#and it still hurts but i wanted to draw today so here we are | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Users from the US are the majority of Tumblr visitors.

#and it still hurts but i wanted to draw today so here we are

bellatrixscurls · 7 months

Text

exquisite weather today, no? | part i

warnings : smut, dom anthony and sub reader, pet names, fluff, ben and colin being little shits, reader is kind of naive given the action takes places sometime in the 1810s.

summary : anthony does not want to corrupt his innocent little wife... but what happens when his brothers lend him a helping hand?

a/n: please enjoy part one of my new series until i am done with the james and sirius fic, thank you! <3

“You are telling me that you have not slept in that way with your wife?” Benedict stops in their way down the halls, looking very much concerned. Anthony hums, checking his clock.

“But you’ve been married for almost a year now!” the younger brother exclaims, looking up at the viscount with a frown.

Anthony smirks and looks at his brother from the corner of his eye. “Not that it is any of your concern, but we do things. Together. Alone” his lie is obvious, but still, he leaves Benedict stunned in the middle of the hallway.

When he finally realises that the maids are looking at him funny, Benedict clears his throat and offers them a polite nod, before following Anthony into the drawing room.

Ah, here you are — sitting next to Colin on one of the sofas. With Anthony distracted, speaking to Daphne about the ‘Hearts and Flowers’ ball, he approaches you carefully, sitting beside Colin.

“Exquisite weather today, isn’t it?” he gives you a nod and you mirror his action, smiling, “Indeed it is, Ben.”

Colin looks between the two of you, back and forth, a confused smile gracing his lips. “This is not about the weather, is it?” he whispers through gritted teeth.

Benedict’s smile turns into a grin when the words leave his brother’s mouth. “I am, in fact, glad that you asked, Colin!” he says happily, “I came here because I need some... advice, from Y/n.”

Raising your eyebrows, you look at him in curiosity, “and what could someone such as yourself need advice for?”

Benedict thinks about it for a moment; should he say it? He means no harm but... a little fun won’t hurt... will it?

“Sex” the words leave his mouth and Colin chokes on his tea, eyes wide as he looks back at Benedict. ‘Are you mad?’ he mouths to his brother, but the second-born chooses to ignore him and look back at you. “So. Y/n?”

Benedict finds you looking up at him with wide eyes, lips pursed as you tried to search for that word in your mind, but with no results. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Ben.”

This time, it is Colin looking back at you, a deep frown settling on his face. “Pardon? Anthony is your husband, there is no such thing as not knowing what sex is.. Does he refer to it differently?”

“You know... when you’re alone, naked, and he towers over you. That thing he puts in between your legs” Benedict quips, already very much content of where Colin has taken the conversation.

“He towers over me?”

The two burst out laughing at your cluelessness and, from the other side of the large room, Anthony’s brows furrow in concern.

“His cock, sweetness. What he has between his legs. I’m sure he spoils the crap out of you with it every night” Benedict taunts and Colin laughs breathily, adding on “or maybe he does not, brother. Seeing that Anthony is so busy all the time. He has more important things to take care of, I suppose.”

At this point, your eyes are teary and your hands are shaking as you listen to your brothers-in-law tease you endlessly. You are not aware of the meaning behind it, though.

In a moment, you feel a hand wrap around your waist and pull you up against the warmth of someone’s body; Anthony. As you look up at him, his heart shatters and his jaw clenches. “I do not know what you did, but be sure that I will find out. And when I do, I hope you will be taking a walk far away from here. More walks.”

And with that, he takes you away from his brothers and rest of the family, not bothering to excuse himself or you, his face red with hatred. He doesn’t know what his brothers told you, but he is positive that it managed to hurt you... And Anthony cannot bare seeing you hurt.

His hand grips yours tightly, in a possessive manner, not hurting you. He is always gentle with you, no matter the circumstances.

Once you reach the wooden door, Anthony ushers you into the bedroom with a hand at the small of your back, following closely behind before he closes the door.

“What did they tell you, my love?” his tone is alarmed and so are his hands, twitching at his sides.

When your eyes finally meet his, they are still filled with tears, sadness pulling at your heart. “Am I a burden to you? Am I- not pretty enough?”

Anthony’s heart breaks and he realises that he’s never seen you so sad before, not even when you were merely a couple and you had family issues.

“Angel, you have to tell me what it is that they told you. I need to know” he repeats through gritted teeth, ready to walk down those stairs and strangle Benedict and Colin.

“Sex” you repeat Benedict’s words unsurely, glancing up at Anthony. “Told me you are too busy for that. And I- you have never told me of that.”

At this point, his hands fly to your waist and he positions you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your lower body as he turns you to face him entirely. “My darling- They told you that? I-” he seems at a loss for words, and finally, his lips fall into a straight line and he lets go of your hand for a second, walking away from you, and to the floor mirror in his room. You pout as you lose his warmth, and your brows furrow when you notice him pulling the mirror towards you.

He takes his hand in yours and he helps you to your feet, your bottom lip wobbling when you catch sight of your teary eyes, but Anthony notices immediately, and his hands move to hug you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You are so beautiful” he says softly, placing a kiss on the side of your neck, nosing at your skin as he continues speaking, “Undress for me, my love.”

Breathing having picked up, your eyes widen anxiously as your hands find his. “Anthony-” “I want to show you how good I can make you feel. Trust me. Please” he pleads, his eyes looking helplessly into yours. You give a curt nod, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Your shaky hands move to undress yourself and Anthony helps peel off your dress and chemise, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him.

Anthony lets out one of the most obscene sounds when he presses his clothed body to your bare one, and you can feel his erection pressing into your backside, not that you are aware of what that is. Yet.

“Your hand. Move it down your body” he commands rather softly, watching you through the mirror. Your cheeks heat up but you obey nonetheless, your left hand stopping right above your lower stomach, “Lower. Touch your pussy for me, sweetheart.”

“Alright” you take a deep breath, your hand sliding further down your body, resting at your cunt, your warm touch making you shiver. “Feels odd” you whine, eyes pleading as you find his eyes through the mirror.

He bites his lip, his eyes closing for a moment before he is able to look at you again. “It shall feel good in just a moment... Can- Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes, please” you whisper and his hand instantly reaches to your cunt, using both of his hands to spread you open, your folds damp and spread out for him. “S’pretty” you say absentmindedly, dreamily staring at yourself in the mirror.

“Yes it is” he hums, grinning widely against your shoulder. His middle finger taps your clit twice, and he smirks as your body jolts up. “See this, darling? It’s your clit, your little button... You can rub it whenever you wish to feel good.”

“Whenever I wish?” you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yes, sweetness” he hums, his cock hardening at the thought of you wanting to touch yourself, let alone to the thought of him. “And if you want it to feel even better, you must-” with your hole dripping wet, Anthony manages to slip a digit right inside of you, causing you to gasp in both slight pain and excitement. He is finally giving it to you.

“Anthony- what is this?” you ask curiously, Anthony’s finger still inside of you, leaving you to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

“Bit of stimulation before I can give you my cock, bunny. Or, as my dear brothers wish to call it, have sex” he chuckles lowly and starts pumping his finger into you, your fragile body shaking, your knees ready to give out, but you know that he is here to catch you.

“Great” you reply breathily, one of your hands slipping into his.

“You must relax, my love” he tuts, moving his finger in and out slowly, the feeling leaving you bucking your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back. “Let them enjoy the show” he eyes you intently through the mirror.

You look at him rather confused, but his other hand moves to cup your jaw and gently turn your head to the side, towards the door.

A door cracked open. Benedict and Colin.

#anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton smut #bridgerton fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

tojipie · 6 months

Note

adah imagine prisoner!toji getting eaten up by his own thoughts one night in his cell. because how can this be satisfying for you? having quick sex once every two months? a girl like you deserves so much better. so he brings it up one time during the visits, and you see how hard it is for him, but still, through gritted teeth he reassures you he wouldn’t blame you for indulging in someone else every once in a while. JUST THE ANGST!! and reader of course being like … what the fuck are you talking ab i jerk off to your pictures?

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: hurt/comfort, angst

“and then turns out there actually was a fucking rat in his cell,” your boyfriend wheezes, his booming laughs marking the end of the story he’d been telling you for the past half hour.

the visiting hall is bustling today, packed to the brim with the wives, partners, and kids of the state’s incarcerated, all making the drive up right before new years.

you notice the sudden silence as your shared laughs die down, bemused at the inmate’s choice to not keep the conversation going.

“you okay?” you ask, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers.

except toji doesn’t squeeze your hand like he always does, letting the appendage lay limp in yours.the older man opens his mouth to say something, looking around the busy room with a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

“do you miss.. how we used to be?” he asks, voice sounding detached.

something sour stirs in the pit of your stomach at the way he’s acting. if the sudden change in ambiance didn’t give you whiplash, his vague question definitely did the job.

“i mean, of course i do,” you laugh nervously, rubbing a thumb softly over his knuckles. the inmate squeezes back this time, quelling the storm of anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“the sex i mean,” he explains, looking up from the floor to speak to you head on. “do you feel.. deprived? are your needs getting met?”

your thumb stills for just a moment as you think it over, though you doubt he even notices. the truth was yes, going from getting fucked every day to getting fucked every 6 or 7 weeks wasn’t exactly ideal. but what else were you two supposed to do? the man was serving a 7 year sentence for christ’s sake.

toji takes your momentary silence as an answer, sitting up straighter before speaking once more.

“i’m just saying if you ever found a man to fill in the gaps then i’d be open to it,” he explains. you notice a hint of unsureness behind his stone facade, catching onto the way his hand begins to fiddle with yours. what was he playing at?

“you’re saying you want me to cheat on you?” you ask, exasperated. where was this even coming from?

“god, fuck,” he sighs frustratedly, running both hands over his face slowly.

“i can’t give you what you need, can’t— not like how we used to,” his voice tapers off at the end like he’s scared to upset you. “shiu’s had a crush on you for years, i’d know he’d take good care of you.”

you step back from the table to gather yourself, pacing in front of the inmate like a woman gone mad. you’re grateful the constant circulation of inmates and visitors in the room is drawing attention away from you, otherwise an officer probably would have come over by now.

you couldn’t even believe what toji was offering to you. seeking out other men— his business partners—to “fill in the gaps”? when the love of your life was only a car drive away? fat fucking chance.

you stalk over to his side of the table, pointing an accusatory finger to his face.

“if you ever..” you pause, blinking away tears, “think that i’d give up on you just because we don’t have sex as often as we did then you’d be fucking crazy.”

you see him audibly flinch when your voice cracks, the weight of your emotions bringing him literal pain. toji’s eyes have gone wide, realizing the implications of his offer.

“i’m sorry baby, fuck, i’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling your face into the curve of his neck despite the harsh restrictions on touch set during visits. you silently thank the bustling crowd again for shielding the two of you, clutching at each other so deeply you think you might just meld into him.

“don’t want anybody but you,” you say with finality, pressing soft kisses to his pulse.

“i know sweetheart, i hear ya.”

you stay like that for the rest of your visit, breathing in each other’s warmth as calloused hands rubs circles into your back. neither of you say anything, not needing to when both do you knew you’d always find a way to make it work.

taglist 🏷️ <3

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq

#adah’s asks #prison bf! toji #prison bf!toji #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji hcs #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader smut #toji x female reader #toji x female reader smut #toji smut #toji angst #toji x reader angst #fushiguro toji x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro

2K notes · View notes

cremedensada · 1 month

Note

I’m gonna need general hcs on interactions with the boy next door… like what if we just moved to town and we first meet him as we’re moving in… Also can they be in like highschool? I don’t know if that’s already the gist but yeah. She’s moving in with her mom and he’s there…

Yandere Boy Next Door

sorry anon i think i went way to far away from what you wanted shdhdh also theyre senior high school students (grade 11 - 12) which is like, two preparatory years for college. so theyre adults bc im much more comfortable with that :33

btw his name is lukas !! he's named now

male yandere + gender neutral darling/reader

lukas is easily approachable - he's got that warmth about him that just draws people in. it's all practiced to maintain his popularity though.

he's also a huge people-pleaser, despite the fact he easily gets burnt out and has his social battery drained.

so when his mom asked him to be a dear and help the new neighbor's kid on their way around the school + neighborhood, he just couldn't say no

sure he's tired, possibly close to having another breakdown just thinking about being pestered by fellow students for answers to homeworks and other menial stuff, but he still manages to say yes and give her another perfectly practiced smile

when he goes over to the house next to theirs - the ones you moved in to, you had no lasting impression on him

now, don't be mistaken, he does think you're good looking but at the end of the day he'd much rather curl up in bed and sleep

so he puts up that perfectly crafted persona and invites you to head to school with him. a new environment is much easier to deal with when you're not dealing with it by yourself! (or something like that)

he tries not to be overbearing, trying to get you to open up while also making sure he's respecting your boundaries and comfort as you made your way inside the school gates

you don't share the same classes, so he asks you for your time table so he knows your schedule

he hopes he's not being creepy or anything, he's just making sure your first day transferring here goes well

sure he's known for being a caring person in general but he does feel like it's his responsibility to make sure you're doing well you know? you're neighbors now, you guys should get along!

it's smooth sailing until it's time you guys finally went home

like that morning, he waits for you and invites you to walk home with him to familiarize with the shortcuts and local lounging spots for students

all the while he tries to get you to talk about your experience today

it must be due to the amount of stress piled up on his plate that lead him to feel... nervous.

his perfect persona cracking as his calm demeanour and collected way of talking slowly devolved into nervous tangents talking about anything at all

were you displeased? his perfection was practiced and polished since he was a kid, was it still not enough for you?

he could handle disappointing people a lot better now but paired with his currently leaning towards unstable, your displeasure is something that's slowly tearing him from the inside

he's jolted out of his thoughts when you suddenly speak up.

"thanks for showing me around. i thought i was going to struggle getting used to things all by myself."

you smiled up at him. "so... yeah. you're... okay."

his heart thumped.

everywhere all around him feels a ton of degrees warmer.

"...okay." lukas was tongue tied.

on the remainder of the journey back home, he walked you to your house, ensuring you got inside safely before making a beeline towards their house and into his room.

normally at this hour he'd be passed out in bed, tired after a whole day of pretending and smiling. today was perhaps the first time he didn't go to bed with his cheeks hurting and aching from smiling so much.

laying in bed, making an excuse as to why he's not going to be joining for dinner, just thinking about you and your words.

lukas grew up living to the standards of being perfect. a perfect son. a perfect student. a perfect friend.

anything less is... unacceptable to say the least. when you do or think of something so often in your day to day life, it becomes a habit. and lukas' habit is perfection.

but you thought he was okay.

okay.

suddenly 'okay' sounds much better than being perfect.

suddenly your opinion towards him becomes much more important than anyone else's.

lukas is a people pleaser, and onwards from that moment, the only 'people' he will ever want to please is you.

i hope this is sufficient? i'm actually v sleepy rn lol but thank you for the idea!

#sub yandere #sub character #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere #yandere scenarios #tw yandere #gender neutral reader #gn reader #yandere boy next door #oc: lukas

274 notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 5 months

Note

Hi! Idk if you’re taking requests, but maybe a sequel to ‘headache’ with Alessia, where this time reader is the one with the headache?

part one headache 2.0 II a.russo

alarm bells had sung out in alessia's head from the very first moment she'd woken up this morning, having fallen asleep with you tucked up beside her she was surprised to find the bed empty.

sitting up and rubbing her face tiredly she'd blinked the sleep from her eyes and checked the other bed, maybe you'd wanted some space.

but no, that one was also empty which further peaked her suspicion.

"babe? are you here?" she called out, frown deepening when she didn't receive a response at first. then after a few beats of silence pass she heard what sounded like the faintest of hums from the bathroom.

quickly kicking off the duvet she tied her hair up and out of her face, padding toward the open bathroom door, heart falling into her stomach at the sight of you laid down on the floor with a towel over your face.

"baby?" she was knelt beside you in an instant, gently peeling off the wet towel as you blinked a few times, wincing at the harsh white light of the bathroom and groaning quietly. "what's happened? are you hurt? sick? did you pass out? throw up?" alessia helped you to sit up, checking all over you as you softly pushed her away.

"i'm fine less." you brushed off her concerns with a sigh that didn't pass as okay. "well i just found you asleep on the bathroom floor, so something is up pretty girl. talk to me!" alessia worried, still fussing over you as you gently pushed away her hands, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"i just have a bit of a headache and i thought the cold tiles and a wet towel might help." you admitted, eyes closed as alessia reached up to flick off the bathroom light. "oh my love." the blonde's face softened, quietly murmuring that the floor was hardly clean and helping you up to your feet and back to bed.

"how bad is it one to ten? don't lie please." she all but whispered, squatted down as you sat on the edge of the bed, still pinching the bridge of your nose hoping it might relieve some pressure. "a six? seven maybe? it was worse before but it keeps going up and down, i woke up around four i think." you mumbled quietly.

"hey why didn't you wake me?" alessia frowned, thumb gently carressing your cheek. "didn't wanna bother you." you grumbled quietly, the obvious strain in your voice causing her heart to break a little further.

"my beautiful girl you are never a bother, we've spoken about this before." alessia assured you with another frown, kissing the crown of your head as you nodded and mumbled a near inaudible apology.

"i'm gonna go talk to sarina babe you cannot train today." alessia decided for you seeing the obvious wince of pain flash across your face once again.

"i'll be fine less! please. we're only in the gym today and i can handle that, i just need some water and some food and a tablet." you argued, alessia biting her tongue knowing just how stubborn you could be, especially when it came to national camps.

"fine. but i'm still telling her you've got a headache so she keeps an eye on it!" your girlfriend warned as you nodded, also not having the energy to go back and forth. "i can go down and bring you up some food baby? give you an extra hour or two of rest." her tone softened again as she looked at you sympathetically.

"no no it's okay. can you get me a bottle of water though please?" you requested softly, a cold bottle from the fridge in your hand within seconds, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth as you pressed it against your closed eyes.

whilst you did alessia raced around the room, drawing the curtains and trying to make the room as dark as possible, swearing quietly as she stubbed her toe on the end of the bed, biting down on her bottom lip to stop her from yelling out she took a few deep breaths.

"come here and lay down baby, we still have some time before breakfast." alessia moved to sit up against the headrest of the bed, tapping the space between her legs as you managed to shuffle over. laying down your head rested in her lap and her fingers carded through your hair.

"is this okay?" she asked softly with a frown, bending down to mumble the words against your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss on the warm skin as you nodded wordlessly, melting into her tender touch.

"i love you lessi." you whispered out as the blonde swooned, ducking down again to this time press a sweet kiss to your lips, whispering those same three words right back.

"maybe this wasn't the best idea." alessia mumbled, herself wincing at the sudden change of volume as the two of you entered the dining hall she couldn't imagine how it would feel for you. "it's fine." you dismissed with a small sigh, tucking yourself more into her side.

"what do you feel like you can stomach babe?" the blonde asked quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head, her arm draped protectively over your shoulder as you cuddled into her side.

"whatever you're having, maybe some eggs though please." you whispered, alessia nodding and ordering the two of you eggs the way she knew you liked, grabbing some toast and fruit for the pair of you as well.

"good morning lovebirds!" alessia winced as mary appeared beside her, throwing her own arm over your shoulder as the striker was quick to shove her off. "oi! feeling a bit possessive are we less?" the goalkeeper teased, earning herself a withering glare.

"she's got a headache mary and you're as loud as a foghorn. shut up or go away!" alessia warned sternly, smiling in thanks to the chef as she grabbed your shared tray.

"jesus alright! no need to bite my head off." mary rolled her eyes, staying behind to grab her own food as alessia guided the two of you to an empty table on the opposite side of the room, as far away from everyone as the two of you could get.

"i can feed myself lessi my head hurts not my hands." you cracked a smile as the blonde attempted to offer you a forkful of eggs, picking up your own cutlery.

"just trying to take care of you is all baby." alessia kissed your cheek sweetly, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as you ate, your body still tucked securely into her side.

but of course that peace didn't last.

"oi ya left me on read this morning kid, not appreciated!" alessia's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as lucy teasingly smacked the back of your head, taking a seat with her breakfast and missing the pain which flickered across your face.

"lucy!" alessia seethed, fussing over you as you mumbled you were fine, gently prying away her hands.

"what? she's not made of fine china less she hits me about all the time." the older girl rolled her eyes unknowingly. "she's got a fucking headache and you just smacked her right where it hurts!" alessia growled protectively, lucy's face paling as she paused mid mouthful.

"shit! sorry kid." the northerner winced apologetically as you waved her off wordlessly, the pain starting to set in behind your eyes now from the harsh light of the hall, training your gaze down to the table instead.

"good moorning england!" alessia winced now as ella, grace and georgia joined the three of you, ella screaming at the top of her lungs as she dropped herself down across from you, grace and georgia chattering away.

"what no good mornin back? where's ya manners gone then!" grace teased as she greeted you and you remained silent, pulling you into a headlock as alessia was on her feet within seconds, yanking the younger girl off who paled at the sight of the scowl on her face.

"i was jokin round with her less honest!" the blonde apologised with her hands in the air, wide eyed and terrified of the striker who suddenly sent a mean glare to the entire table, stood protectively behind you.

"whats in your shorts this morning then less? why do you look like somebody pissed in your cereal." ella sent her a toothy grin, lucy stamping on her foot and shaking her head as the mancunian frowned in confusion. "what?"

"she's got a headache would all of you please shut up and keep your hands off of her and to yourself!" alessia warned firmly, dropping back into her seat and tugging you tighter into her side, arm again wrapped securely around your shoulders.

"a headache? aw poor baby!" ella teased, lucy sighing with a wince as even georgia shook her head to signal ella to lay off.

"tooney would you like to get through today being able to talk? because i'll personally shove my hand in your mouth and tie your tongue in a knot if it means you shut up!" the blonde threatened seriously, rendering her best friend speechless.

"lessi it's fine love, eat your breakfast please." you murmured knocking your knee against her as she fixed the girls with one final glare, kissing your cheek and going back to eating, an awkward silence settling around the table.

"so less would you prefer we call you nurse russo or doctor russo?" "right thats it come here tooney!"

#alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo #woso blurbs #engwnt #woso

524 notes · View notes

chestnutisland · 2 months

Text

I'm not sure what to say so I'm just gonna type out what comes to mind, the news of Akira Toriyama passing away came as such a shock that I needed a minute to process it, even now it's still surreal to me.

We lost a legend, a wonderfully creative soul who made an impact that reached far and wide. His works have been a part of my life since I was a teen, I'm so much older now. It hurts but his legacy will live on, his hard work and dedication will not ever be forgotten.

For me personally, I thank him for giving me an outlet, a creative muse, and inspiration. Drawing dbz fanart and taking inspiration from his other character designs is what shaped me into the artist I am today and I'm forever grateful for the journey.

The DBZ fandom gives me such joy still to this day. I remember reading the OG DB manga in Dutch, faithfully buying the new issues when they came out. I remember bonding with my middle sister over the anime, we would sit in front of the TV and comment on things we noticed in the episodes we watched. I remember discussing anything and everything db-related with friends and classmates and later on online friends.

I remember the early days of shipping fandom, the early days of K18 and I'm so humbled to know some of us are still here from back then and how far we've come. How much more support there is now. I remember making this blog because I missed the old fandom rings and websites and wanted to share more positive Krillin content and by extend more K18 content. This blog is very dear to me and it's all been made possible because of one man and his wonderful ideas.

But I'm most thankful he gave me one of the best characters in Anime/manga in my humble opinion. A character I can relate to in so many ways and who's helped me through some of life's ups and downs. Krillin is special to me, he's always been my favorite so I just had to sketch something to show my appreciation.

Rest in Peace, fly high on Nimbus, and watch over us from beyond, Toriyama-Sensei.

#akira toriyama #krillin #dbz #rip #his legacy will live on

279 notes · View notes

foli-vora · 1 year

Text

gilded lily

pre/during-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

a/n: gif by moi. just me over here clowning around and hurting my own feelings lmaoo. we start off soft af, and then it all goes downhill very fast so enjoy the angst-fest! x

word count: 2.6k

warnings: brief mentions of potential pregnancy, graphic violence, blood/gore, violent murder (does it count as murder if they're a zombie? lmao), infected characters, heartbreak, mourning, angst angst angst - don't like, don't read. this does not have a happy ending.

note: this follows the general direction of the outbreak and how it unfolds in the show, it's not identical, but i'll still put a spoiler warning so yeah - consider yourself warned.

It’s a low buzz, a barely there ringing in your ears, settling in the background and never wavering despite your efforts to clean your ears and pop them. It draws your attention for most of the early morning you spend awake before the others, and it’s not until a body suddenly steps in the way of you staring vacantly at your reflection in the bathroom mirror that you even notice other things are going on.

