#got to second row without having to play hunger games

[fadeintolight]

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[just-here-for-the-moment]

Hi and congratulations for the milestone!! 🎉🎉

I did promise I’d take the wheel for a spin and it must be fate because this came up:

It seems fitting, that man is known for his talents with his mouth, tongue and fingers 🥴🥴

I’ll leave you with a question to go with the result (feel free to ignore if it doesn’t tickle your fancy); how long does he last until Frankie has to have a taste?

Congrats 🎉❤️

Ohhhhh frick, how could I POSSIBLY ignore that question?? Because now my head is simply reeling with HOT THOTS about Frankie Morales, finally eating you out, after you tease him endlessly.

And, of course because this is Frankie, I have to tip my hat to the seminal masterwork of “All Hail the King” by Kat @pilothusband, without which we would not have the headcanon of Frankie Morales as the pussy-eating king, which we all now know as gospel...

Thank you for helping me celebrate! There’s some real hot stuff under the cut, people!

The Game

Word count: 4500

Outline: Frankie Morales x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Mature/Explicit, 18+ only; mature and vulgar language; mentions of making out; teasing Frankie; one mention of oral sex/M receiving; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; Frankie has a FILTHY praise-kink mouth; Frankie going primal caveman on your pussy when he finally gets there

You’ve been on two previous dates with Frankie, and each one has ended in some truly smashing makeout sessions. The man is an excellent kisser, and it’s been so long since you had that, you’ve gone a little crazy with just kissing on your first two dates.

On your first date he took you out for a drive to the scenic overlook, and after an hour of good conversation, the sun had set low behind the ocean and you made out like teenagers in the cab of his truck for another hour.

Date two was an action movie, and since the theater was practically deserted when you sat down, you got a wicked idea. You tickled your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and invited him to join you in the back row, and you made out again for all 105 minutes of explosions and punching. Neither one of you remembers the plot.

Tonight is date three, and after an early dinner out, you’ve decided that it’s time to invite Frankie back to your place to see what else he can do with that talented tongue.

You pour him a cold drink and he sits on your couch, but neither one of you really wants to talk. There’s too much electricity in the air. Your head is fuzzy with want. You’ve been able to kiss him plenty, but you haven’t had the chance to do more. And then you get another idea, a leftover ‘game’ from your teenage years, something that was hot back then when you played it with your boyfriends… maybe it still works?

“Do you want to play a game?” You slip your feet out of your sandals and tuck one leg under you to swivel toward him on the couch. You smile at this handsome, sweet man with your most secret smile and bite your lip as he frowns and looks at your bookshelf full of board games.

“You mean like Scrabble?” His confusion is adorable, and you giggle as you move closer to him on the couch, your voice low… “Not like Scrabble.” You flutter your eyelashes up at him and now his frown is gone, replaced by a look of interest.

“What kind of game did you have in mind, pretty girl?” And now he looks very interested, his broad hand coming up to your shoulder to stroke your arm, pulling you closer for a kiss. But you don’t let him pull you in all the way, you stop a few inches from his face and whisper… “A naughty game.”

And now you can see the sheer hunger in his eyes. The way his pupils flare and his deep coffee eyes fix onto your lips. He tries to go in for a kiss and you pull away, just out of reach. You hold up one finger and place it to his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

You smile up at him from under your lashes. “That’s the game.”

“I have to chase you?” He flicks his eyebrows up, not looking impressed.

“No. We try to get as close as we can, but we can’t touch. We tease each other, just to see how long we can hold out.”

He chuckles. “That’s a terrible game.”

“You don’t think anticipation is hot? How about this… what do you want to do to me the most? If you play my game you might get to do it.”

He looks less skeptical now. He glances at your lips, then back to your eyes, before his gaze trails down, down, down your body. You shiver, and from his look alone, you feel hot and cold all at once.

You’re starting to think this might be… well, not “dangerous,” just more of an experience than the last time you played, which was at an age where the absolute wildest possibility was that you would get to feel a boy’s hand on the outside of your bra.

You bite your lip and blink with nervous anticipation, waiting for him to take the bait. He could decide right now not to play and you would still let him ravish you, let him put his mouth and hands and dick wherever he wants. You would welcome it.

He meets your eyes again, and you hold your breath, feeling a heat creep up to your cheeks and down to your cunt at the same time. His whole body is still, except for the rise and fall of his chest, moving breaths slowly in and out, and his big brown eyes that blink occasionally as he considers you with a thoughtful expression.

This is torture, waiting for his answer. You’re about to break first, tell Frankie he doesn’t have to play your silly game, when he moves just his mouth. His bottom lip opens a crack, and his tongue slides out of the corner and sweeps across that plush, velvety top lip, half-hidden under his scruffy mustache.

He moves the tip of his tongue slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes fixed on your face... watching you watch his mouth. You suddenly realize that this is his opening move, he’s playing your game already, and he’s playing you as well. You set the rules, and he’s already winning.

You release a shaky breath and scoot an inch closer on the couch. You flick the tip of your tongue out, letting it wet your bottom lip. You bring your lower lip in between your teeth and bite down hard, watching Frankie’s eyes drift to your mouth. You release your lip from between your teeth and then exhale a sigh and a breathy moan of, “Hmm…”

You reach your hand up to open the top button of your thin cardigan, the one you like to wear because it’s your color and it’s soft and it fits you like a dream. But it’s also the one that you wear on third dates on purpose, with no blouse underneath it - just a lacy bra and a heart full of hope pounding in your chest.

He watches your fingers with that hungry look resurfacing, the one that made your stomach flip a moment ago. He scoots closer to you, closing the gap until his denim-clad leg is a centimeter from your knee, one arm draped over the back of the couch, thick fingers resting just an inch from your shoulder.

No touching, you had said. Frankie is making it clear to you that he knows the rules and will play them to their limits. He reaches up to the neck of his denim shirt, the top two snaps already open, and then he unsnaps two more. The neck of his shirt falls open, and the amber light from the lamp scatters across the planes of his neck and clavicles. You can’t tear your eyes away from his golden skin, and you feel the emptiness of your pussy as it starts to leak into your panties.

Frankie holds himself still, waiting for your next move. You aren’t sure what to do next, and truthfully your brain went completely blank the moment you caught sight of Frankie’s chest. You decide to raise the stakes. You get up from the couch, moving to stand in front of Frankie where he sits. His deep brown eyes are watching you intently, smoldering as he takes in your form just an arm’s length away. His gaze skates from your face to your breasts to your hips and back up, and you wait until his eyes come to a stop before you make your move.

You reach up to the second button of your cardigan and open it, then the next one. You see Frankie’s eyes go wide, pupils flaring black as he realizes what you’re doing. You fight the giddiness that surges up inside you, forcing your face to remain as neutral as possible. You see Frankie’s cock twitch once in his jeans, and you are delirious with the sudden realization that you’re holding quite a lot of power over this gorgeous man.

Your fingers continue their dance down your buttons until all of them are free, and then you grab the lapels of your cardigan. Frankie’s eyes flick to your hands where they hover at your breasts, and you pause, drawing the moment out for as long as you deem just short of cruel. You open the cardigan and shed it from your shoulders, tossing it on the couch seat you just vacated.

Frankie takes a sharp breath in, and his eyes flutter closed for just a moment. When he opens them again his brown irises are nearly blown black with arousal, and you almost feel bad for escalating the game this far. You take three steps backward toward the hallway, curling your finger to draw Frankie up off the couch. You break the silence with one word, “Bedroom.”

He surges up off the couch so quickly that you think he’s decided to break, to just grab you and pounce on you and end the game. But instead he halts a foot away, and looks deep into your eyes with a smirk. Something like a warning in the back of your brain tickles, uh-oh.

Frankie starts to undress, and as you see more of his golden skin in the low lamplight, you start to think that you might concede first. He sheds his baseball cap, then his shirt, tugging the remaining snaps open with a single pull. You drink in the sight of his naked torso, the soft patches of hair that mimic his delectable facial scruff, the breadth of his wide shoulders, and the curve of his abdomen where it meets his waistband. There’s a faint trail of hair that leads down, and now you’re dying to follow it where it leads.

He toes his work boots off, then opens the fly of his jeans. He pulls them down and off with his socks, and now he’s standing in your living room, clad only in a pair of black boxer-briefs, the soft cotton fabric doing a valiant job of containing his massive erection. You fight the urge to sink down to your knees and rip his underwear off, shove your mouth down onto his cock, see how deep you can take him. You hear yourself shudder as you inhale, nearly a sob, and it echoes in the silence and stillness of the room. Frankie looks pleased with himself, coiled and waiting for your next move. He must know how close you are to breaking.

You take another few steps backwards, keeping your eyes on Frankie as he follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom. You open your jeans as you cross the threshold, pushing them down along with your underwear and kicking them off into a corner. You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, and Frankie pauses to watch you, hands braced on either side of the doorway where he stands, his corded neck and shoulders tensed. You reach up to one shoulder and slowly pull the strap down. Then you do the same to the other strap, moving deliberately, watching Frankie’s ears go slightly pink as he clenches his jaw. You stand with your back to the wall, and you rest your back and shoulders against it, no longer trusting your watery knees to hold you upright. Then you tip your jaw up at Frankie. Your move.

Frankie crosses the room swiftly, long legs eating up the distance between you. He braces each large hand on the wall on either side of your head, then leans in closer, caging you in. His dark eyes fix on yours, and for just a moment you forget how to breathe. His gorgeous hooked nose is just an inch from yours, and if you tilted your head up you could bump noses, engage him in a kiss. But you’re not ready to give in just yet.

You gaze into the liquid cocoa pools, and inhale as silently as you can through your nose, smelling the clean cotton scent of Frankie’s detergent as it mixes with the masculine musk of his deodorant, the expanse of his tawny skin giving off its own salty hints. You feel a sharp twinge between your legs, another clench of your pussy, and now that’s all you can think about. You’re throbbing and wet, hot and getting hotter.

You press your thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the ache, but it only makes it worse. You exhale and it comes out on the back of a whine, a faint noise that you know Frankie hears, because his expression changes to hunger again, mixed with a secret and knowing smile that tells you that you’re in deep trouble with this man. You have underestimated him, and you’re going to learn that lesson in a very memorable way.

Frankie is sweet and kind, soft-spoken and gentlemanly. You try to think back to what you assumed would happen when you proposed this little game, that maybe he would get a little bit horny, play along with you for a few minutes, and then pretend to give in just to get his arms around you. Instead, you seem to have awakened a strategist, someone who is used to making important calculations toward an end goal. You mistook Frankie’s softness for something it definitely is not, and now you’re regretting having challenged him. He’s not going to go easy on you.

Your stomach does that sick roller-coaster thing that it does sometimes, and you feel your heartbeat kick up a notch as Frankie uses those sharp eyes of his to inspect you. His penetrating stare moves from your eyes to your lips, which part involuntarily, an invitation to kiss you if he dares to give in first. He breathes slowly through his nose as his eyes trail down to your breasts and back up, taking in every inch of your bare skin. You feel like you’re being strangled by his gaze, but it is delicious.

Frankie takes his hands off the wall and then drops slowly to his knees. You look down at him in surprise. He opens his mouth and his voice is low and commanding. “Hands above your head for me, sweetheart.”

You lift your chin level with the floor and lace your fingers over your head, leaning harder into the wall with your shoulders. Your heart thrums in your chest, a steady tattoo that reminds you that you’re alive, but that also makes you feel very close to passing out. You try to remind yourself to breathe, breathe, breathe. You widen your legs just a bit for stability, and you hear Frankie chuckle low in his throat.

He starts talking, and were it not for the wall holding you up, you swear that you would buckle to the ground as he bathes you with his delicious, filthy monologue.

“Did you know,” Frankie intones, his voice raspy with desire, “... that you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen?”

You rush an exhale out through your mouth, and suck a great heaving breath back in. He’s only just started, and you’re not at all sure that you’re going to survive this. You dare to tilt your head to look down at Frankie, but his eyes are not on yours, they’re staring intently at your pubic mound. He’s transfixed, the secret smile gone as he stares between your legs.

“In fact, I think that this might be... the most tempting pussy that I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. I could just bury my face in her right now.”

You feel like you can’t breathe, and you lace your fingers tighter behind your head as you stare down at Frankie’s soft curls, his nose just inches from your sex, his tongue dripping honey as you feel yourself getting wetter. Frankie continues his dirty talk, spilling the gorgeous, filthy words right into the center of your being.

“I would definitely like to taste her, see how she drips for me when she really gets going. Do you drip or do you squirt, honey?”

You clench your butt muscles and lean your shoulders even harder against the wall, a desperate attempt to stay upright as your knees threaten to give out. An involuntary whine slips out from your lips, and Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, that mischievous smile curving back across his lush lips.

“Would you like that, darlin’? Would you like me to eat you out?”

You bite your lips hard and struggle to stay standing. All you want to do is give in, collapse down onto Frankie and let him have his way with you. You feel another new rush of slickness hit your center and you almost break. Not yet, your brain whispers. Just wait...

Frankie turns his face back to your pelvis and then braces his hands on the wall, so close to your hips that you can feel the warmth emanating off his skin. But again, not touching you, he’s staying within the rules that you set for him. He’s too good at this, and now you know that you’re definitely going to lose.

Frankie slowly leans forward, bending his elbows to move his face closer and closer to your crotch. His nose comes an inch away, then half an inch. For a moment you hope that he will slip and make contact and lose, but he doesn’t. He has excellent muscle control and his arms don't even quiver as he finally stops, hovering just a centimeter in front of your cunt. You are wetter than you ever have been, and you swear that you can feel it leaking down the inside of your leg, trailing down your thigh as Frankie tortures you.

His voice is a whisper now, velvety and soft, and you strain to hear him above the rushing of your own heartbeat in your ears.

“You smell amazing, honey.” He closes his eyes and inhales, taking your scent into himself like you’re the sweetest flower at the farmer’s market.

It hits you suddenly that this is the most debauched, most intimate thing you’ve ever done with a lover. No man has ever dared to just smell you like this, and you feel something twist inside the bowl of your pelvis, like a spring being wound tighter. You realize that you’re not breathing, and you open your mouth into a little o-shape to take a slow, cooling breath into your lungs. You regain your steadiness and settle deeper into yourself to try to hold out, to hang in there just a little longer.

“I bet that you taste like heaven, pretty girl. I can’t wait to fuck you on my tongue, lick you inside and out.”

Frankie leans back and looks up at you with a wink. “After you touch me first and lose, I’m going to lick this pussy so hard that you come six times while you scream my name.”

You gurgle out a surprised, “Oh!”

Frankie sits back on his heels and stands back up, a little triumphant, like he knows how close he pushed you to the edge.

You release your hands and place your palms flat on the wall by your hips, not trusting them to hang loose at your sides, lest they decide to reach out and skim over his broad shoulders of their own accord. You look up at Frankie where he hovers over you, and you lick your lips and whisper to him.

“Frankie, I want you. Please touch me.”

He arches one eyebrow at you. “Does that mean you want the game to end? Are you giving up?”

You close your eyes and shake your head no, and for a moment you’re not sure if you’re even capable of playing the game any longer. Your head is fuzzy and your skin is screaming to be touched. You take a deep breath in and then out, and when you open your eyes Frankie is looking at you with concern.

“Do you give up, sweetheart? Or do you want to keep playing?”

You choke out a strangled whisper, the barest hint of speech. “I want… I want…”

Frankie comes closer, bracing himself on the wall again, big arms boxing you in as he moves into your space. He tilts his head down and murmurs, “Tell me.”

You look up into his eyes and the whole room tilts to the left. All you can see is Frankie, and he’s all that matters while the rest of the world spins dizzy around you. You feel sick with anticipation, and you know that this is your fault, that you were the one who proposed this stupid torturous game in the first place.

You just want it to end, you need it to end now.

“Frankie, I… I want…”

“You want me to eat you out? Stick my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy and fuck you with it until you come? Is that it?”

He leans closer and still doesn’t touch you, just keeps stringing you along with his depraved poetry as he tilts his head to hover an inch from your ear.

“Or maybe you want me to finger-fuck you, too? Stretch you open and see how good it feels? I bet we can make your pussy squirt, make you gush around my hand when I reach deep inside and hit your g-spot. I bet you’ll soak the bed, you sweet thing. Maybe squirt clear across the room.”

“Oh god.” You whine and duck your chin, trying to resist the urge to turn your head toward him and make contact, kiss him and then let him go wild, do all the things he’s been threatening to do.

“Frankie, I…”

“You what, sweetheart?” His tone is just this side of mocking, and it makes your cunt clench.

“I need…”

Frankie pulls his head away from your ear and looks you directly in the eyes.

“Use your words pretty girl.” His voice has an edge now, firm, sounding like a direct order. “Tell me what you need.”

“I- I want, I need… I need you inside of me. I want you everywhere, Frankie.”

“Yeah? You need me, sweet girl? You need Frankie to take care of you?”

Your face crumples, a whine of pure desire making your throat ache. Your pussy drools another bit of slick down your inner thigh. You want to cry, and Frankie frowns at you with genuine concern.

“I can take care of you, sweetheart. Anything you want, you just say the word. But first…” He leans his head down lower, lower, lower and stops, his warm breath fanning over your lips as he whispers.

“... first you have to touch me.”

You moan at that, the unfair knowledge that all you have to do to get everything you want is to give in. And he’s so close, his nose just a centimeter from yours. All you would have to do is lean up, kiss him, and-

Frankie abruptly pushes off the wall and takes two steps back from you. The sudden absence of him makes something in you snap. You rush at him and practically knock him over, kissing him with a snarl and wrapping your arms and legs around him as he laughs in surprise. He braces both big hands under your bottom and half-carries you to your bed.

He plops you down on the bedspread and then leans down over you as you kiss and kiss and kiss him. Now that the dam has broken, you’re not sure you’re ever going to stop, and you don’t give a flying fuck that you just lost at your own game. As far as you’re concerned you won, because you’re naked on your bed with Frankie laying over you, his hard cock pressing against your wet seam through his boxers.

You open your legs wide and wrap them around Frankie’s waist, and he kisses you before pulling back with a gentle shush against your lips.

“Wait wait, pretty girl. We’re not gonna fuck yet. I gotta eat you out first.”

“No Frankie, please. Please just fuck me.” You clutch and grasp at him, trying to pull him into you. He braces himself on his arms and hovers maddeningly over your face as he smiles.

“No, baby. You said if I played your game you would let me do what I wanted. You lost. I win.”

Frankie moves his mouth to your ear and whispers. “I get to eat your pussy until you’re screaming my name.”

You moan, a high-pitched cry of defeat. You want him inside of you now, not a moment longer. You’ve been tortured and taunted long enough, and you haven’t even gotten a glimpse of his cock, other than to see the impressive way that his erection fills out the contours of his boxer-briefs.

Frankie kisses you and tells you to release your legs, and then he stands up and wraps his big hands around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor and looks up to your face with a wicked smile, the look of a man who is about to enjoy his victory over you.

You try to remind yourself that you lost, fair and square, and now your punishment is that you will have to wait to feel Frankie’s huge cock stretching you open. You’re going to have to take your punishment like a good girl.

Frankie pushes your legs up and back toward your chest, and you hook your hands behind your knees to hold them open. He takes the first tentative lick of your clit, and you cry a soft “Oh!” and toss your head back.

Frankie’s fingers stroke your outer labia, top to bottom, and he spreads you open with his fingertips. You feel the cool air hit your slick, and then the hot swipe of his tongue through your folds. This is torture, you think, but only as much as I deserve.

Frankie licks your clit gently before suddenly surging into you tongue-first, going as deep as he can, licking into you deeply. He curls his tongue up as he withdraws, and he hits the bundle of nerves on the underside of your clit. He does it again and again and again, and before you can warn him that you’re about to come, you’re shuddering and breaking apart in his mouth.

Frankie eases two big fingers into you and you’re grateful for the thickness of them, giving your muscles something to clench and squeeze around while Frankie softly licks your clit, working you through your climax. When you finally relax your legs, he sucks your clit into his mouth and then releases you with a smack of his lips.

“That’s one, pretty girl, but I didn’t hear you scream my name. We’ll see if you can do that with any of the other five.”

Frankie dives back into you face-first, and fulfills all of his threats from the game.

---

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick

[otonymous]

Glutton For Your Flavour (Obey Me: Beelzebub - NSFW)

Description: You’re about to become Beel’s next meal Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for Lesson 5 of MS (hard).  Please note potential trigger warnings: dub-con (as an inadvertent result of somnambulism), cunnilingus in two flavours (soft and rough), squirting and overstimulation, slight size kink, very faint hints of tetraphilia, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blasphemy, slight fear (monstrous descriptions) Word Count: ~2900 words (~14 mins of smut & shenanigans) Author’s Notes:  My very first fic for the Obey Me fandom!  I know I’m late to the party, but I’ve recently started playing this game and the story and its characters are so amusing I had to write about it.  This piece may not be to everyone’s taste, so please, please, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above and skip if it’s not your cup of tea.  That being said, hope you all enjoy the read! 💕😆

🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔

“Bad luck to be sharing a room with Beel, but what can ya do after he destroyed yours while destroying the kitchen, and all for a dumb custard!  Be careful — he might mistake you for a snack and eat ya in the middle of the night, hahaha!”

Mmm.

The scene fragments, Mammon’s face wavering as his voice grows faint, consciousness seeping into dark corners like sunlight cutting through fog.  And when you open your eyes, you can’t quite place where you are for a moment, straddling the line between dreamscape and reality.

Ahh…

You sigh.  There it was again, the sensation so pleasant it had roused you from the deepest slumber.

Further blinking off the haze of sleep, you take in your surroundings: a large bed lying empty across from yours in a room almost cavernous in size and just as dark save for a candle burning low on a desk, the glow of its flame orange like the hair that was currently brushing soft against your inner thighs—

“BEEL?!  WHAT THE HELL?!”  

“So tasty…not…enough…need more…want to…eat…zzz….”

Eyes still closed, the demon’s face is shiny even in the dark, slick from cheek to chin with what must’ve been a copious amount of his saliva and your arousal, you blush to realize.  And when he doesn’t budge even after a swift kick to the face, you are ashamed to find the Lord of Flies’ show of strength sending yet another throb to your already pulsing clit.

He does wake though, Beelzebub’s amethyst eyes opening wide before he falls backwards onto the cold stone floor to realize what he had inadvertently done in his sleep.  And as the always-famished sixth born looks from the shredded remnants of your panties to the pool of wetness on the sheets where his chin had rested, he becomes even more tongue-tied than usual.

“I…uh…I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to…I dreamt I smelled something delicious and I was so hungry…and somehow I’m here, on the floor…I don’t even know…I-I’m so sorry!”

His cheeks grow so flushed they remind you of the red spider sandwiches he packed away during dinner, stuffing them two by two into his mouth until Satan smacked his hand away for trying to take more from his plate.  The expression on his face is so full of remorse that even if you were angry, you’d be inclined to forgive the demon who was currently grovelling at the foot of your bed, swearing he would hand himself over to Lucifer and Diavolo first thing in the morning to be strung up and hung upside down for a fortnight, even (gulp) forgoing food for a day or two.

“Beelzebub…Beel…BEEL!”  You shout, interrupting his self-inflicted tirade.  “It’s okay, you didn’t mean it.  You were sleepwalking.  You don’t have to go to Lucifer and Diavolo about this.”

“No, I have to.  My behaviour was inexcusable—”

“BEEL!  Let’s…just…try to go back to sleep, okay?  We have our midterm in Devildom law tomorrow morning and I really don’t feel like failing just because I didn’t get enough shut eye.  So please, can we just pretend like this didn’t happen?”

Those orange brows are still furrowed when Beel finally lifts his head and nods.  But then his gaze is falling again on the wet sheets and the shiver than runs through that larger-than-life body seems to send another wave of anxiety through the demon.  He makes a mad dash for the door, murmuring something about getting a snack from the kitchen and “you can have the room tonight” before it slams shut behind him.

He doesn’t return for the rest of the night.

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The exam was so disastrous even Mammon didn’t bother sneaking another peek at your paper after the first two questions.  And even if you had somehow managed to get back to sleep after last night’s ordeal, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you were still distracted by the memory of Beel’s mouth on your pussy:

His long tongue, serpentine as it delved deep between swollen folds to taste you with gusto.  

The way he rolled your clit between those plush, soft lips before sucking it into his hot mouth, over and over again.  

The throbbing between your legs that refused to cease long after the Avatar of Gluttony had left the room you were temporarily sharing, sleep only forthcoming once you had succumbed and reached beneath the sheets to finish the job he had started, your moans licentious even to your ears as you pretended your fingers were his.

It was a pale imitation, of course.  That much you could see for yourself, stealing a glance at Beel seated two rows down — quill twirling between long, dexterous digits when he wasn’t putting ink to parchment.

But those gigantic hands were just a small part of what made Beel demonically attractive, as if the word “small” could be applied to him at all: tall and built, there were times when even you envied the ease with which he maintained that perfect physique despite his penchant for shovelling enough food to feed all three realms into his mouth on the regular.

The same mouth which brought you so much pleasure the night before.

Ahem.

Clearing your throat, you pretend not to see the smirk that spreads across Asmo’s delicate face, hoping the lusty demon sitting just to your left wouldn’t pick up on the very secret thoughts you were having about his brother.

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

[Private Chatroom]: Satan, Levi, Mammon, Asmo

Satan: This is going to sound crazy, but doesn’t it seem like Beel’s…hungrier than usual?  Is that even possible?

Levi: OMFG!  You should’ve seen the state of the kitchen this morning after Beel decided to camp out there overnight!  It was a total war zone, like that epic battle scene in Vol. 5 of TSL lololol.  Soooo good XDDDDD

Mammon:  Hey!  He’s gonna eat us outta house and home at this rate!  Shouldn’t we stop him?

Satan: You do it, Mammon.  Aren’t you always saying that there’s nothing The Great Mammon can’t do?

Mammon: …..

Asmo: Please, as if anyone — angel or demon — could come between Beel and a meal.  

Satan: Why was he camping out there in the first place?  Was there something wrong with his room?  I don’t remember him complaining about anything since he got shacked up with the exchange student.

Levi: Not like he could, seeing as it was his fault to begin with and a direct order from Lucifer.

Asmo: Maybe we should ask her.  I’m sure she knows something about what’s inciting his hunger judging by the way she kept staring at him in class today fufufu 😏  She almost failed her midterm because of it, isn’t that right, Mammon?

Mammon: ‼️‼️

[Mammon has left the chat]

Levi: He is sooooo transparent LMFAOOOO

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

Gasp!

Pressing a hand to your mouth, you try to contain your shock at the sight that greets you when you peek around the corner into the kitchen:

Curved, ebony horns sitting majestically atop a head of disheveled orange hair.  Thick, corded muscles that ripple across a broad back — readily apparently because the creature bent over a mountain of food on the ground was wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms, loose and slung so low over narrow hips that the sharp V defining his groin is visible even from the distance at which you stood.  

