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audisive · 1 month

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♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

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recreationalfanfics · 1 year

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Hi there, can you please do Yandere Thor, Poseidon, Loki and possibly Hercules to Female Yoriichi Reader? The creator of the Sun Breathing and the other Breathing Forms, who always has a solemn expression and is known as the Strongest Demon Slayer to ever exist (She has access to the Transparent World and can use the Selfless State) but despite this she’s incredibly humble seeing herself as just another human and not even special, despite her extraordinary skills

Yoriichi gave Muzan such severe PTSD from 400 YEARS ago that his Upper Moons will go through his trauma just from seeing TANJIRO (And it’s STILL severely traumatic to him 😂)

Yandere Shiva, Loki, Buddha and Hercules with Female Tengen Uzui Reader from KNY? How do you think they would react to Reader calling herself ‘Goddess of Festivals/Flashiness’ and calling others (Even GODS) ‘Trash’ and having 3 HUSBANDS 💀

Sorry if this is a lot! I just think Demon Slayer Characters are super cool, especially the Hashiras (The Swordsmith Village Arc is going to be released sometime in April! 🥹🤩)

Thor, Poseidon, and Loki + Fem! Yoriichi Tsugikuni! Reader:

One of these three gods stands on one side of the arena, their grand entrance causing a ruckus of enthusiastic roars and cheers from the side of the gods while the humans side shook with terror. They look at the other side, confident and ready to see the pitiful mortal that Brunhilde had served to them on a silver platter. It was a woman.

She makes no flashy entrance, her clothes are rather average, and her face does not seem scared but nor does it seem too cocky. Her (e/c) eyes are serene and her (h/c) hair was rather average looking. She was a regular looking human, nothing special. Aside from the strange looking birthmark on her left eye.

"AND IF YOU LOOK OVER FOLKS, THE NEXT FOOL WHO WILL BE CHALLENGING THE GODS IS A SWORDSWOMAN WHO DOMINATED THE SENGOKU ERA-"

"Please." The (h/c) haired woman interrupts, Heimdall goes silent and so does everyone else, unsheathing her sword, she looks at Heimdall with a composed look on her face, it was not unkind, "I do not need such an introduction. I am a human like the rest of my kind."

She then gets into her defensive stance and narrows her eyes at her divine opponent.

"And I shall do whatever it takes to save them."

The god you're against either glares at you, smiles at you, or raises an eyebrow at you. Either way, Heimdall recovers his voice:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, (Y/N) (L/N), THE SUN BREATHING SWORD ARTIST AND MOTHER OF ALL BREATHING METHODS. NIGHTMARE OF MUZAN KIBUTSUJI AND THE STRONGEST HASHIRA HUMANITY HAS KNOWN!"

"So that's who you are," the God thinks to himself as you maintain unbreakable eye contact, "that hardly matters."

Yandere! Thor:

- Thor doesn't think much of you when you step into the arena, not because you're a human, but because he has yet to see you fight. You seem unfazed by him but he doesn't truly know that for sure. You are not unattractive but you're nothing special in his eyes.

- What a fool he was, because the moment the battle begins, he sees that you aren't just beautiful, you're absolutely heavenly. When you take your first breath, you take away his as large solar fires soon appear around you and you make your attack.

"What is this?" He asks himself in his head, using his Mjölnir to block another close sneak attack blow from your sword. The clashing of your weapon and his own makes his heart do flips in his chest, "Why...why do I feel like this?"

You then decided to be bold and you quickly, nearly teleported with the speed you were going, appear in front of him and your eyes glint, reflecting off your blade as you try to slash him. His eyes soften when they see you and his blood thirsty smile softens as your eyes lock onto his. There was fire in your eyes...no...the sun itself glowed in them. Powerful, burning, yet composed.

"What has she done to me?" He thinks, and you're not sure if it's from the intensity of the battle but his cheeks appear to be dusted the lightest color of pink.

- Your fight ends in a draw, the both of are so tired that you neither of you can move a muscle. Both God's and Humans are shocked at the results but Thor couldn't be happier.

- He just found his soulmate, he thinks to himself as you try to use your sword to get up and fight him again. His smile turns into a loving one as you struggle to get close to him, not that he can judge since he can also barely move, and he loves it! In fact, he now knows that he loves you.

- You will be his! You have to be, surely you were created to match him in power and strength because you were meant to be with him. After being fixed up and bandaged, he must seek you out, he must find you!

- Since then, the God of Thunder has been keeping his eye on you, his beautiful Sun. How you appear unreadable at first but if someone truly read you, truly attempted to understand what a complex and beautiful person you are like Thor has; they can see that you're more than a human...You're humble, you're kind, and you're dutiful. Honorable like him and share the same values, this only seals your fate to him even more.

- Odin notices how during other God's battles that his son scans the human's side, his eyes desperately searching for someone in the crowd. Thor knows for a fact that you always come to watch your fellow Human's matches in person and when his eyes land on you, that adrenaline kicks in and Loki and Odin stare at him as a smile grows on his face.

- He does this every match, but even then, the time between matches is too long for him to see you again. He searches for you, Brunhilde having to confront him as she reminds him that the HUMAN champions reside here but he ignores her the moment he sees you walk down the hallway. He follows you quickly like how the moon chases the sun.

- You turn and see him and you politely bow your head to him. He frowns a bit in dissaproval, how could you bow your head to him as if he were a stranger, surely you had to feel the same feelings he was after your battle. How you two danced a brutal yet beautiful dance of life and death. You stare at each other for a bit before you muster a kind yet small smile, "I look forward to our rematch." and as a result, he nods with his usual stoic demeanor and you turn and walk to your room. Yes, he can't wait for your rematch either.

- Because one the day it takes place, Heimdall shocks everyone with his newest announcement.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE FIRST RAGNAROK REMATCH OF THR GOD OF THUNDER VS. THE LADY OF THE SUN. EXCEPT, THE CONDITIONS ARE DIFFERENT THIS TIME."

- You don't like the way the red-haired God smiles at you, it feels smug and ominous, and you paitently wait to hear this last minute change.

"IN THE CASE THAT OUR ESTEEMED PRINCE OF ASGARD WINS, HE HAS REQUESTED THAT INSTEAD OF SENDING (Y/N) TO NIFLHIEM THAT SHE IS TO BELONG TO HIM INSTEAD."

- You look at Brunhilde, who looks away shamefully and can not meet your gaze, and then you look at Thor. Who looks a lot more motivated to beat you this time.

Yandere! Poseidon:

- He wanted to roll his eyes when you interrupted him. What right did you have to act so humble? You're a human, what could you possibly have to be humble about? Being a mere ant he steps on on a daily basis?

- Fine, if you want a wake up call, he'll give you one. He waits for you to strike, it wouldn't hurt to give you an advantage since there's no way something as insignificant as you can beat him. Until you grip your nichirin blade and take a deep breath, suddenly the water arena evaporates into steam as intense flames surround you...no, not mere flames. It felt like the sun itself.

- You use the steam to sneak and attack the God, whose now even more annoyed than ever. Smoke and mirrors, that's all it was. Poseidon REFUSES to allow you to think you have an advantage and tries to kill you with his strongest attacks but even then, its not enough.

A draw, your battle ended in a draw. He can't believe it, as he kneels down on one leg bleeding and holding onto his trident for support as you pant heavily on the other side, your throat burning but you still have the bright gaze in your eyes, the eyes of someone who just humbled a God. He was in denial at first, then he was angry. Destroying everything in sight at the humiliation he faced at your hand. He knew you two were set for a rematch BUT HE NEEDED VENGANCE FOR HIS SCORNED PRIDE NOW. Looking for you all around heaven, he threatened and interrogated many of your human allies and located you inside the greenhouse. It was bright and beautiful day as always, but it did little to improve his mood. The only thing that could is your dead body at his feet, evidence that you were just as every bit of a failure as the rest of humanity.

However he stops when he sees you. The artful way you practice your sword. The calm rise and fall of your chest all perfectly timed to enhance your fighting style and your moves, the same ones you used to tie with him, slowed down and filled with grace and strength. His heart makes his brain forget that you are human, the thing he detested the most in this life, and his anger is replaced with something else. Respect? Admiration?

No, it was none of those things.

In fact, it was something more passionate. More shameful in the eyes of gods. Something that you will soon find is worth than his anger.

- He observes you a lot more from then on. You aren't sure why since last you checked, he had looked down on you like you were the dirt beneath his feet, but you come here at the exact same time on the exact same day, and so does he.

- You don't speak to him, he wants you too. Haven't you humiliated him enough already? apparently not since you didn't even glance at him as you trained and he knows damn well you see him.

- "What are you?" He finally asks as he pushes down his broken pride. You stare at him, your solemn face broken when he asked you that question. "You are not a human," He explains, "You can't be. Humans are not meant to be...to be so..." he pauses and looks down, to any normal person, he looks pissed and like he's gonna attack but you only raise an eyebrow. W-was he being shy?

- "Beautiful." He finally answers, and for a brief moment that stoicism breaks in shock at his words. "You can not be a human. You are too beautiful. Humans can not be beautiful." It takes you a while to find your voice but when you do, you merely keep your composure: "Humans are many things, Lord Poseidon. We are strong, we are compassionate, and, yes, we can be beautiful."

- No, he thinks to himself, humans are not beautiful. This is a fact he's known for a long, long time. Yet, you were a human and here he was, admiring you every day and watching you in utter awe. Only you, he decides. Humans are not beautiful, only you are.

- He hates how humble you are, he absolutely despises it. Do you not have any respect for yourself? How can you allow yourself to think that you're anything like those worthless worms who snivel and beg pathetically at the feet of the gods. He believes there has been a mistake in the universe, he believes you're insulting yourself when you downplay your status and feats. Can't you see? They're beneath you! Humanity is beneath you! He has to fix this. He has to fix you.

- The day of your rematch with Poseidon, neither of you are seen. The gods search for him and the Valkyries try to rummage through your room and found only one shocking clue. A letter left on your bed written by Poseidon, who believes that deciding the fate of Humanity was beneath him and how he had more important matters involving you. He sits next to your unconscious sleeping form on his bed, his fingers in your hair as you sleep so beautifully. You needed to learn to take more pride in yourself, to be taken away from the shackles of humility humanity put on you, and Poseidon was more than happy to teach you how.

Yandere! Loki:

- He was rather unimpressed with your entrance and appearance, honestly. A smirk on his face as he looks you up and down, you certainly weren't wrong when you said you were a human, for that's what was before him. A measly average human.

- Honestly, he feels rather insulted and that this fight isn't gonna be as exciting as he had hoped. That wasn't fair! Every other God got fun humans but him! Oh well, at least he has an excuse to torture a human and humiliate them in front of everyone~

- Summoning his own weapons, he just tilts his head: "You know, interrupting Heimdall was a little dramatic don't you think? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you secretly put yourself on a pedastal."/ "I do not, I just merely am stating a fact. I am a human who bleeds just like the rest of humanity."/ Loki then smiles: "I'm so happy you think that! Because you're gonna die like the rest of them!"

- His attack is planned in his head, first a chain wraps around you and his other blade will slit your throat and soon, you'll suffer as- "I never said we bled easily." Your voice is right behind him. He looks over his shoulder and reacts in time but when you breathe, he can't act fast enough before of the display of a divine light that surrounds you now. You slice his shoulder and it burns, he holds it and glares at you. You drew first blood, but he'll make sure you don't get lucky again.

- Until you both are exaughsted from the battle and it ends in a tie. Loki feels himself growing weak and his last sight before losing consciousness is you. Surprisingly, when he wakes up, the first thing he sees is you as well. Sitting next to him, bandages on your wounds and a book in your hands. You notice from the corner of your eyes that he is awake.

- You apologize instantly for his wounds, despite the fact it is a literal fight to the death. In fact, your exact words to him are: "I aimed all of my attacks to kill swiftly, it was not my intention to make you suffer like the demons who have met my blade. In our next battle, I will make sure to be strong enough to kill you properly and respectfully."

