they had already locked the gate. You were now trapped in here with angry Tributes with nothing to lose. 

Previously, he had never thought it possible to be angry with you. Now he wanted to scream in your face until you cried. 

He helps you down, softly to the ground, and catches your hand harshly in his. 

“You’re an idiot”, he whispers, “Stay close”. 

He squeezes your fingers into the palm of his hand, but you make no complaint as you follow him into the arena. 

Coriolanus felt his anxiety and senses heightened. He could faintly see Sejanus in the moonlight still knelt on the ground next to Marcus. 

He felt you pull against his hold as you near Sejanus, but he refuses to let you go an inch. 

If there was a tribute lurking he wanted to know where you were. 

“Sejanus”, you whisper when you are within earshot. 

He spins straight away upon hearing you. The panic he should have had all along, comes crashing all at once. He looked like a man who had seen a ghost as he rose from the floor. 

‘What are you doing here?”, he questions in a strained, soft voice. 

Sejanus takes your arms in his hands. Coriolanus wanted to yank you out of his hold, but a squabble would cause unnecessary attention. 

“Get her out of here, Coryo”, Sejanus demands.

“I would like to. Believe me”, Coriolanus scolds. His eyes darted around the room, ensuring that all was still unnoticed. 

“I am not leaving without you”, with your free hand you reach out to take a fist full of Sejanus shirt. 

“I have to do this” Sejanus justifies, “I have to go where the cameras are”. 

“You think anyone is watching this?” Coriolanus spat, taking a step closer to the couple, “Gaul cut the feed. Tributes kill you in here, she’s just going to say you died from the flu”. 

“They won’t kill me”, Sejanus vows. 

“Yes they will!” you reproach. 

Maybe there was hope for you, Coriolanus thinks, Maybe Sejanus hadn’t brainwashed you fully. 

The moonlight as it bounces off Lamina’s axe catches Coriolanus’s eye, and the safety net had now disappeared. She wouldn’t attack, but she could draw attention at any time. 

“You need to decide right now”, Coriolanus demands, he breaks Sejanus' hold on you in case you need to run, and focuses Sejanus attention on himself, “do you want to fight these tributes or fight for them? Because if you want to make real change, you need to stay alive”. 

“How can I make any change from out there?”, Sejanus discredits his power. 

He was not worthy of his power if he had no brains on how to use it. 

“You’re rich, smart. You care. You stood up to Gaul in that class, didn’t you? Spend your fathers money, do some real good”, a clash of the metal resounds in the arena. More would wake from the noise, and the group wouldn’t stand a chance. 

“We’re dead. Y/n’s dead if we don’t leave right now”, Coriolanus reprimand, “Come with us, or just be another body in Gaul’s war”. 

He knew he would have to fight to get you to leave Sejanus. But he was only allowing a few more seconds before he raced you to the exit. 

Worried that you would get yourself killed in the struggle to save Sejanus, Coriolanus turns to begging as a last resort. 

Placing a hand on Sejanus' shoulder, he brings the delusional boy closer. 

“Please, Sejanus. We’re friends. Trust me”, Coriolanus pleaded. 

You tug on Sejanus' shirt to move, “Come” you implore. 

His large, dirty palm goes over your hand, “Alright”, he whispers. 

The attack came at the perfect time. Coriolanus heard the shuffling of the boys shoes giving him time to pull you back towards the exit, before the war cry resounded through the arena. 

“Go, Run!” he demands, pushing you ahead of him. 

You sprint as fast as you can across the broken floor. Coriolanus caught up easily, pushing you forward urging you to move faster.  

Sejanus lagged behind, choosing to look at the fast approaching tribute. 

“Go! Go!” Coriolanus yells at you when you turn around to see where Sejanus was. 

You don’t look back again, until you reach the turn stalls. 

Coriolanus jumps over with ease, turning back to help you over. You stumble as your foot gets stuck on the rusty metal turn, and Coriolanus drags you over it as fast as he could. 

His hand takes a hold of yours once more as Sejanus approaches the stand with the tribute hot on his heels. 

He runs forward with you, eager to get you to safety beyond the gates. 

Sejanus screams as he stumbles over the hard metal and you halt your quick pace to safety. 

You call for him, trying to tug your hand out of Coriolanus’s. He resists, trying to get you to leave Sejanus.

Coriolanus promises to go back for him once you were beyond the gates but you wouldn’t have it. 

He drops your hand, rathering his own life to be in danger for Sejanus than yours. 

Coriolanus reaches Sejanus quicker than you do, and yanks him off the ground. 

‘Come on, get up!”Sejanus tries to regain his feet but his knee refuses to take any weight, “y/n, get to the gate!”, Coriolanus commands. 

You don’t turn, running towards Sejanus instead of away. You take his other arm over your shoulder, trying to assist Coriolanus. 

The screaming of the tribute came closer, and before Coriolanus could move, the sharp edge of a blade hacked into his shoulder. It was a far swing from the tribute but with enough force to split skin. 

He drops Sejanus to dodge the next attack. You fall into the wall, unable to support Sejanus by yourself.

The tribute now closer, stalks over to you with his sword held high. Sejanus tries a feeble attempt to shield you, but Coriolanus takes hold of a metal ruin that was stuck between cement, determined that not one hair on your head would be touched. 

He scrambles off the ground and swings the cement at the tribute with a loud scream. 

The young boy stumbles off balance, but readies himself again. He swung back with the blade which Coriolanus narrowly missed before bringing the cement down across the boy's head. 

It lands him on the ground, but Coriolanus doesn’t stop there, bringing it down once more on the boy who threatened his girl 

“Coriolanus!” you call to him. More tributes were coming out of the shadows. 

He drops his weapon, going back over to you to help lift the weight of Sejanus. 

Sejanus pushes through the pain to quicken the pace of the shuffle, but comotion had inlived  the most dangerous pack. Corals groups hooped and hollered as they approached.  

“Y/n, open the gate!”, Coriolanus demands, wanting you to be first out. 

Sejanus drops his arm from your shoulder, and you take the permission to take off ahead and bang on the gate until it opens. 

Coriolanus could hear the tributes as they run. They weren’t far off. He wasn’t sure they would even make it to the gate in time, but you would and that’s what matters. 

You push yourself out with the gate as it opens, turning back to look at the boys with wide, fearful eyes. 

Coriolanus pushes himself to be faster, taking nearly all of Sejanus' weight onto him. 

They make it just in time, and fall to a heap on the floor next to Peacekeepers boots. 

Corioanus pushes Sejanus off him. His hand reaches for his shoulder that now weeped blood. 

He groans as he feels the ache of the gash, next to his still searing burn mark.

He is distracted momentarily when Coral reaches the gate, and throws her spear into it. 

“Keep your eyes on the screen, gorgeous”, she taunts Coriolaus, throwing her head in the direction of you, “ I may have missed her tonight, but your songbirds next on my list”. 

The Peacekeepers demand that her group get back and the tributes disappear back into the dark tunnel.

He had followed Corals gaze to you on the floor. Your tears run down your cheeks now that the adrenaline is gone. 

Coriolanus moves to get you off the floor and into his arms, but you move as he does, and crawl across the floor to where Sejanus lay. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and sob into him. 

“I am okay”, he promises. His large hand rubs soothing circles on your back. 

You pull back in anger and begin hitting his chest as you speak. 

“How could you?”, you reprimand, “how could you do that?”.

“I am sorry, I had to do something”. Sejanus winces as he tries to sit up. His knee no doubt, completely ruined. 

“You could have been killed”, you cry with a push against his attempted hold. 

Was this the end of the bleeding heart couple? Coriolanus felt a spark of joy, watching as you fought. 

“Coriolanus could have died!”, as if you had forgotten about him you now turn to him, ‘Oh, Coriolanus”, you cry, “Are you okay?”. 

Coriolanus hand went back to his shoulder, feeling the wet patch of blood soak through his school jacket. He had no other uniform, even Tigres wouldn't be able to fix it. 

“Coryo, I am so sorry”, Sejanus apologies. It meant nothing to Coriolanus who ignored him. 

A car screeches to a stop and two car doors slam. 

The car is sleek and expensive with its own full time driver waiting with the lights on. 

Next to it stood Ma and Mr Plinth, who were well dressed as always. 

Ma was crying, but Mr Plinth stood stoic and angry. 

He gave Coriolanus a thankful nod but remained far away expecting his son to come to him. 

Ma runs over to her baby, wrapping herself around her sons head. 

Coriolanus takes the opportunity to move closer to you. You stand upon seeing him approach. 

“Are you alright?’, he questioned. 

You reach up, taking his neck and bringing him down into a hug. He gratefully goes, never expecting a hug before the relationship began. 

“Thank you, Coriolanus. I would have died in there”, you muttered. 

The hug is too short, before he is ready you are pulling away to look at his shoulder. 

“Coriolanus needs help!’, you announce, “Somebody needs to take him to the hospital!”. 

“Come with me”, he begs you.

“Don’t worry, Miss y/n. I’ll take care of our hero here”, Dr Gaul inserts herself where she is not wanted once more. She looked amused at Coriolanus’s physical and emotional pain. 

“Y/n, baby”, Sejanus calls to you. The driver had left the car to assist Sejanus while his father looks on. 

Coriolanus reluctantly lets go as you move to the sound of your name. 

“You’ll look after him?”, you question Dr Gaul. Coriolanus wanted to beg you not to believe her. 

“He’ll be good as new. You have my word”, Dr Gaul promises. 

He shutters as you move further back. 

Mr Plinth does not cross for his son, but he crosses to come collect you. 

He wraps an arm around your shoulder to lead you to the car. 

You look back at Coriolanus as you are led. Taking one final glance before entering the car with Sejanus. 

Coriolanus watches as the car takes off. He wondered if you had your arms wrapped around Sejanus in the back. 

He decides it is best not to submit his body to further stress and pushes it out of his mind. The walk home would help him clear his head, and focus only on the positives of the night. You relied on him tonight. Even acknowledged that he had saved your life. That was a step in the right direction. 

“And where do you think you are going, Mr Snow”, Dr Gaul calls out after him. 

“Home”, he announces over his good shoulder. 

‘And make a liar out of me?” she walks in the opposite direction towards the Peacekeeper van, “Come”. 

The ride back is silent. The same hurry to get there was not offered on the way back. Coriolanus shoulder ached, the blood would not stop pouring, sticking his shirt to his back and irritating his wound. 

Dr gaul doesn’t speak again until they are back in her lab. 

He couldn’t believe she had taken him back to her experimental freak show instead of a hospital. But he was in pain and in need of medical care so he didn’t verbalize his complaints.

“How did it feel?” she asks as she readies her station for him, “when you killed the boy to save y/n?”. 

He should have known she was watching. 

‘I didn’t have a choice”, he spat as he unbuttoned his shirt and took a seat in front of her. 

She laughs at him as she begins her first stitch. 

“All your fine manners, education, background, stripped away in a blink of an eye. Fueled with the terror of becoming prey, how fast we become predators".

Coriolanus lets out a shaky breath as the adrenaline dies down and the needle stitches him together. 

“Who would have thought that one day Crassus Snow’s boy would be fighting for his life in the area over a girl?”, he feels her stop stitching while she waits for the answer to her next question, “That's why you did it no? It wasn’t until news of her involvement that you volunteered. Or did you still wish to proceed with the guise of friendship?”

“Sejanus is not my friend”, Coriolanus declares. 

Her needle work began again, pleased with his answer. 

“You want to protect y/n, Mr Snow? Then it’s essential that you accept what human beings are, and what it takes to control them”. 

He feels her knot the thread into his skin

“So I’ll ask you again, when you beat that boy to death with a club, how did it feel?”. 

“It felt”, Coriolanus breathed, wondering if he should give the honest answer. Deciding he had nothing to lose from it, he answers. 

“It felt powerful”.

“Answer this next one honestly and you won’t have to walk home”, Dr Gaul teases, “Were you hoping that Sejanus died tonight?”

“Yes”, Coriolanus croaks. His own tears welling in his eyes. He refuses to let any more than two fall, which are wiped away harshly. 

“How did it feel to have her life in your hands tonight?”, Dr Gaul pushes. 

Coriolanus nods, unable to form words. 

A hand is placed on his good shoulder. She squeezes to let him know the sincerity of her words. 

“People will do anything to survive, Mr Snow. It doesn’t matter how miserable of an existence it is”. 

Coriolanus thinks to his bare apartment, and cinder block bed. It was true, and he was living proof. 

Survival meant hope. 

He closes his eyes, feeling more tears forming and remembers how malleable you were tonight. You trusted him wholly with your survival, and with that came power over you. 

Lucy-Gray was the same. Tonight you showed him the same loyalty, and respect that you had denied him previously. 

Lucy-Gray had tried to kiss him, and you melded your body to him when you could. He was sure if you were alone, you would have kissed him for saving your life. 

If only he could trap you as easily as Lucy-gray. Keep you in a state of panic that rendered you totally dependent on him. 

He lets out a low, breathy laugh, remembering Dean Highbottoms words. 

Maybe the old man could see more than Coriolanus would like. 