Because this wasn’t quite what you were expecting to find when you made your way to the kitchen in the middle of the night to search for Beel, thinking to approach him about the peculiarity of his recent behaviour: the way he now ate constantly and was less satiated than before, the fact that he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid you even though you shared a room.

In fact, he hadn’t said so much as another word to you after he gave you two dozen of his prized custards the morning after the incident, apologizing again until you had to be the one to make him swear he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Lucifer.  The demon even made a beeline for the door as soon as he saw you emerge from the bathroom tonight, fresh from a shower.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he was headed.

Even still, you tried to focus on your textbook, reading the same line over and over again as you waited for Beel to return so you could have a proper conversation with the demon you made a pact with.  And when you could wait no longer, you made your way towards his favourite room in the House of Lamentation — silently, so as not to draw the attention of the eldest sibling.

But the growls coming from the direction of the open fridge this time sounded like Cerberus himself, enough so that you find yourself rooted to the ground, unable to take another step forwards or back.  

You had never seen Beel like this before, tearing into whatever he could get his hands on with a savagery that made your heart stop.  Teeth, lips and tongue devoured without second thought in a way that was simultaneously terrifying and…

Throb.

…arousing.

Suddenly, he stills, throwing his head back to sniff the air once…twice…and in a flash, he is upon you, towering over your head as he rises to full height — bigger and taller and much more intimidating than you’ve ever seen him before.

You should have been scared.  Any person in their right mind would have if they found themselves cornered by a demon of Beelzebub’s calibre.  But the hands that balled into trembling fists at his sides made you feel oddly secure, your deepest instincts telling you that not all was as it seemed.

“You need to leave.  Now…please.”

“What’s going on with you, Beel?  I just want to help—”  You reach for his arm.  He jumps back as if burned.

“I SAID YOU NEED TO LEAVE!  I-I…can’t hold back…for…much longer!”

Handsome face screwed up as if in pain, Beel turns to put as much distance as possible between the two of you, squatting on his haunches with his head in his hands when he murmurs:

“I…I don’t know what’s going on with me.  This has never happened before.  I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been.  I eat and eat and eat and it still isn't enough.  The last time I felt satisfied was when…when…”

His voice dies down to a whisper.

“…when I tasted you.”

Throb.

Putting out a hand, you steady yourself against the wall, knees suddenly weak at Beelzebub’s admission.  Or perhaps it was due to relief, the tension that had been steadily building in your strained relationship with the demon released to know that you weren’t the only one who desired to revisit that night’s events.

So you gather your courage, stepping softly towards the demon who crouched on the ground next to the lit fireplace, the heat radiating from the hearth warming the flesh you had deliberately left bare when you lift the hem of your night gown to expose yourself to Beel.

“What are you doing?!  I told you, I can barely hold back—”

“Then don’t.  I don’t mind, Beel.  I…I like it too.”

Amethyst eyes darken as they look up into yours, orange flames reflecting off pupils blown wide.  And when he speaks next, the deepness of his voice echoes in your body, as if its source were to be found within your own soul.

“Ask and ye shall receive.  I won’t touch you until you do.”

Nipples hardening beneath your gown, the rush of heat that floods your core makes you shudder when you say,

“Please, Beelzebub…I want you to eat my pussy.”

Back hitting solid wood, you barely have time to gasp before you are pulled to the edge of a long table in the centre of the kitchen, a long tongue running up the insides of each thigh in turn before they’re propped up onto broad shoulders, Beel’s breath blowing hot on the space in between.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can hold back.  I’m just…so famished, so desperate to taste you again—”

His words cut off in a low growl as he presses his lips to your folds, saliva dripping from his mouth mixing with the juices that already painted a glistening sheen on pink flesh.  You fight to bite back a moan at the vehemence of his hunger, the sheer greed of his tongue — flicking at your clit until your back arched off the table, heralding the arrival of the cream that leaked only to be swept up by Beel licking from end to end of that swollen seam.  And when that still wasn’t enough, you nearly swooned to feel that serpentine tongue penetrate, reaching depths that surely only a demon would be able to achieve as Beel sought out more of your flavour.

He buries his face deeper into your pussy, nose nudging your clit as arousal smeared over the entirely of his visage.  The vibrations of his voice further stimulates your locus of pleasure, punctuating the lewd, wet sounds when he says:

“You smell so delicious.  All the time.  And tonight, when you stepped out of the shower…I couldn’t take it, not with the way your scent flooded my senses.  I had to leave or else…this would happen.”

“Oh Beel…you should’ve told me sooner.”  

Mind lost in a haze of lust and body boneless from riding out wave after climatic wave, you reach down a trembling hand without thinking, fingers innocently tracing along the smooth ridges of the onyx horns that lay against your abdomen.

Suddenly, his breath hitches at your touch and the Sixth Prince of Hell is throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a moan loud and deep enough to reverberate off stone walls, clattering stacks of dishes in cupboards and making you come once more — legs convulsing upon his shoulders as you feel a preponderance of fluid gush forth from your body right into Beel’s waiting mouth.

The pleasure was such that you’ve never known before, so good that surely, it must be bad in some way, shape or form.  But you hadn’t the energy to ponder further.  

No, the only thing you’re aware of when your vision goes black is that Beel’s mouth is still on you, feasting upon a pussy that continued to respond to the teasing movements of his lips and tongue even as you ceased to think.

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

Cheddar.  Pickles.  Ketchup and mustard.

The smell is what rouses you, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw when you awoke in your own bed: mountains of cheeseburgers arranged on platters filling up every available surface in the room you shared with Beel.

“You can sleep for longer if you want.  I told Lucifer you’d be skipping class today because you’re not feeling well.  Are you…feeling well?”

Beelzebub lifts his head from where it’d been resting at the side of your bed, the rest of his body laid out on the floor as if he were guarding you like an oversized dog.  Those puppy dog eyes, full of concern, didn’t help his case either.

“I’m fine, Beel.  Better than fine, actually.  I feel fantastic!”  You smile, moving to sit up in bed.  The demon springs from the ground, putting an arm around your shoulders to help prop you up, and your heart can’t help but warm at how protective he was being.

He breathes, relief flooding those handsome features.  “I’m glad.  I was afraid I lost control last night and had to carry you back.  You were just…so tasty and…satisfying…”  

Those amethyst eyes glint as they travel to the apex of your thighs, and all of a sudden, he is grabbing at those human world cheeseburgers, shoving them into his mouth two at a time.

“Have some,” he says between bites.  “They’re my favourite and I thought you might like them too.  Besides, you need to eat if you’re gonna keep up your energy.”

You reach towards the nearest platter, taking one for yourself.  “Energy for what?”

Beel looks at you, expression completely serious when he says, “For the next round tonight.”

Throb.

🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Gains

Poly Sons of Ipswich x Reader

Word Count: 2,802

Summary: Trying to take advantage of their gym membership, reader starts working with a devastatingly attractive personal trainer. And his friend is pretty hot, too.  

The gym was still new for you but you had been coming consistently enough that you felt comfortable there. You knew what times equipment would be available and what times the crowds would be too much (week days 3-5:30 was like competing in the Hunger Games.)

Cardio always came before strength exercises because your muscles would be too fatigued otherwise. 

And on Tuesdays and Saturdays they played your favorite music on the loud speakers so you didn’t have to bother with headphones on those days.

Still, you weren’t an expert by any means. 

In fact, you were still hesitant to call yourself a gym-goer because you’d seen the workouts other people did and you definitely weren’t doing that. There was no strategy, you just did what you felt like doing on any given day. You were impressed by their discipline though.

Maybe, most likely, it would benefit you to incorporate some of that into your own routine.

The gym had a personal trainer program and you figured that would be the best bet—much easier than trying to figure it out on your own.

Poking around the website, you found the section that explained the process. The design was modern and intuitive, and it was easy to book an appointment: the only information you needed to provide was your name, the date/time, and what trainer you wanted.

The first two things were easy to fill out but the last had you a little stumped; you weren’t familiar enough with any of the trainers to request anyone by name even with the drop-down menu that listed out all of the choices. For a second, you were tempted to forget about the whole thing but luckily, there was an option for ‘no preference’ and anxiety levels dropped off as you selected it.

Appointment booked, you went on with the rest of your night, focus shifting to what sounded good to eat for dinner.

A week later, you found yourself in the gym’s front lobby, arms crossed and foot tapping. Since it was the first time, there was no harm in arriving early. The directions on the website had said to wait there for the trainer but so far there was no sign of them. Granted, there was still five minutes until the scheduled start so it would be unfair to start complaining about them just yet.

Rolling your neck to alleviate some of the tension, you paused mid-stretch, neck awkwardly craned like a gaggling turkey, when a man walked out. He was without a doubt the most attractive man you’d seen at the gym to date.

Thick dark hair that curled just above his ears. Warm brown eyes and an even warmer smile. Tanned skin that wrapped around arms that had just the right amount muscle: toned but not bulky. All in all, a good looking man.

You tracked him as he glanced around the area, looking for something—his eyes suddenly met yours and you straightened up in embarrassment—or someone. “Y/N?” he questioned.

You throat was so dry, it was painful to swallow. “That’s me.”

It didn’t seem possible but his smile grew even brighter. He stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Caleb and I’ll be your trainer today.”

Good karma most certainly at work here. How else could you explain being lucky enough to have the hottest guy in the gym be the trainer? Whatever the case, you weren’t going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.

He gestured you forward with a wave of his hand and followed you to the main workout area. There was slight pressure to staying cool and collected with him behind you. 

“I’m going to start you off with some jogging to warm-up. Do you want to use the track or hop on a treadmill?”

“Treadmill is fine. It’s what I normally use.”

You stepped up onto the belt and fiddled with the settings to establish a pace you felt comfortable with. The machine started up with a loud hum and your arms and legs began to pump. Normally, you’d have your earphones in to distract yourself with music but they weren’t that day so that you could hear Caleb if he said anything to you.

Good thinking, really, since he did indeed start chatting.

“So how long have you been a member?” he asked.

Determined not to sound steady, you took a few moments to normalize your breathing. “About two months. But this is the first time I’ve worked with a professional,” you added at the end.

It was hard to hear his laugh over the treadmill but the hitching of his shoulders gave him away. “Thanks, but I’m not really a professional. I just have a training certification is all.”

Huh. Attractive and humble. If you weren’t careful, you’d develop a full-blown crush in no time.

“A certification sounds professional to me,” you insisted. There. That wasn’t flirty at all. You were merely sharing an opinion.

Jogging passed by faster than it usually did even without music. Evidently, all that was needed to make a run enjoyable was good conversation and an even better view. 

You powered off the treadmill and gradually transitioned to a walk and then a full stop. A single bead of sweat trailed down the side of your face but before you could wipe it away, only to stumble after being patted on the back by Caleb. 

Those muscles were not just for show.

You had mixed feelings about him giving you props for completing the warm up. On one hand, you were a little insulted because even you could handle jogging for ten minutes. On the other, it was nice to have him flatter you. And he seemed to type to mean his compliments.

“Thanks,” you said almost like a question as you plopped down to stretch.

“Really,” he insisted. There wasn’t any level of patronizing tone that you could detect. “You’d be surprised by how many people I work with that complain about running.”

“Really?” you exclaimed with surprise. “I wouldn’t say I love running but it’s not terrible. Better than swimming anyway.”

“Whoa, now. I’ll have you know that I was a big swimmer in high school.”

The friendly banter about the woes, or in his case, the highs of swimming got you through the stretches he showed you. Occasionally, there would be a pause while he corrected your posture but once you fixed your position, the banter started up again.  

Finally, you conceded, “I will admit that swimming did wonders for your shoulders though.”

He looked away with a bow of his head. He smiled but it was closed lipped, no teeth on display. Oops. That comment may have been a bit too forward. Rather than draw more attention to it, you diverted attention to the actual work out.

Seeming to be of the same mind, Caleb dropped it, too, and set you up at a weight bench. He must’ve have seen the doubt on your face.

“Don’t worry,” he assured. “I’m not going to have you squatting 300 pounds or anything crazy. Here. Take this and we’ll start with some dumb bell rows.”

He handed you a twenty-pound weight, the smooth metal cool against your palm. The weight was noticeable but not so heavy you struggled to hold it. A month or two of this and your arms would actually tone out pretty nice.

You peered subtly at Caleb behind you. You wouldn’t be at Caleb’s level, not just after a couple weeks but then again, you doubted most people could measure up to him even after working out everyday for a year straight.

Someone people had all the good genes.

You could’ve complained but found it much more enjoyable to appreciate the good view. In fact, it was the view that got you through the rest of the season.

“Thanks,” you panted around the mouth of your water bottle. A bead of sweat ran down your neck and you reached to wipe it off.

“You did great, really,” he said, the epitome of what a good trainer should sound like. “The scariest step is always to start so signing up for additional personal training will be a piece of cake.”

“Y-yeah.” Suddenly, your shoe laces fascinated you. “So…if I want to do that—more of this...do I choose you on from that list of trainers?”

“Sure thing. Or if you’d prefer to try someone else, all of the trainers are fantastic choices.”

“I think I’ll stick with you. As long as that’s not weird or anything…”

“Nope, not weird.”

You worked up the courage to look him in the eyes. Swirling irises of molten brown, you couldn’t help but be drawn into them. “Same time next week then?”

“Same time next week,” he agreed with a nod.

***

It had been a little over a month since you had started working with Caleb at the gym and what had started as one personal training session a week had turned into two, sometimes three. Improvement was happening steadily and you definitely felt a difference in your stamina.

Strangely enough, you were even proud of the small callouses that were starting to develop on the tops of your palms, under the fingers. They weren’t classically beautiful but at least you had proof of the work you were doing.

Having worked up the confidence, you’d also started doing some of the exercises Caleb showed you on your own. It was on one such day that you met him.

Another gym babe.

The first thing you noticed was his ass. Literally. He was in prime squat position and his short, though knee length and loose as they may be, could not hide his toned glutes.

You were embarrassed to admit that you were totally ogling him, like a dog looked at a prime cut of meat. You didn’t get star struck often, but damn.

The universe must have sought to punish you for the lack of propriety and your mp3 slipped through your sweaty fingers onto the moving treadmill, yanking the earphones out of your ears along with it as it flew backwards on the conveyor belt.

Recovering from the stumble your mp3 caused, you turned off the machine and gingerly picked out the music player, preparing for the worst.

Miraculously, the screen was still in tact and sounds was still coming through the earphones. You took another sigh of relief when you realized he was preoccupied by his own workout and hadn’t seen your embarrassing moment.

Something similar happened the next time you saw him a few days later: he was cooling down after having thoroughly trounced the heavy bag in the small boxing set-up the gym had. His arms looked so good in his cut-off tank (muscles and veins were all on display) that you froze with your mouth hanging wide open.

Another gym-goer did catch you that time but at least it wasn’t the god sculpted from marble.

You almost felt bad, like you were cheating on one of your crush’s with another which was ridiculous because Caleb was just a trainer and you didn’t even know the other one’s name.

Who knew that so much drama could happen in the confines of a simple neighborhood gym? Seriously, The Bachelor wished it could have as many good options as the gym seemed to.

***

You huffed as you pushed yourself up on increasing shaky arms. For a few seconds, you honestly didn’t think you’d be able to do it as your arms got stuck at a forty-five degree angle. Digging deep down, you managed to fully extend your arms.

“Nine,” Caleb counted. He was kneeling besides you on the yoga mat, counting, and adjusting your form here and there, while you did push-ups

Rather than descend slowly as was proper for push-ups, you collapsed to the mat with your arms squished underneath your chest. Rolled your head, you gave him your best pleading eyes and hoped he might take mercy.

That hope was misplaced. He gave a sympathetic smile and shook his head negatively. “Sorry, Y/N. We agreed on ten and by my count, you still have one more to go.”

“Can I not and say that I did?”

“Come on now. It’s only one more.” He waved his hands around like he was waving imaginary pom-poms. “You can do it!”

You managed a weak laugh. There was no way you could’ve say no. Your arms felt like they were burning but he looked adorable trying to be a cheerleader. An unbidden image of him wearing a cute male cheerleading uniform flashed in your mind and you thought he would pull one off well, what with his wide shoulders and sculpted legs.

Imagination got you through the last push-up and you groaned as you turned over on the mat, spread out like a star fish. “That was absolute torture.”

Caleb opened his mouth but was interrupted by a newcomer.

“Geez, man. You need to take it easier on your clients.”

Recognizing the voice, you found the other gym guy you’d been eyeing standing above you.

“Pogue.” Caleb held his fist out to the man who in turned bumped his with the trainer’s. Evidently, they knew each other.

Then they embraced in a full-on hug.

Okay, so they definitely knew each other. And it was hard to miss the parting caress to Pogue’s shoulders—what kind of name was Pogue anyway?—that was generally reserved for two people that were close.

Were they related? Dating, perhaps?

Your imagination fired up again and you wondered what they would look like wrapped even more intimately with one another…which was entirely despicable, you reminded yourself. There was no proof they were romantically involved, and, even if they were, it was none of your business.

The other two, who had been talking while you were maladaptively fantasizing, had continued talking and their conversation now turned to you.

“So who’s this?” Pogue questioned politely.

“This is Y/N,” Caleb introduce you. “They’re one of the people I work with.”

Pogue stuck his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m glad Caleb hasn’t killed you off yet.”

“Hey! I am extremely fair with workouts, aren’t I, Y/N?”

“He is,” you said with a small smile, rocking on your feet. “Besides, he way too nice to ever become a drill sergeant.”

Pogue shoved Caleb lightly and Caleb elbowed him in return. “I know he doesn’t look like the type, but he was quite the drill sergeant back when we were both swimmers. He just hides the competitive instinct under his charming smiles.”

That peaked your curiosity. “No way, you guys swam together back in the day?”

“Spencer Academy was state champs three years running in our time,” Caleb admitted. “But nowadays I do my thing with personal training and Pogue more into MMA.”

“MMA?” you questioned.

“Mixed Martial Arts,” Caleb supplied. “You’ve probably seen him hogging the punching bags in the back.”

You most certainly had but you weren’t about to confess that to either of them. It would be too embarrassing and might even toe the line of harassment.

“You are more than welcome to share bags with me, any time,” Pogue grinned teasingly.

A thought hit and flowed out of your mouth before you could stop it. “You guys should give me a lesson sometime.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were interested in that sort of thing,” Caleb said, surprise coloring his voice.

“Are you saying that you don’t think I can?” You weren’t sure what made you say it. It’s not like you were hardcore dedicated to trying it. 

Whatever the cause it had Pogue chiming in save the situation.

“What prince charming means is that we would love to give a demonstration sometime.”

Caleb down at his watch because of course he still wore one instead of just using his phone like most other people. “Damn. Our hour is up Y/n and I’m late getting my next client. But we can hit the punching bags next time, if you want…?”

“Sure. Uh. Does Wednesday work for you?”

Both of the men nodded and Caleb called over his shoulder as he jogged to the lobby. “It’s a date. Schedule it online and I’ll approve it.”

The word kept replaying over and over. Date. Date. Date, date, date. He probably didn’t even mean it like that but it didn’t stop your heart from fluttering.

Waving goodbye to Pogue wit a promise of seeing him next week, you bounced off to grab your phone from the locker room. There was nothing wrong with scheduling your next session ASAP.

It’s a date.

_______________

Pogue boxing does make a fetching image. Pogue and Caleb in the ring sparring together even more so. Debating whether to make a part 2. 

Caleb always seems to be the hardest for me to write so I hope he sounded okay in this. This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I decided to finally post it. 

Thanks for reading! 

[beauvibaby]

table for two – a.beauvillier

a/n: a little fic I threw together that I really love 🥺 it’s not proofread tho

“A forty minute wait?” You tried to hide your disappointment, it had been a terrible day at work, your feet were aching and your stomach was on the verge of growling. “Yes, I’m-“ the hostess stopped herself, she glanced over to the only other single party here, “give me just a moment.” She gave you a smile before rushing off. You sighed dramatically, pulling your phone out. The only reason you were so stuck on eating here is because you had a gift card and didn’t want to cook tonight. You glanced up as the hostess approached you, “we have a table for two available, if you don’t mind sitting with this gentleman.” She explained, motioning to the guy sitting in the corner, he had an optimistic smile on his face. He clearly had a much better day than you, as you were about to turn down the offer, your stomach clenched, reminding you how long it had been since you ate.

“Yes. I’ll sit with him.”

You stayed silent, following them to the table, the guy shot you a soft smile as he sat across from you, he seemed like a nice guy, his eyes showed his genuineness. The bright blue only making them more vibrant, you mirrored his smile, crossing your legs under the table. “So, how are we playing this? Awkward silence while we listen to each other eat, or are you going to tell me your name?” He spoke up as you hid behind your menu, you raised an eyebrow at his forwardness, although you could hear a slight nerve in his tone. “You first.” You laughed softly, lowering the menu to reveal your whole face. “Anthony.” He grinned, the name fit him, his smile wide and bright as he looked over at you, not having even picked up his menu yet. “Y/N.” You spoke, glancing between him and the menu, he chuckled at your obvious desire to eat, not that he could blame you, he’d been waiting for a while before you showed up, and the hostess undoubtedly was trying to play matchmaker, not that he was complaining. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He murmured, opening up his menu, he glanced over at you, seeing your eyes darting between two items, “never been here before?” He asked, already settling on his meal. You shook your head, chewing your bottom lip as you weighed your options, chicken or pasta.

“Are we ready to order?” The waiter asked, setting down the drinks you’d ordered when you sat down. Anthony nodded, going first to give you another second to decide. He ordered the exact chicken dish you’d been debating on, “is it good?” You asked him, closing your menu, he nodded instantly. “I’ll have the same, please.” You handed over your menu, watching the guy whisk away. “So, Y/N.” Anthony started, resting his elbows on the table, “are you a nurse?” He asked with a tilt of his head, motioning to the scrubs you were wearing. “Medical assistant.” You answered, looking over at his outfit, “I have no clues, this isn’t fair.” You countered, stifling back a laugh when he looked down at his pants and shirt, he hummed, giving you a smile. “You watch sports?” He asked, you thought he was derailing the conversation, “not really.” You answered truthfully, he nodded in understanding, “I play hockey.” He told you, and you thought he was just being a show off. “Athletic, fun, still doesn’t tell me what you do for a living.” You countered easily, whether it be the way he was so easy to speak to, or the way you were sure to be dying of hunger, the words toppled out before you could stop them.

You felt your face flood with warmth as he tilted his head back in laughter, “hockey.” He spoke, raising an eyebrow, “I play hockey for a living.” He watched your face go from confused to shock, “oh.” You whispered sheepishly, “for who?” You asked, mirroring his earlier actions and resting your elbows on the table. “New York Islanders.” He spoke with ease, glancing over the restaurant, suddenly feeling like he came off as arrogant. “Oh thank god, my family would disown me for talking to a Rangers player.” You quipped, you might not have been much into sports, but growing up in New York, you knew a fair bit about the local teams. Plus your cousins were avid fans. So maybe you knew a bit more than average.

“Thought you weren’t into sports?” He answered instantly, becoming engrossed in the conversation with you. He listened intently to you as you began to ramble about the hockey fans in your family, you hadn’t realized how long you’d been talking until the food showed up. You fell silent abruptly, embarrassed for how much you’d spoken. Anthony gave you a reassuring smile as he began cutting into his chicken. You did the same, brushing your sheepishness aside. Your eyes shut in relief as you ate your first bite, “told you it was good.” He spoke up as he swallowed his food. You giggled softly, looking up at him through your lashes, he smirked to himself as you hid behind some of your loose hairs. He found himself wanting to do this again with you, sit, talk, eat. A classic date if he’d ever seen one, but it wasn’t, you were just a complete stranger that he’d probably never see again.

Your meal had come and gone, and you both settled your checks, about to part ways out in the parking lot, “you know, I might just have to take my cousin up on that extra ticket to the game in a couple weeks.” You blurted out, cursing yourself mentally, he faltered in his steps, “I’ll be looking for you.” He called as he walked to his car, leaving you there to process his words with a flutter in your chest.

Of course, the first thing you did when you got home was look him up on Instagram, boldly following him and wondering about the what if’s.

***

You rushed out the door the next morning, knowing you’d never hear the end of it from your cousin, Ava, if you were late. It was a tradition for you, her and her twin brother to get together once a month for breakfast, something your dad had instilled in you all, and something you made sure to keep up after he passed.

You didn’t even check your phone.

“You’re late!” Aidan shouted, “shut up! I tried my best.” You groaned, tossing your purse down on the counter, your phone half hanging out of it as you went to wash your hands. As you turned the water on you heard Ava scream at the top of her lungs, you went running out as Aidan shrieked in surprise by his sister's actions. “What? Are you ok?” You gasped nearly slipping in your socks, “Y/N.” She gaped at you, she had your phone in her hands, “why did Anthony Beauvillier request to follow you?!” She shouted, Aidan snatched the phone, “oh my god.” He mumbled, unlocking the device, seeing that it really was his account. “He what?” You mumbled, yanking your phone out of his grasp, quickly accepting his request, before facing the millions of questions they had.

It felt like an eternity until they stopped asking you things, “well obviously you’re going to the game with us, and you’re borrowing my Beauvillier jersey.” Ava smirked, you began shaking your head furiously, “no, no, no.” You whined, crossing your arms as they gave you glares. “Yes, yes, yes.” They mocked you, “by the sounds of it, he was clearly flirting with you, how could you pass up on him?” Ava dramatically swooned, “besides, maybe you’ll fall in love and you can get me in with Mat.” She giggled girlishly, “puck bunny.” Aidan muttered jokingly, she turned to him quickly, “I’m not afraid to hit you with my stick again.” He didn’t say anything after that as he shifted away from her.

“I’ll go to the game, but you better not embarrass me.” You mumbled in defeat, only wondering what you just got yourself into.

***

“Stalking her now beau?” Mat joked with his friend, looking over his shoulder as he scrolled through your Instagram, “shut up.” Tito sighed, faltering as he stumbled across one of your beach pictures. “Oh, damn.” Mat whistled teasingly, he shut himself up when his friend glared at him.

***

“Ava.” You snapped, lightly whacking her hands away, “I’m fixing your hair.” She complained, pouting at you, sneakily grabbing your pony tail and tightening it before you could react, “ow!” You snapped nearly falling on the escalator, Aidan chuckled as you scolded her. “It’s not funny.” You both snapped at the same time as you stepped off the escalator, following them to their seats, you all the clueless to how close to the glass you were really going to be. “Woah.” You gasped, Ava grabbing your hand and pulling you a couple rows down to look up close at the glass, Aidan settled into the seats, snapping a few pictures of the two of you looking out in amazement. “There’s Barzal, oh and pageau, you wanna keep your eyes on them. They’re really good right now.” Ava explained, you nodded listening as your eyes darted around, looking for number eighteen. “Have you spoken to him since that night?” Ava asked as they began skating around the ice, pucks flying everywhere. You stayed silent as you suppressed a smile, easily spotting Anthony as he passed a puck back and forth with Mat. “You have!” Ava gasped, shaking your shoulder violently, “so what if I have?” You mumbled, biting your lip when she looked over at you. “You are something else.” She giggled, shrieking softly when Anthony skated up to the glass, a puck in his hand. He motioned for you to catch it, which you did with ease. “Good luck!” You shouted, hugging the puck close to your chest as he grinned, he gave you a quick wave before going back to skating around.