- He isn't sure what to think of this, what to think of you. But it makes him smile for some reason, maybe he smiles at your foolishness for thinking you could kill HIM (you were close but he blames it on fortune), or maybe he smiles because it's very rare that someone honors him, a God of mischief and trickery, the same way they'd honor more noble gods like his uncle and cousin. Or maybe it was the smile you gave him...yes, that was it. It was your smile that sealed your fate.

- Loki can now be found wherever you are, like an annoying stray who keeps coming back to the hand that fed him once. Maybe he wants to annoy you, maybe he wants to flirt. Anything just to see you change that serious boring look on your face...maybe smile for him, yeah? He just hasn't been able to get it out of his mind.

- But, nah, you're too boring. That's his little pet name for you "His Boring Little Mortal", he'll complain about you but if anyone else was to speak ill, God or Human, he becomes indignant and reminds them of your good traits like your nobility and how you held yourself in battle.

- He's honestly the same when he's a yandere, as I said before, but the key major difference is that all it takes is one miniscule thing and suddenly, he comes more possessive. More protective and more suffocating. Like, he's watching you during a Ragngarok match and you smile at someone. To others, it might not be a big deal but to him, it very much is. Because it wasn't fair, YOUR SMILE BELONGED TO HIM. NOT TO ANYONE ELSE. TO HIM. YOU SMILED AT HIM FIRST SO IT'S HIS! YOU ARE HIS.

You lost the battle.

Your nobility, your humbleness, and your kindness wasn't enough to match the God of Deciet's wit and cunning. Your on both your knees, coughing up blood and unable to move your body as you hear the loud chain rattling of his weapons. You can hear the humans behind you begging you to get up, urging you to fight but you can't, your heart's strength was there but your body's was not. You feel ashamed but at least you can die knowing you did your best. Loki looks down at you, his hands at his sides, and his face stoic in a very unsettling manner. All he has to do is kill you, all he has to do is-"

"...I don't want too." He frowns, crossing his arms and looking the other way. You look at him in shock as the God's outrage as well as the humans. "LOKI, WHAT TREACHERY IS THIS!?" One of Odin's crows, well, crowed loudly.

Loki stuck out his tounge before shrugging, "I don't know, I mean, what am I winning? A step closer to humanity's destruction? We're gods! I want a something else! A prize~" He says slyly. The gods outrage once more before Zeus sighs, knowing nothing can be simple with the green haired god and tiredly asked him, "Fine, what prize must we give you if you kill (Y/n) (L/n)?" Zeus asked, making Loki grin wolfishly.

The arena becomes quiet and Loki kneels in front of you, cupping your face in his hands and tilting your head. What a cute face you're making, so confused and ready to die. He wonders what face you would make if he just...

Kissed you passionately, pressing his lips to your blood covered ones and shocking you and both audiences of mortals and immortals. You don't kiss him back, you don't even have time to think before he pulls away from you and looks at you with half lidded eyes.

Yes, that face is so much cuter on you. He wonders what other faces you could make.

But first, he has to answer the question Zeus asked him, "Why, the only prize that matters to me of course!~"

"(Y/n) (L/n), the Sun Hashira herself!"

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blorbo-arena · 12 days

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With a lead of nearly 2.5 lightyears, the race has been called for Uncle Iroh early in round 5. He therefore now moves on to his next potential victim, our very own heavenly news anchor, Castiel of Supernatural. Begin the suffering.

Share for wider audience ⚡

#blorbo arena #series one #atla #avatar the last airbender #uncle iroh #castiel #supernatural

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odetodilfs · 7 months

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Kinktober day 8: Exhibitionism with Oberyn Martell

Summary: Where Oberyn brings the people of Dorne a different kind of fight to the arena.

Pairing: power bottom!Oberyn Martell x sub!top!male!reader

Content: Public sex, creampie, established relationship (marriage), the people of Dorne have the hots for you and Oberyn.

Make sure to reblog!

You stepped out onto the arena, hundreds of people, mostly men cheering as you stepped out completely naked except for a light robe around you. Oberyn and you had been having this fantasy of being watched for ages, and seeing how the audience was going to enjoy watching you fuck him was stirring something down below... Your dick immediately got hard as you saw Oberyn standing right beside what looked to be a bed, wearing his usual yellow robe except with no clothes underneath.

All those dirty thoughts about getting dominated in public started playing in your head, how your husband would look riding your dick for hundreds of people to see. "Such a good boy" he smirked at you, "lay here" he signaled at the bed as you laid down, you heard cheers coming from the crowd, your dick hard as a rock and leaking precum. You were ready to open him up as usual but then it hit you: he'd done it himself in front of the public. "Lube's there" his smug staying on his face, you quickly grabbed it and put it all over your cock.

"This won't be long, but I have to.. the public will love it" he smirked as he got on the bed slowly and sat on your face. You moaned as you were being suffocated in the most heavenly way and started to tongue Oberyn's hole. He tasted sweet and musky, you could hear the crowd go wild as he rode your face, you were pretty sure your dick was leaking precum like no tomorrow. You weren't sure exactly how long he was riding your face as you went into absolute daze.

When he finally got off of your face, he was all red and sweaty from the arousal. He slowly started getting on the bed, facing the crowd as he spread his legs wide, showing himself to the audience, the men roared in both arousal and hype. He crawled seductively towards you, doing the same position he showed the audience but now showing it to you. His hole was glistening with sweat, eager for you to go inside him, to make you, him and the audience happy.

In one go, you sunk into Oberyn, his hole despite being opened up, it was still real tight. There was one thing more eager than his ass though: the crowd absolutely lost it when you put your dick inside him, you started to sink deeper and deeper "Good boy, start thrusting now" he seductively ordered, you, being the sub, followed his orders, and softly started thrusting into him, "Harder" he said almost immediately, you followed orders as well.

You couldn't hold back much longer, fucking in front of an audience, Oberyn's legs spread as you pumped deep inside him and the way he clamped down on your cock was all too much for you. But you held on, edged yourself in your lover's tight hole. This went on for 20 minutes until you heard Oberyn moan loudly and clamp down on your dick hard, he was cumming, "Keep fucking me- keep fucking me-" he ordered, overstimulated, but wanting to get fucked till he couldn't take it anymore. You did, he somehow managed to get the strength to scream even if you were pounding him into the mattress. "Who wants him to cum inside?" Oberyn smirked as calmly as he could while both screaming and getting fucked, the crowd roared. "You heard our audience darling, give them what they want" and as if Oberyn had control of when you came, you exploded inside him right after saying that.

You stayed like that for a minute, regaining the strength as the adrenalin in your bodies began to die down, the crowd was silent. "Pull out" he ordered, you did and could see the absolutely massive load inside him, it dripped out of him as soon as you'd withdrew. He then turned around and showed the creampie you just gave him to his audience, to no one's surprise, they loved it.

"Let's go now" he looked up at you, then stood up and helped you, waving to the roaring people, he walked in front of you just so you could see your cum now running down his legs.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martel x reader #oberyn martell x male reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x male reader #top male reader #sub top reader #x male reader #amab reader

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friendship-ditch · 2 months

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Can I ask for one in which the reader meets Katniss in the Hunger Games and when Peeta is captured they start to have a relationship, with Petta's return the reader puts a distance because she doesn't want to be another problem in the Mockingjay's head

Promise

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: After arriving to District 13, you and Katniss find solace in each other and become more than friends, but that all changes after Peeta’s return.

Warnings/Notes: Insecure reader makes dumb decisions—also, thank you for the request! It’s very real

Word Count: 2341

“Y/n!”

Katniss’s arms wrapped around you first, then her face was buried into your shoulder. Her body quivered and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth.

You stumbled back from the force, but almost immediately slid your arms back around her as well, feeling like you’d found your missing piece.

It had been only a few days since you’d seen each other, and even lesser days since you’d met in the Quarter Quell. You bonded quite quickly after you practically fell out of a tree and narrowly missed her arrows, but after that you were the closest being to her in that arena besides Peeta, who had been captured.

Now… you were basically the only person close to Katniss. Sure, there was her family; Primrose and her mother, but Katniss would never want to worry them with her problems, and so, your presence was heavenly.

Katniss buried herself into your embrace, exhaling a shaky sigh as she clung to you like a lifeline. She made a soft noise of disbelief a few seconds after as if it was a miracle you were here beside her.

“I’m here..” You whispered into her hair, breathing in her scent and tightening your grip on her.

Katniss nodded, hair tickling your face as she slowly lifted her head back up. Her eyes were dark and hollow, but there was a small glimmer in them that hadn’t been there before.

“It’s going to be okay now.” You murmured. “We’re safe here, at 13. They can’t hurt us.”

“They took Peeta.” Katniss rasped back as if the whole bunker wasn’t already aware. She was still trembling like a leaf in your arms but it slowed down as she soaked in your embrace. “He’s… he’s in the Capitol. They took him.”

“I know.” You squeezed her tight and then let go to look her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Katniss’s eyes now had a glossy sheen over them and she swallowed heavily, then opened her mouth again. “I can’t lose you too.”

“You’re not going to.” You shook your head fervently. Despite her height and her stature, she seemed so small now.

You gently tilted her face up from the ground, eyes locking.

“I’m here now, for you.” You whispered softly.

The faintest ghost of a smile twitched on her lips and she nodded, sniffling. “O.. Okay.”

And so, Katniss Everdeen was yours, at least for a while.

You shared a room together in the bunker, and though it had two beds, you always slept in the same one, longing for each others warmth.

Friendly, soothing cuddles soon turned into something more, and although neither of you really mentioned it, you were something more than friends. She’d give you a quick kiss before leaving to shoot propaganda films, you’d wash her hair and clean her face after her breakdowns, and you both relished in eachothers arms every morning until you had to go to work.

In any other circumstance, it would’ve been perfect.

It was a few weeks later when Peeta was rescued from the Capitol.

You’d held Katniss all night after the cameras cut out, rubbing her back and just letting her sob into your shoulder. There wasn’t much else you could do besides hold her, and once Peeta nearly choked her to death, you did the same, but in a hospital room.

It took a while for her to gain her voice and her strength back, but her spirit had been broken.

She looked up at you with a dim, blank stare as you came in and sat beside her. Her neck and throat were covered in dark, purple bruises, but she could speak, just very hoarsely.

“I snuck you a cookie.” You murmured softly as you sat beside her on the hospital bed and held the small treat out. It was more of a lump of dough than a cookie, but any sugar down here was enough to be eaten.

Katniss slowly sat up and took the dessert from your hand. She offered you a weak smile and then lifted a hand to her throat, gently running her fingers over the bruising and wincing.

“Kat…” you reached to stop her but she shook her head.

“Does… it still.. look bad?” Katniss croaked, voice almost stuffy and raw, like she was sick with the flu. The effort of using her voice caused her to shudder a little.

“It’s healing.” You responded gently. “And it’s going to get better. You’ll be just like normal, soon enough. The doctors say you’re healing quicker than expected.” She was supposed to be out of the hospital a few days ago, but they decided to keep her a few more days. The doctors guessed that it was her deteriorating mental state that was preventing her vocal chords from healing due to her pure exhaustion, but you couldn’t tell her that.

Katniss nodded slowly. She carefully bit off a small chunk of the cookie, and though she struggled to get it down, she let out a soft sigh of relief and rested her head against your shoulder.

“They could’ve.. thrown you in jail… for that.” Katniss mumbled, teasing you gently.

You chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Maybe so. But it would be worth it, just to see you perk up a little.

Katniss’s cheeks flushed a light pink and she finished off the cookie with a bashful smile.

You brushed the crumbs off her lips, then gave her a quick kiss. Your arms slid around her and you leaned back into the pillows, pulling her into your body.

“Plutarch says that Peeta is getting better.”

Katniss shook her head, closing her eyes as she bore a raspy cough. “That’s… not.. Peeta…”

You knew better than to argue with her, at least while she’s like this.