Your eyes come to focus on Joel who stares at you expectantly, his brows raised at your silence.

“Oh, hi—sorry, what did you say?”

“You’re a bit spacy today… you feelin’ okay?” He mumbles around his toothbrush, his body brushing against yours as he leans back on the sink to face you.

A frown starts to pull at your features.

No, you’re not.

Something is definitely not right with the way you’re feeling, but you’re unable to put a proper label as to what. The flu? Food poisoning? All options that don’t seem to fit your particular… oddness.

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Your obvious struggle catches Joel’s attention and he’s quick to spit the frothy toothpaste from his mouth, washing it down the sink drain with a quick splash of water before turning his full attention on you.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t—” you pause, staring deep into his dark eyes before letting your frown disappear and forcing a little smile, “—it’s nothing. I’m fine. Really, baby, it’s nothing.”

You aren’t going to do anything that could potentially disturb his birthday—you’d been looking forward to it for weeks. An assortment of wrapped presents hide away in the bottom of the dresser, and you know Sarah’s been buzzing to give him his watch you both had taken to get fixed a week prior.

His mouth opens, no doubt to give you a sharp word about closing him out, but Sarah soon appears in the doorway with a warm good morning and the subject is left at that. You tread after her down the stairs, leaving Joel to scowl lightly at your back as he follows along behind.

Tommy appears just as you’re serving up breakfast, his full plate already waiting in your hand. His grin widens as he gives you a sweet kiss hello on your cheek before snatching the plate with an amused, “Am I that obvious?”

“You don’t want me to answer that,” you reply cheekily, your wide smile faltering when you struggle to open the bottle of pain relief.

“You okay?” He asks around a mouthful of eggs, eyeing the pills you pop into your mouth and swallow down with a mouthful of orange juice.

“Yeah, just not feeling the best today.”

“Are you pregnant?” He asks blankly, picking at the food on his plate as his eyes dart to your stomach.

His question immediately perks Joel’s interest, his hand holding the coffee pot hanging suspended over his mug as he shoots you a look from the corner of his eyes. His thoughts are plain as day—shit… are you?

Sarah perks at the table, the excitement already creeping into her features and you’re quick to cut in before she could get too ahead of herself.

“No,” you chuckle, poking Tommy’s side, “but thank you for the early morning freak out.”

Joel makes a little noise of thought, his rasp coming from around the mug he presses to his lips, “Would it be so bad if you were?”

“I don’t know,” you murmur softly, unable to keep a smile tugging at your cheeks, “would it?”

He shrugs, the barely there trace of a smirk playing along his lips as he nurses his coffee, “I wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

Tommy pipes up with a comment, his voice thick and far away, morphing in your ears until a shrill sound fills your mind, piercing your senses.

That goddamn ringing.

A wince pinches your features and you rub at your temples, willing the ache slowly building there to dissipate. A numb tingle grows over your fingertips, merely intensifying when you rub them together to will some feeling back into the pads.

“Honey?”

Snapping out of a sudden trance like state, you blink wildly as your eyes refocus on Joel and how he’s suddenly in front of you.

Heavy frown deepening, his hands come to cup your cheeks, tilting your head up and side to side. He studies your eyes, noting the strangely vacant look swirling in them and how you seem to struggle finding words.

Sarah shares his concern, stepping up next to him and curling a warm hand around yours.

“Dad, maybe you should take her to the hospital—”

“Yeah… yeah, I think I will. Baby, could you go get her jacket—”

“Don’t be silly,” you breathe, shaking your head and fighting the fog creeping along the corners of your mind. “I’m not sitting in the ER on your birthday, and besides you guys have a lot of work to do today. It’s probably a migraine, or something—I’ll just sleep it off.”

Tommy doesn’t seem all that convinced, his frown mirroring his brothers as he looks at you from over Joel’s shoulder.

“Are you sure? Coz you don’t look too good—work can always wait.”

“I’ll be fine,” you grin, delivering a firm smack to Joel’s ass, “you’re gonna be late—off you go, birthday boy. The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back and get your birthday presents.”

Joel’s jaw tightens, “You call me if anything changes, y’hear?”

Nothing changes, but nothing gets better.

You call into work after dropping Sarah off at school, explaining your sudden illness and confusion quickly forming when they say you’re not the first—a few of your co-workers had called in also. Something’s going around, they say.

There are reports everywhere.

The day passes quickly with you sleeping on the couch, hoping that whatever is plaguing you will pass by the time Joel gets home from his double. You wake to find Sarah hovering over you with a glass of water and a smile that barely hides her worry.

“How are you feeling?” She asks quietly, helping you sit up and tucking herself into the couch next to you.

“Better,” you lie, the smile on your lips forced.

If she doesn’t believe you, she doesn’t make it known.

You spend the evening cuddled with her on the couch, barely focusing on the shows that come and go. Time blurs together, the hours melding and dragging.

Somewhere inside of you, you feel something’s wrong. Badly wrong. Something’s not right. You start to twitch, random muscles in your body jumping at the most random of times.

At one point, Sarah pulls away from where she cuddles into your side, her obvious worry deepening with your increasingly erratic movements.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—I must’ve trapped a nerve, or something,” you murmur through numb lips, watching the way your fingers and hand twitch almost as if through a skewed, blurry lens before giving the limb a little shake and smiling. “I’m fine.”

You’re not fine. You can feel it everywhere. Something’s happening. Where the fuck is Joel?

—

Everything is fucked.

People are being attacked everywhere, people are dying everywhere. Just getting slaughtered, right in the middle of the fucking street.

It’s mayhem.

It’s terrifying and he doesn’t have a chance to truly process the emotion. It makes no sense, no damn sense, but he doesn’t bother to stop and think about it. He can’t. He needs to move, you all need to move and get the fuck out of town.

Joel bursts through the front door, echoes of jets and explosions and sirens sounding in the distance behind him, his face set in rigid determination. He should never have worked so fucking late.

“Girls, come on—” he roars, hoping the boom of his voice startles you both from sleep, “—in the truck, now!”

Sarah’s asleep and sprawled over the couch when he passes by the lounge, and he immediately goes for her, curling his fingers tightly around her shoulder and giving her a firm shake.

“Baby? Baby, wake up—”

Sarah blinks languidly, her face pinched and disorientated, but the sleep hanging in her eyes evaporates when a sudden explosion rattles the house. Her hands fly to clutch his arms, eyes now wide and filled with terror, darting to the window.

“What’s going on?!”

“Come on, we gotta go, baby, get up.”

She follows immediately, her hand not leaving his as he drags her outside. Tommy stands guard by the running truck, desperately trying to pull his lips into some sort of encouraging smile, but it comes across more as a grimace.

“What’s happening?” Sarah asks again, pausing when a familiar sound catches her attention. “Mercy? Mercy, here boy!”

Joel’s jaw tenses, his hands becoming increasingly more urgent as they shove her towards the vehicle, ignoring the frightened dog that bounds over to answer her familiar call.

“Sarah, get in the fuckin’ truck—”

“What about Mercy? We can’t just leave him outside, and what about—”

Tommy holds a calming hand out, his grip tightening on his rifle, “Joel’ll get her, and I’ll take him back, just get in—”

“You keep her in the truck!” Joel yells at his brother, turning away from them and running back towards the house, slamming his way through the front door, roaring your name again and again. He takes the stairs two at a time, marching straight for the bedroom only to discover you aren’t there.

Where the hell are you?

“Come on, honey, we gotta move—!”

A thud.

He spins for the bathroom, noticing the slither of light from under the door and immediately advancing towards it, hand reaching for the handle.

Locked.

He rattles it, hoping the weak thing would cave like it’s done so many times before. He knocks harshly when it holds firm, calling out your name, but a weight hitting the door sends panic through his system.

A weakened groan sounds through the timber and he shakes the handle again, his face creasing with worry. He doesn’t have a lot of time, none of you have a lot of time. He forces his shoulder up against the door and it soon gives way, shoving something heavy out of the way and slamming against the tiles.

“Honey, come—”

He stops, eyes finally taking in the form in front of him.

It’s you, but it’s not.

Ice creeps along his shoulders, hardening around his heart and sinking to the pit of his stomach. There’s something wild about your expression, an almost animalistic curl to your features. Your eyes have lost their usual warmth, their sparkle, now they’re feral, and locked right onto him.

God no, not you.

“Honey, baby,” he utters, stepping back and desperately willing, praying, for the unfolding situation to change in front of his eyes, “it’s me—I can’t… god, don’t make me do this. Please wake up. Show me you’re there, do somethin’—“

A guttural cry that barely sounds human tears its way out of your mouth and you lunge for him, hands poised ready to grab onto him. He evades your attack and dives into Sarah’s room, swiping one of her participation trophies from her drawers and barely able to turn before a weight hits his side and takes him down to the floor.

He curls a hand tightly around your throat, keeping your rabid, snarling face away from his and strikes. The marble base of the award meets your skull with a sickening crunch, but he doesn’t stop, his arm soon aching from the brutal force he puts behind each hit and causing blood to rain down over his face. He doesn’t stop until he feels the strength behind your hands vanish.

The sticky red substance coats the trophy and he lets out a sob as your body falls to the floor in an unmoving heap beside him. He throws the makeshift weapon away from him as his chest heaves, the heavy thud of it hitting the floor suddenly so loud in the now still house, and rolls onto his side, taking in your still form before carefully crawling closer.

He reaches out, placing a trembling hand against the part of your bloodied face he could see through the destruction, sick at how cold you feel and the way your thick blood coats his skin. His thumb brushes over your cheek, tracing the swollen veins lying beneath and he chokes on a cry.

“I’m so—fuck, honey, I-I’m so sorry—”

Remorse rolls through him in waves until it fills every vein, runs along every nerve. He should’ve been here. He should’ve done something. Was there even anything he could have done? Could he have saved you from any pain? Were you alone and scared? What were your last thoughts? Did you know what was happening? Is that why you were locked away?

“Joel?!” Tommy shouts from somewhere in the house, and it’s enough to tear him away from your body and the grief overwhelming him.

“Don’t let her up here!” He yells back, listening to Tommy quickly stop Sarah from climbing the stairs.

She couldn’t see this. She couldn’t remember you like this, mangled and bleeding out on her bedroom floor where you both had spent so much time reading over magazines, painting each other's nails and giggling over shitty TV shows. He wouldn’t let those memories be stained with the blood of the mother she had found so much comfort in, tainted by the monster that had become of her.

He takes one final look at you, smoothing a hand along your hairline and avoiding the caved in shattered bone only a few centimetres from his touch. Nausea rolls through him, hot acid bile rising in the back of his throat as he backs away from your body and stands on unsteady legs.

His hand flies out to rest against the wall as he stumbles back, eyes not leaving your twisted features and broken body. Eventually you fade from view once he rounds the corner and he turns for the stairs, his heart thundering in his chest.

Sarah sees him first, Tommy busy eyeing the windows and keeping his weapon at the ready.

“Is she sick?” She asks, noticing the obvious emptiness behind him.

Joel feels his shoulders deflate, stepping down the final steps and giving a solemn nod, “Yeah. Yeah, she was.”

The use of past tense brings a thick wave of emotion over his daughter's face, and his broken heart shatters even more. He tries to wipe the blood, your blood, from his hands, dragging them down the legs of his jeans and it catches her attention, her face creasing with anguish.

“You killed her,” she mumbles, tears filling her lash line as her eyes dart across his face.

He swallows the thick pressure in his throat, ignoring the look of sympathy his brother gives him and steps up to his daughter, holding back his own tears as hers spill over her cheeks.

“I did,” he returns quietly, “I did. I’m so sorry, baby—”

She softens when he reaches for her, his arms tightening around her and squeezing. Her lower lips wobbles with the effort of keeping her emotions at bay, her fingers tightening around his shirt as he curls around her. She shakes in his hold.

“The Adler’s were sick, too,” she whimpers into his shoulder, “are we sick?”

“No baby. No, we’re not sick,” Joel pulls away, cupping her cheek with a sticky hand and keeping his gaze steady with hers, “but we’ve gotta be brave, okay? We’re gonna be fine, but we’ve got to go.”

“We shouldn’t leave her behind—” she whimpers quietly, another stream of tears falling down her cheeks.

“We have to, baby girl. We have to, I... I’m not gonna lose you, too.”

everything pp: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @Karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide, @artsymaddie, @untitledarea, @sukunababe, @emiemiemiii, @your-slutty-gf, @wisecolornight, @emilianamason

joel miller: @jujuliaispunk

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

3K notes · View notes

kaynothanks · 2 months

Text

Behind The Sun

Pairing: Finnick Odair x fem!Reader

Warnings: murder, a true killing spree really, angst, dark thoughts, it's dark in general (I need to call my therapist), Finnick is taller than reader, reader has hair, and a brother, this is my attempt at fulfilling my need for a good Finnick fic after the clips of the new movie have been haunting me everywhere (let’s ignore that this is basically a dead fandom)

Word-Count: 20k (it's worth it, trust me)

You found getting your hair cut loathsome. It was unbearable any day but this day it seemed especially gruesome; sitting still and pretending for just a few moments longer that the day was like any other. Usually, you would think about how your mother kept pulling at your hair too harshly or that her hands were shaking far too much for you to even let her get close to your hair. Though on this day, all you could think about was the pair of scissors in her hands. Inconspicuous some might think, yet in your district you knew better.

Your hands shook at the thought of what the tributes from districts like One or Two could do with something as simple as a pair of scissors. You hissed in shock as your mother twirled your hair into a tight bun at the back of your head, frowning at hair through the mirror. She didn’t look at you, she didn’t look up at all.

Her shaking hands she placed on your shoulders, hesitating to face your reflection. The smile she forced was painful to witness. "It's going to be fine, after today, it's only one more year." Her smile faltered, realizing that your brother had to endure his first Reaping today and many more would follow.

She looked into the mirror, watching your brother who sat on the floor trying to get his light stick to work again. Some of the boys had built them themselves out of old parts the factories rendered useless. They would often sneak outside in the evenings to draw patterns into the air by swinging their light sticks—though your mother hadn’t allowed your brother to go recently, since his light stick blew up last time. Faulty wiring.

To redirect her attention, you laid your hand atop hers and smiled a forced smile, too. "It's going to be okay. His name is in there only once." Yours was in there over twenty times. You had signed up for Tesserae and claimed it multiple times throughout the last few years for yourself, your mother, your father, and your brother. "We should head out," you said and stood, grabbing your brother's attention. "The Reaping's going to start soon."

Your brother whined in protest. "I don’t wanna go. They're gonna hurt my finger."

You snorted and held your hand out for him to take. "It's just a prick, you'll barely even feel." Bidding his light stick goodbye, he grabbed your hand, letting himself be pulled up from the floor.

"You look funny," he commented, making you narrow your eyes at him.

"Yeah?" You questioned and tugged at his shirt, neatly stuffed into his pants. It was such a difference from his usual attire, consisting of dirt-stained trousers and ripped shirts. "So do you."

Walking beside your mother and brother, you could spot the red banners with the golden sigil hanging from the Justice Building from afar. A way for the government to proudly display Panem's power; forcing every citizen of District Five to attend—with the exemption of those too ill to make their way here. Dozens of cameras were set up around the premises.

Entering the square, you stood in line, waiting for registration with government officials. Giving a drop of blood was a strict requirement, a method used to identify the people of District Five. Your brother stood beside you, clearly fidgety. He hated needles and the sight of blood, too.

"Atlas," you whispered and your brother turned his anxious eyes to you. "Want me to slap you when the needle hits? You won't even notice the pinch." Laughing at him frowning at you, you gave his shoulder a shove. "My offer stands, just so you know."

You and he stepped up to the tables at the same time and you grinned brightly when he looked back at you, as though he was actually considering taking you up on your offer. Paying no mind to the man in white, you looked around. Many children stood already in their dedicated section, though none of them wore even just a hint of a smile. Understandably so, you thought. It was the first day of a fight for life and death and with just a little too much bad luck, it was one of their lives on the line. Your mother was already out of sight and when you were about to walk toward the front, where the oldest children gathered, a hand wrapped around yours.

You looked down at your brother—he was catching up to you rather quickly in height, you noticed.

"I don’t want to go alone."

Once more you forced a smile. "It's only for a little while, okay? And after this is over, I'll help you make a killer light stick, how's that sound?"

"With flickering lights and all?"

"With flickering light and everything else you can think of," you agreed and saw his face lighten up immediately. He nodded excitedly and bounced off to the far back of the male section. You walked close to the front and stood beside a girl from your classes. On the stage in front of the Justice Building stood Mayor Ward Smith and beside him the district escort, Twila Hearst. Behind them remained two of the previous District Five victors. Ivette Li-Sanchez, victor of the 50th Hunger Games, and James Logan, victor of the 43rd. James Logan by now was almost completely bald and had a limp in his step. You remembered everyone telling you about how much that man was admired back in the day.

Ivette had won her games at fifteen, making her now thirty. Although she looked far younger. Perhaps the Capitol was treating her fairly well, after all.

Mayor Smith stepped towards the microphone and smiled, spreading his arms in welcome. He thanked everyone for their attendance as if anyone had a say in the matter and started reciting the founding history of Panem not a second later. He covered everything as though he himself was a history teacher before moving on to the beginning of the Hunger Games and its rules. Warden Smith spoke of it as if there was nothing more graceful than becoming a tribute, sprouting off his mouth what spoils and riches come with victory. His eyes shifted down to a piece of paper as he read off the names of your district's previous Hunger Games victors.

It was good to know he cared enough to remember them by heart.

Introducing Twila Hearst he waited for some kind of applause, although quickly stepped aside upon noticing none was to come. Twila, too, appraised all the potential tributes and made some idle comments to not seem too excited about what was to follow. "Whom should we start this year with?" She questioned happily, putting her hands by her ears to signal she wanted the crowd to decide. A few female voices called out men as if the few seconds they gained by the male tribute being picked first made any difference.

"The men this year?" She gasped and opened her orange-painted lips in shock, not being able to hide her smirk. "Whatever happened to ladies first?" Stepping over to the Reaping Bowl filled with solely male names, she clapped. "But I'll give what the people demand!" Sticking her hand in the bowl, she fumbled around for far too long; a meaningless and cruel try to build up any more suspense as though the hope to walk away alive wasn’t channeling enough tension as it was.

She pulled a slip from deep within the bowl and opened it, reading the name first for herself before leaning towards the microphone. "Atlas Thornbury!" She called out and peered out into the crowd of gathered males, trying to make out if anybody had started walking towards the stage. "Atlas Thornbury, come up here my boy!"

You hadn’t registered at first. Hadn’t even paid attention, really. That flicker of hope you had held within your chest kept assuring you that once again you would walk away. When your mind caught up, you felt as though you could breathe. Your heart thundered against your ribcage as your head whipped from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of your brother. The girl from your class put a hand on your shoulder, trying to offer some kind of reassurance that all would be okay, though you knew it would not. He was barely a twelve-year-old boy, so thin he almost looked sickly. Atlas wouldn’t stand a chance. He wouldn’t survive. He would die. Die alone in a cage made for punishment and entertainment of the rich folk.

Peacekeepers were on the move the second your brother stepped out of line and escorted him to the front of the stage. You heard crying, you thought, or perhaps it was only your mind playing tricks, offering you a reaction of what you could do instead of staring panic-stricken. In your haze, you had missed Twila introducing Atlas to the rest of Panem and moving on to picking the female tribute.

She cleared her throat, the slip with the name already grasped loosely between her fingers. You swallowed and watched your brother in a state of paralysis. Even though you saw her lips move; you heard nothing. Nothing but your own blood rushing through your system, as you forcefully pushed the pitying hand off your shoulder and stepped out of line.

"I volunteer as Tribute!"

All heads snapped toward you as some Peacekeepers sprinted forward, keeping you from walking any further. You shoved them off, trying to get to the stage—to your brother, who was shaking so much you were sure he would break at any moment. Twila continued her blabbering but you ignored all. Ignored the whispers around you and pitiful glances and your mother's screams from all the way at the back, crying about both her children being taken from her in a split second.

You had barely stepped onto the stage when your brother's arms wrapped themselves around your waist. His cries shook his body weakly as you put your hands around his head. A tear fell from your eye before you could stop it.

Nothing was going to be okay.

When the ceremony was over, both of you were taken into custody and led into the Justice Building to a room that held more riches than perhaps the whole of District Five. Your mother was brought into the room by some Peacekeepers and you tried your hardest to soothe her wails and ceaseless cries. Though it was hard, when all you were left to feel was a shattering numbness. It didn’t matter anymore. You were going to die. And with that realization, you swore you would fight for your brother to your last breath and beyond.

---

You had never been on a train. Not that you had ever had the chance or permission to. Only those of the Capitol and those reaped had the chance. You didn’t know if you liked the feeling of not having still ground beneath your feet. The thought of moving so quickly without actually noticing the speed made you itch uncomfortably.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Twila asked, cutting herself a tiny piece of meat before bringing it to her mouth.

You looked to her, to your brother—who was stuffing his face with pastries—and to the two previous victors. "No."

"Well, then," Logan clapped and stood. He was the only one who, too, had refused to eat. "We should talk strategies." He walked over to a small table where different bottles of very expensive alcohol were arranged and poured himself half a glass of scotch. "Any skills or special talents we should be aware of?"

Atlas lifted his hand the same way he would in school and waited to be called on. "I make killer light sticks."

Logan looked confused. "What?"

"Toys," you responded in a hiss with half a mind to toss the table. "He makes toys."

"What about you?" Logan questioned. "Any talents?"

"No."

"I think I'm getting a tummy ache," Atlas complained and put down the pastry he was holding. You told him to go to his room and lie down a bit since it wouldn’t be too long before your arrival at the Capitol.

When he was gone you fixed the adults with a stern gaze. "We can all go on and pretend that you actually believe we stand a chance or drop the act and acknowledge the fact that we are as good as dead already."

Ivette snorted and your head whipped to the other side of the table. "Oh, angry girl, if there is anyone I believe will win, it's you."

You ignored the nickname and scoffed. "I think we already established that I don’t have any skills or talents or even a chance. If I were you, I'd lower my expectations."

She put down the cutlery and leaned forward. "You have anger, and trust me, that's enough." Ivette didn’t give you a chance to respond as she stood and turned on a big screen hanging from the wall. "Why don’t we see who you'll be competing against, hm?"

Clips of other Reapings played; the Career Districts first, showing how they fought over who got to volunteer this year. "Many volunteers this year," Ivette commented as the next clip started to play. District Four. A young boy stepped out of line, and you thought he resembled your brother quite a bit, when another male stepped out of line, volunteering for the boy. When you stayed silent, Ivette sighed. "I didn’t have any skills upon entering, either. But I learned because I had to. And you will, too. We both know you have something to fight for."

You stared at her and she stared right back. Leaning back in your chair, you gripped the plush armrest tightly. "Tell me what to do to keep him alive and I'll do it."

---

Upon arriving at the Capitol, you and your brother were brought to the City Circle, the center of the Capitol, where the Remake Center was located.

A group of extravagantly dressed personas stood with broad grins on their faces, waiting for your arrival. You and your brother were handed a blue rope each and were hurried inside to change. They separated you then, bringing you to a room with a metal surface to lie on. You were hesitant but the prep team gave you no room to argue, tutting you as though you were no more than a mindless child. Laying there, you let them do your nails, wax your brows, and remove every inch of body hair you had before they stuck you in a tub with cold water. When you shivered, they laughed, tutting you again, telling you if you had hurried it would have been warmer.

Afterward, they did your hair and added make-up and then told you to wait for the head stylist to arrive. You had the prep team repeatedly tell you why they were dressing you up, and each time they replied with sponsors. According to them, getting sponsors was crucial to the survival of the Games.

You shook with anger at being presented to the Capitol like a piece of meat, dolled up ridiculously in order to meet their beauty standards.

When the head stylist arrived the other members of the prep team brought in a laughably big gown that was completely transparent. "I'm not wearing that," you argued but the head stylist only raised his brow. "I'll be naked."

"It hurts my feelings that you'd think my execution of the power district would be done so poorly." He clapped and walked away. "Help her get dressed."

The prep team sprung into action, pulling you along with them before they stood on stools to let the dress down onto your body from higher above. You frowned at yourself. Not because you looked like a cloud of translucent puffiness, but because you had never worn anything feeling as comfortable as this gown. The material was indescribably soft on your skin and so light you could barely tell it was there in the first place.

You moved the tiniest bit and suddenly the dress turned a solid silver color. The head stylist came back with a headpiece in hand that was a mix between a crown and a halo. Your mouth fell open in hesitation. "Isn't this a little too—"

"Provocative?" He grinned and picked up a spray bottle of silver body paint. "Good."

