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#god life is a PIT sometimes

littledovesnow · 4 months

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a growing family

request(s): Reader and Coriolanus have a little fight, and Reader blurts out she's pregnant. AND corio when you tell him you’re pregnant? maybe even him going to the doctor with you?? I love ur fics <3

word count: 2.1k

content warnings: pregnancy, little angst (like a smidgen of it, you gotta squint to see it), little bit of mean coriolanus

You stared at the calendar that was pinned to the corkboard, heart hammering in your chest so bad you could hear it.

“No, no, no.” You mumbled, running a hand through your hair, getting stuck in a few tangles.

Not wanting to face your husband when he got home, you grabbed your purse and headed down the grand staircase and out of the apartment, walking over the Corso’s small grass area and up to the Snow’s apartment.

Knocking on the door, you looked at your chipped nail polish until the door flung open, Tigris appearing on the other side.

She had a wide smile on her face, but it fell as soon as she saw your expression. “What’s wrong?” She asked, pulling you into the apartment.

You looked down the hall to see if the Grandma’am was home. “You have to promise not to tell your cousin.”

Tigris’ eyes grew, and she looked you up and down. “What? Why? What are you-”

“I’m late.”

It took a moment before Tigris’ head snapped up, eyes meeting your own. “You- have you gone to a doctor yet?”

Shaking your head, you let out a tearful laugh. “Are you kidding? As soon as anyone sees me walking into an obstetrician’s office, they’ll run to the Capitol News fast as lightning. I want to tell Coriolanus myself; I don’t want him to find out from the paper.”

Tigris frowned. “How late are you?”

“A couple weeks. I lost track of time, and I was stressed so I assumed it was just late. But then I was taking a shower and the smell of my body wash made me want to throw up. And- oh my God, my boobs hurt so bad.”

Tigris laughed, sending you an apologetic look. “You’ll need to tell Coryo soon. I think he wants to go out to some of the Districts and do some press soon.”

It was true, Coriolanus had brought the idea up the other night at dinner, wanting to start gathering a following for the upcoming election now that President Ravenstill had announced he would be stepping down due to his poor health.

Nodding, you toyed with the loose hem of your jacket, tears coming to your eyes again. “I know, I’m going to. I just don’t want him to get mad. We’ve always talked about starting a family once he’s more established in the field.”

Tigris said your name softly, grabbing your hands. “I know Coryo, and I know he won’t get upset. Maybe if you keep this a secret any longer he’ll get a little disgruntled, but he won’t be mad.”

You appreciated the older Snow more than you thought you would, giving her a tight squeeze. “Thank you, Tigris.”

-----

Coriolanus closed the door to the apartment, letting out a sigh as he tried to keep his work and home life separate.

He called your name, walking into the kitchen with the bottle of wine he wanted to surprise you with.

Entering the kitchen, he frowned when he didn’t see you where you were usually humming to something on the radio, looking in the fridge or preparing dinner. As much as he offered to hire an Avox to cook and prepare meals, you declined it; stating you liked being able to make whatever you were hungry for.

“Love?” He called, setting the wine down and moving down the hall to the bedroom, worry growing in the pit of his stomach when you weren’t on the chaise with a book in your hand, as you sometimes were when he worked a little later than usual.

He heard a shuffle in the bathroom, behind the closed door.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” He asked, opening the door slowly, stepping in when he saw you sitting against the tub, hair pulled back crudely.

“Hi, Coryo.” You threw him a smile, though it looked more like a grimace given your current situation.

Kneeling down, Coriolanus moved some of the hair that was still growing out from the bangs, frown on his face. “What’s wrong, why didn’t you send for me? Dr. Gaul would’ve let me leave. She’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

You leaned into Coriolanus’ hand, small groan coming out of your mouth. “Didn’t want to bother you. It’ll pass in a few minutes.”

“And how are you so certain about that?” Coriolanus mused, rubbing your back as you leaned over the porcelain bowl once more.

Once you were sure you were done, you slowly rose, Coriolanus with a careful grasp on your hip to keep you upright.

“Because,” you took a swig of the water glass you had poured earlier, spitting into the sink basin. “I felt like this yesterday, too.”

Coriolanus’ hand moved to your forehead, feeling for a fever. “You don’t feel feverish. Perhaps it’s that new jam you’ve put on your toast this morning. Did you have it yesterday, too?”

Looking at him in the mirror’s reflection, you simply nodded, even though you did not. “Yeah, probably just a bad batch.”

Coriolanus helped you to the bed, hand moving along your jaw in admiration. “Why don’t you rest, I’m sure I can scrounge up some soup.”

You nodded, watching your husband’s retreating figure as he disappeared down the hall.

Once you were sure he was out of earshot, you leaned your head against the wall, one hand going to rub on your not-yet-visible bump. “You’ve gotta give me time to tell him.”

-----

It had been two days since Coriolanus found you on the bathroom floor, and he continued to believe that you simply had a small bout of food poisoning, none the wiser to the true reason you were ill only a few times.

Currently, you were sitting next to him, across from the Plinths, who insisted on weekly dinners at their apartment, only a few floors below you and Coriolanus.

An Avox went around pouring wine, pausing when you held a hand over your glass. “None for me, thank you.”

Ma Plinth looked between you and the bottle of wine. “It’s your favorite?”

Smiling, you were going to explain when Coriolanus spoke up for you, comforting hand on your thigh.

“She’s been a little ill the last few days, some food poisoning.”

Not believing it for a second, the older woman simply nodded, letting the Avox pour her another round.

“Coriolanus,” Strabo Plinth spoke up, leaning forward to talk business. “Have you given any thought about visiting the Districts? It would do you well to stop in before you officially start campaigning.”

Though only Capitol residents were eligible to vote in the upcoming election, many candidates made sure to stop into a majority of the Districts to show they aren’t afraid of the rebels, that they can control them if need be.

Coriolanus nodded, setting down his utensils. “I am, yes. Dr. Gaul and I had been talking about a good time for me to take a short leave. It looks like I’ll be able to go in few months, plenty of time before the campaigning will start.”

You mulled over the sentence for a moment, telling yourself now was as good a time as any. “If you go then, I won’t be able to go with you.”

Three sets of eyes focused on you, varying degrees of confusion swimming in all of them. “Why? It will be autumn, perfect season for photography of Panem’s future leading couple.”

Coriolanus quickly thought over any important dates in your family, none that arose during the time you two would be on the train. “It’ll only be a few weeks; we’ll be back in time for your sister’s birthday.”

You smiled at the blonde, looking at Strabo Plinth as he spoke up.

“A man can’t properly campaign without his wife there, how will the Capitol view you as a First Lady if you’re not by his side?”

“Yes, and perhaps seeing a united front will help lessen the threat of another rebellion.” Coriolanus nodded, clinking his glass of whiskey with his late classmate’s father.

Mrs. Plinth, eyes narrowing, seemed to figure out what the men did not. “Honey, why don’t we save this conversation for a better-suited time? I’m sure I can talk to Ravenstill and get him to set up a meeting time between the three of you.”

Strabo Plinth and Coriolanus both seemed content with that, shifting subjects to something you weren’t interested in.

You sent a grateful look to the woman across from you, who simply nodded in return.

-----

“I don’t understand why you don’t want to go visit the Districts with me.” Coriolanus snapped, fingers hastily undoing the tie he despised wearing.

“Coryo, I do want to go with you. It’s just that time won’t be good.” You carefully removed the numerous hairpins from their position at the nape of your neck.

The blonde man grumbled, pulling his shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers. “If we go any sooner or later it’ll be a bad time for my campaigning! Too soon, the news will have moved on to something else, like- like Flickerman’s new parrot!”

You rolled your eyes, struggling to unzip the dress you wore. “Can you-”

“Go any later and it’ll impede the speeches and galas and events I need to be in the Capitol for!” Coriolanus’ voice raised, and you paused to look at him, hand still trying to grab the zipper.

“Coryo.”

Coriolanus threw a hand up, face growing red from anger. “Do you even want me to become President?! To be able to give you all you want, to never have to worry about money, food, anything?”

You were at your wit’s end, hand finally falling from your back. “I do, Coriolanus! I do want you to be the president. But if you travel to the Districts at that time I can’t go with you because I’ll be too pregnant to go with you!”

There was a silence so loud you didn’t dare breathe. “What?” Coriolanus whispered, eyes meeting yours. “Pregnant?”

Nodding, you were once again trying to unzip the dress, huffing as you gave up for good. “Yes, and I had a special dinner planned but you just had to go and ruin it.”

Coriolanus silently moved behind you, carefully unzipping the dress and letting you use his hands for balance as you stepped out of the skirt. “You didn’t have food poisoning, did you?”

Shaking your head, you felt your eyes water. “No.”

You must have looked like a fool, standing there in your undergarments, husband behind you with his dress trousers and socks still on.

“I’m sorry for yelling. I- I’m sure we can still visit the Districts before the election, just a more abbreviated tour than planned.”

You laughed, a watery, light laugh. It was music to Coriolanus’ ears. “Whatever you want, Mr. President.”

-----

Your knee was bouncing rapidly, the only telltale sign of your anxiety.

Coriolanus had gone forth and scheduled an appointment with the Capitol’s best obstetrician, going to far as to personally thank them for agreeing to see you at such an early time. He also laid out the threat that if anything were to happen to you during the pregnancy that could have been stopped, the obstetrician would never see their family again, but that wasn’t for you to worry about.

“Love, you don’t need to be nervous. I’ll be with you.” Coriolanus mumbled, hand moving from behind your chair to your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the side.

“I know, I just- this is our first child, Coryo.” You looked up at him. “I can’t help but be nervous.”

Coriolanus smiled, pressing his lips to your temple. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

The nurse came out and escorted you two back to the exam room, instructing you to pull your shirt up as she squirted gel onto your stomach.

You and Coriolanus watched her every move, anxiety sky-rocketing as she frowned at the screen.

“What? What’s wrong?” Coriolanus asked, hand gripping your own.

“I just- let me get the doctor to confirm, give me one moment.” She didn’t look back as she left the room, leaving you and Coirolanus to soak in an anxiety-filled silence.

Only a few moments passed before the nurse returned, doctor in tow, and she also moved the wand around. “Ah, yes. You are correct.”

“What?” You asked, eyes flitting between the medical professionals and the back of the computer.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Snow. You’re having twins.”

-----

a/n: send requests here

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow #hunger games imagine #hunger games tbosas #hunger games x reader

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drunktuesdays · 1 year

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everyone is fucking but no one is horny

one of my twitter friends recently said that if she could order up a fic it would be a story written by someone who has only ever read the classics, 1.5 star trek novelizations, and their mother's romance novels from 1970, written about two people are so out of their minds horny for each other it causes them to make the absolute worst choices anyone's ever made.

and i almost lost my mind laughing because i do know exactly what she means. there is a weird vibe i can sometimes sense within the first few paragraphs a fic that really bums me out. it's almost like i can tell the author is thinking way too much about what i'm thinking about their id and it's suddenly like we're all suddenly wondering how riding a bicycle works when we're mid-ride. when you start worrying too much audience interpretation or how a fic is going to do or play or ugh marketability, it genuinely adds some weird self-conscious distance to whatever you're doing. and it's the pits from the reader side because it removes so much horniness from your story even if the idea you have is genuinely good! i know this is not a niche complaint--you find it literally everywhere as every sector of the creative internet gets #content-ed and people can't escape the stats of how any given creative outlet does.

but god there's literally nothing better than sitting down and reading some freaknasty person's art where they do not give a single shit if you like it. they had something to say and my god they were gonna say it. i've accidentally acquired so many kinks by clicking on a story where someone took me on the most insane ride of my life and i thrilled about it. i don't wanna read about polite normal regular love. i don't wanna read about people using therapy-speak on each other. i wanna read about two people feeling the biggest craziest feelings of their entire life and they cannot do anything about it except bang it out. what else are we doing here? if they're not fucking down an entire house, well jed i don't even wanna read it.

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evilminji · 9 months

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Oh shit :D ?

I just remembered! (Thank you, historical fantasy section!) But like? Serving and protecting The King, especially a HIGH KING, is quite literally not just an incredible honor... but it can sometimes be a person's Life Ambition?

Specificly a WORTHY king.

Perhaps they were denied in life. Perhaps they FAILED. And in their dying moments struggle with all they were to LIVE. To PROTECT. Perhaps the PREVIOUS king was a great and worthy ruler... but their heir is...

Unworthy.

Maybe they are born to an age without Rulers. Power shifting between hands in hidden halls. Unclear and murky. All they want is for their loyalty to MEAN something. For things to be SIMPLE.

The universe is large. The Infinite Realms? Unimaginably larger.

And Pariah Dark was a BASTARD.

Who would willingly swear to him? Fools! That's who! Every warrior soul worth ANYTHING gets as far AWAY from his Realm forsaken resting place as they can. Hides. Lest they be dragged in to his infernal, gods forsaken, cess pit of a so called "army"! *disgusted spitting noises*

But what does this mean? It means every trained FIGHTER... got the hell out of dodge. Oh, sure, a FEW refused. Like Pandora and her people. But most? The farthest side of NOWHERE, several layers down! Some still GOING! Better to be decried as cowards then have ANYTHING to do with THAT(said with loathing)!

It also means they weren't where Pariah could get to them when he woke. Couldn't help. Couldn't fight. Couldn't be commanded to kneel. Nothing. They removed themselves completely. Planned on CONTINUING to remove themselves. Preferably to the farthest reaches of forever, far beyond the bastard's gaze.

But! The whole REALM INFINITE felt it? When that... that hissing, acidic, malicious undertone? SLAMS back and away, like somebody's knocked a parasite from their backs. Replaced by coolness and starlight. Delicate balance and blood on your teeth. The pounding in your chest of HOPE.

It flutters so small across their backs, inside their chests. Washing away the old.

The King... feels tiny. Young.

.......what are they doing? Running like this. Hiding away like that will change anything. How long... when did...

There are so many of them now. A veritable army of souls, of all Ages and People's. Every armor and crest imaginable. They'd been so.. so REPULSED by Pariah... nothing else had mattered but to get AWAY. Where even ARE they? What YEAR is it? Does any of that matter?

The King.

Their Obsessions whisper. Loyalty. Service. Protection. Honor. You have left you post! Abandoned your DUTY! What are you DOING!?

They are AGHAST. They turn around at once. The King! How could they have ABANDONED the King!? Who is guarding him if they are all HERE?!

Himself!?

(Yes. Danny is fine. He is eating the "Thank You for keeping us all from dying to whatever the FUCK that was!" tamales Paulina's mom pushed into his arms on his way back home. He didn't even try arguing. He made eye contact and knew he would lose.)

(Why does he feel like something really, really bothersome is headed his way?)

It's UNACCEPTABLE. Unthinkable! The King? Unguarded? Where assassination attempts and nefarious PLOTS could occur?! What if someone tried to steal his eggs!? Or attacked him while his exoskeleton was molting!? They aren't entirely sure which species he is yet, but there are SO MANY NEFARIOUS PLOTS OUT THERE!!

*panicked honor guards*

Just? Imagine becoming king. And thinking "well, aside from the skeleton army I have to figure out, at least I don't have to manage anybody!" Only to *WABAM!* your ENTIRE GHOST COURT shows up like a week later. Turns out they were hiding from your predecessor.

You have a whole ass honor gaurd. Who REFUSE TO LEAVE YOUR SIDE. You have Chefs. Who WILL cry if you send them away. The Literal Best In The Multiverse are all following you around... YOU, a RANDOM TEENAGE, with Excited Shoujo Sparkles in their eyes... because you punched a jackass really, REALLY hard.

There is no way to make this stop. Your friends are laughing at you. The interior decorator wants you to look at swatches. What are swatches and why are you being harrased by them at 1am, you wonder? If you are Mean(tm) they throw themselves upon the floor and blame themselves for their Wicked, Evil, King-Upseting Ways and you can't even TELL if your being played here.

It's like being bullied by house elves. Or Miette.

Your parents are too excited by all the New Research (at least the reveal went well?) To SAVE THEIR SON, and your sister is HELPING THE ENEMY (Traitor!), so now you're being bullied into eating vegetables and studying more.

Then? THEN!! WHO SHOWS UP?! Like... five WEEKS late?! The Justice League. Gee! GREAT RESPONSE TIME, GUYS! Reeeal snappy! But ya, JUST missed the guy!

.......YES HES BEING SARCASTIC!!!

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

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f1byjessie · 3 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part one.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by mclaren, landonorris, and 505,281 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername a smiley lando is the best lando in my books! to celebrate the end of the 2023 season, here's a handful of my favourite photos from throughout the year!

view all 3,171 comments

mclaren What a happy lad! We can't wait to see that smile again in 2024 😁🧡

↳ yourusername you and me both! 🤝🧡

user she's got the dream job omg

↳ user IKR??? imagine just getting to follow lando around and take pictures of him all day, i'd be dead within the first hour

↳ user he'd smile at me and i'd be asking “what are we” on god 😩😩😩

↳ user is that literally all she does??? she just follows him around and takes pictures??

↳ user there’s probably a technical term for what her position is and i just don’t know it, but bc there’s so much going on around the track at any given moment, sometimes the press and other media workers are focused on something or someone else, so she’s hired on by mclaren to specifically focus on mclaren to make sure that there is content for mclaren or mclaren sponsors to use. she’s not just lando’s photographer, she also takes photos of oscar, the pit teams, and the other staff that work in the garage, but she was hired on when lando started so her portfolio is pretty full of him. hope this helps!

user didn't know i could need so much orange in my life but here we are

user LANDO NORRIS SUPREMACY

oscarpiastri i see who the favourite is 🫤

↳ yourusername you literally SAW me picking photos for your post too

↳ oscarpiastri yeah but you posted his first 🫤

user guys this is the face of the 2024 wdc winner take it in now

user i could write a 50 page thesis on the importance of these photos and what they mean to me and how the serotonin they make me release could replace my depression meds

user lad’s like a mini danny ric with how smiley he is

landonorris best photog right here folks

↳ yourusername you're only saying that bc i always get your good side

↳ landonorris i'll have you know that all sides are my good sides 🤨

↳ yourusername whatev helps you sleep at night luv 😊

In 2019, when you took on the job of being McLaren’s lead photographer, you hadn’t expected it would garner you the amount of attention it has, or that it would slingshot your career to levels of success you never could have anticipated, or that you would get a best friend out of it.

When you first met him back in those early days, you’d thought Lando Norris was an arrogant, pretentious, self-righteous prick who thought he was hot shit because he was a Formula One driver. However, he’d quickly proven you wrong when he’d admitted to you that a lot of the confidence was an act━ carefully constructed to hide his insecurities about his performance both on and off the track.

“I mean, we’re drivers, yeah?” He’d said. “But we’re also actors. We’ve got these personas that we have to uphold even out here on the paddock, and I’m always worried I’m not playing the part well enough.”

It hadn’t made a lot of sense to you then, you thought he was pulling off the persona of Total Douche remarkably well, but in Shanghai, things changed.

After the Chinese Grand Prix, things were dour. Lando had DNFed━ the first in his Formula One career━ which contrasted greatly with his previous accomplishment of P6 in Bahrain. Carlos Sainz hadn’t been doing very well, either, and it didn’t paint a very pretty picture for McLaren so early in the season. You’d thought he’d throw a hissy fit, tear Daniil Kvyat apart for his role in the crash, or at the very least throw some shade his way, but he hadn’t done any of that. He’d accepted his fate with grace, joked to the media about how boring the race had been because of what had happened, and then gone on to congratulate Carlos for at least finishing.

What was even more shocking, was that despite his disappointment and the frustration he must’ve been feeling, instead of going back to sulk in his lonesomeness or drown out his feelings with booze and loud music at some club, he’d comforted you later that evening.

The morning of the race, as you’d been getting ready in your hotel room, you’d gotten a text from an unsaved number admitting to you that they’d been taking part in a months-long affair with your boyfriend but had been previously unaware that he was already taken and therefore wanted to let you know to clear their conscience. You’d managed to hold yourself together then━ mostly because you’d already done your makeup and, quite frankly, didn’t have the time to sob it all off and then attempt to salvage it━ but as the day drew to a close and the adrenaline of the race and its excitement wore off, and with nothing else to keep you distracted, you were struggling to keep yourself composed.

Lando had somehow noticed in that weirdly perceptive way of his that something was off, and he’d sat with you, asked what was wrong, and listened when you━ through tears━ explained the situation to him.

“He sounds like a total fucking muppet,” he’d commented after you’d said your piece, and he’d done it with such a deadpanned expression that it had startled a genuine laugh out of you. Because yeah, you’re (now ex) boyfriend had been a muppet.

After that━ and after all the rom-com and ice cream binging you’d both done in his hotel room afterward much to the chagrin of Lando’s nutritionist and the displeasure of his PR officer━ you’d rescinded your initial judgment of him. He was significantly less dickish than you’d originally thought, and it let you finally understand what he’d meant when he’d talked about putting on a persona.

The cocky, know-it-all prick that Lando pretended to be half the time was all just an act to hide his overly self-critical nature fueled by his insecurities.

By the end of the season, he’d gained a little confidence of his own and had subsequently toned down the assholery when he no longer needed to “fake it til he makes it,” and you were calling him your friend.

It’s 2023 now, and he’s since been upgraded to best friend status━ a role he takes very seriously, and constantly reminds you of.

“I’m your best friend━” case and point, “━you have to come to Bali with me. Literally, like, what am I gonna do without you there? Do you expect me to just go by myself? What if I get lost? Or what if somehow the mafia, who have unknowingly had a hit out on me for years, track me down there and I’m kidnapped and ransomed off for billions of dollars? What will you do then?”

“You just want me to take pictures of you,” you answer, rolling your eyes only because you know he can’t see you through the phone.

He gasps in mock offense. “I cannot believe you think I value you so little! I want you to take pictures of me and be here to help me make fun of awkward tourist spray tans so I don’t feel like a total asshole for being the only one who laughs.”

You laugh at that. “Well, unfortunately laughing at bad fake tans doesn’t pay the bills.”

“But taking pictures of me does.”

“Yeah, when McLaren is paying.” You turn back to your laptop, a photo put on pause mid-edit splayed across the screen. It’s of Lando, as most of your photos tend to be despite your attempts at keeping things even between the McLaren boys. It’s the last of the images you need to send over for their 2023 sendoff, and when it’s finished you’ll officially be without work for a painstaking two months. “I’m on break too, technically, until they need promotional shit for the new season.”

He huffs, and you can almost imagine the childish pout on his face. “What are you even doing, then?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t want Lando to know about your winter plans, but because you don’t really know how he’ll react, which means it could be anything between genuine happiness for you and congratulations, or abject horror and feigned screams of anguish. He’s always been dramatic like that, but even more so now that he’s comfortable enough with you and himself to have crawled a decent way out of his shell.

Even still, he’s your best friend and it would make you a pretty shitty person if you didn’t tell him.

“Believe it or not,” you start, wringing your hands together, “but Manchester City actually hit me up with an inquiry. Asked if I’d be interested in working with them on a project documenting their training throughout the winter months. I said I would love to.”

He pauses for a good long moment, and you prepare for the screaming, but all he says is━ “Man City? You traitor. I thought Man United was our forever!”

“Be so fucking real right now, Lando Norris,” you answer, laughing as you do so. You’re relieved, at least he hasn’t gone the feigned anguish route, but you also can’t tell if he’s happy for you or hiding his true feelings behind humor like he’s prone to doing. “You know damn well you only watched them for Christiano Ronaldo and he hasn’t played with United since 2009.”

“Technically he played for them in the 2021-2022 season,” he grumbles.

“Yeah,” you deadpan, “and he was dogshit. We both agreed to pretend it never happened.”

He groans, “I can’t believe this. My day is ruined and my disappointment is immeasurable.”

“Oh, get over yourself. It’s only for the winter. I’ll be back in McLaren Papaya by February when they need me snapping shots of you and Oscar next to the new livery,” you promise.

The reality is that it’ll probably be sooner. McLaren has always been good about getting you back at HQ pretty quickly, either to get some snapshots of the beginning of Lando and Oscar’s pre-season return or to just capture some material of the engineers at work to promote their readiness. You understand why they can’t keep you around all year━ no Lando and no Oscar means no you━ and with the sheer amount of content you capture and edit for them throughout the season, they’ve got enough to last them the handful of weeks you aren’t working.

Unfortunately, you aren’t working with a driver’s salary to keep you sustained over the break and rent certainly hasn’t been getting cheaper. In past years, your bank account has been chirping with crickets when you’ve returned to work after the winter, and that was before your landlord had decided to make your life a living hell.

You have an important job, but it’s by far the most important, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Working in sports media taught you that early on.

“Who knows?” Lando’s voice snaps you back. “Maybe Jack Grealish with his perfect hair and perfect calves will steal you away and you’ll be in sky blue forevermore.”

You laugh, “Jack Grealish is a happily taken man, and although he does have perfect hair and perfect calves, I’m more of a Haaland girl anyway.”

He guffaws. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re so far gone that you already have a preferred player. Jack Grealish is England’s poster boy! Everyone loves him whether they like City or not!” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “Christ, I can already feel you slipping through my fingers. I give it a week over there at Etihad before you call me up telling me I can find a new best friend because you’ve replaced me with Phil Foden and Julian Alvarez.”

“For someone who supposedly hates Manchester City, you’re certainly well-versed in their roster.”

“Well duh, I need to know my competition,” he says, like it’s obvious.

“Ah, yes,” you snark back sarcastically. “Because you, a Formula One driver, have to be worried about the football players of Manchester City.”

“Apparently I do if you’re calling yourself a Haaland girl now!”

You burst into cackles and he’s following shortly after with chuckles of his own that eventually peter out into a comfortable silence. You are really going to miss him for the few months you aren’t working with him.

The Formula One schedule is so jam-packed across the season that it typically means you’re getting to see him every day for an hour or two at least, if not for the entirety of the time he’s at the track. You follow him and Oscar to their sponsor obligations, their interviews, and everything in between. It’s honestly rare if you’re not getting a moment to goof off and dick around with one another━ and it’s even rarer for you to not actually see one another face to face in passing at the very least.

The off-season is your least favorite time of the year for this very reason, and though it makes you feel a bit full of yourself to think so, you imagine Lando doesn’t enjoy this time of year much either for the same reason.

“I promise I won’t replace you with any of the City boys,” you say after the silence has stretched on a moment longer.

He huffs again, but you can envision the smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose even if you do, I’ll just show up to a match and steal you away again.”

“As if. Have you seen Grealish’s calves?”

INSTAGRAM.

liked by user, user, and 517,472 others

footballfansofficial BREAKING: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward caught with mysterious woman revealed to be well-known Formula One photographer Y/N L/N! The two were seen sharing a romantic evening on Friday, the 5th of January, ringing in a passionate start to 2024. Garrett Ward has been with Manchester City since 2021 but was out on loan to a lesser-known Championship League team until 2023. He has just recently begun to play for his team again, but an injury early into the season has seen him benched for a majority of his time back. Y/N L/N is a photographer for Formula One racing team McLaren and has been working with them since 2019. Recently, she has been working with Manchester City to help promote a new docuseries following the men’s team’s winter training. Check the link in our bio for the full article!

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user OMG GARRETT WARD??? NOTORIOUS BACHELOR GARRETT WARD???

user who is she? like genuinely how is she relevant 🤔

↳ user no literally cuz like who even gives two shits about formula 1?

user girl works in f1 why can’t she stay there

↳ user i’m sure there are plenty of drivers who’d smash her idk why she needs to try and get footballers too like bffr 😒😒😒

user aint no way this bitch is kissing my man rn

user literally what does he even see in her??? she’s not even cute AND she’s wearing man united colors 💀💀

user Y/N L/N??? I THOUGHT SHE WAS WITH LANDO NORRIS???