You felt awful for Peeta, that poor boy had gone through things worse than your nightmares, but you feared him too. Not just because of what he did to Katniss, though it made your blood boil, but because deep down, you knew that if–when he got better, you’d lose her.

“Mm..?” Katniss murmured sleepily into your chest. The drugs they had her on at the hospital for the pain were pretty heavy when they kicked in.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, stroking her hair softly. “Just… get some rest.”

You didn’t have to tell her twice. Katniss fell asleep moments later.

And for a while, you thought maybe your worries were foolish, a projection of your insecurity. Katniss loved you, she did…

But you couldn’t help but feel as though you were more of a problem than a solution.

You made the decision when you, her, Peeta, and the rest of Squad 451 were up one night.

Katniss was listing off facts about Peeta, the things he liked, his little quirks, anything she could think of to bring him back to reality.

And he was listening intently, his eyes locked on hers the whole time.

Even after Katniss gave up and walked off to cuddle up beside you, you knew that things were going to change. As far as you were concerned, you were just another problem for the already struggling Mockingjay; another problem she didn’t need.

You spent the rest of the mission keeping to yourself as best as you could, or talking to the other members instead of Katniss.

She watched you from afar with dark eyes as you spoke to Cressida and Castor, joking with them instead of her, but she made no move to stop you. The hurt was as evident on her face as it was yours and you just wished you could tell her the truth but every time you tried the words turned to cotton in your mouth.

In Tigris’s basement, you found yourself sitting alone and nursing a gash on your leg.

Katniss was the only one that noticed and soon she was beside you, holding a cloth to soak the blood.

Neither of you spoke for a while. It could’ve been because of the exhaustion but both of you knew the truth. Something had shifted.

Finally, Katniss spoke.

“Have I done something wrong?” She asked you softly, tearing off a strip of bandages to wrap your leg with. Her eyes weren’t on yours but you could feel her holding her breath for an answer.

“No.” You shook your head. “I’m afraid I have.”

“What do you mean?”

You winced as she wrapped your leg tight, then let out a pain-filled sigh.

“I don’t think that we… I don’t think that I am what you need right now.” You finally whispered, voice heavy. Now that the truth was out, it was more painful than ever. You regretted saying it almost immediately as you saw the look cross her features.

Katniss’s face wasn’t one of sadness or anger, but one of simple acceptance. She’d long cried out every tear and had gone through more grief tonight than a normal person could live through, she was numb enough that this didn’t even hurt her.

“Are you sure?” Her question was hesitant.

A lump began to form in your throat as you looked up at her. You wanted to swallow back the words on her tongue and tell her that you misspoke, but instead, you nodded. “You don’t need another problem…”

“...okay.”

That was your last exchange with her of the night, and when you woke up the next day, she was gone.

You didn’t get to see her again until after she’d shocked the country at the execution by extinguishing the real enemy, and leaving the public to deal with the other.

Haymitch had gone into the prison cell first, and then ordered you to do the same.

When the guards stepped aside and you entered the empty room of meaningless quartz and riches, your heart sank.

Katniss was sitting on the stairs. Haymitch had already told her she was going home, but your presence was what seemed to surprise her the most.

She looked like a wreck, her body thin and underfed, and her eyes empty. When she looked towards you, it was as if she didn’t know how to process emotions anymore. Her mouth opened a little but nothing came out.

You slowly approached her and took a seat a few feet away.

“Peeta… will come back to District 12, eventually.” You whispered softly. “When the doctors say his mind has healed enough.”

Katniss’s expression softened, then furrowed once more. Processing your words took longer than it should have, but she moved past them. “Are you coming?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to.” Katniss shook her head. Your breakup was a distant memory to her, she couldn’t even bring herself to feel the pain. “I didn’t think… you’d ever want to see me again.”

“I couldn’t live without you.”

“You left me when I needed you most.”

Her words were full of resentment and she turned her head to stare at another crack in the wall.

You nodded, heart weighed down with remorse.

“I know.” You whispered. “And… I’m so sorry. I was foolish and insecure and–”

“Why did you do it?”

“The last thing you needed was another problem.” You mumbled quietly, feeling foolish and stupid now for your past decisions. You were wrong, you knew you were the second you called things off, but you were so lost in your worries that you couldn’t force yourself to fight through them. “But… I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry… I really am.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Katniss’s voice had returned to calm, emotionless. She was looking at you once more, but it was more like she was looking through you.

You bit your tongue. She needed you. She wouldn't survive this without you. You just hoped that somehow you could earn her forgiveness.

“I’m going to make it up to you.” You promised softly.

This caused a small flicker in Katniss’s eyes, but she said nothing else.

She didn’t speak for days after you went to District 12, but things did progress.

At first, you’d been staying at a little, miraculously untouched cabin near the woods, but you spent so much time at Katniss’s house with her you ended up moving in. She came out of her grief-clouded haze and deep apologies were shared. You told her the truth and she told you hers.

You soothed her back to sleep through her nightmares, tucked her into bed after she passed out on the couch, and met her on the porch after her hunting missions. One time exchanges became routine and things picked up as if you’d never split at all. Gentle hugs turned into soft kisses and sleeping on the couch turned into sharing a bed.

It wasn’t perfect or always happy, but it was good enough for the both of you.

Katniss laid in your arms, the lights in your room dim as you gently spooned her from behind and played with her hair. Her back was nestled flush against your stomach, one hand under her head and the other over her waist.

For a while, you thought she was asleep, until she lifted her head up and looked over her shoulder at you.

“Are you always going to stick around?” She rasped softly, voice thick with sleep. Her dark eyes flitted over your face.

You nudged a lock of hair out of her face, tracing your thumb over her freckles. “Unless you find somebody better.” You smiled.

Her brows furrowed, mind drowsy as she thought through your words. Once she understood them, her lips lifted into a small smile and she gently nudged you with her forehead like a cat. “Mm… and who could be better than you?”

You ruffled her hair as she turned to face you and nuzzled into you. “Nobody.” You chuckled softly.

She nodded in agreement and laid her head on your chest. “I don’t want anyone… but you. I only want you…”

“Then you’ll always have me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

#the hunger games #catching fire #the mockingjay #katniss everdeen #katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen x fem!reader #katniss everdeen x you #x reader

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gretavanlace · 9 months

Text

Sun and Moon

Josh/Jake Kiszka x reader blurbs

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings for Josh blurb: graphic sexual content, language, dirty talk, praise, degradation, pet names, digital penetration, etc.

Warnings for Jake blurb: graphic sexual content, language, dirty talk, illusions to impact play, slight dom/sub dynamic, etc.

As ever, loosely edited, apologies in advance. Josh’s blurb was inspired by that damn video of them at the arena bar…he lays his hands down so pretty and I want them. Jake’s was inspired by this delectable ask. Thank you, anon..sending love ❤️

Josh

“Look at these panties,” Josh tugs on the rosey-pink lace, snapping the elastic against your hip with a pop. “Very sweet, pussycat. Did you dress this pretty pussy up just for me?”

His fingers are at your clit now, sweeping over the wet, swollen bud as it peeks out from behind soaked-thin fabric. “Take me to bed.”

Maybe you should care about how whiny you sound, like a spoiled, insolent child, ready to stomp her feet and pout for what she wants. Ready to throw herself down on the floor to fall into a wailing, kicking, tantrum if she doesn’t get her coddled way. But you don’t - care, that is. The only concern alive in your blurry mind is your need to be fucked. To be fucked by Josh. Only Josh. Always Josh. Josh. Josh. Josh.

But, you’ve seen the devilish glint in his eye tonight, and you know it well. Maybe plans to deny you, maybe he plans to taunt you, maybe he plans to make you beg, maybe even cry. He’ll tease you over that, too. He’ll call you a crybaby and mock you gently, if only to make you cunt ache even more desperately for him, and it will work.

Maybe he has all these things in store for you, maybe none of them…you never can tell with Joshua.

He has stepped onto his favorite stage tonight, and, make no mistake, he will have his moment in the spotlight.

“Take you to bed?” He tilts his head as though confused as to why you’re asking for a change in venue. “No no no, I think we’re fine right here, don’t you? Since you wanted to bother me while I was trying to write. Since you wanted to whine and crawl into my lap like the kitten in heat that you are, while I was working, you can take it right here. Right up against the wall. Only angels get taken to bed, and it seems you’ve misplaced your halo.”

“But, baby,” you protest sweetly, trying your best to tug at his heart-strings, “I want you to—“

His finger taps your lips closed as he clicks his tongue at your insubordination.

“I didn’t ask about what you want, though, did I, pussycat?” He offers you a tiny smile with a cruel wink, “I said, you can take what I give you right here or I can sit down and get back to work, hm? Leave this gorgeous,” his fingers slip into your panties and slide inside you deftly, “wet, little cunt to ache for me all night long? Which sounds best to you?”

“Here,” you breathe, arching away from the wall into his pumping touch. Your mouth finds the corner of his lips where they turn up so pretty and soft, and then move to the perfectly round scar on his cheek - your favorite place to kiss.

“You’re so wet.” He leans into your searching kiss as your tongue laps lightly over his warm, silken skin. “Sloppy little girl, making such a mess of my hand already. Are you gonna soak me when you cum, like the best little kitten?”

You nod urgently, nails digging wanton crescent moons into his shoulders through the tshirt you couldn’t fight off of him. He’s working that heavenly spot deep inside you now, sweeping massaging circles into it while his thumb, wide and warm, flickers across your clit rapid fire, like a frenzied tongue.

“Yeah? My pussycat’s gonna cum real pretty for me? Gonna make a dirty mess all over my hand so I can smell this tight, perfect cunt all night?” His free hand loops around your throat as he leans back to watch your face. A glutton for drinking in the evidence of what he can reduce you to.

“Yeah.” It hisses out of you through clenched teeth as your nostrils flare slightly. You look feral, like you’ve just wandered out of the woods, muddy feet and twigs crowned into your hair, and he loves it, adores it, fuck, how he loves it.

“Yeah? All because I asked? You’re my filthy, bad fucking girl aren’t you? All tears on your cheeks and my name on your tongue.”

“I’m not…” your protest falls short, less than a whimper as his long, insistent fingers carry you closer and closer to where you so hungrily want to, need to, go. “I’m a good girl. I’m you’re good girl. Tell me. Please, tell me.”

“I’ll tell you that you’re my good girl when you’ve given me a reason to pet you sweet. Now, c’mon pretty kitty, relax, you’re too tense.”

He’s right, your body is taught, muscles seized up and bracing for impact.

“Come on, baby…” he soothes, nuzzling your ear as he finger fucks you into a daze. “Breathe. In and out. Shhh…let go.”

You soften in his arms, but you’ve drifted so far out into choppy waters, you can’t find your calm. He shakes his head, sucking a hot trail along your jugular, “More, baby. Clear your head. I’ve got you…I’m gonna take care of you, you just breathe, just let it happen. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

His lips have made their way to brush over the shell of your ear. “Listen, pussycat, you just listen to me. Shhh.”

He begins panting slowly into your ear, muddling your thoughts into undulating colors as he effortlessly guides your breathing, praising you with his touch rather than his words, lest he pull you out of the fog.

When it hits you, it hits just as hard as he’d hoped. You’re practically vibrating in his arms as you tremble and gush through it. Raining down around him, pouring into his palm, down his wrist, your release rivering in ticklish, hot streams over his skin.

“There she is,” he hushes, strained and greedy for it to never end. “There’s my good girl. That’s it pussycat, give it to me, give it to me.”

His name crawls, ragged and hitching, up out of your heaving chest like an invocation, your way of falling to his feet in worshipful praise while still caught in his arms.

At last, it drains from your body, taking your strength with it, and you fall limp in his embrace. He laughs softly, stroking your hair with the hand that isn’t dripping in you.

When you finally find your footing, you’re left watching, wide-eyed and breathless, as he sucks and licks your clear, slick release from his skin…dragging the pink tip of his tongue in a spiral around his wrist to chase a droplet.

