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#i love the grey and gold together

etheries1015 · 2 months

Text

The moment Vil fell in love with you, was one of the most vulnerable moments he had ever experienced. It was something that had caught him completely unawares, and never thought he'd fall for someone, much less the prefect of ramshackle.

Spoilers for the end of book 6, if you have not gotten that far.

The ride back to NRC from the island of woe was an exhausting one, to say the least. Everyone was groaning in mild annoyance at Vils sobbing at his now olden state, a wrinkled face with sunken cheeks and grey hair...something he feared more than anything in the world. Nobody actually blamed him, though, for anybody else would react as strongly to see their youth stripped away without even the hint of getting back their original form. Ugly, old, and gross, are all words Vil would go on to describe himself. You felt pity for him of course, but you were just as exhausted as everyone else.

Vil watched you in surprise as you stood up in a sleepy haze, wobbling to the (now) old man and cupping his sunken cheeks into your lively hands.

"Vil," You said sternly, the suddenness of your actions causing him to bite back his sobs for merely a moment.

"What you did for us today," You said with confidence in your tired eyes, "Was the most heroic thing I have ever seen. That was the bravest, most selfless act you could have possibly done, and I truly admire you for it, Vil." Your stern eyes softened with a smile mixed with pity and admiration, unconciously stroking his cheek with your thumb in attempt to sooth his trembling figure.

"We will find a way to get your body back. I understand this is a lot, but you need to hold onto faith." Your hands squished his cheeks together in a teasing and playful manner, purposefully causing him unable to respond verbally. Vil simply nodded, and you continued with passion raising your tone of voice.

"Right now, in my eyes, you are the most beautiful person with the biggest heart of gold I've ever met." You leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, something that drew him back with widened eyes. "Now, you must be incredibly tired from all the fighting we did. Try and rest, okay? You need it." He wanted to tell himself you were simply feeding him words of comfort in order to cease his persistent whining, yet with such confidence dripping with every word and small gesture you had no reason for engaging in, that was how he knew you were genuine.

How could you be so willing to kiss him when he looks like...that? How can you call him beautiful when all he sees are wrinkled hands and spotty skin? The word "heroic" also stuck out to him. Years of being played the villain, always unable to make it to the end of a movie, being discarded as the "bad guy," yet here you were, calling him...your hero. His heart skipped a beat and he could feel heat rise to his cheeks. There's no way you of all people could make him feel so...conflicted.

Yet there you were, with stringy sweaty hair, scratches, bruises, mud riddling your skin from hours of fighting for the world. He noticed how his dorm outfit lay in tatters on your body, and bags under your eyes were apparent as you so shamelessly yawned and sat next to him, falling asleep as you leaned up against his shoulder. This was the brazen prefect of Ramshackle- someone with flaws, attitude, and a disastrous display.

Yet at this moment, all he could think about was just how beautiful you looked, too.

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dorcas4meadowes · 4 months

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thinking abt daughter of aphrodite reader decorating lukes face w/ kisses in different shades of lipstick🫶🏻🫶🏻

Lipstick Smudges - Luke Castellan

Pairing - Luke Castell x Aphrodite!reader

Warnings: kisses

W/c - 1k

Masterlist (this was such a cute request <3)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The Aphrodite sanctuary were the epitome of beauty, but it would be nothing if not for its inhabitants. Its delicate walls were adorned with oil paintings and a collection of mirrors, reflecting the children who called it home. A majority of the interior were carved marble with streaks of grey and gold, including the pillars that held up the roof that were enhanced with flourishing blossoms. The flooring harmonised with the column structures and quite adamantly noted the arrival of heels against its solid surface.

Mary Janes were the only sound that were produced when you entered your dainty cabin, your skirt lifted over your thighs with each step and your heels ceased to be heard when you drifted against the comfort of your seat. You veered towards your vanity and skimmed your fingers against the veneer, admiring the new possessions you had acquired since you last return to your cabin.

The surface was embellished with blooming tulips from you Demeter admirers, dark chocolate from your siblings - who had a fondness for the treat - and seashells from Percy who noticed you love for the sea's gift.

Grateful for your offerings, you reached for you signature perfume and allowed the subtle hints of cherries and wild flowers to enchant your clothes and those who ventured too close.

You broke of a piece of the chocolate and let you esteemed appearance to muse your glowing features, matching your movements through the mirror.

You readjusted the ribbons that were weaved through your hair, reaching into your draws to touch up your exterior. You dusted a deep blush along your cheeks and leant for a gloss which had seemed to have additional companions. You were confused at the increase of lipsticks, but that didn't pose you from setting them on your desk.

You received plenty of tokens from unknown campers, but this gift seemed too particular to be from a stranger. You slipped the lid off of one of the cases and took no time to apply the creamy formula against your lips, astonished at the specific shade which complimented you greatly.

"Thought you might like them".

You peeled your eyes away from your vanity and found your boyfriend leaning against the door frame, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"I do, very much, thank you" you chimed, placing your feet on the marble to float into his arms. His hands rested against the small of your back as you planted a kiss on his cheek, the mark reflecting the crease of your lips.

You never questioned where he got your gifts from, you preferred to linger in the feeling of being doted on and he took the pleasure in spoiling you. He sought out pearls and dewy lotions, sun kissed flowers and dresses which reached just above your thighs, he made you feel adored.

You were an angel, a breath of fresh air and he never once let you feel anything other than purely cherished. You were an embrace from the Elysium, the triple repeated numbers on your thighs only reinforcing the notion of your soft voice and gentle hands. He often toyed with the pleasuring thought that only his eyes would see your tattoo, that only his fingers would graze against the skin of your thighs and that the numbers were your shared secret.

"Wanna come in?" you asked to which he nodded, he would rather throw himself into Tartarus that reject an invitation to your cabin. You linked your hands together and tugged him into the room and closed the door. You pulled him towards your desk and sat him amongst the golden swirls and satin ribbons.

His hands took not time and settled around your waist, toying with the hem of your skirt while his arms swayed with your movements. He admired your busy eyes flutter around your space delicately as your reached for a lipstick behind him and applied a generous layer to your lips blending a lighter shade into the deeper tone. He was unaware of your next move, but he knew he would do anything if you asked with your lips.

Everything slowed when you draped your arms around his neck and brushed a kiss just above the previous stain, coming to a stand between his stretched legs. He felt you smile against his jaw as trailed deliberate kisses down his neck, leaving small bites along his skin.

"Can you pass me the darker one?" you questioned, your breath against him.

He wordlessly agreed and let a hand fall from your side and retrieved you case, slipping it through your fingers. You set a warm kiss on his other cheek, and grew to cover the thin scar on his skin, a small laugh leaving your lips as you decorated your boyfriend in your kisses.

Luke relished in the feeling before it stopped. "Do you need something my love?"

You nodded mindlessly and took his prying hands off of your waist, "My shoes are digging into my heels" you replied.

You know you didn't have to say much to have Luke leant to your ankles to unstrap the attachments while your fingers found his curls, playing with a few coils as he individually lifted each heel from your feet to place them beside your desk. His head slowly rose.

"Better?"

You smiled in response and peppered a few more kisses against his dizzy face noting how his skin had been tinted by pinks and reds.

"My pretty boy" you gleamed, pulling away, his thumb wiping smudged colour off from under your lip. "Wait one moment".

"What?"

Within a few moments you had evaporated from his arms and were reaching into one of you sisters draws, you rummaged until you found an old camera and brought back to your desk and to your boyfriend. "Smile" you mused. Your fingers eagerly gripping onto the polaroid as it came from the camera, you shook it lightly and handed it to Luke.

"I hope this comes off" were his only response as he took you back in his arms and held you close.

You were an angel with a sweet smile and he were a boy with soft curls and a mind full of thoughts. You were the perfect couple, the perfect combination of wits and ambition, but nothing could truly ever be as fragile as love. It was a drug which made your world rose and trusting, but the repercussions of this action are not for you to worry about, at least not at this moment of time.

What could possibly happen? Nothing with your boyfriend at least, he wouldn’t’ even hurt a fly let alone a scorpion.

The sweet memory of your day was encapsulated in the picture which was later weaved between the space in your mirror and it's frame, highlighting your affection for the boy and subsequently and your biggest anguish.

_________

Taglist:

@prettyinsatiable @daisydark @creamsweets @auttumnsayshi @y0urm0m12 @ashr0

#luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #riawrites

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andypantsx3 · 2 months

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I love the TodoReaderBaku polycule idea!! I imagine them pushing the others buttons in the morning as they get ready for work and then you come home late that evening to them snoozing and cuddled up together in their sleep on the couch while they wait for you. They(bakugou) already made dinner but they didn’t want to eat without you 🥹💕

This is soooo cute omg you are giving me big domestic tdbkreader feelies. 🥺 I hope it's okay that I wrote you a lil something inspired by this.

contents: shouto x reader x bakugou, established relationship, domestic fluff, gender neutral reader, sfw, 1k

The sound of muffled arguing in the kitchen wakes you up on Saturday morning.

It's late, the sun already streaming in through your windows, pooling in streaks of pale gold across your floor. From where you're wrapped up in the blankets you can just make out a pair of Shouto's discarded pants laying across the floor, Katsuki's folded with military precision atop the hamper. You stretch, joints popping, until the sound of voices draws your attention again.

"The fuck is that supposed to be, huh?" comes Katsuki's growl from beyond the door.

Shouto's low tone answers him, his voice soft and almost indecipherable. You can tell the two of them haven't been up for much longer than you by the rasp in Katsuki's voice, the deep hum of Shouto's. "They are Julie Anne."

There is an incredulous pause, and you can almost see the expression on Katsuki's face. Barely awake, you just manage to stifle your own laugh into the blanket when Shouto's meaning comes to you, and Katsuki's scandalized inhale makes you smile harder.

"It's julienne, dumbfuck. Who the hell is Julie Anne?" he demands.

"They are julienne, then," Shouto says placidly, which you know grinds Katsuki's gears even more than defensiveness.

"This is half a fucking carrot, I said cut 'em tiny!" Katsuki hisses.

Shouto says something in reply you can't quite make out, and Katsuki all but growls—except then there's the softest, slick sound of a kiss, and you know Shouto has pulled out his ultimate move to quiet your boyfriend down.

"Think you can just do whatever because you're cute," Katsuki mutters after a moment, but his tone gives him away. It's easily a thousand degrees warmer than it was moments before, and you can tell by the sound of his voice that the tips of his ears are scarlet.

A helplessly fond smile pulls at your mouth as you stretch again, and you figure you should get out to the kitchen now that the waters have calmed.

The process of unrolling yourself from the blankets takes a minute, and then you spend another few hunting around for the shirt and pants Shouto flung off of you somewhere last night, and a few more brushing your teeth in the bathroom.

Something is hissing on the stove by the time you make it out to the kitchen, and the room smells mouthwatering.

Shouto has apparently been exiled to the far side of the island, and your boyfriend turns to you, his hair a little flatted on the left side, red strands tangling up with the white. His long fingers clutch a glass of orange juice, and he looks so adorably morning-ruffled and sweet you almost fall over your feet in your haste to kiss him.

"Good morning, love," he says, pressing another kiss to your mouth. He's warm and tastes like fresh oranges, and his bare chest is almost too beautifully sculpted in the morning sun. You let him pull you into his lap, and only get a little flustered with the way his arm muscle cords as he does so.

He hooks his arms around you, pressing his mouth into your shoulder, and you shiver with the delicious warmth of him along your back.

"Thought you mighta died in there," Katsuki says, scarlet eyes finding yours over the counter. "'S late for you."

He's bare chested too, miles of golden skin on display in his low-slung grey sweatpants and your mouth goes a little dry just looking at him.

"Luckily someone set the bickering boyfriend alarm," you say, eyes barely finding their way back up to his face.

Katsuki grins, a wicked thing, and leans over the counter to seize your mouth, a long-fingered hand cupping your chin. He tastes like coffee, an indulgence he only allows himself on weekends, and he slides you a matching mug when he finally lets your mouth free, having to return to the rolled omelette he's making.

"I might be in love with you," you say gratefully, taking a sip, reveling in how good it is. Katsuki only does freshly ground—a million miles better than the instant powder or coffee pods you brew yourself on your way out to work. You're definitely in love.

"Then I might be inclined to let you have some of this," Katsuki says. The motion of his arm as he flaps the dishtowel over his shoulder is notably smug.

You settle back into Shouto, sipping your drinks together quietly as you watch a traditional Japanese breakfast come together under Katsuki's talented hands. He plates up rice, his rolled omelette, and then a sauteed kale stem and carrot salad off the stove—so that's what the julienne talk was about. Then grilled fish is laid over the top of the rice, and Katsuki lays out another side of soup and several tiny plates of carved fruits.

Shouto helps you off of his lap gently when it's finished, and Katsuki crowds you into your own chair between the two of them, charging another kiss for his efforts. You pay up eagerly, the meal and the man in front of you equally delicious.

"Eat it all," Katsuki demands of Shouto over your shoulder as he takes his own seat, pointing his chopsticks like a weapon at him. "You overused your quirk in Bunkyo yesterday, y'need to make up the energy deficit."

Shouto hums, used to Katsuki's bossiness.

You have to suppress an appreciative groan when the first bite of breakfast hits your mouth. The fish is fresh and sweet and the rice is warm and fluffy. As with anything Katsuki makes, it's cookbook perfect.

"It's sooo good," you say, your usual—though heartfelt—platitude. "Really good. Thank you both."

"It is made with love," Shouto specifies, his tone low and earnest in that disarming way he has. In the corner of your vision, Katsuki rolls his eyes, but pointedly does not deny it.

You take another bite, hiding your smile in a mouthful of sauteed kale stem and badly-julienned carrot.

#todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #todobaku x reader #shouto x you #bakugou x you #character: todoroki shouto #character: bakugou katsuki

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happyhauntt · 1 month

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a grey day — spencer reid.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: spencer meets the newest member of the department.

─── pairing: spencer reid x autistic!medical examiner!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, reader is autistic & a mom, spencer's iq gets slashed to sixty when he talks to pretty girls and it's my favourite thing. no use of y/n. reader is performing an autopsy so mentions of blood but nothing too graphic.

─── word count: 1.3k.

YOU KNOW IT'S A GREY DAY before you even manage to open your eyes.

And really, you’re expecting it ━ this whole week has been filled with pale pink and lime green with solid, unwavering turquoise blobs in the middle, because you started your new job on Monday and the apprehension, the excited, the nausea, they've all been stirring up inside you for days now.

