#drop kick it away before grabbing your camera

[phantomdecibel]

I thiunk minecraft purposefully tries to kill you when you’re getting close toyour one year hardcore anniversary(baby zombie glitched its way out of my mobfarm to try and kill me)

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Summary: Things have gone wrong in your pack's absence. Can they make it back in time before irreparable damage is done? Can they fix the damage that's already been dealt?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,232...oops

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, panic attacks, very descriptive scenes of panic and anxiety, very heavy emotionally in the beginning, major invasions of privacy, hurt/sort of comfort, very brief mention of violence and death, and most importantly: fluff

A/N: Yeah, so this one kind of got away from me. It's definitely one of my favorite chapters now, and it's definitely the longest so far. It's pretty heavy, so plan something fun afterwards because it will hurt. I tried to catch all the possible triggers, but of course, if I miss one let me know. I promise things will begin to take a turn for the happier after this, at least for a bit. Picks up pretty much right where chapter 17 left off.

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You’re shaking. Your breaths are coming in gasps as you stare at your open door. There’s no scent in the air, nothing that would give you a hint of who invaded your space, or if they’re still in there. You should leave, barricade yourself somewhere and call Dr. Keller, or even Kate. 

What could they do, though? Your pack won’t be home until tomorrow at the earliest. 

No one can help you. 

You slowly push your door open, ready to run in case someone is hiding inside. You stand in the doorway, scanning the small space, but there’s no sign of anyone. There’s still no scent either, just your own mingled with the slight chemical burn of scent blockers. Your eyes scan the room, looking for anything that might be new, anything that might be missing, anything that might be slightly out of place. 

The clothes on the floor are slightly rumpled, but you’re not sure if you did that in your haste to pull on shoes before you left, or if they’ve been that way since the knock sounded on your door. You lift your gaze to the ceiling, scanning it and that’s when you notice it. The cover over the vent is slightly out of place. You likely wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention, if you hadn’t looked. 

The thought sends a chill running down your spine. 

You keep your eyes on the vent as you grab your desk chair, kicking clothes out of the way as you move it under the vent. You stand on the chair, reaching for the vent, but it’s not quite enough. You shove the chair to the side, taking everything off your desk before you pull it under the vent. You climb up on shaky legs, your heart thudding in your chest as you remove the vent cover. 

Nausea twists at your stomach as your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. There, strategically placed between two of the gaps in the vent cover, is a camera. It’s small, and would have been invisible just staring at the vent from below. You feel like you might be sick as you pull it free from the vent cover, staring down into the tiny lens. 

How long has it been up there? 

You drop the camera onto your desk, your fingers shaking and trembling as you feel along the edges of the vent, checking for anything else that might be hiding up there. You replace the cover after you find nothing, a sense of dread filling you. 

Had the guys put it up so they could watch you, make sure that you’re safe? Had they put it up there before you arrived? You think about all the times you’ve changed in your room, your heat. 

You climb down from the desk, tugging it further towards the center of the room before you climb back up, unscrewing the cover off the light. You check the bulb, looking for any cameras or recording devices. You screw the cover of the light back on after finding none, a quiet sob leaving your lips as you look around your room. 

You close the door and lock it before you begin your search, checking every corner and piece of furniture for cameras or recording devices. You empty the dresser and closet, checking every drawer and corner for anything suspicious. 

You pull recording devices from under your desk and the back of your nightstand, the adhesive still fresh enough they pop right off. A cold sweat has overtaken you as you find another recording device and another camera, adding them to the growing pile on your desk. 

A quiet sob of fear leaves your lips as you check the bathroom, tearing your room apart to check every inch. You search up a tutorial on YouTube, using your phone to check for more possible cameras that you might have missed. 

You stare down at the pile of cameras and recording devices on your desk. Someone entered your room and planted them while you were with General Shepherd. It had all been deliberate. Get you away from your room and distracted so they could enter and set up the devices. You wonder if it’s all part of some sick plan, some way to ensure things are going well with your pack. General Shepherd had been very interested in your mark, invading your space without a moment of hesitation to see it firsthand. You would have shown him, had he asked to see it. Instead he’d just done it himself, as if it was nothing. 

Your hands are shaking as you find a ziploc bag in the mess you’ve made of your room, putting the cameras and recording devices into it. You drop it onto the floor before stepping on it, listening to the crack of metal and plastic and glass under your shoe. Tears slip down your cheeks as you pick up the bag of broken pieces, taking it to the bathroom. You hide it far in the back of the cupboard beneath the sink, piling things around it and on top of it to keep it hidden. 

You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, your skin crawling as you stare at the mess. You don’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own space. The thought of someone breaching the sacred space, entering your room without a second thought to put up cameras makes your stomach churn. 

Where will you go? You can’t just leave, find somewhere else to feel safe. What if they did the same to the guys’ rooms? There could have been an entire team of people that came in and put cameras up all over the barracks. A sob leaves your lips as you rush to the door, double checking it’s locked before you shove the dresser against it. You flip your desk up to cover the window as much as it can, just in case anyone tries to climb in.  

You sink to the floor in the middle of the disaster that has become your room, sobbing quietly. You want your pack home, you want to feel safe again. You glance at your phone where it’s sitting on a pile of shirts, afraid to even touch it. That woman could have done anything to it while you were with General Shepherd. What if they’re trying to call you and they can’t reach you? 

You should try to reach Dr. Keller, tell her what happened, get her to check if there’s anyone lurking around the barracks that shouldn’t be. What if they try to attack her, though? Can she defend herself? You don’t know if she can fight or not. What if she gets hurt because of you? She could ask someone else on base to look, but what if they were involved in it? What if it was someone already on base that had done it? The thought nearly makes you sick. 

You’re scared to leave again. What if they’ve noticed you found the cameras and come back while you’re gone? What if they come back while you’re here? 

The tears flow freely as you sob, too afraid to even move. You can feel it, the panic starting to bubble up again, the fear welling inside you. Your muscles begin to tense, shoulders pulling up near your ears as you try to defend yourself from this invisible threat. It’s an easy slope from fear to distress, and there’s no one to help you if you start distressing. You press your palms into your eyes, holding your breath to try and shock your body into something other than panic. 

You bite back a startled scream as a knock sounds at the door, your heart rate spiking again. 

“It’s just me,” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door. “Ready for dinner?” 

You take a deep breath, staring at the dresser blocking your door. You’ll have to move it to get out, which she’ll likely notice. You could lie, you could lie easily, but you’re not sure you could keep it up right now. She’ll notice the tears, the obvious signs of panic and distress. She’ll want to know, and you can’t trust yourself not to spill everything. 

You should tell her about what had happened, but you know she’ll be disappointed. She’ll think you were stupid for leaving, for not even sending her a text. She’ll tell John when he returns, too. He should know about it, but there’s no way a high ranking General could arrive on base without them knowing, especially one that’s their commander. Maybe it had all been a test. Maybe they do know about General Shepherd and just forgot to tell you this was going to happen. 

Maybe Dr. Keller even knew about it, and didn’t say anything because she thought you knew too. 

“I-I’m not hungry.” You say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. 

There’s a pause outside the door for a moment, a beat of silence that’s too loud.

“Is everything alright?” She finally asks. 

“Y-Yeah.” You say, clearing your throat. “Just...not really hungry right now.” 

It’s silent again for a beat, making you hold your breath anxiously. 

“Are you sure? I can come back later, or bring you dinner.” She says. 

“I’m sure.” You swallow the tears welling in your eyes again. “I’ll grab a snack if I get hungry later.” 

“Okay...” She says, and you can almost see the frown on her face. “Text or call if you need anything, alright?” 

“Yeah.” You say, your voice cracking a bit. 

You regret it almost instantly, the urge to shove the dresser out of the way and fling the door open strong as you hear her receding steps down the hallway. You don’t want to be alone, but Dr. Keller can’t give you what you need. The tears start falling again, sliding down your cheeks as you flop onto your back, ignoring the way the edge of a book digs into your spine. 

You just want your pack back. You want John to scoop you up into his arms and wrap you in his warmth and soothing scent. You want Kyle and Johnny to squish you between them, sandwich you so tightly you’re scared you might burst. You want Ghost to wrap himself around you and offer you a blanket of protection against anyone who would even dare cast a glance in your direction. 

You just want to feel at home again. 

You want to be safe again. 

***

The emotional and physical exhaustion pushes you into the state between consciousness and sleep. You’ve moved to your bed, tucked under the covers and stuck between the wall and your giant bear, as if it could offer you some form of protection as you float between awareness and somewhere in the realm of sleep for a few hours.

You’re not sure what time it is, when the disruption comes. It takes you a moment to register why you’re awake. Some deep part of your brain is prickling, sending out warning signals to your body. Something’s happening, something’s wrong, something’s posing a threat. 

You hold your breath in the silence of the barracks, listening to the slow, quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. For a moment you think you might be imagining them, that you’re still asleep and dreaming. Your fingers pinch at your skin, nails digging in to confirm that you are, in fact, awake. This is really happening. 

Your heartbeat picks up, the bitter stench of fear that’s coated your room intensifying as the footsteps pause outside your door. You let out a quiet, shaky breath as you lay there, thinking up every time you checked the door in the last few hours to ensure it was locked and the dresser was still pushed in front of it. 

You cover your mouth as the door handle wiggles, catching on the lock. The whimper of fear threatening to rise catches in your throat as you hold your breath, your body trembling under your blankets. You should reach for your phone, send a text to Kate, call Dr. Keller, do something. Yet, you’re frozen in fear as the handle continues to wiggle before stopping. 

You don’t release a breath until the footsteps fade, a quiet whimper slipping from your lips. Someone just tried to get into your room. 

You’re panicking, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you burrow under your covers, barricading yourself between the wall and your bear, hoping you’ll be invisible in case they come back, in case they force their way in. You can’t fight, not after the day you’ve had. The best you can hope for is that your scent is rank enough in the room it’ll deter whoever is trying to get in. 

You need tomorrow to come, and fast. 

***

Daylight doesn't bring any sense of comfort. 

All it does is shed more light on the disaster your room has become, the physical representation of your internal thoughts and feelings. Your face feels puffy from crying, and there’s a bad taste in your mouth. You haven’t brushed your teeth since yesterday, nor have you showered, too scared to put yourself in such a vulnerable position. 

You glance at your phone, checking for missed calls, but there’s none. Dr. Keller will be by soon to get you for breakfast, but you’re not sure you can stand going to the mess. The idea of leaving your room, leaving it empty so anyone could just walk in and bug it or touch your things or hide out so they can take revenge on you for finding and destroying their cameras and recording devices has you paralyzed. 

That must have been what whoever entered the barracks last night had come to do. Maybe they thought you’d spend the night in one of the other rooms and they’d come to replace them. Or, maybe they wanted you to be in your room. Maybe that was the plan all along. 

The thought sends a chill running down your spine. 

You burrow back under your blankets, curling up against your giant teddy bear. You wish it was Price, that his arm would wrap around you and hold you close, keep you safe and protected in his arms. You’d take any of them right now, even Ghost. At least you know he’d protect you, especially if someone tried to enter the barracks without permission. 

You’re still lying there when Dr. Keller arrives. You stare at the dresser still pushed against the door, keeping you from opening it. Not that you really want to. You can’t stop the anxiety from taking over, bringing forward the image of Dr. Keller held at gunpoint on the other side of the door, trying to trick you into opening it so whoever tried to get in last night can finally do what they came to do. 

You know it’s a ridiculous thought. No one would be that stupid in broad daylight, and you doubt Dr. Keller would let something like that happen to her. She’d put up a fight, or at least you hope so. 

You can’t move the dresser without her knowing you’d pushed it against the door, which will only prompt questions. Questions you don’t want to answer. 

She calls your name through the door, concern lacing her voice. “Everything alright?” 

No. You want to scream it, tears gathering in your eyes again. You want to push the dresser out of the way, throw open the door and confess everything that’s happened in the last few hours to her. You want to bring her into your space, keep her there until your pack returns so you can feel even just an ounce of safety. 

But what if she gets mad? 

Leaving yesterday was stupid. Going off with some unknown beta without telling anyone was the dumbest thing you’ve done since your arrival on base. She’ll be disappointed and she’ll tell your pack and they’ll be disappointed that you didn’t say anything to her about it. Even if they knew it happened, they’d still be disappointed that you didn’t think to even question it, that you didn’t think to let Dr. Keller know what was going on. 

You made a stupid decision, and you won’t be able to take their disappointment and anger. Not after everything. 

“Yeah.” You call out, your voice shaking. “I-I’m alright.” 

You can tell she doesn’t believe you, even though you can’t see her. She probably has that look on her face she gets when she knows you’re not telling the whole truth. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. You’re afraid it might give out after the stress of the last few days. 

“Are you ready for breakfast?��� She finally asks, likely giving up on trying to get any more details from you. 

You’re not hungry, and you know going to the mess will not end well. The risk of distressing is high, and the thought that any one in the mess might have been the intruder last night nearly sends you over the edge. One wrong glance in your direction might cause you to do something reckless. “I’m not hungry.” You finally say, pulling the blankets tighter around you. 

“Are you sure?” She asks. “Did you eat something last night?” 

“Yeah.” You lie, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “I had some snacks.” 

Her feet shuffle outside the door for a moment, and you can almost hear her sigh. “If you’re sure?” 

“I-I’m sure.” You reply. 

There’s a moment of silence before you get a response, your breath catching in your throat from the nerves. “Alright.” She finally says. “I got word that your pack will be landing in a couple of hours and we have permission to go out to the airfield and greet them. I’ll come back to get you when it’s time. If you need anything, call me.” 

You listen to her footsteps recede down the hallway, tears burning your eyes. You hate lying. You feel bad for keeping the truth from her, but the shame of revealing what you did is too strong. 

You hastily wipe your eyes, staring at the mess on your floor. You need to get your room back to at least its somewhat normal state, and you need to put yourself back to your normal state as well. If anyone gets any hint that something is wrong, you might crack, and you’re not sure you could handle the repercussions. 

You start with the desk, flipping it back the way it’s supposed to be and positioning it as close to where it was as you can get. You collect the books and other little things that go on it, trying to arrange it as close to how it normally is. You know they’ll notice if any little thing is out of place, if anything looks suspicious. You can blame some of it on cleaning, if they ask. You did some deep cleaning while they were away. That’s one way of putting it. 

You push the dresser back into place next, putting the drawers back in before starting on the clothes, putting everything back where it belongs. You make your bed last, the urge to nest gone completely. You’re shaking with exhaustion by the time you finish, tempted to crawl back into bed, but you know you can’t. Your pack is coming back, and you need everything to look like it’s fine still. 

They’ll notice. They’ll see it, and they’ll ask, and you’ll have to spill everything and face the shame and anger from being so stupid. 

Tears burn your eyes as you slip your desk chair under the door handle, making sure it’s secure before heading to the shower to get ready for your pack’s imminent return. You shower with the door open, getting done quickly to avoid being vulnerable for long. You try to make yourself look as decent as possible, ignoring the fact that there’s broken cameras and recording devices hidden under the sink. Eventually you’ll forget. Eventually it’ll fade from your mind and become nothing more than a forgotten nightmare. 

One of many. 

You toss your pajamas on the floor haphazardly, just to make things look more normal. You know if it’s too clean, that might raise some suspicions as well. You don’t want to give away that something happened, you don’t want to raise any suspicions. You just want things to go back to normal. You want your pack back, and you want to feel safe again. 

At least, until they have to leave again. 

You sink to the floor, leaning up against your bed as you wait for Dr. Keller to take you to greet your pack when they return. 

***

Every minute seems to drag on infinitely as you stare across the tarmac. They’ll be landing any minute. Any minute now the nightmare will be over and you’ll get to see your pack again after days of being apart. Finally, maybe, you can begin to feel safe again. 

You watch the plane as it comes in to land, your hands already trembling in anticipation. There’s a twisting in your stomach, you’re not sure if it’s worry or fear or excitement. They’re so close, so close you can almost smell them. Your omega is scratching at the back of your brain, your muscles twitching as the ramp begins to lower on the plane. You need to see them, you need to smell them, you need to ensure they’re alright. 

You can’t stop yourself. As soon as their boots hit the tarmac, you’re running. You don’t care if you’re breaking rules, you don’t care if the other soldiers get worried, or see you as a possible threat, you need to be in your alpha’s arms again. 

John grunts from the force of you hitting him, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You throw your arms around him, clinging to him as tight as you can. You’re whimpering, the quiet sounds dragging from your lips but you don’t care. You press your face into his chest, breathing him in. He smells like sweat and musk, the sharp metallic tang of gunpowder burning your nose. Yet, underneath it all, you can make out the earthy scent, the petrichor going straight to your brain. 

His arms wrap tight around you, squishing you up against his chest. His vest digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You can’t feel much of anything but relief. His breath fans your forehead as he leans down, his hand cupping the back of your head. He shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Tears fill your eyes as you cling to him, fingers gripping his shirt tightly like you’re afraid he might disappear again. If it wasn’t for the pain in your chest, you might have thought this was all a dream, that they might disappear suddenly and you’ll wake up alone again. 

“Easy.” John rumbles, gently stroking the back of your head. 

You cling to him tighter as his hand gets close to your neck, the thought of General Shepherd’s hand being so close to your neck where he could scruff you so easily making your insides squirm. 

He’s gone. He’s gone and your pack is here. 

“You’re alright.” John tries to reassure you, squeezing his arms around your trembling form. “I’ve got you.” 

You keep your face pressed against his chest, breathing him in, trying to get his scent to calm the raging storm within you. Your omega is still scratching at the back of your mind, a deep need to claw your way under John’s skin and into his body pushing at the front of your mind. You won’t be safe until you’ve been utterly consumed by him, until you’re safely tucked where no one can hurt you without going through him first. 

“Alpha,” You whine quietly, nuzzling your face against his chest. His clothes are in the way, a barrier against what you need. To feel him, to smell him fully again. 

“Easy.” He says, grabbing your hands as they shift towards the velcro straps of his tactical vest. “Let’s get back to the barracks first before we start that, sweetheart.” 

You don’t want to go back to the barracks. It’s not safe anymore. What if there’s someone waiting there for you to return? What if they get hurt because you don’t tell them what happened? What if you get hurt and cause them pain? 

“You’re alright.” John says, stroking the back of your head as he begins to ease your grip on him. “There’s a couple of muppets here who I think would like to greet you too.” 

Right. You’re so caught up in your alpha, you forgot the rest of your pack. You slowly allow yourself to be peeled away from John, Kyle right there to let you cling to him. 

And so you do. 

Your grip around him is just as tight, ignoring the uncomfortable ridges of his own vest. He holds you just as tightly, projecting his scent just a bit to try and calm you. Someone presses against your back, arms wrapping around both you and Kyle. The scent of citrus lined with beta invades your nose, Johnny squishing you into a sandwich between them. Your eyes squeeze shut as citrus and salty sea air blend together, the beta’s scents reaching deep into your brain to try and ease some of the tension in your body. 

They’re back. They’re safe. You’re safe. 

Now you just have to convince yourself of that fact. 

***

“How was she?” John asks as he approaches Dr. Keller. 

“Held it together longer than I thought she would.” She says. “Things took a turn yesterday afternoon. Shut herself in her room and wouldn’t come out. I don’t think she’s eaten anything since lunch yesterday either.” 

“We’ll get some food in her.” John says. “Thank you, for looking after her for us.” 

“Well, it is partly my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Always happy to do it.” 

“Things will get easier, won’t they?” He asks. 

“Eventually. She’ll learn what coping mechanisms help and she’ll adapt.” 

“Hopefully at least one of us will be able to stay moving forward. I don’t like leaving her here alone.” He grimaces. 

“Separation is hard no matter what, especially with limited contact, on all parties involved.” She gives him a look. “I think the best thing you can do right now is just be together as a pack. Let those bonds heal and let her do what she needs.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” John says, shaking her hand. 

“Call me, if you need anything, as usual.” Dr. Keller says, watching his retreating back before getting into her car to make the short drive back to the medical center. 

John gets into the car waiting to take them back to the barracks, sitting next to Kyle who’s holding you straddling his lap, your face pressed into his neck. “That looks safe.” He remarks, even though they wouldn’t be going very fast, or very far. 

“Couldn’t get her to let go.” Kyle says, tightening his hold around you as the car begins moving. 

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” John says, rubbing your back gently. 

You turn your face to look at him, your eyes red from the numerous tears you’ve already shed, and the ones still trailing down your face. The guilt nearly makes him sick as he stares at you, feeling the slight tremble still from where his hand rests against your back. 

He’d never say it out loud, but he hates the fact they had to leave you, all four of them at once too. He’d fought, argued. He and Simon could have handled it on their own, even him and the two Sergeants would have been sufficient. Anything not to leave you by yourself during their first deployment. 

Despite his attempts, General Shepherd had been insistent that all four of them were necessary for this particular task. 

So, he had been forced to leave you behind on your own. It’s gone about as well as he expected, from the looks of it. He knew the separation would get to you eventually. The stress would grow to be too much. Every day he anticipated the news to come from Kate that you had distressed and your omega had taken over because he wasn’t there to help you. 

Every day he waited for the news that they’d lost you because the brass that put this initiative into place couldn’t understand why taking them all at once was a bad idea. 

Or maybe that was their plan all along. 

He couldn’t stop the conspiratorial thoughts running through his head as their mission dragged on. What if they were doing this on purpose? It wouldn’t be that strange to push the boundaries of what could be tolerated for the purpose of testing just how effective the initiative really could be. But pushing it like that so soon? Sure, he could rationalize it was possible. War could break out at any moment, which would require most military members to leave, to be separated from their packs for months or even years. His own team could be called out at any time for months working to eliminate a target and stop war from breaking out. 

Yet, he can’t help but feel there was something more, something deeper going on. What if they had called away for more nefarious reasons? What if getting you alone had been the reason behind General Shepherd’s insistence that all four of them were necessary for this particular task? He had refused to entertain those dark thoughts for too long, the fear of leaving you alone already itching in the back of his mind from the moment they boarded the plane to leave. 

He hadn’t been able to hide his relief at hearing your voice on the phone. Though you had sounded upset, and rightfully so, his worries had been lessened in knowing you were alright. You would tell them if something had happened. He knows you wouldn’t keep something that serious a secret. If someone had hurt you, or had tried to hurt you, you would tell one of them. 

Even though he trusts you, he does plan to speak to Dr. Keller more in depth later to ensure everything went as fine as she seemed to imply it did. Obviously their absence has been hard on you, but he needs to make sure you really will be alright, that you will be able to come back from the obvious distress this has caused you. 

***

You finally release your constricting hold on Kyle as the car pulls up outside the barracks. Even with them back, it still doesn't feel like home anymore, not after such sacred space was invaded so easily, so nonchalantly. Kyle climbs out of the car, setting you on your feet on the ground. You look between him and John, realizing Ghost and Johnny are still in the car. Your stomach falls as you realize what they're about to say, tears gathering in your eyes again.

“We still have some things we need to do.” John says, reaching towards you. 

You have the momentary urge to flinch from his touch, but you let his hand cup your cheek. “You're leaving me again.” You say, your voice breaking. 

John almost looks guilty. He almost looks upset by your visible turmoil. His hand drops from your cheek to your back, turning you towards the barracks. Your stomach twists as he guides you inside, the fear of someone being inside spiking. You know you're safe with John, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but you'd have to play dumb if they did catch someone inside. You’d have to act like you didn’t know someone had entered before, like you had been unaware of anything going on. That might almost be worse than telling them the truth. 

You inhale as he stops in front of your door, still closed from when you'd left with Dr. Keller. There's no chemical burn of scent blockers, just your scent in the air, and John's scent coming off him as he stands next to you. 

“We won't be long. Maybe an hour at most, and we'll only be across base. We'll come back and we can get lunch before our afternoon meeting. Then we'll just have reports to do, and you can sit in my office while I work on those, okay?” He says. 

Your brows pinch as you try to hold in your tears. You want to tell him, you want to reveal what happened, beg him not to leave you alone here again, but you can't. You can't face that shame, the disappointment you know he'll show on his face at the knowledge that you let that happen. You willingly left with a stranger without telling anyone. You let someone invade your pack's space so easily. They were gone for a week and you screwed everything up. 

“Tomorrow we'll spend the day together. All of us. I promise.” He says wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. 

Even though they're back, you still don't have them. 

You inhale shakily before nodding. “Yeah. Fine.”

John's thumb brushes your cheek for a moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You watch his back retreat as he leaves the barracks, leaving you alone again. You think back to when they’d left you, watching his back as he boarded the plane to be taken from you. You stare at the door as the cars drive off, a cold chill running down your spine. What if General Shepherd is still here? What if they're going to meet with him? What if he tells them he met with you while they were gone and they had no idea? 

Maybe you should have been honest with them from the start. 

You stare at your closed door, your hands shaking. What if there's someone inside? What if someone is waiting to take their revenge for you destroying the cameras. What if they put new ones up? 

You should have opened the door while Price was here so you could have at least screamed when someone would hear you. You back away from your door slowly, deciding to wait in the rec room. At least there you might have a chance. You could break a window and run, or at least have a higher chance of making it to a door. 

Would anyone help you? Would anyone come if you screamed? What if they’re all in on it? 

You're shaking as you sink onto the couch, sitting so you can see into the hallway. You want to see them coming so you can prepare yourself, or at least give yourself a chance to make an escape before it’s too late. 

You run through all the things Ghost has taught you in your head as you sit and wait, the minutes dragging by painfully slow. You can feel every second, though that may just be the anxiety and fear pulsing within you. You wish you could sleep, you wish you could relax, you wish you could do anything to make the time go by faster, but yet you remain hypervigilant, staring so hard you flinch at every little shadow your brain convinces you is moving. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, tense and coiled, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. It can’t be more than an hour as John promised, yet it feels like a lifetime before you hear movement. 

You hold your breath as the barracks door opens, boots thudding with every footstep coming down the hall. You nearly whimper when a figure rounds the corner, before you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Ready for lunch, kitten?” Johnny asks, standing in the doorway of the rec room. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, your hands still clenched into fists. You're breathing hard, your entire body tense. You know you're reaching dangerous territory. Any more panic, you may start distressing. What a welcome home for them, coming back to a distressed omega. They're probably exhausted, and here you are making a scene. 

Hands close around yours. Warm, calloused hands apply gentle pressure, slowly uncurling your fingers. Your hands are shaking, trembling just slightly. 

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, kneeling in front of you. When he moved, you're not sure. 

“I-I'm not...” You start, your voice shaking. 

“Ye need tae eat.” He counters, as if he had read your mind, expected the answer.  

He's right. You're beginning to feel it gnawing in your stomach, something deeper than the anxiety. With all the stressing you've been doing, you know you need to eat something. Being hungry is not helping that any, either. 

“I don't want to go to the mess.” You say quickly, the words almost mushing together incoherently. “Too much.” 

Johnny sits back, staring at you for a moment before nodding in understanding. “Alright. That's fair. I'll let the lads know.”

He stands up, leaving you alone in the rec room again. You listen to his footsteps fade, the door opening and closing for a moment. You hold your breath, practically on the edge of your seat. There's no reason they would make you go to the mess. You've eaten in the barracks many times before. 

You blame your worry on your hunger. You know omegas don't do well when hungry. Omegas don't do well being uncomfortable in general. 

Saying these last few days have been uncomfortable for you is a bit of an oversimplification. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway, a familiar hulking figure approaching the rec room. You never thought there would come a time when you would feel relief upon seeing Ghost. Yet here you are, the tension easing from your shoulders as he steps into the rec room. 

“They're grabbing us food.” He says, moving to sit in his usual spot in the chair facing the door. He sighs as he sinks into the cushions, and you can only imagine how tired he must be. 

And here you are making things worse. 

“You're stressed.” He says, staring at you. His eyes are still painted black beneath his mask, adding to the eerie vibe coming off of him. You're beginning to understand why they call him Ghost. “Stinking up the barracks.” He says, pulling out his phone. 

“Oh.” You say quietly, sinking in on yourself as you sit there. “Sorry.” 

You pick nervously at your sweatshirt as you wait for the others to return, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as they enter the rec room, food in hand. 

Johnny sits you on his lap as you eat, making sure you get your fill, likely aware that you haven't eaten yet today thanks to Dr. Keller telling on you. It's quiet in the room as everyone eats, even the TV off. They all look tired and tense, and you can only imagine what happened during their time away. The things they did, the things they saw. You wonder how much blood is on their hands now, hands that have touched you, hands that are holding you. 

They can just go off and kill people and come back and act like nothing has happened. 

You could almost laugh at how psychotic it all sounds. 

This is your life now. This is your new normal. 

“We have a quick meeting. Shouldn't take too long.” John says as they stand, Johnny placing you gently on your feet. 

You tug at your sweatshirt, avoiding his gaze. They're leaving you again. They won't be far this time, but still. You just want to curl up in bed with them and lay there until you feel safe again. 

Tomorrow, John had said. Tomorrow they will be yours. 

It might have been easier if you hadn't been told they were coming home until tomorrow.

***

You tense under the blanket as the door closes, quiet footsteps approaching your position on the couch. There's a quiet sigh as a figure drops to a knee in front of you, their figure visible as a shadow beneath the blanket. 

“Can you breathe under there?” 

You slowly lower the blanket just enough to peek over the top of it. John is kneeling next to the couch, his brows furrowed in a frown. You're in his office, having shut yourself in there while they went into the meeting. John had made you swear not to go snooping as he’d let you inside. You had promised, as you still feel no desire to dig through the likely classified files that were locked in the cabinets and on his computer. Instead you had parked yourself on his couch, burrowing under a blanket that smelled faintly of petrichor and tobacco smoke. 

“There she is.” He says as you peek above the blanket, gently running a hand over the top of your head. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?” 

“You left me.” You say quietly, trying not to burst into tears and confess everything. 

“I know.” He says, wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. “But we came back, just like we promised.” 

He is right in that regard, yet you can’t help the tears as they slide down your cheeks. The ache in your chest that had started to build over the last few days is still present despite their return. Everything is wrong. They feel too far away, too distant. Nothing is safe anymore, nothing is sacred, and they’re just acting like everything is back to normal. 

“Would you like to kneel for me?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek. 

You’re tempted to say no. For the first time you feel wary of your alpha. What kinds of things would you admit in your dazed state? If he questioned you, would you give him enough to put together that something had happened and you’ve been trying to hide it from him? Maybe it would help, though. It would at least ease some of the tension that’s built up. Maybe it could pull you back from the edge of distress you’ve been dangling over for almost two days. Maybe he’ll accidentally scruff you and you can forget the whole thing happened. 

The dark thought sends a chill down your spine. 

“Okay.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit. 

John offers you a hand, helping you up off the couch. You don't want to let go of his hand, you don't want to be parted from him. The omega in the back of your mind is screaming at you to get close to him and stay there for the rest of time. If he leaves you again...you're not sure you can handle it. 

He settles in his desk chair, getting everything he needs ready. He'll work on his reports while you kneel, a familiar position, a familiar situation. You've done this before several times. You're not sure why you're suddenly nervous. 

You set the pillow down, dropping to your knees beside him. The chair creaks as he shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. You fight the urge to flinch, to move away as he gently strokes his hand over your hair. You've done this before, he's done this before. You're not sure why your heart is thudding in your chest. 

His hand slowly moves lower, slipping closer and closer to your neck. You can't help it as your shoulders come up, preventing him from gripping the back of your neck. He moves his hand away as you get defensive, his chair turning slightly as he leans down. 

“It's alright, sweetheart. It's just me.” He soothes you, his hand returning to the top of your head. “I know it's been a while, but I promise I remember what to do.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp out, trying to relax. “I don't...I don't know...”