Just as you're settling into the show, he stuns you by dragging his hand over the soft hairs on his lip and chin…wearing you as he turns back to his notebook.

He points at the couch, and, obediently, you curl up on it, falling into a dreamless slumber while he works, lulled by the sound of his pen scratching against paper.

Jake

“Jacob,” you sigh, tapping away at your keyboard as if unbothered. “Stop staring at me and go find something useful to do with yourself.”

“But, I want to be with you, princess.” He sounds despondent, afraid you’ll order him out. “Don’t make me go.”

He was right to worry over that, you had been considering banishing him behind a locked door and your AirPods to drown out any complaining. But now, with him looking and sounding so pitiful, you haven’t the heart.

“Jake, I have work to do. Sit quietly, without staring at me like a lost puppy, and you can stay.” Mean? Not so much. Firm? Definitely. That’s exactly the thing, though, if you aren’t firm with Jake he won’t listen. He’s spoiled, and that’s nobody’s fault but your own.

The real truth of it all is this - he doesn’t usually listen even when you’re firm, either…but you both enjoy the game.

You ignore him, scanning over monotonous reports and making ever the mundane notations until you see it out of the corner of your eye…a subtle, consistent movement. A rhythmic drag of his hand as he caters to himself gently, eyes omnivorous on you. Coveting. Thirsting. Yearning.

“Jakey babe,” you lend a questioning, unassuming lilt to your tone. “Are you touching yourself?”

His movement stills as he sits gorgeous and statuesque, like he’s never done anything wrong even once in all his days. “No, princess…just like to look at you.”

“And now you’re lying on top of it all?” Your chair swivels around, leaving you eye to eye with this angelically needy man of yours.

“It was just…” his face has flushed hot pink under your accusatory stare. “It was just over my pants. I’m just so hard…it hurts.”

You decide to take pity on him. Lucky boy. “Come here.” You order with quiet authority as you cast your deadline aside in favor of playing with your very favorite toy.

He rises to his feet, and you follow suit…eyes locked in on the outline of his deliciously hard cock.

“Someone’s already halfway there, Jakey.” You tease, pompous smile flitting over your lips, there and gone in an instant.

“I don’t mean to interrupt you,” he promises, bridging the space between your bodies. “I’ll do it myself. I’ll be so quick…just let me touch you. Anywhere.”

“My pussy whipped little mouse.” Now you’re being mean.

“Yeah,” he nods imperceptibly, burrowing his renaissance painting face into the palm of your hand.

“Good boy.” You’re cooing, sing-songing softly to quell his need for attention. “Tell me what you are.”

“I’m pussy whipped, princess.” He breathes without an ounce of hesitation “I’m a slave to your beautiful cunt. To your mouth, to your hands…your heart, your mind. Please. Can I have something?”

“May I have something,” you guide, leading him over to the chair you’ve just vacated.

He settles down into it under your supervision and watches you intently as he finds comfortability where he knows he shouldn’t. This is your office, your workspace, and he is simply an intruder to swallow up your time.

Take your fill, Jacob.

When you your seat on his lap, straddling him so that you’re hovering right above his twitching erection, he begins to whine…grip ironclad on the armrests until his knuckles are ghost white, to save from grabbing at you and earning a swat.

Without warning, your hips swivel down until you can feel the throbbing length of his pretty cock, and then you set into an unforgiving pace…thrusting and rocking while he whines like the greediest baby beneath you.

“Look,” you snap his face to the side, chin pinched within your grasp, until his eyes are devouring his reflection in the antique mirror propped against the wall. “You see how pretty my baby is? Look how fucking beautiful you are, so grateful for any tiny treat.”

“You’re the beautiful one, princess.” His devotional praise is clipped, he’s nearly gone already.

“No need to stroke my ego, mouse..” you taunt, fucking against his still hidden cock a hint faster, “You won’t be sinking into this snug little cunt tonight, not until I’m good and ready.”

He’s thrusting up to meet you now, squeezing feverishly at your hips as he pulls you down against him over and over and over.

“Don’t stop, princess…” He sounds like tears are holding onto his pleas, the way they rasp and shake, fuck. “Please, keep going, my sweet sweet girl, you’re so good to me…so fucking good. Don’t stop, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop…”

“Say it,” you demand, a harsh edge catching the light of your words as you watch him watch himself in the mirror.

He knows, and he doesn’t fight it. “I’m pussy whipped, and I’m pretty. I’m your pretty pussy whipped mouse…thank you for your cunt, princess, even if you won’t let me touch it. I’m gonna cum. Fuck, please say I can, please, please let me cum.

With the softest kiss upon his succulent mouth, you give him silent permission and lose yourself in the sound of his orgasm. He is sinful Ave Maria when he cums and if heaven is real, this is the song you will hear at its gates.

Ushered by your reverent praise, he releases in his pants, expression twisted in pleasure, as well as the embarrassment of losing it like his cock has never kissed a cunt before…but you love it.

You love the way he looks, you love the way he sounds, you love the way he feels and tastes. You love the way he can’t tear his gaze away from himself in the mirror. You love the way he clings to you like you’re the only thing that’s real to him…

You love him.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @gretasmokerising

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madhatterbri · 3 months

Note

Hangman shower scene 😌

Drip splash water drip splash splash drip water 💦

Splish Splash | Hangman A.P.

Summary: You decide to hit the showers after an AEW show. 18+.

Author's Note: Normally, I delete the ask so I can make it neater, but the sound effects made me laugh. Please don't rag on me for the last line. I didn't know how to finish it. Don't judge me. Lol.

Pure fiction.

"I'm covered in sweat. I'm going to take a quick shower," you announced innocently enough in the hotel suite. The arena hosting the AEW Dynamite/ Rampage was lacking in the air conditioning department. You stayed to support Adam, but it made you feel grimy. Adam hummed in response. He left his suitcase on the ground and sat on the bed to remove his shoes.

Removing the sweaty clothes felt like a dream come true for you. They were piled in a heap on the floor. You walked into the walk-in shower and turned the water on. The warm water felt heavenly against your back. Your fingers rubbed your neck.

Through the glass, you could see your cowboy's bare body. He opened the door and walked into the shower. He stood before you with a loofah in hand.

"Such a good girl. Stayed to support her man," he praised you much to your delight. The wet loofah rubbing against your right side. His lips met yours. He led you so your back was against the tile wall. You shivered at the cold tile and shifted uncomfortably. "Don't worry. It'll be worth it,"

He lathered the loofah in soap from the dispenser on the wall. The thin fabric met your neck. Small bubbles ran down your body. You sighed happily, allowing him to pamper you. The loofah rubbed down to your chest next. His lips met your neck. Soft bites and kisses distract you from the devilish man.

His left hand gripped your inner thigh. You spread your legs, expecting him to wash your thighs. He kissed your lips. His tongue licked your bottom lip. You opened your mouth and allowed his tongue to slip in. The distraction worked because your eyes suddenly widened, feeling a vibration between your legs. You moaned against his lips, and he pulled away. A smirk plastered on his handsome face.

Your dazed mind started to process what took place. A buzzing sound filled the bathroom. There was a vibrator in the loofah. You gasped. "Adam?"

"It's okay, babe. Hold on to me if you need," he assured you. Adam dropped to his knees and lifted your leg over his shoulder. The vibrator hit the right spot making you see stars. His other hand grabbed your waist to keep you still. One of your hands found his shoulder to keep you still. Your other hand pulled his curly locks. He hissed in pain yet continued his torture on you.

Much to your dismay, he dropped the loofah to the floor after warning him that you were close. You whined and let go of him. He placed your leg back down. He kissed his way up your body before reaching your lips. Your lust-filled eyes stared into his.

"I need you," he whispered roughly against your lips. Adam helped you wrap your legs around his waist. You slid down on him painfully slow as he filled you up. One last grunt from him signaled you were seated on him. Your arms wrapped around his neck. Your head lolled to the side as your thrusts met each other.

He praised you making you blush. Adam kissed you with sloppy kisses. Each thrust felt better than the last. The pressure in your stomach coiled tightly. "Don't stop, Adam. I'm so close,"

A few more thrusts and you were done. The coil in your stomach snapped as your orgasm washed over you. Your toes curled as your eyes fluttered. He gripped your hips and pulled you down roughly as his orgasm hit. Adam remained still except for the kisses on your neck and cheek. More praises from him made you feel on cloud 9. He helped you down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. The two of you trying to catch your breath.

He led you back to the warm water coming from the shower head. Your back rested against his chest. His arms wrapped around you. More of his soft kisses were placed on your neck and shoulder. This main event was the best you ever experienced.

#fanfiction #aew fanfiction #hangman adam page x you #hangman adam page x reader #hangman adam page x y/n #hangman adam page smut

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0fantasma0 · 3 months

Text

Petals to Thorns

Summary: Taking place just a few short years after the events of the 10th Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow has found respect and prestige serving as a Gamemaker. With his help, viewership in the Capitol is at an all-time high. Coriolanus has never felt more focused, more in control, more ready to continue his journey to restore his family’s great name. His hard work on the 14th Hunger Games is sure to prove that. But when a seemingly unremarkable tribute manages to escape Coriolanus’ meticulously built arena unscathed and victorious, he finds himself enraged and infatuated.

You may have escaped the Games but will you be able to hide the truth behind your victory?

Warnings: dubcon, stalking, manipulation, possessive behavior, canon typical violence

The sterile air of the infirmary makes your nose twitch. You had spent a handful of days in this room, but the smell still made you nauseous. The morphling tablets that felt chalk on your tongue and lead in your stomach weren't helping either. You knew it was better than feeling your cracked ribs with every breath. But there was an overwhelming part of you that almost wished you hadn’t taken them in the first place.

You should be suffering right now.

A quick knock at the door pulls your attention from the skin you had been mindlessly picking at. You wipe the blood from the scabs on the white blanket below. Not caring about the crimson streak it leaves in the perfectly tucked-in linen.

An unfamiliar face in a gray Capitol uniform stands rigid in the door frame.

“We’re ready when you are. Your team is already at the train station.”

“I’m ready.”

You don’t recognize the voice that floats out of your mouth in a cracked whisper. You couldn’t remember the last time you spoke. It must've been when you were still in the arena.

The bandages that are wrapped expertly around your midsection make it almost impossible to stand up gracefully. It takes several tries to steady yourself before you can begin wobbling behind the uniformed man. Even then, your knees threaten to give way underneath your weight. Walking was another thing you hadn’t done since your time in the arena.

The effects of the morphling finally begin to wash over you as you climb into the car meant to take you to the train station. Sinking into the plush leather seat with a shaky breath, you embrace the warmth spreading across your skin.

And as the beauty of the Capitol began to fade from your window, you found yourself not far behind.

It’s not long before you can’t feel anything at all. Not your broken ribs, not the raw skin from your picked scabs, even the buzzing in your head lulls into a dull hum. If not for the jostling of the moving vehicle, you would have thought you were floating.

The urge to nod off is strong, with the morphling now steadily flowing, but the screech of the car’s brakes brings you back. Looking out the tinted glass, you can finally see the enormous train station. A beautiful stone building that made your own District’s station look pitiful.

It was pitiful.

Pathetic, insufficient, inadequate.

All words that could accurately describe the state of your District and how you were currently feeling.

If nothing else, the parcels to be given out back home for your victory should help.

The Peacekeeper who escorted you opens the door and extends his hand to help you out of the car. You thank him as you steady yourself on the sidewalk. The warm sun on your face feels heavenly, but the bright light bouncing off seemingly everything is debilitating.

What’s that noise?

It sounds like yelling? No, no, chanting, maybe?

It doesn’t fully register until the car pulls away that the sound is emanating from the station. Carefully, you climb the smooth stone steps one at a time. With each step, the muffled voices become more decipherable.

Your name.

Reaching the halfway point of the seemingly unending series of stairs, you are greeted with what must be hundreds of beaming Capitol citizens. Their cheers only grow louder as they realize the object of their cheering has finally materialized. Peacekeepers line the doors to the station, keeping the surging crowd at bay.