Waking up to a grey day doesn't hit you as hard as it usually would.

Still, you feel sluggish when you drag yourself out of bed ten full minutes after your alarm has gone off. The shower is a no-go this morning ━ if you’re honest with yourself, the shower is a no-go most mornings, when your skin feels soft and sensitive and your brain can't cope with the idea of a barrage of hot water raining down on you ━ so you slap on some deodorant and spray some dry shampoo in your hair, tugging it up into a rough ponytail.

You take your time with your makeup, though; strawberry lipgloss and lots of concealer, a heaping of eyeliner and your favourite gold hoop earrings are exactly what you need to feel better. When you step out into the hallway wearing your comfiest black jeans and a jumper that's probably smart enough to pass the dress code, hearing your daughter giggling in the kitchen, the grey day lightens a little.

It gets even better when your sister-in-law presses a travel mug of iced coffee into your hands.

"Jackie, I fucking adore you," you say around a mouthful of delicious, soul-quenching caffeinated goodness. You’d half-expected Jackie to have something planned. Four years of living together means that Jackie tends to know about your off days before you do.

The other woman suppresses a smile, coupled with a sharp look. "There's a three-year-old right there!"

You snort, waving your hand nonchalantly. As if you don't have this conversation every single day. "Nellie knows not to repeat what I say." You turn to your daughter, your heart swelling three sizes as the little girl at the kitchen table looks up from her drawing. "Nell, baby, what am I always telling you?"

"Don't go home with strangers."

"Well, yeah, but I meant the other thing."

The little girl brightens, revealing a missing front tooth. "If Aunt Jackie won't say it, then I shouldn't say it."

You giggle, scurrying over to drop a kiss on your daughter's forehead. "Exactly right, my little love."

When you turn back toward the kitchen counter, your sister-in-law's face is painted with an affronted look, her mouth half-open. "I can say bad words!"

You wrinkle your nose. "I'll believe that when I see it."

By the time you leave the house, sliding into your car with a second cup of iced coffee in hand, the day has lightened to a pale blue. You hope it will stay that way.

"YOU LOOK SO TIRED, DUDE."

Well, alright, he'll admit it wasn't the first thing he was expecting to hear when he entered the coroner's office. It's been a while since he ventured down to the morgue, sure, but Dr. Peterson has never talked to him like that before, and he's fairly certain not that much has changed in the three-or-so weeks it's been.

And Spencer's observant. He prides himself on being able to notice things, tiny details other people seem to miss, things that are so obvious to him that he can't comprehend how normal people can't see them.

So if anyone asks, he'll never admit that it took a full twelve seconds before he realised that the girl in the white lab coat, elbow-deep in an open chest cavity, is definitely not Dr. Peterson.

"Uh..."

It's the most intelligent response he can muster in the moment.

"It's okay," you add, hardly bothering to look up from the corpse. "I'm tired too. And you're not the worst-looking guy in the room." You jerk your head at the dead guy on the table. "Although I'd say that's a pretty low bar, all things considered."

"Where's Dr. Peterson?"

"He retired. Or got a promotion, I think? Not totally sure." You shrug, raising an eyebrow at him. "I thought I'd met most of the department already, but I don't recognise you.” You tell him your name, squinting at him through your plastic glasses.”I’m the new... coroner, medical examiner, pathologist, dancing monkey? They didn't totally specify the position when they offered it, which I think says more about me than anything else."

Spencer blinks. He's not totally sure he's ever met anyone who could talk nearly as fast as him before. "Dr. Spencer Reid, Behavioral Analysis Unit. Nice to meet you."

"Oh, cool!" The liver in your hands gives a wet squelch as you drop it into a metal dish. "I'm under the BAU! I answer to your Section Chief, um, Agent Strauss? She's a little harsh, huh? I'd, uh, shake your hand, but..." You hold both hands up, mimicking a surrender, showing off the blue medical gloves slick with blood.

An inkling of a smile creeps onto Spencer's face. "I don't shake hands."

"That's fair," you say with a shrug. "Can I help you, Dr. Reid, or did you get lost looking for the cafeteria?"

“No, actually.” He remembers the files he was supposed to show you and reaches into his satchel. The intensity of your gaze is like lasers on his skin and he can’t help but fumble, almost sending a stack of documents scattering across the floor.

When he looks back up at you, cheeks flushed rosy, your stare hasn’t wavered even slightly. Amusement lingers in your eyes.

He clears his throat and holds out the files as if they are a peace offering. He doesn’t quite understand whether a battle has been fought, but he definitely feels like he lost one. “Hotch— uh, Agent Hotchner sent the Howard County ME’s report on the Richardson case. He wanted you to look it over and sign off before they file it for the District Attorney.”

You nod at him. The corner of your mouth quirks a little at his stuttering. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so immediately endeared to somebody before, but there he is, blinking at you like a deer caught in headlights. It’s so adorable.

“Sure, I can do that,” you say. “Just pop it on the desk over there and I’ll get on with it when I’m done here. Can’t get any bodily fluids on the paperwork, y’know? That’d be a nightmare.”

The volume of your laugh startles him, and he jerks slightly. The sound of it is loud and warm and it should really freak him out, considering you’re wrist-deep in a cadaver and cackling like a maniac, but it doesn’t. It’s actually kind of sweet.

“If that’s all, Dr, Reid, I’d like to finish rooting through this guy’s insides so I can sew him back up.” Your words are an obvious dismissal, but he doesn’t feel offended, not with the kind smile still adorning your features.

He nods and backs away. His feet feel a little numb. “Sure thing. I’ll, uh, catch you later. Have fun!”

“I’m sure I will.”

You sound like you’re about to laugh again. Have fun, really? He knows he’s fairly inept when it comes to women, but have fun? He scurries out of the morgue and back into the land of the living, and as Spencer boards the elevator all he can think is that he’s so glad Derek wasn’t there to witness that.

He’s certain he’d never live it down.

Meanwhile you resume your autopsy with an odd, fuzzy feeling in your chest. You start to hum beneath your breath, a song that must have played on the radio while you were driving to work.

Your grey day feels a little pink at the edges.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #* chapter update.

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rocketrhap3000 · 9 months

Text

the great shirt debate

summary: bucky and reader doing laundry together, pure domestic fluff

a/n: one of my old fics, rewritten for bucky <3

warnings: no use of y/n, beefy!bucky needs his own warning and there is one tiny reference to intimacy but otherwise this is 110% tooth rotting fluff and therefore i am not responsible for your dentist bill ;)

my main masterlist

The pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room had only grown exponentially over the past two weeks. You and Bucky had both been nonstop working, which meant that the household chores got pushed aside. Luckily, the two of you are both relatively clean people, so the worst was really only the laundry, and the accumulation of Alpine’s pristine, white fur all over the floors and couches.

And after a lazy Saturday morning sleeping in (resting up after various intimate reunion activities after almost two weeks of no time together), you and Bucky finally decided to get on with the chores.

He took on the vacuuming - rearranging the furniture so he could get under and behind things - while you started on the laundry. You emptied the hampers, stripped the beds, and filled up the washing machine for the first load before wandering back to the living room to check in on Bucky. From afar, you’re able to hear the soft whirr of the vacuum cleaner, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight that falls upon your eyes when you walk into the living room.

Your six-foot-something super-soldier boyfriend has your pair of rose gold headphones over his ears, completely unbothered by the sound of the vacuum, and wiggling around, lip-syncing and dancing to whatever song is playing in the headphones as he sucks up the white cat hair from the navy shag area rug. He’s sporting a simple blue henley and a baggy pair of grey sweats that somehow still accentuate his bum perfectly, but he’s just so adorable that you can’t help but interfere with his task.

You walk up behind him, then snake your hands around his torso, and he reacts with a small jump, clearly not expecting you. He looks down at you with a loving smile, switches off the vacuum, then pulls his headphones off his ears, letting them rest around his neck, and you can hear that he’s listening to Ella Fitzgerald, ever the old soul.

“Boo,” you hum, softly scratching your fingers over his tummy.

“Gosh, you scared me, Sweets,” he laughs, cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to pause the music, then pulls the headphones off his neck and tosses them to the couch.

“Sorry, you just looked too cute,” you giggle, and he turns around in your grasp, leaving the vacuum to stand on it’s own so that he can wrap his arms around you, too.

“Mm, thank you,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to sweetly kiss your forehead. “You’re pretty cute, too.”

You only keep him for a little while longer before you let him finish up his task so you can move onto tackling the mess of papers and random things that had collected on the kitchen island over the past two weeks, causing the sleek wooden countertop to barely be visible.

By the time you finish sorting things out, taking them to their proper spots in the house, and sanitizing the kitchen counter, you make it back into the laundry room to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer and put a new load in to be washed.

It’s not long before you’re back with Bucky, watching as he finishes up vacuuming the entryway. Then, the two of you break for lunch together. It’s nothing extravagant at all, but it’s just the simplicity of spending time together again that makes you feel all giddy inside. The two of you take some time to lounge on the couch after lunch, too, just taking in each other’s touch and affection that you’d missed so much.

Eventually, you both reluctantly decide you should get back into finishing up the laundry, since it’s the last thing to check off the list before you’re done with everything. Bucky puts on your Spotify playlist on the tv in the bedroom and the two of you get to work folding and putting away the first load of clothes to replenish your nearly empty closets.

You’ve dumped out the warm, fresh clothes onto the bed and sorted through the pile, each taking your own clothes to fold, but Alpine thinks you’ve made a nice, warm bed for her. Laughing, both you and Bucky shoo her away gently, and she makes her way to her spot on the windowsill, instead.

It’s generally easy to find and separate your clothes; Bucky has a pretty select wardrobe of flannels, henleys, and earthy tones, so yours are easy to pick out among them. But sometimes, there are discrepancies as to whose clothes are whose.

“Oh, that one’s mine, too, Love,” you speak up, pointing to the navy v-neck on his side of the pile.

“This one?” he asks, placing his hand over one of his henleys.

“No, the blue tee,” you clarify.

“This one?” he asks again, this time picking up the right shirt, and you nod in confirmation. “Sweets, this is not yours,” he laughs.

“Yes it is,” you laugh back. “Hand it to me?”

“Sweets, it’s not yours. I swear I wore it like two days ago,” he tries to reason, but you’re not convinced.

You and Bucky share clothes frequently - well, you steal his clothes frequently - but you know for a fact that that is your shirt, even though you know Bucky would wear it, given the fact that sometimes his style choices consist of skin-tight tee shirts to unknowingly (or knowingly) flaunt his chiseled upper body. You’d never complain though; Bucky’s beefy, muscular form is absolutely perfect to you, and you love to see him comfortable in his own skin.

“I think you have one like it, but this is definitely my shirt. Look at the neckline, silly. Besides, this would’t even fit you, super soldier,” you laugh at him.

“You’d be surprised!” he laughs back.

“Mm, I know some of your shirts are like a second skin and I’m definitely not one to complain,” you tease, and he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “But this is one hundred percent my shirt, Bucky.”

“It’s mine, Sweets,” he grabs it from you again with another laugh, then folds over the neckline seam to look inside. “Look at the… tag."

“Mhm,” you cross your arms over your chest pridefully.

“There is no tag,” he deadpans, blush rising up from his neck and settling on his cheeks.

“What an astute observation, Detective Barnes. And why do you think that is?” you tease, taking a step closer to him to poke his taut tummy.

“Because you cut the tags off all your shirts...” he gives his answer, rolling his eyes in defeat.

“Which leaves us with the only conclusion!” you taunt him.

“It’s your shirt,” he sighs, folding the shirt ever so neatly before respectfully setting it down on your side of folded clothes.