You do know. Your brain keeps flashing back to General Shepherd, his hand tugging down your collar, so close to your neck. How easily he could have scruffed you, if he'd wanted to. You would have known if he had, but he could have done anything to you during the time he had control. 

“You're stressed, all worked up.” John says, still stroking the top of your head, trying to soothe you. “It's been a long week for all of us. It was a risk, sending all four of us at once. A stupid risk that shouldn't have been taken.”

You're pulled from your emotional state at the slight hint of anger in his voice. It hadn't taken you long to figure out they likely were all sent in order to get you alone. It would have been impossible to get you out of the barracks and put cameras up with even one of them here. Did he know about Shepherd's visit? Had he put two and two together and figured out they sent all four of them on purpose? You figured he'd be angrier if he knew about what you did, about what they did to you. He would be blazing a path straight to General Shepherd if your alpha knew he got so close to you, put you in that kind of situation. 

At least, you hope he would. There’s still that fear in the back of your mind, that worry that it was all a test and you’ve failed. Would they send you back to the institute? Would they break the bonds and send you to a different pack? Would they send you out on your own, leaving you to fend for yourself until some other alpha crossed your path and decided you were worth it? Does he know you’re lying to him, hiding the truth of what happened while he was away? Is he waiting for you to confess, biding his time to see how long you try to hide it? 

You want to tell him. You really do, but you can't bring yourself to get the words out. You can't bring yourself to confess here on your knees before your alpha. You feel guilty, like a sinner, yet the shame keeps the words trapped inside. 

He continues to soothe you, sliding his hand further down until he reaches your neck. You force yourself to relax, knowing you need this. You need your alpha to take control. You need him to ease the heavy weight on your shoulders, even if he doesn't know what he's lifting. 

You close your eyes as his fingers press into your neck, your brain quieting to a hum as you begin to slip into the back of your mind. You feel the rush of endorphins as your brain begins to calm itself, quieting the storm that's been raging for almost a week. You begin to go numb, relaxing into John's hold as he eases you into a quiet, meditative state. He begins to work on his reports as he holds you, your mind floating off somewhere else, somewhere safer where no one can break in and hurt you, somewhere where the barracks are still secure and safe and your pack never left.

Somewhere where there's no initiative, and your pack picked you because they wanted you, because you were a good omega who did as she was told and didn't make stupid mistakes that put everyone in danger. 

The last of the tension leaves your body, your mind distant from the present moment. You're safe with your alpha. He'd never let anything happen to you. None of your pack would let anything happen to you.

The thought continues to repeat in your head like a mantra as you relax, held up by the strong pillar that is your alpha. 

***

“Report's done, Captain.” Kyle says, placing the stack of papers on John's desk. 

“Thanks.” John sighs, grabbing them. 

Kyle turns to look at you, fast asleep on the couch. “You want me to take her?” He asks, the formality easing between them as they settle into being a pack and not a task force on duty anymore. 

John stares at you, curled up on his lumpy old couch. It’s getting late, or at least it feels that way. You’ve been out, sleeping peacefully on his couch since he eased you out of your kneeling position. You’d clung to him tightly, and for a moment he’d considered holding you, letting you sit with him as you dozed, but he knows he can’t risk you seeing something you shouldn’t. So he’d eased you onto the couch, having to peel your hands away from his shirt. He’d nearly given up and let you keep hold of his shirt before you finally relaxed and released him. 

“Would probably be more comfortable.” He rubs his eyes, feeling the call of sleep himself. He wonders how much you managed to sleep while they were gone. You look tired, though you’ve been looking tired since your heat ended. He needs to rest himself, but he wants to get these reports done so he can keep his promise for tomorrow. “I'll be in there soon.”

“Don't work too hard.” Kyle says, moving to lift you off the couch. 

“No promises.” 

Kyle shakes his head before scooping you up off the couch, blanket and all. You’re still sound asleep as he carries you, pausing in the hallway for a moment. He had just been instinctually going to his room, but would you be more comfortable in your own room? You probably have spent the last week shut inside your space. It might be nice to spend some time somewhere else. 

He takes you into his room, laying you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. He needs to shower and throw his clothes in the wash, but he doesn’t want to leave you and risk you waking up without someone there. You’re sleeping deeply, though, not even stirring as he tucks the blanket up higher around you. He doesn't want to crawl into bed smelling like gunpowder and sweat. That might throw you off too. 

He takes the risk, knowing he can do both tasks quickly. No more than twenty minutes to get himself clean and his dirty clothes in the wash, as he prays you stay asleep and won't start panicking if you wake in a strange place. He had sensed how close you had been to distress, how tense you had been when he held you in the car. It’s been a hard week for you, even harder than it had been for them. 

He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as he finds you still asleep when he returns to his room. You haven't moved at all, still tucked under the blanket from John's office. He gets himself changed and moisturized, rubbing some cream on the bruises that dot his skin. He's going to be sore tomorrow, they all will be, but he knows they won't be doing much. John had already told them tomorrow will be dedicated to spending time with you and helping you recover from the stress of them being gone. He’s silently glad for the break, knowing it could only be a few days before they get called out again. 

John had also told him he’d be pushing harder for one of them to stay whenever he can. He’s not taking this risk again, not if it can be avoided. 

Kyle’s pulling on his sweatpants when you inhale sharply. You're sitting up straight on his bed, eyes wide as you look around in fear. They’re hazy, confusion settling into your mind after going from John’s office to Kyle’s room after kneeling. 

“Hey, hey. It's alright.” Kyle says, moving over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge so he’s in your line of sight. “You're just in my room.”

“Kyle?” You whisper, clarity returning to your gaze as you stare at him. 

“I'm here.” He says. “Just went to take a shower and clean up.”

“Where's John?” You ask, tears gathering in your eyes. 

“Still working on things.” He says, cupping your face. “He'll be in eventually.”

The tears fall from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. They wet his thumbs as he strokes your skin, your body trembling slightly as you sniffle. 

Something’s wrong. He's known it since you latched onto him on the tarmac. The way you'd held onto him like he might disappear, how you looked almost angry when John told you they still had things to do, the way your scent had filled the barracks, bitter with fear and stress. 

Something’s up, something you're not letting them in on. But, to be fair, they had just left you for a week, up and abandoned you to go play heroes. He wouldn't blame you for not telling them anything. The bonds have weakened. He can feel it, beyond just his natural beta senses. 

“What can I do?” He asks quietly, trying to project his scent a bit to help calm you. He doesn't want you distressing, not after holding it together for so long. 

“I...I need...” You inhale shakily, still trembling in his hold. “I don't know.” You whine, the tears falling faster now. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you as you cry. He feels the tugging in his chest, sympathy for you and what you must be feeling, along with the guilt of knowing they caused this. They did this just with their absence. 

An idea begins to form in his mind as he holds you, something his family used to do when he was younger. 

He pulls away from you, standing up. “Come on. I have an idea.” 

He strips the blankets from his bed before pulling the mattress off the frame. He drags it to the door and out into the hallway before heading down to John's room. You follow behind him, watching him as he opens the door to John’s room, dragging the mattress in and dropping it on the floor. 

“Stay here.” He tells you, heading back out into the hallway.

“What're ye doin’?” Johnny asks, sticking his head out of his door. 

“Grab your mattress and Simon and meet me in Price's room.” Kyle says as he heads down the hallway, ignoring Johnny's further questioning as he makes for John’s office. 

He doesn't bother knocking, walking right in. John blinks at him from behind the desk, and for a moment Kyle wonders if he'd fallen asleep sitting up. It wouldn't be the first time. 

“Come on.” Kyle says, moving to stand in front of his desk. “Finish those tomorrow.”

“They're important, I have to get them done asap.” John counters. 

“Yeah, well I have something more important.” He leans forward at John's questioning stare. “Your omega needs you.” 

John stares at his beta for a moment, and Kyle can see the gears turning in his head, the debate happening, the conflict in his mind. He so rarely sees his alpha, his captain so indecisive for so long. He's usually so quick to act, analyzing a situation and making a decision in mere seconds. 

If only you knew the things you've done by simply existing in their lives. 

John closes the file on his desk, slipping it into the drawer before locking it. Kyle fights the triumphant grin threatening to form on his face as John stands from his chair after shutting his computer off. Kyle makes his way back down the hallway, John following behind after locking his office door. Kyle stops at his room, grabbing his comforter before heading for John’s room. 

Johnny had obviously gotten the idea of what Kyle had in mind, his mattress and John's laid out side by side so the three make one giant bed for them on the floor. He’s already laid out his own comforter and Simon’s, as well as John’s on the mattresses. They probably wouldn’t need blankets for long with their body heat, but the blend of scents will hopefully begin to ease the tempest raging in your mind. 

You’ve parked yourself in the corner, watching it all happen. You seem so small, so lost, so out of place. It's not all that different from when you'd arrived in their lives. Has being gone for a week really reverted things so drastically for you? Has your stress broken the bonds so much that you feel like a stranger amongst them again? 

Kyle steps over the mattresses, approaching you slowly. You look up from where you had been staring off into space, blinking up at him. Your eyes are still red and watery from crying, your arms clutching one of your stuffed bears against your chest. It’s the one John had scented for you, back when they were trying to get you to nest. He wonders if you’ve nested since they left, if that urge is still there, or if that too has faded. 

Kyle doesn’t often feel angry at his job. Not anymore. He doesn’t often question it. It’s what he signed up for, and he does it because someone has to. He chose this life, so he does his best to be a good soldier, to follow orders. Yet, as he stares down at you, he can’t help but feel anger bristling in the back of his mind. He tries to blame it on his instincts, on the fact that a member of his pack is so upset, so distressed at something that’s happened, and he doesn't know what to do to help. 

Yet he knows they were the cause of it, even if it wasn’t their choice directly. Something happened because of them. He tries to rationalize it. This is an experiment, a test to see how well packs will do with omegas, if it has any effect on how well they can do their jobs, if it makes them stronger, or if it weakens them. Those in charge had obviously put little regard in for how it would affect the omegas. They couldn’t have known how you would react, how badly all of them leaving would affect you. Or maybe they did know, and they simply didn’t care.. Perhaps you weren’t the focus of their study, but you were still a variable, you were still an important piece of this puzzle. 

How can they be more effective if their omega is struggling because of their absence? How can they be expected to function like a team now knowing leaving behind their omega will only cause distress for all of them? 

Kyle takes a deep breath, pushing back the anger and the emotions whirling in his own mind. He needs to focus on you right now, focus on helping you relax, helping you get back to where you were before they left you. He’s doing the best he can do right now for you, giving you what you need, even if you don’t realize it’s what you need yet. 

He holds out his hand to you, staying still as you stare at it. It takes you a moment before you slowly begin to move, slipping one of your hands into his. He guides you to the mattress in the middle, Johnny’s mattress, easing you down to sit on it. You glance around as Johnny and John toss pillows onto the mattresses haphazardly, making sure everything is perfect. It’s not a pretty nest, he’d hardly call it a nest at all, but he knows nesting is not necessarily all about looks. It’s about feeling, and right now, he knows you need to feel safe and secure. 

John quickly changes into more comfortable clothes as Kyle stretches out on the mattress, opening his arms to you. You curl up against his side, resting your cheek against his chest. You press your face into his skin, inhaling for a moment before you settle, slowly beginning to relax in his hold. 

Simon enters the room as John settles on Kyle’s other side, closing the door behind him and locking it, securing the five of you inside. Johnny settles on the other side of you, pressing up close against your back. He pulls one of the comforters up around the three of you before he tosses an arm around you, resting his hand on Kyle’s stomach, sandwiching you between the two betas again. 

Simon stands over the makeshift nest, staring down at the four of you. He’s obviously the most uncomfortable with the situation, and still a bit miffed from your lack of greeting on the tarmac. It was his own fault for being so closed off with you for so long. You had instinctively sought out the members of the pack you felt the most connected to, the most comfortable with in your time of such great stress. 

“Aw come on, ye big bastard, get in the bed.” Soap says, snapping Simon out of his reverie. 

Simon shuts the light off, bathing them in near darkness. You tense for a moment as the lights go off before you slowly relax again. Kyle listens to your breaths even out as Simon gets comfortable on the mattress behind Johnny, the four of them settling in around you. 

It's already warm in the room but none of them would even think of complaining. They’re too focused on surrounding you with their scent and their protection, the very thing you need the most. 

NEXT ->

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[igotyupls]

lights, camera, revenge; Jennie Kim X Male Reader

WC:4631, Jen and Blackpink as a whole bought me into Kpop lol. I could write on and on about them, and I will post something longer and more intricate with Jennie, sadly this is kind of all over the place, I didn’t know the direction to go. I have a heavier smut part with this, so if any of you’d like that lmk, I’m gonna post it too. Kinda didn’t add it here since this is already a mess and the smut part was just too… kind of very very dark lol

Jennie could feel Y/N's eyes burning into her as she danced with the male backup dancer on set of the you and me performance shoot. She knew he was getting pissed, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Damn, Y/N could be so possessive sometimes.

 "Wow, Jennie! That was a sick take!" the director called out, a wide grin on his face. "Let's take a quick break and then we'll run it one more time, okay?"

Jennie flashed the director a gummy bright smile, but as soon as she got out of most staff sight, her smile dropped. She turned to Y/N, her eyes squinting. "What the fuck is your problem, babe?" she hissed, her voice low and annoyed.

Y/N's jaw was clenched, nostrils flaring. "You know damn well what my problem is, Jennie," he grunted sneering. "You were practically fucking that guy on set."

Jennie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "It's called acting, you idiot," she spat. "I'm just doing my job. It doesn't mean anything." 

"Yeah, well I don't like seeing my girl grinding all over some other dude," Y/N snapped, his hand grabbing her arm and his grip on her tightening. "You're mine, Jennie. I don't want to see you touching anyone else."

Jennie yanked her arm away, glaring at him. "Chill the fuck out, Y/N. It's not a big deal. You're being ridiculous." 

But Y/N wasn't having it. Before Jennie could react, he had a vice-like grip on her arm again, this time yanking her away from the set. "What the actual fuck, Y/N?" Jennie whisper shouted, struggling to keep up with his long legs. "Let go of me!"

The staff and producers called out to them, but Y/N ignored them, his focus on dragging Jennie away. Jennie's heart thumping, a smoothie of fear and anger burning through her. "Y/N, what the hell are you doing?" one of the producers yelled, his eyebrow furrowed. "You can't just take her like that!"

 Y/N didn't even look back at the producer, his grip on Jennie's arm only getting tighter. "This is between me and my girlfriend," he growled. "Stay the fuck out of it."

Y/N dragged Jennie down the hallway, ignoring the shouts from the staff. His jealousy and anger was boiling over, only calmed by the feeling of Jennie struggling in his grip. At the end of the hallway was a storage room, rarely used. He kicked open the door forcefully, getting a yelp from Jennie as he tugged her inside and slammed the door shut behind them.

Jennie opened her mouth to yell at Y/N again but was stopped as his lips crashed onto hers roughly. His hands gripped her waist tight, fingers digging in and bruising. Jennie whimpered into the kiss, stuck between fear and horniness as his tongue fought hers aggressively.

When he finally pulled back, Jennie gasped for breath, chest heaving. "What the fuck, Y/N?" she snapped. "You can't just drag me off set like that!"

Y/N ignored her, yanking her top over her head and groping her tits roughly over the lace of her bra. "You're mine," he growled, teeth biting at the pale skin of her neck. "Only mine. I don't want to see you touching anyone else ever again, i fucking mean it." 

Jennie tried to push him away, but his grips too strong. "Get off me, asshole!" she yelled. "I'm not your fucking property!"

But Y/N wasn't listening. He turned Jennie around, pressing her tiddies against the cold wall. His fingers made quick work of her skirt, yanking them down her legs followed with her soaked panties. Jennie knew this was wrong, that they could get in serious trouble if this got leaked. But the thrill of the risk only pushed her lust higher. 

"You like this?" Y/N growled, delivering a loud slap to her ass that had Jennie yelping. "You like it when I mark you as mine where everyone can see?" 

Jennie gritted her teeth, trying to hold back the moan that was trying to escape. "Fuck you," she spat. "I'm not your fucking toy "

Y/N chuckled. "Oh, but you are, baby." Without warning, he shoved two fingers deep into her cunt from behind. Jennie moaned out at the fingers, walls clamping down on his fingers as he started pounding them in and out of her. 

"Please, stop!" Jennie begged, hips bucking without her trying. "I don't want this!"

Y/N just laughed, his other hand continuing to maul her tits and pinch her nipples cruelly. "Your body tells me a different story, slut. You're soaking wet for me."

Jennie was reduced to a moaning, begging mess, pressing back on his hand for more fingering. "Fuck you," she cried out. "I hate you, Y/N!"

Her begging music to Y/N's ears. With a loud grunt he yanked his fingers out, leaving Jennie feeling empty and throbbing. Before she could protest, he took his belt and jeans off, freeing his massive cock. Giving her no time to prepare before slamming into her with one brutal up thrust, balls deep inside her we cunt. Jennie screamed, nails scratching at the wall as he set a hammering pace from the start.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Y/N grunted, each snap of his hips echoing against her redding ass. The sound of skin slapping skin bounced in the small storage room. Jennie lost in a daze of pleasure and pain, pushed to the edge again and again only to not get that orgasm. 

"Stop, please!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "I can't take it anymore, Ba-be!" voice cracking.

But Y/N had no mercy, reaching around to tweak her nipples again in time with his hammering. "Shut up and take it, bitch," he growled. "You're mine" He repeats for the nth time.

Jennie's cunt gripped Y/N's cock like a vice, milking him as he pounded away ruthlessly. "You gonna come for me, slut?" he asked, yanking her hair back so her neck was out to him. 

Jennie could only moan incoherently, so far from forming words at this point. Her pussy was flooded, dripping down her thighs as her orgasm went up and up. At her nonsensical responses, Y/N slammed into her g-spot dead on, hitting it over and over without mercy.

Jennie came with a shriek , a pussy getting murdered, the sound echoed off the walls at a wavelength not possible, cunt pulsing around Y/N's cock. Her vision white out from the intensity, pussy clenching almost painfully tight as waves of orgasms wracked her body. Through it all Y/N kept fucking her, dragging her orgasm until she was a shaking mess. Only then did he find his own high, spilling thick ropes of semen deep in her pulsing pussy with a guttural groan.

They both collapsed against the walland on the floor, sweaty and tired. Jennie's legs felt like jelly, barely unnumb. Y/N pressed kisses over her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on her hips. "You're mine," he repeated, gentler this time. Jennie just glared at him, too exhausted to fight anymore.

Back on set, after putting the wrinkled top and skirt, Jennie was consciously aware of the drying cum between her thighs and in her cunt and the love bites scattered on her neck. She tried to cover them with makeup but they were still visible. Everyone stared as her and Y/N came back, hand in hand. The director looked pissed at the interruption but Jennie shot him an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Are we ready to shoot again?" Her tone was as sweet and innocent as ever but inside she still buzzed with her horniness, Y/N squeezed her hand, wordlessly letting her know he isnt done with her. never.

That night, after filming wrapped, Jennie dragged Y/N back to her apartment. As soon as the door closed, she whirled around to face him, eyes blazing. "What the fuck was that today, Y/N?" she spat. "You had no right to just drag me off like that!"

Y/N pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck. "I couldn't help it, baby," he murmured. "Seeing you all over that other guy, it just drove me crazy. I had to have you."

Jennie shoved him away, glaring. "I'm not your fucking property, asshole. You can't just manhandle me whenever you feel like it."

Y/N's expression darkened. "Hah, but I can, Jennie. And I will." He grabbed her wrist, dragging her to the bedroom. Jennie struggled against his grip just like before, but it was no use. He threw her onto the bed, forcefully yanking and ripping her clothes off and rummaging in the drawer.

"Y/N, stop!" Jennie yelled. "I'm serious, this has gone too far!"

But Y/N ignored her, taking out their  leather collar and leash. He tugged it on tightly around her neck, giving an experimental tug. "On your hands and knees, bitch. It's time for your punishment to begin."

Jennie's eyes widened in fear. "No! I don't want this, I’m tired !" She tried to scramble away, but Y/N was too quick. He grabbed her, forcing her into a downward doggy. Jennie whimpered as he cuffed her wrists in front of her with handcuffs.

"You're going to take what I give you, slut," Y/N growled, running his hands over her curves. "And you're going to love it.", He says, continuing as he also gets on the bed after getting naked "You're going to count each slap, understand?" At Jennie's whimpered "Yes sir"

Without warning, he gave her the first stinging smack on the ass pleasure and pain. "One!" she gasped, tears streaming down her face.

The spanks started raining down, turning her a ass rosy pink. Jennie crying through each one, begging him to stop. But Y/N showed no mercy, grinning as he watched her lose it. By the time she reached twenty, Jennie was a mess, her ass on fire but numb.

"Please, no more!" she begged. "I can't take it!"

Y/N just laughed, grabbing the leash to push her down so her wet pussy was on display. "Oh, we're just getting started, baby."

Jennie moaned at the humiliating position, already desperate for release. Y/N trailed a finger through her pussy lips, bringing it to his mouth with a hum. "So wet for me already and I've barely started. You really are a dirty little slut aren't you?"

"Fuck you," Jennie spat, glaring up at him, finally coming to her boss bitch senses. "I'm not a slut!"

Y/N's eyes farrowed. "We'll see about that." He grabbed a vibrator from their drawer, switching it on to its highest setting. Without warning pressing it flat against Jennie's swollen clit, getting back a shocked keen. " come for me, bitch. I want to hear you scream."

Jennie thrashed and screamed through her orgasm, cunt spasming helplessly around nothing. Her vision blacking out, body bowing like an arch as wave after wave of release wracked her. Through it all Y/N held the vibrator in place, dragging out her orgasm until she broke, exhausted and overstimulated.

"Fuck you," she panted, glaring up at him weakly. "I hate you." She repeats again,

Y/N just chuckled, flipping her onto her back. "Sure, and im the queen of England "

Y/N wasted no time sliding into Jennie's dripping, overstimulated cunt, eliciting a weak moan from her. "Fuck, you’re so good baby," he groaned, setting a brutal pace from the start.

Jennie tried to push him off, but her strength  was sluggish. "Get off me, you bastard," she slurred, overstim tears streaming down her face.

Y/N ignored her protests, angling his hips to jackhammer directly over her g-spot. "Such a good little fucktoy," he panted. "Taking my cock so well after I used you. You love it, don't you? Being degraded and used for my pleasure?"

 Jennie shook her head weakly. "No, I don't…please stop…" But her body betrayed her, cunt clenching around him as her orgasm built again and again.

Y/N grinned, reaching down to roughly pinch her clit. "Liar. Your pussy is practically begging for it."

Jennie threw her head back, moaning and crying until a strangled scream ripped from her throat as she came around his cock. Y/N kept ruthlessly fucking her through it, chasing his own orgasm . With a guttural groan he spilled thick ropes of cum deep inside her pulsing cunt.

They collapsed in a wet, stinky, mess. Y/N suffocating her with his body, Jennie's limbs feeling like jelly. Angling to the side, Y/N pulled her into his arms, pressing soft kisses to her forehead. "Shhh, you did so good baby. I'm so proud of you."

Jennie glared at him weakly. "Fuck you," she spat, voice hoarse. "I hate you, so so fucking much.”

Y/N just chuckled, unfazed by her. "No you don't. You love being my little slut, all mine?" He nuzzled her neck, nipping at the already bruised kin. "Admit it, Jennie. You're mine."

Jennie opened her mouth to retort, but Y/N silenced her with a kiss. She hated how her body responded, melting into his. When he finally pulled away, she was panting, desire stirring again in her belly.

"Fuck off," she whispered halfheartedly, without any real venom.

Y/N grinned, running a finger down her neck to the collar still there. "That's my girl." He gave the leash an experimental tug, getting a shiver from Jennie. "Now, I think it's time for round two, don't you?"

Jennie's eyes widened in fear. "No, Baby…I can't…" But her protests fell on deaf ears as Y/N manhandled her into missionary, roughly shoving two fingers into her sensitive cunt, after his flaccid dick slipped out,

"You're soaking wet for me, still," he growled, pumping them in and out. "Admit it, you love this. You love being my little fucktoy."

Jennie whimpered, hips rocking against his hand. "I…I… hate you and THIS!," she gasped out, even as her body betrayed her.

Y/N chuckled. "No, you don't. You love it, Being used and degraded like the dirty whore you are."

Jennie wanted to protest, to fight him off, but the feeling of his cum, his fingers, him  were too much. She was teetering on the edge, desperate for release for the nth time from all the onslaught. "Please…" she whimpered, hating how needy she sounded.

Y/N grinned, taking out his fingers and sucking it as he lined back up the vibrator against her clit. "Beg for it, slut. Beg me to let you come."

Jennie squeezed her eyes shut, pride fighting with her body's needs. But the need was too strong. "Please, sir!" she cried out. "Please let me come, I need it so bad!"

Y/N's grin widened as he pressed the vibrator harderagainst her. "Good girl." He kept up the stimulation, watching with happiness as Jennie thrashed like a kitty in water, and screamed through her climax number… doesn’t matter.

When the aftershocks finally ended, Jennie lays there panting, fully spent. Y/N leaned down, pressing soft kisses to her face

Y/N gazed down at her, eyes darker. "Ready for round three, baby?"

Jennie knew she should say no, to put a stop to this madness and to this lunatic she calls her boyfriend. But the throbbing between her thighs told a different story. "Yes," she whispered out, hating herself.

Y/N grinned, flipping her back onto her stomach. Jennie whimpered as he roughly yanked her hips up just like before, presenting her dripping cunt to him, still spilling his white seed. "Good girl." He lined up and thrust home in one motion, eliciting a cry from Jennie.

Straight from the go a punishing pace, each brutal snap of his hips driving his cock deeper into her sensitive pussy. Jennie clawed at the sheets, tears streaming down her face as the stimulation breaks her piece by piece..

"Fuck, soooo tight," Y/N growled, reaching around to pinch and tug at her clit. "Such a greedy little cunt, milking my cock like a pro."

Jennie whimpered, hips moving on their own to meet his pumps. Hating herself for her body's horniness, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the bliss.

But Y/N wasn't having it. He yanked her head back by the hair, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Look at me, slut," he roared. "I want to see the pleasure on your face as I use you."

Jennie's eyes flew open, a strangled cry escaping her as her orgasm crushed over her. Her cunt clamped down on Y/N's cock like a vice, milking him for all his semen.

 Y/N grunted his own release, spilling thick ropes of cum deep inside her already creamy pussy, falling, both of them panting heavily.

Jennie stays there, fully exhausted and ashamed. How could she let him abuse her? She hated Y/N, hated how he made her feel. And yet, a small  part of her needed his touch, his domination.

Y/N nuzzled her neck, pressing kitten kisses over her jaw. "You were perfect, as always baby," he murmured. "I love you so much."

Jennie wanted to push him away, to scream that she’ll call the cops. But the words died on her lips, instead replacing by a soft sigh as she melted into his chest.

The next morning, Jennie woke up alone. Stretching with a groan, she winced at the soreness between her legs.. Stumbling to the bathroom, she pissed and washed the dry come out of her before standing infront of the mirror and taking in the marks littering her skin - handprints, love bites, even bruises around her wrists and neck,

Bile and shame washed over her as she stared at her reflection. How could she let this happen? Y/N took things too far, and she did nothing to stop him.

A noise from the kitchen had her padding out, still naked. Y/N stood at the stove, humming to himself. At the sight of her, his eyes lit up. "Morning, baby. Sleep well after I fucked you like the good slut you are?"

Jennie stared at Y/N, an inferno erupting in her eyes as his words sunk in. He thought he could call her a slut again after she said she wasn’t a million time. Fat fucking chance. 

"Let me make one thing clear, you arrogant piece of shit," she spat, hands balling into fists at her sides. "I am not your fucking slut. This is MY life - mine and mine alone. You wanna keep playing in it? Then you damn well better start showing some respect."

Y/N took a step forward, a sneer curling his lip. "Or what? You gonna run off and cry about it? Face it Jennie, you're weak without me."

A humourless laugh burst from Jennie's throat. "Weak? Bitch please. I'm the one with the power and fame here, not you. One word from me and your sorry ass is out on the curb. So if I were you, I'd choose my next words very carefully." 

She advanced on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You got two options - start treating me right, or get the fuck out. It's up to you whether you stay in my world or not. Now what's it gonna be, tough guy?"

For a long moment they stared each other down, tension suffocating in the air. Jennie refused to back down, meeting his glare with one of her own. Finally, Y/N broke eye contact with a scowl. "Fine. Have it your way, princess. But don't come crying to me when you realise how much you need me."

Jennie rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, save your bullshit excuses. Actions speak louder than words. Now, are we gonna continue our fuckfest?" She turned and walked back towards the bedroom, swaying her hips intentionally. "Well? I'm waiting, big boy."

Y/N followed with a hum, his need for her overriding his bruised ego...for now. But Jennie wasn't done putting him in his place yet. As soon as they reached the bedroom she shoved him down on the bed. 

"Clothes. Off. Now." She commanded, hands on hips. With a grumble Y/N listened, stripping his boxers off for her hungry cat eyes. Jennie took her time roaming her eyes over his body, enjoying the way he squirmed under her inspection. Only when his dick was standing at full attention did she get closer.

"Beg for it." She breathed, trailing a nail over his ticklish dick.

Y/N grit his teeth. "Jennie-"

She tutted, gripping him in a fist. "I said beg."

A groan escaped him as she started  to slowly pump him. "Fuck...please, I need you. Please touch me, baby."

Jennie grinned, giving his cock a rough squeeze that had him hissing. "Better. Now get on your back - it's time I put you in your place." Without waiting for a reply  she shoved him back and straddled his chest, rubbing her dripping cunt over his face. "Lick."

Y/N's hands came to her hips, holding her in place as his tongue came out to taste her. Jennie sighed in bliss, grinding herself against his mouth. His tongue slid inside her, lapping at her juices like a man dying. 

"Fuck yes, just like that." Jennie panted, riding his face. She gripped the headboard for leverage as she rode his mouth, using his tongue to bring herself closer and closer to her orgasm. When her orgasm hit she cried out, gushing over his cheeks and chin.

"Good boy." She cooed, giving his hair a tug once she caught her breath. "Now it's your turn." she said getting up and Without warning she sank down on his cock, taking him to the hilt in one slick slide. 

"Fuuuuck." Y/N groaned, hands flying to her hips. But Jennie wasn't having any of that - she pinned his wrists above his head with an iron grip. 

"Ah ah, who's in control here?" She purred, beginning to ride him slow and deep. Y/N could only throw his head back with a moan, completely under her spell as she used his body like her personal toy. 

Jennie set a fast pace, bouncing on his cock like it was her job. The slap of her ass on his pelvis and their matching moans bounced through the room. She watched his face intently, loving the way he fell to pieces under her, she moved her hips up, down, left, right, hell she even almost broke her own pelvis just to take his semen out. Only when he was begging unintelligibly did she let him come, clamping down just right to pull his orgasm from him. 

"That's one." She grinned, lifting off his softening member. Y/N just lay there panting, still reeling from the intensity of his climax. But Jennie wasn't finished with him yet.

Jennie gazed down at Y/N, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "That's just the beginning, baby," she purred, trailing a finger down his chest. "I'm just getting started with you."

Y/N swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "What do you mean?" he asked, a hint of what was almost fear in his voice.

Jennie leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. "I mean, I'm going to break you," she whispered, her voice dripping with pure hate and promise. "I'm going to make you beg, over and over again."