↳ user LITERALLY ME TOO?? like she posts him all the time on insta so i just kinda thought they were an item or smth?? trouble in paradise maybe

user she’s fucking ugly wtf

user i wish these footballers who get with regular women would realize there are so many better girls out there that would ACTUALLY treat them well and would support them in their careers. like i bet this girl doesn’t even know anything about football. she works in f1 and that’s where she should stay bc nobody cares about that shit round here. she probably doesn’t even know the first thing about how football works, but i bet she’ll be at matches pretending like she knows what’s happening. garrett ward is gonna flush his career down the troilet for this chick bc she’s gonna convince him his busy schedule ain’t worth it and then city will be down a great forward for good, and it’ll all be her fault

user i mean she’s kinda pretty tbf

↳ user stfu she really isn’t

↳ user she gen looks like any random bitch off the street

user these comments are not it…. 😬

↳ user maybe you f1 fans just don’t know how to handle constructive criticism

↳ user is the constructive criticism in the room with us rn?? cuz all i’m seeing is bullying and hatred directed towards an innocent woman who’s only “crime” was going on a date

user ok so she can take photos?? 🙄🙄 maybe she should get a real job

↳ user she’s probably only with him so she can mooch off of him like a fucking gold digger

user AINT NO WAYYYYYY

user it’ll last a month max 😌 i’m calling it

user ayo lando come get your girl

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette

━━ a/n: here we have it! took me a bit longer than the start of american smile did, but lando's story is officially here! (and it's a whopping 2.9k words to start us off). first and foremost, before we get started, garrett ward is 100% an oc and obviously does not play for manchester city, and this is bc i would feel absolutely horrible portraying a real person in the way that garrett will be later on. gather from that what you will haha! regardless, i hope you enjoy this first part and stick around for the rest!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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wlntrsldler · 2 months

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thinking of you're on your own, kid and luke x reader.

warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, luke being a simp, hurt, betrayal.

i. summer went away, still, the yearning stays.

your first summer at camp half-blood was a whirlwind, as you assumed it was for anyone who finds out that they are a child of a god. you were one of the older ones, you've come to learn soon after arriving. at seventeen, you were years behind many of the children who inhabited the camp. still, you were treated like anyone new who entered.

you were greeted by the head counselor of the hermes cabin-- luke, he said his name was. it was an easy enough name to remember, but you knew him as the boy whose eyes looked honey-brown in the sunlight, whose lopsided smile made you feel a pit in your stomach, and whose voice made your head spin.

you'd gone to summer camp before. you knew what it was like to have a summer crush. in the third grade, you met a boy named evan kim in asheville. he always had his nose buried in a book. his glasses would slip down the bridge of his nose and he pushed them up with his index finger without skipping a beat. you found comfort that you could sit beside him under the shade of the tree beside the dining hall, not saying a word, just reading.

but the haze of summer subsided as the leaves on the trees changed colors, and by september, you could hardly remember what he looked like. and when he didn't return to camp the following year, you forgot all about him.

but camp half-blood was different, of course it was. and luke was different, of course he is. he stayed with you longer than he had to, but you didn't know that at the time. after all, you were new. you didn't know that all luke had to do was show you around on your first day.

he found you sweet. and really pretty. he loved how the tips of your ears turned a shade of pink when he said your name (he said it too often after he learned it, it just felt right rolling off his tongue). he loved how you smiled at him, looking up at him (he was thankful that he had a growth spurt the summer before he met you), and the crinkles beside your eyes were on full display. he loved how you giggled his name when he did the stupidest things (he did it to make you laugh; chris rolled his eyes, fondly, every time.)

the entire summer, he spent glued next to you. the campers knew that if he wasn't at training or doing his duties, he would be wherever you were. that often meant sitting at your feet while you read under the tree by the lake. too often, you'd rarely get any reading done because luke would ask you questions about yourself. he asked about your life outside of camp (what's your parent like? what kind of school do you go to? do you have a boyfriend? when you answered no to the last one, luke internally cheered.) sometimes he'd read over your shoulder, or ask you to read an excerpt to him, but he never brought his own book to read. he much preferred to watch you.

when you were claimed by your godly parent, luke feared that you'd stop hanging out with him as often (or really, stop letting him follow you around like a love-sick puppy.) because you'd prefer your own siblings' company. but he let out a breath of relief when he found you sitting under the tree the following day, reading your book.

you heard his footsteps, ones you've grown to love, and the sounds of the grass crunching under the soles of his shoes.

you grinned at him (with the smile you reserved for him), "took you long enough, castellan. thought you weren't gonna show."

he took his usual spot sitting diagonally at your feet and smiled, "there's no place else i'd rather be."

so yeah, you'd been to summer camp before. you'd had summer infatuations before, but not like this. not like luke.

when it was time for you to head back home after summer ended, you promised to return the next summer. you promised him that you'd write letters and he made a joke about how it was just like those romance books you read. he didn't miss the way your eyes widened in shock at the comparison. unable to speak, you kissed his cheek goodbye.

at that, luke made a promise to himself that next summer, he'd tell you how he felt.

ii. i waited ages to see you there.

luke waited for your return that summer. he'd grown bigger over the months since you last saw him. he was more muscular, more confident. the girls at camp were taking notice of it. sure, luke had always been a good-looking guy, but there was something about him now that made his charm undeniable. (he would never admit it, but the entire time you two were apart, luke was dedicated to making himself better for you. he wanted to impress you.)

annabeth rolled her eyes at the new-found attention her brother was getting and made it her mission to humble him every chance she got. luke made it clear to her that the attention would never get to his head. there was something unspoken there, but annabeth knew. the only attention luke wanted was from you.

she found it cute, a little gross, but cute nonetheless, so she waited with luke at the entrance of camp-half blood for you. when the sun set and there was still no trace of you, annabeth didn't comment on how luke's shoulders were slumped as they walked into camp together.

luke had faced a lot of disappointment in his life. from not being the perfect child his father expected him to be, to returning to camp as a failure after his quest, he'd gone through a lot of disappointment; far too much for a nineteen-year-old to bear, but this one was the worst of it all.

he skipped dinner to retire to the hermes cabin early. he pulled out a shoebox from under his bunk, the place where he stored all the letters you sent him over the months you'd been apart. he read through them, trying to figure out if you gave any indication of not returning to camp. but there was none.

at the end of every letter, you had written a countdown until you were back at camp. luke's excitement grew as the numbers on the bottom of the page dwindled to a week, the last time you sent him a letter. the last letter was about your eighteenth birthday. you had dinner with your friends from home and received new books to read for when you were at camp. (luke had a top three; he was really hoping you'd read them to him.) in the letter, you also managed to sneak him a polaroid of you before you blew out the candles on your cake. on the bottom of the photo, in your lovely handwriting, you wrote: "for luke."

he kept the picture in his wallet since he first got it.

as he was reading through the letters again (the paper was falling apart between his fingers. he had re-read your letters too much over the months because he missed you so much), annabeth came running into the hermes cabin. she was out of breath and luke could barely understand her. but when your name, "another kid," "grover," and "hurt" left her lips, luke ran out of the cabin to find you.

when he saw you lying on the bed, bloodied and bruised, luke's heart stopped. he ran to you, distressed, and held your hand, only hoping that you'd feel his presence. when you gave his hand a weak squeeze, luke smiled under the tears that spilled from his eyes.

as others tended to your wounds, luke sat there patiently, not once letting go of your hand. when you were finally cleaned up, luke let his sleepiness take over. he fell asleep on the uncomfortable, wooden chair beside your bed, making sure that he was touching you at all times. when his hand cramped from holding yours, he stretched out his fingers, letting his thumb rest on the pulse point of your wrist. he wanted to make sure you were really there.

waking up to a slouching luke castellan, face buried in the crook of his elbow as he snored softly, was arguably the best way to wake up on your first day of camp. softly, you moved your hand from under him and ran your fingers through his messy curls. he stirred under your touch and woke.

"thought you weren't showing up," his voice was deep. he cleared his throat to get rid of the drowsiness. "waited for you at the door."

"as you can see, i was a little caught up," you tried to joke, but failed when you winced. "ow."

"are you okay?" luke was fully awake now. his brows threaded in concern, his hand finding yours again. "do you need anything?"

"'m okay," you whispered, "or i will be, after i heal."

"you'll tell me if you're not okay, right?"

"of course, luke." you said, smiling. "don't you have better things to do than watching me heal?"

"no, nothing important," he replied. you knew he was lying. "being here with you is where i need to be."

iii. something different bloomed.

"can you read to me?"

it was one of those hot, sticky days at camp, but luke refused to get up from where he was laying on your stomach. sweat dripped down from his forehead, but he made no effort to wipe it away. he was too comfortable.

"sure, luke," you couldn't say no to him. you read a passage from the book you were reading (the book was from his top three) as luke listened to you. he hummed when you read a particularly well-written line. he made no mention of when you paused to highlight something. he waited patiently when you struggled with a few lines. you read to him until your voice was hoarse.

"you're a great reader," he said after you were done. "i always had trouble reading. the words get jumbled in my head."

"i wasn't always good at it," you confessed, closing the book and placing it next to you. you looked down at luke only to find him already looking at you. in the sun, his freckles were more prominent. they littered across his face. "when i was younger, i really struggled with it and it frustrated me a lot. but because i can't live with not being good at something, i tried really hard to get better. 'm still not the best at it. there are still moments when the words don't make sense in my head, but i learned to take my time when that happens. if i mess up, then i try again."

luke had a feeling that that last part didn't just apply to reading. he admired that about you. in the short time that he'd known you, he saw how determined you were. last summer, when he taught you how to sword fight, you stumbled a few times but never fell down. he must've spent hours on end with you because you wanted to learn. when he saw you in the infirmary on the first night after the attack on percy, he was thankful that he did that (even if his joints ached for days after.)

"have you heard from percy?" your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "are they okay?"

luke swallowed, "yeah, i talked to him and annabeth."

"are they okay?"

"they're okay," luke felt his voice betraying him so he let out an awkward laugh, "they're like an old married couple now. they're always bickering."

he was thankful that you laughed along with him. it was good that you didn't suspect a thing. he wasn't ready to tell you, not yet. he got up from where he was lying and sat up to face you. you smiled at him, reaching over to wipe the sweat off his brow.

"i gotta tell you something," you mumbled, eyes now looking everywhere but him. "promise you won't get mad."

"could never be mad at you," he said. his voice was sincere then. he meant it. "what's on your mind, darling?"

"i think i love you."

luke's face dropped, which you took as a rejection. with tears in your eyes, you began to fumble your words. you quickly got up, picking up the book next to you, and said some ridiculous excuse about why you had to go. you were about five feet away from him when luke realized what just happened.

he sprung up from his spot and chased after you, calling out your name with each step. he stopped in front of you and grabbed you by the shoulders, "where are you going?"

"luke, i don't really think it's fair that you're asking me that when you just rejected me."

"when did i reject you?" he asked. he racked his brain trying to figure out if his voice had betrayed him.

"i saw your face, luke," you sighed. "it's fine. i should've known. you're still just being nice to me because you have to be. i just got into my head thinking that you might like me, too, but it's okay if you don't. really, it is! i just need some time to wallow and-"

"oh no," he shook his head, "i was only upset because i was supposed to do it first."

"huh?"

"i was gonna tell you how i felt this summer, but since the attack, i didn't know when the right time was." luke wanted to kiss the cute look of confusion off of your face. he laughed, "i think i love you, too. was just upset i didn't get to say it first."

"oh."

luke really wanted to kiss you then.

"you love me?"

"mhm," he grinned, stepping closer to you. he moved his grasp from your shoulders to your waist. he pulled you in, letting his lips ghost over yours. "i think i do."

you placed your lips on his.

iv. you're on your own, kid.

"luke, what are you saying?"

"he has a plan," he explained, eyes wide and begging. it was only a matter of time before annabeth alerted everyone about percy. about him. "he has a plan for us."

"luke, you're scaring me," you said, backing up from him until you felt your back hit a wall. your hand found the cool metal of the blade he got you. your fingers wrapped around it, making you flinch.

this wasn't right.

you let go of your blade, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"no, no, darling, don't be scared," he said, "please, just listen to me. there's no time."

luke saw tears in your eyes and he cursed himself for making you feel this way. he tried to comfort you with his smile, but for the first time, it didn't work. you just stared at him; the same look of terror etched across your features.

he frowned, pleading, "please, just come with me."

there was a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. luke thought, for a moment, that you would take his outstretched hand, that you would follow him and disappear into the night with him, that you would fight with him.

"no, i'm sorry, luke," you shook your head, "i can't. i won't."

his ears were ringing. he dropped his hand at the same time all of the commotion outside began. he looked at you, then at the door, panicked. his time was up.

he was on his own.

#luke castellan #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #pjo #pjo spoilers #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo fanfic #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #frances song fics #frances writes

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luveline · 9 months

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if you're still taking them I would love to make a request for Eddie and Roan! do you know how sometimes little kids will call their parents workplace just to talk about the most random things or just ask some totally super important question? I feel like roan would do that with the reader and Eddie

thank you for your request!! eddie and roan —roan learns how to use the phone, 1.3k

Eddie used to feel nervous when the phone rang for him at work. "Call for baby Munson!" shouted across the shop while Eddie was usually flat on his back under a truck or elbow deep in a scooter engine, he'd get this pit in his stomach thinking something was wrong.

It was usually daycare. Roan's sick, Roan's wet herself and her spare clothes aren't here, is Roan allergic to veggie sticks? Because she's saying she is.

But nowadays, a phone rings for him and it's almost always you with something nice to say. You miss him. You've been thinking about him. All manner of gooey soft confession that has him clutching the phone like a loser, desperate for your voice.

He springs away from his lunch when he's called. Darwin gives Eddie a funny look as he passes the phone.

Eddie shrugs it off. "Hello?" he asks. "Y/N?"

"It's me!"

Eddie feels his eyebrows leap up. "Hi, me." Roan hadn't ever used the phone unassisted, to his memory. "Where's mom?"

"She's trying to fix your hair dryer."

Eddie hears it, then, the roaring blow in the background. "Why does it sound like that?"

"She dropped it. I think she's sad."

"Ro, I fixed it!" you shout, followed by an even louder howling of air, and a heavy silence. "Okay, I didn't."

"Is that why you called me?" Eddie asks, bemused.

"No, I called you because I want to know how they make corndogs. How do they get the hot dog inside of the corn, dad?"

Eddie puts his hand on the wall to steady himself as he laughs. "You wanna know how they make corndogs? Are you gonna make some?"

"I could if I knew how!" she stresses. "I'd ask mom, but she's pre-oc-u-pied."

"That's a big word, babe, where'd you learn that one?" Eddie asks, impressed.

"Dad, corndogs!"

"Right, right. Okay, well. They put the hot dog on the stick first, and then the corn part is actually batter. They roll the hotdog around in the batter and cook them together in the fryer. So it isn't the hotdog going into the corn, it's actually corn going on the hotdog."

"Batter like for cakes?"

"No," he laughs fondly. "And it's not sweet corn, babe, it's something called cornmeal. Maybe we can make some this week, wouldn't that be fun? Then you can see how they make them for real. I think that would be super fun."

His bubbly tone attracts the attention and subsequent laughter of his colleague. He throws them all the bird, totally content and more than happy with his life and his curious girl.

"Yes," Roan cheers, dragging the 's' syllable until she's out of breath, "oh my god that would be so fun!"

"Okay, then that's what we'll do. Are you being good for mom?"

"I'm being awesome." There's a weird crunching noise. "Did you hear that? I think she put the screwdriver in the hairdryer again."

"Again?" Eddie asks worriedly.

Roan must put the phone down. Eddie genuinely can't hear a thing, until you pick up the receiver and say, "Hallo?"

"You blowing up the house?"

You make a pleased noise that has his heart doubling in size. "Hi, Eddie. I'm having a technological mishap, but rest assured, we are in no danger of explosion. Anymore. What did you call for? It's lunch, isn't it?"

"Actually, Roan called me. She wanted to know how to make corndogs."

"You do know everything," you say. "Go and eat your lunch, baby. We'll still be here when you get home, yeah? I love you. Roan, come and tell daddy you love him before we hang up."

A small silence. "Dad?" Roan asks.

"Yep, still here."

"I love you, okie dokie? Please come home in an hour."

Eddie laughs warmly. It's more like four hours, but whatever she wants to think is what he'll tell her. "I love you. Tell Y/N I love her, too, will you? Thank you."

"Yes!" Her voice comes quieter, "I love you," Roan says to you.

"I love you, too. Let's make dinner."

You must think he's said goodbye, because the phone gets a knock and the dial tone sounds.

—

You're sitting at your desk shovelling pretzels into your mouth while you click around your emails when the phone rings. You slide it between your ear and shoulder, pausing your frankly messy chewing. "Hello and good afternoon, Y/N L/N speaking, how can I help?"

"Y/N?" Roan says worriedly.

"Roan? What's the matter?"

"Oh, it is you! It didn't sounded like you at first, that's weird."

"Sorry, gorgeous, I was using my voice for fancy grown ups."

She giggles like this is the funniest thing you've ever said to her, "You're being funny," she praises.

You're secretly incredibly pleased. Making your six year old laugh never gets old. "So nothing is wrong, then? You know, those numbers on the fridge are for emergencies."

"This is an emergency."

"Yeah, I bet. What's going on? Where's dad?"

"He's making toffee cake for you. I was helping him do the buttercream but my arms got tired from whisking."

"Is that why you're calling me?"

"Yeah."

You dig for a saltier pretzel and chew thoughtfully. "What's the tiredest part? Your shoulders?"

"And my fingers."

"Asked daddy to kiss 'em better?"

"I would but he's trying to be perfect about the cake. It looks yummy."

"Did you get to lick the bowl?"

"Yeah, and dad let me eat a spoon of the melted chocolate. It was pretty great."

You grin into the receiver. "I bet it was amazing. Maybe you can try and rest your poor arms. Make daddy pour you a big glass of cranberry juice with the heart shaped ice cubes and watch TV until I come home, okay? That's an order."

"Okay," she laughs. "When are you coming home?"

"I can leave in about twenty minutes, and the drive home takes another twenty, so…" You check the time on your computer. "I think by five."

"Ugh, that's forever away."

"I know. Do what I said, okay? Sit down on the couch. I can have a little look at your arms when I come home, maybe we can have a pamper night tonight. We can use some of my fancy lotion and rub it in like a massage," you say.

"That sounds nice," she hums.

"Alright, sweetheart. Listen, can I talk to dad before I go back to work?"

"Yep, yep." You know what's coming as soon as she inhales. "Daddy!" she bellows at the top of her lungs, "Y/N's on the phone!"

It's flattering how swiftly he gets there. "Hey?" he asks.

"Hi, do we need anything for me to grab on the way home? I know you ran out of deodorant, was there anything else?"

"Nothing I can think of. You okay?"

"I'm awesome. I told Ro you'd make her a big cup of juice for her sore arms."

"She told you about those, huh?" He kisses her audibly. "She's the best mixer ever. I was thinking we'd change her name to kitchen aid."

You choke on a pretzel. Coughing, you laugh through a chastisement. "You leave her name alone. Roan is a nice name all by itself."

"If you insist," he says grandly. "See you in an hour? I've got a surprise for you."

"I can't wait," you say. You'll pretend to be totally surprised at his cake, no problem. Anything to make him smile. "Love you both. See you soon."

"Love you. Say love you," Eddie prompts.

"I love you!" Roan yells. "I'll make dad put your blanket in the dryer!"

You put down the phone with a small smile, wondering if you can weasel your way past your eagle-eyed coworkers for an early finish.

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lychee-angelica · 2 months

Text

The Venus Nakshatras 🍓

Bharani, Purva Phalguni, Purva Ashadha

Hi all, I've been gone for sometime now but I thought I may as well post something from my drafts. Hope you all enjoy! 💕

Sukra (Venus) ♀

Sukra is the Hindu God who is known as planet Venus. He not only rules over the signs of Taurus and Libra, but also the nakshatras; Bharani, Purva Phalguni and Purva Ashadha. The word Sukra translates to 'bright' or 'clear', as Venus is literally the most visible planet during night fall, bright, glimmering and illuminated. For this reason planet Sukra indicates all that we desire in life; wealth, material pleasure, love, relationships, beauty and art. All that Venus represents is inherently feminine, beautiful and attractive to us.

Sukra's rulership over Taurus and Libra expresses his desirability in two very keystone ways. Taurus indicates materialism, wealth and sensuality. Whereas Libra indicates love, balance, relationships and beauty. On the other hand, the Venus ruled Nakshatras divide themselves into a more in-depth understanding of Venus.

Sukra was entwined within the two worlds of the Devas and Asuras (Gods and Demons). He was considered the Guru of the Asuras (Teacher of the Demons), yet held strong relations with the Devas, specifically Lord Shiva (The Destroyer).

As Venus represents all that we could desire in life, he therefore is who naturally inspires demonic energy. Although being considered a planet rich in positive and beneficial qualities himself, the negative side of Sukra relates to such sayings as; Desire is the root of suffering or Beauty is pain. Venus is inherently situated on this polarity. All the things that Sukra represents has potential to bring out the worst in an individual, it is important that we don't ignore this fact, rather than simply become mesmerised by his immense beauty and desirability.

One story told depicts Sukra residing within the stomach of Lord Shiva (The Destroyer), meditating for a thousand years. Sukra was later ejected out into the world by the force of Lord Shiva.

Unbeknownst to me as to how Sukra ended up in the pit of Shiva's stomach, I find this story deeply symbolic of Venus. Sukra did not experience this grant of emission into the world by any such Deva, it was Shiva, God of Destruction. This is why the Venus Nakshatras embody fierceness, rather than a quality rooted in tenderness or softness. Ejection is an act that is forceful in nature too, solidifying our understanding that Venus has some inherent magnetism and strength.

Fire and Fierceness

All of the Venus Nakshatras are considered to possess a fierce quality. Fierceness carries with it themes of destruction, fire and confrontations. Fittingly, these nakshatras are all located within the heart of the fire signs, Aries, Sagittarius and Leo. Fire signs are of course the most passionate, intense and energetic celestial locations of the zodiac.

🍷 Bharani Nakshatra

Sign: Aries, Symbol: Vulva, Deity: Yama (God of death)

Bharani is the most intense of the Venus Nakshatras, unsurprisingly so, as Aries being ruled by Mars garners the most potent manifestation of the fire signs. The word Bharani translates to "bearing children", indicating that this nakshatra is that of heaviness, suffering, beauty, transformation and fertility. Understanding this, the symbol of a vulva representing Bharani is needless to say relating to very similar themes, yet additionally, apparent feminine sexual potency.

Yama (God of Death) ruling over this nakshatra deepens the relations Bharani holds with transformation and depth. This nakshatra is intense and fear inducing - beyond what can be comprehensively measured. Bharani resembles best the polarity of life and death, mortality is what essentially ignites our carnal motive to create life.

🍷 Purva Phalguni Nakshatra

Sign: Leo, Symbol: Bed, Deity: Bhaga (God of Love and Marriage)

The word Purva Phalguni translates to "the first reddish lady". The term reddish lady simply means a fertile woman. It is a given that Purva Phalguni nakshatra relates immensely to sexual and romantic pleasures. Considering this nakshatra is the first sequence of 'Phalguni', it carries with it an initiating tone - both inviting and alluring. As Purva Phalguni is symbolised by a bed, this nakshatra deepens it's roots within the realms of sexual pleasure and recreation. Beds are also associated with structure and stability, being which a small key when understanding the nature of Purva Phalguni.

Bhaga (God of Love and Marriage) ruling over this nakshatra deepens it's ties with not only the pleasure received by the outcome of love, but also commitment. All that love has to offer within committed relationships is inherently of the purpose to be stable and abundantly pleasurable.

🍷 Purva Ashadha Nakshatra

Sign: Sagittarius, Symbol: Elephant Tusk and Fan, Deity: Apas (Goddess of Water)

Purva Ashadha translates to the "the first invincible one". This nakshatra relates to a force of impenetrable strength, yet not in a masculine way, Purva Ashadha bridges the tie between strength is the kind that is effortless, fluid and feminine.

Although Purva Ashadha is strong, as signified by the elephant tusk, it is also symbolised by a fan. This is the last of the Venus Nakshatras, where the immense heat of Aries and Leo has metaphorically cooled from the heat bestowed from Mars and Sun. Jupiter is not as hot and harsh as these previous planets, so to say that Venus has cooled off and matured in a sense is understandable.

Apas (Goddess of Water) ruling over this nakshatra creates a dynamic nature of both force and fluidity. She is of course the most feminine of deities to rule over the Venus Nakshatras. Purva Ashadha does not only embody strength and stability, this nakshatra is attuned deeply with emotion, beauty, softness and moisture.

#vedic astrology #astrology #jyotish #sidereal astrology #astrology observations #venus #venus nakshatras #bharani #purva phalguni #purva ashadha

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tiyoin · 3 months

Text

I ate your heart

warnings: graphic description of: violence, SA, gore, mentions of cannibalism, murder, reader almost gets graped, alcoholism*, manipulation, ‘victim blaming,’ unhealthy coping mechanisms, dark content - alastor and readers relationship is up for interpretation

dawg imagine you get killed by yan human alastor.🫣

like you’re thinking that you’ll finally be safe in the afterlife, hoping that you got a spot in heaven. (yet apparently, premarital sex would automatically remove your spot in line for a chance at salvation)

blasphemy does those kinda things🤷🏻

doesn’t matter if you lived as a nun. helping sinners see the light and righteousness of god. doesn’t matter if you fed por hand your entire life. or even if you solved the trolly problem.

one toe out of line, and your ass is grass.

so you’re in hell. if you knew you’d be going to hell you would’ve done a lot worse things in your human life for more power.

imagine living on the low, yeah you’ve killed people, maybe even took a soul or two. but it’s nothing to brag about, especially compared to the over lords.

—

very important note at the end.

1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.

by pressing ‘read more’ you have consented to reading this.

just a few years into your stay they started going missing. one, by one.

there was a whisper in the wind, a chill in the air as everyone had this impending sense of dread as a new over lord would be found almost daily. ripped to shreds, horribly mutilated, with missing limbs and ginormous bite marks that would open the food gates for intestines to spill out and pool around them.

sometimes there were no intestines at all.

or a body.

yet there was always a new broadcast

it wasn’t an exaggeration that everyone has been looking over their shoulders whenever the shadows looked a bit longer than usual. when the air starting churning and crackling. when the sudden sound of screaming ripped through the air. it was a natural hell-born reflex to flinch at the slightest noise of static.

a conditioning technique his radio broadcasts seemed to involuntarily instill on sinners.

you’ve never seen this so called ‘radio demon’ in person before. well, barely have been able to escape him and tell the tale so you weren’t sure what to look for.

or look out for. all you knew is that his name was alastor. and that whenever you heard that name you blood ran cold and your body stiffened.

tour mind would ring and your head would pound as you try to remember just where you’ve heard that name before.

yet your memory always failed you.

but alcohol never did.

seated at a bar as noisy club music blasted, you trace your finger longingly on the rim of your shot glass. eyes already drooping as your wrist which was keeping your head propped up started to ache.

you wouldn’t call yourself an alcoholic per say. more of a,,, continuous connoisseur. which was surprising due to the hellish prices on everything here.

it’s not eternal damnation unless there’s a 5% sales tax plus gruitivity.

so instead of working your ass off to make a living, you’ve decided: ‘hey, it’s hell! i can do whatever i want (to an extent) and so i choose to scam men!!’

with every new bar came a new rotation of men looking to take up the empty seat next to you. you puffed your chest as you recalled a few women and non conforming folks take the seat sometimes.

you always made sure to… entertain them.

feeling a familiar pit in your stomach, you pause your hand. the coldness of the shot glass cooling your hot lips as the animal man next to you howls with laughter. the alcohol hitting his system like a firecracker.

and like clock work, his hand slipped around your waist, as he whispered filthy nothings you didn’t bother to catch, having heard it all before. even the sweet begging to take out to one of the many sex rooms the club has.

yet he dragged you towards the exit.

and you allowed him.

you thought it comically ironic that you were doing just the thing that punched your ticket down here.

the bitter cold nipped at your skin and tickled your brain. you were always so confused with the temperature of hell. freezing at night, scorching during the day.

even he’ll hated the homeless. who knew 🤷🏻

in the alley next to the club the animal man was biting and clawing at you. panting and speaking gibberish as his clumsy movements seemed to cause a new line of blood on your skin. you couldn’t do much to stop it.

limbs and eyes heavy as you tried focusing on him, on his wandering hands, his filthy mouth.

you wanted to go home.

he favored ignoring your sluggish mumbling and groans to comment about ‘wanting to fuck you nice and hard, giving you a few kits to remember him by.’

your clothes were practically in shreds. the chill in the air adding a faux impression of clarity as your arms started to weakly bang against him.

you didn’t even think he noticed as your fists wouldn’t even make it to his chest. you were so weak right now.

the only reason you weren’t crumpled on the ground as because he were pinning your entire body to the wall.

yet the inconsistent grip he had on you caused you to ping pong a bit.