“Mm, thank you,” you hum with a giggle, wrapping your arms around him and resting your cheek against his chest. “But if you really wanna borrow it, I’m sure you’d look great in it, Buck,” you tilt your head up to look at him, and his bashful smile makes your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, stop,” he chuckles softly back, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

~~~

thank you so much for reading! reblogs and feedback are so greatly appreciated and help my blog out so much 💘

Bucky taglist below, link in bio to be added :)

@lharrietg @enchantedbarnes @buchanansebba @verygraphicink @writing-for-marvel @marvelatthetwilight @jackiehollanderr @lets--be-honest @writerwrites @arabescapr @real-jane @mellyteddybear-blog @listenthemoose @lhharrysworld @mcufossilman @danireal17 @hallecarey1 @selluequestrian @engie115 @emi11ie @matchat3a @sonicisnotsober @balekanemohafe @mogaruke @seitmai @dracosluvbot @caplanbuckybarnes @midgardianminx @jesslove23-blog @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jessybarnes @pandaxnienke @alexxavicry @spideysimpossiblegirl @rach2602 @samlworld @nsuiswitch @thearieunhinged

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #avengers #marvel #tfatws #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fluff

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yappersblog · 3 days

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no one knows — paige bueckers [blurb]

synopsis. paige and you aren’t together, but you’re definitely something.

trigger warnings. nothing, except maybe non-exclusive relationship (?) and little tiny bit of possessiveness.

author’s note. second time posting on tumblr 😋😋😋 and it’s kinda lame & not proof read so sorry people 🙏🏽 my requests are open sooo don’t be shy and request!

more fics. my emily engstler one. go take a look 💋

everyone knows—your teammates know, your friends definitely know, your families know, your coach knows—hell, even your rival teams know too.

everybody knows that something is going on between you and paige, something that gets bigger and bigger everyday and that you should stop ignoring if you don’t want things to go wrong.

but, being your stubborn and dumb selves, the two of you don’t take your relatives’ advices seriously—apparently finding comfort in denial and in your instable relationship.

you’re not taken, but everyone in the university knows better than ask you on a date; all of them knowing perfectly well that paige might become their worst nightmare if they do.

same for paige—even if people didn’t really know how to approach her before, due to her being her intimidating self. they retract themselves even more now that you’re always attached to her hip, and the basketball player doesn’t help them either: the girl immediately playing with her chain—where your initials are written in gold—when someone starts to flirt with her, waiting for the stranger to understand that whatever they’re trying to do is pointless.

but despite all of this possessiveness, care and love that you feel for each other, none of you tried to make this a real relationship—one whose exclusive, and not only to the people but to you two.

the both of you are in love; it’s literally written on your foreheads and necklaces.

however, neither of you are brave enough to man-up and confess your feelings. so, for now, the two of you are stuck in this situation-ship, with unspoken feelings.

“yoooo! what up?” kk loudly screams while entering your dorm room, the rest of the team trailing behind her.

nika, aliyaah and inês make their way to you—the three of them hugging you—while the rest of the group goes to your fitted kitchen to put their snacks down.

“girl boo, don’t tell me you’ve been rotting on this couch since this morning…” kk literally exposes you, making ice chuckles and azzi slaps the back of her neck.

“kk, i know something else whose been rotting for more than a morning…” you say, munching on a cheeto that’s coming from aliyaah’s bag. “your braids!” the whole group bursts with laughter, kk side-eyeing you before laughing it off—taking a seat next to you.

that’s when paige finally decides to make an appearance, her arms free of bags full of snacks. laying against the softness of your couch, you don’t even hide yourself and check out the girl in front of you—your eyes moving from her grey nike tracksuit and her fitted shirt that shows off her biceps, to the glasses on the bridge of her nose and her slick back ponytail.

God, she’s so fine, you think to yourself—paige watching you intently with that smirk that makes you want to give her everything. she knows what’s going through your mind and you don’t even mind this fact.

“yo, get out of my seat kk” the blonde says, her hands deep in her tracksuit’s pockets.

“your seat? girl boo, since when?” kk says back, the sassy little girl coming out of her. you can’t help but chuckle, making paige’s blue eyes look in your direction.

“since forever, move!” trying to stand her ground, kk stays five more minutes next to you until paige decides to take matter into her own hands and pushes the girl on the floor carpet. “how you doing, ma?” the blonde’s arm makes its way around your shoulders, while it’s owner looks at you dead in your eyes and takes place on your right.

“doing good, you?” she doesn’t even respond, only nodding her head and licking her lips the next second—her blue pupils already trailing on her lips. you roll your eyes, popping a cheeto into her mid-opened mouth.

paige laughs, her arm tightening around your shoulders, and munches on the chip.

she smells clean, like a mix between fresh shower and sweet cologne. your favorite scent. actually, everything about her happens to be your favorite thing.

she looks like she’s about to say something, but kk—who has taken place on the floor carpet since she lost her spot on the couch—screaming to her phone screen, with ice on her right and aubrey on her left, stops her.

“oh god, always on live bro” the blonde mutters, glaring at the camera and detaching herself from you—making you frown.

popping another chip in your mouth, you side-eye her, not really understanding what her problem is.

oh so that’s how it is? okay.

your heart stings, but when invasive thoughts are starting to take hold of your mind—you feel a head on your chest and big ass biceps around your waist. your eyes look down, and you can’t help but grin when you see paige comfortably laying on your body—her right cheek pressed up against your breast.

immediately, your hand is playing with her blonde locks—all your attention focused on the girl in front of you and not on the recording live of kk.

“what’s up with y’all gay asses? come say hi to the people!” you hear the light-skinned player says, her head turned in your direction.

“hi people!” you don’t have any other choice but to greet the fans when the screen is being shoved in your face.

comments are flooding, and you try to read some of them, even if you already know that practically all of them are about paige.

“say hi!” paige groans against you, hiding her face even more into the crook of your neck. “okay, grumpy ass” kk laughs and takes back her phone. “what’s up with you?” you whisper-ask her once you’re ‘alone’.

“nothing” she grumbles and you know that whatever-it-is: it’s not nothing. you two keep up the eye contact for a few minutes, before she finally gives in and mutters against your collarbone: “i just don’t feel like sharing you right now, even though i don’t have the choice”

your brain doesn’t know to function for like two minutes before it works again and tells your blood to rush to your cheeks.

paige smirks a little, mushing even more herself into you, then presses a sneaky kiss on your neck.

she loudly hums against your skin, her nose sniffing it—snatching a frown and a giggle out of you.

“the fuck are you doing?” you laugh and she can’t help but laugh too—in love with your big ass smile.

“smellin’ you” the blonde does it again, but way more exaggerated than the first time, tickling you on purpose. “you smell good baby” she stops her little game once she feels you pinching her hip.

you thank her by smooching her cheek, feeling one of her dimples on your lips.

she retakes her place on your body, humming loudly. her arms tighten around you, and it feels like she’s trying to sneak herself into your body because she snuggles her face even more into your collarbone.

but you don’t mind, so that’s okay.

“their guns’ hot pink, that’s for sure” kk tells the live, fake side-eyeing the both of you while the rest of team cackle loudly—each of them knowing perfectly that they are hot pink as hell.

the two of you just exposed yourselves in front of an unknown number of fans, and none of you care—even though your faces might be trending on twitter tomorrow, people asking what kind of relationship you two are sharing.

and the most funny, is that even if you want to: neither you or paige can answer that question—and you don’t really care actually, the both of you just happy to be snuggled up together on this old couch, labelled or not.

written by © yappersblog, i do not accept plagiarism—this is my work and only mine.

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fatescaprice · 2 months

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hiiiii ☀️ can i ask for something about aventurine and the reader who is part of the express family (not trailblazer) ? it can be some love at first sight thing, or maybe where they meet again in penacony and turns out they both had some hidden past with eachother b4🤭 of course, you can choose whatever storyline to go with as well with this reader🤍 thank uuuu

aventurine and a nameless reader

content warnings: vague penacony spoilers

note: hello anon!! i went with the second option since i just looove reunions ... i had a lot of fun writing this but i also had to google how a lottery works ... i'm embarrassed ... i hope you enjoy!

You and AVENTURINE had met ages before he became a bigshot at the IPC, back when he was doing Aeons-know-what to scrape by. Whether you were friends or rivals or had to use every fibre in your body to keep yourself from insulting him on sight, you eventually parted ways and both, quite reasonably, assumed that you would never see each other again — the universe was far too big for that, after all. He saw you off as you boarded the Astral Express, and resigned himself to thinking that your meeting was little more than a lucky draw.

That is, of course, until you run into each other by chance in the lobby of the Reverie. He doesn’t pay you much attention at first, but his eyes end up wandering to you almost against his will as he sorts out your grey friend’s room issue. When did you change your hair? Did your voice always have that kind of cadence? His customer-service smile turns a tad more genuine as he turns to you once it’s over and your friends had dispersed within the lobby. “What a pleasant surprise,” he drawls. “Long time no see, huh?”

Aventurine offers to catch up over drinks, if you’re so inclined. Time is money, but that’s how you normally celebrate making new friends and reuniting with old ones, isn’t it? He’ll treat you to whatever you like while you tell him about your travels.

Even after he gets his own business sorted, he can’t help but notice how you two seem to keep running into each other, as if by little twists of fate. Your room across from his, the sound of you laughing with your pink-haired friend in the lobby, the sight of your back as you wander around the Golden Hour.

If fate keeps bringing you together, Aventurine would be a fool to not capitalise on it, wouldn’t he? He’s quick to slink over to your side and suggest a wager: “You look lonely,” he’ll say, rolling a coin back and forth over his knuckles. “Say, if I win big at the lottery over there, how about we spend the rest of the day together? We can even call it a date if you like.”

It’s a bit of an unfair bet, all things considered — he doesn’t often make bets he can’t win, and while it’s little surprise to him as he claims his prize, he also takes the time to relish in your surprised expression. What, did you really think he would lose? Don’t be silly. Now, tell him what you want to do — he’s already planning an itinerary in his head before work inevitably drags him away that evening.

Even as you two spark up another conversation (What’ve you been up to all this time? Got any travel destinations he might like?) he can’t tell you the whole truth, not yet — but in the meantime he can wrap one arm around your waist just like this, and watch how the dreamscape tints your eyes a shade of the most opulent gold.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #✎... writing.

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mintymarabell · 5 months

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Infertile elder yautja

This is very much an impossible scenario but I’m making it happen anyways. Oh you guys I’ve been gone for so long and when I come back I ramble. I’m so sorry!

Mentions of : infertility, pregnancy, childbirth, stillborns, accused cheating, distant partner.

Your mate was infertile, his seed never taking to any other female.

If it did take the baby was always a still born, cold to the touch and grey in color.

He still wanted a mate though, so instead he just opted for a human, one that wouldn’t beg for a baby every year when he for obvious reasons couldn’t give one.

That’s when he met you, little oh you on planet earth wondering around. He obviously took a liking to you, giving you so many treasures and golds that when we does reveal himself to you it isn’t as scream worthy.

Fast forward, you both lived happy lives on yaujta prime; you skipped around enjoying your forever vacation while he just did his usual businesses of supervising hunts, going to meetings, being an elder in general, and coming home to you.

Just because you were human didn’t mean he didn’t love you, he did love you. To him you were like a breath of fresh air, not having to constantly impress you or abide to most yautja traditions.

But most importantly he loved the way your skin felt, late at night when you were fast asleep he’d often find himself with his hand rubbing up and down your back, your skin oh so soft compared to his own rough skin.

Then his happy facade broke because there was one day he noticed something, the off look in your eye, the absent rubbing of your belly. He knew what you wanted, he almost wanted to bite his tongue in half and swallow it because he knew he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted.

So he’d often find himself trying to pull away, creating distance with the excuse of work but it didn’t hold up long as one night as he snuck into the bedroom you sat in bed, tears ran down your cheeks as you looked at him.

Your mate has seen you cry only once but that was before he had fully met you but that was then and this was now, now you were right there in front of him looking at him as if he was caught red handed.

He tried to remain calm as he walked towards your bed side, kneeling down on his knees. Never has he kneeled before, never has he lowered his head either but for you he had and for you he’d do anything.

“My canary, what is the matter?” He spoke with a low voice as if he would startle you into running away, though you didn’t. You had sat there staring at him then you had popped the question; “Are you cheating on me?” Your voice was hoarse, not something he liked to hear even if it was his first time.

“What?” He spoke with wide eyes, “My bird what gives you that assumption? I could never cheat on you, not someone as perfect.” He spoke, though the last part of his sentence was whispered. You had told him you thought he was cheating due to him pulling away and coming in late.

As you spoke he kind of looked off. His hands were fiddling with your small fingers, a habit he has picked up lately. “My love, I know what you want. It is a baby, yes?” He asked as he finally looked at you, your head giving a small nod.

He had sighed, “I’m not sure I can give you one.” “Could we still try?” You spoke quietly, your eyebrows scrunched together. “If that is what you want my dear.” He spoke softly, his hands finally leaving your own as he stood up.

He had wanted to kick himself but how could he say no to your face? So you both will do what people do, waiting a few days; your excitedly walking around talking his ear off about the baby room all while he has this blank look on his face.

When you do end up being pregnant he is astounded but not too much because of it happening before and being a still born in the end. But don’t worry, he will be there through the pregnancy, rubbing your back, cuddling close to you.

He will be there when you have morning sickness or running off in the middle of the night to get you some weird craving.

He was in the kitchen, you were seven months along and had politely demanded chicken piccata. He had no clue how to make the earth dish but never the less was trying to best as he had slaughtered a chicken for it and stole a recipe book from someone.

As he was slicing up the chicken breast he heard you hiss, he immediately dropped the knife as he peaked his head in the living room and rushing to wash the salmonella off his hands. “Are you alright?” He had called which was given no response.

He walked into the room, an apron on that said kiss the chef. You were sitting on the couch, urging him to come here as you practically shoved him towards your stomach.

“Feel.” You spoke as you put his hands on your tummy, he gave you a raised nonexistent eyebrow as he sat there then he felt it, a very strong kick that had you making a slight face. “Isn’t that sweet?” You spoke quietly as if you were recovering.

“Sounds like you’ve been through it love.” He spoke as he rubbed at your stomach before getting up. “Maybe the baby is strong.” You spoke as you had watched him. He had shrugged and walked back to the kitchen.

When you had went into labor it was 4:52am, your mate was asleep on his side facing you with a hand on your stomach. You had rose up from the bed with a strong pain in your stomach, you nudged your mate awake to which he immediately did so. “What’s wrong?” He asked immediately as he also sat up.

You didn’t really have to explain to him what was wrong as you had went to stand your water broke, the water hitting the ground.