You’re thankful for the Peacekeeper behind you gripping your upper arm and making you march forward. Staring blankly into citizens' faces before you, your eyes bounce from one face to the next. Their manicured hands were frantically outstretched, begging for just a brush of fingertips.

They looked nothing like the folks back home.

Their cheeks were full, eyes bright and well-rested, skin seemingly scrubbed clean of imperfections; even their clothing was immaculately tailored. Not one thing was out of place. There is not one distinguishable flaw you could find on any of them.

It felt like a spit to the face, almost like you were being taunted.

Did they do it on purpose? To remind you of what you’ve always known?

That you were still the same District scum you were before you entered the Games.

Just lucky District scum.

More questions swarm as you feel the Peacekeeper become agitated at your lack of movement.

Did they know hunger? Did they know pain? Did they bury their dead in unmarked graves? Did they kiss their children goodnight, fearing they wouldn’t wake in the morning?

Selfishly, you wish they did so they could feel a fraction of the pain perpetuated throughout your home.

Ultimately, you understood that sort of suffering was confined to the Districts.

Your brain finally catches up with the rest of you, and you begin moving up the last few steps to the station doors on your own. A weary smile twitches at the edge of your lips as you try to meet eyes with as many people as possible.

Continuing your journey deeper into the train station, the crowd does not dwindle much. Men, women, and children lined up on either side of the station, all pining to get a glimpse of the victor of the 14th annual Hunger Games. A tight line of gray uniforms was holding up the front of the crowd.

You’d never thought you’d be grateful to see so many Peacekeepers and Capitol officers.

It’s a short walk to your train, but the endless sea of people makes it feel that much longer. You feel the hand on your upper tighten, bringing you to a halt.

A stern warning to not wander is muttered before the Peacekeeper walks towards the train car. You smooth out the arm of your dress. You can still feel where he was digging into your skin.

Asshole.

At that exact moment, you can feel the room become that much smaller. The cheering begins to mesh together in your ears like television static, and you can’t tell if its because of the pills or if you’re going to have a heart attack.

If the Capitol citizens could see your suffering, they didn’t make it known. If anything, they were only getting louder, more restless.

Did they have to take time off work to be here? Did they even work? It didn’t matter. What did matter is that you would never hear the end of it if you snubbed the citizens in your last few moments in the Capitol.

Just pick someone, you coward. Just one.

With the confidence of the potent painkillers flowing through you, you scan the crowd for a moment before walking over to a young blonde woman holding a small child. You politely ask the two Peacekeepers who were maintaining the crowd directly in front of the pair to let you see them unobstructed.

“Hello there,” you direct your greeting more toward the toddler in the woman’s arms. His hair and eyes are the same shade as the woman holding him. His meaty little fist seemed to find a home in his mouth, drool sliding down his chin. “What’s your name?”

Instead of a reply, the tiny human lets out a squeal. Pulling his wet fingers out of his mouth to point at you before twisting and squirming in his mother’s hold.

“Would you like to hold him?” A bubbly laugh erupts out of the woman. Her voice was kind and sweet, like the berries back in your District.

Of course, they even sound perfect.

“I’m not sure—“

“Please hold him! It would be an honor.” The small child was now dangling awkwardly in front of you. His arms mimicked his mother’s outstretched position, tiny fingers grasping at the air.

You could feel the eyes of what seemed like the entire Capitol burning into your skin, all waiting with bated breath to see what you do next. It’s not until you go to wipe the sweat from your palms on your dress that you realize you’re shaking.

It's just a baby.

Maybe if you squint, you could pretend he was just a sack of wet, smelly, squirmy potatoes.

Just take the fucking baby.

Carefully, you pull the boy from his mother. His wiggling stops as you tuck his legs into your side, his butt sitting on your hip. The hand, not supporting his weight, lays across his tiny torso. A gesture that looks affectionate but also hides the fact that your hand is about to shake out of its skin. You were expecting him to weigh more. Cypress was much heavier—

Oh, Cypress.

As desperately as you tried to push the boy from your mind, that action became harder the closer you got to returning home. How were you to face his mother? It seemed wrong, shameful even, to return to the District without him. You didn’t even know what they had done with his body. You remained hopeful that he had already been returned to District 7, where he could be buried with his father.

Like the child in your arms could sense the inner turmoil brewing beneath the surface, his golden curls tickle your cheek as his head rests in the aperture that connects your neck to your shoulder.

The sound of cheering brings your attention away from the little boy’s porcelain face. It takes a moment to realize the cheering is once more directed at you. The child’s gesture of comfort has sent the Capitol citizens into a fit. You hear voices behind you begging frantically for you to turn around so they may catch a glimpse.

So you do.

A brief flash of a camera sends you reeling back. You bump into one of the uniformed men separating you from the crowd before quickly regaining your footing again.

To you, holding this child was relatively insignificant. People held other people’s children all the time in District 7.

So many, like yourself, were raised not by their parents but by others. Many were lost in the Dark Days, but the lumber yards and paper mills have no shortage of dangers.

To the polished Capitol citizens, you were sure this scene was probably the equivalent of a zoo animal showing love for a human.

A lopsided smile creeps on your face as the blonde-headed baby begins to belly laugh at all the commotion. Finding yourself getting lost in his features again, you almost miss a Peacekeeper coming into your view. He leans close to your ear so he doesn’t have to yell over the cries of onlookers.

“There is someone who would like to speak with you before you board.”

You nod deftly before spinning back to face the boy’s mother. He makes his displeasure known at the change of position with a cry and a kick of his legs.

“He’s beautiful,” your hands begin to tremble once more. “You must be a great mother if he’s so tolerant of strangers.”

“He’s a very picky baby, unfortunately. Just means you have a natural talent.” The young woman muses, the small boy starting to squirm in her arms once more. “By the time your children compete in the Games, they'll be quite the forces of nature I’d imagine.”

Her tone is friendly, but you pause at her words.

My children? Competing?

You weren’t sure if the bubble forming in your throat was that of a laugh or a scream. You hadn’t even begun to consider the possibility of having children, let alone them being trapped in the same hell you freshly escaped from.

While holding that baby and getting lost in the cheers and cries of excitement, you had almost forgotten what you were.

District scum.

You abruptly turn away from the mother and child. Fearing if you look at them any longer, you might launch yourself across the barrier and prove all the things they say about people from the Districts true. You trail closely behind the Peacekeeper as he leads the way You squeeze your eyes shut as they start to burn with the threat of tears. The sound of citizens behind you pleading for one last look makes you squeeze them shut tighter. They could beg all they wanted. They already have taken enough of you.

If you never saw another one of their perfect faces again, you would die a happy soul.

The gray uniform in front of you clears his throat as he steps to your right side.

“Miss this is—

“Coriolanus Snow.”

A cold, calculated tone cuts him off. Following the sound, you attach it to the figure standing directly before you.

Immediately, you recognized his face.

A Gamemaker.

You only saw it a handful of times, but it’s not one you forget.

His hair was a golden blonde that, from some angles, appeared almost white. You couldn’t tell if his eyes were blue or gray from where you were standing, but they were razor-sharp. You finally fix your gaze on the expensive fabric he has chosen to wear. A beautiful deep red that only further accentuated his objectively handsome appearance.

God, you were gonna be sick.

“On behalf of the Gamemakers, we wanted to congratulate you personally on your valiant performance.” He grins widely, but his voice tells another story.

He knows. He knows what you did.

“Well, you folks certainly didn’t make it easy.” Your smile doesn’t fully reach your eyes as you thank him for his flattery.

“I can assure you it didn’t appear that way,” Coriolanus remarked pointedly, “You ended the games before they even truly began. An impressive display, I have to admit. Even if it did come at the cost of this year’s game looking rather undeveloped and juvenile.”

“Perhaps I misunderstood. The finer details always seem to get lost on me. But I thought that’s what it was? A juvenile’s game.”

“Careful.”

The air felt torrid between you two.

The sweat sliding down from under your bandages, making your dress stick to your skin, making you acutely aware of your body. You know he could probably see the way your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you tried to suck in as much air as possible discreetly. The aching pain in your ribs had returned, radiating up your chest and into your back, making it feel almost impossible to fill up your hungry lungs.

You were deteriorating quickly.

Careful.

Careful? What did that even really mean?

You’ve found that people in the Capitol don’t always like to say what they’re thinking outright. Always vague warnings, vague advice, vague backhanded compliments. Yet another glaring difference between the life and the people of the Capitol compared to that of your District.

Nobody has time for that shit in 7.

You wanted to excuse yourself and get on the train already. You could see the open train car door to your right practically screaming your name.

But something about the Gamemaker in front of you kept you planted in your spot.

Feeling the need to squirm, you dig your nails into your hand to ground yourself. Perhaps, you were being rude. Misinterpreting his tone and mistaking his compliments as animosity. He did take time out of his day to come to see you personally.

Talk. Speak. Thank him again. Something. Anything. You look suspicious.

“What… parts of the Game did you make?” It sounded so stupid when it finally came out. But it was better than the silence you were being smothered in. Coriolanus hums before revealing his perfect set of white teeth.

“All the entertaining ones.”

Fuck this guy.

The Gamemaker seems satisfied with your silent reaction. He doesn’t get to bask in it for long before the silence is broken by a Peacekeeper letting you know that it is time to board.

Coriolanus extends his long fingers out towards you. You hesitate before you take his hand into yours. His grasp is vice-like, thumb pressing deep into the back of your hand. He leans forward, taking up even more of the finite amount of space that separates your bodies.

“It was a pleasure having you compete in this year's games,” He was so close you could feel his breath against your hair. “I do hope we meet again.”

Before you can even protest or think twice, the fire of your repressed anger and grief creeps its way up your spine and out your mouth.

“As do I, Coriolanus.” Your head dips to the side as you rake your eyes from his shiny shoes to his piercing gaze. “Perhaps in the meantime, you can find a game you can beat me at.”

You don’t wait for his response before you turn to your right and walk onto your train. You knew there could always be consequences for disrespecting a Gamemaker.

But what more could they take from you?

The train was a massive upgrade from the boxcar you were transported in a few days earlier. You ignore the call to sit with your Escort and Mentor. There would be plenty of time to talk to them. Instead, you wobble down the train until you reach an open door with a small cot built into the wall.

A glorified bench with a pillow and blanket, but that was all you needed.

Gently, closing the door behind you, you feel your shoulders begin to shake as the hot tears are now freely flowing down your face. Your head finds the cold pillow, muffling the sounds of your anguish. The lurch of the train and the shrill of the wheels moving on the tracks gives you all the permission you need to begin wailing.

I just need to get home. Things will get better at home.

Thanks for being here!!!

{Chapter Two}

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #tbosbas #thanks for reading :)#more to come #I don't know how tumblr works :D #lemme know your thoughts

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impaladolan · 1 year

Note

y/n putting on a random cowboy hat at a rodeo she randomly got invited to. basically the rule is you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy. grayson is the cowboy 😉

Blurb Alert! - Grayson Dolan

; ugh, just thinking of grayson as hot cowboy really gets me goinggggg… like come on 🤤

Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy :

“Look at ‘‘em go!” You and a bunch of your girlfriends squeal and holler as your favorite rider busts out of the cage on a wild bull. The man, whose face was covered with a red bandana and a cowboy hat shadowing his eyes, had a hand in the air for balance and the other tightly gripping the leather saddle tied around the bull.

The rider, whose name you thought was Grayson, stayed put on the bucking animal, making the whole crowd roar with exhilaration about his time.

You were new to the scene, this being your first rodeo, but you were enjoying yourself. You were buzzed after a couple “country beers” and pumped up with all the buzzing excitement around the arena.

The rider was beginning to lose balance, and everyone began to chant his name. He held tight until his saddle loosened and he jumped off before he’d get any injury.