“s stowp” you slurred, head lolling down as you felt his claws stop momentarily. he let out a cackle that rang through your eyes and rattled your brian stem.

fuck. you hissed. this is gonna one shit of a hang over

the drunk broke your thoughts as he continued his drunken rambles.

“the moment you took the sshhhot” spit flew in your face “i paid for… you were mine” he pushed his face in your neck, the hotness of his breathe sending distressed shivers down your body. urging your body to WAKE UP

yet he kept you pinned. you head looked to the side when tears started streaming down your face and with a big, slimy lick he greedily lapped them up.

you started struggling once his claws moved to your legs.

fuck fuck fuck you fucked up. you fucked up. why did you think this was a good idea, you knew something bad was going to happen. why didn’t you just listen to your gut. why didn’t you just take his watch and turn to the next man. why did you entertain him.

why did you let him buy you that drink.

“angel shot” had different meanings for the orderer.

if a woman ordered it, then security would either beat the shit or kill the demon she pointed out. (whether the staff respected women or just wanted an excuse to get blood on their hands, was a topic you often avoided thinking about)

but, if a man orders it… he wants to take a woman to the heavenly gates of sovereignty himself.

that last part is often open to interpretation.

nothing ever got done about these drinks. you were in hell after all. you think the politicians would ban something they invited?

the sting of his drool on an open, bloody bite mark on your collarbone ripped you from the sanctuary of your minds palace as his glowing yellow pierced into yours.

in an instant you felt nails digging into the flesh of your bruised and battered neck. blood dripped from your neck and onto your body as he squeezed harder.

black spots danced across your vision, followed by white, then purple, then red.

“help” you choked out, head lolling to the alley way as people walked by, not even phased. it was just an average day in hell after all.

the arm that wasn’t trying to put distance between you and him was heavily reaching out towards the street. hoping anyone, anything would come save you from your fuck up.

“get ready to meet god, bitch” he growled, hands-

there was a squelching noise as his breathe stilled. you dropped to the ground, hard. as he let go of you. his clawed hands fell limp to his sides. his face was blank as he staggered back.

“w-what” he stuttered, arms shakily moving to his stomach- well, what used to be his stomach- as a black tendril was impaling him.

you couldn’t move, couldn’t even stand or lift your eyes to see the scene before you. your heart beat was slow, yet thunderous in your ears. it’s thump almost made you miss the pleading, miss the screams of absolute anguish as the sound of flesh tearing and static and laughter filled the air. miss the way his head rolled in your direction before a dark, clawed hand reached from the hands and snatched it back.

it felt like hours before someone came up to you. but realistically, it was only a few seconds before you felt something hard and metal touch your head. only for the oddly shaped stick to wrap around your hair and yank your head up.

you groaned at the pain, eyes droopy as you struggled to stay conscious. you wouldn’t have been able to fight even if you wanted to.

paralyzing fear that washed over you like a tsunami, RUN. a voice spoke. yet you couldn’t even breath automatically. that job becoming harder and harder with each passing second. you couldn’t forget about the possibility of broken bones after… your viscous assault.

so you had no choice but to stay pliant to the new player in the game.

“well well well” your eyes snapped up, your eyes met the abyss as a ferocious, crazed grin greeted you.

“it seems you carried over that habit of keeping… bad company he mused. although there was a hint of amusement in his radio voice, you knew there was nothing to laugh about.

he sighed before picking up the demons decapitated head by his hair. pushing it toward your face you were forced to smell him.

he pulled his staff- you- closer to the head, your upper body twisted uncomfortably as you were almost nose to nose with you.

a whine left your throat as alastor face came into your peripheral vision.

“what’s wrong? i thought you two were in the middle of something! but all means continue, i would hate to intrude”

he wasn’t talking about tonight. you knew that.

you felt your consciousness slip for a moment, only for a moment as a sharp sting penetrate your skull.

in a moments time the head was gone, but it was replaced by a dreaded sense of dejavú.

your brows widened as the face of pure, unadulterated fear contorted onto your face.

his grin only seemed to widen as his eyes crinkled harder.

“it seems someone remembers something. tell me miss y/n” he leaned closer, some kind of indigenous symbols started to crackle and float around him.

“tell me what you remember” he sneered, radio voice growling as his horn stretched out longer than before.

your mouth was dry, yet your tears were bountiful as your body’s natural reactions took over.

you were petrified. alastor knew this as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of terror that cling to you like perfume as you struggled to speak.

he hummed in what sounded like disappointment. but you were never sure what he was feeling as that damned smile was always glued on his face. even now.

he stepped away as he dropped your head, luckily your arms were positioned as the perfect pillow for your head to fall onto.

“since that cat has clearly stolen your tongue” he mused, briefly looking to the furry body he just… exterminated. he got bigger. horns growing even linger from his head, like branches from a tree, his already deformed limbs cracked and snapped like twigs as they went in all they grew longer, and larger in thr wrong directions.

you hadn’t thought it possible, but his smile grew larger, sharper as more teeth were revealed. pointy, yellow stained teeth with chunks of flesh and fur still in them smiled at you.

you were scared.

scared for you life-

your soul.

you wanted an escape.

giving up on physical escape meant the only place safe was your mind. yet even there he still resides.

yet his limbs weren’t twisted and broken, his voice wasn’t shrouded in statics and his hair most certainly wasn’t red.

you gasped.

alastor.

his face deepened.

“so you’ve remembered…”

you were shaking, visibly shaking as you saw two of him.

one with full teeth and brown eyes and hair… the other…

monstrous, nightmarish. hell-ish

why’d you think you could escape him, why’d you think you’d get mercy in your afterlife, when you didn’t revive any in your past life.

you didn’t wanna die by the same man twice.

alastor, who could practically read your mind inched his face down further

“don’t worry little one, i do not plan on making the same mistake twice.” like a flicker of a candle his demonic form turned into his human form. though you must have imagined or hallucinated it. as the thing was still there.

yet with each passing moment his horns subdued into his head. his grin downgraded into a smile as the symbols slinked out of existence one by one.

“i was quite… emotional back then.” he pet your hair, instantly stopping your shaking. he pretended it wasn’t because you were scared stiff.

“i didn’t know how to react when i heard you had a midnight rendezvous with the librarians son. it broken my heart” he sniffles, eyes slowly turning back into red slits.

“it saddened me, woed me to do what i had to do.” he sighed. you felt a punch to your gut as his personality did a compete 180.

“i never wanted to… yet you left me in a tricky situation” he shook his head sadly, palm against his cheek to empathize his sadness.

“but!” he said, a smile on his face as he pointed up. “i know it wasn’t your fault, that boy had been ogling you far too long so i did the only thing i thought that was fitting.”

his free hand opened his palm, showing you a faux image of smoke and mirrors, a woman and a man.

they looked around before they noticed each other. you could tell what their relationship was by how they ran to each other.

before they could reach each other, he crumpled his fist, nails digging into his glove as his slits narrowed.

“i ate you heart”

—

1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.

*as the author I feel obligated to write this : reader is an alcoholic but they can’t see that they are. due to having friends struggle with this i’m telling you guys straight out. that reader is addicted to alch so that part isn't up to interpretation. it’s very serious and very isolating, please think about your friends and families before you go down this path. voluntarily or involuntarily. addiction isn’t fun or even remotely ‘cool.’ the more serious talks we have about addiction instead of crossing it out as 'something only dirty people do' and start seeing it for the monster it truly is; is the day we will get as a society. although i didn’t struggle with alcohol addiction, i was victim to another kind that plagues me to this day, so please take my advice and make smart choices.

this also extends to self destructive behaviors, like what reader is doing

personally, i think alastor is some kind of ace / demiromantic

out of all the things I was gonna write to come back, I never would've thought it was gonna be a hazbin hotel imagine. let alone an alastor x reader one.

#if you guys want more lmk☝️#personally I think alastor is ace #alastor my love #but what is media if not interpretable #if ANY of you are going through something #not just my moots #im always here to talk as I've seen through a thing or two cause ive been through a thing or two😼#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #yandere alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor

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gogh-with-the-flow · 4 months

Text

Angst for no reason incoming (cw: cheating)

Johnny had been off ever since you picked him up from the airport last night. It wasn't unusual for him to be distant sometimes when he first got home. It was a difficult adjustment going from live fire back to civilian life, and sometimes he needed time to get back into the swing of things. But this time was different. He couldn't look you in the eyes. Instead of falling exhausted into your arms, he shied away from your touch. His body was stiff when you hugged him. He didn't rest his hand on your thigh the whole ride home. He didn't even kiss you.

You assumed he had seen or done something worse than usual. You assumed the deaths had been more brutal, more numerous. Maybe he had lost someone close to him this time. It's not like he could even tell you, all his operations were black. Strictly confidential. You were just a civilian.

You did your best to comfort him. You made him a hot meal, drew him a bath, offered to massage his sore muscles; but he picked at his plate until it was cold, locked the bathroom door, and slept with his back to you all night.

Something in your gut told you it was wrong. You ignored the pit in your stomach that warned you. You boxed his dinner up for him to eat when he was feeling better. You pulled the blankets tighter around you to drive out the cold you felt without him beside you as you slept. You pretended to be asleep when he silently rolled out of bed and crept out of the bedroom. You pretended not to hear his low voice talking on the phone in the living room. You pretended not to hear him cry.

He avoided you the next day, too. Answering in one or two words, barely eating, leaving the room as soon as you walked in. He barely spoke to you until that evening.

He called you into the living room, where you found him sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands, eyes unfocused staring out at the wall. His wedding band glowed in the lamplight. You sat beside him. Your hands reached to comfort him, but landed instead in your lap when you noticed how he tensed when you reached for him.

"I need to tell you something," he said, his voice low and monotone, his words careful and measured. He wouldn't look at you. His blue eyes were cold and stony, his jaw hard and clenched.

Oh no.

"What is it?" You asked, hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Your eyes scanned him for any sign of bruising, but his skin was clear.

He shook his head, a slow, even movement. His hands shook as he dropped his forehead onto them and closed his eyes tight. The faintest shine of wetness gathered at his lashes. He took a deep, trembling breath.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, the sound leaving him as if his soul were rushing out through his mouth.

God, please, no.

"John..." you uttered. Your stomach twisted. You heard the thump-thump-thimping of your pulse in your ears. "What is it?" You repeated.

Please, not this. Anything but this.

"When I was away..." No... "Bonnie, I-" Please, God, No- "I had sex with someone else."

The only sound in the room was the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. His words echoed in your head as you processed his confession. Everything clicked into place as the seconds passed into minutes. His behavior since coming home wasn't that of trauma. It was guilt. He couldn't look you in the eye, couldn't even bare to touch you, because he couldn't carry the weight of his shame.

Your body and mind operated separately. You tried to sort your thoughts out, but your heart was running away from you. Your hands trembled as you fumbled with your wedding ring. Your throat felt as if you had swallowed a stone whole. Your face was wet with tears you hadn't even felt fall.

"Who?" You asked. Your voice sounded more like nails clawing at a closed door. Johnny gasped as he strangled down his own tears.

"My lieutenant," he confessed, his voice saturated with guilt. The watery words erupted from his chest like a violent geyser, as if he couldn't get them out fast enough; as if saying them burned his tongue, his throat, his stomach.

You sobbed at the revelation. You knew him. You'd shaken his hand. You'd thanked him for looking after your Johnny. Your Johnny! Oh, you were going to be sick.

Your legs carried you away from him, away from your husband and the future you two had together. They carried you into your shared bedroom, your marital bed now sullied by infidelity. Your hands locked the door behind you. You collapsed onto the floor. His arms didn't catch you. They didn't hold you close, they didn't comfort you. There was no comfort to be found on the cold tile of the bathroom you'd crawled into. You emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet and cried with reckless abandon.

You screamed and wailed like a widow. You mourned your marriage, your love, the future you could never have now. Your trust was broken. How could you ever repair what you had?

---

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

I honestly don't know where this cane from. I'm sorry guys. Maybe I'll continue this idk

#john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish angst

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heesdreamer · 1 year

Text

skin on skin

PAIRING ➩ jake x reader

GENRE ➩ religious corruption au, church boy jake au, evil reader

WARNINGS ➩ heavy criticism of religion in an extreme exaggerated manner, manipulation, multiple smut scenes, the mc is straight up mean and evil and says mean things all the time lol. parental and spousal abuse… think that’s it maybe lol it’s an intense read

WC ➩ 20.4k (😵‍💫)

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ the spacing is a bit weird because apparently this exceeded the length amount in tumblr… i don’t care about your think pieces on religion or the way it’s discussed in this so please don’t try to educate me on the actual ways of christianity! it’s a story! that being said this is in no way making a mockery of jake and his religion. this is my favorite story ive ever done and i had a good time writing it which is rare lately so i really hope you enjoy it and if you make it to the end let me know what you think! hope you like it as much as i do

It wasn’t like you came out of the womb with horns and a little forked tail.

The nurses didn’t scream in terror and your mother didn’t faint at the sight of you, it wasn’t some grand discovery that anybody could see or anybody could plan for.

You made it through your formative years relatively normal, or at least as normal as you could be considering who your father was. But it wasn’t until middle school when you realized how different kids would treat you because of this.

Those were your favorite years you could remember. The half decade before anybody cared, or knew enough to care, what it meant for you to be who you were. Then you were old enough to have consciousness and design your own set of morals, something all the parents in your town dreaded.

Your town was barely that, more so a few neighborhoods sprawled across barren lands with more fields and trees than concrete and signs of the modern world that had seemingly developed everywhere, except for where you’d been born.

Sometimes you wondered if you’d been cursed to stay here forever. It seemed like everybody who was born here, died here, but unlike you they all seemed pretty content with this fact. Proud even, the elders stating the amount of years and generations they’d own their rusty old homes like it didn’t create a nasty pit in your stomach.

Time was frozen and the world had moved on, leaving all 2,000 of you behind to die and birth and die again until eventually the last generation killed themselves off in an act of sympathy, a mercy slaughter.

It was probably immoral to be thinking about your entire town dying whilst in church. But you didn’t think much about the implication of having sinful thoughts anywhere, regardless of how many crosses were currently burning stares into your back.

More than 70% of your life was spent inside these four walls, on this exact weathered seat on this same old pew.

See, when turned 12 years old and the kids at school made you aware of the fact your dad was the lead preacher at the only church in town, you figured this made you some sort of royalty.

Not once did you feel the overwhelming holy presence of god that everybody else seemed to be experiencing everyday after school and work when you all settled in together to listen to your fathers teachings.

You’d sit with a scowl on your face, turning around in the front row pew reserved for the preachers family and you’d observe the people around you. You knew everybody in your town, some more than others, but you always thought people looked different when they prayed.

The nice man who worked at the grocery store looked far more guilty and weathered with his eyes closed and the angry woman two blocks away who yelled at the kids riding their bikes too close to her sprinklers, looked peaceful like she was talking to an old friend.

Your mother would hiss under her breath in an attempt to catch your attention, sending soft pinches to your thighs until you’d begrudgingly turn back in your seat and plop down in your puffy dress, tuning out the sound of your fathers loud voice.

Looking back on it now, your mother seemed to notice the dark parts of you brewing before you even did. The two of you never saw eye to eye and despite the fact you were her only child, much to her dismay considering they tried for years after your birth to have another but to no avail, she never treated you with any sort of motherly warmth or kindness.

She’d glare at you from across the dinner table while her and your father conjoined hands and thanked the lord for the meal that your mother had cooked. You’d started to sit on your hands at dinner when you were 7 years old and what once was a cute misbehaving habit quickly became the warning sign of your future endeavors.

Still, part of being the preachers family was playing an act. So you’d all get up early in the mornings and wordlessly move around the house like the backstage of a play, dressing the part and giving bright smiles to each family that walked through the doorway on Sunday morning.

Your mother would stand behind you with a long stretched out smile, hands on your thin shoulders as she dug her nails down every time she felt you tense up at a greeting.

Then you were 16 and for the first time in your life, you heard her voice the thing you’d always assumed she believed. You stood in the hallway in your nightgown, standing stiff as a board to avoid the creaking wood of your old house, peering around a dimly lit corner to hear your parents conversation more clearly.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong Mary.” Your fathers rough low voice was flowing in your direction, sounding tired and agitated. You could vaguely hear the sounds of his rough hands rubbing over his unshaven scruff in frustration.

“She will.” Your mother sounded panicked and alert, desperate for him to understand her case. “I can’t explain it but she has this darkness in her, I’ve felt it ever since I was pregnant.”

Your breath caught in your throat as they spoke, understanding now they were referring to you. You were only slightly surprised, no grand feelings of fear or betrayal arising.

That nights conversation had ended with your mother in a fit of tears and your father uttering words of reassurance in an attempt to calm her down as you used the sounds of her loud sobs to sneak back to your room, getting under the covers and blowing out the candles by the time your father was opening your door to insure you were in bed.

He’d stood there for a few minutes, the door cracked with his hand on the knob. Do this day you wondered what he was waiting for. Maybe he was expecting you to talk in your sleep or he was trying to get some sense of the evil your mother was spewing about, but eventually you heard his tired sigh and the door shutting.

It’d been three years now since that conversation and you still hadn’t fully understood the evil your mother was referring to. You didn’t believe in god, that much had been clear to you from a very early age but you didn’t believe in the devil either.

You didn’t feel things maybe you should be feeling, sadness when an elder passed away unexpectedly or happiness when a new baby was born into the community. You didn’t feel pain when your mother shot you looks of disgust and you only felt slight jolts of satisfaction when she leapt in fear every time you entered a quiet room.

The seed of evil that was apparently inside of you never bloomed, no matter how much you waited for its arrival.

Until the day the Sim’s arrived to town.

It was extremely rare for somebody to move out of your hometown, and you’d been instructed to never speak about the families that left, to let yourself forget their names and faces. Forget any interaction you’d had with them now that they were gone.

But you’d never once contemplated the fact that it was possible to move here willingly. It hadn’t occurred to you that somebody would choose this place to live and that they’d be allowed to stay peacefully, and especially not given a grand welcome.

So you felt yourself uncharacteristically thrown off guard as you found yourself at church on a Saturday, typically your only day you weren’t required to be here. You’d spend these days down by the creek or riding around the abandoned section of town on your bike, trying to find something interesting to see.

As you stood near the stage, where your fathers podium was perfectly centered and polished, greeting the usual faces with a forced smile, your eyes landed on the most interesting sight you’d ever seen.

The Sim’s were a direct mirror of your family as they stood in front of you. Only three of them, a tall man giving your father a sturdy handshake and laughing like old friends and a small meek woman who was holding your mothers hand in both of hers, a thankful smile on her face.

Placed directly in front of you was a boy, seemingly your age, shifting back and forth on his feet as he waited for you to initiate any form of greeting.

There was people your age in town, your graduating class held 25 kids and over half of them were girls, daughters that were considered blessings for their special ability to continue on your towns population. You’d met boys, few handsome but handsome none the less but nobody who looked like the one standing in front of you.

He was taller than you, peering down at you from behind thin framed glasses and about double your width. You imagined you were hidden behind his shoulders to the view of the people stood in line behind him, waiting to greet your family.

His skin was tanned, something that you imagined wouldn’t last long considering you weren’t sure your town was blessed by the sun at all, almost constantly grey and dreary looking even in the peak of summer.

You took your time observing the boy, not feeling any sense of urgency at the knowledge people were watching and waiting, not even at the fact your mother was stood directly next to you and you could feel her stare on the side of your face. Her loss of attention seemed to make the boys mother nervous and she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“And this is our son, Jake.” She was chirping out and you almost wanted to laugh at how desperate she seemed to impress your family. The boy, Jake, was looking at you still for a second before his eyes shot to your mother and he gave her a nervous smile. “He’s shy at first but he’s a very good boy.”

His eyes flicked back over to yours as she spoke and your mouth quirked up in a small smile, finally sticking out your hand in offering to him.

You felt a strange feeling build up inside you, splattering against your ribs and painting your insides with something deep and powerful. As you held his hand in yours, your eyes caught onto your mothers and you could see the fear crossing over her expression at her own realization.

“Hi Jake.”

And the seed bloomed.

——

It wasn’t more than 30 seconds after your father finished his last word, the remains of it still echoing throughout the room underneath the chorus of ‘amen’s, that your mother was gripping your arm and dragging you back into his office space.

She closed the door swiftly and you yanked your arm out of her grip with a scowl, staring at her for an explanation about her sudden behavior despite having a slight inkling of what she was about to say to you.

“You can’t.” She spoke vaguely, an angry desperation in her voice like you were a feral dog with a hungry look in its eye.

“What are you talking about?” You lowered your agitation, doing your best impression of a confused and fearful daughter. She scoffed at your expression and held a hand to her mouth like she was genuinely amazed at your audacity.

“You leave that boy alone Y/N, or so help me God.” She was shaking her head at you and you felt a surge of annoyance at her tone, her voice shaky and weak.

You thought she was slightly pathetic. She’d spent her entire life treating you like the devil, implying your evil and avoiding you at all cost but the second you finally start to understand her concern and she’s immediately turned to pleading and bargaining. There was no fun in this for you.

Soft knocks against the door caught her attention and she looked over your shoulder, trying to ignore the fact you were still staring at her and not bothering to turn and face whoever had entered.

“Go home and get dinner started.” Your fathers voice was entering the room now in a hushed whisper, like somebody was still outside behind him. “We are going to have a welcome meal with the new residents.”

Your mothers eyes shot back in your direction at his words, like she was begging you to remember her previous warning and you offered her a small smirk before turning to face your father with a toothy grin, expression changing now.

“Of course father, whatever you need.”

——

You’d ignored your mothers glare the entire time you worked on dinner together, setting the table casually and changing into a less formal dress that gained a thumbs up of approval from your father.

When the Sim’s arrived, you greeted them similarly to how you did at church except your mother made sure to shake Jake’s hand for a prolonged amount of time so you couldn’t, only breaking apart when your father cleared his throat and ushered you all towards the polished dining room.

He took his seat at the head of the table and you briefly wondered what type of man Jake’s father was. He was larger than your dad, much larger and you noticed a hint of irritation in his face when he took a seat on the side. You imagined he sat similarly to your father at his own house and didn’t find great pleasure in the new arrangement.

There was three seats on each side and your mother had rushed to take a middle seat next to you, attempting to block anybody else from being seated beside you.

However your father cleared his throat subtly and sent the both of you a small glare, confused at the fact she hadn’t adorned her usual seat next to him. You were sure he realized it would be strange for her to sit a seat away from him, making them look distant or troubled.

She sent you a small angry look but shifted over a space so she was now sat in her usual place, leaning an empty chair between the two of you.

An empty chair that was soon taken by Jake, his mother sending him an encouraging smile and giving him a slight nudge in your direction. You remembered what she said about him being shy, not hiding the fact she was trying to create a friendship between the two of you.

His mothers face angered you more than your own. She was small and weak looking, constantly smiling with wide eyes like she was waiting to drop into a conversation at any time to force a connection, yet she rarely did throughout dinner. For the most part she stayed silent, nodding along obediently every time her husband spoke.

So you kept your attention on the boy for the most part, figuring the adults were too busy kissing eachothers ass’s to care about what the two silent teenagers were doing at the end of the table.

You knew he could feel the way you were watching him, sending you small glances out of the side of his eye and shifting uncomfortably in his seat every time he realized you were still looking.

He really was handsome you were deciding. You’d never really paid attention to boys before, understanding the difference between being attractive and not but it didn’t have any affect on you. You liked the slope of his nose and the way his throat bobbed with every nervous gulp he took.

Your father was seemingly noticing your mutual disinterest in the conversation, you watching Jake and him watching his empty plate. “Y/N honey, why don’t you take Jake to your room and show him some of your notes on our latest teachings.”

Both of your heads turned towards him as he said this, your eyes lighting up with excitement and Jake’s widening slightly.

“Oh..” His mother was starting and you resisted the urge to glare in her direction. “Jake isn’t… he’s never..”

Jake’s father sent her a sharp look and she snapped her mouth shut immediately, looking away from him. Your excitement only doubled as you realized she wasn’t comfortable leaving her son alone with a girl, leading you to believe he never had been before.

“Of course father.” You smiled at him softly, standing and flattening out your dress in a prudish manner. Jake glanced in your direction as you stood, clumsily rising out of his own chair as you headed up the stairs and down the hall to your room.

He followed wordlessly behind, still not speaking even when you stood in the doorway and let him awkwardly squeeze past you so he was stood stiffly in the center of your room. You closed the door behind you and he froze, eyes widening again.

“What are you doing?” His voice was high with worry and you realized it was your first time hearing him speak.

“What are you talking about?” You played dumb as you observed him, walking backwards until your legs hit your bed and you could sit carefully. He stayed standing as he watched you with confusion and worry.

“Mother says not to close doors.” He was shaking his head and it looked like he wanted to go and open it himself. He didn’t move however and you leaned back to rest on your hand, cocking your head in his direction.

“Do you always do what mommy says?” You questioned.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your condescending tone. You’d seemed nice enough at church and dinner, not speaking much but polite to your parents whenever you did. He was suddenly worried he had angered you.

“I guess she did say you were a good boy.” You quoted what his mother had said when she introduced him, voice carrying a faint mocking tone as you spoke.

He didn’t say anything after you said that, just standing there looking at you like you were some form of animal he’d never seen before. And maybe he hadn’t you were beginning to think, his speech was structured and tight like he was reciting lines and you were curious if he’d ever had a conversation with somebody his own age.

Your hand reached over to pat the bed next to you, raising an eyebrow at him and urging him to sit.

He watched you with that same look for a few seconds before looking back at the door like he was contemplating how fast he’d have to bolt out of it before you could sink your claws into him. He seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, crossing the room and sitting down as far away from you as he could possibly get.

“Where’d you come from?” You didn’t plan to say that but the curiosity was driving you crazy, not quite understanding how he could be so sheltered.

“A village not far from here.” He was eventually answering with a soft shrug. He was sat perfectly straight on your bed, posture making him look even taller than he already was considering you were still leaned back on your palm.

You should’ve figured he was from a village, suddenly understanding why his mother was practically a house wife from the 1800’s and his dad looked relatively similar to a lumberjack.

“No girls at your village?” You were watching the side of his face as you questioned him, growing slightly agitated that he wasn’t looking at you. “Jake.”

He turned his face towards you when you addressed him, eyes widening like he was worried you were going to scold him from the sound of your stern call.

“I asked you a question.” When he didn’t immediately answer you assumed he hadn’t heard you, repeating yourself. “Was there no girls where you’re from?”

He was shaking his head swiftly, looking at his hands and then back towards you. “None like..”

“None like me?” You interrupted him as he started to trail off and your lips quirked into a smile. “So no pretty girls then.”

He frowned as you hummed and nodded your head like you’d made sense of what he was trying to say. He didn’t look like even he understood what the things you were saying meant and you almost pitied him as you slowly unlocked the full extent of his naivety.

“You’ve probably never even held hands with a girl right?” You kept your tone sweet despite your intentions.

