#we reached chapter 12!

[flaggermousseart]

The sun sets and guests flock to the castle ... it will be a night to remember.

[amtrak12]

My spouse read chapter 12 of my Lucifer fic and he called it my best chapter yet :') Definitely did not expect that for this one, but I am Pleased.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 12: Fire In My Veins

Summary: Your heat begins. Luckily you have a good alpha to take care of you during your most vulnerable time. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, knotting, spanking (it’s like once), fluids so many fluids, heat cycles, mating cycles, lots of talk of breeding and mating, biting, brief mention of blood, this is gross y’all, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: It was quite the ordeal, this chapter, and it's come a long way from when I first wrote it between Sunday and Monday this week. It's pretty much just smut so enjoy!!

The smut starts after the first scene and goes to the end, so only read up to the first green line if you don’t want the smut. You’re not missing much, just Price biting the reader to claim her, but I’ll talk more about that in the next chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“You alright, love?” 

You look up from where you had been staring at the floor, suddenly pulled back into the real world by Gaz’s voice. He had been organizing the nutrient bars and electrolyte bottles in your room while you sat and dissociated to the sound of rustling paper bags. 

You stare at his furrowed brows and worried eyes for a moment before averting your gaze with a nod. “Yeah.” 

The carpet under your feet has never looked quite so interesting before.

Gaz moves to sit next to you on the bed, sinking down onto the mattress with a sigh. “Nervous?” 

You nod in response, clutching the strawberry pillow in your arms tighter against your chest. 

“You’ll be alright.” Gaz says, his hand warm as it presses against your back. “I’m gonna take good care of you, yeah? Both you and Price. I’ll be right outside that door, and I’ll be in and out too. Dr. Keller’s ready in case something happens, but I don’t think anything will.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close against him. “You’re in good hands.” 

“There’s no going back after this.” You say, leaning into his side. 

“No, I don’t think any of us would want to anyway.” He smiles down at your surprised face. “What? I thought that was obvious. We all want you as part of our pack. You are part of the pack already, at least in every way but officially. None of us would trade you for anything.”

Your eyes fill with tears at his words. You know it’s just the stress and the hormones and the impending heat that could start at any time, but his words reach some deep part of you that was worried that they were all faking, that they all actually hated you. His words calm you a bit, easing away that stress and fear that you’ve been carrying for the last almost six weeks. 

“Come now, none of that.” Gaz says, wiping the tear that trails down your cheek. “Can’t afford getting dehydrated now.” 

You can’t help but laugh, even though you know he’s right. You’ve had so much liquid over the last couple days you feel as though you might burst at any second. It was necessary, considering the amount of fluid you were about to lose. 

Gaz leans down, kissing all over your face. You giggle, falling back on your bed to try and escape, but he follows you, continuing to plant little kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Kyle!” You shriek, giggling as his kisses tickle your skin. 

He pauses, leaning up so you’re eye to eye, a grin on his face. “You called me Kyle.” 

“That is your name, isn’t it?” You say, blinking up at him. 

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “You can call me Kyle as much as you’d like, love.” He says as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in place as you kiss him back. His arm snakes beneath you, pressing you tightly against his chest. He groans quietly into your lips, body taught against yours. You can feel every part of him, the muscles under his shirt, the strength of his thighs. Your head is spinning, and you know it’s mostly due to your impending heat. 

You let out a quiet whine as his lips leave yours, trailing down your neck to your shoulder. He leaves a scalding kiss over your scent gland, nipping playfully at the sensitive skin. 

“Can’t wait to see the mark,” He murmurs against your skin, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as your body begins to warm a little. “When Price claims you, makes you his.” 

“Fuck.” You breathe, a shudder running through your whole body. 

Kyle chuckles, sucking a mark on your collarbone. “You won’t be just his, though, huh? Gonna be ours.” 

You let out a whine at his words, your fingers trailing up the back of his neck. He lets out a quiet groan, his body shuddering as you tease the sensitive skin. You feel lightheaded and dizzy from the rapidly shifting hormones of your pre-heat. You’re very close to the start. Any day now you could wake in a sweat with an insatiable ache between your thighs. You're like a ticking time bomb, but neither of the demolition experts you now live with can disarm you. 

If only it could be so easy. 

Kyle presses one last kiss to your lips before he pulls back, smiling down at you. “You’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it.” 

You can’t help but believe him, especially with those big brown eyes staring down at you. 

It’s sweltering. A fire has started beneath your skin, flames licking your veins, your very cells scorching in the fiery inferno that has overtaken you. An arid desert has bloomed in your mouth, your tongue heavy and sticky. Sweat has slicked your skin, consciousness only bringing awareness to the dampness of your sheets and pajamas. 

It also brings awareness to the pain. 

There’s an intense ache between your legs, your pelvis cramping. Slick has coated your thighs, soaking through your pajama pants, the fabric clinging to your skin. It’s too much, the sensations of your pajamas and the weight of the blankets nearly driving you to insanity. You need to be bare. It’s too hot and the drag of the fabric across your skin makes you want to cry. 

Not to mention the intense need burning through you. 

The mattress protector crinkles as you shift on the bed, every movement taking an excess amount of energy as you attempt to tug your shirt off with fumbling fingers. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, your arms heavy and sluggish as you peel the fabric from your sticky skin, letting it fall to the floor. You lay there exhausted, body twitching as your temperature begins to spike. You blindly reach out, fingers trembling as they grasp at your phone. Your eyes are bleary as you blink rapidly at the too bright screen. You fumble with clumsy fingers on the screen, dialing the first number you see, not caring who it is.

“Hello?” 

You let out a quiet whine at the rough voice, thick with sleep. You can’t get your mouth to move, to form any words as you lay there pathetically, half undressed and soaked in sweat and slick. There’s an ache between your thighs, pulsing in time with your heart. Your free hand fumbles with your waistband, desperate to try and get your pants down, to remove the feeling of your underwear sticking to your slick folds. 

“Help.” You manage a single word, not even sure it was intelligible. You let out a frustrated whimper, your body not cooperating to lift your hips so you can pull down your pants. 

A moment of silence passes before you get a response. “Fuck, be right there, love.” 

The line clicks, and a moment later a door is opening down the hall. You’re silently grateful you hadn’t locked your door last night, as there was no way you would be able to get out of bed and make it across the floor. It opens just enough for the figure to slip in before he closes it, not wanting to let your scent freely flow down the hallway. 

The light of the lamp on your nightstand accosts your eyes as it’s turned on, making you squint. You don’t miss the way Kyle’s nose crinkles for a moment as he catches the sickly sweet, overwhelming aroma of your scent as it pours from your body. His hand is cool against your forehead as he brushes the stray strands of hair sticking to your skin back. Johnny had braided it last night at least to try and keep it out of the way. 

“Easy.” He says quietly, shushing you as you whimper in need. 

You let out a whine as Kyle pushes the blankets out of the way. You’re incapable of caring that you’re half naked in front of him for the first time, and he pays it no mind. You tug uselessly at your pajama pants again, letting out a frustrated whine as you fail to shimmy them down your legs again. Kyle bats your hands away, slipping his fingers under the waistband and tugging the pants down your legs. You sigh in relief as the fabric is pulled away from your skin, a shiver running through you as the cool air hits your slicked folds. 

Kyle gathers your clothes, adding them into the bag of things that would need to be washed as soon as your heat is over before he returns to your side. 

“I need you to drink something for me, then I’ll go get Price, alright?” He says, kneeling down next to the bed as he grabs the electrolyte drink from your nightstand. 

You flop against his chest as he slips an arm around you, helping prop you up. Your face presses into his neck, inhaling deeply. A whine of disappointment leaves your lips as you realize he’s not what you need, your omega dissatisfied with the scent of beta emanating from him. 

“I know.” He says, easing you away from his neck. “Just drink this first and then you can have your alpha.” 

“Alpha.” You whimper, leaning against Kyle’s chest. 

He helps you drink some of the sweet liquid, and you gulp it down, relieved as it eases some of the dryness in your mouth. He lets you drink half of the bottle before he pulls it away, setting it on the nightstand. 

“Good girl.” He praises you, helping you lay back down against your pillow. “I’ll go get Price. I’ll get your alpha.” 

You hum contently at the promise of what’s coming, your omega practically screaming for her alpha, for some relief. 

Kyle slips back out the door, your head buzzing as the intense arousal and need burning within you gets stronger. Your pussy is pulsing, slick dribbling out of you as the need to mate takes over. The primordial instinct to reproduce is strong, your omega clawing at your mind, screaming to be bred, screaming to be bred, to carry pups. You need your alpha. You need his knot. 

You roll onto your stomach, pressing your hips into the mattress. You need something, anything to ease the aching pulse in your body. You begin to rut against the sheets, dragging your clit against the rough fabric. You let out a quiet whine as the friction sends pleasure shooting through you, a slight relief from the pain of your intense arousal. 

The door opens, your head shooting up as the heavy scent of alpha washes over you. Your eyes dilate, a shudder traveling from your head to your toes as the familiar scent of damp earth laced with the musk of arousal invades your senses. You let out another whine as John approaches the bed, your hips still rutting desperately against the sheets. You look utterly ruined, wide eyed and sweat-slicked, panting like an animal in heat. 

You are an animal in heat. 

“Look at you.” John mumbles, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. He stands over you, watching the desperate movements of your hips for a moment. “Needy little thing.” He teases, setting his phone on your nightstand before tugging his shirt over his head. 

You watch as every inch of skin is revealed to you, lips parting as you take him in. The strength of his muscles, the softness of his stomach. You want to lick every inch of him. You want to roll around in his scent, cover yourself in his essence, mark every part of your body with him. 

You arch into his touch as he drags a hand down your back, rough fingers following the line of your spine. You press your ass into his hand as he passes over it, fingers tugging your thighs apart. He groans again as a wave of your thick, sweet scent washes over him. 

“Let me see you.” He growls, sweatpants hitting the floor. 

You hear him, but you’re too busy staring at him in awe. More slick slips out of you at the sight of his cock, red and angry and painfully hard already. You can almost swear it’s pulsing in time with your pussy. A harsh gasp is pulled from your throat as he brings his hand down across your ass, the sound of skin striking skin loud enough to pull you back to reality. 

“I said, present for your alpha.” He says, the rough rumble of his inner alpha coating the edges of his voice. 

You whimper in response, scrambling up onto your hands and knees like a good omega for him as he kneels on the bed behind you.  

“Good girl.” He rumbles, a pleased whine leaving your lips at his praise. 

You push back into his hands as he cups your ass, his hand smoothing over the burning spot on the cheek he’d slapped. You can’t feel the pain from it, far too lost in your heat-riddled brain to register anything but the need pulsing between your thighs and the alpha staring at your soaked pussy. Thumbs part your folds, slick dribbling onto the sheets as he stares at your pussy. 

“So fucking slick for me.” He groans, dragging a thumb along your slit. 

“For you alpha!” You gasp, pressing back harder against his hands. 

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he drags his thumb through your folds again, pressing the digit against your clit. Your gasp is broken by a whimper, your clit already sensitive from you humping against your bed like a needy pup. You bend your top half down, relaxing against the mattress as you grind back against his hand. He lets you, keeping his hand still as he lets you work yourself to pleasure on your own. 

“Please! Please!” You beg, mind going numb with pleasure as his thumb brushes your clit with every rock of your hips. Your legs are already shaking, body trembling as the pleasure starts to build and build, the promise of relief coming at the hands of your alpha. 

“Eager little thing,” He rumbles, his breath fanning across your folds. 

You moan as his tongue drags along your slit, tasting your slick. Your fingers sink into the sheets, holding on as his tongue prods your entrance, his mouth slurping at the slick dripping from you. It’s obscene, but either of you care, both of you too lost in your need. 

Your knees nearly give out, your pussy clenching around his tongue as he applies more pressure against your clit, drawing slow circles with his thumb. He’s groaning against you, the quiet sound rumbling deep in his chest. He’s losing his own sanity, his alpha taking over as your heat triggers his rut instincts. His alpha has to be screaming as much as your omega is to mate. 

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, washing over you with a power that almost makes you black out. Slick spills out of you as your pussy flutters, soaking John’s face and beard in your juices. He’s relentless, not giving you even a second as he continues to fuck you with his tongue as his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit. Your legs are shaking, eyes rolling as the pleasure continues to build. Despite your orgasm, it’s not enough. Your brain knows it and your body knows it. You need a knot before you’ll be able to relax, before the pain and the need fades enough for your brain to relax. 

Even then, it will only be for a moment. 

“Alpha!” You whine, pushing back against his face, seeking out more. 

John growls against your pussy, the sound vibrating into your very soul. You let out a whimper in response, clutching at the sheets desperately. He pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips. You wish you could see him, the way his face shines with your slick, his beard soaked with your release. He licks his lips, savoring every last taste of you he can get as he sinks his fingers into you. 

You clamp down around the thick digits, a groan leaving his lips as you squeeze around him. You’re desperate for another orgasm, another chance at relief from the blazing inferno under your skin, the painful need still pulsing in your pelvis. 

“Please, alpha!” You whine, bucking back against his hand. “Hurts.”

He shushes you, continuing to fuck you with his fingers. The wet squelch of your pussy is loud in the small room, obscene and depraved, but you cannot bring yourself to care who might be able to hear as another orgasm rushes through your body. You whine in pleasure as slick dribbles out around his fingers, forced out by the fluttering of your walls. You can’t stop, don’t stop, as you continue to rock back against him. He watches you, holding his hand still as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You’re still desperate for more, still needing the one thing he won’t give you yet. 

He pulls his fingers from you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Your pussy is still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, still trying to clench around nothing. John curses as he drags his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick and your release across the sensitive skin. 

“Tell me what you need.” He rasps, the edges of his voice harsh as his alpha begins to take over.

“Need your knot, alpha.” You whine, pushing your hips back, searching for anything that might offer some more relief. “Please.”

He lets out a pleased rumble, shifting behind you. You bite your lip in anticipation and excitement, your body twitching as his rough hands smooth over the skin of your hips. His touch is electric, amplified by the sensitivity brought on by your heat. You want to feel him against you, you want to feel him inside of you. You need him, every fiber of your being, every cell in your body reaching out to him, inviting him in. 

A quiet mewl escapes you as he drags the head of his cock through your folds, gathering your slick on his hard length. Your entire body flutters in anticipation as he pushes against your entrance, meeting no resistance as he presses into you. Your body aids him, relaxing around him as it welcomes the intrusion. There’s no pain, no discomfort as he stretches you open, aided by the copious slick that still seeps out around his cock. You practically shudder in relief as you finally get what you want, what you need. 

Your alpha’s cock inside you. 

His grip is tight on your hips as he begins to move, rocking his own hips as he presses deeper into you. He shifts his legs around yours, pressing himself closer until he’s flush against your ass. You can feel him deep inside you, and you’re almost certain you could see it if you looked. You brace yourself against the bed, instinct taking over as you begin to move with him, rocking back to meet his thrusts. It’s lewd, the sound of skin slapping skin as he sets an almost frantic pace, sharp thrusts accentuating the wet squelch of your pussy around him, and the sound of his hips meeting your ass. 

His fingers dig into your hips almost to the point of pain, but you don’t care. You’re far too lost in your instincts, and the pleasure, to care much about anything. The hormones and endorphins block it out, only one thought on your mind, playing on repeat. 

Knot knot knot knot.

You moan loudly as Price ruts into you, not caring who might hear, or who can hear. Price moans and growls, the sweetness of your scent blocking out all thoughts except how much he needs to breed you, how much he needs to be a good alpha and take care of his omega. 

You just want to be a good omega for your alpha. 

You cum again with a cry, pussy fluttering around his cock as more slick dribbles out of you, soaking the sheets below you. John doesn’t stop, save for a slight falter of his thrusts as you squeeze around him tightly, your pussy trying to milk his own orgasm from him. Your body is shaking, his hands the only thing keeping your hips upright as more and more pleasure continues to build despite now three orgasms that have rocked through you. 

You need him to cum, you need him to fill you up with his knot. You need to feel the warmth of his seed inside you, the heaviness of it as it fills you. Drool begins to pool on the sheets below your face, adding to the mix of fluids soaked into your already damp sheets. John’s pace never falters, even as sweat begins to build on his brow, sliding down the sides of his face. You want to lick it, follow the trail of salty liquid as it falls down his neck and onto his chest. 

Sweat drips from your own skin as another orgasm begins to build. You can tell John is close too as his grip tightens on your hips, the pain registering just for a moment at the back of your mind. You’ll forget it by the time your heat ends, the momentary pull to awareness lost in the haze of mindless pleasure and a need to mate. 

“C’mon.” John growls, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck. “Give it to me.” 

You let out a whine, knowing what it is he wants, what it is you need as you push yourself back up onto shaking arms, the adrenaline the only thing giving you the strength to move. John moves your braids to the other side of your neck, his chest pressing against your back. It changes the angle of his thrusts as he grinds against you, the swelling at the base of his cock catching on your walls as he continues to thrust deeply into you. 

“Please,” You whimper, bearing your neck to him as he kisses along the line of your shoulder. “Please alpha. Wanna be yours.” You whimper, arching into him in an attempt to get closer as his teeth drag across your skin. 

“My good omega.” He growls, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin right next to your scent gland at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “My good girl. Gonna take my knot like a good omega? Let me fill you up with pups as I make you mine?” 

You let out a high pitched whine at his words, trying to press your neck closer to his mouth. “Please, alpha! Please! Wanna be a good omega!” 

He curses under his breath, his arm wrapping around your body to hold you up. His knot presses into you, stretching you open as it continues to swell until he’s locked inside you. You cum around his knot at the sensation of being filled so completely, his hips continuing to grind against you as he chases his own orgasm. 

You nearly black out as his teeth sink into your skin, the pinch lasting only for a second before pleasure rushes through you. You let out a loud, high-pitched sound as he claims you, marking you as his forever. Another, sudden orgasm slams into you, his arm holding you still as you try to writhe on his knot. He growls into your skin as he stills, hips jerking against your ass as he cums inside you. 

Your arms give out as he releases your shoulder, blood dripping onto the sheets below you. Your head is spinning as he drags his tongue across the raised skin, cleaning the mark he’s left on you. 

He shushes you as you let out little whimpers and whines, gently easing your body so you’re laying flat against the bed. “Easy, that’s my good girl.” He praises you, pressing gentle kisses against your neck. “My good omega. Take my knot so well.” 

Your vision slowly fades to darkness as exhaustion takes over, a small smile tugging at your lips from his praise. 

His eyes are dark and glazed as he stares up at you, mouth parted as he breathes heavily. Your head is thrown back, the sweetest little moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you bounce on his cock. His hands hold your hips, far too tight to be comfortable against your sweat-soaked skin as he guides your movements, but you offer no complaint. His thighs are soaked with your slick and a mix of fluids that seems to endlessly drip from you. Your own thighs are shaking around him, exhaustion prevalent in your sloppy movements. You’re close, eyes fluttering as your grip tightens on his shoulders. Your nails bite into his skin but he doesn’t care. He can’t feel much of anything but pleasure at the moment. 

He guides you through your orgasm as it rocks through you, your body shuddering around him. His hips press up against yours as he reaches his own end, spilling into you as his knot locks into place, connecting you two once again. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, nor does he care. All he wants is to be inside you, fucking his seed into you until you’re swollen with it. He stares down at where you’re connected for a moment, your pussy spread open around his knot.

He guides you against his chest as your body gives out, the haze of his instincts lifting just momentarily. His body aches, soreness settling in as his mind clears. You lick at his throat, tasting his sweat-slicked skin. Sweet little whimpers and whines leave your lips as you rest against him, completely boneless and at his mercy.

He reaches over to the nightstand, wrapping an arm around you to hold you still so he doesn’t tug on the knot as he grabs the bottle of electrolytes. He unscrews the cap, gently easing you back. You’re both still breathing heavily as he cradles the back of your head with one hand, helping you drink the electrolytes. You gulp it down even in your exhausted state, your body recognizing its need for sustenance. 

He drinks the rest after you finish, tossing the bottle onto the floor with the others. He picks up one of the nutrient bars, peeling the wrapper off before he begins to eat, feeding you bites of it as he does. You’re half asleep, chewing slowly as you rest against his chest, body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of another of what’s now a countless number of orgasms. 

He gives you the last little bit of the bar before he relaxes back against the headboard, keeping his arms wrapped tight around you. The skin on your shoulder is still angry and slightly swollen from his claiming bite. It doesn’t help that he’s sunk his teeth into that spot twice now since he first claimed you. 

He swells with pride upon seeing it, the proof that you’re now his, a warning to others not to mess with you. It’s a slight weight off his shoulders. He has to worry less about someone trying something. Some haughty, cocksure alpha getting it through his head that he wants what he can’t have, that he can just take what’s not his. A low growl rumbles through his chest at the thought. 

He shushes you as you stir in response to the warning growl, a purr rumbling through his chest as he eases you back into a relaxed state. His good little omega, his sweet little omega, taking his knot so well. 

You make a quiet noise as he twitches inside you, the feeling of being enveloped in your tight heat almost like heaven. He closes his eyes, calming his inner alpha. He knows you need to rest. You need a little break before you start up again, before your heat continues to ravage you. 

Before he continues to ravage you. 

Taglist:

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

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

This was going to be a little something, but I got carried away, anyway, enjoy.

Thinking about reader entering the elevator to find the whole 141 fully dressed and armed inside. 💗

Warning: There is a little smut ahead ❤️ Gaz x Reader

“There really is no need!” You exclaim, finally coming out of the paralyzed state you were in. Just as the door was about to close you managed to slip out, forcing the door to open again by detecting the movement. “I'll just go out the way I came in, no need to worry.” 

You try to make your way to the car, walking backwards so that you don't have to break eye contact with them since they are looking at you like you are an absolute lunatic. Maybe you are. 

The only thing you can see of them is their eyes as they look at you, and then the three of them that are on the right turn to the one on the left. The one that spoke to you and to the radio. 

He puts his hand on the door again, and slowly turns his head to the one closer to him. Then he nods in your direction and says only loud enough for them to hear: “Grab her.”

Not needing to hear anything, and trusting your guts, the second the man puts a foot down to begin walking your way, you bolt, running as fast as you can to your car. 

Thanking whoever is listening that still has your keys in your hands, you unlock your car and as soon as you reach it, you open the driver's door and enter, closing it behind you. 

Or trying to. 

Before you can yourself in your car, a hand holds the door and pushes it back open. He tries to grab your arm so you move to the copilot seat, trying to move away knowing that there is no way out but still trying. 

You push your back against the door, desperate to create space as the man starts to enter your car and you try to kick him away. “Please let me leave! I don't know what's going on, I can't say anything if I don't know what's going on! Please!”

He doesn't respond with his voice but in his eyes, you see something similar to pity that makes you wonder what you must look like, glassy eyes with tears pricking at your eyes from fear, trying to move as away as possible from him in your minuscule car and trying to kick him away but with barely any strength too scared to actually hurt him and make it more difficult for you. 

The door behind your back suddenly opens and before you can do anything, a pair of strong arms grab you by your torso keeping your arms close to your chest and unable to move them. “Gotcha!” Says the voice behind you with a strong accent and almost fun in his voice, like he just won a tag game. 

You trash around trying to get free, unable to even reach the ground, tears beginning to flow down your cheek. “Please, please, I promise I won't say anything, ple-” A massive hand covers your mouth, silencing your pleas and forcing you to look at the third man that followed you to your card. Brown eyes look at you with furrowed eyes and say slowly, almost testing how stupid you are. “Are you going to make this easy for everyone, or do you just want to make it harder, angel?”

You nod your head, afraid to even try and speak. “Yes? Yes, what? Are you going to behave? Good girl.” He says as you keep nodding and you see his eyes twirl the slightest with a smile. “C’mon, Johnny, bring her to the elevator.” 

The four of you make your way inside of the elevator when the first man who spoke to you remains holding the door shaking his head at you as you are dragged inside. “Now why would you try something like that, you silly girl?” He says taking something from his back pocket.

“Maybe she likes to be chased.” Says the man that you tried to kick before and you quickly shake your head still unable to talk earning a chuckle from him.

“Well, we can't have any more of that. Put her behind Kyle, Soap.” Says the first man, and you can finally see that what he picked from his pocket is a pair of cuffs and you begin to trash again. Futile, you know it, since the man behind you (Soap, you guess), holds your hands putting them around the man’s waist (Kyle was his name?) and you quickly feel the cuff go around your wrist keeping your plush against Kyle's back, the indents and trinkets of his backpack pressing against your face. “Now, no more tears, kid. You brought this upon yourself, so no more games.” He says looking at you poking his head from the other side of the man, but you can help it back to let the tears flow free. “Aw, c’mon, lass. Don't cry, yer be free in a bit. Look, Captain has the keys, we'll let you go soon, see? Right her- Shit!” 

The Scottish man behind you was saying, as he pointed and moved around you, and when he was about to point to the keys in his captain's hand, his eyes were not on the keys but instead on your face. So he didn't measure the distance and instead knocked the keys out of his captain's hand. 

So now, the five of you look as the key falls, not to the floor, but straight to the small space under the elevator door just as it closes. Getting out of reach, and possibly never to be seen again. 

“Johnny, you fucking twat!”

Maybe if you did some overtime today, if you came across one more red light on your way back, if you stayed in your car a couple of minutes more you wouldn't have found yourself in this situation.

But you didn't.

So here you are now, hiding your face on the back of some military man, crying out of absolute fear for your wellbeing, handcuffed so you can't run and hearing the four men on the elevator argue with each other. 

Until an especially hard sob escapes your mouth making you bite your lips to silence yourself and everyone else to shut up. 

A warm hand engulges yours, assuming that it is Kyle's trying to calm you down by drawing little circles on your hand. “It's okay, luv. We have more keys, just not here. You just gotta stick with us for a little longer, and then you'll be back to your life, a’right?”

You hiccup as you try to stop crying, still biting your lips and out of reflex, you move your hand to grab one of his fingers, trying to ground you and get calmer. 

You notice a hand going down your back making you jump and grab Kyle's finger harder before you hear someone shushing you. “When we get out there, I'm gonna need you to be quiet, alright? And move along with Sargent Garrick, careful with your feet… Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see your pretty face.” 

You slowly move your head to face him, you recognize the voice as the Captain's voice but you finally see his face as he has moved his mask and now you can see the lower part of his face, mainly covered still by his beard and moustache, but with a kind smile on his face. A soft sigh escapes his lips when he sees you and it makes you think about what you must look like. 

Raw, plush and red lips from biting them, glossy eyes and wet cheeks flushed against the sergeant’s back; an absolute mess.

“Poor birdie, what have you gotten yourself into?” He says as he cups your head. “You are going to be good, right? We are going to take care of you, so no need to be so afraid. Nothing bad is going to happen to you as long as you are with us. It is all going to be over soon, luv.”

He caresses your head once more, and when the elevator reaches your floor, he puts the mask back up. The four of them get the weapons in their hands and begin to beeline out of the elevator.

Kyle gives you one last squeeze to your hands before letting them go to grab his gun and walk out last of the elevator with you behind. 

“Bravo-6 to Watcher-1, we are on the 6th floor, moving to the objective apartment.” The captain says walking first. 

“Watcher-1 to all, the apartment is the 608. Proceed with caution, we don't know how many are inside.”

“Roger that, are there any secondary entries, Watcher?”

“Any available on time, Bravo-6. Just the main door.”

“You can jump from my terrace.” You whisper to Kyle who whips his head so fast when he hears you talk you are surprised he didn't get dizzy. “I live next door.”

“Quiet, birdie!” Kyle screams-whispers back, gaining the attention of the captain. 

“What did she say?” Ask the captain back.

“She said she lives next door to the objective, that we can jump from the terrace. Worth a look?” Kyle asks back.

“Where do you have the keys?” A deep voice coming from the only man you don't know the name jet asks next to you, and you push your butt out.

“Back pocket.” You say looking at him.

“Lucky Lt.” Soap mumbles somewhere close.

The unknown man gets his hand down your pocket and grabs your keys without unnecessarily lingering. 

You tell them your apartment number and when they open you explain to them that it is in your bedroom, and they just need to jump over the half wall on the side. 

“Ghost and Soap go through the outside, Gaz you coming with me. Ghost, check how many people are inside and we will enter at the same time.” Captain orders and you decide that you have already heard enough.

You know bullets are about to fly everywhere and blood is about to run and you don't want neither to see nor to hear any of that. 

So you hide your face on Kyle's back and grab his belt to steady yourself. You hear the Captain's voice shout something and after that, it is all chaos. You focus all of your senses on moving in tandem with Kyle, making sure not to get your feet on his way. 

At some point, you feel a sharp pain a bit higher than your elbow, but you ignore it, way too terrified to check it.

It is all a blur of noise and movement, but finally, there is no more shooting and you can only hear an angry man shout. 

You finally pop your head around Kyle to check who is screaming and you come across your neighbour, shouting at the captain until he sees you.

“You! I knew you were a fucking spy, you fucking whore! You don't know who you just fuck with! You are dead, bitch! You heard me? DEAD!”

“Darling, he is not getting close to you.” Kyle tries to reassure you.

You are currently sitting on his lap, strangling his legs, still cuffed around him. You both are sitting on the back of the ambulance, as the paramedic takes care of the wound on your arm. Not that you care about it, becoming minuscule in your hierarchy of problems after receiving a death threat from a terrorist. 

“Yes, he is!” You argue back as you bawl your eyes out on his shoulder. “He is and he is going to kill me! And I didn't do anything!” 

“Hey, look at me, doll.” He says as he cups your face with his hands. “You are with us, right? Nothing is gonna happen to you if you are with us. Nothing's gonna hurt you if you stick with us. Do you not trust me?” He asks, looking at you with almost puppy eyes, he follows your gaze when you look at the wound on your elbow and looks back to him as he changes his expression to look at you with a bright smile. “No need to answer, doll.”

“How's the damage?” Captain Price (as they told you) asks, walking closer to the both of you. 

“No damage to the bone, but the soft tissue will need some time to heal.” The paramedic says as he gives the last sutures and puts on the dressing. “And either she is a fighter, or she was busy crying about something else, but she didn't complain once.”

“Ah, she's a fighter, that I know.” Price coos at you petting your head again and you feel yourself blush.

“Do you have the key for the cuffs, Captain?” You ask to change the subject and he smiles mischievously when he hears the way you call him.

“Don't call me that, sweet girl. I'm not your Captain, call me John, Price if you are not comfortable with firsts name.” He says and you nod letting him know you understand. “And I asked about the keys, but the master key is at the base. So guess you have to stick around with us for a bit more, sorry dear.”

You hide your face on Kyle's neck again sighing feeling your tears sting in your eyes. A sob escapes your lips and automatically both Price and Kyle are shushing and cooing at you. 

“What's making you so upset, doll? Are you uncomfortable with the sergeant?” Price asks, rubbing your back and you shake your head. “Then what is it? Use your words, love, please.”

“I'm just exhausted… I just wanted to go to bed… I'm so tired…” You mumble against Kyle's skin provoking him goosebumps and a sight to leave his lips.

“Let's get going then, the earlier we get to base the earlier you get back home.” He pats Kyle on the other shoulder and he stands up, you in his arms, as if you were weightless to the taller man.

You don't comment on the fact that he holds you from your ass, it’s too comfortable being held and you’d rather take it than to test your legs and force yourself to walk. 

Price opens the door to the minivan and Kyle sits with you on his lap. Price closes the door, circles the car and opens the door to sit on the other side. You look around quickly to see Ghost driving and Soap on the copilot seat.

After a couple of minutes of the drive, you notice Price slips a bit on his seat, just enough to rest his head on the headrest, and he puts his hat over his face to shield himself from the street lights as he crosses his arm to sleep for the rest of the drive.

And you envy him because you wish you could sleep too. If it wasn't because it seems like Ghost is catching every single curb and bump on the road, and every time he does, your and Kyle’s crotches rub each other making you both groan softly.

His hands find their way to your waist as you reposition yourself on his lap and he whispers to your ear. “You gotta empty that pretty head of yours, luv. It'll help you relax.”

You notice the growing bulge pressing right to your cunt, and when Kyle begins to move your hips back and forth against it… you let him. 