Despite the pain in his shoulder and his little sleep, Coriolanus arrived back at the auditorium bright and early.

Lucy-Gray was still alive. He could see her sleeping against a pole next to Jessup. 

The dead tribute was noticed, but soon forgotten. Only Lysistrata pushed to know more, but she too dropped the subject as the tributes began to wake and fight. 

There were ten tributes left. Not an impossible task for Lucy-Gray to outlive them all. 

He kept careful watch of the screens.  While the rest of the mentors took lunch, and socialized, Coriolanus sat with his head in his hand, hoping for a split second of screen time that told him Lucy-Gray was okay. 

“Coriolanus!”. Your voice shocked him as it appeared. 

He stood to greet you. It was a welcomed but unexpected visit. The games were announced a public holiday, you had no obligation to be at school. 

He would have thought after last night that you would be glued to Sejanus’s side. Was this the beginning of the end? 

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”, he questioned. 

In the daylight he could see a bruise on your temple from when toppled into the wall, under Sejanus. He reaches out to run his finger across the black spot, and you hit his hand away. 

“What are you doing here?”, you push back with a hard tone “I went to your house to check on you, but Tigres said you were here?”. 

Coriolanus felt his body twitch at your words. You went to his run down apartment? How much did you see? Surely, Tigres shielded his shame. Your eyes didn’t carry pity, maybe you didn’t know. 

“Don’t you ever go to my apartment without my permission again”, he scolded. 

That was close. Too close. He was days from getting the plinth prize. Days from burying his decade long shame. 

You seemed drawn back at his harsh tone. He had never spoken to you unkindly before. 

In an effort to ease the mood once more, before you left, he threw his hands up as if it wasn’t a big deal. 

“My Grandmother has severe social anxiety. We can’t have unexpected visitors”, he lies with a soft and airy tone. 

“Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t know”, you offer. 

Coriolanus tuts, bringing his hand up once more to brush the hair off your bruise. 

“You shouldn’t have been in there”, he complains. 

The bruise looked painful. He was sure it would cause you a headache. You should be resting with ice upon it, not here talking to him. 

“No one should be in there”, you return. 

His hand is pushed away again, but he attributes it being too soft to touch, rather than disdain for him touching you. 

"Thank you for checking on me”, he says. 

“You shouldn’t be here, Coriolanus. Not after last night”. 

“Lucy-Gray needs me”, he observes.

Your eyes flick to the screen behind him, before back to Coriolanus’s eyes and nod in agreement.

“Sejanus is in the hospital. They have him on morphline. His knee will never work fully, but he is alive and that's because of you”, you proclaim, “Lucy-Gray is fortunate to have you looking out for her. We all are”. 

His heart flutters. ‘We all are’, yes! Yes! You were lucky to have him looking out for you. Have you finally come to appreciate all he does for you?

He smiles down at you. If his shoulder didn’t ache, he would have reached out for you. 

“If there’s anything I can do”, you offer.

“There is!” He responds too quickly. 

He clears his throat, trying to conceal his eagerness. 

“There is”, repeats more even toned, “You could stay. I could use the support”. 

You looked unsure of the request, but he had saved your life just hours prior, so you felt an obligation to do as he asked. 

“Sure, Coriolanus”, you finally say, although you still looked unsure, “I can stay for a little bit”. 

He could barely breathe. The “great” he manages to get out is hardly above a whisper. 

He leads you to the front bench just in front of the first row of mentor chairs.

You sit obediently and he takes his new seat in front of you.

The tributes have become more lively. Coral was on the hunt for Lucy-Gray trying to convince one of her group members to go down and flush her out. 

None would so they go back to making traps to catch Reaper. 

Coriolanus reaches his hand back to you, trying to see how far his luck would take him. 

You do take his hand into your own, but only for the time it took to give him three encouraging pats to the back of his hand. 

It was close enough. Leaving Coriolanus with a feeling of satisfaction. 

The feeling stayed for less than a second. His good mood disappeared when the camera flew back to Lucy-Gray underground. 

Jessup was getting agitated. Yelling at Lucy-Gray and twitching uncontrollably. 

“What’s he doing?”Coriolanus jumps out of his chair and moves closer to the screens. 

“They’re friends. He wouldn’t hurt her”, you comment, coming up beside him. 

“Somethings wrong”, Lysistrata agrees, “He wouldn’t turn on her like this”.

Lucy-Gray makes a mad dash away which only further angers Jessup, determined that he had done something. 

Coriolanus watches in panic. Lucy-gray couldn't defend herself. She would never hurt Jessup, even in his mad state. 

“Go to the stands, go to the stands!”, he directs. 

Lucy-gray does go to the stands, climbing up as fast as she could but Jessup was determined to catch her. 

Coriolanus couldn’t watch. He turns and paces, trying to figure out a way to save Lucy-Gray. 

It couldn’t be over. You had only just come around, he needed more time.

The camera zooms in on Jessup allowing full view of the white form dripping down his lips. 

‘Wait, look”, he tells you. 

Your hand balls at your mouth. He hated to see you so frightened yet again. 

As soon as this was all over, he would ensure nothing would ever worry you again. 

“I think it rabies," he announces. 

He could have danced. There was a way out of this mess. The game wasn’t over yet. 

“That bite from the train”, Lysistrata deducts. 

“Send him water”. He demands of Lysistrata. 

“What? No”, she denines. 

He leans across her desk so she is forced to look at him. He was half tempted to just take control of her computer himself. 

“You remember the posters from the war. Rabies. It makes you scared of water. Send him a drone”, he demanded. 

“That’ll scare him”. 

He knew Livy had come to care for Jessup

“Yes” Coriolanus agrees in a hard tone, “away from her”. 

Lysistrata still looked in denial. There was no other option, both their tributes didn’t have to die. 

“Jessup is done”, he says with haste, “Livy, you’re the only one that can get it right to him”. 

Coming to grips with reality, Livy does as she is told, sending a water drone in the direction of Jessup. 

“Thank you”, Coriolanus feels better watching the drone fly in. 

“Nothing to be proud of”, Livy mutters. 

As planned, the drone smashes into him just as he reaches Lucy-gray. 

He hears you gasp as Jessup falls to his death and hits the bottom with a heavy thud. 

He turns to see you still with your hand pressed tightly against your mouth, and eyes squeezed shut. 

The sight makes him feel horrible that he had asked you to stay. 

You were on the side of his sore shoulder so he had to reach across with his good hand to touch you. 

“Coryo”, Livy called as Carol’s group came out of hiding. 

The hand on you balls watching as Corals group surrounds Lucy-gray. 

“Oh no”, he complains. 

He needed to make a distraction, so she could run and hide. He couldn’t just stand and watch. But the only thing he could do was send food and water in on badly operated drones. 

The same badly operated drones that just took Jessup out. 

He reaches for his communipad, and selects as many bottles of water as it would let him. 

He didn’t need to kill the group. Only give Lucy-Gray a chance to get away

The drones go flying in. He hoped Lucy-Gray wouldn’t give the surprise away, but she managed to keep her cool until it was time to duck. 

“Hey! You can’t attack the tributes” a fellow mentor complained. 

“I am just sending water”, Coriolanus jeered. 

He could hear your chuckle of approval behind him. You reach out to his good shoulder and murmur in his ear. 

“Good work”, you encouraged. 

He wished he could have stayed in the moment but it wasn’t over yet. Lucy-gray disappears into the dust, taking with her a bottle of water. 

She hides in the shelter of the ruin and he can faintly see her take something from her dress pocket. 

No there, he wanted to say. What if someone saw her poison the water and he was disquailified. 

He looks around the room to check no one else is noticing. All eyes seemed to be on the group turning against Lamina. 

Lucy-Gray ducks back out with the water, placing it back on the ground before emptying the others collected. It wasn’t a bad idea. 

Lamina's death stopped the clock and the attention was once more turned back to Lucy-gray. 

“Go” you mutter, flicking your hands out as if she could see. 

Lucy-Gray takes off with Coral and her group chasing her back up the stands. She finds an air duct and dives to close it in time. 

Coral catches it before it fully closes and it begins a tug of war against the two. 

“No, No”, you complain. 

He wanted to shield your eyes from the screen. With every inch Coral got, Lucy-Gray found the strength to tug it back. 

When it finally closes, sealing Lucy-gray in safety, Coriolanus lets out  a sigh of relief. 

“She’s Okay” he says to you. 

Coral takes out another tribute over a squabble over the water, and Dill drinks the poisoned water. 

So that was three dead tributes in less than 20 minutes. With this pace Coriolanus would be announced winner before the night ended. 

He sat you back down on your seat, and retook his in front of you. Your fingers cling to the bench underneath you, and your posture is tight and unnatural. 

He expects you to leave him, but you remain watching as Reaper collects the fallen tributes into a neat line and draps the Panam flag over him. 

“Are you going to punish me now?” reaper yells to the cameras. 

He begins to scream again but his words are cut off by a broadcast from Dr Gaul. 

“Capitol Citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our games to announce a tragic loss. Fleix Ravienstill, son of our beloved president, has this morning succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing.Out there, in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boys death. I will not allow my games to give our enemies such a victory. I swear to you here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these games”. 

The broadcast ends, and the tributes go back on screen. 

“What?” you spit, “What does she mean no victor? That's not fair. She can't do that”. 

You rise from your outrage, ranting to Coriolanus. Your anxiety has been taken over by your anger. Coriolanus agreed it was not fair. All his hard work gone down the drain because of the death of Felix,  who was never going to amount to anything anyway. 

A rainbow of destruction. The snakes. There was no way he could protect lucy-Gray from them. 

He would need something with her scent. Could he get the string of her guitar that she played in the interviews? He didn’t even know where it was. By the time he found it, the Games were sure to be over. 

Maybe, he could go to the zoo. Toss as many things as he could into the snake pit and hope one of them was hers? It might mean the survival of everyone but her too. 

The zoo, he remembers. He digs into his breast pocket to pull out the handkerchief he used to wipe her tears away. If the sweat of his palm can keep him safe against the snakes, then surely her fresh tears dried on the handkerchief could. 

He had to get it to the lab before it was too late.

He grabs your forearms and turns you away from the screen to him so he had your full attention. 

“Stay here, okay. I’ll be right back”. He commands. 

“Where are you going?”, you ask astounded that he could be leaving after such news. 

“Just stay here. Don’t move”, he reiterated. 

You nod sensing his urgency and he dashes out of the auditorium into the empty hallway. 

He knew he couldn’t walk into Dr Guals lab without a reason, and begging for Lucy-Grays life wasn’t a good one. 

As he jogs down the steps, he claws at the stitches in his back, reopening the wound. 

He groans from the pain but ensures all eight stitches have torn open. 

His body is weak as he sprints to Dr gauls lab. It barely gets him through the front door, where he demands to see Dr gaul. 

As if she was expecting him, the Peacekeeper lets him directly through. 

“Come to beg for her life?” Dr gaul asks uninterested. 

“No” Coriolanus puffs, “No, my stitches. They came loose. I didn’t want the doctors asking questions”.

She looks at him suspiciously but relents, going to her work table. 

“Come, pull down your shirt”, she directs. 

He walks past a row of black birds locked in cages. Her newest toys. 

“The news must have shocked you Mr Snow. With no tributes, no victor, with no victor, no girl”. 

Coriolanus faces the birds as Dr Gaul stitches the needle into his shoulder. He eyes the large snake tank in the corner and the people who ready it for transport. 

“Y/n’s actually at the auditorium. She came to support me. She’s the one who noticed the stitches”, Coriolanus lies. 

“Support you and not her boyfriend in hospital? Things are looking promising”, she says. 

"Looking promising, looking promising” her voice echoes across the room. Seemingly from the mouth of the birds. 

She sighs and stops stitching to click a receiver. 

“Jabberjays”, she explained, “We sent them out during the war to pick up rebel conversations. A failed experiment. They only pick up useless phrases unless manually operated. I am collecting them to see what better purpose they serve”. 

Coriolanus remains quiet trying to figure out how he could reach the cage before it was too late. 

The needle knots in his back, a feeling Coriolanus had come to know to mean that the stitching was done. 

“I’ll see you and your girl back in the auditorium for the finale, Mr Snow”, Dr Gaul dismisses, “you should be proud of yourself. Your songbird put on a wonderful show, and you didn’t need money to steal the girl after all”. 

Coriolanus quickly buttons up his shirt, watching as the cage was wheeled out. 

“Thank you, Dr Gaul”, he says. 

He races to catch up to the assistants wheeling the cage, pretending to be following them out. 

They don’t see him as a threat so pay him no mind. He falls back as they take a hallway just off the exit, and watches as they leave the cage out for an airlift. 

He stays hidden behind a pole until it was time. Leaving his jacket to keep the door wedged open. With their back turned, he dashes out to cage. The snakes are upset when he slams into the large cage, beginning to move and fight with each other. 

He finds an air hole large enough and stuffs the handkerchief in. it moves along the bodies of the snakes until Coriolanus could no longer see the white in between the rainbow. 

When the harness is lowered, Coriolanus makes a run back to the door, taking his jacket and making his own exit from the Citadel. 