He looked like he only slightly relaxed at your change of tone, glancing at you as he shook his head as a way to answer your question. He didn’t understand why you wanted to know this.

You were sitting back up straight, off your hands, and leaning sideways to get closer to him. He watched you with panicked eyes as you reached down near his lap and took his hand in yours, similarly to how you shook it at the church but the tension in the room was a direct opposite.

He made a strange noise when you touched him, a semi squeak at the suddenness of your contact and you smiled at him, scooting closer so you weren’t awkwardly stretching your arm in his direction.

“How does it feel?” You murmured, fighting the urge to lean against him and whisper in his ear. You didn’t want to scare him off just yet.

“I don’t think I should be in here.” He was shaking his head as he spoke and staring down at your conjoined hands or maybe the floor past them. They were resting in his lap, the back of your hand on his right thigh.

You frowned softly although he wasn’t looking at you, trying to keep up with your act. He seemed to be more pliant earlier when he thought he had upset you. “Jake.”

He glanced at you as you said his name, just like he had before, and his gaze looked guilty when he noticed the frown on your face. You squeezed his hand to try to bring his attention back to the fact you were touching him but he shook his head again.

“I really need to go Y/N.” He was still trying to sound polite despite his obvious discomfort and you almost smiled at the innocence of that.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You let a small whine sink into your tone, really trying to drive home the idea that he was upsetting you and you felt him squeeze your hand absentmindedly.

He didn’t reply after you said that and the room fell into a strange silence. Then he was sending a heavy glance in your direction and your mouth parted in realization, understanding his inner monologue by the thick amount of guilt in his expression.

“You do want me to touch you.” You let your smile show now, not finding any reason to hide it now that he clearly took your bait. He squeezed his eyes shut as you said this and shook his head again, his hair messy now and falling into his face.

“What’s wrong Jake?” You were almost cooing at him, your hand sliding out of his and up his wrist, in result the back of your hand going further up his thigh. You kneaded at his wrist bone and he grunted at the almost painful sensation. “It’s just skin.”

He looked at you with a frustrated expression, holding eye contact for a few seconds much to your surprise. You were almost worried he was going to cry. You didn’t mind it personally, if anything you were thinking about how pretty he’d look with watery eyes and a red nose, but you imagined it would cause some level of concern with the parents.

So you released your grip on his wrist, taking your hand back and placing it on your own lap. You were still sitting far too close to him but he visibly relaxed at the lack of touch, however slightly confused why you had backed off.

Almost like the world had been paused for the entirety of your conversation and now played again, a soft knock on your door caused you to leap away from him and grab the bible your father insisted was kept on your nightstand at all times.

You were relieved to see his face when the door opened, knowing your mother would have most likely immediately sniff out what you’d been doing. Or at least attempting to do.

Your father looked between the two of you and the large space, nodding in approval when you flashed him a smile and opened to a random page in the book. He didn’t seem to notice how tense Jake was or the fact your door had been closed in the first place.

“Your parents are leaving Jake. You can stay a bit longer if you two are having fun.” Your father was saying in a welcoming voice but Jake was hopping off your bed before he even had a chance to finish.

“No, sir. Thank you but I really should get home and finish unpacking.” He was stumbling over his words and awkwardly shifting in place, waiting for your dad to move out of the doorway so he could make his escape.

Your dad shot you a confused look over Jake’s shoulder and you gave him a small shrug, fighting the urge to smile.

——

Guilt was eating Jake alive the entire ride home. He wasn’t quite sure what he had necessarily done wrong, what level of sin he had just committed, but his mother kept shooting him disappointed looks in the mirror.

“Will you stop looking at the boy like that.” His fathers gruff voice was mumbling from the drivers seat and his mom snapped her eyes back to the front window obediently. “It’ll be good for him to make a friend.”

“What type of girl leads a boy to her bedroom?” He was surprised his mother had spoken again, especially in the harsh tone she was using. She must’ve been angry enough at you and your behavior to forget the fear she held for Jake’s father.

He felt a bit strange as she said that. You were definitely weird and had made Jake feel something he’d never experienced, and he positively wanted to leave your room as quick as possible but he didn’t think you deserved such a mean comment.

He continued to feel strange for the rest of the night.

Jake laid in bed, hours past his usual bed time, and replayed your interaction in his head. Every time he got to the part where you grabbed his wrist in your tight hold, he squeezed his eyes shut and asked god to forgive him.

He could feel his stomach light up when he thought about your hand on his pants and he wanted to dig his nails into the skin as a self punishment for the thoughts brewing in his head, thoughts he had never had before and didn’t understand.

Rolling over in his bed, stomach to the mattress, he stuffed his face into his pillow and cried softly until he eventually fell asleep.

——

You felt giddy in the church pew the next morning after seeing Jake walk in with his parents. You immediately knew your plan had worked judging by his puffy face and swollen eyes. He’d clearly gotten no sleep and you could take a strong guess at the reason why.

A sick part of you was ecstatic at the fact you had something to do, something that actually managed to catch your interest.

If all it took to keep Jake up all night was you touching his hand, than you were preparing for more fun than you originally thought.

The morning had gone routinely as you remained in your seat for the entire sermon, not spinning around to try to catch a look at the boy despite the urge constantly in the back of your mind. You didn’t focus for a second but you did a solid job pretending until you heard a hushed voice behind you excusing themself.

You snuck a glance back to see Jake passing through his pew with muttered apologies and thanks to the people he was passing, smiling softly at them.

You watched him exit the pew and make his way down the main aisle, no doubt heading towards the bathroom hall since it was the only other part of the building outside of your fathers head office. You let him disappear from your sight and counted to 30 before abruptly standing and following his path before your mother could grab your hand in denial.

By the time you made it to the hall, Jake was exiting the bathroom with damp hands and a few wet strands of hair like he had splashed his face in an attempt to wake up.

His eyes widened when he saw you approaching and he glanced behind him like he was considering disappearing back into the bathroom so you couldn’t say anything to him. You smiled at this but didn’t move closer to him, leaning against the wall.

“What are you doing?” He watched you with careful eyes, not quite sure what you wanted.

You shrugged and furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing? You look tired, did you not get any sleep?”

He didn’t say anything as he looked at you, eyes heavy and guilty again like he was afraid you could read his mind. Unlucky for him, you didn’t have to read his mind to know what was happening in it.

“Were you thinking about me?” You pushed forward on his suspicions when he didn’t respond to you, tilting your head as you looked at him.

He didn’t respond again, letting out a small tired exhale before leaning against the wall opposite of you. The hallway was tensioned despite not being close enough to touch even if you stretched your arm out.

“I was thinking about you.” You suddenly confessed in an attempt to catch his interest or potentially get him to lower his walls enough for a solid conversation. It seemed to work considering his head was snapping up and he was looking at you with wide questioning eyes. “Is thinking a sin?”

He watched you for a few seconds, slightly embarrassed that you had somehow realized what his inner dilemma lead back to.

“Yes.” He answered matter of factly and you let out a small laugh.

You observed the way his lips awkwardly quirked up, like he was pleased he made you laugh despite being dead serious in his answer. His smile pulled at his cheeks for a second and you liked the way he nervously wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.

“What… what were you thinking about?” He squeezed the words out like they were painful after a silence fell between the two of you. You felt a bud of satisfaction at the fact he’d been curious enough to ask.

“Touching you.” You shrugged like it was a casual thing to say, watching his shoulders tense and his mouth part slightly in shock and disapproval.

“My hand?” You were a bit surprised that he asked a follow up question, voice dropping into a scared whisper like he was worried somebody was eavesdropping, maybe he was worried god could hear him.

You were watching him for a few uncomfortable beats, liking the way his cheeks turned red and he kept looking away from your gaze anxiously. Then you were shaking your head to answer his question, taking a step closer to his side of the hall.

His breath hitched as you kept taking small strides in his direction, taking your time with a loose smile on your face like you were out for a casual walk. You stopped next to him, turning and pressing your back against the wall he was leaned on so your shoulders were pressing together.

You wondered if he was planning to hold his breath the entire time you were touching him this time around, his face reddening even though your skin was separated by multiple pieces of thick fabric.

“Would you let me touch you again?” You leaned over slightly so you were closer to his ear, your chin hovering over his shoulder.

“You can’t.” He was immediately denying your request, stiff and agitated sounding. His voice was tight as he spoke like he was having to force the words out. “Please don’t do this.”

“Because you’re a good boy right?” You were even closer now, your lips touching the shell of his ear and he was shuddering against you, a frustrated whine in his throat.

He sent a sharp glare in your direction, at least as sharp as his features could get. You thought he looked cute when he was mad at you, eyes brows furrowed and his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. Despite the way he was looking at you, he made no attempt to push you away or step apart himself.

“I want you to come to my house after church.” You whispered to him and he didn’t say anything, for once not shaking his head and just looking at you as you spoke your cruel demands. “I’ll tell my dad to talk to your parents about helping you catch up on his teachings.”

He looked amazed at your audacity, to not only lie to your parents but to lie about the lord and the Bible made his stomach turn in disgust.

Still, he almost couldn’t help but to lean his shoulder closer to yours and watch you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. He felt almost transfixed by you and your newness, the unique energy you gave off that made his head spin. He nodded his head slowly and watched you smile.

——

You’d waited for your mother to leave the house, a very rare occurrence for her outside of her weekly bingo nights at the recreational center in town, before you poked your head into your fathers office to request he calls the Sim’s.

You felt strangely jittery as you waited for them to send Jake over. Surprisingly, the Sim’s hadn’t moved into a house that far from you and you imagined he could probably ride a bike to your house in less than twenty minutes if the weather ever allowed it, rainy days an almost constant feature around this time of year.

It was only around half an hour before you heard knocks on the front door, followed by the low tone of your fathers voice and eventually the creaking of the steps as somebody made their way up to your bedroom.

Jake seemed thrown off when he saw you, dressed in far more casual clothes than he’d seen you in so far. He also looked momentarily relieved at the fact your door was wide open and you didn’t make any move to shut it as he crossed into the threshold of your room.

“Hi.” He politely addressed you with a slight bow and wave, avoiding looking at you fully where you sat on the bed. You gave him an incredulous look and sighed before patting the spot next to you.

He looked like he was dreading this but expecting it, only taking a few seconds of hesitation before he was shuffling over and sitting slowly down on your soft bed. You immediately scooted closer to him and grabbed his hand in yours.

His reaction wasn’t as intense as last time although he did immediately stiffen and his eyes snapped wide open, but he didn’t let out a small shriek at the feeling of your touch like he did yesterday.

“Are you going to let me touch you today?” You kept your voice low and he was suddenly very aware of the fact your door was completely open and your father was just a few feet away downstairs.

He slowly looked over at you, peering up from behind his long eyelashes and you wanted to grab his face with your nails. He looked like a puppy who had just done something naughty, big eyes unmoving from nerves as they darted around your face so he could avoid holding your strong gaze.

“This isn’t right.” He whispered back, eyes pleading as they finally locked onto yours. You almost felt sorry for him as he spoke, obviously so desperate to set you back on the right path in life. “Mother said I shouldn’t lay a hand on anybody, not even myself.”

You almost smiled as he said this, pleased at the new information he was unknowingly providing you with.

“It’s just skin.” You were reminding him again, slowly leaning against him so your chest was pressed against the side of his arm. His breath hitched at this and he glanced down at your upper body for a second. “You’ve never touched yourself?”

He shook his head immediately, face annoyed like he was offended you’d even suggest he would do such a thing. You liked that even though he was uncomfortable and denying his thoughts towards you, he still wasn’t seemingly capable of pushing you away. He’d still shown up to your house.

“I touch myself.” You were leaning forward more so you could talk into his ear again. A soft whimper left his throat when your lips grazed his skin again but he didn’t say anything, like he was waiting for you to continue. “On this bed, I touch myself every night.”

It was a slight exaggeration. You hadn’t really felt a strong need to touch yourself ever, never having a subject of attraction that left you longing enough that you’d roll around in bed late at night thinking about it, squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

But you were transfixed by the way he immediately tensed again, glancing back behind you towards where your pillows were and then immediately shooting forward and falling to the cross hanging on the wall in front of you both.

“It’s just skin.” You repeated to him again and he sucked in a shaky breath as you said it, bringing his guilty pained eyes back to you. You almost cooed at him, clicking your tongue and holding his chin softly. He leaned into the touch like he wasn’t meaning to and you wondered how touch starved he must be.

Your hand that wasn’t holding his face fell down to his lap, laying flat and still on his thigh as you let him process what you were doing.

He stiffened again and let out a low troubled groan, shaking his head again at himself. You wondered what he was thinking right now, if he was convinced he was heading straight for hell because of his thoughts alone so maybe it didn’t matter if he let you touch him. Or maybe he was seconds away from bolting downstairs and telling your father about what you’d been attempting to do.

“This isn’t right.” He was whispering and still trying to shake his head the best he could with your grip on his face. His repetition was starting to bug you, suddenly feeling impatient as he still hadn’t taken the bait fully.

“But it feels so good.” You purred into his ear, turning his head back to look at the cross and scooting closer so you were pressed tightly against his side. The sensation of this mixed with your hand on his leg was overwhelming and he felt slightly suffocated. “I want to show you Jake, let me show you how good it feels.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you considered letting him go, wanting to have him completely might mean waiting some time so you didn’t scare him off.

Then he was surprising you and looking back in your direction, your hand falling to his collarbones instead so he could decide what to do with his head. He gave you a soft nod, looking like he immediately regretted it when you wasted no time, pushing your hand forward onto the center of his pants.

He immediately lurched forward with a loud groan at the feeling of your hand on him and you shushed him softly, using the hand on his face to bring him back up to a sitting position and pet his face lovingly.

“You have to be quiet Jake.” You whispered in his ear and nodded towards your open door. He looked at you with a desperate glance, like he was pleading for you to close it despite his upset at that yesterday. You shook your head softly. “Can you be a good boy Jake?”

You started to slowly knead your hand against him, wanting to smile at the fact he was already hard before you had touched him. Light teasing and your soft hand on his thigh already had him bothered.

He was making small noises and you kept his face turned in your direction with your hold back on his jaw. You were sitting up straighter than him so he was a bit below you, having to look up through his eyelashes as he surprisingly held eye contact with you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” You murmured excitedly, eyes wild and eager. He didn’t reply verbally, another small whine slipping from his throat and you pressed down hard on his cock through his pants. “I asked a question.”

Now he was nodding desperately, hands reaching out to grip your wrist in an attempt to lessen the pressure you were applying to him. “Good- feels good.”

His voice was strained and raspy like it was crawling its way out of his throat and you smiled with sick satisfaction, leaning forward so you were closer to his face. Your nose pressed against his and you thought about kissing him for just a few seconds, eventually deciding against it.

Jake was writhing on the bed now, desperately moving into your hand with small groans and whines, his hips lifting off the blanket in an attempt to chase your touch every time you removed it. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it, a dazed expression on his face.

He seemed out of it until your hand was leaving his face and sliding down his sweater covered chest. He didn’t seem to realize you were doing it until your hand was pressing on his stomach slightly, fidgeting with the singular button on his jeans and tugging on the zipper impatiently.

“No, no.” He was whining, grabbing your wrist to stop you from snaking your hand down his pants, touching him without any layers between. “You can’t do that.”

“Why?” You asked incredulously, leaning forward so you were hovering over him slightly. He leaned back on his hand a bit to avoid bumping into your face and you were a few inches from laying on top of him. “I promise it’ll feel so good Jake.”

The usage of his name made him wince, realizing he liked it far too much when you said it. He’d never really considered his name before, completely indifferent to it until he heard the way it rolled off your snake like tongue.

“You aren’t supposed to do that.” He practically spat the words at you but his tone lacked any anger instead sounding fearful and pained. “You can’t touch me there, you just can’t.”

You felt slightly sorry for him as he hiccuped, his voice breaking around the words as you watched tears collect in his pretty eyelashes. His eyes kept darting to the cross on the wall with a guilty expression.

You took your hands off of his lap, listening to his sigh of longing at the loss of contact. You weren’t quite sure what to do in this situation despite seeing it coming, eventually opting for sitting up further on the bed and pulling him into your neck, wrapping your arms around his shaking body in a hug.

He leaned into it and hesitantly wrapped himself around you, tucking his face into your warm neck and letting out a few sobs, tugging you forward slightly by your lower back.

You let him cry for a while, hushing him softly every few minutes just in case, although you were in a less compromising position now, you still didn’t think your father would be thrilled to find you half in the lap of a sniffling boy who was still hard against you.

“Jake.” You were eventually murmuring into his hair once his hiccups subsided slightly, he nuzzled into your neck further at the sound of your soft tone. “What if I didn’t use my hands?”

He picked his head up at this and furrowed his eyebrows at you, his eyes puffy and red with wet streaks still going down his face.

“I don’t understand.” He looked more puppy like than normal as he said this in a soft breathy voice, voice hoarse from crying and his lip almost jutting out into a confused frown.

“Can I show you?” You kept your voice soft as you spoke to him and he immediately nodded his head. He clearly had found some sort of comfort in your embrace, a connection being made enough for him to fall into this state of vulnerability, willingly to accept what you were wanting to give him now.

You felt a sick rush of adrenaline at his lowered walls, the sudden dumb eagerness in his eyes as he seemed to seek out any sign of contact from you.

You imagined it was a flood of emotions, a confusion and tiring feeling to suddenly be presented with a situation that went against everything your life had been carefully crafted around. Not to mention how addicting it must feel to suddenly learn what was on the other side and how good it felt, having unbothered access to it as the two of you sat huddled on your bed.

Kissing his cheek softly, you slowly slid off the bed onto the floor, suddenly thankful you had a thick rug on your bed side. He watched you in confusion, looking like he wanted to grab you and help you up before you shot him a stern look.

Your hands were back on his jeans now that you were fully situated and he looked like he wanted to object for just a second before lifting his hips off the bed so you could pull them down to pool around his ankles.

You took just a second to admire him, his pretty tanned skin overwhelming you a bit in its sheer amount. His legs were surprisingly thick, muscular like an athlete and you briefly remembered you didn’t know much about him at all.

That didn’t bother you at all, if anything it made you want him more when you looked up at him to see his nervous eyes staring down at you in concern. He looked humiliated and you imagined it had something to do with the fact he was still extremely hard, even after crying for so long.

If he was more stable in his emotions, less flighty, you would’ve made fun of him. You would’ve called him names and made him cry all over again and then taken his innocence without a second thought.

Instead you carried on the kindness act, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his length through his underwear.

He immediately hissed and shot forward, not realizing what you were planning to do and not understanding why you were doing this. He started to stammer out in confusion and you shushed him again, sending a sharp glare towards the open door in warning.

“What are you doing?” He sounded absolutely blown away now, even more than he did earlier and it settled in your mind that he clearly had absolute no sexual knowledge, including blowjobs. “That’s dirty, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You were mock frowning up at him. “Did mommy say so?”

He knew you were making fun of him but he still nodded in response, not liking the sudden return of your mean tone. He forgot all about it when you were leaning forward again, this time touching your lips to him longer and sucking softly through the fabric.

“Mommy’s not here.” You were breathing out when you pulled away from him again, much to his dismay considering he immediately lifted his hips back in your direction. “And doesn’t it feel nice?”

He was nodding his head dumbly in agreement, feeling dizzy from the foreign emotions. He still didn’t understand what you were doing but it felt too good to keep questioning, forgetting momentarily about sin and how much punishment was going to come his way after this.

You were sliding your hands up his thighs slowly, stopping at the waistband of his boxers and glancing up at him for any sign of refusal. You didn’t care much for his discomfort but you weren’t going to force him to do anything, despite how much fun you were having with him.

He didn’t make any move to stop you, not even seeming to notice or understand what you were planning to do until you pulled on the elastic swiftly.

Then he was shooting back up from where he’d been leaning back, shaking his head again and covering himself with his hands. You smiled at him from your place on the floor and he looked at you like you were crazy.

You were getting slightly frustrated despite your pleased expression, wanting him to quickly understand what you were planning on doing. You gripped his wrist tightly and pulled them away from his lap

“What are you doing?” He was whispering in a panicked tone, his hands hovering above your head like he was debating pulling you away from him. He let out a yelp when you leaned forward and took the head of his cock into your mouth, watching him with hooded eyes. “T-that’s dirty, stop it.”

You wanted to laugh at his wording choices, sounding like he was a worried mother scolding their child for playing in mud.

“It’s dirty?” You frowned at him when you pulled back for a moment, his wide eyes falling on your wet lips. They squeezed shut just for a moment when you were licking up his full length slowly, humming at the taste of him and his weight on your tongue. “I should probably stop then right?”

He let out a panicked cry and ran a hand over his face in frustration. He wanted you to stop or at least he knew he should want you to stop. His mother had been right and you were not a nice girl, not the type of girl he should be around and he felt his stomach turn at the knowledge he was committing a very large sin by finding pleasure in your lust.

But the pleasure was prominent and overwhelming him to the point he couldn’t think straight.

He understood what sex was and his father had taught him about boyish lust, the kind that wakes you up from your sleep needing to change into a new pair of pajamas but he’d been warned from an early age to simply ignore the occurring urge.

He could still hear his mothers shrieks and cries when she caught him with a pillow between his legs in high school, could feel the welts on the back of his hands from the ruler his father had punished him with. Jake sometimes wondered if other people experienced this urge, this call to sin, as much as he did or if he was rotten inside.

But for the first time in his entire life, Jake couldn’t find it in himself to think about the consequences to falling victim to it. Not when you were touching him in ways not even his dreams could think to imagine.

When he didn’t answer you’d taken him back in your mouth, slightly impressed by how thick he was. He bucked forward his hips instinctively, pushing himself deeper into your mouth and you pinched his thigh roughly in warning.

You heard him cry out in a sob, his hands gripping the blankets so hard they were turning white and shaking at an almost alarming rate.

“Please.” He was begging and you weren’t sure he even knew what for, his voice coming out desperate and needy. “Please i-it feels really weird.”

You hummed around his cock in understanding, your hand petting his thigh and pushing his shirt up on his stomach so you could feel more of him. He didn’t even seem to register you touching him, the sounds of his soft cries and pleads distracting you slightly.

You tapped his hip bone a few times and he seemed to somehow understand the message, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth at a slower pace this time. You let him do what he wanted despite the urge to take control of the situation, knowing there wasn’t any chance he was lasting more than 30 seconds anyways.

He was slightly surprising you already, truthfully you’d expected him to cum before you even got his boxers off his thighs.

You imagined his inner monologue was causing him some issue as you listened to him cry softly from pleasure, little overwhelmed gasps and hiccups as one of his hands grabbed onto the one you were running across his stomach and squeezed it tightly.

“You need to just let it go baby.” You were whispering to him as you pulled off for a second when his hips started to twitch awkwardly, overwhelmed and not understanding what the feeling building up deep in his gut was. “Don’t worry about making a mess.”

The second you took him back in your lips he was following your instructions with a loud moan, completely forgetting you were meant to keep quiet as he came inside your warm mouth.

You winced slightly at the unexpectedness of it, leaning backwards on your knees as you waited for his hips to stop jerking forward.

He was shaking his head at you, eyes teary and his face red as he squinted his eyes in confusion. “What w-was -“

“You came.” You said matter of factly, standing up with a groan from your uncomfortable kneeling position and sitting next to him on the bed again. He leaned sideways into you, much to your surprise, and you resisted the urge to push him off you.

“Was I supposed to?” He whispered in embarrassment and pushed his face into your neck again. You were slightly uncomfortable at his clinginess but you let him do it, knowing he must be feeling a lot.

“Yes Jake. Maybe not all over my face though.” You were trying to joke with him to lighten the atmosphere but you sighed as you heard him let out a little cry into your neck, clearly upset and humiliated.

He was mumbling against your skin, repeated mantras that you couldn’t quite understood through his sobs but had a good guess in what they contained. You imagined reality was coming back to him now and he was processing what he’d just done without the hazy cloud of need cursing his judgement.

“Jake, you need to stop crying.” You were sighing and bringing your hand up to his hair, petting it softly to try to calm him down.

“Did I do a bad thing?” He pulled off your neck to look you in the eyes, his wide and desperate like he was fishing for any bit of reassurance that what you’d just done was okay, that he hadn’t just committed a sin so unholy. You could tell by his expression he was asking just to hear it reaffirmed, for you to tell him again it was just skin.

“My poor baby.” You were cooing at him, lips jutted out in a pout as your hands came up to hold his face, cupping it softly and wiping his teary cheeks with your thumbs. “Of course you did a bad thing.”

He froze completely in your hold and you felt a laugh bubble into your throat, holding it down with all your might so you could get the full extent of his reaction. He sat up slightly, attempting to pull out of your hands before realizing you were holding his face too tight. He gave you a confused and hurt look.

“What?” He was stammering out and his face was curling back into another sob.

“How could you let me do that?” You were tsking at him as you spoke, eyebrows furrowed like he had genuinely offended you. He watched you as panic settled into his eyes at the sound of you kissing your teeth and shaking your head softly. “We were supposed to be studying.”

“B-but.” He was shaking his head and holding onto your wrist, eyes filling with tears. “But you said that..”

He trailed off and you watched him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to pass the blame off onto you. Of course he didn’t, his expression hardening although you knew he hadn’t quite realized your motive. He was too innocent to believe you’d deceive him, too stupid to understand every action you did was a carefully crafted lie.

“Maybe it’s time you go Jakey.” You were nodding as you spoke, petting his hair and pushing it back out of his eyes.

He didn’t say anything else, his expression dazed out as he came out of such a vulnerable compliant headspace with a jolt. You watched him in silence as he gathered himself enough to get dressed awkwardly and walk out of your room, loose and tilting like he had just woken up.

You waited for him to be completely out of sight, the sound of the front door closing, before falling back on your bed with a big smile.

——

You’d fallen asleep soon after that without much thought on the situation, feeling only a deep satisfaction at the progress you’d made with Jake and a slight tinge of excitement for the next time you got to see him.

By the time you’d woken up, your mother was already in your room and standing staring down at you. You barely reacted to her presence although you were slightly unnerved and curious just how long she’d been watching you sleep.

“Can I help you?” Your voice was groggy as you sat up and pushed your bedridden hair out of your face.

Any other mother might have found your tired movements cute, maybe they’d give you an endeared smile and reminisce on when you were a baby waking up from naps.

However you were born with a very specific type of mother, maybe one of her kind. She was watching you with a nasty scowl, a knowing look in her eye as she did a slow pan around your room. “Your father said the boy was here yesterday.”

You hummed in agreement, tilting your head softly to try and get a further reaction from her.

“His mother called and said he won’t be at church this morning.” She spat the words at you, accusatory and nasty. “He’s sick.”

You could tell by the way she said that she knew it was a lie, wether Jake was the one telling it or his mother. At first you were slightly shocked he’d lie about being sick but you figured he might just be feeling so, driven by the extreme emotions he’d been feeling.

“What a shame. He seemed more than fine yesterday.” You put in a pity filled voice, shaking your head as you let the innuendo sink in for her, watching the way her face curled with disgust.

“Almost ready?” You father was suddenly in your doorway, observing the scene with a raised eyebrow as he buttoned the cuff of his sleeve.

“Father, would it be okay if I stopped by the Sim’s before heading to service? I’d like to bring Jake some soup for his cold.” Your voice was dripping with sweetness and you vaguely saw your mothers jaw tick with irritation.

“I can do it.” She was rushing to say.

Your father shook his head immediately and held a hand up to silence the both of you from speaking again. He finished buttoning his sleeve and cleared his throat before speaking. “You agreed to meet with the Lee’s today Mary. I think it’d be a good idea for Y/N to go, since they’re friends.”

You smiled appreciatively at him and he gave you a small nod before leaving the room. You glanced at your mother to see her stony expression but surprisingly she didn’t say anything, simply shaking her head in disapproval and following behind him.

It was strange to not leave for church with them, to stand in the window with the curtain pulled back as you smiled and waved watching the car drive off.