“Such a sweet girl, hm?” He mumbles as he drops wet open mouth kisses on your neck. “Poor, poor birdie. Getting involved in such a nasty situation, because of somebody else's mistakes.”

Little sighs escape your lips as you grab his t-shirt trying to not make any noise, the captain still sleeping on just two seats to your left.

You should be embarrassed, ashamed of yourself, afraid of these men you just met, of doing such a nasty thing in front of three other men even if they haven't noticed jet. 

But Kyle's hardening cock is still brushing against your cunt and it is making it really hard to focus on anything else.

Enjoying his freedom of movement, he undoes the first button of your work shirt, just to keep kissing your neck lower, grazing your collarbone.

His fingertips grab your hips harder, making it easier to move against him. 

“Helping us so much, letting us enter your house, your bedroom, taking the bullet like a champ. The trainees could learn from you. Moving so in sync with me, I didn't step on you even once. But you like moving with me don't you, sweet girl, hm?” He asks against your ear, making you shudder as you keep moving against them.

You can feel your panties get soaked with your arousal, the mix of Kyle's praises being whispered to your skin, his hard cock throbbing again and again against you, your ego inflating because of it, knowing you are affecting him just as he is affecting you, his warm hands on your waist.

“Take what you need, sweet girl. Take it, luv.” He mumbles letting his head rest on the seat headrest as his hand moves down to your ass impulsing you.

You can feel your climax coming closer and closer every second passing, but then Kyle moves you slightly back and the pressure moves to your clothed clit and you hide your face on his neck biting down as the orgasm washes over you.

Kyle goes back to whispering on your neck. “Keep moving, doll. Please, please, a little bit more, just a bit more, I know you can do it, please, doll… you are driving me crazy, please…” he begs softly as he moves his hips against yours making you gasp against his skin. Warm breath against the drool you just let on his skin making him shudder grunting softly just before he cums on his pants against your cunt. 

So close yet so far 

I have never in my life written smut before, so let me know how catastrophic that was.

Anyway, sorry if it is messy, I really have no clue where I'm taking this. Let me know if there any scenarios you would like to happen 💗

And I can't express how happy I am that so many people liked the first part, really, thanks so much.

[aashi-heartfilia]

Where can I read "Kusuriya no Hitorigoto" Light Novel?

Since a lot of you have been asking this question lately, here is everything you need to know in brief...

What is a Web Novel (WN) and Light Novel (LN)?

A WN is basically weekly chapters released by the main author on a weekly basis. You can find it on a lot of Japanese sites. Some amazing people also translate them on a regular basis and post those chapters. LN is a compilation of WN chapters. A number of Chapters from the WN are taken, translated, properly rewritten and edited to publish a final LN. It has a few illustrations as well like the one you can see below...

Manga, Light Novel and Anime

Basically, the LN is taken and illustrated by an artist and we call it a manga. And when the manga has reached a certain number of Chapters, and gained a lot of popularity, it is converted into an anime. So that's the flow of things. We have

WN -> LN -> Manga -> Anime

I think that clears up a lot of misunderstandings. Firstly, the WN is published on a weekly basis, some chapters from WN are taken and translated properly to make a LN. The LN is illustrated by an artist to make the manga and the manga is generally adapted to make the anime.

In case of 'Kusuriya no Hitorigoto' or 'The Apothecary Diaries', the anime is doing a great job of adapting the overall story because not only are they properly animating every scene from the manga but also adding their own scenes from the LN.

Where can I read WN, LN and Manga?

WNs are the hardest to find, since they are released on a weekly basis by the Japanese author. They are written in Japanese and a few fans translate them for everyone. You can find it here...

(They have translated chapters of vol 10, 11 and 12)

The LN has reached until vol 9 and vol 10 is scheduled to release in Jan 2024. Currently, there is no source where you can find it for free (not that I know of, because even I have purchased the e book from Amazon) though the first few pages are available to read for free! So you can check them out!

Where did the Anime, Manga left off?

The Manga has reached ch 68. If you want to start reading the light novel from where the manga left off, you can start reading from vol 4, chapter 4.

The Anime has released ep 12 and it has covered manga material till ch 20, if you want to read manga after finishing the anime.

If you have any other questions regarding the LN, WN, Anime or Manga, feel free to ask!

~ Sunshine

[royalarchivist]

Bad: I don't think we've reached an ending, but we've reached an end for some things. [...] There are no permanent endings, Chat. There are no permanent goodbyes. Only goodbyes for now. Only goodbyes for now, ok?

Bad talks a little bit to his chat about the Egg admins leaving, and the future.

[ Transcript ↓ ]

—

Bad: All right, Chat. I need to have a serious talk with you for a little bit. Here Pepito, I'm gonna keep riding! Sorry Pepito, I’ll keep riding. I'm gonna have a serious talk with the Chat since we got 12 minutes to kill.

But yes, Chat. Yes, some of the… Eggies are leaving, which I know is a really sad thing to see following such a fun and happy day of Murder Mystery, which was really fun. And I know– as far as I know right now, just, I'm aware that I was– I'm aware that Pepito— er, not- sorry, Pepito is behind me, see Pepito? He's right there.

As far as I know, Chat, right now I'm aware of Richas left, or will be leaving, Lullah will be leaving, and I believe Chayanne will be leaving. And… it's really heartbreaking. And it's hard to talk about, obviously, ‘cuz we made so many memories with them over the past year. So… I think, I don't know. Obviously like, there's things I wanna say, things I will say, things I won't say, you know… And I just… I dunno. Right now just gonna… filling you guys in. But uh, yeah, they will no longer be around. So… Yeah, it’s very sad, I’m very sad. But I think… I don't think– or at least I'd say I hope that it's not the end of any particular adventures for them going forward.

And I don't know, we'll see what the future holds for any particular thing. You feel me? Just like– just enjoy the memories today. Relish in the sadness chat. Embrace the sadness for a bit, and understand that like, I think tomorrow will be better, and just give the love and appreciation to the amazing people— give the love and appreciation, Chat, to the amazing people of the project who worked so hard and put their heart and soul into everything they did. All of the Eggy actors, all the builders, all the people who worked on everything. Each one of them. I think each one of the Eggs really put themselves into their characters.

Obviously, in particular, I was particularly close to Dapper, Pomme, and Richas, and I'm gonna miss them the most, obviously, Chat. I don't know personally, I don't know what my– I can't speak necessarily on what my future holds because… you know, in regards to anything ‘cuz I'm just kinda going through the emotions right now and just kind of feeling the emotions, you know?

[Groans] I dunno, Chat. I’m just feelin’ it, and sometimes it’s hard to put things into words. You know? When you’re feeling stuff. So… It's hard to play, uh… it's hard to play Minecraft with, um, with people for so long, Chat. You know, to spend so much time with people. And you guys were here for the ride, you were here for the journey. Don't be sad when a particular ride happens, Chat. Be happy you were able to ride it to begin with. Ok?

I think– I feel– I think personally, Chat, I feel very blessed to have been able to experience the– and do this stuff I've been able to, you know?

[Long silence]

Ah, we're almost there, we're almost there, Chat.

[Sighs, then reads a chat message] “Thank you for bringing us on this journey with you” I don't think—

One: I don't think the journey is over completely, right? I can't say with certainty Chat, what the future holds, right? And I don't know– I don't know what the future holds, Chat. I don't think– I don't think we've reached an ending, but we have– we’ve reached the end for some things, yes. And as for what it means– what I mean by “an ending,” I dunno. We'll see what happens, you know? I think the chapter as far as like— obviously, like… you know, when you graduate school for example, right? It is an ending of sorts. It's an ending of THAT experience, right? The experience that you had with those particular people in that particular place. It's not an ending to those people, or your interactions with those people. You feel me?

[Sighs] There's other things I want to say Chat, but… I’m doin’ my best to just keep myself reigned in a little bit. Guess I'm feeling a little- a lil’ emotional. Trying to reign in those emotions, you know? One day at a time. But make sure you're following, and stick around, because I have a feeling we'll have more fun stuff that you guys will not want to miss. Trust me. Trust me Chat, every day is gonna be an adventure.

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Void - Part 10 - Wednesday

title banner by @rude–jude♡

Genre: Sci-fi with a little angst and a LOT of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (yup - all seven)

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 9 /?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: very short chapter

Mercifully, Taehyung does not wake you up with a thumb in your mouth. You wonder if you will even see him today, given he only signed the form to hide his feelings for Jimin. 

You head straight for the greenhouse, determined to avoid Hoseok for as long as possible. Will you ever be able to face him again? Maybe you should start working nights.

Luckily, there’s plenty to do in the greenhouse and you manage to work all day without interruption. Dinnertime arrives and your stomach grumbles, but you procrastinate heading for the kitchen out of fear of who may be eating there. You can’t stomach bumping into any of the men you’re fucking or any of the men you aren’t.

At a little past seven o-clock, Taehyung sticks his head into the door of the greenhouse. He furrows his brow to see your hands covered in soil. “I thought we had a date?”

“Huh?” you ask, wiping the dirt from your hands onto your pants. “I thought that was pretend. For the benefit of the crew.” 

Taehyung laughs, stepping further into the greenhouse. “Well, some of it was, but I did actually make dinner.”

“You did?” You aren’t dressed for a date. Not that you have anything else to wear. Just a different slightly less dirty jumpsuit. At least none of your clothing is covered in semen today. Yet. 

Taehyung is wearing the same jumpsuit from the accident with the rover. It’s still missing a sleeve from where it was cut off of him. It’s quite flattering on him, no surprise. His exposed upper arm has just enough muscle definition to draw your attention. It’s still in the sling but the bruising has faded. The asymmetrical look with its rough unsewn edge makes him look rather roguish. 

“Come on! The food’s getting cold!” He ducks back out of the greenhouse, waving for you to follow him.

You clean your hands with a cloth and follow him. You're surprised when he veers away from the kitchen and heads for the hangar instead.

The overhead lights in the hangar are off. The room looks so different, it takes you a minute to process what you are seeing. The Europa rover sits in the middle of the room, glowing from the inside with soft blue light.  Scattered around the room are little twinkling lights of white and blue and green. 

“Taehyung!” you gasp. “What is all this?”

“A date!” he answers triumphantly. He clambors up onto one of the large wheels of the rover and opens the door. Even from a distance, you can see a white tablecloth covering the center console, topped with more twinkling lights. He reaches down a hand to help you up. “Your chariot, m’lady.”

“This is…” You are at a loss for words as you take his hand and climb up into the rover with him. “This is so…” You examine one of the twinkling lights on the make-shift table up close. It’s one of the LEDs intended for lighting your paths down on the Europa ice sheets. At least it was rechargeable. "Taehyung, this is so much work for a fake date.” 

Taehyung laughs. “Just because we’re not bumping uglies, doesn’t mean it can't be a real date. I like dates.”

He pulls out a reusable water bottle from behind one of the seats that makes a surprising pop when he opens it. Then he pours something golden and bubbly into two champagne glasses. 

Without thinking, you take accept glass as he hands it to you, then do a double-take. “Is this champagne? Where on Earth did you get champagne? Or champagne glasses?”

He laughs, enjoying your surprise, as he takes a sip from his own glass. “Unfortunately, it’s not the real stuff, just some apple juice I ran through the carbonator.” He clinks his glass to yours as you hold it, still suspended in shock. “The glasses are from Earth though. Packed them for a special occasion.”

He stares a bit wistfully at the glass in his hand and you get a little pang of sadness. “Were you planning this for Jimin?”

He looks up at you and shakes his head, waving your concerns away. “No, no, no. I did this for you.”

“For me?”

He nods. “I’m trying to make amends.”

You’re surprised. “Amends for what?”

He sighs. “For the tape, for the jealousy, I feel like…” He gestures around at the ship in general. “I feel like a lot of this is my fault.”

“What? No.” You shake your head. “This is my fault. I started all this.” 

Taehyung gestures to one side of the console table welcoming you to sit down. “It seemed like you and Jimin were happy though, until I broke my arm and messed everything up.”

“Yeah…” You sigh as you sit down across from him. You sip your fake champagne as you remember orgasming with Jimin inside you, but Yoongi’s voice in your head. “Mostly… but there was something missing…”

“Ah,” Taehyung gives a bit of a teasing smile. “A certain flight engineer, perhaps?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nervously, running your finger around the rim of your glass and teetering on the edge of admitting your real problem. “And not just him…” 

Taehyung nods knowingly. “We do have a devastatingly attractive crew, don’t we?”

“Yes!!” You exclaim, laughing in relief at someone who finally understands. “Why did you all have to be so fucking hot?!”

“All of us?” He places a hand on his chest in fake surprise. 

“Oh shut up, you know you’re hot.” The bubbles in your glass make you feel a little tipsy even if there's no alcohol in them.

Taehyung gives an exaggerated wink, then laughs. "You are very good at seeming uninterested in anyone though. I couldn’t believe how well you held it together when Jungkook stripped in front of you for that haircut.”

A lightbulb goes off. “Oh my god, you put him up to that, didn’t you?”

Taehyung bursts into delighted giggles and you smack him on his good arm. “You did! You maniac! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not my finest moment, I will admit. Perhaps I had ulterior motives for throwing the hunk at you. Sorry. Just one of many reasons I owe you apologetic fake champagne.” He takes another sip and smiles as he recalls the memory. “Still, you kept your cool remarkably well. If it were me, I would have had his dick in my mouth well before the end of that haircut.”

Your mouth falls open. Fuck. That’s… that’s a very attractive mental image. Your pelvic muscles flinch with a twinge of arousal. 

Taehyung sees your surprise and his eyes widen. “Oh shoot, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He takes your glass from you and sets it down on the table, before turning to rummage with something in a cooler sitting under the seat next to him.

“Oh no.” You squirm in your seat. “I’m not… you didn’t…” you stammer. Fuck. What are you even trying to say? “I just didn’t realize you were attracted to Jungkook as well.”

Taehyung turns back to you and smiles. “I mean… how could you not be? That smile… those abs…”

You both sigh in unison, then laugh. “It’s deeply unfair,” you agree.

He nods, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s deeply unfair is how you have this crew wrapped around your finger.”

“What? No I don’t.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“I don’t!”

He sips his apple juice skeptically.

“No seriously! Hoseok and Namjoon won’t have sex with me even though I practically begged them…” 

He shakes his head. “I still don’t think you realize the power you hold.”

“What power?”

“I saw that video you made with Yoongi. That was incredible. When you let go of all the fear and stress and were so open and vulnerable, that was beautiful. It’s no wonder they all love you.”

Something about hearing it from someone you’re pretty sure doesn’t want to have to sex with you makes you feel like it might really be true. But the whole thing is still too embarrassing and uncomfortable to think about for too long. 

“They’re not in love with me. They’re just… I don’t know… can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.”

Taehyung sets down two plates of what looks like fine dining. Red beets sliced thin and drizzled with balsamic vinegar and a rounded mound of rice pilaf topped with a whole chicken breast.

“My god, where did you get all this?”

He smiles, pleased with himself. “Jin helped me with a bunch of it. I’ve technically given up two of my Christmas dinners for this, but it seemed worth it.” 

You are shocked again that he would go to so much effort. “You didn’t have to do all this just for the sake of our pretend relationship…”

He reaches over the table to take your hand in his. “I do want a real relationship with you though,” he says and your heart starts racing. His dark eyes hold such warmth even as the rest of him is so statuesque. But then he draws back. “Even just as a friend.” he says and you’re a bit disappointed. 

The two of you chat the rest of the evening as you savor your meal, both relieved to find someone you can be honest with. 

At one point you offer to mend his jumpsuit sleeve for him, but he declines. “I like it," he says, shrugging. "Reminds me of important lessons."

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. "I suppose it is rather dashing," you admit, trying to fill the silence. "But I suppose you would make a dish towel look dashing." You can't even blame the fake champagne for your loose tongue.

His eyes widen in delight and he laughs as he pours the last of the bubbly apple juice into each of your glasses.

“So…” he says as you take a last bite of your dessert, a delicious chocolate cake designated for some future New Year’s Eve. “Fuck, marry, kill: Namjoon, Jimin, Yoongi.”

You gasp in horror. “Taehyung, I can’t answer that!”

“Too violent? How about fuck, marry, kiss?”

“No way, not answering.” You mime zipping your lips closed. 

“I’d marry Jimin, obviously.” He continues, undeterred. “And I think I’d have to fuck Yoongi. Those hands… my god.”

“Ugh…” Just the memory makes you groan and collapse onto the table in front of you. “Tae, he’s so good with them. It’s terrible. Those goddamn hands are what started this whole mess.”

Taehyung is pleased to have finally cracked through your facade. “Though the commander… he just carries himself like he has a big dick, you know?”

“Agh…” you groan again, laughing as you stand up. “I think that’s my cue to go to bed.”

“Allow me, m’lady.” He stands up and takes your hand to help you out of the rover. He’s still holding your hand as the two of you reach the floor of the hangar. 

“Thank you again for all this.” You gesture at the twinkling lights spread over the floor, looking especially lovely now that most of the ship has gone dark. 

“Would you mind a platonic goodnight kiss?” He asks, tapping his cheek.  

You bite your lip and shake your head, feeling a whole storm of butterflies in your stomach that do not feel platonic at all. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss on your cheek. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” he murmurs close to your ear.

“Same time next week?” you ask, trying to fight down how on fire your face feels now. “I’ll cook next time.”

He grins. “Looking forward to it.”

______

Thursday is next! And it's going to be dramatic. Hopefully it will be ready soon! Thanks for reading!

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.6 devil's advocate

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 6/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.7k

a/n. so sorry for the wait! i'm really excited for this chapter, it's one that i've been waiting for since before i even started the series, and it was a lot of fun to write. i hope you enjoooy <3 if there are typos, your mind is just playing tricks on you

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

Life after realizing you had feelings for Gojo Satoru seemed to pass by in slow-motion, as you spent a significant portion of the day consumed by thoughts of him. Although it was against your better judgment, it was nice to have your mind occupied by something that wasn’t career stress, school stress, or financial stress. It’s been a minute since you’ve felt this way about someone, and it was healthy to indulge in some escapism, right? 

You find yourself scrolling through his Instagram page for the second third time today, captivated by the attractive photos of him in his soccer uniform, kicking at the ball with a determined look on his face. Your gaze fixates on the blue follow-back button staring back at you on his page, remembering that you still haven’t followed him back. Pulling your phone away from your line of sight, you glance up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and swiftly tap the blue button. You clutch your phone to your chest right after, surprised by the butterflies in your stomach, but it’s only ten seconds before you’re back to perusing his photos. 

You sigh dreamily from where you were laid back on your bed. Mina looks up at you from her desk with an irritated expression on her face. 

“What’s with the dreamy sighing every thirty seconds? I’m trying to study here,” she says to you.

You throw her a look. “Oh please, I’ve had to deal with your dreamy sighs every single time you were on the phone with Todo for the past two weeks. You can handle a few of mine.”

Mina’s eyes widen at your words and she turns in her chair to look at you intently. “Wait…who are you dreamily sighing for?”

You blink in response. “Oh, uh. No one? I mean, what’s that one actor’s name–the one in that show we were watching?” You tap your finger to your lip, pretending to be in deep thought, but Mina wasn’t buying any of it since she promptly stood up from her chair and snatched your phone out of your hand. You yelp and sit up on your bed to try and grab it back from her but she has that I was the eldest sibling in my household grip on your phone. 

“Is this…Gojo Satoru’s Instagram page?” she asks, extending your phone out in front of her and tilting her head to the side at the screen, as though she was trying to wrap her head around it.

“Stop! You’ll accidentally tap on something,” you’re squealing at her, arms flailing out in an attempt to grab at your phone. She eventually hands it back to you and you’re sighing with relief before flopping back down onto your bed, fingers eagerly swiping up on the screen to make sure she didn’t accidentally like one of his posts from four months ago. 

“Are you crushing on Gojo Satoru?” Mina asks with her hands on her hips.

You meet her gaze with a hint of guilt. You haven’t kept Mina up-to-speed on a lot of the things that have happened within the past three weeks, including the night last week when Gojo stayed with you out on the road after you got your flat tire and then kissed you. It’s been about five days since then, and you feel that if you fessed up now, she’d be mad that you didn’t tell her right away. 

“I’m…” you start as you look at her and she raises an eyebrow at you that makes you sheepishly sit up on your bed, pretty much kneeling in front of her. “Maybe. A little bit? I don’t know.”

She looks at you with surprise before walking backwards and sitting onto her bed, facing you. She presses her lips together, deep in thought, and there’s an almost concerned expression on her face. “When did this develop?”

You end up explaining pretty much everything that has happened between you and Gojo as of recently, her face staying neutral through even the most surprising details, and by the time you’re done explaining and waiting for her to give a response, you realize you’re tensing your shoulders and holding your breath.

She sighs, sulking a little and her bed frame creaks underneath the mattress. “I can’t believe you kissed Gojo Satoru and you didn’t tell me about it, like, practically the second after it happened. Also, you never told me that’s why you called me that night! It makes sense now why your car has been in ‘service’ for almost an entire week. I feel so horrible you went through that and I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s okay,” you assure her with a small smile. “I’m fine. It was really nerve-wracking in the moment,” you say as you glance down at your hands, twiddling with your thumbs as the memories of that night flash through your mind. “But having him there really helped calm me down,” you admit in a hushed tone. When you look up at Mina, she wears a soft and knowing expression on her face.

“That’s good, I’m glad,” she murmurs and returns your smile with one of her own, but her eyes still look at you with caution.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just I don’t really know Gojo that well. From what you’re telling me, he seems like a nice guy,” she comments, “but the fact he’s been really diligent in following-through with this whole film photography assignment of yours makes me wonder where his head’s at with you.” She finishes her sentence, but you continue to watch her since you could tell she had more on her tongue. “I just hope he’s not messing with you.” 

“Messing with me?” you ask her. There’s a part of you deep inside that’s wondering the same thing, but the thought of having to confront that feeling in order to get an answer makes you want to stay in blissful ignorance instead. 

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and looks at you for a few seconds. “Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s just a crush, right?” Her phone chimes with an alarm noise and she grabs it to turn it off. “Oh shoot, I’m going to be late for class,” she groans, leaping up off of her bed and stuffing all of her things on her desk into her bag. She gives you a goodbye over her shoulder just before she heads out of your shared room and then you’re all by yourself. 

Mina’s last question to you hangs in the air. You didn’t really know how you would’ve answered, because you didn’t know what you expected to come from your feelings, if anything at all. You’ve had feelings for plenty of other guys before, some turning into something more and others turning into nothing at all. Having feelings for someone wasn’t really something to worry about or complicate. 

You lay back down onto your bed with a sigh and go to the messages on your phone, clicking on Gojo’s name. It was so bizarre that he was now in your list of actual text messages since you had his number now, but the two of you have only exchanged a few texts since that night you last saw him. He sent over his practice schedule for the week, which was pretty packed and busy since their big game on the 28th was in just two days, and when you zoom in on the picture you see that he has practice in about ten minutes from now. You assumed that since he never texted you about it, they were probably just doing drills out on the field or some other exercises. But you missed him, and you wished that you did have an excuse to visit him. You didn’t care about tweaking your camera angles, fixing the exposure, or trying out different light sensitivities for your photos so they come out immaculate. You just wanted to see him again.

Tossing your phone to your side, suddenly frustrated by how mentally drained you feel, you look around the room and decide to tidy up a bit to distract yourself from all your emotions. As you start to pick things up off your desk and place them back on the shelf, you notice that you still have a netted bag full of washed laundry to fold. You dump all of the clothing onto your bed, consisting of sports bras, multiple pairs of jeans, your nice panties and also your grandma undies. One of the articles of clothing catches your eye, and you pull it out from the pile. It was Gojo’s jacket. 

Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you take in the sight of it, all the memories of that night flashing back into your head. You remember the chill of the air, the deep sound of his voice beside you, the gentle look in his eyes, his lips pressed against yours. Gojo had kissed you, so that had to have meant something, right? Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing, an emotional decision because the two of you were alone, and it was dark, and it was cold, and you two were reveling in each other’s warmth, but it was still something he initiated. It was so brief, the moment cut so tragically short that you still find yourself craving more despite the fact it happened almost a week ago. Mina wasn’t home that night, and instead of spending the rest of it curled up by yourself like you ended up doing, you could’ve easily invited him inside. You wonder if he would’ve taken you up on the offer, and how far you two would’ve gone. And now, because you were imaging it, you find it in your heart that you wanted it. Before you know it, those feelings you swore you wouldn’t complicate started to feel complicated. If all the novels, movies, poems, and folklore of this world have been any indicator, when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s always impossible to defy. 

You bring the jacket to your chest, the fabric now smelling like the laundry detergent that all of your other clothes smell like, and no longer of him. It was the polite thing to do to wash it, but the absence of his scent on the soft material just made you miss him even more. 

Closing your eyes in disbelief at the thought that crosses your mind, you resolve to act now and deal with whatever comes later. If you wanted to see him, you were going to see him. Besides, wanting to hand his jacket back to him wasn’t so bad of an excuse to drop by, right? What if it was a deeply sentimental article of clothing that is agonizing for him to be apart from? (a/n. he doesn’t even realize you still have it lol)

You grab your tote bag as well as his jacket and head out of your apartment, down to the ground floor, and walk down the street until you reach the bus stop that takes you to campus. You make it there in about forty minutes, the bus dropping you off near the central area. As you start walking towards the expensive art sculpture near the practice fields, you pass by the school’s mini convenience store and the bottles of strawberry vanilla soda splayed out in the display case catches your eye. You then find yourself inside buying two cans. One for him, one for you. Maybe he’ll be open to hanging out after practice, and you could properly treat him to something nice for all of his help. 

Soon enough, you’re walking across the grassy hills that lead to the field. It was a slightly gloomy day today, with the sun only peaking through the clouds every five minutes or so, but it was still beautiful and something about the fresh air made your chest swell with ease. Just as you get closer, you notice Geto and Nanami walking together in your direction.

“Oh, it’s y/n!” you hear Geto say when you approach them.

You greet the two of them with a smile. “Hello, it’s nice to see you two. Are you finished with practice?”

“No, we’ve still got about two hours left, but we just finished a pretty intense set of drills so coach is giving us a fifteen,” Geto says through strained breathing, and you finally notice that the two of them looked sweaty and spent. “What’s that in your arms?”

You look down at the strawberry vanilla sodas you were carrying and then back up at the two of them. “Oh…I just wanted to bring some soda for mr. center forward, as a thanks for getting me referee permission to be on-field on Thursday.” 

Nanami crosses his arms across his chest and Geto’s eyes widen. “Damn, wish I had a cute girl go out of her way to bring me strawberry-flavored soda mid practice,” Geto muses.

“I don’t think Satoru deserves this level of kindness, y/n,” Nanami tells you with a shake of his head. Geto looks over at him with a wry expression before letting out a small laugh. 

You give the two of them a smile. “No, really, he’s been helpful. Is he out on the field?” you ask, standing on tiptoes to try and peer over their shoulders towards the field.

“Yeah, he is, I think he stayed back since Coach Yaga was yelling at him about something,” Geto answers and he takes a glance at his watch, “he usually doesn’t stick around to take the lecturing for longer than two minutes so he’s probably somewhere hanging around nearby.” 

“That’s good. Coach Yaga scares me,” you admit to the two of them, pretending to shiver at the thought of him yelling, and this earns a smile from Nanami. 

“He’s really not that scary of a guy, just pretends to be one,” Geto informs you then lets out an exhale and places his hands on his hips after fully regaining his breath. “So, you’re going to be on the field with us on Thursday? That’s awesome, please cheer for us. Also, you should come out to the house party the night before the game.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You guys still party before your big games?”

Geto laughs. “I always forget you’re not in a sorority. Yeah, we do, I think the frat just wants an excuse to go crazy and picks our game schedule to go off of. You’ve no idea how many of our players have been in massive shit by showing up hungover to games.” 

Nanami lets out a disgruntled noise. “It’s irresponsible, honestly.”

You give an apologetic laugh before fidgeting with the soda cans in your arms, eventually throwing them into your tote, and then peering over their shoulders once more as an impatient feeling washes over you, the desire from earlier to see Gojo consuming you in a way that was entirely distracting. Nanami seems to notice this as he uncrosses his arms and slightly nudges Geto with his elbow. Geto sends him a curious glance before looking back at you.

“Well, anyway. If you’re free tomorrow night, come by. Pre-game parties are usually pretty hype. Yuuji’s bouncing, so he’ll let you in,” Geto says to you, giving you a kind smile.

“Yeah, I’ll try to make it,” you say, returning his smile. The two of them walk past you and you continue to trek forwards until you reach the large hill that oversees the field. 

Once you’re at the top, your eyes immediately scan the field for Gojo, and you quickly spot him at the foot of the hill talking to some people. You notice the group surrounding him weren’t wearing athletic clothing of any sort, so you assumed they were just his friends. He had a bright smile on his face and just the sight of it created a warmth within you. As you begin to stumble down the hill, your legs hasty in their stride, you see him leaning down forward towards one of the girls in the group with a playful look on his face. The girl looks up at him with a tilt of her head and you hear feminine, high-pitched laughter in the air as she steps closer to him, swatting at his chest from something he says. He’s fully grinning at her now, and it’s so painfully obvious they’re flirting that the feeling in your chest that was so excited to see him quickly turns sour. 

He somehow catches you standing at the bottom of the hill in his periphery and his eyes widen. There’s a moment where you hesitate, but eventually take a deep breath and make your way through the crowd. A few within the group let out confused noises from the disruption and then you were standing right in front of Gojo. 

“Who’s this?” one of his friends asks, particularly annoyed since you had accidentally nudged him to the side in your stride. You could feel the wide eyes from the men and the curious glares from the women. 

Gojo’s standing there shocked, likely from the fact that he wasn’t expecting you to be here, and then glances around to the people in the group. “Oh, just someone I…” he starts, his facial expression softening slightly when he looks back at you, but you’re giving him a guarded expression, “...know.” 

Your mouth opens slightly in disbelief, before you quickly close it. It’s true that you didn’t really know what you and Gojo were at the moment, it’s possible you would’ve answered the same, but his description of the nature of your relationship with him still hurts. He could’ve at least said your name or introduced you. And your disappointment from his words made you realize an unsettling truth, which was that you did want more from him, and you weren’t sure if that was something he was interested in at all. 

The girl he was talking to earlier is glaring daggers at your side, and you suddenly feel suffocated surrounded by a group of people watching you with interest. The man in front of you, despite getting to know him for the better part of the past three weeks, started to feel like a stranger to you all over again. You shove his jacket to his chest, and he looks down at it with surprise before hesitantly grabbing onto it. 

“Just wanted to return your jacket,” you mumble to him, trying so hard to sound neutral and sane. “I washed it for you.”

You hear a few of the men surrounding you coo something suggestive, a few laughs making their way between them as the women in the group scoff in denial. You ignore them and keep your gaze on Gojo. He’s looking straight down at you and scanning your features, and you notice his face briefly contorts into one of guilt when he registers the disappointed look on your face. 

Reaching into your bag, you pause when you see the two cans of strawberry vanilla soda sitting at the bottom, the smiling cartoon mascot faces on the labeling staring up at you like some pitiful conscience. You reached in and grabbed one regardless, then extended it to Gojo. He blinks at it before looking up at you. When he doesn’t immediately grab it, you also shove it to his chest until he does. When his fingertips make contact with your hand as he takes it from you, the contact sends a shiver down your spine. 

You bite your lip, faltering before you speak again. “For your help. Officially even now.” Then you turn around and push through the strangers spectating the whole scene to make it over to the grassy hills. You vaguely hear Gojo call your name out from behind you, his voice quickly drowned out by the voices of those surrounding him as they continue conversation, and soon enough you’re out of sight over the hill. 

—

“So, you’re telling me that this guy goes out of his way to help you for this class assignment, in a way that’s unproportionate to the favor that you put in for him, he flirtatiously teases you any chance he gets, drives out late at night to stay with you when you’re stranded with a flat, has an earnest conversation with you about life, kisses you, diligently takes care of you until you’re home safe, and then when you run into him in front of his friends, he says you’re just someone he knows?” Mina’s recounting every single painful detail as she paces around in your shared room. “I know you both haven’t had a conversation about anything after that night, which is insane because you should’ve, but at least he could’ve said you were a friend?” 