Your mate had carried you all the way to the clinic, running the whole way and also carrying the overnight bag. The doctors had taken you into a room that had blue lights to keep you calm. The doctors being complete nerds and had researched everything they could as they practically piled near you giggling internally at the studying opportunity.

As you had laid in the bed, the bed already sat up at an angle you breathed deeply as your mate held your hand, rubbing your knuckles.

An older female yautja had sat between your spread legs, as she popped her head up she told your mate in yautja tongue you needed to push.

After twelve agonizing hours and your mate having a sore hand there were small cries. He almost thought he was hearing things, maybe your screaming had damaged his ear canals?

But no, the doctor lifted up a sweet baby who was moving and very visibly upset. His breath was lost in his throat as he watched the child be handed off to you with congratulations on the new baby girl. The doctors all scribbling notes down and walking out.

The baby was smaller but looked yautja, he almost wanted to believe it wasn’t his but he knew you were loyal. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself as he stood there watching you rest with your eyes closed, his newborn daughter fast asleep on your chest.

He was quiet all the way until you had looked up at him, asking in a tired voice, “do you want to hold her?”

He nodded slowly. He had slowly reached his arms out, letting you place her into them. She was so small, almost comically in his arms.

Though from there on out he made a silent vow to himself as he leaned down and slightly touched heads with her. He vowed to never let anything happen to his beautiful baby girl, even if it would kill him.

#yautja #elder yautja #monster #yautja x reader #monster boyfriend #so cute #yautja boyfriend #old man yautja #yautja stuff #yautja yes

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hidden-poet · 2 months

Text

Commander Snow; chapter 6

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Being Commander of District 12 meant that Coriolanus couldn’t just whisk you away to the forest to face his fears. He had a whole army dependent on him. It meant that while you were held up in his apartment, he was held up in his office.

It annoyed him to no end. To have you so close and yet still out of reach.

Despite you living with him for a week, you’ve only shared one meal together.

His overtime meant that you were asleep by the time he got home.

You had left a clean pair of his pajamas on the end of the bed. He had a habit of just stripping down to his underwear to join you.

You left dinner for him in the fridge and he sat at the dinner table eating it alone.

On the odd occasion, there was time to spend together, the mood was often tense from Coriolanus stress.

He tried not to take his frustration out on you but his answers were often short.

After a long day filled with complaints and issues that could have been easily solved without him, Coriolanus decided that he would not return to his office after supervising drill training and instead remain with you.

He was beyond tired from his day, but it was too early to suggest bed. You lay with him on the couch, propped up by a throw pillow against the arm of the couch while he lay in front of you. He threw your arm around his shoulder and held it tight under his chin.

The TV played a music talent show that neither you nor Coriolanus could care about but the tv only picked up two channels; the news or the entertainment channel that the Hunger Games were shown on. Coriolanus couldn’t bear to hear any more politics for the day so you watched people dressed in irregular costumes perform ballads out of their range.

His eyes droop as he fights the upcoming sleep. It was the first time since the fight with Edmund that he got you to sit down. The little he was here you spent avoiding him. For the first few days, he was angry too and avoidance stopped the fight he wanted to have with you.

But a week had passed and his temper cooled.

You were with him now. Playing housewife to the Commander.

He felt better now that he was coming home to something, rather than just the cold. When he looked in the fridge there was food for him. His clothes were washed and prepared for him. His bed was warm at night. He made him feel less homesick.

The talk from the TV turned from the judges to Lucky the presenter.

“Now ladies and gentlemen. We have a surprise for you tonight. We have a certain special guest gracing us. And we have given him the power to save one of your favorites from elimination! Mr Augustus Bloom won’t you please come out!”

Coriolanus shot up from your hold to watch him.

Augustus Bloom walked on screen wearing an expensive suit. His brown hair was slicked back and a small gold earring dangled from his ear.

The crowd cheered for him.

Coriolanus was stuck in District 12 dealing with half-wits and scum, while Augustus was charming the Capitol on live tv.

He shakes hands with Lucky.

“Mr. Bloom, a privilege to have you here tonight!”

“A privilege to be here amongst you and away from my office.”

Lucky turns to the crowd and laughs.

“Look at you. You good-looking man! You should be out on the town, breaking hearts!”

Augustus laughs along with the crowd.

“I am too busy preparing my business for when I am president of Panem. I’ll worry about women after that.”

Coriolanus clenches his fist.

“Oh,” Lucky turned serious to the crowd, “I think Coriolanus Snow might have something to say about that!”

The crowd murmurs amongst themselves giving Coriolanus an air of confidence.

A picture from his Academy days flashes up on the screen, you look at it with curiosity. He was once a young boy with soft curls, he now sat nearly unrecognizable.

“He’s looking like a strong contender. Isn’t he handsome ladies!” He points out to the crowd, “And some gentleman.”

Augustus had the wind knocked out of his sail. He fidgeted on stage and took a step back almost as if he was going to run away. Dr. Gaul's criticism ran through Coriolanus’ head, “a soft-bellied rich boy, not fit for the presidency.”

Now the whole audience knew it too.

“Snow isn’t here” he gritted through a smile. He wasn’t going down with a fight.

“No. He’s in District 12, keeping us here in the Capitol safe. A round of applause for Commander Snow!”

The crowd cheered causing Coriolanus to smile.

“So am I!” Augustus interrupted like a child.

“Yes, right. I am sure one day you will!” Lucky claps him on the back and returns to the audience with an excited demeanor.

“But of course, that’s a while yet! We are wishing our President Ravenstill all the good health in the world. Now let’s get on with the show!”

Coriolanus switches the TV off and rests his arms on his knees. He couldn’t help but smile at Augustus' national failure. He made Coriolanus look so strong, so mysterious, and focused. He would send Lucky a fruit basket in thanks tomorrow. He would also send one to Augustus.

“You had curls.” The young boyish figure had shocked you.

“Yes,” he pats your knee affectionately, “When we are back in the Capitol and I am president of Panem, I’ll grow them back again.”

==================

Coriolanus has the nightmare that night. He woke up with the tune of ‘Hanging Tree’ stuck in his head. The first thing he does is reach out to where you should have been lying only to find the space cold. Panic rushes through him. His feet thump against the floorboards as he runs from the room into the hall. Your sleeping body can be seen on the couch and he instantly relaxes.

His body tells him he should be angry; fists clenched, shoulders up and tense, his face hot. But he couldn’t manage it. His mind was too hazy to comprehend anything but his own panic.

Instead, he sits down on the floor beside you and tries to control his breathing. The tune hums in the back of his mind and he tries to force it out.

“You had the nightmare again?” Your voice halts the tune. He looks over his shoulder at you with wide eyes. You finally saw the resemblance between the schoolboy with the curls.

He gets up and pushes himself on the couch next to you. You feel his hands slide up your back, trying to hold you close but you wiggle free from his grasp.

You would not comfort the man who kidnapped you.

He tried to bring you back down to his chest as you crawl over him but his tired state left room for error.

You tumble down to the floor as you escape.

He sighs disappointed, bringing his hands up to his face.

“Was there something wrong with the bed?” he asks.

“I prefer the couch.” You sit on the ground next to him.

“You prefer the bed built by Edmund.” He spat his name like it was poison.

You look up at him warily, “I never told you that Edmund built my bed.”

Coriolanus is silent for a minute, he sucks his teeth and sits up.

“You didn’t have to. The wood from your door and bed match.’’

He feels settled as you sit by his feet. The panic subsides, but his anger bubbles up from it.

“Can you make me a cup of tea?” he asks.

With him on your bed, you couldn’t go back to sleep anyway so you rose and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

He watches you while sitting on the couch. He liked how you moved so comfortably in the space. You were treating it like your home. No hesitation about where things were, you used things liberally.

“What do you dream?” You ask him.

“When I wake up it’s gone,” he lies.

You know he carries it around with him.

“Whatever it is, it scares you.”

The kettle whistles and you pour it over the tea bag.

He worried that he now looks weak in front of you. The man who was supposed to be protecting you was scared of a dream like a child. He could continue with his lie but you already knew.

Instead he tries a half-truth.

“I dream that I am killed like my father was.”

This peaked your interest causing him to sit up straighter under your attention.

“How did he die?”.

He takes the cup from you but you don’t scurry away like you usually do. You stand in front of him eager to listen to him. The attention moved his mouth,

“Here. In District 12. A trap out in the forest during the war. He was a governor”.

“Is that why you wanted to come back?”

“I didn’t want to come back” he admits. He reaches up with his spare hand to lightly touch yours, “But I am glad I did.”

“What did you do?” you feel his thumb brush over the back of your hand, “I mean, to get you sent here?”

He takes a sip of his tea before answering, “I had an enemy in the Capitol. He disliked my father and took it out on my family”.

“He sent you back as Commander?”

“No. He died. Gaul sent me back for my presidential run. It looks better to be serving my country.”

You tear your hand from him, “And when they find out you brought me back to the Capitol. How will that look?”

He places the cup on the floor and stands up to your height.

“I’ll keep you safe, okay?” he presses his forehead against yours, “In the district and in the Capitol”.

“Safe from danger you put me in.”

Coriolanus shakes his head as you pull away from him. “You’re safe. You’ve always been safe.”

He tried to pull you close again but you stretched out your arms to keep him at distance.

“I wanna go home, Coriolanus.”

“Home to Edmund, perhaps?” he bites. His calm and soft features harden.

A shiver shoots up your spine at the mention of Edmund.

“Home to my family. The same as you.”

He sighs, “You won’t be alone in the Capitol as you are here. You just have to put up with it just a little bit longer. We’ll be back home soon”

The Capitol was not your home nor would it ever be.

But you knew anymore talk of home would lead to more talk of Edmund.

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed.” You rip your elbow from his grasp as he walks past you.

“I’m fine on the couch.”

He rubs a hand over his mouth before bending down and picking up his tea cup. He splashes the remains on the couch and hands you the empty cup.

“Enjoy it then.”

—————-

The next day he comes home around lunch time. It catches you by surprise.

“Come on,” he says, nodding his head backwards.

You follow him without a word to the van below where officials stood around. Upon seeing him they take their place. You see Smiley by the passenger side door and he calls out for his Commander.

Coriolanus tell Smiley to take the seat and climbs in the tray of the truck.

He pulls you up into the van amongst the Peacekeepers. He sits on the end of the bench with you between his legs on the floor. Like a seatbelt he keeps you in place by taking a hold on your upper arms and pulling them back up on his knees.

You can feel the glances of his officers but they look away as soon as you try to meet their eyes.

Halfway they try to break the tension with idle chatter.

“Will the recruits be as bad as last year?”

“That’s couldn’t be possible.”

The talk soon turns to anecdotes about their youthful days as Peacekeeper grunts.

None of them try to include Coriolanus in their jests. They all willfully ignored the couple on the end.

You don’t try to talk to him either.

As you pass through the district the people look at the Peacekeeper van causing you to turn your head in embarrassment. You could still feel the harsh judgements from your community as you sat between the Commander's legs. How would you ever rebuild your reputation?

The van stops in front of the tunnel to the train station. The people part in the crowd to let the van through.

Coriolanus releases you to unhook the bolts from the backn of the truck. None of the other Peacekeepers move until he does. He jumps down from the bed of the truck and turns back around to help you down. They all wait until you are down and out of the way before they follow.

It’s busy, too busy for a normal docking of fresh recruits. All of the road and tunnel leading to the train station were overrun by bodies.

District people flood the space, all chatting loudly in a panic. They part as the line of Peacekeepers march through.

Normally on orientation day, the newcomers to District 12 were given a wide berth. People had better things to do then get a glimpse of the faces that would soon be terrorizing them.

You wondered what peaked their excitement today. What had Coriolanus done that both you and the district people had to see?

Coriolanus drags you down the dark tunnel into the light of the train station. The talk quitened but didn’t stop altogether.

You screamed upon seeing the commotion.

Edmund.

He was badly beaten and tied to a sturdy metal pole that kept the roof up. A bulls-eye was spray painted an inch above his head.

Blood soaked his face to the point you almost didn’t recognize him.

Large black bruises covered his exposed skin.

You turn to Coriolanus who was already looking at you and beg him to release Edmund.

“Please, Coriolanus. Let him go.”

“He threw the first punch.”

You knew it had less to do with causing Coriolanus physical harm than it did with damaging his ego and need for control. Your neighbors were shown that the Commander bleeds like any other man.

“He learnt his lesson.” you promise.

“Have you learnt yours?”

Only ten young boys disembark from the train. They were all thin with a badly-shaved buzzcut and carrying a Capitol issued duffle bag.

You wanted to run over to Edmund. Protect him somehow. But you couldn’t, it was your protection that got him here in the first place.

“Gentlemen, welcome to District 12.”

Coriolanus stood by your side while another officer went in front of the line of boys.

“This is Edmund Flare,” he gestures to Edmund at the post, “A known rebel sympathizer, and a troubled citizen of District 12.”

Another Peacekeeper runs over and passes the man a gun. You grab Coriolanus' arm in protest.

“More likely than not, you will have to shoot Edmund one day in service of your country. We figured today we would give you the opportunity to save yourself the trouble in the future.”

The first young boy is given the gun.

“You get one shot before you have to wait for that day to naturally come.’’

Edmund holds his head up high to show he is not afraid. But you were. You were terrified. A strong urge to go over and rip the gun out of the young boys hands presented itself but you knew you would be pulled back before you could even stand close enough to touch him,

The boy checks the gun for the trigger, earning a laugh from everyone but you and Coriolanus.

Eventually he finds it, and he takes aim.

The shot misses by a mile.

“Coriolanus please.” He remains emotionless, watching the scene before him. He stood as if it was a street performance, hands clasped behind his back and perfect posture to get a good view.

“Wait! Wait!” you call out but the men continue. Another boy steps up and takes the gun.

He takes less time to examine the gun before firing a shot. Edmund flinches as it wizzes past his shoulder.

‘‘Coriolanus! Stop this. Just please stop, untie hi-”

The next shot is fired causing you to spin around to ensure that Edmund was still standing. He was tall and stupidly proud.

“I’ll never forgive you if one of them hurt him!” you threaten but it doesn’t even earn you a glance.

“Do you love him?”

“No” you answered firmly and fast, “No, Coriolanus. Please stop.”

Another shot is taken.

“Because if you loved him now would be the time to tell me, because I would hate to break apart lovers.”

The third shot lands next to Edmunds boot. You felt physically sick watching the scene. Your legs shook and would soon give way.

The men start to whoop and cheer the young recruits on. It gives the next young boy confidence to take a step closer to take his shot but it misses all the same.

You can’t tear your eyes off Edmund as the next recruit takes aim. They look each other in the eyes. Never spoken a word and already enemies.

The shot is taken but wizzes past Edmunds head.

You shake your head no. You knew telling him that you loved Edmund would sign his death certificate.

“He’s my brother's friend, Coriolanus. We grew up together.”

The next shot hit the pole but not the target, causing you to yelp.

Loud cheering snapped you out of your daze. Begging would get you nowhere.

Instead you take his shoulders into your arms and turn him towards you.

“He looked after me before you. I would have been dead long before you got to me if it wasn’t for him”.

Coriolanus throws his eyes back to Edmund which was not the desired effect.

You change positions, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his attention back down to you.