He pays for the taxi this time. Sure that his body couldn’t take anymore strain. 

It cost him his fathers watch, but he arrived back in the auditorium before the entrance of the snakes. 

“What happened?” he quizzes you, taking a hold of your arm, “Lucy-gray is she okay?”. 

You point to the screen where Coral and Treech poke and prod a vent. 

“She’s in there”, you address with horror in your voice. 

Treech points up and Coral takes his palace directly under the vent. 

Blocking the camera, Treech begins to sway of balance and nose begins leek small amounts of blood. 

“Wait, what's wrong with Treech?” his mentor asks. 

Corilanious was worried about his own tribute, who was three lucky strikes away from being impaled. 

Coral hits the metal too many times and the vent collapses on top of her. 

Coriolanus' hand latches out to yours, which you accept with the same nervous tension in your fingers. 

“Run, run” Coriolanus begs. 

She runs back into the arena. Not the safest place with reaper still sitting by the dead tributes. 

Coral chases after her, too slow to catch up. 

The whole arena stops when the chopper lowers in the cage. 

“Please work”, Coriolanus whispers. 

“What is that?” you ask. 

“Wouldn’t it be fun if it was candy?” Lucy Flickerman answers you. 

Coriolanus feels your hand tense in his, then open in surprise when the glass cage cracks and the snakes fly out. 

“Not candy!” Lucky Flickerman announces as three tributes are overtaken in rainbow. 

The Snakes chase the last two tribute who head to the stands for higher ground. 

“Lucy-Gray, please” Coral begs. The snakes lash at her heels as she tries to drag herself up the stands, “Please it couldn’t have all be for nothing”.

It was. More snakes latch on and Coral dies with two loud screams. 

“Now all colors lead to Gray” Lucy Flickerman narrates. 

The snakes slither up and around Lucy-Gray but none bite her. 

Coriolanus lets out an unbelievable scoff. 

‘She’s..She’s won” he says watching as the snakes continue to follow Lucy-Gray. He had won. The 10th annual victor. She was last standing, even Dean Highbottom couldn’t contest his win.

“It’a over. She won”, he says in a louder voice. Why was no one doing anything to stop the snakes, “Let her out!”

“Afraid that’s not your call to make, mr Snow”, Lucky insists. 

He turns to the audience. Dr Gaul had come to see the final show. She sat high up in the breeches and must of come in when Coriolanus was distracted. 

He drops your hand so he could turn and face her. She stared back with the same hateful and curious gaze. She knew what he had done. 

But if she squealed on him, he would return the favor. 

Your hands fly up to your face once more when Lucy-gray begins to sing. Tears pour from your eyes watching the young girl sing her last song. 

Looking to get away from the camera that played on your pain, you pushed your way to the back.  

“Dr gaul. She’s won”, Coriolanus yells, “It’s over let her out”. 

“Why aren’t they attacking her?” Festus asks. 

Dr Gual raises her eyebrows at him in a mocking fashion. 

“It must be the signing. It’s calming them”, he deceives. 

“She can’t sing forever”, Festus comments bitterly. 

She just needs to sing long enough for Coriolanus to figure out a way to get her out. 

“Dr Gaul, please”, Coriolanus tries, “Get her out”. 

He could see the audience engrossed in the scene. He just needed to figure out how to turn it against Dr Gaul. 

“Get her out!”, you yell across the room, following Coriolanus stare to Dr gaul. 

Her eyes flick to you and you scream at her once more to release Lucy-gray. 

Others join, chanting in protest. 

“Who will watch the games if there is no victor?” he threatens. 

Dr Gaul raises her hand to silence the audience, before turning to her assistant. 

“Get her out”, she says loud enough for everyone to hear. 

A cheer erupts the auditorium and Dr gaul wades herself through it to the silence of the hallway. 

“She’s won! Lucy-Gray! Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the tenth annual Hunger games!” Lucky announces. 

People rush from the stands to swarm him. Offering him congratulations and applause. 

It all felt real now. He had done it. The plinth prize, you, were all his now. 

He pushes to the crowd to get to where you stood in front of the bleaches. 

You were smiling and clapping. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely for him, or if you were just glad Lucy-gray would live. 

You looked beautiful and for once Sejanus was nowhere by your side. In this moment, you were entirely his. 

You treated you as such, taking your face between his hands and stilling you for a kiss. 

His lips smashed against you, his teeth nipped at the skin of your bottom lip asking you to part them for him. 

You don’t pull away at first, but his lips are on you for less than ten seconds before you are shoving against his sore shoulder. 

He is forced to drop his hand upon the impact. His shoulder ached from pain of being moved, and on reflux he lowered his arm to ease it. 

Coriolanus could tell by the look on your face, you did not enjoy the kiss. Did he come on too strong? Did he accidently hit your bruise when he kissed you?

He opened his mouth to apologize for the above, but you took off before he could catch you. 

It was impossible to follow you through the crowd of people. People would not part to let him through. 

Some jeered at him for being pushed away but most still rode his victory wave. 

Had he made a mistake? Where you not ready to leave Sejanus for him yet?

You had no right to reject him. He had won. Saved your life. Risked his own. 

Coriolanus took a seat while the crowd surrounded him, and then disappeared. He stayed there until he was summoned by a peacekeeper much later. 

He figured he was to see his victor before they sent her back home. The Peacekeeper led him to a chamber, but Lucy-Gray was nowhere to be seen. 

“Lucy-Gray?” he called, “Lucy-Gray?”. 

He sees a table in the middle of the room with his fathers handkerchief and his mother compact. 

“To think, Mr Snow, you almost had it all” Dean Highbottom's voice taunts him. 

“Where’s Lucy-Gray?”Coriolanus demanded. Had they hurt her for Coriolanus’s mistake?

“I would be more worried about yourself” Highbottom answered, stalking towards him. 

“First y/n rejects you and now the prize money slips through your fingers”, Highbottom torments, “it’s fitting that both your parents could be here for your big moment”. 

He gestures to the items on the table in front of Coriolanus. 

“That compact, how many times did I see your mother use it? Come now, we both know that child from eleven didn’t die of disease. And that old handkerchief, we found it in the snake tank, condemning you with your fathers own initials”. 

Highbottom rounds Coriolanus completely before standing in front of Coriolanus across the table. 

“President Ravenstill has left your form of punishment up to me, and I’ve decided banishment to the districts where you’ll serve your Capitol in exile for the next twenty years as an anonymous, peacekeeping grunt”. 

Dean Highbottom grins at Coriolanus who felt too frozen to do anything. 

“You’ll never get your hands on y/n. She’s too good for you Mr Snow. By the time you get back I imagine her and Sejanus will be married with three or four children”. 

It was true. Coriolanus wouldn’t be able to block the ongoing turn of events that was sure to happen with Sejanus. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He had worked so hard to have you, only to be taken away as soon as he got on equal footing with Sejanus. 

“You hear that boy? That’s the sound of snow failing”, Highbottom proclaims. 

He’ll be left with nothing more than a memory of you, while you will forget completely of the man who loved you so. 

[ink-perfect]

short n sweet 2024 ⋆. masterlist ⋆. @creamflix

it all began with a vase. 

a very expensive vase. 

the kind you were supposed to admire from afar, with your hands buried deep into your pockets to ensure you wouldn’t even accidentally touch it.

and it was megumi’s pride and joy, though he’d never outright admit it. instead, if anyone dared approach it, he'd throw out a dry warning like, “careful. that vase is worth more than your life,” before quickly diverting his attention back to whatever menial task he was pretending to do. it was a classic megumi move - a nonchalant comment carrying an unspoken threat. 

ryomen sukuna, however, clearly hadn’t got the memo.

or, well, he had, but instead just chose to roll his eyes and mutter something about “stupid rules” before poking the vase, “just to see how sturdy it was”. 

spoiler alert: it wasn’t.  

which led you to the sight currently in front of you: sukuna crouched in the living room, two of his arms holding up the jagged remains of the once-antique while the other two tried to… glue?...tape? what even was that in his hand?  

“sukkun, is that…gum?” you asked incredulously, watching him smear yet another suspiciously soggy wad across the porcelain. 

he froze immediately. four crimson eyes swivelled to look up at you, wide like a puppy’s—well, like a puppy who’d just eaten the couch cushions. 

“it’s…structural,” he finally grumbled in response, as if this was a completely logical explanation. but you could see through his facade—the slight twitch of his eyes and the way his neck stiffened—that he was starting to grow frustrated. a smirk crept its way onto your face as you began to speak. 

“aww, you messed up real bad, didn’t ya?”  

“no.” 

you raised an eyebrow.  

“…maybe.”  

“suuukkuuunnnn,” you probed, smile growing even wider.

“fine, i messed up!” his lower set of arms snapped in exasperation, sending a shard of the vase skidding across the floor. 

you sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of your nose in mock concern. “yeah you did. do you even know what you’re doing now?”

“i’m figuring it out!” he barked. “stop hovering! i’ve got this.”  

to prove his point, he grabbed a piece of duct tape and slapped it across the largest crack. then another. and another. by the time he was done, the vase looked like it had gone ten rounds in a back alley and lost. brutally. 

you sighed deeply for what felt like the millionth time, but despite the absolute disaster before you, something about sukuna—this terrifying, all-powerful curse—desperately trying to fix his mess with fuckass gum and duct tape made you chuckle. “move over,” you said, shuffling in closer to inspect the task at hand.  

“what are you—hey!” he yelped as you snatched the vase from his hands. “wait, you’re going to ruin all my hard work!”  

“relaaaaax. i’ve watched, like, three vase repair tutorials.” you tossed away the duct tape and grabbed a tube of superglue off his table instead (man, where did he get this frankenstein ahh toolkit?) and squeezed a generous glob onto one of the pieces.  

“that’s going to take too long—”

“boy, shh. let me work.” 

and you did, intricately piecing the vase together, grinning with the confidence you gained at every matched shard. soon enough, you began to pick up the pace, showing off to sukuna as he grunted in response.

but ah, pride was the first of the seven deadly sins for a reason.

“hey! be careful—” sukuna began, but it was too late.  

“...uh-oh.”  

“what do you mean, ‘uh-oh’?!”  

“it’s fine!” you said, waving your hand wildly. “i’ve got it under control.”  

“no, you don’t! you just glued yourself to the shard!” sukuna snapped, hands reaching to wrestle the vase back from you. 

“no, you let it go, i got this!” you protested, pulling the vase back as if your life depended on it. but he was too quick, his fingers already tightening around the other side. henceforth, a tug-of-war broke out, both of you yanking the vase back and forth like little kids. 

and in all this chaos the vase predictably fell to the floor yet again, breaking into at least triple the amount of pieces it had been in before.  

“...oops.”  

“oops?!” sukuna was death-staring you so hard you didn't even have to look up to know. “that’s all you have to say?!”

“okay, okay, new plan!” you chuckled nervously. “we just, uh—hide the evidence?”  

“oh, sure. genius idea. let’s bury it in the backyard. nobody will notice the literal king of curses covered in dirt.”  

you shot him a look. “got a better idea, king?” 

his jaw clenched. “yeah, actually. just give me the glue—”  

“wait don’t pull, it’s still stuck to my—ow!”  

and at that very moment, the door swung wide open. megumi stepped in, eyes immediately narrowing as they scanned the room. “why does it smell like mint and glue in here…oh.” 

you and sukuna were frozen, a perfect portrait of disaster: the vase shattered into a million jagged pieces, somehow even more shards stuck to your hand now, sukuna clutching the superglue as if it might explode at any moment. megumi’s gaze shot up to the two of you, a rare blind rage—something close to fire—igniting in his eyes.

but before he could even speak, you and sukuna both jabbed fingers at each other and shouted in perfect unison:  

“it wasn’t me!”  

© ink-perfect; est. 2024.

[runninriot]

Backstage Romance (I Want It Bad)

written for @steddiesongfics

song: Backstage Romance (Moulin Rouge! The Musical) | rated: E | wc: 7.018 | tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson, Manager Steve Harrington, Famous Corroded Coffin, secret hookups, dom/sub undertones, angst, smut, ambiguous/open ending | complete fic on ao3

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Eddie is buzzing, high on adrenaline like always when they’re playing a show. He’s still not used to this, it’s still something he can’t quite wrap his head around – to watch people dance and sing along to their songs, to hear their roaring applause and deafening whistles, to know they’re here for them.

It’s electrifying.

A fucking dream.

They’re still considered newcomers but Corroded Coffin are finally climbing their way out of the gutter; they’re making it, step by step, and one day not too far in the future, they’ll be on top.

It’s all Eddie ever wanted, all he and his best friends have always fantasized about back when they were still a bunch of loser kids dreaming of becoming rockstars while terrorising Gareth’s poor parents (and the whole neighbourhood, really) with the horrible noise coming from their garage.

The dream is reality now, success not only a possibility but a fact. It would be poison for Eddie's already too big ego but thankfully, there's always someone bringing him back down to earth when he gets carried away.

They’ve got a label now, signed record deal and all and-

   “Great show, guys! The people seemed to really love the new song.”

Yeah, and that. They’ve got a manager now, too.

Steve Harrington.