You dropped the grin the second they turned the street corner and hurried out the door to get on your bike and head over to the Sim’s house.

You hadn’t been there before despite your father pointing it out on your way home yesterday but it looked pretty much the exact same as the other houses in the neighborhood. It was large and eerie, the rainy atmosphere not helping it.

The door was opening before you could even dismount your bike let alone knock and you saw Jake’s mom standing in the archway with a small frown.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone was harsh and for a second you wondered if he had told her about what happened, confessed his sins in a fit of guilt.

You were so thrown off that you didn’t immediately respond, suddenly aware of the fact you didn’t bring any sort of soup or medicine like you had originally planned, too eager to get out the door to remember your cover story.

Lucky for you, Jake’s father was coming into sight now and a small grunt from him sent the rude woman cowering away.

You observed this with a curious expression and tried not to frown. Maybe Jake wasn’t as innocent and pure as he seemed considering he apparently had some familial issues, obvious in the way his mother showed a fearful obedience to the large man in front of you.

“You here for my boy?” His voice was low and gruff and it was a bit remarkable how different Jake was than his father.

You opted for a small nod, only slightly playing a part considering he actually did a good job at intimidating you. He let out a hum of approval and stepped aside so you could enter the house, not asking anymore questions.

“It’s good you two get along.” You were taking in the main living space as you entered, his voice picking up a conversational tone that sounded slightly unnatural. “I was beginning to think he’d never talk to someone his own age, let alone a girl.”

He had a typical mannish tone, one you’d heard in movies or from the gross men who sat outside the town bar in a drunken haze as they catcalled and talked at a volume far too loud for your small town. It lacked the usual religious hold you were more used to, he almost sounded pleased at the idea of his son being with a girl.

You glanced at him and held his stare. You wondered for a second if he was testing you now, waiting for you to reveal any sinful intentions you had so he could run back to your father and earn some brownie points for catching your sickness in the act.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you cocked your head, willing him to talk further and continue in his attempt at baiting you.

“Upstairs on the right.” He eventually said, your stare unrelenting. You unfroze your stony expression and gave him a small smile, knowing you probably looked crazy with how fast your face changed.

You were walking away from him before he could say anything else or before Jake’s mother could return, skipping a step at a time in your haste to get upstairs.

Without knocking, you pushed open his door and barged in.

He was sat up in bed, lower half under the covers, and he let out a small shriek of surprise at your sudden intrusion, furthered by a quick inhale when he realized who it was that had just walked in.

“W-what are you doing here?” He was rushing out as he watched you close the door behind you and sit down on the end of his bed.

“I came to check on you.” You said it like it was obvious, a soft shrug of your shoulders. “Since you’re sick.”

His mouth parted in confusion for a second before he seemingly remembered he was meant to be ill, looking awkward and guilty at the reminder he had lied.

You didn’t address his obvious reaction, telling you what you already assumed, and instead climbed up further on his bed. He made a strange noise when you got closer to him, pulling back the blankets and getting underneath them with him. You briefly caught sight of his plaid pajama pants before you covered the both of you up.

“M-my parents.” He was shaking his head and anxiously looking at the door like he was waiting for his mom to walk in any second. You watched his distress, wondering if he was possibly hoping for that to happen, before you heard the sound of the front door slamming.

A look of fear passed over his face at the realization his parents had just left him alone with you. You were a bit surprised yourself but you kept your face neutral, watching him to drink up his reaction.

“I came all this way and you can’t even say thank you.” You tsked and relaxed against his pillows with an annoyed expression. “Especially after what you did yesterday.”

He looked upset at the reminder and he was sitting up more now, the blanket pulling forward around his thighs and he practically kneeled and titled forward in your direction. He wasn’t touching you but his hands were clasped together as he practically did a full bow on his bed.

“I’m so sorry.” He started to say the words but his voice broke around them and he rocked slightly back and forth. You almost laughed at the fact he was already about to cry and it’d only been about five minutes alone with you. “Thank you for coming.”

You imagined he’d been doing a lot of crying since you saw him last, staying up all night running your words on loop in his mind. The sincerity in your voice when you told him he committed a disgusting sin.

“Get back under the covers.” You spoke in a calm voice and he picked his head up to look at you in confusion, face red and eyes teary. He looked surprised you weren’t scolding him, having seemingly forgotten you were the one who practically forced him to let you touch him.

He stayed frozen like that for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and nodding appreciatively, getting back under the blankets and pulling them up again so you were covered. He seemed to only now realize you were laying back against the pillows and he mirrored you, laying on his side so he could face you.

“I won’t tell anybody what you did.” You whispered to him now that his attention was fully on you. Your hand came up to hold his face and he tensed for a second at the contact. “Or maybe I will… I haven’t decided.”

He shook his head hastily, scooting closer to your body and grabbing ahold of your hand that was on his face, wrapping both of his around your wrist and squeezing it softly in desperation.

“Y-you can’t.” He urged and you felt his hands shaking around yours. “I mean you can b-but I’m really so sorry and my dad, he’d kill me.”

You shushed him as he started to ramble, petting his cheek and frowning deeply at what he had said. You figured Jake’s dad hurt his mother but you hadn’t considered it extending to his child as well. A strange surge of anger ran through you despite your own twisted intentions.

Scooting down a bit more so you were completely laid down, you put a hand on his back and pulled him towards you until he got the hint and curled into your side with a soft cry. He was stuffing his face back into your neck like he did yesterday and you rubbed his back softly.

You vaguely acknowledged the fact he was completely pressed against your side now, almost laying half on top of you in his emotional state.

“I won’t tell.” You whispered, his soft and messy hair tickling your face as you spoke. In his desperation for comfort he seemed to forget about not touching you, his arm coming up to wrap around your stomach, tugging you closer in a rush of thankfulness and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “But only if you answer my questions.”

He nodded immediately and picked his head up off your neck so he could look at you more clearly. He looked particularly cute like this you decided, his hair unstyled and still sticking up from where he’d slept on it and his soft pajamas that were rubbing against your legs.

“Did you touch yourself last night.” You held his chin as you spoke so he was looking up at you, his head almost resting against your chest as he peered with big wet eyes.

He was shaking his head as much as he could and furrowing his eyebrows like he did the last time you asked him. “I don’t- I wouldn’t. I don’t know how even.”

This fascinated you slightly. You figured he didn’t understand masturbating or its purpose outside of it being sinful but the fact he’d never once curiously touched himself was interesting. You wondered how many nights he laid in bed crying with confusion at the dull ache between his legs.

“Did you like being in my mouth?” Your voice dropped lower for the second question and an automatic whine slipped out from his lips, his face immediately flushing with embarrassment as he seemed to replay the memory.

He was nodding hesitantly much to your annoyance, you wanted to hear him say it but you figured you could take it easy on him today.

Maybe easy wasn’t the best way to describe your current plan for him considering the way you were suddenly pressing your thigh in between his legs, smiling at him when he groaned loudly and tightened his grip on you.

Your side burned slightly from the force in which he curled his hands up at the sudden contact.

“You’re hard.” You said matter of factly, telling the truth and not just teasing him. He was solid against your thigh now and you heard him whimper when you shifted slightly so his tight grip on you was more comfortable. “I barely said anything and you’re hard.”

He shook his head in disagreement but his hips twitched forward, rubbing his erection against you and making a low drawn out sound at the feeling.

“Did I say you could do that?” Your tone was harsh again and he immediately froze, groaning softly and tucking his head forward onto your chest. You let your hand go back to this hair, petting him for a second before gripping it tightly and tugging his head back up to look at you.

He winced at the pain, face contorted as he tried to scoot away from you. However he still didn’t remove his arm from around your stomach so he wasn’t able to go far, his hand still kneading against your side like he didn’t realize he was even moving it.

“Ask me.” You instructed him, still holding his hair in a tight fist. “Clear words, no crying bullshit.”

He looked momentarily taken back by you swearing and being so harsh but then he had a look of guilt like he was remembering the other day and he was attempting to nod in head in agreement.

“Please I want… I want you to touch me.” He settled on, not sure how to word what he needed. You smiled softly at him for his attempt but you weren’t convinced, deciding on helping him ask you properly.

“Tell me you’re disgusting.” You whispered, leaning your face forward so your nose was touching his again, like it did momentarily yesterday. “Say you want to hump my leg like a dog.”

He looked confused and overwhelmed at your words, shaking his head in refusal until you moved your leg again. It rubbed against him and you almost laughed at the fact he was almost harder now even after your tone changed. His hips chased the feeling and you tugged his hair again in warning, listening to his soft groan of frustration.

“I want..” He hiccuped softly and shook his head, trying to force the strange words from his mouth. “I want to hump your leg please please.”

You let go of his hair and his head fell back down onto your chest. He hadn’t completely fulfilled your request but it was good enough for now.

“Alright baby.” You didn’t need to say anything else for him to understand, immediately pulling you closer again and rocking against your side.

You listened to his soft little whines as he humped against you desperately, moving in messy motions as he tried to chase after the feeling he recognized from yesterday.

The feeling of his hand gripping your side was making your head spin a bit much to your irritation and you gripped it tightly, moving it off your waist. He seemed to misunderstand and instead placed it directly over your belly button where your sweater had ridden up, pushing down softly as he rubbed the soft skin of your stomach.

You let out a small groan and this seemed to ignite something in him because he let out a little cry and nuzzled further into you as he dragged his clothed cock over your hip harder.

“Tell me it feels good.” You instructed him and you felt more annoyance at the fact your voice came out breathy, not liking the effect he was having on you.

“S-so good.” He immediately responded and you felt his leg wrap around yours, trying to get closer to you despite it being impossible. “Going to die it’s good, it’s good.”

You laughed softly at his dramatic wording and pet his hair again, trying to get his attention. He slowed down the grinding of his hips to look at you and you nearly cooed at his hooded wet eyes, trying to focus on your face but struggling.

You were originally planning on teasing him some more, attempting to get him to repeat the words you wanted to hear earlier, but at the sight of his pretty overwhelmed face you couldn’t help yourself from leaning in and kissing him softly.

He yelped at the feeling, tensing up for a few seconds before closing his eyes and trying to kiss you back, failing miserably.

You laughed against his lips and you could feel him frowning, face getting red with embarrassment as he uncomfortably shifted against you.

“Come here.” You tapped his back softly and nudged him so he was fully on top of you, squishing you under him but making it so you could reach his mouth better. “Rub your cock on me while we kiss.”

He whined softly, nodding his head despite the flush on his face and you waited while he slowly experimented with the new position, practically in missionary now. When he started to move his hips again, his hard cock was now rubbing directly against your core and he faltered at the feeling, nearly collapsing on top of you.

You smiled at his reaction. You had full doubt that he knew what sex was or the fact he was basically imitating it but you imagine he could get the gist that what you were doing was wrong.

You leaned your head forward to kiss him again, easier now that he was on top of you and seemingly more eager to get it right this time. He was still sloppy, not really understanding how to move his mouth or when but you took over, moving your lips against his slowly.

He seemed to get the hang of it eventually and you could feel his thrust getting more desperate as the kiss got deeper and faster.

Your tongue was in his mouth before he even realized and he made a small startled sound, hips stopping against yours at the new feeling. He was letting out high pitched whines and moans as you licked into his mouth, him drooling slightly and desperately trying to keep your tongue where it was.

You could feel him sucking on it, twisting his head to try to get it deeper in his mouth and he instinctively gave a particularly hard thrust, causing you to moan into him.

This seemed to startle him, pulling back off your face with a wet chin and hooded eyes, looking down at you in amazement.

He did it again experimentally and you could feel the hard print of his cock directly against you, your back arching as your hand came up to grip his hair and stop him from doing it again. You were reminding yourself this wasn’t about your pleasure, you wanted to ruin him and nothing else.

But you couldn’t deny your attraction to him, almost the perfect boy for you if there was to ever be one.

It didn’t help he happened to have an impressive size on him, although you doubted he even realized he was bigger than usual or would know what to do if given that information.

You wrapped a leg around his side and he sucked in a breath, having better access now. He kept rolling his hips sloppily into you and moaning loudly, forgetting who he was or where he was currently at.

“What would mommy think if she saw you like this?” You took it upon yourself to remind him, whispering into his mouth with a pant and almost laughing at the way he immediately tensed and stopped humping against you. “If she walked it to see her son so desperate to sin.”

He was shaking his head and lifting it slightly to be able to look at you better, eyes welling up with tears as he glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door. You hadn’t been there long and you imagined church still had a few hours before it’d be over and they’d be heading back but he seemed to forget all this at the mention of his parents.

“I’m not.” His hair was messy in his face, bangs slightly damp from sweating and his previous tears. “I don’t want to sin, I don’t want to be bad. Please.”

You hummed softly at him, lips forming a mocking pout as you looked at him with gentle eyes. You stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning against your hand like a puppy.

“My poor baby.” You cooed and kissed him again briefly, he immediately chased after it when you pulled away and you tapped your finger on his cheek to stop him. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”

He seemed confused at what you meant but too drunk on the feeling of your touch and lips, chasing after them again in a messy kiss that was mostly just him trying to get his tongue back against yours.

You indulged him and let him lick into it, letting out soft desperate moans and you were suddenly realizing how much you were aching for him despite managing to keep a cool demeanor on the outside.

You shifted your leg that was wrapped around his middle and he seemed to remember that he was currently on top of you and he went back to writhing against your body, his hard on rubbing against you an almost painful amount now that you were granting him more access with the switched position.

He wasn’t able to hold himself up, curling up on your chest while he moved his lower body with sobs of pain and need.

“God, I thought it’d take longer to break you.” You were trying to make fun of him but your voice broke in a moan at the feeling of him pushing himself against your sensitive clit. “You’re so fucking nasty, look at yourself.”

He was shaking his head and crying fully now, chasing after a high he didn’t even understand and you were almost feeling dizzy from the pace he was going.

“I’m good.” He was blabbering out and looking at you again, trying to lean forward for a kiss but letting out a sharp cry midway and falling back down with his head on your chest.

“You’re a good boy Jake.” You cooed at him, nodding even though he couldn’t see you and he felt sick at the constant changing of your tones. “My good boy right?”

He was suddenly sitting up again, pulling himself against you so he could look at you directly in the eye, if he could see through his tears. He was nodding his head in earnest and you felt your lip quirk up in a smile.

“I’m yours. I want to be yours.” He was rushing out, hands leaving your stomach to balance on either side of you. His tone was pleading and you wondered if he even knew what he was asking for or if he was just repeating what you’d said dumbly.

You kissed him softly and he let out a shaky breath of relief against your lips. However he started to frown when you were suddenly pushing him off of you and patting the empty space on the bed right beside where you were laying. He looked confused and hurt but he didn’t ask any questions, simply rolling over and waiting to see what you were attempting to do.

You watched him for a few seconds, taking in the change of appearance in such a short amount of time.

He was laid back fully on the bed, eyes hooded and cloudy. His mouth was parted slightly as he panted, his chest rising and falling at a fast speed as his arm reached up to try and push his messy hair out of his face. You liked the way he looked like this, especially the way his shirt was ridden up on his stomach, a sliver of skin showing.

He started making small impatient whines and groans so you took mercy on him, flipping yourself over slightly so you could situate yourself on his lap.

You sucked in a breath the second you did, quickly shutting your lips tight after so he didn’t catch sight of the display of pleasure. He was hard underneath and pressed tightly against your core as you sat on him.

“Oh my god.” He was crying out and his hands jutted forward like he was going to grab your sides, stopping midway and flailing around as he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them.

“Touch me.” You spat at him, reaching down to grab his wrist and put his hands on your ass as you leaned forward so you were in a similar position to his a few minutes ago, laying on top of him.

He froze as he touched you and you almost scolded him for acting so prudish with touching you like he wasn’t just trying to fuck you through his cute little pajamas. However you figured it was harder for him to deliberately do something versus acting purely on the overwhelming lust he was feeling.

You gripped his jaw harshly in your hand, your nails digging into his skin slightly as you used your thumb to pull his mouth open and hummed with satisfaction.

“Say you want me inside you.” You whispered, leaning down to talk into his open mouth. You watched his eyes widen in confusion but you rubbed your hips against him as motivation and he immediately complied.

“Want you inside me.” He moaned out, big fat tears sliding down his face. “Y/N please I need it please.”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for but he was overwhelmed and sinking back down into that fuzzy headspace, willing to do anything to get pleasure from you.

You kept his mouth open after he was done speaking and he opened it wider for you, although not understanding where you were heading with this action. He watched with wide confused eyes as you leaned over him and slowly spit into his open mouth.

He cried out, hips bucking up instinctively at the sensation of your spit on his tongue so directly and you almost fell forward from the roughness in which he fucked himself up into you. You smacked his cheek lightly and he snapped his mouth shut with another moan, eyes shut in euphoria.

You hummed at him in approval, leaning back down to kiss him again and lick into his mouth, letting him turn his head sideways in an attempt to get your tongue as deep as possible. You wondered if he was purposely imitating the blowjob you’d given him or if he was just that desperate to be consumed.

“I’m going to take you to hell with me.” You whispered, pulling out of the kiss and petting his hair softly. He shook his head and let out a small sob, this time not from pleasure.

“Do you want to cum?” You didn’t address his denial or tease him further for now, knowing now you had him completely hooked. He was addicted to you and the feelings you gave him and no mean words would be able to keep him away from you.

He seemed hesitant in his nod, now once again thinking about the sins he was committing and the fact he was skipping church to touch a girl inappropriately. But he did eventually nod his head, eyes still watering.

“Then fuck me baby.” You rolled back over as you spoke, flopping onto your back and rubbing his chest through his shirt, slightly surprised by the thick build he had. He was immediately on top of you again and you almost laughed at his haste.

You didn’t mean it literally and you didn’t fear him taking it as such considering he didn’t even know what it meant, he just knew you were cursing and being dirty.

You wondered if he even knew what you had inside your pants, scrapping that idea for another time instead so you didn’t get yourself too worked up thinking about how much it would ruin him to feel you.

He didn’t last long once he was back on top of you, only a few seconds passed before he was letting out a loud cry and hiccuping, his hips jutting against you a few more times in aftershock before he was collapsing on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He was sobbing into your neck and you wrapped your arms around his back, rubbing it slowly with an eye roll. “I’m sorry, God please forgive me.”

——

Jake had fallen asleep on top of you shortly after that, exhausted from everything you’d been putting him through both mentally and physically.

You let him lay there on top of you surprisingly despite how uncomfortable it was and how much you kept readying yourself to shove him off of you and leave him without any comfort, you simply couldn’t.

You weren’t quite sure why, it wasn’t like being mean to him was going to ruin your plan and make him not want to talk to you anymore. He was trapped now with you.

Yet you found yourself staying and not only staying but watching him as he slept. He looked younger like this, despite always being very puppy like and boyish you couldn’t deny that Jake was a man and he could be an intimidating one if it wasn’t for his personality. His eyelashes were long and fluttering like he was having a vigorous dream and his back would rise and fall with every deep inhale he took.

By the time he woke up you’d been laying there for probably an hour or two staring at him or looking around his room with curiosity, you felt him shifting against you and almost pretended you were asleep before deciding against it.

He froze his movements when he realized where he was exactly, or at least who it was underneath him. Then he was rolling off of you onto his back with a groan and you were suddenly feeling very cold without his weight and body warmth.

“Did my parents come home?” His voice was low and groggy from sleep and crying and you turned your head to look at him now that you were laying side by side.

“Are you kidding? Like your mother isn’t going to run in here the first second the car parks and hose you down.”

He laughed softly at your words, almost a scoff and your lip quirked up in a smile at his casual reaction, knowing his guard must be down since he was still so tired.

“She wouldn’t do that.” He eventually whispered and you could feel his shoulder pressing against yours. “At least the hose part.”

“Is she as bad as mine?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask him something so personal or why you were even making conversation with him in the first place but you were suddenly curious.

“Not sure.” He was looking at you, you could feel it on the side of your head. “My dad is though.”

You hummed as a response, already figuring that from the times you’d interacted with him and the way Jake talked about him earlier. You felt a sudden wave of discomfort at your current situation and fidgeted in your spot on the bed.

“Are you going to leave?” His voice was a whisper still and he wasn’t looking at you anymore from what you could tell. He sounded slightly upset like the thought of you leaving wasn’t pleasant.

“You wanted me to earlier.” You scoffed softly but it was humorless, for some reason feeling offended at the reminder despite knowingly doing everything in your power to make him uncomfortable for your own satisfaction.

He didn’t say anything for a while and you listened to him breathing softly, wondering if he caught on to the hint of insecurity you were accidentally showcasing.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He eventually said and you barely heard him considering how low his voice had gotten.

“See you tomorrow Jake.”

——

Tuesday’s were another day that your schedule was slightly shifted after church service. You had always been instructed to some form of community service on that day of the week, wether is be picking up trash or teaching a small class to the elders and children.

You didn’t mind this despite your distaste for religion. You got some sick satisfaction from watching religious people interact, like babies excitedly chatting about fairy tails and wishing for a big grand gesture to fix their own shitty lives.

Plus it got you out of your house and kept you slightly on the good side of your mother typically although you doubt with your recent actions you’d ever be on that side of the fence again.

So it was particularly annoying when you were tasked to clean the church basement, an area usually unseen by anybody in the town including yourself.

It was a mess of overfilled shelves and baskets stacked to the brim with old holiday decorations or donations from past families that were never put to use.

You’d been hesitant to agree, having to try ten times harder than usual to apply your usual fake smile towards your father when you graciously nodded and accepted the task. Luckily a handful of other volunteers had also followed you down the creaky stairs, one of them being Jake.

Not on his own volition considering the way his eyes bulged out of his head when his father roughly nudged him as you stood at the center of the stage requesting helping hands. He hesitantly held his in the air and avoided making eye contact with you as you smiled happily.

The same smile you held now as you stood side by side with him, taking things off the shelves and throwing them into a trash pile. He looked more anxious than usual, like he was genuinely worried you’d try to do something to him while people were watching.

“Miss Y/N?” One of the older women who had volunteered was approaching the two of you, holding a small basket of, what looked like, old arts and crafts. “I found this and was wondering if you thought your father might want to hang them up in the youth study room?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea ma’am.” You were smiling widely at her, eyes soft and full of light. “You should bring them up to him.”

She was smiling appreciatively at you before turning and heading back up the stairs, missing the way your smile immediately dropped back into a blank expression.

Jake however, didn’t miss it and you heard him scoff from next to you as he observed the interaction. You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged.

“Don’t you get tired of doing that all the time?” He questioned and you faltered slightly. You hadn’t ever really considered it as something you were doing necessarily so his statement threw you off.

“I don’t know… I do it with everybody. I just do it.” You shrugged and awkwardly looked away from him, feeling confronted.

“You don’t do it with me.” He suddenly declared and you were reminded that you didn’t actually know Jake or his personality that well, completely caught off guard by his bluntness.

“Maybe because I knew you were just as bad as me.” You dropped your voice into a small whisper, leaning closer to him slightly as he glanced around to see which volunteers were over in your side of the basement.

He picked up an old toy and tossed it off in the distance, shaking his head in denial. “That’s not true at all.”

“Why isn’t it?” You cocked your head at him and stopped rummaging through the shelf, more interested in what he was saying. You turned your body so you were facing him and could lean against the wood.

“I believe in this.” He looked around the room as if to emphasize what he was referring to. “I love god.”

“Do you? Or have you just been told to?” You were already sure of the answer but you were curious what he would say about that, if he’s ever sat and thought that over or if his faith was really that unwavering.

“I never questioned it before.” He confirmed with a stern voice, sending you a sharp look so you would understand he was serious. “Not once in my life until we moved here. Not once until..”

He trailed off but the implication was heavy and he looked away with a bright flush on his face. He was obviously referring to you and you felt a small spark of satisfaction at the fact he was implying you were the first thing to ever make him doubt, implying that he was doubting at all.

He scowled slightly when he noticed the bright smile that was on your face, one you didn’t even realize you had.

“I’m serious Y/N. If anyone ever found out I…” He didn’t finish his sentence again but you could get the gist of what he was implying, your smile dropping into a frown.

“You think I don’t know that? The stakes are way higher on my side of things incase you forgot.” Your tone was harsher now but you were taking a step closer to him, not bothering to check if anybody was watching. “But you’re mine right? Like you said?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, turning to face you and taking a big gulp when he realized you were practically close enough to kiss now. You waited for him to say something against your claim, to tell you he had been lust drunk or he didn’t mean it.

Instead he slowly nodded, eyes shooting down awkwardly to your feet. His shy expression was one you were more familiar seeing him with and your smile returned.

“Can you come over today?” You whispered and he looked back at you with a shocked expression, clearly not expecting you to say that. “I have something to show you.”

He was nodding again, not trusting himself to speak without stuttering and you grinned, turning back to the shelf and continuing with your sorting.

——

By the time church was over and Jake got to your house, you were already sat outside on the porch in a big sweater and a scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Are we not.. going in?” He was standing at the end of your driveway, putting his bikes kickstand down and watching you with a confused expression.

“I said I had to show you something didn’t I?” He watched you as you stood from the cement slab, grabbing your own bike from off the side of your house and walking it down towards him with a half smile.

He didn’t say anything as you both got on your bikes, following behind you as you rode off the curb and down the street.

The ride was long and cold, the sky grey as you passed by old houses and empty shops that’d been abandoned as the owners aged. Jake found the town sad a bit but he was curious what you were leading him too and slightly excited that you wanted to spend time with him in a different way than normal.

Eventually you were crossing the threshold of the city limit, a big sign with chipping paint that was welcoming you in or wishing you safe travels out.

After that it wasn’t long before you were slowing to a stop, surrounded by trees and a large field. Jake watched you get off your bike with a raised eyebrow, waiting until you looked back at him with a beckoning hand.

“It’s this way.” You urged and he hopped off, pushing the bikes alongside each other until you were on the other side of the muddy field, approaching a large river. The sound of it was loud as it rushed but not loud enough to block out the noise of the highway across from it, just off in the distance.

Jake watched it as you unpacked your backpack that he didn’t even realize you’d been wearing until now, unfolding a thick blanket and laying it down on the wet grass.

“They can’t build houses over here because the river always overflows.” You started to explain, pulling out a thermos and something wrapped in paper towel as you talked. “The water levels higher than usual because all the rain we get.”

“Sometimes I wonder if they even know we are over here.” You continued with a scoff, sitting criss cross on the blanket now and looking over at Jake who was dropping his bike.

He sat down too, carefully keeping his wet and muddy shoes off of the fabric.

“Do you come here a lot?” He was muttering what felt like his first words of the day, looking around the area and seeing virtually no signs of civilization other than the highway. He wondered for a second if you had even been able to hear him over the sound of it.

“I guess. There isn’t much else to do if you haven’t noticed by now.” You were shrugging as you spoke, you stuck one of your legs out so it nudged against his.

“I’ve been pretty occupied since I’ve gotten here so I guess I didn’t.” His words made you laugh although he was being serious, only having gone from home to church to your room.

He didn’t say anything as you laughed and he still didn’t when you were suddenly moving out of your sitting position, crawling towards him on all fours until you could press yourself against him.

Every part of you was touching as you sat side by side, both facing the rushing river and trying to not focus on how cold it was outside, the sky slowly darkening now since it was around dinner time. That reminded you that you had packed sandwiches and you were leaning forward slightly to reach them, handing him one and watching him unwrap the paper towel in confusion.

His cheeks turned red when he saw what it was, glancing at you and nodding softly in appreciation before taking a bite.

“Why are we here?” He was breaking the silence the two of you had fallen into as you ate and passed the warm thermos back and forth, watching the highway and the building traffic.

“I don’t know.” You felt strangely vulnerable at this question, not really knowing yourself why you’d taken him to such a private place. “Don’t think too deeply about it.”

Your sudden change of tone made him frown and tense against you, a harshness seeping into your words as you reminded him what type of relationship you had going here.

To further prove your point that this wasn’t anything being sin and attraction, you were quickly turning your upper body so you could face him before leaning forward and pressing into a kiss. He froze completely for a few seconds, brain short circuiting at the sudden contact.