Everything on your body was doctored to perfection; your eyelashes now had the length of half your pinky finger, your lips were drawn to look fuller with a vibrant metal shimmer, and your body to your neck up was covered in silver paint, sparkling notoriously when the sunlight hit you directly. When you looked up into the sky, it was a clear blue with no hint of darkness and you wondered if District Five was as dark as it was because the Capitol had stolen the sun. When the prep team was finally done with you and your brother, it was the late afternoon and you were immediately led along to the center of the City Circle. The other Tributes were gathered there already, standing beside black chariots drawn by night-shaded horses.

Hundreds of Capitol citizens had gathered along the Avenue of Tributes, chanting their favorite districts or just simply the word Hunger. The shouts echoed in your ear as whatever your brother was telling you faded into the background. Your eyes fell from Tribute to Tribute as blood rushed through your ears. Whom of them would you kill? Who would kill you? The pace of your breathing picked up as your hand fell to your stomach; you felt like your lungs were granting no more air to enter and the dress now appeared to be nothing but a cage.

A loud laughter snapped you out of your trance and your head whipped to where the roaring sound came from. A tall blonde male stood beside an old woman, who playfully slapped him on the arm while gifting him with a stern look that held no anger whatsoever. You tried recalling the names of the Tributes, which Logan and Ivette had spent over an hour teaching you, yet you were not sure when it came to him.

The girl beside him, the other tribute of District Four, was Adella. Both Tributes appeared mature enough to be over sixteen at last, perhaps eighteen even. As though he could feel your eyes glaring into his back, he shifted his gaze toward where you stood. Curiosity taking over the slight feeling of shame, you continued mustering him, wondering if he volunteered because he wanted to partake in the games as a Career or because he had felt true compassion for the little boy who had been chosen.

A sharp pain coursed through your arm as your head flew to look at the spot. Your brother's fingers were lingering close by to the piece of skin he had just pinched. You scowled at him, but he only nodded toward the head stylist standing in front of you. Redness arose at the back of your neck as you noticed he had been talking to you all along. He held his hand extended toward you, a small device in it. You took it without asking and waited for any kind of instruction.

"Press it when you're about halfway along."

"Why?"

He blinked at you and took it back in a flash, grimacing at the fact that you had questioned him once again. "I'll do it myself." He hurried you onto the chariot designated for District Five and patted both your shoulders. "Don’t forget to smile." Your brother nodded in agreement, though you stayed still.

Rhythmic pounding of drums joined the echoing chants and suddenly it seemed your pulse thrummed only after their beat. Chariot after chariot got to moving. Your district was almost in the middle, not too far behind and not too close to the front, and yet it wasn’t enough time to prepare you for the sight of thousands of people surrounding you.

When you had barely made it three feet onto the Avenue, you gripped your brother's hand. "Don’t smile," you told him, not taking your eyes off the spectacle before you.

"But he said—"

"I know what he said. I just don’t care." You did care. You cared that you didn’t want to give anybody the satisfaction of seeing even a flash of happiness about what they were doing to you. You refused to play into sick games, refused to just accept a punishment you didn’t deserve since it was for a rebellion that happened decades ago. It had not been your fight and the districts losing it and being brought close to extinction, for you, seemed to be punishment enough. The districts did not have anything else to give anymore and still, the Capitol took and took, and you knew they would never stop. Not without being stopped.

You would not play along. You would fight, but not for their entertainment or promised riches, but for your survival, your brother's survival, and the slim chance to bring him back to your mother safely.

Something happened then. You hadn’t noticed it at first, too caught up in the stream of your furious thoughts when gasps sounded and the applause went raging. Looking around, you tried spotting the cause, when your brother looked you up and down with big eyes. You peeked downward, spotting the previously silver dress had turned into a stream of bright, flowing electricity. It wasn’t a mere dress anymore; it was pulsing with life—with power. The long hemline of the dress, which was so long, it was close to dragging on the floor, was sprouting sparks of electricity, just like the back of your brother's suit. You could see other tributes in front of you looking up at the screens, wanting to know what all the hype was about.

The chariots gathered at the end of the avenue, standing in perfect rows and you wondered how often these horses had gone through this process. President Snow stood, walked forward, and bathed in the attention he was getting from the citizens of the Capitol. He stood high above the Tributes and for a second you found yourself thinking about how long he would fall, if someone were to shove him.

"Welcome," he spoke, his voice sounding through all the avenue. "Tributes, we welcome you. We salute your courage and your sacrifice, and we wish you happy Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor!" Not a moment after he had finished his little speech, the chariots were on the move again, drawing you back to where you had come from.

Stepping off the chariot, your dress was back to plain silver, though you had no time to ponder it when you were approached by Logan, Ivette, and Twila.

"Well, that was something," Logan commented and Ivette grimaced. "I thought the strategy was to—" He halted when he noticed other Tributes eyeing you curiously, and certainly not in friendly spirits. "Let's get you two to your apartments, we'll talk more when you don’t look like aluminum foil."

You were brought to the training center, where you would be staying in apartments for the week of your training. All the riches that were kept from the district were perhaps gathered in the Tributes' apartments—or at least whatever the parsimonious Capitol could bear to spare.

You had barely washed off the silver paint and slipped into some linen pants when there was a small, careful knock on your door. Opening it, you found your brother standing there donning clothes just as comfortable as your own. Smeared streaks of silver paint were still covering his face. He hesitated, towel in hand. "Can you help me?"

"Well, I'll need something in return."

He huffed annoyed. "What do you want?"

"You see, there is this buffet down in the cafeteria, and I'd really hate to go alone."

"There is more free food?" Atlas squeaked as if it was the best news he had ever gotten to hear. Which for him it might have been. Back home there wasn’t a lot of food to go around. "I hope they have more pastries. You have to try those!"

"We'll see." You still weren't hungry and the thought of eating any meal they served made you feel as if you were having an executioner's meal.

---

A lot of Tributes seemingly chose to avoid the chance to socialize with the enemy. A few empty metal tables stood spread around the room—you chose the one at the far back, not wanting to draw any more attention to you after what had happened at the Tribute Parade. Atlas was off before you had even sat down, going straight to the pastry table.

You rolled your eyes, wanting to mother him and tell him he should eat real food, but you didn’t want to take any specks of happiness he had left.

He came back with one or two pastries on his plate, saying he had found they had many kinds of meats to choose from and he wanted to try them all. You nodded along to everything he said, offering a smile here and there so you wouldn’t seem too disconnected from the conversation. With other tributes in the room, you just couldn’t focus on anything but the warning flashes in your mind, reminding you that danger was imminent.

Atlas pulled at your hand then, dragging you to the buffet, lecturing you on not eating all day. You snorted. Who was mothering whom now? Only because of his demands did you fill your plate with some of the many dishes to choose from. Atlas appeared content enough with the action and went on to load his own plate.

At the table, you pushed the food on your plate around aimlessly, poking some vegetables and cutting some meat without actually bringing it to your tongue. You felt sick to your stomach.

"You know," a voice said from behind you, amusement weirdly prominent in his tone. "There is a funny fact about food."

Peeking over your shoulder, you came face to face with the District Four male. And, seemingly, the arrogant smile was sewn onto his face. Not one moment you had seen him without it. A mask well crafted, you thought. You should perhaps hone your own; letting the Capitol know you loathed them wasn’t the smartest of moves to pull when you required their help. Sponsorships and all that.

"Interesting, truly," you said and turned back around, yet somehow you had the feeling you wouldn’t be able to shake him off so easily.

He sat across from you; plate loaded to the brim with maybe every kind of dish they offered. "It's supposed to be consumed with your mouth, not the eyes." Grinning, he shoved a piece of steak into his mouth. He groaned in exaggerated delight, making you raise your brow. "I've had fish for almost every meal for the past eighteen years, I'm going to spend the rest of it bathing in ribeye."

However long that may be, you thought, your eyes moving to find your brother still waiting in line. "You volunteered," you spoke then before you could think about it.

"Well, I guess I'm not the only one, am I?"

"Do you consider yourself a Career?"

The blonde snorted. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

He eyed someone over your shoulder and leaned in. "Not yet." Leaning back, he brought another cut piece of red meat to his lips. The District Four male nodded to your untouched plate. "Why aren't you eating?"

"They are serving us our last meals day in and day out as if it's gonna change anything about the fact that they want to see us slaughter each other. I can happily do without their insincere gestures of atonement."

"You really do not like the Capitol, do you, Spark?"

"And you do?"

He didn’t answer, forking himself another piece of food before pointing at your plate. "Are you going to eat that?" Understanding his inquiry, you shoved the plate across the table just as Atlas reappeared.

"Hello," your brother greeted and surprisingly set his plate right next to the man. "I'm Atlas."

The male nodded as if he didn’t already know and extended his hand. "Finnick."

"I know!" Your brother exclaimed. "You volunteered for the other boy. That was nice."

Finnick smiled and yet, you could clearly spot the pity in his eyes. Perhaps his mask wasn’t so perfectly crafted after all. Atlas' eyes found your plate across the table, no item of food missing. He frowned at you and deeply so. "Mom would be so mad at you right now." You wanted to tell him that he could tell on you all he wanted when you got him home. But with Finnick sitting across from you, you didn’t dare speak the words and let him see the doubt written across your face. "Can you at least eat the vegetables?" Atlas whined. "You always make me."

"Fine, but you're getting yourself a serving of them, too."

"Deal!" He jumped off the bench, grabbing himself another plate, and stepped into the short line again.

"I'm sorry," Finnick said out of the blue, drawing your attention back to him.

You swallowed, the corners of your mouth dropping low as you gave a slight nod, eyes finding your brother's form. "Me too."

---

The gymnasium was huge. The diversity of stations ranged from simple survival training with plants and berries to camouflage and all kinds of weaponry you had never known existed. All Tributes had gotten an orientation by the Head Trainer, with a rundown of all available stations and rules.

You were allowed to move freely in the gymnasium, socialize or spend the time however you pleased, though, under no circumstances, were you allowed to fight any other Tributes while training. Strictly forbidden was partaking in any combat exercises with each other. Experts were available to partner up with if anyone fancied a session.

Surrounding the whole of the gymnasium was one balcony, from where the Gamemakers observed closely the skills and talents of each tribute.

You had been training for a few days now, though while the other Tributes actively used their time in the gymnasium, Ivette had been giving you private sessions. She and Logan thought it best to go with the strategy of deception—to make everyone think you were harmless, useless. You had learned the basics with every other Tribute; what the weapons were called, how they were used, and so on.

Though mostly while others trained, you stayed close by your brother, observing him when in training with the head trainer and when he was aimlessly throwing knives and other weapons around, too. Once or twice, you spared a glance toward the balcony, finding the Gamemakers eyeing the action of your brother in amusement. For them, his life truly was nothing more than a plaything.

On the last day of training, you stood by your brother once more, trying to help him with throwing knives, although you found you weren't the best teacher. Another knife clunked to the floor without sticking in the target and you huffed. Ivette made teaching look so easy. You had picked the movements up in seconds but now trying to explain them seemed futile. With the other Tributes close by, you couldn’t even show Atlas the correct way of doing it or you would be on the brink of blowing Logan and Ivette's whole strategy.

"You need more force," you said, causing Atlas to stick his tongue out toward you, clearly annoyed and tired.

"You keep saying that, but it's not working! Just admit you don’t know what you're doing!"

"Spark's right," a—by now—familiar voice commented and you lit up in appreciation for Finnick's affirmation. "If you draw your hand back further, you're gonna get it." Atlas positioned himself the way Finnick told him to, looking at the older male for approval. The blonde nodded with a wink, showing your brother the hand movement again, just in case. Without waiting for Finnick to give the go, Atlas hurled the knife straight forward, and to your surprise—and your brother's, too—it bored itself into the target. It was far off from the point where it optimally should have hit, but a win was a win.

Finnick and you stepped away, letting your brother try by himself. The District Four male frowned down at you. "Why haven't you been training?"

"I… I did train," you protested, pointing to the countless survival stations. "I finished all of those."

He seemed truly worked up over it. "Those won't help when anybody comes after you."

"Are you planning to?" You joked, yet you weren't sure you were joking at all. When no reply followed you huffed and flared your arms. "I had never held a weapon before the beginning of the week. There is no way I could learn how to handle any of them, so I just… don't." You shrugged, trying to ignore the furious disbelief in his sea-green eyes.

"I thought you would do everything to protect your brother."

Again, your shoulders raised and fell. "Reality triumphed hope."

He shook his head and stormed off, leaving you to stare after him speechlessly. You still hadn’t gotten your answer. Would he come after you? He had conversed with you every day at every evening meal since the beginning of the week. Though ignored you most of the time when other Tributes were in proximity. Under any other circumstances, you were sure he would have been a friend. Not a fiend out for blood. You shook off your dense thoughts. Of course, he would come after you. It was the game, after all.

---

You felt like a dog, waiting to dance and show off whatever training you had received, hoping to get some kind of acknowledgment—a treat, expressed in a score number, which wouldn’t completely tank your chances at getting more sponsors. Apparently, you had a good amount of them already, so much so, that Logan felt confident that you would at least survive a few days in the arena.

His explanation of the statement was, that if the other tributes didn’t want to lose sponsors at the very beginning of the game, they would have to let you live since all of Panem seemed taken by you from the moment your dress lit up. He and Ivette had decided to tweak their strategy for you after getting word of the number of sponsors eagerly awaiting your test scores. They had told you not to hold back.

Your brother went before you. Atlas was gone for about ten minutes, before coming out with a bright grin, whispering a quick assurance that each throwing knife had hit the target. When you went in, you were met with nothing but playful chattering. Looking up at the balcony, you found that not a single person was paying attention to you. You frowned. Yes, in the training sessions, you had barely taken part in, but they could at least show some goddamned respect. They were going to kill you for their pure amusement.

Your nostrils flared as you walked to the table holding the weapons. Picking up a spear, you turned the perfectly balanced stick of metal over in your hand and took place across from the human-shaped target. For the week, Ivette had trained you hour upon hour, making sure you knew every movement, every stance, every impression there was to take in. Drawing your arm back, you focused your eyes, found the middle of the target, and hurled the spear forward. It hit the target with such force a good part of it went all the way through and was now poking out at the back of the thick target. And yet, none of them even spared you a glance.

You scoffed in disbelief, looking around for anything else that would get their attention until your eyes landed on a silver box on the wall. Peeking at the Gamemakers once more, you checked if they had at least acknowledged your existence by now, but no. Gripping a small knife from the table, you went over to the box and broke it open. Fuses, wires—a lot of wires. It was all you had been schooled in back in District Five.

You ripped out the see-through plastic wall that the wires were tugged away behind and pulled a handful of them out. Sorting them, you lined them up, lifted the knife, and cut straight through them. Everything went black. Panicked shouts followed as all of them struggled to see. Hard thing to do with the cables cut not only from the main source of power but the backup generators, too. The fuses you turned off, as you pulled at the two cables you had memorized and connected them. Turning the right fuse back on, a single source of light, focused only on one spot in the gymnasium, turned back on.

Their eyes were on you now, as you stood illuminated in a pool of darkness and threw the knife you were holding straight at the target's head. Angered and interested their attention fell from the twice perfectly penetrated target to you as you bowed with an annoyed grimace and left the room. Peacekeepers pushed past you, probably thinking you had ambushed and killed all the Gamemakers and there was a part in you—not small, not unconscious, not obscure—that wished you had. The men in white suits eyed you suspiciously, but you paid them no mind, more focused on the red flickering lights in the hallway. You hummed. There were more generators. The rest of the Tributes still waiting to be called in for their evaluations mustered you as you went past with your head held high, not giving away if you were the reason for the power failure. You went back to the apartment which for the day remained yours, only to find Atlas already waiting patiently in front of the TV.

You weren't sure if your brother had spent even just a single day at his apartment. It was right across the hall and yet it seemed to be too far for him. "You know they will be announced in the evening, right?"

He huffed. "I just wanna know what they thought. I handle the knives so well—just like Finnick showed me! They have to give me an okay score." Atlas only then appeared to remember that you had had your evaluation, too. "Do you think yours went well? What did you show them?"

You hesitated, not sure if your action had ruined your chances at a remotely fine training score. "I threw a knife, too." You shrugged. "We'll see what they thought about my performance in a few hours."

Taking a look at the clock, you grabbed a jacket and signed for your brother to follow. You were to spend the day with Ivette and Logan for them to prepare you for your interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Both of your mentors thought you were in dire need of training when it came to proper etiquette. Logan and Ivette had schooled you for hours, trying to get you to show a somewhat flirty, yet mysterious persona, which Caesar Flickerman and the rest of the Capitol would eat up. Twila then busied herself with scorning and arguing with you over the ways of proper etiquette. Deeming you readied enough, they put their attention on Atlas, letting you off the leash that you were on—you weren't more than a lapdog by now, after all.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Atlas was peacefully sleeping beside you and every time your eyes remotely closed, you jolted awake, scared you would wake in the arena, where harm lured, waiting to take your brother. You knew, of course, the arena was yet another day away, you wouldn’t just wake there, but telling yourself it over and over again didn’t help one bit. Too anxious, you stood and slipped on a rope. Downstairs they had food, you thought. Perhaps after days of barely eating anything, you needed some sugar to calm your nerves. Peacekeepers were stationed in and around the building; the only reason why they allowed the Tributes to move freely within. Although they were a little weary now, since on day four, a District Seven male had tried to escape. They had caught him, naturally, and made an example out of him, too. He had been whipped. Cruelly and gruesomely, with no hint of mercy, only swings filled with content.

The Peacekeepers had no interest in peace, you thought. They were sadists to some degree, jumping at every chance to punish, and even to kill. Their title and position in the Capitol's food chain gave them no limitations. In the name of the Capitol, in the name of President Snow, they had said, and chained the poor male up—as if he wouldn’t be fighting for his life soon enough—and hurled thinly threaded metal cord across his back. They had left him to bleed there, unconscious and shivering.

The cafeteria stood empty, not even a Peacekeeper was bothered to keep watch. You hesitated as you gripped a plate from the high stack and went over to the different dishes. Some of them were stored away in coolers, while others still shimmered over low heat, keeping them warm and prepared, in case any Tribute experienced nightly cravings. You did exactly what Atlas had done the past few days, and went straight for the pastries.

"So, this is how you do it, huh?" An amused voice hummed. "You have tricked us all, pretending to starve yourself, when in reality, you sneak down here at night."

"Yes, Finnick," you played along. "You have finally uncovered my deepest, darkest secret." Cocking your head, you stalked to a table and set the plate down before turning to look at him. "What are you going to do with it?" Finnick's broad form was leaning against the doorway. His blonde locks were a clear mess, giving away that you hadn't been the only one tossing and turning.

He only grinned, turning his head downward, before pushing himself off the doorway. Finnick made his way over to the table, halting close to you. Closer than you had ever been, you noticed. Perhaps the nightly distress had made him unhinged, his impulses winning over the schooled restraint, which usually kept him so well in check.

Seeing Finnick's agents not totally in balance was a true rarity. There was only one other time he had let his guard down. An accident, you guessed, when he had slipped up and his frustration had gotten the better of him.

"I have always been curious about secrets, you know?" He went on, studying your face for any sign of discomfort at his nighness.

"Isn't that just a fancy way of saying you are nosy?"

Finnick chuckled. "I know a lot of them, too. The other Tributes'. They are quite open after some sweet-talking."

"Of course, if anyone were to get anything out of them, it would be you."

"Do you want a little pre-view?" In his grin you found true excitement, something you hadn’t seen too often from him. Finnick wearing anything true on his face was reserved more moments like this; moments of intimacy. Goosebumps arose on your arm, thinking that in the span of mere hours, all of it was gone. He wouldn’t be helping your brother perfect his fighting skills, wouldn’t help you righten your stance with gentle, cheeky touches, wouldn’t come at you with a grin, but a raised weapon, ready to tint it with your blood.

You wanted everything to be different. You wanted it so badly, it hurt deep within your chest. A stinging sensation you hadn’t felt since the day Atlas' name had been called by Twila on the day of the Reaping. It seemed like so long ago, though it had only been one week.

You shook your head. "Best to keep secrets to yourself. You don’t want them to lose their worth."

"Why do I feel like sweet talking won't get me any of yours?"

You shrugged. "Maybe I just don’t have any."

Finnick took another step closer and you turned your head up a bit, to be able to look him in the eyes. "I don’t believe that for a second."

"Then I guess you'll just have to live without mine."

"How gruesome of you, Spark," he said, leaning forward, putting his hand flat on the metal table behind you. It might just have been the first cage you did not mind being in. "To tease me so."

You swallowed; your throat suddenly dried of any words. A shaky breath of air flowed from your lips as your back pressed into the metal table. Out of reflex, you put your hand in front of yourself, landing it directly on his hard chest. You averted your gaze, turning your head downward. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to compose yourself, though it proved challenging with his chest heaving beneath your touch just as quickly as your own. Rough fingers, prone by the hard labor of District Four, gripped your chin, turning it back upward. There was no way of escaping him now; no way of escaping yourself.

You caved then, with a defeated breath and he saw right through you. He kissed you, mouth hungry and tinged with the desperation of escaping the leering reality that none of you could change. With his strong arm, he helped you atop the table, his body slotting against your own perfectly. Finnick groaned against your mouth, as your thighs tightened around him, pulling his body closer to you. His arm wrapped around your hip and you gasped against his lips as you felt him pressing his crotch into yours. It was messy and heated and overwhelming until it all stopped. Both of you pulled away in order to catch your breath and Finnick let his forehead fall against yours.

Suddenly a tear dropped onto your cheek and a sob forced its way from your mouth. "I can’t let him die," you cried and shook your head so forcefully you were getting dizzy. Everything you had been holding back from the moment Atlas' name had echoed through District Five broke loose. "He's only twelve years old. He is a child. He can't—" You stuttered along as Finnick pulled you into him. The embrace wasn’t solely for your comfort, you knew, you felt it. Felt all the fear he kept so well hidden. You wrapped your arms around his neck, locking him in just as tight as his arms engulfed you so desperately you felt it seeping into your skin. For a second, you felt safe then, with his arms giving you just enough space to hide away in.

Finnick placed his hand on either side of your face, wiping your tears with his thumb. Opening his mouth, he was about to say something, when steps sounded outside of the cafeteria. Startled, he distanced himself from you, making it look like he hadn’t acknowledged your presence, as you hopped off the table. A Peacekeeper entered, followed by the District Eight male Tribute.

You left the cafeteria then, throwing a quick look over your shoulder only to find that Finnick was paying you no mind. Wiping whatever was left of your tears yourself, you hurried back to your apartment. Atlas was still sleeping peacefully as you sat at the edge of the bed, facing him. In this state, he looked so much like his younger self. It was all you saw in him now, too aware that his life might be cut short. Instead of seeing his future, you only saw his past. Remembered the first day your mother had put a fussy baby in your arms that you were so deadly jealous of. It was a weird feeling. Feeling such a surge of love for someone you had barely known half a day and yet, you had felt discontent when seeing your mother and father with him. Loving him the way they had previously held reserved only for you.

And then a few years later, your father had died. Your mother was so devastated she hadn’t been able to get out of bed for months. You were to one to take care of Atlas, you were the one to hold him while he was crying and your arms were the ones, he fell asleep in. Not able to help yourself, you extended your hand and brushed a strand of hair off his forehead.

You were ready, had been since the first day you had laid eyes on him. You were ready to die for him.

---

The next day, your prep team once again spent the whole day forcing a make-over on you, plucking hairs and eradicating blackheads, all the while shushing your complaints. It was only when they were done that the head stylist, Lazarus, made an appearance. In his hand, he was holding the dress specifically created for you. Top till mid-thigh it was black, with blue shimmering mesh fabric running down to the floor.

He held it out for you to take, knowing you wouldn’t argue this time—you wouldn’t have won the argument anyway. After the prep team had helped you get into the garment, they tugged long gloves onto your arms, made out of the same mesh blue fabric as the bottom of the dress.

Lazarus signed for them to leave you then and you frowned. Your eyes followed him intensely as he checked around to see if anyone was close by. Silver hair glimmering in the fluorescent lighting, he made his way back.

"A source informed me Caesar is dropping some big news tonight during your interview," he spoke lowly. "They didn’t say exactly what it was, but I didn’t want you to be too surprised."

"Is it about back home?" You asked, swallowing. Was your mother all right?

"No," Lazarus assured and tugged at the waistline of the dress to pull it into place. "Something about the Games." When he was done, he stepped away and stared at the piece of art he had created. "I was surprised by your score." At the sudden change of topic, the thoughts of your mother vanished.

"Why? Thought it would be low?"

"Yes, actually," he admitted. "District Five usually doesn’t score above a five. Let alone a ten." He looked almost proud, you thought. "A lot of people will be furious for betting against you."

"Did you?"