The guy whose appearance makes him stick out like a sore thumb from the sea of blacks and greys and dark reds around him. The guy who doesn’t look the part but actually likes what they do. The guy who doesn’t give two fucks about what others think of him because he’s not here to make friends, he’s here to do his job. And he’s pretty good at that.

Good at a lot of things.

At first, Eddie hated the idea of having a fucking babysitter on tour with them. Someone to watch their every move, someone to keep them out of trouble (where’s the fun in that?), to make sure they don’t fuck up their reputation. Someone to handle all their business affairs for them, as if they couldn’t take care of it themselves.

Now, Eddie’s actually glad they have someone to deal with everything – from interview requests and setting up their tour schedule to negotiating their contracts and booking their gigs. Steve handles it all, allowing the band to enjoy the fruits of their labour without having to deal with the annoying parts of being in the music business.

And that should be all there is to it. Just a business relation based on what’s in the band’s best interest.

But it’s not.

Not behind the curtains, backstage, when no one is looking. Where, hidden in dark corners, Steve and Eddie share a secret.

A secret that could ruin it all.

Because it’s unprofessional, could get them both in trouble. Could get Steve fired, possibly. Maybe even put Eddie’s – if not the whole band’s – career on the line if the public ever found out about it.

But that just makes it even more thrilling.

Eddie has always been drawn to that, the forbidden, things that could cause irreparable damage. And throughout his life, he’s come to ask himself more than once if this is really worth it. If it’s worth risking it all just for giving in to his reckless impulses.

But the answer has always been the same. Now even more so than ever.

He knows it’s wrong, dangerous, a game he shouldn’t be playing because playing with fire will get him burned.

The problem is that he’s a sucker for the pain.

And being ruined by Steve Harrington is worth everything.

-----

continue reading here

[persphonesorchid]

Echoes Of Nebula - MYG

Summary: Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, a part of each other, one and the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning(s): I don't think there's any, but let me know if I've missed! Any mistakes are my own, I proofread this one (1) time 😭

Masterlist

Notes: Eep, hello! Here's this lil thing I've been working on! Also, Yoongi and Mc didn't end on bad terms, their separation was somewhat mutual and they're all good :)). Feedback is always appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy!

“Make sure to eat, okay?” 

Snow swirls along the train tracks, following a gust as a train pulls into the station.  There’s the bustle of people getting on and some getting off, bundled up warmly against the winter air. Some are going to see their families, some are taking a break from theirs. Some of them are stepping onto the train to never step foot in this town again. Some of them are just starting the first day of their adult lives. 

Min Yoongi? He’s moving to Seoul.  

Your hands tuck the ends of his scarf securely into his sweater, staring at him like you’re trying to memorize his face. Your tears make tracks against your cheeks and dry quickly in the cold.  

Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend.  

“Eat on time. And I don’t mean ramyeon because you’re too lazy to cook.” You sniffle, and Yoongi wipes under your eyes with his thumbs. His glove has a hole in it. Not that it matters much right now, he’s trying to get you to stop crying. “Sleep on time, not when the sun’s coming up.”  

Min Yoongi is trying not to cry.  

“Okay.” He holds you still because he’s trying to memorize your face. He’s got pictures, even the silly ones that he took and promised to delete, but they won’t compare. “I’m sorry.” 

He must’ve apologised for the millionth time. He doesn’t know what else to say.  

You nod, smile — sadly, tears on your waterline — and, “I understand.” for the millionth time.  

He’s moving to Seoul, a long way away from Daegu.  

A mixtape he made for shits and giggles took off and pulled him with it, and he has no choice but to follow. Your life is in this little town like a ship in a bottle and like a captain you’ll go down with it. You can’t follow.  

You both talked about it for days, compromising, bargaining, but in the end, your lives are going separate ways.  

Stars either explode or implode when they die, and Yoongi feel like the star you’re both made of has finally reached its end. It’s imploding, folding in on itself and pulling everything with it.  

He has five minutes left to take you in, how the tears shine in your eyes despite his efforts, the string of the necklace he won you at a fair peeking from behind your scarf. The way you smile and your eyes squint, the way he could feel the chill of your hands through his gloves.  

He wants to stay right here in this moment and never leave if it meant he could take you in for five minutes till eternity.  

“Remember to...” His throat feels raw, but it’s because of the cold and definitely not because he’s crying. The lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow. He looks somewhere above your head to give himself a second, things like these are always hard for him. “Remember to dress for the weather.”  

He squeezes your hands, takes a breath that he almost chokes on, and looks back at you. “Don’t skip meals. Get warm when you feel cold. Always carry an umbrella in July.”  

Sometime later, Yoongi will wonder if the things he reminded you to do made much sense, if they mattered at all. Wonders if you’d actually remember. The umbrella one is really important; you always forget.  

He sat where he could see you when his five minutes were up and eternity never came. Waving from behind a glass and missing the warmth of you and the sound of your voice. He watches you wipe your tears and smile big and you walk alongside the train when it pulls off and then you run, and then, Yoongi could no longer see you.  

Min Yoongi broke up with his girlfriend and left her in the middle of winter chasing a train.  

July is always rainy. 

And every time it rains, Min Yoongi remembers the love he left in winter. He wonders if you remember to carry an umbrella. It’s been five years; he wonders if you remember him at all. 

He watches the rain splash into puddles and listens to the patter against his umbrella. Seoul bustles on, indifferent to the weather, its crowds meandering through the mid-summer downpour. Despite the season’s warmth, a stray breeze slips past his collar and reminds him of colder days. He’s grateful his gloves no longer have holes. 

He walks along the sidewalk, carried by the crowd’s flow without much thought.  

There’s not much that he wishes for anymore, not much he can wish for when he’s got everything. He lives in a high rise, works at the top music production company. Sometimes it’s a bit hard being the most sought-after producer in Seoul. Life has been good; he can’t complain. That mixtape opened doors he thought he’d be knocking on forever, and he’s worked hard to keep them open. 

Min Yoongi doesn’t need much of anything else. 

But on days like this, when the wind is just a little chilly and the sky’s opened up and crying, he misses you. 

Sometimes he looks back on that day and feel guilt. He knows it was just as hard for you as it was for him, the pain in your eyes that you smiled through. 

For a while, he’d call you every night and update you, made sure that you were doing well. For a while, he’d keep up with you and made sure that you’re doing well. For a while, he’d call you every now and then, see if you’re doing well.  

For a while, it had been a while and life, and then five years slinked on by.  

Yoongi sighs, and there’s guilt in it. He got busy, as one gets being a producer in Seoul with a shit ton of expectations. He���s changed phones over the years, lost your contact, and he got busy. 

Of course, he’s dated — mostly blind dates his friends set him up on — and he’s tried his best to push forward. There’s no point living in the past, he’s sure you’ve moved on and on by now. Sometimes he’s fine, and sometimes he’s back on that train station platform, wishing he’d begged you to come with him. 

It would’ve been the selfish thing. It wouldn’t have been fair to you had he done that. When he got to Seoul, he’d buried himself so deep into his work he barely found himself. He would’ve dragged you out here, made you give up everything just to sit on the side-lines.  

He misses you sometimes, anyways. He’s forgotten the sound of your laugh, but he still remembers the way your nose scrunches when you do. He’s forgotten the scent of your favourite perfume, but he remembers the way you lit up when he saved up and bought you a bottle forever ago. 

Min Yoongi wonders if you remember him at all. 

As Yoongi turns the corner, his umbrella catches a gust of wind and flips inside out. He fights with it for a moment before giving up, letting the rain soak his hair and the front of his jacket and jeans. He can’t help but laugh at the irony, standing there drenched, remembering the countless times he reminded you to carry an umbrella. 

In the distance, he spots a small café and decides to seek shelter. The bell above the door jingles as he enters, and the warm, cozy atmosphere wraps around him like a comforting hug. He shakes off his umbrella – finally pulling it back down – and steps up to the counter, ordering a hot coffee to chase away the chill. 

As he waits, his eyes wander around the café, taking in the rustic décor and the soft hum of conversation. A bulletin board on the wall catches his attention, filled with flyers and photos. His gaze lands on a familiar face, and his heart skips a beat. 

It’s you. Your photo, smiling brightly, pinned among various advertisements and announcements. You’re standing next to a large canvas, looking proud. He steps closer, reading the caption beneath your picture: “Local Artist Exhibition - Featuring Works by ________.” 

Yoongi’s mind races as he takes in the information. You’re here in Seoul, and you’ve been showcasing your art. A mix of emotions floods through him—relief, excitement, and a twinge of nervousness. He jots down the address of the gallery from the flyer without much thought and leaves without his coffee. 

As Yoongi steps out into the rain, a million thoughts swirl through his mind, each one more turbulent than the last. He wonders why you never sought him out. Seoul is vast, but you’d known he was here, making waves in the music scene. Did you ever think about him? Did you ever miss him? 

The realization hits him hard: he never knew you were doing art before he left. In all your conversations, all your late-night talks and shared dreams, you never mentioned a passion for painting. He feels a pang of guilt. Had he been so wrapped up in his own ambitions that he failed to notice yours? The thought stings, and he can't shake the feeling that he should have been there for your journey, supporting you the way you always supported him. 

The gallery isn’t far, and soon he’s standing in front of it, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, the sound of soft music and hushed voices greeting him. There’s quite a bit of people mingling about in quiet discussion, taking photos of the art mounted on the walls under ambient lighting. 

Inside the gallery, he feels out of place. The walls, adorned with your art, are a testament to a part of your life he knows nothing about. Each piece is beautiful, but they also serve as a painful reminder of how much he’s missed. He wonders how many late nights you spent creating these, how many times you might have needed someone to share your successes and frustrations with. 

Yoongi wanders through the gallery, the sound of soft music and hushed voices creating a backdrop to his thoughts. The rain outside has left him feeling introspective, and as he takes in the various pieces of art, he feels a strange mix of pride and sadness seeing how far you’ve come. 

Each painting tells a story, each one a glimpse into your life over the past five years, a life he wasn’t a part of. 

His gaze is drawn to a large canvas on the far wall. The colours are bold and dramatic, the brushstrokes chaotic and full of emotion. As he steps closer, he realizes with a jolt that the scene depicted is achingly familiar: a train station, snow swirling in the air, and two figures standing close together, wrapped in scarves and winter coats. 

His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the details. The style is unmistakably expressionist, the exaggerated forms and vibrant colours capturing the raw emotion of that day. The figures are abstract, but he knows them instantly: one is you, and the other is him. 

He remembers the way you tucked his scarf into his sweater, the tears that made tracks down your cheeks, and the way you both tried to memorize each other in those final moments. The painting captures all of it, the pain and the love, the sorrow and the hope. 

Yoongi feels a lump in his throat as he stares at the piece. It’s a testament to your skill as an artist. He wonders how long you carried the weight of that moment, how many times you revisited it in your mind to create this masterpiece. He’s overwhelmed by a wave of emotions: regret, longing, and a deep, unspoken connection. 

The title of the painting, written on a small plaque beside it, reads “Departure.” It’s fitting, he thinks, for the moment it captures, but also for the way it marks the beginning of your separate journeys. 

As he stands there, lost in thought, he hears your voice nearby, and for a moment, he simply stands there. Your words meld together and he isn’t hearing much of what you’re saying, just the sound.  His heart pounds against his ribs as your laugh — it sparks a memory and adds sound to the ones that were muted — bounces off the walls and around in his head.  

He turns and sees you, in a corner, your back to him talking to a taller man, discussing a point of space where you’re standing. The sight of you, so vibrant and alive, sends a mixture of relief and nervousness fluttering around in Yoongi’s tummy.   

Gathering his courage, he takes a step forward, then another, until he’s standing just a few feet away. You turn and startle, staring at him like he’s a ghost. There’s a brief moment of surprise — he gets it — and then you blink. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, and turning to the man next to you, you smile gently. “Taehyung...Can you give us a moment?”  

The guy looks between you both for a second with a raised brow before he’s gone, walking off to some other part of the gallery. Yoongi’s mind is too occupied taking in the sight of you to wonder what that man’s presence may mean. 

“Hi,” he replies, his voice soft and filled with all the words he’s wanted to say for years. Despite this, he doesn’t actually know what to say, he didn’t actually think this far ahead. He glances back at the painting of the train station platform, then back at you. “I saw your painting.” 

You follow his gaze and nod, your smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “It was a significant moment for me. For both of us, I think.” 

It’s a lot awkward, with him just standing there, not sure what to do with himself. You look the same, though now your hair is styled professionally and not the frizzy, wind swept mess it was when he last saw you.  

There’s so much he wants to say but he feel like he doesn’t have enough words, or the right ones, so he takes it easy. “I saw a flyer...in a café. Um... It’s amazing...your work.”  

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes reflecting a mixture of pride, nostalgia and a certain sadness. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s... good to see you.” 

The conversation goes slowly, awkwardly. There are long pauses and nervous laughter, each of you trying to bridge the gap of five years with small talk about your art and his music. 

“You’ve done well,” he says, gesturing to the paintings around you both. “I didn’t even know you were into art.” 

