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hangezoeenthusiast · 3 years

Text

You failed me

multiple x gn!reader

word count: 2,524

warnings: cursing, yelling, arguing, death, angst, blood, explosion, the egg (it deserves its own warning)

synopis: you guys failed me(us)

(the lyrics go with each person, might not get everyone, and also xd’s part is kinda wonky)

song: rät by penelope scott

I come from scientists and atheists and white men who kill God They make technology, high quality, complex physiological Experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good They taught me everything, just like a daddy should

Quackity, Karl, George, and Sapnap left you. Your mentors, your friends. The ones who taught you everything you knew. They went to build their little “Kinoko Kingdom” while you stayed in the ruins, the dust. “They’ll regret that.” you swore. You built something better, something greater.

It was called “Las Nevadas”. A place where everyone was allowed. They would remember not to fuck with you. They would soon realize that they should watch their back for the rest of their short, stupid lives.

“Watch out, you guys, I'm watching your every move.”

And you were beautiful and vulnerable and power and success God damn, I fell for you, your flamethrowers, your tunnels, and your tech I studied code because I wanted to do something great like you And the real tragеdy is half of it was true

Wilbur majorly fucked up. He was supposed to be with you to the end, your guys’ country, right? No. He left you behind. He went to find peace, find his heaven, while you stayed on earth, wallowing away until your flesh seeped off your rattling bones, rotting away by yourself, with no one to bare witness.

“Why didn’t you bring me with you Wilbur?” you asked his stupid grave on top of the once L’Manburg. “Why did you get the ecstasy, why do I get the remains?”

“I’m coming for you Wilbur, and when I do, we are going to wreck upon justice on everyone who wronged us, wronged you, they will feel our wrath.”

But we've been fuckin' mеan, we're elitist, we're as flawed as any church And this faux-rad West coast dogma has a higher fuckin' net worth I bit the apple 'cause I trusted you, it tastes like Thomas Malthus Your proposal is immodest and insane And I hope someday Selmers rides her fuckin' train

"Y/n!" Technoblade yelled. "I TRUSTED YOU, AND YOU BETRAYED ME, FOR WHAT, TO BLOW UP A STUPID COUNTRY, A COUNTRY THAT WAS DOOMED TO FAIL FROM THE START." He started to battle you, missing every single swing, blinded by fury.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE.”

"LOOK AT ME GODDAMN IT."

You looked up at him in the eyes and boldly said, "No, Techno, don’t you see, you’re in the wrong here, you’re the one who betrayed me." You were blinded by friendship, you couldn’t see that Tommy had betrayed Techno, and that what the Butcher Army did to Techno was terrible.

"What do you mean Y/n, you know what they did, they wronged me, they used me, they tortured me, they gave me hell, so I gave it back to them, I destroyed the things they loved, the people they loved, you see Y/n, those who have treated me with kindness I will repay that kindness tenfold, and those who treat me with injustice, that use me, that hunt me down, that hurt my friends, I shall repay that injustice a thousand times over, do you understand?"

"No I don't, Techno, you can't do this.” you begged. He pushed you out of the way, "Get out of my way Y/n." “No, I won’t, I won’t let you destroy everything we worked for.”

“Well, then I have to fight you.”

And thus the battle began, Swords clashing against each other, blood spilling from open wounds, friends digging each other into a whole both of them couldn’t get out of. Techno was letting you off easy, he knew his strength, he knew that he could’ve beaten you in one swipe, but he didn’t want to kill you.

So when you had the opportunity, you swept from under his feet, and knocked him down. You placed your blade onto his neck, pressing down until a little drop of blood appeared, “Stay down Technoblade, or I’ll do something worse than try to put you on trial.”

He watched as you walked away from him, trying to save L’Manberg from a worst fate than death itself.

“One day Y/n, you’ll see, I’m on your side.”

I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it's true I wanted to be you and do what you do I lived here, I loved here, I bought it, it's true I feel so stupid, and so used I feel so used

"Why would you do that Dream? You didn't have to do that." you interrogated. Dream had stupidly blew up the community house. You both didn't plan that, he had gone behind your back. "I had to Y/n, you wouldn't understand."

"What do you mean I don't understand, you went against my back, we were supposed to-" you cut off yourself, "Dream, don't you understand, you did something stupid, and what did you get, you got stupid jail." "The reason I did that is because I needed to isolate myself from humanity." he said, proudness lacing his words.

"What do you mean?" you questioned. "If anyone knows I can revive people, I'm screwed, so that's why I need to be by myself, yeah it sucks major ass, but at least no one else will know, well, besides you anyways." "I have a task for you Y/n/n, I need you to find a way to bring Tommy and Ghostbur in here."

"Why Dream?"

"I'm going to revive Wilbur."

I was your baby, your firstborn, the hot girl in your comp-sci class And I was Darwin's prep school dream, bred, born and raised to kick your ass I fell for circuit boards, rocket ships, pictures of the stars If you could only be what you pretend you are

"PHILZA MINECRAFT COME BACK HERE." you were chasing Phil, through the woody forest, covered by oak trees. He had information on Technoblade's whereabouts and you needed it. You chased him with your enchanted netherite armor, netherite sword and axe, and a few op potions. Your goal was to capture Philza and interrogate him on where Techno's place was. The thing was, you were his child. His own child trying to kill his own son.

He felt betrayed, his own child turned against him and their brother, their family. "The Butcher Army must've gotten to you somehow." he thought in his head. Surely, his darling Y/n didn't do it on their own will, right?

He was incorrect, you did it because you believed that Techno needed to be brought to justice, by punishment. You believed that your own sibling needed to die, because he was a "liability" to L'Manberg's growth and future. He needed to die because as long as he would live his long life with his little enderman Edward, retired, he would still cause trouble to everything you, Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy, and Ranboo had built.

He pleaded, "Stop Y/n, you don't have to do this." You argued, "I do Philza, as long as he lives, my plans for L'Manberg will forever cease to exist."

He felt like shit, you called him Philza, not Dadza, or Dad, or anything besides his normal name. "Did I screw something up?" he asked himself quietly under his breath. "Yes you did Phil, you took the traitor's side." you had heard Phil mumble.

"HE'S NOT A TRAITOR." Phil yelled at you. "Yes he is, he deserves what he is about to get, I will say it again, where is his base?"

"I'm not saying, Y/n, why are you doing this, Techno is your own sibling." "He's not my sibling anymore, that stopped when he destroyed L'Manberg, you're lucky I forgived you." you declared.

"Y/n/n, please don't do this."

"I have to Dadza, I can't let him roam free."

When I said take me to the moon, I never meant take me alone I thought if mankind toured the sky, it meant that all of us could go But I don't want to see the stars if they're just one more piece of land For us to colonize, for us to turn to sand

Bad had tried to convice you to join the Eggpire. You had no effect while being next to the egg, and he had to take you out. People who had no effect towards the egg had to be eliminated.

He was creepily following you, waiting until you stopped to get a chance to capture you. He had hope that you did have an effect, that you would join the Egg with him. He didn't want to kill you, you were his best friend, besides Skeppy of course.

"Come back here Y/n." he said. "No chance in hell Bad, get the fuck away from me." "HEY, LANGUAGE!" he exclaimed. "No language, get away from me, you're creeping me out."

He threw his trident, spinning in the air, trying to catch up to your frantic steps. You were trying to get to Church Prime, where no one could kill anyone, hopefully Bad would abide to that rule. You were just about to step on Church Prime when you bumped into a hard, armored chest.

You looked up shyly, and saw Punz, with his red eyes reflecting anger. "Where are you going Y/n?" he questioned. "Somewhere." you blankly stated. You were desperate, you didn't want to die, or anything else that Bad was going to do to you. You tried to dodge Punz, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, "Stay right here Y/n."

"No, get away from me, I don't know what's wrong with all of you, but go away, I don't want anything to do with your stupid Eggpire." He raged, and grabbed your wrist heavily, "DON'T TALK ABOUT THE EGG LIKE THAT, IT WILL TAKE CONTROL OF THE SERVER, AND YOU ALL WILL BE ITS SERVANTS." "LET ME THE FUCK GO PUNZ." you screamed. You were wiggling in his grip, trying to escape his lunatic self.

While he was holding you, you saw two other shadows behind you. It was Antfrost and Bad. "What do you guys want from me, I didn't do anything wrong."

"You are against the Egg Y/n, people who are like you and Tommy have to die."

"Well, I'm not dying today." you murmured under your breath. "What was that you said?" Antfrost asked you.

You smirked, "I'm not dying today, I'll tell you one more time, let go of me."

Bad and Antfrost walked closer to you, Punz right behind you, all of them cornering you into a tight spot. "What you going to do about it Y/n, you're cornered."

"You'll know when they get here, but for now, you better run boys."

'Cause we're so fuckin' mean, we're so elitist, we're as fucked as any church And this bullshit West coast dogma has a higher fuckin' net worth I bit the apple 'cause I loved you, and why would you lie? And then I realized that you're just as naïve as I am Oh, you're so traumatized it makes me want to cry

"Tubbo, don't do this." Schlatt had unfortunately found out that you were a spy, that you were on Pogtopia's side. He had ordered Tubbo to kill you with fireworks, to light you on fire, give you blisters all over your body. "Please Tubbs, you're my friend." you pleaded.

"I can't Y/n/n, or something worse will happen." he whispered to you. "What do you mean?" you asked. "He can-" he trailed off, looking somewhere else besides your eyes. "Tubbo, you don't have to do what that stupid bastard tells you to do, you're your own person, with your own thoughts and actions."

"I'm sorry Y/n, I hope you can forgive me."

"TUBBO N-" you was cut off by firewords hitting your skin, making blisters and burn marks all over your body. You lost your second canon life, feeling betrayed by Tubbo. He killed you for what, a stupid father who never cared about him in his entire life, a father who exiled his friends that actually treated him like a person, and not like some random piece of trash.

You respawned in your bed, feeling bruises and bumps mostly on your forearms and your back.

"I'll help you Tubbo, I’ll get rid of him.”

You dumb bitch I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it's true I wanted to be you and do what you do I lived here, I loved here, I bought it, it's true I'm so embarrassed, I feel abused

“Come on Y/n/n, come with me.” Punz begged of you. He wanted you to visit the Egg. You didn’t want to be controlled by a stupid omelette. "I'm not Punzo, why are you so obsessed with that stupid thing."

"DON'T SPEAK OF THE EGG LIKE THAT."

You put your hands in front of you, accidentally touching Punz's chest, "Ok calm down buddy." He didn't calm down and instead yelled at you on why you had to join the Eggpire.

"If you join, you will be forever happy."

"If you join you'll get whatever you want."

You were tired of the members of the Eggpire to convince you to join them, you didn't like eggs anyway. "Punz, for the last time, I'm not joining you, stop telling me."

“Then you have to die.”

So fuck your tunnels, fuck your cars, fuck your rockets, fuck your cars again You promised you'd be Tesla, but you're just another Edison 'Cause Tesla broke a patent, all you ever broke were hearts I can't believe you tore humanity apart

“XD!” You were pissed at him, he had destroyed your house, made your friends pissed at you, just everything you liked. All because he wanted you for himself.

He wanted you to be dependent on his every word, and he was being a manipulative psychopath. And you didn’t tolerate that, it was like he was his human counterpart, Dream.

He walked to you with confidence, waiting for to get a hug from you, well, he didn’t get that. You slapped him so hard his head swung to the left.

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

“That’s what you get you stupid son of a bitch. You fucking ruined everything.” “Calm down Y/n/n, what is wrong?” He acted concerned, but you knew that he was faking. He would do anything to get someone’s approval.

“DO YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT’S WRONG, IT’S YOU, YOUR STUPID PRESENCE IN MY LIFE. YOU KEEP ON WALKING AROUND LIKE YOU FUCKING OWN THE PLACE.”

“Calm down darling, just take some netheri-” you interrupted him by slapping the ore out of his hands. “I don’t need jack shit from you XD, you know what, take back the necklace, I don’t want it.” You pulled the shiny, green emerald necklace off your neck, and pulled XD’s palm out.

You placed the necklace filled with memories, and put it on his hand. You closed up his palm, and walked away, leaving XD to his own accord.

“We could’ve had evertything X.”

412 notes · View notes

ilguna · 3 years

Text

Lacuna - Chapters 9-12 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing. MURDER, GORE.

wc; 12.1k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

-- CHAPTER NINE --

Most tributes would trade off with one of the others when they get tired. But there’s three problems when it comes to that, and they’re all very valid in your situation.

The first one is that you aren’t tired. At all. You feel like if you got up right now, you’d be able to run around the entire arena twice before you’d feel tired. Sure, you’d break a sweat but besides that, you’re wide awake. The adrenaline is pumping, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop anytime soon.

The second reason why you won’t wake any of them up, is because you don’t trust them. Mainly Trink, Eytelle, Allio and Lennox. Thyme is absolutely loyal, you know that. She would have survived just fine on her own had you not convinced the others to let her in. But she’s under some sort of safety net for the meantime. If you wanted to run off, you’re sure that she’d stick along, because you had offered her this chance at safety.

You’re not too entirely sure about Finnick anymore, which is a disappointment in itself. The fact that you can’t trust the one person that you were hoping to count on during this entire event. You two would lean on each other, and you would support him as best as possible. Keep each other from dying in case one of you get hurt, want to kill one of the careers or get sick. All the possibilities of being together through the tough shit and it’ll never happen.

There is a partial chance that Finnick is playing it up with his friends already, but he hadn’t mentioned it to you. He didn’t bring it up to you in the chance that he had, when the both of you were talking a couple of hours ago. To be fair, you hadn’t mentioned the same, but with Trink and Eytelle. But he’s always been honest with you, you just thought that he would go first.

Maybe you’re relying on him too much. You’re forgetting how to stand on your own feet because you’re thinking he’s going to support you. Is that why he’s keeping things from you?

The third reason is that you’re wide awake because you’re worried about three. When three will show up, what their intentions will be. If you’ll be allowed to wake up and take Finnick and Thyme before he tries to kill all of you. If he’ll think that two others is too much, since all you did was spare his own life. Unless there was more with him, but you had only seen him.

It’s hard to fall asleep, you’ve tried, but there’s always sounds going on in the woods. Branches snap, leaves get turned up out of nowhere. Birds will chirp, even though you’re sure that they should be sleeping like the rest of the forest. But it seems to have come alive in the nighttime, exactly what you don’t need. You hope that the gamemakers won’t send anything towards you guys. They have a reputation of sending things during the night when the tributes have fallen asleep.

You need the sleep as much as the others do. It’s been a couple of hours, you’ll force yourself to fall asleep, it doesn’t take very long. As much as you hate to say it, Finnick will probably be comforting enough to soothe the mind. You’ll be out like a baby in less than thirty minutes.

Of course, with that thought, you yawn. You struggle to keep your eyes open, and then you succumb to the yawn entirely. When you’re done, you freeze almost immediately with the pair of blue eyes that stare back at you in the forest. Mouth still hanging open, your arm locked around Finnick’s shoulder.

Suddenly, there’s another pair of eyes just beside it, and when you see that they’re glowing a little bit--you would not be able to see human eyes that clearly in the dark--you begin to worry what they are. Because there’s only one species so flexible to make the fantasy to come to life.

Muttations. Mutts.

You pinch Finnick’s upper arm as hard as you can, and then slap your hand over his mouth. He jolts awake, and you hold him down. From the very bottom of your eye, you can faintly see his own eyes look up to you. Confused, probably frustrated by the hand. But when you don’t move from where you’re looking, he follows the stare.

The eyes keep multiplying. From two to four to eight to sixteen.

How are you going to tell the others?

You slowly remove your hand, and Finnick slides up next to you. Your left hand grabs the nearest knife, and you clutch it in your hand like your life depends on it. Finnick grabs his sword, since he still doesn’t have his trident or spear. Those are left in the middle, because you thought to be going back for them pretty soon.

Finnick inches forward, his hand on your chest briefly to hold you back as he shakes Lennox awake. Lennox squints at Finnick, unsure of who he is almost, and then Lennox’s eyes widen. He turns to see the eyes, which are beginning to light up the area on all their own.

And just like that, it’s a chain. Lennox gets Trink awake, Trink gets Allio, who reaches over just barely to touch Eytelle, earning a snarl because of it. Finnick is very slow when he gets Thyme, and pulls her back to where you are.

“What do we do?” Trink whispers.

Another growl from in front of you. You slowly inch around the tree to see only one opening. You slide on your backpack, the others following.

“The path.” you don’t point, but they seem to get it. You’re the first to get to your feet, and once they’ve all followed, slowly turning their bodies in the direction that you’ll be going, you count down.

Once it hits one, you grab Finnick’s hand tightly, and then bolt off. Finnick has a hard time keeping up with you for a second, but the screams behind you are enough to inspire him to go faster. All you can hear from Eytelle is how they’re getting faster, that they’re giant, the size of bears.

“They are bears!” She shrieks.

The branches easily whip at your face, leaving little cuts wherever they hit. They begin to sting for a moment, but the second the next one hits, you forget about it. At least the blood going down any exposed skin and under the clothes--if they hit hard enough--is your own blood.

Finnick sees that you’re taking it after a while, and he goes just fast enough to take most of the hits after that. There are a few you still have to cover your face for, but for the big ones, he holds them long enough for you to slip through. Everyone behind you, it’s every man for themselves.

The adrenaline is still pumping just fine. You felt this coming, you knew that they would release something like that, because they can’t just let you guys have one simple, happy night. It could very well be a punishment for not creating drama between you guys and the boy from district three, but what do they know? Who’s to say that he won’t come in later and cause just as many problems?

You and Finnick have just made it to the bushes that touch the field in the middle, when a scream cuts off the panting and rapid feet. You fall, trying to catch your breath back, knife still in your hand tightly, Finnick leans over, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

You watch as they come out of the forest. Thyme, Trink, and Lennox.

“Where’s the other two?” Finnick asks, out of breath as he motions towards the woods.

“Get off her!” Allio screams, Finnick helps you to your feet, and you point at Thyme and Trink.

“Stay here.”

You feel stupid for running back in, But you’re pulling knives out of your waistband before you even know what you’re up against. The first one flies from your fingers, and you watch as the bear falls, feeling the ground shake beneath your boots from his weight.

Eytelle is a goner. She’s stretched out, and they’re still attacking her. Her screams are loud, garbled with tear-filled sobs as she pleads for it to end. And then the mutt will take another bite, and she screams again.

Allio is in Lennox and Finnick’s hands.

You try to get around the bears, wasting your knives on them. And the second you get a big enough clear to kill Eytelle, she looks directly at you. You have the pleasure of watching the knife getting lodged in her head, as it hits the dead leaves on the ground again. Listening as the cannon goes off.

Your third one, already. So early in the morning.

You turn, taking off towards the boys, two hands on Finnick, you shove. He tumbles with the others, bringing them down. You’re about to jump yourself, since it would be much easier to fall than to run, when a red hot, searing pain goes over your back.

You falter, trying to collect yourself just enough to get past the bushes. Tears are brimming your eyes when you get on the other side. And then, your legs buckle, and you find yourself with a face full of grass.

“(Y/n)!” Finnick gasps, all he does is barely touch your back and the tears spill over. A cry of pain leaves your mouth, and you're shaking your head against the grass.

“Stop! Please,” You sob, clenching your teeth.

“We need to get her under the cornucopia.” Trink says softly, coming over to help Finnick out. They get you up the same way they did to Allio, but instead of holding you back, they’re trying to support you so you don’t fall.

You’re trying to hold back the moans of pain. But each time one of them jerks by accident, the hot pain comes back, and it’s burning. Licking up every inch of your back.

They’ve just laid you across one of the boxes full of clothes, beginning to dig through the others. Thyme is very carefully helping you peel off your jacket, and then the shirt. When the shirt proves difficult, you raise it to your neck, since it doesn’t need to come off completely, just expose your back so she can get a look at it.

“We need water.” Thyme says, “to clean this out.”

Finnick is immediately offering up his water, uncapping the bottle, when Allio mutters, “Why should we? She killed Eytelle.”

The others have their heads screwed on right though, because they all look at him like he’s insane, “She stopped her from suffering, you would have wanted her to die slowly?”

“Maybe I did.” Allio mutters, turning away from you guys.

You’re not sure if he’s embarrassed now, since they make a pretty good point. It’s the entire reason why you stuck back. She may be a bitch but she needs to die a quick death like the rest of you. To draw it out would be an asshole move.

Which means that the others might not think how you thought. They might make the tribute plead but you’re thinking that they won’t drag it out. Of course, Eytelle was a friend, so they probably wouldn’t want her to die a slow death.

You’re hoping that you didn’t piss off the gamemakers. Because they’re all about shows, and so you fighting would have made a great experience, raised the stakes. But then killing Eytelle would have ruined all of it, since she had plenty of time left. Where she was being mauled and where the middle sits, isn’t that far from each other.