"Let's just say, if you die, I'm going to be a homeless man." Lazarus wore a small grin on his face, ruffling his silver locks until suddenly he turned serious once more. "You need to be careful with what you say or do from here on out."

Your forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why?"

"Things have been different in the Districts since your Reaping." His voice got even quieter. "There is scattered talk that the Capitol is scared your death or your brother's might start another revolution."

"A revolution?" You asked shocked and shook your head. "That doesn’t make any sense. A lot of children have been reaped before and no one seemed to care. Why would anything change now?"

"It is already changing," he said. "Since the day of the Reaping the whippings in the Districts have more than doubled. A platoon of Peacekeepers has been sent to every District because they couldn’t keep the people down anymore." He took your hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "The Capitol has a target on your back already, only they can't allow themselves the shot. You can’t step out of line, not yet at least."

A voice shouted, letting you know a car was waiting to bring you to your interview. The car ride was silent, not even your brother or Twila were babbling along this time. At the studio, Peacekeepers were waiting to take you inside but before they could sweep you away, Logan stopped them. "Remember what we talked about?"

You huffed. "Yes."

"What did we talk about?"

"No swearing."

"And?"

"I really love the Capitol."

"Good girl," he grinned and stepped away to catch up with Ivette and Twila. "Go!" He called over his shoulder. "But don’t be yourself!"

Against your expectations, everywhere in the studio—except for the stage—was a cloud of grimness lingering. Not even the people working on the show carried the Capitol's flashy personas. The Tributes stood in a lean line by the wall, waiting to be called up and by the looks of it, you were the last to arrive. You cleared your throat as you made your way towards the front, halting awkwardly before Finnick and the District Six female Tribute. All the Tributes moved back to make space for you and your brother.

The Careers went first, talking about how grateful they were to have this opportunity to fulfill their dream. They raved about how great the Capitol was to come up with these Games and how excited they felt about the following day. You wanted to slap every one of them for even thinking such things. They were delusional, honed into this way of thinking by their Districts. The Career Districts had forced away the fear when it came to the Games and manipulated the children from a young age to have the same views. It was downright disgusting.

You watched every single interview pass by until it was Finnick's turn to take over the stage. It was like seeing a switch flipped inside of him the moment there were cameras on him. He was grinning from ear to ear, dimples on full display. The words he was speaking were not his own, but then again, yours wouldn’t be your own either. He, too, appraised the Capitol for its greatness and all the nice things they had done for him from the moment he had volunteered.

Caesar Flickerman called out for you and a surge of applause went through the audience. Walking out you tried focusing on the purple-haired male, but instead, the audience caught your attention. They were standing up—well, most of them anyway—with their hands cupped at their mouths, cheering your name. You swallowed at their crudeness. If they loved their Tributes so much, how could they watch them die, gamble with their lives, and hope for a few more coins in their pockets?

You wanted to watch them burn, all of them, for the things that they were doing to you. It should be their screams and cries reverberating through the arena, not those of children. It was them deserving of punishment for they hosted in their minds sickness far worse than any criminal.

Climbing the steps up to where Caesar stood, you were careful not to trip since Lazarus had forced heeled torture devices onto your feet. Bright lights from spotlights blinded you, making it impossible for you to make out anything beyond the stage and yet, you could not avert your eyes.

An excited voice called out your name as a hand plucked yours and pulled you down to your seat. You blinked at Caesar's white grin as the male patted your hand as if he were a close friend offering reassurance. He was not and you weren't quite sure if anybody housed by the Capitol could even be considered friendly, let alone tolerable. Caesar was a star amongst the Capitol's citizens, looked up to as though he was a rare gold coin in a sea of copper. People adored the man more than they adored Snow; you were sure of it.

"Now, I've got to admit, you certainly sparked the Capitol's interest with your entrance at the parade, isn't that right, folks?" Another round of applause and cheers followed his words and you forced a smile of gratitude. "And not only that, but you also had our hearts zapped from the moment the cameras caught you for the first time." Caesar turned serious. You wanted to laugh then; his sincereness was falser than the smile currently resting on your lips. "Would you care to share the reason for your volunteering?"

Your jaw clenched as you had to keep yourself from flaring your nostrils. Never in your life had you heard a question more unnecessary. What did he want to hear? That you volunteered solely for the purpose of killing everyone who had it out for your brother? That you thought Atlas wasn't strong enough? That you did not want him to be alone in his last moments? You swallowed, biting down on your tongue as your gaze went out to the audience. Thinking back, you should have paid more attention when Logan and Ivette tried to school you in self-control.

"I didn’t want my brother to be alone."

"All for your brother, I see." The crowd cooed with compassion none of them truly had. "And you love your brother?"

You stared. "Of course."

"You would do anything for him?"

"Yes."

"Kill for him?"

Blinking at Caesar, you suddenly couldn’t imagine anything but jumping over the table separating you two to strangle the man. Digging your nails into the palms of your hands, you pushed yourself to grin. "Well, Caesar, we will just have to wait and see what I'll do."

"You certainly are capable if your score proves right!" He roared enthusiastically, bestowing eagerness onto the audience. "Let me tell you, it came as a big surprise to us all when your score was published! For almost three decades, District Five scored below four, and there you go, easily bagging a ten. Quite the impressive lady, you are, dare I say." He leaned forward then. "Very impressive indeed. So impressive the Capitol just couldn’t help themselves." Caesar stood in one swift motion, microphone in hand, wearing a glowing smile. "For the first time ever, the Capitol has bestowed upon me to honor of announcing that this year there will not be one—" He stalled, lifting one finger to back his words. "But two… victors!" Your head snapped to him and back to where the other Tributes stood waiting for their interview.

Soon after—after Caesar had gone on about how your family could be reunited as if that hadn’t been your first thought— you were ushered along and off the stage to where the other Tributes sat, who had already completed their interviews. All you wanted was to get to your brother, to pull him close and assure him that both of you would see your mother again. Your body was pumping with adrenalin as you thought of what the future could be like if you got him out—and you, too. Faltering, you took your place beside Finnick. It was harder now, you realized. Way harder now that you had not only your brother to get out, but yourself, too. In all your time here, you had never even allowed yourself to consider it. Atlas and you surviving this hell. It had been futile until now. For the first time since the Reaping, you allowed yourself to feel hope.

You stared straight ahead, thoughts churning messily as you waited for Atlas to get off the stage, ignoring the way Finnick's eyes kept flicking over to you. Caesar treated him for what he was; a child. Asked him his favorite games, if he had many friends, and if he was sad about his score of three. And with every word slipping off Atlas' tongue, the audience laughed and cooed and awed as if he was no more than a circus monkey they could gawk at. They didn’t care that his life was on the line, neither did they care about any of you, only the money they had bet.

The Tributes beside you were celebrating the news they had just received with hugs and laughter. You couldn’t even muster to move a single muscle until you saw Atlas getting off the stage and heading towards you. He talked to you, you saw, but no word reached your ears as you stood and took him in; the little crease between his brows as he complained about his interview, the spattered freckles adorning the top of his cheeks and the glitter that had been put there by his style team, long mahogany lashes, a straight, crunched up nose, and ears just a tad bit too big for his head.

As he waited for your answer you suddenly wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close. Atlas huffed, arms hanging by his sides. "You are so weird. Logan told you not to be yourself."

"I wasn’t myself," you defended and smiled—a true smile. "I was being nice."

Following the interviews, you and all other Tributes were to return to your apartments. It was the end, you thought. The end to all the formalities and niceties. Now, all were going to show their real faces, real agendas. That night you were in your bed in a state of restlessness, Atlas sleeping beside you. But you could tell he wasn’t at peace. His usually wrinkleless face was contorted with concern, led by whatever dream he was currently having.

Morning came sooner than you had expected, leaving you with tremors in your limbs. Instead of spending hours in a chair getting your make-up and hair done, while the styling team chattered along, today a grave silence had taken over. Your hair was pulled out of your face, fixated by the stylist so it wouldn’t bother you and you were given the same clothes every Tribute would wear. By these, you could ponder what terrain you would be facing. Having grown up watching each and every game since your birth, you could guess the arena would offer a great variety of terrains. The boots were sturdy as though they were meant to ease the hardship of trekking or climbing but the fabric of the shirt and pants were thin—thin enough not to be a bother when engulfed in water or heat.

When you were done, Lazarus came, checking the work the style team had done and when he deemed it presentable, he nodded for you to follow him. Outside the building, a hovercraft was waiting for you with Peacekeepers surrounding the building in case you or your brother were planning on making a run for it. One of them held a device you had never seen. Though before you were allowed on the hovercraft, the device was lifted to your arm, followed by a sharp pain. You didn’t react to it, knowing there was far worse to come. The spot where the tracker was implanted was itchy and with every movement, you thought you could feel the foreign object in your arm.

The Tributes from Districts One to Four and their head stylists were already on the hovercraft when you boarded. The Careers—as always—looked ready for their first kills. Their chins were directed upward, apparently too good to look at everybody else, chests puffed and proud. The hovercraft filled steadily till it was ready to depart the Training Center for the arena. The one place without the simple rules set for humanity and where killing was (besides surviving) the one true goal.

Time seemed deceiving now, too. Or perhaps they were delaying on purpose, to boost the quivers of nerves and everyone's anticipation. It felt like decades until you finally arrived. Of course, in truth, the trip had only taken a mere hour.

Your eyes couldn’t find a single bare spot after arriving at the arena. Before entering, you and all other Tributes and their stylists were surrounded by Peacekeepers, who led you underground the arena; into the arena catacombs. Your brother gripped your hand tightly as he spotted the weapons they carried. In the Districts, the Peacekeepers kept them hidden. You knew it was solely for reassuring the citizens of Panem, to keep them down, to make them feel like the Capitol cared. Still, they were packed with weaponry on every trip they took outside the Capitol, ready to punish any stepping out of line.

Snow would have your head if he were able to catch a single thought that was rumbling around in your head. Treacherous, they would call them. When in truth it was the Capitol committing treachery on the people, they—as often stated by Snow himself—couldn’t function without. And it was true, of course. Panem wouldn’t be able to function without the grubby work forced on each District. But the people of Panem—the Capitol's citizens excluded—were no more than cattle in Snow's eyes. Everyone knew it. They were just too afraid to lose their heads admitting it.

You squeezed your brother's hand, jaw set in a tight line. By now you couldn’t even force a smile. No muscle in your face was willing to defy what you were truly feeling. Dread. Anger. Fear. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but whatever it was, it was enough to make you nauseous.

You halted when your brother stopped walking alongside you, hand still in yours. His stylist had his other hand in her grip, giving you a pitiful smile. "His Launch Room is through here. This is where you have to part." Both, you and Atlas, looked toward the dark corridor. You swallowed and nodded, noting that Atlas was resisting letting go of your hand.

"Can we… Could we have a moment?" You looked toward Lazarus and back to Atlas' stylist. Taking your brother's shoulders tightly into your hands, you pulled him closer—somehow feeling like the walls had grown ears. Other Tributes passed you and you kneeled on one leg, pulling your brother with you. "You listen to me now, okay? When we are up there, you run."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When the signal comes, you turn around and run. You get away from the Cornucopia. That is the only way I can make sure you're safe."

"But I can help you! It's way more dangerous for you to go alone! And—"

"Atlas!" You gripped his shoulders tighter, forcing him to stop talking. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you: you run."

"But I heard the others talking about the Cornucopia. They all call it the Bloodbath. What if you don't make it back?"

"I will. I will grab us supplies and come find you immediately."

"But what if… what if you don’t?"

Again, you forced down the lump of fear that had gathered in your throat. "You survive, okay? You…" Hesitating, you wagered whether or not the feeling in your gut was indeed a trustable one. It had brought you so far, might as well go with it now. "You find Finnick."

"You told me not to trust him!"

"I know, it's just… I know he won't hurt you."

"How would you know that? You don’t know him."

"Just… trust me, all right?" You did know him, in some way. By the look in his eyes and his seemingly stone-carved features, mastered to perfection, you knew him. You knew Finnick for what he was. The things you had been trying so hard to be, too. You related because, on some level, you two were unerringly the same. Only, somehow, Finnick had mastered everything far better than you ever would. For that, you admired him.

Atlas and you were separated then. Peacekeepers told you to keep moving, and, intimidated by the firearms they carried, you followed their demands without dispute. Brought to your own Launch Room, Lazarus' eyes followed you with hidden sorrow.

"You look like someone's about to die," you joked, suddenly close to heaving.

"I truly believe you won't," he assured. "But you aren't going to come back whole, either. The Games take far more than just lives. They take souls, too."

"Good to know you aren’t in a grim mood."

Something behind you moved and he stilled. "It's time." He signed for you to enter the launch tube, hugging you before stepping aside for you to be sealed in. No sound penetrated in thick glass of the tube, obliging you into utter awareness of yourself; your wildly pounding heart, the uneven puffs of air fleeing your lungs, and the uncontrollable quiver of your hands.

Without warning the platform beneath you shifted, slowly raising you upward, exposing you to the pressing air filling the arena. The lights were blinding for a few moments, a swift contrast to the dark catacombs. A countdown began, and after your eyes had adjusted, your eyes rapidly skimmed the tributes, searching for your brother. He was almost across from you, so far there would have been no way for you to protect him if he ran toward the Cornucopia. Looking to your right you found a dense forest; tropical, as far as you could tell. Turning your head back to the Cornucopia, you could make out a blue glistening behind it, far behind the other Tributes. A river or lake, you guessed.

Your chance of observing ended the second a shot reverberated through the arena. In sync, you and all the other Tributes jumped from the platforms. Almost all sprinted toward the Cornucopia, except for a handful deciding to take their chances without any supplies at all. You hadn’t seen if Atlas had followed your orders, all that was left to do now was hoping he was trusting you enough.

The Tribute beside you fell and in a second a Career was atop her slashing her throat. You stumbled shocked by how easily it seemed to come to them. No thought, no hesitation, no remorse. Close to the weapon stand, you were tackled, a dark head of hair entering your vision. You kicked her away with a grunt, still on your knees, trying to crawl forward to get your hands on one of the knives spread across the moist grass. Fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling you back, just as your hand grazed the handle of a silver dagger. You turned then, sharp and quick, only to lock eyes with the girl from District One.

Her forehead was wrinkled, hand raised with a blade, ready to strike you down. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the word entering your mind, couldn’t help feeling it; cattle. Breeding cattle, you were no more than. Her blade sliced your collarbone and you hissed, all hesitancy giving way to the will to survive. The silver dagger jutted from the side of her throat. She sputtered, shaky hand reaching to the blade protruding from her body. Your eyes went wide, moving to stare at the hand you still held outstretched. You weren’t really thinking as it wrapped back around the dagger's handle to pull it free, allowing her blood to flow freely.

Gasping for air, she fell to her side, withering as the last seed of life within her ceased. Canons echoed. One, two—it didn’t stop. You scrambled to your feet, reaching for the bigger weapons within the Cornucopia, only to find the District Seven Tribute hiding behind the crates containing survival kits. The one who had tried to escape. You could only imagine how weakened he must have still been from his whipping. He stared up at you in shock, a small knife cradled tightly in his unstable hand.

"Run," you said, giving a look over your shoulder at the Careers fighting their way forward. They were packed with different types of weaponry already. And, unlike most Tributes, they knew exactly how to use them. Getting the spear and backpack you came for; you took a second one for Atlas the dagger, too, and ran behind the Cornucopia and toward the body of water. It was smarter than running back into the bloodbath. Running into trees surrounding the river, you made sure to keep looking over your shoulder once in a while. There had to have been at least one Career who had seen you run in this direction; who had seen you kill one of their own.

A twig snapped behind you. You faltered, breathing heavily. Turning around, you reached for the dagger sticking out of the backpack in your hands. A knife sailed past you and you dropped the second backpack in shock as you whirled around to search for the culprit. Not a second later a big hand wrapped around your mouth, caging your body. Spurred by adrenaline, you kicked the male in the shin, elbowing him and shoving him off, causing you both to tumble into the red soil. You scrambled forward, gripping the dagger you had dropped, only to throw yourself atop the muscular body, blade raised.

The sea-green eyes stopped you in your movement. Your lungs burned in exhaustion, fingers clenching anticipatingly around the dagger's hilt. Finnick eyed the blade then, tinted with remnants of blood. Instead of trying to wrangle the weapon from you, his hands rested gently on your thighs spread to fit his body.

Another twig snapped.

Finnick jumped into action, seizing the weapons from your hand, overturning you. Your back landed against the contents of the backpack strapped to you, leaving you flailing, trying to reach the spear fastened to your backpack. His hand found your throat then, shaking and you knew he was attempting to force himself to lock it tightly—yet, he couldn’t. Your hand found the red soil, clutching it in your fist before you threw it in Finnick's eyes. When he stumbled, you kicked him onto his back. Using your chance, you collected the things you had dropped and ran.

Picking up voices behind you, you kept moving until Finnick's joined in, telling them the exact way you had gone. Cursing, you threw the second backpack into some bushes and continued forward, till you reached the edge of the water. It was a weird river, you thought, with massive stones protruding not only from its midst but all around it, too.

Thinking back to the survival station in the training center, you recalled the numerous pages of information you had studied—still, you praised the seemingly uninteresting information as it would now perhaps save your behind. Caves. Underwater Caves, one page had said. It had—in shocking detail—explained what to look for when there were many various stones nigh or in water. Checking each stone for the right markers, your gaze settled on a rock close to the other side of the river. Naturally, it had to be far from you.

Growling you pulled the backpack from your form, waging whether or not the supplies it brought were worth being caught. No. Definitely not. Hurling the backpack into the water, hoping it would drown soon enough to not give the Careers an idea of where you had gone. You seized your spear and dove headfirst into the river, showing not an ounce of vacillation. Bubbles of air escaped your mouth, making you fear that the Careers would spot you eventually. Hurrying along, you swam toward what you had identified to be a possible sanctuary.

The air in your lungs was getting scarce all the while the beating of your heart found no ceasing. Underwater, you were close to blind. In foreign territories, it was only a matter of seconds before you were to hit your head and drown.

Rolling your eyes at yourself, you noticed Atlas' voice piping up at the back of your head, shaming you for your negativity. The wasted time brought no favor, as you noticed there was no more supply of air. Dread crept into the fibers of your figure, that perhaps you had indeed made an error when picking the rock.

Tightening the bite of your jaw, the wrinkles between your brows grew in depth as you provided a ferocious push of your legs. At present, there was no circumstance for uncertainty. Frankly, there was no space for it. No space for it, when the last remnants of air vanished from your lungs, and no space when you could still make out the bustling of rancorous boots. Atlas was out there, stranded in the woods, with no rations of food or weaponry for protection at hand.

Your brother required your aid, your support; you. He needed you by his side if only to give him strength, give him hope. You had sworn an oath to yourself that you would not in this life, see broken. Unsighted by the darkness of the depth the water bore, you had only just reached the rock when wooziness overtook you. Skimming along the rough exterior, you shoved yourself further into the shadows beneath.

Were you any less filled with panic, you might have commenced speculation of what truly lurked blow, but now, wholly engulfed with fright, you came to the comprehension that there was no opening.

No opening, no cave, no sanctuary, no safety.

You had been mistaken. Tremendously so. Pulse spiraling, you couldn’t quell your wants any longer. You needed air. At the rock's backside, you dashed upward to where you perceived the sun piercing the dark, breaking through the surface, gasping for oxygen. When a cough inched its way up your throat, you pressed your arm tightly to your lips to quieten yourself. You hoisted yourself onto one of the rocks barely peeking from the water and cowered in a crouch, hoping—begging to whatever might was left to watch over you—that none of them would locate you.

Spying at them from your position, you obtained a glimpse of them walking in the opposing direction. About to run, your eyes caught on a package being carried by the river's fast flow. Making certain that the group of Careers was entertained by their hunt for another Tribute, you snuck further out of your hiding spot, on your hands and knees, extending the spear you held into the water.

When the backpack floated by, you caught it with your weapon, lifting it out of the river and toward you. You grinned; one out of two wasn’t a bad accomplishment. Looking around you tried to settle for a direction to go; you were left guessing Atlas' location. Bypassing the Cornucopia would have been imprudent. The Careers had secured it, meaning watchful eyes all over its proximity.

There was little to no prospect of making the correct decision. He could have fled into the tropical forest behind him, although someone or something could have gotten in his way, which would have caused him to differ on his way.

Your fingers dug into the roots of your hair as you cursed the Gamemakers with every bad word you held in your vocabulary. The arena was extensively large this year as though they had known of your plans all along, as though they had wanted to see you struggle in your quest of protection. They did, of course, yet the arena's extent added to the woeful cruelty of it all.

Keeping low, you eyed the tropical forest. To get there you would have to run across a vacant field. It offered no shelter, no safety, no way to take cover. A death trap, intent on segregating those reckless enough to risk their lives. You had never believed yourself to be one of them; how vastly the mind deceives.

Ensuring that the Careers were still on the other side of the river, you strapped the backpack tight and hurried forward. Running while being close to a crouch proved to be immensely uncomfortable and strenuous, the muscles in your legs protesting painfully. You had barely reached the edge of the forest when a sharp pain cut across your cheek. Hissing, you clutched the bleeding wound, taking note of the knife that had hit the tree inches from your head. A young girl stood roughly hidden by the giant trees forming the rainforest.

The girl you recalled was only two years older than Atlas. You had pitied her, too, had felt a familiar stinging in your heart rewatching the clips from the Reaping. She had cried upon her name being called, refusing to step toward the stage. Peacekeepers had to drag her there, while she wailed and struggled and begged for them to end her life then and there.

You pulled the knife from the tree as you ignored the hidden girl, refusing to kill a child. Continuing on into the forest, you picked up the shuffling of footsteps at your back. You dodged the attack, causing her sword to hit nothing but air. She grunted as she took her next swing, the weapon lying unfamiliar in her hands. She had probably gripped whatever she could get her hands on before fleeing the bloodbath.

Before the girl could strike once more, you took hold of her arm, shoving her away. "Stop this!" You hissed. "I don’t want to hurt you."

She scoffed, finding her footing once more, ready to kill. "Then hold still and I'll make this quick," she grinned, throwing herself forward. Using your staff, you blocked the attack. Without warning she pulled out a dagger, slicing along the length of your arm with one quick swipe of her hand.

Kicking her off you watched as she tumbled to the ground, teeth on display as she growled in contempt. You pointed the sharp end of your spear at her in warning. "Stay down."

You moved past her, hoping she would stop and see the madness in it all, when all of a sudden, a weight on your back made you stagger. Caught off guard you grabbed at the arm tightening around your throat, catching the glinting of a blade out of the corner of your eye. Stopping the knife before it could slice your throat, you tried prying her off you. Throwing yourself back against a tree, the girl wailed in pain, letting go for just a second, before her sword found its mark in the back of your leg. You cried out, falling forward, causing her to tumble off you.

Scrambling to stand up, you were ripped from your feet and onto your back, as she launched herself onto you. Barely blocking her first strike, you couldn’t help but notice your wounded arm growing weaker with each moment you spent struggling. Her knife drew closer to your head, as the strength of your arm faded consistently. With your other hand, you searched for any object able to provide you with help, fingers landing on the cold handle of the blade you had dropped before.

"I'm sorry," you said, tears gathering in your eyes. She looked at you questioningly for a moment, until you urged your hand forward, piercing her chest. The pressure she had put against your arm ceased as she wrapped her fingers around the handle protruding from her body before yanking it out in one swift motion. Blood poured from her wound instantly, tainting the fabric of her clothes and yours. Her bloodied hands shook as she stared at the knife that seconds ago, had been in her chest.

Blood spluttered from her mouth. Small specks of warm liquid landed on your face as you watched the life slowly draining from her eyes. She fell, eyes wide though so terribly lifeless you could have wailed from the sight. You barely registered the sound of a canon, declaring yet another child’s death. The never-ending apologies forcing themselves from your lips soon turned into sobs muffled by nothing but your fist urgently pressing against your mouth. There wasn’t anything you could do but stare down at the child whose life had ended at your hand.

Footsteps sounded not too far off. You jumped in fright, snapping out of the state of shock you had lingered in. Looking for an easy way out, you wiped the tears from your face and eyed the trees. Taking the risk of trying to climb a tree probably would have caused you to fall to your death, since you had never once in your life attempted to climb a tree. Shuffling to stand, you pulled tightly on the strap of the backpack and took off running.

You did it for Atlas, you reminded yourself. Everything you did was so your brother could live. You ran until your lungs stung in discomfort and your legs throbbed, sure to be sore for the next couple of days. The next few days you spent hiding in the woods, all the while listening to the canon going off in an unrhythmic reminder that the Careers were close to wiping the arena clean.