The crowd bellowed again, obviously stunned at his great time on the bull. He ran to the nearest fence and climbed, conveniently right in front of all you girls

“Hey.” He winked and everyone squealed— even you cracked a smile. He tore his bandana from covering his face and you sighed, engrossed by his heavenly features. His gaze eventually landed on you after eyeing the large crowd of dumbstruck girls, and it stayed.

He tipped his hat at you, which earned him a wink in return and he chuckled.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He took his hat entirely off and held it at his heart, only hanging onto the fencing with one hand.

“Y/N. What’s your ride’s name?” You crooked an eyebrow to the bull that continued to buck and writhe against the helpers trying to get him back into his cage.

“Peaches.” He grinned, looking back over towards the cattle, a lasso wrapped around its body now, being guided towards an exit. He tosses his hat to you and jumps from the ledge and back onto the dirt, blowing an arrogant kiss goodbye.

“I’m sure he bucks a lot better than you!” Out of nowhere, you hear your voice remark as you sink the cowboy hat onto your head with a challenging grin.

The man stops in his tracks to turn and look at you with feigned offense, a smirk growing in his lips.

“I’d hope to prove you wrong.” He shouts before hustling out of the open field and into the safety of the pit.

You laugh, along with the other girls who turned to you and began to gossip about the blue jean, white muscle shirt, southern looking handsome who seemed to have a knack for flirting.

You watched him a bit for the rest of the night. He cheered on his mates and was hootin’ and hollering for each of the riders that went up and gave a show. He was pretty charming, near and far, though you never thought you’d be attracted to a farmboy.

You cheered and howled until the night came to a close and you and your friends began to exit the fun. The hat was still planted on your head and the girls around you continue to gawk about what had happened.

“Excuse me, miss.” You stopped at the familiarity of that southern twang and turned around with sheepish grin, half embarrassed by your little remark from earlier.

You didn’t think you’d have to see him again.

“Yes, sir?” Your friends kept moving, giggling and whispering while you stood there alone, watching him stride toward you slow.

“Don’t know the rules?” He cocked an eyebrow and crosses his arms, visible little muscles strained against his skin and the sleeve of his shirt.

“And what could those be?” Your friends seem to be long gone, leaving you to the devices of a wild man with such nice looks. Not to mention his soft looking hair that partially covered his forehead. And God, the stubble along his jaw couldn’t go unnoticed either.

“Must be new.” He was close enough that you could smell his woodsy scent. He began to circle you like prey, his boots clicking against the asphalt as he walked.

He stopped in front of you and looked at your hat, your eyes, then your lips.

“Wear the hat,” He drew his hand up your side and titled his hat back, “ride the cowboy.”

pt. two???

#sweet anon #grayson #ily #dolan twins #dt #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twins smut #grayson x reader #grayson dolan smut

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karikarasuno · 5 months

Text

If There Really Is A God

ok hunger games au bc i've been thinking on it. this is for @t-tomuras selfship event

Aizawa Shouta was bred for this. A career tribute from District 2. Trained to kill and not be killed. He was 15 when he fought in his hunger games. 15 and a victor. A silent killer. It was one of the quickest hunger games in history. 4 days.

He hated the games. Hated killing and hated watching it. But what choice did he really have?

You were a surprise. A district 11 tribute chosen to fight just two years after his games. No real will to fight or survive. But there was animosity and rage in your eyes when the camera panned over to you. He was mentoring another career tribute from his district that year. Only 17. Just like you.

While he was a ruthless fighter, you fought with mercy. Unwilling to kill unless absolutely necessary. He watched you mercy kill the young boy who accompanied you from district 11. He would've died anyway. Poisoned. But you spared him hours of pain and suffering. You offered him a quick death. And once he was gone, you cried over his body.

You had no intention of winning. You swore the game was rigged, anyway. So when you were the last one standing. The knife you clung to for days, now embedded in another tribute's chest. You wept when you won. Not in gratitude for your survival. Or in celebration of victory. But for the lives lost. None of them being yours.

Your words still rang in his head. "I don't want this. I never wanted this."

It wasn't until years later that he saw you again. You made the decision to be a mentor. You were jaded and guarded. Most everyone thought you were weak. But no one else saw the strength in your resilience.

It was rare that you ever spoke to each other. But one day, after both of you lost your mentees, a spark of friendship ignited. Reluctantly at first, until that reluctance turned into dependence. You had each other and only each other in this fucked up place.

He came to visit you in district 11 a few months before another reaping. He wanted out and he wanted you to come with him. He found you in a field. Surrounded by blooming flowers and tall stalks of grass. It was hotter in your district. No escape from the sun like he was used to. You stood with a basket in your hands and a scarf in your hair. And he realized then how much he truly missed you.

"What're you doing here, Shouta?" He was fond of the way you said his name. Soft and occasionally tender.

"Came to visit a friend." He offered in response.

"Does that friend happen to be me?" You teased, plucking a small flower from the ground and dropping it into your basket.

"Yes, actually." You smiled at his admittance. For how hard and distant you were when you first met, you were quite gentle and comforting. There was a lull in the conversation. Those happened frequently with you two, but neither of you ever really minded the silence. He took in the sight of the trees surrounding the open area. The heaviness of the woods in the distance. And he couldn't help but cringe at the sight. Nothing about it looking as peaceful as you seemed to be amidst it.

"Being here," he motioned to the forest in the short distance. "It isn't hard for you? Doesn't remind you of the arena we fought in?"

You shook your head, looking up at him from your place a few feet away. "I try not to fault nature for the atrocities of man. She simply exists. Like I desire to."

"You desire to exist?" He chuckled because it sounded absurd.

"No, I desire a simple existence. Big difference," you responded with amusement.

He shielded his eyes in that moment, the sun casting harsh rays over your body and you seemed almost heavenly. Like you shouldn't exist in this plane of existence, let alone simply.

"I don't think either of us were destined to live simple lives."

"Maybe one day." You shrugged, there wasn't hope in your response though. Just a dreaminess that he knew was just that. A dream.

"You're not mentoring this year." He found out from another mentor in district 2. A nasty man who spoke lowly of you. And it boiled his blood. An itchy sensation that told him to flee.

"No. I can't anymore. They're just kids," you replied solemnly, the sun shifting and casting you in shadows instead.

"You were just a kid. As was I," he said it plainly.

"But we're not kids anymore, Sho. We've become the ones who sentence them to death." Guilt. Survivor's guilt or not, rang through his chest.

He stepped toward you. Hand reaching out for your cheek as his eyes searched yours. There was a reflection of all the emotions he knew well. Exhaustion, resentment, and the faintest, tiniest glimmer of hope. Of the resilience he knew you possessed.

"Come with me, then," he whispered, face inches from yours and an urgency in his voice.

"I'm not going back to the Capitol. I can't go back there," you shook your head again, attempting to step away from him until his other hand came up to hold your face close to his.

"No." His hold tightened with desperation. "Not to the Capitol."

"Then where?" You were confused. You didn't understand.

"District 13." There was a sharp intake of breath from you, the basket in your hands dropping with a soft thud to the ground between your feet.

"That's not possible," you whispered with even more confusion. "It was destroyed decades ago."

"It's still there. They're still fighting. Come with me, ple-"

"But," you interrupted him, even though you had nothing to say. Shock still evident, especially in the way you gripped the sleeves of his shirt.

"It won't be simple," he affirmed, his forehead falling to yours. "But-"

"It'll be worth it."

#maybe writing is fun #hunger games au

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yourkimjaejin · 2 months

Text

Burn Marks

They had told her to be careful.

After a successful three days in Seoul, two days in Japan then the show two days ago in Madrid, AG had finally made it back to Paris. It had been years since the girls were in the city of love for Breakthrough’s music video shoot. This time, thankfully, no creepy guys or horrible managers were in sight.

The members got to enjoy a day on the town before a stage rehearsal later that night. Immediately, Moxy and Aurora dragged their other members through the streets until they reached Miss Eve’s bakery. The older woman was beyond happy to see the girls again, this time all grown up. Juno and Hannah understood why the youngest member couldn’t stop talking about the pastries. They all tasted heavenly. While eating, they filled Miss Eve in on what had been going on since she saw them last. They even brought more posters and memorabilla to line the bakeries walls.

“I know you all getting big. Every year, more and more fans stop to admire my posters. I tell them ‘I meet AG before becoming famous.” Miss Eve's bragging had the girls falling out of their seats.

Before they left, the girls invited Miss Eve to come to the concert, her eyes light up in excitement, “I bring niece! She big fan.” Miss Eve wouldn’t let them leave without bringing more food for their staff at the venue. The girls waved at Miss Eve as the car pulled off.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It’s been a long rehearsal. AG would be lucky to be in bed by 3am. Being at a smaller venue meant, readjusting every single performance so they stayed safe. Fortunately, the end was in sight. The director wanted to run through five more songs, but first was Cannonball. In the Seoul stadium, Cannonball had huge balls of fire going off all around the stage. Because of the size the girls were free to run wild. In smaller stadiums, everything was shifted and restricted for the girls' safety. The director would rather be safe than sorry especially with Hannah and Aurora since they were closest to the pyro.

Everything was going smoothly until they spread out for the second verse of the song. Everyone was tired. The lethargy creeping into their bones had everyone acting silly in an attempt to make it through the song Aurora was jumping along with her group of dancers near the left of the stage. None of them paid attention to how close they had gotten the pyro until it was too late. The maknae flung her arm out just as her previously recorded voice screams “Let’s Go!” into the empty arena.

Aurora smelt it first. She couldn’t place the exact smell nor could Aurora describe it. Can one really explain the smell of burning.

Then the pain set in.

Aurora's terrified scream halted everyone. Her three older members all flinched at the sound, taking a moment to realize that sound came from Aurora before they surrounded her. Encircling her between them.

“What happened?”

“Aurora what hurts?”

“Do you need a doctor?”

Somebody's finger grazed the burn spot on her arms causing another shrill scream to echo around the venue. “It hurts unnie, it hurts.” Aurora whimpered, clutching her arm close to her chest. Hannah catches the eye of their leader nodding her head toward backstage. Nodding, Moxy takes off to find the doctor. Without prompt, Juno turns her attention to the dancers.

“Did you see what happened?” Juno asked. One of them, a female dancer that has been with AG for years, nodded.

“I guess we got too close to the pyro. Aurora-ssi flung her arm out just as the fire went off. Her arm was only in it for a second, Could that much damage happen that fast?” The dancer asked.

“I’ll be able to tell you in a moment.” The voice of the on-site doctor answered as Moxy followed behind him. He walked onto the stage with his first aid kit toward the two girls and kneeled down in front of them.

“Hi Aurora-ssi. It’s nice to meet you. I had hoped it wouldn’t be this soon but that's neither here nor there. I’m Doctor Choi and I’ll be traveling with you for the duration of your tour.” Doctor Choi placed his first aid kit in front of the quartet, opening it so they all could see inside.

“Now Aurora, Moxy-ssi has informed me that you’ve burned yourself on the pyro. Could I see your arm? I won’t even touch it. I just need to see how serious the burn is to determine if you need to go to hospital..” Aurora looked to her unnies first. At Moxy’s nod, she held her forearm out in front of them for Doctor Choi to examine. Compared to her complexion, the burn mark stood out. The skin had turned red, some places puffed up and bumpy.

“Good news, Aurora-ssi doesn’t need a hospital but we do need to move her backstage for me to treat her.” Doctor Choi closed his case and stood up. Worry grew between all four girls.

“Why backstage?” Hannah asked while helping Aurora stand without putting pressure on the younger arm. The doc was already walking to the back, the members forced to follow.

“Because she has second degree burns. They need to be treated properly and I don’t have all the supplies in need in my bag..” At the doctor’s answer, four pairs of footsteps sped up. Doctor Choi led them to his makeshift treatment room and enlisted the girls' help in patching up Aurora's arm.

Through each step he explained what he was doing and why. First, they rinsed the burn under cool water. “This’ll get the pain to stop.” Next, Doctor Choi had Hannah gently wash the area to disinfect it. Pangs of hurt ripple thru the older girls every time their maknae hissed in pain.