You guys would have been forced to listen to her agonized screaming for so many hours. Because that’s what the games are about, a show. There’s no better way to have one than torturing a poor teenager until they die an unnatural death. Not like this entire thing isn’t unnatural in the first place.

“Don’t move,” Thyme is quiet, and you can feel Finnick hold you down a little bit, even Lennox comes into help to make sure that you don’t jerk.

Clenching your teeth, you close your eyes as tightly as possible. With hands enclosed into fists, you try not to scream the second that the cool water is poured over your back. She does it fairly close so it’s not hitting your back like a bag of rocks. A low moan leaves your mouth, and you can’t help but to hate yourself for going to kill Eytelle for them.

If you had let her die like they wanted, you wouldn’t have to go through this pain. But here you are, a handful of claw marks down your body. Burning like the red sun, like the heat continues to go up with each passing second. You feel like your entire back has been doused in gasoline and lit on fire.

It burns.

You get used to the water after a while. Trink offers to get more, Allio says that he’ll go with her, and then they leave you, Finnick, Lennox, and Thyme.

“This fucking sucks,” you complain, huffing a little bit.

“Thank you.” Lennox doesn’t elaborate, but you can guess what it’s about.

He gets up and moves to the back of the little building, digging through what’s back there. You watch when he grabs something, and then comes out, dropping it in front of you on the ground. There, sits a spear covered in gold. Or, since the Capitol is rich and they love to make luxury items, it could very well be made out of gold, the entire thing from handle to blade tip.

Lennox doesn’t bother to say anything as he goes back to digging, you know exactly what he’s looking for, and he’s not going to find it. Finnick will have to do with a spear just like you. On the same goddamn playing field once again but it seems like you guys aren’t as open as you’d hoped the both of you would be.

You’re not saying anything because you’re hoping that he will first. Tell you of the little alliance going on between the boys, so you can tell him of the one going on between the girls. Especially now since there’s one less member, it just makes a tighter circle, easier to open up and reveal true personalities. They’re not stupid, they’re going to find out that you’re not as dumb as you play it out to be.

Maybe Finnick will come open about the fact that the entire love thing was a joke too. That he was doing it for sponsors, because the interview was a perfect time to set it up, and kissing out here will be a beautiful way to execute it. He’s buttering you up so you won’t be able to kill him when the time comes. But you’ve gained three, as he’s still stuck at zero.

As far as you’re concerned, no damage has come up just yet. You’re as clean as a whistle, and it plays just fine. Your brain still functions like it has before, you’re just slowly adjusting to how it needs to be. You’re wide awake still, and you’re sure that you’ll crash as soon as you feel safe--an adjustment since you’d sleep heavily on most days--and you haven’t been hungry since you ate, which was hours ago. You should be hungry, even if it were just a little bit.

If you have to kill Finnick, you’ll be able to do it. It only gets easier with time, right? Like swallowing a hard pill, just learn how much water you need to take it down with, and go from there. You’re ahead of the game.

You’re going to go home.

Your eyes drag to where Lennox is. You can see his back is turned, no more hands are on you as far as you can tell. Finnick is standing off to the side, staring off into the night. Thyme, you’re not sure where she is.

“Allio and Trink on their way back?” you ask, reach down to the spear slowly, eyes glued to Lennox.

“Year, pretty far off though.” Finnick mutters, “Your back hurts?”

Finnick turns, and you shake your head at him, pushing yourself up to sit. It does hurt, it feels like a bitch. You can’t move any of the muscles back there without a stabbing pain going with it. At least the water helped, even if it was just a little bit.

You try to play off you sitting up, with the spear in your hand as like you’re just testing it out. You pretend to move it around in your hand, getting a feel for it. But when you do stand up, wandering around the boxes what looks like aimlessly--but you’re really starting to move your way to Lennox--you see something.

The person jumps, a scream leaving their throat, which makes Lennox turn immediately. You draw your arm back, right hand on the spear, which sends the pain spiraling in your upper back. Reaching over with the left, your hold onto it tightly. Soon, you’re going for a stab.

It’s successful, and the cannon goes off. The kid, who must be from twelve, falls dead onto the ground, golden spear sticking out of them. You can see the blood gathering in their stomach, and spilling onto the blood around them. With a tilt of your head, your eyebrows draw in when you look over them a little more.

“He’s--he’s twelve.” you choke out, stumbling back.

A faint feeling comes over you, and you reach back to grab something to hold yourself up with. You come across a whole lot of nothing, and before you can fall, Finnick catches you in his arms.

And the world turns black for good.

-- CHAPTER TEN --

If you’re going to kill anyone first, by your own hands--besides the four other people you have already killed--inside of the alliance, you think that it should be the girls first. Or girl, you’re not too fond of knocking Thyme out just yet. She would be easiest though. You take her down somewhere nice, like the waterfall that you think is hidden somewhere in the water, and you drown her or something.

Spear her to death, even though that’ll be painful unless you get her in the head the first time. Really, anything that might take her out, that includes you not being anywhere near the others, Finnick included. You might have suggested her to the group but the longer she sticks around, the more she learns. The more Trink and the others grow attached, the harder it’ll be to cut her off without the others pitching a bitching fit.

You know Finnick likes her. With the way that he talks to her and all of that. They like to share a certain look sometimes. One that you’re not sure how to decipher, but you do know that you don’t like the looks of it at all. It’s like they’re holding secrets that they won’t let you in on, much less let you know that they have them in the first place.

Actually, scratch that, they’ve basically let you know. You’ve asked several times to know what they’re giggling about, and they give you some fucking glance. The type you use to brush someone off if they’re babbling about something incoherent. It’s like if a drunk family friend--you have experience with your dad’s old friends that liked to come around when he was home--that tries to give you advice on fashion even though they’re wearing some old ass rags. It’s a look of you being under them.

Trink, Lennox and Allio don’t treat you like that at least. It’s like the more that time passes between all of you, you’re drawn more to the career pack. As Finnick ostracizes himself and finds more of a friend in Thyme than you.

You’re tired of the giggling and the glances and so you’ve taken a walk all the way down the lake. Which is where you’ll sit and watch the water, because you can’t fucking stand whatever the hell is going on back there.

During the time that you were out, medicine was sent in from one of your sponsors. Thyme lathered it on, Finnick did bedside and sat by you the entire time basically. It’s healed everything on your back nicely, Finnick says all that’s left are pink scars, but it still stings if you move the wrong way. You’ll put on another thin layer tonight, but that’ll be it. You guys can save the rest for later or something.

Eytelle, the boy from twelve and the girl from nine showed up in the sky last night, three more down. The total dead is eleven, and there’s still six of you in the alliance. Seventeen minus twenty-four is seven. Six if you’re not including yourself. Six more people until the alliance breaks off. Probably less.

Besides that, everything is as it was before. Lennox snuggles up to Trink. Allio is bitter, looking for a fight in everything that you do. Because he wants to believe that you did it out of pleasure. You were satisfied a little bit because it lessened one person in the group. One more person until you get to go home. But that’s it. You hated everything about it.

And had you known that you would get hurt because of it, you would have let her be there in pain and saved your own ass. Those couple of hours with it healing felt like an absolute bitch, and you would give anything not to go through that pain again. It’s as simple as that.

The arena has been unusually quiet, but it’s like that always. Everyone is hiding, and trying to find food to eat. Getting set up where they want to stay for the next couple of weeks. If you guys work quickly, it can just be a singular week, but that’s not going to happen. Five days have passed and only eleven people are dead. You have a feeling that this is going to be dragged out a lot longer.

You hate it here. You hate it more than you thought you would, because it’s not going how you planned.

Pushing yourself up, you swipe your backpack and spear from the sand, before wading into the water, using the spear to see how deep the water gets. You’re sure that it’s going to get to your chest, but it never goes above the waist. The water is fairly cold, but all it does is wake you up more, keeping you on your toes.

You’re being careful as to make sure that you’re not disturbing anything in the water. If something grabs your ankle and drags you under, you’ll be fine for the most part. You can hold your breath for a good while, but the problem would be fighting and trying not to lose all your air while doing it. When people are thrown around underwater, they have a tendency to lose the air that they’re holding.

You’ve seen it before with the neighborhood boys your brothers used to wrestle back when you were younger. Caspian was there most of the time, and they’d tackle each other, go underwater and you’d just watch the bubbles go to the surface. Worried about if they’ll be able to know that the other person doesn’t have anymore air left over.

Eventually they’d pop up to the surface, take in a huge gasp of air, and then do it all over again.

You never joined in because of these fears, but thinking back on it now, it would have helped. Had you been in the situation yourself, you would know how to take care of it, if you were dragged under.

The sound of the waterfall isn’t that far off, and in fact, you can see exactly where it is. It’s off to the left, with a pile of rocks, which makes up the waterfall in the first place. You go ahead with going inside when you’re close enough. If you weren’t wet before, you are now.

Inside of the waterfall is fairly lit up, but at night it has to be pitch black. As far as you can tell, no one has been inside of here yet. There’s no sign of footprints in the moss, which means that maybe no one has thought of coming in here yet.

It really sucks that you had suggested this to the other two. Had you not, you could really disappear off into here and they would have no goddamn clue. They’d think you ran off, maybe died if they heard a random cannon, only to see you’re alive when you don’t appear in the night sky.

It’s also got to be really fucking cold at night with the water and the rocks. Like living in a basement, the cold tends to settle a lot better. It’d be impossible to sleep at night if you didn’t have a sleeping back. You’d end up shivering and then dying of hypothermia. Trying to get a fire started in here?

Not only stupid, but also useless. They’d see the fire clearly through the waterfall, a random ass light source would draw anyone with the right mind. You know you’d head for it, take out anyone who thought that they’d be able to get away with it. It would be their own damn fault. Then again, the cold will do shit to people. And then, it would be useless because the wood would be wet the second you go through the waterfall.

It’s a really sucky spot to be, but it’s better than nothing you suppose.

Sitting down, you dig through the backpack, drinking some of the water, and then nibbling on whatever your hands find first.

Twelve people left in the games, excluding yourself. Five that you’re sticking around and seven that are spread out somewhere in the arena. Some of those seven aren’t any good, like the boy from ten, the girl from twelve, and so on. The useless districts, they’ve only survived this long because they’ve gotten lucky. They run into the wrong person once, and they’ll be dead meat.

You need to find a way to wipe out Trink, Lennox or Allio. As you were saying earlier, it would probably be easiest to go with Trink, but the boys are the stronger ones. Allio already is paranoid about all the shit you do. Simply you walking off rose suspicious which you not-so-kindly told him to go fuck himself in reponse. You don’t need him on your back for jack shit.

It should be him, you should wipe out him. But he won’t go anywhere with you in private. It will have to be either Trink or Lennox. However, the more you think about Thyme and Finnick, you’re starting to think that it wouldn’t be so bad killing her after all. The others won’t care that much, she’s not a career. They need you and Finnick, she’s just an accessory.

Then again, you really would like to take out Lennox. Even the playing field a little bit. The three boys could wipe you, Trink and Thyme out with the blink of an eye. If you’re quick enough, you’ll be able to get away, but it won’t be unscathed. Even having two of them alive is still risky business.

You were already going to go for Lennox, so why not?

Kill Lennox, draw Trink in closer to you, and try to convince Allio that you’re not doing anything wrong. Maybe you can try to pin it on Thyme, have the job done for you, and Finnick will have to turn back to you.

Allio was the one that was worried about Thyme, right? Because she let her district mate run off?

It’s not a bad idea. The only problem is that you’ll be creating mass suspicion and it’ll create tension sooner than it needs to be. The faster you guys split up, the less you have to worry about. If no one trusts each other, then there is no alliance to have.

Sneaking out of the waterfall, you’re drenched in water again, feeling like a drowned cat for a little as you have to go all the way back to the middle by walking through the water. Then the sand sticks to your shoes like mud, a couple of pieces do get into your shoe entirely, and you have to pull the shoes off.

Then, you find yourself stripping off the jacket, your socks, and your shirt. The pants you can deal with, but everything else is squishy and it feels gross. By the time you’ve reached the cornucopia, you’ve successfully rung out your shirt and socks, the shirt being back on your body while the socks are hidden somewhere on the backpack for further drying. The jacket seems to have a never ending flow of water.

Trink looks up at you. She’s sitting on the ground, holding her arm. Her face twists angrily for a second, “What the fuck do you want?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the hostility. Had you said something before you left that pissed her off?

“Don’t play pretend. You and your fucking boyfriend planned this,”

“Planned what?” you ask, looking to see that Lennox and Allio don’t look too thrilled to see you standing in front of them either. You take a step back, worried that they’re going to attack you like a pack of angry dogs.

“Attacking us and then leaving.” Lennox favors his left leg more than his right, “So you can get a head start.”

“That is--” you turn to look behind you, all you see is a short amount of field and then the trees, “They left?”

“You really have no clue?” Trink sounds nicer now.

They left you out of this? They attacked and then left you to deal with them? Finnick took Thyme over you and just… went?

“I didn’t fucking--” you can feel the anger swelling, and now do you know what you were feeling earlier. It was jealousy, you were jealous over the fact that Finnick was talking to her more than you, was acting like you knew nothing anymore.

But now it’s anger.

“I didn’t know.” you tell them, sitting down on the nearest chest, shaking your head, elbows on your knees and you place your face in your hands, “I can’t fucking believe that they would do this.”

“Glad to know that we’re in the same boat.” Allio mutters, but it’s not that harsh, maybe he trusts you now.

They’re so fucking dead the second you get your hands on them. Dead.

-- CHAPTER ELEVEN --

You wonder how agonizingly painful it is to watch two of what looks like the best tributes you’ve gotten in a long time, turn their backs on each other and not even bother to find the other. If Mags is pulling her hair out right alongside Elysia, because you can picture it now. Fistfuls of Mag’s white hair and blonde hair from Elysia’s stupid synthetic wig.

They have to have sponsors lined up the wazoo, and the further that time goes on, the more expensive shit is going to start being. So if you’re going to do anything of significance, you’re sure that you have to hurry the fuck up. Just so that they all don’t go to waste and you’ll be able to use their money a little bit.

Although, you’re sure that no news is good news at this point. You’ve reached a week and a half already, but no one is dropping like flies, as you’re sure that the Capitol is hoping for. The only person that has died is the girl from district twelve, and that’s about it. No one even killed her, you’re sure.

You, Trink, Allio and Lennox are having trouble coming across people as it is. You haven’t seen a goddamned person since the boy from district twelve was inside the cornucopia, and that’s really saying something about how the games have been structured so far. The poor girl probably starved to death because she had no skill whatsoever.

That must have been boring as hell. You’re not sure how the girl did it though, going so long without food and water. Each time you and Trink take up the woods, all it seems is like there is food and water. Which was there before the girl had dropped dead, they didn’t just up the production just because she died.

Actually, there have been more deaths. The boys from eight and ten, no clue what got to them either. None of you had gotten your hands on them at all. It’s been serene since Finnick and Thyme left. And speaking of that, you haven’t heard a goddamn thing about them either.

You have a feeling where they might be, but you flat out refuse to go to the waterfall. It’s not just you being stubborn anymore, it’s genuine betrayal that they would do that. If they had thought that you disappeared for a few hours because you were running away, they’re stupid. You wouldn’t have done it without getting a few licks in on the pack, and you would have told them.

Well, maybe you wouldn’t have told them with all that has been happening lately. They can believe that they did the right thing, even with the week that has passed, and they can also believe that you’re coming, but it’s not going to happen. You’re hoping that they don’t come across you at all, because you’re not making friends anymore. The boy from three got his pass, but former friends? Betrayal really is a bitch, isn’t she?

Continuing off of that, you’re not really looking forward for what the gamemakers have in mind for people who don’t spice shit up. Which is why you’re going to kill Allio tonight. Take first watch, wait till the others are asleep and then stab him when the time comes. Pretend like Finnick or one of the others came and attacked you, and play it from there.

You’ve built up trust. You’ve got them relying on you for food as if you’re some personal chef. You go down to the lake, pond, whatever and fish up whatever you can get. Normally you stick to four, on days that you’ve had to skip the entire day without eating, you bring back more. You’re getting them to shrink their stomachs. They complain but they know that you’re right.

Sadly, this only means that the future generations coming from the rich districts will know the tactic in being able to starve yourselves and live on longer, and still have that much energy. This will only help out them, but as for the kids back home in the poor districts, you’ll wander around inside of the arena and point out the berries and leaves that you do know. As if you’re giving a lesson in herbal remedies or some shit.

You’re hoping that the Capitol is allowing them to tune in to those parts, and that the sponsors are seeing just how capable you are. You feel like some villian from a book that your mother used to read to you before bed. The types that walk around their little lair after they kidnapped the hero, as they give away every single detail of their plan. Because you’ve done it once, speaking to yourself to work out the details. It’s much easier to do it that way than in your head because you’re mapping it out. Like visualizing it.

Anyway, Trink looks at you like a best friend now. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re acting as a replacement for Eytelle, or she’s just lonely, but it’s working out on your part too. A distraction for all the things going inside your head constantly. Finnick, Thyme, your brothers and sister, Mags, Elysia, your parents, the cycle repeats itself almost a hundred times a day. Like an addiction. Like clockwork.

She’ll just gossip about meaningless things that happened before the games--trink, you’re talking about. She’ll sit on the chest while Lennox will cook up the fish, or on days she’s bored, she’ll go with you down to the pond-lake or around the arena to find extra food or any unlucky tributes that manage to cross your paths. She’ll talk about the girls that she thought were pretty.

She’ll bitch about how everyone that’s thrown into the arena with them has these automatic assumptions that she wants to kill everyone. That she doesn’t want to have a normal life and just be at home with her family. Because of this, she’s cried twice and you’re not really looking forward to anymore times in the future. You’ve tried to do the pat-on-the-back technique but she had the pleasure of informing you that they know your dumb damsel act, was an act.

Apparently they knew from the beginning, but they thought taking you in was smart anyway. They were guessing that you playing damsel was to win sponsors, and you didn’t tell her it was so that they would take you in. You have a feeling that Trink was lying about all of this, and she just wanted to take it out of you. Unfortunately for her, you said nothing and you just watched as she scrambled to apologize as if you’d forgive her and tell her it was all true.

She said that having you around is nice. That you’re nice to her, and it gives her a chance to feel human again. And then after that, not even a few hours later, she was down at the pond-lake, scrubbing grime from your skin and fixing your hair like a couple of grade school friends. Again, this could all be a tactic to get you to like them so you won’t kill them, because you had gotten the ten after all, but you’re not so sure about it.

Trink seems broken, but she was just waiting for someone to open up about it to. Lennox is there to support her, but he looks like he’d rather be distancing himself, getting ready to take out the rest of the tributes. And you’ve just begun to get Allio to like you in the first place. Which is the exact reason why he’s got to go in the first place. If you were to kill Trink or Lennox, you’d be the first they’d point fingers to, and then you’d be fucked.

Two against one? Not the odds you like. If Finnick and Thyme were here, it would be a little different. But even then, Thyme is like dead weight and you’re not even sure if Finnick knows how to fight anymore. You can’t remember his number at the bloodbath, but all you know is that it was a small number. Nothing above a two, but it couldn’t even have been that high. A one, maybe.

Everything that you had built up to before the games was useless. You had made an alliance, a friend, a lover, a person you could trust out of Finnick only for it to fall apart the second a week passes. You introduced Thyme to the group for her safety, but the only safety she could find was in your cold-hearted, nasty-ass, two-timing, son-of-a-bitch boyfriend!

“It wasn’t even official!” you laugh, throwing the stick in your hand, “He didn’t even ask me to be his girlfriend!’

You swing your foot into the trunk of the tree, ignoring the spike of pain that goes up your foot, it’ll go away in a minute's notice. The tears that collect in your eyes are completely unrelated to the pain in your foot. It’s related to the fact that you counted on someone from home that turned out to be an asshole. All in it for himself.

You take a moment to sit in the dead leaves, wiping away the tears as you rip your backpack apart to place the fish inside of it. However, you’re stopped with the snap of the branch. You think it’s another bear muttation, this time coming to take you out, but three stands in front of you.

He’s skinnier than he was the last time he saw you. His cheeks are starting to sink in, giving you a perfect outline of where the bones on his face lie. He’s been starving this entire time, it’s obvious.

“Please.” three asks, “Please, I know you don’t--”

“Get down before one of the others see you.” you tell him, watching as he drops his makeshift knife onto the ground, falling to his knees as he holds his hands out eagerly.

This should definitely be against the rules, but you could care less anymore. What you considered to be your boyfriend had ran off with some girl he had just met. The people you trust now are a bunch of assholes that wouldn’t last two days without you there. And everyone else is either starving or waiting it out, wanting the gamemakers to take matters into their own hands.

“Here, take it all.” you shove the fish into his hands, “I’ll just go get more.”

“Thank you.” he tells you, it looks like he’s about to get up, but then he waits, “What were you saying about Finnick?”

“Off on his own with the girl from eleven.”

“Thyme? Thought you were friends.”