The sun bore down mercilessly, its heat as relentless as you navigating through the treacherous landscape of the arena. Your heart was heavy with the thought of hearing another canon—and seeing Atlas’ face flash on the horizon, paying him tribute for the great sacrifice he made. Pushing through the dense underbrush, your mind racing, you felt a sudden sharp pain lancing through your leg. You gasped, shock coursing in your bones before stumbling back and falling. Mere meters away, you spotted a snake slithering back into the brush, its bite burning in your veins as though it had been laced with fire. Panic surged within you, the pounding in your chest instantly the only thing you could hear. Sweat gathered above your brows as you bushed yourself to stand, when suddenly, in your gaze state, you heard the childish laughter of your brother. Whirling around, a figure hushed past the trees, and you called out, changing the small shadowy form. Stumbling you caught up to the shadow, though upon touching his shoulder, wanting to turn Atlas to face you, he vanished.

White dots danced in your sight, a ringing in your head overtaking your senses, writhing in stark agony. In the midst of your haze, the sound of a parachute broke through, landing silently a few yards away. With every bit of strength left n within you, you dragged yourself towards it, unscrewing the metal cap of the item that had been dropped. Upon opening the cap, the sight of an antivenom greeted you, sent by your sponsor. The relief was instant but left you weakened and exposed. Knowing the dangers of the Game—the people within—had no consideration, no compassion, merely a drive to kill, you forced yourself to move.

In the far distance, foreign sounds drifted through the air and you stilled. Growls, you noted. You had never heard such a thing before, violent and vicious and terribly hungry for blood that you felt your lips begin to quiver. The growls of the mutts carrying through the dense brush hastened your escape towards the mountains, but vast expanse of no-man’s-land lay before you—nothing to shield you, nothing to hide you. You ran out of the brush and onto the orange soil, the ground crumbling behind you. A flitting gaze over your shoulder left you gaping, each spot that you had stepped on was caved in, leading into a dark abyss below. The look had cost you, you noted as a rip appeared in the soil before you. Mere meters in front of you lay the mountain range, so, so close but the ground gave away.

With the last efforts of survival, you leaped. Your fingers graced the solid ground at the beginning of the mountain range, gripping tightly as your body collided with a wall of hard rocks. Arms straining and teeth clenching, your feet pushed against the wall, trying to help you pull yourself over the edge. A gasp of relief fled your lungs as your eyes met the familiar glimmer in your brother’s wide gaze. He held a hand out for you to take, helping you heave yourself to safety. The feeling coursing through you was of overwhelming gravity, and in that moment, all fear and tension melted from your chest.

You pulled Atlas to you, arms engulfing the younger boy, lip quivering and eyes stinging. “I thought I’d lost you,” you whispered, holding him close. It was merely a second later that you recalled the situation you both were in—the hell they had forced you into. “We gotta climb up, find a cave or something,” you insisted, starting forward as Atlas nodded, his trust in you unshaken, even after the horror he must have witnessed. “We’ll just wait it out, okay? They’ll end up killing each other sooner or later.”

Luck had been on your side this once as you came up on a cave, its entrance no bigger than Atlas. It was a good place to hole up in—and you did for as long as possible until the grumble in both of your stomachs could no longer be ignored. The necessity for food driving you back down the mountain should have been something to anticipate, though after barely making it to the mountains, the thought of nutrition had fled your mind. A few days you had lived off of berries, though the bushes grew empty after a while. Telling Atlas to stay in the cave—scared you would encounter the remaining ranks of the Careers or whatever mutts had chased you. The cannon had sounded often in recent days and you guessed the mutts had done their jobs fairly well, taking out the majority of the Careers.

Wandering along the mountains, you kept your eyes trailing for any possible danger, they spotted the close rain forest instead. You had to be at the far east side of the mountains with how close the trees seemed to be. Turning back to the task at hand, you eyed the bushes for any edible berries, though ended up growing rigid at the sight before you. His figure stood broad as it always had, hair disheveled and perhaps just a little wet with sweat.

Within seconds, your hands found your spear and you charged. His betrayal had scorched a deep wound into your being, even when you would die rather than admit to it. The stark clash of your spear against his trident echoed loudly through the mountains, though his body moved with scarce efforts to keep you at bay. The ease with which he held himself, the ease with which he pushed you back, the ease with which he had stabbed you in the back on the first day in the arena caused you to burn from within. Fury in your eyes, you grunted, bringing the spear down once more. His hand went out, catching the spear and attempting to rip it from your grasp but you held on for dear life. Finnick pulled at it again and you stumbled forward, fingers still tightly wrapped around the perfectly balanced metal.

“Stop it,” he hissed, his warm breath flaring across your face and you flinched.

“So you can try and kill me again?” You shot back, staring up at the towering male, teeth clenching. “I won’t make it that easy for you, Finnick.” You, fueled by your burning rage, gave up on retrieving your spear, arm lunging forward and punching the male across his face. The impact made Finnick stagger and your hand spasm, but he still refused to release his ironclad hold on the spear. You stood, locked in the standoff, when a dark cloud began to form over the mountain range. Within moments, rain hailed down upon you and contentment filled you, knowing you had been running low on water. Though when the first drops, of what you had thought would be a salvation, hit your skin, you recoiled. Blisters appeared on your skin, each impact leaving behind a painful sizzling as you screeched in pain.

Finnick grabbed your wrist, pulling you along as he dashed across a tiny scrap of dried grass and into the nearby rainforest, seeking refuge from the corrosive downpour. Stumbling and feet sliding unsteadily against the wet floor, you tumbled into a small pond, about to righten yourself and run further, when you noticed the sudden grace the water proved to be. Finnick, after realizing it too, fell into the pond, hands splashing water onto his face and limbs in a desperate attempt to cease the searing ache. His hand came up, spilling water over your shoulder and back, washing away the blisters you hadn’t yet reached. The tenderness he was using to handle you was such a crass contrast to the earlier confrontation that it made your head spin.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head snapped toward him at the words that had fallen from his lips, though his eyes didn’t dare to meet yours. You hissed in pain, accidentally touching a part of sore skin. “Sorry won’t fix what you did, Finnick,” you stated coldly, feeling a suggesting tingle in the tips of your fingers to try and push him under the water, try and drown him. “You tried to kill me—"

At that, he snapped. “Don’t you think if I wanted you dead, you would be?” The frustration in his eyes was palpable, though something else lingered within them—a flicker of pain. Tension arose so vastly, charged with anger, hurt, and the unspoken truths of your situation, you could have sliced it with a knife. You were enemies thrown together by circumstance, yet bound by a thread of mutual survival and the remnants of what could have been.

The fleeting moment of uneasy peace was shattered by a scream that pierced the air, slicing through the heavy silence of the rainforest. It was a sound you knew all too well, one that ignited a primal fear deep within your chest. Atlas. Your heart froze, the confusion and turmoil that had clouded your thoughts moments ago swept away by a tide of sheer panic.

Without a second thought, you were on your feet, the pain from your burns momentarily forgotten. You didn't look back at Finnick, didn't see if he followed. Nothing mattered except reaching Atlas. The acid rain had stopped, leaving the world eerily silent in its wake, a silence now broken by the echoes of your brother's distress.

You sprinted with a speed you didn't know you possessed, your legs carrying you back toward the mountain range where you had left Atlas, where you had told him to stay hidden in the cave. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a thunderous echo of Atlas's scream. Why hadn't he stayed? Fear and guilt twisted inside you, coiling around your heart like the snake that had bitten you.

As you broke through the treeline, the scene that unfolded before you was one of your worst nightmares, you realized. Atlas was there, at the bottom of the mountain range, not in the safety of your cave but out in the open, struggling against one of the tributes No, not just any tribute—a killer, poised to end your brother's life. A Career.

You were still too far to reach him in time, your desperate cries for Atlas to run, to fight, to do anything, lost in the distance that separated you. Time seemed to slow, each of Atlas's desperate struggles etched into your memory with painful clarity.

And then, it time seemed to still. The Career tribute overpowered Atlas, and with a swift, brutal motion, plunged a knife into the chest of the person you had sworn to protect, the person for whom you had volunteered to face this horror. A scream, raw and filled with anguish, tore from your throat as you witnessed your younger brother's life being snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

The world narrowed to a pinpoint of rage, grief, and an overwhelming sense of failure. Your vision blurred, not with tears but with a fury so intense it threatened to consume you. Atlas, your kind, brave, and gentle brother, was gone, taken by the merciless game you had been forced into.

Every moment spent worrying about Finnick, about your fractured alliance and the betrayal that had seemed so significant, paled in comparison to this loss. In the face of Atlas's death, everything else was trivial, inconsequential. A deep, seething hatred for the Capitol and its cruel games took root in your heart, a vow forming from the depths of your grief; you would make them pay. Every tribute, every sponsor, every viewer who took pleasure in this barbarity would feel the weight of your wrath.

But first, you had a Career to kill.

As the cannon echoed through the arena, a solemn confirmation of your brother's death, the world seemed to stand still. Grief and rage battled within you, propelling your body forward with a singular focus—vengeance. The Career who had taken Atlas from you barely had time to register your approach before you were upon him, your weapon driven by a force fueled by loss and fury. He fell quickly, a testament to the skills you had honed for this moment, for this purpose.

But there was no time to mourn, no time to celebrate your swift revenge, as the rustle of leaves signaled another approaching. The last Career, drawn by the sound of combat or perhaps the cannon's call. Your heart pounded, not just with the exertion of battle, but with the realization of what was to come. You were ready to fight, to kill again if necessary, your resolve steeling within you.

Finnick's footsteps were close behind you, a rapid drumbeat on the forest floor. You half-expected him to call out, to try and stop you or to take the lead, but he remained silent, his presence a steady pressure at your back. The last Career appeared, sword raised, eyes wide with a mix of determination and desperation. He hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and Finnick, the confusion clear upon his face. He had expected to find Finnick chasing you, perhaps even fighting you, but not this—this silent alliance in the face of shared loss.

Without a word, Finnick moved past you, his trident gleaming in the dim light. The Career barely had time to lower his weapon before Finnick was upon him, the trident finding its mark with deadly precision. The man crumpled, and silence fell once more, broken only by the sound of two cannons firing in quick succession.

You and Finnick stood side by side, the realization that you had won, that it was over, sinking in slowly. There was no joy in it, no triumphant cheer; just a heavy weight of survival and the cost it had exacted from both of you.

The journey from the arena to the Capitol was a blur, a series of motions and procedures that felt detached from the reality of your victory. You were taken to separate rooms, the opulence of the Capitol a stark contrast to the brutality you had just endured. It was in this surreal state of limbo that Finnick came to find you, his own room abandoned in favor of seeking out the only other person who could possibly understand what he was feeling.

The moment you saw Finnick enter your room in the Capitol, the pent-up rage and grief you'd been carrying since the arena found a target. He moved with a cautious grace, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within you. His first words were meant to be a comfort, but they ignited something fierce and painful inside you.

"We did it," he said softly, his eyes searching yours for something you weren't ready to give.

"We did it?" you spat out, your voice sharp, laced with anger and disbelief. "You think we did this together? You abandoned us, Finnick. You left my brother to die!"

Finnick's expression tightened, the sorrow in his eyes deepening. "I thought I was making the right choice—"

"The right choice?" you interrupted, your voice rising, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "You thought abandoning us was the right choice?"

Without thinking, you stepped forward, your hand balled into a fist, striking his chest. It was a futile gesture, driven more by your need to express your anguish than to cause him any real harm. Finnick didn't stop you, nor did he try to defend himself. He simply stood there, taking your blows, his face a mask of regret and pain.

"You could have saved him!" Each word was punctuated by another hit, your anger flowing through you like a river bursting its banks. "You were supposed to be our ally!"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Finnick's voice was barely above a whisper, his arms tentatively coming up to hold you, not to restrain, but to offer solace.

Your strength faltered, the anger giving way to the profound sorrow you'd been trying to keep at bay. The punches slowed, then stopped altogether as the reality of your loss, of Atlas's death, truly hit you. Your hands fell to your sides, and you felt your knees weaken as the weight of your grief became too much to bear.

Finnick was there in an instant, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to his chest. You wanted to push him away, to scream at him for his betrayal, but the energy, the anger, had drained from you, leaving nothing but exhaustion and heartache.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Finnick murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I would give anything to change what happened."

And there, in the opulent room that felt miles away from the horror of the arena, you allowed yourself to break. Tears streamed down your face, sobs wracking your body as you clung to Finnick. He held you, his own body shaking with silent cries, as you mourned not just for Atlas, but for all that had been lost in the games.

The anger had burned bright and fast, but what remained in its ashes was a deep, unyielding sadness. Finnick's embrace didn't fix the gaping wound in your heart, but it offered a momentary reprieve from the loneliness of your grief. In the aftermath of your rage, wrapped in the arms of the one person who could come close to understanding your pain, you found a fragile sense of comfort.

The games had ended, but the scars they left behind were fresh, painful reminders of the cost of survival. And as you cried into Finnick's chest, a part of you understood that this shared sorrow was the first step towards healing, towards forgiving, not just Finnick, but yourself as well.

After the tempest of your grief and anger in Finnick's arms, a precarious calm settled over both of you. The initial intensity of your emotions gave way to a weary, shared silence. As you pulled away, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks, you caught a glimpse of something in Finnick's eyes—a reflection of your own pain, the understanding that the games had taken something irreplaceable from both of you.

In the days that followed, the Capitol was abuzz with the aftermath of the Hunger Games. You and Finnick were paraded as victors, symbols of triumph and resilience, yet beneath the surface, you both bore the invisible wounds of survivors. The forced smiles for cameras, the scripted interviews where you recounted the horrors of the arena with a veneer of gratitude for the Capitol's 'generosity,' felt like another layer of betrayal, this time self-inflicted.

----

A few months after the Hunger Games, amidst another extravagant Capitol party celebrating the unity of the districts, the weight of your experiences in the arena became too much to bear. As the party's laughter and music echoed hollowly in your ears, you found yourself seeking refuge away from the crowd. Slipping unnoticed through a side door, you ventured into a secluded garden, a hidden oasis under the night sky.

The garden, illuminated by the gentle glow of fairy lights woven through the foliage, felt like stepping into another world. You moved aimlessly along the winding paths until you found yourself in front of a grand statue, an intricate marble piece that towered above the garden's natural beauty. Here, in the shadow of the statue, you leaned against the cool stone, allowing the tears that you had fought to keep at bay to finally escape.

As the facade you'd been forced to maintain since your victory crumbled away, the garden's tranquility contrasted sharply with the turmoil within you. The tears were for everything—the loss, the pain, and the irrevocable changes the games had wrought upon your life and Finnick's.

The sound of footsteps broke through your reverie, and you hastily tried to compose yourself, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. When you looked up, it was Finnick who emerged from the shadows, his eyes immediately finding yours in the dim light.

He stopped just in front of you, concern etching his features. "There you are," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of understanding and shared sorrow.

"I just needed a moment," you managed to say, though your voice betrayed the depth of your distress. You attempted a smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil inside. Finnick reached out, his thumb gently catching a tear that had escaped down your cheek, his touch tender. “I hate this,” you confessed, the words barely above a whisper, “pretending to be something we’re not, celebrating when all I feel is loss.”

Finnick stepped closer, eliminating the distance between you. He didn’t dare step away; instead, he lingered before you, offering his presence as a silent source of comfort. "I know," he responded, his tone gentle. "But remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here, with you. Always."

You nodded, struggling to find words that could encompass the breadth of what you were feeling. Before you could speak again, Finnick reached out, carefully wiping away a tear that had lingered on your cheek. His touch was tender, filled with an empathy that spoke volumes of his own battles with the ghosts of the arena.

In a gesture that felt as natural as breathing, Finnick drew you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The warmth of his body against yours was a stark contrast to the cool marble at your back. He kissed your forehead with such care and affection that it felt like a balm to your wounded spirit. Then, his lips brushed softly against your nose, a touch so light and comforting that it drew a half-hearted smile from you, despite the sadness.

Finally, his lips met yours in a kiss that was both a salve and a promise—a promise of shared strength, of mutual support, and of a bond forged in the crucible of unimaginable trials. It was a kiss that spoke of hope amidst despair, of finding light in the darkness, and of the unspoken vow to navigate the uncertain path ahead, together.

Leaning against the cool marble, under the canopy of the night sky, you found a moment of peace in Finnick's embrace, a reminder that, despite everything, you were not alone. You had each other, and together, you would find a way to heal, to rebuild, and to carve out a space for yourselves in a world that had forever changed you.

In the quiet of the garden, with the distant sounds of the party reduced to a mere whisper, you and Finnick shared a moment of profound connection, a brief respite from the chaos that had become your lives. The kiss ended, but you remained close, leaning into each other for support, finding solace in the presence of someone who understood the depth of your pain and loss.

Finnick's eyes met yours in the dim light, a silent conversation passing between you. There was an understanding that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, both seen and unforeseen, but there was also a shared resolve to face them together. The world outside the garden was a maelstrom of expectations, responsibilities, and the ever-present gaze of the Capitol, but here, in this moment, none of that mattered.

"You know we can't stay here forever," Finnick finally said, his voice low, breaking the silence that had settled between you. It wasn't just an observation about the garden but about the bubble of peace you'd momentarily created. The real world, with all its complexities and demands, waited just beyond the garden's confines.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, bolstered by the strength you found in Finnick's presence. "I know. But for a moment, it's nice to pretend we can."

Finnick smiled, a genuine, warm expression that reached his eyes. "We'll have more moments like this, I promise. Away from the cameras, the parties, the Capitol. Moments just for us."

The thought was comforting, a lifeline amid the turbulent seas of your new reality. You straightened, steeling yourself for the return to the party, to the roles you were forced to play. Finnick sensed your resolve and offered his hand, a silent pledge of solidarity. You took it, and together, you stepped back into the light, leaving the sanctuary of the garden behind.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the two of you navigating the party as a united front, your earlier moment of vulnerability transforming into a source of strength. The Capitol's guests saw only the victorious tributes, the heroes of the games, but beneath the surface, you and Finnick shared a bond forged in the crucible of shared suffering and mutual understanding.

After the party, the journey back to your separate rooms in the Capitol's luxurious accommodation felt like transitioning from one world to another. The grandeur and opulence of the Capitol surrounded you, a stark reminder of the divide between the lives you once knew and the lives you were forced into now. The echoes of laughter and music from the party faded as you walked through the silent, opulent hallways, each step taking you further away from the façade you had to maintain in public.

Finnick walked you to your door, his presence a source of comfort in the overwhelming world of the Capitol. Despite the late hour, neither of you seemed eager to say goodnight, lingering in the hallway, caught in the bubble of tranquility you had created for yourselves. The intensity of the day, from the forced smiles at the party to the genuine moments of connection in the garden, had drawn you closer, a silent acknowledgment of the shared experiences that bound you together.

Standing before your door, Finnick turned to face you, his expression serious yet gentle. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low. It was a simple question, yet loaded with the depth of understanding and concern that had grown between you.

You offered a small, tired smile, appreciating the sincerity of his question. "I will be," you replied, knowing that the road to feeling truly okay was long and fraught with challenges. "Thanks to you."

Finnick's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. The gesture was intimate, comforting, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving the connection and solace it offered.

"I'm always here for you," he said, his voice firm with promise. "We've been through too much to let the Capitol's games tear us apart. We're survivors, and we'll keep surviving, together." The weight of his words hung in the air between you, a vow of mutual support and resilience. It was a commitment not just to each other but to the future, whatever it may hold. Finnick leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent echo of the affection and care he had shown in the garden. "Goodnight," he whispered, reluctantly stepping back.

"Goodnight, Finnick," you replied, your voice a soft murmur. As Finnick turned to leave, a sudden wave of vulnerability washed over you, the stark loneliness of the Capitol's luxurious rooms looming in your mind like a shadow. The thought of spending another night alone, surrounded by the echoes of your thoughts and the weight of your brother's absence, was unbearable. "Finnick, wait," you found yourself saying, the words slipping out almost without thought. He stopped immediately, turning back towards you with a look of concern. The hallway, with its grand decorations and the soft glow of the artificial lights, felt like a world away from the raw reality of your emotions. "Would you... stay with me tonight? I don't think I can be alone right now," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in your request was palpable, a stark contrast to the strength you had always tried to project.

Finnick's expression softened, his earlier resolve giving way to a deep, unmistakable empathy. He understood all too well the demons that haunted you in the quiet, the memories and fears that the Capitol's walls could not keep at bay. "Of course, I'll stay," he said without hesitation, his voice carrying a warmth that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. There was no judgment in his eyes, only an unwavering support that seemed to bridge the distance between you.

He followed you into your room, the door closing quietly behind him, sealing off the world outside. The room, with its grandeur and excess, suddenly felt less imposing with Finnick there, as if his presence could somehow make the space more bearable, more like a sanctuary than a cage.

You didn't bother with the lights, the city's glow casting a soft illumination through the windows. The silence of the room enveloped you both, a stark reminder of the world you had left behind for this moment of solace.

Finnick's presence was a steady comfort as you prepared for bed, the routines of the evening taking on a new, less lonely aspect. When you both lay down, the bed large enough to maintain a respectful distance yet close enough to feel the reassuring presence of each other, the tension began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of peace.

Neither of you spoke much, the silence a comfortable blanket woven from mutual understanding and shared experiences. The sound of Finnick's breathing, steady and calm, became a lighthouse in the night, guiding you away from the shoals of your own turbulent thoughts. And for the first time since entering the Capitol, the night didn't seem quite so long, nor the shadows quite so deep. With Finnick by your side, even in the silence, you were no longer alone.

#finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x you #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick x reader #the hunger games #a ballad of songbirds and snakes

197 notes · View notes

harrysmimi · 10 months

Text

Boo-Boo Away

Synopsis: One where Harry's left alone with two kinds under two as his wife rests on a sick day

Dadrry Fic

More of my work

Harry loves his family.

Without help he was loosing his mind. All of his family is sick from flu. It really started from him, then his wife got sick one of the the kid is breastfeeding.

Bea, the twenty month old and Maeve the two month old were grumpy and moody since last night. Both the parents stayed up to tend to their kids. But YN got even more sick this morning, and she was advised to take rest by her doctor.

Been given birth just two months ago via C-section has already taken a huge toll on her. So, Harry took it upon himself to make YN take a nap and the littlest was all fed and bundled up and fast asleep as well.

Maeve was being difficult to put to sleep, it took him all of a hour and half just rocking her to sleep but it was worth it the moment she fell asleep and he put her next to her Mumma on her bed. She seems to be a little too young to be sick but she's doing the best out of three of the ladies.

Bea could walk, sprint even, so she followed her dad around the house with her blankie dragging behind her as he did the chores. He'd warned the little girl that she could trip and fall with her blankie dragging behind her.

"Princess you will trip like that." He tried to have her hold her blankie in a way she wouldn't fall, bundled up in her arm. But she threw a tantrum. She was adamant to drag it around with her. "Okay, okay, you can have it as your wish." He surrendered.

He placed all of Maeve's clean laundry in the basket as he ran another batch of both the girls clothes. He took the basket out To the kids' room. None of them slept in there, they both liked to sleep in their parents bed. Maeve especially, she is already bonded with her Mummy where as Bea always wants Papa with her.

"Papa." Bea called for him, showing him a toy she's been obsessed with lately. It was a yellow Lego building block. She showed him asking him to go play with her with the building blocks.

"That's so cool, baby." Harry engaged in little conversations with her. She went back out to the living room. "You're still obsessed with that one?"

"Mhmm." She nodded.

Both YN and Harry have been used to help by their Doula, who helped them both everything as YN healed from giving birth and the parents focused on bonding with their new baby. It was the same when Bea was born. But now that they're both on their own, the chores have become more challenging.

Especially for Harry today. He had to place each of his steps carefully, not wanting to kick his toddler like a football on accident.

As Harry placed the basket of clean laundry in the kids' room he walked out to a living room scattered with toys. They weren't just just limited to the play area but everywhere in the living room.

Harry wanted to cry.

But he left it at that, he doesn't want Bea to cry, and wake up her Mummy and little sister by that. He'd let be on her own until he's done with the dishes.

The little green eyed girl walked upto him again to show him a scribbly drawing of hers. Harry gave her some encouraging words as she walked back out.

She was still dragging that blankie around the house.

It wasn't until he heard a thud and a loud cry that sent him running outside. Bea had fallen down the two little steps which separated their kitchen and living room. She never missed those, it was definitely that dang blankie. Her cried were loud enough to have her sleepy Mummy get out to see her.

"What happened?" YN came running out too, her tired eyes just daring to shut closed again.

"Hey baby," Harry cooed as both the parents gathered around the toddler. "Did you get hurt?"

"Yes." She nodded as she cried, "here." She pointed at her knee which was obviously red.