Then, as carefully as he could, the doctor spread petroleum jelly across the entire burn. “This is to keep the area hydrated while it heals. I’ll also get some gauze with petroleum jelly already on it.” Lastly, Doctor Choi wrapped the burn snug enough not to move while Aurora dances but not tight enough to hurt.

“Now, as long as you wash it every day and keep the wound hydrated with an ointment or more petroleum jelly, the burn should heal in three to four weeks. You’ll have to wear the gauze during performances though. If that’s all, I’d suggest Aurora-ssi sit out the rest of the rehearsal." Before she could argue, Moxy agreed.

“Actually, we're all heading back to the hotel until closer to showtime.”

Aurora shook her head, “Unnie we had four more songs to run through.”

“Four song rehearsals don’t take priority over your health. Thank you for your help Doctor Choi.” Moxy bowed while Hannah pushed the group out the door, through the stadium and to the parking lot where a car was already waiting for them.

The ride back was quiet, all the girls were rocked physically and emotionally from what happened to Aurora but nobody felt that more than the maknae herself. Now that the painkillers were kicking in, the pain was ebbing away. But the sight of her bandaged forearm was an ugly reminder of what happened. Finally the familiar front of their hotel greeted their eyes. Slowly, all four women dragged their bodies through the ornate lobby to the elevators. The maknae knew after everything that had happened, there was no way her unnies would leave her alone. But she just wanted a second to process. Aurora tugged on her leader’s sleeve. She mouthed the words, Code: Alone Time. Migyeong pursed her lips but nodded, everyone in NCT respected the codes. When the elevator opened, Moxy herded Juno and Hannah to her room leaving Aurora to enter hers. There was a bit of push back but one look silenced them. Aurora closed the door and flopped onto her bed finally able to breathe.

With nothing else to do, Aurora took a nap, taking care not to lay on her bandaged arm.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Aurora didn’t know how long she was asleep until she felt fingers running through her hair, gently undoing the slight tangles. Aurora could tell it was Hannah. Her other members weren’t ones for gentle wake up calls.

“Eunji-ah? You awake?” Hannah murmured. Her fingers were pulling away but the maknae pushed her head back into her unnie’s palm. A soft smile grew on Hannah’s face, fingers continuing their mission. It was rare for Aurora to let her maknae tendencies loose.

“You gotta get up. It’s time to head to the venue.” The elder got a hum in response but neither moved to get up. Hannah wasn’t in a hurry to rush the younger singer. Aurora was strong but that didn’t mean she was immune to shock or pain. If she wasn’t ready then they’d postpone until Aurora was.

“I wanna inform the fans…about what happened.” she sat up, stroking her arm softly, “I don’t want them to worry when they see this bandage tonight.”

Hannah reached over ruffling Aurora hair, “I think we can make that happen. But first we gotta visit the doc and get that gauze changed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello this is SM Entertainment, We’re here to inform the fans of a minor injury update. At the rehearsal for NCT AG’s concert in Paris tonight, Aurora sustained a minor burn on her arm. She is okay and has been treated already. Aurora has also chosen to perform tonight and will keep her arm wrapped until the injury heals completely. Aurora is okay and urges fans to ease their worries and enjoy the show. We wish Aurora a speedy recovery and good luck for the concert tonight.

Comments:

Not Aurora!!! Glad they said she chose to perform Omo!! I hope she’s okay How the heck did she get burned during rehearsal Paris czennies!! Cheer extra loud for our maknae tonight.

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First part of the Tour!Angst is in the books!!!! I hope you all liked it. I've been writing these since last year so I hope they live up to the work I've put in. Next up is Moxy so until then have a great day!! ~ Author Izzy

Taglist: @alixnsuperstxr / @1-800-call-ria / @sophrodite / @sunflower-0180

#NCT AG #NCT AG.Aurora #NCT AG.Writing #nct female addition #nct female member #kpop addition #kpop!au #kpop!oc #kpop!addition #nct female unit #kpop!fakegroup #nct female oc #nct female subunit #kpop fake group #kpop female oc #fictional idol community #fictional idol oc #fictional idol group

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rubyreduji · 1 year

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eat your young - ljh (teaser)

pairing: lee jihoon x gn!reader genre: angst, fluff, fake dating, romance, hunger games!au w.c.: teaser is 455, whole series is tbd a/n: reaping rules are changed so it's just from ages 12-20 of any gender bc jihoon is 18 and reader is 19. titled based off the hozier song.

you're prepared to survive the hunger games, what you're not prepared for is for lee jihoon to be in the arena with you

first chapter to be posted friday may 26

Jennie moves to the large bowl that sits off to the side of the stage and pulls out a single slip of paper before walking back to the microphone. She eagerly unfolds the paper and leans into the mic. "L/N Y/N."

You don't move at first. It takes a moment to even recognize that it was your name that was called. For a second, you feel Joshua gripping onto your wrist, almost telling you to stay, but then he lets go and you start to walk up to the stage, like you're on autopilot. You're standing right on the edge of your section, so you don't have to pass anyone and see their looks of pity. Good.

Before you know it, you're on stage, staring at every face in the district. Jennie is gesturing to you. She has pink hair and a matching pink dress that looks like planet's rings surrounding her body. It's ugly. For a moment, before she starts talking, Jennie looks intimidated by you. You get that a lot.

"Do we have any volunteers?"

No. Not that you're surprised. Nobody volunteers in District 7, let alone for someone like you. Everyone in Seven already thinks you're capable of winning the games, why would they risk putting someone else in? When you turned twelve you and a couple other kids started to do Hunger Games training on your own, picking up skills you saw in previous games. You've always been one of the best at, being able to fight and picking up on survival skills. Over the year's you've built up even more skills working with your axe in the woods. You're grateful that you belong to a district that has a trade that's useful in the arena.

You look out at the crowd and your eyes land on the closest familiar face you see, which just happens to be your little sister in the middle of the crowd, standing with the other fifteen year olds. You lock eyes. She has tears in her eyes and her lip is quivering a bit, but she looks like she's trying to keep composed for your sake. You're grateful for that because if she started to bawl, you're sure you won't be able to keep your own composure.

You're knocked out of your stupor when Jennie is talking again. "What a brave young soul. Now for our next tribute." Her heels clack against the concrete of the Justice Hall's stage as she walks back over the bowl, pulling out one more slip.

The energy of the crowd is tense as Jennie brings her lips up to the mic. "Lee Jihoon."

You start a bit at the name. Jihoon? There’s no way she just said Lee Jihoon.

@pandorashbox @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash @chaimi-yuta @embrace-themagic @kayleeshinee @coupsgyus @joonsytip @heyxxitsxxtay @synthetickitsune @chwecardcaptor @candidupped @dreamhannies @d0nghyck @niyizh @baldi-2 @enhacolor @noniestars @heavenly-mobo @sunnyteume @debsworld23 @m1nghaos @just-here-to-read-01 @blxckswxnxge @17kwans @jeanjacketjesus @x-veex @namjoonbaby @ovai @belladaises @todorokiskitten @jihoonliker @valentxi @raevyng @ckline35 @1694 @niktwazny303 @brxzilianbaby @moshiyuron @y0lkz @im-gemmy @honeylovemoon @wonchansbrooklynn @opwolfe @luvthatleader-nim @lorde-oftherings @hoeforcheol @hotricewoozi @prpldahy @nox-writes

(this is my normal jihoon taglist but if you wanna be tagged for THIS SERIES SPECIFICALLY pls fill out the form below/comment even if you were tagged because i will not be referencing this taglist after this post)

comment below or fill out my taglist to be tagged for this fic: here!

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #woozi #lee jihoon #woozi fanfic #woozi x reader #woozi series #woozi angst #woozi fluff #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #rru.eyy

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mynamesaplant · 8 months

Text

Love is a Cold Bowl of Soup (Part Two)

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I've been working on this one for a bit. I hope you enjoy!! Thanks to Monsoon-of-Art for the beta! Don't want to read it on Tumblr? I have it on AO3! The most recent chapter is not up just yet, but it will be soon.

Summary: Akari's been tasked to find some ingredients for soup and learns to ask for help from the people in her life.

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“Professor?”

She knocked at the half ajar door, twisting the hem of her tunic in anticipation and gnawing on the corner of her lip. Laventon’s merry summons almost alleviated her anxiety… Almost.

Akari swallowed and pushed through the doors, shutting them quietly behind her as she saw the professor at the hearth. There’s the smell of freshly baked bread in the air - Rei had already stopped by with his offerings before making his own speedy getaway.

The smell is heavenly, especially when compared to some of the professor’s past food experiments, and Akari willingly parts with her own collection. Laventon smiled wide and gave her a little encouraging nod to sit. He asked how her hunting went over his shoulder as he began his preparations, Akari fidgeting in place as she murmured that it was fine.

He was speaking idly but she wasn’t really listening, the room was warm, and the armchair overstuffed and comfortable. She didn’t mean to be rude when she asked,

“I’m… I’m going to take a nap. Is that okay?”

“Oh! Of course, my dear. You must be exhausted from collecting all my ingredients for me. By all means.”

She closed her eyes, listening to him hum softly as he works, the wooden spoon clattering against the side of the pot every so often and the crunch of vegetable matter being sliced into easily with a sharp knife. The ambient noise from within the hall and the cooking sounds did eventually lure her overactive mind into sleep.

Her heart was stuck in her throat. She had no idea how to broach the topic she so desperately wanted to talk about. How does one bring up such fears and concerns organically? How could she be totally honest with Laventon? Instead of answering that, she chooses to close her eyes and mull it over in the dark, but not getting very far before sleep claimed her. Blissfully, her sleep was dreamless, Cresselia offering her a silent blessing this afternoon.

She stirred to the sound of voices many hours later. She didn’t open her eyes just yet. The professor was talking with a man and a woman, the familiar voices of the captain and the warden were a little surprising to hear.

Ingo was usually willing to indulge the professor in all his new culinary experiments, too polite to refuse the professor’s kind invitation when everyone else was running for the hills. The captain being here was a bit surprising.

Captain Cyllene had written off the professor’s cooking to be hazardous material. The conversation was idle, the professor asking the captain about the most recent reports she had been filing, which clued Akari into the fact that at least the captain hadn’t been there long.

“A few massive mass outbreaks up in the highlands. There’s been a bit more active up there recently. It’s a pity that Akari just left the area. If I had gotten to this report sooner, I would have asked her to extend her stay.”

The girl almost sat bolt upright. She rarely heard the captain refer to her by name! But what was that she was saying? There were more massive outbreaks up in the highlands. That’s what the captain had said. Akari hadn’t seen Mai and her Munchlax in the area, and they usually lingered by the basecamps stationed up there.

There was always a possibility that Mai was hanging out with Melli in the Moonview Arena, she hadn’t really gone that far up the mountain to find out. The closer she reached the summit, the heavier the impending sense of dread weighed on her young shoulders. They were calling to her and she was ignoring their call.

That’s why she had come to the professor. She needed to talk to someone, even if she had her doubts and her worries. She simply could not bear this weight alone… But in front of the captain and Ingo? There was no way.

She felt a bubble of shame rising in her sternum. These were people she trusted, right? These three more than all the others. She was glad she was facing toward the cushion because her fingers curled tightly into fists as she tried to mentally tackle this predicament.

She had psyched herself up to talk to the professor, not the other two. Laventon and Ingo had at least seen her breakdown like this, they had done their best to comfort her, but Captain Cyllene? Nope. Never. Certainly not today.

Akari would fabricate any excuse not to cry in front of her captain. She did not want the captain to perceive her as weak. That thought – that one in particular, felt completely unbearable. So, she shifted in her “sleep” and the conversation continued.

“I have no doubt Akari would go back if you asked her to, Cyllene.”

Whoa! Did the professor just refer to the captain by name?

“Yes, Akari is a very diligent young woman. I know she would go back if I asked.”

The captain replied, Akari could hear the rustle of pages and the scratch of pen on paper. The captain was still in the process of annotating some report or editing a memo to be distributed amongst Galaxy Team. And she called Akari diligent.