“Me too.” you mutter bitterly, getting to your feet, reaching for the golden spear. You left the fishing rod at the cornucopia, thinking that the spear would be easier. It’s somewhat, you caught the same amount of fish. The only problem is that you’re out of practice with standing still. You can’t help but to sway.

You shuffle through the woods, listening as three follows behind you, “So, who’s left?”

“Really not into you attacking us during the night so I’ll keep that info to myself.”

“There’s what, four? Five, of you? I wouldn’t stand a chance.” he sighs, “It would be a faster way out.”

“Not too keen on killing you either.”

“Why not?” he asks, and you shrug.

“You’ve grown on me.”

“Why’s that?” three trips over his feet for a moment, trying to catch up with you.

You wish he would go away, but talking to someone other than the three musketeers back at the cornucopia is refreshing, “Saved you during the first day. Saw you in the training center. Wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“Not much I can do with what I make.” he holds up the flimsy knife, “These rocks are nothing like what they have in the center.”

“But they do what they’re intended for.” you tilt your head slightly.

“I guess. How many have you killed?”

You’re not looking forward to this part of the conversation. At all.

“I don’t know, three to five by now. Girl from ten, boy from eleven, Eytelle.” Shit fuck, you just gave away--good job, idiot.

You have no clue if he picks up on this or not, “Oh, so three?”

“Boy from twelve.” you mutter, still not happy that you had to kill a twelve year old. Fresh out of the womb in your opinion, and you’re only three years older than him. Finnick being two.

Hey! Why the fuck are you thinking of Finnick as a lover when he’s--you two are so goddamn young and here you are, moping over the fact that some teenage boy broke your heart. This is the part in the villain story when the girl rises up and becomes her true self, huh?

Doesn’t matter, you’re still taking out Allio tonight, whether you like it or not.

“You killed--”

“Listen, I wasn’t happy about it either. Back to back kills with Eytelle.” you stop at the water, looking to him, “if you’re going to stick around, don’t throw shit and don’t come in.”

“Got it,” he sits in the sand, picking apart the fish as he eats it raw. He must be hungry, because you would never. Even if it is safe or whatever, you’d still cook it. Raw fish does something to your stomach that you’re not too fond of, every single time.

“What’s your name anyway?” you ask, spearing the first fish. When you pull it out of the water, you see that there’s two. Less work for you to do in the end.

“Blaire.” he tells you, brushing his hair out of his face, “You’re (Y/n)?”

“Yup.” you waddle into the water a bit more, which finally brings the waterfall into sight.

Those motherfuckers.

The light shines through the water crystal clear, exactly like you had thought. Unwanted visitors will be drawn in, and those fuckers will pay the price for it. Not your problem, and quite frankly, for once you’re excited that Finnick might die alongside Thyme. Maybe not quick and easy.

What would be the ultimate betrayal was if you’d bring Lennox, Allio and Trink back here. Introduce them to Blaire here, and go create some fucking problems, starting with that stupid waterfall and your ex alliance. The one you made, the one that belongs to you. The one that you had busted your ass to make sure that everyone would have a place in.

The light is gone quickly, and for a second you think you see a hand. But the sun starts to fall a little quicker than you thought possible. You find yourself stabbing fish endlessly, until you’ve made a pile to make up for a couple of days. You tell Blaire to ration his out carefully, and if he’s lucky enough, you’ll start putting extras under a bush for him around the pond-lake.

You part ways, heading straight for the cornucopia. The walk is fairly quiet, the animals in the forest are acting like they normally do, but a feeling creeps up in your stomach, so you start jogging a little bit. Which sets off the snarl, and then the barking of wild dogs.

“Fuck!” you yell, gripping the spear tightly as you take off running, using the weight of the backpack as momentum to go faster. The ground is a blur beneath your feet as you pick up the speed. They’re right on your heels when you just barely slide underneath the building.

There, Lennox and the others are already on their feet, weapons in hand as they swing. You don’t even take time to catch your breath before you’re up and helping them. Gasping for air, stabbing whatever you can see because the sweat is dripping into your eyes. It stings, but you blink it away as fast as possible.

“What the fuck?” Lennox finally yells, you watch as he swings the sword faster than you can stab. He’s taking down the dogs left and right. Allio is just behind him in number.

By the time you’ve gotten through ten to fifteen, they begin to realize that they’re not going to win the fight. Slowly they back off, allowing you to catch your breath. By the time the last one has retreated, you’re on your knees, hand in the grass as you gasp for air. Your sides are aching painfully, arms and legs burning.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you were just set on fire.

“God damn it.” Allio pushes himself up, hand on his side. When he pulls it away, there’s a clear set of teeth marks and enough blood to prove it.

“Medicine for that?” You ask, and Trink shrugs, going to dig immediately through the medicine box.

“We can have dog for dinner.” Lennox picks one of them up by its back leg. It’s fairly big, and it’ll probably feel all of you.

You grab an empty box and dump all of your fix into there. Inside it just has water. The fish may be long dead and you guys might not have ice but it’s better than nothing. Keeping it in the back corner of the building in the shadiest spot keeps it cold for the most part.

“Yum,” Trink doesn’t sound too thrilled and you don’t blame her.

“One night only specialty.” You point to Lennox, falling back into your butt as you try to breathe without hurting your throat, “We don’t want the fish to go to waste.”

“We can have both?” Trink suggests.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Lennox chirps, before working away at the dog.

It’s a mutt, it’s not an actual dog. Dogs like that… they have a superior intelligence, how else did they know to back off? Others would just keep attacking until none of them were left. It’s just what happens when you’re starving and it’s better than nothing.

You’ve just started the fire, when the first cannon goes off. You turn to look at the others, who are still very alive--you’re not sure if Allio had just tipped over due to blood loss or something--and they look just as confused as you feel. Trink shrugs slightly, trying to go back to searching through the medicine.

And then the second cannon goes off.

“A fight?” Allio asks.

“Has to be,” Lennox tells him, you get off of the ground and wander out of the building a little bit to see if they’re nearby.

You nearly get a heart attack when you see a hand stick out of a bush by the lake. It’s blurry, since it’s so far, but it’s a thumbs up, and it disappears as quickly as it had appeared. It’s probably Blaire, letting you know that he’s very much alive. What an idiot, he could have just killed himself if it had been one of the others.

“The fallen will play soon,” you mutter, wandering back inside, throwing a few more sticks into the fire, “We’ll be able to see who’s fallen by then.”

Two down. Must mean that it was a fight of three people or more. There’s no way that it was just two people, the first killed the second, and the first had managed to get hurt badly enough to die immediately after. It had to be a group of three, an alliance. Two people working together against one, and the one prevails or only one of the alliance people die…

Finnick.

Finnick!

You struggle to keep your mouth from opening, because you’ve told yourself that you’re not going to be tripping over your own feet for Finnick anymore. But that doesn’t stop you from worrying about what’s happened. If he did die, you bet it’s because of that stupid waterfall. It had brought people in, a death trap.

How did they even get the water to stay dry? They must be bringing it in by the bucket load, hanging it up to dry in some sanctioned spot and using whatever dry wood that had made the night before. A complicated, but smart system. However, you’re not sure if either of them art smart enough for that technique.

Lennox offers you a leg of the dog, but you turn it down because you’d rather try to keep down that small portion you’d choked down, than force anything else down. It’s disgusting enough that it was a dog, and thinking about Finnick has got your stomach wanting you to empty whatever is left.

The anthem stars, you look to the sky. The anticipation builds in your stomach to the point where you’re actually pressing a fist to your mouth to keep it down. Leaning forward subconsciously as you await the news.

And then just like that, the girl from district six shows up, her picture is a little wonky, as if she didn’t know what she was doing when she took it. But it’s good news, because it’s not Finnick. It had skipped straight to district six, he’s somewhere inside of the arena, alive.

For a moment you forget that there were two cannons. Then it switches to Thyme, and you jump to your feet, mouth falling open, “Oh my god.”

Lennox claps a little bit, “Finnick is alone--”

“Serves him right!” Trink shakes your right leg a little bit, and you slowly go back down to your feet.

Nine in the games left, eight if you’re not including yourself. The number will be down to seven tonight after you kill Allio. You’re surviving, you’re doing it. You’re going to live. You have a chance at making it home! Twenty-four to eight? That’s sixteen down!

The odds are surely in your favor.

You let your temporary group of friends know that you’ll be taking first watch. Helping them package up the nasty dog meat and placing it into another empty box to get it out of the way. Allio and Lennox throw the rest of the bodies off into the edge of the woods, and then they come back to lay down.

Lennox lays down first, Trink right beside him. Allio lays somewhere near the back, where the fish is at. Curled up with a fleece blanket that he found at the bottom of one of the chests. You wonder if the gamemakers threw it in for shits and giggles, because the thing is basically useless. Allio says it makes him feel like he’s back at home.

You sit with your back to the wall, one hand on the golden spear, that you can’t help but rub your thumb over. Hoping that it’ll reveal it’s true nature of being brass. The color hasn’t come off just yet, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll be off any time soon. You’ll keep trying for as long as you have it though.

Your eyes flicker to the others each time they’ll toss and turn. You spend most of the night zoned-out, thinking about Finnick. Wondering if you could afford a quick run to the waterfall and be back before the others wake. The reminder of the frigid waters and the possibility of something being in the pond-lake stops you from doing it. Doesn’t mean you don’t consider it.

It’s a while before you feel like you can move without the others waking. Being very careful on your feet. You tip-toe to the back of the building, where you also happen to like to sleep. The difference is that you don’t bother sleeping anywhere near where Allio is.

Throwing the spear into the grass, you then turn to Allio. Slowly pulling out your knife, eyes dragging back to the couple off to the side. Lucky enough for you, their backs are turned, there’s no way they’ll be spying on you tonight.

You’re very careful when you crouch down next to Allio, breathing deeply. You’re about to kill someone, and you know this. You’re very aware of your actions when you hover your hand over his hair, and have the knife prepared behind his head. Once the knife goes through, you have to act fast.

One deep breath, a fistful of hair, a gasp of air, a knife through the back of the head, a jump to your feet, the sound of a cannon, your body hitting the grass behind a chest, a knife shoved under that same chest, your eyes closing.

Trink and Lennox gasp, and by the time they’re getting up, going to wake you, the dizziness and the out-of-body experience is finally subsiding.

“Who died?” Lennox’s voice is gruff, he’s rubbing his eyes, but he has his hand on the sword.

Trink is hovering above you, and you play the act of just waking up as well as you can, not sure if she’s buying it. But she apologizes, looking sorry as she then looks back to Allio.

“Is he awake?” Lennox asks.

You yawn, it’s easier than you thought it would be. You’re exhausted, “He took watch a couple hours ago.”

You refrain from wiping your face, knowing that there has to be blood on your body somewhere. Instead, you take your hands and shove them inside of your pants, wiping them on your legs and underwear. Not the cleanest thing, but you can’t afford them knowing that you just killed one of the career members.

Trink tries to wake up Allio, but when she sees the blood pooling behind his head, she screams, “Someone was here?!”

“What?” you ask, still not getting up from your spot, heart pumping in your ears.

“He’s dead.” Trink turns to Lennox, “One of the others snuck in here and--and they killed Allio!”

“Who would do that? After we just lost two today?” you ask.

“They weren’t our two.” Trink whines, and then her face falls, “They don’t know that Thyme and Finnick left our alliance. They thought we were weak.”

As long as she takes up any and every theory that has nothing to do with you.

“You’re right.” you nod eagerly, and she looks grim, like she isn’t happy that you think she’s right in the first place.

“They won’t know that we’re down two until tomorrow night.” Lennox tells you two, “Until then, we got time to prepare.”

“I’ll take watch--”

“No, I’ve got it.” Lennox hoists Allio up into his arms, struggling a little bit. But you watch with Trink as he drops Allio off somewhere nearby, far enough so the gamemakers will take him, though still in sight.

Lennox tells you to go to sleep, and you do as you’re told, Trink doing the same. However, the second that you’re hidden behind the box, you’re taking deep breaths and trying to calm yourself down. You’ll have a panic attack behind the chest if you’re not careful, and it’s the last thing that you need.

You can’t fall apart now.

-- CHAPTER TWELVE --

To you, it’s a mystery on why Blaire has stuck around this long, and why you continue to insist on feeding him. He can do it all on his own, you’ve taught him a couple of things he needs to know if he wants to do it. But you always come back around, burying a fish in the one designated bush just to keep him alive. Like a distant companion that you’re really getting too attached to.

In return for all of you teaching him, he’s begun to give you a few tricks when it comes to making your own things. You brought up the one idea that you had, with no way to execute it. And he went out of his way to go and get the materials and sat down with you for an hour or two just to make sure you’ve got it down.

A net. The holes are too big for fishing, unless you were to find a big ass fish somewhere in the pond-lake. It’s more of something to catch people, holes to big for fish to pass through but too small for someone to wiggle out of. It would take a lot of sawing the knife to get the person free. And by then, they might have drowned.

Blaire took the time of finding a place where there were vines, and gave you simple directions on how to get to the area when you need to make a new one. Since it’s a little flimsy, you’re sure it’s a one-person use only since it is vines and not rope. And you can’t really take it back to the middle for the others to see, since you can’t give them the whole truth about it.

Listen, you’re not bad at lying. You could do that all day, it’s the acting part. Acting like your clueless. If they were to approach you and demand you remake it because they’re suspicious or whatever—you hardly doubt they’re that interested in your net-making—you wouldn’t able to do it and you’d have to act or lie your way about it. Acting would be you bullshitting through the entire thing and lying would be that you got lucky enough to make it.

Anyway, Blaire had taught you the process, but it turns out that he doesn’t know how to tie as many knots as you, much less the ones that are needed to keep the vines where they’re supposed to be. So, he weaved and you tied the knots, every now and then you’d switch off to weave it yourself, trying not to fuck up the somewhat complicated pattern.

It turned out pretty good for the most part, you’re proud that it doesn’t look like total ass. And you’re sure that the technique will offer new insights to everyone back home and prove helpful to the future of being in this arena.

Speaking of which, death rates have dropped off completely. You guess that everyone left right now are the smart type, they’ve got their skills on lock or they’ve found a way to live it out. Starving until the very last person has died off. But it looks like everyone can provide for themselves somehow—with the exception of your idiot friend Blaire.

The weak have been picked off or died of their own accords so now it’s left to the rest of you to hunt. It’s been two weeks since the games have started. You’re really hoping that it doesn’t go on for a month. Your poor brothers watching you run around betraying and befriending like it’s going to save your life when it’s really going to kill you.

At least Reed has had a chance to watch you exercise everything that he had taught you. He might not be happy that you’re sharing that information with Blaire, but you can’t just leave him. You’ve saved his life three times now—the pack, the food and yesterday he nearly drowned when he got his foot tangled in a root. If it weren’t for you, he’d be dead by now. Many different ways for it to have happened.

Guess that you’re really skipping from friend to friend. Finnick, Thyme, Trink, and now Blaire? You’re really getting around, aren’t you? If you were to come across anyone that’s left that you haven’t met just yet—the girl from five, boy from eight, and boy from ten—you’d make friends out of them two. It’s only a matter of time. Hell, you briefly talked to Mac, the boy from seven, but he’s a friend to you too.

You’ve really screwed yourself over. As long as you don’t run across the three outsiders and Mac, you’ll be able to survive this. You can kill Trink and Lennox, Allio was easy enough. The problems are Blaire and Finnick now. You’ve nursed Blaire to the point where it feels like leaving him is like a mother deer leaving it’s baby.

He’ll learn to stand on his own but how plausible is that? Killing him will be near to impossible.

You are dumb. Maybe just not a damsel.

“My fingers are beginning to hurt.” Blaire mutters, and you look over to see that his fingertips are turning red. Like they’ve been pricked and sliced over and over.

You pull the jacket sleeves over your hands as you take the vines away from him, bringing them closer to your face. You’re not too thrilled when you see that there are thorns and razors or whatever. They’re just too small to see initially.

“Take a break. They’ve got spikes.” You tell him, shoving the project beneath a bush.

“Great.”

“Pretty sure you’ll be fine. Unless they’re poisonous.”

“With my luck, they are.” Blaire mutters, shoving his hands into the water and you grimace. His fingers have got to be stinging like a bitch right. It’s salt water, you know that for sure.

It was a distinct smell when you had first come above the ground from the moldy smelling tunnels. Fresh air, unpolluted, filling your lungs. It was a change from what you had been inhaling in the Capitol. The trees, the pollen, the chirping of birds. The rustle of the leaves when you had felt the wind for the first time in a while.

And with that wind, it carried a familiar scent. The one that had provided hope, opened your senses to a whole new level. If you had been standing in front of a mirror, your eyes would have dilated. Smelling the salty lake was like feeding chocolate to a baby.

“Nice knowing you.” You snort, and he cracks a smile.

“The sun is going down already.” Blaire tells you, knowing that you’re going to have to head back, “When are you killing the other two, anyway?”

“It would have to be a two-in-one.” You tell him, “Like killing two birds with one stone. Maybe while they’re sleeping. Lennox hasn’t allowed me to take night watch since Allio died. They’re onto me.”

“Be careful,” Blaire tells you.

“If I don’t show, don’t worry about it okay? You can hunt for yourself.” You punch his shoulder, getting up.

“Yes I can. Good luck.”

“Thanks, you too.” You throw your bag over your shoulder, using the spear like a walking stick on your way to the middle.

You toss the bag into the cornucopia, as well as the spear. Rounding the corner like you normally do, since it’s going to be just you and them in the middle. No need to hide what you’re doing at all, hoarding your stuff will make it look like you have contraband. Which really isn’t the case. The bag has what it normally does when you come back.

A pair of hands grab your shoulders immediately, spinning you around and slamming your back against the wall. The air leaves your lungs, and before you can take in air again, his forearm presses into your throat, stopping any sort of airflow.

Lennox is a lot more deadly than you took him for. You thought that he would know the baby's way of choking people to death—squeeze and shake until they’re no longer moving. But here he is, one arm against your throat, while the other has his fist drawn back.

Your eyes widen significantly, because you’re choking and you’re about to get punched. You’re going to die in his hands. But you want to know one thing; is this betrayal or revenge?

His fist single handedly breaks your nose, the snap filling the air, the pain slamming into the middle of your face as the blood begins to flow. From your nose, to your lips, and downwards.

“Bitch!” Lennox yells, removing his arm.

You take in the air immediately, trying to make up for lost time. It doesn’t last long, he slams his boot straight into your chest, ignoring your stomach. He’s going to break ribs if he’s lucky, do some sort of damage up top rather than down bottom. In your opinion, he should be breaking every single bone in your miserable body.

“Lennox!” the words leave your mouth before you’re able to catch them. Like pleading his name is going to do you any good. Like he’s going to lesson the punishment.

You can picture your brothers back home now, watching as Lennox delivers blow after blow. Chest, stomach, legs, back, anything he can kick he’s doing it. They’re watching you, hissing in pain, groaning out when the hit was particularly hard, and they keep going up. He’ll draw his foot back, and then hit you again.

“You killed him!” Lennox yells, and then he draws his foot back again, and slams it right into your cheek.

Static in your brain.

The kick had rattled you enough to conjure ringing in your ears. Lennox is yelling something at you, but you can’t hear at all. You watch his mouth move, and all you can make out is traitor, which probably sums the entire thing up. Screaming at you for being a dirty traitor.

He then slams his entire body on top of yours, breath leaving you from the weight. You watch in agony as he draws his hand back, prepared to send it flying forward, probably into your mouth or your nose. Any place that would do a significant amount of damage.

Unfortunately, your hearing begins to come back when he says something about messing up your ‘pretty’ face. Mangling your body and making you unrecognizable so when you go home, you’ll have to have surgery to restore. He says that he hopes they won’t even be able to.

You reach for the knife in your pocket, prepared to flip your body on top of him as momentum when he punches you. That way you’d be able to pull out your knives and stab him the best you can. Anywhere on the upper body will do, it’ll throw him off long enough for you to get the spear, or run.

You don’t get the chance, a cannon goes off, distracting Lennox from punching you. At least you thought. He looks up for a moment, surprised as you are, because that’s another person down. And considering that there’s nine people, it lowers it to eight.

Lennox turns to you with a grin, “Let’s make that two?”

The punch breaks your nose, but you still go to flip your body on top of his. Only for a certain makeshift knife to break you off, making you press your body to the ground as hard as possible. Like Blaire will accidentally miss and hit you instead.

Looking over, Blaire has a grin on his face, he winks, and then he takes out another knife, throwing it. But this time, it hits Lennox in the arm.

Lennox yells, and for the final goddamn time, you flip yourself on top of the fucker. It works, but you’re weak, and you’re working slowly to take out the knife. He sees this, he’s not stupid and through whatever pain he’s feeling, he grabs the knife from you, and turns to stab you in the stomach instead.

“No!” Blaire’s voice is distinct, and you can hear him running forward.

You take in a breath from your chest, not your stomach as you slowly slide off the blonde, hands finding their ways to the knife.