“I didn’t tell him that you’d taken his role. The other night he was just trying to protect me as you would’ve.”

He finally looks down at you.

“Please, don’t kill him, Coriolanus. I could never forgive myself.” Your voice begins to shake. You were so nervous for Edmunds safety. Your knees buckled and tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

He takes the side of your face into his hands.

“Do you love him?”

You shake your head feverishly, “No, Coriolanus.”

“Do you love him?” You feel his fingers tighten on your face.

“Yes.” you admit.

“Do you love me?”

Through gritted teeth a ‘yes’ resounds.

“More than him?”

A shot whizzed into the crowd as the new recruit lost control of the gun and Coriolanus pulled his body over yours.

The officers scold the boy. Taking the waving gun away. The shot landed into the train station wall but it was a close call for those standing in front of it.

He removes your arms from him and you watch him walk over to the officer holding the gun.

He takes it and aims at Edmund who stood straight and tall.

You shrink as the gun fires. Unable to look, you cover your face with your hands.

The cheering made no impact on your confidence. You couldn’t hear Edmund from their excitement. So you reluctantly open your eyes to see him still standing.

The bullet had made it straight to the middle of the painted target.

Coriolanus stood taking aim still, as if he was still considering firing another shot.

Edmund stared back, almost daring him.

“Commander.” you call. You don’t call him by his name, not in front of people.

Coriolanus lowers the gun but keeps his eyes on Edmund as he speaks,

“Load them up and head back to the compound.” he passes the gun to the closest officer and turns back to where you stood.

“Cut him loose.” he calls back.

When he tosses his arm around you and pulls you back to the truck, you turn back to see Edmund surrounded by Peacekeepers.

People mummer as you walk past but your ears buzzed too loudly to hear a word.

You felt so weak as you walked. You thought you were going to collapse before you could make it to the van. But with Coriolanus’s strong hold on you, you made it back.

He climbs in first and reaches down to pull you up. He sits you on his knee instead of on the ground and you watch as the peacekeepers, old and new, return to the truck.

You don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed as eyes locked into you.

No one said anything to Coriolanus on the way back.

As soon as the truck opens back in the compound, you are the first to jump out. You hear Coriolanus footsteps as he followed you back to the apartment.

You immediately take a seat at the kitchen table and Coriolanus gets you a cup of water. You stare at it in front of you.

“Edmund died today, as far as you are concerned.”

Closing your eyes to the image of him, you nod your head.

He could hear Coriolanus moving around the apartment but you couldn’t care what he was doing.

When he slams something down in front of you, you open your eyes to see a piece of paper and a pen.

“I want you to write to your brother and tell him about us.”

You couldn’t. Your brother was hot headed, and powerless. He would cause only problems for himself trying to get back.

“What would be the point? He is over in District 8.”

“My family are in the Capitol, yet they know about you.”

Shock strikes you knowing that his family knew of Coriolanus’s actions.

“Write to him,” he pushes, “tell him that we are together. How you feel.”

You pen a half-hearted letter about how you met a man. Coriolanus, you called him, Not Commander Snow. You tell him how you miss him, and that your mother is okay. That Coriolanus is ensuring that your basic needs are met. Don’t worry, you tell him, you’re perfectly safe.

Coriolanus reads it after you are done before folding it and placing it in his pocket.

He slides another piece of paper over in front of you.

“Now write to Tigris and my grandmother. Tigris suggested it would make you feel better, already knowing someone in the Capitol.”

You pick up the pen and write again, but your mind remains on the image of Edmund being used as target practice. You make yourself a promise that you would never meet his cousin or his grandmother. Their letters are as close as they will get before you could escape.

—------

Coriolanus amped up his work schedule even more. Eager to break free from his responsibilities and solve the mystery of Lucy Gray.

You were left alone at night which was preferable to his company but you felt yourself going crazy with only your own company.

You tried to keep a routine to fill the day. It was mostly taken up by cleaning tasks.

After dinner you would wash and dry the dishes, wipe the countertops and table and sweep and mop the floor. Then you would retire to the living room with your sewing or polishing work until it was time for bed.

There is a quiet tapping on the window disturbing you from securing the buttons on Coriolanus’s shirt.

No fear ran through you wondering who it could be. They couldn’t get in to harm you anyway. So you peer out from the window.

“Edmund” you gasp.

His left eye was blackened, a large bruise formed around the bloodshot vessels. A purple bruise marked his cheek and there was a cut on his right eyebrow.

“How did you get in?”

He hold a pair of wire cutters up to the window.

“Are you okay? God I was so worried about you.”

“Ah,” Edmund smiles and replaces the wire cutters with a small knife from his pocket, “Takes more than that.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss. If Coriolanus found him, there was no way Edmund would escape death a second time.

“Getting you out of here.”

“You can’t be here. He’ll be home soon.”

“I know. I’ve been here every night since i’ve been well enough. I told you, you’re not alone.”

“The Peacekeepers-’’

“There’s a fifteen minute window where this section is blind.” The lock wiggles but resists being opened under pressure, “And he just entered the infantry to wish our poor peacekeepers a speedy recovery. We have time.”

The door was determined to chew most of it up, however.

“Edmund, what did he do to you?” his face was swollen from the bruising, and you could see large black and purple spots peeking out from under his shirt.

“The day after he took you, he sent Peacekeepers to my home. They took me back to the compound and showed me some ‘hospitality’”.

“Edmund,I am so sorry,” you begin to cry, “I never should have taken the oat bars to the jail.”

You remembered the day at the market that set off the chain of events.

You remember seeing the man, he stood out amongst the crowd. Dirty, torn clothes. An arm missing, no doubt from the district's mining work. There wasn’t much work for men outside of it.

A sense of pity overwhelmed you, so when he swiped a loaf of bread off the table, you looked the other way. Unfortunately a watchful Peacekeeper did not.

The man's plea echoed through your mind as he was taken away; “Please, I am so hungry.”

It led you to making the oat bars not only for him, but for all the others punished for their hunger.

You remembered a rumor that there was a hole at the west end of the jail for the Peacekeepers to sneak out from, and women of the night to sneak in. You were surprised to find out it was actually true.

“This is not your fault, okay. I am going to get you outta here, and we’ll go to the mountains okay? Where it’s safe. Like planned.”

You nod your head.

The door jingles as Edmund tries to force it open with his knife. It doesn’t bulge.

“Edmund, my mother, is she okay?”

“She’s okay. She’s already up the mountains.”

“How? She could barely walk?”

“I carried her.”

The guilt came crashing down on you. Edmund had his own family to look after. They wouldn’t survive without him.

“Edmund. Stop. I can get the key,” you weren’t sure if you actually could, “You need to go. Just tell me where you cut the hole.”

He stops trying to wedge the door with the knife so you could hear him clearly.

“There’s three big bins out by the back,” he points to the direction, “I cut a hole behind the middle one. It’ll take you to the south forest. I’ll wait there.”

“No,” you interject, “No. Wait for me in the mountains.”

He rolls his eyes and picks up his work of jamming his knife in the door.

“You’ll never make it up the mountain by yourself.”

“At home then! Just stay away from here.”

The plea was for both you and him.

“You can get the key and get out?” He asks in a serious tone, looking at you once more.

“Yes.” you confirm.

He sighs as he pockets his knife, “When?”

The Commander kept his keys by the night stand. You think you could remember which one opened the door.

“Soon.”

“A week. I’ll give you a week before I come back with something stronger.”

You nod your head in agreement.

“Thank you, Edmund.”

“You’re my girl.” he remarks as it was an obvious motivation for his work.

You shiver at his words.

————

You don’t sleep well at night so you have taken to having naps while Coriolanus is at work. He is home more often now. He had got ahead of a considerable amount of work which meant nights were spent together.

Most nights he would take you walking around the compound for fresh air after dinner. You tried to memorize the key he used to unlock the door but there were so many that all looked the same. You wondered how he even knew.

He is anxious now that he found out you were sleeping in the living room and has taken to chaining you together as you slept. He cuffed one of his wrists and one of yours, making sleep impossible as he basically slept on top of you now.

It was only three days after Edmunds promise, that you woke from your nap with the sight of Coriolanus packing your clothes into a bag.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

Was he moving you to your own apartment?

He drops the bag and comes over to sit next to you on the bed.

“Hey,” he greets “You need to get up now. We are going to go away for the weekend.”

You sit up away from him, “Where are we going?”

Vacations were not a thing in District 12.

“The Capitol?” you guessed.

“No, not the Capitol.”

You sigh in relief. Still he had not answered your question.

“Where then?”

He gets up from the bed and zips the bag up.

“Do you not trust me?”

You get up from the bed to see he had laid a dress on the end of the bed for you.

‘‘I just want to know where we are going.”

“You took me to a special place, and now I want to take you somewhere, okay?”

Throwing the duffle bag filled with spare clothes for you and him, over his shoulder he exits the room.

You change and his way out to the living room. There would be no point in fighting. You were going to find out where he was taking you at some point.

The living room was empty, but the door swung wide.

With the door being left open for you, you took the stairs down to where Coriolanus was loading the back of a patrolling truck.

You saw a small cooler of food, one of the old pans, bedding and pillows, a small bag of toiletries and the clothes bag. He had packed in a hurry. The bags were thrown in without care. They were far apart from each other and more items than not were upside down.

“We’re not coming back?” you ask.

“We’ll stay a night or two.” Or however long it takes to find Lucy Gray’s body.

He holds open the door and you follow his silent command to get in. You spot the rifle tucked between the seat and the console. It makes you rethink your decision of complacency.

“My special place didn’t need a gun.”

He takes your arm and gently pushes you forward into the car, but you tug back against him.

“It’s nothing. Just a precaution.”

He gently pushes you again to move.

“Get in.” he barks.

“No.”

He takes a harsh grip this time on your arm and leads you back to the cage where Peacekeepers kept people who disturbed the peace.

He pushed you into the small space amongst the bags.

It was big enough that you could sit with your back against the wall but it would only leave an inch of space between your head and the roof. The back was caged in so the rebels couldn’t reach the officers in front, and the length was long enough to fit three or four rebels at one time. Albeit a tad uncomfortably.

You bang on the metal divide as he slams the door shut and begins to drive.

“Coriolanus, you don’t have to do this. I could just go home.”

He drives through the middle of the district to the out of bounds forest, where Peacekeepers were waiting armed and ready by the electric fence line. They buzz the parting gate open and seal it shut again once the car passes.

Past the gate, it was just you and him. What would he want to take you to a secluded forest for. A million reasons run through your mind and they all end with you dead.

“How are you doing back there?” he calls from the front. The car as it powers through the harsh conditions almost drowns him out.

“Where are you taking me?” you demand to know, “What’s out past the boundary line that you set up?”

Was he hiding something out there? Was that the reason he set up the fence? Not to keep people contained but to hide something.

“There’s a cabin I know of. There’s a lake too. I think you’ll like it.”

You watch from the front window, looking out for landmarks that could lead you back home. The dark clouds that roll fourth threaten to destroy anything you can remember.

The path to the cabin is ingrained in his mind since he walked back a different man. He weaved through the gaps in the forest without looking at his father’s compass.

“Did Lucy Gray like it?”

He ignores your comment and you don’t speak again.

—---

When you reach the cabin it is old and run down. Vines cover the walls of the house, patching up the rotten wood.

Coriolanus seemed nervous to be there. His hand flexes as it reaches for you.

The door had been sealed shut with moisture and it took three hard shoulder charges from Coriolanus to get it open. He invites you in with a hand on your shoulder, shutting the door behind you before retaking your hand in his.

You could smell the dust as you stood in the small living room. The cabin was small and colorless. Mostly everything was made from wood. From the small kitchen table and chairs to the bed you could see in the adjacent room. The only thing that was metal was an old fire stove, and a few decorative pieces.

Leaves had blown in from holes in the roof scattering the floor. The place looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. You would have thought the place was abandoned since its creation if there weren’t bags upon the floor. Despite its appearance, someone had been here before you and Coriolanus.

He lets go of you to rush over to the bags. He unzips one and pulls out a colorful dress. The way he lets out a laughy breath sends shivers down your spine.

“Lucy Gray’s?” you ask but you already know the answer. He had taken her here to kill her, maybe under the guise of running away together, and now he has taken you here to kill you.

Coriolanus shrugs as if he doesn’t know and shoves the dress back in the bag.

“Whoever it belongs to is long gone.”

He continues to look through the bags for anything missing while you glance at the door.

You think about making a run for it. Surely you would have a better chance in the forest then against him. You feel your feet slowly turning in the direction of the door when his speaking interrupts you.

“I’ll take this junk outside.” he gathers the bags, slinging one over his shoulder and carrying the other two in his hands.

You don’t speak as he comes over to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, noticing your uptight demeanor.

“Fine. You?” Was he being driven to a quiet rage with thoughts of Lucy Gray?

“Perfect.”

He places a quick kiss to your lips before carrying the bags outside.

You look at the gun on the floor. If you ran now while he was busy outside it would give you a head start. Surely he would need to come back to get the gun before chasing you. He couldn’t do it with his bare hands.

You could feel his hands around your throat and knew he could.

You bolt through the door and down the old steps but run into him as he comes back up.

He had only taken to throwing the old bags by the side of the house, planning to sink them alongside of the guns in the lake at a later point.

“Whoa” he stops you with his hands, “Where are you going?”

“The bags. To get the bags out of the car.”

He looks out to the forest as if he had heard something.

“Get back inside. I’ll get them.”

You watch him from the window bring the items in. He was cautious and kept glancing at the forest.

You did not want to end up a ghost among the forest with Lucy Gray. You wanted to live. To go up to the mountains with Edmund and be shielded in his arms.

As Coriolanus finished his second trip with the bags, he used an old chair still there and pinned it under the door handle to prevent it from opening.

You promised yourself that you would make it to the mountains. Coriolanus would not kill you and bury your body next to Lucy Gray.

You felt as if you were in the Hunger Games.

You were going to be the victor.

Coriolanus looked unbothered by these thoughts as he tried to light a fire in the old stove.

He gets it going and as he puts his matches back in, he notices you still in a tense form.

“It’s only for tonight. We’ll go home tomorrow afternoon.”

“Will we?” you spat. “Why are we here anyway?”

‘To kill me. Say it, you coward’, you thought.

“It’s quiet,’’ he suggests, “Some place quiet where we can be alone.”

“Is this where you took Lucy Gray?”

He slams a pan down on top of the hot surface.

“I didn’t know Lucy Gray. I’ve told you.” He opens a pack of sausages and throws them down without care before tossing the leftover garlic potatoes you cooked the night before in as well.

“Did you bury her out here?” you push.

He ignores you. Pushing around a sausage with the knife he used to cut open the packet.

“Are you going to bury me out here?”

“I have never hurt you.”

“You starved me, hit me, nearly killed my mother. You call that not hurting me?”

You felt your blood boiling. It was one thing to make your life a living hell, it was another to deny he did it.

He drops the knife and turns to face you.

“Have you starved under me? Has your mother?” he hits his chest with his next words, “You eat because of me. You sleep in a bed that I paid for. I provide for you. Me.”