You smile, the same just barely there sad smile from earlier. “It was something I started after you left. It helped me cope.” 

“Oh...” His heart aches at the thought of you turning to art just to fill the void he left behind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You shake your head and shrug. “We both had our paths to follow. It’s just... life.” 

He nods, but the guilt lingers. Life had taken you both in different directions, but he can’t help but wonder what might have been different if he had stayed, or if he had at least tried to stay in touch better. 

Min Yoongi is an idiot and he’s always told himself so. He’s an idiot and he sucks at this sort of thing. 

As the gallery starts to empty out, Yoongi looks at you, the rain pattering gently against the windows. There’s a part of him that wants to apologize, to make up for all the lost time, but he knows it’s not that simple. 

“Do you have time for a coffee?” he asks, hope and uncertainty mingling in his eyes. 

Your smile is a little hesitant, but you nod, “Sure.” 

You excuse yourself to grab your jacket and an umbrella — you remembered, he smiles privately —, and then you talk to the man from earlier for a minute before Yoongi follows you out of the gallery and onto the wet street.  

The walk is quiet, filled with the awkwardness of five years’ worth of missed everything’s, and Yoongi holds tight to the handle of his umbrella. There’s a confidence to your step as you weave your way through the crowd, head straight forward and not looking down at your feet like he remembers. 

You’re not the girl he left on that platform five years ago just as he’s not the guy that left you there.  

You walk back to the cafe he’d come from, and he realises that you’re probably a regular here. The barista behind the counter greets you with a smile and asks if you’re having your usual. You order a coffee and Yoongi asks the girl behind the counter to reheat the one he bought earlier, and the barista’s eyes dart between you both. 

You lead him to a cozy corner table after the order was called, and as you settle in, the conversation starts up slowly again. 

“How long have you been in Seoul?” Yoongi asks first, his voice a little hesitant, not sure if he’s allowed to ask.  

“Almost three years now,” you reply, looking down at your coffee cup, the tiniest furrow between your brows. “It took a while, but I got settled.” 

Yoongi takes a moment to observe you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the memories he’s held onto for the past five years. You don’t look much different, your hair’s in an up-do, your cheeks are a little fuller, but that’s as much as he notices.  

The silence that rings between you both is louder than the other customers in the cafe. Yoongi can only imagine what this scene looks like to others; two people who are barely looking at each other, like awkward strangers forced to share a space.  

His coffee is still hot, and it burns his tongue when he sips at it, but at least it’s given him a distraction. He steals glances at you, watching the way your eyes comb the cafe and avoid his gaze.  

Unfortunately, Yoongi is naught but a man, and there’s a nagging sound at the back of his brain. It grows louder until he fidgets, the nerves of his free hand feel like they’re dancing and he takes a breath. He looks down at his coffee cup, glances at you and then back to the cup. Then, he asks a question that made him want to crawl out of his skin.  

“So...that guy back at your gallery seemed nice...”  

He knows it’s been five years, and a lot can change in that time.  As toxic as it may sound, the thought of you moving on with someone else stirs a mix of emotions in him. 

He knows he has no right to be upset if you’ve found happiness with someone else. It’s not his business anymore, not after all this time.   

Still, the fear is there. He doesn’t want to admit how much it hurts to think of you with someone else. He can’t deny the pang of jealousy at the thought, but he tries his best to ignore it. He has no claim over you. You deserve to be happy, and if you’ve found that with someone, then he’s happy.  

He sighs inwardly, pushing the thoughts aside. He wants to focus on the present, on the fact that you’re sitting in front of him right now. Whatever happens, he’s happy to be here, he hopes he can be a part of your life again of you let him, even if it’s only as a friend. He doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever it turns out to be. 

You stare at him for a moment and Yoongi can’t tell what you’re thinking, “He is...he’s got an eye for art.”  

Yoongi nods slowly, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. He hums softly, and now it’s his turn to pretend you’re not looking; he finds interest in the light fixtures above.   

His next question sits on his tongue trying to pry past his teeth. He feels like a kid trying to find the right moment to ask his parents if he could go play outside. There’s a nervous churning in his tummy that isn’t at all pleasant. How does one ask their ex of five years if they’re seeing someone?  

Yoongi imagines they’d just ask, out of curiosity, and get it out of the way. He could play it well. Maybe lean back into his seat and appear more casual before he says the stupid words. Maybe he could stop staring at the lights like a damn moth, and act like a being with a fully developed frontal lobe.  

“Are you two...close? Or...you know...” He waves a hand and then lays it on the table. The sound of his ring knocking against it is kind of jarring, but it gives Yoongi an opportunity to look away again. 

You make a quiet sound, and Yoongi finally meets your gaze. There’s amusement in your eyes, it’s obvious you’ve figured him out already — he wasn’t exactly being subtle. Which is unfortunate, because now Yoongi could feel embarrassment tapping on his shoulder. 

You say nothing of it, even though he knows you want to. He could feel it.  

“As close as business partners can be, I suppose.” You say, and Yoongi can see the beginning of a smile as you lift your coffee to hide it.  

“Right...Sorry.” Yoongi says sheepishly, though, a weight lifts off his chest. As he looks at you, he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat.  

You’re still wearing the necklace he got you all those years ago, the one he won for you at the fair. The twine that the little pendant hangs on looks worn, fraying a bit at some points, but you’re wearing it.  

You kept it. 

He clears his throat, the words he’s been holding back spilling out. “I’m sorry I lost touch. I got so busy, and then it felt like too much time had passed to reconnect. I lost your contact, and… I didn’t know how to find you again.” 

You nod, your fingers brushing over the necklace like you sensed his gaze on it. “It’s okay. Life happened, for both of us.” 

“But why didn’t you seek me out when you got to Seoul?” Yoongi asks, his voice soft, devoid of accusation; genuinely curious. 

“I thought it would be for the best,” you say, equally as soft, staring into your coffee as though it would give you the words you’re looking for. “So much time had passed, and I didn’t want to disrupt your life. You were doing well.”  

You look so sad when you say it that it almost breaks Yoongi’s heart.  

“You know I wouldn’t have...” He wouldn’t have turned you away.  

“I know, I just...” You sigh, your eyes dart somewhere to his left, and then back at him, “...I really missed you.”  

Yoongi wants to reach out and take your hand so he does. Your fingers are warm from the coffee, squeezing his own, and tears beads at your waterline.  

“I missed you too.” His gaze is soft and he knows it, but he doesn’t care because its you. You’re still you and he’s still him, and he misses you and the girl he left on that platform.  

You’re both still made of the same star. It’s imploded but still glowing, and your necklace pendant catches the above head light.  

His finger brushes over your knuckles, he stares at them, the shape and colour and all the little things about them that makes them a part of you. All that with his heart in his throat because he wants to ask something.  

“Do you think…” His voice is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid the wrong volume might shatter whatever delicate thread holds this moment together. “Do you think there’s a chance… that we could try again?” 

You stare at him, your eyes wide, and he feels the subtle pressure of your fingers in his. He knows it’s a lot to ask,  but the longing, the sense that maybe something beautiful can still be salvaged from the pieces, presses him to keep going. 

Hope catches on the glint of your necklace pendant, and he clings to it. 

“I don’t expect anything to happen right away. I just… I want to be in your life again, even if we start slow. No pressure, just… what feels right.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, and then a soft smile curves your lips, almost as if you’ve been waiting for him to say something like this.  

“We could try,” you murmur, the words tentative but filled with the same cautious hope Yoongi feels. 

And from there, the pace is unhurried. You both ease into each other’s lives like rivers that find their way back to the same stream.  

Some days Yoongi feels like he’s been whacked on the head with a giant stick. Anyone could tell by looking at him, when he’s got that stupid look on his face. Like he’s seen a goddess and she spared him a glance. He feels like he’s dreaming, and the last five years without you seem to blur.  

He starts small, a text here and there; good morning and good night. Even if he’s busy he’d keep up with you, except when his work demands his focus. There are some days when you’d disappear, and Yoongi understands when you explain you’ve been in your studio for hours.  

Your gallery isn’t far from his work, and as much as he could he’d go see you. He finds himself drawn to small gestures—bringing you lunch or a cup of coffee, or sometimes a sweet he thinks you might like. Each time he steps into the gallery with something for you, he feels a warmth settle in his chest. 

It’s an excuse, he knows, to see you smile, to watch you light up at the thoughtfulness of it. And each time you look at him with that gentle, appreciative gaze, he feels his hope grow a little stronger. 

You’d tell him all about your creative process, how you’d spin and weave what’s in your head onto a canvas. He’d listen attentively because he’s interested and he owes it to you. All those nights spent burning the midnight oil, steeping in his frustrations; you were there. You’d listen to him rant and cry when things weren’t working out the way he wanted. 

He owed you much more than that.  

He feels like he has to learn you all over again, which, in a sense, he does. Even if the bases of you are the same, there’s new facets. Little shards that fit into the mirror that reflects you, some pieces are a little dusty and worn with time and others are new and shiny. Yoongi has to take his time cleaning the old ones to see them again, and get used to the new ones that twinkle his eyes.  

He invites you to his place for dinner, something simple and easy, and the conversation flows a lot better than it had a month before.  

There’s no awkward sentences that cut off somewhere in the middle. Yoongi knows what to do with his hands and he has a better time looking you in the eye now. He feels a lot like he did back then, like a school boy taking his crush to meet his parents. His hands are a little sweaty, but the food is good and your eyes sparkle like they did back then, too.  

You seem so sure, like you’re not worried one bit. Like you knew you’d meet him again and you’d be here in this moment; sipping on white wine – something new he’s learned – and chucking over stories set in the past.  

The day he let a pet name slip was the day Yoongi wished a chasm would open up and swallow him. He had his excuse ready; the clock’s pushing one in the morning; he’s tired. The truth? It’s so easy to slip back into old ways, like nothing changed at all.  

Like a smouldering fire in a hearth. It’s not quite out yet, and if you throw some sticks in there, they’ll catch.  

After a while, on some sunny evening, Yoongi invited you to his studio. 

“This is where I spend most of my time.” And he means that, letting you into his studio. There’s a blanket tossed haphazardly on the black couch that lines the wall near the door.  

There’s day old take away coffee cups that never made it to the bin, cluttered in a designated spot. The bin he meant to empty is overflowing with scraps of paper and crushed takeout containers. That’s as far as the clutter goes. Though, Yoongi’s embarrassed now – he prides himself on keeping tidy. He wasn’t thinking when he asked you over, didn’t expect you to agree either.  

So now he’s clearing up his desk and tying a knot on the waste bag. You make yourself comfortable on his couch like you’ve been there before, throwing the blanket over your lap as your eyes dart about to take everything in.  

You’re impressed, he could tell by the gleam in your eyes and your little down turned smile. He’s come a long way from his old computer and MIDI.  

“Its nice, cosy. Beats camping out in your bedroom.” You smile and Yoongi chuckles, nodding.  

“Damn right.” He agrees, but he wouldn’t trade in those days for anything. Truthfully, he’s been here for three days, only going home to shower. Inspiration on an all time high and he’s just been riding the wave, you’ve been his muse for the past month. It isn’t the first time, at moments over the years gone you’d float into his mind like a mirage, and he’d get stuck on you.  

He’s grateful for the break, though, there’s nothing much to do and he doesn’t want to bore you with rambling about what he’s working on. So he orders something, and lets a movie play on his laptop.  

The clock ticks softly in the corner, its sound nearly drowned out by the hum of the desk lamp — he should really get that replaced. You’re still curled up on his couch despite the hour, the blanket pooled around your legs, your eyes scanning a painting on the wall he doesn’t remember hanging. 

“It’s peaceful here,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, like you’re speaking directly to the heart of the room—and to him. 

Yoongi glances up from the cluttered desk he’d been half-heartedly straightening; resorting his things because he can’t sit still. He watches the way you seem to belong in his space, your presence settling into the corners he never realized were empty. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“You think so?” he asks, moving to lean against the edge of the desk. He crosses his arms, the soft light from the lamp catching on the fine lines of his face. “I always thought it was too chaotic.” 

You turn your head, your gaze locking onto his. “Chaos can be beautiful. It just takes the right eyes to see it.” 

The words settle between you, their weight both gentle and profound. Yoongi feels something inside him shift—a small piece of armour finally cracking and falling away. 

He takes a step toward you, his hands slipping into his pockets, his expression tentative. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” 

You sit up a little straighter, tilting your head. “What is it?” 

“Would you…” He hesitates, his fingers brushing against the edge of a USB drive in his pocket—the same drive that holds the tracks he’s been working on for weeks. “Would you let me write something for you? About you?” 

Your surprise shows in the slight widening of your eyes, followed quickly by a soft, warm smile. “You already do that, don’t you?” 

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “Maybe,” he admits, with a small smile that meant more than he could say. “But this time, I want you to know it’s for you. No hiding it in metaphors or beats no one else understands. Just…you.” 

You rise from the couch, the blanket slipping to the side as you close the small distance between you. Standing so close, Yoongi count all the things that make you you.  

“Okay,” you say softly, your fingers brushing against his. “But only if you let me paint something for you, too.” 