It has to stay in. It needs to stay in until you find a bandage.

You take it out, you’ll start bleeding out like a goddamn faucet. Blood will be pouring out of places in your body that you didn’t know you had. It’s in your stomach, pull it out and a lot of blood will come with it. Your heart will keep pumping, more blood will come out.

Keep it in, you live. It’s like the cap on a water bottle, blood won’t come if you don’t give it a reason to run.

But every time you move it tabs into another thousands nerves, if you could only take it out--

The world has split into two during your little dilemma. Take the damn knife out or not, you’re bleeding just the same. It’s painful, tears join your eyes gleefully, you have to keep yourself from hiccuping because you’re about to cry for real, for the first time. Your nose will start running, your stomach will move, permitting more blood loss. And worst of all, your brothers, your sponsors, and everyone else back home and at the Capitol will see it. They’ll see just how weak you are.

Just another girl who thought that they could make it.

Blaire tackles Lennox before he can make the jump at you. Blaire is on top, punching Lennox and dodging when Lennox tries to get him back.

Despite the fact that you’re dizzy as hell and the world seems to be going the opposite of your way, you get onto your feet.

“Go!” Blaire yells, “Quickly!”

You turn to the spear on the ground, your only choice of a makeshift cane. You lean over a little, fingers barely bringing it into your hands, and you take off just like that.

You force yourself to focus on getting to the woods. Disappear into them, no matter what it takes. You go to the lake, being near water will do you better than if you were to go into the woods directly. If you collapse from the pain then you’ll be able to drag your feeble body over.

Plus, Lennox won’t see what direction you’ve gone, but Blaire will probably take the guess.

You slow down when you hit the sad, since you have to lift your feet more, rather than drag them like you’ve been doing through the grass. You barely manage to get somewhere behind a log in the woods when you collapse. Blood, sweat and tears pouring from your body at once.

At the yelling of your name, you push yourself closer to the log, wrapping one hand around the knife, like you’re going to pull it out. But really, you’re keeping steady as you try to figure out if it’s Blaire or Lennox’s voice.

No chance, because the world goes from spinning to being eaten up by black spots in the matter of seconds.

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//

#ilguna #finnick odair #lacuna chapter nine #lacuna chapter ten #lacuna chapter eleven #lacuna chapter twelve #lacuna

26 notes · View notes

softspideys · 4 years

Text

The Right Person (Tom Holland x reader)

summary: when your ex shows up to the same party as you, you ask tom to be your boyfriend for five minutes

warnings: none

word count: 3.2k

pairings: tom holland x reader

a/n: this is my first fic in a WHILE so I hope it’s not too rusty! enjoy:)

As soon as you locked eyes with the guy across the room, you knew it was going to be a long night.

You turned away and tried to melt into the crowd, pushing past everyone and trying not to spill your drink until you managed to locate Zendaya. “What the hell, Z?” you hissed. “Why did you invite Anthony?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, sounding just as alarmed as you felt. “I didn’t even know he was here!”

There was a cough behind you. You turned around and saw Harrison standing there, scratching his nose and looking unmistakably guilty.

“Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this,” Zendaya said, a murderous expression on her face. “Tell me you did not invite her ex-boyfriend to my party.”

“Listen,” Harrison began, and you groaned. “Look, Jacob asked if he could bring some people and I didn’t realize that Anthony would be one of them! I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s obvious,” Zendaya mumbled.

“I’m really sorry,” Harrison said, and he seemed sincere. “Do you want me to ask him to leave?”

The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene or make it seem like you weren’t over the relationship. “No, it’s fine,” you said with a sigh. “It was an honest mistake. I just don’t want there to be any drama tonight.”

“Look, don’t worry,” Zendaya said, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “I won’t leave your side. I promise. He won’t have the balls to come up to you if I’m there.” This was true; Anthony would never try to talk to you if you were with someone else.

Unfortunately, as well-meaning as she was, you also knew Zendaya wasn’t going to hang around you the whole night. She probably wasn’t going to even hang around for the next five minutes. There was always someone else: some guy who wanted to talk to her, some girl whom she hadn’t seen in ages, and soon she was lost in the party, only to be seen again at the end of the night. You loved her, but you knew her well.

“Okay,” you said now, forcing a smile. “Great.” Harrison came back holding a shot and you snatched it out of his hands, downing it quickly.

“Hey!” he complained. You made a face as it burned going down your throat.

“That’s what you get for inviting my asshole ex-boyfriend to a party,” you informed him before looking around the room. “Where’s Zendaya?” In the ten seconds you’d been distracted, she’d vanished. You sighed.

It was almost like being a secret agent, spending the night ducking and sneaking through the house, trying to avoid Anthony as best you could. You weren’t really sure why you didn’t want to see him, exactly; it had been almost six months since the two of you broke up. And he’d never cheated on you or beat you up or yelled at you. He was just . . . well, he was an asshole, plain and simple. There was nothing wrong with not wanting to talk to an asshole.

An hour later, you were exhausted and still hadn’t seen any sign of Zendaya. This was her apartment, for God’s sake, and it wasn’t even that big. Where could she possibly have gone?

You stumbled into the kitchen for another drink and almost collided with Tom Holland. Great. Was this party Douchebag Ground Zero or something?

“Nice to see you’re classy as always,” Tom said with a roll of his eyes, and shit, you’d said that last line out loud.

You and Tom had gotten along for maybe the first three seconds after you met. And then he tried to hit on you with a slimy, cocky pickup line he’d probably used countless times before, you got pissed and called him a dick, he got pissed and called you a bitch, and the rest was history. Long story short, the two of you hadn’t had a nice exchange in years.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded.

“Zendaya invited me,” he said, looking at you like you were an idiot. “Because, you know, I can actually play nice with other people.” Despite your feelings about him, everyone else in your friend group got actually along well with Tom. Harrison was always inviting him to hang out, insisting the two of you would like each other if you just tried harder. It was very annoying.

“Fuck off,” you said, but the usual bite wasn’t there. Instead, it just came out weary. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He did. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” you said with a sigh, scrubbing one hand down the side of your face. “It’s just . . . it’s been a long night.”

“Hmm,” Tom said, knitting his eyebrows. “Care to elaborate on that extremely vague statement?”

“Not to you,” you said. Something different flashed across his face for a second, but it went back to the usual annoyance so fast you wondered if you imagined it. It almost looked like hurt.

Before you could contemplate that further, his eyes strayed to look at something over your shoulder. “Uh, if I’m not mistaken, I think your ex-boyfriend is making his way over here.”

“What?” You turned. Sure enough, you could see Anthony across the kitchen, elbowing his way over to you. Your heart started to pound, like all of your senses had suddenly shifted into high gear. You had to think, and fast.

You looked back at Tom, surveying him as objectively as you could. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Nice teeth. Decent manners. Kind of funny.

Were you really about to do this?

Clearing your throat, you said, “I need you to be my boyfriend for five minutes.”

“What?” Tom echoed. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe!” you said. “Look, Anthony is coming over to talk to me and I can’t handle it on my own so I just really need you to be cool for once and do this for me, okay? Please? Five minutes?”

Tom stared at you for a second, his expression unreadable. Before he could answer, a voice behind you said, “Hey.”

You turned around to face your ex. “Hey,” you said, plastering a smile on your face. “Anthony. Hi.”

“You look well,” Anthony said. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you said, as Tom ever-so-slowly slipped his arm around your waist. You tensed at the unfamiliar feeling at first, but forced yourself to relax. “Yourself?”

“Good,” Anthony said, immediately zeroing in on Tom’s hand on your hip, on his thumb that was just barely slipped under your shirt, rubbing the skin there almost absent-mindedly. “It’s Tom, right?” You tried to remember how much the two of them had interacted before. Hopefully it wasn’t much.

“Uh-huh,” Tom said. He didn’t say anything else, and an awkward pause followed.

“Nice to see you again,” your ex said finally, his eyes still occasionally flicking down to your waist. “Not sure if you knew this but, uh, we used to date.” He jerked his head at you.

“You graduated, like, last spring, right?” Tom asked abruptly.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Cool. Why are you still hanging around on campus?”

You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Anthony’s eyes narrowed at the blunt question, like he was trying to figure out if it was rude or not. Tom looked unbothered, wincing a little when you subtly stepped on his foot.

“I’m not,” Anthony said finally, his voice noticeably cooler. “I’m just visiting Jacob for the weekend, and he said there was a party tonight.”

“Ah,” Tom said, nodding. “Got it.”

“Anyway,” Anthony said. “Are the two of you dating, or . . .?”

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat. “We are.”

“Funny,” he said. “I always thought you didn’t like each other.”

You smiled, hoping he couldn’t tell how nervous you were. “Uh, yeah, well, one day we just kind of realized we . . . didn’t.” It was a lame thing to say, but when you glanced at Tom you saw his eyes were already on you, a strangely soft look on his face.

“When did you get together?” Anthony asked, like you were at a police interrogation and not a college party.

“Couple months ago,” Tom said breezily. “It’s been good so far, right babe?” He smiled down at you.

You blinked, a little taken aback by how casual he seemed. “Uh, yeah. Really good.”

“Cool, cool,” Anthony said, focusing back on you. “So, senior year, right?”

“Yup.”

“I’m a senior too,” Tom cut in helpfully. You coughed, trying to stifle a giggle that randomly came out of nowhere.

Anthony ignored him. “Are you working anywhere?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Still at the student co-op, but it’s been going well. I actually—”

“Still?” he repeated. “I thought you were looking for something else.”

“Well—”

“You know, especially since it’s your last year now, it’s good to have an internship under your belt. A real resume booster.”

“Um, I was looking around,” you said quickly before he could get another word in, “but things just didn’t . . . pan out.” You’d had a minimum wage job over the summer at home, along with doing some part-time work here and there for a company you were vaguely interested in, but other than that you didn’t really have much going for you.

“Where’d you look? Were you limiting yourself to working just within your major? Because, you know, sometimes you gotta cast a wider net.”

“I was, but I—”

“Did you call back after you applied? Or send thank-you emails? Job recruiters really pay attention to those little details. It shows you take initiative.” Anthony shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “I mean, unless you’d rather be selling books and supplies at the co-op for the rest of your life.”

You swallowed, feeling your face and neck start to get hot again. You’d forgotten how pushy Anthony could be, how he seemed to take delight in making you feel inferior. Back when you were dating, he was always dropping hints about you being lazy or not trying hard enough to look for a better job, often comparing your career at the student co-op to his paid internship.

You wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the words just wouldn’t come out. It was like he was six feet tall, and you were only six inches.

Suddenly, Tom’s arm tightened around you. “Actually, she just got promoted to assistant manager of the co-op,” he said, his words sharper than glass. “And she was employee of the month three times in a row. And she’s got an interview for that internship in the city over winter break. Right?” You nodded wordlessly, wondering how he knew all that.

“She works damn harder than me, or any of us for that matter, and it’s paying off. So I’d say selling school supplies at the co-op is going pretty well for her,” Tom finished. “Not that it’s any of your business though, mate.”

Anthony seemed surprised for a second, his eyebrows raised. “Alright man, chill out,” he said. “I was just making sure she’s pushing herself. Sometimes she had a problem with that when we were dating.”

“Huh,” Tom said pleasantly. “Well, maybe she’s just found the right person now.”

You’d been taking a long sip of your drink, but now you nearly spat it out everywhere. Anthony’s jaw clenched. “Right,” he said, nodding. “Well. Think I’m gonna go see where the boys went off to.”

“You do that.”

“It was good to see you, Y/N,” he said. “I’m glad you’re happy. The two of you really deserve each other.”

“Thanks,” you managed to say finally. “It’s nice to know that you haven’t changed a bit, Anthony.”

With one last scathing look, he left you alone. Tom relaxed instantly, letting out a long sigh. “Jesus, I forgot what an asshole that guy is,” he said. “How long were you with him again?”

You were staring up at him like you’d never seen him before in your life. “How did you know all that stuff?” you asked. “Like, about the job and the interview and whatever? How did you know?” It was then that you also noticed his arm was still around you.

He noticed too, taking a step back and scratching his nose. “I just pay attention, I guess.”

“To—to me?”

“Yeah, of course. You know . . . Z tells me stuff about you and I—I listen.” It was true that through casual conversation, you knew Tom’s birthday and what he was studying at school and whatever problems he happened to be going through at the moment. But it never occurred to you that he might be committing facts about you to memory the way you did with him.

“But . . . why? You don’t like me.”

Tom smiled thinly, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “If you listened, you’d know that I actually like you very much.”

Your mind was racing as you processed all of this. There was no way that Tom actually meant that—was there? You hated each other; you always had. But then why did it make your heart pound to hear him say those nice things about you? Why did your entire body feel warm when he touched you? Why did you pick him to be your fake boyfriend in the first place?

“Oh, fuck it,” you said suddenly. You grabbed his hand and set off through the apartment, dragging him with you. Ignoring his confused protests, you didn’t stop until you were in front of the door you were looking for.

You jiggled the doorknob and were relieved to find it open. You pulled Tom inside before closing and locking the door behind you.

“Why are we in the bathroom?” Tom asked. “Have you had some sort of mental break?”

“Shut up,” you said, grabbing his face and pulling him down into a kiss.

Tom stayed frozen with shock for about five seconds before he jerked back, staring down at you with wide eyes. For a second neither of you spoke, and just as you were afraid you’d made the entirely wrong move here, he leaned in and connected your lips again.

A small part of your brain still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but mostly you were just thinking about how good it felt, and how much you wanted more.

Tom pressed you against the bathroom counter, and you let out a small yelp as your body collided with the hard marble. “Shit, sorry,” he whispered, even though no one else was there and the music was loud, thumping through the closed door.

“S’okay,” you answered, cracking a grin. He returned it, and soon the two of you were giggling like kids. He leaned in again, but you stopped him. “Wait. I just have one question.”

“Okay.”

“So, all this time . . . you liked me?”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “I mean, yeah. Basically.”

“Then why’d you act like you didn’t?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I thought you hated me, and if the only way to get to talk to you was to fight, then . . . so be it, I guess.” He let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “Sounds pretty corny now that I say it out loud, but there it is.”

You swallowed, taking in his dark eyes, the curve of his mouth as he watched you shyly, waiting for your reaction. “I thought you hated me,” you said finally. “God, are we really that stupid?”

He snorted. “Seems that way. I guess we have Anthony to thank for all of this.”

“More like Harrison,” you mused. “He’s the one who invited him.”

Tom grimaced. “Idiot.” A beat passed. “So, uh, can we . . .?”

“Oh! Oh, God, absolutely,” you said, laughing as he grinned, moving closer. He let your noses brush for a second before he kissed you again. There was something different about it this time: it was softer, more deliberate, like he was testing the waters.

You were aware of the seconds and minutes ticking by, but none of it seemed to matter anymore. Everything was just Tom: the smell of his cologne filling your nose, his eyelashes brushing your face, his hands traveling down your body—

In one swift motion, Tom’s hands wrapped around your thighs and lifted you onto the bathroom counter. You squeaked at the movement, clinging to him reflexively.

"Good?” he asked, and you nodded. You opened your legs readily, hauling him back in for another kiss. You leaned into it and were rewarded when his mouth opened up against yours, your lips sliding together as your fingers wound themselves into his hair.

The kisses turned messy and urgent, your bodies pressing flush against each other. Tom’s hands slowly slid up your thighs, slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. You couldn’t help the groan that escaped you as his fingers left feather-light strokes on your sides, your back, just exploring the skin there.

If you had told yourself a day ago, hell, even an hour ago that you’d be hooking up with Tom Holland in the bathroom at Zendaya’s party, you would’ve thought you were crazy. And yet here you were, and here he was, your lower lip caught between his teeth.

You rocked your hips forward, and the noise Tom made against your lips sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your thoughts began to travel away from this bathroom and towards your apartment, in your bed, where you could spread him out and take your time—

A loud pounding on the door suddenly startled you apart. You looked at each other with wide eyes, your heart slamming against your chest. Oh, right. You were in someone else’s bathroom.

“Uh, occupied!” Tom said quickly as the doorknob rattled.

“Are you almost done? I really gotta pee-ee,” a voice whined on the other side. You burst into giggles as Tom shook his head, annoyed but amused.

“Be right there!” you called. Tom reluctantly stepped back and helped you down from the counter.

“What now?” you asked.

“Uh, well,” Tom said. “I’m gonna need a second to, um, make this go away.” You pointedly did not look down. “But then I figure we could . . . get out of here? I’m down to just figure things out as we go if you are.”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds great.” You opened the door and went out into the hallway. You’d only gone a few paces before you nearly ran right into Zendaya.

“There you are!” she said, relieved. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh,” was all you said as Harrison appeared over her shoulder.

“Did everything go okay with . . . ?” Zendaya trailed off as she took in Tom hovering right behind you, at his messy hair and your flushed cheeks, at the matching smirks on both of your faces. “Oh my God.”

“No way,” Harrison said, letting out a sharp bark of laughter. “Tom, well done, mate!”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know how this happened,” Zendaya said. “But I guess you were able to get rid of Anthony?”

“You could say that,” Tom said.

“Good.” She raised her eyebrows. “And . . . you’re both sure this is right?”

You smiled as Tom squeezed your hand. “Yeah. I think it is.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland writing #tom holland au #writing

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reddiesetandgo · 5 years

Text

A Hornet is the Best Wingman

My gift to @mrs-vh for the @it2ficexchange! I hope you like it, honey, I just shoved all of our favorite ships into it! It’s really just lots of fluff and pining!

Summary: The Losers return to Derry the summer before their senior year of college. As they celebrate Georgie, they are ambushed by some angry bugs who force them closer together in ways they never expected.

Pairings: Stanlon, Reddie, Benverly, Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips

Word Count: 3,480

Warnings: Bug mentions, sprained ankle, swearing, dummies who don’t know how to confess

Read on AO3!

“And then-” Georgie continued, looking to each Loser as he spoke. “At the last second, I took off running towards the goal. My friends were screaming for me, they were shouting ‘behind you, Georgie! She’s right behind you!’ but I knew I could make it.” He looked to Eddie, who had been texting him running tips since he made the Lacrosse team, sent him a wink and he smiled, pushing forward. “The goal was right there, my arm was outstretched, the ball cradled in my net, and I could hear Penny’s foot steps hitting the ground behind mine! So I gave it everything I had and threw the ball towards the goal! The goalie missed it by an inch. WE WON!”

The Losers howled and hollered with excitement, each of them rushing forward to congratulate him.

“Atta boy, Georgie!” Beverly called out, ruffling his hair as Mike and Richie lifted him into the air on onto Mike’s shoulder. “The Lacrosse champion of Derry, we knew you could do it, buddy!”

“We are the Champions, my friiiiends,” Bill and Stan began in unison and seconds later they were all singing and cheering. It wasn’t long before Georgie was laughing so hard he could barely take in any air. He tapped Mike who leaned down and he slid off his shoulder with ease.

“Next time you have a championship we want to know about it, got it?” Stan stated, serious but kind.

He nodded his head, “Got it.” And they pounded fists as a promise.

“Okay, so what are the celebratory plans, then?” Eddie asked, leaning onto Georgie’s shoulder and looking to Bill.

“Richie had a few ideas I think. Rich?”

Their heads turned to a surprisingly quiet and still Richie who was staring at the ground close to Mike and Beverly. “Uh, earth to Rich?” she questioned before following his gaze.

They all leaned down and narrowed their eyes trying to see what had Rich suddenly so spooked.

“It’s a-“

“A wasp?” Ben questioned, concerned. “Rich, it’s just a wasp, it won’t hurt you.”

“THAT,” he whispered, “is a HORNET.”

“So?” Bill asked, watching the easily angered insect as its wings retracted.

Richie swallowed thickly, eyes flashing up towards Bill. “What do you mean ‘so’?” His eyes shot back to the hornet as their feet. “They smell your fear and they will follow you. We gotta go. Like, yesterday. Everyone back away slowly.”

Stan laughed, but kept a watchful eye on the thing as it crawled in circles through the grass. “Afraid of that tiny thing are you?”

Richie took a step back, hands reaching out on either side of him for Ben and Eddie. “These things have nests, dude. There is never just one!” Eddie didn’t move, but Ben let Richie grab at his wrist. “Okay, Rich, we can go,” he said calmly. The others hadn’t caught on just yet, but Ben could tell he was serious. He was afraid. “Let’s go, guys.”

“To where? We haven’t made any plans yet,” Beverly quipped, a hand at her hip.

“Rich, my guy. It’s just one hornet. I think we’re okay,” Mike said, but he was already slowly backing away from it too. It was closest to him and while he wasn’t afraid of them, he wasn’t necessarily keen on getting stung. “Mike, look out for the-“

But he hit some boards that had been leaning on Georgie’s old playset, sending them crashing to the ground. Stan rushed to him, grabbing his arm to steady him before he fell over.

“My hero,” Mike smiled.