“That was flirting.” Aidan declared as you both settled into your seats beside him, “yeah, it was.” You surprised them by not arguing, you felt your face warm up as they looked over at you in shock.

The game had gone on without a hitch, the islanders winning 4-1. So you did what you’d promised Anthony, Tito as he requested you call him, you sent him your number.

“Good game, you earned this.”

You felt giddy as you sent him your number, knowing by the time he saw it you would probably be asleep for the night, but the excitement of if he was going to use it, that kept you on your toes.

***

“What can I say, you made me work for it”

“Goodnight, Y/N”

Your heart fluttered more than it should have when you woke up to his messages, bright and early, much earlier than he would be up the day after a game.

“Morning, Tito!”

You sent it, eyes widening as three bubbles popped up instantly.

“Have a good day at work”

You read it over and then saw him typing once again.

“Are you free Friday?”

Your heart nearly lept out of your chest.

“See you Friday”

A confident response that unknowing to you made him nervous, he was never nervous when it came to dates, but you were already so different to him.

You went about your day as normally, occasionally sneaking a moment to text Tito back as he sent you random things throughout the day, including the planning of your date for Friday. He insisted on picking you up, and you agreed, appreciating the chivalry he was showing that not many guys still had.

You were giddy, and he was thrilled, already mentally preparing himself, although he knew once he was around you, it would be easy. It always was.

***

The knock on your door made you inhale sharply, glancing down at your outfit once more, the skinny jeans hugging your curves just right, and the delicate blouse showing just enough skin to be flirty but modest, and it went along with the casual dress code he had established. You quickly zipped up the sides of your wedges, you flipped your loosely curled hair behind your shoulders as you unlocked the door. “Hey, Tito.” You breathed out, smiling at him, the both of you quickly taking in the sight of each other, “hi, you look great.” He complimented, his nerves instantly melting away as you let out a sheepish giggle, “thanks.” Your voice was soft and he soaked up every bit of it, seeing the shy smile adorning your face. “You clean up nice.” You responded, grabbing your purse as he chuckled, looking down at his dark jeans and short sleeve printed button shirt, you took notice of the chain he had underneath it. You shot him a smile as you turned back to him fully, “ready?” You asked, adjusting the purse on your shoulder.

“Ready.”

You burst into laughter as he pulled into the parking lot, the same restaurant you met at, “you’re serious?” You asked through a smile, he nodded, “I mean unless you don’t like it–“ you cut him off as he was about to ramble. You grabbed his hand that was resting on the center console, “no, I love it. It’s really cute honestly.” You assured him, not missing the way he instantly relaxed when you touched him. “Oh, good.” He breathed out, “let’s go inside.”

The hostess did a double take as she saw you two walk in hand in hand. It was the same one from the first night you met, “hello.” She grinned, grabbing two menus, “sitting together, again?” She asked, Anthony nodded brightly. “Yeah.” He answered, letting you walk in front of him as you followed her to a table. “Thanks.” You smiled at her, sitting in your seat, Anthony thanked her as well as he followed behind you. “So, is the chicken any good?” You asked, he broke into laughter, his head tipping back as he gave you an incredulous look. “I think it’s really good.” He answered, snickering as he picked up his menu, you smiled at his reaction, feeling giddy as you knew you were the reason he was having such a good time. “Ok but seriously, what else is good here?” You asked, shifting to an overly serious tone as you scanned over the menu, he smiled at the concentration on your face.

“It’s all good here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo @matbarzyy

[comfortwriting]

hi! can you write the number 16 from your prompts list with fred and a slytherin reader? also, love your posts ❤

A/N: It’s so nice to meet a fellow Slytherin!! Thank you so much for making a request, I hope you enjoy my lovely!

Prompt 16: Reading the diary entry over and over, your hand slipped into your underwear. 

Warnings: swearing and smut

For the second year in a row, you decided to spend your Christmas at Hogwarts instead of going home. You lied to your parents, telling them that you were drowning in books, parchment, and practical potion-making tests; but the truth is, you were only staying at Hogwarts because Fred Weasley wasn’t going home.

The two of you have what most would call a ‘love-hate’ relationship, you just found him incredibly infuriating but so fucking hot at the same time; going weak at the knees for him. The two of you got to know one another very well during a match of Quidditch, dodging his bludgers, and catching his cheeky grin when you did so. In the classes you have together he always tries to get you into trouble when he’s unable to get your attention, despite what your fellow house had to say about him - you were really into him.

You knew their dorm room would be empty tonight and that he and George would be scrambling into the kitchens at any moment, being given plenty of food from the hard-working house elves, making this the perfect opportunity for you to get your own back on the more daring twin.

Creeping into Fred’s dorm room quietly (incase you were met with a surprise) you spotted his bed and smirked, walking over to it. At least their bedrooms were warm, shame about the red being splattered everywhere - you preferred green, always green. 

Pulling a rope out of your pocket you pulled his quilt back and placed the rope on the bed, you had been practicing this for months now - you couldn’t get it wrong now; you needed to master turning this rope into a snake.

Looking up and down the bed to figure out if you should move the rope lower down or higher up, you noticed something poking out beneath Fred’s pillow. Pulling it out, you were now in possession of what looked to be a homemade diary, sporting a massive ‘F’ on the cover. 

‘I’ve hit the jackpot!’ you told yourself, ‘who needs a surprise snake from Slytherin when you’ve got this’

Part of you wanted to put the diary back under the pillow and to continue with your plan but the itch that started to spread inside you wouldn’t go away unless you were to give in, and who knows, the diary could just be another one of Fred's pranks waiting to trap someone who went snooping.

You chucked the rope onto the floor and took off your shoes, getting into Fred’s bed you made yourself comfy, you wanted to enjoy this. 

Flicking past the first few empty pages you finally found an entry, dated two years back. Sinking into his bed and embracing yourself in the warmth you started to read.

She looked at me again today, those eyes... her gorgeous eyes eating me up like I’m prey, they stand out, even more, when she wears green. She’s so beautiful, all wrapped up in her Slytherin Quidditch jumper, scarf, gloves, and hat, George tells me to stay away but I don’t think I can. 

You felt your cheeks burning but there were plenty of other girls in Slytherin, in order to find out if Fred was, in fact, writing about you, you had no choice but to keep reading. You skipped a few pages, reading another entry now dated from one year ago.

I just can’t take it anymore, having to sit next to her and not kiss her is the hardest thing in the world, even harder than getting away with coming home late when I’m back at home. I can’t help but chase her, I can’t help but make things harder for her on the pitch... I want her to know that I’m after her.

Yup. This whole entire diary was a shrine to you, a whole dedicated series of Fred’s feelings for you, and honestly, you were flattered.

Getting a little bit too hot you pulled the covers down and you took off your robe, once again flicking through the diary and picking another entry to read - this one the most recent of all, two days ago.

I can’t help but just stare at her soft pink lips, those exquisite breasts that show through her shirts, those stunning smooth legs that make me want to run my hands up them.

You breathed out heavily, the image of Fred touching you getting you excited. You took off your skirt, only laying in your shirt, tie and knickers.

I just want to grab her whilst she’s walking down the halls, drag her into an empty classroom and bend her over the nearest desk. I want to spread open those stunning legs and eat her out like I’ve dreamt about so many times before. My heart and cock ache for her, I’d do anything to have my way with her; making her cum with my fingers or on my cock, I want her to feel it all.

Reading the diary entry over and over, your hand slipped into your underwear. You completely lost yourself in Fred’s confession, imagining the acts he so desperately wants unfolding within your thoughts. Your index and middle finger coated in your spit moved in circular motions on your clit, one or two moans of Fred’s name leaving your mouth.

Without noticing while you played with yourself, Fred had entered the dorm room embarrassed at first of the sight of his diary in your hands but now he stared at you with hunger, desperation, and pure filth; the sight of you touching yourself over him made his cock hard.

“Need some help love?” He called out, his voice like melted honey.

You were startled at first, shocked that you had been caught in the act but then it dawned on you, this is exactly where he wanted you, he knew all along you were going to prank him and he still won.

Fred walked over to you, a smirk playing on his lips and his cock poking through his trousers. “Don’t stop all because I’m here”

You looked into his hungry eyes and bit your lip, Fred kicked off his shoes and took off his belt, climbing into the bed and on top of you. “I guess the only snake in the bed tonight is you” he smiled, noticing the rope, peeking out of your robe pocket.

“I’m guessing you’re all talk Weasley, you’ve gone into graphic detail describing what you want to do to me and I’m laying here, waiting.” You smiled back.

Your backchat caused Fred to crash his lips onto yours, the two of you kissing as if your life depended on it. One of Fred’s hands traveled down to your wet pussy, and two of his fingers dived inside of you. Moaning against Fred’s lips, your hand went to his trousers, tugging the zipper down.

Fred pulled away from the kiss “want to get you nice and wet before I fuck you” and attacked your pussy with his mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit whilst continuing to finger fuck you. 

You couldn’t take anymore, the tension had been brewing between you for too long, waiting suddenly became unbearable for the two of you. “Please fuck me, Fred. I want to feel you so bad.” You moaned out between breaths.

Fred didn’t need to hear it twice, he pulled away and sucked your juices off his fingers. He took off his trousers and removed his shirt, you copied him struggling with the last few buttons.

“Get on all fours” Fred ordered, slapping your arse as you did so.

Fred spat into his hand and spread his saliva across your entrance, without warning he started to pound into you, grabbing onto your hair.

“Fucking hell, Fred!” you moaned out, “you feel so good!” 

“Told you us Gryffindors weren’t that bad, you stupid serpent.” he teased. 

You had no idea that your relationship with Fred would come to this, the staring contests at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the Quidditch matches and games he’d torment you in, the countless detentions he caused you to get. 

You were surprised you wanted him so badly, but then again how could you be surprised? You were being fucked senseless.

Fred’s hand marks were all across your arse, scratches all over his back, love bites on both of your necks, and your lip bleeding from biting it so hard.

Fred picked up his speed, fucking you harder and deeper in your new position (your legs upon his shoulders) he could feel your walls tighten around him, causing his cock to twitch.

“Fred, I’m going to cum” you moaned out.

Expecting Fred to give it all he’s got you were shocked when he suddenly stopped and pulled out of you, laying down next to you laughing. You were so confused and didn’t understand, did he not enjoy it?

“That's what you get for trying to put a snake in my bed” Fred smirked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

The tension that almost broke free just became ten times worse. 

“You’re such a twat!” 

He laughed in response “George is going to be in the kitchen awhile, don’t feel as if you’ve got to disappear.” 

What the fuck just happened?

[boowanie]

pairing: minghao x reader

genre: fluff and slight angst

wc: 2.4k

“strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you”

eri’s note: i always somehow manage to come up with scenario ideas during stressful times 🙃 i hope you beans enjoy it, let me know about your thoughts on this piece! 💘

minghao didn’t like the way his art history seatmate smelt of cigarettes and some sort of perfume he was still trying to distinguish despite having sat next to you in the cold lecture hall for the entire fall semester. he also disliked the way you constantly chewed gum to mask your cigarette scent breath when all he could hear were chewing sounds that irritated him to the core. and he hated the way you managed to score the highest grade every exam mr. kwon made his class take after a finished topic.

“and that’s all for today folks, make sure to read the lecture notes i released this morning!”

finally, he thought. minghao gathered his laptop and phone which he shoved into his canvas bag. he eyed the way you slowly picked up your blank notebook and your single pen, and he couldn’t help but sigh aloud. “come on, some of us are trying to get to our next class yn,” you heard him say through clenched teeth.

you chuckled as you pocketed your pen in your jean jacket, “oh shut up hao, your next class is right in front of his lecture hall.” minghao tried to fight the tint of red spreading across his cheeks when you twirled around to blow him a kiss.

“see you around xu minghao.”

lastly, minghao hated the way you made his heart beat faster at that very moment.

—

“oh come on cheollie, give me some slack! please,” you begged with your eyes from across the till. seungcheol didn’t know why he always succumbed to your pleadings when he knew it was wrong to lie to your manager that you arrived on time for your afternoon shift. seungcheol sighed and threw his apron at you.

“you owe me,” he ruffled your hair and stepped out of the coffee shop to catch his 4pm lecture that was about to begin in less that 15 minutes. you closed your eyes once you saw cheol’s figure disappear out of your sight. you felt like shit for making him cover for you again but with the pressure of taking care of everything at home, you had no choice but to beg for him to lie again.

the bell that was situated on top of door chimed when a customer entered, making you open your eyes and smile as much as you could to greet the incoming customer. and to your surprise, your eyes landed on xu minghao. he didn’t seem like he was in the mood for your antics so you greeted him like you would if it were any other customer.

“hi, what can i get for you?”

minghao was ready for your never ending sarcasm and the whiff of cigarettes from your clothes but he was surprised when you greeted him like a normal customer and the smell of strawberries coming from you which nearly had his mouth watering in hunger. he held eye contact as he detailed out his matcha order and when he handed you his card for the payment.

“you can just wait over there,” you smiled, again.

minghao leaned against a nearby wall as he watched you swiftly work your way through the coffee machine and some other stuff he couldn’t recognise. he was so lost in his own thoughts about you that he didn’t recognise his own name leaving your lips.

“minghao,” you repeated and jiggled his order softly in your hands. he snapped out of his thoughts and rushed over to grab his order.

“thanks yn.”

“wait,” you yelled out right before he grabbed the door to exit the coffee shop, “here, i think i heard your stomach growl during our class earlier on,” you jogged over and handed him a cookie before gently shoving him out into the cold street. he turned around and watched as you retreated back to your place behind the counter.

minghao really hated the way his heart skipped a few beats at your kind gesture.

—

he saw you again the following day. you rushed out of your car and jogged your way towards the entrance of the arts building, lugging your art supplies in your hands. minghao wanted to help you when he saw you struggle to open the door but jisoo’s voice snapped him out of his mind when she asked him about his morning.

“just fine,” he replied nonchalantly, picking at his food again. mingyu and jisoo shared a look before they scooted closer to minghao’s body. mingyu swallowed his fries and jisoo leaned her head against her palm to look at minghao.

“so..what’s bothering you picasso?”

minghao rolled his eyes at the mention of his nickname that jisoo insisted on calling him when they went to his first exhibit for his painting class. he mumbled out a faint “nothing” before proceeding to separate a fry from the melted cheese.

“i can smell the bullshit coming from your mouth,” jisoo pretended to sniff like a dog with mingyu following suit which caused minghao to drop his fork on the table and stand up from where he was sitting.

“you guys are the weirdest you know?” jisoo and mingyu nodded at the same time. minghao grabbed his canvas bag and bid his two bestfriends goodbye, heading towards his dorm building to get some much needed rest.

“see you later, lover boy,” mingyu called out.

he stumbled over his two feet at mingyu’s words and he realised, at that very moment, he was very whipped for you, your cigarettes and strawberries.

—

“you need to let loose kid, i’d hate to see you overwork yourself for the nth time this week,” seungcheol popped another strawberry into your mouth as you rinsed the soap off the utensils with lukewarm water. you turned the tap off once you washed the last mug and dried your hands with your apron.

“get off the counter choi,” you nudged his leg with your elbow. if your manager saw him and you chattering away instead of cleaning the coffee shop so you guys could close up quickly, she would lecture you both non stop about professionalism.

“oh come on yn, just one night? i’ll even introduce you to my friends so you won’t be lonely if i ever get whisked away by jeonghan. please please please-”

“say please one more time and i’ll make sure to tell jeonghan about every embarrassing story i know about you,” you threatened with a dried spoon. seungcheol’s eyes widened and he raised both his hands in defeat.

“you wouldn’t,” he huffed.

“try me sweetheart,” you blew a kiss in his direction, an act that had minghao pausing in his tracks. he didn’t mean to take the longer route back to his dorm which happened to be 10 minutes away from where you worked. he watched the way seungcheol threw his head back and closed his eyes in laughter. he liked the way your eyes twinkled when you giggled at your friend.

he turned around once he caught himself smiling at the scene. when he was far away from the coffee shop, minghao realised that he liked the way you smiled which seemed to reach your eyes.

—

“hao, can you proofread an essay for me?” you asked during a cold winter morning when the only people in the lecture hall were you, him and seokmin who was in deep sleep two rows away from you both.

he stared at you then at your hand that held the essay you wanted him to read. he nodded in silence and grabbed the pages from your hands, not without accidently touching the tips of your fingertips which had minghao blushing slightly at the contact.

you leaned your head against the table and carefully studied minghao’s features as he read your essay, word for word. you realised how adorable minghao looked with his glasses (that had no lens) framing his beautiful face. after he flipped the second page over, you noticed his glasses slowly sliding down his nose and without thinking, you slid them up so that they didn’t continue to fall from his face.

minghao stopped reading to look down at you and saw the way your eyes widened at your own actions. “‘m sorry,” you whispered, tucking your hand under your head. minghao gave you a soft smile and continued reading your essay.

you bit your lower lip when minghao flipped another page over, realising how your heart was beating faster than normal.

—

finals rushed in and you barely had the energy to complete all of them on top of working gruelling hours at the coffee shop. but you were glad seungcheol was generous enough to cover your shifts when you were neck deep with extra assignments and finals that seemed to stretch on forever.

thankfully, after you completed your last final, it happened to land on the day seungcheol was bringing you to an svt party. you still had yet to figure out what svt stood for but for once in your life, you were ready to let loose, just a tiny little bit.

you wore something you were comfortable in knowing you might have to walk home in the cold when you deemed yourself tipsy enough. seungcheol offered to ask wonwoo to drive you home but you declined since you didn’t have a clue who wonwoo was.

once you entered the frat house, bodies instantly crowded around you and seungcheol but you were grateful for his hand that enveloped yours in a protective manner. he pulled you closer into him until you managed to weave through the crowd and into the kitchen where his group of friends were playing some drinking game.

a chorus of seungcheol’s filled the room and a tipsy jeonghan appeared from the counter.

“cheollie,” he gushed, jogging towards him with his arms wide open. jeonghan gave him a bone crushing hug while you stood beside them in an awkward stance. you felt like you were being watched like a hawk by seungcheol’s friends but he quickly dismissed their gazes with a wave.

“this is yn, everyone,” seungcheol patted your back while everyone greeted you with gentle smiles, one of them even pulled you into a side hug. he was tall, and although his height kind of intimidated you, his grin removed any ounce of doubt in you.

“i’m mingyu but you can call me gyu if you’d like, whichever suits you.” from there on, you were passed around in hugs, some awkward and some comforting. as the night progressed, you felt your nerves settle once you got to know seungcheol’s group of friends. they were extremely loud but their laughters made you chuckle along with them despite not knowing what was making them laugh sometimes.

after your nth shot with mingyu and seungkwan, your legs felt like jello and you were beginning to sway a little bit. the house seemed to get louder and hotter as a rush of students continued to arrive during the night. you made a beeline towards the backyard where only a few students stood around in small groups, drinking and conversing about their finals.

you spotted an empty chair beside a guy who had his head firmly squished between his knees with a few beer  bottles scattered around him. you made your way towards the empty chair, scooting it over a little further away from the guy as to not disturb his sleep.

—

the smell of smoke filled minghao’s nostrils as he tried his best to keep himself from puking out the contents of his stomach. admittedly, he knew he drank a little too much but in his defence, he was stressed about everything. he was stressed from the truck load of essays he had to do, the paintings he had to submit and lastly, a certain someone who smelt like a mixture of strawberries and cigarettes that seemed to be crowding his thoughts lately.

“minghao?” a voice came from his side when he raised his head to the right.

“yn?” he replied, opening one of his eyes to find you blowing out smoke to the side to avoid it from hitting his face. minghao watched you put out your cigarette on a nearby ashtray that was placed on the grass.

“fancy seeing you hear xu minghao,” you greeted, popping a mint in your mouth. he blinked at you, letting a wave of silence fill the air. he stretched out his hand towards you, which you stared at for awhile until he urged you to take it. he sat closer towards you, leaning his head on the arm of the chair you were sitting on as he closed his eyes, basking in the comforting silence surrounding you both.

“can i ask you something?” minghao broke the silence with a question that was either going to turn everything awkward or not.

“can i kiss you?”

you gasped lightly at his daring question, your heartbeat racing quickly in your chest. you’ve always thought minghao disliked you. he always seemed to wrinkle his nose whenever you sat near him and you knew it was because of the way your clothes smelt like smoke which was the reason why you began to wear perfume but you noticed that he didn’t appreciate the added smell to your clothes. you opted with chewing gum on a daily basis but that didn’t work out when he nudged you with his elbow, asking if you could chew with your mouth closed.

“y-you want to what?”

“nevermind. sorry i asked,” he retracted his hand away from yours as he began to gather the bottles of beer he abandoned on the ground. he felt a hand tug on his shirt, “but i thought you didn’t like me...even as your classmate,” a quiet voice asked.

his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets when he heard you utter those words. he shook his head immediately, kneeling down so that he was perfectly situated between your parted legs. he cradled your head in his hands, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs.

“who said?”

“n-no one, i just noticed the way you wrinkle your nose everytime i sit beside you so i figured you didn’t like me because-”

you stopped mid sentence as he leaned closer towards your face, scanning your eyes for any trace if discomfort. you nodded, letting your words die on your tongue. he pressed his soft lips against your own. the kiss was gentle but passionate just like him. he pulled away when you placed a hand against his chest.

“strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you,” he sang in a teasing tone.

“HAO YOU DID NOT JUST-”

he pecked your lips quickly and ran towards the sliding doors, giggling like a school child.

[wintrcaptn]

Forbidden Ch. 2 | Andy Barber

Summary : Summary : You used to babysit Jacob when he was younger and had the biggest crush on his dad, Andy. But being in High school at the time, you knew it was just a stupid fantasy that could never happen. Now, six years later, you were visiting your hometown while on winter break. Once you found out the news about Jacob, you knew you had to go check up on them. But things take a turn when you find yourself alone with Andy Barber.

Part One

A/N : I wasn’t planning on making a second part for this fic, until now. Thank you all for the amazing feedback! I hope you like this one just as much (:

You barely slept last night, all you could think about was the kiss. About the way Andy held you close to him, and how his tongue danced along yours.

It was driving you crazy, wishing you could taste him again. To feel him.

But you also couldn’t help feeling horrible. Like the worse person in the world. And it didn’t help that you were seeing him again in just a few hours.

It was beginning to make you nervous. To the point where you almost wanted to cancel and forget the whole thing.

But you knew you couldn’t do that to Jacob.

Staring at your reflection, you let out a long sigh.

“It’s just one more night.” You said to yourself.

____

Pulling up to the Barber’s house, you were washed over with guilt and filled with anxiety. Not knowing how this was going to play out, made it even worse.

What if Laurie found out?

What if Andy regretted kissing you?

A thousand questions flooded your mind and it was starting to freak you out.

Jacob saw your car through his blinds and immediately ran downstairs. Excitement plastered over his face. It caught Andy’s attention.

“You okay there, buddy?” He asked, flipping through the channels on the tv.

“Y-yeah.” Jacob said, walking over to the door. “Y/N’s here.”

The second your name fell from his sons lips, Andy stood up and shot his gaze to the window.

You saw the door swing open, and Jacob stood in the door way with a cheeky grin. And just then, you knew you had to suck it up and focus on being there for him.

“Hey!” You said, climbing out of your car.

“Hi!” He exclaimed.

Andy tensed up the closer you got. Part of him felt guilty for what happened, and especially for wanting to kiss you again.

This wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t a cheater, someone who would go behind his wife’s back and betray her trust. He hated himself for letting it get to this. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted you.

As you walked into the house, you tried hard to only focus on Jacob. But in the corner of your eye, you saw his figure. Suddenly, your gaze met his and instantly, your breath hitched.

“H-Hi.” He said, hesitantly walking over to you.

You swallowed hard, but found some courage in you to snap out of the daze and collect yourself. “Hi.” You replied.

“So I was thinking we can order pizza and put on a movie or something while I set up the game? Like old times?” Jacob muttered, looking at you then back to his dad. “You’re going to play too, right?”

“Um—if Y/N is okay with it.”

Both of the Barber boys turned their gaze on you, putting you on the spot.

“Of course I’m okay with it.” You said. “Is Mrs. Barber joining us or—?”

“No, she had some errands to do.” Jacob interrupted you. “She said she’ll be home later though.”

You could tell something was off. The second day in a row, and they weren’t together? This wasn’t like them.

For as long as you could remember, they made every effort to be together.

“I’ll get the game. Dad, can you order the pizza?” Jacob’s voice snapped you back to the moment.

But before either of you could respond, Jacob turned around and ran up the stairs, leaving you alone with Andy.

You hesitantly looked over to him, and his eyes were already on you.

It was crazy how much power a stare held over you. It made your heart pound erratically, and it was hard to think straight.

The silence was driving him crazy. He wanted to know—needed to know what you were thinking. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can we talk about—you know.” He whispered, walking over to you.

Each step he made, growing closer to you, things were beginning to feel hotter and constricting.

“Th-there’s nothing to t-talk about, Mr. Barber—“

“Andy.” He cut you off, now standing just right in front of you. His eyes looking longingly into yours, almost as if he were searching for something. “Please, call me Andy.”

You swallowed hard. “Andy, please. Can we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

“I can’t. I tried, but I can’t stop thinking about it, about you. And—and I don’t think I want to stop.”

As you opened your mouth, you were instantly silenced after the sound of footsteps grew nearer.

Andy cleared his throat and quickly walked back toward the kitchen, pulling out his phone to order the pizza.

Finally, you were able to let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“Okay, I got monopoly and Pictionary Incase mom comes home early.” Jacob smiled.

“Perfect.”

After a few hours, the three of you filled yourselves with pizza and soda, while playing the game.

Sitting there with you and Jacob, watching the way you both laughed and talked, it was invigorating. In this very moment, Andy watched his son be a kid again and that’s all he ever wanted.

Everything felt normal. Like how it used to be. Before it all went to shit.

You all talked like no time has passed. Cracking jokes, and teaming up with Jacob, buying all the properties so Andy had to pay.

It was perfect.

“So did you ever finish reading the Harry Potter series?” You asked, rolling the dice.

Jacob nodded, flashing a smile as he remembered how much you used to love those books.

“Yea. They were good. Still not my favorite but—“

“Not your favorite?! Dude, Harry Potter is amazing and it has everything!”

Andy listened to you both go back and forth, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Ok well how about the next time in town, we have a Harry Potter movie marathon? I’m sure those will change your mind.”

“Fine!”

Laurie finally came home around seven. She looked even more exhausted than yesterday, and a little upset.

She said a soft hello, gave Jacob a kiss on the head and went straight upstairs, barely giving Andy a glance.

Then suddenly, it was back to reality.

Though you were able to distract Jacob for a bit, nothing could make him forget the truth. And for that, he needed some time to himself.

“I-I’m getting tired, so I think I’m going to lay down for awhile.” He said, propping up to his feet. “Thanks for coming over. I had fun. Maybe we can do it again soon?”