Then he was closing his eyes slowly and kissing you back, a low him of appreciation slipping through your lips and vibrating against his.

You turned your body more so you could climb over his legs, straddling him and making a small noise of surprise when his hands were immediately on your lower back, tugging you in tighter against him.

The two of you kissed like that for a while, you sitting comfortably in his lap and feeling him grow hard underneath you embarrassingly quick. He felt strong and sturdy under you but he was letting out little whines and whimpers and he kept trying to pull you in closer, almost like he was trying to merge the two of you together.

Then you were sitting up on your knees and tugging your long skirt up so it was bunched around your hips, mouth parting slightly at the feeling of the cold air nipping at your bare skin. He watched you with confusion, eyes darting around your legs so fast he felt dizzy.

You sat back down on his hard on, now only separated by his jeans and your underwear and he let out a low moan, shooting forward and ducking his head forward into your neck.

“Y/N.” He whined out and you shushed him, petting his hair and rocking your hips slowly against him, liking the way his mouth parted against your skin as he took deep shuddering breaths.

“I want you to feel me.” You were whispering into his hair and he picked his up in alarm, shaking his head and glancing down at your exposed lap.

“I- I don’t know how.” He was rushing out and you laughed softly, reaching down to grab his wrist off the blanket and pick his hand up.

You placed it against your stomach like it was the other day when he was pressing on it absentmindedly, letting him feel the smooth skin above your underwear line for a while before pushing his hand down slightly past the elastic and listening to his gasp.

You were still rocking against him but slower now, letting him feel you for the first time at his own pace and trying not to overwhelm him.

His hand was shaking fast, from the cold and nerves. You imagined he could feel his own hand pressing against his cock as he kept moving it down, trapping it between the both of you. You dipped down again when he hesitatingly stopped moving it once he was fully in your underwear and he let out a cry at the feeling of your wetness against his skin.

“W-what?” He was crying out in concern, eyes shooting up to look at yours. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

“I’m wet.” You explained to him with a breathy voice despite the fact you knew he didn’t understand what that would mean or if it was good or bad. “Means I feel good, you make me feel good.”

That seemed to alarm him more than the idea of you bleeding, his hand instinctively twitching and pressing against you. You leaned down to kiss him again and he reciprocated, forgetting his hand was on you for a few seconds before you were lowering your hips again.

He wasn’t doing anything but just the feeling of his large hands cupping you was making you feel dizzy, rocking against him again despite the strange noise he let out.

“Touch me baby c’mon.” He looked up at you at the sound of your urging, eyes big and wet. He looked nervous but he hesitatingly moved his fingers, curling slightly and pressing against your clit. You let out a cry and he immediately froze, mistaking it for pain. “No Jake, it’s okay do it again.”

He didn’t look sure but he followed your instructions anyways, curling his hand up and being amazed by the way you threw your head back in a small cry.

The two of you seemed to forget about your surroundings, about the rushing lake or the freezing air that was only making the cold grass more bitter to sit in. You almost forgot who you were or the fact you were only a few minutes outside of town, practically riding Jake in a field visible to anyone who cared.

“You’re so pretty.” You remarked and he frowned at your gentle word causing you to lean forward and kiss him softly. “I want to keep you forever.”

You were too lust drunk to think about the heavy implication of your words or the fact saying them went against everything you’d previously been attempting. The whole reason you’d even started touching him today was to distract him from the fact you’d taken him to a place personal to you, to make him forget your act of kindness.

“You can keep me.” He was stuttering out in a high voice, not really sure if you meant what you were saying considering how confusing he found you, how strange this whole situation was.

Jake had accepted at some point that his life was changing now and for some reason, god had put you in his path. At first he figured you were some type of test of faith, if he could just ignore you and your evil nature then he’d be able to prove he was a good man, a holy man. But he began to wonder eventually if you were truly as terrible as he originally thought, as his mother kept remarking every time his father wasn’t in the room.

You made him cry and you occasionally would say terrible things to him. And it was no doubt you had a habit of sinning and making him sin, even when he didn’t want to.

But he thought you were kind at other times and he could tell by the way you zoned out in church during service and were nice to the young residents or helpful to the old, that you didn’t have no emotion. Maybe you were right, although you had a twisted way of teaching him about it.

You were leaning down to kiss him again and he was taking his hand out of your underwear, wiping it on his pants briefly before cupping your face in both his palms and keeping you there.

“Did I ruin you?” You were muttering against his panting mouth with a small smile, hands petting his hair affectionately.

“Almost.” He answered with a slight laugh, kissing you again.

——

By the time you and Jake had left the field, giggling together while you stuffed the wet blanket back into your backpack and jumped over mud puddles, the sun was set and gone.

You followed the streetlights home, walking the bikes side by side the entire time so the 20 minute ride turned into an hour walk.

You went a few streets without talking for a while, listening to the sounds of your tires rolling over gravel or the music nature provided from the surrounding woods just off in the distance. By the time you were crossing back into city limits and setting your sights on the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, your curiosity was weighing on you.

“Why did you move here anyways?” You were mumbling on accident so you weren’t sure he had heard you until he cleared his throat.

“A council member caught dad hitting mom.” He said it casually and you wondered if he was used to it or it was a practiced tone. “I guess they thought it’d look bad to punish him there so they sent us away.”

“Does he hit you too?” You weren’t sure why you asked that considering you were already pretty positive of the answer.

“Yeah sometimes.” He shrugged and tried not to fidget at the feeling of you watching him, kicking at a loose rock in the gravel road. “I think he’s mad I’m not very manly.”

“I think you’re manly.” You were frowning and furrowing your eyebrows, only deepening when you heard him let out a disbelieving scoff. “I’m serious.”

And you were. Despite Jake’s outwardly timid personality and the way he basically turned into a nervous obedient puppy everytime you got your hands on him, he was clearly a man. Both in his broad athletic build and in his day to day actions and personality. He was blunt and honest, telling you what he felt even if he thought it might anger you.

“Yeah, whatever.” He was whispering, still not trusting what you were saying and you froze in your tracks, stood directly under a streetlight. He slowed to a stop when he realized you were walking anymore and looked back at you in confusion.

“You wouldn’t have picked on me if I was manly.” He was explaining once he caught sight of your frustrated expression. “You probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.”

“You think I’m picking on you?” You ignored his second statement for now, eyes darkening at the implication of the first.

You weren’t sure why it struck a nerve within you considering he wasn’t half wrong. You had originally sought him out as a victim for you, an experiment or a game. Maybe even a way to further upset your mother, but you didn’t think he thought you were picking on him entirely.

“I don’t know what to think.” He was shaking his head and his eyes looked sad. He started to push his bike again and you rushed to catch up with him. “This is just confusing.”

“Well I’m not.” You kept your voice firm in an attempt to assure him and he didn’t say anything else, sparing you a long glance before looking back forward so he didn’t accidentally hit a pothole.

The two of you didn’t talk anymore after that, walking in a comfortable silence as you slowly got to a more familiar area for him and he realized you were slowly approaching his neighborhood. You must be planning on dropping him off before making you own way home he decided.

Those plans were quickly halted when you turned the corner of his street and saw your own parents car in his driveway, right next to the Sim’s. You both froze in place and stared in front of you in horror.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence.” He whispered and you jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, the words shaking slightly. “We can tell them we got caught up studying at the park.”

“If they’re here they already know.” You immediately stated in a flat voice, having a sick gut feeling as you looked at the two cars. The lights were on in Jake’s living room and you could vaguely make out multiple shadows walking around inside. “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe your dad heard something the other day.” He was rushing out in a hush, looking at you and your uncharacteristically frozen figure. He’d never seen you scared before and it made his skin crawl. “Or that lady in the basement.”

“No that’s not possible, I was-“ Your words faltered and you sucked in a panicked breath, trying to recall the two incidents he was talking about. You had been so caught up in your giddiness to talk to him that you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings this morning at all, saying damning idiotic things to him in the church of all places.

His hand was coming up and brushing against your arm that was covered in goosebumps. “Go home. I’ll think of a cover for you, I’ll handle it.”

You looked at him with big eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the fact he was willingly to lie for you so easily, willing to sin to both his parents and yours so you could be spared from punishment.

“I can’t leave you with them.” You were shaking your head in earnest and he deflated, understanding immediately there was no way of talking you out of it.

You both stood there for a few more beats, staring at each other under the street light and you briefly wondered if you’d see him again after this. You weren’t sure what your parents knew or if they were just following a strong hunch but you knew it didn’t matter. The second they suspected anything, atleast the men, you wouldn’t be allowed to see Jake anymore.

Eventually he took the first step, setting his bike down at the corner of the street and nudging for you to follow suit although you gave him a confused glance.

Following closely behind him, you tried to match his slow casual pace approaching the door and almost felt like you were going to throw up on the porch when he pushed it open without knocking, deciding to not give them any warning you were approaching.

The sight was just as dreadful as you imagined it would be, your parents sat on the Sim’s old couch while his were standing at attention and listening to whatever it was your father had been saying before your arrival.

All heads turned in your direction when you entered, half looking surprised you were together and the others showing no reaction. Your mother was immediately leaping up from the couch and approaching you with a scowl.

You felt her hand hitting your cheek before you even processed she was crossing the room, your head shooting sideways as your own palms came up to grasp your face in shock. Despite your differences, your mother had never directly struck you.

“You’re a disgrace.” She spat, literally, in your direction and you vaguely saw Jake flinch in your direction like he wanted to grab you. “No more games little girl, they finally see what I have all these years.”

One glance in your fathers direction told you she was telling the truth. He’d never been a good father but he wasn’t cruel, choosing religion over warmth and parenting. So upon seeing his cold stare you automatically knew things were too far gone.

“And you.” She was turning to sneer in Jake’s direction now and you were slightly surprised to see him square back his shoulders, jaw clenching. “How can you be so stupid?”

“Mary, please advise yourself on how you speak to my son.” Jake’s mother was piling up from the couch “I thought we agreed that your daughter is the one at fault here.”

“What?” Jake was spitting out and your eyes widened, wanting to tell him to shut up and let it run its course. “It was as much me as it was her.”

“No it wasn’t.” You were shaking your head at lightning speed, taking a step forward but rocking back again when your mother shot a glare in your direction. “It was all me.”

Jake was glaring at you but you knew he held no anger, only frustration that you were attempting to take the punishment for this. He was crazy to think you wouldn’t considering it was all your doing in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter.” Your fathers cool and calm voice was ringing out and everybody turned to look at him. “Tomorrow morning Y/N will be sent to a correctional school. I should’ve listened to your mother when she begged me to send you years ago.”

Your eyes were watering as you looked at him with pure betrayal. Despite your hatred for your town, for your longing to leave and never return you felt an overwhelming sense of panic at the thought of being sent away. You looked over at Jake to find him already watching you with the same panic in his eyes.

Then he was turning back towards your father with a shake of his head and a stony expression. “I won’t let you do that.”

Jake’s father scoffed, making his first noise of the night and you glanced over at his large frame. He was watching Jake with disgust and amusement but you saw a faint hint of a challenge in his eyes.

“And what will you do son?” He was approaching Jake with a sneer, looking down at him. Jake raised his chin to meet his stare, his hands shaking against his sides. “You can’t even protect your own mother.”

It was said in a whisper so only Jake could hear it but you were standing close enough to faintly catch it, mouth parting in shock at his blunt admission before opening further when Jake was suddenly moving faster than you could even pinpoint when he had started.

Jake was on his father before he even had a chance to prepare for it and you could hear the shrieks of the women, your own fathers grunts as he jumped off the couch to try and control the situation. You were standing on the side, hands out and trying to grip a hold of Jake’s jacket to tug him back when he glanced back at your hurriedly while his dad was disoriented.

“Go.” He mouthed the word at you and you felt your heart shatter slightly, shaking your head in denial before he gave you a firm nod and a soft smile.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as his dad took advantage of him being distracted, slamming Jake onto the ground, nearly blocking the front door. You took your chance to run before somebody realized you were going to and stopped you, sparing Jake one last look before heading out the door.

You aggressively wiped your tears as you ran down the street, sobbing as you could still hear the screams and grunts of pain from Jake coming from the door you’d left open. Your cheek was stinging still but you powered through it, letting the cold numb you as you hopped on your bike you’d abandoned under the light and started peddling so hard your thighs burned.

The wind was howling as you sped past your own neighborhood and the church, the empty buildings a blur through your teary eyes and you fell off your bike once you finally approached the field you’d been in earlier that day, landing in the mud with a cry.

You left your bike near the entrance, wobbling closer to the river with harsh sobs ripping through you, your knees and skirt dripping in mud.

For a moment you wondered if this was it. If you’d been wrong your entire life about religion and sin and this was god letting you know he was here and he was furious with you for the evil you let harvest.

If taking Jake and hurting him was all because you had done bad things and harmed the people around you. You let out a scream of frustration and looked up at the dark grey, wanting to tell him you didn’t care if he was watching and it wasn’t fair.

Instead you let yourself fall against the wet grass, curling into a ball and hugging your knees to your chest as you listened to the rushing river and the honks of traffic. You briefly remembered you were still wearing your backpack and it contained a blanket you could cover up with but you had no energy left to reach back to get it.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there crying, the sky getting darker and darker as you sat and waited.

You weren’t positive what you were even waiting for. Maybe for your parents to come searching for you so they could drag you away to some far away place or maybe the more hopeful part of you was waiting for Jake to come, to tell you he was okay.

The thought of him made you cry harder when you remembered the sounds he was making as you ran out and how furious his father looked about being struck. A man with an ego was dangerous especially when it got wounded.

Waves of guilt were rushing over you for dragging Jake into your twisted fantasies, for wanting to keep him even after you’d gotten what you wanted. For liking him despite not knowing you were capable of that until he arrived. You wished the river would fill up and swallow you inside it.

Over all the combined sounds you barely registered a few being added.

You didn’t hear the sound of the bike tires approaching, or the splashing of the mud puddles underneath hurried feet. You didn’t hear his worried pants or the desperate call of your name in the distance.

It wasn’t until he was there did you feel him, it wasn’t until he was reaching down to grab your arm.

Not until it was skin on skin.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #jake enhypen #heeseung #heeseung drabbles #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #jake x reader #sunghoon enhypen #jake drabbles #jake au #jake smut #jake fluff #jake fanfic #jake sim #enhypen smut

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pigcowboys · 8 months

Text

what i'm tryna say is . . .

pairing: percy jackson x gn! reader

summary: you make a point to finally confront percy about why he's been acting so distant.

warning(s): slightly angsty at the start, mutual pining, idiots in love, interrupted love confession.

part 2 part 3

when it came to feelings and relationships, you had to admit. you weren't the best at them.

you weren't stupid. you knew when someone's intentions weren't as platonic as they wanted it to seem. television taught you that -- though tv wasn't the same as reality and sometimes things aren't as forward as they usually were made to be, people just don't work like that.

you kind of hated that fact, actually. the fact that people were so complicated annoyed you so to speak. especially when it came to the various relationships in your life. your relationship with your mother was..rocky. so, the fact that your father was that of an immortal all powerful deity didn't help at all. you hated the fact that the gods were so fickle with the way they spoke to their demigod children.

they'd abandoned them, yet couldn't even offer them a direct sentence or word of advice. it seemed so bittersweet to you. the existence of camp half-blood was a comforting thought yet, challenged you with hard questions at the same time.

why couldn't the god protect their children themselves? why the hell would they just their put kids in danger knowing there was monsters out to get them? and most of all, why didn't they care enough to stick around?

these questions were built on nothing but anger and hatred yet, you couldn't stop them from popping up whenever you had a moment to yourself. this kind of stuff was complex, hard to understand. it was probably why you even hated thinking about it for too long.

you tried your best to avoid bringing up complex feelings, you really did. but.. sometimes you had to face your fears. or -- something like that you figured.

you idled in front of the poseidon cabin, an unnerving feeling in the pit of your stomach as you tried your best to put on a brave face. you had nothing to be scared of, honestly! it was such a stupid situation you'd found yourself worrying about. it'd only been a few weeks since percy, annabeth, grover and thalia had returned from their quest to find artemis.

you practically busted your ass making your way over to find percy and the others, a comical grin on your face being met with the tired and shaken up faces of the group. thalia left with the hunters, nico was informed of the death of his sister and everyone in the camp seemed to be in grimmer spirits than before.

percy included.

he seemed..distant -- in a way. it made you wonder about what the hell happened on the quest. what he had to witness while he was out on the open road. it made your heart hurt for him. i mean, how could it not? percy was like a shell of his normal self and you hadn't a clue what it was about, especially when he started to avoid your presence around the camp.

it was the main reason you were situated outside his cabin, hesitating to knock on it as your head raced with questions. something in the back of your head told you to just go back to your own cabin and hold your tongue. a part of you wished you'd listened to it, sucking in a breath as you knocked earnestly on cabin 3's door.

you exhaled shakily,

“hey,” you started, pausing as you tried to find something to say. you and percy hadn't spoken in weeks, what could you say..? he looked back at you with wide eyes, like he hadn't expected to see you here at all. you couldn't blame him -- you didn't expect yourself to be there either.

“uh, can we talk..?”

percy shut the door behind you as you strolled sheepishly into his cabin, looking around the practically empty cabin as you stood in the middle of the room awkwardly.

percy walked over to you nervously, leaning against the frame of cabin 3's bunk bed as he turned to face you with a concerned expression. “what did you wanna talk about?” you paused, analyzing percy's worried gaze

“are you avoiding me?” you blurted out suddenly.

percy blinked a few times before his eyebrows furrowed. “..what are you talking about?”

“i mean.. i haven't seen you in so long? are you like” you cleared your throat. "do you not wanna be friends..anymore?"

“no.” you turned to him. percy's face was slightly flushed though, you couldn't pinpoint if it was because of the fact the sun was boiling today or for..another reason.

“it's not like that.” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. “i've just been..feeling weird, i guess.”

“and you didn't feel the need to tell me about it?”

he paused.

silence fell over the two of you as you began to regret ever coming to cabin 3 before percy spoke once more.

“i don't think i feel the same way i did..” he trailed off. "about..us."

your heart pounded in your ears as your eyebrows furrowed. “what you don't wanna be friends anymore?”

“are you." he sighed in frustration. “no, that's not what i meant.”

you felt slightly jittery now, it must've been your body growing tired of the still position you were in. the vagueness of percy's words were starting to cause thoughts to race in your head as well. why couldn't he just be honest? what excuse is so great that it makes up for the fact he's been ignoring you all this time?

“then,” you mumbled. “ what did you mean?”

percy sucked in a sharp breath, shifting on his leg as he crossed his arms impatiently. he looked like he was trying to psych himself up to say something. he locked eyes with you before shuffling over sheepishly and gently directing you to a sitting position on his bed.

you tapped against the frame of the bunk bed absentmindedly waiting for percy to continue.

“you're uh..” he paused again. “i don't want to just be friends.”

you shot him a confused look. “you wanna be..best friends?”

percy deadpanned. you felt slightly bad for still not getting what he was trying to say. though, what were you supposed to assume when he kept talking in riddles? percy's hand inched towards your own that rested on the bed slowly before he cleared his throat.

“i like - ”

“percy! you have to..” annabeth trailed off, observing the scene in front of her with calculated eyes. she bit back an amused grin, shaking her head slightly. “did i..walk in on something?”

“no!” percy exclaimed, moving his inching hand away from yours to rest in his lap. his face was red and his lips were folded into a thin line. “uh - we weren't doing anything.”

you eyes percy curiously before turning to annabeth. “what's going on?”

“chiron's asking for him..” her eyes shifted between the two of you. “i can tell him you're busy..”

“you don't have to,” you stood up from the bed, dusting yourself off. “i was gonna..leave anyways.” you turned to percy. “catch you later, i guess.” percy nodded his head, waving at you robotically.

you shut the door behind you, trying your best to shake off the awkward conversation.

you weren't able to decipher what percy was saying to you, nor did you even get a straight answer about why he'd be avoiding you. you squinted your eyes as the sun shun over your face.

why were people so complex?

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #x reader #x reader fluff #mutual pining #love confessions #pjo fluff #fluff

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darkened-writer · 7 months

Text

imagine | Star

This is based on a TikTok by @ / hamrikaa , their art piece is so stunning and I hope I can capture the sadness and beauty of it. This imagine was also made with Mitski's 'Star' in mind, so please enjoy.

PAIRING || Astarion x Tav (reader)

WORD COUNT || 881

PART TWO

Old and withered bones, the smell of old wood, and the quiet of night as red eyes were trained on the sleeping body of Tav.

Who knew that seventy-two years could pass so quickly?

As each day passed, their body aged and aged, while he stayed still so young and bright.

Like a star.

But, the years spent together were never, ever in vain, as marriage happened, nights wrapped up in eachothers arms, gentle caresses and whispered nothings. Reassurances and soft kisses on every exposed part of skin.

He never knew how much he need to be touched in a soft manner.

He never knew how much he needed to be held.

If anyone were to tell him back before their journey that he’d find someone to live for, he would’ve laughed in their face.

Their chest rose, up and down, up and down, hoarse and shallow. Tav knew it, He knew it too, it wasn’t long before they’d pass on. It was creeping up on the two of them like a deadly darkness.

The darkness was something that he was used to, but gods, did he want to stay in the sun for as long as possible with Tav.

“My Sweet, wake up…”

Their eyes opened slowly, the muscles frail and feeble, their gaze shaky.

“Would you come with me? Just on the balcony, My Dear.”

“Isn’t it almost sunrise…?”

There was a knowing look shared, Tav’s head shaking, the most movement he’d seen from them as of late.

“No… No…”

They’re lifted up into his arms and carried promptly despite the barely strong pushing against his chest, but they give up, just leaning their head into the crook on his neck until the cool night air hits their skin, eliciting chills. The sky was subtly lighting up, so slow, and yet the pit in Tav’s stomach was heavy.

Astarion couldn’t live without them.

So, he’d go with them.

He sets them down next to him, wrapping an arm around their shoulders, pulling them in as his eyes stay focused on the colors that have started to paint the skies.

Red, Purple, Orange.

“Ideally, even when I was just a spawn, sometimes I thought about walking into the sun to end my suffering. Dissipating into the air, alone, hopeless, missing my old life.”

A beat of silence.

“But…” He looks down at Tav’s resting head, a adoring look in his apple red eyes.

“I was taught, by someone, who was my favorite little travelling companion that… life was worth living for. And, I found myself living for them. Without them, I could never… would never.. Make it another day.”

His voice wavers into the crisp morning air, the dew upon the grass and leaves of trees sending an earthy smell into the atmosphere.

“So, I cherished every single hour, minute, second, and fleeting moment with them because I knew that the day that they were set to die, I’d have no choice but to go with them.”

“Astari–”

“Shh… let me finish, Darling.”

They let him continue.

“I’d move mountains for you to live for another century, to live for ions with me, hand in hand, watching others pass, get old, live their own lives while we continue our together but… our story– our story has come to a close, My Dear.”

His hand shifts to hold Tav’s.

“As I see it, we are a star that has burnt out. We’re tired, aren’t we?”

Tav erupts into a coughing fit, in which Astarion holds them close until they calm down.

The sun begins to rise, slowly, the beams hitting the grass as it slowly moves to cover the entirety of everything, all at once.

“I think we lived well, all things considered.”

He looks down at them, listening to them speak.

“That knife to my neck was quite the impression. And the seduction. But, I knew that all you needed was compassion.”

“You were always a wicked little thing, but your kindness knew no bounds.”

His skin began to flake, a gasp rising from his throat as he held on for dear life, cold hands grasping his lover.

“I never knew love until I met you, and I hope if there is another life after this, we may reunite and continue where we left off, My Treasure.”

A tear fell down his pale cheek, heat radiating from him as he begins to fade into the ether. His head leans down to connect with Tav’s, eyes open, looking into theirs as the last thing he wanted to see before he truly disappears, is the first thing he noticed about Tav. Their eyes.

“See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

The red is gone and now replaced by the view of an empty chair, Tav now sat alone as the sunrise graced their wrinkled skin, but nothing could ever replace the warmth of Astarion. Nothing.

A week later, Tav’s body was discovered curled up on Astarion’s side of their shared bed, a small smile gracing their face, as if satisfied with their life, all the ups and downs, battles won and lost, blood shed and wounds patched up. All of it cultivated to a love that would transcend past their last breath.

Even a dead star can be made anew.

In another life.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion x you #baldurs gate astarion #self indulgent angst #xreader #fanfiction

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autisticlancemcclain · 5 months

Text

The situation starts on the couches of a hotel lobby on a random planet at three-something in the morning, sprawled all over each other, exhausted, as Coran quietly checks them in.

“Hey, Lance,” whispers Keith, from somewhere beside the shoulder he offered. Lance groans, feigning more tiredness than he actually feels, heart racing since Keith first shifted so Lance would have somewhere to rest his head. He has this strange feeling of invasion, even though Keith offered, even though they’ve been in this position dozens of times before. He’s waiting almost for the other shoe to drop.

“Mm-what,” he mumbles, muffled into his roughed shoulder pads, words smushed together.

Keith sighs instead of answering. For half a second Lance tenses. But Keith only shifts again, not pushing Lance off but moving so Lance is pressed closer to him, and then the heat of his breath tickles the shell of Lance’s ear, and he tenses for a whole different reason.

And then there is, inexplicably, the feeling of what must be Keith’s lips, pressed to the side of Lance’s skull, gentle and lingering, and Lance thinks clearly to himself: what the fresh actual and genuine fuck.

“‘M sorry,” says Keith, so quiet it would be impossible to hear were his mouth not one single inch away from Lance’s ear. He kisses again, and he almost sags into the motion, into Lance. “I shouldn’t have been so dismissive of you earlier. I was stressed. I missed you, too.”

Lance opens his mouth. He muffles a choking sound with all of his strength.

“All good in the hood,” he finally manages, and then wants to strangle himself. “We’re — tight, Keithalicious.”

Somewhere, somehow, there is a God, and this God looks upon him with the utmost cruelty, and so Lance suffers, unjustly, every day of his life. He often prays that he will wake up one morning in the absence of a tongue. A hindrance and horrible sacrifice, of course, but one that may be worth the total sum of humiliation he feels so acutely and so frequently by virtue of God’s gift of language.

Shit is just not worth it, sometimes.

Keith’s laugh tickles a little. “I’m glad, sweetheart.” His final kiss is light, more of a peck than anything. He pats Lance’s hip twice before standing. Lance wonders, vaguely, when the hell his hand was in his hip area in the first place, and how the hell he’s supposed to rationalize that somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind. “‘M gonna go help Coran. See you in a few.”

“Yeah,” is what Lance means to say, but unfortunately when he opens his mouth the only sound that escapes is a strange kind of croak, clawing its way out of his throat and withering to death somewhere in the air between them. It may be, he realises with an intense flash of solemnity, the last remaining dredges of his dignity. Rest in fucking peace.

Keith just smiles again (a real one that shows his crooked incisors and crinkles his eyes and makes him looks handsome, not hot or sexy or beautiful but handsome, in a way that genuinely makes Lance weak in the knees) and jogs over to the front desk. Lance watches him place a friendly hand on Coran’s shoulder, leaning in and narrowing his eyes at the paper the front desk worker offers, saying something Lance can’t hear with his Black Paladin face in full force. When he finally manages to wrench his eyes away, he sees the faces of his team, gobsmacked, staring at him with wide eyes and jaws brushing the polished blue tiles.

“What,” Shiro manages eventually, “the fuck.”

“Since fucking when are you two boning!” Pidge adds, shamelessly.

“I thought you had a thing for Allura?” questions Hunk.

Lance’s own jaw snaps shut. His ears burn, worse than they already were, and he glances at the princess only to find her already looking away. Shame burns something fierce in the pit of his stomach. It’s an unwelcome replacement of the butterflies.