They began to pick up the boards and lean them back where they had been, most of them still keeping an eye on the hornet who had meandered in the opposite direction.

Then, as Georgie was lifting his final board back up, he heard something strange. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

He furrowed his brow, thinking. “Like, a buzzing?”

Richie immediately looked towards the rest of the boards on the ground and noticed one was slightly angled up in the middle. “Eds,” he pointed. “Look at that one.”

Eddie took a step forward but Richie grabbed a fist full of his shirt tail, keeping him from investigating. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“I think we should leave that one the way it is, guys.” Most of the others were looking at it now with suspicion.

“Why?” Bill asked, reaching for it.

“Wait!” The others shouted, but it was too late. He lifted half the board and out came a swarm of hornets, loud and angry.

“Fuck this!” Richie cried and he threw Eddie over his shoulder as he took off down the street towards his car. Beverly grabbed for Ben’s hand while Bill tugged at Georgie’s sleeve and ran for the back door. “We’ll meet up later!” he yelled as he slammed the door shut and watched the other two run towards the street.

“Mike, the shed!” Stan cried out, ducking away from the angry insects and running wildly.

But he was already there, door open and waiting. “Get in, quick!” And Mike slammed the door shut, praying they weren’t followed.

The buzzing continued behind the door, but they heard nothing inside. The both backed away, hoping there were no cracks large enough for them to squeeze through. Stan took a deep breath to calm himself as he crossed his arms. “I guess we’re stuck for now.”

“I guess so,” Mike replied, looking over his shoulder at Stan. He immediately looked away as he felt his cheeks flushed.

The heat Stan told himself.

It was hot and stuffy and dusty beyond belief. A few spider webs hung at the edges of the small room, still and unmoving. If Mike hadn’t been here, Stan admitted to himself, he might have been spooked. They had never gone into the shed, even as kids all those summers ago. They preferred Bill’s garage or the quarry for their hang-outs. This place held no childhood memories.

“Here, Stan,” he heard. Mike was sitting on a small table, a white linen sheet draped over it and just enough room left for him to nestle next to Mike. He combed a hand through his hair and cleared his throat as he walked over. “Nice find,” he said.

This was either Mike’s worst nightmare or his wildest dream. He had been hoping to talk with Stan. He wanted to tell him he thought he was in love with him but he wasn’t sure he was ready. He had practiced telling him in the heat of a moment, not in the heat of Bill’s shed. Would he say the words right? Should he say them at all?

They sat in silence for a few moments before Mike was removing his shirt and wiping the sweat from his brow. “Sorry, Stan the man, it’s too damn hot in here.”

Stan was horrified. He had seen Mike before, they had gone to the quarry many times with the other Losers after they had met. But he had never seen him like this, arms wide with muscles and chest smooth and hard. Stan hadn’t known that Veterinary school could do that to a man.

“You look a little flushed yourself, feel free to uh-“ he motioned lifting his shirt, and his eyes momentarily fell onto Stan’s torso. It sent a rush of butterflies into Stan’s stomach. He nudged at Mike with his elbow. “Nah, I don’t want to embarrass you with my abs of steel,” he joked.

“Abs of steel, huh?” Mike smiled. “The way I remember it, your abs were just fine when we all swam at the quarry last.”

Despite his best efforts, Stan turned a deep shade of red. Mike’s chest swelled with hope.

“Then,” Stan started as he pretended to find something on the far table too interesting to leave be. He deadpanned, “you must have really, really low standards.”

Mike threw his head back with laughter, the sound echoing throughout the small shed. Stan found himself smiling fondly, loving the way Mike looked and sounded when he was laughing, and decided that he was the tiniest bit happy that Bill had picked up that board.

Suddenly, a box caught his eye just above Mike’s still laughing form, leaning out towards him from its precarious perch. Mike must have dislodged it when he slammed the door.

“Uh,” he began, already inching towards Mike. “I think that box is about to fall.”

Mike looked back to Stan with tears in his eyes and a big smile on his face and another rush of butterflies poured out into Stan’s stomach. He almost wanted to tell him so when the box began to slide forward. “Mike!”

Stan reached out and pulled Mike towards him just as the box fell. It crashed to the ground and Stan felt the wind knocked out of him when he collided with Mike, sending them both to the shed floor. Mike landed atop Stan, heavy with muscle and sticky from the heat.

“Holy shit!” he said, scrambling backwards off of Stan. “I could have- do you know how heavy I am? What if I had hurt you?”

Stan sat up so he was facing Mike and pointed to the box laying silently now behind him. “What if that had hurt you?” On the floor were some old and rusted tools, spilling forth from the decaying cardboard box that had fallen directly onto the table where Mike had been sitting seconds ago.

“Oh.”

Stan reached forward and gently brushed at Mike’s face. He was thankful he had gotten to him in time.

“Dust,” he lied, fingertips still lingering on his skin.

Mike leaned into his touch. “Dust,” he agreed.

“Richie! Put me down, are you insane?!”

Eddie was holding onto Rich for dear life, Richie’s shoulder poking into his stomach with every new stride forward.

“Hornets don’t follow people, you’re ridiculous, put me down!”

But then he heard a buzzing sound fly past his face and his mouth fell open. There was no way. No way these insects, these bugs, these things the size of his pinky finger were following them. But then he heard it again, this time much closer.

“Holy shit, Rich!” he hollered. “It’s following us! Don’t put me down, where the fuck is your car??”

Eddie tightened his hold, keeping his head low.

“This is crazy!” he thought. “This is absolutely crazy!” He knew Richie running down the street with him thrown over his shoulder must have been a sight but, Eddie had to admit, he didn’t mind being in Richie’s arms. Or atop his shoulder. Or whatever this was.

The bugs put a damper on things, though.

“Rich, hurry up and -!”

Before Eddie could finish he was being thrown into Richie’s truck and Rich jumped in after, slamming the door shut and breathing heavy. The two of them sat in silence for a short while, their eyes searching the windows and their ears tuned for the buzzing. But nothing came. Nothing landed on the window, nothing made a sound, nothing else was left. Just the two of them.

Eddie turned sharply to Rich, shoving at his arm and surprising him.

“What the fuck was that, Richie?!”

Richie righted himself in the seat, rubbing at his arm and smirking playfully. “What? You mean saving you from that flying insect from hell? You’re welcome, my love.” He leaned forward and pinched Eddie’s cheek playfully before Eddie smacked it away.

“No, smartass, I’m talking about running across the street with me slung over your shoulder like a child!”

Richie opened his mouth to say something but Eddie kept going. “Do you know what people might think? And I might have a bruise thanks to you! Who is that scared of a wasp-“

“Hornet,” he corrected.

“A hornet! Who is that scared of a hornet?!” he sputtered. “And who tosses their friend over their shoulder to run off like that?”

Richie watched as Eddie continued, gesturing wildly and looking far more perturbed than he actually was. Richie probably should have been listening, he normally loved hearing Eddie talk about everything and anything, even this. But something Eddie said felt heavy on his chest and he suddenly felt like he had to say something or it would sink lower and lower until his entire chest was exposed and bare.

“And you could have tripped and I could have gone flying! One scrapped knee on the bacteria ridden concrete and then BAM! My leg is being amputated.”

Richie could wait no longer. “What would they think?”

Eddie paused. He looked to Richie for anything more, an explanation maybe. But nothing came. “What?” He asked quietly.

“What might people think, Eds?”

Suddenly, Eddie’s mouth felt very dry. And suddenly, everything felt very serious.

Eddie had meant that people might think they were more than just friends. He knew that they weren’t, but he also knew he was, in fact, in love with his best friend and he knew he probably shouldn’t be. He also knew that he could explain this away the same way he explained all the other stupid things he said. But something deep in his gut, maybe his heart since he’d tried to place it as deep down inside of him as it would go, whispered not to.

At a loss for which to listen to, his head or his heart, he changed the subject. “Why did you take me?”

Richie blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. Eddie didn’t wait for his question.

“Why did you take me with you and not Ben or Beverly? They were right there too.”

The silence between them wasn’t awkward or heavy, but it was like that breath you hold when you’re waiting for something, hopeful and a little nervous.

“Um...“ Richie began, looking at Eddie from behind his long lashes and blazing ember bangs. “I-“

Eddie was acutely aware that Richie was far closer to him now. So close he could see the specks of freckles along his cheekbones and across his nose. He willed himself to look no further, knowing just a short glance down would be lips he had thought about kissing too many times to count.

“I knew,” Richie whispered, “that your mom would never sleep with me again if I let anything happen to her little Eddie bear.” Eddie’s mouth gaped open but Richie dove across the seat, fingers reaching for Eddie’s sides and tickling him mercilessly.

“Richie!!” he shrieked, both of their laughter filling the car up and breaking whatever had been between them moments ago. “Richie, that’s disgusting!”

“That’s not what she said when I got back from California three days ago, Eddie!”

Eddie was in tears, cheeks aching and stomach burning. “Quit it!” he roared between gasping breaths and laughter. “You’re such a- you’re such an ass!”

He relented, hovering over Eddie with a big, goofy smile on his face. “I know.”

They stayed that way for the briefest of moments, just long enough for both of them to feel like they missed an opportunity they might not get back. But in that brief moment, they both thought to themselves-

Next time.

Ben was out of breath. He was out of breath but he felt like he was soaring. Beverly was grasping his hand, pulling him along, and she was smiling while she was doing it. Her form was muddled by their running but she was still shining as far as Ben was concerned. She glowed from within like the sun was inside her and he was a moth to her light.

‘I wish more hornets would show up,” he thought to himself. ‘If I could just hold her hand like this again.’

He groaned to himself, embarrassed by his own thought, and shook his head as if to rid himself of it. Instead, he just focused on running, happy to be running towards her.

Beverly hadn’t been worried about the hornets. She had just seen Richie tossing Eddie over his shoulder like a maniac and Bill hiking Georgie into his arms as he sprinted to his house and she thought ‘grab important person, grab Ben.’ All of the Losers were important to her, but Ben had become something entirely different the moment he had left for college three years ago. She wasn’t sure what had done it exactly, but she hadn’t entirely wanted to know when it happened. Just that it had.

And now she was grasping tightly to Ben’s hand, pulling him along down the street. She was smiling wide as she ran, the danger buzzing behind them relatively small but the thrill of holding Ben’s hand coursing through her, filling her up.

But then Ben’s hand was pulled from hers violently and she slid to a stop, hands already reaching back for him. He was on the ground, a pained look on his face and his mouth contorted into a grimace as he leaned back and his hands came to cradle his ankle.

She rushed to him, kneeling on the concrete beside him. “Oh no, Ben, what happened?” Her hands roamed over him briefly before resting on his back and bent knee, craning her neck to see his injury.

“I think,” he bit, “I think I sprained my ankle.”

He gently pulled up his pants leg, showing a small, blood laced scratch and a just barely protruding bump on the inside of his ankle. Beverly reached a hand towards it, careful and cautious.

Ben was mortified. It hurt terribly, but his embarrassment was far worse. Couldn’t he do anything right for just a moment? Couldn’t he have run with Beverly however far she wanted to take him without making a complete fool of himself? He clenched his teeth in frustration and tried to right himself.

“Hey, wait!” But Ben was already up on his foot, arms outstretched for balance. “You should wait a minute,” she said, holding his arm to keep him steady.

“It’s okay, Bev,” he gritted. “Just gotta, see how bad it is.”

“Ben,” she warned, keeping her hold on him. But he took a step forward and howled, falling back down to the rocky floor.

“Okay,” he admitted, rolling back into a seated position, his useless leg outstretched. “It’s bad.”

Beverly knelt beside him, looking him over with nothing but worry in her eyes. Ben desperately wished for a do-over. Beverly was beside him within arms reach but he felt so far away from her. What could she possibly ever see in someone as clumsy as him?

She stood up abruptly, her face lighting up again with another smile. “Alright!” she said proudly, “I’ve got an idea!” Beverly reached both of her hands out to him and his gaze switched from her hands to her face, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Come on, Haystack, you can’t stay in the middle of the road forever!” His eyes widened before a smile erupted on his face. She smiled back playfully. “That’s right, I used the nickname, give me your hands!” For a moment he almost forgot his ankle was injured as he took her hands in his; he missed that one. ‘Haystack’ had been lost to their childhood, but every now and then, someone would bring it back. It sounded the best when she said it.

Once he was standing, she put her arms on his shoulders to balance him quickly before turning around and patting her knees. She looked back at him with a smirk on her face as she said, “hop on!”

His mouth fell open and his eyebrows shot up, a strained laugh bubbling up from his chest. “Beverly,” he said, feeling suddenly as self conscious as he did as a kid. “You can’t possibly-“

“I can,” she interrupted. “What? Don’t think I’m strong enough, Haystack?” she said, drawing out his nickname so it lingered between them. He set his jaw, looking down shyly at his feet. “No, Bev. You’re the strongest person I know.”

His eyes darted back to her just in time for him to see the smile he elicited. Softly, she beamed, “then let’s go.”

He nodded once. “Okay, just don’t drop me. I’m delicate you know.”

“You are not,” she strained as he jumped onto her back. With hands grasping around his thighs she hiked him up with a quick jump, centering him at the small of her back. “You’re the strongest person I know too.”

He sheepishly buried his face into his arm which was slung around her neck, his other hand placed carefully on her shoulder. ‘This must be heaven,’ he sighed to himself.

“Just two blocks to my aunts place,” she mused. “Easy as pie. You’re light as a feather.”

And for once in his life, he felt that way.

It was two hours later that Bill texted everyone, asking to meet up at their favorite restaurant with Georgie. He asked if everyone would be okay if he brought one more. His girlfriend from college had surprised him.

I think you guys will like Audra, he texted.

And soon enough, they did.

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indica-lungs · 5 years

Text

Dear Dad.

*tw for just about everything*

It's kinda weird.

My dad found my photography Instagram this morning.

I haven't seen his face in like a decade.

He can't see anything about my actual life or even my face on there. Just my name and nature photography from my hikes.

We sent about three texts back and forth a year or two ago when he was diagnosed with cancer.

The last time I heard his voice was senior year of high school, he tried getting my sister kicked out of the Navy, had an insane and immensely abusive wife who was screaming the whole time, he ended up calling my mom a whore and I ended up fracturing my hand from punching my car.

A couple years later his wife died. She OD'd in their house after they had a fight. He left for a few days and her body was just there for three days until the neighbor dog was barking at their house and someone saw her on the ground.

I can imagine that putting a toll on him too. I hate to say it and I would never ever ever about anyone but when it comes to that woman, karma taught her a valuable lesson.

I was the last one in the immediate family to keep visiting him before all that happened. Once I stepped out completely he just lost it.

He looks healthier now, despite the cancer. You can see his smile, and the kind eyes that he had in all of the pictures before his military service. Last time he reached out he said he was getting therapy, anger management, and had a really positive outlook on his fight with cancer.

I want to reach out. Say hi. Start over. I miss him, I really do. I think about the times we'd go to the beach and he'd play smashball (basically beach tennis/volleyball without a net) we even almost got 100 volleys one summer and we were laughing so hard cause we both ate shit right around 93 or 94 trying to make it. The pool barbecues. Going to dumbass movies where we're the only people there so we can be as loud and dumb as we want.

But-

Then there's the hurt. The overwhelming amount of things you've done and said to this family when me and my sister were just kids. Violent, loud, angry, judgemental as fuck. You broke the goddamn window in the kitchen by throwing bread at it my dude. Because we only left the end pieces. I was 6.

My sister told you I was molested. While we were at the dinner table. I was maybe 8 or 9. It had been going on for a couple years. She explained to you what was happening. You could have told Mom, the cops, talked to me, gotten a therapist, or at the very least completely bar that person from stepping close to the family. You brushed it off, you asked her to repeat what she said, she must have been 10, not stupid. Yet you still just brushed it off. Like a boy can't be molested by a female. I'm still all messed up, finally growing and healing. It took until I was 24 years old (this year) to be mildly comfortable with sex and sexuality.

The fights with Mom out in the open, and behind closed doors. I remember eating frosted flakes. Out of that white bowl; it was a wide bowl, not super deep. It had a base of ceramic white and around the rim of the bowl was a deep golden/brown color and painted in black was the sihlloette of a German village. Mom wanted to go back. Get away from the abuse. She wanted to take us with her. I remember walking upstairs with my cereal because I heard loud noises coming from your bedroom. I couldn't have been older than 5 or 6 at this point. I still see my tiny feet taking one stair at a time; concerned about the noises but also trying to not spill the milk because I knew that would send you over the edge. The one part of this extremely vivid memory I can't remember is actually opening the door. I just flash pictures through my brain. Doors open. You one one side of the bedroom; screaming. I can't even remember what you were saying. Mom on the other side, frantically trying to fill a suitcase. You keep throwing everything out of it. The first suitcase you through across the room and then the full laundry hamper right at Mom's face. She fell. Her eyes met mine in the doorway. That look. Her eyes full of fear, hurt, and shame yet only wanting to protect me. She just calmly walked up to me, walked me to my room. She was crying. But still managed to tell me everything was okay, kissed my forehead and told me to finish my frosted flakes before they were soggy. Then she went right back into battle.

She was an illegal immigrant until I was about 12 or 13. You used that to your advantage knowing you could say one thing on our way to the airport to keep her there.

After the big fight Mom finally left you, got an apartment but let us choose if we still wanted to see you.

Despite everything, we did. You're our dad. For every single shit thing you've done, there's been times where your true self shined through and you're fucking awesome. You're funny and kind and caring. You're just sick. Call it PTSD, bipolar, shit just anger?

My sister didn't last long. Reasonably so. You literally threw her across a room into wooden furniture over a burnt pizza that you left in the oven. The funniest part? You always yelled at us when we would let you know timers for the oven went off so that time we didn't tell you. I was a kid and didn't know much so I just turned off the oven and thought that was enough. The pizza burned and you flipped shit. Broke apart the entire kitchen. Mom even sent us over with dinner that night in tupperware containers just in case we needed it. I had to call Mom to get a friend and come over as soon as possible because you had my sister in the kitchen. You didn't even see me run to my phone and make the call you were just so angry you were basically blind.

You told us to hand you our keys to your house if we were actually going back to mom that night. With no hesitation or sadness I just threw the keys to you like you were my homie needing to unlock the garage or something. We left. You never had her back in your life after that. Mom gone. Sister gone. Me? Stupid. I gave it six months to a year. You moved away, got a girlfriend, got a stable job and seemed okay.

You called me, I was 13 or 14, and just wanted to get Starbucks and sit and talk.

So we did. I cried a lot, you apologized a lot and for the first time in my life I saw you cry too. I figured what the hell?

Then I agreed to see you on the weekends again. You brought me into another fucked up situation. Your girlfriend was crazier than you were. So many fights with her and she was the abusive one. You guys ended up getting married. You had such a small circle of people that you had to ask me to be your best man. And I fucking did it.

Then things with her got worse, I had to stop seeing you as much because she was insane, you guys got into a huge fucking fight in public while I was there, then that night you ended up in jail after I was home with Mom because you broke your wife's fuckin arm and jaw. You were both insane and she didn't want to press charges. After that I really had to cut it off with you. You weren't gonna change, nothing was.

Then a decade later here we are.

Your wife has passed away.

You have cancer.

Your ex wife and mother of your children has not spoken to you in years and will never.

Same for your daughter.

Your own brother, my Uncle will barley talk to you and he's a pastor so he kind of has to.

You have your parents and that's about it.

And after EVERYTHING. The emotional and physical abuse, the years of repetitive garbage.

Somehow I still want to reach out. I want to say hi and start over because I miss you. I really do.

I just don't know if I can.

So many empty promises.

So many times we've danced this dance.

It always ends with one of us breaking an ankle.

#tw #tw abuse #tw everything #personal #this is an easy outlet for me to put my thoughts down #sorry for the negative post first thing in the morning #i just needed to get words out #words

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foxykey · 6 years

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Implications (pt. 07)

Best friends forever... right?

Rated: M (eventual smut)

The only reason Heeji opened the door was because she knew that Yoongi was risking a scandal and every second he lingered on her doorway, the bigger the risk of someone recognizing him became. She wanted to lock herself away. She was a mess. She didn’t know if she was angry or embarrassed or relieved or frustrated. The only thing she did know was that she was overwhelmed.

Heeji tried to steady her hand as she twisted the knob, but it was no use and the second her eyes landed on Yoongi standing in her doorway she felt herself crumble again. It wasn’t anything more than a cursory glance, though, because her tears started once more, so she quickly turned, curling her arms over her chest as she walked back into her tiny apartment to buy herself time.

Yoongi hurried in the moment the door was open, shutting it carefully behind himself and ridding himself of his mask and cap. He obviously didn’t plan this outing, spontaneously reacting to their conversation somewhere in the middle of it all to race over. The thought made her angry all over again and deeply moved her at the same time. Heeji tried to keep herself composed as Yoongi awkwardly shifted from foot to foot in front of her.

“Hi,” he said, all the tension and weirdness of the moment trapped in that one tiny word.

“Hi,” she responded, sniffling and clenching her arms round herself tighter.

Yoongi looked her over, the awkwardness crumbling into worry when he noticed her wet lashes. He stepped towards her and reached out a hand to cup her cheek and wipe a stray teardrop.

“Why’re you crying?” Yoongi asked in low voice, his tone laced with genuine concern.

Heeji resisted the urge to lean into his palm and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He shuffled closer, closing the distance so that he was dizzingly close. “I’m really sorry. Please don’t cry because of my dumb ass.”

“I’m not-” Heeji cut herself off and hung her head as another few drops slipped onto her cheeks. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I know.”

“How could you think…?”

“I know.”

“Fuck, and now you know what I have on my phone…”

“Heeji, I’m sorry.”

She had to at least try and sound rational. Everything had just burst out into the open, there was no going back now, and this might’ve been her only shot at the impossible.

“I don’t know how this happened to me,” she began slowly. “And I’m not some kind of psycho stalker freak, I swear. You’re gone a lot… and lots of people have pictures of their best friend. Maybe not those kinds of pictures, but the point still stands.” Her attempt at rationality was failing miserably. She bit her lip before speaking again, getting indignant. “A while back you said something about my life not revolving around you and I almost laughed in your fucking face. How did you not know that I-”

Her words were muffled when Yoongi dipped his head suddenly to catch her lips in a kiss. Heeji’s eyes slammed shut in shock, her body freezing in place.

His mouth was warm on hers and the kiss was insistent, but not hurried. For a few long seconds, Yoongi merely held his lips to her own until she could process exactly what was happening. Then, taking one last step so that their bodies were flush, he carefully parted his mouth and his tongue flicked along the seam of her lips for a quick moment. Heeji gasped, small and quiet, at the feeling. Yoongi took this opportunity to dip his tongue behind her teeth until their tips met with a burst of electricity. She whined at the loss of his tongue and her body finally seemed to regain movement. Heeji’s hands slid up to grab at fistfuls of his jacket. He took in a deep breath before he licked into her mouth again, anchoring her to him for a long minute as their tongues stroked along one another.

There was a quiet pop as they pulled apart and Yoongi leaned his forehead against hers, eyes still closed and his grip on her waist still borderline feral.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to do that,” he murmured through a sigh.

She had just kissed her best friend, just been kissed by her best friend. Heeji was shaking, her hold on Yoongi white-knuckled. She was overwhelmed again, but by an indomitable, buzzing sense of joy and disbelief. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t. Her own brain had betrayed her countless times, dreaming up various different scenarios of this exact situation only for her to awaken every time. But Yoongi remained firmly beneath her fingertips and his taste lingered in her mouth. Heeji buried her face in his chest, feeling the stupid urge to cry again. He merely curled his arms around her tightly, holding her in an embrace.

“Everything came out wrong,” Yoongi said suddenly.

Heeji lifted her head to gaze at him, confused. “Huh?”

“Before. The texts. Everything just sort of spilled out. Can we sit?”

She nodded and they moved to her sofa. He sat first, pulling her down to sit very close, thighs and shoulders brushing. He looked at his hands a long moment.

“First of all, the whole audition thing,” Yoongi began. “It honestly wasn’t me pulling strings or getting you the job or anything like that. I just asked that they made sure to get to your audition. You know how those things are, sometimes they’ll just cut the day off and you have to turn around and go home. I made sure that didn’t happen, that’s all. You nailed the audition yourself. I talked to the casting director after you were offered a position in the company and he told me that you were incredible, really memorable, and definitely one of the bests of the day. So that was it. I wasn’t trying to be any kind of safety net or trying to undermine you or anything.”

Heeji nodded, her gaze focused on where their knees touched, the sensation both comforting and obvious. “I know you had good intentions. And thank you, for helping me out. I just don’t want people to think I’m riding your coattails or anything.” Yoongi nodded this time and Heeji took in a deep breath. “What was with the Jimin thing?”

A sudden laugh escaped Yoongi and that’s all it took to have them both giggling hysterically. Neither of them could say anything for a while as laughter spilled between them. Once he had caught his breath, Yoongi leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling and running his fingers through his hair as he spoke.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” he sighed. “I know it was stupid, but it was honestly driving me insane. It was like just building and building on itself, all these tiny little things.”

“Where did it even come from?” Heeji asked, looking back at him.

He shrugged and didn’t answer for a long minute. Then, “It really bothered me when you sent me that dumbass fucking meme.”

Heeji laughed again, raising a brow at him. “What? What meme? When?”

“Remember weeks back? You sent me some stupid memes of myself. You sent a few of them, I remember I had a face mask on in one of them, and then you accidentally sent me that stupid fucking ‘I feel attacked’ pic of Jimin. And you were like ‘whoops.’ I got so annoyed.”

“Are you serious? You idiot, I sent that by accident, I meant to send you another one of you and I clicked the one next to it by mistake.”

“You don’t think I know it’s stupid? It’s just that in that moment I realized that you didn’t just have stupid pictures of me in your phone. And I hadn’t even really ever consciously thought of whether you did or didn’t, but once it clicked that you probably had shit for all of us saved, I… I kinda got upset.”

“You big baby,” Heeji mocked, shaking her head.

“Yeah, well, then it was just… always Jimin,” Yoongi deflected, making a face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that every time it was something, Jimin was involved. You came to meet me at the studio and I walked in and you’re talking to Jimin, you were suddenly practicing with Jimin, you were posting about him on your story and he was posting about you on his story and you were texting all the time. You nailed your auditions and he literally Disney prince hugged you.”

“What the everloving fuck does ‘Disney prince hugged’ mean?”

Yoongi motioned dismissively with a hand in a circle. “He picked you up and twirled you.”

“Jesus christ, Yoongs, you’re so salty. Hobi hugged me, too.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t talking about thirst pictures of Hoseok on your phone.”

“Which I definitely don’t have… ha ha.”

He gave her a dark look and she laughed, her stomach flipping happily at his casual jealousy.

“Well, when you texted me about my talking about your audition and everything started spiraling and then it boiled back down to-”

“Jimin,” Heeji finished for him, understanding suddenly how it could have looked from Yoongi’s end.

He nodded. “Exactly. I just sort of erupted. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

“Yeah. Guess it worked out okay, though.”

“Not really.” Heeji’s heart dropped at the words, her eyes flicking to his in dread. Yoongi sat up again, all of a sudden closer than ever, his gaze soft and vulnerable as he took in her face. “I didn’t want to tell you like that, through text in the middle of a half-fight and drowning in petty jealousy. I’ve been thinking about how to tell you for so long and for all of it to just slip out like that… I wanted… I wanted to tell you face-to-face. I wanted to tell you about how I never stop thinking about you and about how… how you’re the most important person to me. About how funny and smart and beautiful I think you are and how you always make my day better, even when I’m really stressed. Especially when I’m really stressed.” Yoongi lifted his hand to her face, his fingers curling into her hair and his thumb brushing her cheek. “I should’ve said it before, a long time ago, but I was just afraid because of how crazy my life is and how hard this all would be for us. Fuck, I know it would be hard as hell, it’s hard enough right now, but I think we’re so good together. I…” he swallowed, his gaze dropping to her mouth a second, “I really want to kiss you.”

Heeji didn’t hesitate this time, pressing closer to seal their lips together. This time, she let herself slip under how absolutely amazing it felt to have him against her, to feel his lips part under her own and for his tongue - that sinful, incredible tongue - to lick into her mouth eagerly.

She grabbed at whatever parts of him that she could as the kiss deepened, pent up frustration orchestrating their movements at this point. Yoongi shifted to face her better, tilting his head to be able to kiss her deeper, harder, his fingers digging into her ribs.

“Fuck, I should have said something a long time ago,” he grunted between kisses. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“You’re-” a beat as Yoongi scraped his teeth over her bottom lip, “a fucking mo-” Heeji let her tongue stroke across his for a few long moments, “moron.”

Eventually, the frenzied kisses evolved into slow, lazy ones as they sunk back into her couch together. Long stretches of kissing were intermingled with longer stretches of conversation and intimate laughter. Yoongi would push her hair gently behind her ear as she blushed at the sweetness of the gesture. Heeji would tease him and he would groan and bury his face in the crook of her neck, taking the opportunity to plant soft kisses to the sensitive skin of her throat.

“Won’t they miss you? Back at the dorm?” Heeji asked after a very long while. “Did you even tell them you were leaving?”

“No,” Yoongi sighed, leaning into her fingers as they traced lightly over his forehead and the bridge of his nose. “I just kind of ran out.”

“They’re probably freaking out.”

He hummed an acknowledgement and Heeji whined as he dislodged them to pull his phone from his pocket. “Shit, I have a bunch of missed calls and Namjoon texted me. Fuck.”

“You should go.”

“I don’t want to go,” Yoongi pouted and the action was so endearing that Heeji almost melted.

She wrapped her arms tightly around him as he burrowed into her, dragging her fingers soothingly through his hair. She dropped a kiss to the crown of his head and she felt him smile against her.

“You should still go.”

He grunted his dissent and stayed put. Heeji laughed and tugged at him to try and pry him off, but he grunted louder and tightened his grip.

“They’re going to kill you,” Heeji said.

“I don’t care.” Yoongi’s voice was muffled against her.

She was about to say something else, but at that moment his phone began to vibrate and he slumped, defeated. Yoongi sunk into the back of the couch and answered.

“Hello?… I know, I’m sorry. I just had to take care of something urgently… I’m fine and I’m coming back home soon… yeah. Okay.” Yoongi sagged as he hung up, grimacing. “Fuck, I don’t want to gooo.”

“Come on, it’s better if you head back now anyway, before they get really mad at you. We can hang out tomorrow.” Heeji gave his nose a quick kiss and stood, prompting him up.

Yoongi sat up, fixing his hair and looking more excited now. “I’m free all day tomorrow, too, so I can come in the morning and we can just spend the whole day together.”

She nodded with a wide smile and offered him her hand. He took it and stood, letting her lead them to the door without dropping her hand from his. Yoongi paused and turned back to her before he headed out, licking his lips in what she had learned was a nervous habit.

“Hey, I really…” he began, taking in a deep breath, “I really mean all of this. I’m in this for real. We’re really doing this… right?”

Heeji nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. A hundred percent.”

“Okay. Good. Because I really love you. I know I never actually said it, but I really do.”

Heeji felt light, her head swimming, heart pounding in her ears, body tingling at the confession and she swore she had never been so happy in her entire life. “I love you, too.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi asked, a euphoric smile widening on his face.

She nodded, blushing. “A lot.”

He leaned down to kiss her again, soft and sweet, taking his time. When he broke apart, he stared at her for a long moment, then pressed one more short kiss to her mouth.

“Yoongi?” Heeji began, halting him as he turned to open the door. He looked back at her, waiting. She swallowed. “How long have you… since when?”

He ruffled his hair with his hand and blew out a puff of air. “Jeez, I don’t even know. I mean, when we first met in middle school I had a huge crush on you and that continued through most of high school. I’ve kind of always had a thing for you. But when did I fall in love with you? Shit, I don’t even think I can pinpoint it. Couple of years at least. I’ve always loved you, at some point it just sort of evolved.” Heeji nodded, heart fuller than she ever could have imagined. Yoongi tucked her hair behind her ear, touch lingering. “And you? How long for you?”

Heeji remembered chilled night air, the soft rustle of wrapping paper, a coffee that was too sweet. She remembered how genuine and wide his smile was. The smell of pine trees and a warm jacket tucked carefully around her frame. She smiled wistfully up at Yoongi, his dark eyes drinking her in patiently.

“Awhile,” she said simply.

He smiled down at her, not pushing her further. Yoongi gently tilted her chin up with his thumb before sealing their lips together for a long moment. Heeji soaked in the small moment that they stayed after, foreheads pressed together, a dreamy smile on her face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly, stroking her head gently.

Heeji nodded. “Kay. Go. You’ll get in trouble.”

He laughed, pressing a last kiss to her forehead before donning his cap and mask and slipping out the door.

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#hybrid #fake texts #bts fake texts #bts fic #suga #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi fake texts #suga fake texts #smut #fluff #yoongi smut #suga smut

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undercoversublife · 7 years

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London - Jan 2017 - Club Subversion Noir....oh my!!

Sweet jesus! we thought last night was hard core. The description of saturday's club we attended was that you should NOT come if you are a beginner ! Wow, what a hard core night at Subversion Noir. And this was mostly a 'watching' night, while i have my jaw on the floor (again!). Apparently they had a club next door with a fetish gay night and at 2 am they open the doors between the two clubs. Oh boy I had no idea what to expect for that. I would have never imagined the things I saw in my own mind in a million years. More on that later.

We go into the club (much more confident now we have been to a fair few clubs) and we are one of the first people to arrive. We go to the changing room, which is a big open public area, lol and get dressed or rather undressed for me. I wore my basque and stockings and tall black boots.

People watching was a big focus of the night as this was such a hard core place. Some of the things we saw included a woman tying up a man and suspending him from a frame. There was an old fat guy with a pencil dick wanking off near us, that was a bit gross.

There were all these play areas with camflauge netting with all types of gear including stirrups, swings, crosses and spanking benches.

In the toilet, there was a large casual woman (cleaning and offering paper) looking for a tip in return, i just thought wow she must see a lot, anyway we starting chatting every time i passed through scantily dressed and i became friendly with her. Her name was Bula

My Dom took me to the couples room. Another couple immediately invited us right over to join them, but we just went to a side sofa first and my Dom told me to suck his cock, then he lifted my basque up and told me to sit on his cock facing out. he then cuffed my hands behind my back. He was putting me on display for the others while i fucked him.

The other couple came up to us close and the man asked if his big lady can touch me. He didn’t say big, but I added that. My Dom said yes and I immediately feel embarrassed and like an object, but of course I love objectification. She touches my tits and starts fingering me. Omg that was amazing, she was good with her fingers and I start moaning (against my will since I am not bi!) in pleasure.

Then the man asks if he can touch me and my Dom says yes. He asks if I can suck his cock and my Dom says yes and he puts his cock in my mouth with the condom on (that was a first for me) and then takes condom off and I keep sucking. Finally Dom sees it and says no put it back on. It was better off lol.

Then he asks to fuck me and my Dom says yes. He was fast and rough. It was not with a lot of stamina and I was constantly worried about condom remaining on. We did a few positions, doggie, bend over bed and lying on bed. I was fearful to lay on that bed he had just been on, fear of all the liquids that have spilled out onto the sheets...eeeeekkkkkkk!!!! He spanked my ass and asked me if I was a slut and a whore. I said yes sir and then he said do you want me to cum on you? do you want me to cum on your face? He said again, I quickly said no as I realised he may take condom off to complete this action and I was probably right!

I looked over at my Dom and I was jealous of him not fucking me. He was with the big girl and he went strong for a long time, he certainly has stamina!! He finally came with the big girl and we quickly sat together again, when I told him later that I had wished he was fucking me he said next time interrupt him and tell him this!

Later in the night I stood, absolutely mesmerised by an old man sitting in a swing, with his ass well up and hanging out and a woman was using a massive fucking dildo to fuck his ass. His legs were shaking uncontrollably, it was horrifying and shocking and interesting all at the same time. He looked in incredible pain. Fuck!!! My dom pulled me away to the next thing.

In the public area, there were lots of submissives sucking cock along the bench, with the Dom sitting down and the subs on the floor pleasing their master. Of course, my Dom didn’t want to be left out so I joined the submissive on the floor and my Dom face fucked me

There was a very dominant transvestite that had a trail of men always flocking behind her. It was very interesting to watch. I then joked with my dom that i don't mind being with that woman, lol lol. To which my Dom got a bit nervous as he wound't want me to engage and get taken advantage of.

My Dom took me to a spanking bench and had me bend over, lifted my clothes off my ass and gave me a good hiding. We were well out in the public space, so people stopped by and had a chat and a look while he was spanking me. He fingered me until i squirted and then when i was sufficiently wet, he pushed his cock hard inside me. He thrusted into me so hard, it was amazing. And anyone there could watch. Best night ever!!!

Further on in the night, there was also a man using and displaying the use of a Bull whip, Fucking A!!!! That was shocking and the marks on one man's back. Omg. They were raised marks, it looked horrendous!

Ok so moving to the point when suddenly we see many new men walking around the facility. There had been a few comments that the gay club next door will open the doors at 2am and both clubs can mix, so it must have been 2am.

The gay club was open, we went exploring and all I can say is omg omg omg omg fuck omg omg omg. Wow. That was insane. We had a quick look in past the small dance floor and there was literally a giant fucking room full of many swings where Men position themselves in the swing and put feet in stirrups and wait for another man to come along and fuck them!!! We left after my jaw was literally on the floor and then I said I really want to see two men fuck as I have never seen that. And my mouth was constantly on the floor, I couldn't keep my eyes off the scene, it was out of my world. They men get in those the swing with the ass hanging out and wait for anyone to come by and stick there cock into their ass. They have condoms and paper towels by the edge of each swing. The floor is riddled with cum stained paper and used condoms. I seriously needed to disinfect my shoes when I got home.

When we left one of the times, we saw a table selling stuff, like t shirts, stickers, condoms and crisco oil, omg, they sell fucking crisco oil there. It's hard to get that where I live, i was tempted to buy some so that I can bring it home.

There was a black guy wearing a cowboy hat that was clearly the stud of the place. A fucking crazy guy he was and fucking like a wild animal, when he found every cock in a swing, sling or hanging off a table!!! WOW FUCKING WOW!!

Of course, my curiosity was getting the best of me and I asked my Dom if we can go back another time and have a look. This was the third time and we met a nice American guy so I was asking lots of questions. He then had us taken to a further dark room that was like an orgy room. Are you kidding me, does it get more dodgy and seedier than we have already seen?!?!?!?! The heat coming off that room was insane. The floor is (again) covered with condoms and paper towels. No swings here, but there was no shortage of sex. Wow wow wow is all i can say.. You can never un see that shit, but honestly I am glad I saw it.

I learned a lot that night and I have a lot more questions. So many questions.

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cryinggameff · 7 years

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Fifty seven

Cayden

Today was the day of some house warming party Randi had planned 2 weeks ago, before our disagreement. But people were already invited so there was no cancelling. She had done a lot to the house and it actually looked good, I had to admit. We had new furniture and appliances, she even changed the colour of the kitchen cabinets from brown to white which I liked much better. When she started all the decorating she had scheduled this day so now I had to have people up in my house. The crew would be there, contractors she had used here and at the salon, a bunch of people.

I went to play some ball with Cole first before I had to go back home.

“So what’s the deal?” Cole asked.

“About what?” I grunted, jumping up and releasing the ball. It circled the rim before going inside the net. I made a mean mug.

“You and Randi. She won’t tell me,” he said.

“Really?” I was genuinely shocked. But then again I hadn’t told Ty or anyone. This shit felt oddly personal.

“Yeah. It must be pretty deep then,” he said. I nodded. He stole the ball from me and dribbled between his legs. “You know, if you told me maybe I could help. I hate seeing Yall like this. We all do.”

“All?” I asked.

“It was pretty obvious since my party, everyone caught on,” he said. I blew out a breath. We weren’t slick then.

“Oh.”

“So lemme help,” he said. I chuckled.

“So how that gonna work if you and Randi best friends? You’re biased. That’s like me getting Ty,” I scoffed. He chuckled.

“That ain’t true. Unlike Ty I spend a lotta time with both of you. We playing ball now, just us. Ty and Randi don’t chill like that,” he pointed out. I paused for a moment. He made a good point. But I didn’t know if it was right to spill our business. But Randi trusted Cole like no one, except maybe me. I decided there was no harm in telling him. I stole the ball from him.

“We fighting about kids. Randi don’t want none,” I said simply. He paused, looking down for a second.

“I kinda thought that this was coming,” he said. I stopped dribbling.

“How?” I asked, confused. He paused again.

“Aight imma tell you even though she told me not to tell you but this gotta stay between us. I don’t wanna go behind her back but this fight needs to end,” he said. I nodded, jaw locked. "She took a test at my house once, and she seemed Hella relieved when it was negative so I knew she wasn’t down. Then when we played ball you was taking about getting a lil you soon and I knew mess was gonna follow.“

I didn’t know what to say. This was the first I was hearing she even thought she was pregnant.

“When she take the test?” I growled.

“Before Yall got married, a bit ago. Don’t be mad or saying anything bout it to her. She was pretty scared, and she’d kill me,” he came closer to me. “Ain’t no point in being mad, it’s already passed.”

“So the fuck you think I should do?”

“Yall need to sit and talk. I don’t mind being in the middle to keep it civil, help Yall communicate,” he shrugged.

“How we gonna do that when we not talking,” I mumbled.

“One of Yall gonna have to give in,” he said.

“Not me.”

“You and I both know Randi. It’s not gonna be her,” he chuckled. “When Yall stop being petty let me know and we can have that talk.” He grabbed the ball, ran up to the net and dunked.