You flashed him a soft smile, and nodded before pulling him in for a hug. “Yeah, definitely.”

And just like that, he ran up to his room, leaving you alone with Andy. Again.

Andy sat on the couch, running his hands through his hair. Tired, upset, confused. There were too many different emotions running through him, it was starting to become overwhelming.

You decided to clean up the mess before leaving.

“Y-you dont have to do that.” He said, gazing at you.

“It’s okay. It’s the least I could do since you fed me the past two days.” You chuckled.

He chuckled along with you, and helped with the dishes. Not another word but glances were shared.

And every time you looked at him, the more you yearned to feel him. But you knew you shouldn’t.

He leaned against the counter once everything had been cleaned. His arms crossed over his chest.

There had only been one constant thing roaming through his mind; He can't be having feelings for another woman. He just can't.

But no matter how hard he tries to push his feelings aside, he couldnt. It wasn’t making any sense. Why couldn’t he shake this? Why couldn’t he let this go?

Before he had time to process anything, something overcame him and suddenly it all came out like word vomit.

“These past few weeks have been shit.” He said, staring at his feet. “And I have been losing my mind over everything that’s been going on until—“

Andy paused, meeting your gaze. “You showed up out of nowhere and—I don’t know.”

You weren’t sure what to do or say but stand there.

“It’s like I’ve been drowning, and kissing you—kissing you was like coming up for fresh air. I was able to breathe again.”

Every word that fell from his lips only made you want him more. Not only physically, not just feeling him or tasting him, you wanted him. All of him.

And he wanted you.

How did this even happen? You hadn’t seen each other in years and after a day, it was instant. Like it had come out of a movie.

He slowly started towards you, and the way he locked his gaze on you, it was almost as if he hungered for you.

Your breath hitched to the back of your throat, scared to move a single muscle.

“Just tell me to stop, and I’ll let this go.” His voice was low, almost like a growl and it only made you want him more.

Without realizing, he stood just inches in front of you, towering over you. Forcing you to crank your neck up so you could gaze into him.

You slightly opened your mouth, knowing you should say no, but no words came out.

The silence was all he needed, and suddenly, his rough hands cupped the back of your head and crashed his lips against yours.

Everything felt still like time had froze. And you were lost in the moment. Lost in his kiss, quickly motioning back and caving into him.

Soft grunts escaped him as he deepened this kiss, while his hands slid down to your waist. Without thinking, he lifted you off the ground, and your legs wrapped around him.

Andy could feel himself grow harder by the second. Yearning to feel more of you. All of you.

Your fingers were deep in His hair as your lips molded against his. You were both so caught up in each other, taking every second in.

He sat you on the counter, and swiftly took off his shirt, exposing his bare chest.

Your fingers traced over him, making its way down to the button of his jeans.

Feeling you getting closer to his already hard shaft, made him shiver under your touch. And damn, he wanted you.

His lips never left yours, sucking, biting and tugging at your bottom lip, forcing soft moans out of you.

The kiss had been everything you ever dreamt of. Possibly even better.

You were so drenched, you knew your panties had been soaked completely. But you could care less.

You could feel yourself pulsate between your legs where he stood. Your body yearned to feel him. To feel all of him, inside of you.

Andy could sense just how badly you wanted him. It turned him on even more, ready to give in and pound into you. He kissed you harder, showing you that he wanted you just as badly.

Everything moved so quickly, you almost didn’t realize you were both unbuttoning your shirt and with your next breath, Andy pulled the shirt off of you.

You were both lost in each other. Lost in the moment, caving into one another.

His lips began traveling down to your neck. His grazed his tongue over your skin just before he his teeth pressed into you and forced another moan out of you.

He loved hearing you. It made his dick twitch under his boxers, begging to be inside of you.

Until...

“Dad, can you bring up a glass of water for me?” Jacob asked, leaning over the railing of the stairs.

“Y-Yeah buddy. I’ll be right there.” He called out.

Andy swallowed hard as he grabbed his shirt from the floor, while you both breathed heavily.

You mirrored his actions and slipped your shirt back on. Feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

This was wrong on so many levels. You were slowly falling for a guy who was older than you and worst of all, married.

“I’m so sorry, this was a mistake.” You said, starting for the front door.

Andy was torn, knowing he should’ve never crossed the line, but it was too late. There was no turning back now. And though it wasn’t right, he didn’t want to go back.

And for that, he hated himself even more.

“Y/N wait, please.”

Tears began to well in your eyes, as a lump formed in your throat. This felt worse than a break up. Worse than anything you had been through which you weren’t sure as to why.

“We can’t do this Andy, you’re married.” You forced out. “Laurie is literally upstairs.”

He had forgotten that she was in the room. Being with you, was like having tunnel vision and all he could focus on was you.

“Fuck.” He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell am I doing?”

The tears had stained your cheeks and in that moment, you were broken.

“This was a mistake.” You repeated. “You’re just hurt and confused, this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have—“

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.” He cut you off. “This is bad timing, I know. But I’m not confused.”

You wanted nothing more than to believe him. But how could you with all things considered?

“Dammit.” You whispered to yourself. “I can’t do this.”

With that, you grabbed your bag and left without saying goodbye.

Andy knew letting himself feel this way to begin with was wrong. But why did it feel so good? Kissing you, holding you, feeling you pressed against him.

Being with you, he could finally breathe. It was like coming up for air.

——

Chapter Three sneak peek

Chapter Three

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

The Victor - Hunger Games AU

Ok so I’ve been thinking about how Tubbo and Tommy could both live in the Hunger Games AU since they’re around the same age, which inspired this. Also, we have Dadschlatt here with Phil has Tommy’s assigned mentor who grew close with Tubbo over the course of the game, and Wilbur is Tubbo’s assigned mentor.

Please tell me what you think!!!

——————————–

As the sun began to rise in the sky, silence and momentary peace passed throughout the arena. A cannon could be heard in the distance as Tommy pulled the trident out of the sLumped over tribute’s body - a career that had wanted to kill the two boys more than anything in the entire world, but because he got reckless he was quickly taken down and disposed of. Now, it was just the two of them. The last two tributes left alive. Tommy walked over toward Tubbo with a warm smile, huffing a bit as he tried to get his breath back from the fight. “I told you we’d make it to the end, Tubs.”

  “Heh. Never doubted you for a second, Tommy.” The two teens sat down on the grass, sweaty, tired, but alive. Tubbo knew this moment was coming, he dreaded it. “You know what happens next, yeah?” Tubbo thickly swallowed as he watched the cameras zip by above the two, filming them. “They need a victor.”

  “Yeah, Yeah I suppose they do,” Tommy said, looking at his bloodied trident in his hands. He bit his lip. “Look, Tubbo-”

  “You’ll be a great victor, Tommy.” Tubbo interrupted, trying his best to hide the tears in his eyes. “A great mentor, too. You’re charismatic, an amazing fighter - you’re the underdog they’ve been rooting for this entire time.”

  “What…? Tubbo, no-”

  “Please, Tommy.” Tubbo looked over to his friend with a sad, frustrated sigh. “I haven’t done anything - I’ve just been by your side, you’re the one who protected us, you’re the one who brought us this far. I’d be dead at the start if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Tubbo, that’s not true, don’t say that-” Tommy seemed breathless, panicked as Tubbo gently picked up Tommy’s trident welding hand as he moved the points toward his stomach. Tommy’s eyes filled with tears as his throat closed up. “No, no no no…”

  “Hey,” Tubbo cupped his best friend’s cheek with his other hand. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

  “No, no it isn’t…” Tommy’s body shook as tears began to slip down his cheeks. “Not you. Anyone but you. Please, just let me…” Tommy tried to move the trident toward himself but Tubbo stopped his hand quickly. 

  “No,” Tubbo said. “Tommy you know you’ve been the real Victor all along, you’ve saved my ass more times than I can count, I don’t think I would have made it this far without you. Now, let me save you for once, okay?”

  “Tubbo, I…” Tommy didn’t know what to say, his eyes swimming with tears.

  “It’ll be over in a second, don’t worry. Just close your eyes and you’ll be on Victor’s Row in no time.” Tubbo smiled, wiping away Tommy’s tears. “Make sure Schlatt stays away from the vodka, tell Wilbur I said thank you for everything he’s taught me, give Phil a hug for me…” Tubbo said, leaning in to press his forehead together with Tommy’s. “Don’t forget to live, Tommy. Live an amazing life, okay? I want to hear all about it one day.”

  “Tubbo, I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Just close your eyes, Tommy,” Tubbo said, reassuring him as he leaned in to hug his best friend for the last time, the trident going through his stomach and out his back. His breath hitched in pain as his body went slack. Tears swam in Tommy’s vision as he slowly moved his best friend’s body off of him, taking the trident out.

  “The flowers are so pretty. I wish we had some like these in District 3.” Tubbo smiled, looking over the purple and blue flower in his hand. “Dad’s always so busy with work we never really got to go outside much. He’s always either tired or drinking, you know.”

  Tommy maneuvered to carry Tubbo’s body in his arms as he walked toward’s the flower field, laying Tubbo’s body with the flowers. Tears streamed down Tommy’s eyes as he embraced Tubbo one last time, his fingers found their way in his dirty blonde hair, his best friend’s body warmth slowly fading away. He could hear the announcer in the distance, anger bubbling his stomach at the cheer in his voice.

  “Now announcing the winner of the 95th Hunger Games from District 7-!”

  Tommy glared at the cameras as he took out his combat knife. Those bastards made them have to choose, they made it this way so they could laugh and point and play their little game. Well, Tommy was done playing games. He pointed his combat knife to the sky. 

  No. They didn’t get to have their little sob story.

  “Fuck you, Gamemaker!”

  The announcer went silent as Tommy stabbed himself through the chest, pain blossoming around him and making him so dizzy he fell next to Tubbo in the flower field, his vision swimming, fading in and out. He could hear people, soldiers rushing into the area and he closed his eyes, tired. The last thing he heard was the announcer.

  “Now announcing the two winners of the 95th Hunger Games from Districts 3 and 7, Tommy Innit and Tubbo Ram!”

[jinned]

home run | ksj + jjk

snippet: as seokjin’s career nears its peak, he comes face to face with his greatest rival yet: the un-strikeable jeon jungkook. seokjin is close to being the first person to strike out this up and comer newbie, until he’s distracted by one of the stadium’s cotton candy selling girls. who will she leave with?

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader, jeon jungkook x female reader

genre: action, fluff, slight crack, angst if you squint

au: baseball player seokjin and jungkook, stadium worker reader

rating: pg13

word count: 3.5k

warnings: light swearing, seokjin and jungkook battle it out for y/n’s attention, jungkook is an ass

a/n: this is for my lovely friend @jinterlude​!! happy birthday kim! i hope you had the best day. sorry this is a day late :( these banners were made by the lovely @kimtaehyunq​ who’s skills never cease to amaze me. thank you so much for collaborating with me on this! and the biggest thanks to my beta @parksfilter​ for always encouraging me and constantly helping me improve

It's the bottom of the fifth inning and Seokjin cannot wait for the day to be over. It's hot, more so than ever before and it feels like he has to wipe the sweat off his forehead every twenty seconds or so. Soon enough, he won't be able to see where he's pitching.

Spitting out a buffalo flavored sunflower seed to his right, he re-positions his hat, nearly taking over his eyebrows. It can't possibly go any lower and he's wasting valuable time.

The catcher has been throwing out basic plays that Seokjin has seen a million times. The kid knows he can't throw a decent knuckleball anymore. His specialty has switched to a ninety-seven mile-per-hour fastball. At least, that’s how fast it was three years ago.

The mitt smells sour against his nose as he finally nods his head. The pitcher, Park Jimin, readies himself.

Deep breath, the roar of the crowd stills into a faint white noise as he lowers the mitt and the ball to his chest. As a pitcher, it's important to have a signature move. Some have claimed his technique is too predictable; but those who comment, aren't the ones on the field.

Seokjin rocks back his left shoulder, his right rolling up towards his ear before making a rowing motion with the mitt and ball back to the right, the ball in his left hand leaving the comforts of the mitt. Left knee kicking up in front of his body, Seokjin releases his breath and winds up, the last of his energy exploding as the ball leaves his hand and spirals down towards home.

"STEEEEERIKE THREE! YOOOOU’RE OUT!"

Stomping feet of the fans in the stadium and the inspiring roars of his teammates from the dugout fills Seokjin's ears all at once. When he was first starting out in his career it would make him jump. Now, the noise is comforting. It's hard to concentrate without it.

Two down. One to go.

The next player that approaches the plate is someone Seokjin has been excited to compete against. With stats higher than any fresh new recruit the league has ever seen, Jeon Jungkook is a force to be reckoned with. It’s midseason. Jungkook has never struck out.

The breeze picks up as Seokjin uses his mitt to discreetly pop in some more sunflower seeds into his mouth, concentrating hard on Jungkook's broad, wide stance. The kid is glaring right at Seokjin, as if begging for him to do his worst.

Rolling his shoulder a couple of times, Seokjin tries to ignore the growing ache inside his joint. It helps to see that Park has a newfound fire in his eyes, his first-hand signal is one Seokjin hasn’t seen in a very long time.

“Let’s take this newbie back, old school style.” Seokjin chuckles to himself, his mitt covering his mouth as he gives a short nod to Park.

The ritual restarts.

“STEEEEERIKE ONE!” The umpire hollers. The crowd screams as the tension builds in the stadium. Jungkook has had strikes before, so Seokjin isn’t phased by the hype of the crowd. Unless, he smiles, they think that he will be the pitcher to knock the kid down a few pedestals. Jungkook did have a delayed swing reaction for that first pitch.

Park quickly tosses a new ball to Seokjin.

Wasting no time, Seokjin winds up again, this time with a little more gusto and confidence laced in his fingertips.

"STEEEEEERIKE TWO"

Pride swells quickly in Seokjin's chest, how could it not? Jungkook grimaces, stepping back from the plate and hitting the end of his bat against his cleats. This time, he swung too early. Seokjin watches as the batter rolls his neck, shaking his upper body before comically bouncing up and down. Stepping back up to the plate, Jungkook sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek and narrows his eyes at Seokjin.

Another ball is tossed to Seokjin who catches it casually and without much effort.

The sun feels warm at the nape of Seokjin's neck and on his forearms. There's barely any clouds in the sky yet a slight breeze wafts throughout the stadium. It's the perfect weather for a game. It's the perfect weather to win a game.

And, for the final time, Seokjin winds up to pitch. Every muscle in his body feels relaxed as he eyes his target: the center of Park's mitt.

Right as Seokjin is about to release the ball from his hand, there's a yell in the crowd.

"COTTON CANDY! GET YA COTTON CANDY HERE! FIVE SMACK-A-ROONIES! COTTON CANDY!"

For just a moment, Seokjin looks to where the noise is coming from. A girl is waving around blue and pink bags of cotton candy above her head. By the drastic movement of her jaw, Seokjin guesses she's chewing a big wad of gum. She tosses a pink bag towards a man in the middle of a row and collects the money promptly.

And then, she turns towards the field.

It feels like time stills as Seokjin notices just how beautiful she is. With long hair swooped up in a messy bun, held captive by a home team baseball cap, the craziness of all the wisps floating with the breeze somehow makes the features of her face stand out even more.

She's absolutely beautiful.

He feels it– the quiver throughout his body making him lose his focus. The baseball leaves Seokjin's fingertips all too soon as that quiver offsets the direction of the pitch. Jungkook watches the ball confused as it thumps against the green tarp just about five feet to the left of home base.

Silence.

"Raaah!" Seokjin yells and kicks at the mound, coughing instantly as the dirt rises up to his mouth. Everyone in the area is confused as to what just happened. Seokjin has thrown walks before, but nothing even close to this drastically bad.

Then suddenly, Park calls for a timeout and runs up to the mound to meet Seokjin.

"Dude, Kim, what the hell just happened?" His voice sounds muffled behind his catching mitt.

Words escape Seokjin, but his mouth moves anyways. Inaudible sounds manage to sneak out and Park stares at him with a concerned look in his face before waving one of their coaches over.

Mitt in front of his face, the coach tries to find his words before blurting, "What's going on? I've never seen a pitch that bad since we tried you out for pitcher." The coach laughs as he bumps shoulders with Park who only grimaces back.

"I don't know, Coach, I think he's having a stroke or something." Concerned, Park sticks out a finger and aims to poke at Seokjin's nose.

Seokjin shakes his head and grabs Park's finger, pushing him away.

The coach follows Seokjin's line of sight and immediately smacks the pitcher on his non-throwing arm. "A girl? You have got to be shitting me right now. You are not being paid to ogle at stadium workers!"

Seokjin barely feels the smack. He's too busy looking at the girl juggling massive bags of cotton candy like a professional. There's a wave of grace as she rolls a pink bag of fluff down one arm and into her hand, only to flick it towards a customer seconds later. Fascinated, Seokjin has never seen anything quite like it. Strands of hair from her bun are coming undone, the wind slowly untangling the strands with each gentle push.

Finally, she turns towards the field again.

She's wearing his team's baseball cap.

She doesn't stay facing them long, yelling about cotton candy left and right, customers eagerly trying to get her attention. As she spins around, Seokjin feels like fainting seeing his name painting in bold letters on the back of her baseball jersey, his lucky number 12 also printed largely on the back.

The air suddenly feels stiff and musky. Seokjin feels sweatier than before and can't seem to focus on the words his coach and teammates are saying to him.

"AYO, KIM!"

Seokjin shakes his head and turns his attention back towards home base, instantly annoyed at the sight of the batter, Jungkook. The newbie has his shiny oak bat resting on his shoulders, one hip casually jutting out, looking bored as ever. Seokjin can see from the mound how flat Jungkook's eyes look as the younger man smacks his bubblegum.

"We gonna play some ball or something?" Jungkook waves a hand up in an annoyed fashion.

Clenching his jaw, Seokjin nods his head, prompting Park and the coach to head back to their spots.

Two strikes. One ball. It's an easy out at this point. Seokjin has the rage fueling him and he always throws faster and harder when there's something to target.

Stealing one last glance, Seokjin sees the cotton candy girl leaning against the metal banister upfront and close to the field. She's focusing hard on Seokjin with an intensity he has never seen before. It's clear she's looking at him, but she doesn't see him.

Gulping down a lump of nerves, the angry fire that was bubbling within quickly became dormant.

Wind up. Breathe.

Release.

Jungkook swings, catching the baseball with the tip of the bat. Instead of going forward, the ball spirals behind him. A perfect foul.

Two balls, two strikes.

When it comes down to the wire like this, Seokjin feels his strongest. And the intensity coming from Jungkook only reminds Seokjin of how it used to be when he was first starting out in the league: exhilarating, adrenalizing, a never-ending hunger. Seokjin sees that same drive in the batter in front of him. It’s rejuvenating to see that raw emotion can still exist in the newcomers. 

Hopefully, for the final time, Seokjin winds up and prepares to strike out Jeon Jungkook’s ego for good.

It couldn’t have been a more perfect pitch. The baseball leaves Seokjin’s fingers tingling with the sheer force of the throw. When his leg kicks up from the momentum of the throw, Seokjin can feel the speed of the ball as it barrels in a perfect line towards Park’s mitt.

So, imagine Seokjin’s anger and confusion when the ball sinks into the catcher’s mitt and the umpire is dead silent.

Uproars from the home team fans go crazy with insults as replay after replay shows on the jumbo screens. 

“Timeout! Timeout!” The coach of Seokjin’s team yells furiously as he runs onto the field. The coach grabs Seokjin by the arm and drags him to the dugout, quickly thrusting a water bottle into Seokjin’s hands and puts an icepack on his shoulder.

“Fucking umpires I swear they’re out to protect this Jeon’s reputation. That was a strike if I’ve ever seen one! A textbook strike!” The coach continues to grumble as he applies more pressure to Seokjin’s shoulder.

The cold does feel great against his joints, but sitting inside the dugout does not feel ideal. So, wordlessly, Seokjin waves his coach off, takes the water bottle and steps back onto the field.

The sips of ice-cold water feel more refreshing than he was expecting as his eyes gaze around the field, casually trying to find the girl from earlier.

Unknowingly, Seokjin walks closer to home base before finding the cotton candy girl just a few rows away. She looks beautiful as she smiles at the customers, the pinks and blues of the cotton candy bringing out the blush in her face and the sparkle in her eyes. Seokjin leans against the padded wall, reaching into his pocket to pop a few more sunflower seeds into his mouth.

Following Seokjin's glance, Jungkook scoffs and turns back to him. "Really? The cotton candy girl? Buddy, friend, you do realize what kind of people we are right? We have million-dollar contracts. She makes minimum wage. Those classes don't mix."

Seokjin has never been more grateful and proud of his own self-control. If he were any other place, he would have socked Jungkook right in the jaw with as much might as humanly possible. Preferably right in the spot where the edge of his smile forms a lined dimple. Instead, he spits out the sunflower seed shells as close to Jungkook as he can without it being called unfair sportsmanship.

"Despite the class difference, I guess she is kind of cute," the younger boy continues, "I wonder if she's ever dated a baseball player before." There's something hidden behind that seemingly harmless statement and Seokjin has a weird feeling, enough to make the hair stand on the back of his neck.

Wordlessly, Seokjin looks back and forth between the cotton candy girl and Jungkook.

"What's it gonna be, old man? Do you really think she would pick you over me?" The kid laughs and adjusts his helmet to fit over his ear better, squaring up to bat and locking gazes with the pitcher. Unspoken words thrash across the field between the two players and Seokjin can't decide if he wants to call the rookie's bluff or not.

Actions speak louder than words, Seokjin tells himself and casually throws the ball into his mitt a couple of times, finding a rhythm that feels right.

Quiet.

The ball is no longer in Seokjin's hands.

It's like he blinked and didn't even feel his body move. But Park has left his crouched position and is picking up the baseball on the far, far right side of home plate.

Heavy groans arise from the sea of fans, growing louder and louder as their doubt in Seokjin sets in more permanently. There’s a faint sting in his wrist that makes him want to shake it vigorously. That wouldn’t go unnoticed by the coach, though. 

Looking at the sky, Seokjin immediately notices a change in the weather. The sky has now filled with dark purplish clouds. At first, it seems that the universe is mocking him, telling him that his wonder years have officially come to an end. But then, a flash of white lights up the sky, and Seokjin’s melancholy attitude fills with annoyance.

“God dammit!” 

Maybe it was a one time strike. Maybe no one else saw it. If there’s lightning they will cancel the game. And that means he won’t be able to see the look on Jungkook’s face once he strikes him out.

For a few moments, nothing happens and it seems like the perfect chance for Seokjin to wind up again. As quickly as the thought came to mind, another streak of lightning hits the sky, this time, more noticeable than the first. To make matters worse, Seokjin is hit in the forehead with a juicy raindrop, the contents sliding down his nose and across his cheek.

“Everyone, due to unforeseen weather, we will have to postpone the rest of this game. Please evacuate safely to your vehicles. Updated game information can be found on our website-”

Shaking his head, Seokjin walks off the mound and heads towards the locker rooms. 

Up ahead, he sees Jungkook leaning against the wall with one elbow, his other hand placed on his hip. There’s a look in his eyes that makes Seokjin look where the rookie is looking. Devastation hits when Seokjin sees that Jungkook is flirting with the cotton candy girl.

Jogging over, Seokjin can feel the rain increase in intensity.

“This lighting is way too dangerous, babe. Why don’t you and I get out of here? I’ll keep you safe.”

Seokjin wants to gag at Jungkook’s words. The younger generation just has no problem being so blunt these days.

“Have a little class, rookie,” Seokjin grits his teeth before turning to the cotton candy girl, “I can walk you to your car. You’d probably be safer with the lightning than with this guy.”

“Says the old geezer,” Jungkook laughs, “she’d be walking you to your car if anything!”

Tired of the old man jokes, Seokjin can’t help but pout his lower lip forward as he says, “I’m only a few years older than you, you know. Just because I’ve been in the game longer than you’ve held a baseball means nothing.”

Taking his elbow off the wall, Jungkook faces Seokjin fully, setting his shoulders back as he sizes up his opponent.

“You’re just mad that I got to Y/n before you did. Yeah, that’s right,” Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest and takes a few more steps towards Seokjin with a newfound smugness on his face, “I learned her name before you could even guess it.”

“Oh, yeah? If you think you’re so in, then why is she wearing a jersey with my name and number on it?”

The next fifteen minutes are a blur of insults and jabs between Seokjin and Jungkook, the cotton candy girl long forgotten. Seokjin has never been in a fight with someone like this before, and he’s kind of worried about if Jungkook is the type to get physical or not. Seokjin definitely can’t afford to injure his shoulder more than he already has throughout the years in the game. Even just bruising his knuckles would throw him out for the rest of the season. 

Their voices increase with the sound of the thunder.

“You two!” Seokjin’s coach yells from the other side of the field. “Quitcha arguing and get to safety! I’ll be damned if my best pitcher gets electrocuted on the field!”

Smugly, Seokjin turns to Jungkook, raising an eyebrow as he soaks in the unintentional praise from one of the world’s best coaches. Success hits when Jungkook furrows his brow, his mouth tightening with frustration.

Victory won in his own mind, Seokjin turns to say something to the cotton candy girl, only to find that she’s long gone.

Jungkook is also looking around him, annoyance evident on his face as his tongue pokes the insides of his cheek, his jaw muscles setting a little stronger than usual.

“You…” Jungkook growls and swiftly reaches for Seokjin’s jersey, fisting the material tightly as the younger player tries to find the right words to express his anger. Defensively, Seokjin grabs at Jungkook’s biceps, trying his best to hold him at bay. He really doesn’t want to fight in the middle of a lightning storm over a girl who isn’t even around to witness the outcome.

As more players are leaving the field, making jokes at the two guys about to pummel each other, Jungkook loosens his grip, his gaze focused on the other side of the field.

Seokjin barely sees you walking away from the field, walking with someone else beside you.

Jungkook still holds onto the front of Seokjin's jersey, but Seokjin has since dropped his arms to his sides as he sees one of his own outfielders reach for the cotton candy girl's hand, lifting it, and pressing a soft kiss to her skin.

"She's...laughing..." Seokjin pouts, his shoulders drooping slightly. Another crack of thunder booms lightly in the distance, closer than the previous one.

Jungkook finally turns around, promptly releasing Seokjin from his grasp. "Damn," he mutters as watches.

"You guys didn't know?" Laughs one of Seokjin's teammates. "They're engaged, bro. Have been for a couple of months now." He pats Seokjin and Jungkook on the back simultaneously before walking off, not even turning as he waves his hand goodbye.

Disbelief and embarrassment overwhelm Seokjin all at once as he watches you leave towards the stadium doors with Jung. Before this point, Seokjin had barely paid any attention to the outfielder. His skills were average at best, his batting stats about the same, he wasn’t great enough to be a fan favorite, but also not bad enough to be the outrage of the fans and team. And it just doesn’t make sense how someone as average as Jung Hoseok could find love and not himself.

“Now you guys can walk each other to your cars! Be safe!” She yells and winks.