“What me and Keith do behind a closed door is none of your business,” Lance says hotly, straightening his shoulders and puffing out his chest ridiculously. His heart pounds. He raises his voice to drown it out. “We had a bonding moment, after all.”

Pidge barks a laugh. The rest of the snorts and giggles soon follow, and soon the team is looking at him in fond exasperation, rolling their eyes and muttering about Lance and his antics. Allura, even, looks him in the face again. The roiling in his stomach doesn’t change, but the pound of his heart is replaced with something bitter on the back of his tongue.

Anything is better than looking ignorant. Even if you look like a fool.

He settles into the corner of the couch — much less comfortable than Keith’s armoured shoulder, somehow — and lets his eyes slide shut, lets the familiar sound of his team quietly conversing and the ambient sound of a public place at night wash over him as he fades into a half-sleep. The same kind of sleep in a car on the way home from a long road trip, late at night; half aware of the movement and murmured sound of your parents’ whispering in front seat, time stretching around you like taffy.

He stirs slowly at the sound of boots hitting the floor, bleary eyes still half-shut. Keith slowly comes back into focus, standing in front of him now. He’s frowning, troubled.

“They booked us two separate rooms,” he explains, pursing his lips at the two keys in his hand.

Lance pauses. “…Yes.”

Keith doesn’t pick up on it. (That, at least, is familiar enough to make Lance smile.)

“You’d think they’d…well, whatever. I suppose it’s fine. I’ll come join you after you’re showered?”

“Keith —”

“I think my room has the bigger bed, actually. You come to mine.” He opens the little envelope thing and pulls out the extra key, sliding it into Lance’s hands. “I’ll bring up your luggage.”

“Keith, I’m not going to —”

Lance stops.

Keith, I’m not going to sleep with you, is what he was going to say. Keith, what the hell. Keith, you’re acting like a pod person. Keith, I don’t understand what’s going on. Keith, everyone is laughing at us and you don’t seem to notice. Or care. Keith, you’re acting like you’re my — boyfriend, or something. Keith, one day ago you didn’t want anything to do with me. Keith, now you can’t seem to get enough of me. Keith, I am going to lose my mind. Keith, Keith, Keith.

“Okay,” Lance says instead, quiet. He turns the key over in his hands. It looks like a regular white hotel key. It feels heavier, somehow. “Okay, I’ll meet you in twenty.”

Keith flashes a quick smile. It, too, is genuine, and Lance lips are quirking up to match before he can think about it.

“Liar. You’ve never taken less than a half hour shower in your life.”

“I have — so.”

Shaking his head, fondness bleeding from him, Keith steps forward, bending down and pressing a gentle kiss to Lance’s forehead. Lance feels all the air exit his body in one huge whoosh.

“I know you, goober. We got all night. Decompress. I’ll check the closet and under the bed before you get there. Don’t take too long.”

Lance stills. He watches after Keith with wide eyes. His heart, finally calmed again, fucking races.

He’s never, not once in his life, told anyone about the — thing. With the — closets, and under the bed. Not one person; not even Hunk.

It’s stupid, is what it is.

But Lance’s older cousin was kind of a — jerk. And when they were kids he would make these freaky fucking paintings with red eyes and smudged faces and — hide them, in Lance’s closet or dresser drawers or under his bed, and convince him they would come to life in the night and posses him, and it was so fucking dumb, but Lance has always been gullible and it used to scare the shit out of him, because he would never know when they would appear and it would just — freak him out. All the time. Unless he checked his entire room once in the daytime before sleeping, he would never be able to fall asleep.

And he’s never fucking — told anyone about that. Because as a kid it was terrifying to say out loud and as he got older it was just embarrassing. But Keith knows, somehow.

Keith knows.

Lance exhales, air whistling sharply from between his teeth, “Whatever. Whatever. You know what? Whatever,” and stomps over to the elevator. “This is — I’m going to shower. And not think. I don’t — whatever.”

He stews the whole way up to his room. He stews as the key doesn’t fucking work in the slot until the fourth try. He stews as he yanks off his armour and flings it into a random corner, relishing in the heavy thud as it hits the wall, hoping it cracks. He stews as he angrily presses all the buttons in the shower and hops in, cussing as he’s assaulted with an onslaught of hot-cold-hot-cold-soap-soap-soap, aggressively blinking away the sting in his eye and cursing the very air molecules around him. He stews the entire fucking forty minute shower, although admittedly he does, by the ten minute mark, start to calm down a little.

By the time he steps onto the bathmat, he’s just — tired.

“Whatever,” he sighs to himself again, but this time it’s more weary than anything. “Just — I guess. Sure. Whatever.”

There’s a fancy complimentary robe folded neatly on the stack of towels. He swallows the lump in his throat, thinking of his beautiful blue one, now ashes with the rest of the castle.

“Whatever,” he repeats to himself, firmly. Eventually he manages to blink the tears away.

The walk to Keith’s room is short, and cold, and probably embarrassing, since he is in a robe and slippers and a twisty shower hat, but he’s too drained to care. Every step is heavy. By the time he manages to slide the key in the lock — this key cooperates, go fucking figure — and shove the heavy door open, he feels…precarious.

Fragile, maybe.

It takes one look from Keith, one flash of soft indigo eyes and bedsheets untucked and folded over like he likes them and a nightlight shining low on the side table, for him to simply burst into tears.

“It has been a long fucking day,” he sobs.

“It sure as shit has,” Keith agrees, opening his arms, and Lance doesn’t bother thinking before collapsing into them, curling into Keith’s lap and tucking under his chin. Keith grips him tightly and squeezes, and it feels so strangely familiar and so perfect that it’s simply too much for Lance to worry about. He does not have the energy. It’s just — too good, and he’s so tired, and if this is all a trick or a dream or anything like that then he’ll handle it in the fucking morning. Right now Keith is warm and he’s a real fucking person offering real fucking affection with absolutely zero strings attached, none of them, and Lance is allowed to have nice things, actually, it’s written right the in paladin handbook, he knows because he wrote it there himself.

He can just — have this one thing.

“Let’s just sleep for a few thousand years,” Keith says, and he sounds exhausted as Lance does.

And if this is a dream than there’s absolutely nothing to lose, and also whatever, truly, so Lance gives fully into every impulse he’s been too ashamed to even admit in his own head and leans up to kiss him squarely on the lips. He is warm and sweet and tastes like toothpaste, and he kisses back without a second of hesitation, and his hands cup the side of Lance’s face and his calloused thumb brushes across his cheekbones, and it’s everything Lance could ever want it to be, and it makes all the horrible everything melt away. So Lance says screw you, universe, and kisses him until he’s too tired to keep his eyes open, and then he tucks in next to him and relishes in his arm over his waist and falls asleep faster than he ever has in his life listening to Keith’s heartbeat.

This is where the situation starts.

———

based on this thread

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

Text

I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend (Astarion x GN! Reader)

This man has a chokehold on me and I have been plagued by this idea for about a week.

Title inspired by the song "i wanna be your girlfriend" by girl in red

CW: Mentions of violence and gore (not descriptive), bit of angst, comfort

(Not my photo. I believe it belongs to Daily Gaming)

Synopsis- You and Astarion are in the middle of a war to prove who can set the best traps. However, a lack of rules seems to have gotten you into a predicament neither one of you had anticipated.

Sometimes you take it a smidge too far.

You would love to tell people you are some cunning, daring rogue, but the reality is that you are consistently flying by the seat of your pants. Occasionally it works really well- this was not one of those times.

You never felt the need to prove anything to anyone.

Well, until you met Astarion. Within the first three days of traveling with him, your confidence and patience began to wear thin. He would make snide comments when watching you attempt to unlock a chest or when you scare off your prey by tripping over a bush. Then he would smirk at you- with that stupid, beautiful smirk.

He enjoys adding salt to the wound by taking on the task you failed at; usually lock picking, sneak attacks, and Gods only knows what else he could make fun of you for. You are very aware that you are not some fancy rogue and it never bothered you until now. You had accepted long ago that you are just a street urchin moving up in the world after teaching yourself the trade.

The final straw had been when you had placed traps to catch dinner. Your traps had been successful (naturally- traps were your thing) and you brought back three bunnies for Gale’s stew.

Oh, but of course Astarion had something to say. He always has something to say.

“Oh look at that- how cute. I’m sure sheerluck was on your side,” he quips, “You’ll get better eventually.”

Thus began the war of all wars.

It started with small traps- nuisances really. Tripwire, a laughing or sleep rune well hidden, and traps that release horrible smells. Then it quickly took a turn for the worst; what were once harmless pranks turned into trip wires that release a swarm of bees, simple pits began to get deeper, and blasting traps that would send either one of you flying into a nearby object. It was never truly life threatening, just questionable.

Well, except for the bees. The bees were not the greatest thought in hindsight; considering both you and Astarion had to help each other with the bee stings- Shadowheart refusing to be involved. You both laughed and he even complimented you on your cleverness. You swore you could have exploded in that moment.

You have a massive, childish crush on the man and maybe the competition was your subconscious way of getting closer to him. However, your other companions were getting sick of it pretty quickly.

They had all hoped after the Tiefling party that the two of you would put your silly competition to rest so that you could all travel together in peace and they would just have to deal with PDA.

What a silly thing for them to think. PDA hasn't happened, but the pranks did become less risky and less frequent. You were okay with this change.

You feel like you and Astarion have become close friends. Even though your tryst didn’t lead to a romantic relationship as you had hoped, you were happy to have Astarion in your life in any capacity. If that was just as a friend- then so be it.

Which brings us back to the beginning- when you realize that your ‘trap war’ had paper thin rules and the lack of rules just might be the thing that actually kills you on this journey.

All you wanted to do was clean yourself off. It had been one last relaxing day before you set off to the Creche, but you had thought you might treat yourself. Baths were rare and far between these days and you want to enjoy it while you have it. However, you were not planning for a simple snare trap to foil your entire evening.

You get hoisted up into the air, slammed against the tree, and drop all of your belongings- including the knife you brought ‘just incase’. You glared at the knife and put your hand to your blood fountain of a nose.

“Traitor,” you whisper with a pout as you look for a way to escape the trap.

Suddenly, you freeze as instincts kick in. You hear the Gnolls before you see them. Your bloody nose from the impact of the tree had led them to you. They attempt to claw at you- trying to rip you down from the tree. You feel their claws tear into your back, the side of your arms, and one of them even manages to take a swipe at your abdomen as you scramble to escape. The cuts weren't life threatening, but they hurt. A LOT.

You manage to use the rope to pull yourself up onto one of the tree limbs; allowing you to hide some of your body from the Gnolls, but you now have an arrow protruding out of your right thigh so obviously that isn’t working well either.

You bite back tears, frozen in fear. You really did not want to die this way and you certainly didn’t want it to be because of Astarion’s trap. You have a feeling he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you died because of him.

You can imagine the blame and anger the rest of your companions would direct at him if the worst happened. You imagine the bloodshed- knowing full well that everyone (minus Karlach) would not forgive him for accidentally killing you. Lae’zel would be the first one to put a stake in his chest- her fondness for you is no secret.

Your heart thumps painfully at that thought and your resolve hardens. You will not die because you will not let that happen to Astarion.

You look around, your arms and legs shaking still with the residual shock and fear. You look for any sharp branches, a forgotten knife lodged somewhere, or even something you could cast a cantrip on to distract them. You have no such luck.

You resign yourself to your fate- the tears making a reappearance.

Unless one of your companions finds you first- you are going to either have to wait for the Gnolls to get bored and leave or they are going to kill you.

You pray to every God you can think of that you will survive the night.

_________________________________________________

Astarion is trying to not look so desperate as he reads the first page for the hundredth time.

You had walked off a little over two hours ago- Lae’zel is on watch while the rest of your companions sleep soundly in their bed rolls.

The longer your bedroll remains empty, the more the pit grows in his stomach.

He didn’t know how to navigate your relationship after the tiefling party.

His feelings for you are confusing. The sex had felt different, he enjoys your company immensely, and he likes how warm he feels around you.

Instead of talking to you like a normal person or taking a moment to reflect, he decided to find some common ground- something you could laugh and talk about later. Normalcy.

He set up a snare trap close to the river you were all using to clean off and then a laughter rune trap somewhere on the path to the Creche. Hypothetically, they are very safe traps.

Unless he rigged them wrong? What if you ran into one of them and….

No, I am sure they are just fine.

He doesn’t even believe his own lie.

After about another five minutes, the anxiety rolling in his stomach becomes unbearable so he grabs his daggers and sets off in the direction you had gone two hours earlier.

He walks quickly through the forest, checking his surroundings and looking for evidence that you were close by. As the minutes pass, he feels the hope of finding you safe shrink.

The wind hits his nose and he becomes stock-still.

He smells your blood- an alarming amount of it-in the air as he gets closer to the river. He fears the worst as he goes to look at the trap- hoping you will forgive him- that you are alive. Safe.

He peers through the bushes and his eyes grow wide as the scene before him unfolds.

You are stuck up in the tree- his trap is still around your ankle. You are holding onto the branch like your life depends on it. It probably does since there are five Gnolls circling the tree like vultures.

He can hear your soft broken sobs as arrows fly over you or hit the tree. He notices the arrow in your leg and watches as a second one lodges itself into your calf. You wince and close your eyes tightly- unknown to you that Astarion’s vision is clouded in red and his whole body fills with destructive, hot rage. He also feels fear, but he pushes it away, not ready to explore the why.

He lunges forward, slashing at the Gnolls with so much force that they are practically in half by the time they hit the forest floor. He is a man possessed as he carves his way through all five gnolls and then he climbs up the tree to you.

His chest aches as he looks at you. He will never be able to forgive himself for causing you so much suffering.

“Darling,” he says softly.

You whimper in response and when you look at him- he feels all the air leave his lunges. If he needed air, he would have passed out right then. Your eyes were glassy with traces of fear, sadness, and loneliness- all emotions he is all too familiar with. Then you see it’s him and the biggest smile crosses your lips and you look at him with so much affection he almost feels ill. This was not the plan and he almost made you a midnight snack for a group of Gnolls.

“You found me,” you say in a raspy, raw voice, “I thought I was going to be stuck here all night until Karlach or Gale found me. Or I was going to die.”

You chuckle, but Astarion can’t get himself to share your same enthusiasm about his rescue mission as he cuts the rope.

He helps you down the tree and safely back on the ground. Astarion winces as you pull the arrows out of your leg. You find a healing potion amongst your things and chug it.

He collects your stuff for you. You give him another one of those brilliant smiles and Astarion tries to smile just as brightly back. You furrow your brows, but he turns away before you can keep analyzing him.

“We should head back,” Astarion mumbles.

______________________________________________

The silence hangs in the air as Astarion walks with you back to camp. After about 15 minutes, you are back at camp and the tension in the air is suffocating.

“Astarion.”

Astarion freezes, turns on his heels, and looks everywhere but your eyes. He couldn’t bare to see you smile at him again- look at him like that again- not after he almost killed you.

You maneuver yourself so you are looking in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” he begins to protest when you shush him, “we didn’t set any rules and the trap itself was harmless. We didn't account for Gnolls when we started this whole thing.”

“I almost got you killed.”

“But you didn’t. It easily could have been you in that situation and me saving you.”

“Will you please stop being so Gods damn forgiving,” he huffs with exasperation as he feels tears prick his eyes, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I put your life in danger. I almost-”

Lost you. He chokes on the words. The fear from earlier begins to come back to the front of his mind. Watching you cling to that tree, crying, and in pain had made him realize that you just might be more important to him than he cares to admit. However, that’s a conversation for another time- once he sorts out what that feeling in his chest is whenever he looks at you.

You look at him sharply, your eyes raw with sadness, “Stop that right now. I am okay. I lived. It was a mistake and I know your intentions were not bad. You don’t have anything to worry about Star.”

He doesn’t say anything and you hang your head.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I- I should go-“ Astarion pauses as you interrupt him.

“Please don’t leave,” you whisper, “I rather enjoy your company.”

You look at him with tears welling in your eyes. He stares at you in stunned silence, searching your face for any sign of deception, but he doesn't find it. His body moves before his brain can process what he is doing.

Astarion gently cradles your face in his hands and kisses you slowly, softly. He smiles despite himself when a gasp leaves your lips. You're alive and safe. When the warmth in his chest begins to spread throughout the rest of his body, he pulls away and steps back. Your face is flushed, a beautiful blush spreading across your cheeks. You look at him with wide, unblinking eyes before you shyly smile. Astarion could have melted in that moment. He finds himself smiling too.

“Well I’m assuming that means you are going to stay?”

“I suppose I’ll stay,” he says while tapping his chin, “you do need someone to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble like that again.”

You feign hurt and scoff, “Are you suggesting that this was my fault?”

“Maybe if you were better with traps that wouldn’t have happened,” Astarion teases.

You narrow your eyes at Astarion and you try to hold back a smile. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him.

You start towards camp before you pause and turn around. Astarion gives you a confused look.

You run over to him and place a kiss on his cheek. He tenses for a moment before relaxing again. You look at him sweetly, a soft smile on your lips.

“Good night Astarion.”

As you saunter towards your respective tents, Astarion takes one last glance at your tent- at you- before he lays down with his book. Except he still can’t get past the first page- he is too anxious for the sun to come up so that he can see your smile again.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 companions

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aouiaa · 29 days

Text

Reflect

Outline: When all the leads dried up, Ellie is forced to accept the heart wrenching reality that she’s never gonna see you again. Until two years and half later, the unexpected happens. People don’t come back from the dead so, How did you?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Tlou au + Death and a lot mentions of it + Mentions of suicidal behavior + Angst (alot of it) + Fluff + Self-deprecation + Flashback? + Mention of weapons + Mentions Harm inflicted to R and others + Torture + Depression + Mentions of blood + Mentions of grieving + Mentions of survivor’s guilt + Description of a corpse (I think that’s it, comment if I missed any!)

Previous Chapter -> Chapter two -> Next Chapter

Two and half years ago…

Five weeks after the Calamity.

Get out of bed

Get dressed

walk to…

Everything since the…incident, felt like a task. Obligations that only got harder and harder to complete each day. Shower…check. Make your bed…check. But today was the hardest.

It was your funeral, and fuck was it the hardest task to get done. But she couldn’t miss today, no she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. So here she is, standing beside Joel staring down at her shoes. And the tension being around your family was suffocating. She felt their stares, their fucking stares.

Did they blame her?

Wouldn’t blame them if they did.

The priest’s soft-spoken tone only made this feel more real, “Today we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Y/N L/N, who left the world of the living to start the journey in that of the dead. Though she lives...” his voice faded as Ellie submerges into her overwhelming thoughts.

She couldn’t believe it, you were really gone. This is the first time in weeks since she’s been outside her once vibrant, and happy room, rotting away. Replaying it over and over, thinking what she could’ve done. What could’ve kept you alive.

But if she’s in her head for too long that’s when her self conscious begins to gnaw at her and sometimes enflaming her. She hated herself for letting you down, letting you spend your last moments in fear. Not a peaceful and soft moment, but in one where the world was on fire. Where hands of the devil himself were pulling you back into the pits.

What’ll forever keep her up at night is your scream, and the look of pure terror on your face as you were pulled back before darkness took Ellie’s vision. She often loathed about if your final moments were merciful and not cruel. If it was quick and painless rather than torturous.

God she hoped not—

“May she rest easy now” The voice of the priest disturbs and elicits Ellie to look up.

As the priest finishes the last of your eulogy, One by one everyone begins throwing their roses onto your casket. And when it was Ellie’s time to let hers go, she kisses it as a final form of goodbye and watches as it falls in with the rest.

“Rest easy, angel.”

Present…

“Y/n?”

Every night before today she’d pray. Prayed, that she'd open her eyes and you’d be there, sleeping peacefully beside her—like nothing ever happened. But it never did happen, and she stupidly secretly held on to that possibility. Even if it sounded ludicrous, she still held on to that small hope.

And now that hope was in front of her, getting off a horse. She didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t. She thought that she finally lost her mind. Seeing your face on different people.

Snap out of it.

She scolds herself, closing her eyes, and taking a few deep breaths. Feeling her face reddening up from embarrassment from how stupid she must’ve seem calling out to a dead person. She doesn’t know how long she stood in the dark, terrified to meet the disappointment that always shined at the end of the tunnel.

“Ellie?”

But there it was, your voice. The sweet sound that could only be heard in her dreams. That euphoric feeling Ellie would get just by hearing it, turned into despair, when she couldn't remember it anymore. Locked and sealed away when she woke up. Like her mind was playing against her. How torturous it felt to be humiliated by her own mind.

But she heard it, one that couldn’t be replicated.

She opened her eyes hesitantly, but in front of her was you. You weren't a hallucination—No you were real and here in front of her face. Tears welled up in her eyes as she rushed towards you, giving you the tightest hug. Not loosening the grip she had around you once because she’d be damned if she did again.

Only once to cup your tear stained face, “How—How is this real?” She stammers, scanning your features. The amount of blemishes that littered your face didn’t ravage your beauty. Her thumb lightly grazed over a scar on your left cheek, What happened to you? She didn’t question you, of course. The timing wasn’t right.

“We have to get them to the infirmary, Ellie.” A voice snaps her out of her thoughts, and looking to the side to see standing beside her was Maria with her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. Still in her frenzy state, she just stares at Maria before replying.

“Yeah, yeah—let’s go.”

She stayed in the infirmary with you for sixteen hours just staring at you as you slept. You were being supplied with the appropriate amount of nourishment via VI. And she just sat there in that uncomfortable ass chair just staring at you, scared to even blink. Because maybe if she did, you’d disappear. She had so many questions rightfully so. But she didn’t want to overwhelm you with them all. You were in a fragile state of mind.

Next morning, you woke to see Ellie already looking at you. Her eye bags were more prominent, Did she not get any sleep? Did she stay up all night just staring at you? “Hey, how are you feeling?” her voice still sounded so familiar, yet so foreign. You just stare at Ellie not knowing if this was real, your mind had to be fucking with you again. You begin to tear up which Ellie catches on immediately, and wipes the fallen tears rolling down your cheek.

As soon as you feel her touch, her finger grazing over your cheek lightly, you gasp. Your mind wasn’t playing with you, you were here. Back home? “Relax, it’s okay, just breathe. You’re home again.” her voice was so soothing, it made your stomach twist into uncomfortable knotting.

“Are—are you real?” you stuttered, not truly believing after everything you’ve been through, you’d see the one person you’ve yearned for—just in front of you. Her freckles, you'd count every night but mess up halfway and give up an hour later out of frustration. Her hazel green eyes, you’d stare into every single moment of the day. Her plumped lips, you’d kiss everyday.

If you had anything in your system right now, you’d barf it all up.

“I am, just relax.” Ellie says, placing her hand on your arm. You look down at her hand gently placed on your forearm as you feel something bubbling inside of you. Not a love feeling but a weird one. Ellie could see it in your demeanor which causes her to remove her hand away with a quiet “sorry” falling from her lips before resting that hand on her lap.

You meet her gaze again, “Are you hungry?” you take a second to respond making Ellie uncomfortable slightly before replying with a small “Yeah.” Ellie nods, getting up and returning with a tray of food. “The nurse left it for when you woke up.” You grab the tray immediately, stuffing your mouth with food as Ellie settles down into her chair.

Ellie watches you before looking away and shifting in that stupid uncomfortable chair while scratching the back of her neck. Contemplating on what to do or say, anything to relieve this tension that strangled her. For a while, it’s just her mind eating at her and when she does finally decide to, she can’t bring herself to look at you when she begins, “I’m sorry for everything...” She whispers. You stop and look at her, confused. “What?”

“I’m sorry for everything.” she repeats in an audible tone, looking at you with tears forming at her waterline.

You catch on to what she’s referring to immediately and shake your head, “No it wasn’t your fault, Ellie.” You say, watching Ellie’s walls she built so high and secure, crumpled.

“No it is all my fault, why you're even in this position. I didn’t save you—“ she says in between sobs. “—I was weak and stupid and, and—“ she stammered over her words, placing her hand over her chest, trying to desperately breathe.

You look at this girl who you called call your girlfriend just cry. You didn’t know how to respond to this random burst of emotion. But one thing was for certain, you never blamed her once. Why would you? It wasn’t her fault, it was the people who captured you. Who ruined you. But you dealt with them.

“I never blamed you, not once.” you set your tray aside and move towards Ellie's trembling figure. Cupping her face gently to make her meet your soft gaze, “never once in that hell I was in did I blame you.”

When Ellie met your gaze, It only made her want to cry more. Throughout those two agonizing years, she sat in her hatred and guilt. She couldn’t accept the fact that you were gone because of her but here you were alive and telling the opposite. It felt confusing.

“What?”

“I never blamed you, Ellie.” You repeated, “You did everything you could.”

“Ellie, no!” you screamed.

You felt your heart drop when the grip your girlfriend had on your hand faltered. But that wasn’t the only thing she lost grip of. Her footing, you could see the fear on her face as she fell off the roof. That’d be the last expression you’d see on your lover’s face.

Fear.

Without the resistance you fall on your back, and you’re met with the difficulty of breathing. Every breath is met with the same irritation of carbon monoxide causing you to cough and wheeze. The fire has already spread to the bedroom and is slowly killing you. It went at a rapid pace up the walls and to the ceiling. The smoke created silhouettes of demons, it was hell on earth. And the devil had grabbed you pulling you with him to inferno.

You wouldn't let him though, no you wouldn’t go out like this. You kicked his hand off your leg, giving you a chance to crawl towards the open window and just as you’re gonna pull yourself up. A voice behind you says in a menacing song-like tone, “You’re too slow!”, and grabbing you by the hair, slamming your head against the windowsill. Upon impact, you felt your world spinning and your ears began to ring. Throwing you on the ground he gets on top of you, wrapping his hands around your throat.

You let out a choked mewl, bring your hands to his face, scratching at him. But to no avail, it only makes him add more pressure, “Don’t fight, it’ll make this more difficult” the gruff masculine voice said. You desperately try to break free but slowly succumb to the lack of oxygen. “Yeah, there you go.” is the last thing you hear before going unconscious.

You jolt awake from a sharp pain to your cheek. “Ah—fuck..” you hissed. Instinctively, you try to lift your hand to soothe the stinging pain, but you can’t. Confused, you look down at the lower half of your body to realize both of your hands are bound to the chair, along with your legs. Your eyes shoot up to investigate your surroundings.

Where am I? Why the fuck am I tied to this chair?

Upon inspection you realize you’re in a dimly lit bathroom. There’s filthy and dry splattered blood on the walls. Looking at the ragged mirrors mounted on the wall ahead, blood splattered and dried in its crevices. The sinks below are a whole nother story by themselves. But what’s more prominent in the room is an amazon of a woman in front of you. Or to help to understand—The one who rather rudely awakened you from your slumber.

Oh fuck..

You have so many questions racing through your mind; Where’s Ellie? Did they capture her too? Is she okay? Or is she dead? Who is this woman? What is she gonna do to me? Where the fuck am I? So many questions that litter your mind like a landfill, but gets soon disrupted by the beefy woman sitting in front of you.

Clearing her throat, she says, “I need your name.” she slouches forward into her chair, placing her elbows on her thighs. Her hardening gaze set on you as she waits for your answer. Your train of thoughts abruptly stops and goes blank. “I—Uhm…Y/n” you respond.

The muscular woman seems amused by your answer, “phff—“ She blows out a breathy snicker, “We already forgot our name? What a world we live in, huh?” She sneers, standing up and walks to one of the broken sinks, grabbing something. But you can’t quite see what it is due to her figure blocking your view, but the sound of a knife slinking out of its carrier is all the confirmation you need.

Your demeanor immediately tenses as the woman turns around with a knife in hand. You begin squirming in your chair, letting out a shaky breath. “Woah—what—what are you gonna do?”

Your immediate reaction makes the woman cackle, “Here’s how this is gonna go” She starts, kneeling down, and putting the knife dangerously close against your skin. “You’re gonna tell me what I wanna know and I won't ruin this pretty face of yours, yeah?” She taunts, turning her head to the side, a sinister smirk displayed on her face.