I thought about something Randi’s dad had said to me a while back. That when things went too far it was my job to bring things back together since I’m the man and she’s my woman otherwise we would end up separating. But that time I had been in the wrong, I didn’t see why I had to surrender in this situation.

When I got home I hopped in the shower quick then changed into pants and a dress shirt. Randi came out of the closet wearing a dress that must have been new because I certainly hadn’t seen it before. I stared openly. The dress was tight, plunging neck, with a slit coming up all the way to her hip. I wasn’t a fan.

Once the party started I immediately got a drink and chilled by the living area. Me and Ty plus some other guys were checking the game score on the TV occasionally.

“So Pat told me you wanna start dealing with new people,” he said, I could tell he wasn’t happy. I shrugged.

“It’s not set,” I said simply.

“Still, I gotta find out through Pat?” He chuckled.

“If you wanna be first to know shit you should have taken the position when I offered it to you,” I said, looking from the TV to him. He ground his teeth.

“Yeah, I guess you right,” he said, leaving his spot against the wall and walking into the kitchen. I kissed my teeth.

I looked around the room then and landed on Randi talking to a guy in paint splattered jeans and a plaid shirt. He had a beard and low cut hair on the sides with one of those stupid man buns. I assumed he was a contractor. Randi was focused on some picture she was discussing with him but the nigga’s eyes were else where. He eyed her exposed chest and traveled down to that fucking slit. I balled my hand into a fist and my face went hot.

I was conflicted because I didn’t wanna pay her any attention but this dude was eyeing my wife in my own house. My jealousy won out over my stubbornness.

“Randi,” i said, gritting my teeth. She looked up at me in shock, i gusss that i was saying something to her. “Come here.” She put her drink down and came to see what was up. She looked at me unsure as I grabbed her hip firmly.

“What…?” She asked.

“Go change,” i said. She scoffed and stepped back.

“The fuck you mean go change,” she said, irritated.

“I ain’t okay with that dress. Got slits and cleavage and shit. Niggas staring,” i locked my jaw looking at the contractor guy she had been talking to.

“Why is that your business? This the first word you said to me in days.” I was shaking at this point.

“Still. As your husband some things are for me and not for everyone else,” i said through gritted teeth.

“If that’s all you have to say to me Cay, I’m leaving,” she said, turning to walk away. I grabbed her arm.

“Imma give you 10 minutes to change. Dead ass Randi, I’ll kick all these people out” i said tightening my grip on her arm. She left my grip and stormed upstairs.

When she returned a few minutes later she had changed to a new black dress. She cut me a side eye and I mean mugged her. I knew we were going right back to not talking.

**two days later** Randi

Cayden and i had gone several days with this cold interaction and it was starting to get to me, affecting my confidence. Was Cayden really gonna stop loving me over a child? Was I horrible person for the way I felt about the topic. I just had to get out of there.

I knew it was hypocritical to leave when I has cussed him out over sleeping in a spare room but i couldn’t go on with him treating me like this. I wasn’t just mad, I was loosing my mind and if I felt this way for much longer I’d do something stupid. I was also generally on edge from days of nightmares and I was mad because Cayden was probably sleeping like a baby. I went to the closet, still in my skirt and heels from work and started hastily making a bag.

“I just need a couple of days,” I said to myself, throwing more clothes into the bag. “Things will tide over by then…they have to.”

I threw a couple more things in, then the bag was done. I didn’t move though. I just stood there in a frenzy clutching the bag. If I left this could be the end of everything. Cayden had made me promise to stop running when we got married and so far I had kept it. I didn’t wanna go against that but I also couldn’t ignore the screaming in my head. ‘Run, run and don’t come back’. I shook my head willing the voice to stop. When it wouldn’t I dropped the bag and grabbed my head with both my hands.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I yelled. I closed my eyes tight and went somewhere else.

“Randi!” Cayden yelled, grabbing a hold of my arms. I must have been hitting my head because now it hurt. I struggled in his arms trying to get free flailing about. “It’s me, it’s Cay,” he said not letting go. I tried to kick him and he spun me around so that my back was against his chest. He pinned my arns to my own chest. “Breathe,” he said, “breathe Ran.” I panted for several minutes, gasping for air. After a while my breathing was close to normal. He loosened his grip a little bit.

“I’m not insane,” I said, breathing hard.

“I know you’re not,” he said. So I let him hold me for a few more minutes. When he was convinced I was back on planet earth he said,

“Okay. I’m gonna let go now,” cautiously. I nodded. He let me loose and I immediately went red with embarrassment and shame.

“I have to go,” I said, turning for the closet door. My arm was quickly grabbed.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere,” he said, shaking his head.

“I need to be alone to think,” I said.

“You can think right here, with me,” he said sternly. He loomed over me watching my every move and I regretted my outburst. He was never gonna let me out of his sight. I stood in front of him stubbornly for a while before I got tired and gave in. I slumped into his chest and was quickly encircled by his strong arms.

“I’m insane,” I said, accepting my fate.

“No. You are not.”

“I don’t know why you want me to have your kids, I’ll screw them up,” I mumbled.

“This is all my fault. I pushed you to this,” he said. I sighed. “I won’t bring up the topic again. I didn’t know how deep it affects you.”

“It’s not so much that Cayden. You can want what you want and disagree with me but I can’t handle you being angry with me. When you don’t talk to me…it literally drives me insane. ”

“I shouldn’t have gone about any of this the way I did. Its…not fair to be angry and guilt you because you don’t want kids,” he sighed. “If I’m being honest, I knew before we got married. I just thought you’d change your mind,” he said, giving me a small smile. Guilt started to build up in me.

“And someday I could,” I said. “I blew things up. I should have at least been open to a full on conversation. I shut you down pretty quickly,” I admitted, wrapping my arms tighter around his torso, remembering the plate he had thrown.

“Yeah you kinda did,” he chuckled. We hugged each other silently for a while. “We’ll talk about all that another time. For now, are you okay?”

He gripped both sides of my face.

“I think so,” I sighed. He led me to the bedroom and we sat on the bed.

“What’s going on with you baby?” He asked, tapping my forehead meaningfully.

“I was panicking,” I started, “the usual. But usually I can suppress the irking panicky thoughts, today I couldn’t.”

“That’s the voice?” He asked. I nodded. “Continue.”

“The panic voice was saying to pack up and leave to avoid facing the issue, but I remembered my promise to you,” I looked up at him through my lashes, “so I tried to make the voice stop.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” he admitted.

“Sorry I went asylum on you,” I smiled slightly. He took my hand.

“Tell you what. If you feel like you really need to get away and be alone…just go to the apartment and let me know so I don’t think you’re missing.”

“But Cay-” I started. He shook his head.

“I’d rather that than see you like that again,” he explained I nodded. I looked down at our intertwined hands for a while. I thought about how Cay had calmed me down like no one else could when I was the most vulnerable. He saw me for everything I was, dark corners and all, and it didn’t scare him away.

“I guess we need to have a real discussion,” I said finally, putting a hand to his perfect jaw. He simply nodded and turned to kiss my hand.

“Later, when we both in a better place.”

“We were stupid to get married without having these conversations weren’t we?” I murmured. He shook his head.

“Love makes us do stupid things. But I don’t regret it…do you?” He looked vulnerable. I shook my head.

“Of course not baby,” I assured him.

I stretched out of sleep, lifting my arms over my head and turning over on to my back. My arm brushed against warm skin and I looked over at the other side of the bed where Cole was still sleep. I slid out of the bed and went to get my clothes off the floor. I stepped into my jeans and put my shirt over my head.

I had come over late last night to chill and of course one thing led to another, and i eventually fell asleep after a lot of making out and stuff.

“You ain’t always gotta run out on niggas. You can stay if you want…eat, chill, whatever,” came a voice from behind me. I was caught. I turned around with a slight smirk.

“Ain’t nobody running out, I got shit to do,” I said.

“Right now? At 7am,” he asked, skeptical. I paused. He was right. I was just trying to get out before he was awake and we had to do the whole morning after thing. I had never done that with anyone, chick or dude. I never stayed the night and I for sure never stayed the morning after. That was a level of commitment i never had…until now. This was also weird because unlike girls who would ask me to stay, Cole acted like he was cool with whatever. I was never quite sure what he was thinking.

“I guess not right now,” I said. He looked over at me and we made eye contact. I glanced briefly at his bare chest which showed the hours of training he did.

“If you don’t want to that’s cool though,” he said, breaking eye contact. I realised then that he was….upset? I realised he didn’t want me to go.

“Nah I can chill for a bit,” I said, sitting on the bed.

“Imma take a shower, you tryna hop in?” He said, removing the blankets and standing up. Seeing him in absolutely nothing was distracting but I was pretty sure he knew that. He came over and gripped my shoulders. Then he moved his hands down to the hem of my shirt and lifted it up. I raised my arms to help. He went for my jeans next and then turned to go the bathroom. I followed.

“So what are you gonna do with this place when you go to Dallas?” I asked, pulling my shirt back on.

“Imma keep it. Imma be here weekends and stuff, days off,” he shrugged.

“You think you gon be back a lot?” I asked, indirectly asking what I actually wanted which was ‘will we still see each other’.

“I’ll be back quite a bit, it’s only a few hours away.”

“I’m sure you gon miss Randi a lot,” I chuckled. He smiled.

“I will,” he nodded. “And you too,” he added. I paused and I swear my heart stopped. I really was gonna miss him though, and things were just starting to work with us.

“I guess Imma miss our 2k games,” I said, meaning I’d miss him. He chuckled and now I smiled. I grabbed his chin and licked my lips. He gripped my sides and moved in to put his lips on mine.

Hours later after eating and watching some shows I finally put my shoes on by the door. I said bye to him and he watched me as i made my way down the stairs. I looked back and he grinned, i smirked back.

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him-e · 7 years

Note

What do you think it was that made Jaime confide his secret to Brienne? Was it just a breaking point for him and he would have spilled had it been someone else in Brienne's place

Someone else? No.

(just… imagine Jaime confessing to a naked-as-his-nameday Qyburn, I’m howling)

Like, of course he could have, because Jaime is a fictional character and he does what GRRM wants him to do. Which is precisely why his confiding in Brienne is such a BIG authorial decision, even if, in-narrative, it were completely random. But it’s not. Brienne is a huge part of what leads Jaime to that breaking point. The fact that Jaime makes this confession to her (and nobody else) is essential in understanding why he does it, why he kept that secret for so long, his troubled relationship with knighthood, and many other things about his arc.

1. a breaking point. the jaime we meet in ASOS is a man at the end of his rope (re: carrying the burden of the secret about Aerys all alone / not sharing with anyone the reason why he killed him). He’s spent an entire book in captivity, surrounded by people who despise him, and this probably had the effect of forcing him to think about Aerys harder than he usually did (more on that later). Since early in ASOS, we see that Jaime thinks of Aerys often, reluctantly but often, and as his chapters progress he becomes increasingly and visibly exhausted at being addressed as “kingslayer”. His memories of Aerys are easily triggered and surface in scattered, angst-ridden flashbacks, each revealing a specific piece of the puzzle, but not the main course. His mind wants to go there, but at the same time retreats from it. Aside from doylist reasons (to create suspense and curiosity in the reader) I think this proves how killing the king represents a highly traumatic event for him—or better, the culmination of a traumatic series of circumstances he was subjected to when he was barely an adult (let’s not forget that Jaime’s first 2 years of service in the kingsguard coincided with the nadir of Aerys’ paranoia and madness. He witnessed unspeakable horrors, was told to shut up, had to learn how to “go away inside” while Aerys raped and barbecued people, all of this when he was 15-16 and knew exactly that the king considered him his tool to humiliate Tywin. Remember, Aerys’ last order was for Jaime to bring him Tywin’s head, or “burn with all the rest”.)

(the reason why Jaime kept his mouth sealed on the wildfire plot for 15+ years is an interesting question. It can’t be only misplaced commitment to the oath of keeping the king’s secrets, can it? This fandom seems to have settled on the idea that Jaime is a narcissist with a victim complex who just loves playing the unsung hero, and apparently this one note can be retroactively used to explain all his actions. Ahem, in this circumstance, who would he be playing the unsung hero to? Himself? lol, that’s not fucking worth it if you don’t have an audience, not even an imaginary one. But it IS about pride. He knew it since his father’s bannermen laid their eyes on him with silent judgment—there’s no workable extenuating circumstance for a knight of the kingsguard committing regicide, simple as that, and coming up with some ~averted wildfire apocalypse~ nonsense without any pyromancers or other witnesses left to back his claim would sound like begging for forgiveness. Jaime is a Lannister, he doesn’t beg. He doesn’t justify himself, that’s for scoundrels and small time crooks. No, he lifts his chin and owns it. Oh, and it’s also possible that he genuinely thought it was safer for the entire citizenship to ignore the existence of the wildfire caches altogether, as there’s absolutely no evidence of Jaime knowing that the hidden wildfire can be accidentally ignited, but I digress.)

Since we don’t have access to his pov before ASOS, we don’t know if this constant back and forth between present and past is something that Jaime has always done, or a more recent thing. I headcanon that the long captivity Jaime suffered in Riverrun is a key factor. That’s where I think he started to seriously weigh up “his life, his choices” (he’s still halfway through that process). Imprisoned for months, surrounded by enemies all the time, removed from the things that made him a proud Lannister, that gave him joy and relief and a solid sense of self (Cersei), his coping mechanisms began to fall apart. Jaime has always relied on his sense of superiority, on his “I am a Lannister, and you can all kiss my arse” mentality to cope with his broken reputation. Hiding behind sarcasm, reveling in the addictive thrill of his forbidden relationship with Cersei, sneering at his fellow kingsguards / the hypocrisy of the court / Ned’s honor, all of this helped him to keep functioning without falling apart, because kingslayer or not he was the lion of Lannister, better than the rest, stronger than the rest, he and Cersei living a life closer to the gods than to ordinary mortal people. Jaime has learned how to dgaf about those who whisper “kingslayer” behind his back, but that’s different now. The captivity in Riverrun is probably the longest time he’s had to deal with people’s open, unmitigated contempt with no shields or barriers, no safety nets aside from his own mind, which is an increasingly unpleasant place to be in. (jaime is both insecure and prideful, a terrible, terrible combo when you receive criticism)

so when Catelyn comes to visit (actually to force an oath on him), he’s exhausted. He still relies heavily on sarcasm, but his walls are low enough to start blathering about “too many vows” (also because, well, he’s drunk) which sounds like the beginning of… an explanation, perhaps. But it’s too early for that, Catelyn is not the kind of audience who has any patience for his shit, and he will have to lose much more than his dignity to finally spill the beans.

2. it’s particularly Brienne’s accusations that sting. It becomes personal. He always reacts when she addresses his oathbreaking and kingslaying with contempt. Sometimes jokingly:

“I’ve had a bellyful of silence, woman.”“Talk with Ser Cleos then. I have no words for monsters.”Jaime hooted. “Are there monsters hereabouts? Hiding beneath the water, perhaps? In that thick of willows? And me without my sword!”

sometimes deflecting:

“Do you deny that you slew a king?”“No. Do you deny your sex? If so, unlace those breeches and show me.” He gave her an innocent smile. “I’d ask you to open your bodice, but from the look of you that wouldn’t prove much.”

“A man who would violate his own sister, murder his king, and fling an innocent child to his death deserves no other name.”Innocent? The wretched boy was spying on us. […] “You will be courteous as concerns Cersei, wench”.

sometimes (kind of) apologetically:

“Your crimes are past forgiving, Kingslayer.”“That name again.” Jaime twisted idly at his chains. “Why do I enrage you so? I’ve never done you harm that I know of.”

sometimes aggressively:

“It was that white cloak that soiled me, not the other way around. So spare me your envy. It was the gods who neglected to give you a cock, not me.” The look Brienne gave him then was full of loathing.

sometimes attempting to corner her into the logical fallacy of “your reputation isn’t that different from mine, so we’re practically the same!”:

“I know what I swore.”“And what you did.” She loomed above him, six feet of freckled, frowning, horse-toothed disapproval.“Yes, and what you did as well. We’re both kingslayers here, if what I’ve heard is true.”

“Your wits are quicker than mine, I confess it. When they found me standing over my dead king, I never thought to say, ‘No, no, it wasn’t me, it was a shadow, a terrible cold shadow.’“ He laughed again. ”Tell me true, one kingslayer to another—did the Starks pay you to slit his throat, or was it Stannis? Had Renly spurned you, was that the way of it? Or perhaps your moon’s blood was on you. Never give a wench a sword when she’s bleeding.“ For a moment Jaime thought Brienne might strike him.

Brienne is an endless challenge. He can see the disapproval in her eyes even when she says nothing, and it drives him insane. It’s not just physical and mental exhaustion and frustration at his own powerlessness—Brienne is his captor, so naturally he’s going to lash out at her, try to goad her into lashing out herself, or just be annoyed at her in general—it’s also that he sees in Brienne a genuine judgment, free of the hypocrisy of those who were well content with serving Aerys and watch him roast people alive, until Aerys was no more the king and Robert was. Or those who have their hands covered in blood and have slit countless throats with their sword, throats that belonged to better people than Aerys.

Brienne isn’t like that. Her hands are clean (book!Brienne has yet to kill her first man at this point), her eyes are truly guileless, and her only fault is a lack of experience. An infuriating one, sure—it angers Jaime to hear her describe the kingsguard as “a rare and precious gift […] that you scorned and soiled”, because what does this child know of the kingsguard. but that’s the point. She doesn’t belong to the world that soiled his dreams. She wasn’t much older than the two children who were brutally murdered under his watch at the time of the sack of King’s Landing. Indeed, Jaime sometimes calls her a child in his internal monologue. It’s innocence, not hypocrisy, that is judging him. It’s something his usual performative cynicism doesn’t really have a grip on.

So basically he finds trapped in endless discourse with this young woman who just won’t leave him alone and always finds a way to throw his broken vows and monstrosity in his face, and it becomes harder and harder to dismiss her accusations. Because deep down Jaime is impressed and moved by her unflinching faith in knightly values. He thinks she’s stupid for doing so, sure, but it hits a nerve.

3. truces are built on trust. After Cleos dies and they are captured by the Bloody Mummers, Jaime and Brienne’s mutual relationship drastically changes. They stop being a prisoner and his captor, and become both prisoners of a bunch of brutal outlaws. Jaime is maimed, Brienne is repeatedly threatened with rape. I believe this is called traumatic bonding? But anyway, the point is that, willing or not, Jaime starts relying on Brienne. Heavily. Literally:

After the second time he fell from the saddle, they bound him tight to Brienne of Tarth and made them share a horse again. One day, instead of back to front, they bound them face-to-face. “The lovers,” Shagwell sighed loudly, “and what a lovely sight they are. ‘Twould be cruel to separate the good knight and his lady.” Then he laughed that high shrill laugh of his, and said, “Ah, but which one is the knight and which one is the lady?”If I had my hand, you’d learn that soon enough, Jaime thought. His arms ached and his legs were numb from the ropes, but after a while none of that mattered. His world shrunk to the throb of agony that was his phantom hand, and Brienne pressed against him. She’s warm, at least, he consoled himself, though the wench’s breath was as foul as his own.

She becomes a sort of anchor for him, someone whose physical proximity is comforting and reassuring and sometimes a literal crutch, and don’t forget that she’s also tasked with cleaning and nursing him while he’s feverish and gave him a pep talk when he was feeling suicidal, so he gets to experience her nurturing side, too. He knows her mission is to take him alive and unharmed to King’s Landing and that—unlike Vargo Hoat & co.—she takes it very, very seriously. At this point, in this situation, Brienne is the closest thing to a friend he has. Now fast forward to the bathtub scene:

“That was unworthy,” he mumbled. “I’m a maimed man, and bitter. Forgive me, wench. You protected me as well as any man could have, and better than most.” She wrapped her nakedness in a towel. “Do you mock me?” That pricked him back to anger. “Are you as thick as a castle wall? That was an apology. I am tired of fighting with you. What say we make a truce?” “Truces are built on trust. Would you have me trust - ” “The Kingslayer, yes. The oathbreaker who murdered poor sad Aerys Targaryen.“

the scene begins as your typical Jaime VS Brienne banter, with Jaime being a complete asshole, teasing and taunting Brienne even though he’s literally half dead (right before that: “Does the sight of my stump distress you so?” Jaime asked. “You ought to be pleased. I’ve lost the hand I killed the king with. The hand that flung the Stark boy from that tower. The hand I’d slide between my sister’s thighs to make her wet.” He thrust his stump at her face. “No wonder Renly died, with you guarding him”). But I think he’s genuinely desperate to have someone on his side, which is why he quickly swallows his taunts back and apologizes (in his own way).

Strange as it is, he trusts Brienne. He needs to. But she won’t trust him, not yet: he’s still the Kingslayer in her eyes, even after all they went through together.

You need trust to have a truce, so he makes the first step, and volunteers his most guarded secret. Mind, it’s not like he knows what he’s doing—it’s not a completely deliberate choice. He’s exhausted and feverish and lightheaded: “why am I telling this absurd ugly child”, he wonders, while he “floats in heat and memory” and the story practically begins to tell itself, for it was bottled up for too long and was only waiting for a trigger that could let it loose.

But I think the need to build that truce with Brienne is that trigger.

Now, can you really picture Qyburn in Brienne’s place? Or Roose Bolton? Or Pia? Or anyone? I can’t, because these people are nothing to Jaime—worse, most of them are his enemies. He hasn’t developed a complicated, conflicted relationship of begrudging respect with them. Besides, none of them would understand or particularly care about this confession; none of them wants desperately to be a knight of the kingsguard, believes in the sacrality of the institution and is deeply offended at the idea of someone revolting against its vows for apparently no reason—Brienne is. So it’s her opinion the relevant one. The one Jaime implicitly hopes to change (though he will never admit it to himself, and carefully avoids putting it in these terms in his internal monologue).

He didn’t wait 16 years to just tell a random stranger. And if he merely wanted to unburden himself, he could have told Tyrion, or Cersei (the people he’s closest to). He didn’t, because they couldn’t get it either—they will never know (or so he thinks) the inherent contradiction of being an institutionalized killing machine bound to the whims of another person and still have to answer to your own conscience. Jaime is a knight, and one of a kind, so he’s going to tell another knight who is also one of a kind (for completely different reasons). Somehow, in some fundamental way, he understands that Brienne is his peer, and that she has already started to see a side of him that he’s always kept hidden; hopefully, his words won’t fall into the void with her, they’ll sink deep and stir a reaction, whatever it is.

(that’s why, in the end, he’s SO frustrated by Brienne’s silence: has my tale turned you speechless? Come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar. Something. Jaime is desperate for either outright, definitive condemnation, or—finally—some kind of acceptance. I think part of him craves closure. And validation: please, tell me that my tale impressed you! (the narcissism discourse isn’t wrong, just very simplistic). But also: please, can you confirm that this is in fact a Big Deal? because back then I thought it was enough of a big deal to murder everyone involved with it!)

back to this:

“why am I telling this absurd ugly child?”

—this is actually lampshading on grrm’s part. It does require some suspension of disbelief that Jaime kept this secret for sixteen years, only to reveal it to someone who’s still, technically, his enemy, and whom he’s spent half the book cursing and mocking, right? But that “absurd ugly child” is not random at all, she is, in fact, the only possible recipient for Jaime’s secret, and on a deeper level he knows it. That’s why his conscious mind formulates the question, which, from a storytelling perspective, is there to tell you to pay attention. It means a lot that Jaime, that Jaime’s subconscious, chose Brienne. This is an incredibly layered, poignant scene. They’re both naked, exposed to each other without their armor and clothes and respective house sigils and all those concrete symbols of their political, social, ideological, ethical distance. All of that is removed, dissolved like the dirt on Jaime’s skin. It makes sense that only in this context, with all these underlying connections to cleansing, rebirth, nakedness, and in front of the person who most embodies the purest form of the ideal of knighthood, Jaime is finally compelled to tell the truth, all of it.

one last thing I’d like to mention is that there’s an ongoing thing on Jaime’s part about ~breaking in Brienne’s walls ~ that probably played a part here. He often notices how closed off she is, how guarded. In the early stages of their journey, he mistakes it for dullness, and tries to turn this to his advantage, to piss her off, to find her sore spots to make her lose her temper. Later, as their bond deepens, he discovers that this is a trait she shares with him:

Brienne was always bound beside him. She lay there in her bonds like a big dead cow, saying not a word. The wench has built a fortress inside herself. They will rape her soon enough, but behind her walls they cannot touch her. But Jaime’s walls were gone.

Yet he heard himself whisper, “Let them do it, and go away inside.” That was what he’d done, when the Starks had died before him, Lord Rickard cooking in his armor while his son Brandon strangled himself trying to save him. “Think of Renly, if you loved him. Think of Tarth, mountains and seas, pools, waterfalls, whatever you have on your Sapphire Isle, think…”

Brienne’s guardedness, much as her virginity, both intrigues and repels Jaime. One of the catalysts of the confession is that Brienne shrinks away and turns her back on him. She’s basically retreating behind her walls and shutting him out, while he actively sought her company (he chose the tub she was in, rather than an empty one). Jaime is met once again with rejection and scorn, and he knows that it’s not really about the fact that he just saw her naked, or about something he’s said or done, no, it’s about something he did 16 years ago. It always comes back to Aerys, so Jaime confesses. And I think that yes, in part, he’s trying to get past Brienne’s walls.

#anon #asks #got asks #jaime x brienne #jb**#got**#the bathtub scene #the wildfire plot #rape tw #jb meta #got for ts #jaime x brienne for ts

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kissmefelix · 7 years

Text

The Way You Look at Me

a/n hi i decided to take one of the prompts and make into a high school au fic, enjoy!

#22- “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

[short blood mention, be careful]

Jack hastily shoved his books and papers into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He was ready to get the hell out.

School had been stressful lately, and it was partially due to the newly developed crush he had.

This boy was in nearly all his classes, and they always had lunch together. He would see him after school sometimes in the gym.

This boy was Jack’s biggest distraction.

His name was Felix, and God, was he the most attractive being to walk the earth.

His sandy blonde hair, those piercing blue eyes you could get lost in for hours, his million dollar smile.

He was really the only reason Jack was so stressed.

Only problem was Felix was a jock. Strong, popular, had all the girls all over him. Captain of the basketball team, the cliche kinda guy you see in all the movies.

Jack, on the other hand, was the quiet type. He ate lunch alone, kept to himself most of the time. He wouldn’t dare get in the way of someone like Felix for fear of being beaten to a pulp.

So he stood on the sidelines (quite literally) and watched from afar. He would gaze at Felix during class, quietly daydreaming about those pretty lips of his.

Someone bumped into Jack, snapping him back to reality as he made his way down the hall. It was nearly empty now, seeing as most kids basically sprinted to get out of the building. He stopped at his locker, grabbing his coat and hat.

He then backed away from his locker, slamming it shut and listening to the way it echoed in the hallway.

He turned around, suddenly colliding with someone. Startled, they both fell to the floor. Jack panicked as he fixed his glasses, noticing the red Letterman jacket the person had on. That could only mean one thing: this boy was a basketball player.

He was already dead, he could feel it.

“Ow, fuck..” Jack’s heart skipped a beat as the voice, muffled by his sleeve, broke the silence. That voice belonged to the one and only:

“F-Felix..”

Jack heard his own voice, alarmed at how shaky it sounded. “Oh my god,” he suddenly babbled, “I’m so so so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you I was just getting my things and I turned around too fast. God, I shoulda been looking-”

“Slow down, baby..” Felix said, lifting his head to look up at Jack. “It’s not a huge deal.”

Baby. The work rang in Jack’s ears. Had he heard him correctly? No. He couldn’t have. As his eyes focused finally, Jack noticed there was blood casually spilling from Felix’s nose.

“Oh my god you’re bleeding!” Jack reached out on reflex, gingerly soaking up the blood with his sleeve. He began to get to his feet, pulling Felix with him. His eyes darted from the crimson liquid dripping down his face to his eyes.

“I-It’s not really a big deal.” Felix mumbled, wiping it on the back of his hand, “you don’t have to worry-”

“Felix, please.” Jack mustered up all his courage, making direct eye contact with the boy in front of him. “Just let me fix this. I feel awful, I’ll make it quick.”

Felix was quiet as Jack reached into his backpack to retrieve a small packet of tissues. He handed them to Felix, the awkward silence between the two of them nearly killing Jack.

He stared down at his feet, biting his lip and brushing the hair out of his face. Felix suddenly chuckled softly, making Jack look up.

“Ya know Jack..” Felix started, pressing a tissue to his nose. Jack’s heart thudded in his chest as his name rolled of Felix’s lips. He didn’t think he even knew of his existence, much less his name. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

Jack’s cheeks flamed. He swallowed thickly as the bright blue eyes followed his. He didn’t know what to say, so he just stood there, staring at the boy opposite him.

Felix laughed again. “It’s actually really cute. You do this thing where you bite your lip and chew on the end of your pen, and I love it so much.” His gaze dropped to Jack’s lips, only for a split second, but long enough for Jack to notice.

He knew his face was redder than a tomato but Jack suddenly didn’t care. He shot back:

“When you’re concentrating during class, you run your fingers through your hair and get it all mussed up and it’s honestly really attractive.” he murmured, nervously playing with his now blood-stained sweater sleeve.

They continued to gaze at each other, bright blue eyes meeting ones that matched. Felix’s eyes seemed to glitter as he studied Jack’s face.

He pulled his hand away, noticing the bleeding had subsided. Felix shoved the tissue in his back pocket and took a step towards Jack.

“You should talk more..” he mumbled, “at least to me.” Before Jack could ask why, Felix’s lips were on his, one hand cupping Jack’s cheek softly.

Jack froze for a second. It’s not like he had replayed this scene over and over in his head a million times. But it was so sudden, and now that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do.

But as Felix continued to kiss him, his other hand meeting Jack’s waist, Jack’s brain finally caught up. His eyes fluttered closed. He reached up, his hand resting on Felix’s chest, grabbing a handful of his t-shirt.

Felix smiled gently into the kiss, pulling away. Jack followed his action, not wanting to stop.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and make out with you,” Felix murmured, running his finger over Jack’s cheek, “I have a game to go to.” He must have seen the disappointment in Jack’s face, because he kissed him again softly.

His face suddenly lit up as he pulled away, and Jack raised an eyebrow. “Are you, um, doing anything after school?” Felix asked, “As in right now?” Jack shook his head.

“I was just gonna walk home.”

“Don’t.” Felix said quickly. “Come watch the game? I’ll drive you home after. It’s so cold outside, you shouldn’t have to walk.” Jack’s heart fluttered as he nodded, watching the smile on Felix’s face grow. “Oh um, what are you wearing under that sweater?”

“N-nothing, why?” Jack looked down at his sweater, suddenly remembering it was blood-stained. He bit his lip. “Oh, shit. I don’t have anything else to wear-”

“Now you do.” he heard Felix say. Jack looked up, and suddenly a shirtless Felix was handing him his jacket and t-shirt. “I’ll meet you in the locker room.”

Another quick kiss was pressed to his lips, and Felix was gone, jogging down the hall towards the gymnasium.

Jack watched him disappear around the corner, his heart still racing. He could still feel Felix’s lips on his. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in and smiled to himself.

Quickly stripping out of his sweater, he put on Felix’s t-shirt, which was much too big for him, and pulled on the jacket. It all smelled like Felix and he couldn’t be happier.

He shoved his belongings into his bag, and threw it in his locker, making his way to the gym.

He could feel eyes on him as he entered the locker room. It felt like the players were sneering at him. Jack didn’t blame them. He was a scrawny little baby compared to them.

“Hey Jack!” A pair of hands covered his eyes, and Jack smiled. He turned around and was met with a freshly changed Felix. And damn was he hot in his jersey.

“Is this this kid you were talking about?” Another player asked, taking a step towards Jack. He looked at the smaller boy, sizing him up. Jack moved closer to Felix. “Hey, I don’t bite, honest.” he said, smiling. “Man, Felix never shuts up about you. All he does is talk about how cute you are and how much he wants to-”

“Mark.” Felix said through clenched teeth. Jack looked over at Felix, noticing the nervous smile playing on his lips.

The other player laughed, holding out a hand. His dark eyes sparkled as Jack took it.

“I’m Mark. Co-captain, at your service.”

“I’m-”

“My boyfriend.” Felix cut in. Jack’s heart slammed into his chest so loudly he swore everyone in the room heard it.

“Jack. Felix’s boyfriend.” Jack finished, hearing his voice catch in his throat.

“Rad.” Mark smiled, oblivious to Jack’s shaking voice. “be nice to Felix, yeah? He’s short tempered. And loud. And annoying. And-”

“Shut up, Mark.” Felix ruffled Mark’s dark hair, pushing him away. Mark laughed as he walked off.

“Sorry, that was really abrupt..” Felix said, turning to look at Jack.

“I am totally fine with that.” Jack said quickly. Probably too quickly. Oh well. “The game’s gonna start soon isn’t it? I should probably go get a seat.”

“No no, you can sit on the bench with the rest of the guys. They know who you are.” Felix blushed, fixing the jacket on Jack’s shoulders that was clearly three sizes too big.

The buzzer sounded, letting the players know it was nearly time to start. Felix walked Jack out to the bench, sitting him dead center.

“Cheer for me, okay?” Felix kissed his forehead.

“Promise.” Jack replied, a smile growing on his face. He could hear Felix cheer as he walked back into the locker room, making him smile even more.

As the buzzer went off, the ball left Felix’s fingertips, flying through the air and into the net. The crowd went insane, and Jack jumped to his feet, clapping and cheering wildly as Felix looked back at him.

He had won the game for them by sinking a three pointer in the last second. He sprinted back to the bench, grinning from ear to ear as his teammates patted him on the back and punched his shoulder.

“That was amazing!” Jack gushed as he made his way over Felix. In a rush of happiness, Felix picked his boyfriend up and spun him around, laughing and kissing his forehead as he set him back down.

“I try.” Felix replied, shrugging as if nothing had happened. He leaned down to kiss Jack, laughing as Mark whistled at them.

They walked back into the locker room, hand in hand as Jack continued to praise Felix.

“And you’re so fast and smooth, holy shit you’re just so good at basketball.” Felix laughed as Jack finished up.

“You keep filling my head with compliments and it might not fit through the door.” he joked, pulling his sweaty jersey off. Jack tried his best not to stare. “Like something you see?” he heard Felix ask.

“M-maybe..” he mumbled. Felix flexed, his muscles rippling as he moved. Jack swallowed thickly, biting the inside of his cheek. “Knock it off.” he muttered, even though he was clearly enjoying the view.

He looked away as Felix began to remove his shorts, though, knowing his mind would go where it wasn’t supposed to.

“So you still want me to drive you home?” Felix asked.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “That is, if you don’t mind.” he quickly added.

“Not a problem, babe.” Felix pulled on a t-shirt and buttoned his jeans, stuffing his jersey and shorts into his bag.

“My bag is in my locker, I’ll go grab it and then we can leave.”

“You mean this bag?” Felix asked, suddenly holding up Jack’s backpack.

“H-how?” Jack asked as he was handed the bag.

“I have my ways.” Felix said. Then, as Jack gave him a strange look, “And by ways I mean I swiped the master key for the lockers from the janitor’s closet during half-time.”

“Oh so that’s where you went.” Jack laughed.

They headed out the back door, Jack pulling the jacket closer to him. Felix wrapped an arm around him as they walked to his car. It was beginning to snow, the flakes resting on Jack’s eyelashes.

He smiled to himself, snuggling into Felix’s chest.

They arrived at the car, Felix opening the passenger side door for Jack, but not before pressing yet another kiss to his forehead. His duffel bag was thrown in the trunk, and soon the car was started.

“So let’s play a game called I ask where you live and it doesn’t sound creepy.” Felix said, smiling over at Jack as he backed out of the parking space. Jack laughed softly and began to describe how to get to his house.

The car ride was quiet, but it was comfortable quiet. The silence was occasionally broken by a gentle laugh as they looked at each other.

It gave Jack time to think. About how just a little over an hour ago he had crashed into the one person he had feelings for, and now he was driving him home. Was he insane? Probably.

For all he knew Felix could be driving to his own house to eat Jack alive. His mother had always told him not to get in cars with strangers, but Felix was his boyfriend..that gave him an excuse right?

The car finally pulled into Jack’s driveway, and the two of them got out. Jack grabbed his bag, and Felix wrapped his arm around him again, walking him up to the door.

Jack turned around to face his boyfriend, smiling at him before connecting their lips. He stood on his tiptoes as he kissed Felix a little harder, hands wrapping around the back of his neck. Felix’s fingers pressed against Jack’s hips, making him shiver.

As he pulled away, Jack rested his forehead on Felix’s, eyes half lidded.

“Stay,” he breathed, “please, just for a bit.”

“I thought you’d never ask..” Felix murmured, kissing Jack again softly. Jack reached behind him, opening the door. They stumbled into the house and out of the cold, giggling as they nearly tripped over each other. Shoes were kicked off, and Felix pushed the jacket off his boyfriend’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Jack kicked his bag across the floor, and reconnected the kiss.

“I honestly can’t believe this is happening.” Jack mumbled against Felix’s lips as they parted. “I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with a kid like me.”

“I fell in love with you the moment you walked into class the first day of school.” Felix whispered, one hand running down Jack’s figure.

“Why me?” Jack asked softly, their eyes meeting.

“Why not?” Felix smiled, his cheeks glowing pink.

Jack took his hand and led him up the stairs and into the first bedroom, which Felix assumed was his. They both crashed onto the bed, Felix on top of Jack. He straddled Jack’s hips, staring down at him.

“God, I can’t stand the way you look at me..” Jack said, biting his lip. Felix chuckled.

“Now you know how I feel.” He began to kiss Jack’s neck, loving the way his breath hitched. Jack had his fingers tangled in his boyfriend’s hair, softly pulling at it as Felix nipped at his collarbones.

He left a hickey, then another and another, until Jack’s neck was a beautiful display of red and purple bruises. Felix then pulled away, deciding he had done enough damage to Jack’s neck.

He reached down, his fingers playing at the end of Jack’s shirt. “May I?” he asked. Jack nodded, already breathless.

The shirt was quickly removed, leaving Jack’s torso bare and his face red. Felix noticed his embarrassment and quickly kissed him. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, baby doll.” he reassured, rubbing his thumb over Jack’s cheek.

“I-I love you.” Jack suddenly said softly, looking up at his boyfriend. Felix’s smile grew.

“I love you too.” he said, leaning down to kiss Jack again. The kiss deepened as Jack parted his lips, allowing Felix’s tongue to run over his. He was completely lost in the feeling, his head felt light and he couldn’t breathe.

But he fucking loved it.

As it was starting to heat up, Felix’s hips began to grind down into Jack’s, pulling a moan from his lips. They parted, and before Jack could stop himself he was talking.

“Are you as good in bed as you are on the court?”

“Wanna find out?” Felix smirked, hips rolling into Jack’s again.

“Please.” Jack choked out, his back arching as Felix ran a hand down his stomach. He closed his eyes as Felix peppered kisses all over his torso, slowing as he reached Jack’s waistband. “T-take ‘em off.” Jack mumbled, desperate now for Felix’s touch.

Felix didn’t need to be asked twice. He unbuttoned Jack’s jeans, sliding them down his legs and letting them drop to the floor.

“Fuck..” Felix murmured, internally patting himself on the back for getting Jack that turned on. He quickly removed his own jeans and shirt, then straddled Jack again.

This time there was less clothing between the two of them, so when he moved his hips, Jack let out a full blown whine. He ran his hands through his own hair and watched as Felix continued to torture him.

“God, Fe’..” he whimpered. A smug smile played on Felix’s lips as he pressed his length into Jack’s, both of them holding back moans.

“So tell me Seán..” Felix started, loving the reaction he got.

“Fuck, say it again.” Jack looked up him, eyes wild and desperate.

“Seán.” Felix growled as he leaned down and kissed his boyfriend. “Are you as innocent as I think you are?”

“N-no,” Jack admitted, biting his lip as pleasure shot through him. “When my ex left he took my money and my virginity. Never got either of ‘em back.” he joked.

“Sounds like an ass.” Felix sympathized.

“He was.” Jack mumbled, grabbing Felix’s shoulder and pulling him down. “Less talk, more kissing. Please.”

"Your wish is my command.” Felix kissed Jack like there was no tomorrow, both of them exchanging quiet moans every time Felix’s hips moved.

Felix pulled away, their faces just inches apart, and Jack could feel his cheeks burning. Felix could do anything to him right now and he would take it.

“You look unbelievably hot right now.” Felix purred, eyes locking with Jack’s. Neither of them could look away.

“You don’t look too bad yourself..” Jack whispered, reaching up to run his hands over Felix’s toned arms and chest. He let out a shaky breath, still in shock about literally everything. “I-I didn’t realize how much I needed you.” he mumbled, aware of how cheesy he sounded.

“I knew I needed you, it was just a matter of bumping into you.” he winked, making Jack blush and giggle.

“More like crashing into me.” he scoffed, tapping his boyfriend’s nose. Felix laughed and leaned back down to kiss Jack again.

“Hey I got your attention, and I’ve got you mostly naked in bed right now, so I say that’s a win.” Jack shuddered as Felix’s voice rumbled through his throat.

“And to think I thought it was hopeless to have a crush on you..” Jack laughed at himself.

“Funny,” Felix teased, “I thought the same thing.” And before Jack could say anything they were kissing again.

#SORRY I CUT THAT OFF SO FAST HAHAHA #suffer #i havent written actual smut in so long i hate myself #i will soon #i promise #fics #high school au #prompts #drabbles

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