“Maybe she’s allergic to greatness,” Jungkook tuts, shaking his head before adjusting his hat. His hair is greasy from sweat, curling at the ends. 

Wordlessly, Seokjin begins to walk towards the locker rooms, Jungkook following close behind. The first few trickles of rain glide down the nape of Seokjin’s neck, leaving him feeling chilled and uncomfortable. Something about what Jungkook said keeps playing over and over again in his mind. And the more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets.

“If she’s happy, let her be happy. Maybe he’s great in her eyes.”

Jungkook scoffs and laughs, barely stopping before he continues towards the locker room.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, old man. Just know the next game, I won’t be going easy on you. And there sure as hell won’t be any lightning to stop me.” He turns to flash a toothy grin at Seokjin, who can’t help but laugh in return. There’s a fire in the kid's eyes, one that Seokjin remembers he himself had when he first started out.

It’s too bad he’s on a rival team, Seokjin thought. Imagine the chaos the two of them could have created if they were on the same team.

“Until next time! You better bring it!”

“Only if that’s a promise!”

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

© all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, translate, or repost. Jinned 09/08/20

[retrievablememories]

moonlight | jaehyun (m)

title: moonlight pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: smut request: “Hi 😘 Nct members going to a strip club and jaehyun getting a private dance that turns into fucking scenario please? Can be smutty” word count: 3.2k warnings: sex work, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, riding a/n: I admittedly don’t know much about strip clubs at my big age of 23 💀 I researched what I could but took some creative liberties. I only included a handful of nct members here since that is a looot of men lol 

“Don’t look now, but your pretty boy and his group of friends are back. Diane says their car is outside,” Anya says, walking into the dressing room where the rest of the girls are. Your interest is piqued at this, though you pretend not to hear her as you finish applying your makeup. Serena isn’t so quick to let you off the hook.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend? Your little boy toy?” Serena asks, leaning closer and batting her eyelashes at you.

You pause with the mascara wand in your hand. “What boyfriend?” you scoff, though you already know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Girl, stop pretending like you’re not into him or some shit. You look at him almost as much as he stares at you!” Anya rolls her eyes and puts her hand on her hip, looking every bit of an Amazon in her 6-inch heels.

“He’s yet to request a private dance, so…I’m not sweatin’ over him. And anyway, he’s no boyfriend of mine if he ain’t paying the bills.”

“Okay, I heard that one!” Both Serena and Anya laugh at your comment. But now that you know he’s here, you are suddenly a little more motivated to dance well tonight. Not that you don’t already, but a little extra never hurt anyone.

Him and his idol friends come around to Moonlight every so often, one weekend or so a month, to get their rocks off. They’re from that kpop group NCT, and you’ve figured out the one who stares is Jaehyun. But you don’t know a ton about them other than those bare facts.

With Moonlight being one of a few ultra-diverse strip clubs in Seoul, it rose to popularity fairly quickly after its establishment. And to no one’s surprise — no one who truly knows the game, anyway — there are always a lot of kpop idols who come to watch the dancers. Their fans would undoubtedly be scandalized if they knew, but hey, that ain’t your problem. You’re here to make money, have fun, and seduce starry-eyed, lonely men. If they’re attractive, that’s only a bonus.

The House Mother, Daya, comes to stand in the doorway and calls your name. “You’re up next girl, so move that ass!”

“I’m coming,” you sigh dramatically, but there are no hard feelings at all. She’s one of the nicer club owners in this part of the city, one who treats all the girls like equals no matter what their skin color or creed is. And when you work in a club as popular and as multicultural as Moonlight, you need someone there to keep the drama to a minimum.

--

The club is as dim as ever, but the stage lights remain at a low shine, ready to come on full blast once the next dancer appears. The music thumps so heavily that the bass seems to become one with the building, making every part of the club feel alive with energy. A group of 5 men enter, weaving their way through the seats to make it to their usual spot next to the stage.

“Wow, can’t believe we’re actually in a strip club right now, haha…” Mark tries to play it cool, but he’s not very good at hiding his nervousness. This is only his first strip club outing with the other boys, after all. He taps his fingers on his legs like he’s playing the drums.

“Yeah, could’ve sworn we were on Mars instead,” Doyoung says, and the others laugh while Mark rolls his eyes.

Mark isn’t the only one whose nerves are getting to him, though. Johnny notices Jaehyun’s restless demeanor as the rest of them settle in, and he muffles a laugh, nudging the younger man. “God, I hope that one dancer you like is here tonight, you look like you’re about to come out of your clothes.”

“She’s way out of your league,” Ten snickers.

“Stop acting like I’m ugly. I could get her any time,” Jaehyun argues, glaring at the other man.

“She’s a woman of her own, not something you can take as you please, Jaehyun!” Johnny says, and both Ten and Jaehyun laugh.

“Johnny, you should keep an eye out for your own crush.” Doyoung gives him a knowing look, and he only laughs sheepishly in response.

It isn’t long before you appear on the stage, the club bursting with cheers and claps and the dual spotlights flickering to full illumination. The spotlights glisten on your skin and reflect off the light pink lingerie set you’re wearing, making you look akin to a goddess—at least in Jaehyun’s eyes. You step out from behind the velvety curtains, letting the fabric caress your body before making your way towards the pole in the middle of the stage.

Your signature song plays as you twist yourself around the pole and perform your favorite tricks, letting yourself be hyped up and carried away by the people around you calling your stage name and throwing bills at your feet. The world spins as you do, revolving around the pole with your legs touching the sky. You grin at the upside-down faces staring back at you, leaving your charm to do all the talking.

You finish your pole routine by slowly sliding down to the base of it and landing carefully in a split. Your back is facing the NCT boys, though you look over your shoulder to flash a sultry look at the audience. This one is always a crowd-pleaser—though you also use this move as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s expression. You aren’t disappointed by the hunger written across his gaze.

You gracefully turn your body to them, getting on your hands and knees so they have a full view of your chest. As you crawl closer to the end of the stage, Jaheyun’s figure grows clearer underneath the club’s simultaneously dark and light atmosphere. He’s close enough to reach out and touch. 

So you do—bringing your legs out in front of you and spreading them in an appealing stretch before resting them on his shoulders, one after the other. Other men in the club seethe with envy. Jaehyun himself is stuck like a fish out of water, blushing madly but also completely into your display.

Beside him, Doyoung whoops and Johnny whistles. You lift your legs off of Jaehyun gracefully and follow the move by letting your silk robe slip off your shoulders, fully exposing the bare skin of your shoulders and back. Even this is enough to get the men riled up again, and you revel in their cheers.

Jaehyun knows enough strip club etiquette than to try to touch you, and you take advantage of this by gliding off the stage and circling him like he’s your prey. You purposely brush your silk robe over his body, letting it cocoon him in your scent. His fingers drift across it, and he wonders if it could possibly be as soft as your skin looks—or maybe you’re even softer.

Before he can truly get into it, you’ve flitted off to another nearby table of men, taking your silk with you.

“Holy fuck,” Mark looks like a deer in the headlights, and his legs are crossed uncomfortably to hide his obvious boner. 

“The baby’s gonna implode!” Ten laughs.

“Well hold it, because the night is just beginning!” Doyoung shouts.

Jaehyun’s eyes keep coming over to you even as you rotate to one of the other, smaller platforms in the club, another girl taking your spot on the main stage.

--

“You really put it on him tonight, huh?” Serena says, putting her arm around your shoulders. “He’s totally in love. Watch him come to the next show with an engagement ring.” You chuckle at that idea. You find it strangely endearing. You wouldn’t marry him without knowing him, of course, but the idea of having him that tightly wrapped around your finger makes you grin.

You don’t have long to think about it before Daya is coming to break up your kiking fest.

“You’ve got a request for a private dance from one Jaehyun. Sound familiar?” Daya announces. Serena nudges you, and you nod. Daya raises her eyebrows. “You up for it?”

The corners of your lips curl up in a smile. “Give me 5 to freshen up.”

--

Moonlight holds a dozen or so rooms within its second story, all solely reserved for private dances. You climb the stairs slowly in your heels, partly because you don’t want to trip and partly because you’re slightly nervous about what to expect. There’s an abundance of security guards stationed on this level—and each room has an emergency button—so you’re not worried about safety, per se. Whoever this Jaehyun guy really is, you hope he can meet a few of your expectations, at least. Maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but you’ve built him up in your mind more than you’ve allowed yourself with other club-goers.

The room number is 202. You stand in front of the door for a few moments to take several deep breaths. Then you relax your body, talking yourself back into your Performance mode, and open the door.

“Who’s this handsome man?” Jaehyun looks up to see you standing in the doorway, still wearing your outfit from the stage. He sits up on the plush black couch that stands out from the blazing purple hue of the rest of the room. A row of mirrors frames the wall behind the couch, reflecting your own figure back to you. He looks a bit disheveled, with his shirt unbuttoned and his slacks crooked, but it’s a good look for him.

He leans forward to drink in your body, his eyes drifting up from the garters resting against your thighs to the lacy bra covering your breasts, and you smile underneath his gaze. “Jaehyun. And you’re ______...right?”

“Of course. You should know me by now, special boy,” you tease, sauntering over to him to sit on the couch beside him, instead of his lap like he expected. Still, you hover incredibly close to him, your hand sliding against his lapels and stroking the fabric of his button-up right where it unfolds against his skin. “After all, you’ve stared enough.”

“It’s hard not to.” Jaehyun rakes his eyes across your body as if he’s dying to touch it. You smirk and stand up again, sliding off your silk robe and throwing it to him as you wind your body to the music coming from the room’s speakers.

“What would your girlfriend say?” you tease.

His eyes widen at that. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Don’t act so scandalized about it...men with girlfriends and wives come here all the time. It’s shitty...but it’s life.” You say this while twisting your hips in his face, and he initially seems a little too distracted to realize you’ve said anything. Then it registers.

“That’s....do you like this j-job, at least?” Jaehyun’s breath hitches at the end of his sentence when you drape yourself across his body, your head resting back on his shoulder and your ass pressing against the undeniable bulge in his pants. Still, he doesn’t touch you, which you are grateful for—many other men haven’t been so tactful during private dances—so you continue servicing him without a care in the world.

“It’s fun, and I get to meet handsome men like you.” Your fingers ghost across his jawline, drifting only inches away but not making contact. “There’s a lot to like about it.”

You move away and he thinks you mean to get up, but you only turn to face him. “You can touch me now, if you’d like. I think you’ve been a good boy…”

You grind in Jaehyun’s lap and are delighted when he responds in kind, pushing his hips up to meet yours. Your faces are inches apart. You are practically breathing in sync, smiling like there’s a secret only the two of you know.

You make the first move by kissing him, and he slants his mouth against yours as if your lips have always belonged together.

You grasp Jaehyun’s hand and lead it to your hip, and he takes the cue to rest both of his hands on your waist, simply following your directions.

He does take the lead with the kiss, though, biting your lip as you gently pull away, and tugging you back in. He tastes like alcohol, and as cliché as it is, it makes you feel a bit drunk—but that might also be due to his demeanor itself.

“How long have you wanted this?” you ask, sliding your hand into his black shirt and drawing your nails across his skin—not painfully hard, but enough to make him throb under you.

“Maybe too long,” he says. “You’re very beautiful.”

You smile. “Aren’t we a perfect match, then?” Your hand slides lower, to his abdomen and the muscles you can feel even under his dress shirt, and then to his belt. “Would you like to continue?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

You unbuckle his belt, sliding the leather through his belt loops and dropping it off to the side somewhere. You slide yourself off his lap to kneel in front of him as you caress his lower half, rubbing your hands up his thighs and across his bulge, underneath his clothing to feel his abs, and then back again. 

Unzipping his dress pants is equally fun. You watch him sweat and feel him shudder as you drag the zipper down with your teeth. You pull his underwear down after, slowly drawing the material over his skin on purpose. His cock springs out, hard and thick and flushed with need, and you lean forward to drag your mouth over it, base to tip.

Jaehyun is heavy and warm against your lips and he smells good, like male musk, like pheromones and desire. You hold the base as you slap his dick on your tongue and he rolls his head back, making a sound between a groan and a laugh as if he can’t believe this is happening.

He doesn’t want to rush or hurt you, so he lets you do the work of sliding him into your mouth as far as you can take, drooling over his dick and sucking him so messily that it makes his knees quiver. The groans and grunts you pull out of him are lovely to hear—you feel good to know that you can bring him this much pleasure so easily. His precum drips into your mouth, salty on your tastebuds.

Jaehyun is pliable in your hands as you stroke his shaft, focusing your tongue on his leaking tip. You feel his thumb brushing the back of your neck, his hand settling on your nape as he watches you suck his dick. He curses under his breath when you scrape your teeth against him very gently, giving just enough pressure to make it feel good.

Soon, you feel Jaehyun nearing in your mouth, his cock throbbing harder and his thighs trembling around you.

“I-I want to fuck you,” Jaehyun says abruptly. You pull back to look at him through your eyelashes. You leave a trail of spit lingering between your lips and his dick, and he looks like he might come right then.

“Such a greedy boy.” You lift yourself to be level with his eyes, tilting his chin with your fingertips. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” He looks like he isn’t totally certain that’s the right answer, and it makes you laugh. In response to his request, you turn to face the door, bending over and making a show of unclipping your garters and sliding your thong down before straightening to remove them completely. Jaehyun moans at that.

You turn back to see that he’s already taken care of the condom. He groans beautifully for you again when you crawl back onto his lap and slide him inside of you, clenching around his hard length.

You start with a slow and winding rhythm at first, not entirely hellbent on teasing him but not willing to let him blow his load too soon, either. His hands are all over your body at this point, gripping your ass and your breasts and whatever else he can get his hands on. He pulls your bra down and tugs your nipples into his mouth like a man starved. 

You laugh at his eagerness, riding him harder.

Jaehyun plants his feet straight on the ground and starts thrusting up into you and you cry out at the added sensation, his tip hitting against your g spot and making you sweat and tremble.

“Fuck, you’re good,” you sigh, digging your nails into his shoulder as you fuck each other at the perfect pace.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had,” he says in between sucking your nipples. “I’ve gotta taste it.”

“N-next time.” Your body squeezes around him again as he brings one of his hands to the front to rub your clit. You’re glad the music is loud, otherwise there’d be no hiding your noises or the sound of your skin slapping together.

You feel wild and free in a way you haven’t in a long time, and you let yourself scrape your nails across his skin and bite at his neck as you fuck yourself harder on his dick.

You and Jaehyun kiss and thrust against each other like you’ll never get to do it again, with all the delicious hurriedness that a quick and tension-filled type of fuck can offer.

“I’m c-close.” Jaehyun groans this into your hair as you’ve gone back to biting his neck again. He grips your ass and holds you tighter against him, if at all possible, and pushes himself into your spot with renewed energy. His hand still works your clit, just shy of being firm enough to hurt—but practiced enough to provide pleasure.

“Not without me,” you say, licking the shell of his ear. “What would your friends say?”

“They wouldn’t know, because right now, you’re mine alone.” He slaps your ass and that’s enough to get you spilling onto him, crying his name right into his eardrum as you shudder and tighten around him.

Jaehyun comes soon after, thrusting a few more times and settling himself deep inside you as he fills the condom. He leans his head against the couch and you watch as he vocalizes his pleasure, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he arches into you.

You feel sated and a bit sleepy now, but your shift isn’t over yet and there are still more shows to be done. You lay a kiss on Jaehyun’s throat before gingerly untangling yourself from him and redressing, making sure everything is in place.

Jaehyun throws away the condom and does the same for himself, though there won’t be any hiding the bruises you’ve left on his neck. He looks in the mirrors behind him and blushes at the sight of them, brushing his fingers over them.

“Sorry honey. Hope your friends don’t tease you too much over it.” You smile sympathetically, though you aren’t terribly sorry. You move to open the door but Jaehyun calls out wait, and you pause.

He slides a piece of paper with his number on it into your hand and gives you a smirk. “Don’t forget our promise. ‘Next time,’ remember?”

You tuck the paper into your bra and make a note to put it somewhere safer once you get to the dressing room. “Of course, baby.” With that, you are gone, and Jaehyun is left with the memories—and the marks—to remind him of you until you meet again.

[laughing-with-god]

owo what would taehyung be like, in a hypothetical scenario, if he were a victor in the hunger games ? :0

District Eleven (Agriculture) 

District Eleven is the second poorest district, but by far the most oppressed.  The Capitol hold over the citizens is way worse than any other district, peacekeepers give out public beatings daily and are known for even shooting children, mentally handicapped citizens and the elderly.  

Most people in this district are field workers, not by choice though.  Almost everyone in 11 has to work in the orchards and farms, but if they’re caught stealing any of the crops (which is often bc the citizens are always starved) the peacekeepers will whip them in public as punishment.  

When Taehyung was five years old his mother was caught stealing some food from the fields, she had no choice because she had a child to feed and was willing to risk the consequences if it meant feeding her son.  Sadly, she got caught and was dragged to the town square and beaten.  

She was beaten so brutally that she went blind in one eye, crippled her right leg and began suffering seizures since that day.  All this made her unfit to ever work again.  

So Taehyung’s dad became the sole bread winner of the family.  But he couldn’t handle the pressure and double workload so he turned to alcohol to cope.  Unfortunately, in a drunken rage he paraded the streets and picked fights with peacekeepers for what they did to his wife.  This resulted in him getting a bullet in the head.  Taehyung had to witness them mop up the brain matter off the sidewalks the next morning.  He was only 8 years old.  

Taehyung was reaped when he was 16 years old.  Unlike other tributes, Taehyung was used to having to school his expression and show no emotions in fear of getting executed.  So he walked up to the stage and showed complete indifference.  His district counterpart did the same, if citizens at 11 have anything in common- it’s their quick ability to shut down and shut up.  

No one visited Taehyung after his reaping.  He was an only child, no friends, his dad was dead and his mother was practically bed-bound.  Only during this time did he allow himself to cry, feeling guilty for leaving his mom with no one to take care of her.  

His mentors ended up focusing more on his counterpart.  She was 18, looked more well-fed and stronger than Taehyung so they placed their hopes onto her.  

Taehyung wasn’t really a fan favorite of the Capitol either. Although he was attractive, he was really frail-looking and very emotionless during the chariot ride.  Also, sponsors mostly ignore tributes from 11 because their track record in the games is atrocious.  So any outside help for Taehyung was immediately ruled out. 

Taehyung wanted really badly to give up, but he thought he owed it to his mom to at least try his best to go back home to her.  

During training he simply attempted to figure out survival methods for different arenas.  He thought it was pointless to try to become a natural born killer in three days.  It was also stupid because if he trained with a weapon he would have to go through a whole bloodbath to get his hands on it, so he stuck to survival skills and some hand-to-hand combat.  

No one approached him for alliances, it being a well known fact that tributes from 11 were quick to go and even if they did last long, they almost always preferred to work alone.  

His interview was pretty forgettable.  The interviewer mainly poked fun at him for being skin and bones and even laughed “i would ask what’s your strategy but it looks like a mere gust of wind could take you out!”  

When the games finally began, Taehyung found himself underground in some complex cave system (lmao luna reusing arena ideas, so fresh and fun and original-) 

When the canon went off he ran away from the bloodbath, knowing some tributes already had him pinned as an easy kill and not wanting to give them a chance to corner him.  Later that night he found out that his counterpart had died during the bloodbath, likely from being too ambitious and trying to engage combat with the careers.  

he hid during the first few days, but he managed to stumble across a tribute’s little ‘camp’.  It looked like the careers had managed to kill someone but left all their supplies behind, finding no need for them since they had a monopoly on the Cornucopia.  So Taehyung ransacked the bag and found night vision goggles, a tarp, a handful of crackers, a bottle of water and a sling shot.  

Unlike the rest of the tributes, Taehyung was now able to maneuver around the caves rather well because the night vision goggles helped his visibility.  This meant he was able to find really good hiding spots that others would pass by without knowing.  Life at 11 also prepared him for starvation, meaning he fared better than the others who were getting weaker by the day by malnourishment.  

It wasn’t until it came down to five tributes that Taehyung had to start fighting.  

Two careers managed to find him, they chased him down a tunnel and cornered him.  Little did they know that the Gamemakers prepared mutant blood sucking bats in this particular cave.  They swarmed in and attacked all three tributes, but Taehyung was quick to get out his tarp and cocoon his entire body, successfully shielding himself from the bats.  The careers weren’t so lucky and died.  

3 remained.  A girl from 4 and a boy from 9.  On the 17th day a canon sounded and during the fallen segment Taehyung was able to conclude that 9 must’ve killed 4.  

Taehyung was hoping to outlive 9 simply by hiding but things didn’t pan out that way.  On the 20th day 9 had found him, armed with a spear.  Taehyung attempted to outrun him and used his slingshot to hit a loose rock from above 9.  This rock fell and along with it came down many others, one large enough to pin 9′s lower leg and trapping him.  

Taehyung then used his own spear against him, piercing him in the throat.  

He became victor, and when he first woke up in the capitol his mentors were by right his side, apologizing for not haven taken him seriously.  

The capitol affectionately nicknamed him the ‘underdog’, now finding his borderline mute nature adorable during the victor and mentor interviews.

He now lives in Victor’s row with his mother, very rarely leaving her bedside and spending his days caring over her conditions.  

Now whenever someone is killed in 11, their family can expect an anonymous donation from Taehyung the next day.  He knows firsthand what that is like and wants to use his money for good.  The citizens like him very much because of this although he never really speaks to them.

As a mentor he is really kind to his tributes, although pretty quiet.  He devotes an equal amount of time to both of them, being really strict about not playing favorites.  He also practically breaks his back every game trying to get sponsors for his tributes.  

Whenever the tributes die, he personally sends over a month’s worth of winnings over to the fallen’s family.  

the other Victors like him well enough because of his silent but calming persona.  Particularly District 6′s Yoongi and District 8′s Hoseok.  

[marvelousstevetony]

Hello! Could you do something with Steve just being really cuddly when he’s sick?🥰 Thank you!

Hi, anon! I love sick, cuddly Steve so much, so of course! I was going to keep this short and sweet, but apparently I’m incapable of keeping things short, so... Anyways, I hope you enjoy this fic of Steve getting sick right after Christmas and Tony being super soft with his sick bf <3 

(3.8k words, stevetony, established relationship)

It starts the night of the 25th. The team had been gathered in the Tower’s penthouse, the floor where Tony and Steve reside, for all of Christmas Day. It had been fun. A lot of fun, actually.

They started off by eating breakfast together, an objectively over-the-top brunch buffet with everything one could desire during the holidays.

Then they moved on to exchanging and opening presents, which unsurprisingly took a very long time, seeing as there were an abundance of presents to get through and everyone likes to take the time to see the others open their presents one by one.

When every present had been opened, the games begun. They started with the board games, and, as usual, it got… competitive. Tony won at Scrabble, much to the annoyance of Bruce, who has been in a deeply committed relationship the the crossword section of the newspaper ever since he moved into the Tower.

Clint and Natasha destroyed everyone at charades, which wasn’t a surprise. The two of them have an uncanny spiritual connection that probably should be a bit worrying, but no one ever dares questioning.

Monopoly ended by the board being thrown and fake bank notes drizzling down over them like the snowflakes coloring New York white outside the windows. Steve almost looked apologetic when Clint had landed on his property with a hotel for the second time in a row and sent the board flying.

Steve won Cards Against Humanity because, contrary to popular belief, Steve Rogers had a very dirty mind. He always blushes, though, when he has to admit which answer he submitted, and Tony’s a weak man who, with one hundred percent’s certainty, has to call him out on his filthy thoughts and make his cheeks go an even deeper shade of scarlet.

They teamed up to play Trivial Pursuit, which Tony and Bruce won by a long shot. It had been unfair, really. Steve and Nat did pretty good, but they were no way near the the level of two literal geniuses with several Ph.D.s. Thor and Clint were shit, to be frank. Clint knew the answer to some of the questions, mostly in the Entertainment category, but Thor, god bless him, was a complete goner for the entire game.

Thor excelled, however, when they moved from board games to drinking games. Even as everyone else, except Steve, got progressively more intoxicated, Thor could just keep going like a bottomless pit. Perk of being a Norse God. The only game Thor didn’t win was beer pong, which did not please him very well. He tried to excuse his loss by saying that Clint had an unfair advantage, to which the rest of the Avengers nodded in agreement. Clint, the ever so smug asshole, just smirked.

As Christmas dinner was served, they started sobering up. It was a feast like never before and it left every Avenger with a full stomach and undoubtedly a heart bursting with sheer joy and happiness.

The day ended with them watching some Christmas movie on the couch, and when all eyelids slowly began slipping shut, they agreed it was time to call it a day. Wishing each other a merry Christmas, everyone took off to their respective floor, leaving Steve and Tony to themselves.

Steve feels the overwhelmed exhaustion wash over him as he steps out of the steaming shower. He didn’t notice it earlier, but now that he finally lets himself relax fully, he has to sigh at how his body aches slightly and how tired his eyes are.

Tony’s already in bed when Steve emerges from the ensuite wearing nothing but a towel around his hips, abs and chest fully on display. He’s about to make some salacious comment that’ll unquestionably make Steve go all shy, and then he’ll call him out for being a prude even though Tony knows for a fact (thank you, Cards Against Humanity) that Steve’s mind is just as dirty as his own. But when Tony looks at Steve’s face, he detects something fatigued about Steve’s expression as he’s putting on his pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

“Hey,” Tony calls out, but his voice is soft. “You’re looking a little peaky there. You alright?”

“What? Oh. Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Steve assures with a small smile. “Just tired,” he adds as he settles onto the bed next to Tony.

Tony hums in reply and pulls Steve closer until Steve’s head is positioned on Tony’s chest, and Tony’s face is nuzzling into the freshly washed, golden hair. Steve snakes his arms around Tony’s waist and cuddles him in close. When Tony’s fingers start trailing up and down Steve’s back, the soldier closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh into the fabric of Tony’s t-shirt.

“You’re really cuddly today, aren’t you, sleepyhead?” Tony chuckles as Steve buries himself deeper under the comforter and rubs his face into Tony’s bosom.

Steve mumbles something unintelligible but it sounds like a confirmation to Tony’s question.

“Did you have a nice Christmas Day?” Tony tries, hoping for an actual answer this time.

“Mhmm,” Steve murmurs. “The best. Thank you, Tony… love you.”

Tony can’t help but smile at how low and affectionate Steve’s voice is, or at how peaceful and young he looks when he’s tugged up next to Tony like this. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” Tony kisses the top of Steve’s head and turns off the bedside lamp. “Merry Christmas.”

***

They wake up the same way they fell asleep, with Steve wrapped around Tony’s body like a koala bear and Tony’s face mushed into Steve’s hair. They let themselves sleep in for once, praying that the call to assemble would wait at least a few more days, and it felt so good to actually wake up together. Normally, Steve would go out for a run or hit the gym, or Tony would have an early meeting, so it’s always a treat when both of them are still in bed when they wake.

“G’mornin’,” Steve croaks, his voice husky from sleeping.