The knife blinds your left eye from little light that shines perfectly down onto the blade making you wince, your breathing starts to become erratic, “What are you gonna do to me?” you repeat, sheepishly, now staring at the woman in front of you.

“What I‘ma do to you?” She restates your question, “What Ima do depends on your choices.” She answers, grazing the knife gently against your cheek. You gulp, watching the woman as she stares at the knife grazing over your skin, seeming fixated by it before snapping out of her sick trance and meeting your gaze once again with an ominous smile on her face, making your guts twist and turn into unbearable knotts.

“So what’s it gonna be, huh?” She asks, but doesn’t let you answer, continuing, “Gonna die for your friends and that little girlfriend of yours or cooperate? The choice is yours.” She proposes, staring at you keenly as if she could scan your facade hard enough, she’d find the answer within your expressions.

With your choices layed out, you contemplate on your next move. Your landfilled mind only returning and overflowing with more thoughts. Why were you even contemplating this? There was no way in hell, you’d rat on Jackson, on Ellie. Even if you were to, this stranger would have no reason to keep you alive anymore since you would outlive your usefulness.

It was clear what you've chosen.

And the look on your face must’ve given it away because the woman's jaw suddenly clenched. “You seriously think your friends are looking for you? That girlfriend of yours doesn’t give a shit about you.” she insinuates, “because if they really cared, they’d be here by now—“

“Shut your fucking mouth, you dont know what you’re talking about—“ Your booming voice intrudes, you don’t know what empowered you to say that, but you should’ve just bite your tongue because your ears begin to ring as you endure a powerful smack to the face causing your head to fly to the right upon impact.

Turning your head slowly to face the woman, you’re met with an enraged expression plastered on her face, “You wanna keep fucking running that mouth, Huh?!” She spits out, “Better choose the next words out that stupid fucking mouth of yours carefully or I’ll cut your tongue out.” she threatens.

Still dazed from the assault, it takes you a second before mumbling out an incoherent sentence. “What was that?” she taunts, seeming to enjoy your suffering.

“I said—“

“Didn't hear ya, What was that?” She taunts, laughing.

“I said If you cut my tongue out” you huff out, watching her laugh, “how the fuck am I gonna tell you.” you remark.

The sound of laughter turns into silence with an inhuman look in her eyes morphing within seconds before saying, “Don’t say I didn't give you a chance.” She deadpans before plunging the knife into your thigh causing you to let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Interrogate, Torture, and Repeat.

That cycle had been going on for god knows how long. You were merely unrecognizable, the blood and bruising that littered your face was disturbing. You wondered how much more your body could take before death. Every blow she gave you, you wondered, Will this be the final blow? The final blow that takes me out of my misery? You hoped it did every. single. time.

But you didn’t go down, just kept withstanding the pain.

And when she felt like it was enough, she momentarily pauses and asks, “Ready to talk?” With all the strength you managed to gather, you lift your head and speak, “Is-is that all you got?” letting out a weak chuckle that turns into wheezing to coughing. The woman jaw clenches, “You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” she sneers before landing a blow against your swollen cheek.

It sends your face slanting to the side upon impact causing you to spit out blood. It was a dumb move to even say that, you knew that. But if you were to die right now, you weren’t gonna die showing fear. You couldn’t show the one thing you knew she wanted to see you express. No, you’re not gonna let her get that satisfaction.

Grabbing your jaw, she redirects your gaze firmly to meet hers. She opens her mouth to talk, but a knock on the door leaves her speechless. You watch her huff in annoyance and look at the door.

“Enter.” she instructs.

The door opens to reveal a blonde woman, she scans the room and her eyes immediately land on you, seeming to scrutinize you.

“What is it?”

The sudden interruption causes her gaze to set on the woman in front of you, “Oh right,” she says softly before speaking in a firm audible voice,”Ma’am, Louis and Regina are here.”

A nod is shot at the blonde,” Alright, take them up to my office. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Alright, and her?”

“Take this one back with the others, she isn’t gonna talk…yet.” That “yet” runs a chill down your spine. You watch the woman in front of you let go of your jaw causing your head to go slack. The rough landing causes you to let out a weak groan as you hear the sounds of footsteps and soft murmurs with the shut of a door following behind it. There was a lot of eerie silence that came after that, a lot of it. You wanted to lift your head up to see what was happening but you couldn’t. Your body was tired and too weak to support that action.

So you waited.

Waited and waited until you heard the sounds of muffled talking and footsteps. The sound of the door opening is when you move your head, looking up you see a different pair of people. A woman and a man, their voices became more apparent.

“Alright, be ready. Ima cut these ropes off.” the woman instructs.

You hiss at the added pressure to your sore wrists as she undoes the ropes roughly, but as soon as the aching pressure is relieved, you fall forward. But the man in front of you breaks your fall, “Shit…Liana really fucked this girl up.” he says with a grunt as he lifts you up.

Liana…that was the woman who I was with…

“Yeah…Let’s hope our little medic can fix her up.” the woman behind you responds in a condescending tone, and ending it with a chuckle.

A gruffy laugh erupts from the man as he throws you over his shoulder which elicits you to groan. They were so rough and careless with you—With that action completed, they began to walk out of the dingy room and walk down a hallway. Your world was literally upside down, you tried to see what this new uncharted territory was, but the swelling around your eyes proved it to be difficult. Every once in a while, light would seep into view causing you to wince.

You don’t know how long you were lounged on this random man’s shoulder, but it’s the sudden halt in their movements that catches your attention. “Alright everyone, step back. New arrival coming through.” The woman announces.

But to whom?

You can’t even process what just happened until you’re on the rough concrete floor. The impact causes you to wheeze and turn on your back. The blinding light above begins to become fainter as the sound of multiple voices only increases the ache in your head.

But one is more prominent than the rest, “Oh my—Alright everyone—Stacy, grab anything we can use.” Her voice is strong and impactful and you begin to feel the softest hands grazing over your face, “Stay with me, sweetheart.” she directs towards you.

Such a sweet gentle voice, a voice you’d only hear from a mother soothing her offspring. It brought you comfort to the aches in your body. Only a little. You really tried to stay awake, obey what you were told to do, but soon darkness invaded your senses once again and everything went to muffled to silence.

Death is many things; Terrifying, Inevitable, Unpleasant, Unpredictable, Unbearable. But in this case for you, death felt right. The only way to stop this nightmare that you couldn’t seem to wake up from. The only way to move on, to become a form of energy in this universe, but a memory to some.

Jackson.

Your parents.

Ellie.

No, you didn’t want to leave. You couldn’t leave, not now! You’re not ready to go. Not when you have to get back to her, your lover. You couldn’t bear the thought of her living the rest of her life believing you’re dead. No, no, You wouldn’t, you couldn’t let it happen! You’ll do anything in your power to get to her, no matter the cost. So wake up.

Wake UP!

A sharp gasp leaves your throat stinging, you shoot up in bed, drenched in sweat. Every inhale you take, you feel the windpipe becoming more and more tight. You place your hand on your chest, and desperately try to breathe. It’s until you feel a hand on your back that snaps out of it.

“Breathe, Y/n. Breathe.” The familiar voice says.

No, It couldn’t be.

The drumming in your chest only becomes more erratic as you hesitate to look beside you. This can’t be real. Until you do and see the face you thought you’d never see again.

“E-ellie.” you stammer, tears forming at the waterline.

“Yeah, I’m here baby. Just breathe.” She says gently as she wipes your tears away, “You okay?”

You’re not…how?

“How…how are you real?“

She looks at you, confused, “Real? baby, you just had a bad dream.”

“No, no, This isn’t….no because in my dream—“

“We got separated.” she answers for you.

How the fuck?—Was that all just a nightmare? No, It felt so real. This couldn’t be the reality. You immediately look down at your arms, No scratches, no bruises. You let out a gasp upon seeing clear arms then look at Ellie who’s staring at you with a worried look.

“Y/n, calm down. you’re home, okay?” she says and touches your shoulder.

God, that touch felt so…real. You stare at her with tears forming once again, “Ellie?” you say shakily.

Ellie sees the look in your eyes and immediately pulls you into her arms, “I got you.” she says softly in your ear, pressing a kiss on your head.

You sigh, Everything about this felt wrong. Part of you was screaming to wake up. That this wasn’t real, This couldn’t be, but…another part of you felt peace. Peace, you’ve been searching for your whole life before you met Ellie. Being in her arms, you felt it like you did when you were.

You need want it to be real.

Ellie gives you a gentle squeeze, “Alright, try to get some rest.” she says, letting you go to let you lay down. And you do, lying down on your side. You stare at the girl in front of you as she begins to do the same. Once on her back, she catches you staring and smiles, turning on her side to face you as well.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know…I’m just scared.” you finally admit.

“Scared?”

“Scared…scared, I’ll wake up and you won’t be there.”

“Don’t fear that.” she says softly, moving a strand of hair away from your face and behind your ear. Her touch felt real, it brought more tears to your eyes. “You know that’s just your mind talking. Rest. I’ll be here in the morning, by your side.”

Her reassurance puts you at some ease, some, “Yeah, Okay.” you say quietly.

Your response makes Ellie to move closer to you and wrap her arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You happily embrace this familiar warmth. It always made you feel so safe, so comforted, so loved. As you feel yourself drift back into oblivion, a smile adorns your face.

You’re finally home.

The soft caresses that feather your face cause you to move away and groan in response. Ellie must’ve been drawing on your face! Oh you’re gonna fucking kill her—…What. Upon opening your eyes, you’re not in your girlfriend's infamous room, You’re not laying down on her comfy bed, No, you’re still in that nightmare. Opening your eyes, you see the same older woman sitting beside you with a cloth in hand.

You didn’t wake up with her by your side.

You try sitting up, but she immediately stops you, “Don’t move, dear.” She says gently, helping you lie down once again, “You'll strain something and we don’t want that.” she says with a smile, but god it felt so creepy to you. “The painkillers have already set in so you won’t feel any of the pain for now.”

“Painkillers…Where…where am I?” You lift your hand to rub your forehead with a groan.

“Yes—You’re in Cell B.”

“Cell B?”

“Yes, Cell B.” she confirms, “You went into shock after taking that fall, so just take it easy. Your body is still fragile.”

“What’s Cell B? Where the fuck am I?”

She settles down the cloth in the bowl beside her and sighs, “If you really wanna know where you’re at, you need to know who you’re gonna be dealing with.” She has this look in her eyes that makes you shudder, but you simply nod and let her continue.

“Well, These people; They’re slavers. They stalk and capture. Sometimes go for big communities and make them no more. They…my community had that same fate.” She says the last part quietly with a glance of sadness in her eyes.

Seeing the look that this woman portrayed enraged you. How could they do this to someone who seemed like an angel sent from god himself?! To anyone for that mattered! This wasn’t right, but it also held so many questions for you.

“And why the fuck hasn’t anyone tried to retaliate?” you said in a louder tone than anticipated.

The woman’s eyes widened and she immediately put a finger to your mouth, hushing you and looking around to see if anyone heard you. As if on cue, a guard came strolling by with a rifle in hand, seeming to be perimetering the area. Your intrusive voice only seems to cause the guard to glance inside the cell and a few people inside with the both of you to stir in their respective beds.

The woman above you seems visibly shaken, but is immediately relieved when the guard doesn’t pay much mind to your outburst. Setting her gaze onto you, her facade hardens slightly, “Don’t talk like that, those types of things get you killed around here.” She warns.

You gulp and nod as she removes her finger from your lips and looks around once again before speaking in a lower tone, “People have before, but they’ve all perished or worse.”

“So….there's no way...outta here?” you say, feeling all of your hope slowly dwindling.

“Yes, but it’s almost impossible. Only way to “escape” is to fight, but everyone here is terrified of standing up against these people.”

“So we encourage them! You said it yourself, it’s almost impossible, but not impossible.” you whisper-yell, “You seriously can’t see yourself living here for the rest of your life!”

“Of course I don’t” she sighs and with her tone softening before she continues, “I have no other choice, dear. I’m getting old and my knees don’t go how they used to anymore. My chances are dismal. So I just follow the orders and avoid getting punishments.”

“Then I'll do something about it. You won’t be—“

“No.” she says sternly, “You don’t even know what you’re up against and with the state you’re in…you’ll die.”

You let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding. She was right, and you knew it. You couldn't do anything in the condition you’re in, you’d be killed on the spot. So you had to wait. Wait for how long? You don’t even know, but you won’t rush it. Patience brings success—or some shit like that, meet the right people and resources. But for now you need to get your strength up.

“Hurry the fuck up and pass it before they catch us!” Ashley warns with a quiet giggle.

You exhale with a chuckle and pass the stick over to her, “Shut up, you’re just being paranoid.”

She scoffs, “Me, paranoid?”

“Yes, you.” you reply with a smile, watching her inhale then exhale a few seconds after, “How many times have we smoked back here and gotten caught?” you say with a cocky tone as you grab it and bring to your lips.

You watch her huff in defeat, “None…” she mumbles.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, suck my dick.” she responds with an eye roll, taking and bringing it up to her lips. “We should get back anyway, stupid ass Tammy might wonder where we’re at.”

You cross your arms and sigh, “Yeah, I don't need her squeaking in my ear.” you remark with a chuckle.

Your comment eclits a laugh out of Ashley as she throws the joint on the ground and stomps on it with her foot, coating dirt over it as if it never happened.

“Right, let’s go.” she says, beginning to walk back to the others.

It had been a year and half since the whole incident went down. And life since you’ve healed from your injuries hasn't been great. Immediately after you were cleared for work, you were put on the job. It wasn’t light work to get you used to it, No. It was rough, blazing sun hot work.

Forced to work in insalubrious conditions with others plucking various fruits and vegetables. It was the same greenery that would be poorly rationed to you and those around you. Rationing it as if they didn’t have an endless supply of it, just sitting in their pantry. It was one of the many cruel acts these people did.

But you had to consider yourself fortunate, lucky even. That you haven’t gotten a punishment like those unlucky few. Because every single time they'd blow that “death horn” as you called it. You knew someone was either gonna be dead or left to die, bleeding out.

It was a sick guessing game.

And everytime someone initiated that heart dropping tune, a shudder would run down your spine. But what was strange about it was that everyone knew what to do without even being instructed too. Like machines, everyone would drop everything they were doing and make their way to the courtyard.

As if it put them under a trance.

You remembered the first time you heard it. Just after you dropped the last apple into your basket. That twisted melody aired through the establishment causing you to freeze in fear. The ambience of everyone’s demeanor changed from lighthearted to stoic in a blink. It was terrifying to see it without context. But now knowing the meaning behind it, you understood why they acted that way.

You weren’t gonna lie, seeing people die so savagely, it scared you. Made you lose hope of actually trying and planning an escape. You could see it in everyone's eyes; despair and hopeless. And you were starting to get that mentality too.

Hopeless.

Mallory was the only hope you truly had. Just seeing her every single day after a long and rough day working in fields brought a smile to your lips, even if you had no reason to smile that day. She didn’t just earn that title, “medic” she owned it. She taught you the ropes of basic and advanced medical care.

It wasn’t the lessons you loved—well of course you loved it, but you loved hearing the woman talk about her past and dreams as a child. You never knew why, but every conversation you had with her felt like a mother and daughter bonding over fresh cookies, they baked together.

You loved her.

You want better for her.

You knew she wouldn’t get it here—no…with the way they treat her.

It’s impossible for her to live a peaceful life for when she grew too old and can’t move around without complaining about joint pain.

Because the truth was, she was getting older. Time wasn’t stopping for her. And you could see it. And you’d be lying out of your ass if you didn’t say you were worried about her. The endless nights of caring for wounded people, was taking a toll on the old woman's body.

That sweet old altruistic woman who nursed you back to health and still does. Scolding you like a little girl who tripped over a rock from being unaware of her surroundings. But you knew she loved and worried about you—all the time.

Parents say they know everything about their child, and in this case. She definitely knew something was up when you started to act weird. Suspicious.

But of course, she never questioned you—mostly because she thought you were grieving. And she’s never questioned the way you grieved—even if your ways of grieving could get you killed or worse.

Now why were you grieving? Omid, it’s one of the biggest burdens you’ll ever have to carry. He was one of your closest friends. One out of the many people you knew, you could truly trust. He was actually one of the people you confided in with your ideas of escaping.

And he encouraged you.

He told you, he’d help you for as long as he could because he had an advance. An advance, so little had, but honestly so many that people wouldn’t want to have. He was Liana’s personal maid, or pushover. He would take you the amount of bullying he’d take from her and her fucking goons.

And he was such a good person, he didn’t deserve any of it.

None of it.

Liana would threaten to kill him in brutal ways in front of everyone if he fucked up—even if it was the little mistake. And of course it was all talk—never bite. Until she did bite, and hard. Hearing from friends, you heard that Omid was tripped on purpose by one of Liana’s members while holding a tray of drinks during a meeting. Spilling all the drinks over Lianas fresh plans for future establishment builds.

It wasn’t pretty finding his body, strung up like a pig, gutted. It broke you, left you in a depressive, guilt trip state. Because you weren’t quick enough. He gave all the information he could find on layouts, patrol routes and more. But you were slow, it was hard finding people who were brave enough to help.

And now your lack of being effective payed it’s price.

Now, you sat in front of his makeshift grave that everyone pitched in to make, watching the dirt falling from your hand as you continuously kept playing with it.

Should’ve been me, not you..

I was slow..

I’m so sorry…

You. Should’ve been, you. Staring at the ground, unable to stare at your friend, even now in death. Your mind is tormenting you for being incompetent. Wiping a tear away, you get up from your kneeling position and finally look at your friend's grave—for the last time.

“I’m sorry, O-Omid.” you say quietly.

It was a mistake that wouldn’t be made again. Because walking away, you leave with a sense of determination—and maybe honor, too. You were gonna escape this fucking nightmare in honor for him. Because the truth is you were scared of losing everyone you loved and being alone.

And that was happening—slowly.

You couldn’t cower in a corner in hopes of a person with more bravery to rise and lead you to freedom because the truth was everyone was just as terrified as you.

So, You had to.

And the following months to now, have been twisted to worse to good. You manage to sum up a large number of people to join. Thanks to the help of a black sheep. Or to be less cryptic—a traitor.

Ada, a rat willing to ruin everything that benefits her, seemed fishy. Because why would a slaver ever think to help you? It smelled like hardcore bullshit—at least at first. Because when she pulled you to the side and began begging you to reconsider—made you feel indifferent.

But it shocked you how alike the two of you were, both what did whatever the two of you needed to do, to survive. Just that she joined a cause that wasn't a good one. She hated every single time that happened to these innocent people, but pretended to be okay with it for the benefits that came with being a soldier.

And now having someone from the enemy side on yours was one of the best things to happen to you, from Omid and Ada’s little hideout she found, it made the process much easier.

From mapping areas to keep stolen supplies, to finding weak spots on the high walls surrounding the facility, to locations after the operation of “Where to go if separated.” You had everything set into motion. Expect one thing, getting Mallory out of here, and agreeing to everything—or some of it. Whether you had to drag her out of here, you’ll be getting her out of here.

She was the only thing that was holding you back.

“Look, I know, this is gonna be hard to understand sigh but—please just hear me out, okay?—Fuck ughh” you groan, running a hand through your hair. You’ve been standing in front of a mirror for minutes—which felt like hours, just rehearsing what you’ll say to Mallory. And every single approach you try to go through with, you couldn’t see the outcome. It felt useless, you went through every sentence starter in your book!

“Still working on what'll you say to Mal?” a voice interrupts your daily rehearsal.

You huff and look back to see Ada who’s walking through the door, “Yeah…”

A laugh flows through the girl's windpipe, “Why don’t you just tell her?—without all this rehearsal bullshit.”

You roll your eyes and face the mirror once again, “Because you don’t know her like I do—She's gonna freak out if I just say; Oh hey, Ima gonna be doing the one thing that you warned me not to do!” you say sarcastically.

“Yeouch…” She breathes out, sitting down and contorting her body forward, looking down at the carefully configured plans.

You sigh in defeat, deciding to try again later, and walk over to Ada to view the plans as well, “Anything new?”

Ada shakes her head, “Nope, but the lady boss is losing her shit over the dropping percentage in food..”

A smile blooms on your lips, “Alright, well, I think we should be set then. I just have to tell Mallory and we’re good!”

Ada just nods in response—weird, “What? You’re not excited to be leaving this shit hole?” You inquired.

“Of course I’m ready to leave this place—just..when?”

You try laughing it off, “What do you mean, ‘when’?”

“I mean when are you gonna tell Mallory?” she restates bluntly, her gaze turned to set on you firmly, “Because it seems like we’ll never leave with the way things are going.”

You’re stunned as you look at the girl below you as she continues, “You tell her today or tomorrow or—“

“or what?” You interrupt, becoming defensive, “you’re gonna leave me?” you accuse.

Your accusation leaves Ada speechless for just a moment before arguing back, “No, I wouldn’t leave you. I’m talking about leaving Mallory behind if it comes to that. We can’t save everyone—“

“Oh fuck you, I’m not leaving Mallory behind! She deserves a shot at a better life!” You remark.

“And the others don’t?” She emphasizes, standing up from her chair, “—‘cause it seems like you've only cared about yourself more than the people around, depending on you.”

You felt every word hit your gut one by one because she was right, you were being selfish. Only thinking about Mallory and not the hundred lives at stake. You’ve been careless as of lately, wasting time and for what?—because you were scared? You’d be the reason if this whole operation doesn't go according to plan.

But you never could think rationally when angry, if it wasn’t you that got yourself in trouble, it was always your big mouth that did.

Just never know when to shut up, do you?

“Right because it’s totally not your fault why I’m here.” you chide sarcastically while pointing your finger in her face condescendingly. The look Ada relays when those words leave your mouth sends waves of guilt throughout your body. Staring at the woman’s expression in front morphe from anger to disbelief in the matter of seconds.

“Fuck you.” She spits out before walking past you and out the door.

You sigh upon hearing the door slam, soaking into your overwhelming guilt. What went through your head to think that was right to say? Oh right—none. You throw yourself onto the now vacant chair. Your head goes slack and is only caught by the palm of your hand.

You stay in this position trying to justify why you say that. You could blame it on sleep, but who the fuck says that? On what?—Two hours?—Three? Shit..when was the last time your head hit a pillow?

With a sigh, you get up from the chair and begin to look over the written plans. Instead of worrying about your recent actions. With every minute passing, you start feeling the fatigue finally catching up with you. Take a break, you deserve it—right? Despite the opposing side of your conscious saying otherwise, you stand up and pace around the room to stretch your aching muscles.

Waddling around the room like a chicken with its head cut off, you stop in front of the mirror once more and just stare at yourself. What’s wrong with you? You feel that guilt creeping up and looming over your shoulder as you stare at yourself. Scrutinizing what’s more prominent to you; the scar on your cheek, the rough and dry spots on your skin, the recent bruise you got as a warning, scaling up and off your imperfections and landing on your hair.

You never really took it into consideration, but your hair was a hazard. Pulling open the drawer, you see the solution to said concern. Scissors. Without any hesitation, you pick them and cut a large portion of your hair. You watch in the mirror as the hair cascades down and on the floor. You don’t stare for long and cut until there’s nothing left to cut.

Hair grows back anyway—it’s no biggie, you continue to repeat over and over in your head as you stare at your reflection. Setting the scissors down, you brush any stray hairs off of you when you hear it. That bone chilling sound—or “The death horn” as you call it, blares throughout the building and through the walls into your eardrums. You wince upon hearing that deafening sound that pumps fear through your veins.

Who is it this time?

In a blink, you’re gone and flying down the winding hallway to the courtyard.

Ada?

Tears blind your sight as you rush towards the end of the hallway and make a sharp right turn.

Mallory?

You make it to your heart-wrenching destination and are met with a crowd surrounding the podium where there’s five people standing on it, whom you immediately recognize—well at least the first three. The leader's voice, Liana, is more prominent as she speaks to the vibrant crowd. And the two behind her on each side are guards, but the last two aren’t identifiable, only seeing the top layout of their heads as the crowds block the rest of their body. You have—No, need to know who the last two are.

They have to be okay—it can’t be them!

Your body is tense with anticipation of finding out as you rush towards the crowd, pushing your way through. The crowds’ voices only intensify the momentum in you. Just as you see an opening to the front and try to make a move for it, you’re hindered from doing so when a hand wraps around your forearm.

The grip is strong and pauses any planned sudden movement which elicits you to glance back at the person. It’s Ashley, her facial expressions covered in worry as she stares at you with tears rolling down her cheeks, “Don't go—Y/n stay here please!” she begs.

Her pleads only feed into your curiosity, Stay?—No, you can’t stay!—oh but you can—“Ashley, let me go!” you began to try to loosen your arm from her grip, but to no avail. Your struggles only are met with Ashley tightening her grip, “No! I won't let you see—Please!” she begs once more.

All her desperate attempts to make you stay are futile, because with one harsh pull, you're released from her grip and stumble back. A bystander catches you before you can truly fall on the ground and once on your feet, you run. Run as fast as you can from Ashley—your protruding thoughts to stay with her. To not look at what lies before you.

Until you do, and god did you wish, this was just a bad figment that your brain made up. That you’d wake up in the comforts of your dirty mattress beside—Mallory. She’s one of the final pieces to the stressful puzzle, a damaged puzzle piece. She’s on her knees, Hands bound behind her back, and blind folded. And beside her is the final puzzle piece—the final nail in your coffin.

Ada, she’s in the same position as Mallory, but not badly beaten as her. Her lip tremors in fear as the woman behind both of them continues to speak, “These two have been selfish and are a danger to our thriving community here.” What?—No…,”Therefore, they need to be dealt with accordingly.” This statement only riles up the crowd and you, “N-no! Mallory! Ada! No, no, please!” You try to proceed forward, but stopped once again when arms wrap over your body.

It’s Ashley's voice that can be heard behind you telling you to stop and how you’re gonna get yourself hurt or worse going up there. But you don’t care—No…not when the two people you let back into your heart are gonna perish in front of you—No, you need to do something—Anything!

“Get the fuck off of me!” you scream, thrashing around her arms.

You try and try but to no avail—you’re not successful. You watch the gun in Liana's hand aim towards the back of Mallory’s head. And with every amount of breath in you—you scream out “no” just maybe…it’ll do something.

“Please, no!” You cry out, but at that moment everything is in slow motion for you. You watch as with no hesitation from the carrier, the gun fires and the bullet goes flying. Your body feels weak—unable to look or stand anymore so you fall on your knees letting out guttural sobs as you hear the sound of her body dropping to the ground and losing all its vitality.

As quick as life came, so did it go.

You couldn’t feel or hear anything—nothing. Not the voice of Ashley or her actions of trying to get you up again—nothing. Well actually…you did feel one thing; Anger. The feeling of it coursing through your veins, but wait…Ada! No, not again! You can’t lose her too—

The sound of a gunshot pierces your eardrums and plays havoc into your trance instantly. The familiar thud of another body falling on the ground causes the crowd behind you to lose all control and sets fear into you.

Who is it this time?

Please look at these links for palestine!! — How you can help Palestine, Why you shouldn’t support tlou/ buy the remastered, Educate yourself, #FREEPALESTINE. Please look at them, if you could read this entire fic, you can take a few moments to learn and support palestine!

a/n; Woah what a journey it was from January 8th to now, and I wouldn’t change any of it. I genuinely wanna thank and send love to everyone who send nothing but love and support, you are the highlight. I am so sorry it took me so long so long to post another chapter, but holy shit we are! As always, thank you sydney and ami for being here to listen to me yap because holy fuck, there were many scenarios that were cut and left it and blah blah. I don’t wanna yap for so long because it is currently four in the fucking morning where I live and I need to go to sleep 😭 BUT I’d like to thank you as always for reading and showing me unconditional love and support. Thank you and I truly appreciate it. So with that out the way, MAKE SURE TO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE SO YOU NEVER EVER MISS A BANGER FROM MEEE 💯💯💯💯‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥

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