Without a second, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. Y/N let out a gasp, his eyes wide.

"You think you can just manhandle me and get away with it?" Jennie hissed, her nails digging into his scalp. "You're going to learn your place, Y/N. And it's beneath me. You fucking harass me, You dragged me away and embarrassed, You fucking raped me” she spits out.

She released his hair, only to run her fingers down his neck , over his chest, and down to his re hardening wet dick. Y/N shook at her touch, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"Please, Jennie," he begged, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry, I'll be good, I promise."

Jennie's eyes narrowed, and she gave his dick a rough squeeze, making Y/N moan painfully.. "Sorry doesn't cut it, baby," she said, her voice dripping with disgust. "You're going to have to win my forgiveness."

With a fast motion, she straddled his hips again, her creamy creampied folds hovering above his throbbing purple headed dick. Y/N let out a whine, his hands reaching for her hips, but Jennie slapped them away.

"Ah ah ah," she tsked, wagging a finger in his face, as if to a dog. "No touching. You don't get to touch me until I say so."

Y/N whimpered, his fingers twitching with the need to feel her. Jennie chuckled, slowly leaning herself down on his cock, inch by agonising inch. Y/N let out a groan, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Fuck, Jennie," he gasped, his hips straining to thrust up into her.

Jennie placed her hands on his chest, holding him in place. "Ah! No.," she scolded, "I'm the one in charge now, remember?" She started to move, grinding her hips in slow, lusty circles, earning moans and whimpers from Y/N.

"Please, Jennie," he begged, his voice ragged with desperation. "I need to touch you, I need to feel you."

Jennie leaned in close, her lips brushing against his. "Tough luck, baby," she breathed. "Shouldve thought about this before doing what you did."

Without warning, she slammed her hips down, burying him to her g spot. Y/N cried out, his back arching off the bed. Jennie set a ungodly pace, riding him like a woman possessed, her nails shoving and scratching down his chest.

"Fuck, you feel so good," she moaned, her eyes half-lidded with lust. "I could do this all day."

Y/N was a shaking, whimpering mess under her, his fingers fisting the sheets in an attempt to stop reaching for her. Jennie could feel his balls tighten and his cum building, breathing worse and worse.

"Oh no you don't," she ordered, abruptly stopping her hips. Y/N let out a frustrated grunt, his hips bucking up in a desperate attempt to chase his release.

"Please, Jennie," he begged, his voice cracking. "I need to come, please let me come."

Jennie tsked, shaking her head. "Not yet, baby," she said, a sadistic shine iin her eye. "You've got a lot more to earn before I let you come again."

She lifted herself off his cock, getting a whimper from Y/N. "Now, be a good boy and get on your hands and knees," she commanded, her tone no nonsense.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, his male ego fighting with his dick. But one look at Jennie's steely eyes had him crawling to obey, his throbbing penis swaying with the movement.

Jennie hummed in approval, running a finger down his spine. "That's a good boy," she purred. "Now, let's see how much you can take, like I did last night."

Without warning, she brought her hand down on his ass with a loud crack, the sound echoing in the room. Y/N yelped, his body jerking, but Jennie's grip on his hips kept him in place.

"Count," she commanded, her voice colder than his.

"One," Y/N gritted out, his teeth clenched from the sting.

Jennie delivered another hard slap, releasing a strangled cry. "Two," Y/N gasped, his fingers digging into the sheets.

The blows continued, Jennie's hand raining down on his red ass, her own hand numb and on the verge of shattering. Y/N's cries grew louder and more desperate with each spank, his body trembling with the effort to hold still.

"Fifteen," he choked out, his voice raw with pain and lust, precum leaking.

Jennie paused, running a soothing hand over his abused asscheek. "Good boy," she murmured, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're doing so well." She murmured using the words he used, taking her sweet revenge.

[latenightdaydreams]

König x Stalker!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2, Part 3, Part 3.2

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, stalking, masturbation, voyeurism

📸

.

.

You watch from a distance as König, your neighbor, goes for his early morning jog. It’s become a part of your routine to follow him. A camera in your hands taking pictures, focused in on his muscular arms and legs; eyes lingering on the way his cock bounces underneath the fabric of his sweatpants. What you wouldn’t do to see his cock, have his sweaty balls fill your mouth?

Quickly, you snap out of it when a person walks by. You have to shift focus and pretend that you’re taking photos of geese in the pond nearby. You watch as König gets away from you. A wave of annoyance rushes through you. You’re missing precious time you could have spent with König.

In frustration, you turn and walk to the entrance of the park, walking slowly so hopefully you’ll run into König before going back home. As you look through the trees, you try your best to see König, but they’re just too dense to see anything. The gate for the park approaches, and König is nowhere to be found. You leave the park, looking down at the photos you took of him today.

“Hallo! Y/n!” You hear König’s Austrian accent, like music to your ears.

You turn to see König walking towards you. His black shirt is sweaty and clinging to his chiseled, perfect body. His package was basically outlined in his sweats. He’s a gift from the gods to anyone who loves masculine people. You’d let him do the most depraved things to you.

“Hey!” Your voice is cheery as if you aren’t thinking about being his little free use house wife.

“What are you doing out so early?” König’s pale blue eyes drop to the camera in your hands. “Wildlife photography?”

“Uh—yes. I used to do photography in college, so I decided to pick it back up.” Not a complete lie.

“That’s cool.” König puts his massive hands on his broad hips, taking his time to look at you. “Are you walking back home?”

“I am.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

König walks forward and slows his pace so he can walk side by side with you. Inside, you’re freaking out. This will be the first time you spend more than a passing moment with him. The first time you’ll be able to get to know him more than what you’ve been able to dig and find out about him.

Married once, no children, and didn’t last more than eight months. Colonel of Kortac, an only child. His birthday is in the winter months, and he appears to be very content with being alone. Other than one handsome Asian man, you’ve never seen anyone visit him.

Dread fills you as you approach your homes. König, being a gentleman, walks you to your door. You’d want nothing more than to invite him in, but then you’d have to explain all of the photos of him you have in your home. What if he’s into it? Thinks it's attractive to have someone so dedicated? No, that’s crazy.

“Well, Fräulein. This is where I leave you. Have a great rest of your day.” König smiles at you, his eyes tracing over your body as you turn and unlock your door.

“Thank you, König. See you later.” You turn back to wave goodbye awkwardly.

You watch as König walks to him door, making sure to close yours first so he doesn’t realize that you were watching the whole time. Once inside you let out a deep sigh, if only it could have gone farther. As you kick off your shoes, you remember that at least you got some nice photos of him at the park.

In your bedroom, you sit at your desk and upload your photos. You take time to sit and gaze at each one. Trying to commit to memory every bulging vein or scar. His massive hands, how would those fingers feel being shoved into your cunt? Whenever you spend so much time looking at König, you can’t help how absolutely wet you get.

Not being able to resist, you walk to your bedside table and grab your 8-inch dildo that you’ve nicknamed ‘König’. From under your pillow, you pull out your laptop and begin to watch videos you’ve been able to take of König at the gym, in the park, and taking out the trash.

Your pussy already wet, accepts the dildo easily, a whimper leaving your lips from the rush of pleasure. On the screen you focus on König’s cock and balls bouncing when he walks or jogs. The way his light gray sweats always get so wet when he’s at the gym. You’d love to be a part of his workout routine. If he was here just lifting up in the air, thrusting into you as he counts out each rep in complete ecstasy.

König sits at his desk, stroking his cock with a pair of your underwear wrapped around it. Loud huff leaving his lips as the hidden camera picks up the perfect view of you stretching your cunt with that dildo. If only you knew he was so much bigger than that. He’s not sure your poor pussy could handle him, but he’s 100% sure you’d be eager to try.

The audio from the device picking up the sound of your cunt getting creamy, so loud it matches your moans. You call out for König, begging him to make you cum. Soon, Liebling. So soon.

“Fuck—” König moans out, his Adams apple bobbing as he tilts his head back. His cock throbs in his hand as his warm cum covers your panty and himself. “Y/n…fuck.” A softer moan leaves his lips as he relaxes. His eyes still glued to the screen as you lay there half naked.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 3.2

[dilemmaontwolegs]

OMG Your Biggest Fan was amazing!!! I was wondering if you had any plans to do a part 2 for it because now I’m dying to know how it goes! -🍯

AN: don’t know if this makes sense, it’s middle of the night and I should be asleep…will proof read in the morning lol

Your Biggest Fan {2} || LN4

Warnings: more smut, butt plugs, squirting, only fans.

One || Two || SMAU || Three

It was comfortable in Lando’s bed. He had a much better view of the water from his place than yours did and a much lower chance of a sudden visit from your parents. It was why you were holed up at his apartment for the weekend instead of at home. It was one of the few times in the calendar year that they came back but they had to meet their quota of nights in Monaco to enjoy the tax holiday.

You didn’t want them to just drop by when you had hungry subscribers to feed.

In the other room you could hear Lando laugh at whatever AngryGinge said to him and you grabbed your laptop to watch the stream.

“Do you know what you should stream?”

“Only Fans.”

“Have you ever thought about doing Only Fans?”

You bit your lip as you watched Lando swinging in his chair and answer, “I do it.”

He said it so casually that no one would probably take it seriously, if only they knew. When he finished his streams he would often join yours, fucking you for all your subscribers to see - but they could never see your faces. He got off on the act, it drove him wild, but who were you kidding, you loved it too.

“I actually have to go,” he said as he lazily chewed on his fingernail. “My favourite girl’s about to start her show. Might join in, you know?”

How he kept a straight face, you could never figure out. He could be the most unserious person, except when it came to your account. He knew what was at stake if either of you were caught. It didn’t stop him from dropping vague hints though.

The stream closed and within seconds he was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head. He swaggered his way to your side of the bed and ran his thumb over your lip, dragging it from where you had pinched it between your teeth.

“Something to say, love?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

“You’re playing with fire, big boy,” you warned as you rose on to your knees so you were chest to chest with him. “Only Fans?”

“This is me we are talking about, baby,” he laughed. “No one is going to think Little Lando Norris is getting down and dirty on Only Fans.”

“They got the ‘little’ part wrong.” You giggled and dragged your palm over his erection. Lando started to unzip his jeans and you lifted a brow as you unhooked your bra. “Who said you could join in?”

“I’m your biggest fan, babygirl, I can’t just sit here and watch,” he groaned as you pointed to the velvet seat in the corner of the room.

“Be good and I might change my mind.”

He dropped into the seat with a huff while you set up your laptop and the camera, before grabbing your toys and lube from your overnight bag.

Lando was patient, to an extent, but his nail bed would be ruined if he had to sit in the corner any longer and watch you fuck yourself six feet away from him. The plug in your ass was like a homing beacon and he rose from the chair without thinking, kicking his jeans off and freeing his painfully hard dick.

“Please, babygirl,” he begged.

You had enjoyed teasing Lando, knowing how hard it was for him to stay in the chair and watch you have all the fun. You had particularly liked the way his eyes widened at your newest toy, a shining gun metal plug that would stretch you almost as much as he did. You felt impossibly full with it in your ass while you stuffed a purple dildo in your pussy and rode it like you would Lando.

Your moans filled the room and your laptop pinged with all the tips and subscriptions coming through.

“Please,” Lando begged again.

“Fuck me, big boy,” you invited, climbing off the dildo and dropped onto your hands as he lined himself up behind you.

“I like this,” he chuckled as he tapped the plug, a moan tugging from your lips as it shifted inside you. “Very nice.”

“Just fuck me already,” you begged, feeling empty when you needed to be stretched.

Lando snapped his hips forward and the lewd sound of your dripping folds meeting his flesh made you both moan. It was almost too much, you felt so full you could hardly breathe. You resorted to quick gasps whenever he pulled back but you were left with a dizzying lightheadedness and stars dancing around your vision.

“Fuck, oh god,” you whined as your thighs began to shake. Your face collapsed into the pillows with a scream as the pressure exploded and Lando grunted at how tight you were. Your pussy gripped him like a vice as waves pleasure rocked you, the wave cresting into a flood as he kept rutting hard and fast, each thrust pushing the plug deeper in your ass.

Your screams fell silent as your entire body stiffened and then…utter bliss. You were weightless, floating, falling, spinning. Everything all at once. Your body didn’t know how to handle the ecstasy that coursed through your veins, the ecstasy that gushed from your cunt.

“Fucking hell, babygirl,” Lando moaned as he filled you with one last thrust. “What a mess.”

He chuckled as he pulled out of you, holding you spread for the camera so everyone could see his thick, creamy cum dripping from your abused hole before he pushed it back in with two fingers.

Soft whimpers and aftershocks rolled through you at the touch but it was the bigger gasp that cleared the daze when he pulled the plug from your ass.

“Gorgeous, babygirl. Fucking gorgeous.” Lando disappeared from the bed and skirted around the camera to your laptop. “Alright, pervs, goodnight.”

“You’re a perv,” you teased after the site was shut down.

“I’m a perv for you,” he corrected while swiping up a discarded Quadrant shirt. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and gently eased your legs open to clean up the mess he made. “I think I need a waterproof blanket.”

You smiled and tossed an arm over your face as exhaustion filled you. “I had the same thought.”

“Maybe I can come shopping with you,” he suggested as he picked up the plug and grinned at it. “You’re nearly ready to fit me.”

“Nearly,” you chuckled. “A little bit more practice first.”

Click here for SMAU.

[uhohdad]

THE GIRL WHO CONQUERED THE MOUNTAIN

KONIG X READER [HUNGER GAMES AU]

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

18+, NSFW, 144k WORD COUNT, AO3,Virgin!Konig, Outcast!Konig, 18yo!Konig, GentleGiant!Konig, Mentor!JohnPrice, Fem!Reader, Blood & Injury, Graphic Violence, Death, PTSD, Alcohol Use, Slow Burn, Konig Pines Hard, Sexual Content, Porn with Too Much Plot, First Time, Dirty Talk, Size Kink, Smut, Fluff, Angst

CHAPTER ONE | PREV | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

➤ THE AFTERMATH II

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

You don’t want to do this.

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

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

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

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

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

She clears her throat, “Willow, uh-“

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

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

The interviewee pauses, and she has to look away.

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

You can hear her scraping gravel under her shoe.

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

She looks to her shoes, nodding slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, no! It was an accident!”

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

Willow.

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

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

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

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

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

“I couldn’t even talk to her!”

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

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

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

“I couldn’t even talk to her.”

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

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

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

“She’s gone, Willow! I lost her!”

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

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

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

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

“I am nothing without her.”

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

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

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

“Now it’s your turn to suffer.”

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

They don’t show it.

You are so thankful they don’t show it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your desperate plea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

You glare at him, voice taught and sharp.

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

You shake your head.

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

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

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

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

But Eight’s anger was misdirected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you know who you are.

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

An arm comes up to gesture to the large screen.

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

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

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

“Not like she can leave,” Titan mumbles.

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

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

“Gotten them off someone else.”

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

“She’s made it this far. Who knows.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry!”

The careers immediately perk up at your distant cry.

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

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

“I’m sorry!”

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

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

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

“There she is!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you yell for him?”

“Fuck you!”

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

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

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

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

“No,” He grits through strained breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Call for him!”

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

The feed pauses, the crowd silent as Caesar starts.

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

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

“Hey, Caesar,” he grits.

Konig takes a breath.

“Shut the fuck up.”

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

“Yes! Yes!”

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

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

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

“Watch this part,” You whisper.

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

“Call for him or I’ll make you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt.

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

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

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

Guilt.

When your unearned praise dies down, Caesar continues.

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

You don’t care, Caesar.

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

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

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

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

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

You know it’s symbolic, but for what?

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

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

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

Why does this ribbon mean so much to you?

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

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

“I- uh-“

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

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

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

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

Your voice cracks.

“And I am sorry for your loss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m here now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s given up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cactus.”

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

“Cact-you,” You say.

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

“Feels great, Caesar.”

The audience seems to find your annoyance and sarcasm amusing.

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

Konig’s eyes roll, and the feed resumes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s your voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, shit.

He thought you were dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tired.

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

Just lies in the sand, unmoving.

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

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

You know it well.

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

Weirdly, it’s working for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to watch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The feed pauses, and Caesar starts up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Price snorts, a small sly smile on his face.

“Took me about an hour.”

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

You were under a lot of pressure, okay?

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

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

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

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

Instantly you’re aching to know.

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

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

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

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

Eventually the escort gives up with a grunt of annoyance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I volunteer!”

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

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

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

Price volunteered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take it back! Take it back!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Jurassic landscape, they call it.

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

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

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

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

“What-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Save now, fight later!” He grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss first, fight later.”

“Deal.”

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

Because you already know how this one ends.

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

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

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

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

Price huffs, lacking defense.

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

They switch fruits, and dig in.

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

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

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

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

“Johnny,” Summer says carefully.

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just let me think,” She says quietly.

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

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

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

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

“Johnny,” Summer warns.

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

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

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

“I got it, Trouble.”

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

“What are you doing?” Summer grits.

Price ignores her, cooing to the snake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Price chuckles, “That’s it.”

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

“Run, Trouble, Run!”

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

The snake did not like this maneuver one bit.

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” Price yells from off screen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Price laughs again, lying down next to her.

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

“You’re the biggest idiot I know.”

Price hums.

“Well, I can’t help that.”

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

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

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

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

You carefully turn your head to get a discreet glimpse of Price on the couch next to you. His elbows are propped up on his knees, leaning forward in his spot. His eyes are relaxed, lost in the rerun. Wearing the outline of a smile that matches Summer’s and the side of his index finger absentmindedly stroking his beard.

Your heart is heavy in your chest and your throat has gone sore and dry, you have to look away from him.

Because you know how this one ends.

When the footage cuts, they show Price and Summer setting up camp in a dilapidated skull the size of a modest room, a snug but cozy fit for two. Whatever animal it came from must have been massive, and had a powerful, flesh-eating jaw. The entrance to their hideout, the mouth of the once creature, is lined with rows of teeth, each tooth the length of Summer’s palm. The skull has been partially overtaken by time and foliage, dirt filthying the yellowish white bone, moss and vines climbing up the holes along the roof of the skull.

Inside the mouth, Summer’s resting on her back on a hand-gathered bed of moss, her elbows bent to cradle her head in her palms. Price is curled up at her side, a sturdy arm slung over her waist, nestled into her shoulder. He snores lightly into her neck as she keeps watch, staring through a hole in the roof of their skull, watching the stars through the leaves of the nearby trees.

Something shakes the jungle, every last tree and leaf on the foliage disturbed as the world rumbles for just a second.

“What’s’it?” Price slurs as he opens his eyes, a deep inhale of morning as he lifts his head to find Summer’s worried face.

It happens again, something shakes the ground beneath them, the both of them jostled for a brief stint.

“The fuck is that?” Summer whispers to him, her brows pinched.

“Don’ know, jus’ woke up,” He mumbles with a slur, voice low with annoyance and sleep.

They flinch and cling to each other when it happens again, their heads swiveling as they try to piece together what’s happening.

“Earthquake?” Summer asks.

Something gives a deafening, screeching roar, booming in the distant forest, ripping a gasp from both of them. Their fingernails are digging into each other, huddled in a ball of tense limbs as they wait for threat.

The thuds turn rhythmic, the entire jungle vibrating with tremendous force.

A shallow breath leaves Price when a tribute screams in the distance.

Both of their mouths are parted, locked onto each other before they peer out of the skull, unable to see beyond the foliage.

The speed increases, the spaced out jostles quickly becoming one continuous rumble. It’s getting closer, intensifying with each beat.

“What do we do?!” Price shouts.

Summer just shakes her head, face slack with fear. The rumbling stops, and the tribute screams pick up in its absence.

The truly harrowing, bone-chilling roar cuts through the jungle again, both Summer and Price jumping from their skin, arms tensing around each other.

A cannon fires.

For minutes the jungle settles, but the two don’t dare break away from each other, holding each other close.

They both flinch when the thuds start up again, one after another, the entire jungle quaking. It’s getting closer, the two have to lower themselves on their hands and knees to keep from being tossed around.

It is a truly terrifying beast, the ultimate predator.

The beast is well over the size of a building, with flesh like a lizard’s. Two powerful, bird-like legs support a body that must be four stories wide, its feet lined with killer claws. A thick neck supports a head the size of a car and two useless arms hang from its front. Half of its body is just a massive tail balancing out the weight of its huge head, thick near its body and thinning out to a point twenty feet away.

When the beast gives a powerful roar, its screeched breath rustles nearby leaves, displaying its powerful jaws far and wide.

Summer blinks, and her gaze flits to the row of teeth at the entrance of their hideout, and she’s coming to the haunting realization that her and Price would be a snug, but cozy fit inside the mouth of the beast. It cross the jungle what must be only fifty yards from Price and Summer, their entire world becoming a nauseating blur.

The two flinch when the extreme force causes the jaws of their hideout to snap shut, trapping them in the skull.

The two watch through the nostril openings until the beast is long lost to the jungle.

“Okay,” Summer draws out a long sigh, closing her eyes, “Hated that.”

“Not a holiday for me, either.”

“Let’s make a deal,” Summer’s fist jams a thumb in the direction of the beast, “We stay far away from that thing.”

“No?” Price asks with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, “I was thinking we put a collar on ‘em and keep ‘em as a pet.”

Summer snorts.

“Fine, but I’m not going to get stuck taking care of it. You have to clean up after it.”

Price’s eyes crinkle when he smiles at her.

“Deal.”

When the feed cuts again, it’s clear a good chunk of time has passed. The hideout is camouflaged, they’ve rigged the skull’s jaw open with a pulley, and the two managed to get their hands on some modest supplies - some rope and knives.

Price and Summer are digging into a nice bounty of fruit and the meat of a jungle creature, cooked over some now extinguished embers. They’re eating in a comfortable silence, resting their backs against the skull with their legs stretched out. It’s clear they’re both exhausted.

Heavy eyelids shoot open when voices in the jungle near.

“I can smell it, it was definitely over here.”

“Well, it’s not anymore. They’re long gone.”

Two careers, slicing their weapons through vines and overgrown plants, hunting for the smoke from Summer and Price’s campfire.

“Lower district rats prol’ly too stupid to clear out.”

Summer’s face twists, a snarl tugging on her lips. Price shakes his head at her, his eyes wide and lips folded in.

“We can look around for a little.”

“Or we can look until we get to spill some rat blood.”

With pointed brows and a growl threatening to leave her, Summer makes a ring with her index finger and her thumb. She goes to place it in her mouth, but Price snatches her wrist and slaps a hand over her mouth, prompting Summer to muffle objections into his palm.

Summer starts swinging at him as she tries to shake away her muzzle, but Price positions himself behind her, pressing her back to his chest and keeping her secure between his legs as she trashes in his hold until the careers move on.

When Price loosens his grip, she shoves him away.

“What is wrong with you?” He hisses, “Are you nuts?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! How can you just sit by after hearing their bullshit all week?”

“Because I’m not trying to get myself killed!”

“Well then you shouldn’t have volunteered, should ya’ve, Johnny?!”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that one.

The pain wells in his eyes for just a moment before he huffs, pinching his brows and looking away.

Summer grumbles under her breath before crawling out of the skull, getting much needed space from him.

The feed cuts, and it appears as if the two have resolved the fight, or at least have repaired things enough to tolerate being next to each other. They walk silently through the jungle, both of their steps sluggish, but are stopped in their tracks as the world gets brighter. It takes only a few seconds for the entire arena to be engulfed in a blinding white light.

The sound of the impact blares over the speakers loud enough you feel the vibration in your ribcage. It makes you jump. A flinch and a sharp draw of breath that drives Konig to tighten his hold on you.

The ground shakes beneath Price and Summer, tenfold more intense than the beast’s footsteps. It knocks them both to the ground instantly, and they have to scramble to narrowly miss getting crushed by weakened trees, uprooted and crashing to the ground.

A cloud of white dust barrels like a wave in their direction, and even though Price wasted no time to grab Summer’s arm and make a run from it, they are swallowed by a thick cloud of smoke, coughing and hacking as they stumble blindly through the jungle.

Half of the arena has been entirely destroyed, now only a burning, fiery wasteland ringing an enormous crater, a meteor wedged deep into the earth at the center. What remains of the arena is so foggy with debris they can’t see a foot in front of their faces.

The impact killed a handful of tributes instantly, including half the career pack, and wiped out all of the beasts that roamed the land.

The feed cuts again, and your stomach twists when Price licks his lips and looks to the floor.

You know what that means.

You follow his gaze for a moment, trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

The meteor strike has driven what remains of the tributes together, the pool slimmed. The dust has mostly cleared the arena, now only a slight fog weaving through the foliage.

Where the jungle breaks into the cornucopia, Price and Summer lock eyes with what remains of the career pack.

Summer’s fists clench at her sides and Price’s hand immediately shoots to Summer’s shoulder.

The careers don’t even lunge for them.

They stand in front of the cornucopia, arms crossed over their chests and smug grins on their faces.

Price gives Summer a tug, guiding her to turn and run, but her feet stay planted firmly on the dirt.

“Trouble,” Price hisses, “Let’s go.”

“C’mon rat!” One of the careers calls from across the field, his arms uncrossing and held out at his sides, inviting them to a fight.

Summer’s knuckles have gone white around the handle of her blade, shallow breaths leave her parted lips. She’s caught in a trance as she stares down the careers.

“Summer! Let’s go!” He says sternly, giving a harsh tug on her arm and taking a step to backtrack into the forest.

“You all talk?!” One of the careers calls, “Put your bread where your mouth is, Rat!”

Summer jaw clenches before she rips from Price’s grip, breaking into a sprint towards the careers.

“Summer, no!”

Price runs after her, but stops in his tracks when Summer’s ankle snags against something.

It happens so fast.

A nearly invisible tripwire hidden within the fern-like plants sends an axe into the side of her stomach in an instant. For a moment she is paralyzed, only a slight sway on her feet before she turns to face Price.

It takes a moment for Price to understand what just happened, in stunned disbelief as his hands find his head.

“No!” Price cries when his thoughts catch up, “No, no!”

His boots take off, slamming against the dirt and tearing through the ferns as he runs for her.

“Summer! Summer!”

A heavy wall of tears rims his eyeline, a shake in his hands as he locks on to her wide eyes. Summer collapses face first into the foliage, and when Price catches up he forcefully flips her onto her front.

Summer groans as Price’s panicked eyes dart over the wound, muttering to himself while the blood oozes generously around the blade of the axe.

“You’re going to be okay!” He says, but he convinces absolutely no one, then and now.

“‘S make a deal, okay?” Summer grits, her words chopped with each twitch of her body, “You win this thing-”

Summer coughs, blood splattering on her lips and chin.

“And I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

He nods, tears slipping down his face.

Price’s voice is just a choked breath.

“Deal.”

She closes her eyes and hums.

“Love you, Johnny.”

“Love you, Summertime.”

“Go,” She says hoarsely, “Make sure you didn’t do it for nuthin’.”

Price nods, his brows pinching. He looks up to the careers, both of them making the dash across the clearing to finish Price off.

He looks back to Summer, his face falling and swelled with worry.

Her eyes roll ever so slightly, her words wet and gurgled through her blood.

“Go, idiot.”

Price nods with a swallow and rises to his feet, breaking into a run further into the jungle as soon as he musters up the courage to take his eyes off her. He doesn’t look back, his boots slamming against the jungle floor with each step, the leaves of the flora wavering in his wake.

Tears streak his face, his lips parted to push out sharp breaths, but otherwise his face is expressionless, stone-cold. He only breaks for a moment when the cannon fires, a wince that creases his eyes, but his boots don’t slow.

The careers are closing in on him, and you find your nails are digging into Konig’s thigh, threatening to tear a chunk of fabric from his dress pants.

Price must have run miles without slowing before he sidesteps the familiar pool of quicksand and returns to his previous trajectory. One of the careers gets sucked right into his trap, his body is thrown when his boot gets caught in the pit, planting his palms right into the quicksand.

By time the other career catches up, the sand has swallowed the boy to his wrists and ankles. He’s tugging futilely against its hold on him, only burying himself further into the sand’s clutches. The other career ignores him entirely, doesn’t even look in the direction of the desperate pleas for help.

When Price finds his and Summer’s hideout, he makes a beeline for it.

Both your teeth and fists are clenched, resisting the urge to scold Price for cornering himself by crawling into the skull.

Price turns on his feet, hunched over to fit as he steps to the back of the hideout, his knife primed above his head.

“Let’s go, Rat!” The career calls before lowering himself to follow Price into the hideout.

Price swings his knife, but not at the career, no.

As the career is halfway into the mouth of the skull, Price slices clean through the rope of the pulley. The skull’s powerful jaw clamps shut with tremendous force, massive teeth piercing through the career’s torso with a snap, pinning him in the mouth of the once beast.

The career sputters his breath, eyes blown and blood shooting from his mouth at once. His hands instinctively press the back of the beast’s teeth to pointlessly try to work himself free.

Price carefully nears as the boy struggles, keeping eye contact with him. Price’s face is eerily even as he squats down in the bed of moss soaking up the blood that drains down the massive, bone white teeth.

He raises his knife to his own forearm, and slices clean through his skin without so much as wincing.

Price inspects the wound with furrowed brows for a moment before he slowly extends his forearm to the boy, droplets of Price’s blood streaking from the cut and down his arm.

“You see that?” He says, his voice low and dangerous.

Price huffs.

“Looks like you bleed the same colors as the rats.”

The boy can’t respond, too busy choking on his blood, but what life remains in his eyes sparks with rage, his brows creasing ever so slightly as he glares at Price.

Price’s eyes narrow into a deep squint.

“You tell Summer who sent you.”

Price’s knife pierces through the career’s windpipe without warning.

You flinch in your seat, eyes pinching shut to rid the sight of Sapphire being skewered at your hand, your nails nearly drawing blood from the flesh of your knee as you try to shake the reverb of the staff in your grip and silence the sound of her choking on her own blood.

“Wow,” Caesar starts, “Let’s give John a hand, huh?”

The audience complies, but it’s muffled by the sound of your own shallow breaths in your ears. Behind the cover of your eyelids, your irises dart furiously.

So much new information you’re learning about your fellow victors today, and not at all the proper space to digest it.

Your nausea is making a reappearance and your heels scrape across the stage in a futile attempt to expel the heat bubbling from your pores.

“It must be really special to you, that after all this time, you managed to pull off getting these two star-crossed lovers out together.”

Price gives a curt nod.

“That’s right,” He says evenly.

Your hand crosses over your bicep, and your lower lips catches between your teeth. That sickening guilt is coiling in your intestines again, the heavy weight that’s impossible to ignore.

What makes you worthy of getting out of the arena, when Summer couldn’t?

Why do you and Konig get to have each other at your sides - when Price didn’t get the same?

You don’t feel deserving of it.

Not just in comparison to Price - but even in relation to your games.

Why do you get to sit here on this stage, alive and unharmed, while there are twenty-two other tributes - many of them much more deserving of the victor title - who’ve long since been packed up in wooden boxes and shipped back to their districts?

Because you are alive today, someone else is dead.

And it’s only worse that a selfish little brat like you got gifted something that an honorable man like Price couldn’t have.

Guilt.

“Tell us,” Caesar says to you and Konig, “Have you seen this footage before?”

You swallow hard enough you can feel it tug on your ears. You can’t bring yourself to speak, or even open your eyes, so you just shake your head.

“And how do you feel after seeing John’s win for the first time?”

You shake your head again, and when you speak, your words are choked and barely audible.

“Not good.”

Price gives you a squeeze on the shoulder before rubbing it out. You think he’s trying to tell you it’s okay, that you shouldn’t feel bad, but it does nothing to relieve the sickening guilt swelling in your gut and swallowing you whole.