“Morning, babe,” Tony replies. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, good, thanks. You?” Tony nods. “Good.”

They’re quiet for a bit, taking time to fully wake up from what had been a pretty sweet slumber. Steve’s the first to move, pulling himself out of Tony’s embrace to sit up against the headboard, and almost on cue, his nose twitches and he yanks the collar of his t-shirt over the nose and mouth.

“h’tschoo!”

“Bless you,” Tony says without even thinking about it. Steve always sneezes first thing in the morning, so Tony learned when they started sleeping together. It’s become so routinely it would be more unusual if he didn’t sneeze once after shifting himself into a sitting position.

No, the thing that surprises Tony is that Steve keeps his face covered after he’s sneezed.

“h’uhhh… UhhTsschoo! TChoo!”

Tony frowns. “Bless you?” It sounds more like a question, but Tony’s so confused because Steve never sneezes more than once in the morning.

Steve nods his thanks, but his eyes are still shut, and his facial expression is adorably and endearingly vulnerable when his brows are raised in an expectant frown like that.

“he’USHhh! Oh.”

Steve sighs breathlessly as he loosens his grip on the t-shirt.

“You’ve sneezed four times,” Tony states and glares concernedly at his boyfriend. “That’s not like you.”

Steve sniffles and shrugs. “It’s nothing, babe,” he says as he gets to his feet. “Probably just a tickle.” Steve leans down to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Tony looks at Steve again, worry clear on his face.

Steve smiles reassuringly. “I’ll get breakfast started,” he says and leaves the bedroom with a soft glance over his shoulder.

***

Breakfast is nice, as expected. Steve could potentially make the best pancakes in all of New York according to Tony. They’re decadent and sweet, covered in various toppings from fruits and berries to chocolate chips. It doesn’t hurt that Steve looks sinfully good while flipping the pancakes in the air, or that the entire scene seems like it could be straight out of Tony’s imagination, of his dreams of living a domestic and normal life with Steve.

When Tony has eaten what’s definitely too many pancakes, he notices that Steve has barely touched his.

“Everything okay?” Tony asks, frowning at the stack of uneaten pancakes on Steve’s plate. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.”

Steve looks at the pancakes and smiles sheepishly, then looks up at Tony through his eyelashes. “Hmm… not very hungry, I guess,” he shrugs and begins picking at the food with his fork.

That’s not like Steve at all. It’s usually quite the task satisfying the super-soldier’s hunger. Tony doesn’t push it, though. Instead, he just observes the way Steve’s head is slightly ducked and how his cheeks are flushed a pale shade of pink.

***

They spend most of the day cuddling up on the sofa and watching whatever bad Christmas movie is on the tv.

“Why are we watching these?” Tony asks half way through the third movie about two strangers pretending to be lovers for Christmas so their family won’t taunt them for being single, only for them to actually fall in love and kiss in the snow and blah, blah, blah. “The acting is terrible,” Tony grumbles, “and they’re so cheesy!”

“It’s Christmas, Tony. We’re watching them because they’re cheesy,” Steve chuckles, but then it turns into coughing, and Steve leans away from Tony to cough into the crook of his elbow.

“Woah,” Tony says, gently rubbing Steve between his shoulder blades as he continues coughing, sounding rough and throaty. “That sounds awful, babe.”

When Steve is finally able to catch his breath he shakes his head and settles back into the cushions. “Sorry,” he croaks. “I think I swallowed the wrong way.”

Tony narrows his eyes warily and opens his mouth to comment on how his eyes look at little bleary and how his nose is the same color as his pinkish cheeks, but before he can speak, Steve has switched back to talking about the movie.

***

Steve starts sniffling around dinner time. Or, well, to be completely honest, Steve had been sniffling throughout most of the day, but as they sit down to eat some of the leftover turkey, stuffing and mash from the day before, they become more frequent and insistent. He even has to excuse himself from the table to go blow his nose in the bathroom, and when he comes back, Tony’s looking at him with concern sparkling in his eyes.

“Hey,” Tony says softly and takes Steve’s hand in his as Steve sits back down.

“Hey,” Steve echoes and return the squeeze Tony gives his hand. His voice is raspy, and he has to sniffle again before he brings his other hand to scrub at his nose.

“You look wiped. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I… yeah, I’m just— snff! oh, um, juuhhst… h-hold on. h’uhhH! USShhh’iiew! EIshh’ooh!”

“Bless you… Steve,” Tony adds with a pointed look when Steve looks away.

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes, bashfully. “snff! Might be catching a cold,” he admits and pushes his index finger under his septum.

“Hmm, I think so,” Tony says thoughtfully. “Though, I think you’re past catching it,” he amends when Steve has to turn away to sneeze into the sleeve of his jumper again. “Bless you,” Tony says and smiles sympathetically, getting to his feet to grab some tissues from the bathroom.

“Thank you,” Steve sighs when Tony returns with a box of Kleenex and gratefully accepts the handful of tissues Tony offers him. He blows his nose, attempting to be polite and quiet, but the nose blowing just makes him cough into the tissues instead. The choked sounds synchronize with the way Steve’s body rattles with each cough.

Tony fills Steve’s glass with water and hands it to him when the coughing dies down.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles with a defeated look on his face, and Tony makes a concerned noise at how rough and exhausted his voice sounds.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad?” Tony asks. He brushes a few stray strands of golden hair away from Steve’s forehead and cups his cheek with his hand afterwards.

Steve can’t help but lean into the touch a little, to the warmth of Tony’s palm against his skin. “I swear, I’ve been okay until… until just now, I think. It’s come on pretty quickly.”

“Hmm… you were really tired last night, though,” Tony recalls. “Thought it might’ve been because it was a long day, but maybe not…”

Steve frowns a little. “I don’t even remember that…”

“You weren’t hungry at breakfast either,” Tony adds. He should’ve noticed the signs, really, Tony thinks to himself. The fatigue and exhaustion, the unusual number of morning sneezes, the missing appetite. It all seems pretty symptomatic. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, I should’ve put two and two together—“

“Hey. If I can’t even tell when I’m getting sick, then there’s no way you’d able be to,” Steve says softly.  

“But still,” Tony argues weakly. He doesn’t push it further, though. “Anyways… I think we’re allowed an early night, then. It’s still Christmas and we have absolutely no work to do.” Steve smiles at that, Tony too, because that might just be the best Christmas present they could’ve hoped for.

They finish eating and start loading the dishwasher. As they make their way around the kitchen, wiping the counters with a tea towel and rinsing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher, Tony notices how Steve moves slower, his posture more sluggish than usual. He’s rubbing at his eyes a lot, too, and pinches the bridge of his nose when the sharp kitchen lights hit his eyes several times. Tony doesn’t call attention to it, but he observes quietly, heart squeezing tightly.

Steve sighs deeply when he starts the dishwasher and leans over the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the surface. Tony comes up behind him, pressing his chest against Steve’s back and snakes his arms around Steve’s waist, resting his forehead against the muscles between Steve’s shoulder blades.

“Bed,” Tony murmurs and plants a kiss at the nape of the soldier’s neck, right where the soft, blonde hair starts.

“I think I need a shower first,” Steve says, unenthusiastically. He sounds like he’d rather let himself fall face-first into the mattress and not move for the next 36 hours.

Then he shivers violently, and Tony can see the goosebumps on his neck. “Mmm… A nice, warm shower. I can bring the heated blanket up if you’re cold?”

“That— okay, yeah, that might be… that’d be really nice,” Steve admits. “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony chuckles lightly. “You don’t have keep thanking for all these small things, Steve,” he tells him. “I like taking care of you.”

Tony knows Steve is blushing even though he can’t see his face. He can feel the way Steve shuffles uncomfortably, the way he bows his head slightly and bites his lip to stop the creeping smile.

“Yeah?” Steve prompts, a little hesitant. He usually doesn’t like asking for reassurance, but sometimes it’s nice being affirmed that yes, I actually care about you, Steve.

“Definitely,” Tony responds without a moment of uncertainty. “Now. Get going, Rogers. The sooner I get you into bed the more time we have without having to move.”

***

Steve emerges form the bathroom with a towel hanging low around his hips, his hair damp and face all flustered. He still looks tired, though, like standing under the hot spray drained him from what remaining energy he had left. Which has now reached zero percent.

Tony is already in bed, scrolling through his phone with a silly smile playing on his lips.

“Why’re you smiling like that?” Steve grins as he pulls his pajama pants on.

Tony turns the screen to Steve, who also starts smiling. Tony sighs and looks at his phone once more with loving eyes, almost as if he was looking at a puppy or a baby.

“I remember this like it was yesterday,” he said reminiscently.

“That’s because it was.”

“Oh, yeah… well, I love this picture. I think it might be my new favorite photo of us.”

“Says the man who refused to wear the ugly Christmas sweater,” Steve says and quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh, hush. I like it better when you wear one too,” says Tony truthfully and taps at his phone a few times to make the picture of him and Steve sitting in an armchair in front of the fireplace while wearing matching Christmas sweaters his background screen.

Steve had insisted that they’d wear one for Christmas Day. Tony had said no. He was not going to spend an entire day in a Captain America sweater with decorated with snowflakes all over it. However, when Steve had shown up with the Iron Man helmet with a Santa hat, Tony had drastically changed his mind.  

Obviously they had gotten teased for it. Clint made gagging noises for the majority of the day, pointing out how corny and cliché it was, and if all of Tony’s attention hadn’t been on how good Steve looked in red and gold, Tony might’ve ended up agreeing with Clint.

Natasha hadn’t said anything, not really, but the mischievous glint in her eyes was purposely obvious, and she too had spent a great amount of time snickering at them. Even Bruce couldn’t hide an eye roll every once in a while, but it was mostly followed by him shaking his head with a fond smile.

Thor seemed to have liked them though, and he insisted that next year they all should get matching Avengers sweaters. Sadly for Thor, no one but him seemed to be in favor of that idea.

“I’d wear that sweater every day if you wanted me to, but I think Clint might just kill me if I did,” Steve chuckles as he joins Tony on the bed.

“Probably,” Tony agrees. “But you did look really good in that,” he smirks and places the phone on the nightstand. Scooting closer to Steve, he lifts an arm for Steve to slip under, which seems like a very welcome invitation, because Steve is instantly lying with his head resting on Tony’s chest, one arm slung loosely over Tony’s stomach.

Steve lets out an involuntary sigh when Tony starts running a soothing hand up and down Steve’s arm while lacing their fingers together with the other.  

“Now I know,” Tony starts, waiting for Steve to looks up at him, and when does, he continues, “that you like sleeping like this the you’re sick. You did the exact same last night; draping your entire body over me like a koala.”

After taking a second to catch on, Steve goes bashful and begins to slowly draw back from Tony’s hold. Tony just hugs him tighter, though, and kisses the top of his head.

“I never said I minded… I like it too,” Tony assures. “Even when you’re all sniffly.”

With that, Steve melts back against Tony, relaxing again.

They lie in comfortable silence for a bit, only interrupted by the soft sniffles that seem to turn more insistent with each passing second. They become more frequent, too, and Steve has to let go of Tony’s hand to rub his nose against his wrist when he feels his nose beginning to prickle.

When that doesn’t work, he tries nuzzling his face into Tony’s shoulder, and lets out quiet groan when the itch is still there.

“You alright?”

“I thigk I h-have… huh? snffSNF! Ugh. I have to sndeeze.” His voice is starting to sound more congested, and his eyes are watering when his breaths come shorter and he scrunches up his nose. Wiggling it back a forth a couple of times seems to coax the tickle forward, and he tries to turn in Tony’s grip when the buzzing becomes too demanding, but Tony’s just pulls him back in, fasting his grasp.

“Tooh- Tony, I…” Steve warns, but the brunette doesn’t let go and Steve ends up stifling back two strong sneezes into Tony’s t-shirt. “uhNGxxt! N’GKt!” Holding back the sneezes makes him cough, and trying to hold those back makes him cough even worse.

He pulls fully away from Tony now, even though Tony is telling him to lay back down, that he doesn’t mind at all. Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed so he’s sitting with his back hunched forward, he lets himself cough more freely.

Tony props up on his elbow, resting a warm hand on Steve’s back when the alternating coughs and sniffles turn into heavy, desperate gasps.

“HESHishh! ehhYISHhee!” The sneezes burst out with such force that his body jerks forward, aiming them down towards the floor. “uhhISHh’iew! ih! ihh… ISH! huhhHISH’oo!” He coughs a little again, then gives himself a shake to clear the lingering tickle.

“God bless,” Tony says sympathetically and pulls at Steve’s sleeve. “C’mon, honey, lay back down.”

Steve casts a glance over his shoulder to look at Tony, but shakes his head. “I doad thi’gg I’mb fidnished,” he says, voice thick and low.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony replies and tugs at him again, this time successfully managing to get him back into their previous position.

However, after only a few seconds, Steve has to lift his head from Tony’s chest to let out a few smaller, softer tsshoo! tsh! sneezes down at the blankets.

“Bless you,” Tony mumbles into the blonde hair when Steve has settled down again.

“Snff! Thank you,” Steve sighs. “I’m so sorry, Tony, you’re gonna catch this…”

“Probably,” Tony agrees, then shrugs. “If it means I get to cuddle up with you for a couple of days then I won’t complain. Plus, if either of us is sick on New Year’s we’ll have an excuse for missing that crappy party.”

Steve chuckles and smiles fondly up at Tony. “Pepper’s going to have your head if you cancel, you know.”

“I know… but this — you. This is worth all the angry voicemails I’ll receive and all the flowers I’ll have to buy her afterwards.” Tony glances down, locking his eyes on Steve’s blue ones, red-rimmed and watery, but just as beautiful as they always are. He goes quiet for a bit, taking a second to appreciate the moment. A few years ago, Tony would have never seen himself end up this… this happy. But then came Steve, and suddenly every expectation Tony had for himself went out the window. It’s incredible, Tony thinks, how one person can change everything.

“Steve?” Tony breathes.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[methethgfan]

The 45th Hunger Games

“Give up, Chaff!” he shouted behind him, “If we don’t kill you, your hand will!” He was absolutely right. There was now a glaring hole where once his hand used to be. Chaff took off his shirt and wrapped it around the wound to stop the gush of blood - he probably had a few minutes left before he would eventually die of blood loss. He glanced over his shoulder and looked at their sweaty faces and tousled blond hair. But he also saw the sparkle in their emerald green eyes and a triumphant smile playing on their lips. Not yet. He still had one last move left.

The arena: This year the tributes were transported to a rural arena with broad fields, large hills and sparse forests. The weather was pleasantly warm, now and then the cool wind sent a shiver down their sun-warmed backs. The idyllic landscape was inhabited, among others, by cows, sheep and goats, which roamed some fields and were apparently disinterested in the tributes. The Cornucopia enthroned on a green pasture in the middle of the arena and housed a lavish number of supplies as well as an impressive arsenal of weapons. The selection of weapons turned out to be very diverse: in addition to the usual weapons, the tributes also had pickaxes, hand saws, pitchforks, shovels, sickles and scythes at their disposal, typical agricultural tools that attracted the interest of tributes who came from predominantly rural districts. Most of the tributes rejoiced in their good fortune, but for a few there seemed to be a catch. Never before had there been such a perfect arena that also looked so innocent. It soon became apparent that their concerns were justified, for the arena was extraordinarily deadly. Aside from the grazing animals that attacked anyone who approached them, the arena had something phenomenal. Once in a while, the tributes would encounter silver spheres, about the size of golf balls, floating in the air. If they got too close to them, red letters would light up on the display - "detonation - touch for deactivation". They then had five seconds to move out of the bomb's range. If they didn't, the bomb would attach itself to them until it was deactivated again. If one deactivated the bomb, the red letters were replaced by green ones - "disarming - touch for activation". There had never been anything like this ever before in the Games.

The tributes: The tributes were pleasantly surprised when they saw the arena for the first time. The camera showed the two boys from Districts 10 and 11 whispering "Home." at the same time. Everything seemed calm and peaceful. But the fact that there were bombs in the arena that could activate at any time scared most of the tributes, especially the Careers. At least they had a realistic chance against an armed opponent. Against bombs, however, they could do nothing; they were just as helpless against them as other tributes. How unfortunate that they hadn’t understood one thing - it was not the bombs that they should be frightened of, but the tributes whose eyes lit up at this exciting news...

The names of the tributes were…

Day 1 – The Bloodbath: Somewhat unusual this time was that several tributes ran away right after the Games started, without even being tempted to collect some supplies first. Still, there were enough tributes for the Careers to try out their favourite weapons...

24. Wright Maybridge (age: 14 | skill: x | training score: 3 | mentor: Wyatt Ellio | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 5. While many of his competitors either ran straight at the Cornucopia or moved away from it, Wright ran in circles around it and collected all the supplies he could get his hands on as he ran. Thus, he was able to collect the supplies without being in the line of fire. However, this didn’t escape the attention of the girl from District 1 who sent a knife into his left temple.

23. Shay Carter-Milding (age: 18 | skill: quickness | training score: 7 | mentor: Lennox Byrd | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 9. Shay had very fast reflexes. He demonstrated the Gamemakers how he dodged small balls thrown at him by several trainers at the same time. In doing so, he could bend and curve his body in such a way that it appeared as if he had no bones at all. In addition to his relatively high score, he also scored additional points in the interview with his self-confident and self-deprecating manner (”So Shay, how was your first impression of the Capitol?“ – “I thought it was slightly better than home, Caesar.“ – “‘Slighty better?‘ Why so?“ – “You’re not living in shacks like we do in District 9. I guess that’s the only bonus. But aside from that, I don’t really understand what all that fuss is about, no offense. But how on earth are you able to endure all of the … colourfulness? Yesterday I looked at a bright yellow building for a few seconds and already got a migraine!” - “I guess you get used to it all the time, Shay. Or is anyone here who’s got a migraine? No? See? I told you!”). The viewers were amused and hoped to see more of this boy in the arena. The Gamemakers, on the other hand, were curious to see how Shay would do during the bloodbath since he had such fast reflexes. But would he even participate in the bloodbath? Indeed, immediately after the opening signal, he ran towards the Cornucopia. He trusted his reflexes (even if he was a little worried about being hit by a knife after all). He dodged the knife of the girl from District 1. He also dodged the knife of the girl from District 2. But then the spear of the boy from District 2 pierced his back - Shay hadn’t assumed that the boy could throw his spear that far. The viewers were a little disappointed that Shay was out of the picture so early. But there were still other tributes left...

22. Modesty Merdow (age: 16 | skill: x | training score: 3 | mentor: Capitol trainer | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 12. Modesty had neither attracted much attention during the training nor during the interview. But the scrawny girl with tired eyes and mouse-brown hair became memorable during the bloodbath: instead of moving away as quickly as possible from the girl from District 2 who targeted Modesty and threw one knife after another in her direction, Modesty ran straight at the girl in a zigzag. The girl from District 2 became increasingly panicked and took several steps back but continued throwing at Modesty. Just as Modesty was about to throw herself on the girl, a knife hit her in the chest.

21. Yvette Densford (age: 14 | skill: x | training score: 4 | mentor: Aspen Burrows | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 7. Yvette was the cousin of Aspen Burrows, who had won the Games six years earlier and was her mentor. But as much as he tried to encourage her, Yvette knew from the beginning that she wouldn’t survive the Games. In an interview with Caesar Flickerman, she spoke very candidly with him about her imminent death (”I hope it's quick and painless. I had a beautiful life, but unfortunately far too short.” - “Maybe you will be able to continue this life?” - “I don't want to lie to myself, Caesar. I know what I'm capable of and what not. The Hunger Games are out of my league. But what have I done to deserve this?”). In fact, Yvette died in the first few minutes of the Hunger Games. The girl from District 1 hurled a knife into her neck. Yvette pulled the knife out, staggered forward, and then collapsed to the ground.

20. Kestrel Pernen (age: 15 | skill: x | training score: 3 | mentor: Volt Lansee | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 3. Kestrel had originally turned away from the Cornucopia because she had wanted to run straight into the adjacent forest. But then she had decided otherwise because at that very moment a small backpack had caught her eye nearby. She ran towards it - almost at the same time as the boy from District 12. They squabbled with each other over the backpack for a moment, which did not escape the attention of the boy from District 4. He ran up to them and pointed his crossbow at Kestrel. The boy from District 12 let go of the backpack, rolled off to the side, and then ran away. Kestrel, however, was oblivious to the District 4 boy standing behind her, and grinned, lifting the backpack as the arrow struck her in the neck.

19. Dimelza Corlin (age: 15 | skill: bodily strength | training score: 8 | mentor: Belle Surie | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 10. Dimelza was one of the few tributes who had received an offer from the Careers to join them. They had watched her throw herself on a trainer in the wrestling station, which they had been very impressed with. Aware of her better chances of surviving, Dimelza agreed. But she wouldn’t survive the initial bloodbath. After the Games were opened, she ran for the weapons as previously agreed upon. Only five meters away from the Cornucopia, a knife pierced her neck. The knife was actually meant for the boy from District 10, but Dimelza had run straight between him and the girl from District 2, who stared guiltily at Dimelza's death body.

18. Stans Mayersbee (age: 16 | skill: flexibility | training score: 6 | mentor: Woof Luxor | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 8. Stans impressed the Gamemakers with his talent for doing splits both when sitting and standing. He could also do several backflips in a row or prance while doing a handstand. However, his impressive talent could not help him during the bloodbath. He ran toward the Cornucopia but was immediately targeted by the boy from District 2 who fatally wounded him with a spear. Stans fell to the ground while the carnage around him continued. The viewers had already written him off, since he had been lying motionlessly on the ground for several minutes. But then he moved - very slowly - and laboriously pulled out the spear that had pierced his stomach. While the Careers were busy with the supplies, Stans crawled across the pasture toward an adjacent grain field. Just as he had almost reached the platforms, he was noticed by the boy from District 2, who ran up to him. He then threw himself on the ground next to Stans and mimicked him as he crawled around on the ground, panting (“My bad, I thought I had killed you. I really need to work on myself, don’t I?”). Meanwhile, the Careers cheered them on. Then the District 2 boy got up and plunged a knife into Stans' neck (”Pathetic!”).

17. Linola Habborn (age: 17 | skill: juggling | training score: 6 | mentor: Suede Deer | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 8. Linola survived the Cornucopia bloodbath, even though she had come the closest of all tributes (except for the Careers) to the Cornucopia. Luckily for her, the Careers had been busy elsewhere, so she had been able to grab a backpack and make it to the wide cornfield unharmed. But since the grain blocked her view and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was moving nearby, she decided to hide in the adjacent forest instead. However, she ran straight into the arms of the Careers who had just gone in search of more victims. She turned around and ran back into the cornfield, hoping that the Careers would not follow her. Sure enough, the Careers stopped again and eyed the cornfield suspiciously - but not the girl from District 1, who used her sword to clear her way through the cornfield (”Darling, I think you’ve mixed up the games. We're not playing hide and seek here. Come out, so I can explain you the rules.”). Then she stepped on something soft: Linola had simply laid flat on the ground. The girl from District 1 grinned broadly (”You know, at least you tried.”) and stabbed Linola with her sword.

16. Toomer Mintle (age: 12 | skill: x | training score: 2 | mentor: Volt Lansee | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 3. Toomer had run into the woods right after the start signal without even glancing at the supplies once. The gruesome death of the boy from his district last year, who had ventured into the Cornucopia at the beginning of the Games, had been permanently burned into his memory, preventing him from doing the same. Two hours after the bloodbath, however, he was tracked down by the Careers who had been combing the forest for more victims. The boy from District 2 impaled him with his spear. However, wanting to keep his weapon (for the hovercraft would retrieve the boy's dead body and with it the spear that was still stuck inside him), he stepped on the little boy's back while pulling out the spear with ease. His cold-bloodedness impressed some viewers of the Capitol but confirmed the prejudices of the other districts regarding District 2, a district they truly despised.

15. Cayley Mills (age: 13 | skill: x | training score: 2 | mentor: Jetta Nell | days survived: 2): Female tribute from District 6. Cayley had been one of the first tributes to run into the forest after the opening signal. She had simply been too afraid to join the bloodbath, and not even the tempting supplies had been able to change her decision. Since then, she had stayed mainly in her hiding place (a bush). There was a stream very close to her hiding place, so she was able to appease her thirst at any time. But since the beginning of the Games she had not eaten anything. Previously, she had nibbled on a plant, which she had regretted very quickly because it turned out to be a stinging nettle. As a result of that, she hadn’t touched anything again. During the second night, right after the hymn had been played, she roamed through the forest because she had discovered a strange animal (an opossum) near her hiding place. Suddenly, she caught a whiff of the appetising smell of grilled meat, and noticed a flickering light among the trees a little later. Driven by her curiosity and the thought of warming herself at the campfire, she tiptoed towards it. The Careers were sitting around the fire talking to each other as if they were at a summer camp rather than the Hunger Games. Cayley had just positioned herself behind a tree when a branch snapped behind her. She turned around and looked into the face of the boy from District 1, who had gone for a pee and was now looking down at her with a sinister grin. His greedy eyes reflected the light of the campfire. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the other Careers. (”Guys, look who is our guest tonight.“). Cayley was rooted to the spot with fear, she didn't even try to run away (”Oh, no need to be scared. We are nice to our guests, aren’t we, guys?“). Then he pulled out his sword and plunged it into Cayley's back (”Well, usually.“). After the cannon shot, he disposed of her body like garbage and then returned to their campfire where they continued their conversation as if nothing had happened.

14. Rheese Hayfleak (age: 16 | skill: stamina | training score: 7 | mentor: Farina Arden | days survived: 2): Female tribute from District 9. Rheese was a very fast runner with above-average fitness. This was also what she showed to the Gamemakers: for a full fifteen minutes she ran on a treadmill at highest speed. The Gamemakers were anxious to see if any of her opponents would be able to catch Rheese in the arena. But little did they know that Rheese would be running from something else instead. None of them were surprised that Rheese was the first to reach the Cornucopia, where she shouldered two backpacks and ran away before the other tributes had even come near the Cornucopia. Afterwards, she hid until her supplies were used up. On the third day, she was marching to a nearby stream when she first came across a bomb. She didn't know exactly what it was but trusted her gut instinct that told her to get away as quickly as possible. So she turned around and ran. To her horror, the bomb followed her. Rheese pushed the bomb away several times, lurched to the ground, climbed on trees - but nothing stopped the bomb from floating after her. Then she turned around and took a swing at the bomb. At that moment, the bomb detonated right in front of her face, ripping her body to pieces. The boy from District 10, who had hidden behind a tree, watched in horror as a hovercraft collected Rheese’s body parts.