"Can you move you leg for me?" YN asked and the girl did, "good baby. And again?"

"Hurt." She sniffled. "Hurt."

"I know baby, but we have to move your leg a little so it won't hurt as much." Harry assured her and made her bend her knee a couple of time carefully but apparently it still hurt.

"Boo-Boo away." She leaned onto her Mummy who was closer to her as her dad inspected her knee, "Boo-Boo away!"

"It's alright, see," Harry placed a delicate kiss on her joint and looked at his wife. "Kiss Boo-Boo away, Mummy." And her mummy did too.

"Why don't we go take a nap? With May-may too." YN suggested, "your Boo-Boo will go away after."

She usually just moves on, but given the toddler is sick her tiny body must already be aching already to add to her injury. Harry picked her up like a little doll she is and walked them to the master bedroom.

It was also when Maeve started to wake up all fussy too. It was hour past her feeding time, Harry didn't even realise that. But YN picked her up immediately and brought her to the bed. She lied down the baby as it was the most comfortable position to feed her. Harry placed Bea on the other side.

"May-may no!" Bea cooed as she gently stroked her sister's head. "Mumma, May-may hurt?"

"No, baby she's just hungry." YN explained, "why don't you just lay down, hmm? Cuddle with May-may and Mummy."

Bea lied down on her dad's side of the bed immediately. Making him jealous just as fast. He could use a nap too, he's been up all night and hasn't slept for even a blink. Since yesterday morning.

"Hey, you wanna join us?" YN asked as he was making his way around their bed to go out and finish up all the chores.

"I've got dishes to wash," he shared.

"We can do that later, take a nap with us." YN pressed so he can take some rest too. And he's just recovered from a flu. "Come on!"

"Okay, okay." He walked back to his side and lied on his side.

It was bit crowded with two babies, but it's cosy. Maeve sleeps in the cot kept in her parents room because she's just too small to be on her own. And her older sister likes to sleep right in between her parents on their bed. It is warm and cosy and safe feeling. But when she's in mood she'll demand to sleep in the nursery, in her own bed. And there also another crib in the parents room where Harry would eventually move Bea too. Especially when she's kicking her dad in stomach and face there.

Bea scooted closer to her dad, using his bicep as her pillow she buried herself in his chest for cuddles. It was quiet. Bea asleep and Maeve still having her milk.

The littlest one was drifting in and out of her sleep there, it was so adorable as she smiled and tiniest dimples popped up on her chubby and fluffy cheeks. And she go right to sucking onto her mum's boob until she was breathless. A hungry, hungry little human she is.

"She's running a marathon." Harry whispered and chuckled softly. He doesn't want Bea to wake up. He moved her to the crib carefully.

Only so her fever doesn't go up with her warming up too much. And they can't turn up the AC too much as all of the girls have cold too. He picked up the baby when she was done eating too, and burped her before she was back in her cot too. He sighed seeing how peaceful both of their babies were sleeping. Finally getting the rest they need.

"Now come here, will you?" Now his wife was demanding his attention. And he obliged. He pulled in closer to his chest there.

"You know I love our babies, but I miss our time alone." He shared.

"Awh!" YN cooed, "we can have alone time after they've recovered from flu."

"Mhmm." He sounded tiredly, "hate to see them that way. Bea has been to grumpy since last night."

"Give her a break, she's still a baby." YN chuckled.

"I know, I know." He nodded, "I'm just jealous they get all your time now."

"They get all your time too!"

"Well..." He laughed, "touché."

"Yeah!" YN got all defensive.

"Once you're all recovered, we're gonna it a good few days, the kiddos can go live with my mum for the weekend and we can go to our villa." He layed a rough plan knowing well it could go wrong anyday, anytime.

"You know both of them haven't been to our home in Italy yet?" YN reminded him.

"Need to get their passports sorted then we can take them there for Christmas, yeah?" He suggested, "till then you and I can have some us time there."

"Yeah we can." She smiled. "I love you."

"And I love you more." He placed a kiss on her forehead.

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @onlyangelrain @supersanelyromantic @haarrrys @originalsoulcollector @harrysgirl-1d @lomlhstyles @im-an-overthinker @moonys-star @blackbookwhore @tenaciousperfectionunknown @stilesissaved @allthelovehes @novalunosising @sunshinemoonsposts @harryssky1 @dear-mylove @sofia-faustina @stylesfever @reputationolivia

Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

718 notes · View notes

hoeforhao · 9 months

Text

🏷 Kidult ▪︎ Choi Seungcheol Fic ▪︎ pt.2

↷ pairing: dad!seungcheol × fem!reader (feat!jeonghan)

↷ genre: heavy angst, fluff towards the end, mentions of childhood trauma, sort of arranged marriage? cheol and reader have a daughter together, lots of dad seungcheol content!!!

↷ summary: can trying to relive the childhood you never got to experience, through your daughter be the reason of your husband's irk?

↷ part: 2/4 pt.1, pt.3, pt.4

↷ w.c: 2.4k+

↷ author's note: part 2 is here at last!! this time I told myself that no matter what I'll keep my promise and post on cheol's birthday 💌 + also part 3 would be like a bonus with quite a lot of smut😏 and comfort at the end obviously duh!

If you want to be added to this fic's taglist, drop a comment under this post ; my ask box is open too♡

"You didn't have to go along with Hannie's proposal you know. He's just naturally manipulative" shifting on the satin sheets beneath that were definitely fine enough to soothe your tired body, but nothing your aching soul, you lightly chuckled in order to make it seem like you were completely fine with cheol's demeanor towards you today, or rather everyday!

"I agreed because I wanted to y/n,not because I was influenced into" seungcheol's firm hands hesitantly creep up along your waist, sending sudden jolts of warmth throughout.

Isn't this all you've ever wanted, to be wrapped up in his embrace, take in his vanilla scent, while he purred like a small child on your neck...but you knew better....you knew these were the delusions that would only peel your heart apart into flakes, everytime you hoped of them coming true.

"But you can feel uncomfortable staying with me in a resort alone, that too without Hana accompanying us"

"You're my wife y/n"

The man behind you spoke while keeping you in his embrace, hope still flaming in his orbs waiting for you to at least take his hand into yours...

But alas! He very well knew that the hurt he has caused you can even take up ages for him to fix.....well he wasn't in any sort of hurry, rather now completely ready to build an eternity with you, his beloved lady.

While cheol slipped into deep slumber, his arms still wrapped around you and his wet curls slightly brushing the skin of your back, that one line from him kept ringing in your head like a goddamn alarm clock.

"'You're my wife y/n' , did he just say that as a token or did he actually accept me as his wife, did he really melt, will i now finally get to live his love and be treated like how other men treat their lovely wives?"

Dang y/n stop expecting again you idiot. Do you wanna get yourself shattered into shards again!!!!

Amidst all these thoughts racing throughout your head, you didn't realize when you yourself welcomed sleep, wrapped up into cheol's nuzzle.

*********************************************

"Oh seungcheol i completely forgot to tell you two about this!" jeonghan's arms tug onto cheol's back, pulling the parade of you six to a halt, resulting into the older cocking up his head towards him.

"There's this staycation sort of my office is paying for only their best employees" han continues while flipping his long curly locks in the middle "at a resort call Diamond's Retreat where like couples with children can enjoy some leisure. They've a two day camp for the kids, while their parents treat themselves to some alone time with each other, away from the city and life's chaos, in each other's arms" him finishing the last part of the so called news with a teasing smirk on his face.

Seungcheol waited for Han to address as to what his office's trip had to do anything with him and his family.

"Since our other best employee Mingyu tskkk, is already out in Paris with his girlfriend, i was thinking if you three wanted to join us! The girls can have their fun while we enjoy our partners company" the petite looking man finally draws the concluding statement to his evil plan, hands tied tightly around his wife's waist.

"Seungcheol doesn't really do trips Han. We would rather like to pa-"

"Book us three in, we'll go" you were stopped in your tracks even before being able to keep your argument to the duo infront, as your husband made his decision while his arms snaked right around your torso, pulling your head slightly onto his form.

While you were shocked to see cheol showing you physical affection in public, the man beside you was rather concerned and hurt about his own wife not being comfortable in his embrace, trying to squirm her way out somehow.

**********************************************

The day of the trip was finally here and you were literally sweating through your white shirt at the thought of dropping off your daughter at the camp for TWO WHOLE DAYS! not that you were too sad about not having her running by your side all the time,but more cause you were strained about being left alone with her dad.

It has been over ages that you spend your time only with seungcheol by you side, you didn't know what to do, what to say...or more appropriately what to say that won't trigger his irk towards you. YOON JEONGHAN YOU DEVIL CHILD I'LL COME BACK AT YOU FOR THIS TRIP TO YOUR DAD'S ABODE.

"MOM!" a tweak from Hana's small fingers brings you back to this earthly void "I'm leaving with Byul now! Where's my goodbye kiss hmph!!! Daddy already gave me his" a pout paints hers plumply lips - no dna test would be needed to prove that she's the choi seungcheol's daughter....seeing how all her postures are literal copies of her dad, starting from those supple cherry lips to those glistening bambi eyes.

"Momma is so sorry bun,how about a bonus kiss as a punishment!" you peck your daughter's cheeks twice, slowly bringing her down from her father's arms, his hands brushing with your warm ones in the process.

Seeing Hana slowly melt with the horizon, hand in hand with her bestfriend Byul, while both of them excitedly made their way to the adventure camp, made you drop your heart into the pit of your stomach. Realization finally hits you - you're now completely alone with cheol!

"Get all nestled in quick, we've planned for a small sunset date by the rooftop deck. Be sure to be present by 5pm sharp, okay you Ms McTwisp" jeonghan places a playful slap along your back, earning an unnoticed glare from the other man.

Striding towards your room in as small steps as possible for a human to be taking, you unwillingly made your way to the room alloted for the two of you.

"What can be even worse than this already was right?" That was you before you pushed open the gloomy wooden doors to reveal a room decked up in white peonies and silk all around, making it look no less than the mating abode of two doves.

"I..I'll ask room service to clear all...all of this out" you tried to clear out the air before any offensive remark from him would ruin your flutter again, but...

To your surprise, seungcheol looked way to calm and maybe even a little happy at thr sight, the slight curl of his lips giving it out for him.

"It's okay y/n. It's just some decorations! Besides-" cheol takes a little halt, debating whether to say his thoughts out aloud or not.

"Besides they look really pretty, like you" the last two words were only for his ears to perceive, as you were already taken aback by his sudden gentle approach towards you.

After having a hard time trying to make it through the date with that annoying ass bestfriend of yours, for almost half an hour, it was finally time for dessert which in turn meant that he'll get to enjoy your company alone, away from any outside interference.

Although seungcheol would be lying if he said that the entirety of this thirty minutes meal was a torture for him - not when you were laced up in the prettiest sundress he has ever seen anyone flaunt ever. Was it that the dress was too finely woven? No! It was you, that soft smile of yours, those satin black locks half tied up into a white ribbon,that constantly kept distracting you from concentrating on your plate, those glittery siren eyes of yours is what made you look like a moon goddess in such a simple attire.

Oh how he wishes to be seated by your side, tucking away those stubborn strands behind your ears, with his own forefinger, to be feeding you that soufflé himself and to be gatekeeping those cheek pouches only for him to view.....he could never get enough of how godly yet cute you looked while devouring down each and every food bit on those porcelain plates.

"Thanks for the arrangement guys! Now if you would excuse use, I would like to take y/n on a walk by the beach" seungcheol pushes up from his chair, quite frustrated that the reason why he even agreed for this vacation, to spend time with his wife and try to make things right one page at a time, was not being attended to.

An approving nod and a victorious smile flashes onto jeonghan's face, knowing he has now been able to push forward the maneuver for what he actually tricked off poor Mingyu away to Paris, only so that he can somewhat try to mend his bestfriend's family.

"But we need to spen- " for the second time this week cheol banishes you from your right go finish your sentences, as he wraps your hands into his big ones, pulling you two into the beach encircling the property.

The warm sands beneath your feet, the sea breeze running through your hair while your dress flowed along the wind's patterns, made your heart swell up with utter joy. Even though the past few days have taken a big bite out of your heart, there's nothing that a walk along the beach at sunset can't fix right? That too if your husband is now following you like a puppy from behind, without your notice.

"Y/n?" a coo as gentle as a mourning dove graces you ears, while the cool waters traces finds their way onto your feet. You turn around to seungcheol now standing few inches away from you, his head drooped down like a flamingo, hands fidgeting with one another.

"Yes, Seungcheol?"

"Can you....can you call me cheol again pls? Like the old times?" your breath hitches at this sudden approach from him, unsure of what was about to come next.

"I know I messed up...no not even messed up i completely fucked up our relation...i treated you as nothing more than just my child's mother, but" you could now hear soft sobs coming from his direction, as seungcheol's voice starts to become unstable.

"That's not how i feel for you y/n. I don't know what took over me these two years...I won't try to justify myself by saying oh it was work stress or oh i was just not used to being a rookie father and all that....instead i really want to just mend our bond and be a happy pride. Pls?" Seungcheol's eyes finally travel up from the yellow ground beneath to the dark of your eyes, tear drops quite visible around their corners.

Oh how you just wanted to run into his arms, pull him into the warmest hug ever, pat his head and tell him that it's okay....everyone makes mistakes. What matters is them realizing it and trying to put things back into their place again. But your hope was played with way too many times to trust him this fast. What if he yanks you away, what if he gets disgusted by your touch, what if he's just saying all this for the sake of his daughter....

So, to protect yourself from further hurt, all you did was nod at him, flashing him a soft assuring smile, while walking away to sit on the moist sand beneath, ready to take in the grandeur of the sun pour its all into the sea.

Even tho all seungcheol wanted at that moment was to be wrapped into your bosom, he knew it would take a hefty amount of time for you to forgive all his conducts. A small sigh parted his lips as he waddled down the beach himself, leaving his pawprints as a proof of his new beginning, while sitting down by you to enjoy the sunset, hand in hand with his wife.

This newfound feeling of closeness with cheol was confusing yet fulfilling for your craving soul, cuz who could've imagined that you would be sitting on the beach by his side, fingers intertwined while the sun disappeared amongst the tangerine marshmallows before you.

"You know y/n, that day i didn't mean what i said. I love to see you play with Hana like a kid, reliving the childhood you never had, giggling and jumping like a little kiddo. My heart swells up with joy everytime, to see my wife and my daughter like that. To see my family all happy. I'm so sorry for being a jerk. I really don't know what gets into me sometimes, but all I know is I just want to build an eternity with you, have a small content family with my loved one" seungcheol literally blurts out everything in a breath. Did jeonghan possess him or what.

You didn't know whether it was doubt or hurt or the urge to not melt away so easily speaking, but instead of accepting his apology all you said was-

"We should get going now. It's getting dark." Dusting off the loose sand from the back of your white dress, you gently released yourself from seungcheol's grasp.

An immediate frown replaced his content face, from both the feeling of your warmth leaving his body as well as your indifference towards him. He rightfully deserves it tho. "Y-yeah let's go". Seungcheol and stuttering are two things you have never thought could go hand in hand. Like ever. At least not infront of you.

Overwhelmed with all these fresh senses, you quietly follow cheol on his stride towards your room ; the moonlight hitting on his orbs, radiating off a glint even diamonds can't be compared to, the moist breeze from the waters slightly wetting his locks making them stick to his glistening skin, those rosy plumps sticking out into a small pout....oh how dreamy can this man even look huh...even the moon god would be struck by how his light carves out the features of this fallen archangel.

"You know staring at anyone like that for this long, is considered rude" your trance his broken off by his deep voice, laid with a tint of allurement, as he twisted the knob of your room's door, "but you're my wife, I'm all yours to look at"

"I'm so so...sorry. I didn't mean to" you shy away from his glare, trying to quickly walk towards the couch, but seungcheol was way faster than you knew. Even before you could take a step towards your goal, cheol already has you trapped in his arms, your back hitting the cold surface of the door, while his knee rested between your legs.

"W-what are you doing, cheol" a warm wet pair of lips lands on yours as soon as the much longed for nickname makes its involuntary way out of your crevices.

638 notes · View notes

the-crimson · 7 months

Text

I’m just spinning q!bbh in my mind rn I’ve got theories and analysis and bits of it are a stretch and it is rambly and long so it’s going under a cut but here we go XD

Everything he’s done since the eggs were taken has been so incredibly deliberate and he developed this plan when he was in the depths of the greatest despair. According to what he told Baghera today, he developed this plan before the anger stream when he lava cast the presidential office as that was part of the plan to draw out the workers.

So Bad blatantly lying and gaslighting and just being incredibly suspicious to everyone today feels deliberate. It feels like he’s intentionally burning these bridges. The whole gun debacle is a great example of this. I saw a post that suspected bbh took Ron to test Baghera and her loyalty to him by doing something he knows she’d disapprove of and while I don’t think that’s why he took Ron, I defiantly think that’s part of it.

The whole gun thing I feel is Bad’s test for Forever. Bad has lied to his face and changed the story so many times that even when Bad tells him the truth Forever doesn’t care. I think Bad is intentionally pushing Forever just like he is Baghera. He’s pushing him to see what it would take for Forever to cut ties. It’s brutal and is actively hurting Forever just like how Baghera was hurt learning what Bad had done to Ron.

Bad feels no guilt for what he’s done to Ron. All he cares about is what others would think of his actions. He knows what he’s doing is “wrong” but he doesn’t care. Such black and white morality is beneath him. He’s doing what he thinks is necessary.

And that includes his own self destruction. He is testing all of these relationships knowing full well that he might destroy them. He knows Baghera is so much more moral than him and has such a higher value of life so he intentionally showed her something that would shatter her perception of him. Bad knows that trust is very important to forever so he intentionally lies and gaslights him knowing full well that Forever may never trust him again.

Bad created this plan when he was at his lowest point. On an average day, Bad’s value of his own life is nonexistent. He designed a plan to uncover how the federation spies on them knowing full well that it could turn everyone against him. That sure sounds familiar doesn’t it? Bad’s proposed this exact same plan under different circumstances(“joining” the feds to make them worse so everyone revolts against them inspired by his building inspector bit”). He doesn’t care about himself and is willing to throw himself to the wolves and make everyone hate him if it means defeating the federation and getting their children back. Previously, bad never went through with the plan because he wasn’t as desperate but now… during the depths of his grief after the kids were stolen, there was nothing holding him back from complete self annihilation.

I think Tubbo discovering/catching on to bbh’s kidnapping put a hitch in Bad’s plans because now his tests for others are being influenced by an outside variable he can’t control, that’s why he spent the whole day doing damage control. He’s trying to spin the story in such a way that he’s still somewhat in control of the situation. He knows that the cats out of the bag. Everyone is going to suspect him now so what does he do? He spends the day making himself even more suspicious. He admitted to torturing foolish in the past. He admitted to imprisoning forever during the happy pills arc. He admitted to planning on abducting a player in the future. He’s making himself look so much more guilty.

Everything he does is with intent. What could be the intent here? He’s told several people that he wants to be arrested so he has access to the federation prisons/facilities. He’s told several people that he is capable of kidnapping/torturing someone. He denies he’s guilty of Ron’s disappearance while simultaneously making himself look guilty. Is he trying to push the federation? To see if they actually will arrest him? All fingers point to bbh and the federation knows this - they basically say so in the journals Tubbo found. But they continue doing nothing. The workers are warned to stay away from him at all costs but… why wouldn’t they just arrest him? They’ve done so to others for less. That’s the question I want Tubbo to be asking. He’s smart enough to realize there’s something off here. Yes bad has a guy in his basement but why hasn’t the federation done anything about it?

Maybe that’s Bad’s test for Tubbo. Bad knows Tubbo is fiercely intelligent and that he can’t bullshit has way past him so he gave Tubbo so much. Yes there was a lot of bullshit but Bad intentionally gave Tubbo more ammunition against him. Is that Bad’s test? If Tubbo finds proof that Bad has Ron in his basement and the federation continues not to act, will that clear Tubbo of suspicion in his eyes? Tubbo knows the worker Bad is trying to find, is Bad giving Tubbo a chance to unknowingly prove himself by uncovering Bad’s secret? “Has anyone ever told you your too smart for your own good, Tubbo?” It sounded like a threat but it could have been an invitation.

Fred has become an incredibly important npc and I have a feeling he is the key to unlocking the mysteries of the eggs and the great evil. I’m pretty sure he’s the one in the radio transmission that talks about why the eggs disappeared and Ron said he overheard Fred talking about the evil. Fred knows so much more than he lets on and one way or another, the players are gonna find out.

I’m also fascinated by Bad’s conversation with Bagi about Boo. Only after Bagi confessed to telling Forever about the secret did Bad put in his clipboard that she passed the test. We’ll how did she pass the test? She told someone about his secret. We’ll, she came clean about it. She told someone she thought was Bad’s best friend then admitted it. She wasn’t trying to go behind his back and thus was trustworthy. However, as the day went on and Bagi learned about Ron, this changed. Her perception of Bad changed and Bad updated his notes about her in response. She went from trustworthy to sometimes trustworthy to be careful what you tell her. She still passed the test but the level of trust dropped dramatically - which is so fascinating.

At the end of it, I think… through all of this, Bad is gonna burn all his bridges in order to find the eggs and destroy the federation. He’s accepted that at this point. He was so dismissive of Baghera’s concerns for Ron and Bad and almost felt like he was placating her, just telling her what she wanted to hear. If Baghera interferes with Ron, I don’t think Bad will accept that and he would sacrifice their relationship to continue his plans. If anything, I could see him releasing Ron into Baghera’s hands only to capture Fred in his place - and this time he wouldn’t tell a soul.

Just the sudden switch in attitude when everyone triggered his radar was palpable. “Get out of my house or die” he was so furious that this test had been interrupted but he masked it while with baghera. When Bad went flying into the hall of grim shouting at everyone to get out and attacking them mercilessly, you could feel the rage (part of that was the lore secrets being accidentally revealed but still) the entire visit with Ron was a performance for both Ron and Baghera and I feel so bad for Baghera because she’s in an impossible position.

She wants to be there for Bad she wants to support him but this… this is so far beyond what she is willing to excuse from him. This has crossed so many lines but there isn’t any turning back. She doesn’t want to lose Bad either through breaking his trust or being taken by the federation but at the same time she can’t stand by and do nothing. She needs to help him. Unfortunately, that means it’s highly likely Bad will end up immolating their friendship if she pushes too hard.

And just the way Bad acts around Ron is so fascinating. It’s all a performance. The large furnished home. The fridge full of food. The fish. The weird attachment Bad shows - almost a reverse Stockholm syndrome - while simultaneously talking over/for Ron in such a dehumanizing way. It’s so fascinating in the moments when the mask falls away. When Bad was watching Baghera talk to Ron - idk if it was just me - but I felt like Bad was a hawk observing it’s prey. He plays up the sugary sweetness and dependence but he still feels like a tiger prowling the bars of his cage eyeing the snacks on the other side. It’s the way he moves and what he choosss to look at during these scenes idk bbh’s body language is insane and I could devote an entire essay to analyzing it

Like Bad’s stream title before he started stream, there are only two sides. Either ur with him or against him and the only thing he values is finding the eggs and tearing down the federation. He doesn’t care if everyone grows to hate him. He doesn’t care if he grows to hate himself. There are no lines he won’t cross. It’s all worth it. It’s all inevitable.

#qsmp #crimson speaks #badboyhalo #ok this got really long #and rambly #idk if it’s even legible #but I have so many thoughts about his current arc #it’s masterful storytelling #and I can’t wait to see where it leads #I hope he gets worse #I hope the federations fear of him spreads to the players #I hope he burns every bridge #and at the end when there is nothing but embers #he realizes the cost wasn’t worth it #and it breaks him #I want people to be scared of him #I want a villain arc damn it!!#but if it doesn’t happen that’s okay to #I’m sure what ever direction bbh takes us will be amazing

320 notes · View notes

whoistartaglia · 1 year

Text

you avoid your crush.

how do you deal with an unwanted but undeniable crush? you avoid them: save the friendship, mourn the relationship. or, so you thought.

including: cyno, the wanderer.

warnings: gender neutral reader, slight angst, mostly fluff.

cyno.

when you realized you’ve developed feelings for cyno, your best friend, you didn’t know what to do. you couldn’t tell him and ruin the friendship. that would be a disaster, and break your heart twice over: once, to lose cyno as a friend, and again, to lose him as anything more. so you resigned yourself to only have your heart broken once: you would avoid cyno until your feelings disappeared, and keep your friendship with him intact.

so that’s exactly what you do. everything was going fine, too—until today, when cyno cornered you in a small alcove at the akademiya.