Caesar receives little cooperation from Konig.

“Well, John, I have to say, your tributes weren’t the only ones stirring excitement in the arena.”

Price scoffs, a smile tugging on his lips.

”We have some never-before seen footage I can’t wait to share with you all! Let’s take a look, shall we?”

The mentor’s suite is just a sterile white, curved room, lined with screens and chairs. One large screen shows the audience’s perspective, and each mentor’s seat has multiple screens to keep an eye on their own tributes at all times.

You’d think Price bet the farm on you and Konig.

Price is consistently the loudest of all the mentors. It’s easy to see from one look that everyone else is annoyed with him.

Ruby isn’t nearly as loud, but she’s just as obnoxious, looking over Price’s shoulder and squealing every word.

Oh, how you have missed that shrill Capitol accent.

They only show the particularly interesting moments.

When you escaped the snare, Price threw his chair across the room, making everyone in the room flinch.

“That’s my fucking girl!”

“Well, she has always been stubborn!” Ruby chimes.

It actually makes you blow an amused huff of air out of your nose, a grin creeping on your lips.

And of course, they show Price pulling Ruby into an excited kiss when you escaped Titan. She turns bright red and grunts when he lets go of her, smoothing out her shirt.

”Well, I never!”

The audience loves it, a hearty applause for Price’s antics.

Caesar asks Price a few more questions, but you do your best to tune them out, taking your opportunity to shut off your brain for a minute as you bury yourself into Konig’s chest.

When Caesar prompts Price off the stage, he practically strongholds you into standing with him, Konig in turn following.

He pulls you in for a hug and digs his nails into your back hard enough you hiss into his ear. He doesn’t let you wriggle away, holding you for a few more sharp seconds before he finally lets you free, ignoring your face pinched in defense.

His jaw clenches, and the message his eyes are drilling into you is clear.

Be. Good.

The look, the first implementation of physical correction - it’s enough to dry out your mouth and clench your muscles. An ominous feeling pools from your center and infects your limbs, ultimately putting a shake in your fingers and a wobble in your knees.

There it is, that feeling again. The unpinnable, chest-wrenching, breath-stealing feeling.

Something is wrong.

How badly did you fuck up? What specifically was he correcting?

Konig doesn’t get the same treatment. Price plasters his crowd-worthy grin on his face and pulls Konig into a short side-hug, giving him two gentle but firm pats on the back before he struts off, waving at the crowd.

With stitched brows you follow him with your gaze as Price walks off stage, carefully taking your seat once he’s out of sight. Your fingers fidget at your side as you try to heed off the urge to throw up all over the glittery stage.

Caesar hypes up the crowd for the finale before digging into the highlights.

You’re not looking forward to this part.

The oasis does not grant Konig refuge from the dust storm, a light breeze turning to a gusting wind that turns to a full on twister of sand.

They cut to the boy from four, still lying on the sand exactly where Konig left him, skin fried from the desert sun.

Konig paralyzed him.

And judging by the way Konig’s eyes widen and his lips part, he had no idea. He looks to his hands, horrified.

The dust storm steadily suffocates Four, his weak cries more muffled with each passing second before his cannon fires.

Konig’s horrified expression lingers the entirety of the arena being destroyed.

You give him a squeeze that he doesn’t return, motionless when you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

They feature the boy from six and the boy from seven, the boys who ran into the snow quadrant at the bloodbath. They took refuge in the center of the snow quadrant, in the large, complex system of caves. They were out hunting for food before the avalanche chased them out of the woods and swallowed them whole.

Even though you only knew of them as ‘The boys who ran into the snow quadrant’ - there’s some level of unpinnable familiarity there that makes your heart sink. Maybe because you witnessed their death happen in person, or maybe because you got too close of a look at them at the bloodbath, or maybe it was that moment where the boy from seven was smiling in his chariot with his district companion. You don’t know. This interview is so exhausting, and has left you with more than enough emotional homework you care to handle, and you’re still not finished yet.

You still have to relive Sapphire’s death, you still have to watch Konig beat Titan into a bloody pulp, and you still have to see Konig die.

What you wouldn’t give for a breather.

For five minutes with Konig in private.

You just want to be done, done with this interview, done with The Capitol, done with the Hunger Games.

But you won’t ever be, will you? Every year they’ll drag you and Konig back with Price, forced to mentor a pair of kids destined to die, and you won’t be able to keep your distance. Every year they will break your heart, and every year they’ll broadcast your romance far and wide, both in recaps and in new footage.

They start with Sapphire.

As soon as her cry blares over the speakers, your eyes are screwed shut.

Konig’s nearly squeezing the life from you, surely watching Sapphire close in as you bleed generously from your hedge-inflicted wounds.

“He killed him! He killed him!”

Konig’s grip on you loosens as soon as he realizes it.

Realizes that you took the brunt of her vengeance against him for killing her district companion. A boy she surely trained with for years, preparing for this moment.

You give his arm a squeeze. Konig doesn’t know it, but that same vengeance is what saved you.

The exhaustion from mourning her companion made Sapphire’s spear toss sloppy, her hatred for Konig left her defenses wide open, and her spite drove her own spear square into her abdomen.

How many times does a boy have to save a girl’s life before she gets the fucking picture?

Konig is so skilled at protecting you - he managed to pull it off without even being by your side - all while you fought with everything you had to die.

It feels as if these games have revolved around you and Konig since the beginning. Tethered together by a rope that stretched across the arena, ensnaring any tributes that neared in its indestructible, suffocating web.

You can’t help but wonder - if you had never been, if you were never a soul on this earth, what would the outcome have been?

Who would have had a fair chance if you and Konig had not been unintentional allies, if it weren’t for you two being an unstoppable force that pulled tributes under without even trying?

How many deaths fall back on you, simply for breathing, for existing?

Konig’s grip has turned crushing since Sapphire whipped her spear in your direction, and it almost grounds you as you’re suffocated by the replay of her froths.

The squelch of Sapphire’s eye and her haunting wail makes you gag, bile sloshing up the back of your throat and bringing tears to your eyes.

Konig’s clutch on you is so tight he’s shaking. As you and Sapphire attack simultaneously, he sucks in a sharp breath, flinching in his seat. He almost takes your hand with him to find his head, but corrects himself and rests your intertwined hands where your thighs meld together.

Your eyes are closed, but you can see her - on her knees, ripping out her own eye, the tear of her shredded optic nerve. You can feel it - the spear jamming into your stomach, the weight of Sapphire’s body scraping the spear against your flayed hands, the ground jostling you about as her limp body bounces lifelessly on the ground.

“What a moment, what a moment!” Caesar chimes once the footage pauses, a chorus of claps echoing throughout the theatre.

“Wow, I have to say, it’s not every games we get to see a tribute drive another to end their own life,” Caesar’s lips pull to the side, and he speaks in a lowered, cheeky tone, “And I hate to spoil it for you folks, but that won’t be the last time it happens.”

As the audience laughs, your face pinches, crushing Konig’s hand in yours. Your lips part to run your mouth - but you stop yourself, forcing out a deep breath.

Be. Good.

So instead your lips press into a tightly pursed smile, your neck jerking to the side.

Konig finds you, those icy blue eyes just as annoyed as yours.

He lifts your locked hands with a gentle shake and a squeeze.

“And here I thought I was being original,” He mutters with a slight roll of his eyes.

For a moment your brows tighten, and then you scoff, finding yourself actually smiling during this grueling, painful interview.

“Eh,” You shrug, “She may have gotten there first, but you perfected it.”

His chest puffs out with an amused huff, his fingers raising to rub out his temple. He shakes his head and looks at you, and you share a weak, but genuine smile.

It doesn’t last long.

Konig’s next.

Really, you should have connected the dots considering you saw the two dead tributes at the other end of the maze, but it hadn’t crossed your mind to think of the fights that were taking place as you fought Sapphire.

His assigned opponent is the girl from two, Sage as Sapphire called her.

Sage wastes no time once the ground settles, in a run straight for him. Konig’s not fazed by her speed. He roughly tosses his pack to the side, and stands tall with Four’s blade primed.

There’s little to see of his expression under his hood, but his eyes are fearless, slightly narrowed as he waits for her approach.

Sage wields a sword of her own, and once Konig is in motion, it’s impossible to look away. The footage isn’t altered, but it feels as if time has slowed for them. You catch every movement, the way Konig’s leg dips and his arm straightens behind him, winding up to deflect her hit with the perfect clinks of metal on metal. They way her feet shuffle in perfect positioning, alternating between offensive and defensive maneuvers.

It’s violent, aggressive, - but also graceful.

Their fight is a mesmerizing dance. They meet in the middle like it has been rehearsed, perfect timing of the commanding clashes to form a grated song of their swords embracing.

Sage’s face is pinched in determination and focus, grunts behind her grit teeth with each swing.

They exchange no words.

It’s a transaction, professional. The two are there to complete their task and nothing more.

Their swords clash between their chests and hold there, hands trembling as they push against the other. Their eyes are locked and crinkled in focus.

Konig closes in and gives a forceful shove, sending her tumbling back onto the grass.

When she’s on her elbows, her legs bending in a scramble, the very end of Konig’s blade finds her neck, resting an inch under her chin. He looms over her in all his glory, blocking out the sun and casting his shadow over her.

Sage stills at once, her lips twitching as she looks up at him. It’s not quite anger in her eyes, more frustration at herself. Bested even with her training.

She doesn’t beg. She holds his taut stare, and waits. Accepting her defeat in good sportsmanship.

Konig’s sword lingers for a few moments before it slowly retreats, pulling away from her neck.

Sage breaks the stare to follow Konig’s sword until it’s back at his side.

“Up, Girl.”

Her chest heaves with her shallow breaths, irises shifting back and forth as she flits between both of his unreadable eyes.

There’s a pause, lingering their stares on each other before she comes to a slow stand.

Konig takes a few steps back, his sword relaxed at his side. For a moment she eyes him in unease, but he waits patiently. She fixes her shirt, tugging down the hem that bunched up when she fell, and tilts her head to the side to pop a joint in her neck. A long exhale leaves her, she rolls her shoulders, and repositions her feet.

Her face pinches in determination, and they begin round two.

They’re not holding back. Sage is back in the game, catching every swing. She almost gets him, twisting her wrist with a jerk of her arm to leave his core undefended, but he saves it with a quick deflect by putting the sword vertically just in front of his middle. She would have cut him when she forced her sword further into his, but the supplies in his vest spares him from being nicked with his own sword.

Sage retreats her blade and risks opening herself up while Konig’s busy winding regaining his grip on his swords. She returns with all her might, a grunt that borders on a shout leaving her. Konig blocks her from the inside and pushes outwards, and for a moment she loses balance, stumbling at Konig’s side. His upper half quickly leans back as he swivels to keep face to face with her, a few steps back to keep his distance.

He flinches when she cries out. Sage learns the hard way about the hedge’s blades, slicing deep gashes on the undersides of her forearms and through the meat of her palms.

Konig’s eyes widen as he tries to figure out what just happened, taking a few uneasy steps back as she collects herself.

Sage shakes out her arm, flicking blood in all directions. She winces, but it does little to stop her from wrapping her palms around the handle of her sword and finishing their fight.

They sidestep each other for a moment, swords at the ready.

Sage advances quickly and with little warning, frustration laced into her flurry of offensive strikes. Her blade is just a blur, each collision announced with the clash of steel and a splatter of her blood. Konig follows her lead, blocking each strike, both of them slipping right back into their perfected routine. She’s clearly got the upper hand when it comes to skill, her sword techniques much more advanced. But Konig’s holding his ground even with his base level understanding.

Sapphire’s cannon fires, and the girl from two loses her rhythm when she flinches and whips her head to the side.

That’s all Konig needs. He gives a forceful shove to the blades, knocking her off balance. He has no problem dismounting her sword. She’s back on the ground again, unarmed and dwarfed under Konig’s full stature.

She doesn’t scramble for her sword or to a stand, calmly propping up on her elbows and watching as Konig leisurely returns the sword to her neck.

They lock eyes again, her chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths as they stare at each other.

Sage licks her lips and nods.

“Do me a favor,” She says through shallow breath.

She looks to the blade, and then back to him.

“Make sure that loon doesn’t win.”

Konig pauses, his eyes relaxing.

“Okay,” He says.

She gives him a faint nod, and Konig takes a long, deep breath, closing his eyes on the exhale. With one motion he pierces the sword into her neck until it imbeds through the ground beneath her.

As the audience claps for Konig, your eyes are pinched shut, trying to free your hands of Sapphire’s spear.

When you do look to him, your brows pinched and gnawing on your lower lip, he doesn’t meet your stare. His eyes point low and to the side, a solemn look weighing down his pale features.

“Wow,” Caesar starts as the audience settles, “Konig, I have to say, that was a truly thrilling fight.”

You have to agree with Caesar on that one. Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it in your ribcage, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your lips have turned blue from holding your breath.

“I have to ask, what were your motivations in granting Sage a second chance?”

You’d like to know the answer to that one, too.

Konig is silent and still, sunken eyes taking their time to find Caesar. He swallows hard enough you can see it, and he gives an unsteady, slow shrug. This one’s different, it’s not disrespectful. Defeated and sluggish, you can tell he genuinely cannot find the words.

They’re used to careers sitting on this couch, wearing proud with each replay of their kills, cheering along with the crowd.

If The Capitol wanted meaningful commentary from you both, they should have given you more time to think on everything, because right now it is so painful. You feel like you’ve been sliced from chest to core, your guts spilling all over the glittery stage, and Caesar might as well be squishing your intestines under his dress shoes with every question he asks.

Caesar sees he’s not going to get the answers the country is desperate for, and moves on.

Titan’s turn.

His fight is much less fair.

He’s up against a male tribute who’s clearly out of his depth, unarmed and no match for Titan.

If you had to guess, his strategy for the games was the same as yours. To evade until he had no choice, and he’s realizing that this is his reckoning.

A prey trapped with its predator, the instinctual fear of an animal taking control as he tries to put as much space between him and Titan as possible.

Titan’s maniacal cackle as he watches the boy tremble and flee sends a shiver down your spine. He stands so casually, laughing at him as if the boy wasn’t rightfully treating Titan like the killer he is.

It’s a jarring contrast, they’re not even playing the same game.

For Titan, it’s like a game of tag. Toying with the boy as he chases him around their pen, teasing calls in a sing-song tune, smiling and laughing all the while. He purposely slows up a few times to drag the fun out a little longer.

It’s so unnerving, an unsettling twist in your lower core that begs for attention.

Titan.

If you never see those teeth again, if you never hear that laugh again - it’ll be too soon.

It’s clear that both you and Konig have checked out. Shut down on yourselves, staring blankly at the stage and trying your hardest not to retain any of it. Your limp body leans into him, lulling your head on his bicep.

He gives you a weak squeeze on your locked, sweaty hands, but is otherwise motionless at your side.

The Capitol forcing you to falsely grieve his death has worn yourself down emotionally before you even stepped onto this stage, and every highlight chips away at what little of you remains.

You find your mind wandering to that night before the games. Longing for a soft bed and Konig’s chest as a pillow, leeching his cozy warmth, his heartbeat a lullaby to ease you into a much needed break from consciousness.

Your eyes are still closed when Titan finishes the excruciatingly drawn-out hunt, but you can hear it.

Titan chose to break his neck.

Every muscle in you and Konig’s bodies have clenched with such speed and intensity it’s painful. You lurch forward involuntarily, folding your core in preparation to keep from throwing up over yourself.

Titan’s cackle is the accompanying song to the vivid image of Eleven’s limp bounce off the platform, his lifeless eyes a searing, white hot flash behind your eyelids.

You shake your head to try and rid the visual, taking deep breaths in a futile effort to settle your boiling stomach.

You can’t take much more of this. The only thing keeping you on this couch is Price’s fingernails sinking into your back.

It was a warning.

A warning without explanation of consequence or instruction on how to proceed. A blaring alarm, not sure if you’re dealing with a tornado or a wildfire, unsure if you’re meant to hunker down or evacuate.

All you have to work with is - Be. Good.

You barely manage to stay on the couch, squirming and shaking into Konig’s side.

Once Caesar is done analyzing the footage of Titan and his victim, the rest of the hedge walls descend, and it’s on to the three-way standoff.

You have to open your eyes to watch, because other than Konig’s hand nearly crushing the bones in your hand to dust - the glittery stage, Caesar Flickerman, and this godforsaken audience is the only thing reminding you that you’re not in the arena.

The wide aerial shot they use makes the six of you look like insects as Titan and Konig close in.

They pause on you, coated and dripping in blood, brows pinched and eyes pointed, Sapphire’s colorful spear trained at Konig’s chest.

The image makes your face warp, knotting your insides with shame and guilt. You look like a heartless killer, aiming your spear at the boy who loves you so much he sacrificed himself for you.

“Konig, I have to say, it must have been tough watching a friend, your crush, displaying such apparent distrust.”

Caesar’s words are like a knife to the chest. Slicing deep and exposing your heart to the entire country.

And you would know.

Konig swallows, his eyes flitting to his fidgeting dress shoes. He gives a grave nod that twists the knife sticking out of your chest.

“My dear,” Caesar says, “What was going on in your head at this moment?”

It takes you a few moments to coax the words from your dry, raw throat.

“I-”

You take a deep breath, smoothing out your dress skirt. You sound like a child when you speak.

“Nothing. Nothing was going through my head. I was just scared.”

Caesar nods.

“Scared of a friend?”

He might as well have taken the knife from your heart and plunged it right back in.

You swallow, your words consisting of only breath.

“Yeah.”

“And why’s that?”

For fucks sake, Caesar.

Be. Good.

“Because it was the end,” You croak, the audience hanging onto every word.

“I think we understand dear,” Caesar says, “Afterall, you’re not a mind reader.”

You give a shaky nod, and Caesar finally gives it a rest.

Titan’s taunts blaring over the speakers are unable to be ignored.

Titan.

That sardonic laugh, that mocking voice, those killer teeth.

It’s somehow worse the second time.

Your skewered heart is racing, your entire body pulsing in rhythm and blurring your vision with each beat.

At your side, Konig’s jaw is clicking as he grinds his teeth, his hand shaking in your hold.

Sapphire’s ribs snapping under Titan’s boot fold your body in a cringe, Eleven’s lifeless eyes stealing your breath.

When Titan’s gotten his hands on you, Konig lets go of your hand and slings his arms around your waist instead, possessively tugging you flush against him, quick and just forceful enough to pull a gasp from you. As Konig gives your hand a break to squeeze your side instead, your stare follows your touch as you rub out the ache in your palm.

You can feel the vibration of Titan’s chest against your back, his breath in your ear, his massive arm snaked around your neck.

Next to you, Konig’s leg is bouncing furiously, a hand lost in his hair in a useless attempt to placate his rage.

You give his leg a gentle squeeze, trying to get him to look at you, to remind him that you’re right here, that it’s okay. He doesn’t meet your gaze, staring daggers at Titan through the screen as he coos and purrs and growls and yells and taunts.

Every insufferable moment of this standoff is a grating ringing in your ears. Listening to yourself yell at Konig in a demand to kill you is making you feel dumb, Titan’s voice rips a shudder from you with every sentence, and Konig’s rage is a burning heat on your skin.

The worst is yet to come, of course. The encore of Konig beating Titan to a bloody pulp.

Konig’s arm turns to lead over your shoulders, working against each flinch you make. He’s entirely still at your side as you shake in his hold, pinching your eyes shut but not at all able to rid the visual of Titan's smashed face and the waterfall of blood behind him, his lifeless body collapsing to the grass and razor sharp blades shredding his flesh.

As you beg and plead with Konig for your life, you’re both deathly still on the couch, only the rise and fall of your chest to heave breaths towards your lap.

You can’t bring yourself to sit up or to open your eyes. The sound of your own voice, pleading for your life with the boy who killed himself for you, it’s making you sink in on yourself.

To your relief, they skip your breakdown. You find it strange they also skip Konig tending to your wounds and his detail of that day in District Nine.

They do show a few bits of conversation from your picnic, but most of it is cut. They leave out the trip to the oasis entirely.

At first, it’s a relief. The more they skip the quicker this interview is over with, and to be honest, you weren’t crazy about the idea of all of Panem watching you and Konig having careless fun in your underwear. You’re especially thankful that Konig won’t be finding out about the lingering stares anytime soon.

There’s something about it that’s not sitting right with you, though. Yours and Konig’s romance was the star of this year’s games, and it seems odd they’re cutting out the particularly lighthearted, but intimate moments.

The audience does get a chance to gush over Konig carrying you through the desert, and laugh over you asking Konig about having a crush back home, but again, they skip most of yours and Konig’s conversations.

And there it is again. The dread that sloshes around your core, lapping up your insides, a dark cloud drifting into your thoughts but entirely unidentifiable.

Something is wrong.

Konig rests his cheek on the crowd of your head, his finger tracing gentle swirls into your sides instead of squeezing. You find yourself melting into him, your finger absentmindedly stroking his silken tie as you let your eyes flutter shut.

“You’ve really never had a boyfriend?”

You’ve seen this one already.

Might as well try and sneak in a break, here in his chest.

Konig’s hand finds your hair, running his fingers through your Capitol-Standard silken locks, sending electric tingles up your scalp. He manages to draw a soft, content hum from you.

It’s like the eye of the storm, a moment of calm before you’re thrown right back into the hurricane.

Caesar leaves you both alone. He doesn’t need to ask you how you feel, or what was going through your mind, because the versions of you and Konig on screen are doing the work for you.

Caesar does occasionally stop the footage to make commentary that would normally make your teeth drive straight through the flesh of your tongue, but you truly can't find it in you to care. The only thing you care about in this moment is the billow of Konig’s ribcage with each breath, the feeling of his chest from beneath his suit, the soothing fingers sliding through your hair.

“I have to say, it’s the first time we’ve ever seen two tributes fight to the death quite like this!”

And yeah, you’d prefer if all of Panem wasn’t watching you be so raw and vulnerable, but you can’t bring yourself to even be embarrassed about your fits and fight.

Aside from the obscenities and insults thrown at Konig, you stand by everything you said, everything you did, and you’d do it again if you have to.

The kissing doesn’t even faze you.

You’d do it again and again and again.

They obviously skip your intimacy.

You expected at the very least some teasing from Caesar, innocuous jokes and cheeky, knowing stares until you and Konig’s cheeks turn warm, but they don’t even mention it.

And unusually, they skip your preparations for death. You do remember making the faintest slight against the Capitol, but they skip all of it. Your plea to die, the exchange of the ribbon, the final hug.

Come on. That’s the height of television to these people. The drama and the tragedy.

You and Konig put on a show. In more ways than one, and it’s hard to stomach why The Capitol didn’t include any of it in the highlights.

And while you’re relieved you don’t have to relive such a painful, bittersweet moment - you know that there is a reason it was not included.

A reason The Capitol did not like.

And it’s starting to sink in that maybe you don’t have the upper hand anymore.

Because with Konig at your side - they finally have the leverage they need. It is no longer you as the sacrificial lamb. If The Capitol is upset with you, they will not use your tongue against you.

They will use his.

Konig’s chest does little to quell this thought.

The sound of a blade slicing flesh, screams and desperate pleas, weak reassurances also does little to help.

And of course, the audience cheers for your double suicide. It doesn’t even surprise you.

What does surprise you, though, is the footage of you in your hospital room.

Immediately your head rips from Konig’s chest, your face falling, scrambling to comb over everything you said in your fits to figure out what could possibly be exposed to all of Panem in moments you thought were private.

They show you attacking Price in the hospital room, which the crowd finds funny, but you scratch behind your ear, not sure how to feel about it. It is kind of funny, considering Konig was alive the entire time, but you find being forced to believe he was dead, the grief that otherwise was not necessary, not so funny.

And they show Konig. Restrained to his hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling, his temples red and raw from the never-ending stream of tears trailing down the side of his face to contribute to the growing stain on his pillow.

He refused to do anything.

Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t listen to the nurses, wouldn’t even speak to Price.

Just stares at the ceiling, unmoving.

When you try to meet his stare, he refuses, his eyes fixated on his lap, sitting low on the couch.

You rest your head back on his chest, your arms creeping around his waist and squeezing tight.

I’m here now.

After a pause, the arm around your waist gives a gentle squeeze back.

You tune out Caesar’s closing commentary, trying to focus on breathing Konig in, the feeling of his firm chest billowing against your ear. His hand creeps behind you, fingertips tracing over the back of your dress in soothing, abstract patterns.

The crowd gives another roaring round of applause before the anthem plays, and out steps The President.

The sight of him, stepping onto the stage with his stark black suit and precise smile, floods you with a wave of dread from head to toe. You don’t even have the sense to hide the intimidation pulling at your features as you and Konig rise from the couch, your sweaty hands interlocking once again.

Behind him stands a Capitol attendant, carrying your crowns onto stage.

Konig actually has to bend at the knee to keep The President from standing on his tiptoes.

The President gives a soft, calculated laugh.

“Thank you, boy.”

With delicate hands he places a thick and ornate golden crown onto Konig’s head before he steps to you.

Inches from you, he wears a perfect smile as he places your crown on your head. His eyes are cruel and piercing, he doesn’t so much as blink. His icy stare lingers long after he’s dawned you with the dainty golden crown.

You swallow once when he finally turns away, looking to your heels, crushing Konig’s hand with your own.

The standing ovation, bowing, and waving goes on for far too long. You’re starting to think Caesar is dragging it out on purpose just to torture you when you finally get the cue to leave the stage.

You don’t even get a moment to take a breath before the prep teams and stylists swallow you both whole, showering you with praise and squeals overlapping each other, you can’t make out a single thing any one of them are saying.

Their group moves in a pack, forcing you and Konig to shuffle forward, locked at the hands to keep the other from getting lost.

Mauve manages to push her way through, grabbing your free hand.

“Just wait until you see the dress for the party!”

“What do you mean?” You ask, looking down at your dress, “I can’t just wear this?”

“Of course not, babe! It’s a ball.”

No much-needed elaboration is received.

Mauve and the woman you saw whispering frantically with her before the interview try to seperate you both to get you ready.

“No!”

As you object, Konig tugs you closer to his side, the hardened hand engulfing yours doubling its grip.

The group goes silent, all of them looking to you.

Mauve and the woman share an uneasy stare and nod.

“Yeah, babe,” Mauve says with a waver in her unusually high-pitched voice, her hand raising to twirl the charm in her necklace between her fingers, “We can- yeah, we can get you both ready together.”

You give a shaky nod, your other arm reaching across your front to grab his tense bicep.

They take you to your fitting room, and you both are once again transformed.

So sparkly.

Tonight’s color is champagne. A weird mixture of a golden beige and rose. Shimmering rays of gold reflect from the glittery dress with the slightest movements. It almost hurts your eyes.

Another sweetheart bust that comes in at your waist, and you already know the way the hem of your dress drags against the ground is going to be annoying. Two straps only as thick as twine reach over each of your shoulder blades to criss-cross in the middle of your back.

And you find your inner biceps will once again be tortured by the rough texture of the glitter.

Konig’s suit is a matching color, but no glitter. The elegant paisley patterns and the lapels of his suit are the slightest bit reflective, the designs appearing to change color depending on how the light hits him.

“You look beautiful,” Konig says.

His voice is soft, his eyebrows the slightest bit pinched.

“You too,” You whisper.

Unsure eyes linger on each other, a sad smile on both of your faces as the prep team gushes over your compliments.

You don’t want to talk about what happened, but it feels wrong to talk about anything else. Every word feels like it is overheard by twenty-two dead tributes, like every sentence must justify a double suicide.

The air between you is more than heavy, awkward even.

Because how do you look at each other and not immediately think of the nightmare you both just woke up from?

The click of her heels announces her presence before that unmistakable voice does.

“Oh! There’s my tributes!”

Ruby pulls you both into a hug at the same time, smushing yours and Konig’s arms together.

“Oh, you did it! You did it!” She squeals, actually jumping up and down in your group hug, her brilliant white smile flashing far and wide, “I am just so proud of you!”

She doesn’t even let either of you get a word in, which usually is annoying, but at the moment a huge relief. Not just because you’re incredibly relieved to see her, but you’re really not up for talking right now. You feel like a lifeless husk, your insides shriveled up and flaked away to dust.

She reaches out to scoop up yours and Konig’s free hands, the three of you now linked in a triangle of hand holding.

“Not one, but two of my tributes! My stars! Oh, I’m sorry dears, I’m sorry I didn’t come see you before. I just wouldn’t have been able to keep the secret! They wouldn’t let us tell you, I’d have had my tongue cut out!”

Ruby rambles on, gushing and singing praises at you and Konig, both of you hardly having the energy to listen to the words being thrown at you.

“Oh,” You say quietly, interrupting her mid-sentence what must be twenty minutes into a monologue, “I forgot.”

You fish into the bust of your dress and retrieve her token, staring at the small trinket in your palm before extending it to her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” You whisper.

Ruby’s lips fold in, a soft hand resting on her collarbones.

Tears brim in her eyeline as she gently closes your fingers over the token and clasps her hands around yours.

“It’s yours, dear. It’s yours.”

Her words prick the back of your throat, mouth suddenly dry as you try to choke back tears. You go to thank her, but you can’t find your voice. Instead you give her a deep nod, finishing out on an involuntary, choked sob.

“Oh, dear,” She pulls you into her arms, and while you don’t return the embrace, you do bury your cheek into her shoulder, squeezing Konig’s token at your side.

“Thank you,” You whisper, the tears escaping down your cheeks, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she says, stroking your upper back, “Of course.”

She gives you a gentle swat on your forearm.

“And don’t you cry young lady! Your makeup hasn’t even had time to dry!’

You let out a nasally laugh, giving a sniff.

”You got it, Ruby,” You mumble.

You give a long sigh as your smile fades, closing your eyes on the exhale. You’re exhausted, mentally and physically. It’s weighing you down, eyelids heavy and each movement slowed.

How badly you want to take a break, to turn off your brain and fall asleep on Konig’s chest in the privacy of your own room, to have even a moment to process the nightmare you just went through.

But now is not the time for respite, privacy, or reflection

Now is the time for a party.

NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Dividers @saradika-graphics

Konig Photo Credit

[caitlinsclark]

GOOD LUCK BABE! caitlin clark PART II. YOU CAN SAY THAT WE'RE NOTHING caitlin clark x reader ✰ bree's notes: tw: A MAN A MAN A MAN A MAN A MAN (sorry just had to add that) enjoy my loves!! I've missed writing for you fr <3 word count: 4.7k series masterlist masterlist and tag list

The sound of things in your bag clunking together echoed throughout the hallway as you ruffled through them, a breathless groan that reiterated all the building frustration from your day prior. In the haste of escaping the stressful situation, you'd forgotten your sneakers. 

You could play barefoot right? It wasn’t technically an advantage, you tried to reason with yourself internally to not have to enter the apartment again. 

What a joke, you scoffed as you rubbed your forehead, feeling like an intruder in your own home. With one hand on the door knob, you sighed and pushed it open quickly, believing that the quicker you did it the quicker it would be over.

Luke called your name when you passed by him sitting in the living room, his stupid bouquet of flowers clutched dramatically to his chest where his heart was rumored to be.

Of course, they were still in perfect condition too. You bitterly mumbled under your breath as you went right into the bedroom, ignoring his half assed attempts at reconciliation. 

“If those flowers even get near you,” You gently pet the cat lying on your bed as you whispered, “I’m blending them into a smoothie and he’s gonna drink it.” Your voice heightened in pitch toward the end, an affectionate boop on the nose to the furry animal before you went into the closet to retrieve your shoes. 