You scoff from where you’re laid down on your bed. “I caught him sliding his hands up a girl’s top in the bathroom at that SAE party last week, and when he tried to explain the situation to me he said that he and that girl are just friends. So, by his definition, we’re definitely not friends.”

Mina sighs. “Honestly, y/n, I know he’s charming and he’s been nice to you, but he still has a reputation for being a player.” 

You look up at the ceiling, your pillow clutched in your arms for emotional support. “He almost looked like he didn’t even want me there. Like I was an unwelcome interruption. Some sort of nuisance.” You weren’t sure exactly how to read the expression he had on his face from your unexpected visit, but your brain had a habit of settling on the worst. 

Mina sits down at her desk, turning her chair to face you. You were fully sulking like a heart-broken teenager and you didn’t understand why. He wasn’t any sort of title to you, and you haven’t even known him for that long. Barely a couple weeks ago, you were still resolved to the fact that he was some sort of mystery. An urban legend around campus that you couldn’t believe you were talking to because people like him didn’t usually talk to people like you. 

“Why don’t you just ask him how he feels about you? Put an end to the guessing game. Be like ‘hey, jerk, I know it’s common-place for frat dudes to kiss girls like they’re a dime a dozen. But that’s not gonna fly with me, so fess up on your intentions’. Something like that,” Mina suggests, waving a finger in the air.

You glance at her annoyed. “Were you trying to do an impression of me? I don’t talk like that.”

“You kind of do, love,” she says with a smile on her face. 

You look back up at the ceiling. “...I don’t want to have that conversation with him. It’ll hurt my pride. He should’ve been the one asking me what we are now, since he’s the one that kissed me.” You turn to gauge her opinion at your words, but her expression isn’t giving any hints. “Is that petty? I feel like I’m being petty.”

“No, girl, I agree with you,” she says with a sigh, “that’s how it should be, but almost never ends up being the case.” She looks up at the ceiling briefly, a thought forming in her head, before looking down at you with a sly smile. 

“What?” you ask, already wearily anticipating her response.

“You want to know how to find out how he feels about you without asking him how he feels about you?” she says like it was some sort of sales pitch.

You turn onto your side and perch yourself up on your elbow, a little too interested. “How?”

She snaps her fingers. “Make him jealous.”

You look at her apprehensively. “Jealous?”

“I mean, that’s the foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you. Based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat,” she says with a playful shrug.

You flop down on the bed again. “Now that’s petty.” You hug your pillow to your chest again, considering the option. You didn’t even know if Gojo would feel jealous if you tried to make him jealous, it’s possible he wouldn’t even care at all if he saw you with another guy. 

“Yes, petty, but so what? We’re seniors in college, now’s our last chance to be petty. After we graduate, we’ve got to be fully functioning members of society,” she sighs, “you only get to be a petty college chick once.”

“How would I make him jealous?” you ask, still dwelling on her suggestion.

“Well, SAE is having that pre-game party tonight, he’s definitely going to be there. It’s your chance,” she says, tapping at her phone to glance at the time. 

You hum to yourself. The mature part of you is telling you that it’s a ridiculous idea, but the angel on your shoulder that has weathered the pain of all your confusing feelings as of lately was starting to play devil’s advocate. After a minute’s silence, you cover your face with your hand and groan. “Oh god.”

Mina looks up at you again. “What?”

“I’m gonna do it,” you say, swinging your feet over to the edge of the bed so you’re sitting up, pillow still hugged to your chest as you look at her. “I’m going to go find out how he really feels about me.”

Mina’s smiling at you and hops onto her feet. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for the toxic version of you to make her appearance.”

There was still a couple of hours before the party, so you take a shower and spend some time doing your hair as well as makeup. Wearing your robe, you walk over to your dresser and open it to pull out a pair of jeans when Mina looks over at you and sighs. You send her a look and she makes her way over to you, nudging you to the side with her hip and shoving your jeans back into the drawer.

“You’re not wearing jeans to this party,” she groans, “do I seriously have to teach you everything?” Mina starts shifting through the clothes you had hung up on your hangers, eyes landing on something that was tucked away to the side. She pulls out your black dress, the one that had long, skin tight sleeves with a sweetheart neckline and the short hem that barely fell to the middle of your thighs. She pats at the soft and silky material, pulling on it in an attempt to smooth out one of the wrinkles. “Oh, yes, honey. This will definitely do.”

“It’s wrinkled,” you say in a poor attempt to get out of wearing it. 

“Nothing my straightener set at 350 degrees won’t fix,” she says to you with a wink.

It takes Mina three minutes to prepare your dress for you while you anxiously pace around the room, fidgeting to yourself, and she eventually hands it to you to wear. The dress had an A-line silhouette cinched at the waist and the top half was tight, so you decided not to wear a bra with it. Just as you’re about to pull on a pair of biker shorts underneath to cover a bit more since the short fabric was hardly doing much, Mina sends you another disappointed look. 

“y/n, please, you’re killing me here,” she says. “To make him jealous, you’ve gotta get other guys to look at you. That might mean being a bit risque with the attire tonight.”

You sulk your shoulders before sighing and tossing your biker shorts back into your closet. You turn around to face the mirror, petting down the fabric of your dress over you and tousling with your hair before gasping a little as you take in your entire appearance. You looked good, and Mina’s playful cat-call from behind you only gave you a greater kick of confidence. 

“Love it, cute but sexy at the same time,” she says with a smile. “It’s your turn to be the hottie at the party.”

You two decide to take an Uber to the frat strip, arriving at the host house close to 10pm, and you can already hear the loud chanting and music inside. As you make your way up to the driveway, a gust of wind breezes by and your hands immediately hold down the fabric of your dress in an attempt to not flash the group of people walking behind the two of you. Mina looks over at you with a mischievous smile. You make eye contact with Yuuji at the entrance and he straightens his posture when he sees you and Mina approaching.

“Hello, ladies. I see we’ve switched roles here tonight,” Yuuji says with a tip of his head. “Bombshell friend,” he gestures to you, “and-”

“If you call me a casual tomboy, I can’t guarantee I won’t smack you,” Mina says to him.

Yuuji blinks at her. “Head on in,” he mumbles and you two walk past him.

It hits you as you walk inside that this is the third SAE party that you’ve been to within the past three weeks, and yet the atmosphere still surprises you every time. The music was loud, but at this one, the people chanting was even louder. You notice there were posters and flags with the school’s colors and symbols plastered up and hanging from the staircase, as well as pinned up jerseys on the walls that looked a lot like the ones that the soccer players wear during matches. Oh, and derogatory insults for the opposing school were drawn across all the decorations.

“I’m going to go find Todo,” Mina says to you with excitement and then she’s skipping off into the heart of the party, leaving you alone.

You sigh and fidget with the sleeves of your dress, looking around the party, your heart beating fast in your chest at the prospect that you’ll lock eyes with Gojo but you don’t see him anywhere. As you walk inside, you notice that people are looking at you, and when you make eye contact with some, you notice a lot of them were men, and the attention has you itching for a drink. You quickly make your way into the kitchen and are satisfied when you see the insane amount of options that you can reach for on the island. You grab a White Claw, crack the can open and when you turn around, you jump a little from the sight of a person in front of you.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the man in front of you says with an apologetic look on his face, and you recognize him as the one that was bouncing the last SAE party that you went to last weekend. “Just going to reach around you to grab…that.” He reaches around you to grab an entire bottle of tequila, his arm brushing against yours and his eyes meet yours with a smile on his face. “I remember you from last week. You’re stunning by the way, what’s your name?”

You tell him and he’s nodding his head slowly, a cheeky look on his face that you’re used to seeing when guys attempt small talk to distract from the other less-than-innocent things they have floating around in their heads. “Nice, I’m Ryota,” he says as he adjusts the snap-back he was wearing on his head, “you, uh, in a sorority?” He leans back against the kitchen counter in front of you and you wonder if grabbing the tequila was just an excuse to talk to you.

You find yourself turning away from him slightly, taking a huge gulp of the White Claw you had in your hands to realize that 8% ALC./VOL was not going to be enough to get you through the night, so you turned to face him again. “No, I’m not. Are you going to drink all that tequila by yourself or are you looking to share?”

He smirks at you. “There’s enough for two.” 

You and this man you met literally two minutes ago cheers a few shots, throwing them back, and you notice that he does them almost effortlessly while you’re wincing from the fact that it’s been a long time since you’ve had hard liquor. He’s chuckling at your reactions as your face scrunches up from your third shot and you wave your hand in front of your face from the burn. A few people that walk in and out of the kitchen periodically give the two of you amused looks before walking back out into the loud party nearby. 

“Can’t handle your alcohol?” Ryota asks and you sigh, your face already feeling flushed.

“I can, I swear,” you whine.

“Here, wanna?” he says to you as he hands you another shot and then he holds his outstretched arm up. You think he’s trying to cheers, so you tap his shot glass, and then he’s laughing. “No, hold your arm out.” You do as he says and he holds his arm against yours and soon enough he’s taking a step closer to you and you’re interlocking your arms at the elbow. You let out a small gasp from his proximity but his eyes on you are unwavering. He brings his shot glass to his lips and you do the same and then you both tip your heads back, the burn in your throat making you unwind your arm from him and shake your head until you’re leaning back against the island counter and you hear him laugh again in front of you.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls out that instantly sobers you up from the four shots of tequila you so valiantly threw back. 

The two of you turn your heads to look at the source of the voice, and you see Gojo standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him and you feel your heart skip a beat in your chest, still so shocked at just how breathtaking he was anytime you saw him. He was holding an empty bottle of alcohol in his hands. You straighten your posture but Ryota still leans against the counter nonchalantly.

“Hey, what’s up dude. Sorry, I was about to circle back with more tequila, but I got caught up in here,” Ryota says and flashes you a smile. “Do you know y/n here?” 

You observe Gojo, who wears a tense expression in response to hearing his words, and then he locks eyes with you. A look of surprise swiftly passes across his face as he takes in your appearance, and you feel as if you're practically burning under his gaze. He looks back at Ryota and furrows his brow. 

“Yeah, I do,” he mutters and rudely pushes right in between the two of you to make it to the fridge. “Seems like you do, too.” 

Ryota seems to pick up on something from Gojo's tone that you don’t, because suddenly he’s standing up straight from the counter and turns to look at you with a contemplative expression. "I'll bring the tequila, or what's left of it I guess, out there," he mentions to Gojo, excusing himself with a brief glance in your direction. As he leaves and turns around the corner, a noticeable weight hangs in the air from how you and Gojo are alone in the kitchen now.

You lean back against the island, reaching for the White Claw you had opened earlier and take another sip. There was a muted buzz lingering in your head, and it felt good, offering a pretty welcome distraction from the fact that Gojo was standing just a few feet away from you, searching for something in the fridge. When he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, he closes the fridge door with a louder-than-normal slam, startling you, and then he turns around to face you.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” he declares with an edge to his voice, and you’re already rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, pal, should I send you a notarized attendance letter three business days in advance so I don’t end up cock-blocking you in a bathroom again?” you sneer at him. 

He leans back against the fridge, facing you as he crosses his arms across his chest. Damn it, don’t stare at the muscles. Don’t do it. “What’s with the attitude?” 

“I don’t have an attitude, this is just how I talk to my acquaintances,” you retort as you take another sip of your drink.

He takes a step forward to you, eyes shamelessly dipping to the neckline of your dress and then a little bit further to where the hem grazes your thighs. He places his palm on the counter behind you that you were resting back on and then he’s leaning closer to you, your grip on the can in your hand tightening. He was so close that you can’t think of anything but him. His eyes are on your lips when he speaks. “Are we just acquaintances?” 

You narrow your eyes at him, all of your anger from yesterday and earlier today resurfacing at his question as you look up at him straight in the eyes. “Yes, I’m only someone you know, right?”

He’s sighing and you can tell he wants to pull away from you to display his annoyance, but he stays right where he’s at. The hand that was placed on the counter slowly inches towards your waist until his thumb is brushing against the fabric of your dress just underneath your rib cage. He starts to draw slow circles on the material, pressing into your skin occasionally, and you‘re breathless from the contact. “I’m getting the hint that you’re mad at me about something, but it’s hard to care when you’re looking like this.”

You let out a scoff at his words. You’ve spent the past two days suffering from his behavior, and he’s trying to get away with it by practically seducing you. But there was also a part of you that was entirely aroused by how little he seemed to care about your attitude and how much more he seemed to care about the way you were worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “Looking like what?”

The thumb that was pressing against the clothed skin of your waist retreats and his hand moves back to where it was before, laid flat on the counter next to you, except this time his other arm reaches out for the surface too. And now he’s got you caged-in, looking down at you like he’s trying really hard to not get even closer. “Looking hot as fuck? You’re kind of vain for making me say it out loud.” 

You’re effectively dazed out of your goddamn mind at this point, using all the self-control you’ll have for the rest of a lifetime to not grab onto his shirt and pull him into you, all inhibitions lost to the wind. You wouldn’t even care if anyone walked in, you just needed him on you, touching you, kissing you right now. But there’s a tiny part of you that’s still mad at him, and fortunately that tiny part of you pulls through. “If you think trying to seduce me is going to make me not angry anymore, you’re out of luck.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you. You think this is me trying to seduce you? If that’s so, I’m starting to worry you won’t be able to take it,” he whispers that last part so suggestively that you’re weak in the knees from his words. He seemed so different, entirely preoccupied by taking in the sight of every inch of you in front of him that any sense of shame or guilt has left his body, and he’s just looking at you with desire. 

“Satoru…” is all you manage to say as you look up at him, your thighs clenching from the arousal of just his presence surrounding you. 

You see him close his eyes for a second and exhale before he opens them, his pupils all the way dilated and wild when he looks at you again. “Yeah?” he responds, his head dipping down towards yours slightly, lips just inches from yours, like he’s waiting for your permission to act. 

“I…” you start, blinking up at him through your lashes, “...I was having a lot of fun earlier throwing back shots of tequila, and you kind of ruined that. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to it.” You place a hand on his chest, his gaze dropping to it in surprise as he watches you push him away from you all the way until his back hits the fridge with a thud.

“What the fuck?” he utters, his face contorted into a confusion you found incredibly comical.

You press up against him, looking up with round eyes and innocence, and you feel him immediately tense up. “Also, very inappropriate to treat someone you barely know like that. I’ll let it slide, though.” 

The last thing you see before you turn away from him is his shocked expression, blinking at you with the rest of him practically motionless, and you skip out of the kitchen towards the main party happening around the corner out of his sight. 

There were bustling people, a few guys coming up to you to talk to you, but you ignore them until you spot Geto, Nanami, some of the other soccer players, and a bunch of other people huddled around in a circle. You tap on Geto’s shoulder and he turns around to face you.

“Oh! Hey, what’s up, you made it,” Geto greets you, pulling you in for a brief hug which surprises you but was also pleasantly received as you hugged him back with a friendly pat. You could smell the alcohol from him. When he pulls away from you, he’s beaming. “We’re all doing rounds of shots, wanna join?”

“Oh my god, the words I’ve been wanting to hear all night,” you say and you join the circle, a bunch of people cheering as they usher you towards the center and you grab a shot glass from the small round table. A group of maybe fifteen people all raise their shot glasses up in the air, you included, and say some incoherent, non-rehearsed words of luck for the soccer team’s game tomorrow before everyone throws back their shots. You’re squealing and jumping up and down in excitement with Geto and watch as Nanami pretends to throw back his shot before dumping its contents into a red plastic solo cup in his hand instead.

“This is so much fun!” you’re yelling. “Can we do another?”

“Hey! New girl wants to do another,” one of the frat dudes calls out, which is followed by cheers and then messy pouring of tequila all over the table as people extend their shot glasses out to be filled. 

Two, three, four, eventually five is your limit until you wander away from the circle, entirely tipsy at this point, over to where people were dancing in front of the DJ’s booth. You bump into some couples that were grinding up on each other, your drunk conscience shamelessly watching their movements, and then accidentally bump into a man so hard that it almost sends you falling back onto the ground but he grabs your arm and keeps you upright. His drink spills a bit out of his hand and onto your dress, making you giggle like a freak. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he’s yelling to you over the music.

“No, I’m sorry,” you yell back, and then you notice he’s wearing a jacket that mimics the patterns of the school’s soccer jersey and has an embroidered player’s number on the chest. It hits you that you’ve seen him on the field before briefly during the practices you’ve been to. “Are you on the soccer team?”

“Yeah, I am,” he says and he tells you his name but the music is way too loud to hear it, and you’re also sort of drunk at this point to register it anyways. But he was cute, and you decided you wanted to dance with him, and dance away is exactly what you do. 

When he twirls you around and presses his chest against your back, your line of sight falls straight ahead to where you see Gojo sitting on a couch. Your heart sinks in your chest when you see a girl place a hand on his thigh and lean towards him, practically sitting in his lap, but the look on his face tells you he’s entirely distracted by something else. His eyes search the room for a few seconds, and when they land on you, he stills. When he tilts his head up to peer behind you and sees who you were dancing with, a look of shock crossed his face. 

For fucks sake, you wouldn’t flirt with one of his teammates, right?

In your drunk, hazy mind, Mina’s words flash by in your head. The foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you is based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat.

You turn around, reach up and pull the man you were dancing with down towards you, and you kiss him. The man hesitates, clearly surprised, before moving his lips against yours and just when you feel his hands make their way to your waist, you’re being yanked away from him by the arm. When you turn to look at the perpetrator, you see a very viscerally angry-looking Gojo in front of you and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god, he looked pissed. If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under right now. 

He pulls you by your forearm over to the stairs, and you’re protesting, trying to yank away from his harsh grip, but he doesn’t budge as he takes you up to the second floor and just when you two have made it into the secluded hallway, he pushes you up against the wall, caging you into it with his body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he scowls at you, leaning in closer, tone so searing it’s enough to set you on fire.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you yell back at him, anger rising within you.

“You’re seriously turning out to be a real fucking pain in the ass,” he hisses the words, his eyes darting across your face before settling on your lips.

“Why do you care? I’m just-” you start but he interrupts you when his lips crash down on yours, taking you by surprise. His kiss was hungry, ravenous, all-consuming. So different from that night when he kissed you for the first time with nothing but tenderness. This one felt like he wanted to take everything from you, leaving nothing behind. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer to him, and your arms slide up past his shoulders, locking behind his neck, and he’s groaning against your mouth before biting at your bottom lip. When you grant him access, he deepens the kiss and the taste of him intoxicates you.

“If you imply that you’re just a stranger to me one more fucking time,” he’s growling against your mouth, “I’ll make sure we get real well acquainted with eachother against this wall right now.” His hands find the flesh underneath your ass and he easily hoists you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. “Ask me if I give a fuck if anyone sees.”  

“Oh my god,” you’re gasping, his words hitting you straight to your core, and when you feel his clothed erection pressed against the flimsy cloth of your panties, the self-resolution you once had was all but a distant memory. “Satoru, bathroom, please, not here.”

When you tip your head back, giving him access to your neck and he immediately indulges, peppering kisses down your skin, you roll your hips against his and he squeezes the flesh of your ass hard to reprimand the motion before he takes you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, then setting you up on the counter. 

His kisses get lower until he’s at your collarbone, and he pulls you forward towards him on the surface to where you’re sitting at the edge and he has his hands digging at the soft flesh of your thighs. You’re squirming in his grasp, gripping onto his shirt for any sort of purchase. When his kissing reaches the neckline of your dress and his finger hooks the fabric, threatening to pull it down, he looks at you. 

“Please,” you ask him simply.

He raises an amused eyebrow, pulling down the fabric slowly to just above where your nipples would be set free. “You think you’re in a position to ask for anything from me right now?”

“Oh my fucking god I swear, if you don’t yank my dress down, I’ll choke you,” you threaten him. 

“Careful, pretty, I might be into that,” he chides, pressing a kiss to your chest.

You grab the wrist of the hand that was still hooked inside your cleavage, and pull it down harshly so your tits are set free and he leans away from you to take in the sight. He’s mesmerized for a moment, his hand wrapping around your rib cage and thumb poking the softness from the side before it eventually reaches your nipple and starts to play with it. “God, you’re so beautiful. Remind me why we didn’t do this the first night we met?”

When his mouth latches onto your nipple, you tip your head back with a moan and you’re not able to come up with an answer to his question. Because he was right, it was insane that the two of you didn’t. Your hand runs through the short hair of his undercut at the nape of his neck and then grips at the soft strands a bit higher as he sucks and licks at your breasts. You wrap your legs around him tighter, pulling his hips to you, and from the edge of the counter you start to roll your wet panties against the bulge at his front to get relief. He groans against your chest before pulling away. 

“You need to relax. Real fuckin’ desperate now compared to when you were pushing me away in the kitchen thirty minutes ago,” he scolds, his lips finding yours again and one of his hands trails up the skin of your thigh. You open your legs even wider for him sweetly and he smiles against your lips, his fingers brushing the skin of your inner thigh and then finally pressing against your clothed core. You instantly jolt, entirely stimulated by the contact, and he pulls away from the kiss to watch you. 

“S-Satoru…” you whimper because it’s all you can manage to say, your hips pushing forward, craving more of his touch, but he withdraws from your heat all together and steps away from you, his grip on your hips dragging you forward until you step down from the counter and you’re standing in front of him, looking up like you don’t even know how to breathe unless he talks you through it. He turns you around to where you’re facing the mirror, and it’s the first time you take a look at how messed up he’s gotten you. Your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, eyes a little teary from the lust consuming you. Your tits that appeared plush and perked by the haphazard way the neckline of your dress was tucked underneath them were glistening with his saliva and you felt like you were about to go insane at the sight. You take a look at his face in the reflection, and he too looked like he was about to go insane at the sight. 

“Bend over the counter,” he demands with a rough voice, but you don’t have much of a choice since he’s pushing down on your back anyways. You’ve risen up onto your tiptoes to accommodate the position and he lazily flips the fabric of your dress up over your ass before his hands hook into the side of your panties at your hips, pulling them down, and you feel the fabric practically peel off of you from how wet you were. And then he was on his knees behind you.

“Fuck, why didn’t we do this the first night we met?” he laments, marveling at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You already asked that question,” you mumble. 

“Cause it still doesn’t make any fucking sense to me,” he sighs and then he drags his index finger into your folds, from your entrance that was sopping wet all the way down to your clit. You’re wiggling, pushing your hips out towards him, and you hear him let out a low, guttural sound in his chest at the sight. His finger experimentally pushes into you and you’re gasping, hand slamming against the mirror.

“You’re so sensitive. Need a second?” he asks like he’s genuinely looking out for you, and yet he doesn’t wait before pushing another finger into you regardless. 

“Mhh..n-no, just need your tongue,” you say through a shaky breath, panting from where you were on the counter. 

He groans at your request and pulls his fingers out of you, instantly making you whine, before giving you a different reason to whine when his tongue presses against your clit.

Your mind was going insane, still registering the shock that this was happening as you moaned from the feeling of his tongue on you, mouth latching on and sucking harshly at your sensitive core that has you writhing and grasping onto anything you could find for purchase. The man that was making a mess at the most intimate part of you right now seemed so different from that kind man last week that pressed that chaste kiss to your lips. This was like you had just summoned the devil and he was on his knees behind you.

You make a mental note to never doubt any of Mina’s advice ever again.

When his hungry lapping at your clit turns into slow, lazy licks against your folds, you whimper above him and attempt to grind against his mouth so his tongue is where you want it. “Mm…p-please, stop teasing, I wanna cum.” 

He pulls his mouth from you and you feel how slick he’s made you, nothing but a mess of your arousal and his spit, before he pushes two fingers inside you and stretches you out inside with them. “But do you deserve to cum, is the question, sweetheart,” he drawls, curling his fingers inside and pressing on that spot that had your walls fluttering around him and building that tight knot in your lower tummy. 

“Yes, I do, fuck,” you’re moaning as he slowly starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, “less talking, more licking my clit.”

His other hand finds your clit, fingers beginning to rub agonizingly slow circles, and you can feel the texture of his calluses across every single nerve ending of the aching bud. “What was that, baby? You want me to be stingy with my tongue? Alright, whatever you say, princess,” he sighs it like he has no choice but to be a fucking dick right now.

“No, oh my god, don’t be stingy with your tongue,” you cry out, your cheek pressing up against the mirror from the sheer desperation of wanting a release, “I’ll kill you.” 

“Can’t make you cum if I’m dead,” he purrs. “God, your pussy’s going crazy right now, clenching around my fingers like it’s got a mind of its own. Can’t wait to fuck you,” he’s groaning, “so sweet, so tight, so wet. Exactly how I imagined it.”

“Y-You’ve imagined this?” you whimper to him when he starts to fully fuck you with his fingers. 

“So many fucking times,” he grumbles, his other hand now gripping your ass and thumb spreading you more open. You blush from how exposed you felt to him, but the noises he was making from the deepest part within his chest made you realize he was a freak for it. He pulls his fingers out of you and then uses both hands to spread your folds apart as he laps at the wetness that was practically dripping from your entrance. “What your world would be like if this was your little ‘terms and conditions’ favor instead.”

His tongue latches onto your clit again and your knees almost buckle. “M-Make me cum and maybe I’ll finally regret the fact that it wasn’t,” you say to him, desperate to coax something feral from him that finally grants you release of the tension building at your core. You’re unable to stay still, squirming and squealing above him, so hopelessly at his mercy.

“Say you’ll never kiss another guy except me ever again,” you hear him grumble with his face still buried in your cunt.

“w-what…” you say, exhaling incredulously, “S-Satoru…you don’t make any sense…we’re not even dat-”

“Say it, and I’ll let you cum,” he tells you simply, pulling his mouth from you again just when you felt like you were about to topple over and you’re about ready to kick him in the face at this point. You try to look over your shoulder to read his facial expression but when his fingers take their position over your clit and he starts to draw stars, you quickly give up and rest your forehead on the mirror. Oh god, this was good, if he just kept going-

As if he could read your mind, he pulls his fingers from your clit entirely, leaving your core agonizingly empty from any part of his touch, and it makes you gasp. You’ve never felt more betrayed in your life.

“Oh my god, okay okay okay!” you’re screaming, sticking your ass out to him and he’s chuckling at the sight. “I’ll never kiss another guy again! Fucking hell, Satoru, please, just make me cum,” you beg, whimpering and almost crying, your thighs twitching from the urge to clench together for some form of relief in his absence.

He seems satisfied by your begging, because he immediately grabs your ass with both hands, one of his thumbs pushing shallowly into your drenched entrance, and then his mouth finds your clit again. You close your eyes shut, and you could feel that you were just seconds away from cumming as he simultaneously sucks and licks relentlessly on the sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s when he groans against your center with such a primal frequency, sending shockwaves of vibrations to your center and throughout your entire body, that you fall apart for him and you come undone so violently that your knees entirely give out, and you’re screaming his name. He wraps an arm around your legs to keep you from falling as you squirm on the counter, your walls pulsing and clenching, hips twitching, and then you’re finally calming down. You lay blissfully on the surface, head down, breathing heavily with soft, remnant whimpers leaving your lips.

You hear Gojo let out a short exhale from behind you that almost sounds like he’s in disbelief. When you turn slightly to look back at him, you see he’s palming himself through his pants and looking directly at your cunt. “You’re dripping onto the floor, fuck.” He catches a drop of slick, clear arousal as it falls from your entrance, immediately bringing it to his tongue and licking it off his finger before standing up. 

You barely manage to push your upper body up so that you’re standing, shaking arms working overtime to hold yourself up, and he comes up behind you to press his chest against your back, looking at you in the mirror. He was breathing heavily too, his mouth near your ear and his eyes lidded with lust. You reach your arm up and behind him to grab at the soft tufts of hair at the back of his head, your back arching from the motion, and he groans as he pushes his clothed erection against your ass, head dropping close to your shoulder from the pleasure and he presses a kiss to your skin. The image in front of you, with his broad shoulders and frame completely engulfing yours whole, your hips slightly rocking forwards and pushing against the counter from his indulgent grinding behind you, his hand reaching up to pinch and play with your nipple, it was all so erotic that you were already aching for more. He effectively finger-fucked, licked, and sucked the anger out of you, and that was a dangerous fact. 

His fingers grazed up the side of your waist that the fabric of your dress still clung tightly to, and he loosely held onto you, sighing against the back of your neck which sent shivers down your spine. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “So pretty like this. Turn around and face me, baby, reflection’s not enough,” he says to you and you do as he says, twirling around. His eyes take in the sight of you, his thumb coming up to press at the soft flesh of your breast and you can see it in his eyes that he was worshipping you. 

You finally take in the entire image of his appearance. His chest was heaving, hair disheveled, shirt was wrinkled at the front from when you were grabbing onto it earlier. There’s a crease to his brow when he looks at you, and you realize that this is not the first time you’ve seen him look exactly like this in a party bathroom. Except the last time, it was from reasons other than your own.

And then there’s that sinking feeling in your chest again.

Just when you observe that spark of intense lust in his eyes, pupils dilated like wild, see it flash through his mind that he thinks he’s about to get lucky with you tonight, you find yourself pushing him away from you for the second time tonight. You’ve got him with his back pressed up against the wall while he looks down at you with confusion, and this time there’s desperation and panic there too.

You look up at him with a discerning softness, and all those tender feelings you’ve been experiencing for the past week come crashing down on you all at once, but your heart aches with their memory. When his eyes study your face, there’s a brief second where he’s surprised to see the way you’re looking at him, and his jaw clenches slightly. 

“Thanks, I really needed this,” you whisper to him, hand patting his chest reassuringly as you try to keep your composure in front of him despite the hollow feeling in your chest, “gave me some clarity. Don’t follow me.” And then you step away from him, pull your panties back up into place, adjust the neckline of your dress up over to cover your chest, then you make your way to exit.

“What? Wait-” he scrambles, sounding stunned from behind you as you open the bathroom door, walk right out into the hallway and close the door behind you, not all the way but just enough so you were out of his line of sight.

You sigh to yourself for a second as you step to the side, fixing at your hair, then take a deep breath as you walk down the hall. It registers in your mind that he listens, never following after you. 

a/n. reader is soooo messy for doing this to him right before his big game lol i'm like scared for her even though i'm literally the author hahha. i hope to see you in the next one! much love

➸ take me to chapter seven!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice (decided to tag all interacts too just so it's not missed if that's ok! love you all sm)

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (12) - In the Beginning

Chapter summary: Astarion meets up with Ava and it triggers something deep within him.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Mention of masturbation. Dissociative episode. Bloodlust.

Word count: 4.8k

Series Masterlist . Ao3

He should have known this would happen eventually. 

His love affair with the sun had reached an unavoidable end. Yet again. Luck had seldom ever been on his side, so this shouldn’t sting this much.

But it did.

His eyes darted to the half-moon window high up above through which scorching shafts of sunlight tore and lit up the dingy cellar.

Revulsion stirred within him and the flares of anger threatened to consume him whole.

The very same sun rays in which he had bathed for weeks were now a sore reminder of his true and inescapable nature.

He titled his head back against the wooden crate, his eyes fluttering shut in defeat as he sat on the cold floor.

Astarion had served his purpose and was now cast to live in the shadows once more, bound to his hunger and to all the inconveniences of being a vampire spawn.

The pain of being scorched by the sunlight had been revived in his mind after weeks of freely strolling around the Sword Coast in some impromptu quest to save Baldur’s Gate whilst having to deal with an inconvenient wriggling dweller inside his head.

But all the physical pain of being burnt mercilessly paled in comparison when his ears picked up approaching footsteps.

He knew who they belonged to.

The sound was carved into his mind like a dagger that wouldn’t budge.

You.

He winced as the squeaky door was pushed open. 

“Astarion?”

He gritted his teeth, silently praying you’d simply walk away and leave him to his misery. 

But his prayers had never been answered before, and that wasn’t about to change now, least of all when it concerned you.

In truth, he doubted any God above would be able to keep you from plaguing his thoughts.

“Astarion, I know you’re in here.”

Then leave.

He remained silent, eyes fluttered shut and an urge to be swallowed whole by the ground below.