Day 3: On the third day, the Careers roamed the arena in search of more victims. They were all in good spirits, talking loudly and joking around - until they suddenly stopped. Just inches away from the District 4 boy’s face hovered a silver sphere. The Careers instinctively took a few steps backward. None of them had encountered a sphere before, so they didn't know that it was a bomb. But their gut instincts told them nothing good. And when the bomb followed them soon, it was clear that they had to get away from it as fast as possible. “To the lake!” one of them shouted. It was the boy from District 4. Of course, who else would have come up with this idea? The Careers turned around and stampeded. There was a lake only about a kilometer away from the Cornucopia. The boy from District 4 ran ahead and was the first to jump into the lake. His allies, however, stopped at the shore and stared at the water as if it were lava. After a moment's hesitation, they jumped in and dove under the surface, as the boy from District 4 had done, and who still hadn't come up to surface. The girl from District 2 stared curiously at the bomb floating just above her head, until the boy from District 4 pulled her under the water as well. At that very moment, the bomb finally exploded, and the Careers gradually surfaced. The boy from District 4 swam gracefully to shore but suddenly remembered that his allies couldn't swim. Although he could have simply left them to their fate, he decided to go to their aid. In the meantime, the Careers tried with all their strength to stay above the surface. One by one, they were pulled out of the water by the boy from District 4. He had saved their lives – and even they, as Careers, were rational enough to realise that.

13. Ashton Ellmere (age: 16 | skill: adventurousness | training score: 4 | mentor: Capitol trainer | days survived: 4): Male tribute from District 12. It was destined from the beginning for Ashton and the girl from District 5 to meet one another in the arena. Both were highly adventurous and unafraid of any risk, no matter how big it was. If they were going to have fun, they were both in. They shared the same interests and had also visited the same stations during their training in the Capitol, following each other around inconspicuously. On the second day, when Ashton had gone in search of edibles, he came across the girl from 5 who had laid down on a huge rock, soaking wet, apparently sunbathing. He stepped out into the sunlight and clapped his hands once. Alarmed, the girl straightened up and stared at him from the opposite bank of the stream (”It would be more fun with the two of us working together, don't you think?”). The girl stared at him indecisively, seemingly weighing her words. Ashton knew that he just had to keep talking to her (”If I had wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have alerted you beforehand. I don't have a weapon with me either. But if you don't want to join forces with me, I'll walk away and strike out on my own.” - “Why should I ally myself with you? What is there that you could offer me?" - “I'm from District 12, I’m experienced with explosive devices as we use it in coal mining. Surely you've seen the bombs by now.”). The girl stood up unexpectedly and calmly walked towards him (”Yes, and I've already thought on something.”). And so their alliance was formed. Their goal was to bring down the Careers with the help of the bombs. They spent the following days exchanging ideas about explosive devices and working out a plan. They would blow up the supplies at the Cornucopia that would force the Careers to go foraging just like the rest of them ("You know we could get killed, right?" – "Sure. But isn’t it exciting?” – "Yes, and how! I can't wait.” – “Let’s turn up the heat on them – quite literally!”) But before they disposed of the supplies, they wanted to help themselves for a while. They regularly spied on the Careers and waited until they were gone. Then they took everything they could carry with them. The Careers didn’t notice that someone else was regularly stealing their supplies. Instead, they secretly suspected that one of them was the thief. But on the fifth day, they wouldn’t have to worry about their supplies anymore - because Ashton and his district partner planned to finally put their plan into action...

12. Bina Remington (age: 14 | skill: risk-taking | training score: 3 | mentor: Ronan Magnoly | days survived: 4): Female tribute from District 5. Bina was very inquisitive and experimental by nature. This was something she was born with, as her entire family consisted of scientists. Even before she participated in the Games, she had always thought about how she could use her brains to beat her opponents. The boy from District 12 came in handy because he could add to her knowledge while watching her back ("Bombs are basically pent-up energy. We have to find a way to let that energy out at a later time."). Then, at dawn on the fifth day, they went looking for bombs and found them a short time later - two bombs floating side by side in a clearing. Bina and her district partner could hardly believe their eyes when they realized the bombs could be defused. Tentatively, she reached her hand toward one of the bombs and the camera showed her index finger pressing a button above the display and then her hand closing around the bomb. Her district partner did the same with the other bomb ("What are we waiting for? On to the Cornucopia!"). They had thought it all out. The Careers wouldn't be back at the Cornucopia until sunrise because they were going hunting in the meantime. They would place the bombs on each side of the pile of supplies so that all the supplies would explode. Then they would hurl stones they had collected onto the pile to cause a chain reaction, if possible. Sure enough, the Cornucopia was empty. While her district partner placed his bomb, Bina kept an eye out for other tributes. Suddenly the Careers appeared! They hadn’t gone hunting, but had hidden at the edge of the forest, because they had finally understood that a thief regularly tampered with their supplies. Impressed by their cleverness, they ran excitedly toward the two tributes, who had not expected their appearance. Bina turned to her district partner and saw him standing motionless, waiting for the Careers. Determination showed on his face. She understood what he was up to. She stepped back immediately and was already turning when the first Career reached the pile and the whole world blew up. Bina and the Careers were knocked off their feet and flung through the air. Despite the severe burns on her back, Bina picked herself up and ran into the forest. But as the adrenaline rush faded, pain hit her at full force, and she slumped. The cannon went off half an hour later.

11. Shore Shylock (age: 18 | skills: athleticism, crossbow | training score: 10 | mentor: Rivo Blakeley | days survived: 4): Male tribute from District 4. Shore had been the only Career to show the Gamemakers not only his skills with a weapon, but something entirely different as well. He had balanced on a beam and had done a handstand and a somersault on it without losing his balance. He was able to keep a cool head in risky situations and, unlike his fellow competitors, didn't rush into anything. Nevertheless, he knew that his chance of survival was much higher with them. The waters in the arena contained very few fish, but all the more various forms of seafood. But when Shore had filled an entire basket with seafood and offered it to his allies, they had declined and watched in disgust as Shore had prepared the seafood and eaten it with relish. The explosion at the Cornucopia caused him severe burns while his allies escaped with only minor burns. They all showed great distress at the sight of their dying ally, who had protected them all from the bombs and saved their lives but had fallen victim to these bombs himself. Shortly after the cannon had gone off, the girl from District 2 remembered something Shore had told them a few days ago: she opened her water bottle and dripped some water on Shore's face. The other Careers did the same as the hovercraft circled above their heads. This was a funeral ritual in District 4. This was how they paid their last respects to the boy who they owed their lives to.

10. Maeve Somerley (age: 16 | skills: athleticism, herbology | training score: 8 | mentor: Adair Moss | days survived: 8): Female tribute from District 11. Maeve and her district partner were childhood friends. They didn't see each other as friends, but family, since neither had siblings. Although they couldn't have been more different from each other, they completed each other. Perhaps that was the reason why their friendship had lasted so long. Not even their participation in the Hunger Games could break this close friendship. The audience understood by their shocked faces and firm handshake at the Reaping that they were probably no strangers to each other. Caesar Flickerman's question confirmed their assumption ("I believe in fate. And if fate has planned for me to go into the arena with my best friend, then it must have a valid reason. Both of our goals will be to make sure the other makes it back home."). In the arena, Maeve and her district partner showed how serious they were about their promise to each other. Both were selfless and always concerned about the wellbeing of the other. They were also very practical. As an apothecary's daughter, Maeve knew a lot about herbs and was able to throw a delicious herbal soup together in no time. She taught her district partner everything she knew about herbs, a knowledge that was of inestimable value. Since she was lighter than her district partner, she climbed trees to collect fruits or look for other food resources. On the fourth day, they were attacked by a hungry wolf pack because they had unknowingly entered their territory. Maeve jumped in front of her district partner to protect him from a charging wolf, and together they put the wolves to flight. On the sixth day, their friendship was put to test again. Maeve had a high fever and shivering attacks. Her district partner did his best and cared for her, among other things, preparing herbal teas, putting wet rags on her forehead, and trying to bring her fever down with a sweating cure. But both knew that only a proper medication would help her. Her district partner didn't have to think long about how to obtain it ("I'm going to search through the Careers’ supplies." - "You're not going to do that. I don't want you to die because of me. It wouldn't be worth it." - "Who says I'm going to die?" - "I'm serious, Chaff. Please. Don't. I would never forgive you."). Her district partner assured her that he wouldn't do anything, but Maeve still didn't believe him. She was so tired that she kept drifting off to sleep. And her district partner took advantage of that. He gathered firewood and lit it to set the Careers on the wrong track. Then he made his way to the Cornucopia and positioned himself at a safe distance. Time was running, he had to find a cure immediately and return to his hiding place. The Careers noticed the rising smoke and ran into the forest. That was his chance. He ran toward the Cornucopia and rummaged through the supplies. Meanwhile, the Careers had turned back - they had smelled a rat. But he wouldn’t run away. When the Careers were only a few minutes away from the pasture, he finally found what he had been looking for. He jammed the first aid box under his arm and ran back into the woods. Once at his hiding place, he shook his ally by the shoulder ("Maeve, I've got the medicine! Quick, wake up!"). But Maeve didn’t move. He was still shaking her, even though deep down he knew that any help came too late ("Maeve, what's wrong with you?"). When she still didn't move, Chaff panicked ("No! No! Wake up! You can't do this to me! You promised!"). Then he hugged her lifeless body and cried for her.

09. Axle Welmourth (age: 16 | skill: camouflage | training score: 8 | mentor: Yaw Balfour | days survived: 9): Male tribute from District 6. Axle had a great talent for camouflage, but compared to his mentor, a true camouflage artist, he was only an apprentice - Yaw Balfour had owed his victory largely to his camouflage skills. He even taught Axle a few tricks. Axle demonstrated his talent to the Gamemakers by moving from one area to another in the training station for natural habitats, camouflaging himself like a tree, a sandhill or a rock. In the arena, he also camouflaged himself in compliance with his environment. For this purpose, he used solid or moist earth; fruits its juice he squeezed; plants that he rubbed against his body so that their green colour rubbed off on him and things like that. But he was never fully satisfied with himself. He knew that what he actually needed was awaiting him inside the Cornucopia - industrial paints, brushes, adhesives. And to be honest, he also wanted to impress the viewers a little with his talent. After much hesitation, he finally decided to visit the Cornucopia on the fourth day. He spied on the Careers for a while, and when the coast was clear, he ran to the supplies and quickly rummaged through them. Just as he was about to reach for a pack of coal, grinning, he heard footsteps. It was too late; he couldn't run away anymore. Panicking, he looked around for a place to hide and then did something no one had expected: he hid in the pile of supplies! He pulled a crate a little toward him and squeezed himself through the open gap. Inside was a hollow space. The Careers didn't notice anything at all. And so they spent the whole night only a few meters away from another tribute of whose presence they were completely unaware. Fortunately, Axle had camouflaged his clothes with soil, so the bright green colour of his jacket didn't send him to the knife. Afraid the pile would collapse if he pulled out some food, he didn't touch the supplies, but just sat quietly amidst them until the Careers left for the forest again in the early morning hours. But before Axle ran back into the woods, he grabbed as much as he could hold - including the pack of coal. The viewers were blown away! Although Axle was invisible for his opponents even if they went pass him, he was still sensible for the animals roaming the arena. They couldn’t see him either but smell him. Very intensely, with all the industrial colouring on his body. Some decided to stay away from him because either the smell was too much for them or they didn’t trust this unfamiliar smell. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for other, more fearless creatures like wolves. Axle had to change his hiding place several times because the animals wouldn’t leave him alone and follow him around. He was especially cautious at night when the wolves would come out of hiding. It took him a few days to understand why the animals were attracted by him, but it was already too late. Axle ran away from the wolf pack that was chasing him. He intended to jump into a nearby lake but didn’t make it there. Another wolf pack joined the chase, and soon, Axle was encircled by them. When the cannon went off and the hovercraft appeared to collect his ripped body, most viewers preferred to look away.

Day 10: When the boy from District 11 was wandering alone through the woods on the tenth day, he was attacked by vultures outside the entrance to a cave. He ran but didn’t know how to get to safety. Then he suddenly lost the ground under his feet and fell down five meters. He hit the ground hard and stared up: he had fallen down a slope. The boy tried to pick himself up, but then stopped because he felt too dizzy. A few hours later - he had tried to climb up the slope in the meantime - he heard footsteps from above. Someone was standing at the top and staring down at him. He recognized the flaming red hair: it was the girl from District 4. That’s it. It's over. But nothing happened. Then, very slowly, something moved down toward him. Ropes, knotted together. He watched in disbelief as the girl from District 4 lowered the rope to him. The boy from District 11 pulled himself up, and realized that the girl from District 4 had disappeared…

08. Cimber Grove (age: 18 | skills: bodily strength, javelin | training score: 10 | mentor: Brutus Ornathy | days survived: 11): Male tribute from District 2. Cimber was a quarrelsome person by nature. He craved every opportunity that gave him a reason to argue. Not even his district partner was spared from him ("Of course you had to get the girl from District 10 of all people! She was the one we desperately needed in the arena." - "I didn't mean to do it! She got in my way!" - "Don't make me laugh! You can tell those fairy tales to someone else."). Cimber didn't let others boss him around. And when the District 1 boy did just that, he tried to scowl him into silence ("I don't remember any of us appointing you our leader. So you have absolutely nothing to say to me. Besides, I also scored a 10, just like you, if that’s the reason you think of yourself so highly."). But Cimber didn’t stop there. He kept taunting his allies ("Shore, shut up and go catch fish or whatever it is you do in your spare time in District 4." or "I could have sworn I saved another sandwich. I'm sure you ate it, right, Sparkle? You eat so much, as we all know."). His allies just ignored him, which infuriated Cimber even more. But when their nerves were raw after two tributes had blown up their supplies, they couldn't take his malicious comments anymore. The District 1 boy grabbed a knife, pushed Cimber to the ground and stabbed him repeatedly ("Just - shut - your - goddamn - mouth!"). When he was done, he wiped his bloody hands on Cimber's face and then spat in his face. Capitol’s favorite (8th-place).

07. Lysandra Rodd (age: 17 | skills: archery, knife-throwing | training score: 9 | mentor: Severin Quinn | days survived: 11): Female tribute from District 2. Lysandra was the only child of miners whom she wanted to support financially by winning the Hunger Games. That's why she volunteered - much to the dismay of her parents. Lysandra found her district partner as repulsive as the others, but he was from her home district after all, which meant that his victory would be beneficial for her family, if she herself did not survive the Games. Therefore, she tried to mollify the rest of the Careers whenever Cimber criticised them again. Even Lysandra was not spared from his tirades ("So much food. I bet that's all new to you, isn't it, Lysandra? Since you and your family are on the brink of eating each other out of hunger."). When the District 1 boy lunged at her district partner, Lysandra tried to intervene yet again. In response, the District 1 girl rammed a sword into her back from behind, sealing her hopes of victory.  Capitol’s favorite (7th-place).

Day 12: The tributes were startled out of their sleep by the sound of fanfares. Xander Holliehopp, the Hunger Games announcer, spoke to them: “Greetings, final contestants. I’m very sorry for breaking your sleep. I just wanted to let you know about a Feast that’s going to take place today at the Cornucopia. We have provided food bags for you that contain everything that you’re longing for! But there’s a twist. Once you’ve reached the Cornucopia, you’ll see only three food bags. That’s three less than the number of tributes who are still in the running. It’s because each food bag is meant for two tributes. I’ll now read out who shares a food bag with whom: first foodbag – Districts 1 and 11; second foodbag – Districts 1 and 10; third foodbag – Districts 4 and 7. So first come, first served! … Oh, I forgot to mention. The Feast starts now. Good luck!” It took a few seconds for the sleepy tributes to realize. Immediately they jumped to their feet and then made their way to the Cornucopia. When they reached the edge of the forest and looked at the Cornucopia, six pairs of eyes could be seen on the screens, looking determinedly at the food bags only forty meters away from them…

06. Leeper Garrison (age: 17 | skills: axe, fire-making | training score: 9 | mentor: Tilia Hemlock | days survived: 12): Male tribute from District 7. Unlike most of his opponents, Leeper operated more cautiously in the arena. Although a thoroughly dangerous opponent, he had been advised by his mentor to take his time and hold back until only a handful of players were left (of course, this suggestion came from none other than Tilia Hemlock herself). But Leeper defied her advice by charging straight into the Cornucopia at the start of the Games, grabbing an axe, and making a run for it. Later, however, because of his guilty conscience, he decided to follow the advice and stayed in his hiding place most of the time. Finding food was difficult for him, but fortunately he had come across peppermint in the forest, which he often used to make tea in order to suppress his hunger. During his time in the arena, Leeper lost weight drastically. He longed for a decent meal that would help him regain his strength - and indeed, on the twelfth day, a glimmer of hope sprouted in him after Xander Holliehopp announced a Feast. Leeper hesitated at first - by now he had become used to spending most of his time in hiding. So he felt a little uncomfortable at the idea of running into the rest of the tributes again. But his empty stomach finally persuaded him to run to the Cornucopia. When he reached the edge of the forest, he was relieved to find that no one had yet touched the food bags on the feast table. Again Leeper defied the advice of his mentor, who had explicitly advised him not to rush, because he was already running towards the plain. Meanwhile, the other tributes had been thinking about the safest way to get their food bags. Only a few more meters, then he would have reached the table. He stretched out his hand and - woosh! An arrow pierced the collar of his jacket and nailed him to the Cornucopia. Leeper, at first completely perplexed, assumed that the Gamemakers had somehow shifted the ground beneath his feet. But then he saw the girl from District 4 running towards him with a bow in her hand and it dawned on him. The girl grabbed the food bag and ran away. The boys from Districts 10 and 11 also appeared but neither deigned to look at Leeper as he helplessly hung over the ground. Then, when the girl from District 1 showed up, Leeper tried even more desperately to free himself from the arrow. In his panic, it didn't even occur to him to simply take off his jacket. When the girl stood in front of him, Leeper kicked at her and swung his axe threateningly, but it was in vain. The girl pierced him with a sword. If Leeper had followed his mentor's advice, he might have even survived the Games - but perhaps he was doomed to fail from the start. Capitol’s favorite (4th-place).

Day 13: The girl from District 4 had set out to drink water from a nearby stream when she was attacked by a brown bear. She ran away and shot an arrow into the bear's chest while still running, but the bear was just too gigantic to go down. Then she ran against a rock wall. The bear continued to head towards her and the girl shot another arrow at it but missed. Paralyzed with fear, she leaned against the rock wall and closed her eyes. But nothing happened. She opened her eyes a little and saw that the bear was lying on the ground. The boy from District 11 stood over it with a bloody knife in his hand. Their eyes met for a second, and then, without saying a word, the boy turned around and ran away.

05. Rowden Cye Thomsy (age: 16 | skills: archery, climbing, herbology | training score: 9 | mentor: Auburn Elsher | days survived: 14): Female tribute from District 4. Rowden Cye (pronounced "rowan sigh") caused a stir from the very beginning. But not because of her talents and not because of her looks, but because of her unusual name ("So... Rowden Cye. Before we start - what's the meaning of your name? I think we're all very curious about it!" - "Well, Rowden derives from the word "rowing". That's what us people from District 4 do as often as breathing. And Cye is my mother's maiden name. She didn't want it to be forgotten. Yes, that's pretty much the story behind my name, Caesar."). The audience was very impressed with her clever answers, and found her very likeable. When asked how she would do in the Games, Rowden Cye replied, "I think I have good chances. After all, I won't be going into the Games alone, I'll be going with my allies. We get along quite well and each of us can contribute something different to the alliance."). This surprised many viewers because they felt Rowden Cye didn't fit in at all with the Career pack. There was something lovely about her - the short, flaming red hair; the freckles; the teal eyes and the warm smile. The other Careers gave the impression of being unpleasant contemporaries. At the start of the Games, Rowden Cye ran straight at the Cornucopia, grabbing everything she could get her hands on, including the only bow in the arena. The District 2 boy ran past her and shouted to Rowden Cye to defend the other side of the Cornucopia ("Yes, I will, let me find a weapon real quick!"). But she didn't seem to care about the rest of the tributes at all. No, she didn’t even notice them. That wasn’t unusual because not every Career set out to kill their opponents immediately. But then Rowden Cye did something that surprised the spectators yet again: she simply ran away. Quite inconspicuously, while the other tributes were still fighting. Later, after the bloodbath was over and the Careers were standing amidst the corpses strewn across the meadow, they finally noticed her absence. It would have been an understatement to say that they had been merely angry. No, they were raging with anger. The boy from District 1 hit the Cornucopia ("That sneaky rat. I'll set her hair on fire once I find her. You can bet your life on it!"). But not all Careers had been surprised by Rowden Cye's betrayal: the District 4 boy had known that Rowden Cye wouldn’t ally with them because she had confided in him just before the Games. Out of loyalty to her and his district, however, he had kept this from the rest of the Career pack ("We don't need them. We could survive on our own." - "Yeah, we could." - "Shore, you know you're a better fighter than all of us." - "So what? There's still no guarantee. Countless Careers have lost their lives because they had decided to fight on their own." - "Well, that's your decision. I just hope that you won't regret it someday."). Rowden Cye had taken several weapons, backpacks and food supplies with her - including the one bow the girl from District 2 had been desperately searching for. In her hiding place - a shelter directly behind a bush that she had camouflaged with leaves and snares - she laughed to herself while examining the contents of the backpacks ("Four idiots at one go!"). The longer the Games went on, the more often she risked things like taking a bath in the lake or frying seafood under the glaring sun. Among other things, she prepared seaweed soup, which caused a mad dash for restaurants in the Capitol that had seaweed soup on the menu. When she spotted the boy from District 11 on the tenth day, she surprised the viewers again by reaching for her backpacks rather than her bow. She took out several ropes and knotted them together. Then she tied the rope around a tree trunk, tied a tight knot, and lowered the other end of the rope to the boy. He was, after all, just a helpless boy who had fallen down a slope. Killing him wouldn't be right. It would be a cowardly thing to do. He deserved a fair fight at which he could defend himself properly. Rowden Cye did so without having ulterior motives, but her mercy and helpfulness towards this boy would pay off later. At the Feast, she nailed the District 7 boy to the Cornucopia. She hadn’t intended to kill him, but merely wanted to stop him from taking her bag of food without hurting him. The fact that she had managed to do this from a considerable distance deeply impressed the Gamemakers. Rowden Cye deserved at least 11 points! The next few days she spent mainly in her hiding place where she rested. She already had enough to eat. But soon she got bored, and although she didn't need it, she went in search of edible plants. Suddenly she heard heavy footsteps - the pair from District 1 appeared among the trees! Rowden Cye turned around and ran toward the Cornucopia. Arriving on the plain, she turned and shot an arrow at the girl from District 1, hitting her in the right shoulder. Then she aimed at her district partner, but he had gotten too close, so Rowden Cye drew her sword and engaged in a fight with the boy, as a result of which she slashed the boy's chest. The girl from District 1, in the meantime, continued examining her wound. But a little later, she, too, joined in. Rowden Cye did her best and wounded both tributes without taking any damage herself. But she knew that couldn't last forever. She tried to knock their weapons out of their hands, and managed to do that with the boy from District 1, when the girl from District 1 stabbed her with her sword. The viewers were endlessly saddened by her death, but also impressed by the two tributes from District 1 who had managed to eliminate such a dangerous opponent. Capitol’s favorite (1st-place).

04. Sair Barnard (age: 15 | skills: food procurement, practicality, trapping | training score: 8 | mentor: Falcon Seafield | days survived: 16): Male tribute from District 10. Sair had a very interesting face: almost every inch of his face was covered with brown freckles, his eyebrows were uneven and bushy, and his large, dark brown eyes were speckled with green and yellow. That Sair had survived the bloodbath at all was a miracle, because he had been very close to being killed by the girl from District 2. When he saw his district partner slide to the ground a few meters away, he stopped in horror. He hadn’t had much to do with her, but that she of all people had died instead of him made him sad. For a moment, Sair and the girl from District 2 looked at each other, and when the girl lashed out with another knife, Sair turned around abruptly and zigzagged away. A few hours later, he came across livestock in a pasture, and, smiling from ear to ear, he ran at them. He had helped out on a farm in District 10. But suddenly the cows, sheep and goats roared out and chased him all over the pasture. Sair jumped over the electrified fence at the last moment, saving himself from certain death. Shocked, he stared at the mutts that were staring at him hostilely from the other side of the fence. This wasn’t his lovely home. This was the cruel reality he was faced with. He had seen the true colours of the arena. From then on, he moved more deliberately in this new environment that always had a surprise in store, and approached everything with the utmost scepticism. Although he had initially assumed that the arena wouldn’t be very different from his home, Sair realized that the opposite was the case: the arena offered very few food resources, and he didn’t know much about edible plants. After he couldn’t catch any prey with his traps, he, too, was drawn to the Feast at the Cornucopia, where he almost died. Sair had run onto the plain and snatched the food bag. But at that moment, the knife of the girl from District 1, who shared a food bag with him, had pierced his ankle. Sair fell to the ground lengthwise. The boy from District 11, who had already grabbed his food bag and turned around, stopped and looked down at Sair. Then he shouldered him and ran back into the forest. There he put Sair back down and was already turning to leave when Sair held him back ("No, don't leave me. Please, don’t."). Please. Don't. The same words his district partner had said just before she died. The District 11 boy stopped without turning to Sair ("I can't." - "Maybe you'll think differently after I have shown you what I'm capable of." - "That's not… That’s not the reason." - "Then let me thank you." - "You don’t have to. I won't be able to protect you, anyway."). The boy from District 11 walked a few steps before stopping again ("Since I've been in this arena, I've been alone. I just can't get used to this loneliness. I promise you that I won't be a burden to you. And to be honest, you remind me of my brother. Please, Chaff." - "Fine. But you’ll keep your promise, all right?"). A new alliance had been formed from which both sides benefited. Sair told the boy about his discoveries, for example, the mutated livestock. The boy showed Sair edible plants. But one thing in particular had piqued the interest of the boy from District 11 ("Bombs, you say? Where are those bombs?" - "In the deep forest. They float. Why? … You're not planning on searching for them, are you?" - "Why not?" - "The girl from District 9 was torn to pieces." - "Too bad for the girl from District 9."). The boy was obviously serious. A day later, they found a bomb. Sair stood behind a tree, but his ally kept walking toward the bomb. After deactivating the bomb, he simply put it in his pocket! He did the same with another bomb a little further away. Sair stared at the boy in dismay ("Are you out of your mind?" - "If you can manually deactivate the bombs, you can manually reactivate them." - "And what if you accidentally activate them?" - "Then I'll be blown to pieces. But that‘s my problem, isn't it?"). The boy from District 11 stowed the bombs in a tree trunk, into which he had previously carved a cavity with a knife. They spent the following days walking around, collecting fruits and plants, and further examining the arena. Sair was curious about how the boy’s district partner had died, and after hesitating for a while, he finally dared to ask the boy. But the latter ignored his question and lay down to sleep. On the last day in the arena, Sair and his ally were wandering in the woods again when they were surprised by the tribute pair from District 1... Capitol’s favorite (5th-place).