Akari shifted again, now that she was awake, it was hard to ignore the ache in her limbs from sleeping all curled up. Her foot felt staticky tucked away under her knee and it was getting hard to ignore the feeling. If she kept shifting, it would become apparent to the adults in the room that she was awake. She didn’t want them to think she was being nosy.

Especially after the captain of all people had sung her praise.

“What do you make of it, warden? The highlands have been abuzz with activity. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“No, this is quite unusual. All the rain is wreaking havoc though. The natural erosion of the cliffs and slopes in the highlands has been accelerated. The number of mudslides in the past month is alarming. Warden Melli and I have had quite the time trying to clear boulders for safe passage.”

That startled Akari a little bit, she had been wondering why Ingo seemed wearier than usual. He was taking more frequent trips to and from the highlands. The girl’s heart only sank lower as he continued on a drawn-out breath.

“We’ve had a few instances of Pokémon being caught up in landslides. A few of the Ginkgo Guild were severely delayed in a shipment of supplies up to the settlement. A delivery of some much-needed medical herbs and supplies. There’s been a nasty bout of dysentery from a bad crop of sand radish.”

“You should have said something sooner, warden. Galaxy Team could have offered help in clearing the debris. We could have dispatched a team from the Medical Corp to assist your clan.”

The captain’s reply, while a little curt, still held notes of concern. Laventon made a sympathetic noise over hearth. He asked Ingo if the clan was okay.

“Thankfully nothing too serious. Ginter wisely sent a few of the guild by Staraptor to the icelands. Once Sabi found out, there was no stopping her and Lord Braviary. Lady Irida was very grateful. So, the concern is appreciated captain, but the situation was under control.”

Although Akari couldn’t see his face, she could hear the gratitude in the cadence of his words. It was the easiest way to tell what Ingo was thinking at any given point. The captain and the professor collectively breathed a sigh of relief at this news, but the discussion of the strange occurrences in the highlands continued.

In listening to the captain telling them about the abnormal amount of massive mass outbreaks with more and more alpha Pokémon gathering during those storms and all the damage those storms had wrought to the inhabitants of highlands, Akari realized the ramifications of her inaction. She would not heed the call and they were starting to get impatient. One of their hundred hands subtly weaving a narrative that grew harder for her to ignore.

Come find me. Face me.

Do not ignore me.

A frightened gasp almost made it past her lips. She muffled it by clamping her mouth tight shut. She was to blame for all of this. What if people in Pearl Clan had died? What if there had been a nasty blizzard in the icelands that prevented the Staraptors and their riders from reaching their destination? How many Pokémon had lost their homes or had had their lives disrupted thanks to a massive landslide or a horde of invasive alphas?

How many would needlessly suffer until she did what Arceus had asked – no, demanded of her?

Ascend the mountain. Return to Spear Pillar. Play the azure flute… Then what? Would they just appear? Or would she find herself in a place outside of time and space, like she had in her fight against Dialga? She didn’t know. And that alone was frightening.

“Warden, would you be so kind as to throw that blanket over Akari?”

There was the creak of an armchair and Akari did her absolute best not to freeze or look any different than she had a moment ago, she did not want to arouse suspicion. The blanket in question was already warm, most likely it was the afghan that the professor’s mother had knit for him that usually hung over the back of the armchair Ingo had just gotten up from.

It smelled fresh and clean as Ingo draped it over her, tugging it over her frame and tucking it around her. Akari didn’t expect Ingo to gently pat her head before the man and seat groaned in protest as he resumed his place.

The gesture was unexpectedly tender. Moreso than Akari’s poor heart could manage. It took everything in her power not to burst into sobs, but her shoulders quaked with the effort.

“Dear me… Still shaking.”

A few footsteps across the carpeted floor and then the rustle of cloth before something else was draped over her. Something toasty warm. The professor’s lab coat. She was sure of it. Laventon made a comment about how he shouldn’t have had her out all day looking for ingredients.

“She’ll appreciate the soup when it’s done, Amaranth.”

Amaranth? She had never heard the captain refer to Laventon as anything other than professor. Was that really his first name?

“I hope so. I think everyone will like this recipe. It came from Kalos this time!”

The professor moved back to the hearth with Ingo questioning him on his technique and the captain breathing an audible sigh of relief. A milk-based soup, the professor explained. All the ingredients needed to be chopped up finely. The only issue was that many of the ingredients needed to be locally sourced unless the professor wanted to pay an arm and a leg for enough soup to share.

It should be fine, he assured the duo, even if it seemed like he was doing his best to reassure himself. All of the ingredients he had Akari retrieve were all medicinal in nature, how would that affect the nature of the soup? Cyllene seemed to be of the same mind as Akari.

“You don’t think the medicinal leeks will change the flavor?”

The wooden spoon stopped clanging against the side of the stockpot. The professor’s response was not reassuring, but he stumbled through an optimistic dismount.

“We should never let the unknown change our curious natures, eh captain?”

Captain Cyllene scoffed quietly from her own armchair and rifled through her papers, clearly not of the same mind but, for whatever reason, willing to indulge him at least one last time.

It was then that Akari chose to wake up. She tried to make it convincing, mumbling a little sound and twisting out of her position in a big stretch. A held breath escaped her as her tightened limbs relaxed, Akari stared up at the ceiling with the eyes of three silent adults on her. The breath turned into a yawn, yanking the afghan up and over her face.

“Sleep well, Akari?”

She nodded her covered head in response to Laventon’s chipper greeting. The whole tone of the room changed. The captain mumbled a polite greeting and Ingo made an effort to keep his voice lowered, the excitement detectable as he addressed the girl.

He, like the professor, loved to engage Akari in conversation. Especially if that conversation was about Pokémon! Akari, however, still felt quite unsettled from the overheard conversation.

Her responses to the warden were mechanical. Her expression mask-like, mostly to placate the adults in the room. When was she going to rejoin him at the training grounds for more battles? Soon, she assured him. Very soon. Anything to avoid going back to the highlands.

Anything to avoid the looming presence of god over her shoulder. She shifted her gaze to the floor as Ingo turned his attention momentarily to the professor, asking him some questions about his home region. Akari could hear the voice in her head. Booming like the warden’s. Authoritative like the captain’s. Familiar like the professor’s.

Do not ignore me, chosen.

And what if she did? She squeezed her eyes tight shut. What would they do that they haven’t already done? What additional misery could possibly befall her for ignoring Arceus over and over again?

Her phone rang.

“What was that?”

Everyone heard it. It was impossible not to. The captain hadn’t seen the phone before, so she had no way of knowing what the sound was. Ingo had seen her use the phone once or twice, thinking little of it except that it looked faintly familiar but knowing the sound was usually associated with something to Akari. Laventon had seen her use it many times. He didn’t know its purpose, but he knew it was quite helpful to Akari and her surveying. The girl stood up abruptly, eyes wide and all the color drained from her face in an instant.

“P-Professor, I forgot something in my quarters for the soup!”

Terrible diversion. Absolutely atrocious. Akari did not care at that instant. She needed to get out of there. Laventon looked at her initially with confusion, only for it to change a split second later because he could tell something was gravely wrong with the girl.

“Akari?”

His voice was so kind, but she could not stop herself from flinching. Extricating herself from the coat and blanket, she dumped them unceremoniously on the armchair. She could feel all eyes on her. It was enough to make her skin crawl. It was enough to bring the smallest pinpricks of tears to her eyes.

“My girl, what’s the matter? You’ve gotten all my ingredients.”

Laventon was rushing forward to intercept her as Akari tried to beat a hasty retreat. To her dismay, he caught her at the door. She had grabbed the door handle that the professor had broken ages ago and was too embarrassed to ask to have it fixed. She closed her fingers tightly around the broken handle, unwilling to let go as he tried to coax her back to her chair.

Her phone rang again.

“Recruit, what is that noise?”

The captain’s curt and professional tone felt too much like a slap, it wrung a gasp from Akari that hurt her lungs. Keenly aware of Akari’s distress, Laventon and Ingo attempted to do a little damage control on the teenager’s behalf. Their excuses, however, were not much better than her diversion. Ingo being an atrocious liar and Laventon being mildly terrified of the captain and her potential ire.

“Akari, what was that noise?”

Captain Cyllene silenced the two men with a look, Ingo ducking his head and hiding beneath the brim of his hat and Laventon shying away from Akari like being in close proximity to the distressed surveyor would somehow upset the captain faster. The teenager stared blankly at the door.

Her options were limited and her heart slammed against her ribcage like a Starly breaking through some thick underbrush with that knowledge. She flinched again when her superior said her name.

Why did she have to sound so much like her mom?

That was what broke her. The thought of her mom and just how disappointed she would be in her in this instant.

Akari knew Captain Cyllene was not her mom. Not even close. Her mom was her number one fan. Rooted for her when she attempted the gym challenges and decided to stop after the third gym badge. Cheered her on from the bleachers as she dolled up Glameow for contests and just couldn’t find that spark of magic that had caught her mother’s interest. Comforted her daughter when she thought she was doomed to mediocrity because Akari just couldn’t find something she loved passionately.

Cyllene was not her mom. She was distant. She was careful not to get too close to any of her subordinates. She did not show favoritism… But she still gave Akari the benefit of the doubt when the odds seemed stacked against her. And to Akari, that was the closest thing to motherly affection she had had in nearly two years. Of course it broke her.

The closest thing she had to a mother figure was upset with her.

The captain was quite shocked to witness the girl slump into the door, sobbing uncontrollably and blubbering incoherently. She had seen Akari upset before, heartbroken and aggrieved as she was shunted out from the only place she had to call home, and cut off from the people who meant the most to her.

Cyllene wasn’t blind to his blatant unfairness, but she believed in the commander – that, however, that was a step too far. She could understand the commander’s logic, that did not mean that his judgment was fair.

She had done what she could for Akari, she helped her in secret to get her Pokémon to her out of the pastures – even the bugs. The teenager had gotten through it all without shedding a single tear in front of her, so what could possibly have broken her?

Laventon was at her side in an instant, his heart aching as he put an arm around her and tried to deduce the problem as Akari wept more openly than he had ever seen before. He asked her in a hushed tone, trying to get her to take a deep breath, trying to get her to calm down in the slightest, but all she seemed to be able to do was sag into him when he was close enough.

Ingo was on her other side. He knew from past experience that Akari did not like an audience when she got like this. Even if the captain wouldn’t like it, even if she found his actions to be out of order, he was going to get Akari out of there. He said her name gently in her other ear, hand covering hers and attempting to pry her hand loose from the door handle.

“I can escort you to a safe station if you wish. Somewhere quiet. Just give me the signal, Miss Akari.”

“Warden, I asked her a question.”

“I’m afraid the question will have to wait, captain. As you can see, my passenger is in no condition to be answering much of anything. Passenger safety is of the highest priority, so we will return when this derailment has been assessed and put back on its tracks.”

Her brow furrowed, a retort on her tongue for this supreme insubordination from the warden, but more importantly, from Akari. The girl was so distraught that she would not answer her captain and that, admittedly, shocked Cyllene more than she cared to admit.

Laventon exchanged a quick look with the warden over her head. Ingo didn’t move his head or say a word, his gray eyes just flicked momentarily in Cyllene’s direction and Laventon knew what he was being asked to do. Obviously, Akari was not going to get away with not answering her captain, but she was not currently able to do much beyond sobbing.

The professor moved between subordinate and superior, standing up to his full height and saying with an authoritative quiver,

“Cyllene, please. Let her rest. Whatever answer she gives you right now wouldn’t be very satisfactory. Give her some time to recover her faculties, eh?”

He withered under her intense gaze, but he could tell she had relented when Ingo had said something. Behind him the door had already opened and shut softly, the muffled sounds of Akari’s crying fading from the hall.

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#fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #pokemon #pla #legends of arceus #p:la #pl:a #pokemon: legends arceus #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon legends: arceus

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