Light and careful footsteps drew near and only came to a halt as a swift rush of air indicated to him that you were crouched in front of him.

Shit.

“Hello,” you said and he could hear the warm smile in your voice.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and he was sure that if he had a beating heart, it would most likely skip a few beats. Instead, he felt his stomach lurch as hunger simmered dangerously.

Your kind eyes met his and he craved nothing more than to have you be gone. 

From all the afflictions he was yet again a slave to, you were by far the most painful one.

“Did you come here to mock me?” he spat, the poisonous words leaving his mouth before he could hold back.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Mock you? Astarion–”

But he cut you off like a knife through flesh. “Spare me – I saw the way they laughed as my skin crumbled to ashes. So if you’ve come here to have your share, you can just leave.”

He was being unfair and he didn’t need your wavering smile as proof.

After all your travels together and his unrequited feelings towards you, he couldn’t fight his arrogance from surfacing.

But you never gave up on him – through deceit and manipulation, you were unmoving and relentless in your loyalty to him.

“I’ll have you know that I scolded all of them for doing so,” you said firmly. “It was uncalled for, especially after everything we’ve been through together.”

His jaw clenched harder and his eyes narrowed. 

Oh, he couldn’t stand it. That look on your face – pity. It immediately triggered a visceral reaction deep within him, and when he saw you reach out to him with your hand, he flinched away and recoiled against the crate behind him. 

“Don’t touch me.”

Your hand immediately stilled before dropping to your knee, and he saw a glint of sadness cross your eyes.

It wasn’t disgust or anger that caused him to utter such words.

He just knew your touch would ruin him and that he’d allow it.

“We can find a way to solve this,” you tried again with newfound determination. “We will find a way.”

He scoffed, averting his gaze.

Unfortunately, the laws of the worlds didn’t bend to the whims of lesser beings without compromise. 

And he soon realised what really bothered him was how vulnerable he felt – how exposed and weak he surely looked in your eyes.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Tainted.

Broken.

“Do you trust me?” 

He remained silent.

“Do you?”

Your insistence gnawed at his nerves, causing him to lock eyes with you again. 

“It goes beyond trust, darling. If walking in the sun again – or curing vampirism altogether – were that easy, I would not be here in the first place.”

Even through his snarky remark, you found a way to hold a smile and it immediately disarmed him. “Astarion, if there is anything our travels together have taught me is that we're quite good at turning the impossible into possible,” you said with conviction. “If there is a way to help you, we will find it.”

In another lifetime, he would have called you a foolish human who uttered big words without knowing their meaning.

But in this one, he did know you didn't extend promises lightly.

And if there was a sliver of hope he could cling to, he'd take it, especially now that Cazador was no longer around to compel him otherwise.

“Well, who's ‘we’, exactly?” he asked, easing himself against the crate.

Your face lightened up. “You and me, of course.”

The two of you. Just the two of you?

Oh, he liked the sound of that. Very, very much. 

His jaw slacked as hope kindled inside him, soaring dangerously high.

“Well, and Wyll – he's offered to help.”

Said hope plummeted back to the ground, shattering.

He scowled with a click of his tongue. “Did he, now? How chivalrous of him.”

You nodded. “I'm sure the others will come around, too.”

Astarion supposed this was a decent prospect, but almost grimaced when you extended your hand to him.

“Deal?”

He wanted to believe your relationship with him surpassed a mere friendship value, but he had grown tired of hoping for more.

Still, he would greedily take anything you would offer him.

Whether it was an indication that you craved more than friendship, or a simple handshake.

As such, he took your hand in his, revelling in the familiar warmth. “We have a deal, darling.”

Once he entered The Blushing Mermaid, it was evident that the presence of six Flaming Fists was not welcome at all.

Bork immediately asked for only two to stay inside as they were beginning to frighten the clientele.

But, much to his convenience, he immediately found who he was looking for, sitting in the furthermost corner of the lounge area.

Ava.

The plan was simple: try to get a confession from her – if applicable – but they would still be bringing her in for questioning as Rob Sorel, her lover, awaited her with Wyll.

A measured smile spread across her face as she noticed the fists behind him.

He slithered to her table with determined steps, aware that there was a possibility that this conversation would lead nowhere.

He slowly took the seat across from her, casually placing his twin daggers on the chipped table.

Ava's eyes dropped momentarily before meeting his again. “Oh, Astarion. Offering a silent warning with poison-coated blades? You needn't do that with me.”

Astarion's lips twitched upwards in silence.

He knew this dance better than most. He could read others quite efficiently when it came to sudden shifts in body language, and he had noticed Ava sitting straighter and her saccharine smile wavering all of a sudden.

And he had her right where he wanted her.

“You can't be too careful. Isn't that what some say?” he said, absentmindedly drumming his fingers along the handle of one dagger.

She took a sip from her cup before tilting it. “I'd order one for you, but I know this isn't your drink of choice – unless you brought her along for a sip, that is.”

Her taunt was enough to set him ablaze and the tip of his blade was immediately carved into the wooden table, earning a jolt from her.

“You do not get to goad me with her,” he snarled, gripping the handle so fiercely he might snap it in half. “She is off limits and you were delusional to even think you could bring her into this without consequences.”

Suddenly, her face twisted into a hard scowl and whatever traces of sweetness vanished. “I would not do anything with her without talking to you first.”

“You still offered her a deal, thereby roping her into something she is not to be a part of,” he retorted. “Her blood is off limits. She is off limits.”

Ava leaned back with a roll of her eyes. “Is this a case of you not wanting to share? Not even if that could be beneficial to you?”

His grip loosened slightly as his brows furrowed. “What is your point?”

She took another sip. “Her blood mixed with yours could be beneficial to my experiment and, thus, to you and even that massive horde of spawn in the Underdark.”

Of course Ava would want to play her cards right to keep him around.

It was a temptimg prospect, and he would never consider it at your expense.

He was no fool and you were no bargaining chip.

“I could never ask that of her. She stays out of this.”

She forced a yawn. “Have you forgotten your arrangement with her? Her blood for your good behaviour? Or does all sense of reason rush to your cock when you feed on her?”

Ava's words slashed through the air and he was momentarily taken aback.

The nature of your arrangement with him was vastly different. It wasn’t as simple as him being kept in line like some obedient pup. He could have turned the offer away and live exclusively off boars and deers – much to his horror.

The difference was… well, you.

Your unwillingness to let him go.

Your blood.

Your insistence on helping him keep his mind clear by allowing him to freely feed on the blood of a thinking creature.

And not just any thinking creature.

You.

His first.

The only blood he craved to the point of madness.

“Though, I can tell you haven't fed in a couple of days,” she went on with a dramatic pout. “A lover's quarrel, hmm?”

Oh, she was vicious.

This was the same woman who had shared a bed with him to ease him coming to terms with intimacy. For the most part, her simply being naked by his side hadn't helped much, but it seemed enough, and he was desperate to overcome the prison that his mind had become.

However, this was also the same woman who slayed her kin without hesitation.

She could go from being as kind and sweet to holding a stake to his chest.

Astarion felt a sense of dread wash over him as he realised he had greatly underestimated her.

Now, he needed to tread lightly.

The blade sunk deeper into the table as he leaned closer. “You wanted her blood in exchange for information.”

“Yet it is a far less selfish bargain than your arrangement with her, is it not?”

He ignored tar taunt. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know yet.��

He gritted his teeth. “Lies.”

Ava's face softened and he watched her slip into her usual overly sweet demeanour. “Astarion, we can be here all night hurling accusations and witty remarks at each other,” she said with a sigh. “Or we can approach this in a more sensitive manner.”

He didn't budge. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know who is after you,” she said. “Someone is, but I have yet to find out who.”

There was something in her tone that felt disingenuous. Almost as if she hadn't expected him to press her on this.

“Or there is no one at all besides you,” he said casually.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Me? And what would I gain from doing such a thing? Your blood is an integral part of this experiment. Locking you up in a prison cell would prove to be a nuisance.”

His patience was wearing thin.

“Darling, I've been around long enough to know people lie – you are a pristine liar, but a liar nonetheless.

In truth, he was merely bluffing in an attempt to spot any cracks in her story. He needed anything he could get from her.

And a part of him still hoped this was all a misunderstanding.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I can see what you are trying to do and it won't work.”

He thought as much. Still, he had to give it a try.

“What about Waterdeep?”

For the first time that night, Ava looked genuinely dumbfounded. “What about it?”

“No casual killings over there, hmm? In the past hours – accidental ones, perhaps?” he pressed.

She frowned deeply in response. “What are you accusing me of, exactly?”

“Someone was murdered and I am simply trying to rule you out as a suspect,” he said, feigning concern. 

“You overestimate my reach outside Baldur's Gate.”

He scoffed. “But not the reach of a certain patriar who so happens to be your lover.”

Ava's lips parted but she didn't utter a word.

“Rob Sorel has dealings in Waterdeep and knows which strings to pull to order a murder.”

She was visibly agitated, but he couldn't tell the cause. Was it the mention of a patriar? Or was he simply nearing the truth?

“Who was killed?”

It was all pointless.

A shame.

He merely turned in his seat and motioned for the two Fists at the door. Both immediately approached with the Mage Slayer right behind.

By this point, Astarion wasn't sure if Ava was even involved in this at all, but he couldn't take any risks. She would be taken in for questioning regardless of his judgement.

“Astarion?”

The room was immediately plunged into silence as multiple heads turned to watch the scene. From behind the counter he spotted Bork shaking his head in clear disapproval, visibly displeased with the ordeal.

“Astarion? What are you doing?”

His eyes met hers as he sheathed his daggers. “The right thing.”

He was known to do that from time to time, even against his better judgement.

She rushed to her feet, clawing at her dress in search of her own dagger. “Astarion!”

He could hear the rising panic in her voice, and he silently watched as the mage cast Hold Person on her before she could so much as blink.

She was instantly left petrified in place as the violet sign on the floor caged her in.

Gasps echoed around him and the two Fists promptly rushed to her side.

“We'll handle it from here,” one of them told him.

There was a part of him that vaguely wondered if this was the correct approach. 

A part of him that hoped for Ava not to be involved in any of it.

And then, from across the room, he saw you.

He blinked twice, thinking his eyes betrayed him, but there you were, standing by the door with a Fist at your side, staring back into his crimson eyes.

And it was as if he had been mentally slapped.

Ava had dared to involve you.

You.

And it had been his fault.

The unruly and dense crowd in the room wasn't enough to contain him from darting hurriedly to meet you.

Annoyance hit him first and it was woven into his words once he was in front of you, gripping your forearm. “Why are you here? I told you to let me handle this.”

You immediately yanked free with narrowed eyes. “I wasn't trying to interfere. But this idiot,” you said, pointing to the Fist who merely shrugged, “pushed me inside and – wait! How did it go with her?”

Astarion caught hold of your shoulders, pulling you to the side as Ava was carried away through the door.

As soon as it closed behind them, the fanfare commenced once more in between heated whispers and glares from those around the two of you.

“Marvellous as you can see,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “She didn't confess to anything, and I had limited time.”

You pushed the door open once again and he promptly followed you outside, until he felt a hard shove from someone's hand.

“Move, spawn.”

He glanced over his shoulder only to see a frowning Fist right behind.

“We are not cattle to be ordered around,” he spat, adjusting his vest. “Honestly, Wyll ought to have you all stand trial for severe lack of manners.”

“It's Duke Ravengard to you,” the Fist growled, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Astarion clicked his tongue humorously. “It's Wyll to me and Duke Ravengard to you, Fist.”

Before tensions could escalate any further, you were already tugging at his sleeve, and dragging him across the wooden pier.

Just as the Fist opened his mouth, a myriad of clashing and banging sounds were heard from inside and he turned to open the door.

Probably a tavern brawl.

What fun!

Seconds later, the armoured man was toppled to the ground as the door burst open with people yelling profanities and slinging fists at each other.

“I'll kill ya! WHERE IS MY CHICKEN, YOU OAF?” a drunkard missing most of his teeth yelled, holding a frying pan in his hand.

“YOU ATE IT, YOU IMBECILE!” said another, stepping on the fallen Fist and nearly losing his balance.

Behind them, Astarion spotted several items being tossed whilst Bork's voice begged for order.

He almost clicked his tongue.

Tavern brawls were too much fun and he always adored adding fuel to the fire by standing on the side and instigating these drunkard fools.

But a quick glance at you and he could tell you wouldn't approve of such activity, so he remained at your side.

The other two Fists that were standing guard nearby, clumsily rushed to the entrance.

“Go call for backup!”

The youngest nodded and nearly bumped into Astarion as he tried to keep his helmet steady.

“Oh! Do not leave! Do not move!”

Astarion immediately raised both hands innocently. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Right. Thank you!”

Idiot.

Surprisingly, you hadn't let go of his sleeve and your hand moved to his wrist, pulling him to cross the road until you reached the metal balustrade that allowed a privileged view over the Grey Harbour Docks.

It was far away from the chaos that had erupted, but not quite far that would potentially get you into trouble.

Although… “Maybe we should leave.”

Astarion arched an eyebrow at you. “And going against the voice of authority?”

Your face dropped and he fought the urge to pinch your cheek teasingly.

You were so easy to rile up.

“You scheming little delinquent, you,” he said with a devious smile and a chuckle. “I'm all for acts of rebellion, but we ought to stay nearby this time.”

“Do you think we should go help them out?” you asked, glancing over at the rising commotion nearby.

The two of you exchanged looks before shrugging.

“No. They can fend for themselves,” you said, leaning over the fence, eyes set on the lulling sea that spread vastly into the distance.

“Actually, they're quite incompetent, but I don't feel like creasing my shirt,” he said with an annoyed click of his tongue, inspecting his sleeves as he joined you. “Let them fight off the drunkards. We get to collect the scattered coins on the floor afterwards.”

You shot him a curious look. “You do that?”

“Well, obviously? I put the gold to good use, at least.”

“Embroidery?”

That tugged a genuine smile from him and he caught himself staring at you under the moonlight.

Gods.

He would never tire of admiring your beauty and how it was almost embarrassingly too easy for him to get lost in your eyes.

It also didn't help that he hadn't fed in a few days.

Bloodlust clouded his mind and made his insides turn.

It was the soft sound of your voice that snapped him from his thoughts. “What now? I mean… Ava.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, they are to interrogate Rob Sorel and see how both their stories hold up.”

You heaved a deep sigh. “So we wait.”

“We wait.”

Astarion had grown used to the silence that would often settle around the two of you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It was the kind that he had never experienced before.

He wasn't sure there was a name for it, but he knew the feeling attached to it all too well.

The silhouette of passing ships on the horizon, dancing along the calm waters added to the overall soothing atmosphere.

He could stay a while longer like this.

With you.

His eyes eventually darted to the side and he nearly jolted when your head turned to him, as if you had felt his burning gaze.

“You can feed on me once we get home.”

He wanted that.

He needed it.

He craved it.

But… “I can do without your blood for a while longer, darling.”

A white lie.

He could feel his mind spotting and blanking at times already, especially when near you. Maybe he had gotten too addicted to feeding on you to the point his body could no longer go extended periods of time without blood.

Your blood.

And as much as he appreciated your offer, he needed to withstand his hunger.

Ava's words echoed in his mind and he almost felt repulsed from having allowed himself to be so dependent on you and putting you through it in the first place.

“Are you alright?” you asked, visibly worried.

“Yes – of course, darling,” he forced a smile to curl his lips.

Your hand came to rest on his forearm. “Astarion, you can feed on me. I mean it.”

His eyes dropped to your neck, the symmetrical puncture wounds still visible from when he had last bitten you.

Hunger swelled to the point of agony and he could almost smell your blood and feel it coursing through your hand.

You gave him a reassuring nod, which only made it harder for him to resist the urge to give in.

“I should go hunt, actually,” he eventually managed to say and his words felt like ash in his mouth.

You chuckled slightly, squeezing his arm. “You'd probably have to bring a Fist with you.”

He grimaced, but appreciated your attempt at diffusing the tension. “They would end up being the ones hunted by some beast in the woods, and I would have to step in and save the godsdamned idiot.”

Your eyes widened and then you laughed.

Hard.

And it was the most comforting sound he had ever heard in a long while.

It was enough to steer the bloodlust away and he laughed with you.

“It reminds me of the first time you fed on me,” you said, wiping off the teardrops that had formed in the corners of your eyes from laughing. “Remember? When you drifted off into the woods to hunt for something more ‘filing’?”

Oh.

Shit.

His smile wavered and you immediately caught on to the sudden shift.

“What?”

He thought he had told you what truly happened that night….

…. he hadn't?

“Well… I…” his words failed him and as he pondered how he should approach the topic.

Concern suddenly splattered across your face. “What is it? 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I didn't exactly go hunting,” he said with a tense chuckle.

You remained silent, waiting for him to go on.

“I just had to get away from you… to… uhm, well – take care of a little problem that stirred whilst I fed on you, if you catch my meaning.”

He allowed the implication to dangle from his words, and it wasn't a particularly subtle one.

And then your eyes widened once more in sudden realisation.

“Oh… it makes sense,” you said all flustered, withdrawing your hand from his arm. “You did say my blood feels really good.”

‘Good’ was an unfair understatement.

It always felt divine.

“Don't misunderstand,” he quickly added. “It was totally out of my control. I was quite surprised when I realised just how…” hard he had gotten.

“Just how…?”

“Just how much your blood affected me.”

He could remember it clearly in his head.

How desperate he was to slip into the woods and find a secluded place so he could see just how much of a mess his trousers were.

He could feel it, obviously, but he wouldn't know the extent of the ‘'damage’ until he undid his trousers.

“Did you… get…. really hard?” you drawled out in a hushed tone as if scared someone other than him might overhear you.

Astarion figured this was the last topic he expected to be addressing given that the background noise consisted of screams and threats and loud noises and glass smashing.

Hardly the right ambience.

“Yes.”

He could almost remember the feel of the bark of the tree digging into his back as he hurriedly undid the lacing at the front until he was able to free his cock.

“And what did you do?”

Were these merely questions that stemmed from curiosity or were you trying to stir something else…?

“Well…” he started, “you can't expect me to reveal such things aloud.”

He watched you swallow hard as you nodded. “You can say in my ear, then? If you want to, of course,” you quickly added.

You were too adorable and he was in dire need of a distraction from his bloodlust.

This would suffice.

He leaned closer, and pressed a kiss to your heated cheek before his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I had to take care of it.”

You shuddered.

His cock had never been as hard and as thick before he had fed on you. It had made him utterly speechless to see all the precum dripping from the tip.

He had been almost too scared to even touch it.

But when he did….

The groan that had erupted from his throat had been too difficult to rein in. His cock had felt warm and it had throbbed from your blood coursing through it, giving it a faint pink tint to it.

“In the woods?” you asked, gripping the railing with both hands.

“Yes.”

He could hear the faint beating of your heart increasing. “What if someone had run into you?”

His cock twitched.

Innocent, little pup…

“Why, darling… did you want to run into me,” he lowered his voice as his lips brushed against your ear, "and witness my despair as I touched myself?”

You gasped.

Despair didn't quite cover it. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever felt like he'd implode lest he reached climax.

It was a novelty and he had felt… alive. 

He had heard of how delectable the blood of thinking creatures could be, but he had never anticipated this feeling of fullness and how addictive it could be.

“It was so warm… from your blood, sweetheart,” he purred, feeling himself getting carried away.

You bit your quivering lip before replying, “Did it feel good?”

Maybe too carried away.

And when you shuddered again under his faint touch, it was as if he had been slapped back into another plane of existence.

He suddenly straightened himself and blinked.

What was he doing?

His abrupt change in demeanour was enough to earn a reaction from you, and he could see lust in your half-hooded eyes as you stared at him in confusion.

And just like a tidal wave that one couldn't hold back, he felt disgust and revulsion lacing themselves into a powerful mixture that caused him to take a step back.

His mind was flooded with Ava's accusatory words and the memories of him seducing you for his own benefit.

“Astarion?”

Your voice was miles away and he couldn't even bring himself to blink anymore.

The nauseating feeling was heightened by the fact that he had a very inconvenient erection strained against his trousers, begging for attention.

“Astarion… what is it?” 

Your voice seemed even more distant than before, as if he had been plunged into a well and couldn't get out.

Why couldn't he get out?

Why was his cock so hard, but his mind so repulsed by it?

And the impending feeling of dread began to slowly overtake him like storm clouds rolling over the mountains, bent on flooding the land below.

And when it began to rain in his mind, it poured.

He needed to get away.

He needed to get away from you.

You tried reaching out to him with your hand, but he flinched away. “Don't touch me!”

And he could see it in your eyes.

Pity.

Again.

“I – I must go.”

And he didn't look back.

TBC

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Summary: Your weekend getaway to Indianapolis comes with a boyfriend who's trying to quit smoking, a five-year-old who has difficulty acclimating to new routines, and your own insecurities about your mothering abilities. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: angst, insecurities about motherhood, lost child, Eddie gets mad at us, discussion of menstrual period/PMS

WC: 7.7k A/N: There is a moment where someone refers to us as Harris's mom; however, she doesn't see us. There is no indication that we resemble Harris in any way.

Chapter 16/20

Divider credit to @saradika Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsonsmum

--

The morning dew still kisses the grass when you arrive at the Munson apartment, hauling your duffel bag up to their half-packed car. Eddie’s leaning into the backseat, only his jean-clad legs visible from your vantage point. Harris stands behind him, watching his dad’s every move earnestly and intently. If you had a camera on you, you’d take a photo of this Kodak moment.

“Hi, boys!” you chirp as enthusiastically, tucking your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from laughing when Eddie bangs his head on the roof of the car. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, ‘m good,” he mutters, rubbing at his scalp with one hand, expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile.”Morning, Sweetheart. You sleep well?”

You nod, opening your arms as Harris races towards you for a hug. “What about you guys? Or were you too excited about our super-fun weekend?”

“Daddy snored!” Harris reports with a grin, overjoyed to share what he perceives to be a juicy morsel of gossip.

Eddie gasps in mock-offense, reaching out to take your bag and arranging it amongst his and Harris’s in the trunk. “I did not!”

“Did too!” Harris retorts, turning back to you and adding, “like, so loud!”

You crouch down, and hold a pinky out in front of him. “We’re gonna have to stick together this weekend if we’re going to survive,” returning his smile when he wraps his little finger around yours in a promise.

“Can’t believe my girlfriend is conspiring against me with my own flesh and blood,” Eddie grumbles, eyes widening when he realizes what he’s said; rather, in front of whom he’s said it. His panicked gaze meets yours, and you both anticipate some reaction from Harris, but he’s fortunately unfazed and too fixated on the utter silliness of his dad’s snoring. Eddie clears his throat, determined to change the subject before his son catches on. “I think we’re ready to ship out,” he offers, slamming the trunk shut and pressing down to double-check that it’s closed.

“Snacks?” you ask, running through a mental checklist of necessities.

Eddie holds up a family-size bag of pretzels. “Got ‘em.”

“Water?”

“Backseat,” he points to the floor to the left of Harris’s booster seat–a recent upgrade from his carseat. “Harris will be in charge of that, right, Har?”

“Right!” Harris confirms with a thumbs-up.

“Sounds good. Put him to work,” you tease. Eddie’s heart skips a beat at the playful relationship that you and his son have, swapping smiles and making each other laugh. “Music?”

Eddie juts his chin towards the center console, filled to the brim with cassettes. “Always.”

You cock your eyebrow knowingly before posing your next question, preparing yourself for some visceral response. “Nicotine gum?”

Eddie groans, patting the pack of Nicorette in his pocket. “Unfortunately, yes.” About a week and a half ago, Harris had come home from school crying after the school had put on an assembly about the dangers of smoking. Eddie had been meaning to quit for a long time, but his son worrying over real problems, using words like cancer and heart attack, was what finally pushed him to chuck every pack of cigarettes he owned into the trash. 

“Okay,” you smile and clap your hands together, “I think we’re good to go!” You help Harris buckle his seatbelt before climbing into the passenger seat.

The sedan rumbles to life, catching on the second key turn and disrupting the otherwise still morning. “Gentlemen, start your engines!” Eddie roars in an exaggeratedly deep voice, and Harris giggles from the backseat. With Eddie’s hand on the gearshift, you seize the opportunity to squeeze it, light pink tickling his cheeks at your touch.

It’s only thirty minutes into the drive before it starts.

“Daddy, I gotta pee!”

You can practically feel the patience leaving Eddie’s body, fingers tightly gripping the wheel until his knuckles flush white.

“Har Bear, we just hit the road,” he tries, knowing his efforts are fruitless. “Can you hold it?”

“No, it’s a ‘mergency!”

“Fuck,” Eddie swears under his breath. The likelihood of it actually being an emergency is slim to none, but he’s in no mood to risk it. “All right, I’ll pull over at the next rest stop, ‘kay?”

Eddie takes the next exit, parking at a truck stop and nearly falling out of the car in his scramble to get Harris to the bathroom. “C’mon, c’mon,” he mutters, walking so quickly that Harris nearly trips over his own feet. You quicken your own pace just to keep up with them. 

The scent of coffee grabs your attention as soon as you walk in the door, and you make a beeline for the tiny Dunkin Donuts tucked in the corner. The cashier looks as though they could use a shot or two of espresso, eyelids closing under their visor as you give your order. When the boys get back from the bathroom, you present Eddie with a large coffee with far more milk and sugar than your own, and hand a chocolate donut to Harris. 

Eddie's eyes shift back and forth from the donut to you before he speaks. “It’s, like, 9 am,” he points out. “He’s gonna be bouncing off the walls if he eats that now.”

Oh. Obviously. What were you thinking, giving an already-hyperactive child pure sugar in the morning? All of the times you’d cringed when parents had sent their kids into school with Cocoa Puffs or some equally sugary cereal, and you’d given his son a chocolate donut for breakfast. “I’m sorry,” you sputter, shaking your head in frustration. “I should’ve asked you first, or saved it for later.” 

“‘S fine,” he mutters, heaving an exasperated sigh as Harris takes a giant bite of donut. “At least there’s two of us to chase after him,” he adds with a weak smile. 

Harris has devoured nearly the entire donut by the time Eddie’s buckling him back in, chocolate crumbs tucked into the crevices of his mouth. He’s oblivious to your faux pas, and you’d like to keep it that way. 

“I really am sorry,” you say again, guilt gnawing in your stomach. “I should’ve known better; I guess I just got excited about our little vacation together.”

Eddie’s grin is more genuine this time. “Me, too, baby.” He sneaks a quick kiss to your cheek when Harris is focused on what remains of his snack. “The whole no-smoking thing has me extra bitter, y’know?”

You know. You definitely know, but you’re not about to point out all of the ways he’s been short-tempered lately. Instead, you relax into your seat and try to brush off your mistake as Eddie turns on the radio and guitar riffs replace the silence. 

Eddie rolls down the window as the springtime sun warms the air, and you stretch as the rush of wind cools your body. His curls whip around the base of his neck, dancing in the breeze, and you can’t help but push them out of his face haphazardly. 

Your stomach growls, and you’re grateful for the blaring music masking the embarrassingly loud noise. You’d forgotten to grab something for breakfast in your rush to leave your apartment, and coffee is a poor substitute for the most important meal of the day. 

You reach down to the bag of pretzels nestled against your feet. “Y’want?” you ask Eddie, who nods and opens his mouth for you to feed it to him while he concentrates on the road. Laughter bubbles up from within you as he takes one from your hand by pinching it between his teeth. 

Harris giggles, too. “Daddy, you look like a goat from the zoo!”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie slides the snack into his mouth and bites down with a crunch, “and what sounds do goats make?”

“Hmm,” Harris ponders this for a moment before bleating a resounding, “maaaah!”

You swivel in your seat to give him a high-five. There’s donut residue on your hand when you pull back. “Smarty pants! I bet you know every animal sound there is.”

You and Eddie rattle off different species as you feed him more pretzels. Harris manages perfect impressions of each, until you call out, “sloth!” and effectively stump him. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he cackles maniacally, partially because of his sugar rush, you’re sure, “that is so silly!”

“Y’just gotta do everything suuuuper slooooow.” You drag out the last two words to emphasize your point. “Like this: Haaaaarrisssss…caaaaan…youuuuu…haaaaand…meeeeee…aaaaa…waaaaterrrr?” This brings on a fresh round of giggles from the backseat; even extra-bitter Eddie manages a hint of a smile.

Harris grabs a bottle at a snail’s–no, a sloth’s–pace. “Heeere…youuuuu…goooooo!” His pace is far from hurried, and you feel the gentle tap of the plastic cap against your shoulder blade a full thirty seconds later. 

“Thaaaaank…youuuuu!” You crack open the bottle of water and take a swig, quenching a thirst only made worse by the salty snack. “Wanna play again? See how many other animal sounds you can do?” you ask, grateful to have found a way to keep him occupied. Before you can close the bottle, Eddie reaches over and snags it, lifting it to his lips. 

“Daddy, no!” Harris screeches from the backseat, little hand shooting out in protest, causing Eddie to slam on the brake. Water sloshes over the top of the bottle and onto his pants. 

“Shit—what, Har?” he snaps, shoving the now half-empty bottle into the cupholder. He swipes haphazardly at the wet patch on his thigh, darkening the denim as it spreads along the fabric. He gives up with a mumbled, “whatever,” when he realizes he’s only rubbing it in more. 

“You’re gonna get her germs,” Harris points out matter-of-factly. 

Eddie huffs out a terse chuckle, slightly amused but still irritated. “Yeah, yeah, right,” he mutters, and you take that as a sign to reach back and get him his own bottle. 

The remainder of the drive is uneventful, though Eddie has to dip into his Nicorette stash when a maroon Toyota Corolla weaves in and out of lanes at lightning speed and cuts him off. He instinctively reaches for the pack of cigarettes he’d always kept in the console, groaning when he remembers that it’s long gone. 

“Good job, baby,” you murmur softly, giving his knee a quick squeeze in approval as he pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “‘M proud of you.” 

You pull up to the hotel just after 10 AM, the morning chill has dissipated as the sun’s rays warm the air. The fair weather made the trip smoother, a small miracle if you’d ever seen one. Truthfully, you don’t think Eddie’s frayed nerves can handle a rainy day.

Eddie takes Harris’s hand as you all walk through the parking lot and up to the front desk. A middle-aged concierge greets you, the customer service smile plastered across his face faltering when he clocks Eddie’s ripped jeans and disheveled wind-blown hair. 

“Reservation’s under ‘Munson,’” Eddie says to him, not making eye contact; your heart is a sinking stone when you realize that he also noticed the man’s shifting expression. “I called ahead and they said we could check in early.”

The concierge nods. You catch a glimpse of his shiny silver name tag, proudly proclaiming “STU, ASSISTANT MANAGER” gleaming in the overhead fluorescent lighting. “Room 325,” he grunts, handing you and Eddie keys dangling from matching logo-branded chains. Elation is a sunflower blooming in your chest; your first vacation has officially begun. Maybe it’s a little getaway only ninety minutes from home, but it’s a new adventure that you’re taking together.

Eddie flings his and Harris’s shared bag, then yours, onto one of the queen beds with a groan. “We made it!” he announces, flinging an arm over your shoulder. The pads of his fingers brush your upper arm, a tissue-paper light touch that has you soaring.

“Daddy? I gotta pee again,” Harris’s urgency breaks the moment. He’s hopping from one foot to the other, a potty dance if you’ve ever seen one.

 “Go for it,” Eddie says, pointing towards the bathroom. He shakes his head when his son sprints the short distance.

Once the door closes, Eddie’s hands are on your hips, tugging you so close that your stomachs touch, your breasts pressed to his chest. His mouth immediately swoops down to your neck, nipping gently at the flesh along your collarbone. 

“Hello there,” you manage to speak through a laugh. You’re unable to say more, as he’s pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss so fervently that your teeth nearly click together. 

“Hi,” he breathes once he’s pulled back, brushing the tip of his nose against your own. “Sorry, y’just look really pretty.”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion. “I’m wearing sweatpants. I don’t even have makeup on.” Truthfully, you’d meant to at least swipe on some mascara, but you were preoccupied making sure that you’d packed everything you needed for the weekend. 

“Don’t care,” Eddie mumbles, leaning in for another kiss, “still s’fuckin’ pretty. Don’t know how I’m gonna keep my hands off of you.”

The solution to that problem comes in the form of a flushing toilet and Harris calling out, “I’m done! Gonna wash my hands!”

Eddie throws his head back in frustration before burying his pink-tinged face in his hands. “This, uh, was not exactly how I imagined our first time in a hotel together,” he admits. 

“At least he’s washing his hands,” you joke, trying to ward off the throbbing need building in your core. It fails miserably. You want him, need him, to relieve the ache in the way that only he can. You yearn for the way his fingertips dance across your skin, eagerly reaching under your shirt or dipping below your waistband, desperate to make his girl feel good.

The two of you break apart as the bathroom door swings open. You fly across the room and pretend like you’re rifling through your duffel bag while Eddie flops onto the bed. His shirt rides up slightly as he lays down, and you have to fight the urge to bite the exposed sliver of tummy. 

“When are we going to the market?” Harris asks, catapulting himself onto the bed and landing next to his dad. 

Eddie rolls over and checks the digital alarm clock between the two queen beds. “Doesn’t start for another few hours,” he says. “I was gonna try and take a quick nap before we—”

“I’m not tired!” Harris whines, and you can see in Eddie’s deflated, tense physicality that his already thin patience is wearing down further. “I wanna go now!”

“Hey, Har Bear,” you try, hoping you’re not inserting yourself into the dynamic too forcefully, “why don’t we go on an adventure while Daddy sleeps? We can wake him up when we get back.”

Harris hops down onto the floor and readily slips his hand into yours. “Bye, Daddy!” he calls out, dragging you towards the door. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are having a ‘venture!”

Eddie gives you a weary but grateful smile as he scoots upwards to rest his head on the overstuffed pillow. “Godspeed,” he mumbles into the sheets, already beginning to doze off as he speaks.

The elevator dings and you shuffle into the small space, reaching for the “L” button to bring you down to the lobby.

“I wanna push the button!” Harris laments, and his sudden shriek has you instinctively pulling your hand back before regaining your composure.

Do you correct him? Let him press the button despite raising his voice? Deciding a consequence comes naturally to you in the classroom, but the anxiety of making the wrong choice serves as a massive roadblock. “You have to ask nicely if you want to push the button,” you offer, sending up a silent prayer that this staves off an impending tantrum.

He pouts for a moment before relenting. “Can I push the button?” It’s more grumble than request, but you accept it anyway.

His hand remains tucked safely into yours when you leave the hotel, basking in warm weather. You breathe in for three, breathe out for three. Okay. You can do this. Your job revolves around children; you can survive an afternoon taking care of just one.

Except that one happens to be your boyfriend’s son, and if you mess this up, it could ruin both Munsons’ perceptions of you.

“Where’re we going?” Harris asks, and you realize that you have no earthly idea; to be honest, you’re surprised that he so readily agreed.

”We can go for a walk?” you suggest, pasting on a smile in feigned confidence. “Maybe we can find a playground or something?”

“Okay!” he chirps. He’s fast for someone with little legs, and you have to remind him multiple times to use his walking feet. Yeah, this kid needs to burn off some energy, stat.

To your relief, there’s a playground just a few blocks away, fully equipped with a swing set and a jungle gym. Harris races across the grassy field onto the wood chip-covered area, assessing the space to figure out what he wants to conquer first.  

You sit on the bench next to a woman who simultaneously reads a James Patterson novel and keeps an eye on the jungle gym, where a little girl is dangling from the monkey bars, putting one hand in front of the other. 

She looks over with a sympathetic smile when you breathe out a long sigh, sinking into the wooden back like a weight has been removed from your shoulders.

“I hear that,” she says with a kind chuckle. “Mine will be tired for about…hmm, five minutes? Just long enough to get her home, and then she’ll be hopping around like the Energizer Bunny.” She shakes her head. “Is yours the same way?”

Yours. The term is peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth, and it takes a beat too long for you to respond. “Y-Yeah, I’m pretty sure he would sleep run if he could.” The stranger laughs at your joke, and you relax a bit. “Sorry, he’s really my boyfriend’s son, and it’s kind of…new to think of him as being mine, too.”

You expect her to pick up and move to a different bench, away from the weird woman who’s baring her soul on the playground, but she just closes her book and turns to you. “Carly is technically my stepdaughter,” she explains in a hushed tone, “but her mom’s not in the picture so, for all intents and purposes, she’s my daughter. No ‘step’ necessary.” 

“Is…is it hard?” you ask, the question spilling from your lips in a desperate plea for answers. “Being a stepmom?”

She nods. “Oh, absolutely.” She brushes a strand of hair from her eyes, and you can see a sparkle behind them. “But, trust me, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Her words, spoken freely of judgment and purely with empathy, alleviate the nervousness burning through you. “Thank you,” you murmur, gratitude forming a lump in your throat that you struggle to swallow.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris shouts from the top of the jungle gym. “Look what I can do!” He hesitates for a moment before reaching out his arms and grabbing onto the metal pole. You stand up to call out a preemptive warning, to get to him before he can fall, but before you can, his chubby hands grip the pole. He hooks his legs around it and slides down expertly, not letting go until his sneakers are firmly planted on the wood chips scattered across the ground. 

Pride warms your heart when his eyes lock with yours, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he awaits your approval. Anticipation reverberates within his little body, and before you can get in a word edgewise, he’s jumping up and down with an excited, “didja see me?”

“You’re amazing!” Your praise floats through the air and envelops him like a long-awaited embrace. “Super brave, too. I don’t think I could do that.”

He furrows his brows before a knowing smile forms on his lips. “Yes, you can! I’ll show you.”

Kind of walked right into that one, you lightly chastise yourself, but you dutifully shuffle towards where he’s already darting up the steps on all fours, hands splayed out for balance. 

“C’mon, Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris cheers, waving his fists in the air in earnest, and you simply cannot let the boy down. He easily glides down once more, big brown eyes looking up at you from the ground. “Just like that, see?”

“Right, got it.” You give him a thumbs-up and emulate his movements, holding on tightly to the metal pole and sliding down. You grimace as it squeaks under your grasp, nails on a chalkboard, but your feet reach the ground soon enough. 

Harris flings his arms around you, chin digging into your thigh as he gazes up in adoration. “I told you you could do it! Y’just had to try!” His admiration is fleeting; he soon spots another child leap from the swingset to play elsewhere. “Can you push me on the swings?” he pleads, already leading you to the equipment. “I just need a little help getting started, but then ‘m good.”

You hold the chain links dangling from the top of the structure, allowing Harris to maneuver himself onto the rubber seat. He scoots back so his bottom is fully supported and announces, “‘m ready!”

“Hold on tight,” you remind him, more out of routine than necessity, as you pull back the rust-covered chains. You move as far back as you can, double-checking that he hasn’t let go, and release the swing. His squealing giggles are music to your ears, and you push him a few more times before he’s able to take over independently. 

His mop of curls defies gravity as he sails back and forth, pumping his legs to gain height. “Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Do you love my daddy?”

You ponder the thought for a moment. You know exactly how you feel about Eddie; he simultaneously kicks up the butterflies in your stomach and calms every buzzing nerve in your body with just a smile, but you’re unsure how much he wants to tell Harris. You settle on the truth, direct and simple: “yeah, I do love him.”

Harris wastes no time asking a follow-up question. “A lot or a little?”

“A lot,” you answer quickly, realizing the magnitude of your enamoration as you say it aloud. The way Eddie’s kisses wrap you in an armor of safety; you hope your kisses have the same effect on him. “Definitely a lot.”

He hums his acknowledgement. “Grampa Wayne says Daddy loves you a lot, too, but I can’t ask you to be my mommy yet.”

You freeze in place so suddenly that the swing’s momentum nearly knocks you down; you step out of the way just before his sneaker-clad feet can make contact with your torso. “You want me to be your mommy?” you repeat dumbly, still half-convinced that you heard him incorrectly. 

“Mhm,” Harris confirms, “but Grampa says that being a mommy is a big ‘sponsibility, and I gotta be patient. That means I gotta wait until Daddy says it’s okay to ask you,” he elaborates matter-of-factly. 

This is clearly something they’ve talked about, extensively enough that Harris knows that he shouldn’t say anything about it. You’re temporarily rendered speechless, words failing you as you search for an appropriate response. Do you thank him? Act like you hadn’t heard him? Hope that a sinkhole opens up in the middle of the playground and swallows you whole?

“Th-That’s great, Har,” you manage, shoulders suddenly heavy with the weight of his statement. He goes back to focusing on pumping his legs, leaving you to tend to the anxiety gnawing at your insides.

Motherhood–the term stepmother seems arbitrary, given that Harris’s biological mother has all but dropped off of the face of the Earth–is a terrifying prospect. Any time you try to explain your fears, people just shrug them off, claiming that you’d be a ‘natural,’ that your years of teaching would ultimately ‘pay off’ when you had children of your own. As if teaching and parenting were remotely the same.

To you, the differences are as clear as day. When you’re a parent, there’s no ‘clocking out.’ Your obligations don’t begin at 9 AM and end at 2 PM; they’re twenty-four hours, seven days a week. It’s not the same thing. Not even close.

Before you became a teacher, you had to go to school and take education courses. Read your textbooks cover to cover. Had to do an internship for a semester. You’d had ample opportunities to determine whether or not it was the right job for you. Motherhood doesn’t offer that luxury: you don’t know if you’ll be a good mom until you’ve already chosen to become one.

“Ms. Sweetheart?” You jump out of your skin when you realize that Harris is slowing himself down, scuffed Reeboks scraping against the ground as he comes to a stop. “Can I get ice cream?”

You bite back a laugh. “You just had a donut, silly boy,” you remind him with a gentle ruffle to his curls, trying to keep your tone breezy, “but we can grab some sandwiches. Maybe even get one for Daddy, too?”

His lower lip quivers, making your heart lurch. “B-But–”

“And,” you interject, “we can go out for ice cream after the market. With Daddy.” You hope it’s a promise you can keep.

It was too good to be true. Deep down, you knew it, despite the fleeting victory of getting Harris to eat an actual lunch. His hands were sticky with peanut butter and jelly–you were making a mental note to reassure Eddie that, yes, some had gotten in his mouth–when you’d done the unthinkable. The unimaginable. 

You hadn’t let him press the elevator button.

He howls and sinks down to the floor, knees slamming into the linoleum tile and making him scream even louder. 

“Buddy, you’ve got peanut–” 

“I wanted to press…the…BUTTON!” he shrieks, every minor inconvenience he’s encountered today culminating in what you can only dub the Tantrum of the Decade. The crash from the sugar rush, not going to the market when he wanted to, the lack of ice cream are represented in every fat tear rolling down his reddening cheeks, in every flail of his legs as you try to scoop him up and bring him into the elevator, in every heaving breath. He’s overtired, overwhelmed, and out of his normal routine.

Your own eyes get misty as the metal door slides shut, enclosing you in a small space that seems to shrink with each wail. The kid has the lung capacity of an Olympic swimmer, while you’re drowning in your own pity.

He’s still sobbing when you reach the third floor, and Eddie’s flying out of the room as soon as he hears the sound of his son crying. Curls disheveled from his nap, crust still at the corners of his eyes. I woke him up, you realize. Another nail in the coffin.

“Wh-What happened?” His voice is raised, not in accusation, but just to be heard over Harris yelling. “Did he get hurt?” He takes Harris from your arms, clutching him to his chest in sheer panic. Reflexively, he inspects his boy’s head, arms, and legs for bruising and blood.

You shake your head, afraid that any attempt to speak will have your voice fracturing into pieces, no better than the little boy’s meltdown.

Fortunately, Harris has no problem filling his dad in. “I–wanted–to push–the button–and–she–said–NO!!!” Each word is punctuated with a hitched breath and is angrier than the last.

Eddie looks at you, more puzzled than worried now that he knows his son is unharmed, and a visit to the emergency room is unnecessary.

“His hands were sticky from his sandwich,” you mutter, unable to make eye contact with either Munson. “Oh, um, this is yours,” you add robotically, handing him the bag containing his hoagie, now a darker shade of brown from the grease it’s soaked up. You wince at how stilted you sound, simply going through the motions, not at all like the enthusiastic presentation you’d planned on the walk back to the hotel. 

“Thanks.” Not unappreciative, but far from enthusiastic, and you can’t blame him. “Let’s just, uh, let’s just get him in the room.”

The sleepiness consumes Harris after a few more arduous minutes in his dad’s embrace. Eddie rubs circles on his back to calm him down, tiny shh sounds passing through his teeth. Harris begins to catch his breath; hiccups like aftershocks ricochet in his chest, gradually subsiding into soft snores. 

“Jesus,” Eddie whispers as he gingerly places him onto the unmade bed, still warm from where he was lying just moments earlier, “that was one hell of a wake-up call.”

You speak at the same volume as him, though you don’t even have to try. Shame buries your voice deep in your diaphragm. “I’m so sorry.” Your right incisor digs into your lower lip as emotion ravishes you. The absence of Harris’s tantruming creates a loud silence that neither of you have the energy to fill. 

“I could say the same to you,” Eddie says with a soft chuckle, taking your hand and squeezing it tight as he sits down on your bed. “His meltdowns are no joke.”

“I should’ve just let him press the damn button.” You’re only half-serious, but your stomach sinks when Eddie says nothing; instead, he carefully unwraps the sandwich and takes a bite. A glob of mustard lands on the parchment paper with a soft plop. 

He doesn’t disagree. You made a mistake—two mistakes, if you’re counting the donut fiasco—and Eddie saw it. Saw that you’d failed. 

“Did you get enough rest?” It’s a feeble attempt to change the subject, and you both know it, but you go for it anyway. 

He lets his knee knock into yours. “Never enough, Sweetheart,” he says with a smile, wiping his lips with the flimsy deli napkin. “But, yeah, I got some sleep.” He leans in and murmurs in your ear, “Would’ve been better with you next to me, though.”

You turn so that your nose brushes his. “If I was laying next to you, you wouldn’t be able to sleep,” you quip, stifling your laughter when he takes your cheeks in his hands and smacks a kiss to your lips. 

“I would be a perfect gentleman.” He stretches and exposes the happy trail below his navel. “My eyes are up here,” he teases, catching you checking him out. “And you were worried about me.”

The dynamic shifts back to playful and lighthearted, his joke chipping away at the tension that’s been weighing you down.

“Shut up and eat your sandwich, Munson.”

“Yes, dear.”

You’ve showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes, jeans replacing the ratty sweatpants you’d donned earlier. You’d tried to wash the day’s stress down the drain along with the eucalyptus-scented soap suds, and though you don’t feel completely recharged, you’re ready enough to tackle the market.

Still, you can’t stop yourself from murmuring to Eddie, “d’you want me to stay here with Harris? Just in case it’s too much for him?”

He considers it for a moment before shaking his head, shrugging on his denim jacket. “Nah, he got his nap. Should be fine.”

The little boy in question slips one hand into yours and looks up at you with a grin. Eddie had talked to him earlier, reminded him about expressing himself in ways that didn’t hurt people–or their ears–and Harris apologized tearily. All is forgiven; at least between you and him. You still feel an uneasiness with Eddie, though it may be one-sided, as he’d quietly lamented that you two couldn’t shower together.

“We’re goin’ to the market! We’re goin’ to the market!” Harris chants, shuffling on the balls of his feet in a little dance. “Ms. Sweetheart, guess what?”

“What?”

“WE’RE GOIN’ TO THE MARKET!”

“Shocking,” Eddie mutters under his breath, a wry smile on his lips, and you use your free hand to swat at his stomach. “Okay,” he pats the wallet in the side pocket of his jeans, “got the company card, keys, handsome son, beautiful girlfriend…” He glances around the room; this time, he’s either unaware of his slip-up or is unbothered by Harris knowing your relationship status. “Looks like we’re good to go!”

The car ride isn’t too long; it’s only about a ten minute drive before you reach the market. And since you’d remembered to let Harris press the elevator button, it didn’t feel endless.

“Now, Harris,” Eddie says as his son climbs out of the car, hopping onto the parking lot pavement, “the market’s gonna be busy–”

“I know!”

“--so you have to hold my hand, or Ms. Sweetheart’s hand–”

“I know!”

“--the whole time. Got it?”

“Yes!” He’s far too exasperated for a five-year-old, and you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. “Can we go in now?”

Eddie obliges and takes Harris’s right hand; you take his left, the three of you walking towards the gigantic building together. 

You’d figured it would be crowded, but you’re unprepared for just how overstimulated your senses become upon entering. Vendors shout advertisements for their booths, beckoning potential customers to check out their wares. Snippets of different conversations infiltrate your  ears, and you swallow hard to clear your head, though the grainy muzak pumping through the overhead speakers doesn't help. 

Immediately, you spot a booth selling secondhand books, and you look at Eddie with a hopeful gaze.

“Go,” he motions with a smile, laughing when you all but skip off to the stack of novels. You don’t want to take too long, as neither Munson has the patience to wait while you peruse your options. A weathered paperback copy of The Grapes of Wrath catches your eye, some pages dog-eared and smelling faintly of stale smoke, and you fish out two quarters from the bottom of your bag and place them in the vendor’s hand.

“Okay,” you breathe when you get back to Eddie and Harris, overwhelmed just by the short walk. You grip Harris’s hand even tighter, all-too protective of him in such a crowded space. “Let’s go get some records!”

Eddie finds a variety of vinyls that he knows will sell at Rock Records—from older classics like Louis Armstrong, Etta James, and Buddy Holly, to more recent gems from Van Halen, Queen, and Michael Jackson. 

“Babe, check this out!” he announces gleefully, showing off a copy of Metallica’s Ride the Lightning. “I must’ve listened to this a hundred times when it was released in ‘84.” His enthusiasm is palpable, and you have to wonder if this purchase is for the store or for himself.

To his credit, Harris lasts a full twenty-five minutes before he starts asking for ice cream again. “You promised, renember?”

Eddie grins at him, then at you. “A promise, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “Can’t break that.”

“I think I saw a booth down there that’s sellIng some.” It’s a local shop, and you know one cone will probably cost more than a half-gallon at the grocery store, but you’ll risk the upcharge if it means avoiding a second meltdown today. 

“I’ll be right there,” Eddie tells you, eyes flitting back towards a row of booths you’d passed by earlier. “Just get me something with chocolate?”

“What’s the magic word?” Harris interjects. 

“Please.” He lays it on thick, throwing you a wink before turning around. 

You grab a $5 bill from your back pocket, change from when you’d bought the sandwiches earlier, and approach the ice cream stand.

“Can I please get one cherry chip cone, one chocolate fudge cone, and…what do you want, Har?”

“That!” He points to a giant display of model cars displayed in front of a toy vendor’s booth. “I want the orange one!”

“We can look after,” you reassure him. “First, you have to pick the ice cream flavor you want.”

“Hmm,” he presses on tiptoes to peruse his options before pressing his forefinger to the glass, pointing to cookies ‘n cream, declaring, “that one!”

The vendor hands him his cone, then turns to you and confirms, “just the three cones?”

“Mhm.”

She punches some numbers into the register, expression far too serious for the gig. “That'll be $6.”

Exhaling, you hand her the bill in your palm. There’s no way the stodgy woman is going to cut you a break for the extra dollar. “Give me a sec; I should have a single in my wallet.” You let go of Harris’s hand, fumbling around in your bag until you pull out what you’ve been searching for. 

The vendor takes your money and hands you the remaining two cones, already starting to melt with all of the body heat surrounding you. 

“Thank you,” you say with a polite smile. “Okay, Har, let’s—” Your blood runs cold when you realize he’s nowhere to be found.  “Harris!” you call out, voice shaking on the last syllable, unable to hide how frantic you feel. “Harris!”

Eddie, already on his way from his earlier errand, runs over to you. “Where’s—”

“He was just here!” You push your way through the crowd, accidentally brushing your scoop of cherry chip along someone’s jacket, but there’s no time to apologize. 

You and Eddie take turns yelling out his name, bile rising in your throats with each unanswered shout, until you hear somebody ask, “is that your mommy and daddy calling for you?”

Both your and Eddie’s heads swivel towards the conversation, breathing identical sighs of relief when you see the familiar mop of curls in front of the toy car display.

“Oh, thank God.” It comes out in one breath, your chest deflating as you and Eddie rush towards him. 

“Harris, what are you doing?” Eddie admonishes him, heart still racing as the surge of adrenaline tapers off. He picks him up, fingers digging into the shirt fabric as he holds him as close as possible, and presses a kiss to his scalp. There will be some sort of consequence later–revoking TV time and a lecture on stranger danger–but for now, there’s only the comfort of knowing he’s safe.

“I just wanted to see the cars,” Harris protests, trying and failing to wriggle from Eddie’s grip. “Can I get the orange one?”

Eddie huffs out an incredulous laugh, astounded that Harris doesn’t understand the seriousness of his actions. “No, you can’t!” he yells, attracting unwanted attention from other shoppers, “and you can’t wander off like that! I told you that you have to stay with one of us the whole time!” He flexes his palm before clenching it into a frustrated fist. “What were you thinking?”

Harris’s eyes fill with tears. “I j-just wanted to s-see them,” he tries again, taken aback by the anger in his dad’s voice. “An’ Ms. Sweetheart was right there!”

The mention of your nickname reminds Eddie of the other adult involved. “You were supposed to be watching him,” he spits, gritting his teeth to keep from raising his voice at you. 

You wince at his tone, filled with venom for the first time since his comment about Grandma forgetting you all those months ago. The difference is that, now, you deserve it. Letting go of his hand was careless; at the very least, you should have reminded him to stay put. The early morning donut, the elevator button were menial indiscretions compared to this mistake. There’s no denying that you’d royally messed up.

“I’m so sorry.” Sorry for not keeping a closer eye on Harris. Sorry for waking him up from his nap via a screaming child. Sorry for waltzing into their lives and thinking you had a snowball’s chance in Hell of being a decent parent. The ice cream drips down the cones and onto your hands, pooling in the crevices between your fingers. You dump them in the nearest trash can, neither of you hungry anymore.

You can’t return to the hotel soon enough, and as soon as Eddie puts an episode of Rugrats on TV for Harris, you begin inconspicuously packing your collecting your toiletries from the bathroom to back in your luggage.

“What’re you doing?” Eddie asks from the doorway. He’s got his arms folded across his chest, perplexion wrinkling his brows. 

“Going home.”

He presses his forefinger and thumb to his eyelids and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like–”

“No,” you interrupt him, choking down your frustration, “you were right. You trusted me to watch him, and I didn’t.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie steps forward and puts out a hand to stop you from grabbing your toothbrush, “it was an accident. Things happen in a split second, yeah?” He thinks back to the way Harris had tumbled off of the bed months ago. “We found him, and that’s what matters.”

He’s trying to comfort you, which somehow makes you feel worse. You lost his kid, but he’s focusing on making you feel better.

The next words out of your mouth shatter his heart into pieces: “I think it would be better for everyone if I leave.”

A small puff of air escapes his nostrils, unsurprised but hurt nonetheless. “‘S too much for you, isn’t it?” he mumbles, not even daring to glance in your direction as he says it. 

He knows. He knows that you aren’t cut out for this, that you’ll never be the mom Harris needs or deserves. In his own words, he knows it’s too much for you.

You say nothing in return, and your silence is louder than the cartoon squabble just a few feet away.

“Fine, just…just go, then.” He slams one palm on the bathroom sink, the other raking through his hair so forcefully that a few strands come loose. “God, I need a fucking cigarette!” he mutters, jaw clenched.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s all you can think to say. You’ll repeat it over and over again if it rectifies the situation. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He starts to leave the room, not even turning back around to say, “I’ll tell Harris you’re not feeling well.” He wants to ask you to call the hotel room when you get home but bites back the request. That’s something one partner asks of another, and you aren’t partners anymore, he realizes bitterly, and it’s his fault. He’d put the responsibility of parenthood on you far too quickly. 

He could have insisted that Harris stay and nap with him rather than letting him go to the park. He could have kept Harris by his side while you got the ice cream, or the three of you could have gone together. Instead, he’d just assumed that this was a role you had no qualms about taking on. In his eagerness to build this little family, he’d squandered the foundation before it had even set.

Eddie watches as you walk away, the words wait and don’t go and we can figure this out lurking behind his molars, but he remains silent. 

When the door slams behind you, he bites on his thumb. Go after her, some part of him—his conscience, maybe—nags, but he pushes the thought away. He can’t ask you to stick around and be a mom to his son if it isn't truly what you want to do. 

He removes his finger from between his teeth and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, temporarily confused when he’s met with some resistance. The tiny brown paper bag crinkles as his fingers make contact with it, and he pulls it out dejectedly. 

He’d spotted the necklace while scavenging for record vendors and made a mental note to return to it when you weren’t there to see. A tiny metal heart on a chain that he’d planned to give to you at the end of the trip. It was the reason he’d left you alone with Harris; he’d wanted it to be a surprise. 

“Well, that was a fuckin’ waste,” Eddie says to no one in particular, shoving it back in the confines of his pocket. He sits next to Harris, hoping Tommy Pickles’ shenanigans will melt his brain for just a few moments. 

The next bus to Hawkins pulled up thirty minutes after your cab arrived at the station. It was the only way to get home, and an embarrassingly large part of you hoped that Eddie and Harris would swing by, enveloping you in a tight hug and promising you that you’re doing a great job. That you’re enough. 

That moment remains a daydream, one that replays over and over as you lean your head against the window. It’s all highway from here to your small town, close to three hours on the road because of the intermediate stops, but you’re in no hurry to return. If it hurts now, you can’t imagine the pain when the loneliness sets in. 

Of course Eddie wasn’t coming to rescue you; you’d let him down right when he’d needed you. It was all so superficial on your end, thinking that you could be a mother just because you’d taught Harris how to read and have dinner with him and his dad once a week. 

Wallowing in pity is too indulgent, too pathetic, but you can’t keep from berating yourself. You’re a preschool teacher; how hard is it to remember to hold a kid’s hand?

Tears slip down your cheeks involuntarily and you swipe at them before your seat partner can notice. The last thing you need is to strike up an emotional conversation with a complete stranger. 

And what is it with you and crying today? Getting choked up when Eddie had pointed out the donut mistake, feeling like you were going to have a meltdown alongside Harris, and now this? It’s like you have an endless supply of tears. 

The most likely culprit is your run-of-the-mill PMS; you can always count on being overly sensitive on those select few days. You open your bag and take out the pocket calendar where you keep track of important appointments and dates, including your periods. 

Today’s April 26. You flip back to March, rifling through the pages until you see that the first day of your last period was the twentieth. 

You’re almost a full week late. 

--

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[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — yang jungwon

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star taekwondo athlete and put them in front of a camera?

“Kindred” a student documentary. Pilot episode airing tonight on TVN 7PM KST.

PAIRING: athlete!jungwon x stucopres!fem!reader

FEATURING: enhypen, yunjin from lesserafim, ryujin and chaeryeong from itzy, chanelle from runext, beomgyu and taehyun from txt, wonyoung from ive, gunwook and gyuvin from zb1 etc.

GENRE: high school au, enemies to lovers, nerd x athlete, forced proximity, slice of life, coming of age, he fell first and harder, fluff, ANGST, teen drama, slow burn ish?

WARNINGS: contains profanities, horrible attempt at humour, urban lingo, probably cringy, kys/kms jokes, depression jokes, sexual innuendos (nothing too inappropriate), depiction of violence, family drama, incorrect timestamps/information, no fixed faceclaims, not proofread etc.

STATUS: completed! (01/09/2023 – 18/03/2024)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: please read! story concept is heavily inspired by the kdrama ‘our beloved summer’ other than that the storyline is completely original (or so i assume since i manifested this out from the crevices of my pea brain). chapters with ‘(hw)’ next to them indicates that they are half-written, in case y’all skip over it! as always, the content and depiction of the characters in this smau do not in anyway represent them in real life. lastly, if you do end up enjoying, please do like, comment (love reading your comments btw), and reblog so this can reach!! without further ado, enjoy!

TAGS: #tfwy kindred #tfwy smau

TEASER

profile. one | two | three

episode 1 - ratatouille and the underdogs

episode 2 - one way ticket to university

episode 3 - do you take constructive criticism?

episode 4 - unsolicited but appreciated

episode 5 - the art of benevolence

episode 6 - taekwondo-anti

episode 7 - beating the mentally ill allegations

episode 8 - can’t help it, i’m a libra

episode 9 - operation we-don’t-really-hate-each-other (hw)

episode 10 - she’s an oscar award winning actress

episode 11 - someone like me (hw)

episode 12 - ‘female-lead-realising-the-bad-boy-isnt-actually-that-bad’ arc

episode 13 - 5 foot 9 garfield meets avatar

episode 14 - yn the heterosexual

episode 15 - the ynwon getting closer montage :p

episode 16 - to the moon and back

episode 17 - eat 2 left toes

episode 18 - you are approved! (hw)

episode 19 - asking for a friend

episode 20 - rediscovering won’s ability to love

episode 21 - beomgyu’s 99999 eq

episode 22 - ynwon get together or else >:(

episode 23 - “hate”

episode 24 - not all problems can be solved with a formula

episode 25 - H.O.M.E.W.R.E.C.K.E.R

episode 26 - collecting facebook milfs like pokémons

episode 27 - you were brighter than the moon (hw)

episode 28 - she's studious not stupid

episode 29 - the garden is full of surprises (hw)

episode 30 - weapon of mass destruction

episode 31 - the name above me (hw)

episode 32 - no offense but she’s a cockblocker

episode 33 - the bane of my existence (hw)

episode 34 - risky risky wiggy wigi this is an emergency

episode 35 - live my life on my terms (hw)

episode 36 - separation anxiety goes crazy

episode 37 - paparizzki

episode 38 - is it too late now to say Sorry?

episode 39 - everything will work out just the way you want it to (hw)

episode 40 (finale) - her entire being is loveable (written)

epilogue - kindred, signing off part 1 | part 2

bonus chapters!

yunjin x heeseung

i can fight

Copyright© 2023 thatfeelinwhenyou All Rights Reserved

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (12/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Friendships are very important. It's good that you have new ones (who you can share things with).

Warnings: FLIRTING, PINING (you’ve been warned!), Charles is sweet, a bit of angst (talking of cheating, manipulation, ex-boxfriend)

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry for the delay! I love you! feedback is appreciated!

Except for the warm light of the floor lamp in the corner behind you and the white light from the kitchen, the apartment is dark. On the TV in front of you, you see a still from The Vampire Diaries and the white blanket on the dark blue couch next to you is crumpled, as if it had been used only recently. Sounds come from the kitchen, glasses clink together, and the refrigerator door opens and closes before the kitchen light is turned off again. 

"I'm glad you're here," Kika says as she comes back into the living room with two glasses of water, "but since you called, I'm afraid the reason isn't very positive." She places the two glasses on the coffee table in front of you and sits down next to you. 

Calling Kika was the only logical option. Of course, you could have called Charles, but he's had such an incredibly lousy day and he should be at the club with his friends instead of helping you with your problems. Besides, you don't want to burden him with something he simply can't solve. Something neither of you can't solve. 

You pull your knees to your chest. "I didn't mean to bother you, I really didn't. Especially because you said you had to get up early tomorrow and I'm so sorry to just barge in, but I just didn't know where to go."

Kika puts her hand on your knee and squeezes it gently. "I told you that you could call me anytime. And I meant it." She reaches for the cozy blanket between you and spreads it over your legs. And even though you're already warm, you pull the blanket closer to you. 

"I know, but-"

"No buts," she interrupts you. Her gaze is gentle as she rubs your arm. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

You'd love to hog the cozy blanket and wrap yourself so tightly in it that you can barely breathe. Most of all, you'd like to just go to sleep and forget what happened. But you called Kika to give you shelter while your ex waits outside your apartment for you to come home. 

You owe her an answer.

"After Lando walked me to my car," you begin, and Kika raises her eyebrows with a grin. You roll your eyes. "Stop that. So. I drove home after that, and when I turned into the street, I saw my ex's car."

Kika narrows her eyes a little and tilts her head, as if she doesn't understand why your ex-boyfriend's appearance ruined your night. "Aaaaaand we don't like your ex?" she asks. 

You shake your head vehemently. "Definitely not."

Your new friend smooths the blanket over her legs. "What happened?"

"The better question would be: What didn't happen?" You reach for your water glass and take a big gulp. "Do you want the short version or the long version?"

The way Kika leans against the armrest of the couch and pulls the blanket up to her chin, looking at you with huge eyes, you don't need a verbatim answer.

You slide around a bit on the couch to get a little more comfortable, and cross your legs to sit cross-legged. "When I moved here to work a few months ago, I met Raphael at a photo shoot and we hit it off right away," you begin to tell her. Kika soaks up every word as if it was water and she was a sponge. "We went on a few dates and at one point he asked me to be his girlfriend and at first everything was really perfect. He was an absolute gentleman, his friends became my friends and we all got along so great."

"That sounds like there's a big fat "but" following that," Kika interjects and you tap your index finger against your nose. 

"We were together for some time and everything was okay until he, um..." You don't know how to finish the sentence without making your ex look like the biggest asshole in the world. Although he definitely deserves that. You wring your hands. 

"Spit it out, you'll feel better."

You rub your palms over your cheeks and run your fingers through your hair once before closing your eyes. "He pressured me into sleeping with him."

Kika slaps her hand in front of her mouth. "Please tell me you didn't sleep with him." She leans forward and puts her hands on your shoulders to shake you. "Tell me you didn't fuck that asshole!"

You shake your head and look down at your hands in your lap. "Of course I didn't. I'm not stupid." You purse your lips and look up at the ceiling. "I thought I loved him, and I was this close to caving in." You hold your thumb and index finger close together.

"And then?"

"Then he slept with someone else."

Kika leans back and presses her left fist into her right palm to make her knuckles crack. "I'm going to kill that motherfucker."

"It's okay," you counter, but Kika just raises an eyebrow. 

"It's definitely not okay, Y/N."

"Of course it's not okay," you confirm her, ruffling your hair, "But I can't help it, and I broke up with him right away, too. Pressuring me for sex is one thing," Kika throws a pillow at you, "a mega super duper shitty thing, but cheating on me and trying to manipulate me into sleeping with him as a result - that's where I draw the line."

Only that's where you draw the line?!" Kika puts her face in her hands and shakes her head. "Okay, okay." She takes a deep breath. "So you broke up with him. What happened next?"

"He wouldn't leave me alone. He keeps calling, trying to convince me to get back with him."

"I hope you told him that's never going to happen and he can kiss your ass."

You pucker your mouth a little. "Not really. He called yesterday and Charles took the call."

Kika grabs a pillow and wraps her arms around it like she's watching a gruesome horror movie and not listening to your ex-boyfriend problems. "He did not."

You purse your lips. "He did."

Kika bites the pillow. "And then?"

"Well, he answered the phone with „this is her roomate“."

"And now you're afraid that's exactly why Raphael was standing outside your apartment? Do you think he would want to hurt you or Charles?" she asks, taking a sip of her water. 

You shrug your shoulders. "He was never violent, not at all. But by now I don't even recognize him. It's like he's done a 180."

Inside, you're struggling with yourself. Confiding all this to Kika feels right and wrong at the same time. After all, you've only known each other for a few hours. And if you weren't hogging her couch and she was kind enough to let you have it, you certainly wouldn't have spilled your guts either. 

You're not particularly good at it either, which is why you usually handle problems yourself and work them out with yourself. But something about this matter tells you that's not possible this time. But that doesn't mean you won't try to handle it all on your own.

Kika slides closer to you and clasps your hands with hers. "Did you tell Charles about this?"

You shake your head. "Not all of it. I filled him in on the circumstances after I kicked his ass for answering my phone."

Kika has to grin. "Very good." She strokes the back of your hand with her thumb. Why are her hands so soft? "But don't you think you should tell him about it? Especially since Raphael is waiting for you, or rather you, outside your apartment now?"

She's not necessarily wrong. For sure, it would be smarter to tell your roommate about it. But Charles has a lot on his plate. Burdening him with your problems is the last thing you want. 

You clear your throat and look towards the TV, where Elena and Damon are dancing together. Kika notices your look and also that you don't want to talk about the subject anymore, and you're very grateful that she doesn't push you. 

"Are you Team Delena or Stelena?" she asks, reaching for the remote. 

"Team Klaroline."

Kika presses play and the characters move again. "The only right answer."

The two of you continue watching the show together and talking until the two of you actually fall asleep, snuggled into the covers, shoulder to shoulder. 

Your vibrating cell phone, which is next to you on the couch, wakes you up, and without looking to see who's calling you, you hit the green button.

"Hello?" you ask sleepily, carefully pushing Kika's head off your shoulder so you can sit up properly. As your spine cracks, you screw up your face.

"Y/N?" someone almost yells into the phone, and you have to hold the phone away from your ear to keep from going deaf. "Where the hell are you?"

A glance at the screen tells you it's your roommate yelling at you through the receiver, jolting you awake as abruptly as an ice-cold shower. You rub your eyes and look down at Kika, who's clutching the blanket tightly. "I - um - I'm at Kika's," you answer him, slowly getting up from the couch so as not to wake your friend. At least someone should be able to get some decent sleep. 

"What the heck are you doing at Kika's? And why aren't you home?" He speaks more softly now, but still sounds irritated. 

Confused, you look at the clock. 3:54 am. 

You sneak out of the living room on your socks and close the door behind you. "Are you home?" you ask him, and the thought that Raphael might be waiting there sends a shiver down your spine. 

"Of course I'm home. Joris picked me up because you didn't answer the phone."

And sure enough. Twelve missed calls in the last hour. Mentally, you slap your forehead. "I'm so sorry, Charles. We were watching a show and fell asleep. I'll be right home."

In the kitchen, you find a pen and paper and leave a note for Kika that you drove home. No one needs to know that you're sure to commit some driving violations in the form of speeding.

What do you do when you arrive and the green Nissan is still on the scene? Would you pretend it wasn't even there? And what if Raphael was sitting in it? Would you talk to him so he wouldn't knock on the door of your apartment? 

Thank God you don't have to worry about that, because when you turn onto your street, the Nissan is nowhere to be seen, so you breathe a sigh of relief. Which sends a brief stab through your spine. Kika's couch may look comfortable, but you definitely don't want to sleep on it again. 

Before you can put the apartment key in the lock, it's yanked open from the inside and an irritated - and slightly tipsy - Charles is standing in front of you, his hands on his hips and his green eyes twinkling. 

"Do you have any idea how much I worried about you?" He turns and walks further into the apartment, a silent sign for you to follow him. "First I can't reach you, and then I come home and you're not here! I was this close to calling the police, Y/N!"

"I'm sorry, Charles. Really." When you say his name, he winces. "I didn't want you to worry. I was with Kika and we fell asleep. It wasn't intentional, and I should have let you know." 

He eyes you up and down, and only when he's sure everything is okay with you, do his hard features soften. Charles takes a step toward you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Except for the fact that your ex, who cheated on you and manipulated you, was suddenly waiting for you outside your apartment?

"Everything's fine, really. Just a little back pain. Kika's couch is not conducive to sleeping."

Charles nods slightly. "Then let's go to sleep. It's getting really late."

A few minutes later, when Charles goes to take his bedding out of the closet in the hallway, he stands puzzled in the bathroom doorway where you are brushing your teeth. "Where is my stuff?"

You nod toward the bedroom before spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth. "In the bedroom. I promised you could sleep in the bed tonight, didn't I?" Noticing his disheveled hair and tired eyes, you have to smile. "And I think you need to sleep on a soft mattress tonight more than I do."

Charles lifts one hand and rests it on the upper door frame. His shirt slides up a little, revealing a strip of his belly. "And you said you had a sore back. I think it's pretty clear who's sleeping in the bed."

You reach for the brush and comb your hair so you don't have to stare at his stomach. "It is. You."

"Can we maybe not do this?" He rubs his face with his free hand. Noticing your unyielding gaze, he drops his arms and puts his palms together. "I have a proposition." He rubs his palms together. "Since neither of us can win this argument, how about this: we share the bed."

The brush gets stuck halfway through your hair and your eyes go wide. "We - what?"

Charles shrugs, as if it's the most normal suggestion ever. "The bed is huge and the couch is so fucking uncomfortable it would be an imposition to let you sleep on it with back pain. And since you insist I sleep in the bed, why don't you just lie down on it, too?"

Your blood pounds so loudly in your ears that you can barely hear him. First you almost touch each other in the restaurant and now he wants you to share the bed? What's next?

When you don't answer, Charles gets nervous. "If you don't want to, that's perfectly okay. It was just a suggestion so that two friends could have a decent night's sleep." He nods in your direction. "And so neither your back nor mine gets ruined."

Hadn't you decided to draw a line to make this friendship work? And how is that going to work when you're lying next to each other in a cozy bed? Oh god, what if you snuggle up to him at night and he doesn't even want that? Would you even be able to sleep if he was that close to you?

Before you can answer, Charles raises his hands. "I get it. It was a stupid idea."

"No!" Rubbing your forehead, Charles looks at you in confusion. "Um, we can try this out if you want. For one night." You put the brush back in its place. "I mean, friends can share a bed, no? There's nothing to it."

Charles breathes a sigh of relief, and a smile that makes your heart beat faster spreads across his face. "Do you have a favorite side?" When you shake your head, he nods slightly. "I'll get everything ready and then we'll sleep together right away. Sorry. That came out wrong." He runs a hand through his hair and flush shoots into his cheeks. "We'll, um, see you in a bit," he stumbles over his words, then disappears toward the bedroom.

After closing the bathroom door, you hit your forehead with the palm of your hand. Why did you agree to his offer? Are you completely stupid? There are so many things that could happen! You could talk in your sleep, or snore, or, as already stated, snuggle up to him! Only a complete idiot would get into bed with him now!

Before you can slide down the spiral any further, you leave the bathroom in sleeping clothes and follow Charles into the bedroom. He's just pulling his shirt over his head and his back muscles are dancing under his skin, and you regret a little that you agreed to the proposition. 

The line between friendship and more is somehow getting thinner and thinner. And there's nothing you can do about it. 

"I prefer to sleep on the right side. I hope that's okay," Charles says as he pulls another shirt over his head. He walks around the bed, which has both his and your bedding on it. "I can sleep in tomorrow, so it would be cool if you were quiet when you have to go to work," he smiles as he pulls back the covers and then sits down. 

Seeing him in bed is so intimate, so private, you have to look away.

"Is everything all right?" he asks as he slides down on the bed and pulls the covers up to his waist. 

You don't dare follow him at all, but you can't stand around any further than that, so you slip under the covers on the other side of the bed. ""Everything's fine."" You plug your phone into the charger before turning over onto your back. 

Charles turns off the bedside lamp, leaving only a strip of moonlight in the room, and turns onto his back as well. In the darkness, he seems even closer than he actually is. You feel his warmth, even though there are a few inches and all the bedding between you, and the whole situation makes you so nervous that you can only breathe shallowly. God, his scentl is everywhere.

"I liked you coming with me today," Charles says into the darkness. "I enjoy spending time with you."

Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you're glad he can't see you very well. "I like spending time with you, too."

You feel Charles move, and thanks to the moonlight, you realize he's turned in your direction. You do the same.

"We're okay, aren't we?" he asks, bending his elbow and resting his head on it. 

You slide your hand under your cheek and have to swallow. "Of course," you answer him. "Why do you ask?"

He smirks. "Because we've only known each other for two days, and we've already fought so much, and now we're sharing a bed. It's all been quite a roller coaster ride." He pulls the covers a little higher toward his chest. 

You'd love to put your hand to his cheek and stroke it with your thumb, but that would surely cross a friendship line. "We're not just friends, Charles. We're roommates, too. And you're my first roommate. It's completely understandable that we need to get used to each other."

Charles exhales, and it's not until you can feel his breath on your heated skin that you realize how close he really is. "I just want us to make this work." He pauses for a moment, and even though it's dark, you can see him wrestling with himself to say the next words.

"You're just too important to me to screw this up." His voice is soft and gentle as he lifts his hand and places it between your faces, as if he's letting you decide if you want to take it. "I don't think you realize how important you are to me."

next part

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Coriolanus was back at the lake house, gun raised and hunting. 

"Lucy Gray!" he called out. 

A flash of her colorful dress dashes by. He takes aim. 

BANG 

One shot was all he needed. 

A yelp. A sound of victory. 

He keeps his gun raised as he stalks towards where she lay.  

Branches scratch his face as he walks, pushing through the harsh forest to his victim. Goodbye Lucy Gray. We hardly knew you. 

He breaks a large branch with this gun, pushing it down and quickly raising his gun again to finish the job.

Only it wasn't Lucy Gray laying dead. It was you. 

The mockingjays sing out, laughing at Coriolanus’ mistake. 

He feels frozen, stuck in time, as he gapes down at your body. Unable to even drop his gun. 

You lay on the soft bed of grass. Your beautiful eyes still open, looking at him as blood gushes from your stomach. 

He calls out to you. Begging you to be alright. 

The gun drops as his knees did, and he cradles you in his arms.

"SHUT UP!" he screams at the birds circling his head. 

"Ha-ha' he heard back, "Ma-Ma". 

His eyes shoot up at the sound of his dead friend. 

And then they start whistling the tune that has been playing in the back of his head since he was sent back to the Capital.

"Are you, are you, coming to the tree-" he felt Lucy Gray’s lips upon his ear. 

Coriolanus shoots up from his bed, drenched in sweat. His breathing is heavy and uncontrolled. He struggles to restrain it.

He reaches out beside him, his hand hitting the soft pillow. He scrambles around still, looking to make contact with your body. 

He wanted you to be there. You are not dead. He didn't kill you, you were safe. 

Upon hitting the edge of the bed, he awakens enough to remember you were never there. You don't sleep here yet. 

Sweat rolls down his back and he takes his singlet off, using it to wipe the sweat off his face and throwing it to the ground. 

The adrenaline of the dream was still coursing through him. It felt so real, he could feel the weight of the gun in his hands, the weight of your body as he picked you up. Lucy Gray’s wet lips against his ear. Taunting him. 

The Covey played their last night at the Hob tonight. He had decided. He would send Peacekeepers over their way tomorrow to destroy their instruments and give notice. 

He can't will himself to lay back down, even after that. He remains hunched over his knees, fingers locked and rigid. 

If you were here, he would have woken you. You would have asked what he dreamed and he would say he didn't remember. You would make him a cup of tea and he would lay in your arms as he drank it. 

When he was ready to return to sleep, he would take you back into his arms and you would rub the hand he rested on your stomach until he fell asleep. 

But you weren't here. 

And even if you were, he wasn't so sure you would be willing to comfort him. 

You were still mad about your mother. He felt it when in your presence. Your eyes would float to the back room where she lay, when your attention should have been focused on him. 

You tore yourself from any touch he offered. Kept conversation limited. Jumped only through the hoops you needed to in order for a morphling dosage. 

He caught you sometimes slipping into your natural state of nurture. You would give him the biggest slice of pie. If he dropped something on the floor, you would automatically bend to pick it up. 

One time he burnt his hand on the kettle, and you leapt into action, washing his hand under the cold tap. Telling him how much that must have hurt. He must be careful, it was an old pot and leaked if you didn't know how to handle it.  How you would do it from now on. 

When he kissed you, you went back to your default mode of a robot and gave him the cold shoulder. But it didn't matter, after so long of fighting bitterly, a little taste of love felt like a mountain of it.

He understood you needed time. That perhaps whipping your mother crossed a line. In time you would see that he used a violent hand to spare you violence. 

Under his wing was the safest place for you and he was going to get you there one way or another. He tried gentle persuasion first, but you were resistant. Withering away before his eyes. Washing the dirty laundry of others. You had shown that you wouldn't listen any other way. 

He rests his head back against the headboard, resting his body a bit more. He wished he could touch you to ensure you were alright. He was sure he wasn't going to sleep any other way. 

His eyes caught sight of his commander's uniform that was hung up. 

He is Commander Snow of District 12. Not Academy student Coriolanus Snow who ate cabbage for dinner and breakfast.  

If he wanted to take a car and see you, he could. If he wanted to take a car and drive it into a ditch he could. 

He leaves his commander's uniform hanging, grabbing his black cotton pants used for his day off, and another Capitol-ordered fresh white singlet.

He takes his keys off the kitchen table where he dropped them after a late meeting that ran well overtime. His boots were left laying on the floor just below them, being too exhausted to clean and shine them.

He was glad he didn't now, as he put them back on. The walk would only muddy them again.  

The compound was quiet. It made him feel suspicious on his journey. He turns back to vacant walkways. Unconsciously, he avoids every room with light, choosing to take a darker path. 

He would have to be back before drill training at nine. Most people wouldn't even know he had gone. He would like to keep it that way. Running off in the middle of night to see a girl is not the image he would like his soldiers to have of him.

Thankfully, the office building is void of workers so Coriolanus could unlock the safe with the car keys and take one in peace. He pauses thinking he could hear someone coming but they never did. 

It took him two goes to correlate the number on the key to the one of the cars in the dark. He was pleased to find it was an everyday Jeep and not a guard car. It would bring less attention. 

He stops by the gate and the guard on duty flashes a light in his face. The light being held up to him drops immediately, the soldier replacing it with a salute. 

The soldier speaks into his communicuff and the gate swings wide. Coriolanus drives right through without looking back. 

He doesn't feel his anxiety shift even knowing he was driving to you. Until he felt the softness of you, your gentle breaths, he was preparing for the worse. What if his dream was foreshadowing your death? He would turn up to your house to find you dead in bed.

Lucy Gray and Sejanus are dead, yes. But not all other rebels were. No, if no one hurt Mayfair why would they attack you?

You were well-liked in the community. Normally when Coriolanus asked questions, the answers were given freely but when the topic came to you people were more resistant. 

Besides, hasn't he made it abundantly clear that any strike against you is a strike against him. No, they wouldn't dare. 

Still he drove rather fast. Parking in his usual spot in the woods behind your house, he found himself flinging himself out of the car where he would normally sit for a few minutes to collect himself. 

Your door wouldn't be unlocked. You weren't that stupid, he thought as he jogged down the hill. He would have to find another way in. 

His hands touch the wood of your house. You were safe in it, he assured himself. Tigress and Grandma'am were safe in the Snow penthouse. He hadn't failed. 

It was a hot night. Surely you had left your window open. The leaves crunches as his boots walk on then, rounding the house to your bedroom window. 

It was open slightly. He could push it the rest of the way. Your house was only small. Your window came just above Coriolanus's head. 

He lifts himself up on the window ledge, pushing your window up slowly trying to quiet the groan it gave as it went up. It was up enough that he could pull himself through. 

You roll on to your other side, and his anxiety leaves him. You were alive and asleep. 

He begins to unlace his shoes, anything else and you would lose your mind the next morning. His first one comes off without hassle, but he looses grip of his next shoe and it falls to the ground with a harsh thud. He instantly knows it's going to wake you.

You screech as any woman with a dark shadow of a man standing over her bed would. Your knees went up to your chest for protection, your hands clung your blanket to your chest. 

His hand went to your mouth to stop the sounds. He hated the sound of your terrified screaming, even more than the sounds of the mockingjay. 

"Shh, darling. It's me. It's me". He keeps his hand covering your mouth, and the other at the back of your head forcing you to look at him.

You stop, recognizing the voice. 

"Oh my darling, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He pressed your face into his neck and could feel your big wet tears that sprung to your eyes.

"It's ok," he rocks slightly back and forth, "It's just me". 

You snapped out of your daze. You push against him with strength that surprised him. 

"What's going on? What are you doing?" You still sounded startled. 

"Did you have a bad dream?" he asks, he smooths your hair back out of your face. Were you that innately connected?

You blubber looking for words and he waits patiently for you. 

His hand goes on top of yours and you yank it away. 

"It's okay" He repeats, sliding into bed with you. 

He slides you both down so you are laying together on top of your small mattress. 

"Get out" you try but you make no attempt to wiggle free. You still sounded tired and disoriented. You weren't sure if it was a dream or not. 

"Just go back to sleep. It's all alright". 

Your small mattress meant that only one of you could sleep on your back, taking up most of the room while the other was forced to lay on their side. 

Coriolanus laid on his back, pulling you across his chest. He had taken your pillow for his own, expecting you to find one in him. With his arm curled around you, pressing you to him, you felt yourself so secure that your fear fades and sleep returns. 

He rubs the arm that was exposed to him. He could still feel your goosebumps. 

You lay a heavy head right across his heart, somehow knowing what he needed. He could feel every breath you took under his fingers, feel your eyelashes flutter against his chest. 

You were alive and you were his. 

Coriolanus found that's all he needed to go to sleep. The hanging tree tune faded from his head as he counted the seconds between your every breath.

When he wakes the next morning, he finds himself cuddling a pillow. Your side of the bed was cold. You better still be in the house. 

He checks the time on the wall clock. 7:30. He still had time before he had to be back. 

He gets up following the sounds of a fry pan sizzling. He passes your mothers door. The old woman was still in the land of the dead due to her morphling dosage. 

Dean Highbottom had one that was quarter the strength and it left him dazed for hours on end. The old women would have got by with the same but it was better this way. To have your undivided attention. 

He enters the living room to see you over the stove, dressed in your jeans and white top again. He would have preferred it if you had remained in your nightdress, giving the atmosphere a cozier presence. 

You had made scrambled eggs, and cooked up some ham for him. 

"Good morning." He greets. 

He walks past the table where you had set his place. 

"Good morning, Commander." you return, you flip over the ham letting the other side cook. 

Taking your waist into his hands, he bites your ear, "Coriolanus." 

He lets go as you shake your head. He was only playing. 

"I was surprised to find you here this morning" Your voice was tense and unhappy. He had startled you greatly.

He couldn't tell you about the dream for many reasons. 

"I couldn't sleep." he misdirects. 

"I know the feeling." you mutter. 

The ham was done, he could smell it. His stomach grumbled as you plated it equally to two small plates. 

"Thank you." he says as you pass it to him. 

You follow him back to the table. He could feel you following so there was no need to turn. 

He couldn't wait, picking up the hot ham between his fingers and taking a bite. Finishing it before sitting down. 

He starts on his eggs, noticing that you didn't carry the other plate but a bowl of cut up apple. 

"You aren't having any?" he asks. 

"There's not enough for three." 

"There's only two of us."

Your eyes pierce him. You did not think he was funny. But you still needed a favor from him. 

"I am not that hungry," you lie, "I'll see if mum wants it and then I'll eat what she doesn't". 

It annoyed him that you were choosing to starve for no reason. He brought the food for you. If you wanted food for your mother, all you had to do was ask sweetly. 

You wait for him to almost finish to bring up a sensitive topic.  That way there was nothing keeping him here to continue the fight. 

"So both my work and my mothers work have said that I can have the jobs back if you give them permission."

You get up going to the kitchen bench and bringing back a piece of paper and pen. He watches you, already displeased with the topic. 

"I've already written it out. All you need to do is sign it." you lay the paper and pen on the table next to him. 

He eyes it while he continues to eat. The food was losing flavor in his mouth.

"Why would you need them? I take care of the rent, the food, the medicine."

You were looking for independence from him and he would not give it.

"There are other expenses. I need at least one of them."

He throws his fork down on his plate. Was there a need not covered by him? 

"Like what?"

"Like food for my mother. Clothes for the winter. I need to replace the items destroyed by your peacekeepers."

You push the paper closer to him. It was common sense that you needed a job to live. 

He didn't see it that way. You needed him to live. 

"You could ask me for them. Breakfast has earnt you at least one of those things." 

"I don't want to ask for them. I want to earn them." 

"Are we not saying the same thing?"

"So you won't sign it?" Your hand knocks against the table harshly.  

"No." he resolves, getting up from the table. If he left now he could take a shower before he had to be at drill training. 

You stood up, looking upset with your jaw clenched and shoulders locked. 

"I'll be back tonight with a bigger box. Have breakfast, I'll bring something for your mother". 

He kisses your cheek, and you walk with him to the back door letting him out. You offer him no goodbye as you usually do. But you were hungry, he figured. Even Tigris got moody when she was hungry. 

He makes it to drill training on time, only to count down the hours until he was back at your house. 

Two days later you figured you still had your stall. Or at least your place in the market still remained. 

Your bakery stall was still ruined. You had worked hard to get it to what it once was, only for the Peacekeepers to destroy it. You had no table, no shade, not even a chair. 

Still, people came for your cakes, not for the aesthetic of your stall. And now with you back in Coriolanus’ favor, people didn't avoid you like the flu. 

Your cake sale will be down for sure, just by association with him, but something would be better than nothing. 

Using the very last of your baking ingredients you manage to scrape together a couple of sellable items and pack them away carefully in your basket. 

The sun was so hot as you walked. By the time you reached your place, you were flushed and out of breath. 

You quickly make-shifted a table out of what was lying around and went to hide in the shade casting over by a nearby stall, waiting for a customer. 

None came for the first half hour. 

Your eyes scan the crowd, smiling brightly as you try and invite a sale. 

Your eyes catch another and you feel as if you've been dunked in ice cold water.

Edmund Flare, an old friend of your brother, came bouncing over to you with a smile. 

He was a tall handsome man with big brown eyes, and dark flat hair that he kept short. He was a lot of girls' first crush but he had always mentioned he never had time for a girlfriend. He flirted on nights out, unlike your brother, sometimes even disappearing with a girl but would always return alone. 

Archie would complain about the female attention his friend attracted all the time. He worked hard, when he went out for a drink with Edmund, he just wanted to finish the drink with his friend and go.  But Edmund always entertained himself, causing his drink to go untouched for most of the night, and he wouldn't let Archie go until it was finished. 

He was your brother's only friend. Archie was stoic by nature. He preferred to be alone. Only ever giving people polite responses in passing. Edmund was the exception. Archie nearly always went straight home from work. If he was even two minutes late, it was because he was talking to Edmund. 

Archie preferred his own company, and that remained true with his friendship with Edmund. They were both so alike, it must have been like talking to himself. 

They both worked at the mines together, and both became the man of the house at a young age after their fathers passing. They could both carry the weight on their shoulders without complaint. 

They both wanted to go to District 8 for the higher wages but both had agreed that one of them had to remain to look after their families. You remembered they fought for weeks over who it should be. 

Choosing to settle it in a game of cards, in which your brother won and Edmund was destined to stay. 

While he stayed true to his word, you hadn't seen him in a while as the mining company sent him up into the mines for weeks at a time. 

He did look after you and your mother, bringing back game he hunted, and loaning you money you could never pay back. He never wanted you to. When he came back from the mines he visited your house frequently, fixing up anything broken.

You had hoped that by the time he came down from the mountains to clear the dust from his lungs, that Coriolanus would have been a distant memory. 

But he stood before you now, the faded bites on your neck still sore.

Only the voice of another, close, could cause you to take your eyes off him. 

"Well if it isn't the whore of District 12". It was an older woman. Her face was hard from the years, covered in aging lines, not helped by stress. Her hair was thin, lumped in a bun on top of her head.

Edmund had been close enough to hear it, and picked up his pace to get to you. 

"Whore of District 12? My Y/N? I think you have the wrong person". 

He had scrubbed himself clean from the muck. His freshly clean hair fell softly in front of his face. He was lean and strong from his mining work.

"That’s the whore, alright. I heard Commander Snow is over her house nearly every night. Doesn't leave until late." The older woman turned her attention to him, but jabbed her finger at you. 

You shake your head no. Edmund was dear to you. You couldn't stand the thought of him thinking badly of you. 

Edmund's eyes freeze, looking at the women. Although you could ask him what she looked like and you don't think he could answer correctly. 

You felt the need to justify to him.

"For dinner, that's all." Your neck bites throb, "A little conversation and that's all. He's gone after that."

"What choice does she have? You saw what he did to her mother." The man in the neighboring stall called out in your defense. 

Edmund looked as if someone had punched him, knocking his breath out. 

"Her involvement with him makes it harder for the rest of us. Every Peacekeeper now thinks for a handful of apples, they can have a little ‘conversation’ too!"

The woman takes a step forward and points to the cakes.

"She breaks bread with him and now wants us to buy cakes made from the spoils of her rendezvous. Me and mine won't buy a thing from a traitor."

"I'll buy one," Edmund interjected, pulling out a coin from his pocket. 

You resist his money. Everything you baked had his name on it, free of charge. 

He smacks the coin on the table and takes a brownie. Never bringing it to his mouth. He looked too sick to eat it. 

"I'll buy one too." the neighbor came over and placed a smaller coin on the table, replacing it with a slice of pie.

You thank him, and an older woman watching the scene trades a bag of spices for a cupcake. 

"You all are fools." the women spat. 

"Leave." Edmund dismisses  the woman, who huffs but does disappear into the crowd. 

He comes around to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pressing you to his chest. 

You sobbed a little as you hugged him back. You missed him. You missed your brother. 

"I am sorry. I didn't know Y/N, I swear I didn't know." 

You shake your head, pulling back to look at him. 

"Commander Snow? Fuck. How did- It doesn't matter. Has he touched you?". 

Your face burns up ashamed. 

"No" you still wanted to be pure in his eyes but Commander Snow's voice rang in your head. 

“Not until I get back to the Capital.” 

Could you hide something that large from him? A few kisses and bites were not here nor there. Allegations were easily denied and hard to prove when it came to other forms of sex. But virginity came with such a tell tale sign. 

"Good. There's lodging for the workers in the mountains. I know the guy that holds the keys. We could-"

You cut him off. God knows what would happen to the people you care about if you went missing. 

"You don't understand. He's insane. He would find me, and you and-" you hyperventilate at the thought.  

"Okay. Alright. What do we do then?"

You see Peacekeepers making their way down the stream on patrol and you push Edmund off you. 

"Nothing. He'll be bored soon. He already is starting to. He doesn't come as often, and his boxes are getting smaller. Soon he won't bother to come at all with them".

Edmund looks appalled. "So we let him run free and hope he doesn't hurt you? And what's this about your mother? Is she alright?.” 

"She's fine. Just a little scuffed up. He just likes the chase, that's all. He'll get over it". 

The Peacekeeper walked by without a glance. With this assurance you take one of Edmunds hands into your own. 

"The chase? He's not chasing anything. I'll-"

"You'll what? What will you do to the Commander of District 12?"

He falls silent. He could do nothing. Anything he does will get him killed. Nothing he could do would even deter the Commander, and Edmund still had mouths to feed. 

You squeeze his hand in reassurance. 

"He hasn't touched me".

"He will." Edmund seethes. 

"Will you think differently of me?".  

You tense at the thought of him shunning you. Nothing the Commander could do to you would ever compare.

He touches your cheek, "No. God, no. Of course not". 

Your eyes shoot up to him, "Then it doesn't matter. Mum will understand. My brother won't know. You three are all I care about."

He takes your face into his hands, his brown eyes bore into yours. 

"After him, I swear no one else will touch you." He could protect you against all others. 

He wasn't a man who was afraid of violence for a reasonable cause. You try and stir his mind away from the brutal images. 

"How long are you around for?" you asked. 

"As long as you need." he answers.

"What about your family?" His mother hasn't worked since his father died. Too ill from grief. And his brother was too young to get any meaningful work. Edmund was their sole provider. 

"I have savings.” As hard a worker as he is, he may lose his job if he went away for too long. 

"You should go." you said as the Peacekeepers circle back. 

He eyes them as they make their way. Understanding that Coriolanus had ears and eyes everywhere. 

"I ought to get home anyway. They'll be wondering where I am. I just came to tell you I am back".

"Take them this" you pass him the bag of spices, "I have nothing to cook with them anyway". 

He takes the small bag in his big hand, "I'll go hunting this afternoon and bring you back something." 

You shake your head no. "The Commander brings me food at night. If he finds out..." you trail off.

"So he'll starve you then until you give him what he wants".

"I am hardly starving" you assure him, "He just doesn't like when I have extra to give away". 

He sighs, "I wish there was something I could do."

"You can wait him out with me."

It was hot as he stood in the sun, teaching the new recruits how to shoot.

He spent most of his time behind a boy barley 16 from another district. He missed again and again.

It was hot as he stood in the sun, teaching the new recruits how to shoot. 

He spent most of his time behind a boy, barely 16, from another district. He missed again and again. 

The target didn't move, rebels would. 

The young boy laid on his stomach with the gun pressed into his shoulder. All he had to do was scrape the side of the cut out figure. Coriolanus wasn't even expecting him to hit it fully. 

He aimed too high and the bullet went over the top. 

Coriolanus moved the gun with his boot, kicking it lower and more to the right. He then bent down and squeezed the boys shoulders together. They went limp every time he pulled the trigger and he lost control of the gun. 

The young boy seemed afraid. The longer Coriolanus stood behind him, the worse his shooting got. 

"One eye closed, the other on your target," Coriolanus ordered, "Shoulders tight and back. It's going to recoil into you and you need to brace against it otherwise you'll lose aim." 

His mind went to the day in the woods. The ghost of the ricochet is felt against his shoulder. He knew he would have the dream again tonight. Maybe he would stay with you tonight. 

"If you miss this time," he warns, "you'll be on dishes for the next four months".

Coriolanus had never touched a gun before he was a peacekeeper and even he wasn't this bad at his first try.

The young boy had a look of determination as he readied himself. A deep breath and a sharp ping resounded through the air. The bullet had hit the cut out’s foot. If it was a rebel it would have least got him down.

Ecstatic, Coriolanus slaps the boy's shoulders, and stands up. He shares the young boy's joy. Coriolanus couldn't wait to tell you tonight. What a leader he was. 

His joy disappears seeing older peacekeepers returning to base from their day off. Two of them held a brown paper bag, another had taken to eating his cupcake. 

The young boy tries to lift himself off the ground, his body sore from laying in his position for so long. Coriolanus' boot finds his shoulder and presses him back down. 

"Keep practicing," He demanded. 

He storms over to the group of peacekeepers, calling out for them to halt. They salute him as stands in front of them. 

''where did you get those from?". The anger was hard to hide in his voice. 

"The market, sir. There was a stall" one of them answered. 

He feels his blood rush as he burns a hole in the boy with the cupcake on his lips. He wanted to take the cakes back but he couldn't be seen losing his composure. A district girl would not be seen having an affect on Commander Snow. 

"I see," he seethes, ''carry on."

He turns, walking back over to the boy and grabbing his gun. He wasn't sure why he did. Maybe the sound of the repeatedly missing shots was getting to him.

He doesn't finish training. He needed to get to the markets. Surely it wasn't you. Others could have a bake goods stall. 

But those bags are the same ones you used. You packed a sandwich once for him. You used them for everything now that you no longer used them for your stall. 

And the cake. It looked like one of yours. You never skimped on the icing. It was thick and delicious.

He could have taken a truck to get there sooner but the walk to the market allowed him to think. He slung the rifle over his shoulder. 

It wasn't you, he assured himself. You knew better. When he reached the stall and saw an old woman he would laugh. 

He would tell you someone had taken your stall at the market, you would laugh too. No matter, you had him, you would say. 

He pushes through the people who begin to part as whispers made their way to the front that Commander Snow was coming, and he had a gun. 

He was not dressed in his usual commander’s uniform. The sun was too hot for it. He wore his sleek gray trousers but only his white t-shirt that was normally hidden underneath. People took a second to recognize him. 

You didn't. You recognized him right away, your hands wrung in worry. You were not expecting to see him. 

His eyes were wide as they examined the situation. You had made a table out of old milk crates and a worn table cloth. You had no canapé offering you shade like before so your face was hot and red. There were only a few items. Three plates people could choose from. The cupcake that tipped him, a small cherry pie that was cut into equal pieces, but his eyes stilled at the sight of his apology brownies. 

Chocolate and macadamia. An ode to a moment of softness they shared now in the mouth of others.

"Would you take a handful of mint?" The man asked. 

You had no change to give the man so you were trying to haggle.

As far as Coriolanus was concerned everything at that table was his. 

He rushed over, yanking the bag out of the mans hands and giving him a harsh shove away. He only takes one look at the Commander and runs away with his mint.

You look around at the crowd. You were worried about their approval at this time?

He felt his blood run hot. He had told you no, he would look after you, and here you were selling what was his. 

"Pack up your things" he said coldly. 

"I have a permit until 2." You reach into your basket to show him but he grabs your wrist before you could fully turn away. 

"Pack it up now." he seethes. He takes a deep breath to calm himself. If he shouted at you, you would freeze. 

Your wrist buckled under his pressure, and you nodded your head.

He doesn't let go even as you pack your cakes into your basket with one hand. He helps put them in quickly and without care. 

He takes the handle as you put the last cupcake in and yanks you back through the crowd. You stumble behind him from his quick pace and he pulls you every time you falter. 

"What were you thinking?" He demands to know. Talking freely away from the market. 

"I told you. It wasn't enough. I need money".

"So instead of asking me for money, you did the one thing I told you you couldn't do?". 

He tugs you impatiently forward, "Hurry up". 

"I am sorry. Please let go of me. You're hurting me". 

He continues to yank you along, spotting an alleyway between two buildings. Traffic was light and people avoided the peacekeeper with the gun as he made way. He takes you until you hit the back brick wall of the alleyway. 

With one final push he releases you to the wall and lets go of your wrist. He drops the basket by his feet and unloads his rifle by cocking it so no accidental discharge or rebel shooting could happen. He drops it alongside the basket, and comes up in front of you. 

You try to defuse him by placing a hand on his neck but he knocks it away. You weren't going to get off easy this time. 

He digs into your little satchel that you carried across your chest, looking for the money earnt. 

You take his wrist into your hands but make no real attempt to stop him. 

''You want to earn this back?" He holds out the few measly coins in front of you, "get on your knees then".

He wasn't particularly hard but he felt like he had lost significant control over you. If you couldn't take the hint, he was going to show you how you were to earn money. 

You shake your head no. More disobedience from a girl who only ate because he fed her. 

He gripped your shoulder harshly and spun you into the wall. Using one hand pressed between your shoulder blades, he uses the other to take his cuffs off his belt and attach them to your wrists.

He spins you back around but you still don't move, causing Coriolanus to push down on your shoulder. 

He gets you eventually to the ground where you struggle underneath him. He places the coins in his pocket.

"Don't" You beg but he works on undoing his pants. 

"You want to earn money, right?" he frees himself and holds it out for you, "Then earn it." 

Your eyes were not focused on him but at the passing traffic. You were too far in to be noticed by passing goers but It would only take one wrong turn and they would come across your situation. 

Irritated at your lack of focus, Coriolanus takes your jaw in his hand and guides it to his cock. 

What choice did you really have? Cuffed and on your knees with no one around to help. Not that they would. 

Gingerly you do place your lips around him but hating the taste you pull back. He slaps you firmly across the face, just as your bruise had healed. He didn't hit you as hard as he did that day on the hill. That was a proper slap. These were just warnings. 

"Spoilt aren't you?" He takes hold of the top of your head and leads it back to him.

He pushes too far, hitting your gag reflex, and you pull back again  only to be met with another slap across your cheek. 

He gives you another go. You can only take half of him comfortably. It was your first time and yet he expected you to be a well-versed whore. You gag around him and he lets you pull back but not off, before shoving it back in. 

You gag again, and loosen your lips, letting the excess moisture drip from your lips. He slaps you harshly again. Your whimper as he drives his cock back to your throat. 

His hips rock forward into you, causing you to choke. You pull back, certain that you were going to be heard as you regained your air. 

He lets you gasp for air, you spit next to his shoe but don't receive a punishment. Two light taps against your cheek and you're pulled back again.

Your teeth graze gently down as you struggle for air and he lets out an annoyed groan. 

Seeing you struggle, he pulls back, letting you regain your breath and lose some more spit from your mouth. He pulls you to his balls, letting you just hold them in your mouth as you control your breathing. You can hear the blood rush to your ears, surrounding you with your own accelerated heart beat. 

Another slap against your cheek tells you it's time to go again. 

"Come on," he urges, leading your mouth back to him with a tug at your hair. 

"Come on, pretty thing, show me what you got." 

He rocks into you, hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes spike with tears, and you struggle to pull back as he keeps you there with his hands twisted in your hair.

You hear your chain rattle as you pull it every time he rocks himself into you. 

He pulls your head back to his tip and then slowly back again, showing you how to do it. You gag around him and he holds himself still at that pace allowing you to adjust before continuing. 

He takes you to the base holding you there. You don't struggle, trying to focus on breathing through your nose. He shakes your head side to side before continuing to drive his length. 

You try to pull away again after a particularly hard drive but he stomps a foot beside you and follows your head back. 

You were a whimpping mess on the floor. Every time his cock gave you room to you whined. 

He turns your head against his thigh, letting it rest there with half his length in your mouth. A deadly smile cuts across his face, as he lays two harsh slaps against your cheek. 

He pushes all the way in, laying you at the base again. He moves his body as you move yours so there was not a moment's rest. 

He pulls you back upright to rock his hips harder. 

As he comes, he pulls you forward on his cock. The warm liquid shoots down your throat. 

You try to pull back, not wanting to swallow it. He groans loudly, still holding you in place. Even after he was done, he kept you there as he rested his head on the wall behind you. 

He regains control of himself again, readying himself and picking up his gun and the basket. Only then does he collect you.

He helps you up by the arm to your feet. You ask him to uncuff you but he doesn't, leading you out of the alleyway and back home with the grip on your arm. 

You complain the whole way. Begging him to release you so you could walk properly. You were worried Edmund would see you in such a state. 

Coriolanus is deaf to your pleas. He makes no indication that he could hear you as he walked. He didn't look at you, only at the road ahead. He made no demand that you be silent or show displeasure upon his stone face. 

When you do reach home, he marches you to the door, only letting go of your arm so he could unzip your bag, dropping your basket at the door.  

He searches in your bag again for your home key, unlocking the door and shoving you inside. He still does not free you from the cuffs, instead leading you to your dining room table. 

He pushes you down once more on the floor and kneels behind you, only undoing one cuff and reattaching it to the slim table leg. 

'What are you doing?." You tug at the chain. 

"Stay put." he spat as he headed to the door. 

"What about my mother. She needs her morphling soon."

He slams the door, relocking it. It wouldn't keep you in if you could get to the door but would keep others out. 

"Coriolanus, please!" he could hear you scream but it was muffled by the door. He picks up your basket, taking it with him. 

He eats all the cakes on his walk back to the compound making him feel sick. But they were his. 

He comes back later at night. 

"My mother" you say as soon as you see him. 

She was calling out for you. Screaming to be more accurate, he needs her to be silent after his long day so he walks past you on the floor and enters her room. 

She was still on her stomach unable to get up without help. He sees now that the whip marks reach her legs. Some had reopened again as she attempted to rise. You would need to clean and redress them, but only after he was done with you. 

She turns her head weakly in the dark room. 

"Where's my daughter?"

He kneels by the bed and unscrews a bottle of morphling from his pocket. 

"She's in the living room" he answers. 

"Is she alright?"

"Fine." He tries to push the bottle through her lips but the mother resists.

"Bring her too me. I want to see her". 

Your mother weekly attempts to get up but is forced down from the pain. 

"She's busy at the moment." He again tries to force the bottle to her lips. 

Your mother instead chooses to shout your name. 

Coriolanus places a hand on your mothers back and presses down. He could feel the blood rising under his fingertips. 

Your name turns into a scream and Coriolanus whispers in your mothers ear. 

"Take your medicine and go to sleep." 

He forces it one last time to her lips, this time she drinks it. 

Once passed out and ensured to make no more noise, Coriolanus wipes the blood on the bedsheet and returns to the living room. 

You try to get up as much as you can upon seeing him, but it is only a squat on the floor. 

"Is she ok? i heard screaming?". You sounded worried. Your voice is a little shaky.

“She's asleep." He grabs the chair closest to you, angling it so you would be between his legs as he sat. 

You sit back down on your knees and peer up at him. His face had not changed from the marketplace hours ago. His sharp features were stone on his face. His jaw was clenched, showcasing its sharp cut.

"You disappointed me today," he finally said. 

“I know," you say, the chain rattling as you move closer, "I am sorry."

Your body ached from being sat on the floor all day, you wanted nothing more than to get up and check on your mother. 

So you appealed to his softer side by resting your head against his thigh. He reciprocates by laying a warm hand on your cheek, it was slightly sticky and a familiar metallic smell lingered. 

''Make a list of the things you need the money for and I'll get them for you". 

A slight brush of his thumb left a wet patch of your mother's blood on your face. He did it again just to get rid of the smear. 

You nod your head against his thigh. It would come at a price of course. Something he could hold over your head and withdraw as he pleases. 

Your leg tingled from the lack of blood supply. It was a good sign as you had lost feeling of your legs in the late afternoon. 

"Are you hungry? You've had a big day. Let me make you something". 

God, you needed to get up from this floor. 

He stops holding your cheek, digging into his pocket and pulling out the key. You lean back as he leans down to uncuff you. 

You stand, your dead legs buckle as you applied pressure. He caught you as you went down and places you in his chair. 

He tells you to sit for a bit. To let the feeling come back to your legs before you tried to walk on them. 

You sit stretch your legs for a bit, feeling better as the painful tingling fades and return to your feet. 

He follows you as you go to the kitchen, watching you pull things out of the fridge. 

Tigris used to make his meals after long days at the school library. This felt so similar, he wanted to cry. He had gotten used to long days ending with returning back to his commander apartment to nothing by silence. 

He would strip down and just fall asleep on his bed. Now as the smell of your cooking invaded his nose, he felt cared for again. A loving hand was preparing his food, and he would sleep with a full stomach. 

''I taught a boy how to shoot today," he leans next to where you chopped an onion. 

"I've personally always preferred when peacekeepers don't know how to shoot." 

He straightened up off the counter top, you had put him back on defense. 

"No one is going to shoot you."

"I know. I am only joking." you place the chopped onion in a frypan, and move on to dicing a pepper. Your sore wrist screams.

His hips go back to leaning on the counter top. You're relieved to see it, as your wrist was a painful reminder of his temper. 

''There's nothing to worry about with this one anyway. He couldn't shoot you if you were standing a foot in front of him." 

You smile at him as he attempts to make a joke. You even tried to laugh but the sound wouldn't make its way up. It was weighed down by your anxiety. 

You drop your knife as you move your wrist the wrong way. Pain shoots through your arm.

You let out a sound of pain, trying to massage the kink out of your hand but the job is taken over by Coriolanus. 

"Are you alright?". 

You wanted to spit at him but the words that came out were reassuring. You asked him to get the eggs out of the fridge. 

He moves quickly to do so. You only had two eggs and half a bottle of milk left in the fridge so he found them easily. 

He cracks them into the fry pan for you, disregarding the shells on the counter. You continue to make his omelet with your other hand.

It broke apart as you flipped it weakly in the pan. You apologize as he takes over, flipping the pan on a plate. 

He asks if you were alright again as he leads you to the kitchen table. 

"Still stiff," you answer. 

You both sit at the table and Coriolanus offers you one of the two forks.  You take one starving and share the omelet with him. 

You feel him glance at you as you eat. 

"I have tomorrow off. I thought I might stay the night". 

Was this it? He didn't bring a box, maybe he was going in for the kill. 

Maybe the Capital promise was something he said to throw you off guard, letting you warm up to him a bit. 

It was for the best you decided. Edmund was around to help you heal and care for your mother. 

"I think that's a good idea." you state, forking another piece. 

He looks up, surprised at your welcoming nature. He leaves you the rest of the omelet, getting up and going to your kitchen to retrieve an ice pack. 

He sits back down and presses it against your cheek. 

"You may have thought I was harsh today." 

An understatement, you believe. 

"But where I am from, women who belong to men don't work". 

The capital seems more barbaric than the districts. They hide behind their new technology, but socially they were centuries behind. 

"If a woman returns to work, it marks the end of a relationship. It shows she doesn't trust him to take care of her. It's the biggest insult a woman could give another capital citizen." 

You wanted to remind him that here in District 12, where you currently were, working only meant that food would be on the table by the end of the week.

But he doesn't stop talking to give you a chance. 

''And you trust me, don't you? To take care of you." 

"Of course," you answer. Your eyes were wide with fear, he could see it. 

He takes the ice pack off and kisses you. You stay still, unable to move your lips back. 

"No more market stall, yeah?" he is two inches from your face. You were sure he could see your lips quiver. 

You shake your head no, earning a smile. 

"I am doing a good job, aren't I?" he pushes. 

"Yes, Coriolanus. Thank you." 

You wished Edmund was here. 

Another kiss and you push him gently back. 

"i am so tired" you quake, "I still have to clean up and check on my mother". 

You rise and he rises with you, taking the plate you picked up. 

"I'll clean up. You tend to your mother." he offers. 

Dirty dishes don't scare him. He saw mountains of them during his early days as a peacekeeper. He actually got quite good at them. 

You accept the offer, rushing down the hall to your mother.

You gasp as you see rivulets of blood across your mother's back. She must have been desperate to get to you, you thought. 

Her back looked unbelievably sore. It was your fault. You had hit him and set off this chain reaction. You had fought with him that night and she had to intervene. 

And it was all for nothing. Soon you would lay down and let him take what you fought to keep. 

You grab a bucket of cold water, a rag and some wound dressing and bandages from the bathroom. You could hear him cleaning the kitchen as you crossed the hallway.

Your eyes fazed with tears as you cleaned the blood off your mothers back. The water turned red, staining your hands. You had to stop upon seeing it. The tears on your mother's back wouldn't help. 

You stood over her crying as Coriolanus entered the room.

"Oh mum," you cry. He takes the bandages off you, doing the work himself. You take a seat on the bed, holding your mothers foot as he works.  

He layered the bandages with the wound dressing and laid them in the direction of the whip marks. It takes him five minutes before it is done, and he places the leftover items on the floor, keeping the bucket and rag. 

He takes you with bloody hands into the bathroom, placing you in front of him at the sink and runs your hands under the water. He sets the bucket down and rubs away the blood from your hands with his. 

He leaves you with your hands running under the tap as he tips the water down the drain. You want to thank him for doing it for you but you can't. 

He comes back, turning off the tap, resting his chin on your shoulder.

''Let's go to bed." he suggests. 

Let's get this over with, you agree mentally. 

"Where's your toothbrush?" 

You pull it down, holding it out for him. He could see the paste next to where you took it from and he lays it on. 

You figured he would like to kiss someone with nice breath so you scrub your teeth clean and rinse. 

He takes your toothbrush off of you and uses it in the same manner. It doesn't bother you, you had his dick in your mouth at lunchtime, what's sharing a toothbrush in comparison. 

Finishing, he takes your hand and leads you into the bedroom. 

You don't undress, just lay down on your back, watching him undress down to his underpants. 

"Is this okay?" he paused, taking his pants off from around his ankles to ask. 

You assume he means undressing himself, taking the job away from you, so you nod your head.

He kicks his pants in the corner and his shirt follows.

You wait patiently. If he wanted you to be fully undressed, he would have to do it. You hoped he would just hike up your dress. 

You breathe hitches as he crawls on top of you, bringing himself to your eye level. 

"Did you want to change?" he holds up your night dress that he took off your broken chair.

Why would you get changed if he was only going to take it back off? Was he true to his word, did he not want to sleep with you yet?

You take the night dress and he rolls off of you allowing you to get up. Stiffly, you do and walk to the bathroom to change. It still smelt of blood and you were quick to get out of there again. 

There was no hunger in his eyes as he held out his arms to you. Only a tiredness that you shared. It calmed you immensely. Not tonight. You weren't as ready as you thought. 

You lay on your side with your back facing him and he spoons his body around yours. 

He takes your wrist into his hand and gently rubs down along it, trying to ease the tightness from being locked up all day. You fall asleep before it stops. 

He has the nightmare again. Back in the woods with his gun. BANG. 

The rebel goes down. He stalks towards her but this time he hears your voice calling out to him, "Coriolanus." 

He points his gun in the sound of your direction and calls out for you to come to him. 

"Commander." you call him.

"Coryo!" Sejanus's voice sounded close to yours. It panics Coriolanus. He was dead, you were not. Your voices should not be coming from the same direction. 

"Where are you?" he screams. He walks in the direction he thinks the sounds were coming from but the Mockingjays scramble Sejanus's 'Coryo', disorienting the sound. 

"Commander, please!" Your voice was loud and he took off running to it before it got lost. Pushing through the forest to where he hoped you would be, he came before Lucy Gray with a hole in her throat. 

"Wake up." Lucy Gray opened her mouth but your voice came out. 

He yelps as he awakens. He feels a cool rag against his forehead. 

"Hey," you greet. When he first started to wiggle and sweat you left him. He deserved bad dreams. 

But the worse he became, the more you began to worry. Soon your compassion overtook you and you were tending to him without a thought in your head. 

"It was just a dream." you wipe more sweat off his head with your cool rag.

He looked pale and sick. You thought he might have caught something, but his wide, scared eyes told you that he had seen something in his sleep. 

You run the wet rag down his neck to his shoulders, trying to cool him down. 

He falls into you, laying down on your chest as you move the rag across him. You could feel his heavy breathing against you.

With his arm hooked around you, you had limited movement.  You wiggle trying to get back to the bathroom to rewet the towel, but he grips your arm, pulling you closer. 

“It was just a dream,” you tell him. 

It wasn’t, not really. 

His mother used to run her finger through his curls until he fell back asleep. But much like her, they were long gone. 

His weight kept you pressed down on the mattress with your hand trapped wedged between your body and his. 

Similar to his mother, you run your fingers up and down his neck. He stretches it to give you more roaming space and you turn off the lamp, sure you could get him back to sleep. 

He was still so hot. Sweat ran down him and onto you. You ran the rag up his face to cool him. Repeating the action of dragging the rag up and your fingers down, you feel him settle beneath you. 

He lays a kiss just above where his head rested on your chest. Then his breathing evened, you counted the seconds between his little huffs of air. They patterned at five seconds apart and you feel safe enough to pull away. 

You wiggle from beneath him slowly as you lower yourself to the floor. You hit it and he twitches but doesn’t wake. 

Laying your head on the hard floor board you watch as his hand laying over the bed reaches for something. As if he knew in his sleep where you were. 

You don’t fall asleep for a long time. Your cheek ached from where he assaulted it repeatedly. 

Your mind raced with thoughts. How long would he drag this out for. You had been caught. You were caught! Hurry up and take a bite. So long as he remained around, you wouldn’t be able to see Edmund. It would be too dangerous for him. 

He had cornered you in every aspect of your life. Even as you slept he remained over you. You wanted it to be over already so you could return to your life. But his appetite was insatiable. 

Every time you gave an inch to fill his need, he took a mile. How much more before you had no more kindness to give?

Your eyes close and you sleep, remaining aware that you had to wake up before him. 

The sunlight streaming through your window was a mercy as it woke you before him.

You try to quietly get back into bed with him, but wake him in the process. 

He groans and holds your hips tightly. It was his day off, he didn’t have to get up early. 

You sigh. At least he thought you were getting up and not getting back in .

Now rising to avoid suspension, you get out of his weak hold. 

“I have to check on mum,” you tell him. 

He doesn’t raise his head from the pillow or open his eyes as he huffs. 

You stop by the bathroom to relieve yourself and dress back in proper clothes. You put back on your dress from last night, ensuring the buttons from the bottom to the top were all done up. 

 The smell of blood no longer lingered. You could stand to take the time to brush your hair in it. 

You hoped he wouldn't stay long today but knew he was going to. 

After last night, you would focus more on your mother today. It looked like a lot of her scars had opened back up again. 

You had to take a look to see if any were infected. It was a higher risk now due to the prolonged morphling dosage. 

You turn to her room to see a closed door. You never close your mothers door in case she needs you in the middle of the night. Maybe Coriolanus closed it on his way out.

You turn the handle, double taking when you see two figures on the bed. 

You almost scream upon seeing him sitting next to your mother. Had he seen you with the Commander in bed? You wanted the earth to open and swallow you whole. 

“Edmund- I didn’t” 

“I saw you on the floor,” his voice didn't carry relief but an uncharacteristically hard tone. 

“A little scuffed up you said?” he places a hand on your sleeping mother’s head.

“She’s okay. The morphine keeps the pain away and there’s no sign of infection.” 

“I could go in there and kill him while he sleeps. No one would know. Bury him outside the fence line. Who would look?” 

You knew he was serious from the look on his face. 

“You would kill me too. If he went missing I would be the first to hang.”

He knows it too. You watch him swallow his rage and it goes down as a lump in his throat. 

“You need to leave.” 

“I am not going anywhere while he is in the house.” 

“If he catches you here-” you begin but stop. You wouldn’t let anything happen to him. 

You freeze as you hear Coriolanus call out for you. He was up. 

You yank Edmund up and push him to your mother’s standing cupboard. He goes willingly, hiding in the cramped space. 

You got him there just in time.

Coriolanus opens the door to check on you. 

He had put back on his uniform pants and shirt. You were grateful that a near naked Coriolanus was not present under Edmunds watchful eye..  

"Are you alright?" he asks. 

You rush to the door, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him slightly back. 

''Fine. I don't want to wake her". 

You push him outside the door and shut it behind you. He looks tired, and still pale from last night. 

"Darling, she had two ounces of Morphling less than 12 hours ago. She wouldn't wake up if the house was on fire." 

He pushes past you and opens the door again. He looks around the room. His steps are slow as he circles the space around your mother. 

"So what is it in here you don't want me to see?"

You freeze. Don't come out, you silently beg. 

"Nothing. It's my mother's room that's all. She wouldn't want you in here".

His eyes peered down at the sleeping lady, but his hand reached higher to the metal plates stacked on the bedside. He pushed one side of the stack and a plate went flying to the floor, making an awful clanging sound. 

You eyes shoot to the cupboard, Edmund doesn't fling himself out for a fight. He was too smart for it. Your eyes return to Coriolanus who bent down to pick up the plate from the floor. 

"You're right," he says, 'let's go. We can spend some of those coins you earnt yesterday on breakfast."

Earnt had a different meaning to Coriolanus then what it did to Edmund. You were so glad he left before the commander showed up. 

You were glad too that Coriolanus suggested leaving the house. It would give Edmund a chance to escape. 

But you knew he would wait. Edmund could hold a grudge like no one else. He would sit in with your mother all day and stew. 

He couldn't be trusted to hold his temper if you returned with Coriolanus. It would also be too much to bear. Having him listening in as you played puppet with Coriolanus. 

You wait until you reach the living room to talk so Edmund wouldn't hear where you were going and follow. 

"I know a place. A little waterfall just out of town," you suggested, " We could spend the day there. Out of the heat." 

"What about your mother?"

You knew Edmund would tend to her. 

"I'll leave a bottle of morphling within her reach. An apple, a bottle of water. It's all I normally give her until dinner time." 

His eyes roam you distrustfully, but make their way back to your face with his normal icy stare. 

"Whatever you want." he concedes. 

You dash around your home packing your basket while Coriolanus laces his shoes. An old blanket, two bottles of water in heavy metal flasks, and sun protection is all you pack. 

Coriolanus holds his hand out for it once you were done, and you give in. You yank your boots on as he holds the basket, waiting. 

All you had to do was lay a care package for your mother. You act as if kicked your boot accidently against the door as you take it to her. 

Edmund either took the warning or never came out of the closet at all.

"Mum" you call to the unconscious women, "I am going out, and won't be home until late. Here's your morphling that you'll need when you wake up soon. Make sure you eat your apple before you take it".

You place the items on the bedside table for Edmund, giving one final look to the cupboard door before shutting the door and walking back to Coriolanus. 

He was waiting by an open door, watching you as you came to him. 

You don't touch the door, but it closes and you lock it with Coriolanus standing over you. 

You walk in silence along the road to the town center. You pass the alleyway that will now forever cause you to shiver. 

The walk was quiet. Most people were already at their jobs at this time. But as you enter the town square, the hustle began to pick up.

You could feel the town people's stares, hear their quiet whispering as you passed with Coriolanus in tow. 

He begins talking to you asking you where you wanted to go first. 

The bakery, you answered. You let him lead, trying to fall out of step with him. 

He notices that you do almost immediately. He lasso his arm around your shoulders to keep pace. It felt like he was leading you around town on a leash. 

The bakery is only small. It had aged terribly but retained some of its charm. You never went in there, always baking your own things. 

It could only fit five people in at a time but it didn't matter, you two were the only ones there. You take a look at the glass display counter. Their cakes were small and barely had any icing. You could tell they were over-cooked from how they sat. No wonder your stall was so popular. 

"Commander Snow, sir!" 

Your eyes rise abruptly at the voice. The women from the market now serves you. The lips that casted judgment now smile sweetly at Coriolanus. 

"We'll take two rolls of grain" he remarks, like talking to her was painful. 

You cringe at the usage of ‘we’.

"Of course, sir," she wraps the bread up and passes it over the counter. He takes it, putting the fresh loafs in the basket. 

''Free of charge of course. Can't thank you enough for cleaning up these streets for us right living folks". 

Coriolanus doesn't buy the act. His face hardens as he digs into his pocket and throws a coin on the counter for her. 

He tugs your arm gently to get you to retrace back to the door. You follow eagerly. You hoped she would mention how you whored yourself out for him so you could mention this encounter. 

''Where to next?". 

You barely heard him over your rage. 

"The butcher. He's next door to the fruit and vegetables stall. Maybe I could get the meat and cheese, and you could get some peaches if there are enough coins."

"Are we in a rush?"

"No". ‘I just don't want to be seen with you’ is the unspoken end of that sentence.

"Then we'll go together. The waterfall won't float away will it?" 

Today you would be stuck at his hip. 

He holds the butcher’s door open for you, and a little bell goes off. 

You only glance at the man behind the counter before he disappears. 

The butcher takes one look at Coriolanus and takes off through the back door. He runs faster then his short body would let on. 

Coriolanus watches him as he runs off. It was his day off, he wasn't chasing anyone. 

He passes you the basket so he could jump over the counter and help himself to the meats and cheeses. He grabs a good handful of ham and a few slices of cheese.

“I’ll never understand why they run.” 

You hum back in response, but could definitely understand the desire of running. 

He jumps back over the counter, places the items in your basket and then takes the basket back off you. Not looking to go without paying, you stop Coriolanus by his arm and in an action that surprised you both, reach into his pocket and pull out his coins. 

You leave what you think would cover the costs and keep the rest in your palm. Your touch seemed to have frozen Coriolanus who stood there.

It gave you a chance to distance yourself. You are out the door and next door at the fruit and vegetable stall. You grab the first two peaches you see, not even checking to see if they were ripe.

Giving the man the money and thanking the man for the peaches, you keep your head start, walking quickly through the market.

You remain three feet in from him until you reach the next stall in which Coriolanus had caught up to you and tugged you back. 

"How far is the waterfall?" He was always finding new little areas of District 12. He should have made the fence smaller. 

"Just past Dead Man's creek". 

Coriolanus mentally groaned. Just the walk to Dead Man's creek would take at least 45 minutes over a rocky path.  

But once they were there at least they would be alone. Coriolanus was elated not only to be spending the day with you but ecstatic to be away from the district. 

You lead him to the back forest of the district, to a rock path that marks the start of the trail to Dead Man's creek. 

He takes your hand into his as you begin the walk. 

"How do you know about this place?" He tries to make idle talk as you walk. 

"My father used to take my brother and me on weekends." 

Coriolanus wished he didn't ask.

"I am sorry. How did he die?"

You rip your hand clean from him, and Coriolanus flexes his hand from the lack of touch. 

"He died in the mines. A tunnel collapsed, he didn't get out in time."

His hand felt empty so he reached out and plucked a flower off a tree, twirling the stem in his hand. 

"I am sorry," he says again, "My father died at a young age too." 

"Are you? Most of our materials still go to Capital use".

Coriolanus flicks the flower away. He didn't want to chase people through the streets and he didn't want to talk politics on his day off. 

"We all play our part for the betterment of Panem." he says. 

"All hail the mighty Capitol." 

That attitude would not go down well in the Capitol. He had to get rid of it before he started his presidential journey. 

But that's a job for another day. Today they were going to spend a peaceful day at a waterfall. 

"All hail the mighty Capitol," he mutters back. 

The Capitol chewed him out too. You should be bonding over your shared resilience, not fighting over the Capitol’s use of the districts. 

"So are you going to tell me who was in the closet this morning?"

He snapped a branch that was pushing into his shoulder as he walked by your side. He hated nature, and would rather be back in his temperature-controlled apartment with you. But you had wanted to take him to a place you held dear. He would make the effort to please you.

You stumble over your next step. Could he have heard you talking to Edmund? Was his life now in danger?

"When I dropped the plate this morning your eyes went straight there." 

You had been tricked by him again. He had dropped the plate to startle you into giving away your secret. 

"She's just a friend." You emphasize the 'Sh' in she. 

"A friend you keep in the closet?"

"You spooked her. She came over to check on my mother and heard you coming."

"Well I don't bite." 

You knew for a fact he did. 

"She was afraid. You are Commander Snow of District 12". 

He takes your hand back in his, pleased with your answer, 

"Well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

You knew that did not extend to Edmund. So you keep quiet, allowing him to hold your hand in peace. 

It kept him from asking anymore questions at least. He remained for the rest of the trip trapped in his own head, and you remained trapped in yours. 

By the time you crossed the creek and continued up to your destination, the waterfall was a well earned sight. 

You find the shade of a big tree and smooth the ground from rocks before reaching into the basket and laying the old blanket down. 

The laces of the shoes come off and you both plop down, tired from the walk.

Coriolanus lays back, watching as you make the sandwiches. You tear into the bread with your hands and fill it with the meat and cheese. 

You pass the first one to him. It tasted like love to him. Your stomach growled too but your hands give before they take. If he could just get your speech right, you would be perfect. 

You down your sandwich quickly having little to eat in the past 24 hours. Feeling immensely better as the food fills your stomach, your body brings to attention another need.

You lay down, closing your eyes and letting your body relax into the peaceful atmosphere. 

“Tired?" he asks you. You feel him turn to his side towards you. 

"Too hot to sleep".  You don't mention the ailments to your sleep that he caused. 

"You're welcome to sleep in the Commander's quarters with me. Air conditioned, bigger bed. I even have a television that works sometimes."

You turn away from him as you feel his head dip down to you. 

"I should stay with mum." 

"Maybe once she gets better." He now regrets causing your mother more harm last night. It would delay the healing process. 

The cool breeze drifts you to sleep. Coriolanus waits until your breathing slows before he shuffles closer.

He felt a sense of pride as you dozed off. That you trusted him enough to protect you as you slept. 

During the war Tigris would stay up during bombings, letting Coriolanus get some sleep. He wouldn't otherwise, too worried that he would miss a warning and be buried underneath rubble. 

He shuffles so his body is over yours in a protective stance, his leg slung over you, and his eyes watch around you for nearby ants.

It was a tranquil moment shared while you slept but it lasted less than 20 minutes before you shot up in a panic. 

You don't get far with Coriolanus curled around you. Movement only became harder as he squeezed you in his arms. 

"You're alright. Go back to sleep". He wasn't ready for the moment to be over but you were, turning his arms off you.

"I shouldn't sleep. No, I shouldn't sleep".

You turn to your back on the blanket and reach up to touch your ring on his dog tags. 

You turn the metal between your fingers. You wondered if you begged enough if he would give it back. 

He catches your hand and brings it up enough to kiss. You hear the birds chirp as they fly past. 

''It's peaceful here," he comments.

"It's my favorite place," you admit. 

Coriolanus felt his heart swell with pride. You had taken him to your favorite place because you wanted him to see it, not in actual reality because it was the first place that popped into your head.

He lets you rest while he takes a look out  at the scenery. 

The water from the rocks cascaded into a plunge pool that looked relatively deep. The water leaked slowly down a stream of rocks away. It was no great waterfall, only about a meter high, and the water followed at a steady pace instead of a gush. 

The bank was muddy but opened to a large dry field, surrounded by trees. He was yet to see a mockingjay but he knew from experience that it doesn't mean they are not there. 

“It's so hot," you complain, throwing your arm over your eyes. 

He turns back to you and fiddles with the buttons on your shirt, twisting your top button between his fingers. 

"How about a swim?" he suggests.

You shake your head no but he starts undoing your buttons anyway. 

You catch his hands in yours, they only follow him as he undoes the rest. You feel your dress fall off your shoulders as the last button comes undone. 

Fear freezes you, your eyes close and your hands lose movement. He doesn't deter, placing a kiss on your shoulder as he takes the dress off completely. 

"It will cool you down". 

He shifts off you to take his own clothes off. You feel his hands upon you once more picking you up. 

The splash of the cold water woke you and as you came up to the surface you pulled free from his hold. You swim away only to be pulled back into his chest. 

"Feel better?" he asks. You wiggle against him feeling indecent in only your underwear. 

"Where are you going?" he laughs as if it was a joke. As if you were friends playing in the water.

He twists you in his arms so you are facing him and you place your hands on his shoulders to keep up. 

"This isn't right." You push against his tight hold.

"No one is around. No one to see," he consoles. 

"You can see. You can touch me." 

You thrash in his grasp, almost drowning yourself from your struggle.

He tries to reassure you but you won't hear it. Your kicking underwater lands into his soft stomach. With a huff of pain, he releases you and you swim back to shore. 

You can hear him following you in the water. Nevertheless you reach land first and run to put on your clothes. 

"What is your problem?" He seethes putting back on his pants. 

"I can't-can't do this," you said, meaning him. 

Without your shoes you take off in the direction of the trail path. 

"Wait. Wait" he beseeched, he takes your shoulders into his hands and bends down to your eye level, "I am sorry, okay. I moved too fast. Let's just go back".

He shoves you towards the blanket again. Bringing you down with him on the floor. He removes his hands once he realizes you were frozen again. 

Taking a peach out of the basket he puts it into your hands. 

"Eat. I’m sorry." He puts back on his t-shirt, only to turn back to see the peach still not eaten. 

He sighs, taking a knife from one pocket from his pants. You flinch as it flicks up and he takes the peach back off you, cutting it up. 

"It's okay. I am not going to hurt you." He passes you a slice of the peach.

“Then why carry the knife?”

Coriolanus shugs, taking a slice of the peach for himself. “Part of the uniform. Eat”. 

The uniform that was designed to kill you and your people. A uniform that gives those who wear it a free reign of terror. It almost whispers to you to know your place. 

Your lips shake as they bite into the soft peach slice. 

You stay at the waterfall until late afternoon. Coriolanus teaches you how to make a fishing rod and you fish for a large part of the time.

You ask him if he learnt how to fashion a rod from the earth in the Capitol. 

"No. Not in the Capitol." He didn't elaborate, quickly changing the subject.  

He catches one catfish which you cook and wrap in large leaves to take home, while you catch nothing but rocks. 

It's nightfall by the time you reach your house again. Edmund was sure to be gone. 

You wait by the steps, waiting for his direction. He makes no move up the stairs leading you to think he wasn't interested in coming in. 

"Thank you for walking me home, Commander." 

"Thank you for showing me the waterfall. We'll go up there again soon" he promises. 

You didn't like the sound of it. It was your strength against him up there. 

He passes you your basket and relief floods you knowing he wasn't coming in. 

"Goodnight, Commander".

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Next time, invite your friend out of the closet. Don't ever let them lead you to lie to me". 

You nod. It appeased him enough to kiss you. 

"Goodnight" he bids. 

He watches as you run up the steps, only turning to leave once you were safely indoors.

Your relief turns into horror and then just shock causing you to drop your basket at your feet. 

Edmund waits for you at the kitchen table with his head resting in his hands. 

"I made dinner. It's in the oven." 

He must have gone hunting at some point in the  day. 

"Are you crazy?" you raised your voice as much as you dared, "What if he decided to come in?" 

He remains emotionless, "Your mother and I have already eaten." 

You make sure the door is locked behind you before you venture over to him.

"You can't come around here until this blows over," you scold. 

''I promised your brother I would keep you safe," he sounded defeated but his balled fists suggested it was anger. 

"I don't think he meant to kill the Commander of District 12 to do so."

His eyes harden, and his head nods, 'Yes, he did."

You throw your arms around his rigid figure.

"You did good, okay? You are doing good. He wouldn't ask anymore of you." 

He scoffs and with little force he moves you off him, “Good? I've been up in the mountains while you've been fighting for your life down here." 

"Earning money to support your family. Us. How many times would we have been dead without you? I would have died last year if you didn't give us money for the doctor." 

"Maybe I should have let you. At least then you wouldn't be food for the Commander"

"He's really not that bad". You regret the words as soon as they come out. 

"You don't think kindly of him do you?" his face contorts with disgust. 

You shake your head no. You could never disappoint him. Not after everything he has done for you. 

"He is a storm for a season. We've outlasted storms before haven't we? Together." 

You lace your fingers with his. His hold is strong and protective. 

"After him. No one else," you repeat his words back to him. 

If you are to survive him, it will be true.

-------

I put some easter eggs from the book in there. For funises.

Taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

Next chapter

[multifandomgirl08]

On Sleepless Roads, The Sleepless Go [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: It's the early hours of Nikita's first birthday, and you can't help but look back at the day you brought your son into the world.

Warning(s): Flashback to a year before, post-childbirth (Non-graphic)

A/N: Shorter chapter today before my classes start up again this week. Title from the song Hear Me You by Jimmy Eat World.

Words: 1.4k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

It was late at night, a few hours before what would be Nikita’s first birthday. You were staying up because Max’s flight from England was running late. He had finished up the last of his sponsorship obligations earlier that day, and there were weather problems, so they hadn’t let his plane take off until a couple hours ago.

You had stayed up reading your book, drinking tea from your mug that was resting on the end table. The house was silent aside from the sound of the open doors that lead to the backyard.

You looked up at the clock that hung on the wall in the entry way.

11:42 pm, it read. You reached for your mug and took a sip of the tea, it had gone cold two chapters ago. You were just about the close your book and get ready to go to bed when you heard a set of keys in the lock of the front door.

You shut the book placing it on the coffee table before getting up and seeing Max standing in the entryway of the house, his blue Louis Vuitton backpack around his shoulders, and duffle bag in one hand.

“You waited for me.” He said mindlessly placing his keys on the console table.

“I figured that you’d want to be there when I tell Nikita happy birthday.” You said walking closer to him.

Max slid his backpack off, placing both of his bags on the floor. He reached out for your hand, turning off the living room lights, letting you walk in front of him on the floating stairs that lead downstairs. You kept turning off the few lights that were still on in the house, and stopped by Nico’s room first. He was fast asleep in his warm sheets curled up around his pillows.

Max closed to door just enough to let the cats in if they ended up wander around the house in the early hours of the morning. Nikita’s room had a small glow casting a shadow into the hallway. Max had pushed open the door to see Niki lying in his crib fast asleep. Max looked down at his watch for a moment, seeing the hands turn before both of them hit the 12.

You both reached in, kissing him on the forehead one after another. Max ran his hand over Niki’s head.

“Happy Birthday, Nikita.” You whispered. Max moved to sit in the fluffy chair that you would normally read to Niki in. He opened his arms for you inviting you to sit in his lap, while you both looking on into the crib as your son slept.

December 3, 2025 - 12:03 AM

It was a few moments later the nurse placed a swaddle of blankets into your chest, you still couldn’t comprehend the fact that you had just given birth aside from the weight that was against your chest.

“So good, so strong,” Max muttered resting his forehead against your arm. Max’s hand was placed on the baby’s back.

You could hear the nurse say something about giving you a few minutes before they had you start to push the placenta out while taking the baby to get washed, weighed, and changed.

Max kissed your forehead and then the back of your hand that was cradling the baby’s bottom.

“Max, would you like to cut the cord?” The doctor asked. You ran your fingers over the back of Max’s hand, encouraging him to go and do it.

Max went ahead and heard the little cry that the baby let out.

“What do we have?” You croaked having not heard the doctor earlier. Your throat sounded like it had been rubbed raw.

“A boy.” He said, and you could see the tears start to collect in the corner of Max’s eyes. You sometimes forget that Max didn’t get to experience Nico being born.

You had brought a boy into the world, Nikita.

Eventually, they took the baby out of your arms, and Max went with one of the nurses so you could push the placenta out and then get you cleaned up before they brought the baby back.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour. More pushing that felt like a strange ache, and a nurse helping you into the bathroom to clean you up. They ushered you back into the bed, after helping you into a new gown. As you leaned against the pillow, your eyes started to feel heavy. You rested your eyes for a bit before you heard wheels against the tile floor.

You forced them open to see a clear bassinette placed by your bed, and Max sitting in a chair with the baby in his arms.

“Hi, mijn leeuwin.” He said looking up at you. You gave him a weak smile.

“So do you have a name in mind?” The nurse asked.

“Nikita?” Max asked looking at you. He was giving you a way out if you wanted to change it.

You gave the nurse a nod, “Nikita Daniel,” The nurse nodded back to you, pulling a few papers out to write it down before leaving you, Nikita, and Max together.

You sat there in the hospital bed exhusted out of your mind, but let yourself take in the quiet of Max cooing at Nikita. You wanted Max to have as many moment with him as possible.

Max was slow to get out of the chair before walking towards you. He carefully laid Nikita against your chest. You ran a finger over Nikita’s cheek, feeling the soft skin under your fingers.

“I know your not a fan of Nikita as a name, so I thought we could call him Niki for short.” You could feel Max’s eyes trying to meet yours, but you were too busy looking at your son.

“I’m okay with Niki, but I’ll never hear the end of it from Helmut about him being named after Niki Lauda.” You looked up after hearing Max’s words.

You couldn’t help but laugh. Max, always thinking of others.

“After 12 hours of labor, Helmut doesn’t really get much of a say.” Max said nothing to that, just kissed the side of your head before pulling the chair closer to you. Max had laid Nikita in his bassinet after a while letting you get some more sleep. The nurse would come back in a couple of hours to help you breastfeed Nikita for the first time. Max looked in awe of you again, either watching you breastfeeding your child or Nikita eating straight from you. Another first for the both of you to share.

It was in the late hours of the morning that Sophie showed up with Nico holding her hand before Nico got the chance to meet his little brother for the first time.

“Come,” Max said holding your hand as you both walked to the master bedroom. “We should let the birthday boy sleep. It’s going to be a long day.”

“Do you have plans that I don’t know about?” You asked, admiring Max as he got ready for bed removing his stale plane clothes. He was all broad shoulders, and defined arms.

“Maybe.” He shrugged before pulling the bedsheets back.

“Who’d you invited?” You asked as you pushed the thick comforter towards the bottom of the bed.

“The usual people.” That just meant the grid (past and current), Martin, Max’s grandmother, Sophie, Victoria, Tom, and their kids.

“Don’t tell me you ordered a cake.” He said nothing back. You lightly shook your head, oh Max.

You remember him telling you the story of Nico’s first birthday. Max had to blow out Nico’s candle, Luka had thrown a tantrum from not taking a nap earlier in the day. Victoria had apologized profusely afterwords. You always wondered if Max had any photos of that day.

“We’ll blow out the candles for him, and I’m sure Nico will help.” Max said as you both climbed under the sheets.

He had you pulled you up against his chest with his hand resting of your hip. Your fingers were playing with his wedding band. You would have to get up soon to celebrate your son’s first birthday with the family, and somehow you didn’t feel even a little bit tired.

“Sleep mijn leeuwin,” Max muttered into your neck. You could hear that he was falling asleep just from his voice. You pulled the sheets up over your shoulders, and closed your eyes.

It was going to be a long day with people filling up the house, you would need all of the sleep that you could get. Your second oldest was turning 1 and you didn’t want to miss a second of the day.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 6: Boundaries

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

W: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, a bit of angst before the nasties ❤️

The good thing about the three of you doing the walk of shame together is that at least you are not the one who got it worse. Price is walking like he just came of the confessional, not a sin committed in his life; you look like you should, like you just got fucked nicely but nothing a couple of minutes laying down can't help you disguise and Gaz… poor Gaz look a bit destroyed, but he carries himself with a certain attitude that makes you think: “Good for him.” and it helps him look confident if it wasn't for a weak limp as he walks. And if you are able to tell, you are sure the rest of them can as well.

“Pay up, Johnny.” Ghost says extending his hand to Soap as they sit on the sofa. 

“Fuckin’ he'll, Gaz.” Soap answers, taking his wallet from his back pocket and dropping a £20 on Ghost's hands. 

“You made a bet?” You ask curious sitting on the floor getting your legs under the table, Ghost and Soap are sitting on the sofa, Price sits down on the armchair and Gaz sits on the armrest of the sofa.

“Yeah, about who would break the truce first.” Soap explains and turns to look at Gaz. “I thought you were stronger than this, mate.”

“What truce?” You ask, sending Ghost a quick glance to ask him to play along. He doesn't say anything. 

A beat of silence goes around the room, everyone expecting the other to talk. It is Price that breaks it clearing his throat. “Right, I'll explain it. We talked about you, about how we have been treating you and about how it shouldn't have happened.” 

Your stomach turns at the confession, and a voice screams in your head: “I told you, idiot! Giving yourself like a whore on sale! Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!” You hide your hands between your thighs to hide the shaking and swallow the spit pooling in your mouth. 

“Not like that.” A warm hand on the top of your head brings you back. “Try again, Captain. So many ways to phrase it, and you choose the worst.” Ghost says 

Price rubs a hand against his face, exasperated with himself. “What I meant was… that we don't regret what we have done, we regret the way we have done it. Yeah?”

And it reaches your ears, but it doesn't get to your brain. Since the whole ordeal began, the cruel voice in your head that doesn't let you enjoy things has been scratching the walls of your head to try and make you focus on her and let her plant the seed of self-doubt in you. But you pushed her back, and the kisses and caressing of the men in front of you helped greatly. It was like seeing a shadow from the corner of your eyes, but when you turn your head it disappears; but now, hearing from Price that it shouldn't have happened, even if he was just a poor choice of words, it has made you turn your head to your shadow but this time it hasn't disappeared. Instead, it's looking at you and laughing at your face for being stupid. 

“You alright, birdie?” Ghost brushes your hair behind your ear, keeping his hand cupping your jaw and turning your face to look at him. Concern floods his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, but doesn't push it when you nod at him. 

“What we wanted to do, was do the things that we should have done before we got freaky.” Soaps continue. “Go on dates, expend time together… get to know ye. Those things.”

It only fuels your confusion. “What?” You ask looking at Price. “Dates?”

“You… you don't want to?” He asks mirroring your confusion.

“Do I have a say?” You ask, genially confused. And to you, you mean it as in “Do I have the power to choose between offers? Do I have the power to ask for you? Do I deserve more than crumbs of attention and respect?” But to them, it sounds like: “Do I have that power?”, you know, as if you haven’t gotten under their skin and you couldn't move them like puppets at your will and want. 

“I don't understand.” You mumble rubbing your face, eyes burning with tears.

“What it is?” Gaz asks sitting straight, focusing on you. 

“Why?!” You ask a bit louder that wanted. “Why me? Why do you care about me? Because I can understand that I threw myself at you and to never look a gift horse in the mouth, but what I can’t understand is why you would go out of our fucking lane to worry about the fucking shitty horse!”

The tears are flowing freely down your face by now, and you realise that they are all looking at you with expressions you can't read. You have cried in front of them before, but it was out of fear for your life, you are fine with that. But letting them see you cry because you are an idiot that caught feelings? Nah, that's too much. “I'm sorry, I… I need a moment.” You stand up, managing to get out without any of them catching your hand and lock yourself in the bathroom, in the little space between the sink and the bathtub. 

You cry your feelings out, wanting to just dry yourself out before going out, but Ghost beats you to it and knocks on the door. “Can I come in, birdie?”

“The lock doesn't work.” You mumble between sobs.

“I know, that's why I'm asking.” He says, he cracks the door open slowly and sticks his head in looking at you. “Can I come in?”

You nod, and he enters closing the door behind him. He lifts you up from your hands making you whine like a child, sits down where you were and sits you on his lap. “You got a thing for tiny spaces.” 

The TONK sound of Ghost hitting his head on the sink following the curse words makes you chuckle at the ridicule of the situation. Ghost finally settles down, and he cups your face making you lay your head on his chest. 

“What has you so upset, birdie? What is making you so sad?” He asks, the rumble of his voice travelling through your body.

You shrug your shoulders. “I just don't get it… why me?”

“I don't know, birdie… you just are.” He says caressing your face. “I can't explain it, it's just… you. We have been trained and forced to be methodical, use logic, don't get carried away by emotions, years and years of training. And now you are here, and we don't know how to act.”

You bury your face in his chest, taking in the new information, but without interrupting him. “When we entered your flat, Price saw the chair on the balcony and he almost jumped head first just to check if you were on the ground. Gaz has gone against Price's direct orders, and trust me, Gaz would rather cut his own arm than go against Price… Birdie, I'm not going to call it love and act like I know how that works. But don't bury the corpse without killing it first.”

You look up to him, and find him already looking down at you. He gives you a kiss on your forehead through the mask and asks: “Give us a chance, birdie. Please. We are all adults, we'll talk about it. Set bases and rules so everyone is happy and comfortable. But you need to let us try. Only once, birdie. That's all we need.”

Simon's words enter your head, finding the idiot voice that lives inside and slapping her across the face. After a while, you no longer have the need to cry, and even though you are elated by Ghost's comfort, it is not fair to the three men seating in the living room.

You stand up first, Ghost's hand on your back. You grab his hand to help him stand and put the other hand on the edge of the sink so he doesn't hit it again, earning yourself a chuckle from him. 

Soap is the first to see you, sitting with Gaz on the sofa. Price is still in the armchair, smoking a cigar. You walk up to him, picking the cigar from his hand and letting it down on the ashtray. You sit on the armrest of the chair, putting your deets on his lap and your hands between your thighs. 

He looks up to you almost holding your breath, like the next thing that you will say could seal or break the deal. “You don't regret meeting me, right, John?”

His face twitches, as if you had just slapped him across the face, and he quickly shakes his head bringing his arm up around you to move you to his lap keeping you close. “No, dear, no. I could never regret meeting you, I'm sorry I said it like that, I promise I'm not usually such a muppet.” 

“I wanna give it a try.” You say and look up to him. “But I'm scared.”

“You don't need to be, what's scaring you?” He ask looking at your face.

“You don't know me… what if once you get to know me, you don't like what you learn? If you get bored? Or disgusted…” You mumble, talking more and more softly as you bury your face on his neck.

“Now you are just talking nonsense, love.” Price says, cupping your face and peeling your face away from his neck. “And you are thinking too highly of us, what if you are the one who doesn't like us?”

“That's not-” You begin to say, ready to argue that it is not possible to not like them, that they look like they have come out of a firefighter calendar, that they have been nothing but kind and caring with you, that if you found something about them you didn't like it would most likely to bother you enough to break away. But you look at his face, and he has this know-it-all expression that quiets you up. 

“Exactly, love.” He says and lets you hide your face again. You sigh, tired of your feelings and start to stand up. “I'm gonna have a shower.”

“Wait!” Soap says standing up quickly and sprinting to the kitchen, coming back out with different kinds of shampoo and body skin care products. “How about a bath? A bubble bath?” He asks, happy to cheer you up and to have an excuse to mess around with the different liquid. 

You nod quickly smiling widely and watch him run to the bath. Price calls your attention with a tap on your lower back and explains: “Gaz and I need to go back to base, Ghost and Soap will stay with you tonight, that's fine with you?”

You nod again, saying goodbye to both of them, feeling too awkward to hug them because of the newly exposed feeling even if just an hour ago they were balls deep inside you. You run to the bathroom when Soap calls your name.

“Quickly, bonnie. Get in before it goes cold.” He says, satisfied with the sweet smell and bubbly water. “Do you need anything else?”

“Actually, can you lend me some more clothes? I'm pretty sure I have run out of clean clothes and underwear.” You admit, looking a bit ashamed.

“Sure, I'll bring ye some of mine. I'm sure ye'll fill in my knickers just fine with that fine arse of yers.” He mumbles in your ears, earning himself a slap on his biceps as he exits the bathroom to pick up the clothes. He drops them by a little later and lets you to enjoy your bath.

The bath truly helps you relax, of the tightness in your muscles and of the exhausting feelings in your head. It also leaves you room to think about them, to rationalize them. Simon is right, you cannot say no just because you are scared it may not work out in the end, not without trying first.

After some time, the water starts to get cold, so you drain the tub and grab the towel to dry yourself. You look at the clothes that Soap lend you, and realise he only left his briefs and a t-shirt; cheeky bastard. 

As you open the door, the smell of food floats around the whole house and it makes your stomach rumble. Ghost and Soap must be making dinner. So you walk down the hall, entering the kitchen without thinking.

And part of you blames you for it, but another part is really glad you didn't.

Johnny is on his knees, in front of Ghost, getting his mouth fucked by the late one. The wet sounds of Johnny gagging around Ghost’s dick as it hits the back of his throat almost hide the sound of your steps, but not good enough fot Ghost.

“Hi, Birdie.” He groans, caressing Johnny head in such a tender way it clashes with the filthy image. “Are you hungry? Johnny here couldn't wait for dinner.”

“I can see…” You mumble back looking at Soap, unable to peel you away. You are glad you just got out of the tub, being able to attribute your blush to the heat of the bathroom. Still, no bath can explain the way you clench your thighs together, and Ghost chuckles when he notices.

“C’mere, birdie.” He instructs, extending his hand to you. You grab it, feeling him pull you close; his hand moves to your waist, cupping your face with the other. “I really want to kiss you right now, pretty bird”

And you know what he is asking for, to break the truce; because if you initiate it, he is technically not breaking it. And it is cruel, especially to Price that you know is going to be the last one to break it, but right now, with Ghost mask up to his nose and Johnny chocking on his dick, your mind is busy. 

You get on your tip toes, urging Ghost to bend down and he gives you a quick peck on your lips. Just to seal the deal, before he pulls your head from the back of your head making you open your mouth to groan and he gets his tongue inside your mouth, turning the groan into a moan. 

It is such a filthy kiss, its only fitting for a filthy situation that you just yourself into. 

Johnny doesn't last before calling for your attention, but he doesn't call you, instead, he pulls your leg between his and starts humping his leaking dick against you. It makes you look down breaking the kiss and making Ghost look down as well, he chuckles seeing the Scotsman so desperate and grabs a handful on his mohawk making him let go of his dick with a POP sound. “Don't fuck her leg, you fucking mutt” Johnny whines when he grips his hair harder and Ghost looks up to you. You can see the gears spinning inside his head when he looks from you to Soap, both grabbed by the hair, and you are not really surprised when he says. “Get on your knees for me, birdie.”

When you drop to your knees, Ghost pushes you and Soap’s head closer to each other and Soap bites your mouth kissing you as he devours your lips. His knee on the ground is against your cunt, and when he flexes closer to you it makes you moan inside his mouth.

Soon, Soap’s tongue is not the only thing in your mouth and you feel something blunt nudge at the side of your lips. You pull apart an inch, opening your eyes, just in time to see Ghost’s dick slide between Soaps and your mouth. Both tongues getting tangled around his already wet length, Ghost moans without letting go of both of your head. Soap hands find their way to your waist, and start to help you grind yourself against his tigh. 

“She is going to ruin your underwear, Johnny.” Ghost manages to say between grunts and moans. “Better to help her take them off.”

Big hands grab you from under your arms hoisting you up, Ghost holds you against his chest with your back pressed to him and Soap helps you take off your underwear. Just when you are naked from the waist down, you feel Ghost slip his dick between your folds, rubbing your clit on his way forward. His red tips stick out from between your legs, and you can almost feel Soap mouth water and the sight of both your crotch together. “C’mon, Johnny, I didn't tell you to stop sucking.”

Johnny’s tongue is warm against your skin, and for a second when you look down, all you see is Ghost fucking Soap’s mouth through you. Until Ghost begins to thrust, and his tip keeps nudging at your clit and if it is not his tip it’s Soap's tongue running side to side on it. 

Ghost is still hugging you from behind, his face now hidden in your neck moaning little words that don't make sense, you grab his arms trying to keep yourself steady, you can barely reach the floor having to be on your tiptoes on top of Ghost's feet. 

The mix of it all, feeling almost like a fleshlight by Ghost, Soap moaning and gagging so close to your clit and Ghost’s dick rubbing again and again against your clit, has you cumming embarrassedly quickly. And if it wasn't for the way Ghost moans against your neck when you clench your thighs together, pulling Soap’s hair again to keep him from sucking him, basically edging himself not to cum yet, you would be embarrassed. Instead, you are almost ready to cum again in mere seconds.

“It looks like Johnny is a bit needy right now, doll. Do you wanna sit on his dick, hm? Suck my dick while you do? Johnny has been talking nonstop about that little mouth of yours, birdie. Been driving me crazy.” He says as he kisses your neck, leaving it wet with his spit as he barely manages to speak properly. 

Soaps, still on his knees, sits on his feet, cock free and ready for you to sit on it. You hoist his lap, getting your knees on the floor sided to his forcing you to spread your legs. You rest your hands on his knees as you lower yourself, and moan in tandem with Soap once he is completely seated. 

Ghost grabs your hands, almost picking you up, and moves them to his thighs to allow you to support yourself. Soaps begin to move, slowly, letting you get adjusted to the stretch, as he begins to fuck you almost doggy style. It pushes you forward, and you moan against Ghost’s dick making him shudder.

You start to kiss his tip, soon getting your lips around it earning a moan of your name from Ghost. He caresses your head, brushing your hair away from your face. Soap grabs your waist, helping himself fuck you faster, skin slapping against your ass making you moan as you suck Ghost’s dick.

It is almost as thick as Soap's, but it's the way it hits your throats that makes the difference. Tears prick at your eyes, slowly falling down your cheeks, and when Ghost sees them he coos at you as he smears them on your cheek with his thumb.

You can see his half-open mouth thanks to his mask being risen, and you clench your cunt when you see him bite his lips to keep his moans from spilling out. Soap hugs you from behind, bitting your shoulder and begins to piston in and out of you. His hand goes south, rubbing at your clit and you grab Ghost’s thigh sticking your nails in making him hiss almost like a moan. 

“I'm gonna cum all over your pretty face, hm? Painted like a canvas, love.” He groans grabbing your hair. “While Johnny paints you inside, all ours, inside and out, love. Our little birds, all ours.”  He keeps mumbling, taking his dick out to jack it off in front of your face. 

You stick your tongue out while looking at him, and moan when Johnny change his speed, becoming sloppy and switching the speed with slower but deeper thrusts. He moans against your shoulder, biting again hard and that's enough to send you over the edge. Johnny and Ghost following you as if they were waiting for you. 

Ghost spents end up mostly in your mouth, but you feel the hot spurts settle on your face making you close your eyes. Soap sits down, stretching his legs, and he pulls you with him, softening your dick still inside of you. 

“I wish I could send Price a picture right now” Ghost says chuckling looking down at the both of you who chuckle too with difficulty to breath.

“I think… I think we should go shower again, bonnie.” Soaps says behind you, and you can only agree. 

Once cleaned, the three of you sit around the sofa ready to have dinner, quite delicious and gracefully, not burnt. 

“So, bonnie, ye wanna go on date?” Soap asks with his mouth full.

“I was gonna ask first, was swallowing my food.” Ghost says, almost scolding him.

“Actually… I thought about it, and I think I want to go on a date with…

Hii, how are you?!

The next chapter is your choice, bam, bam, baaaammm!!

Let me know if there is any kind of date or anything like that that you would like to happen, hehe.

Also, just an explanation in case anyone was confused. As I said, English is not my first language, which means I don't really know many idioms in English, and that plus the fact that when I can remember how they are I just make up my own, sometimes they lack some sense 🤣.

When in this chapter Ghost says: "But don't bury the corpse without killing it first." I was thinking about the phrase "to sell the bear's skin before catching it", but that one is actually the opposite, it is when you are a bit too optimistic about how things are going to play out. So I don't know how I ended up writing the corpse one, and then I remember the fact that Ghost was buried alive and it just... in my mind it made sense.

Sorry if it doesn't 💗

As always, thank you so much for reading and for commenting, love youu ❤️🌸

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[unxpctedlygreat]

Hmmmmm

That ending left me a little on my hunger