“oh, cyno…! funny seeing you here…”

“is it, though?” he asks. “i do work here. we both work here, actually. wouldn’t it be stranger not to see me?”

yes, it is, but cuno doesn’t give you time to respond before he continues: “so isn’t it quite strange that i haven’t seen you in what? a week or two now?”

“yes… i guess.”

cyno waits for more, but you give him nothing else. you fidget under the weight of his stare. he’s observing you and you get the feeling like you’re an experiment gone wrong, a conclusion miscalculated.

“al-righ-t,” cyno finally says, drawing out each syllable. he hesitates for a second before his face hardens and he says, “if you want to avoid and ignore me and pretend i don’t exist, then you can avoid and ignore me and pretend i don’t exist. i can’t stop you, even if i hate it. but i would have at least wanted an answer as to why.”

cyno steps aside then, as if to tell you the conversation is gone, you’re free to go. but you don’t move, can’t move. you can’t even think as cyno steps away, only his words ringing in your ears: i would have at least wanted an answer as to why. you owed him that much, at least.

“wait, cyno—“ you take in a deep breath, and the words tumble out all at once. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry for avoiding you i— i really thought it was the best since i like you and you don’t like me, and i didn’t want to ruin our friendship but it just ended up hurting the both of us and it was a really stupid, but i didn’t know what else to do and… i’m really sorry.”

you look up when cyno doesn’t say anything. he’s still studying you, maybe even more intensely than before.

“yes.” he finally says.

“what?”

“it was really stupid.”

your face burns in embarrassment. cyno continues, “not just your plan—but that you thought we couldn’t be friends if i didn’t feel the same way back.”

“i know i just—“ you abruptly cut off, repeating what cyno just said in your head. “you feel… the same way back?”

“yes. i’d tell you it was stupid not to realize i also like you… but until now, i didn’t know you felt the same.”

“oh.” and then again, because you don’t know what else to say, “i’m sorry.”

cyno allows a faint smile to grace his lips. “i’ll forgive you this time, [name]. honestly, i’m just relieved you don’t hate me.”

“i could never hate you,” you say immediately.

“it didn’t feel like that this week. or last.” you look down again, disappointed that you allowed yourself to make cyno feel that way. he continues, a little gentler: “you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“how?” you ask, already knowing you would do anything.

“how about you let me take you on a date? granted that’s something you probably want but there, you can tell me everything.”

you wouldn’t say no on any circumstance, but especially not when cyno’s finally smiling at you again. your relationship was off to a more than rocky start, but you find yourself hoping you can turn it around for the better.

the wanderer.

it was hard to avoid the wanderer as you were adventuring over teyvat together, just the two of you. when you first realized your feelings for him, and decided they would only prematurely end your expedition when he didn’t feel the same back, you swore to keep them a secret. to do that, you would need to distance yourself from him, but that proved rather difficult and… well, extremely obvious.

you stare into the flames of your small campfire. you sit opposite of the wanderer, though on previous cold nights like these, you probably would have been right next to him. similarly, you both would have trading stories and reminiscing about past adventures, not blanketed in this silence.

it’s clues like those, coupled with the equally obvious signs that you were had feelings for him, that let the wanderer discover your plan.

the wanderer leans back, resting on his elbows. the sun was setting, and already the stars would come out. on clear nights like these, you would spend hours—maybe the whole night—pointing out the different constellations.

looking at you now, eyes boring in the fire, the wanderer knows that’s not going to happen tonight. at least, not if he doesn’t do something about it.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he starts. you glance up sharply at him.

“yeah, i guess,” you mumble, looking back down.

“why?”

you trace circles in the dirt. “i’m just… tired. i guess. yeah, i might just go to bed early—“

“have you ever heard of,” the wanderer cuts you off, “the phrase, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder?’”

you pause. he can’t possibly know… can he?

“i’ve know of it,” you reply tightly.

“so then you also know that you’re little idea of ignoring me in hopes that your feelings go away was doomed from the start, right?”

startled, you look back up again, and meet the wanderer’s gaze. you meet the wanderer’s gaze, and like all the times before, you know there’s no use in lying to him. not when he already suspects the truth. “i… yes.”

“and i assume you didn’t want me knowing because you didn’t think i liked you back?”

your silence is answer enough.

“well, you’re right.”

what.

what?

but then the wanderer cracks a smile, and he’s beside himself laughing: “oh, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“you’re the worst.” but now there’s a smile on your face, and you’re also laughing: at him, at your plan, at how despite your fears, the wanderer likes you back.

it makes you feel giddy, like you could spend the entire night laughing under the stars—and looking at the wanderer, now coming to sit next to you, you feel like you just might.

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact the wanderer #scaramouche x reader #the wanderer x reader #scaramouche headcanons #genshin impact scaramouche headcanons #the wanderer headcanons #genshin impact the wanderer headcanons #cyno x reader #genshin impact cyno headcanons #genshin impact cyno #cyno headcanons #genshin fluff

1K notes · View notes

clockmax · 11 months

Text

- A TWISTED FANTASY

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Navi!Reader

A/N: FINALLY AT A REST STOP WITH GOOD WIFI!! Going to Nevada for pretty much the entire summer and this road trip is literally killing me. rip to luna who had to wait so long for this (ily bb)

warnings: hate fucking, oral (M receiving) p in v, degrading and slight praise, dubcon, brief fingering, orgasm denial/edging, spanking, hate fucking, semi-public, marking, i think thats all.

REQUESTS OPEN

There were no words that could describe the situation between you and Jake. Absolutely none.

It wasn’t just generally disliking each other; this was a different type of issue. You absolutely hated how that man was. Arrogant, selfish, how reckless he could be. But damn, this man was so fucking hot. You hated him, no, you despised him. Though there was no denying some of his actions could have you on the flipside.

But nevermind that, he could never have you. There was just no way you’d give yourself to a man like him. Your mind and body could hate him, but there was no denying how god damn attractive he was.

Every moment with him felt like hell. The way you both had to hold back your venom so as to not fight each other. The way you would huff and puff all because you were practically forced to spend time with him.

It was a blazing hell. You hated this man, and he hated you. But oh how he would get you worked up with all his teasing just to leave you alone, soaked in your pants. Jake was a cruel man, all because you two had some stupid childlike feud.

There was actually no beginning to why you both started hating each other, it just happened. When your parents let him into the clan, it just so happened that you both started disliking each other. Every time you were in a room with Jake, the tension in the air made it so thick it felt hard to breathe. Like you were going to suffocate on just the hatred alone.

And now here you were, in the forest, alone. Just you and your thoughts.

The festival was too loud for you. But the cherry on top of that was how Jake kept looking at you the entire night. The way you constantly batted heads, even when you were not speaking was just aggravating.

The walk was peaceful, you were finally able to get some alone time. Some time to enjoy the true beauty of Pandora. It was calming in some sense, but your tension was still high.

A faint sound of a stick cracking far behind put you on alert, drawing your knife, tail swishing violently in the air. Your beards perked up, twitching at every little sound. Eyes darted around, trying to find the source of the cracking.

After what felt like an eternity, you were finally able to make out the figure approaching you.

Oh eywa.. Why him?

Of course it had to be Jake Sully coming to interrupt your peace.

“Woah there princess, put the knife down, I’m not here to hurt you, yeah?” Jake’s tone was almost mocking, condescending even.

You roll your eyes, dropping your knife, body still on high alert.

“Keep this up and I might hurt you.” You nearly spat back, tail swishing as your eyes met his.

There was a certain fire in his eyes, something with hatred that almost burned into lust. The way he looked at you, ready to fight with you again.

“Someone’s got an attitude today,” Jake just kept mocking you, pushing your buttons, “How about we fix that, can’t have you going back to hometree spitting at everyone you see.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You turned away, walking deeper into the forest when you were pulled back, hands gripping at your waist.

“You heard what I said. Can’t let you back to hometree with an attitude.” His breath was hot against your ear.

Your whole body froze, his lips tracing behind your ear, hands gripping at the curve of your hips, breath landing on the nape of your neck.

You wanted to get out of this situation badly, but eywa, having him this close did something to you. No matter how many times your head cursed him at this moment, the arousal growing in your womb was something you couldn’t hold back.

“You.. son of a bitch-” You mumble, taking in a sharp breath of air.

“Yeah, yeah. Hate me all you want, kid, your body says different.”

One of Jake's hands found its way past your loincloth, dipping past the fabric to your cunt. His other hand held onto one of your breasts, gently squeezing it, rolling your nipple in between two fingers.

You knew you shouldn’t be doing this, especially with the man you hate. But god, it felt so good. It was twisted, really.

His fingers found their way to your sensitive bud of nerves, working it between his fingers pads. The sensation sent a shiver through your spine, a small gasp escaping your mouth. Your knees buckled a little, upper body almost folding in half already.

This was some kind of game now, seeing whoever could crumble first. Moving your hips, bumping your butt against Jake's bulge. He let out a low and quiet growl, his head moving back a little.

“Jesus, kid. Yea, you feel what you do to me now?” *His voice was low, fingers working at your clit as his other digits rubbed between your folds.

It was a game of teasing, a game to see who could break first. It wasn’t supposed to feel this good, but you couldn't help it. He was just touching in all the right places.

Low mewls and gasps escaped your lips no matter how hard you tried to hold them in. You were biting your lip so hard that it was surprising that you weren’t drawing blood.

His fingers left your clit, quickly replaced by his thumb. Two fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping inside, sending ripples of pleasure through you, fingers finding themselves cozy in your velvety walls.

You arousal coated his fingers with ease, making a mess of your loincloth and his hands. It felt so wrong yet so right. You could not figure if you wanted to enjoy this, or hate it simply because it was from Jake.

His lips kept at your neck, planting kisses, bites, whatever he could to almost mark you as his. You were his to hate but his to fuck. Almost like he was going to make you a stress reliever, something he could use to fuck his anger out.

You could feel the pleasure build up in your womb, stomach coiling into knots. It felt so good, just until his fingers pulled away, the pleasure almost being ripped from you.

Jake looked at you, almost letting out a small chuckle at how pitiful you looked. Your orgasm being ripped away from you had let you whine, thighs rubbing together.

“Knees, now.” Jake commanded, leaving no room for you to argue.

He gave your thighs a slap. You rolled your eyes, plating yourself on the forest floor. He looked at you, a silent command, almost telling you what to do.

Your fingers found the knot of his loincloth, fumbling with it. You were getting frustrated, Jake looking down and watching you in amusement.

“What's the problem down there, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with mockery and venom, a small smirk appearing on his face.

“Shut up.” You hissed back, fingers struggling to undo the tight knot.

Jake's fingers replaced your own, undoing the knot and tossing his loincloth to the side. His cock was practically rock hard already, beads of precum falling down his length.

With reluctance, you let him push past your lips, down that pretty throat of yours. His hips rutted into you with some sort of urgency, but also anger and a desire.

His cock reached so far down your throat, squeezing around him as you slightly gagged. The sounds were just extra stimulation for Jake, his mind already in a frenzy. Small tears falling down your cheek as he pushed past your throat.

Jake looks at you, all pretty on your knees as that anger burns in your eyes, before he says, “Now thank me.”

You go frigid, looking at him with an intensity behind those eyes of yours. He wanted you to do what? Why would you ever thank him?

“Fucking thank me for letting you swallow all my cum like a good girl."

There’s a dark edge in his voice, low grunts coming from his chest as his pace quickened, cock twitching in your mouth.

“Fuck that’s a good girl.” Jake mentioned in between grunts and low moans,

“Thank you-” You manage to choke out, the tip of his cock bruising the back of your throat.

As soon as you say the words, hot ropes of cum are spurting from his dick, coating the inside of your mouth white. His thrusts coming to a halt as he lets out a moan, cock twitching in your mouth.

The noises coming from him sent a heat down to your core, clenching your thighs. There was still no way you were getting turned on by him, but you couldn't help but want his cock inside of you.

“Swallow.” He pulled his length out of your mouth, looking down at you. Jake's voice was laced with a certain dark edge to it.

Jake crouches down to your level, palm of his hand holding your chin as his two fingers squish your cheeks, preventing you from spitting.

And you do, with no other choice at the moment. The way he looks at you like you’re inferior to him makes you feel so small right now. His cum slides down your throat, almost washing away the hateful words you want to curse him with.

You looked at him with a fiery intensity. Half tempted to slap that cocky smile off his handsome face. Damn him for being so arrogant, for getting you in this situation.

Your hands went to his shoulder, pushing him on his back. Jake didn’t make any attempt to stop you, he just looked at you with a cocky grin. Oh how badly you wanted to prove him wrong.

Moving yourself on top, tossing your loincloth, legs straddling the side of his hips. Your hands found their way to his cock, aligning it with your entrance, sliding down.

Well, fuck.

You did not calculate his size. Fuck, it felt like he was splitting you in two. Throwing your head back, letting out a moan. There was a pain from the stretch, hands on his abs to stabilize yourself.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take it? Thought a slut like you would be able to.” His hands held your waist, pulling you deeper on him until he was all inside, letting out a groan.

You didn’t even think it was possible to take his size, legs shaking as your cunt adjusted. The pain mixed in with the pleasure, creating an overwhelming feeling that sent sparks all over your body. His tip was prodding at your cervix, his cock stretching you more than you could stretch yourself.

“Atta girl, see? You could do it, just needed a little push.” The more Jake spoke, the more you wanted to slap him.

“Be quiet, so fucking cocky..” You mumbled, moving your hips up and down. Your mind was practically telling you to stop, that he was your enemy, you weren’t supposed to end up fucking.

It’s not like you could stop anyways. As much as you hated Jake, as much as your rivalry ran deep, he just felt too good to stop.

Jake leaned back, watching the way your hips desperately moved, watching the way you slide up and down with some sort of urgency that was mixed with lust.

“Yea, can’t be calling me stupid now when you’re bouncing all up on my cock like a whore.”

His gaze was fixed on your face, watching how your face contorted with pleasure, your plump lips opening to let out moans.

It was a sight to see, and a sight he was going to keep in his memory.

Jake’s hands held your hips in place, stopping your movement. One of his hands went to your hair, pulling you down onto his chest. Bringing his hips back, he thrusted into you with a force that you swore knocked the wind out of you.

His pace was rough and ruthless, fucking you dumb. All you could do was mewl and moan on his cock. You couldn’t even formulate a full sentence anymore, your body too lost in the euphoria.

Then came back that familiar feeling again, ropes knotting in your stomach, coiling tight on each other.

“Fuck- ‘s too much.. Jake-” You can’t help but let his name slip past your lips, your orgasm building up with such an intense and quick force, overwhelming your senses.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl? Gonna come for me?” Jake let out a low chuckle, hand finding its way to your bottom, holding one of your asscheeks before giving it a spank.

The sensation and burn of it sent you overboard, coming around his cock as he drilled into you. Your lips fell open with a moan as your body shook, waves of pleasure crashing down on you in intense waves.

After a few more thrusts on Jakes end, he was spilling inside you. A low grunt coming to the surface as he held you in place, face burying into the crook of your neck.

For a few moments, you both laid there, just trying to process everything. You slid off him, finding your loincloth and adjusting it back on. You tossed Jake his loincloth, not even looking him in the eye.

You probably couldn’t even look yourself in the eyes after that. How tense things were going to be with the next following days.

You just got yourself into a mess that had only 2 endings.

taglist: @justasimps-blog

#jake sully #jake sully smut #avatar smut #jake sully x reader #miles quartich #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch x reader #tonowari #tonowari smut #tonowari x reader

523 notes · View notes

vhagarlovebot · 1 year

Text

YOU NEVER REALLY SEE ME.

♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: prince aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aemond is jealous because you are spending too much time with aegon.

content warnings: pining, jealous aemond, a bit angsty, love confession, two idiots in love, aegon being kind of a matchmaker.

note: this pice is based on this request. if there are any grammatical errors i apologize, english is not my first language! hope you enjoy.

AEMOND IS JEALOUS OF AEGON. you began spending time with him when he showed interest in a book you were reading. now, you two spend almost everyday together. and every time he sees you, you are smiling or touching him.

aemond can not take it anymore. however, he doesn't do anything. he simply clench his fists and walks away. and recently has started to let it all out during his trainings with ser criston cole.

and today's been the worst day since everything started.

he's been in the training grounds since the morning, not wanting to run into you after he blatantly ignored you during breakfast. but someone out there hates him because as he's getting ready to face ser erryk, you walk in holding aegon's upper arm, both laughing.

aemond groans, “this is just great.” he mumbles, making ser erryk follow his line of vision.

he’s sweating and panting, while you look so pretty with your hair loose, wearing a beautiful dress he’s not seen before. but then there’s his brother. aemond doesn’t hate him but he wishes for aegon to just disappear.

“brother!” aegon greets him, a hand on his shoulder.

“prince aemond,” you bow your head, a smile dancing across your lips. and he is going to smile at you when his gaze falls on your hand still gripping his brother’s arm.

“what are you doing here? this is no place for a lady.” he'd be glad to see you there if it weren't for your company.

your smile falters. "we wanted to see you train."

aemond scoffs, looking at your hand one more time before dropping the wooden shield and walking away, leaving you hurt and confused, not knowing exactly where his recent behavior is coming from.

aegon laughs. "thank you, my lady," he grabs your hands to kiss them, a big goofy smile on his face which confuse you even more. "but i really think you should go after my brother."

you frown but do as he says, following the prince's footsteps.

"prince aemond?" you call him and he ignores you. "prince aemond!" you try again, drawing attention. you apologize with a shy smile, holding your dress up to help you walk faster.

aemond just keep walking, heart beating faster knowing you are just a few steps behind. why won't you let this go? he prefers thousand times to suffer than to face you.

"aemond!" you yell, putting your foot down and not longer caring about the disgusted and curious looks. but it works, because he finally stops. "i am sorry, my prince, i never meant to yell at you but you wouldn't stop walking."

he hums, not turning to you and, instead, looking at his boots. "no need to apologize, my lady. i am in a hurry, if you excuse me,"

"did i do something wrong?" your voice quivers, speaking too quietly, only for him to hear. "you have been ignoring me for days a–and if i did something to upset you know that i am deeply sorry... it was– it was never my intention."

aemond closes his eyes and sighs, feeling stupid. he never meant to hurt you but by trying not to hurt himself, he ended up doing it anyway.

he slowly turns to face you and the minute he sees your glassy eyes his hearts breaks a little. aemond instinctively holds out his hand, fingers itching to touch you, but after a few seconds just lets it fall to his side.

"prince aegon is worried about you," it's a lie but you don't know what else to say or how to act around him after so many days of silence on his part. maybe he doesn't know how to say that he no longer wishes to be your friend, maybe you are being too pushy.

but then he laughs, and it's not his usual happy laugh, this is a cold mocking one. "it's like you never really see me," aemond makes sure to look you in the eyes, if he is going to say it he would not be the coward who looks away. "everything is about aegon. all. the. time." each word is followed by a step towards you, but you don't back away, trying to hold your ground and show courage when in the inside you are dying to run into his arms. "i'm standing right in front of you and you don't see me!"

you flinch but still don't move. "i–i don't know what you’re talking about." you feel your throat closing up, his closeness making it hard not to look at his lips.

"do i really have to spell it out for you?" his expression softens, slowly raising his hand to your face. "i love you!" he finally says it and you don't dare to speak, holding your breath, head spinning feeling like you are floating in the air. "are you happy now?"

you bit your lower lip, face impossibly red, and blink one, two, and three times before grabbing his hand and taking it to your heart. "feel my heart beating for you, my prince?" you smile at him, seeing how his face lights up, all the fear disappearing from his face. "i am happy because i can finally say how much i love you."

aemond never thought he would hear those words coming from you and it makes him feel like the luckiest man in the seven kingdoms. and he has so much on his mind, so many questions to ask, that he doesn't know where to begin. however, he forgets everything the minute your arms are around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder.

aemond was finally home.

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fluff #prince aemond x reader #aemond targaryen scenarios #aemond fic #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic

1K notes · View notes

klausysworld · 1 year

Note

Hi, could you write a reader who’s not dating klaus but is jealous of how close cami has been getting to klaus and decides she is basically going to get klaus first and to prove to cami that he’s hers she plans for cami to walk in while she’s riding him

And I knew that he was mine

It was infuriating seeing them together.

Seeing how she flips her long blonde hair about and as she sits and listens to Klaus talk about his emotions.

Now it took me way too long to get Klaus to open up, and yet he just immediately tells her everything?

We had a much better relationship than him and her. I mean everyone knows it. Even his siblings have asked if we’re dating. Camille is simply a therapist.

However she seems to think a little differently.

To begin with we were civil and we both had our places in his life but then she started getting touchier…flirtatious and affectionate. And her glances at me were directed, she knew what she was doing.

I didn’t like that ugly feeling that bubbled inside me whenever she was near or someone mentioned her but I couldn’t stop it. It began to hurt more and more. I found myself being clingier to Klaus, not that he seemed to mind.

“Are you alright my love? You look upset?” He hummed as he put his hand to my cheek making me lean against it

“I was just thinking…nothing to worry about” i murmured as i nuzzled his hand

“Well since you have so much to think about perhaps you should sleep here? We have more than enough room, would you stay the night?”

And on what planet would I say no?

I was more than happy to agree, know I’m that Camille had yet to sleep at the Mikaelsons house. It was stupid of me to make everything about that but it was all i could think of.

I hadn’t have thought i could love someone the way I do Klaus and yet now I am fighting to prove he is mine even though he is not.

I craved him, his eyes on me, his hands on me, his words to me.

I would blush and smile, laugh and lean towards him but it wasn’t enough. She was still coming around.

Even when he started opening up to me, she was still his go to.

It was disheartening.

I found myself upset over it far too often, overthinking it and making myself cry. Accidentally in front of him once when he started talking about how great of a friend she was

“My love…what’s happened? Did i say something?” His arms were around me in an instant, his warmth surrounding me

“No I- I’m sorry i was just-“

“Thinking? Love, what’s going on inside your head?” He would ask softly, his hand holding the back of my head gently as I snuggled into him

“I don’t know” i whispered because it was just as confusing for me too.

“You know that I care for you my love, yes? I want you to be happy” he told me

“You make me happy” I mumbled

“And you make me happy too sweetheart”

He often held me rather close to him. There were even occasions when we fell asleep together, me in his lap or lead against his chest with his arms tightly around me so I wouldn’t leave him. Id even been in his bed a few times after lounging with him, waking up with his body pressed to mine, mine tucked to his perfectly.

Being with him so much was addicting, I never wanted to leave him.

So when I walked into his artroom to see him and Camille studying one of his drawings I felt my heart ache. Why did still need her?

I needed a way to make her leave him alone. To tell her once and for all that he was just mine.

It was much easier than I had thought. I had learnt that on the occasion he did see her it was a Tuesday afternoon.

So I made sure to get there late morning to see him.

His surprise was clear on his face but he also looked rather pleased.

“My love…did I miss your call?” He asked as he quickly approached me and kissed my cheek

“No i didn’t call, sorry, i just dropped by…are you busy?” I asked looking up at him through my lashes

“Of course not love, I’m never too busy for you. What were you thinking of doing today?” He murmured taking my hand

“Well…I thought maybe you could paint me? You’ve asked to before but we didn’t have time and well I don’t have much to do” i said with a smile seeing his face light up

“Oh what a wonderful idea, come my love, we will set it all up”

And he painted me over the next few hours. He had gone as far as unbuttoning my blouse to reveal my lace bra beneath- “your body is too beautiful to not add” he murmurs as his fingers skimmed my breasts and he opened the shirt with a lick of his lips.

I was already in little denim shorts so my legs were smooth and ready. He seemed to appreciate that as his hands glided over them “you are the perfect muse” he told me as he held the back of my knee gently and bent my leg as much as he thought necessary.

Once he had finished and showed me…well the room was a lot more tense.

I was basically stood in my underwear with how small my shorts were and my top was barely even on.

I was stood right infront of him, my eyes his art and his on me. His hands on my hips as his hot breath hit my neck

“Do you like it my love?” He asked, his voice much lower, deeper

“I love it” I whispered, reaching my hand out to trace it only for him to grab it and bring it back to his chest making me turn around to face him

“It’s wet” he murmured making me blush and nod my head

“Sorry”

“Nonsense…It’s only natural to want to touch” he uttered, i let out a little breath as i looked up at him. His hand cupped my face again as his adams-apple bobbed in his throat. His thumb traced my lips making me part them, letting his thumb into my mouth slightly and wrapping my lips back around it. I watched his eyes darken as I sucked it lightly, his hand pushed the back of my head as he let out a small groan

“That’s it love” he murmured, I let my eyes shut as I let out a whimper to stir him on. A quiet growl left his throat as he pulled his hand away and licked it clean himself, groaning again at my saliva.

His hand still held my head, pulling me straight to him to have our lips moving together.