He stalks towards you causing you to stumble back. You hit a wall but feel a rusted piece of metal under your fingertips. You grab it from the desk but keep it low from his sight.

“Everything has happened to you because you strayed, and you want me to apologize for it?”

“I want you to admit to what you did.” What you are about to do, so I don’t feel guilty.

He grabs hold of the bar and pulls it from you.

“I did not kill Lucy Gray,” he said earnestly. But he wished he had.

He throws the rusted object across the room and it lands with a heavy clang.

“And I am not going to kill you. You don’t think you’ve done enough already to get yourself hanged? I protected you from that. Not Edmund.”

Your breath hitches as you hear his name.

The smell of burning and sounds of angry popping infiltrates the room. Coriolanus leaves you to deal with it. The sausages were charred on one side but raw on the other. After a quick flip, Coriolanus returned his attention to you.

“Sit on the ground, by my boots.’’

You eye your weapon on the other side of the room but he was stronger, faster, you would never get it and wield it in time. Night time would be the best chance of escape. The cabin had no lock on it, and you were sure you could make it to the mountains from here. But first you had to get Coriolanus off his guard. He still carried his cuffs with him. Escape would be impossible if you were locked in place.

So you sit on the ground and wrap yourself around his leg as he cooks.

He liked the feeling of you anchoring him. It made him feel secure.

He cooks in silence, tossing the items in the pan so they wouldn’t burn. Cutting a sausage in half, he could see it was done, but he had forgotten plates.

Instead he takes the pan off the stove and carefully sits down across from you on the floor. The pan sizzles as it is placed between you on the floor. It didn’t matter if it burnt the wooden floor. The cabin was so run down, it hardly made a difference. Coriolanus pokes a potato with his knife and brings it up to you.

He wouldn’t give you the knife after the pipe incident. You bite the hot potato off and Coriolanus had his turn.

You could tell the rocky temper was still floating around in him. He had calmed but his face still spoke of his annoyance. His necklace overlaid his shirt, your ring called out to you.

“Give me your dog tag.”

“What?” he responds.

“If you’re not going to kill me, then let me wear your necklace. I’ll give it back at the compound, but if you do kill me, you’ll be forced to wear your guilt around your neck.”

You wanted your ring back before you left him forever.

“I am not going to kill you.” he sighs, taking a bite of sausage.

“Then give me the necklace.”

You hold your hand out for it, which Coriolanus eyes.

Dropping the knife into the pan, he maneuvers the tag of his neck, bypassing your hand and dropping it over your head.

You felt the ring scratch you as it landed.

“Happy now? Will you stop acting crazy?”

You hold the pendants in your hand and nod in agreement

The rest of the night was uneventful. He sets up lamps as it darkens and teaches you a card game. You lost every round, even the ones he tried to let you win. It was a strategy game and you didn’t have the head for it.

The game only lasted an hour before you were helping Coriolanus set up the bed. He had brought along air beds from the Capitol that inflated and deflated by a push of a button. He pushes them together and you made a bed out of the queen sized bedwear from the apartment.

As he went to sleep with you wrapped safely in his arm, he thought about how he was going to get you to stay inside while he went searching the woods.

He couldn’t tell you what he was looking for or who he was looking for. Nor could he take you with him under the guise of a leisurely walk. If Lucy Gray was out there he didn’t want you anywhere near her. He knew there were four more other cabins in these woods. Just because she hadn’t come back for her mother’s dress, didn’t mean she wasn’t out there. If anything, if she was alive it would be the last place she went back to. She was smart, she would have known that Coriolanus would one day come back to find the mystery of Lucy Gray. She was probably trying to throw him off her scent.

You wiggle, pulling the blanket higher over you and it brings his attention closer to home.

Maybe he could lock you in the back of the car while he searched.

He decided he was going to do something nice for you after this. For putting you through it all. Get your measurements and commission Tigris for a new dress, perhaps. Or buy you a necklace of your own.

Maybe both. He had the money for it for the first time in his life. And he did owe you an apology and a thank you for being here with him tonight.

He could see how scared you were thinking that your protector was turning against you. After yesterday, he perhaps should have waited a day or two before taking you away. He at least should have been more gentle in the approach, so you didn’t think he would harm you for his anger towards Edmund.

Coriolanus understood him in a way that saved him from being shot. He was just looking out for you, the same way Coriolanus would have. He and Edmund both wanted to take care of you but your heart only had place for one. And that spot rightfully, and wholly belonged to Coriolanus Snow. Edmund did his job of keeping you alive for Coriolanus and he was rewarded when the bullet went behind him and not into his skull. But now it was Coriolanus’s turn and both Edmund and you needed to learn that.

Coriolanus mind slowed as you stilled beneath him.

You will yourself to be still. You count your breaths out to mime sleeping. Coriolanus’s hold on your shoulder falls as he sleeps but you don’t make a move just yet. Half-scared that he would wake when you got up.

It wasn’t until it started to pour rain that you decided to stop stalling and make a move.

Carefully you rose, and the chains of his arms fell off you. The rain pelting down covered the sound of the air mattress as you moved off it.

The rain, as it turns out, was a blessing and not a punishment.

You had left your boots and dress next to you for easy access. Stripping yourself of your nightdress, you quickly change and tie up your boots.

Coriolanus had taken to sleeping in his underpants, now that you weren’t in a position to indirectly persuade him to dress in his nightwear. He liked the feeling of skin to skin with you but you beg him to keep his t-shirt on. You hated the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. He obliged.

Your boots squeak against the old floor boards as you walk across it to the door. Causing you to wince at every step, but you do manage to reach the door without waking him.

You try to gently tug the chair from under the door but it was jammed. Turning back to see him still sleeping, you tug a bit harder, but only the door knob jiggles. You cringe as he moves slightly on his back. You would have a harder time escaping the compound than here. There were no armed guards or sniffing dogs. Just you and him, and you had a head start. You had to pluck up the courage now.

The chair scraps against the floor but you manage to get it free.

There is a second where nothing moves or makes sound. You almost think you got away scot-free.

“What are you doing?” You hear his voice and turn to see him sitting up dazed.

Your answer is the throwing open of the door and running out. You hear him jump up as you do.

He yanks on his Commander’s pants and boots, leaving the laces untied.

It was too late by the time he got out you were nowhere to be seen.

He felt his heart jump from his chest. This couldn’t be happening. It was just a bad dream that he would wake from. But the icy water pouring down on him told him that it was true. You had betrayed him like Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray. What if she was out in the woods where you ran? She was the victor of the hunger games, you were a lost lamb. You wouldn’t stand a chance against her. She would tear you to shreds if she thought she could get back at Coriolanus.

He thinks about returning to the cabin and retrieving his gun but you were already too far out of reach.

He yells out for you.

The rain poured down soaking you to the bone, but covered your tracks as you ran.

“Y/N!” he screams. You battle the rain as you ran through the forest. Pushing yourself to go faster.

“Hey, it’s dangerous out here. Lets go back to the cabin. Talk about this.”

His wild eyes scan the area for any sign of movement. The rain hindered his vision but he could hear the faint sound of branches snapping under your foot.

“Do you honestly think you can run from me? That I won’t find you?”

You don’t answer and he screams out some more

“Y/N! Come out now! This isn’t funny!”

You stumble as your dress caught on a tree, it grazes your arm as you pull, leaving a nasty cut.

He screams loudly out of frustration. The rain seemed to slow down to a trickle as he did, as if it was also scared.

“You stupid, little girl” you can hear him as he walks, he was catching up. You couldn’t outrun him so you slowed your pace, focusing your efforts on hiding.

“When I catch you…” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

You press yourself against the tree. Your arm stung from the cut and your lungs burned from your efforts.

“Hey, who do you think will reach your mother first?” he taunts.

You knew it wouldn’t be him. She was safe in the mountains and soon you would be too.

“Y/N. That’s enough.”

You slink to the next tree and focus on quieting your breathing. His footsteps got louder as he gained ground.

“Y/N, I said that’s enough!” He picks up a large tree branch and walks forward with it.

“You’re going to get lost in the forest. There’s worse things than me out there.”

He imagined you wandering, lost amongst the trees. Lucy Gray, savage and wild, following you. You wouldn’t see her as a threat when she introduced herself. You were too sweet. You would willingly follow her back to wherever she was hiding and by the time you sense the danger of her, it would be too late.

He needed to find you. To make sure you were alright. That Lucy Gray hadn’t got her hands on the only pure thing in his life.

“Look it’s not too late. We can just forget this happened. Go back to the compound.” he offers but you knew it wasn’t true.

You hold your brother's ring in your hand and make an attempt to move forward.

You made it to the next tree but hear Coriolanus stop walking.

With the rain slowing, it was harder not to make a noise.

A loud banging spooked you as he threw the wood against the tree you were hiding behind. You knew you should have stayed still, he was only testing, but your feet took off before your mind could command them not too.

He felt better seeing you run off. You ran uninjured and with no one following you.

He takes off after you, determined not to lose sight again.

Both of you run through the forest and rain. You felt as though he might eat you alive if he caught you, but he was faster. All too soon, you feel hands on your waist, pulling you down. You scream as you sink into the mud, trashing under his weight.

He sits on your thighs and keeps your hands pinned against the dirt floor.

“What were you thinking?” He spat. You had never seen him look so upset. His face scrunched, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes looked down at you in a crazy panic.

“How could you be so stupid?”

You toss under him, screaming at him to release you.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

You kick your feet in an attempt to buck him off, but he was too heavy.

“Shut up,” he grabs your jaw and stills it in his direction, “You stupid, stubborn, fool of a girl. What was your plan? Huh? Wander around the forest and hope you make it back to District 12?”

You don’t answer and he tightens his hold.

“It was foolish. What if something got you in the forest?’’

What if Lucy Gray got you in the forest.

“Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?”

“I don’t care,” you cry.

“You don’t care?” he says, astonished.

He sits back off you and pulls you up by your arms.

“When you were hungry, I cared.” he pulled you along back to the cabin.

“When you didn’t have money for rent, I cared.” You wriggle your arm, but his hold was too tight.

“Clothes for the winter, medicine for your mother. I cared. And what do I get for it?”

You latch yourself onto a tree. It grounds you as he tries to tug you off it.

“All I ever wanted from you was for you to care.”

He yanks you off the tree and shoves you forward.

“You would think after everything, I would be entitled to it.”

“Coriolanus, please let go of me.” you buck against him.

He tightens his hold, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground.

He throws you across the floor as you reenter the cabin, going to get his cuffs from his bag. You scramble away from him as he gets closer but he stands over you, trapping your wrist in the cuff and hooking it around the leg of the oven and then trapping your wrists.

He stood back over you.

“Look at you,” he spat, “You wouldn’t have lasted the night out there.”

The cut on your arm bleed down, your hair was tangled with twigs and mud. You looked pitiful.

“Let me go, Coriolanus. I won’t tell anyone.”

He lowers himself down to the ground, placing his knees either side of you. He places the weight of him on your legs. You hated the feeling, as now you were fully immobilized.

He speaks slowly and dangerously with your face in his hands.

“If you ever try to leave me again, there will be nothing you could do that would save Edmund”.

Do you understand?”

You nod, but it seemed to anger him.

“I asked if you understood,” he yells.

“Yes. Yes. I understand.”

“How stupid could you be? So worried about me killing you, you decide to do it yourself.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you just wanted him to get off you. His weight was crushing.

“I doubt you’ve ever thought something useful in your life. Use to everybody else doing it for you.”

His hands tangle in your hair forcing you to keep still.

“I’ll do your thinking for you from now on. Your next independent thought, I’ll smash from your skull, understand?”

“Yes.” you cry. The night proved too much for you. The hope of getting away now crushed under his foot.

Your chest heaves with sobs. The panic of being a sitting duck waiting to be killed courses through you, it was a choking sensation.

He takes his wet form off of you and towards the door.

The night was getting to him too. He felt as if history was repeating itself. Back in the forest with little control.

He goes to the side of the house where the bags layed and stuffed them with as many heavy rocks as he could find.

They were heavy as he picked them back up and takes the old boat out to the middle of the lake. The bags sink easily with the rocks, and join the guns at the bottom. His past was officially buried. He now only had the future to look forward to. A future with him as President of Panem, and you by his side.

He rows the boat back to shore. The rain soaked him again and his shirt clung uncomfortably on his skin. It sticks the cold to his chest and his mind floats back to you inside. You were sure to catch a cold if he didn’t move fast.

Entering the house, he could see he was correct from the way your body shivered.

Wiping off the water from his face with his soaked shirt, he goes to his bag and pulls out a fresh shirt for himself. He could still hear you crying as he changed into dry shirt and underpants.

He takes one of his long sleeve off-duty button ups and a towel he wanted to be used from swimming in the lake and brings them over to you.

He had brought you a spare change of clothes but after tonight he felt like he needed the extra security and you needed a extra reminder.

You flinch as he drops down on his knees.

“I am going to uncuff you so you can change.”

You sniffle and he takes it as confirmation to move. With your hands unlocked, you battle with Coriolanus over your clothes. He grasps the end of your dress, beginning to hike it up but you push down the fabric.

“I can-” you manage.

“I do the thinking for you, remember.”

You don’t fight as he yanks the wet dress over you, throwing it behind him carelessly. He keeps his eyes as forward as he can as he slides the sleeves up your arms. Only looking down as he does up the buttons. It was oddly gentlemanly and you wonder if he did it for his sake or yours.

“Stop,” you beg, as you feel his fingers hook over the elastic of your underwear. He doesn’t, going as far as to help you put on a fresh pair. He cuffs you once more to the oven before bringing one of the blankets and pillows back over.

He lays the blanket over you without a word and props the pillow under your head before returning to makeshift bed.

He lays on his side away from you, but you gather he doesn’t sleep, as an hour or so later he brings his pillow and blanket and curls up against your side.

He gets his rest, but you are left in a state of shock that hinders your sleep.

————-

Early the next morning you woke from the sound of Coriolanus stomping in the kitchen. He was eating beef jerky for breakfast. You wake with the sight of him leaning back against the wood counter, towards you. You try to sit up as much as you can while being tied down.

Looking at the food, your stomach grumbles.

“Hungry?” he asks.

You nod in hope that mercy would be given to you.

None was.

“Imagine how hungry you would be lost in the woods.”

“I would have made it back.” you contend.

He strips off another piece as he answers, “You would be dead if I didn’t find you.”

He throws the packet on the counter. It sits unbalanced on the side.

“Are we going home?” You saw the bags were neatly packed in a pile and you thought calling the compound ‘home’ might earn you some beef jerky.

“I have something I have to do. We’ll be back by this afternoon.”

“What do you have to do?”

“None of your business.” he snaps.

The conversation ended as he walks over to the bags and picked up his gun that was resting against them.

You watch him, dressed down in his white t-shirt and army pants, as he swings his rifle over his shoulder.

“I’ll be back soon.” he comments, half way out the door.

He walks through the forest at a slow pace. Careful not to miss the smallest bit of detail.

Retracing the steps of that day, he makes it to where he was bitten by the snake.

Time had overtaken the hunting ground. There was now grass where the earth once was.The branches and trees had healed from the damage done.