You were rustling around when something dropped, an echo of a hollow box hitting the ground grabbing your attention. It was a small felt box, something that didn’t belong among the shoes in the closet and definitely not something of yours. 

When you bent down to open it, you found yourself wishing you had gone with the decision to play barefoot. The intimidating glimmer of the diamond ring sucking all the light from your body, completely opposing how reflective it was.

Basketball clearly hadn’t taught you enough defense, leaving you startled when Luke had entered the room. The sudden imposing figure in your line of vision had you gasping, quick reflexes kicking in and throwing the ring into your bag to hide it. Your foot kicked the empty jewelry box underneath the dresser just in time for him to turn the corner.

Luke stared hard at your agitated figure, suspicion lacing the words he spoke, “You’re back. Let’s talk.”  He turned around without another word, assuming you were going to follow.

It didn’t seem to be a question, and you weren’t going to let it be. Especially with the frazzled buzzing of your head that had skyrocketed to a pulsating sensation.

“Nope, I can’t do this now.” The ring felt heavy in your bag, an unpleasant and scarily unwelcome milestone that prompted your blood running cold. Your sensible mind told you that it was your shoes adding that weight, but your mind didn’t let up.

Your feet carried you hurriedly out of the door again, not even taking a second to pett the whining cat near the door on the way out. That’s how you knew you were absolutely fucked.

The pounding in your head may have been attributed to the upcoming stakes of the game, but you feared it had more to do with the metaphorical weight making it difficult to get a full breath in. The pressure that lingered as a reminder of the man living in your apartment, if the 5 missed calls lighting up your phone and the ring stowed away in your bag weren’t enough.

You tried to sit in your car for more time than you wanted to admit, an attempt at collecting yourself before facing any of the cameras. Flashes that would probably read directly into your soul, prompting narratives that might not only be speculation and hearsay.

The physically sickening feeling was almost a happy distraction from the grief your mind had been relentlessly succumbed to since the phone call with your mother.

You couldn’t quite place what changed when you entered the building, what had your buzzing senses slowing to a steady and comforting pace but it surely couldn’t have been the entrance of your best friend to your left.

You gasped at the smug smirk on Caitlin’s face as you took in your correlating outfits, not torn away from her despite the flashing cameras. It made sense why she’d asked earlier if you had tan heels as you took in her tan pantsuit.

“You look amazing,” She hummed, grabbing both your hands and spinning you wistfully toward the press. She left you laughing and holding onto her arms for stabilization as you slowed to a stop.

Caitlin gladly indulged in your hands on her biceps, leaving a lingering warmth even after they slid down to her elbows. 

You wiped your forehead dramatically, letting out a puff of air at the show you two had just put on for the cameras, “I wonder where I got the recommendation from.” With an inability to take a compliment, you hid your warming face from her despite the smirk she held, signaling she’d already caught you.

One of your arms nudged her own wordlessly and she childishly did it back to you. You stumbled in your tall heels, saved  like clockwork when she pulled you against her before you could fall the other way, quick and effortless like the action took no thought.

You continued side by side walking down the hallway when Caitlin carefully linked your arms together. You turned your head at the contact and gave her a small adoring smile, one that had her turning to direct her grin at the ground so you wouldn’t see her red cheeks behind her hair.

The harmonious glimmer in the air was something you only felt in Caitlin’s presence, a bond that went unsaid as you both had learned each other too well. A blissful comfort your mind and body welcomed after the anxiety your prior day.

Warm ups came and went, a fleeting comfortability of distraction that went all too fast. As you walked off the court, the prominent cameras and microphones flocked to you as if they were seagulls fighting over a scrap of food. 

Your head hadn’t cleared since the discovery you made in the closet earlier, added with the pressure of their cameras pushing into your face. You tried to find something to train your eyes on, something to focus on and keep your nerves down.

You realized how bad of an idea that was when your other option was Caitlin as she waited, with her unwavering and intimidating attention focused on you. Her stature exuded confidence, legs spread as if she owned the space, her arm laid on the back of the chair beside her with a powerful grip on the metal that had the veins in her arm showing.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” You slowly blinked at the reporter, licking your lips to get rid of the dry feeling in your mouth. The brunette watched you shuffle on your feet, a nervous tell.

A gasp left your lips when a water bottle entered your side view, too focused on avoiding Caitlin’s distracting gaze to notice that she’d waltzed up with her water bottle for you. Her eyebrows were raised in an expectant manner when you took more than a second to grab it, simply knowing you all too well. 

You laughed and took it from her with a gentle ‘thank you’, ignoring the rush of giddiness when she decided to stay against your side as you took a small but much needed sip. 

The reporter repeated his question and put the mic toward your own mouth once he finished, though you deflated at the clearly narrative driven journalism that he showed.

“Do you think Liberty is coming into the match today looking down on your team for the previous three losses?” 

You resisted the urge to side eye the brunette to your left, who you felt gently squeeze the arm behind your back in a silent acknowledgement hidden from the cameras.

“I don’t think they can look down at us, most of us are pretty tall,” You shrugged off the question, sharing a mutually playful and amused look with Caitlin beside you. Her hand moved to rest on your back in encouragement, another small squeeze that was hidden from the reporters, meant for only the two of you.

The man looked down, an attempt at hiding from the antagonizing laughs that the rest of the journalists let out. Your head turned, your temple resting on Caitlin’s shoulder as you tried to hide the unprofessional giggles you were sharing with your teammate.

Your laughter died down slowly when Caitlin lifted her phone up to her mouth like a microphone, mocking the media right in front of their faces, “Pressing question, what is your favorite movie of all time?”

You leaned into the device, now putting your hand on her shoulder to get closer to the microphone, “My favorite movie of all time is Spider-Man.” Caitlin nodded as you spoke, eyes trained on you with an intent expression at your answer.

“That upside down kiss scene changed my brain chemistry, how do you even realistically do that?” You added absentmindedly with a laugh, noticing immediately how the athlete beside you perked up like a dog who’d heard a box of treats shaking.

“I think I can hang upside down from the hoop, if you wanna try?” Caitlin smirked at you, a cockiness tainting her words that had you wanting to melt into the floor.

Her brown eyes basked in the shy tilt of your head away from her as your cheeks warmed at the words. You stumbled for some kind of response and could only settle for a dismissive laugh despite a few seconds of troubleshooting.

“Stop,” Your words were cushioned with a laugh, hands gently pushing her stomach to get some distance, ignoring how much muscle you felt in such a small interaction. 

You fumbled with your hair, suddenly feeling hot and ] went back to looking at the camera to calm the increasing and intimidating beat of your heart. With a small sigh, you tried to move past the light-hearted teasing she always hit you with, but her comforting warmth against your side sucked you further in. 

It was in her nature to be an instigator anyway, you tried to tell yourself as you gave your full attention to the journalist.

If only you knew that everything she’d said to you in the last three years had been anything but light-hearted. The line of Caitlin’s teasing had been long forgotten in her mind when her words had simply become scattered truths disguised with a playful attitude.

She rocked back and forth on her heels silently and tried not to pettily pull away from your alluring presence, feeling rejected yet accepted at the same time. She couldn’t find it in herself to tear apart from you, too comfortable in the warmth of your touch. Perhaps she had earned a sadist title as she let herself fall into you once again, knowing damn well you weren’t hers. 

And it was a brutal reminder as you swallowed nervously and made the decision put some separation between your bodies.

The nerves began to set in as you sat in the locker room, messing with your hair as you tried to mentally prepare. Caitlin watched you from her corner, ignoring the way her teammates giggled at her repetitive glances in your direction.

Erica leaned over to whisper to Aliyah as Caitlin finally stood up and trailed across the room to sit next to you, the two giggling like school girls over gossip. The glare that the point guard sent them only made them laugh more, hiding behind their hands to communicate. The brunette’s scrunched up face was a dead giveaway to her worry for you, only hearing bits and pieces of your conversation on the phone.

“They were brand new flowers, Luke,” You insisted quietly, set on not allowing him to make you feel bad. This piqued Caitlin’s interest further when she realized what you were talking about, trying to tie her sneakers silently. She couldn’t help the way her eyes still flew to you.

“I can get you new flowers, I don’t know how to fix this,” He sounded anxious and it made your guilt spike up. You tried to ground your spinning head and give yourself a subtle reminder that this was a matter of ignorance, not incompetence. 

The confusion in his voice seemed genuine, as if he was searching for a way to read your mind. Maybe you hadn’t been clear enough?

You rubbed your forehead, your closed eyes being hidden from the light not doing much to ease the headache forming, “It’s like if I threw away a Play Station gift card you hadn’t used yet because I assumed it was expired.” 

The immediate ‘oh’ that left his lips in understanding was bitter sweet, an exhausting cycle of having to dumb things down as if you were babysitting a child and having to teach them respect and consequences.

“I’m sorry I made you upset,” He followed up and you felt like all the explaining you had just done had tumbled down upon analyzing his wording, “You know I’ve just missed you so much since you went pro, I don’t wanna fight when we barely talk as it is.”

The physical therapist would have yelled at you with the way your head fell aggressively back against the lockers, posture slumped and eyes still shut to shield yourself from reality. Defeat consumed you, the circles your mind had been running in paling in comparison to the circles you’d been talking in with Luke.

The hand holding your phone tiredly fell down to rest on the bench despite Luke’s voice still sounding from it quietly. There was no flinch when the device was taken from your hand, a familiar soft grasp settling on your wrist that assured you who it was. You assumed she had hung up for you when his voice was cut off abruptly.

“You’re gonna do great,” Caitlin’s voice was still easily recognizable behind your closed eyes, like a song you knew from the first beat. She didn’t miss how your lips quirked up.

“And whatever, or whoever,” the words were absolutely bitter to Caitlin’s own ears, “is upsetting you isn’t important right now.”

You peaked one eye open to glance sideways at her, “Sounds like the easy and confident words of a record breaking rookie expecting a triple double tonight.” 

“It’s whatever,” she brushed off what you said, more focused on your nerves than her accomplishments. It left you baffled, shoving her shoulder to which she grasped your hand to defend another attack. 

You still scoffed, giving her an incredulous look as if she’d just offended your first born, “That’s ridiculous, be proud of yourself for five seconds please.”

She silently counted five seconds in her head and you squinted at her unimpressed as you realized what she was doing. When the five seconds was up, you couldn’t help but share a laugh at her persistent sarcastic nature with a slight shove to her shoulder.

“You deserve more than five seconds, Cait,” You scolded, but laughed with her regardless.

“You should trust me, we’ve got this,” She barely acknowledged the praise and put her hand on your knee, you didn’t have to look away as you laid yours on top, “Ready?” 

The nerves regarding the game seemed to dissipate, insignificant when she held out her hands and pulled you up from the bench to chest bump quickly. You landed on the ground with a breathless chuckle, turning your attention to Coach as you prepared to go out onto the court.

The game started off with a buzzing crowd and ethereal energy that didn’t seem quite real. Fans were donned in an overwhelming amount of red, eager bodies jumping at the sight of the team exiting the tunnel.

You and Caitlin had been bouncing off each other since the first whistle blew, handing the ball off to her and watching as she drained her first 3 pointer only 30 seconds into the game. 

Only 5 minutes in and you couldn’t help but nudge Caitlin’s side with a glimmering smile as you passed her on the court, finding it impossible not to soak in the glory of a great lead and defense so far. 

The scoreboard still lead in Fever’s favor, reading out a cheerful sight of 15-6. The straight set look on her features broke when she looked at you, sharing the moment of excitement bashfully with no extra convincing, just the influence of your smile.

By the end of the first quarter, Fever was still off to an 8 point lead. This had you and Caitlin conjoining hands excitedly when the buzzer sounded, a quick celebration amidst the chaos of the crowd and game.

The second quarter was a give and take, feeling like every shot you made, Liberty would quickly answer back with. It’d grew to a score of 33-32, Fever being only one point ahead. That was until Sabrina stepped back to drain another three, putting Liberty in the lead and lighting another fire within the players on the court.

Your eyes subconsciously flittered around until they landed on the number 22 jersey you always looked for. Finding her gaze already on yours was comforting, like she knew you needed that subtle pick me up.

3 minutes into the last quarter and you could tell that your team was giving its all. With a close score in Liberty’s favor of 66-57, it was safe to say that the final 7 minutes were crucial.

You were already on the move to the opposite end of the court when a missed shot by Thornton bounced off the rim and fell into Caitlin’s possession, marking the triple double she had been working towards.

The crowd’s screams bounced off the walls, echoing and hurting your ears in a way that you welcomed gleefully as you cheered along.

Even though you were still running toward your own basket, Caitlin caught the moment as you turned your head back in her direction with a proud glimmer shining in your eyes, a look only reserved for her. The point guard was thankful for the fact that you’d needed to turn away so she could focus back on the game. And not on the way that a new fire had ignited within her just from your wordless praise.

The ball in her hands passed to yours flawlessly, charging up to the basket as the cheers from the fans watching continued relentlessly. The whistle blew as you attempted your layup, a foul called on Thornton in your favor with the referee granting two free throws.

The roars of the crowd couldn’t stop Caitlin from taking advantage of the whistle to jog over to you, being the first to check on you despite being the furthest away. She knew what she had just accomplished, but the way you were holding your arm with a slight grimace was more of a priority.

Caitlin thought of the cameras picking up on the hand that she kept on the arch of your back all the way to the free throw line, but she truly couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“You okay?” She spoke lowly, eyebrows furred in concern as her eyes flickered over your face, lingering on the taunting view of your lips, so close yet so far.

You weren’t focused enough to notice as your hand squeezed her arm, the excitement of her triple double ranking far higher than preparing for the shots. 

She set her hands on her hips and stepped back to watch you closely, less fueled by the score and more by the fact that you were the one shooting. The brunette put her arms out when the crowd continued to go wild, a clear gesture to silent the cheers and they somehow listened. Peering eyes watching her but she only focused on giving you a small nod of encouragement, now ready to take your shots and thankful for her dissipating the distracting screams. 

The crowd’s energy roared again when you’d drained both shots, another push toward closing the gap in score during the intense back and forth. With only nine seconds left and a 5 point advantage, Fever was running like a cohesive machine. The crowd began cheering when Liberty’s shot bounced off the backboard and Caitlin grabbed the rebound eagerly, only dropping it when the final buzzer sounded, marking the official victory for your team.

You hopped into her open and awaiting arms the second she’d dropped the ball, a bundle of force that she welcomed and expected. Her arms came to wrap around your thighs, lifting you so high up in the air that you had to squeal and hold onto her shoulders. 

Your forehead leaned to rest on the top of her head, “You are unreal.” Your voice amounted to less than a whisper, encompassing how proud of her you were. 

It was terrifying how simple it was to tune out the booming volume of the crowd for Caitlin when you spoke to her in that reserved, soft voice. The brunette didn’t answer verbally, setting you on the ground gently and burying her face in your chest. Her arms slid up to your waist and you loosely wrapped yours around her upper body, cradling her head against you as you swayed back and forth.

She let herself be consumed you for just a moment, a moment where Luke didn’t exist and you were celebrating as her girlfriend. The familiarity of her body against yours could’ve had her fooled, an unsaid and unaddressed intimacy you’d both been lacking with others. 

But for that split second, it went beyond words, a conscious choice to bask in the victory with only one another. Caitlin couldn’t keep the grin off her face and neither could you. Her touch only heightened the bliss you were working off of as the team retreated back to the locker room.

Caitlin was busy looking at the reporters in front of her and you took the chance to fondly flutter your eyes over her features, an enamoring glow radiating through her smile that only a win could provoke.

Her arm hung around your neck and yours around her waist, footsteps in a slow synchronization as you took your time walking down the hallway.

“I can’t believe we did that,” She breathed out, using her arm to pull your face just a little too close to hers in a fleeting moment of pure adrenaline.

You couldn’t help but admire how humble the girl in front of you had grown to be, a remarkable sense of team in a game that some played selfishly.

“Yeah,” You pretended to think and savored her gaze concentrated on your expression, “I guess you did enough to make it a ‘we’ situation.” One of your free fingers poked her stomach, indulging when she sunk right back into your side after shying away.

“Triple double, how does it feel?” A reporter cut in, walking backwards to match the pace of you and Caitlin. You cheered, your hands circling your mouth to echo the sound even louder as Caitlin laughed.

“Like another one of these,” She tugged you closer underneath her arm to make a ‘W’ with her hands, covering your overly cheesy grin from the camera, “Shoutout to the fans though, they kept us going in that second half.” The brunette couldn’t help but add humbly.

Entering the locker room felt like an orchestrated sneak attack, Caitlin thought as you lead her into the abnormally quiet area. Her teammates sat with incriminating grins, Coach standing at the front of the room with two empty spots directly beside her.

Like clockwork, the pair of you sat beside one another, a bashful grin appearing on Caitlin’s face at the building anticipation. You couldn’t help but join in on the giddiness, tinting her cheeks red when you gave her a teasing nudge.

The entire room was watching the two of you silently, fondly eyeing one another.

“First time for a rookie to get a triple double in franchise history!”

Screams erupted before Coach Sides could finish her sentence. The two of you being bombarded by a flood of cold water, courtesy of the bottles held by your teammates who ran around like sugar crazed children in the name of Caitlin’s accomplishment.

She leaned back against you fully, letting the water rain down on both of your bodies. Though the liquid was freezing enough to leave you shivering as it dripped down your jersey, you only focused on the warmth of Caitlin’s back against you and her radiant smile as the team cheered her on. 

Your loud and proud hollers were her favorite. Your voice standing out to her more than the rest of the room, prompting the bashful grin and light flush of her cheeks as she rested her head back against your shoulder.

The towel you wrapped gently around her shoulders was a weak comparison to the way you’d been wrapped around her. She tried to imagine the feeling again, the ghost of your touch haunting her the second it strayed away.

She got pulled around the room by the rest of the team, but her eyes refused to stray from you every few seconds. There had only been one person she wanted to celebrate with and she was currently packing her back in the other corner. “Good job everybody,” Caitlin called out, holding up the basketball in her hands toward the rest of her team with her radiant smile on full display. 

“Did you wanna do something after we get done with press?” She passed the ball back and forth between her hands, her nervousness making her movements rapid and causing her to stumble slightly.

“The franchise record breaker doesn’t have a hot date to tend to tonight?” You squinted, fumbling around with items in your bag, oblivious to the exasperation coating Caitlin’s features.

She had one particular in mind, she just wasn’t sure if the other party would consider it a date. Her hands clutched the towel on her shoulders to gain some self control back.

She’d went to open her mouth to reply, aiming to not sound overly desperate. The idea of desperation flew out the window when a tiny clink traveled into her ears courtesy of the small object that slipped out from your bag. 

You had no idea, rambling on about how proud you were, something about taking time to appreciate herself. But nothing could be heard over the deafening ringing intruding on Caitlin’s senses, eyes zoned in on the diamond ring staring tauntingly back at her. A nod to a milestone that she would never reach with you.

Caitlin stayed painfully still, not even allowing her eyes to stray from the sight, scared that moving would make this moment set in reality. You were a blissful level of unaware of the war going on in her head, while the sides of morally right and corruptively gray teetered back and forth.

“Alright,” You breathed out as you hiked your bag up on your shoulder, ignorant to the glittering ring just centimeters from your foot, “I could use a drink.”

With an expert like timing, the girl waited for you to head toward the door, back facing her for just enough time to allow her to scoop up the ring in her grasp. She squeezed her eyes shut as she rose to her full height again, a silent prayer for a good segway into playing this off.

“You coming?” You turned around to ask, facing Caitlin just in time to see her standing up in a rushed movement. One hand fiddled with her hair while the other was gripped in a fist, clasping tight to hold in all the secrets that threatened to break loose.

“Coming.” Her legs carried her to you with no further hesitance, a pit of dread slipping into her stomach, in unison with the harrowing ring sliding achingly into her jacket pocket.

taglist: @lovermcres @glorioushamsterqueen @miedmead @blueagle45 @pbloverr @cavillary @elizabethkitley @1-800-fantasy @into-f0lkl0re @mysticchildsuit @sapphicmermaid @ureleesian @stydiaownsmyheart

series taglist: @wnbaforthewin @stefanshope @sewiouslyz @kaelaheartsyou @caitlin-clark-obsessed @trinscam @julienbakerloverr @muhlsfilm @paigebueckresfan8282 @sadie-bug7 @madismadmad @dinosaurstrandedonnublarisland @kenzlovesyou @zolofts @gaydonutdino @jujubuckets @elliewilliamsthang @princes21w @bookendsandbrokenhearts @mayghosts @isntthatsweetiguessso @cookiecrunchyum @hellokitty-6996 @slutforpaige @the-other-half @simp4panos @charlottehughess

[kjupchurch-xx]

You're Mine (request on Tumblr for a jealousy filled fic featuring Tom Hiddleston)

WARNING: For those that do not like SMUT, I'm sorry, you can skip this one. This is a request I got on Tumblr and I do honor all requests... within reason, LOL. 

Today was Hugh and I's third anniversary. The last three years have been amazing to say the least. We met five years ago when I'd stumbled into his coffee shop, Laughing Man Cafe, a coffee and tea shop he owned, located in New York. Hugh had stopped in to sign autographs and meet a few fans, I'd stopped in for a coffee, not realizing Hugh Jackman owned it. 

We began dating shortly after, getting married two years later. I'd always been extras in films, but he'd help me kick start my career as being a lead in some smaller films. I was always apprehensive about doing bigger films, so I strayed away from them. Hugh would spend hours going over lines with me to prepare me for various roles over the last few years. I checked my email noticing a script my manager sent over to me. It was a bigger film, of course and I had managed to get the part after a stressful audition. I didn't bother reading the script before auditioning, but I knew it was a rom-com with Tom Hiddleston, who was well known for playing Loki. 

"Holy shit." I mumbled, reading over the script. Hugh looked over at me from the opposite end of the couch, wearing his glasses, "What? Did you get dropped?" He asked concerned. 

I rolled my eyes, "Why do you automatically assume I was dropped from a film?" 

He chuckled, "What's with the 'holy shit' reaction?" He sat his laptop down, scooting beside me to see my phone. 

I took a deep breath, "Uh, well... There's a sex scene with Tom and I." 

He shrugged, "It's just acting, babe. You'll do fine. Sex scenes are fun to film."

I cocked my brow looking at him, "Really?" I asked sarcastically. 

He laughed, shaking his head, "I don't mean it like that. They're awkward. You're wearing these little bags and cover-ups, stimulating sex for hours. It's weird, but the key is to make each other laugh." 

He would know. He's the man that's always down for a good sex scene. 

I continued skimming the email, "Holy fuck! We're filming it at 5." I said mentally face palming as I jumped up to grab normal clothes, rather than the sweats and over sized t-shirt I was wearing. 

Hugh looked at his watch, "Oh fuck, it's 3:45 now. Let's get ready and I'll take you. Tom's a nice dude, you'll be fine, baby." He said as he jumped up to change out of his comfy clothes. 

As we got ready and jetted out of the door of our home in NYC, we flew through traffic and made it to the set with 10 minutes to spare. When we arrived on set, I was greeted by my manager, Tom's manager, Tom and a few of the film crew. 

"Ooooh, she brought Wolverine with her, Tom. You better be careful." one of the cameramen teased. 

Tom chuckled, "I'm always careful." as he made his way to Hugh smiling, "Nice to see you again, Hugh." 

Hugh smiled, "Hey Mate, nice to see you."

The director walked over to us, "Okay Jackman, as much as I love your beautiful ass, you're not in my movie. Get off the set." She teased. 

Hugh laughed, throwing his hands up, walking towards the side of the set, "You knew it would cost too much to book me." he said jokingly. 

Tom and I sat in the middle of the set with the director as she explained the script and how she wanted the intimate scene to take place. "So, we're going to get you two ready for the shot, you'll both be wearing cover-ups, so you won't actually be naked, but you'll appear naked to the audience and to the cameras." We nodded in agreement. "Whenever she comes in, I want you to pin her to the door in a full on make out with second base type thing, but you'll both still be clothed for that scene." 

We nodded, "Alright." we said in unison while going our separate ways to get into our character outfits. After about 30 minutes of changing and fixing our hair, we met back on set. A door separating us. This was my first time doing an intimate scene in a movie. I'd had brief kissing scenes over the years, but nothing to this level. I could feel my anxiety building as I took a deep breath, staring towards the door. 

"And, action!" The director yelled, slamming a marker. 

I grabbed the door, pushing it open to be met with Tom, grabbing me and intensely shoving me against it, pushing his lips onto mine. The kiss was deep, it was messy, there were shots where you see his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. Tom wasn't a bad kisser by any means, I will say that. The director decided the scene wasn't her favorite and wanted to re-do it two more times afterwards, wanting Tom to be more aggressive each time we'd kissed. 

I glanced over to Hugh, who was on the sidelines, playing on his phone. I could tell he was getting annoyed, but being the professional he is, not wanting to show it. Tom shook me from my thoughts, "You know, kissing you is pretty fun." He said, winking at me. I chuckled, not wanting to cause issues, but also shaking off the uncomfortable feeling his flirting was giving me. Hugh is typically not a jealous man, but I knew if he overheard the flirting, he'd knock this dude's teeth out and make sure he never did another Marvel movie again. 

On the third shot of the kissing scene, I felt Tom's hand brush slightly across my breast. Not enough for me to really react, but enough for me to know he did it. Not knowing if this was truly a coincidence, I shrugged it off as we went to get ready for the sex scene. I was completely naked, besides a small skin colored cover-up that literally only covered my vagina. Tom was wearing a skin colored bag that hid his dick. 

We wrapped ourselves in robes while we weren't filming to meet the director as she explained how she wanted the sex scene to go and what her expectations were. This was my first big film, and I knew if I wanted to score a good career, I had to sell it regardless of how I was feeling. As we made our way to the bed and stripped our robes, we both laid on the bed, under the comforter. The director wanted Tom on top of me, so he climbed on top of me and looked me dead in the eyes. I couldn't force myself to look over at Hugh, so I blocked him completely out of my brain and continued looking at the guy that was on top of me. 

"And, action!" The director yells, slamming her marker. 

Tom looked down at me, "Is this what you want?" He asks seductively, moving his hips in a motion as if he were positioning himself to enter me, throwing the comforter off of us, revealing our naked bodies. 

I moaned, biting my lip, "I want you." 

Tom stimulated his hips as if he'd slammed into me while I stimulated the scene to make it look as if I were matching his thrusts as both of us moaned. He took one of my nipples in his mouth and began sucking on it while still pretending to thrust into me while I drug my fingernails down his back and cried out his character's name. 

The scene in the movie only showed the sex for about two minutes, before cutting to a scene of both of us cuddled in bed talking about how we couldn't let our spouses find out about what we'd done. 

Tom giggled, "We can't let them know. This needs to be our dirty little secret." 

I smirked, "I know, I know... But you fuck so much better than anyone I've ever been with. He'll be out of town working all week anyways." 

Tom leaned down, kissing my head, holding me, "Do you know how long I've waited to do that? How hard it is being around you two and having to hide how hard my dick gets when you're around me... We're horrible people." He chuckled. 

I rolled my eyes, "What they don't know won't hurt them." I said as I playfully trailed my fingers down his stomach, "I want more..." I said seductively. 

"Cut! That was perfect, guys!" The director exclaimed, running towards us with our robes. 

Filming for the day had ended and I hadn't looked at Hugh in hours. I was too afraid to. I know this is what actors do and he knows good and well how acting in films can be, but something in me felt like this was going to be a disaster. As I put my normal clothes back on and told everyone bye, I noticed Hugh was outside on his phone. He looked pissed.

I walked up behind him, wrapped my arms around him, "I'm finished, baby. Do you want to get dinner?" I asked sweetly. 

He glanced at me, ending the phone and walking to get in the car, "Not hungry." He grunted. 

I opened the door of the car, awkwardly getting in, "We're going home." He said coldly. 

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching for his arm, only to have him pull away. 

He kept his eyes focused on the road, "What's wrong, love? You won't even look at me." I said, starting to tear up. 

He scoffed, "What's wrong? You enjoyed that! You were really getting into that wannabe Wolverine motherfucker all over you!" He spat. 

My jaw dropped, "Excuse me? What are you talking about? I was doing my job, Hugh!" 

He laughed annoyingly, "Really? Your job wasn't to look like you were shooting a motherfucking pornography movie. It was to do a two minute sex scene and you took it too fucking far with him. Do you want to fuck him that bad?" 

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was he really that jealous by me doing a sex scene in a movie he told me to audition for? 

I shook my head, "What are you talking about right now? I did exactly what the director asked me to do." I said in defense. 

He looked at me, "Really? Do you realize how fucking heartbreaking it is to watch a younger man, closer to your age all over you, sucking on your tits? Then you're both talking about good thing our spouses don't know. You know you were turned on by it. I know you."

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever, Hugh. Just get me home before I start walking. I'm seriously about to get out of this car." 

He scoffed again, "Yeah? Go ring Tom, I'm sure he'll pick you up." 

As we got home, he hopped out of the car, making sure he slammed the door and every door inside the house. He was being dramatic. Does seeing me stimulating a fake sex scene with an attractive actor that's younger than him bother him that badly? I'm literally doing what he does with other women, well maybe not that extreme, but does he forget that I have to see him kissing or flirting with other women onscreen in almost every movie or interview he does? I mean shit...Excuse me for just furthering my career. 

As the night went on, he seemed to calm down. I found him playing his piano, looking lost in his own thoughts. I walked towards him, "Are you finally calm?" I asked bluntly, bracing myself for the reaction. 

He shook his head cheekily, "I'm fine. Do you want to have a cuddle in bed?" He asked, smiling at me.  

I nodded, "Of course, love." I said, while grabbing his hand, leading him to our bedroom. 

As we approached the bed, he pushed me down, kissing me aggressively, biting and sucking on my bottom lip as if he were going to literally gnaw it off. "You really think he's better than me, huh?" He mumbled against my lips, causing me to roll my eyes. 

I brushed the comment off and continued the kiss, "Answer me." He growled while pushing his boner into my hips. "No..." I said lowly. "No, what?" He spat back, pushing himself further into my hips. "No baby, I don't." I said, looking up at him. 

"I sat on the side and watched him practically fuck you and touch you for hours. Do you know how fucking bad I wanted to rip his face off for touching my wife?" He asked as yanked my shirt off. "Watching him suck on your perfect tits... You're mine, do you understand that?" He said while pulling my pants off, leaving me in my bra and underwear. 

I nodded, "Yours..." He sat back up pulling his own clothes off as he climbed back on top of me, pulling my panties to the side, shoving his fingers inside me, while sucking on my neck. "This is my pussy." He whispered into my ear as his fingers danced inside me. 

I couldn't help the moan that escaped from my lips, "Oh fuck... Baby, don't stop." I moaned, while reaching for his boxers. "I want you." 

He pulled them down, revealing his hard cock, "You want me? Are you sure you don't want Tom?" He asked, cocking his brow at me as he rubbed my clit. 

I nodded, biting my lip so hard I could taste blood, "You're the only one I want..." I said as I reached for his cock, wrapping my hand around the length. 

"Show me." He said, pulling me on top of him. I slid down his frame, kissing every inch of his torso as I made my way down to his manhood. I felt him place his hand on the back of my head as I took him into my mouth. I sucked hard on the tip while letting my hand work the base as I felt him start roughly thrusting into my mouth as he threw his head back, his moans filling the air. 

"That's a good girl. Show me how much you want my dick." He moaned, as I began bobbing my head quicker taking his rough thrusts deep into the back of my throat. 

This was not like Hugh, but I was loving every minute of it. It almost makes me wish I'd taken more opportunities to push his buttons. I could feel him throbbing in my mouth as he pulled out not wanting to cum just yet. He glanced down at me, motioning for me to get on my knees. 

I did as I was told as I felt him push my panties to the side, entering me. His thrusts were fast and rough, not the sweet, romantic I was used to getting. He slapped my ass hard, "Is this what you wanted?" He grunted, "You wanted this cock, you don't want anyone else's cock, do you?" He gave a deeper thrust, "Answer me or I'll stop and you can go ring Tom instead." He yelled. 

I threw my head back, trying to form words as the feeling of euphoria overtook my body. "Fuck! Don't stop!" I managed to scream between moans, "I only want you." I said, trying to not let myself go this soon. 

He grabbed a handful of my hair, turning my face to look at him, "This is mine. All mine." He moaned. I could tell he was getting close, I could feel him throbbing inside me. "Cum for me, baby. Let me see how good I make you feel." He said while tugging on my hair. 

I let go and exploded on him, literally falling down to the bed as I felt him cum deep inside me. He collapsed beside me, breathless. "Do you feel better now?" I asked him chuckling, sounding a bit amused while trying to catch my breath. 

He chuckled, "I do. Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked sweetly. 

There he was... There was my sweet baby. I smiled, "You didn't hurt me in a bad way, if that's what you're asking. Maybe I should make you jealous more often." I joked.

He laughed, pulling me closer to him, "Maybe so, love."  

[wileys-russo]

alanna kennedy, “my left side is my best side”, golden hour beach

golden hour II a.kennedy

"mac gimme a piggyback!" you launched yourself onto the taller girl who grunted and stumbled forward slightly, hurrying to grab your legs as your arms wrap around her neck.

"can't your girlfriend do this?" the goalkeeper sighed, alanna a hundred or so metres ahead deep in conversation with ellie and hayley.

"don't act like you don't miss me when we're not on camp maccy." you cooed pinching her cheeks, the other girls turning to make their way down the stairs and onto the beach.

you'd grown up playing football with the goalkeeper and it was her who introduced you to alanna long before the two of you even started dating, but from day one you couldn't help but be drawn to the tall blondes confidence.

"right freeloader off! rides over." mackenzie dropped you down to your feet, racing onto the beach after caitlin who had taken peach off the leash, all of you playing a friendly in wollongong against portugal the coming weekend.

"don't you dare!" you stopped mid step, foot hovering above the sand as your girlfriend appeared. "my vintage dunks are not getting sandy or wet." alanna warned sternly as you gave her an innocent smile, forever raiding her extensive closet which may as well have been just as much yours as hers.

"piggyback then? turn around." you gestured as the blonde simply scoffed. "yeah you wish babe, sit." you nearly fell backwards as her hands fell to your shoulders and pushed you to sit on the stairs.

"lani!" you protested as your girlfriend pulled your shoes off, swatting your feet away as you tried to kick her away. "seriously? i'm not walking around barefoot its freezing!" you scowled as she shrugged.

"stop stealing my shoes then." the blonde smirked, holding them hostage in one hand as the other was extended for you to take. "give me yours then, they're already sandy." you bargained nodding down to the shoes on her own feet.

"why should i walk around barefoot? like you said babe, its freezing." the blonde scoffed as you fixed her with a firm look. "would you like to get laid in the next two weeks alanna?" you warned, her smile dropping and you could have laughed at the speed in which her shoes were stripped off and shoved onto your feet.

"you're like a horny teenage boy." you shook your head in disbelief, accepting her hand up. "well when your girlfriends as hot as mine is, you just can't help it babe." alanna smirked, lightly smacking your ass and stealing a kiss before you could tell her off.

stepping down onto the sand you watched a look of disgust cross the blondes face as she did the same. "why didn't you take your socks off you freak!" you laughed as she groaned.

"fuck i don't know i didn't think about it." she moaned in annoyance, handing you the shoes you'd previously been wearing and bending down to slip her socks off. "lani!" you shrieked as she tossed them at you with a grin.

"you're such a child." you shoved the shoes into her chest and took off walking, hearing her follow after you with an amused chuckle.

"work it for the camera, work it!" caitlin yelled out in a funny accent, mackenzie off running with peach and ellie as hayley posed for photos in front of the water and you all gassed her up. "oi el!" the brunette yelled as the defender zapped past and pushed her, sending her tumbling onto her ass.

"fuck now my jeans are all wet. ellie!" hayley took off after her with a growl, peach sprinting with them. "let me guess. you want trio photos?" you sighed as three phones were thrust toward you, the sunset meaning for optimal lighting as the mostly empty beach was bathed in a soft golden glow.

"would you like me to take these before its dark?" you smiled in amusement as the three girls bickered back and forth about how to pose and who to stand, finally falling into some sort of agreement as you snapped at least fifty pictures.

"okay. our turn!" alanna clapped, grabbing your hand as you hastily passed the phone to caitlin before you were dragged into your girlfriends strong hold.

"c'mere sexy." you squealed as suddenly your legs were wrapped around her waist and you clung onto her shoulders as she teasingly pretended to drop you. "now kiss me like you love me." the blonde grinned before puckering her lips expectantly.

"wait! my left side is my best side." alanna pulled back right before you could kiss her, your eyes rolling as did her best friends as she turned so her left side faced the camera.

"babe that was your cue to go 'oh lani baby you don't have a best side, they're both equally as gorgeous'." your girlfriend reminded, making a face as she clearly awaited the words to fall from your mouth which only curled into a smile.

"just shut up and kiss me you freak."

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Colby handcuffs reader and Sam together as a ‘joke’.

Warnings: strong language, handcuffs, maybe a kiss or two, mainly fluff

Word Count: 4.3k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“Hey, hey, y/n.” Colby grips your shoulder and shakes your half asleep body, “Y/n, wake up, please.”

You groan, moving your shoulder away from him, “What.”

“I need you to wake up, please. It’s important.”

“What time is it?” You mumble lifting your head and Colby laughs, “Early.”

“Is your phone light on or something? The fuck is going on?” You sit up and Colby grabs you, lifting you up over his shoulder, “Just come on.”

“Colby!” You hit his back, “Put me down! Put me down!”

He walks into a different room and tosses you on the bed, “Sam needs you.”

“Sam is sleeping.” Sam mumbles, “Go away.”

“Gladly.” You mumble as you go to stand up, but before you can, Colby dives on the bed, and in your sleepy states, he cuffs your left wrist, and Sam’s right wrist, linking the two of you together.

“Colby!” You lift your hand and Sam rolls over, sitting up. Your arm goes up as he uses his hands to rub his eyes, “Dude, it’s lit-“

Sam stops talking and looks at his wrist, then over to yours, “What the fuck, Colby?”

Colby stands up laughing, bringing his phone over, clearly recording, “What’s up guys. It’s Sam, Colby, and y/n. I figured I would have a little fun today, hopefully give you guys a smile, and handcuff these two together for the day.”

“The day?!” You and Sam ask in unison.

“Colby!” You groan, hiding your face from the flash on his phone, “Seriously?”

“Colby.” Sam looks down, resting his hand over his face, “You couldn’t have let us sleep in or something before doing this?”

“Would you have willingly done this?” Colby raises his brows and Sam sighs, “Probably.”

“Y/n?” Colby look at you and you sigh, “I mean, if you would have asked prior to kidnapping me from my own bed, yeah.”

Colby holds a finger up and looks into the camera, “I did not kidnap her. He literally sleeps right next door, okay.”

“Whatever.” You lean back, looking over at Sam, “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Right there with you.” Sam goes to roll over but you gasp, “Ow, Sam!”

“Sorry. Sorry.” He lets out a sigh, “I hate you, Colby.”

“No you don’t.” Colby laughs, “You guys out there, drop a like and subscribe if you would like to be handcuffed to either one of these people for the day. Bonus points if you tell us who.”

“Colby!” You extend your leg out and kick him lightly, laughing as you look over at Sam. He smiles and shakes his head, “sweet dreams.”

He gets up and walks out, and you roll over, facing Sam, “Did you put him up to this?”

Sam shakes his head, “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

You laugh, “No, but at least we can come up with a plan to get him back.” You raise your brows and Sam smirks, “Ah, I see where you’re going with this.”

“We just have to figure out when, where, and who to get him back with.” You look up at the ceiling, you can still feel Sam looking at you.

You like Sam, and he likes you.

Neither one of you really knows it for sure, but little did you both know, today would change everything.

“I was thinking, Johnnie. We can get Jake in on it too.” You look back at Sam and he nods, “I think that would be a good idea.” He smiles, “Are you going to be able to sleep?”

You shake your head, “No, I don’t want to roll and dislocate something of mine or yours.”

“Did I pinch you or something?” He looks down at your cuffed wrist and you shake your head, “The metal just pushed into my wrist, but I’m good.”

Sam nods, looking back up at you, “He’s going to have too much fun with this.”

You nod, “I agree. Maybe we can just get up for the day, I don’t even know what time it is. He came in, woke me up, and literally pulled me out of bed and here we are.”

Sam laughs lightly, “My phone is on the night stand.” He sits up and leans over to grab it with his free hand, “It’s fucking five thirty.”

“Oh holy fuck.” You sit up, “Do you want coffee?”

Sam nods, “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.” He smiles and you both carefully get out of his bed to stand up, “How the fuck am I going to get dressed?”

You didn’t mind seeing Sam shirtless, he walked around the house like that all the time, so it really wasn’t anything new to you.

“He’s probably going go make us leave the house today, too.” You laugh, “Maybe if we agree to just get re-cuffed, he’ll let us change before anything.”

Sam nods, “I mean, I’m glad he cuffed me to you and not him. I did that before and it was hell.”

“Was it really though?” You tilt your head, smirking as you look at him, and he laughs, “I don’t know. I’m tired.”

You laugh and motion to the door, “Let’s go try and get coffee.”

You walk down the steps and look around, “Did that mother fucker go back to bed?”

Sam sighs, “Probably. That sounds like something he would do.”

You walk into the kitchen with Sam, “Okay, what should we do first?” He looks at you, “Coffee mugs.”

“Right.” You nod and walks over to the cupboard, reaching up with both hands to open them and you stop, looking at Sam’s wrist hanging next to yours, “Sorry. I forgot.”

He laughs, “You’re fine.”

He reaches up with his free hand and opens the other side of the cupboard and you each grab a mug. You walk over to the coffee maker, “You’ll need to be my left hand and I’ll be your right hand?”

He nods, “I think we can make that work.” He smiles and grabs the coffee. You reach over and open it while he holds it and you scoop some out.

“Okay, water.” You point to the sink and go to turn, but you ended up turning the other way, into Sam, “Shit, sorry.”

He goes to spin around, your arms and twisting and you end up chest to chest. You look up at him, “I spun the wrong way.”

He looks down at you and presses his lips together as he nods, “I noticed.” He laughs, “we’re doing great!”

You laugh, shaking your head as you turn the right way this time and he follows, turning on the water while you fill the pot with it.

“Careful, careful.” He whispers as you carry it back over to the counter. He moves his cuffed wrist up with yours, “Here” he places his hand under it and you smile, “Thanks.”

“I just didn’t want you to spill it, and then one of us slips.” Sam tries not to laugh, but the more you think about it, picture it, you end up laughing, too, “That would be a shit show.”

“Right.” Sam laughs, opening the top so you can dump the water in, “Okay. Now we press the button and wait.”

“What do you think Colby has planned for today?” You look over at Sam and he shrugs, “Who the hell knows with him.”

You managed to make your coffee, spill free, and head to the living room.

You and Sam just sat on the couch, arms rested between each other as you made small talk, mainly ideas about what the plans were for the day.

Eventually you reached forward to turn the tv on, leaning back and glancing at Sam, “Whatcha wanna watch?”

He shrugs, “Whatever you want.”

You click on something you’ve both seen a thousand times, and soon after, Colby comes walking down the steps, “Good morning.”

“Fuck off, Colby.” Sam mumbles with a laugh. You smirk, “Hey, Colbs.”

“Yeah?” Colby walks in, plopping down in the chair across from you. His eyes move to the handcuffs and he laughs, “How’s it going?”

“We made coffee just fine, but that’s not-“ you shake your head, “Are you going to uncut us so we can get dressed? We figured you’d want to take us out of the house today.”

Colby sighs, “Fine, but that’ll be the only time you get uncuffed from each other.”

“What’s the point of this?” Sam asks, “like why did you wake us up at five fucking thirty?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Because I was up.”

“Lame.” You roll your eyes, laughing as you reach forward for your coffee.

Colby gets his phone out and starts recording, “Alright guys, it is now, almost seven thirty and these two are still cuffed together.”

He turns his phone around and Sam brings his arm up to cover his nipples, “Dude! I’m like naked here.” He laughs, “Have some decency, bro.”

Colby laughs, “How are we feelin’ guys? Did we get any sleep?”

“No. We stayed up conjuring a way to get you back for this.” You squint at Colby and he squints back, “Oh I’m sure it a great plan.” He turns the phone around and makes a face into the camera, “I figured we could go out for lunch today.”

“Oh Jesus Christ. Colby.” You laugh, laying your free hand over your face, “Why do you have to torture us?”

“It’s not torture, you guys seem to like it.” Colby argues and Sam smirks, “Better than when I was cuffed to you.”

“Sounds like you want to have a rematch.” Colby tilts his head and Sam laughs, “Mhm, sure thing.”

“Just to let you all know, I will be uncuffing them so Sam can get a shirt on, but other than that, they will remained locked together.”

“Wait, I need to change, too. These are my pajamas.” You look down at your sweats and t-shirt, “Goddamit Colby.”

“You look great.” He gives you a smile and you shake your head, “Just you wait.”

Colby laughs and gives the camera a thumbs up, “I will keep you guys posted!”

“I am getting hungry.” Sam looks at you, “What do you think the easiest thing to make is?”

You smirk, pulling up your phone, “I’m just going to DoorDash breakfast, tell me what you guys want.” You tap the screen with your thumb, placing what you want in the cart.

You add theirs and place the order before you lay your phone down, “Where do you plan on going for lunch?”

Colby shrugs, “Somewhere busy.” He smirks, “I don’t know, where ever.”

——

The rest of the morning was fairly easy. Besides breakfast when one of you needed two hands the other had to lean over and give them some slack, but other than that you spent the time watching tv and Colby let Sam go out on a shirt.

You took that time to go to the bathroom before meeting Sam back down on the couch.

“It feels weird not having it on, after having it on for those couple of hours.” Sam laughs as he sits down next to you, willingly placing the cuff back on his wrist.

“Alright, so Sam had to be uncuffed to put a shirt on, but now, there’s no going back. We’re getting ready to head out to lunch and you can probably already guess, but Sam is driving.”

“What?!” He asks loudly, “Why me?”

Colby motions to you, “Do you want her driving? She’s on the passenger side of you.”

“Yeah I don’t think that’s good idea.” You laugh and Sam nods, “Good point.”

You laugh and shake your head, standing up with Sam to go get your shoes on. You just slipped on your crocs, keeping things easy.

Sam wanted to wear his sneakers so you both bend down and you lean over, allowing him to use both hands to slip his shoes on.

“Okay. We’re good.” Sam looks back at Colby and he nods, “Let’s roll.”

“Wait.” You stop and Sam stops too, “What?”

“How are we- I’m going to have to crawl in through the drivers side, or you the passengers side.” You look at Sam and then Colby, who is trying not to laugh.

“I didn’t even think of that.” Sam purse his lips, “I’ll crawl in through the passengers side. That way it’s easier for you.”

“We can try that.” You nod and walk with Sam around to the passenger side of the car and he opens the door, “Okay. I’m just gonna..” he sits in the passenger seat and you stay as close as you can.

He lifts his leg over, sliding across the consol and you move in, sitting down as he sits down in the drivers seat, “We did it!”

“Fuck yeah, okay. Now.”

You reach over, and press the start button, looking up at him, “Team work makes the dream work.”

He smiles and nods, “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

As he drives, he keeps his arm on the center console, next to yours. Every now and then he’ll forget you’re cuffed and reach up to turn left with his right hand and you’ll grab his arm.

“Shit, sorry. I don’t know why I keep forgetting.” He laugh, shaking his head, “Just smack me from now on.”

You laugh, “I’ll smack you if it hurts me.”

“Deal.” Sam glances back, “How’s my driving, Colbs?”

Colby laughs, “Not half bad actually.” He goes back to talking to the camera and you look at Sam and roll your eyes, smiling as you look back on the road.

You get to the restaurant and you look at Sam, “You have to climb out.”

“Bro.” He looks back at Colby, “They’re busy, and I have to climb out!?”

Colby nods, “Well yeah, it keeps things interesting, entertaining, for me at least and I’m sure the people on the other end of this screen will enjoy it, too.”

“Ready?” You look at Sam and he nods, “I don’t think we have a choice.” He laughs and motions, “go ahead.”

You open the door and slowly move out as Sam crawls over the seat to get out. You move back and he shuts the door, “Easy peasy.”

As you walk in, it’s no surprise that you’re getting a few weird looks, mainly from the people who probably don’t know who you and the guys you’re with are.

A few people recognize you guys, coming up to ask for pictures and of course they ask why you and Sam are handcuffed together, and Colby always answers, “It’s for a new video I’m producing.”

You walk in, and walk through the restaurant to the table. You move into the booth first, Sam follows closely behind you.

“Alright you two, say cheese.” Colby holds up his phone and you give him the most miserable look as you and Sam hold up your wrists together.

Sam is smiling and Colby sighs, “Come on, y/n. Smile like you love him.”

That right there is when you know exactly why Colby did this.

You can’t help but smile, and Colby smirks, knowing it’s genuine.

Sam looks over at you, “What are you going to get?” You shrug, “I’m not sure, I need to look.”

“Hi, I’m Lisa, I’ll be your guy’s waitress for this afternoon. Can I get you guys started with a drink?”

You speak up first, just asking for a water, Sam and Colby follow.

She glances at Sam, giving him a smile, “I’ll be right back with those.”

“I should have asked her if it’s okay that we record in here.” Colby shrugs, “Aw well.” He brings his phone out, “We have made it inside and we’re sat down. How are you guys feeling?”

“Besides the estranged looks of us crawling out of the car and walking in handcuffed, it’s not too bad.” You look at Sam and he nods, “Yeah, I’d do it again.” He laughs and Colby turns his phone around to him, “Wait till you guys see what I have planned after lunch.”

Colby flicks his brows up and puts his phone away.

“I’m sorry, I must not have heard you correctly, what do you have planned for us after this?” Sam leans in and Colby shrugs, “Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

“Alright, guys. Here are your drinks.” Lisa sets the cups down and pulls out her pad, “What can I get you guys? Any appetizers?”

“Um..” Sam glances down over the menu before looking around at you and Colby, “What are you guys thinking?”

“I could go for some friend pickles.” You bite your lip with a smirk and Sam snaps, “Yes!” He turns back towards Lisa, “Well do an order of those, and then..”

Sam orders, followed by Colby, then you. She didn’t really have much to say to you, but she had everything under the sun to say to the boys.

Sam more than anything, which really got under your skin.

“Alright. I’ll take your menus, and I’ll put those right in.”

You give her a smile, rolling your eyes as she walks away.

“You okay, y/n?” Colby asks, a smirk fighting to make an appearance on his lips. You nod, bringing your free hand up to rub your eye, “Just have an eyelash, or something stuck in there.”

“Here let me see.” Sam reaches up, turning your chin towards him and you open your eye, moving it around. He shakes his head, “Must have blinked it out or something. You good?”

You nod, “Yeah, it’s better.”

Colby stares at you and you make a face at him. He laughs, almost knocking his drink over, “Shit.”

“What is going on with you today, Colby?” You scoff, “Pull it together, dude.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Yeah, yeah.”

After some time, your food comes out, well, Sam and Colby’s does. Yours a little behind. The more time this girl spent at your table, the more you started to hate her.

At this point, you know what Colby’s plan is, so you might as well roll with it.

You lift your left hand, which causes Sam to lift his, and you rub your left eye, “These eyelashes today. I swear to god.”

Lisa shuts up, her eyes moving between you, Sam, and your chained wrists, “I’ll go check on your food.”

“Thank you.” You smile at her and drop it as soon as she walks away, “If you need your hand to eat, I don’t mind moving it for you.”

Sam shakes his head, “I should be good.”

“Well here.” You grab a napkin and lay it over his lap, “Sorry, I just don’t feel like getting sauce stains out of your pants.”

It was a lame cover up, and Colby knew it.

Sam was starting to catch on, slowly but surely.

“You’re good.” Sam smiles, and soon your food is delivered. Lisa doesn’t say a word, she just smiles and walks away.

You glance up at Colby and he shakes his head as he looks back down.

After lunch, you managed to get into the car easier than the first time, “Okay.” Sam looks back at Colby, “Where to now?”

Colby brings his phone out, “Okay, so now that we’re done with lunch, just get back on the highway, I’ll tell you where to get off.”

“Are we going to the park?” You look back at Colby as Sam starts driving and Colby’s face drops, “How do you know that?”

You squint, “Because I know you.”

Colby sighs, “Yeah. Go to the damn park.” He laughs, “I want to see if you guys can manage to go down a slide or swing together.”

“You are having way, too much fun with this.” Sam tries not to laugh, “If either one of us gets a dislocated shoulder or broken wrist, I’m bleaching all of your black clothes.”

Colby gasps, “Not my studded jeans!”

——

At the park, you shake your head, “At least there’s no kids here.”

“It’s a Tuesday, and school is in session, so.” Sam laughs and look at Colby, “Where.. what are we doing?”

Colby points, “Swings, please.”

You walk over and sit down, your arm, along with Sam’s, extended out to the middle of the space between the swings, “Okay.” You walk back a few steps and Sam does the same, “Now we just.. let go I guess?”

You laugh, “I don’t want to get hurt.”

Sam wiggles his fingers, “If we hold hands, I think it’ll help.”

You didn’t hesitate to interlock your fingers with his. As soon as you do, you both kind of look at each other with small smiles.

Colby’s voice catches both of your attentions and you nod, “Ready?”

“Ready.” Sam nods and you both swing, “okay, okay. This isn’t bad.”

You both managed to say in sync, but only for a short them then your swings started to go lopsided and you both had to stop.

“That was actually impressive, now into something a little more challenging.” Colby raises his brows and walks in front of you, turning around to record as you and Sam follow him.

Your hands still intertwined.

“Aww!” Colby zooms in on your hands and you both roll your eyes, letting go, “Colby!” Sam laughs, “Don’t make it weird.”

“Yeah Colby, don’t.” You laugh, your cheeks heating up to match the color of Sam’s.

“Okay, so we’ll just..” Sam walks up first, turning to make sure you’re good on the steps. You walk up to the top, making your way over to the slide.

“So um..” Sam turns, looking like he wants to say something, but Colby yelling deters him and he sighs, “Nevermind. How are we-“ he motions to the slide and laughs, “If you sit down, I’ll get behind you and, wait.”

Sam looks down, “Well have to, bend, or.. wait..” he moves around, “I’ll lift my arm, and put it around you? Does that work?”

“Try it quick.” You spin around so your back is to his chest and he lays his right arm over you and your left hand rest by your right hip, “Yeah, I think that’ll work.”

He nods, “Okay. So you sit down first, and then il list behind you. We got this.”

You both walk over to the slide and you sit down, lifting your hand as Sam sits down and you rest it on your lap, “Okay, just scoot forward.”

You both moved a little too fast because you went down, but Sam grabbed a hold of you, laughing as you slide down to the bottom.

You lean back again him, trying to catch your breath, “Oh my god. That was actually kind of fun.”

“Once we figured out, it wasn’t that bad.” Sam says laughing, “Holy fuck, that slide is slick as hell.”

“You guys can barreling down. Jesus Christ.” Colby bends down laughing, “My god. Are you guys good?”

You and Sam nod, standing up.

“There’s like a net thing over there that you can climb up in. Think you can do it?” Colby asks and you sigh, “Why not give it a shot.”

Sam nods, “I think we can do it.”

You walk over to the web, and start climbing up. It was a struggle, but one you were able to stay next to him and work together, you got to the top.

Getting down was hard, mainly because you couldn’t stop laughing. Sam almost fell, you almost fell. You held onto him arm, almost crying from laughing.

You were having such a good time, Sam was having such a good time.

Colby loves it because his plan seemed to be working, and working well.

Once you’re down, you make your way back to the car, climbing in and sitting down. You think about flying down the slide, and soon enough you’re all laughing again.

——

Back home, you’re settled on the couch, and you’re thinking about what already happened and what’s to come.

It was a fairly easy day now that you think about it. It really caused you and Sam to grow closer. Nothing was weird between the two or you before hand, and now after being handcuffed when either one of you needed to pee, it really wasn’t weird.

“I want you guys to make dinner tonight.” Colby tilts his head, “Whatever you guys want, but nothing too easy.” He laughs, “What are you thinking?”

“Mm.” You tilt your head, resting it back to look over at Sam, “What are you thinking?”

He shrugs and before he can speak, you look at Colby, “Leave for a second.”

“Why?” Colby tilts his head and you give him a look. He raises his brows and nods, “Okay.”

You watch as he walks away and you look at Sam, “I know how we can get out of this.”

He shrugs, “I don’t mind it, but I’m curious as to-“

You lean in, laying your free hand on his chest and pressing your lips to his.

He misses you back, bringing his free hand up to rest on the back of your head, “I was waiting to do that.” He laughs, “I knew that’s why Colby did this.”

“Yeah.” You nod, “I figured it out a little after he woke up and came down.”

Sam’s eyes move between yours and your lips, “Come here. I want to do that again.” He smirks and as soon as your lips touch, you hear Colby cheering from the top of the steps, “My plan worked, I take it? Please said it did!”

You lean back, laughing as you look back at Colby, “Yeah yeah, your plan worked.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

This was just a stupid idea that I had to get out of my head. I hope you liked it. I’ve been sick, so sorry if it isn’t up to par. Love you all. See you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[cherubshert]

𝒫𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝒞𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉

Warnings: Kissing, Sunghoon was and is kinda mean, Slapping (reader slaps hoon), cursing, references to past bullying, anger, angst (i guess), bad writing.

a/n: I kinda wanted to write something a bit more mature, idk. This is so all over the place, im not the best at writing emotions or writing coherently. ngl i also really hate this, but i hope some else likes it.

The slap seemed through echo through the empty hall, the music from the party downstairs filling the empty air between you two. You chest heaves with anger, your fingers tingling as you finally made eye contact with Sunghoon for the first time that night. "What the fuck Sunghoon!" you scream, "What do want, why are you ruining this for me?!"

He stands there angrily, glaring down at you, his hand holding his face. "Don't put this shit on me! What were you doing with Jake?" "I'm doing exactly what you said I should! I'm wasting my time on someone whose worth the waste, isn't that what you told me to do?! I'm taking my feelings elsewhere because you don't want to reciprocate." Your voice shakes slightly, memories from the week before hitting you again harshly. Your words make him pause, his head moving away from you, cursing under his breath.

You scoff at him, turning on your feet towards the room you were so rudely pulled out of. "Where are you going?" You don't turn to him, your steps speeding up at this sound of his. "To the guy who actually wants me, I'm not wasting my energy on someone who only sees me as an object for his pleasure." He grabs your hand , effectively stopping you "I don't see you that way. " "Don't -" "Fuck can you let me speak."

"I wasn't in the right state of mind that night, that's why I said what I said. I didn't mean any of it." You rolled your eyes, struggling to twist your hand out of his grasp. "Save all that for some one else Sunghoon, you've shown me enough times what I am to you. You think I'm stupid? You knew I liked you ever since highschool, you treated me like trash, and then flipped cause you needed a distraction from that ex of yours. I know it all! I'm not an idiot anymore. Let go!"

"I've changed, I'm not like that anymore." He paused bitting his bottom lip. "I care about you, I really do." "Yea, that's why you got with Eunji, even after all she did to me." He let out a frustrated sigh, "I told you nothing happened between us! She lied, I'm trying to be honest with you, she lied!" Your stare into his glossy eyes, bitting your lip, your heart pounds in your chest, as you desperately try to find a sign that he's lying to you.

"I hate you." You mutter, tears trailing down your cheeks. "I love you."

Anger bubbles in your chest again, "No you don't!" You scream, ignoring the pain in your throat as you continue. "You never did! You never will! You said it yourself, while they all laughed, you said it, you said you found me vile, disgusting, You said it." You whimper your voice dying out with each word.

He watched you crumble, your head dropping forward. He searches deeply, into the treasures of his mind. It's in the highschool school's parking lot, its not clear but he remembers the camera, he remembers how you were brought up in discourse, the harsh scoff he let out, words he would now slap himself for leaving his lips. fuck.

He stares down at your crying figure, his hand raised to the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." his grip on your arm loosens, his arms wrapped around your shoulders. You hesitantly wrap your hands aound his waist.

You pull away slightly, letting his lips press to yours. He reaches behind you opening door slightly, your body stumbling back. He kicks the door shut, his right hand going behind your head, acting as a cushion as you both fall to the bed. Your hands rise to his hair, ruffling it slightly.

You bite at his bottom lip, hard enough to feel a metallic taste fill your senses. He groaned pained, pulling away to brush his lip with his thumb. "The fuck?" He questions affectionately, reaching down to cup your face. Shuffling in the hall catches your ear, before a door slams shut in the distance.

"I hate you." You whisper, not moving in your spot, you're eyes sparkling the same way they always did. He flips your body, still holding your close, your hands resting on his chest. "I deserve it." His tongue flicks out to lick his lip, your eyes moving to it. "It really hurts, can you kiss it better?" You hesitate, Jake flashing in your mind for a second before you lean down, gently pressing your lips to his.

[kithtaehyung]

drabble: first one pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) rating/genre: pg ; fluff ; three tangerines au note: uhh. surprise and happy holidays LOL. based on this ig reel sent in the discord multiple times, this little slice is gonna kickstart the "3tan does sm" mini series! basically this little ongoing collection will have all the drabbles/requests based on social media things y'all send in. if it inspires me, i'll make a drabble or something out of it hehehe. enjoy! warnings: nothing big. just 3tan yoongi lol links: three tangerines mlist ; masterlist drop date: december 28, 2023, 7:07pm est word count: 1.1k

-

-

In the middle of winter, you decide that tonight is the perfect time to try something new. 

Which leaves Yoongi confused as hell because this attempt requires him to be outside in the freeze, when the two of you were just bundled up in blankets and watching a movie minutes ago. 

But he can scold your lack of attention span and tendency to watch videos during long movies later. 

“What am I doing?” 

Placing him on one spot of the sidewalk just outside his apartment, you urge, “Just, hold on. Stay right there.” 

“Huh?” 

Giggling, you give no other instructions, instead rushing forward to bring your phone to a nearby bench. When you set it down to see what the camera catches, you determine that you look fine enough, so you tell Yoongi—who is simply standing there and still looking devastatingly handsome—what you wanna do. “Okay, pull up the video I sent you.” 

“Shouldn’t we go back inside?” 

“Yes, yes, after this.” 

When you walk up, he pulls up the link, and you both watch as people run to their partners and rush them out of frame, spinning them around or chasing them away. 

Ever consistent, Yoongi is both unfazed and wondering what goes on. “What’s the goal of this again?” 

Shrugging, you’re just happy he’s not tugging you back indoors yet. “I don’t really know, but. I just wanna see how you do it.” 

“Mm…” He looks one more time, cementing his answer with the way he smushes his lips. “Fine.” 

“You’ll do it?” 

“Uh huh. But this is just for you.” 

Right. Because of course this can't be seen anywhere else. Your smile is rueful with a tinge of holiday hope, “I know.” 

And Yoongi’s expression carries the same weight. 