03. Sparkle Rednam (age: 18 | skills: sword fighting, knives | training score: 10 | mentor: Lovejoy Fair | days survived: 16): Female tribute from District 1. When Sparkle stepped onto the stage at the Reaping and the cameras pointed at her, she made an unkempt appearance. Her hair looked like it hadn't been combed in days, her clothes were worn out, and the colour of her shoes was almost faded. While hardly any tributes mounted the stage in brand-new and spick-and-span clothing, at least they paid attention to a neat appearance; after all, the whole country would be watching them. Additionally, Sparkle lived in District 1, where people were a lot better off and meticulously paid attention to their appearance. Caesar Flickerman, who was an expert in human nature, brought this up during the interview as well, but in a very discreet way ("How do you like the clothes people wear here in the Capitol?" - "Mundane things like fashion aren’t really my cup of tea. What do I get from being a pretty fighter? Nothing. What really matters is your brains."). Her serious and reserved attitude intimidated some of her fellow competitors. In the arena, she also demonstrated how fearless she was. She had no trouble combing the vast cornfields for tributes or searching for food in the caves, whereas her allies shied away from it. Sparkle also joined the Feast, intending to collect the two food bags that were meant for her and her district partner. Her district partner was secretly glad that he only had to stand guard and not run toward the Cornucopia himself. But Sparkle was too late: the boys from Districts 10 and 11 had already run back into the forest with their food bags. She ran after them for a while, but lost sight of them. Angrily, she returned and told her district partner about it. Then both looked at the sky and held out their hands expectantly. But the sponsors didn’t want to reward their tardiness. Soon, they would have their revenge on the two boys… Capitol’s favorite (6th-place).

02. Emerald Shadis (age: 17 | skills: close combat, herbology, sword fighting | training score: 10 | mentor: Tulip Marylle | days survived: 16): Male tribute from District 1. Emerald golden hair fell wavelike on his shoulders. His emerald eyes were stunningly beautiful. He had broken his nose several times during training in District 1. The viewers knew from the start that this boy would make it very far. Surprisingly, he wasn’t only good with weapons, but also with plants. In District 1, he had helped out in his parents' flower store and often collected plants of all kinds for them. This made him an even more dangerous opponent because he knew about medicinal plants, and thus, didn’t have to rely on medicine from the Cornucopia or sponsors, as was usually the case with most of the Careers. During his interview with Caesar Flickerman, however, he didn’t reveal his secret talent ("Most people probably think I only have a knack for weapons. But that's not true, so get ready for a surprise in the arena!"). That way, he kept the audience on tenterhooks who were eager to find out what his secret talent was. It was also the perfect way to attract the attention of potential sponsors. Whenever one of his allies had a stomach aches, was exhausted, or felt unwell for some other reason, he would prepare an herbal mixture in no time. He did this not because he cared so much about the wellbeing of his allies, but because he wanted to impress the viewers, and he did - he collected the most sponsoring gifts of all tributes. However, he knew he couldn’t feed on plants all the time. His craving for a real meal lured him to the Feast, at which both he and his district partner went empty-handed. Once again, a tribute had scored them off - the boy from District 11 of all people! That was enough. He would make sure they would receive their punishment... Capitol’s favorite (3rd-place).

01. Chaff Morten (age: 17 | skills: bodily strength, food procurement, practicality, resourcefulness, stamina | training score: 10 | mentor: Seeder Augury | days survived: 16): Victor of the 45th Hunger Games from District 11. Chaff’s family belonged to the upper middle class, thanks to his father’s job as the gardener of District 11’s mayor. However, Chaff regularly helped out in the orchards for extra money. His life was marked by tragic losses. His mother and infant sister had both died in childbirth and his grandfather had died of the flu. Chaff had been a little boy back then. In the years that followed, he quickly got used to it, and death became a part of his life. He was very talkative and sociable. Although hardly anyone laughed at his jokes, it still made him special. Despite delivering one joke after another during his interview with Caesar Flickerman (and even raising a laugh), he was perceived as a serious opponent by his opponents. And rightly so, for he was tall and well-built. Added to this was his extensive knowledge of plants, his extraordinary stamina, and many years of practice with scythes, which he had used regularly during his work in the orchards. The Careers had watched him out of the corner of their eyes until on the third day of training, they had brought themselves to propose an alliance to him. Since Chaff was always found in the company of his district partner, they made the offer to her as well. Chaff replied that he would reconsider the offer, but neither he nor his district partner were interested in an alliance with the Careers. In truth, they deliberately kept the Careers in the dark, and made fun of them. That didn’t escape the Careers’ notice: the tribute pair from District 1 was particularly furious over the fact that tributes coming from District 11, a slum, were making fun of them. During the bloodbath, he ran straight into the Cornucopia, shouldering a backpack and picking up a knife before running into the woods where his district partner was already waiting for him. They explored the arena together, and never left each other’s side. After her death, Chaff was in shock. He stopped eating and wandered around the arena disorientated until a fall from a slope brought him to his senses. After being rescued by the girl from District 4, he vowed to repay that debt. He hated owing anyone anything. The boy from District 10 reminded him of his district partner whom he hadn’t been able to help. His presence reassured him, and sometimes he imagined that his district partner was sitting in his place instead. Chaff had initially rejected this alliance because he was afraid of losing an ally again. But part of him just couldn't help it. The death of the girl from District 4 saddened him, but he didn't let it show. The viewers would understand that he was crying for his childhood friend, but they would certainly not show him the same understanding again for someone else. On the last day, Chaff and his district partner went in search of edibles. While his district partner searched for edible plants below, Chaff climbed a tree to collect its fruit. But they were not alone there. "Thieves must be punished!" said the girl from District 1 with a sardonic grin before she cut off Chaff's left hand with her sword. She had been waiting for him in the tree. Chaff fell to the ground and saw his ally slide to the ground with a knife stuck in his stomach, right in front of the boy from District 1. Chaff turned around and ran away. The tributes from District 1 took up the chase. But Chaff was fast, even though he was missing a hand and lost a lot of blood. “Give up, Chaff!” the boy from District 1 shouted behind him, “If we don’t kill you, your hand will!” He was absolutely right. There was now a glaring hole where once his hand used to be. Chaff took off his shirt and wrapped it around the wound to stop the gush of blood - he probably had a few minutes left before he would eventually die of blood loss. He glanced over his shoulder and looked at their sweaty faces and tousled blond hair. But he also saw the sparkle in their emerald green eyes and a triumphant smile playing on their lips. Not yet. He still had one last move left. Chaff ran to his previous hiding place and hid behind a tree. "Seriously?" the girl from District 1 said, laughing. "All this way we ran for nothing? So you could just hide behind a tree?" Suddenly, something flew through the air and landed right at the feet of the tributes from District 1. They stared at the silver spheres lying on the ground, but by the time they had realized what it was, it was too late. With a deafening BOOM!, the two bombs detonated, tearing the District 1 tributes to pieces. Chaff fell to the ground. His face was pale, and he was no longer moving. The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere, collected him and the doctors scrambled to save Chaff's life. If the victor died, they too would pay with their lives....

After his victory, Chaff changed. He was no longer the joyful boy he once was. Only when he was drunk again did that boy show up again, the boy he had locked away years ago. He didn't talk about his Games to anyone, for he lived through them enough in his nightmares. Maeve - Sair - Rowden Cye. He never forgot those names, their faces. How could he? They followed him wherever he went. Five years later, a boy won the Games who had been through a similar experience. This boy was one of the few he could confide in because he could relate to his pain. His name was Haymitch Abernathy. Capitol’s favorite (2nd-place).

————————

*Capitol favorites attracted Capitol citizens’ (and therefore whole Panem’s) attention the most. Various reasons for this included their unique skills, impressive deeds or exciting storylines. More screen time made it easier for them to survive in the arena compared to less noticed tributes (e.g. in terms of sponsor gifts). Also, there was a lower risk for them to be exposed to the Gamemaker’s arbitrariness (e.g. mutts, different dangers) due to contributing to the viewer’s excitement. The higher their placement (1st, 2nd, 3rd…), the better. Nevertheless, the possibility of encountering dangers in the arena was never completely ruled out.

Sorry for any language mistakes. English is not my native language. Please let me know about any mistakes I have made.

I’d be grateful for your feedback! I spend A LOT of time writing all of this, so I’d really like to know what you think.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Finished recaps: The 1st, 6th, 16th, 25th, 36th, 45th, 49th, 50th, 65th, 66th, 68th, 69th, 70th, and 71st Hunger Games

Upcoming recaps: The 22nd, 62nd, 72nd, 73rd, and 74th Hunger Games

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Field of Flowers

Written for the Kidge Spring Event! 

Prompt 7: Daffodil | Unequaled Love, New Beginnings

Summary: It was just another normal day for Youtuber Katie "Pidge" Holt. She and her boyfriend were going to spend a few hours recording some stuff in Minecraft for their channels and then probably wrangle their friends into a few rounds of Among Us. Except Keith has a question designed to derail all of those plans. 

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

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Pidge settled in at her desk and took a look around to make sure there was nothing odd in the background of her webcam. There was only her cat, Tesla, who was relaxing in his carpeted tree, which was sure to thrill her viewers. On the desk in front of her were two monitors, one which displayed all of her recording details, as well as the service she and her boyfriend were using to communicate while they played. The bigger monitor was showing the main screen of Minecraft.

She put on her headphones and adjusted her mic. “Keith, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you. Everything all set up?” he asked.

Pidge glanced up at her webcam as she nodded. “Yup! I'm just going to put you on mute to run through my intro and then we can get started. You can hop in if you want and I'll join once I'm ready.”

“Sounds good. I'll see you in a few.”

She quickly muted the audio for his channel and gave it a few seconds to make sure she couldn't hear him as he loaded up their game. Then she sat up straight and began recording. “Hey, everyone! I'm TechOwl and today we'll be jumping back into Minecraft with the always handsome KHawkins. As always, there will be a link to his channel in the description and I encourage you to check out his stuff as well.”

Pidge hit join and easily found their usual world, typing in the password so she could join. She waited to unmute until the world had loaded in and caught Keith in mid-sentence when she did.

“...tower and arming it with bows and arrows, so I'll need to expand the chicken farm. Pidge will probably – hi, Pidge – probably help with harvesting flint,” Keith said.

“I'll see what I can gather up while I'm mining,” Pidge said as she opened her inventory to try and remember where she left off. She had a whole row of iron pickaxes and plenty of wood and coal, so she had probably come up to drop off everything in the vault beneath their house and to grab some food. “Actually, let me see what's in the Vault first.”

“You're back at the house?”

“Yeah, I think I was getting food. My bar's pretty low,” Pidge responded. She directed her character through the trapdoor in the corner and rode the ladder down 25 blocks to a room she'd carved out during their first few videos together. Double chests lined the walls and also had signs to go along with them. She went to the section for stones and took a peek into the box labeled 'gravel'. “We only have a stack of it. I'll go find more once I get some food. There's probably a vein of it somewhere in my tunnels that I haven't bothered collecting yet.”

“It'll be a while before I need it, so there's no real rush,” Keith told her. “I still have to build the watchtower and I won't get to that until I'm finished with the gardens.”

Pidge frowned as she went back up the ladder to get into the food chest in their house. “I thought we had way more gravel than that. Have you used any?”

“I used a few stacks of that and the sand to make some concrete a while back,” Keith said.

Pidge guessed that meant they were nearly out of sand as well. It was a bit of a venture to get to the desert biome where she'd harvested most of it, but that could wait for a while. “Anything else I can mine for you, oh-masterful-builder-of-the-world-above?”

“No, I think that's about it,” Keith responded, his tone light. “I thank you for your service, oh-lady-of-the-deep-earth.”

Pidge snorted with amusement as she grabbed a stack of food and ate until her hunger bar was full. She kept a few cooked pork chops in her inventory and put the rest back before turning to go back down into the complex labyrinth of her mine. She got halfway down the ladder before she swore and turned to go back up and fetch more wood, filling up the empty slots in her inventory so she could drop off the extras into the Vault. She kept one full stack of 64 wood blocks on her and then ventured through the double doors leading into the mine.

Pidge spent the next hour combing over her tunnels and collecting any gravel she came across using the iron shovels she specifically built for that purpose. She also collected a decent number of chunks of flint and took all of it back up to the surface with her once she was through.

All the while, she and Keith carried on a conversation for the sake of entertaining their audiences – their banter was often something that was most talked about between their fanbases, with numerous jokes gaining meme-like status. Their friends were fond of quoting those memes back at them whenever they played games together.

“Hey, where do you want all of this gravel and flint?” Pidge asked once she was back in the house. Once again, she had to pause to grab a snack from their food chest as she started taking hunger damage.

“Gravel can stay down there. I have a double chest at the bottom of the watchtower. The flint... yeah, go ahead and bring the flint up to me. I'm at the top. You should look over the edge and check out the garden from up here too. I'll stand on the side you should look over,” Keith said, sounding as though he was leaning away from his microphone. “Hang on, I've gotta run and get something. Go ahead and come up.”

“On my way,” Pidge responded.

She left the house and then looked up, spotting the watchtower immediately. It was a massive wooden structure that stretched high into the sky, though it didn't look like it was all the way up to the build height. She stopped at the base to drop off the stacks of gravel and then hopped on the ladder and rode it all the way to the top. It was there that she found Keith's character standing motionless to one side.

“I'll just drop these off here first,” Pidge said, cracking open the single chest that was next to the ladder. She dropped off the 24 flints and then backed out of the inventory so she could enjoy the sky-high view of the gardens that Keith had spent several sessions working on.

She hopped up on the side where he was standing and looked down. She could see the food garden off to one side, stretching down along the plot of land they took the time to flatten out. To the left of them was a field of flowers and as she looked at them, she realized they spelled something out.

“Wait...” she breathed as her mind caught up with what she was seeing.

Spelled out with red flowers was the question: “Will you marry me?”

Pidge tugged off her headphones and turned in her chair, ready to run downstairs and confront her boyfriend, but he was already there in her office, waiting for her with that soft smile on his face. “Keith?”

He walked into the room and knelt down in front of her, taking her hand with his own. “I've been in love with you from the first day we met. I didn't know it at the time. It took a few people pointing it out to me. Or, well, a lot of people,” he chuckled, “but eventually I figured it out. I never thought I would have the opportunity to find such happiness in my life and it's thanks to you that I have. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life without you in it.”

Pidge hiccuped as she tried to breathe in, reaching up to cover her mouth even as tears of happiness began to spill from her eyes. “Keith...”

Keith cracked open a tiny black box and held it out for Pidge to see the slender silver ring inside. It was inset with three green jewels – not the traditional diamond, but she'd never been fond of those anyway. “Katie Holt, will you marry me?”

She nodded, swallowing thickly so she could try and get the words out. “Yes! Yes, I will.” She slid out of her chair with a breathless laugh and into his arms, unable to wait until he could slip the ring onto her finger. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then another and another until Keith was shaking from laughter and had to ask if she even wanted the ring.

Pidge pulled away from him, a great big smile on her face as she held out her hand in response, allowing him to put the ring on her finger. And then she dove right back in, kissing him with all that she had to make up for her lack of words.

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Bonus Scene

“Coran! Coran, you have to come see this!” Allura shouted in excitement.

She could hear him running down the hall from his office, where he was working on editing their newest video together, and was soon striding over to her side while asking if everything was alright. Allura responded with a smile and by hitting play on what she had been watching.

“...-ver the edge and check out the garden from up here too. I'll stand on the side you should look over,” Keith's voice came through the speakers.

Allura eagerly watched Coran and knew the exact moment when Keith's proposal was revealed by the way Coran suddenly squealed in delight. She glanced back at the screen in time to watch it fade away from the flowers and then fade back in with a photo of Pidge and Keith, who were smiling at the camera. Pidge held up her left hand so a beautiful ring could be seen. It was also accompanied by the words: “She said yes!”

“How exciting!” Coran said, grinning broadly. “We must do something to celebrate! Dinner, perhaps? I'll call Hunk and begin preparations!”

Before Allura could agree or disagree with his idea, Coran was gone. She laughed softly and took out her phone to send out a warning to the rest of the group so they wouldn't be too blindsided.

It was certainly an event worth celebrating.

[am-imagines]

Legendary Pt. 4 Morgan!Reader.

Waiting for the next match is always the worst part. It allows people to wonder, expectations rise and the entire world is watching you like a hawk. It doesn’t matter if you’re in or out of the pitch, they’re ready to catch the wrong moment.

They’re ready to see you fail.

But you’re strong; perhaps stronger than you should be at your age.

You’re mature on the field, you know how to handle the pressure, how to shove aside the noise until it’s only you and the ball. That’s a part of what you bring to this team; temperance and resilience. You keep your head cool and your heart ignited.

No one on the team is afraid to put on the work, to stay behind to polish any and all details. Everyone is ready for one more rep, one more drill, one opportunity to show you deserve to be there. Nothing great has ever been done by giving up, and when all the odds are stacked against you, you’re ready to fight, burn, and come back from the ashes stronger than ever.

“It had to be Japan, uh?” Janice asks while you take a break.

“We can do this.”

“Confident?”

You shrug at the question. You’re confident in your team, although you don’t underestimate your rival. There’s a reason why they made it to the World Cup. Japan has always been a complicated team to play against.

They have discipline, technique and hunger.

But so do you. And you have heart; a burning passion to prove everyone wrong, including the voices lurking in the back of your head telling you to give up.

However, they’re not loud enough to silence the voice of your mom, Kelley, and Pinoe or every single member of your team, your family and friends. They’re your motivation, and you won’t let them down. You won’t let yourself down.

You’re confident this team has what it takes.

You know that you’ll leave everything you got on the pitch. You trust the rest of the team to do the same; push until the last second and until there’s nothing else to give. You’re willing to play your heart out, no matter if your every bone hurts at the end of the match.

“I’m confident, but not cocky. We have a great team, and we’re doing this right. We have to keep doing that, one pass at a time.”

“If that’s the case, then I hope you’re ready. There’s one more scrimmage to go.”

You groan when Janice pulls you back to your feet although the grin is clear on your face.

“I’m not on your team,” you mutter as you follow her back to the others.

“Picking the losing team, Y/n. I expected better from you.”

*****

Technically, you knew that playing every game wasn’t ideal or optimal for your body.

You’re happy some of your teammates are getting minutes, putting their names out there and giving their all for the same cause. Still, that doesn’t mean you enjoy the bench.

Even before the game starts, you pace the length of the bench. You keep doing so until the teams jump into the field for the National Anthems. Those minutes serve you as a pause before Pinoe finally guides you back to the bench and pushes you to take a seat.

   “The final fixture of the group phase is here! And what a match it is. I think we can all agree that not having Morgan in the line-up is a surprise. We don’t know of any injuries, and that brings up the question; what’s the plan for today?”

“If there’s nothing stopping Y/n from playing, she should be on the field. Japan is not an easy match, and maybe this is a sign of overconfidence from the USWNT. Their group is close; a win will let them advance as leaders. A tie can put them in problems. Losing here might send them home despite the good results in previous matches.”

“There’s only one way to find out. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for some soccer!”

No one enjoys watching the game from the bench, but it’s truly a different experience than seeing it in front of a tv screen or even from being in the crowd. It’s one of those odd sensations when you know you’re part of the game as a whole even if you’re not part of the starting lineup.

Pinoe talks you through the finer details of the game; she helps you grow even when you’re watching from the sideline. Sonnet and her see you as the Maverick, you can change a game with your abilities. You find the spaces that no one else does, you think with or without the ball at your feet, you’re a smart player in every sense of the world.

Sure, that might remind some people of Alex, but you’re good not because of her.

You have a passion for the sport that was born from her. After all, it’s hard not to love something your mom was so passionate about. She taught you discipline, but passion? That can’t be taught.

You listen intently to Pinoe while Sonnett guides the players on the field. Then, they switch positions and you have another world to learn from Emily’s perspective.

“Whatever happens, you’ll enter for the last twenty minutes, okay?” Emily asks patting your shoulder with the glint of a proud smile on her face.

“Yes, coach.”

Not being able to play every minute is also a part of the game. This is not just any tournament. This is the world cup; long and hard with little time to rest between matches.  It’s an exhausting process, not just for your body but for your mind.

The expectations of the whole nation, hell, maybe the entire world rests on the shoulders of twenty four players. It’s a whole lot of pressure for all players; the ones that played the last World Cup, and the young ones that want to change the world.

This match, specifically, is a lesson.

You already know how to move on the field with the ball at your mercy, and you know how to move to create space for you or others. Now, Pinoe and Sonnett are teaching you how to improve your game even when you’re not playing.

They want you to be better. From being an amazing player, to being a world champion.

World Cups aren’t just won on the field. Every single moment counts, and when the first goal finally arrives, you cheer for your teammates with everything you have.

“That’s the end of the first half! It’s been a rocky game so far. Japan is a very physical game, they have speed, and a lot of talent on their ranks. But I think we’re seeing a USWNT that knows how to play each match. Even without Y/n on the field, they were able to score.  I see potential on this team, but will it be enough to win it all?”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’s still forty-five minutes to go, and several matches on this World Cup if they want to do something really meaningful. There’s a long road ahead if they wanna be anything like the Golden Team.”

“Intense game, uh?” You ask Krash once you’re in the locker room. 

“You seem awfully chirpy for someone that is on the bench.”

“Hey!” You protest. “What’s the use of being grumpy? I’d still be on the bench.”

“I heard you’re having playing time at some point.”

“See? An extra reason to avoid all kinds of grumpiness. And between us?” You ask with a mocking conspiratorial tone. “I’m confident there’ll be another match. We got the best team in the world.”

“Hell yeah, we do!” Janice shouts from behind you.

Soon the entire team goes into a bundle, and you break apart after a cheer.

You feel it then, the heart of this team. The passion within you, they all feel it. The drive for victory, the hunger for it. There’s dedication and sweat, even blood.

The USA had to wait a long time for a team like this; with big dreams, with high hopes and with steady feet to walk steadily towards the top. But this group of women raising their hands in unison, this family found through soccer, they’re ready.

And so are you.

“Go kill it out there,” you tell Krash and O’Hara.

“You know it.”

*****

Going back to the bench brings up your nervousness again, but as soon as Pinoe notices, she sends you to warm up. It’s the best use of your anxious energy, so you nod before putting on the fluorescent vest.

A switch is flipped and suddenly you’re in beast mode.

You focus on warm ups and yet are hyper aware of everything else going on around you. You hear people cheering for the team and those that are the opposite. You hear your teammates calling for the ball once the match resumes. You hear Sonnett shouting instructions behind you and when the rest of the bench comes out to join you.

You take everything in, let it fuel your passion even more.

“You got this, Y/n!”

Alex’s voice cuts through the crowd and you smile despite yourself. There, in the second row right next to the bench, your mother cheers you on. Her words give you any and all courage needed as you intensify your warm up.

The time for you to enter is closer by the second and you’re prepared to face anything Japan throws your way. The magic of playing the biggest tournament in the world is still pretty much there. Even with all the pressure and expectations, this is the best thing in the world.

“Let’s do this,” you whisper to yourself once you’re finally in.

  “Morgan has entered the game. What can she do with limited time?”

The team keeps the lead, but you’re there to push the tempo. You don’t let Japan feel comfortable; they’re starting to feel tired while your legs are fresh. As impatient as you can be on the bench, you know how to wait on the field and what to wait for.

You recognize the few chances to make a move, break their defense, slip past their lines and take a long distance shot with all the technique learned from your mother. You only have one instant to get the ball through, but it’s the one you’ve been waiting for.

Right then your name isn’t what truly matters. However, your ability on the field does, it speaks for itself and leaves no doubt as to why you’re in the National Team.

Soccer is your element, your passion. You live it. You breathe it. And you make it change as needed. You have the ability to bend it to your will to benefit you and the team you represent.

Certainly, you’re one of the youngest players on the current roster, but it’s obvious there’s something different about you. There’s something in you more than talent and passion; you have dedication, discipline, hunger and more.

Of course, there’s still a lot for you to learn. Which means nothing when you learn as fast as you do.

Your energy drives the team forward, makes them try even when the score is against you. More importantly, you push them to be their best selves even when the match is won. You move around in the field and it’s almost like magic, not just of what you do with the ball at your feet either. The whole team follows your lead even when Krash wears the captain armband.

She has the experience and voice, and yet, you are the drive of the team.

At the time, 78th minute, your shot slices through the defense and can’t be stopped by anyone, not even the goalkeeper.

  “That’s a goal! And what a goal it was. A magnificent shot from Morgan that could simply not be stopped.”

“She had the space, the time and she didn’t waste it. With only fifteen minutes to play, I feel that this team is a bit closer to being group leaders.”

“What will this mean for them?”

“In the big picture? Little. But it’s a better chance facing the next round. They have some big names, and they got some big results. However, for a team with so much story as the USWNT, nothing but the title of Champions can be considered a Victory.”

“Do you think they have what it’s needed?”

“...Maybe.”

The ref blows the end of the match and you hurry to celebrate with your team; hugging each other with glee. You made it further than in the last World Cup, and that deserves a little celebration.

It feels good to get some of the results you’ve been looking for although there’s still a long way ahead. Still, enjoying each victory is not really that bad as long as you keep your eyes on the ultimate goal and don’t stop moving forward.

Before you follow the team back into the tunnel, you walk towards Alex.

She waits for you with a smile and hugs you tightly once you’re within reach. It’s a bit awkward considering the barrier still in between, but you couldn’t care less about that at the moment. You hug her with as much fervor as she does and laugh breathlessly.

“We made it through, mom!” You say excitedly.

“You did a fantastic job. All of you. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“But you will,” you counter with a smile. “After the next game.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, returning your smile. “I will.”

That’s the thing with her, she always finds another reason to be prouder of you. It doesn’t matter if the next game doesn’t end as you wish, you’re her daughter and she will always be proud of you. She has been there through the good and the bad. She cheers through your every victory. She helps you back to your feet after a defeat. She’s the reason you won’t give up, you’ll push as hard as possible and hope that positive inertia carries you all the way to the final.

You’re pretty sure that the only thing better than playing in a World Cup is actually lifting the trophy. That moment is far beyond the limits of your imagination; something you have to live and feel.

However, the way Alex looks at you makes you wonder if watching you play is higher in her list of memorable instances. After another hug and the kiss she places on your temple, you decide it has to be up there.

*****

“Today was a great match. You managed to score a goal even with limited time on the field. Were you trying to prove a point to the coaching staff?”

It takes you a couple of seconds to truly understand what they’re asking you.

The press has a twisted perspective and won’t hesitate to bend and warp your words to fit their narrative. Dealing with them can be exhausting, but it’s not something you can’t do. Not when you’re still riding the high of that game against Japan.

“No, not at all. This is the World Cup. It’s a demanding tournament and we know everyone will get playing time. Like you said, the team did great out there not just today but we found our ground in every match. Some of us were lucky enough to have more minutes on the group phase, but there’s no point to prove. Everyone that is here deserves to be here. I just gave my everything in those few minutes because that’s what you gotta do to advance.”

“Advance you did. Congratulations. We’ll let you go back to your team now.”

With a smile to the cameras and a wave, you make your way down the tunnel and to the locker room where half the team is already changed.

“Alright, girls!” Pinoe calls for everyone’s attention. “I want all of you to take this moment in. Enjoy it for a bit but don’t let it get to your heads. Tomorrow we focus on our next goal.”

“Winning the world cup,” Janice states as she sits beside you.

“One match at a time,” you reply with a nod.