He eyes the place where he attempted to shoot Lucy Gray and aims his gun like he did.

He half-expected to see her in the space waiting for him, but it was just ground again. No clues were left for him to find.

There was no rotten smell overtaking his nose. No scrap of clothing left for him to find, or anything to indicate human life had been moving through the forest.

He continues to walk through.

The mockingjays squawk above him. If he was a better shot, he would have taken the time to kill at least some of them. But you would hear the gunfire and panic.

With no sign of Lucy Gray, he continues his way up to the other cabins. He searches each one but they look untouched and run down. The heat of the sun beats down on him as he makes his way back. It was early afternoon by the time he had satisfied himself that Lucy Gray was nowhere in the woods. She could have made it back to District 12, but it was unlikely. He kept tabs on the Covey for months after he got back. He surely would have known if they were hiding her. She must have gone north like planned. He wondered if she made it, or if her body is now one with the earth.

Either way, she was gone and Coriolanus could shake her from his memory.

When he returned back to the cabin, you were busy yanking on your chains.

He presses the point of the gun into your ankle, pinning it against the floor. You don’t try moving under threat. He slides the gun slowly up your leg, over your calf, over your knee, inching up to the middle of your thigh under his shirt. You pulled against your chains, but don't verbally acknowledge you were scared.

“Open your legs wider.” he demands. Instead you squeeze your thighs tighter together.

He pushes the gun with more force against you.

“I am in a very good mood. You would hate to ruin that wouldn’t you?”

Deciding you would, you separate your legs. He nestles himself between you, pulling you closer by your thighs so your legs are past his hips.

Thankfully the gun settles on the floor.

“I think we should talk about last night.”

You shake your head no and he gives you a serious look.

“Every time I give you an inch, you take a mile.”

“I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I have been nothing but patient and kind to you.”

You wanted to laugh at him but forced it down. It was not too late for you to end up dead in the forest.

“I know, Coriolanus. And I am sorry. It’s just no one has ever cared for me like this before”.

He laughs gently at you, “You’re trying at least.”

“It scared me. But if you give me another chance, I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

He lays his body down on yours, keeping his weight off you by planking on his elbows.

“You can have as many chances as it takes.” he promises, softly.

“Just one more.” you return in the same small voice.

He kisses you as if you had earnestly promised to live up to his expectations.

But really what you promised is that you would allow yourself one more chance of escape before he made good on his promise to kill your mother and Edmund. If you lead to their death, then you would follow them shortly after.

---------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER

taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@hiatuswhore

@jacesvelaryons

@swimmjacket

@brooks-lin

@dawnissunnysideup

@astarborntowrite

@someonefromwutheringheights

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #dead dove do not eat #commander snow #hunger games

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xveenusx · 1 year

Text

Three Seconds

Paring(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

Summary: three seconds is all it takes for things to fall apart

Side note: A lot of my writing is going to be either smut or heavy on the heartbreak lol, very few happy endings

Part 2: And Yet...

———————————————-

One. Two. Three

Three seconds.

One. Two. Three.

Three seconds of silence was all it took for him to completely shut me out. His blonde hair striking against the hue of the sky while his piercing blue eyes stare at me, pleading me to agree.

I opened my mouth to speak yet nothing came out. Instead, a wave of panic spread throughout my body causing an intense feeling of suffocation. My thoughts raced as I realized how serious the situation was.

“We’re sick of your shit.”

“Oh, my shit?” JJ let’s put a humorless laugh before shaking his head.

Kie’s eyes dart to mine before she takes a step towards him, looking at him with such disappointment. “You’re pulling guns on people shit.”

I can tell they’re all waiting for me to jump in, to talk some sense into JJ but for some reason my feet are glued to the floor and my throat is tight and no words are coming out.

Instead, my gaze is locked on the grey duffel bag set at his feet, filled with cash.

Cash that he stole from a drug dealer who had a gun to my head an hour ago.

Anxiety coursed through my veins as my stomach swayed with nausea. I wring my hands together trying to create some type of grounding.

“You need to tell him. Tell him this isn’t what we’re doing.” Pope steps in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders.

JJ’s gaze was burning a whole right through my head and it took every bit of strength I had to meet his stare head on.

I understood him. Everything he’s ever done, as rash and reckless as he was, there was always a reason. That was something our friends never understood about him, they just played it off as JJ being JJ. This money, as stupid as it was, he needed. It could give him every bit a freedom JJ needed away from his dad.

Luke was cruel and uncaring. Consistently spitting venom at him, reminding of how disappointing and useless JJ is. So, I understand. I would have taken the money too if it gave me some peace away from home.

Sarah and Kie, as sweet and loving as they are, will never understand. They were born Kooks, had homes on figure 8 with parents who love them. They didn’t need this money, but we did. And yet, I knew he couldn’t take the money. We were entering entirely knew territory with gold and guns and there was no certainty that we would be safe.

Barry knew exactly who we were. The moment he pulled the gun, the nuzzle pointed directly at JJ, the boy I’ve been in love with since I was 14, all color drained from my face. My body trembled in fear as I let out a shout and reached for him but Barry switched positions. Suddenly, the gun was pressed against my temple as he shouted demands. But for a brief moment, there was a sense of relief because it was no longer on JJ and I could breathe again. This feeling, this sickening choking panic, I don’t ever want to feel again.

The cut was a small place and if not taking the money meant JJ would be safe then it was a small price to pay. But, I know him. I know he’s not going to understand how I see it but rather take it as a betrayal.

One. Two. Three.

JJ says nothing as his eyes rake over every inch of my face. Three seconds was all it took for him to completely close off.

That choking panic I mentioned earlier? Came back tenth-fold as it finally clicked.

“Jayj…” I reached out to touch his arm, the bracelets I gave him mockingly dangling from his wrist as he jerks away from me.

“Don’t.”

My chest tightened as I drew my hand back, fumbling with my fingers nervously.

JJ ripped his hat off his head before roughly running his hand through his hair. He started to pace, twisting the hat in his hands before stopping in front of all of us.

My heart ached at his obvious distress but I knew my input was the last he wanted now. As far as he was concerned, I didn’t care about him.

Pope let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re acting like a maniac-“

“Pope, I took the fall for you man. Do you know how much money I owe because of you?”

“I’m going to pay you back. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I just did. I just did pay it back. “ JJ takes a step forward, pressing his palms on Pope’s chest, shoving him back. “Right here, right now, by myself.”

“Let’s just calm-“ JJ’s glare stopped me in my tracks. He regarded me coldly, his face giving nothing away to the storm that raged in his ice blue orbs.

“Oh what? You suddenly decide you have something to say? Where were you five fucking minutes ago?”

I swallowed hard. “Can I please just explain-“

“Explain what? The fact that you know I need this money and you’re going to act like this is some big moral issue, ” JJ kept his hard set gaze on me, drilling holes into me, daring me to move. “How did you like having a gun pointed at you, huh?”

“You mean the same gun that I stepped in front of because seeing it pointed at you nearly made me sick to my stomach?” I spat, shaking my head at him.

This wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to do this to me. Not now.

He said nothing to me, instead he turned his gaze to the Twinkie, twisting his ring around his finger anxiously.

“JJ, you take this money, you open the door for a whole lot of other shit. You think Barry’s just going to let you take it?”

“Listen to your girlfriend, man.” John B stepped up, clapping JJ on the back.

JJ shrugged him off as he took three quick steps towards me, forcing me to tilt my head up at him.

“What girlfriend?” He spat, his eyes darting in between mine, before settling into a sick satisfaction at my sharp in take of breath.

“JJ-“

“You know what?” He stated, bending down to grab the duffel. “I’m going to go off by myself.”

“You don’t get to do this shit.” I snapped as I reached for the duffel and tugged it towards me. “You want to treat me like shit? Fine, I dont care as long as I don’t find you dead in a ditch.”

JJ blinked at me and said nothing. The only thing giving away his emotion is the tightened grip on the bag.

“Go, then. Since you’re so eager to leave, but you’re not taking the money.” My breath came out short as the anger pounds through my blood.

“Or what? You’re gonna stop me? Last time I checked, I didn't need a god damn hang on.” I wince at the anger in his voice and fight the urge to shut down.

"Stop acting like you don't care , JJ. "

“I expected this from them, but never you.” His ring covered fingers danced along my chin, before he gripped it tightly forcing my eyes on him. “You were supposed to have my back. You told me that you got me, that you understand me. All I know now is that you a fucking liar.”

“I’m trying to protect you.” I plead, “Why can’t you see that?”

JJ scoffs, “Protect me? What do you think is gonna happen if I don’t pay back the restitution?”

“We can find another way-“

“I DONT have anything else.” He shouted in my face, his façade finally cracking under the pressure. “What don’t you understand? This is all I fucking have.”

I felt my grip on the bag weaken as I processed his words. It was normal for JJ to lash out when he felt cornered, but it was never directed at me.

My body trembled as I stared at him with a look I can only describe as broken. “You have me.”

I spoke the words softly knowing if I spoke any louder, the shake in my voice would give me away.

One. Two. Three.

Three seconds was all it took for him to completely and utterly break me.

“That’s not enough.”

Whatever fight I had left, fled from my body as my fingers let go of the duffel. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back the tears that threaten to escape.

“You win, JJ.”

My eyes slowly traced every part of his face. From the sun grazed blonde strands that laid in a messy heap on his head, to the bronze tan arms from spending hours out on the waves that complimented his bright blue eyes.

I waited for what felt like hours, but was a mere moment, for JJ to take it back. For him to apologize and pull me into his arms. Instead, we just stared at each other, no one saying a word.

Then, he tilted his head turned around and left, leaving what felt like a blazing trail of carnage in his wake.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of my body. Small hands wrap themselves around me as my legs suddenly feel like they’ve been kicked out from under me. The familiar sweet scent of Sarah filled my nose, as she pulled me into her arms, physically holding me up.

#jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #rudy pankow #rudy pankow smut #obx #obx fanfiction #obx smut #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #jj maybank angst #outerbanks imagine #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank masterlist #obx3 #outerbanks imagines

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heliads · 3 months

Text

boy; girl; dragon

Hiccup only needs two things. He knows he can rely on both forever.

masterlist

There is a boy, and he has a girl. And also a dragon.

The order matters. He had the girl first, even if he didn’t know it yet. She didn’t say a word to him about the feeling beating against the bars of her ribs like a dove in a cage, not until he did first. The dragon helped things along, surprisingly. Usually, fire-breathing reptiles can only complicate a situation, but when two young people are soaring through the sky with only the billowing light of the sun and stars around them to bear witness to the truths they have to tell, secrets end up not so secret anymore. Hiccup told you he loved you. You said the same.

The dragon watched, and listened, and waited. It, of course, had known the whole time. Almost everyone did. Tact is a rare occurrence among the Vikings, but the people of Berk could tell that interference in the story of you and him, him and you, would not bode well. You and Hiccup were something different, something special. You didn’t need anyone but each other. And the dragon.

Loving a Viking is dangerous. Loving Hiccup was so far along the line of adventure and risk that even your first kiss felt like throwing off your armor to embrace a knife in your chest. If this was pain, though, it was the loveliest anguish you had ever experienced in your entire life. Falling in love with Hiccup was brilliant, like dragonfire; exhilarating, like tumbling in freefall; unfailing, like the son of a chieftain knowing that he would send his entire village to keep you safe from harm or die trying. Staying in love with him was soft torchlight, quiet mornings, wispy clouds around your temples when he took you up to see the stars. Easy. Perfect. And yours, all yours.

The two of you are together now, sitting side by side on the edge of a cliff. Most of Berk is rocky with occasional splashes of slate blue or chestnut wood to break up the monotonous grey, but tenacious patches of grass have managed to crawl up to the top of the cliffside here, providing you with a threadbare emerald blanket on which you can rest your legs.

A cool wind whistles through the air, toying with your hair and clothes before plunging off the edge of the rock face. You watch it go, taking a few errant leaves with it, and consider the drop down to the sea below you.

“If I fell right now,” you say to Hiccup, “off the side, you would catch me.”

“I would catch you,” he affirms. “Dragon or no dragon.”

“What if I fell too fast and you couldn’t reach me in time?” You ask.

He takes your hand, voice soft and gentle in the early morning. You’ve heard him louder and more assertive when directing the villagers, but you like him best like this, when Hiccup’s peace is only ever meant for you. There is an entirely different young man who exists only when he’s alone with you, a Hiccup that no one will ever know as well as you do. It is a delight to keep the secret of this second, inner boy. It’s a treasure that will only ever be claimed by you, a sparkling spread of gold and jewels captive to one person and one person alone. Not even blood relations can claim that sort of glory.

“There is nowhere you could go that I would not follow,” Hiccup asserts. “Not off the cliff. Not into the sky. I would follow you past the sun, or a hundred thousand lengths in the sea. I would search the world to find you, if I had to, and I would bring you back with me. Always. Do you believe me?”

“I do,” you whisper. “Always.”

“Always,” he repeats, and presses a kiss to your temple.

This is loving Hiccup, then. Always. Always the guarantee of a heart beating in tandem with yours. Always the confidence that you will not be alone in this world of yours, even as it seems to stretch out forever, even as it looms to hide a hundred friends or a thousand enemies. If the odds are with you or against you, you will have Hiccup to guide you through the trials and tribulations of this life of yours. It is written in the stars, and it is sworn by the one you love. No promise could be greater.

The two of you will descend into legend, into myth, into folklore. Never in the world have any two people loved each other more, and never will they again. Every young pair thinks that they could have this, a love to last a lifetime, but you and Hiccup will do them one better and last a thousand more. You could love him in every universe, every incarnation of yourselves, and Hiccup has already promised to be by your side no matter who you two were. Gods, maybe. Heroes or villains. Ordinary lives or glorious ones. All of them will feature the two of you together. Always.

A shadow briefly blots out the sun overhead, a pair of jet-black wings soaring through the early morning skies. As it loops and wheels towards the two of you, its shade flickers across the trees, dappling them with night’s fury even as the sun climbs higher into the sky. It occurs to you that you’d like every day to start and end like this one, for each one of your hours to be filled with this sort of blissful joy. You don’t need riches, you don’t need a legacy. All you need is right here before you. A boy and a girl. And also a dragon.

disney tag list: @blondsauduun, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @avadakadabra93

also tagging @hope92100 bc HICCUP

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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shibaraki · 9 months

Text

WE UNFOLD IN POOLS OF GOLD ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, pro hero shouto, publicity stunts (a fake relationship) fluff, flirting, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, pick up lines, confessions, best friends to lovers

wc: 2.3K

“Look, as I’ve said this is only for the event tonight,” Shouto’s manager, Abe Riko, instructed you. Unease had twisted in your stomach as she looked you over with a critical eye, smoothed the wrinkles in your clothing and circled you like a shark. “You don’t have to confirm that you’re in a relationship, you just need to behave like you’re in one. Enough that it’ll create speculation”.

At first you’d been mystified that Shouto agreed to such a thing but it soon became clear the public perception was gnawing at him. To your confusion, people found Shouto to be an enigmatic hero type; they didn’t know how to interact with him and often hesitated in doing so, intimidated by his impassive expression and monotony.

You know Shouto to be the opposite. He is clever in social situations, he’s witty and blunt and he makes you laugh. With that in mind you supposed being their first choice was the least surprising part of the situation. Shoving a beautiful stranger on his arm would only lead to an inevitable stony faced and unfiltered disaster. As one of his best friends your presumed relationship is far more believable given how comfortable you are together.

The issue is you—namely, your feelings for him. Love that knows no boundary. Yearning dug deep in your bones. Hunger that leads you to eventually say yes.

A multitude of anxieties take root in your thoughts, playing out all the possible outcomes, bracing you for the inevitable hurt come morning. Because everything feels right, here. Shouto’s hand sits low on your back like it belongs there. He leans in closer than necessary to listen to you talk, commentates on the lives of the attendants around you; always a smile in his eyes when you laugh at something he says; the brush of his mouth to your temple; the fingers that squeeze at your waist.

“I think we’ve done well,” you say. “Don’t you?”

Rather than needing to stick close to his side as instructed, Shouto has been the one to trail after you, hand in gentle hand while you meander around the venue to greet people. He never enjoyed flashy events but you can tell your presence helps, along with the copious free alcohol.

“Only the tabloids will tell”.

Another waiter passes by, bowing his head low and proffering a tray of champagne flutes. Shouto plucks one up, bringing it to his nose, which wrinkles at the sharp smell. You laugh, distracted as his thumb rubs over your knuckles. “Let me try some”.

Shouto looks at you from the corner of his eye, near electric blue under the lustrous chandeliers hung in the high ceilings. You’ve had a hard time appreciating the architecture when you could simply marvel at him in his grey slim fit suit.

He swipes his tongue across his lip, wincing at the taste before tipping the rim of the glass against your mouth. Your heart beats loud in your ears as you sip the fizzing champagne, sharp and slightly zesty. A flurry of shuttering clicks go off across the room, dwindling into white noise. You’re accustomed to ignoring the reoccurring camera flashes now. “Shit. That’s so dry,” you groused under your breath.

Shouto hums, equal parts amused and congruent with your displeasure. “I wish they would serve something sweet and fruity for once,” he says.

You pointedly refasten your grip around his hand, arm drawn across your midsection to rub his forearm, “I got enough sweet and fruity right here”.

Something ravenous like pride rears in your chest when he tucks his chin and snorts. The movement coaxes a few stray red strands over his forehead. Sucking in a breath, Shouto’s cheeks swell and deflate as he exhales heavily. “Well, according to everybody else I am too boring. That’s why we’re here together”.

“And that’s bullshit. If anything you’re the pretty face making me seem more interesting here,” you say offhandedly, turning your attention to the undulating crowd. The live band takes on a spirited beat as more people gather on the dance floor. Shouto continues to stare in your peripheral vision, coloured in fondness you don’t know what to do with.

“I don’t know if that’s true,” he tells you, a diffident lilt in his voice. “You look incredible tonight”.

There’s a nascent giddiness sprouting in your chest. It feels so distinctly innocent and juvenile, the kind you feel throughout your whole body. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Shouto pauses, flustered, and swallows down another gulp of champagne. “…Abe-san is very good at what she does”.

The reminder that you’re engaging in a publicity stunt is jarring—but his sincerity eases any sting that might’ve come from it. It’s as though he were refreshing his own memory more than he is yours. The thought makes you smile and you take the flute glass from him, swirling the liquid gold inside.

“Shouto. Are you flirting with me?” you tease, holding his gaze as you find the cold impression of his lips on the rim and take a sip. You’ve started burning from the inside out, wiggling fingers entwined, and Shouto knots them together tighter in response.

“Flirting on a date is commonplace,” he returns, pushing the wayward strands back into his carefully styled hair. You soften at the sight. Pinned behind his left ear and combed over to the right, Shouto doesn’t hide his scar the way he used to.

You set the empty champagne glass on a waitress’s tray as she passes, and reach to fix his parting. “Well if we’re allowed to flirt then I can tell you I love your hair like this,” you murmur, fingertips brushing along his temple and down the curve of his right cheek. “It’s hot. And I like seeing more of your face”.

To anyone else the hot and cold hero might appear indifferent. But you feel when the air around him expands, thick with warmth. Shouto is careful to keep it under his skin. “Because you think my face is pretty?” he recalls.

“Now you’re getting it”.

“So then…” Shouto clears his throat, shifting his weight. The grip on your fingers loosens like he expects you’ll let go. “If I’m pretty and you’re cute, together we would be pretty cute”.

The lick of sheer affection that flashes through your chest is overwhelming. “Shouto,” you start, clutching at his hand, thoroughly enjoying the immediate regret written on his face. “Who taught you that?”

“I understand pick up lines just fine,” he mutters, only to sulkily add, “Kaminari may have shared some with me”.

You laugh. It’s all you can do to allay the urge to kiss him. Shouto is dangerous enough as he is—teaching him pick-up lines was the wholesome equivalent of handing him the nuclear codes. The room takes on a gauzy, yellowish tint as the waiters line up to push the balcony doors open, perhaps from all the blood rushing straight to your brain.

The energy amongst the guests takes a palpable turn and people line up to head into the gardens, where a grande marquee has been set up. He tugs your wrist, lightly guiding you to follow the crowd. Expensive garments shimmer under the gloaming moonlight.

You step into the cool night air, warmed by the heat thrumming through Shouto’s left arm. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Ah, he’s going to pout any second now, you think. The drinks must be wearing on him. “Sorry. It was kinda bad,” you tell him, ducking forward to inflict upon him your unfettered smile—because Shouto finds your delight particularly contagious. The tension in his brow releases as he smiles back, nudging you in your side, because he knows exactly what you’re doing. “It wasn’t bad bad—stop sulking. I’ll do you one better”.

“You will?”

The fireworks begin then, snatching his focus; great starbursts of light against the dark sky, lighting up the garden every few seconds. A prismatic glow halos Shouto’s silhouette, returning next in a vivid green, then red. You become hyper aware of your clammy palms and the flecks of fire tousled from his hair in the wind.

Inhibitions softened, tongue loose in your mouth, you steel yourself to pinch delicately at the lapel of his blazer. “Hey. Pretty boy,” you rub the fabric between your thumb and forefinger. “Is this boyfriend material?”

Shouto’s brow lifts in soft surprise and he blinks slowly. You’re struck once again by that fond gaze, how beautifully he wears it, and how he’s close enough that you can see the explosive display reflected in his eyes. As his smile grows the rough tissue above his left cheek crinkles, “Actually I think it’s cotton twill”.

You huff, suitably charmed at his feigned ignorance. Another firework soars into the air with a shrill whistle and the crowd around you murmurs in awe as it booms into a fleeting shower of gold. Neither you nor Shouto bother to glance up, or away from one another.

“You’re wrong, but that’s okay,” you sway further into his space; a small part of you is drawn in by the heat pulsing from his left side, but mostly because you wanted to touch him. “This is boyfriend material—no, husband material,” cheek squished to his shoulder, you peer up and curl your left hand around his bicep. The sleeve is tight against the muscle beneath. “Are you perhaps looking for a life partner?”

A traitorous hiccup jumps in your throat, and Shouto’s mouth thins as he tries not to laugh. There’s a blush staining him pink from his nose to his ears and it very well could be the alcohol, but inwardly you’d like to take credit for the dazed look on his face. Playing along he asks, “What are your qualifications?”

The surroundings and the people fade into obscurity until you forget exactly what it is that led you here. Just you and Shouto in the giddy darkness. “I can make you laugh. I can make you food. I can make you cum,” you hold up a finger for each point made. “I will still love you even when you watch me with that dead fish stare in the morning”.

Shouto’s half lidded expression flickers at that, his mouth jutting into a pout, though there’s no real hurt there. His knuckles brush against your cheek and unfurl to cup your jaw, “But you sleep with your mouth open. It’s cute”.

Turning into his palm you sigh, a little lovestruck, “I’m going to squeeze you like a grape”.

“Please don’t,” the low timbre of his voice wraps around you. “Best friends don’t bully each other,” he falters for a moment, waiting for another technicolour thunder to dwindle. “I suppose they don’t flirt, either”.

“One look at any of your old classmates proves that to be historically untrue, shortcake,” you cover his hand and stroke your thumb across the back of his knuckles. It doesn’t escape you that he has yet to let you go this evening, even going as far as waiting outside the bathrooms for you like some forlorn stray.

“Shortcake,” he mumbles the name as though trying it on for size. Abe-san and his team surely got what they wanted. Shouto smiled more tonight than he has in weeks and you can’t help hoping it’ll never end. “I like when you give me nicknames”.

You’re distantly aware of the lenses pointed in your direction; you conjure possible headlines and imagine the image printed below it, two people looped together in a perfect bow, and somehow it makes you a little braver. “Yeah? Well I like you,” you admit helplessly, clinging to the lapels of his suit. “I have for a long time. More than best friends should, if that wasn’t obvious”.

There’s a brief reprieve as multiple fireworks shriek through the air, splitting into hundreds of strobe stars. You get a clear view of Shouto’s expression as it flowers open before being plunged back into darkness.

“Oh,” his exhale is so loud in the deafening quiet. Hands find your waist and press you close, delaying your growing panic. “Was this our first date?”

“I mean, if you want it to be”.

“I don’t,” he says. Your heart stutters but his fingers keep you in place. “I wanted to take you to the Churaumi aquarium”.

You slump in his arms, cut loose by the relief, and he swallows you in a wintergreen embrace. “Fuck. You could’ve led with that first,” you mutter. His shoulders shake under your cheek.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding anything but.

Hands slip into his jacket. You cinch your arms around his middle as you lean back to get a good look at him. “…You’re seriously going to fly us out to Okinawa for our first date?”

Shouto looks back at you, gentled by the moonlight crowning his head. “Is that a yes?”

The fireworks must’ve finished, you note. A sea of people are surrounding the two of you; they pay you no mind, parting around your bodies with ease, too lost in themselves to notice. Slow, you arch into him, coming chest to chest, fingers locked at the small of his back. A cold sensation nips at your mouth as Shouto shudders an exhale.

“Yes,” you grin and bump your nose to his cheek. “If I kiss you do you think Abe-san will get mad?”

His hand comes to cup your nape, the other massaging idle shapes into your hip. “Probably,” he murmurs, tilting you—and with it, the world—to align your mouths and kiss you anyway.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader

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thef1diary · 9 months

Text

Dancing In The Rain | C. Leclerc

Summary: You enjoy standing outside whenever it rains, and that is how your boyfriend finds you when he comes home.

Warnings: none, just a whole lotta fluff and cliché moments

word count: 900+

pairing: charles x fem!reader

You were a sucker for rain, so when today's forecast included quite a bit of rain, you were happily waiting for it. For many, the rainy, gloomy day would bring down their mood but it was the opposite for you. Since you moved to Monaco with your boyfriend, there weren't too many rainy days but just enough.

The lovely cocktail-blue hue of the sky was starting to turn gravel-grey in colour. Large cloud pillows were beginning to develop, covering up the sun's old-gold brightness. You watched from the large window of your home, hearing a tapping on the window which became a pitter-patter. There weren't too many people outside but those that were ran for cover and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The smile on your face grew wider as the rainfall became heavier, and you quickly placed your now empty mug of coffee in the kitchen sink before going outside.

As the rain continued on, you started dancing to imaginary music. Your home was in a slightly secluded area so you knew that there wouldn't be too many onlookers, and even if someone was watching, you didn't really care.

You were in your little bubble of enjoying the rain until the headlight of a car disrupted your peace. The lights belonged to Charles' Ferrari, the monégasque parking halfway across the driveway, the space you weren't occupying and jogging towards you. "ma chéri, what are you doing?"

He wasn't in a great mood today, as he had to cancel plans with you this morning since he was called in to attend to some media duties, of some sponsors. You were upset but it wasn't his fault, so you didn't let the disappointment show on your face as he was leaving. Though, when he left, you changed into one of his shirts which smelt like his cologne, and climbed back into bed on his side. When Charles was on his way back home, it started raining and it upset him even further, not because he didn't like the rain, but it made him miss you even more. He didn't particularly like the rain as much as you did, but sometimes he would watch you stand outside, and as much as he warned you that you would get sick, you didn't listen to him.

He wondered if you would be standing outside today when he pulled into the driveway, and saw you dancing, in your own world. He smiled slightly, putting his dimples on display, then got out of the car without even parking it properly.

You walked closer to your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was also completely soaked under the rain, but didn't complain as he saw your eyes gleaming. "Bonjour, mon amour" in the past few years you've been dating Charles, you were improving your French as you considered it a romantic language. Needless to say, you were quite good but obviously not at Charles' level yet.

"tu vas être malade" [you’re going to be sick] Charles muttered, and you rolled your eyes in a playful manner, obviously expecting those words. Charles sighed since he wasn't receiving a proper response from you. "Baby-" Charles started but you put your finger on his lips. "Charles, I will be fine. Come on let's dance"

"Right now?" His eyes widened, he looked up for a moment, the rain splattering on his face harder. "Of course" you chuckled at his reaction, moving his arms lower to rest on your hips and putting a respectable dancing distance between you. Charles didn't have the same thought as he pulled you right against his body. You looked up at him to see the man smirking. The two of you swayed together and you rested your head in the crook of his neck. After a few moments, you felt vibrations coming from his body and you realized he was humming.

You made direct eye contact with your lover and you felt heat rising up your cheeks with the way he was looking at you. "What's that look for?" You questioned.

Charles didn't reply, instead he dipped his head down to your neck and placed a light kiss under your ear, a sweet spot he knew very well. His head still rested against your shoulder and you brought your hand up to play with his wet hair.

He brought his head up to face you, cradling your cheek between his palms. "Je t'aime"

"I love you more" was always your response to his verbal expression of love.

You two still swayed in each other's arms, until you thought of something you've been wanting to do. "Kiss me" you stated.

He smiled before leaning in to place a sweet kiss on your lips. He always pecked your lips first before going in for a second lustful kiss.

"You've always wanted to kiss in the rain, right?" Charles assumed from your reaction. You simply nodded, not being able to form words which wasn't too surprising as any touch from Charles left you speechless.

You went in for another kiss, spending a few more moments in the rain until it stopped.

As you two were making your way into your home, you sneezed once, and twice. You looked at him and realized he was already looking at you with a 'I told you so' expression. Nonetheless, you shared a laugh with him. He was worried about you even if it was just a normal cold, but he didn't regret those moments you shared in the rain. In fact he was looking forward to the next time it rains so he could play some actual music and you two would properly dance.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1blr #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x reader #thef1diary fic

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