Maybe one day this conversation will be a lot different. Just like the way your quick stay at his place while your brother is at a work dinner will prove a lot longer of a night. One day. 

Maybe.

Cheering yourself up, you practically bounce back to where the bench is, slipping a bit with a tiny “whoops” before reaching out to press record. Backing up onto the sidewalk, you throw up peace signs, poses, do a few different filler moves until Yoongi does his part. 

But nothing happens. 

And no one appears by your side. 

So you turn to see if he actually left but goddamn it is he recording you? “What the!” 

Yoongi just laughs as you kick your head back in laughter, and stops holding his phone up. “So cute.” 

Damn it, he can’t give you this fluttering feeling while being annoying! “Focus!” 

Groaning, you turn your recording off and then back on again, repeating some of the same things for the camera and shuffling a little in place to warm up. Because it is freezing and this idea could have waited another season or two. 

And when you look to the side after a pause, Yoongi is recording again. 

You bend forward to shield from the chill, your yell echoing throughout the small little courtyard, “Yoongi!” Does he have to keep grinning like that? There’s no time for prolonging this even more! “I cannot with you right now.” 

After another attractive huff of amusement, he keeps going, “I can’t help it! You’re being adorable.” 

Well. At least Yoongi’s having his fun. If anything, he’s stalling because he doesn’t wanna do whatever challenge this is. So you can drop it. “Ugh… Never mind, we can go inside.” 

After grabbing your phone, you walk up to him again before he stops you. And you think it’s because you were about to slip once more, but his low tone gets you to see his face under those locks. 

“Nah, we can do it.” When you give him a pouting frown, his teeth shine. “Serious!” 

Easily placated, you’re back to grinning. “Okay, for real this time! It’s cold!” 

“I know! You didn’t even let me get my beanie!” 

Laughing out your guilt, you warn him over your shoulder, “If you run into me, you better not knock me over.” 

“I won’t, doll.” 

“Okay!” Placing your phone down for hopefully the last time, you hit record, seeing yourself sigh before gingerly walking back to the sidewalk. 

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to try and get Yoongi to do this. It’s colder than hell’s deepest frost at this point, and some snow is still falling from darkened skies. 

But all the little reactions in the videos looked too cute, and you are genuinely curious to see what he’s gonna do. So even through your poses, you brace yourself. Is he gonna run in for a hug? Is he gonna rush you off with a big warm embrace? 

…Is he really not gonna do anything?

Feeling a little bad, you drop the cute poses and turn. 

Only to feel him right at your side, gathering you with a soft, strong arm and leading you down the sidewalk. 

Well, damn.

The gesture is so him that, for a second, you genuinely think that he saw something and led you out of harm’s way on instinct. But as you look around, you don’t see anyone else in the wintry courtyard besides the two of you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Your vision flicks away from the lighted trees dotting the area. “Oh, nothing, I was just…” 

“Wanna run it back? If we do let’s go somewhere else. It’s icy right there.” 

Blinking, you see his eyes full of pure curiosity and attentiveness. 

And suddenly you wanna go back inside for a completely different reason other than warmth. 

“That felt perfect,” you whisper, eyes lowering to his ever inviting lips. “Lemme check it.” 

Leaving his cozy side, you go back and retrieve your chilly phone, stopping the recording that you are relieved you successfully started. Both you and Yoongi watch as you play the full thing, and after he leads you out of frame, your jaw drops. 

“Oh, my god. This beats all the ones I’ve seen.” 

“Really?” 

“Damn… Now I’m actually sad I can’t post this.” When you laugh, it’s not all joyful. Turning to him, you pretend to be mad. “Why are you so cool?” 

Huffing small, Yoongi looks up and around you before giving your cheek a kiss, and your knees weaken at how tender it is. “Send it to me,” he murmurs. 

“You want it, too?” 

“Mm.” 

“Okay.” 

“Just a little longer, babe.” He gives you another peck on your very cold nose. Then both cheeks. And your forehead. 

All while you’re out in the open where anyone could witness. 

Just his willingness to amuse you was already perfect. Yoongi didn’t need to do any of that, and he certainly didn’t need to be so charming with his stylistic choice. But he did it all anyway while freezing his pretty ass off.

And his next words make your chest yearn to stay with him—for every holiday season and silly trend that comes around. 

“Then this’ll be the first one of us we post.”

-

-

fin. :)

-

🌨️ what do we feel! i needed this little drabble :')) 🌨️

a/n: did i mean for this to be a full blown drabble? no! was this the video that bo originally sent me that i flailed over? no! but it's the reel i saw and apparently had been sent in the server multiple times. so here we are with a surprise hahaha.

enjoy your holidays, everyone! and if you have anything social media related that 3tan reminds you of - or you can see the 3tan crew doing - send them in and maybe i'll get inspired again. :D this didn't take me long at all and i wanted to do it, so no worries about extra work!

a/n 2: 3tan12 is going strong alongside the holiday fics! should be posting teasers and taglists for those, too. very very excited for all of them mwahaha

🌨️ links: three tangerines mlist ; masterlist

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Finish Line

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Buck x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Notes: Hmmm….. this is a good one🤣🤣 obviously this is not true bdsm care please don’t think it is. But like I really cracked my knuckles with this one like?!! Good work me

“I’m just saying, Age of Extinction was total ass,” You say as you unlock the door to the loft and push it with your shoulder 

“No literally! We wasted so much-“ 

You and Eddie stop at the front door, Buck is on the couch, his head tilted to the side, his face twisted in confusion as he stares at the TV. You do a double take as you’re sure you can clearly hear someone being absolutely railed

With the loudest, fakest, moans any of you have heard 

Eddie pushes you the rest of the way in and practically slams the door shut behind you 

“Dude?! What are you doing?!” 

You set the grocery bags on the counter and come running over to Buck on the couch, a giggling mess. 

“Whaaaat is going on??” 

“I didn’t mean to pay for this I fucking swear but I did on accident and I was like fuck okay I’ll watch it I paid for it and how the fuck is she doing that?!” He points to the woman on the screen and your mouth drops open. Eddie walks over and covers your eyes 

“Buck!! Not in front of the children!” 

You slap his hands away from your face and roll your eyes 

“I do that pose in yoga anyway” You mutter as you turn to walk away but you’re stopped in your tracks by Eddie putting his arm around your waist and Buck pausing the movie 

“I’m sorry, you do what now?” 

“I’ve been doing yoga for years” You shrug “That’s called “King Pigeon” I’m pretty sure” 

You look it up as Buck hits play and one man absolutely rails her as she sucks off the other guy beneath her 

“Yeah see” You show them and they nod slowly 

“And you- you can do that?” Buck's voice is a little squeaky 

“I mean yeah, it took a long time to be able to do it though!” 

“Can-“ Eddie crosses one arm over his torso and bites his knuckles “Can we see it?” 

“Sure!” You unbutton your jean shorts and kick them to the side before removing your top 

“Can’t do it in those pants and you know I just thought I’d give you a thrill with my shirt off” you wink as you walk over to the side of the entertainment center and grab your yoga mat. Buck pauses the video again and they both focus on you intently as you roll out your mat and do a few stretches 

“Alright, one King Pigeon coming up.” You get on your knees and carefully start to bend backward, stretching properly as you get into position. You wiggle your toes as you grab your heels 

“Tada!!!” 

You hear the shutter of the camera and snort, staying completely still 

“You got your pictures?” 

“I’m going to draw clothes on you,” Buck says “But holy shit Y/N” 

“I can see why he wanted her in that position” Eddie mumbles and you hum softly, your interest peaked 

“I heard that Diaz,” you say as you slowly come out of the position, placing your palms flat on the floor as you let the blood in your head go back to where it’s supposed to 

“Are we gonna try that position? I feel like we’re gonna try it” Buck says as they both stand over you. You look up, biting your lip and smirking 

“Hi” you giggle dumbly and put the tip of your finger in your mouth 

“Jesus Christ” Eddie laughs as he walks away “You’re ridiculous”

Buck shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest “I’m horny as fuck and we’re getting nowhere… I think she’s got a great idea here”

Eddie looks at them as he starts putting the groceries away “You always think she’s got a point when she’s on her knees” 

You crawl closer to Buck, sliding your hands over his thighs “I’ve got an idea” 

Buck looks down at you dreamily “Anything you want Princess” 

“I told you not to indulge her” Eddie’s voice comes from the bottom cabinet 

“What if we had a little race?” 

Buck stops for a second, and so does Eddie. He places his hands on the counter in front of him 

“Go on”

“First one to cum wins,” You say, getting up and going to the couch, you drape yourself over it, putting one leg over the back and one foot on the floor, your body on display 

Eddie comes over, cracking a beer and handing one to Buck 

“You know what I think is a better idea?” He unbuckles his belt with one hand and steps in front of you, nodding at you to help pull his pants down. You lick your lips and do as he says while Buck takes a long swig 

“I think whoever cums first loses… the consequences? Well. I think I’ll keep those to myself for now” He cups your chin in his hand, tilting it upward 

“That sound good to you?” 

Buck comes over and takes your hand, putting it on his belt and you hurriedly undo it, pushing them down over his hips 

“O-okay” 

Eddie takes the remote and switches over to your guys' favorite video, the one none of you ever make it to the end of. He hooks his thumbs in his boxers, pulling them down slowly, letting his cock spring out. Your mouth is already watering 

“So we all go until one of us loses?” Buck does the same, tossing his boxers to the side 

“Mhm” you nod slowly, dreaming of just getting your hands on them 

Eddie goes to grab lube from upstairs and Buck plops on the couch next to you, reaching over and stroking your thighs 

“So like when you lose, I promise I’ll go easy on you” 

Your mouth drops open and you slap his hand away “When you lose I promise to give you back your soul once I’m done sucking it out!” 

Eddie hands you each a bottle and smirks “When you both lose I promise I won’t laugh” 

He sits down in the chair and gets comfy, putting his feet up on the coffee table and hitting play on the movie. 

It’s easy at first, keeping your hands off. Buck is the first to break, pouring the lube into his hand and sighing as he grabs his cock, stroking slowly. You giggle and he glares at you, reaching over and smacking your clit. You gasp loudly, snapping your legs shut and bat at his arm 

“Eddie!! He’s cheating!!!” 

Buck snickers and rolls his eyes “You’re such a fucking baby” 

“Your mom’s a fucking baby” You stick your tongue out at him and he’s on you faster than you can blink. He kisses you hard, sinking you further into the couch, and grinds down on you roughly, his cock slipping easily through your folds. You hold him to you for a minute, your eyes rolling back in your head before Eddie clears his throat. You snap back to reality and shove Buck away 

“Eddie!!” You shriek and he lets his head fall back against the chair as he bursts out laughing 

“Buck that’s totally not fair”

“In theory- hear me out-“ He puts his hands up, pointing at Eddie “I was grinding on her thus also cheating myself” 

Your mouth falls open as Eddie shrugs at you “He’s right” 

“You guys suck!!” You huff as you turn on your side and start pouting 

“I mean we could if you wanted” Buck wriggles his eyebrows and you kick his leg. 

It’s another half hour before any of you say anything, and the video is starting to get to your favorite part. You gulp, shifting a little and both Buck and Eddie look over at you for a second 

Your hand snakes between your legs and suddenly it’s all both men can look at. Their prized possession, because they both owned you. Mind, body, and soul. Eddie gives Buck a nod and they both let go of their cocks, you’re too busy watching the screen to notice, your fingers working your clit slowly. 

It’s your favorite part, when the first guy lays on top of the woman, making out with her before sliding his cock in, he pumps a few times as she moans, the wet sounds of their bodies slapping together. The other guy comes over, rubbing the first guy's ass before sinking his cock inside him. The harder he thrusts into him, the harder the middle guy thrusts into the woman on the bottom. It’s got you practically drooling as they go at it, his hips jackhammering in and out as she screams below them. The top guy pulls out and you’re moaning in time with her as she’s rolled onto the middle guy's chest and he stuffs his cock in her ass now. Your fingers speed up as she’s double penetrated, her eyes shutting as she holds onto the man on top of her, clawing at his back as he plows into her. It drives you crazy when Buck and Eddie fill you like that, stretching you so much you can’t walk the entire next day and they have to carry you 

You don’t notice Eddie coming over to sit on the armrest and glaring at you with a predatory gaze. Your leg opens up, your soaked pussy on display for them as you touch yourself, whimpering as you get closer. You slide your fingers through your folds before slipping them into your tight hole, feeling it grip them as you stroke that little spongy spot that makes your toes curl 

Buck looks up at Eddie and Eddie looks over at the video, they both know what’s about to happen next and exactly what’s about to happen to you. Buck moves a little, facing you now and crouching down a bit, like a tiger about to pounce on its prey 

Because that’s all they ever saw you as most of the time. Prey. 

The woman on the screen screams out as she’s cream-pied in both holes by the men at the same time and Buck pounces, ripping your hand away and shoving you flat on your back. Eddie stands over you while Buck’s mouth attaches to your clit, sucking as his fingers plunge in and out of you. Your back arches off the couch as you scream, grinding against Buck’s mouth as he drinks your sweet nectar. Groaning loudly while you cum over his tongue 

Your entire body feels like jello as he sets you back down and reaches for Eddie. Eddie gets down on his knees and Buck grabs his chin, spitting in his mouth before kissing him, passing your juices back and forth in a messy kiss

You stare at them, dazed and incredibly satisfied. Not really caring much that you came first 

Until you remember.

You don’t know the consequences of losing. 

Your heart starts pounding harder for an entirely different reason as you shakily get up 

“I-I have to go pee,” You say and Eddie pulls away long enough to give you a look 

“Hurry up” 

It’s short and demanding as he goes back to kissing Buck, who’s grinding their cocks together. 

You take a little more time than necessary, splashing cool water over your face and just trying to get your anxiety to calm down, because what the hell is Eddie about to do, and what is Buck one hundred percent gonna go along with?

You walk out of the bathroom and the boys are gone, you gulp as you look around. You’re just turning around from the kitchen when you look up, Eddie is standing at the top of the stairs. He gives you a little come here motion and you make your way to the bottom of the stairs 

“Hi” you wave shyly and he looks down at you, crossing his arms over his chest 

“Hello little one” He purrs and you know that voice and that name and god are you fucked. Buck appears next to him, biting his lip

“C’mere Bunny. We just wanna play” 

You walk up the stairs slowly, your legs are jelly, your heart is basically in your ass, and you’re starting to sweat. 

A nice Eddie is a dangerous Eddie. 

A wolf Buck is a dangerous Buck. 

“Sir” and “Daddy” let you walk past, eyeing you hungrily as you stare at the bed. The cuffs are hanging there, pink and fluffy, and there’s an assortment of toys at the end of the bed 

“Lie down” Eddie instructs and you do as you're told, putting your arms up and looking at Buck as he fastens them. You give him the sweetest, cutest, wettest, eyes you can muster

“Daddy?” You whimper and Buck nearly caves right there before anything is even started 

“Don’t you dare! She came up with the game herself!” Eddie yanks Buck away and he tumbles onto the mattress whining 

“Why do you have to play so dirty bunny?!” 

Eddie finishes tying you down, including carefully tying your legs together which is definitely new 

“Is this comfortable?” he asks as he finishes the knot and you nod 

“Yes sir… why-“

“That’s the surprise” He interrupts you as Buck messes with some stuff on the bed that you can’t see 

“I know this is also a new position, so if you’re that nervous I’d be glad to tell you what we’re about to do. But only if you feel you need to know, I want you to be honest with me”

You sigh, taking a minute to consider your options, you’re not sure why your thighs are tied together if it’s not really bothering you in that way. So you shrug and give him a little thumbs-up 

“I’m okay. I can wait” 

“Good, Now remember your safe word?”

Buck comes over to sit on the other side of the bed and you look at him, batting your eyelashes. He rolls his eyes and smirks as he strokes your side 

“He asked you a question”

You look at Eddie who’s got a little glare on his face and smile sheepishly 

“Hugh Jackman” You snort and Buck giggles because he absolutely came up with that and Eddie rolls his eyes 

“You two are ridiculous. Are you ready?” 

Buck holds up a small pink toy, waving it at you and you look at it suspiciously

“Yes Sir” 

He nods over at Buck who smiles cruelly, you hear the toy click on, vibrating in his hand as Eddie comes over and kneels on the bed, he taps your lips with his cock, still hard and flushed red from earlier. 

“Open up pretty girl” 

You eagerly open your mouth moaning around his cock as he moves his hips slowly in and out of your mouth.

“Jesus you feel good” He groans as you suck his cock, your tongue dragging over the thick vein running through it. You’re so distracted by Eddie that you don’t realize Buck's hands feeling your thighs, not until you feel that weird toy he had suddenly sucking at your clit. 

You writhe beneath Eddie suddenly shaking your head and he slaps your cheek. Your eyes widen as you stop squirming and he holds your face 

“Concentrate on the important things Y/N” 

He leans over you, forcing his cock further down your throat and you choke for a minute, your hips coming off the bed as Buck turns the toy up and Eddie smacks your cheek again, giving you light taps so you’ll look at him 

“Hey, hey, hey breathe. Focus on breathing. And remember, bite if you seriously need me to stop” You nod at him, giving him two thumbs up and he goes right back to fucking your face, his hips thrusting faster as he moans. 

“Fuck I love when she sounds like that,” Buck says as he turns the vibrator up again, and your body jolts 

“You want a turn?” Eddie turns to him and he shrugs, getting up 

“Yeah why not” 

They switch places, Eddie pulls away from you, laughing at your blissed-out face and the string of drool as he slaps your tits with his cock. 

“Be careful with her, you know how excited you get” 

“She can take it” Buck doesn’t waste time, immediately pushing his cock past your lips and leaning forward as he fully stuffs his cock down your throat 

“Jesus fuckin-“ he holds it there for a minute because he really doesn’t want to cum that fast. But he loves choking you on his cock and he’s knows it’s hopeless. He shifts himself, straddling your shoulders and Eddie shakes his head 

“You’re gonna cum” 

“You think I care?” He looks down at your pretty face, your makeup running, your mouth stretching to accommodate his size, your glazed-over eyes. He smirks as he pinches your nose shut and you shake your head back and forth, he moans hopelessly as fucks your face harder. He holds the sides of your head, his eyes shutting as he listens to the wet choking noises 

“You gonna swallow it for me bunny? Gonna swallow every last drop?” his voice is breathy and heavy with lust as he growls, shooting his load down your throat, he lets go of your nose and you gasp in air as he pulls away, spilling his cum all over your face. He flops back on the bed and you tug at the restraints, your body completely overwhelmed 

“I-I’m I’m gonna-“ 

Suddenly the suction toy is taken away and your mouth drops wide open, you buck your hips uselessly, trying to follow Eddie’s hand as he sets the toy down, but he just pushes your hips back onto the bed 

You nearly cry as he adjusts the ropes on your thighs and smacks your throbbing pussy 

“Awww but you’ve already cum little one, remember? You’ve already had your turn!” He smiles sadistically as he grabs a washcloth from a little bowl on the side of the bed, wiping your face clean 

“You wanna pick another one babe?” He looks at Buck who blindly stretches his arm out and grabs another toy. Eddie takes it from him, a large purple wand

“Ooh, this one’s double-sided!” He pulls the ropes back, clicking the toy on and spreading your soaked folds. He slots the toy in the ropes and pushes it right against your clit 

“No! No please no!” You’re nearly crying as the toy is trapped between your legs vibrating against your clit. You curl into yourself your hips grinding down on it as you make a high-pitched whining noise and Buck laughs 

“Awwww, you poor little baby. You need help?”

“Daddy, please, please Daddy” You’re begging now, feeling that coil tightening up in your belly again 

“She’s right Eddie, we should give her clit some rest. It’s double sided right?” 

“No- that’s- that's not what I me-“

Buck turns on the wiggling function and you scream as he sinks it deep in your pussy. You nearly roll over, fucking the air helplessly and they both laugh at you

Eddie comes over to the end of the bed, kisses up Buck’s torso, and opens his legs, laying between them 

“Since she’s oh so busy…” He looks at you, rolling your hips helplessly and you tug at your restraints again 

“And seeing as how I’m the last one to cum” He whispers in his ear, lining his cock up with his hole. Buck opens his legs more, wrapping them around Eddie’s waist 

“She’s about to cum” He murmurs, kissing Eddie slowly Eddie reaches over, pulling the vibrator from you, watching as you clench around nothing and scream in frustration 

“How did you know that!!” You squeak out as he tosses that toy aside and grabs a rose with a longer tongue than normal 

“I know your body better than you do gorgeous” He winks as Eddie traps the rose between your legs and the ropes, he pulls away from Buck for a moment and smiles when he whines. 

“For your own safety, since we’ll be busy” He frees your hands and pins them above your head 

“But if you touch yourself… even once” his voice is deep, threatening “I will make you pay for that… you understand me?” 

You gulp, biting your lip “Y-yes sir”

“Good girl. Now sit up and watch us” He winks before going back to Buck who captures his lips eagerly, running his fingers through his fluffy dark hair and tugging roughly. Eddie lines his cock back up again and thrusts into him, his head falling onto his shoulder 

“Fuck you feel so good” he moans lowly as his hands grip Buck's hips. Your mouth drops open as you watch your boyfriends going at it, Eddie pushes Buck's legs up to his chest, his cock plunging in and out harder each time as they both completely ignore you and the way you’re struggling against the ropes 

Eddie chases after his own high now, an animal-like lust taking over as his hips snap into Buck’s over and over again. His hands slide over his hard body, stretching across the gorgeous plains of smooth skin, enjoying the way his body flushes with need. 

“That’s my good boy… take this cock” 

You fall over onto your side, panting harshly, as you watch Buck wriggle and moan under Eddie, he looks over at you, reaching for you and you take his hand��

“You wanna cum now baby bunny? Hm?” He looks just as blissed out as you do as Eddie fucks him, his thighs slapping against Buck’s 

“P-please Daddy please I can’t take it a-anymore” 

“Too fucking bad” Eddie pulls your hands apart and pins Buck’s against his chest 

“Not until I’m done” his breath hitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. Buck arches his back, his legs wrapping tighter around Eddie’s waist and shoving him in deeper 

Eddie reaches over, turning your toy up all the way and you scream again, rolling over and trying to grind yourself into the bed, your body moves in sync with Eddie as he cums in Buck, slamming his hips into him and holding it there, letting out a loud growl as he falls over onto him, still slowly, sloppily thrusting. 

Buck cums just as hard, thick, hot ropes splash over his chest as he cries Eddie’s name, his hips thrusting into nothing.

“I think I’m in love” He smiles deliriously and Eddie laughs, nuzzling his head into Buck's shoulder 

“Yeah me too” 

They both finally look over at you, panting harshly. The toy is still going and you’re on your back again, your legs bent, you don’t even look coherent anymore. 

“I think we killed her” Buck mumbles and Eddie coos at you while pulling out of Buck. Your eyes go down to the way tendrils of his cum drip between the two of them. It’s messy and it’s hot. 

“Awww I’m sorry baby girl did we forget about you?” He pulls the toy away and your body shudders under his touch. Your body taught and overly sensitive 

Buck rolls over gingerly and helps Eddie untie you, your limbs relax as they rub them gently, working out any soreness. Your eyes follow each move, they’re so slow and dazed 

“Can you even speak?” Buck chuckles as he rubs your thigh, nuzzling his nose against it. He can smell your sweet arousal, dripping and never released. You’ve practically made a little puddle underneath you. He kisses across your thigh, burying his nose against your clit and inhaling slowly 

“Fucking hell” He moans, languidly lapping at your clit. It’s so puffy and overstimulated at this point all you can do is cry, the tears fall and you cover your face, sniffling into your hands 

“What did we say about covering those pretty tears…” Eddie pulls your hands away, leaning down and kisses your tears, licking them away as he holds your chin in his hand 

“You deserve a present” He whispers in your ear “Doin' so fucking good. You haven’t cum once…” 

You look up at him, a little whimpering noise coming from your throat and he smirks, laying down on his back and maneuvering you on top of him with Bucks help. Eddie’s cock, still creamy with his earlier release slides into your ass with ease. He groans deeply, holding you there for a minute before Buck crawls in front of you two 

“You ready baby girl? It’s your turn” Buck gets on his knees, stroking his cock and tapping it against your poor abused clit. You reach out for him and he grins, leaning down over you and kissing you. He holds your face like Eddie had, pulling away a bit and spitting in your mouth 

“God you look so fucking stupid” He whispers, kissing down your sternum “Like a sweet little whore, just waiting to be used….” 

“We should get her in a glory hole one day” Eddie snickers as Buck rubs your thighs, spreading them slowly and lining his cock up with your entrance. He pushes the tip in, feeling you suck him in greedily 

“God that would be the dream, seeing her full of cum?” Buck sighs and thrusts into you, causing you to cry out, finally making a noise 

“What if we got that fake cum stuff and just… covered her in it?” Eddie thrusts after him and they start a smooth rhythm, thrusting in sync 

“I’ll look into it” Buck agrees as he captures your nipple in his mouth, sucking on the hard little nub and massaging the other. Eddie reaches over to the pile of toys and grabs a little riding crop. He hands it to you and grabs your tits, squeezing them together 

“Make him go faster” He whispers in your ear and Buck looks up just in time for you to bring it down on his ass. He gasps, his hips speeding up immediately and Eddie laughs wickedly 

“You’re such a good little doll” 

He speeds up in time with Buck and soon all three of you are moaning, it doesn’t take long, as soon as Buck's hand comes down on your clit you’re screaming for them, your back arching off of Eddie’s chest, squeezing his cock tighter as you squirt wildly, your juices dripping down the front of Buck’s body. The second you explode he does too, cumming in you at the same time Eddie cums in you with a shout. 

You’re so overstimulated you keep coming, over and over as Buck and Eddie ride out their highs inside you. You desperately cling to Buck, clawing deep into his back, his grip on your hips is bruising, leaving sweet purple marks of how hard they’d been fucking you and torturing you

Buck pulls out of you with a wet pop and you fall off Eddie and onto the bed, sobbing into the blankets

Eddie pulls you into his arms, chuckling softly and rubbing your back as you cry into his arms. 

“Awww lo siento mi vida… did we go too far?” 

Buck comes around and lies on the other side of you, his body conforming to yours and wrapping his arms around your torso 

“You need anything?” He mutters into your neck, rubbing your thighs and you shake your head, wiping at your eyes 

Eddie pulls away from you long enough to get your favorite blanket and the teddy bear you keep next to Buck’s from his childhood so they can be friends. He stops for a minute and rolls his eyes, grabbing Bucks too. 

He eases back into your arms and hands you the bear as Buck pulls the blanket over you, tucking you in. 

“You okay baby girl?” Buck holds his bear up to your face, giving you little kisses and you snort, hiding your face in Eddie’s chest 

“I’m not a baby!” 

“You’re our baby,” Eddie says, tilting your head up and kissing your nose “Now accept your teddy kisses” 

You facepalm and awkwardly turn on your back, taking the teddy bear and giving it a big dramatic kiss 

“Happy?” You look at them and Buck kinda giggles a little, shaking his head 

“Okay. Hear me-“

“Shut the fuck up” Eddie reaches over beating him with the pillow and Buck screams, yanking it from him 

“You have the fucking audacity when I caught you jerking off into her third favorite pair of yoga pants that she’d taken off with her underwear to go shower!” 

Eddie’s mouth drops wide open because those had been ruined that day and neither man would own up to it or tell on the other and you’d received four new workout sets as an apology and enough orgasms to forget all about it

“You did what?!?!!” You whirl on Eddie and Buck screams, already running down the stairs 

“I’m gonna kill you!” 

[multifariousqueer]

Can you write Miles 42 being like really super duper protective and like controls her, he doesn’t let her go out by herself and stuff like that and is like always watching her. They argue about his over protectiveness but he could care less

Ofc babes!!!

warnings: toxic behaivor, miles being annoying, angst, references to robbery and murder, strong language, INCREDIBLY TOXIC BEHAVIOR!!!!!!, brief mention of drinking, lmk if I missed one or two

A/n: Send more miles 42 reqs pls

730 days. Thats how long you were with this man. Thats how long it's been since you got leave the house alone. Miles was very overprotective since his dad died and he saw the world for what it was. Evil and it was filled with nothing but scum. Miles determined that this world wasn't good enough for you and you needed to be "protected" and kept away from this disgraceful universe. So, he took it upon himself to protect the only two things that mattered to him, you and his mom and he did a good job at it.

Miles would walk you to school, work, home and if you needed something, he would be the one to get it for you:

"Miles baby, I can get it myself; its right outside." you pleaded.

"Nah, Mami. I don't want you outside by yourself. People are fucked up and they will hurt you." He said stoically.

"But-" you started

"Cállate, Y/n. Before I make you” he said, stepping closer

You knew Miles well and you knew to stop pressing because he would just shut down and you hated when he shut down. Miles would just put his hand on his braids and kick something before giving you the same speech:

“Y/n you saw what they did to my father, do you want that to happen to you too? Because if I let you go out by yourself, you’re at risk for that to happen and if it does or if anything or anyone touches you, I will kill them; and that’s a promise, Mami. I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you and not bat an eye. Don’t fuck with me, y/n. Stay close. Let me protect you and we will be good. Aight?"

“okay.” you would say. Miles had a way of making you seem two inches tall in these situations.

You never left his side. For two years, he would watch your every move(he put small cameras in your home. You didn’t notice until three months ago); he would take you shopping but never posted about you just in case a villain would use try to use you as his weakness(because lets face it, you’re his weakness), he would kiss you and be sweet in private but he would act hard when anyone else was around.

It was a cold winter’s day when you decided you had had enough. Your friend y/f/n(your friends name) had invited you out to a party. You had never been to one because of Miles but you decided enough was enough and you were gonna go. So you slipped on a small dress, cute heels and a jacket that made your tits look nice and left:

“I’ll be home soon!” You told your parent

“Okay, y/n. Tell Miles I said hi” they exclaimed

“Okay!” You shouted back. They knew how overprotective Miles was but they knew he was a good person overall so they left it alone.

As you walked to hail a taxi, you felt your phone vibrate:

Miles: Wanna go out?

You: No it’s okay, imma just stay in for tonight

Miles: Nah fr. Let me take you out

You looked down and debated answering the text, but ultimately decided not to. You got in the taxi and went to the party when you saw a shadow dash across the roof.

You walked into the party and greeted your friend:

“GIRL OMG YOU LOOK SO GOOD. WHERE’S MILES?” They shouted over the loud music

“He’s not here, it’s just me. Let’s go grab a drink!” You replied

“Oh Okay!!” Your friend said

As you were walking over, you could’ve sworn you saw a man that looked exactly like your boyfriend but he vanished when a man walked past. You brushed it off and grabbed a cup of jungle juice and went to dance. You grinded against your friend who caught it during the beat drop. You were having the time of your life until you checked your phone:

Miles: I know where you are, y/n. Come home or I’m coming there.

Miles: I should’ve known you’d lie to me. You’ve been acting real shady lately, wanting to go out and shit. Just wait till you get home, we’re gonna address this shit immediately.

Miles: I see you

Miles: Stop ignoring me, y/n. You know you fucked up

Miles: Imagine wearing the chrome heart necklace I got you while dancing like a slut on your friend

Your stomach dropped as you surveyed your surroundings, looking for a sign of him. When you couldn’t see him, you hailed a taxi and went home.

You fidgeted and fiddled the whole way home. The driver looked in his rear view mirror at you:

“You good, Mami?"

The name sent shivers up your spine as it was your boyfriends name for you.

“Oh! I’m fine, just cold haha” you laughed it off

The driver turned on the heat and sooner or later you were home.

You approached your doorstep and went to your room. Your parent was asleep and you walked in your room, thinking his threat was empty, until you went to shower and saw him behind the door:

“MILES” you screamed both in shock and horror

“Y/n.” he said, closing the door, encapsulating you both in the small room together

“I’m so sorry-“ you started

“you should be. What did I tell you, y/n? I do all of this shit for your safety but you continue to fight me and pull these stunts” Miles lectured as he closed in on you. Your height difference becoming more and more apparent

“Stunts? Fight? Miles I have been nothing but obedient to you which I shouldn’t even have to do if you treated me like a person instead of an object. That’s all I am to you isn’t it? An object. A doll. Just something you don’t want other people to have or see?” you argued

But your pleas and your confessions meant nothing to the man. He simply looked at you and said:

“yeah, actually.”

“what?” you said

“You are an object to me, you’re something I have to protect otherwise the world will take you from me like they did him.” Miles said, as stoic as ever

“STOP USING YOUR DAD AS LEVERAGE IN THIS, MILES. THIS ISN’T ABOUT HIM, ITS ABOUT YOU AND ME AND IF YOURE JUST GONNA KEEP TREATING ME THIS WAY, I’LL FIND SOMEONE ELSE.” You shouted, exasperated and on the verge of tears.

“do it, y/n. I dare you to find someone who will care for you and spoil you as much as I do.” Miles said, briefly breaking his nonchalant nature

“Fine I will!” you said reaching for the doorknob.

You left and put on clothes as you made him leave.

“You’ll be back.” Miles said, nonchalantly

“Fuck you, Miles Morales.” you said

It had been a week and you were sulking and debating getting back with the man when your family and friends told you were doing the right thing:

“I’m glad you left him, y/n. I heard he’s the prowler.” Your parent said

“Yeah I’m glad I left too.” you mumbled

As you were enjoying your fifth night of freedom, you saw a woman get mugged on the street:

“GIVE ME YOUR PURSE NOW LADY” The masked man shouted

The woman did as told and the man escaped but not before looking at you and running in your direction. With Miles, that man would’ve never even had the though to look at you.

You ran as fast as you could until you lost him in an alley behind your apartment. You decided you missed him too much and he was right so you pulled out your phone:

You: Miles you were right. I’m so sorry

Miles: typing...

Miles: its okay, I knew you’d find out soon enough; so what happened, Mami?

You: Some mugger saw me and charged at me and he had a knife

Miles: What did he look like

You: Beanie, knife, blue shirt and black pants

seen

You went home and went to sleep. The next morning you heard the news blaring in the house, along with the smell of bacon wafting through the house

“What happened?” you asked

“some mugger got killed.” your parent said

You had a stinging sensation in your gut and prayed that it wasn’t what it looked like when you heard the woman on the TV:

“It seemed like there were claw marks In his chest and he had been blasted with a ray gun."

Oh God...

You went to text Miles when you saw his text:

“You don’t gotta worry about that guy anymore, Mami. I’ll be at your house at 10.”

[latenightdaydreams]

König x Stalker!Reader Part 3 (fem) V2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.1

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, stalking, p in v, oral

1.0k word count

.

.

The cameras have been in place for the last few days. You’ve called off of work just to stay home and watch obsessively. The copy of his key sits by your bedside, tempting you daily. For some reason you can’t find the strength to sneak over and see him in person.

Tonight, you were coming home from the grocery store, your hands full of bags as you walk along the sidewalk approaching your street. You feel a finger slip across your palm, sending tingles throughout your whole body. As you turn your head to see who it was, the person slips the bags out of your hand.

“Hallo, Liebling.” König smiles down at you as he steps in front of you to grab the second handful of bags.

“H-hi König.” You stumble over your words not expecting to see him here.

König steps aside and continues to walk with you to your house, the two of you make small talk as you continue on. Your palm tingles from where he touched you. Now all you can think about is touching him again, all over.

König walks into your home with you, placing the bags on your counter as his eyes follow you. He catches you checking him out. You’re not very good at being sneaky and its absolutely adorable.

“Well, y/n, it was great to speak with you. I hope to see you again soon.” König smiles before leaving and going back home.

That night you sit on your bed watching König get ready to go to sleep. You’re wearing a black shirt and black leggings, watching and waiting for him to go to sleep. In your hand you’re fidgeting with the key to his front door. Tonight is the night.

An hour passes before you slip on your shoes and head across to his door. It was around 1am meaning the neighborhood was asleep. You’re able to unlock the front door and slip inside his apartment seamlessly. A wave of relief crashes over you as you successfully make it inside; locking the door again.

The familiar smell of his home is welcoming, you take a moment to take it in before walking forward. Your steps are light and careful, taking your time to look over his apartment since the last time you were here. In the corner, the fish tank is now gone making you wonder what happened.

Moving on, you continue through his house and approach his bedroom door that’s left ajar. You place your palm on the door, pushing it open slowly to avoid making any noise. There he is, sleeping soundly with the blankets pulled over his body. The moonlight helps illuminate the room as you approach.

Your fingertips graze across the soft fabric of his comforter, grasping the top and pulling them back expecting to see his messy blonde hair and drooling face. Instead, you see pillows. Just pillows. As you look down confused, you feel a hand grab you by the back of your neck and slam you down into the plush bed.

“I was wondering when you’d show up…” König’s other hand moves along the side of your body to enjoy your curves.

“H- how did you know I was coming?”

“Liebling, I’m always two steps ahead of you.”

König pulls down your leggings and underwear exposing your supple ass to him. He removes his hand from your neck and crouches down behind you using both hands to caress your ass. Finally, he has you here in his web, and he doesn’t plan on ever letting you go; but he’s sure you won’t mind.

A high-pitched moan leaves you as you feel König’s face press between your ass cheeks. He wiggles his tongue across your tight hole, breathing you in deeply as he gets to taste you. With a flat tongue, he licks between your legs; your pussy is already dripping wet and ready for him.

“Oh god—”

“No calling for god; only König.” He says before diving back in and devouring your sweet cunt.

König pulls away with his nose, lips, and chin glistening covered in your beautiful nectar. He stands behind you, dropping his boxers and kicking them off to the side. You feel his heavy cock slap on your ass before pressing against your virgin asshole slightly before slipping down to your entrance.

“Do you want me, Liebling?”

“König, I need you. Please.” You whimper pathetically.

“Good girl.”

König feels his breath catch as he feels how wet and tight you are for the first time. He sinks deeply inside of you, needing to feel you completely. A loud moan leaves him as his hand pulls your shirt up to look at your back. His hand travels down your back, lingering inside of you as he lets you adjust to him.

“I’ve waited so long for you, Liebling. So long.”

His hands wrap around your waist and hold you in place as he begins to roll his hips into you, slowly pulling out before slamming back into you. He drops his head back and closes his eyes to savor the moment before opening them and looking back down. The moonlight makes the way his cock looks like stretching your pussy more romantic.

You lay there with the largest smile on your face, completely lost in this moment of passion. His cock is fucking amazing, better than you could have expecting. If he wanted to chain you up and fuck you anytime he wanted, you’d live a happy life.

One of his legs sinks the bed next to you as he props it up. He slides a hand up your back, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling your head back. The most beautiful melodies of pleasure leave your lips as he thrust hungrily into you. Your tight velvety walls hug him perfectly; his wife, his pet.

“Who do you belong to?” His voice is a low growl.

“König! I belong to you!” You cry out as bursts of euphoria travel over your body.

König’s heavy balls slap against your clit as he loses himself in the moment, increasing his pace. In his mind all he can envision is you walking around with a round swollen belly. He will spend as much time as he has to pumping you full of seed until you’re pregnant with his child. Fucking you until you’re sore and can’t walk.

[mynameismckenziemae]

A Little Bit Stronger

Part 1

(next part here)

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x OFC

Summary:

Fear is the only thing Shae Williams feels after years of abuse at the hands of her ex-husband. After an encounter where he nearly takes her life, she’s finally free of him…until he finds out where she’s staying. Fear forces her to take the help of the only person who’s offered and is introduced to Bradley Bradshaw in the process.

The last thing Shae needs right now is a relationship and the fact that Bradley understands and respects her wishes makes him that much harder to resist.

Warnings: Just like everything else / write/post: this story is for 18+ only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. It will contain smut, adult themes, situations and language. Please also note this story may be triggering due to the topic of domestic abuse (physical, emotional, sexual) violence-feel free to message me with any questions before reading.

*This is the Bradley from All of Me (Jake and Reese’s story). You should be able to be read as a stand-alone but it doesn’t hurt to start there.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

2 months prior.

“Why don’t you stay here for a few minutes,” Chad sneers, pushing his seed back inside you that’s beginning to leak out. He’s not gentle; it hurts, causing tears to prick at your eyes, but you refuse to wince, “give my swimmers a few extra minutes to find that egg,” he laughs.

They won’t. The Depo injection you got a few weeks ago at Planned Parenthood after Chad had found your hidden birth control pills will prevent that. It would be a cold day in hell before you brought an innocent child into this mess. The bruises from that beating were nearly healed now.

“Okay,” you reply, cold and numb.

“Dinner reservations are at tonight 6, so I’ll be here at 5:30 to pick you up,” Chad says from the bathroom as he starts the shower, “wear that black dress with the low back I like.”

“I will,” you lie.

If all goes to plan, you’ll be a few hours away by then, where he can’t find you.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You get up as soon as he leaves, wanting nothing more than to get out of this hellhole but needing to wash the evidence of his abuse off of your body.

Your heart is pounding as you pull your suitcases out from the bottom of your closet, already packed and ready to go. Your sweaty hands tremble, barely able to pick up your last-minute supplies to toss them in a tote.

You lift the mattress and reach under where you made a slit, locating the cash you’ve been hiding there and pulling it out before packing it too.

With that cash and the money you transferred into a secret account when you had been working, you should be set until you find a job.

You set your phone on the kitchen table and take a slow, deep breath before walking towards the door.

The handle turns as you reach out to open it; your stomach does too.

“I’m so fucking glad I installed those cameras last week when you were at Pilates,” Chad chuckles darkly as you drop the suitcase, backing away in terror.

He grabs your ponytail when you turn to run, and you cry out loudly at the burning pain in your scalp as he yanks you back. “You’re not going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever,” he seethes in your ear. Your stomach rolls in disgust as you can feel him hard against your ass; he’s getting off on this. “You belong to me.”

He pushes you into the table by the door, causing the flower vase atop it to fall and shatter.

“Stupid, ungrateful bitch,” he seethes, stepping over the mess before kicking your hunched form in the ribs, stealing the breath in your lungs from the sharp, searing pain as you land on the hardwood.

It only takes two steps before he’s on you again, gripping your shoulder and turning you to face him. His eyes are full of rage, his pupils dilated from the line he snorted in the car as he spits, “I thought you’d finally learned after the birth control incident. I should’ve known…”

Your head whips to the side and you taste blood when he backhands you, splitting your lip.

You can’t catch your bearings as you try to appease him with an apology; pain radiating from your cheek and there’s a deafening, high-pitched ringing in your ears, “I’m sorry Chad, let me explain-“

Pain explodes in the left side of your face a second later as he punches you as hard as he can before the world goes dark.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Shae?” says a familiar voice, sounding so far away. “Shae, honey, wake up.”

Your right eye slowly blinks open to the bright fluorescent lights; the left is swollen shut and pulsing painfully. The beeping of the heart monitor increases and the pain in your ribs makes itself known as everything comes rushing back.

The police officers arriving, the EMTs putting you on the stretcher, the chilling look in his eyes as you were rolled past, the favorite doctor you worked for giving you a sedative when you arrived in her ER panicking.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dr. Akins murmurs, putting her hand on yours, “he’s not here, he can’t hurt you.”

You slowly nod. “Where,” you croak, tongue feeling like sandpaper, “where is he?”

“Sitting in jail,” she replies.

“But-“

“For 24 hours,” she assures you, “even with his connections, he won’t be getting out early.”

You nod, still a little dazed and disoriented as you take a drink of the water she offers. “Thank you.”

“He’s why you quit, huh?” Dr. Akins asks. Not judging, just observant.

You nod again.

“What happened? Today I mean,” she clarifies.

“I was leaving,” you whisper, wincing when you look down from the pain in your eye from the movement. “He came home.”

“How did he know? Did you tell anyone?” She asks gently.

“No,” you reply, “not a soul. He said something about installing cameras last week.”

“That’s not legal in the state of California, Shae,” she says softly, stroking her thumb over your hand, “neither is beating your wife half to death.”

You nod once again, gasping from the pain in your ribs when you sit up, “I’ve gotta get out of here before he’s released.”

“Where will you go?” She asks.

“I’m going to rent an Airbnb in San Diego,” you wince as you try to smile, quickly reminded of the split in your lip, “My parents met there when my dad was in the Navy. I visited after college and fell in love. It was the first place that came to mind the…” you trail off.

“The what?”

“The last time this happened,” you whisper, “he found out I was secretly taking birth control since we started trying for a baby…he thought being a family man would help him get a promotion at work…as if that canceled out the alcoholism, drug use, and anger problems.”

“Oh Shae,” she replies. Your eyes fill as you look away when you hear the tears heavy in her voice.

She stands and gently wraps you in a hug, letting you cry for the next few minutes. She hands you a tissue before taking one for herself.

“So…you’ve got an orbital fracture that thankfully doesn’t need surgery, no concussion but you’re gonna have a helluva headache, 3 broken ribs, a split lip, and a few other bumps and bruises,” she says finally, not sugar coating it.

You close your eyes, knowing they’ll want to keep you overnight for another observation.

“There’s two officers from Sacramento PD waiting to talk with you,” she continues, “but I’ll get you discharged when they’re done. As a nurse, I trust you know what signs and symptoms to watch for?”

You open your eyes and nod, “Thank you.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You’re tight-lipped during the conversation with the officers with the entire police department in Chad’s back pocket.

You do ask for a restraining order, knowing it’s just a piece of paper, but it gives you a little peace of mind. You don’t press any further charges either; nothing will come of the ones already existing and you refuse to add fuel to his fire.

“Here’s your discharge papers,” Dr. Akins hands you the stapled stack after they leave, “and a little something from a few of the doctors here. We haven’t forgotten you, Shae.”

“Dr. Akins, you-“ you start but she interrupts.

“Just be safe, okay? My number is in there too, please let me know when you’re settled.”

“Okay,” you whisper, ignoring the shooting pain in your ribs as you pull her in for a final hug, “thank you.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You try not to, but you can’t help but cry when you open the envelope in the Uber that Dr. Akins ordered. A letters of recommendation from her and two other doctors you worked with also, and enough bills to make you feel light-headed.

“Here’s fine,” you tell the driver when he pulls onto your street and is a few houses from yours.

You feel paranoid, but knowing Chad, he’ll check the Ring as soon as he gets released. If he sees a man brought you home, you wouldn’t put it past him to look up the license plate and have his cronies at the police station pull him over; it doesn’t matter that it’s just the man’s job.

“You sure?” He looks skeptically over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah,” you sigh when you try again to smile, tasting blood again when you open the cut in your bottom lip, “thanks.”

Ed, your sweet old neighbor, comes running when he spots you gingerly getting out of the car. “Shae!” He cries when he reaches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, afraid to hurt you, “oh your beautiful eye,” he whispers, tears filling his eyes as he scans your face. “I happened to see him come home, and I knew he wasn’t happy the way he slammed his car door. I’m sorry I called 911, but I heard you yell and then a crash.”

“It’s okay,” you begin to cry too, hating how distressed he is. You’d had quickly befriended him and his wife, Jean, when you moved in. They reminded you so much of your late parents and that’s exactly why Chad put an end to the relationship. “I’m glad you did, Ed.”

“I’m so sorry about Jean,” you continue, guilt overwhelming you. “I wanted to go to the funeral so badly.”

She had passed away nearly a year ago from cancer. You earned a slap across the face when you asked Chad to go to her funeral.

“It’s okay, honey. She knew you loved her and she loved you too,” he replies, pulling you in for the most gentle, tender hug.

The gesture breaks the dam inside you and you begin to sob; body-shaking, from-the-soul sobs.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Come inside,” Ed asks when you finally relax, “Just for a minute. I’ve got a slice of apple pie with your name on it. You’ve gotten too thin.”

“Okay,” you whisper, letting him take your hand.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Do you have my number in your new phone?” Ed asks by his front door after he feeds you not one, but two pieces of his homemade pie. It was your favorite and yet another thing Chad didn’t let you have.

You insist Ed stays home while you get your suitcases, not knowing the whereabouts of Chad’s cameras. The last thing you want is someone else getting hurt, especially Ed.

You nod, “It was the first number I put it, I still have it memorized. Promise you’ll come to see me when things settle?”

If they ever settle. Your heart sinks with the thought that this mess will never stop; not until he’s in prison or one of you ends up dead.

“I will,” he kisses your forehead, and hands you an envelope from his pocket, “here honey, take this.”

“Ed, no. I can’t,” you argue, eyes widening as you feel the wad of cash inside, “Really, I’ll be okay. I’ve been planning this for a while.”

“It was Jean’s idea,” he smiles sadly, “she knew you’d get out someday and we both wanted you to have a cushion.”

“Ed,” your voice breaks and you start to cry again. Your head was pounding, your ribs screamed with every breath and you were getting more anxious as more time passed.

“Take it and use it,” he says, putting his hand in his pocket so you can’t hand it back, “hire a lawyer, get that dog you always wanted, take a nice vacation, whatever you want, honey. Besides, he can’t track cash like he can a card.”

That thought crossed your mind too before you finally nod. “Thank you,” you whisper, giving him a final hug and heading back to your former home.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You step over the drips of your blood and avoid the dead flowers and broken glass, feeling nauseous from anxiety and the pain pulsing through your body when you pick up your discarded bag and right your suitcases.

Your lip still quirks in satisfaction when the wheels of your suitcase drag the sharp pieces of glass over the floor, scratching the hell out of the hardwood he loves.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Ed watches from his front door as you struggle to get your suitcases in the back, but you discreetly shake your head when he opens the door to help. Chad is going to take his anger out somewhere, and you don’t want to make Ed more of a target.

You suppress your groan as you lift the floorboard in the trunk to find your secret cell phone hidden by the spare tire and turn it on after plugging it in while you fasten your seatbelt.

After typing in the address into GPS, you take a deep breath and pull out of the driveway, waving goodbye to Ed and starting your new life.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A few weeks later (current day).

“Friday at 11,” you confirm, “I’ll be there, thank you again,” you say before hanging up with the recruiter.

You smile softly; things are looking up. You have an interview scheduled for a nursing position with a general practitioner at the Naval Base, you secured a nice apartment that’ll be ready to move into in a few weeks and Chad would be served with divorce papers any day now.

With the money you saved, the generous gift from the doctors you worked with at the ER, and the downright obscene amount from Ed and Jean, you didn’t need to rush into finding a job. So you had taken a few weeks to find an apartment and hit the beach while you healed; physically at least.

Emotionally though, you were struggling. Most nights you woke up soaked in a cold sweat, shivering in terror from your nightmares. Loud noises made you flinch. You were constantly having to remind yourself that it’s okay to go out and do what you want.

Dr. Akins checked in with you twice after letting her know you arrived. Ed texted or called almost daily; it was so nice to be able to talk to him freely.

You decide to walk a few blocks to the hole-in-the-wall restaurant you discovered on your first week here for dinner.

Taking a different way back, you come across a large, brown, and white dog tied outside a clothing shop.

The sign in the window above him reads, ‘Dog is for sale. Inquire within’.

His big, fluffy tail begins to wag when he realizes you’re approaching him and he lifts his head when you kneel, “Hi buddy.”

“Hi,” an older woman with a kind smile comes out when she sees you, “are you-“ she cuts off with a sneeze when she gets close.

“Bless you,” you smile.

“Thanks,” she sniffs, “I was trying to ask if you’re interested in him?”

“Oh,” you say, “I can’t…” you trail off as you realize there isn’t anything stopping you. The Airbnb listing said pets were welcome; same with your apartment. “Well…maybe?”

She laughs, sitting on the bench by the door, inviting you to sit beside her. “His name is Hank, he’s a 2-year-old, Great Pyrenees mix. He belonged to my daughter but…she can’t take care of him anymore; she checked herself into rehab,” she sighs sadly, “and will be for a while; she asked me to find him a good home since I’m horribly allergic and there’s too many kill shelters around here,” she answers before you can ask.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, petting his big head when he rests it on your knee, “he’s so sweet.”

“He is,” she confirms before sneezing again, “he listens well, I’ve never heard him bark and I think he’s house trained-I’ve had to keep him in the garage at my house or I can’t breathe-but he hasn’t had any accidents there. I guess he’s a little leery of men too, but she wasn’t hanging around the best crowd either. I took him to the vet-in my car which was a terrible idea, I still sneeze when I open the door,” she laughs, “but they gave him a micro-chip and updated his vaccines. He was given a clean bill of health, I have his records in the store.”

He looks up at you with those big brown eyes; staring into your soul while tugging at your heartstrings.

“I’ll take him,” you hear yourself saying as you pull out your wallet and pull out all the cash you have in your wallet; around $500. She begins to refuse but you insist, “Please. I know the vet wasn’t cheap, and your daughter will need help getting back on her feet.”

Tears fill her eyes but she eventually nods, “Thank you.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

It doesn’t take long at all for you to fall in love with Hank; his personality is as big as he is. He just had one accident the first night and hasn’t barked a single time.

“How do I look?” You ask him, spinning in front of the mirror as he watches you from his spot on your bed. Dressing up felt nice, even if it was just for a job interview.

You did your best to cover the healing yellow bruise under your eye, but it was still noticeable in certain light.

He hops off the bed and nudges your thigh with his head before looking up at you in the mirror.

“Thanks, I think so too,” you smile down at him. “I’ll be back in a little bit, you be a good boy.”

He’s asleep on the bed before you shut the door.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Hi, you must be Shae,” the pretty woman greeting smiles as she offers her hand. “I’m Reese, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you reply.

“Please,” she gestures to the chairs across her desk as she sits, “have a seat.”

Your eyes squint when the sunlight catches your face as you sit before giving her your resume. “I also have letters of recommendation from my nursing instructor and a few of the doctors I’ve worked with,” your cheeks heat as you hand them over next.

Your stomach sinks as her gaze pauses on your concealed bruise before she scans the information given.

Your nerves settle as she asks questions and gives you different scenarios. Dr. Kerner is confident, witty and you get the impression she doesn’t take shit from anyone; which is needed when the majority of her patients are cocky men.

“Well, I’ve seen enough,” she smiles, “you can expect to from HR soon for the formal offer,” your heart soars and then sinks when her brow furrows slightly when she glances down again at her resume, “Oh, is this current?”

Your nerves come back full force and your hands twist nervously in your lap, “Yes, it’s current.”

“It’s okay,” she replies softly, picking up on your anxiety, “HR will ask why it's been 2 years since you worked last. What should I tell them?”

You feel yourself dissociate as you look out the window. “My husb-I mean, ex-husband…he didn’t want me to work.”

She nods, looking at your healing eye and piecing together where it came from. “Shae?”

You flinch slightly as you snap out of it, before meeting her eyes.

“I’m just going to tell them it was due to family reasons,” she says, watching as you sag in relief. “Are you safe though?”

“I am,” you reply, touching the slight discoloration under your eye, “I am now. He’s…a few hours away, and I have a dog now.”

“Okay,” she replies with a small smile, reaching for a pen and notepad. “Here’s my number if that changes okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, touched by her gesture. You had very few people in your corner, and they all lived hours away. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies, rising to her feet. “Hope to see you again soon.”

“I hope so too,” you smile genuinely for the first time.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“HR will be in touch soon,” Dr. Kerner says as she escorts you from her office, smiling down the hall. “Have a good weekend.”

“Thanks, you too,” you reply, eyes following hers to two men approaching.

The blonde gives you a friendly smile before locking eyes with Dr. Kerner. While he’s attractive, it’s evident he only has eyes for her.

The darker-haired one with a mustache is downright hot. The way he gives you a quick, appreciative once over before flashing you a grin has you blushing like a virgin.

You quickly head outside, feeling an odd mixture of emotions; unnecessary guilt for looking at another man, excitement that someone so good-looking finds you attractive, relief that you can still feel attraction, and nervousness that you might/might not see him again if you get the job.

Once inside your car, you blast the AC to cool your heated cheeks as you make your way back to your temporary home.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A few days pass before receiving the call that you have the job and you agree to start the following Monday.

You hardly sleep the night before and arrive before nearly everyone.

“Ready for your first day?” Dr. Kerner smiles when she sees you at your desk.

“I am,” you answer, “I looked over your preferences while I waited. It all looks familiar so I shouldn’t have any problem getting caught up to speed.”

“I didn’t figure you would,” she replies, “let me give you a quick tour and we’ll get the day started.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

By lunch, you’re already getting the hang of things.

“I don’t know how I’ve survived this long without you,” Dr. Kerner smiles as she checks the time, “seriously, you’re doing a great job.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, flushing as you look down at your shoes, so unused to compliments.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, “I usually have lunch in here with Jake, my boyfriend, and Rooster, an old friend of mine. They’re both naval aviators.”

“Rooster?” You ask, looking up confused.

“Ah, sorry, that’s his callsign,” she laughs, “his real name is Bradley; you can call him either. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve gotta let my dog out. I haven’t found anyone to walk him yet; I’m pretty sure he’d be fine all day but I’m staying at an Airbnb until my apartment is ready in a few weeks so I don’t want to risk any accidents,” you reply. It’s the truth, but you’re still unsure and uneasy about a lot of things.

“Understandable,” she replies, “the offer stands if and when you want to.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile of your own.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Some friends of mine are having a get-together for the 4th at their house on the beach,” Dr. Kerner says at the end of the first day, “you’re more than welcome to come if you’d like.”

“You don’t have to answer right now,” she continues when you clam up, “and there’s no pressure, either. You can say no.”

The rising tension inside you falls when she gives you a choice.

“I’ll think about it,” you answer truthfully, “if that’s okay?”

“Of course. There’s no rush; Penny will be plenty of food and drinks either way,” she gives you a reassuring smile as she picks up her keys. “Have a good night, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks,” you smile back, “you too.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

The next few weeks pass quickly and June turns to July.

You were still in the rental and hadn’t had lunch with Dr. Kerner yet, but you could feel yourself slowly opening up to her.

“See ya after lunch,” she calls as you pick up your keys to head out, “tell Hank I said hi.”

“I will,” you laugh, “be back in a bit.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Something is off when you unlock the door to the rental.

Hank, who’s normally asleep on the bed, is restlessly pacing.

“What’s up, buddy?” You ask, crouching to kiss him.

He’s distracted though, aggressively sniffing the welcome mat.

“Gotta go potty?” You ask, grabbing his leash, “Let’s go.”

He sits down right beside you when you get to the grass, sniffing the air and looking around.

“C’mon bud, go potty,” you coax.

He eventually takes a few steps to do his business but comes right back when he’s done.

“I’ll see you in a bit, okay? Be a good boy,” you murmur as you close the door while he stands there and watches, again so unlike him.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Hey,” Dr. Kerner says when you come back from lunch, looking down at her phone, “the last patient canceled, so we’ll be done early today. How was Hank?”

“Acting a little weird, but good,” you reply, brow furrowed, “he’s usually asleep when I get home, but he was up and pacing by the door. I thought he had to go potty really bad but he didn’t go without some coaxing. Who knows, probably just heard a squirrel or something.”

“Probably,” she agrees, her tone giving away that it doesn’t sit right with her.

It doesn’t sit right with you either.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

After saying goodbye to Dr. Kerner, you head home a few hours later.

Hank is again, or still, by the door.

You order food to be delivered while he eats his, sitting down on the couch with a beer while you wait.

You mull it over in your head before pulling your phone out to compose a text.

Shae: Hey Dr. Kerner, I’ve thought it over. I’d be happy to join you tomorrow if the offer still stands.

But there’s a knock at the door before you send it.

You rise to your feet, Hank gets up too, surprising you as he growls in your presence for the first time.

“It’s okay, just the delivery driver,” you coo before calling, “just a minute,” as you grab some cash for a tip.

“Wow, that was fast-“ you start to say as you open the door, but your head whips to the side. You hear the sharp slap to your cheek and eye before the pain can register.

The force of his backhand knocks you back a step and Chad follows you, gripping your arm so tightly you cry out in pain. He’s full of rage, his breath reeks of bourbon as spits in your face, “You think you can divorce me?! After everything I’ve done for-FUCK!”

Chad screams when Hank latches onto his clothed arm with a low growl. The force of his lunge pushes Chad back into the doorframe but you grab Hank’s collar to haul him off before he sinks his teeth into something more vital.

“Leave,” you say, voice shaking and barely audible over Hank’s snarls, “now.”

“This isn’t over,” he says, holding his arm as he takes taking a step back, “and that dog is dead.”

You slam the door closed behind him, locking it before falling to the floor with a sob.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Hank lays down beside you, setting his head in your lap as he senses your distress. “You’re such a good boy,” you whisper, stroking his soft fur.

But he starts to growl again a few minutes later when a loud knock startles you both.

“San Diego PD, open up.”

You hold Hank’s collar as you crack the door to verify. “Just a minute, I’m going to put my dog in the bedroom; he’s a little worked up.”

The host of the AirBnb shows up shortly after, holding the bag of your forgotten food.

Adrenaline wearing off, your face begins to throb in time with his fingerprints on your arm as you explain what happened to the officers. You feel numb as they take pictures of your injuries, but you don’t hold much hope when the officers say they’ll find him.

The Airbnb host gives you more bad news before leaving too.

You try to compose yourself as you start to pack but hopelessness of the situation begins to set in, and you feel suddenly feel completely overwhelmed. Your thoughts begin to race before you pick up the phone; feeling as if you have no other choice but to turn to the only person that might help.

Your heart races as the line rings.

“Shae?” she answers, “what’s up?”

There’s faint music in the background.

“Hi Dr. Kerner,” you say, trying to sound calm, “I’m so sorry to bother you.”

“Please, call me Reese,” she reminds you gently, “you’re not bothering me. Is everything okay?”

“No,” your voice breaks, “it’s not. Chad…my ex, he found me.”

“Where are you? Is he there now?” She asks, anxious now.

“No, he took off when Hank bit him,” you sniff, zipping one of your packed suitcases closed, “I’m still at the Airbnb, packing my stuff.”

“Okay,” she sighs, her relief evident until your last words sink in, “Okay. Packing your-wait, why are you packing?”

“The police came a few minutes after he left; one of the units heard the commotion. The unit owner came while I was giving my statement,” You answer, walking down the short hallway to the living room, “I guess the other tenants complained to him and are scared-understandably so-but said I needed to be out…tonight.”

“Oh Shae,” she says, “I’m so sorry. Let me come help you?”

“Okay.” Both of you are surprised when you agree.

“I’m at the Hard Deck-which is a bar-with Jake and Bradley. Oh shoot, I forgot we rode together. Hang one sec,” she pauses, “I’ll order an Uber.”

“They can come too,” you say, more anxiety setting in as you look at the clock, “if they want to, I mean. I…I think I need all the help I can get. I’ve got to be out in about an hour.”

“Okay,” she says, murmuring something before coming back on the line, “they’re happy to help, Shae. Text me the address, we’re getting in the truck now.”

“I will, oh…” you cringe when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror above the couch. Your right eye is bloodshot from the trauma, below on your cheek is puffy and still red, and his fingerprints already purpling your arm. It’s nothing compared to last time, but it’s still startling, “and Reese? I should warn you, I look…rough.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: Well…what do you guys think? Did everything make sense (especially for those who haven’t read All of Me).

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than you know.

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