Yoongi takes your hand because he wants to, and his fingers make home in the spaces between yours. It feels like déjà vu and an epiphany all at once: five years ago you were this close and he was saying goodbye. His gloves had holes. Today...he’s saying hello again, and it feels like no time had gone by. And he kisses you now because he didn’t kiss you then, and you sigh into it like you’ve been waiting a lifetime.  

Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, apart of each other, one in the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Tagging: @hoseoksluna @xpeachesncream @amon-rei @allhobbitstoisengard @euphoricfilter @madbutgloriouspond

[dr-flipflops]

OOC: Will's Lonely 18th Birthday people, as per Cresent's request. - @permetutotheworld @the-eclipse-is-in-me @fukurouonthesea Here we go :) Its sooooooo long, I got so bloody carried away, sorry guys.

*Will left another tray in front of Nico's door, a yellow sticky note on the side*

(what the note said is in italics)

*I hope you've been eating all the food I'm giving you Neeks. Ew- I'm 18 today, EW!!! I'm oooooold :( . I don't have to be a functional adult now do I? Surely, I get a pass for being neurodivergent. I hope you have a nice day INSIDE, please come out. I miss you*

*It had been a week, and Nico was still holed up in the cabin. Will had been denied access, but he'd seen Cresent and Noa go in just fine, heck even CLARISSE gained entrance. It broke something inside Will, but he shrugged it off. They were his family, of course he'd let them in. Will was just an inconvenience he had to put up with, and take care of. He'd known Clarisse for years, Cresent was his sister, and Noa was like his little brother*

*Its fine Solace, come on. Its your birthday. Cheer up. Its fine. Everything's okay.*

*Will's siblings had given him a lovely morning, and the campers who remembered and were the ones who still looked him in the eye had wished him at breakfast. It was nice. But it wasn't the same. Chiron had given him the full day empty, but he had no-one to celebrate with. His siblings all had duties, and they refused to let him work on his birthday. Everyone else was busy too. Will would usually go back to Texas for the week to be with his mother, but with Nico holed up he wanted to stay here*

*Besides, it wasn't like he wanted to celebrate it anyways. The only thing good about it was that he was another year closer to the grave. He didn't know what to do, he wished he could work, that way at least he wouldn't feel so lonely and useless. At least healing gave him a purpose and he felt good after saving someone. At least he'd feel something*

*Will lazily walked through the woods, kicking his feet, cupcake with candle in hand. He made it to his special spot on the coast, where he had the shade of the trees, and a view of the sparkling lake, but could still bask in the sun's rays without it bothering his eyes, not that it had ever in the first place. Wind whistled past, and birds sang, the sun shone golden rays that illuminated the rocks, slick with crashing waves*

*The day was undoubted perfect. Will knew it was curtesy of his father, his way of saying "happy birthday". Will was grateful, but he didn't really feel it*

*The candle glowed bright, Will cupped the cupcake in his hands and held it close*

Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to meee.

*Will blew it out gently, and wished that today would be the day Nico would come out, even if it was to just say a simple hello. Tears stung his eyes and he laughed a little*

Guess I'm an adult now. huh. Never thought I'd get here.

*Will leaned back against the rock behind his perch, face tilted up as one or two tears down*

But you always knew, didn't you Lee? You said I'd make it Micheal, you were right it seems.

*Tears choked his throat, he looked up at the trees shadowing him above, and the sun softly shining through the canopies. It was like they were here, he could almost hear their voice. Almost feel the laughter of the younger ones. Gracie would've loved to meet Fay*

I wish you were here. I wish you all were.

*Something shimmer past his head and he looks to see his mother's smiling face*

*Will jolts upright*

MA!!?

Naomi: Hi Billy!!! Aw, my little William has grown up so much, 18 now! I thought you were coming home for your birthday?

Will: You-you remembered?

Naomi: no, I just happened to throw a drachma into the lake on accide- OF COURSE I REMEMBERED WILLY!!! You're my favourite son, I can't believe expect so little of your mother.

Will: Ma, I'm your only son.

Naomi: Even better! No competition. Anyways, how come you aren't home?

Will: Sorry Ma, things happened, and I got caught up in camp.

Naomi: Aw, I wanna see my son! You're officially an adult!

Will *small laugh*: Still can't drink though.

Naomi: You can drink water.

Will *groans*: Maaaaa

Naomi: Oh pish posh. Those Americanos *tuts* we're Spanish William, they don't have to know *winks*

Will *laughs fully for the first time all day*: Maaa!

Naomi *grumbles about Americans, then gives Will a stern look* : You better come home for Christmas William Andrew Solace, and you can tell that Chiron of yours to stick it where the sun don't shine if he says otherwise

Will *laughs again*: Alright, alright ma!!!

Naomi *smiles*: Seriously. Oh look at you my sweet boy. When you were taken from me, you couldn't even tie your laces, now you're 18, all grown up. *sighs*

Will: I'm still your little boy Ma, always

Naomi: Damn right you are! Don't you change a bit Billy. You've got a big heart, you dare lose it and your Abuelo will roll in the grave, and your Abuela will storm over from Spain

Will: Don't worry! I won't :) Even if the reason is my fear of Abuela's ladle.

Naomi: That woman, when she has her hands on a cooking utensil, y'all better run away or run towards the table ready to be stuffed like a Christmas hog.

Will: Yeah.

Naomi: Well, you're only 18 once Willy, I hope you have a good day!

Will *tight smile, hiding the loneliness*: Yep, terrific, look! I got the cupcakes you sent me!!!

Naomi: Aw, *someone gestures off-screen* uh huh, *back to Will* Billy, I'm so sorry, but I'm gonna have to go, there's something wrong with the sound systems, I'm so sorry. I want to talk to you more, after all, my baby is only gonna turn 18 once, its a special day! *bites lip and looks conflicted*

Will *his heart breaks. He was gonna be alone again. He makes a smile*: Its alright Ma, I've got a cupcake to eat after all! *huffs a laugh*

Naomi *blows him a kiss*: Love ya Willy! Happy birthday sweetheart.

Will: Bye-

*Naomi cuts the message*

-Ma.

*Will swallows. He was alone again. His mother had more important things to do, OF COURSE SHE DID SOLACE, SHE HAS A LIFE, grow up Will. Will took the burnt out yellow candle from the cake, and bites into it*

*It tasted like home. Tears brimmed on Will's eyes and warm memories flooded his brain at the chocolate melting in his mouth*

*Memories of Spain- the brightly coloured streamers everyone would hang around. Abuela would be cooking a feast in the kitchen , so Will would wake up to the scents of heaven filling the house and smooches from Ma. He'd bound down the stairs and promptly be told that even though it was his birthday he still had to brush his teeth. Will would get it done as fast as possible, then go and help Ma bake cookies and cupcakes. He'd go outside and immediately be pelted with shouts and cries, hugs and noogies from the neighbourhood kids. Then, after being fed like a king, at night, the family would gather and Will would blow out the candles, and cut the cake to find the clue at the center*

*He'd use the clue to find others to find his gifts, which only then he'd be able to open. The whole procedure from the candles, to the singing, to the cake, to the hunt, to the opening would be filmed. Will's beaming face photographed on his birthday every year*

*Will finished the cupcake, and found a note in the centre. Hollowness that had filled his heart swelled. It was a little heart with a smile, and a "happy birthday Billy". Will smiled through the tears, and he was almost home in Texas with his Ma. But he looked up and the empty lonely came back. He smiled a bit through the tears. At least his Ma had sent him these. Will knew he was going to find other notes in the other cupcakes, he turned the paper over and found another message: "Brush ya teeth Billy"*

*Will laughed, and no one heard*

-----

*That night, Will came back late, his siblings already fast asleep*

*He felt vacant again*

*Nico had decidedly NOT come out. He didn't see Aria's smile all day, and Noa never even said hi. Cresent, as per usual, avoided him*

*Will collapsed into bed, and curled up. Emotionally exhausted*

*He missed home. He missed his Ma. He mourned his life. He mourned the Will Solace he used to be, the one everyone sees, the one everyone wants. Campers look at him, but its not him they see, they see the Will they knew, the Will he'll never live up- hell he doesn't even remember the memories, HE DOESN'T KNOW THAT WILL. He missed Nico. He missed being loved. He missed so much. He hated this overwhelming, all consuming loneliness. It's like his life has been reset, and everyone is treading on eggshells, and he was deserted by those he loved most all over again*

*For his "special day" he sure as hell didn't feel it- DON'T BE SELFISH SOLACE. he felt nothing at all, and while that may be a blessing some days, today he hated it. Hated himself. Hated living*

*When he had gone to pick up Nico's tray he saw that Nico hadn't taken the note. He always took the note. Will didn't bother placing another one with the next tray*

*Something consumed him*

*That night, Will cried himself to sleep*

[mvrkieboo]

Lord, just saw that ask on what if YN is bitter. And ykw? WHAT IF THEN THERES A LOT OF REGRETS LIKE COME ONNNNNN 😫 I really wanna good ending but damnnnnnnnn that scenario on YN being bitter? UGH LURVE THE ANGSTY 🥲🥲🥲❤️❤️❤️

pt. 2 of this ask right here

You've been missing your classes. For 6 days, exactly.

For the first three days, Prof. Suh nagged Xiaojun endlessly for an explanation for your absence, but at one point, all of your lecturers stopped bothering him about it. Xiaojun began to wonder if the lecturers could finally tell that he was simply not your friend anymore—until Prof. Suh suddenly held him back again today. As always, Yangyang and Aeri tagged along.

The lecturer pulled out a fruit basket, patting on it as he gave the three college students—for some reason—a sympathetic look, it even came across as apologetic too. Was the fruit basket an apology for something?

"Listen, I wanted to visit Y/N today, but some bullshit last minute meeting got scheduled—so can you guys pass this on to her for me? Tell her I'm sorry for the messages I sent too—I didn't know at the time. Thanks, guys."

The three looked among themselves, weirded out. Why would Prof. Suh buy you a fruit basket? When Aeri opened her mouth to ask for further explanation, that's when the professor's phone rang—and he took the call immediately.

When he saw that three students were still hanging around his desk stupidly, he pointed at the fruit basket then to the lecture hall's doors—telling them to get out.

Yangyang took the fruit basket and walked out the hall, wondering why the fuck would Prof. Suh bring a fruit basket for you?

There was a folded card stuck to the basket, and they were too curious to leave it alone. Flipping the note to read the contents, it was Prof. Suh's writing, but they realised that this fruit basket was on the behalf of all of the lecturers of the faculty.

May we see you again on brighter days, Y/N.

– On behalf of all the staff of NCU's Business & Management Faculty

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ever since celebrating Jaehyun signing on to SM Entertainment as a singer together, Mark's friend group and your—well, your old friend group hung out a lot at the place where they held the party, which was at Soyeon's café in Sinchon. Geonwoo's mom liked having them come over too, so they often had a fun time together at the café.

"What's with the fancy fruit basket?" Mark got to beat Haechan to it, since everybody was curious about the fruit basket Yangyang was carrying.

"Well, we're actually hoping that you would know, Mark—has Jaehyun mentioned anything about Y/N recently? Did something happen to her?" Xiaojun smiled hesitantly at Mark, and Yangyang places

Mark leaned away from the table, confused as to why Xiaojun would ask that, especially since your name would sometimes be a taboo topic to approach. Yangyang pointed at the card and Mark opened it to read it, now eyebrows all furrowed.

"May we see you again on brighter days? That sounds pretty serious." Haechan read the writing out loud from over Mark's shoulder.

"Listen, this fruit basket is gonna go bad if we don't immediately send it to her, and the staff's money would go to waste that way. How about this—you pass on Y/N's new address to me, I'll drop it off, and then this whole thing can be settled instantly." Yangyang spoke with a jaded tone, leaning back into his seat.

"I don't know her exact address, but I do know what apartment she moved into." Mark offered, and Yangyang nodded gladly.

"Oh, Mark, that would in fact be better. I could just drop it off at the front desk and tell the person to pass it on to her."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

In the end, Mark offered to accompany Yangyang for the drop off, mainly because everyone could see Yangyang was ticked off that he had to do this, and if he ran into you, Mark being there was to mediate the situation.

One look at the apartment complex and they realised how much of a downgrade it is from your old place. Granted, anything else could be considered a downgrade compared to the luxury condo you used to live in, but your current apartment looked almost run down and shady.

Mark couldn't help but still feel a little bit bitter and envious that you were willing to move into this kind of place if it meant you could live with Junyoung. Did you really love him this much to endure living in a place like this? Mark was a broke college student too, but even he wouldn't settle to live in an apartment like this.

But, in your defense, it only looked run down because the apartment was old, dated, and looked like maintenance is done once a year only. It still had a lobby with a front desk at least, manned by a relatively old dude who looked well into his 60's.

"Excuse me, but could you please pass this on to one of your tenants? We don't know her exact unit, but it might be under the name Jeong Y/N or Lee Junyoung." Mark talked amicably, not wanting to piss off anyone in this apartment.

The older man behind the desk moved to take out a thick binded file on the shelves behind him. It was a long 3 minutes until the man finally got to the page he needed. He raised his eyebrows, looked at Mark and Yangyang, then looked at the page again.

"Kid, the unit you mentioned was a crime scene. The cleaners just arrived to wash away the blood and the mess. The tenant—Lee Junyoung—is already dead. A week ago, he stabbed his girlfriend before killing himself—but I heard the girl survived and is currently recuperating at Taeho Memorial Hospital. It's better if you brought this basket there instead."

Mark and Yangyang went blank and dead silent at the information, felt like the whole world froze for a moment, both of their bodies frozen still—then they took off without thanking the old man, bringing along the fruit basket with them into Yangyang's McLaren. On the way to the apartment's parking lot to reach Yangyang's car, Mark was already dialing Jaehyun's number.

Jaehyun was in the studio, nodding along to a beat he was really liking when his phone rang, flashing Mark's picture on his screen. Mark knew he'd be busy, and Mark always liked to text instead of calling anyway. Suddenly feeling dread and a weird sense of urgency take over him, he quickly excused himself out of the studio to take the call.

"Jae, did you know?" Mark sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him, and Jaehyun frowned at the sudden question.

"Know what?"

"Stop fucking around! If you knew, why wouldn't tell me about it? I mean—you know I still care for her and that I'm still not over her yet, so why the fu—"

"Mark! Bro, calm down. What are you talking about? You're speaking in riddles, man—I don't understand what you're trying to say." Jaehyun walked to the windows, looking down on the city as he heard Mark take deep breaths before speaking again.

That was when Mark realised Jaehyun didn't know. He messed with his hair as Yangyang began to drive the car a lot faster than what he was comfortable with. Did the dude even know the directions to Taeho Memorial Hospital?

"It's Y/N, Jae. Junyoung's dead, he killed himself—but before that, he attacked Y/N and—and she got stabbed. She's currently recovering at Taeho Memorial Hospital. Fuck, this is why her lecturer wanted us to give her a goddamn fruit basket."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

You wheeled yourself out of Dr. Kim Sejeong's office. She was a wonderful therapist, and you could tell there was progress in your mental health after you agreed to take up therapy to heal yourself—but it didn't change the fact you had felt pushed to do this the first time you entered her office.

You came to a halt when you saw two men rose from the waiting seats outside Dr. Kim's office. You felt your face going stiff, when you realized Kyungsoo and Taeyong had been waiting for you.

These were the two sneaky assholes who roped Junmyeon into their plan in convincing you to get therapy. You still remembered how hard you cried on Junmyeon's shoulder five days ago.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"So you found his body." You spoke out, sounding soulless.

Junmyeon nodded beside his old partner, Kyungsoo. Taeyong was busy getting coffee at West Wing's café. A kid ran past in front of your wheelchair, giggling as it chased a butterfly with her mother just right behind her. The hospital's garden was spacious, but there were still some tricky pebbles she should look out for.

"Yep. Yoonsu hadn't been lying—Junyoung was found at the abandoned plant nursery. They were just about to renovate it when we came with a search warrant—ah, the school's director was so annoying, kept bitching about how he didn't want it to leak to the media. People like them are the reason why I decided to become a cop." Junmyeon sighed deeply, loosening his necktie at the memory.

Kyungsoo smirked at the older man, making a snide comment on how the commissioner shouldn't be so crass in front of a civilian. Junmyeon slapped him at the back of the head—it wasn't like he wanted the position, but it was thrusted upon him. Turning it down would anger a lot of people, and that included his own grandfather who had given a lot of gifts to the old commissioner for Junmyeon to be selected as his successor.

You stayed stone faced as the two bickered, and when they realised you were staying quiet, Jumyeon looked at you then shared a look with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo had told him over the phone you might possibly be suffering from a...kind of depression of some sorts after everything Yoonsu made you go through.

You needed someone to push you into the path of proper recovery.

Both men saw Taeyong walking out of the West Wing with a bag in hand, so Junmyeon nodded at Kyungsoo as he fished the inner pockets of his blazer, and Kyungsoo not so discreetly walked away, signalling Taeyong to turn on his heel too.

Junmyeon reached for your hand, forcing your closed fist to open and placed something on your palm. When you pulled your hand away, you saw it was Junyoung's nametag pin. You felt your heart skip a beat as you looked at it, buried memories unearthing themselves inside your mind.

"...you know, I couldn't stand Junyoung the first time I met him. He was more crass than me, arrogant, prideful—and most of all, he was so goddamn selfish. I hated that guy, if I have to be honest with you, Y/N." Junmyeon hunched over, placing his elbows on his knees.

He stared right ahead, watching an older brother carrying his younger brother on his back, probably boasting about how strong he was to be able to carry his little brother. Junmyeon let out a pained smile at the sight.

"But after he met you, that selfishness started to chip away. He was still arrogant and foul-mouthed—and if he was alive, I've no doubt he would still be that way—but he couldn't afford to be so selfish anymore when it came to you."

You felt your eyes water as you closed your fingers around the nametag, then you felt Junmyeon's hands cover yours, as if he was also trying to keep that nametag safe from the world like you were.

"Kyungsoo told me. About all the things you said Yoonsu said to you before he killed himself, how your own friend dismissed you when you asked to speak with your brother one last time—Y/N, you have to know that all those things he said to you will never be true, you're not selfish. You deserve to live a life beyond Yoonsu, Y/N. You deserve to live a life beyond Junyoung too. He didn't die because of you, he died because of Yoonsu's selfishness—not yours." Junmyeon spoke softly, watching you cry without making a sound.

"I know you resent your friends for leaving you, and I know you also feel like blaming yourself for it because you were the one that pushed them away first, but you can't keep wallowing in your pain all by yourself, Y/N. If they had hurt you so badly, they should apologise to you—but how could they realise what they did wrong and apologize if you're not letting them know?" Junmyeon started to wipe away your tears, even as you started to shake your head.

"But I can't seem to let it go. I don't know if I could forgive them even if they apologize to me. I don't think I'm strong enough to do it." You sobbed out, feeling so ashamed of yourself.

Junmyeon tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear before he placed a hand on the back of your head. This was the same head that his late step cousin loved so much, the same head that Junyoung sacrificed his selfishness for.

"Then get help. Get therapy, receive some counseling. Me and Kyungsoo are scared that if you continue to be like this, you might..." He trailed off, and he didn't have to finish it for you to understand what he was trying to say.

"Please? For Junyoung, at least? He loved you so much, kid. He deserves to see you live a life beyond all this pain, all this suffering...and you owe it to yourself too. Living in misery would just let Yoonsu win in the end. Don't let that asshole win, Y/N."

He saw how your shoulders slumped. You relented, and you started to nod. His hand on the back of your head stretched around your shoulders, letting you cry on his. Finally, Junmyeon felt like his debt with Junyoung was now paid tenfold. At last he got to find where Junyoung was after all these years, and the girl Junyoung loved so much was finally saved from Yoonsu's hold on her.

At last.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Detectives, if my memory serves me well, you belong to Gangnam's Police Force, not Seoul's." You grumbled, not having the strength to fight off Taeyong who was pushing your wheelchair for you.

"And that makes it illegal for us to visit you?" Kyungsoo scoffed from beside you, making you roll his eyes.

You began to tap your foot on the footpad. Kyungsoo caught it, and smirked when he realised he was annoying you. Great, he thought, it's payback for all the times you greatly annoyed him three years ago. It's even more fun when you can't find it in you to whip out snarky comebacks to use against him

"How was therapy? Can me and Taeyong finally go inform your family now? Or are you gonna stall our work for another week?" Kyungsoo side eyed you, and you whipped your head to look at him.

Taeyong cracked a smile, finding it both humorous and heartwarming to see you both bickering. You had been so despondent during the first days, it had him and Kyungsoo relieved to see you having a personality again, even if you were constantly grumpy every time they came and visited you.

"I told you already, Detective Do, I'll tell you when I'm ready. Stop trying to push me to—"

"Y/N?" The familiar voice had you silent in a heartbeat.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong stopped in their tracks, and you included since you were getting wheeled by Taeyong. All three of you stayed frozen at the doorway, seeing so many people in your private room that weren't your doctor and her usual entourage of medical students and nurses (Junmyeon pulled some strings to get you a private room once you were transferred out of the ICU ward. Sometimes you forget Junmyeon also came from a rich family like Yangyang and Chenle).

Inside your room were your remaining family members (Yuno, your father), your foster family (Geonwoo, Woojin, Soyeon), Mark, and your classmates (Xiao, Yangs, Aeri). They felt their breaths stop when they saw you sitting limply on your wheelchair, deep purple bruises all over your face.

You dug your nails into your lap and began to stand up from your wheelchair, alarming Kyungsoo and Taeyong who knew that you were supposed to change your stitches today. Everyone else in the room began to go after you too, seeing how the two men with you were panicking to see you walking by yourself.

You felt like Kyungsoo and Taeyong had betrayed you. You had immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was the detectives that called them over, even when they knew you weren't ready to face them again.

"Kid—" Kyungsoo yelled out, placing a hand on your shoulder when you were already out in the hallway, but you pulled your shoulder away from him so violently it had him going pale, worried that you might tear open your stitches.

And when Taeyong glanced down to the spot where you had been stabbed, he staggered when he saw blood seeping through the shirt the hospital had given you to wear.

"Y/N, stop!" Kyungsoo yelled out again, rushing over to stand in front of you.

The commotion caused everyone in the hallway to stop and witness the scene. Some nurses began to crowd you however, as some of them were already familiar with you and your injury, not wanting you to run and escape when your stitches were obviously ripping. Taeyong held your shoulders from behind while Kyungsoo closed in, forcing you into a bear hug to limit your movements.

You raised your arms and started to pound on his chest, tears streaming down your face at the pain of your stitches ripping open and at the betrayal you felt. The bear hug forced you to your knees, with Kyungsoo whispering something into your ears to calm you down.

"It wasn't us, kid. We didn't inform them. We don't know how they got here, okay? We wouldn't betray you like that. We didn't call them over, Y/N." He spoke softly, and quickly swept you up to carry you in his arms and into your room to lie you down on your bed.

As soon as he lied you down, your doctor came in with her team, immediately pushing everyone out of the room and closing the door in front of them.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Who are you people? How do you know my sister?" Yuno asked stiffly, obviously still frazzled from the commotion you caused earlier.

Taeyong and Kyungsoo stared at the people before them. Just right as Kyungsoo was about to tell them who they were, a voice down the hallway rang through, gathering everyone's attention.

"Detectives!" Dr. Kim, your therapist, appeared.

She staggered back a little when she saw national darling and viral sensation Jeong Jaehyun in front of her. Sejeong tilted her head at him then looked at the detectives for a proper explanation. She just heard that you made a commotion earlier and tore open your stitches.

"I'm sorry, but who are these people?" Sejeong asked sincerely, seeing that all of them were waiting in front of your door.

"Dr. Kim, meet Jeong Y/N's friends and family." Taeyong spoke tiredly, pinching at his temple.

Sejeong balked.

"No! Y/N wasn't ready to see them again, detectives, so how could you! Didn't you promise that you'd only reach them out and inform them once they're ready?" She nearly shrieked, now upset on your behalf.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong looked at your friends and family—well, former friends and family. Both detectives understood that they shouldn't let personal bias cloud their judgement on people (it's literally their job to be that way), but they couldn't help it when all they could see at the moment was Y/N's sole source of pain, now that Yoonsu's dead.

"That's the problem—we didn't inform them. We were wheeling Y/N back to her room so we could spend some time with her and see how she's doing, but when we got to her room, they were already there inside it. It's why she freaked out and tore open her stitches." Taeyong explained thoroughly, looking straight into Yuno's eyes.

"You didn't answer our question earlier, asshole—who the fuck are you, and how do you know Y/N?" Yangyang spoke out this time, stepping out of the group and coming face to face with both of the detectives.

"Okay, time out! Detectives, please take these people to the canteen downstairs to give them the rundown of it. You can't keep crowding the hallway like this, and it's also within Y/N's best interest that you don't overwhelm her once the doctor's done with fixing up her stitches." Sejeong did a karate chop in the air between your friends and family and the detectives.

"Why should we follow your orders?" Mark asked genuinely, and Sejeong sighed at him as she showed them her badges.

"I'm a psychologist working for this hospital, and I also happen to be Y/N's therapist. Please, I beg of you for the sake of my patient, go to the canteen with the detectives. I can't breach patient confidentiality, but these detectives are obligated by the law to explain to Y/N's family on what happened to her."

A/N : might post a pt. 3, but i also might not 🫨

[goingmerryfics]

Please, please, please my man Katakuri x Big mom's Baker!Reader. The Reader would be the who cook katakuri's merienda

The Dozen - Baker!Reader x Katakuri

Content: Katakuri realizes he’s in love, that’s it

Notes* When I got this request I was nearly done with Whole Cake Island and let me tell you, I love this man and this prompt. Here you are!

Katakuri

Katakuri was starting to notice that the donuts taste different.

It wasn’t a bad thing, per say. Actually, it was quite the opposite. These ones weren’t as greasy, they were a little lighter, more vanilla, more glaze. 

It was enough for him to notice it quickly in the very short time since you had started working as Big Mom’s new baking apprentice, intending to take over the role as the head of the kitchen someday

Each donut was crafted with care, perfectly round and plated beautifully.

They paired well with his tea!

Katakuri knew his donuts. These were different, and he wanted to know why

That’s what led him to seeking you out for the very first time

 Hearing that he was on his way, the kitchen was in a panic- worried that maybe they had let you get too carried away with your new job, that maybe it was too early to let you serve him your baked goods.

But you were confident in your ability and your skill, unwavering until he’s standing before you

You had heard that he was tall, but this was a completely new level. He was huge, imposing, his presence demanded you attention without words.

You swallowed hard, waiting for him to speak

“Are you the baker that made my donuts?” He asks you calmly

You confirm his suspicions, and he nods

There’s a weird silence as he tries to figure out what to say.

There’s a few things about you that he wants to comment on- the colour of your hair, how wide your eyes are- but he settles with a quick word of praise for you to keep it up before leaving in a rush. 

It was a strange encounter for both of you, because as he leaves he finds himself… Confused

Charlotte Katakuri is known for his unflinching loyalty to his family, his honor, and his stoic, cool demeanor. A warrior that is undefeated and has never fallen on his back.

But all that feels like it’s been thrown out the window in an instant, because with just one look, he feels something changing inside him

He finds himself thinking of you even when he’s not eating your snacks

When he’s just going about his day and trying to act normal but he can feel the heat in his face when he thinks about those eyes of yours

He’s really glad for his scarf at times like these.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by others around him, and he always gets flustered when he’s trying to save himself.

Suddenly he can’t seem to control his emotions and it’s all your fault

He tries to keep it down, tries to suppress the feeling, but you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it.

Each new batch of donuts only makes him feel more and more for you

A month after your first encounter, he calls for you to meet with him. He needs to see you again, to talk to you properly, at least to get your name so he knows what to call the person that’s taken his heart so quickly

The person that’s taken him down with just a look

He wants to see you smile, know what your dreams are, and hear stories about where you’re from

It starts to become a weekly thing, and then about three times a week when he can spare the time

him seeking you out to talk, get to know you better, and listen to you laugh 

He’s a little apprehensive to talk much about himself, even as you encourage it, though

He’s such a sweetheart to you as you soon learn. He cares about his family and he does what he can to take care of his siblings in his work

He won’t confess to you, but you’re suspicious that he might have feelings

You’re pretty sure you’re starting to feel for him, too

[letters-to-rosie]

okay time to collect some thoughts

spoilers for season 2

as soon as they said there were other regions going to be explored, I knew Noxus was going to be the big thing, and that the battle between the cities and the class conflict angles of the story were going to be set aside. if you know me, you know I would hate this, but because I anticipated it, it wasn't too bad. I had already killed the version of the show I wanted in my head and was ready to take things as they came. and it wasn't all bad. Ambessa makes for a great villain, and all the twists and turns with her and Mel were pretty enjoyable

that being said, the second season in general did away with most of the things I liked about the first: subtlety, nuance, environmental storytelling (and all that sweet sweet class conflict)---I mean the cities just faded into the background as we watched everything play out. even a lot of the great character work we got in the first season was just left as it was. most the characters didn't really get to move much from where they were in the first season. even the ones I enjoyed (like Ambessa) were essentially the same as they were before. there were a lot of things that were cool. a lot of things that were interesting. most of them don't work when put together

Jayce? liked him this season, actually. had fun when he was suffering lol and fighting Viktor. Jayce disappearing out of the blue when the basement of the hexgates wasn't set up at all? boooooo

Jinx? gets to realize she isn't just a jinx. gets to help people. is this realized in a satisfying way? nope. we get one scene of people touching her and then Isha dies and she's back where she was at the start of the season, almost. plus her relationship with Sevika just drops off, and I was having fun with that

Cait? love her evil era. I also like that the plot didn't let her entirely off the hook. love less how she engaged in fucking chemical warfare like what even and that was never addressed

Ekko? has my whole heart. did before, but whatever. saved everyone's asses by being the best boy. love how he's motivated by helping the people who need him. love MUCH less that we never get to see him doing that work. like what did he think of Jinx becoming inspiring to people? how would that combine with his experience in the alternate timeline?

I could go on. I might be better prepared to deal with this than some because I didn't think it would be good in the first place lol I had like no hope. it was such a grand show in the first place and they made it so much grander. there's a lot to like, but the first season REALLY carries it. it feels like two separate shows. I don't begrudge anyone really liking the second season, but I will maintain that the fanbase deserved (and still deserves) better

[zarsghost]

For Worse

dark!Ghost x fem!reader pt. 2 of “For Better”

Warnings: manipulation, brief mentioned of blood/gore, toxic behavior, threats

The overhead lights buzzed as the electricity continued to flow through them as Simon sat in his chair. He doesn’t know how long ago Price left his tiny on base office but it didn’t matter. In his hands were the rings that should still be on your finger. It shouldn’t have moved from when he slid them on all those years ago but yet here they are. Here they both are, without you. Now, was Simon a good husband? Not at the moment, no.

But he was an even worse individual. The things he had endured and the things he’s done upon others would not qualify him as a ‘good man’. Doesn’t matter if it was on behalf of his country or the safety of the world. It was two sides of the same coin in a constant rotation but Simon knew that that’s not what weighed his conscience. It was the fact that he had none.

The one thing he had to keep him sane was trying to leave. The one thing that tethered him to this world and he’d be damned if he was going to let that slip away from him. A familiar shift faded over Simon as his eyes became dark and his breaths became shallow. Simon was gone and in his place, his shadow filled the void. His Ghost. He placed the rings in his breast pocket, velco securing it tightly to his chest at all times, as he sprung up from his desk chair and made a beeline towards the rec room where he knew his sergeants would be with tight and tense shoulders and his head straight forward. Target acquired.

Almost slamming the doors open, Ghost filled the nearly empty room with his presence alone as he made his way to a lone table where Kyle and Johnny were currently playing cards. There was the sound of scraping chairs against the shitty linoleum as the few other people in the room quickly left when they noticed who had just walked in looking like he was on a mission. And he was, but he wasn’t about to do this without his team.

Both men were well into their game when the overheard light was suddenly obstructed by a thick silhouette of a man. Johnny looked up just in time recognizing said silhouette, “Lt! Whit are ye doin blockin the licht? I-” his voice immediately dying in his throat when he realized the look on his lieutenants’ face. Kyle noticed immediately the change in the Scots demeanor and looked up as well. “What happened?”, he asked as he immediately clocked the aura radiating off of his superior.

“Need you to be in the briefing room in 10. No questions till then.”

Both men nodded in agreement before Ghost walked away.

Ghost stood in front of the long wooden table as Gaz and Soap filed in. Price was already seated with his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the rest of his team with a slightly annoyed but determined look on his face. They all shared a collective nod in greeting before setting their eyes on the man in front.

“We’ve got a job to do and a tight window. No distractions. This is your priority now. Understood?” He waited but was met with silence.

“Good.”

—-----

Simon was ecstatic. You had said no to continuing the proceedings. You were still his. You would still be his. And you wouldn’t be doing this again.

After carrying you out of the courtroom, he set you down and connected his forehead with yours. “I have to take care of something really quickly while I’m here but I’ll be out shortly. Why don’t you wait in the car and then we’ll go down to that asian place around the corner that I know you like as a celebration hm? My treat.”

You smile up at him and peck the corner of his mouth before walking out to his car. You had taken an Uber since Simon mainly uses the car to get to and from base when he’s home, which he now was and planned to be for a while.

Simon watched you leave before his mask slipped back in place. Turning back into the courtroom, he walked around the bench to the door where it led to the judge’s chambers.

The judge looked nervous as he sat in his leather chair behind his desk. A faint glow in the dark corner of the room grew brighter before dimming again. A puff of smoke came out of the shadows before being followed by his Captain.

“Good to see that you kept your end of the bargain. Was worried there for a second there but you managed. Hate to see what would’ve happened if it hadn’t.” The familiar gruff voice sounded from behind his chair. The lawyer that you had used was currently unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up his forearms at a small table next to the door.

“That would’ve been really disappointing too. After I had worked so hard to… convince you as well.” His smooth voice rang out.

The judge looked between them and stuttered,” But I did what you asked! Why-why does it feel like I missed something?” The judges’ nervous eyes landed on the bailiff that was shifting his weight from side to side as he watched what was currently unfolding. “Bailiff! Please! Do something!”

The bailiff cracked his neck to the side before removing his hat. His bright blue eyes never leaving the panicked shit brown ones of the sweating man in front of him.

“Ah kin dae something a'richt. Bit ah dinnae think ye'll be tae chuffed by th' outcome.” His hand ran through the currently flattened fauxhawk. “ 'n' how come ah hae tae be th' bailiff?! Gaz a’ready wears a cap!”

Price chuckled a bit, “Well she knows my face and I don’t think ya see too many lawyers ‘round here with a haircut like that, do ya?”

Johnny grumbled a bit before refocusing on the man of the hour. “Och sorry, did ye think ah wis gonnae actually help?” He laughed and the rest of his teammates joined.

Ghost walked forward as Gaz made sure the door was locked behind him. “I don’t think anyone will be coming back any time soon but to answer your question, there is something that you missed.” There was suddenly a heavy pressure on the judge’s shoulders as Price held him in place in his chair. Gaz and Soap came up on either side of Ghost as he leaned over the desk.

“SAS doesn’t leave any loose ends behind.”

Simon walked out with his team behind him while he wiped his hands. Setting up everything in such an exact way just to watch it all fall into place was truly beautiful. Getting into your laptop wasn’t hard to make sure that you had picked Gaz as your lawyer. All he had to do was sneak in when he knew you’d be out was simple enough. Making sure that Soap had the correct badges to pass inspection with his stolen uniform. Price just had to make sure that the judge they’d found fell in line. Considering that this hearing was never actually recorded and that he wasn’t even a practicing judge anymore helped their case as well. The remains of the judge stayed mostly in the room behind them. Some technically were on his hands but a quick run to the washroom would fix that. But they’d be long gone before anyone found him. Ghost almost wishes he could do it all over again but he had a pretty bird waiting for him outside. With a nod behind him, he made his way outside.

—---------

Months had gone by after your almost divorce and you believe that it actually knocked some sense into your husband. He was now always home when he wasn’t deployed. Even when he was, he made sure to call you to hear your voice and check in on you. When he was home, his hands were almost always on you. And maybe that’s why looking at the small plastic stick in your hands wasn’t as big of a shock. But what would your husband think?

Don’t worry, he has already told his mates and has his pick of names ready when you exit the bathroom. Those sugar pills you’ve been taking were already in the bin.

[opt1mistic]

high and dry

ellie williams x reader

warnings : angst, unrequited love, bad writing, r is smoking, and also lowk hates herself🤷‍♀️, thats pretty much it. also not proofread. an : this was originally supposed to be waaaay longer but i got a wee bit scared so i decided to keep it short🙂 wc : 0.5k

there’s something about tonight that makes you want to spill your gut. the way the tiny stars shined from your appartement balcony. the chilly breeze flowing into your face, making your hand wrap around yourself and hold your elbows tight. the smell of the cigarette in between your two fingers was comforting, it brought peace to you. every time you bring the end of the cigarette to your slightly dry lips, the way the smoke filled up your lungs made you feel numb to the thought of losing her.

why were feeling so fucking complicated?

god, the was she look at you, her laugh, her face, everything about her was perfect. she was perfect. and you were sure she thought the same for you, but you just didn’t think you were perfect enough for her. you were always there for her though every break up, through her high and lows. but all you did was push her away when you needs a shoulder to cry on. locking all your feelings away so she couldn’t come and help you. all this pain just because you did want her to leave. you knew if you let her get close to you your feelings would grow bigger and stronger, and you knew it would end up breaking your heart.

but the one time you did need her, of course she was there. oh, how much you hated her for it. the words of “i have feeling for you” leaving your lips. her face staring blank at you. what have you done? you could tell that she didn’t like you back. the way her face morphed into a look of pitty. ellie didn’t what to hurt your feelings by saying no, but she had no other choice.

i mean don’t get her wrong she thought you were really pretty. you were the most amazing person ever. the light of her life. but all she saw you as was a sister. you were her platonic soulmate, in every universe. but was there a universe where you are more then that? plotonic?

you hated yourself for so long for ruining your friendship. seconds before you said thoes words you hoped that she wouldn’t leave you, she was the best thing you ever had, (even if there was nothing romantic about it… to her at least), she was the best thing that ever happened to you. and you ruined it—with something as ‘silly’ as love.

your lips parted, letting up the smoke from your lungs. you shut your eyes are you let all the smoke out, and when you opened your eyes, a few salty tears fall down your cold cheeks, scattering at the top of your chin. each one of those tears carried unspoken words you couldn’t say, everything you’ve been holding back.

snorting back some snot that was threatening to slip from your nose, you reach your free hand to wipe your face free of tears. you put out the cigarette and walked back into your apartment, the scent of smoke and salt still clinging to you, as this night refused to let you ever forget.