I moaned into his mouth as his other hand wrapped around my waist to keep me to him. I smiled into the kiss and I could feel him doing the same. He pulled away shortly before coming back with wet open mouthed kisses to my mouth.

His hands pushed the blouse entirely off of me, his hands slipping up my back and to my bra and unclipping it. I let it fall off my arms to the ground between us, sighing as his hands and forearms covered my back. My bare breasts pressed to his clothed chest as he pushed me against the wall of his artroom. He pulled away after repeatedly kissing my lips, only the sounds of our mouths meeting each others bouncing off of the walls. He looked down at me with near black eyes, glancing between my lips and my exposed breasts. My face immediately flushed as i cleared my throat and moved my hands to cover myself

“No- no let me see” he muttered his hands grabbed mine, the exposure had my heart racing…embarrassment crawling up me because what if this was just a quick fuck for him?

I looked back to him, his hands held my breasts tenderly as his brows furrowed

“Klaus…” I muttered unsurely and his eyes quickly darted to mine. I was beginning to doubt my plan, what if it was awkward after? What if I was leading him straight to Cami?

“My love?” His hand was back on my face making me snap back to reality

“Yeah?” I whispered

“Do you want me to stop?”

I blinked at him “I- I don’t know” his face softened as he kissed my forehead

“You know i wouldn’t hurt you” he muttered, his hands brushing the hair out of my face

“I just…What does this mean?” I asked quietly and he smiled a little

“It means you’re mine” he stated, his lips pressed to mine lightly before i pulled away

“And you’re mine?” I questioned

“Of course, who else could I ever want?” He asked, his lips on mine again after, his hands moving down my back. “We don’t have to do anything else…I just want to kiss you” he murmured, pushing me against the wall again. I opened my legs enough to let his knee move between them, i let out a breath into his open mouth as my damp panties rubbed against my denim shorts with rubbed against his thigh. I looked up at him to see his eyes near gold as he watched my body grind against him. His eyes stayed there even after I tugged his henley off my hands explored his body.

Only when I let out a loud moan as the pleasure began to burn pleasurably did he look at my face. His hand moved to my ass and held me still making me let out a grunt and a sigh

“There is no possible way that the first orgasm of our relationship is going to be without me inside you” he murmured as he lifted me, my legs clinging to him

“Where are we going?” I asked as he headed towards the door

“My bed of course” he answered is a slightly questioning tone

“I want to do it here” i whispered and he rose a brow

“In my art room?”

“You can paint me after” i breathed, my lips just below his ear as i kissed the spot afterwards to send a shiver down his spine

“Oh” he uttered as i sucked his neck, his breathing a little heavier as I rolled my hips to his again.

I way put onto a large leather couch, his hands tearing my shorts from my body as he kicked his pants off.

“Here it is” he growled as he kissed down the valley of my breasts to my lower stomach. His tongue darted out quickly to touch the hood of my clit, the unexpectedly heat made my hips buck as a breathy moan spill from my mouth. He let out a long groan as he brought his face between my legs and gave a long lick

“Oh god” I whined, his tongue was hot and fast as it lapped, his hands rubbing along my thighs but not stopping my hips from thrusting upward. “Fuck Klaus you have to stop” I panted making him pull away and hover back over me

“Why?” He asked nearly panting himself

“Because I won’t be able to stop myself cumming and I also want you inside me for the first one” I murmured, my hand pulled him down by the back of his neck as he let out an animalistic sound.

“I want a taste after though” he whispered as his mouth pressed to mine making me moan, my legs wrapped tightly around him trying to pull him down

“Please Klaus” I begged and he hummed lowly. He looked between us as i felt his tip slide along and between my folds, my teeth sunk onto my lower lip. One hand held himself up and the other guided his cock. He played at my entrance for a moment, just pushing the head in and out a few times, i was propped up on my elbows watching with anticipation. His face was pulled into one of concentration as he slowly pushed further inside.

My mouth fell open as he just kept filling me, and when i felt full, I look back down to see part of him still outside of me. My walls strained to his size as I clenched around him, almost trying to push him out.

“You alright love?” He asked and i nodded

“Fuck…how…”

He let out a laugh at my reply before slowly drawing his hips back, pain coursed through me as my walls nearly convulsed. He pushed back in with a grunt

“God” he breathed as he looked at me, our eyes locking as his eyes lusted over further.

“Keep going” I muttered with a nod and he did so without question, his body moving away and toward mine a few more times, the pain slipping into pleasure the more he did so.

I could hear just how wet he had made me as he slowly thrust his hips, and when I looked between us again I found barely any of him was left out.

“Can I go faster?” He asked, his hands now either side of me as his hips rolled. I nodded

“Yeah…yeah go faster” I moaned between words feeling him everywhere. He did so soon enough, moving back and worth quicker by each thrust.

My lower abdomen tightened as he brushed past my spot, his hand gripped the arm of the couch above my head as he grunted. I could hear his skin meet mine as he fucked faster, much faster. He let out a throaty moan the more he went on, my body squeezed him tightly as my nails dug into the leather cushions

I distantly heard a door close making me look up at Klaus but he was lost in his state of pleasure, his eyes barely focusing on my face as he pounded into me roughly. I brought my hand up and pulled him down by his neck, his lips back on mine and his hand leaving the arm of the chair to cup my cheek giving me the leverage I needed to roll on top of him.

He grunted into my moan as I rode him, my thighs still tight around his hips as I moved up and down him. I pulled away with a drawn out moan, my hands moving to his chest to keep me up as my hips fucked his.

I panted as he moaned my name, his arm circled my waist pulling my closer, out skin slapping together as he thrust upward to meet my movements. I heard footsteps making me attach my lips back to his hastily, not that he seemed to mind as he groaned as kissed back hungrily.

The door made a quiet ‘creek’ making my eyes open and glance to see a very shocked Camille. I smiled into the kiss as my hips bucked faster, forcing a moaned version of my name to leave him again as i pulled away from the kiss and bounced along him as quick as i could.

I watched her run off with her hand over her mouth and her eyes full of hateful tears.

I looked down at him to see him looking incredibly messy in the hottest of ways. His hair was a state, lips swollen and a smudge of my lipstick coming from the corner, his eyes were like the darkest of storms and he breathed my name like a prayer.

The sight alone could’ve made me cum, let alone him being deep inside me and fucking my spot perfectly with his fingers gliding over my clit rhythmically. I felt myself let go around him, a silent scream leaving my lips as I fucked him through his release, his ropes of cum filling me beyond capacity and covering both of our legs.

I practically collapsed on top of him and he was quick to hug me to him. Both of us panting as we breathed shared air between us. Our bodies were covered in a thin layer of sweat as his hot breath fanned over my face, his hand tucking my surely unruly hair behind my ear before kissing my lips gently

“You have- no idea- how much- I needed that” he panted, i lead my head down on his boiling chest as I attempted to steady my breathing. “Believe me, when i tell you that i love you” he whispered and I subconsciously tightened around him, his hand fisting my hair in a response. “And by that- I assume you do to?” He asked and i nodded

“Always” i uttered

“And forever” he finished, his hand still detangling my hair. And I knew that he was mine

(Was sat watching the Kings coronation while writing this yesterday 😭)

616 notes · View notes

ficmashup · 5 months

Text

Caretaker

A/N: I should probably put summaries on these, but I'm terrible at brevity. Clearly. But wow some people actually like this and I'm blushing and kicking my feet. :) Thanks for interacting! Sorry this one is a bit more team-based than Price-based, but honestly the way to that man's heart is through his men. He's such a dad and I love him for it.

Warnings: Vague SA references or similar trauma, stabbing, harsh language, f!reader, talk of being shot, wound care.

Word Count: 3.8k

Feral Masterlist

What really puts the team and I’s tenuous connection to the test is when Soap gets stabbed.

We’re two months in. I’m just a soldier and medic today, on the ground with the rest of the group as we clear a warehouse storing some enemy supplies that we’re…appropriating. My focus is razor sharp, easily directing my hyperactive fight or flight instinct into looking around every corner and keeping a sharp ear out for any noise. Soap and Ghost are on the other side of the building doing the same, Price pulling up the rear.

Gaz and I both hear the scuffle and stop in our tracks before Ghost’s voice comes over coms. “Soap’s hit. Eastern corner.” We start moving immediately and I slide my gun wrapped around my body to my back as we reach them, the boys already forming a circle around Soap as they watch his back. I’m on my knees at his side the second I reach him, my hand pushing down hard on his thigh as I take in the handle sticking out just above his hip.

His body is held taut and his jaw is locked, clearly trying to stay quiet and still. “Alright, Soap, I’ve got you.” I murmur while Price gives orders to the boys. Gaz and him split up, more than likely going to clear the rest of the building while Ghost stays in the shadows next to me to watch our backs.

Soap grunts. “Good to know, G.”

I guide his hand to my knee and press it there so he can squeeze when the pain gets too bad. It helps my patient and gives me a good indicator of their pain levels. My fingers are ginger as I rip his shirt a bit more, moving it and his tac vest up enough to see the wound. “Didn’t hit anything vital, you lucky bastard. I can patch you up here, then treat this properly at camp.” I’m already doing it as I tell him, my med-kit open on the concrete floor beside me. I gather two pills in my hand and reach up, tilting his chin to look at me. “Swallow.” His eyes widen a touch and he lets me slip the pills past his lips before his throat flexes as he swallows. “Good. Those will kick in and take away some of the pain on the walk back, but I can’t wait until then. So, I need you hold onto me because this’ll hurt like a bitch.”

I hold his gaze, making sure he knows I mean it and he nods. With gauze packed around the blade, I yank it out without hesitation and Soap chokes. “Fuck.” He curses and his fists clench, his fingers digging into my thigh while I move quickly to staunch the blood flow. Price and Gaz return, nodding to Ghost to give the all clear. The warehouse is empty except for us.

“And here I was thinking Scots were more creative with their cursing.” I goad him a bit to distract him and he huffs a laugh.

“If you wanted me to teach you curses, lass, you should have asked.”

“Think I just did. You going to disappoint a girl?”

Another dry chuckle leaves him and I glance at his face to see a crooked smile despite the pain. “Ah, well, awa’ n bile yer heid is Ghost’s favorite. Means go fuck yourself.” The aforementioned soldier grumbles as he slides through the shadows to settle a few feet from Soap’s head.

“Shouldn’t have gotten him started. Now he won’t shut up.” Gaz comments good-naturedly from my left, he and Price watching as I work. That’s exactly my plan. If Soap’s talking, he’s not thinking about the pain.

“Definitely seems like Ghost’s favorite. Does he hear it often?” I’m nearly done now as I make sure the bandages are as tight as I can safely make them while holding Soap’s gaze again, drawing his attention with a direct look.

He takes a sharp breath, but grins through the pain. “Often enough, eh, LT?” He teases while glancing towards the Lieutenant.

Ghost doesn’t budge from where he watches us. “Couldn’t say. I only pay attention when you speak English.” Soap chuckles at that before I rest a hand on his shoulder and glance at Ghost, tilting my head to his other side. He moves there instantly while I look into Johnny’s eyes again.

“Time to get up. Lean on us and remember that the meds will kick in. Just keep moving for me, yeah?” My voice is calm and firm. I ease him up into a sitting position while he grimaces, but nods. Ghost and I share a look as we move simultaneously to get Soap up onto his feet. He groans and I brace a hand against his bindings to make sure they hold fast. As soon as I meet Price’s eyes, he nods and we start moving out.

Gaz moves towards me to take Soap, but I give him a sharp look. I’m the medic, the sick and injured are my responsibility. I keep Soap’s arm around my shoulders and push ahead with Ghost on his other side. The whole time I keep him talking quietly, distracting him and verbally poking him to keep his mind occupied. A single mention of his favorite football team sends him on a rant for five minutes straight and I don’t think I mistake seeing Ghost’s mask twitch as he smiles.

Gaz and Price are quiet as we make slow progress forward, letting me do my work, but I feel their eyes on us every now and then. Especially on me. Things go a bit easier when the pain pills I gave him kick in and Soap is practically back to himself by the time we get back to camp. Ghost helps me lay him down while everyone else packs up. We were planning to leave tomorrow, but tonight serves just as well.

Gingerly, I help Soap out of his tac vest and shirt before taking a proper look at the wound. “How’s the pain, soldier?” I set his hand on my knee again as I check to see how much blood has seeped into the gauze.

“Three. Barely twinges.” He responds and I give him a critical look as his grip on my leg tightens just a touch as I check my work. But I don’t call him out on it.

“It’s not too bad.” I tell him honestly as I remove the bandages, taking special care to clean the wound this time even as Soap winces. “As long as it’s kept clean and the dressing changed often, you’ll heal in no time. Hope you don’t mind my company because you’ll be seeing a lot of me for a while.”

He shakes his head, a little smile on his face. “Wouldn’t mind it a bit, G, but I can look after myself.”

“Not a chance.” My voice is firm and I make sure to stare into his eyes, placing a hand with blood smeared over my fingers on his shoulder. “That might’ve been how you did it before, but I’m your medic now. No one touches these bandages other than me. Especially not you. Understood, soldier?”

He swallows, then his smile grows as he gives me a nod. “Yes, ma’am.” I nod in return and finish wrapping the wound again while his eyelids droop. “Thanks, lass.” My hand lightly pats his shoulder before I lay his shirt over his chest while I stand.

“Sleep. Move a muscle and I’ll have you strapped to the inside of the car.” He hums his acknowledgement while I stand up and walk over to the men lingering around the back of our jeep. “He’ll be fine. It’s not too deep and didn’t hit anything that’ll cause problems later. We can move out whenever we’re ready.”

Price nods. “Let’s head out then. The sooner, the better.” He receives a chorus of acceptance from me and the others. I’m quick to pack up and slide my bag in the back along with the others before we get Soap in the jeep. Price drives, Ghost sits in the passenger seat, then Gaz and Soap sit on either side of me in the back.

“How are we doing, Soap?” I ask softly as we drive across the landscape, not exactly keeping to roads and worn paths.

He grunts with a hand braced against the wound. “Really enjoying the bumps, Cap.”

“We’ll reach a road in a few minutes. Stick it out, Johnny.” Price responds and Soap curses as he hits a particularly deep crater. My hand moves Soap’s to my knee again, holding it there as a touchstone. I’d rather not give him any more pain pills to avoid him getting drowsy, but I don’t want him incapacitated with pain. Keeping his hand there will help me know if he can handle it.

“This can’t be the worst you’ve had, Soap.” I poke a bit of fun at him and he half-smiles, scoffing.

“Not a chance. Being shot in the leg was a fucking bitch.” He shakes his head before leaning it back against the headrest. His eyes slide to mine. “What about you, G? What’s your worst?” I blink, hesitating as I consider the question. Price hits another bump and Soap hisses while Gaz tries to hide a chuckle as a cough. “You fuckin’ aiming for them, Cap?” His accent gets a bit thicker and I glance up at the rearview mirror to find Price’s eyes already on me. I shake my head slightly. Soap’s question is fine.

“Depends on what you consider worst. The most painful or the one that left me the most fucked up?” I offer and interest flashes in Soap’s eyes. I’ve got him distracted, at least. “I got shot in the left shoulder, then had to fend off an assailant in hand to hand. Worked the bullet deeper into my muscle since it wasn’t clean through. Took forever to heal and it’s a miracle I still have full movement. Couldn’t raise my arm above my shoulder for months.” The men nod or grimace, understanding and easily relating.

“Thought I was going to go stir crazy every time I’ve been put on bed rest.” Soap grumbles and I don’t bother telling him that he’s going to be on bed rest as soon as we get back to base.

“That’s because you can’t stay still for five minutes.” Gaz teases and Soap gives him a grin and a half-shrug to say he’s not wrong.

“Drives most medics crazy. Hope you’re up for it, G.” Ghost comments from the front and I look pointedly towards Soap.

“He’s not going to be difficult for me, are you, Johnny?” I ask expectantly and he shakes his head immediately. The men chuckle while I glance at Price in the mirror and fight a smile of my own. There’s a new edge in his eyes, a soft one, and I find that I like seeing it there.

Gaz shifts in place, a grin on his face as he stares at Soap. “You’ve already got him purring like a cat, G. What were in those pills you gave him?”

“Shut it, Gaz. You heard her threaten that guy in the bar. I’m trying to keep my balls where they are.” The car rumbles with laughter again, mine included, although it’s too quiet for anyone else to hear. We finally reach a dirt road and the ride becomes a fraction easier. Soap eventually falls asleep while I watch over him, my hand still on top of his where it sits on my thigh.

* * *

After a brief argument when we get on base, I force Soap into the med tent to stay overnight for observation. There’s a nagging feeling in my gut. I wait for him to finish taking a shower after I carefully wrapped the bandages so they wouldn’t get wet. He quirks a brow when he finds me waiting for him and I wave him into bed so I can take a look at the wound one last time before everyone turns in.

“This isn’t my first, you know.” He quips as he lets me check it again.

I give him a placating look. “After so long in the business, you learn to trust your gut. Better to be paranoid and wrong than careless and miss something that kills you.” That shuts him up promptly and my lips press together as I look at the wound. It looks a little red, almost inflamed. I replace the bandages before digging through a cabinet nearby, then come back with a bottle of water and pills. “Antibiotics, just to be safe. If there was something on the blade and it’s infected, then you’ll probably get a fever in the night. It’ll get worse from there depending on the infection.”

He takes the pills and swallows them, blinking at my words before remarking sarcastically, “Great.”

I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’ll be here. After I head to my room for a bit, I’ll come back with food and you’ll be stuck with me for the night so I can keep an eye on you.”

Amusement creeps back into his eyes as he sits up a little in bed. “They do have people here whose job it is to stay the night. I know you’re just as worn out as I am after the mission.”

I toss the bed’s blankets up over his legs with a firm look telling him to stay put. “Pretty sure I already told you that the only one touching those bandages is me.”

He hums, his smile widening a bit. “You know, I like this possessive side to you, G.”

“Uh-huh. You’ll like it even more when I zip-tie you to the bed if you don’t do everything I say.” I return sweetly and he swallows as I pat his foot, then head to the door. Surprise flits across my face as I see Price waiting for me and I walk over, stopping beside him and turning to look at Soap just like he is.

“Not being too obstinate, is he?” Price asks and he keeps his voice lower than usual while nurses file in and out of the tent while they take care of their own charges.

I heave a breath, but shake my head. “He’s been a good patient so far, but we both know restlessness settles in a little later.” He nods with the corner of his mouth lifting. I hesitate a moment before leaning a shoulder against the wall behind us and turning my body towards him. “My gut is telling me that it’s infected.”

Price turns towards me as well and his expression turns serious. He’s been in this business longer than me and he strikes me as the kind of man who doesn’t disregard his gut either. “Plan of action?”

My eyes cut to Soap idly tying knots with a lace pulled free from one of his boots. “I’m leaving him to have some time alone. We won’t know whether I’m right or not until late into the night, anyway. I’ll come back in an hour or two and keep an eye on him.”

He nods, pressing his lips together before he looks at me. “Alright. Keep me updated if he takes a turn for the worse. And don’t neglect yourself either.” Price gives me a pointed look that I respond to with a small smile. It’s getting a little easier to give those out, recently.

“Understood, Captain. I plan on spending an hour in the shower.” I get him to smile too as I salute him playfully, then head out to my room.

* * *

I keep my promise. Well, mostly. I spend a long time in the shower, then change into a tank-top and comfortable pants. My skin is still hot from my shower and I cool off a bit as I walk to the mess hall and get some food as promised before heading back to the med-tents. Soap shoves every morsel of food I give to him into his mouth and I shake my head while eating my own a tad slower. He crashes soon after and I take the time to set everything I might need on the small table next to the bed.

After that, the only thing to do is wait. I curl up in the chair next to him and get as comfortable as I can in the uncomfortable chair. There are one or two other nurses that mill around, but otherwise it’s quiet. Eventually, I find myself falling asleep. I’ve slept in worse places in my military career. I’m still on the cusp of sleep when I feel something settling over me. My eyes flash open and I look up in an instant to see the culprit. His hands freeze and his eyes widen as I find Ghost draping his jacket over me.

I sigh in relief and relax back into the chair, my eyes shutting a moment as my heart thunders in my chest. “Ghost.” I greet him with a scratchy voice before looking towards Soap and moving to get up. “Everything okay?” He puts a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place.

“Everything’s fine. Just came to check on the stubborn bastard to make sure he wasn’t causin’ too much trouble.” He says quietly, his voice gruff and low. “Didn’t expect you to be here, G.”

I relax back into my chair with his jacket tucked snug around me. “I’m here for the duration. Just to make sure everything goes okay.”

His brows furrow. His usual skull mask is gone to leave only the black fabric he wears under it. It’s nice seeing more of his face even if the skin around his eyes is still painted black. “You expectin’ something to go wrong?”

I shrug a shoulder. “It’s just a precaution. A gut feeling.” My lips purse as I look at Soap, slack-jawed and snoring softly. “It could be infected. Or I could be paranoid.” I sigh again as I lean my head back against the chair and Ghost’s mask twitches.

“Either way, thanks for looking out for him.” Ghost crosses his arms and leans a hip against the end of Soap’s bed.

I raise a brow at him. “It’s my job.”

“No.” Ghost shakes his head, eyes crinkling just a touch as I think he smiles again. “This is going above and beyond your job, G. And I’m grateful. So’s everyone else on the team.” I blink as I take in the compliment and his jacket tucked around me. It’s sweet. Terribly sweet.

“I’m glad to do it, Ghost. You all have been pretty welcoming and I know I don’t come off the warmest, but I appreciate it.” Discomfort swirls in my chest at admitting it, but he took a risk thanking me. I can return the favor. “You’re my team.” It’s a claim and a promise. I’ll be loyal, dedicated, treat them like family, as long as they’re just as loyal to me.

Ghost nods, seeing this and understanding. He understands more than the others, if I had to guess. “And we’ve got you just as much as you’ve got us, G. Even if it takes a while for you to see that.” I smile as I pull his jacket a bit closer around me. I’m coming around to the idea.

*�� * *

I fall back asleep after Ghost leaves, but not for long.

Soap’s peaceful snores fade and I wake up when I hear a grunt to find him half-sitting up with his blankets tossed off. He gives me a weak smile when he sees my eyes open. “Sorry, lass. Afraid I’m not feeling great.” I lay Ghost’s jacket over the back of my chair and I’m up in an instant. My hands smooth over his cheek, then his forehead.

“Your skin is hot.” I murmur, knowing he has a fever.

He huffs a soft laugh. “Always knew I was hot.” The corner of my mouth lifts as I help him sit up a bit more and take his sweat-soaked shirt off, then wipe away the sheen covering his chest, back, and forehead.

“It’s going to be a rough night for you, Johnny, but the only way through it is straight.” I set the small towel aside before gently pushing him back down to lay on the bed. Next, I grab two other washcloths I have set aside and head over to the sink to soak them before coming back.

“You certainly don’t sugarcoat things, G.” He chuckles as I lay one cold cloth over his bare chest, then fold the other as I pat his face with it before laying it over his forehead.

“You want me to tell you pretty lies?” I ask softly, aware of the few other patients still sleeping around the room.

His head shakes. “Never said I didn’t like it, lass. Think it’s refreshing.” He takes a deep breath and I rub the cool cloth over his chest before wetting it in cool water again and returning it. “Reminds me a little of Ghost.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s a little surprise in my voice, but I suppose I was just thinking that Ghost understood me more than the others. “He was here earlier to check on you. Based on what he and Price said, I expected a little more resistance from you.” I reach up and flip the washcloth on his forehead so the cool side is against his skin.

He gives me a crooked grin despite the fever, pain, and exhaustion I’m sure he’s feeling. “I’m a sucker for a gentle touch, lass. And I’m a little bit afraid of you.” I chuckle and his eyes light up a little. “Am I delirious or was that a laugh? Can’t wait to tell Gaz I got you to crack first.”

“It was barely a laugh. Hardly counts.” I tease and his eyelids get a little heavy. “Sleep if you can, Johnny. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

He hums in lieu of a laugh. “Good thing I’m not tryin’ then. In fact, think someone would have to pry you out of the team’s cold, dead hands to get you away from us now.” His eyes fall shut as he speaks and I keep gently dabbing his face with the cold washcloth. I let the words sink into me along with Ghost’s earlier, feeling them tether me to the team and the men that create it. But it doesn’t feel like a weight. It feels like a life preserver, buoying me over the waves I’ve been fighting against for a while now. Finally, I take a breath without worrying about whether I’ll take on water.

“Yeah,” I whisper, resting my hand on the cloth on his chest to feel his heart. “I’m getting pretty fond of you all too.”

Taglist (oh my gosh, hi people! Thanks for wanting to be tagged, I love you. Hope you enjoy. If anyone else wants to be tagged, lmk):

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas