#the way this was so out of nowhere i feel like it sounds like i made it up 😭 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

measuredingold · 2 days

Text

pretty boy

authors note: hey 🫣 almost a year ago i posted my first bad omens fic onto ao3 called sweet boy and i thought… what better way to celebrate that than to write its sequel ? barely proofread so i apologize for any mistakes btw, getting back into the swing of writing “consistently” so i feel a bit rusty lol ! as always i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated. :-) sweet boy can be found here.

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 3k~

cw/tags: pwp ( porn without plot basically ), p in v ( wrap it up ), established relationship, dom/sub undertones ( sub noah ), 18+ minors do not interact

The faint hum of the television fills the room, volume so low you barely can register what's even being said. You don't mind though because your focus isn't even on whatever episode of The Office that's playing, instead it's focused on the boy laying beside you, long limbs tangled with your own. Legs tangled with yours, an arm draped over your tummy, and head against your chest, you couldn't give a flying fuck about Michael Scott at this very moment.

You hum to yourself, a happy little sound, as your fingers card through his hair, finger nails lightly scratching at his scalp. You feel his chest vibrate against your side, probably making the same happy sounds that you were, and if you could see Noah's face you're sure he's smiling to himself, eyes fluttering shut.

You can't remember the last time you got a moment like this with him, just able to laze around in bed with nowhere to be. Noah wasn't running around or locking himself in his studio - nothing scheduled, nothing due. It was nice to finally be able to breathe with him in your arms again, and it was nice to know he wasn't worried about something for the first time in weeks. Maybe even months.

You let your eyes slip shut as you bask in the moment, fingers never leaving the home they made in Noah's hair. It's almost noon, you think, and you had already eaten breakfast. Maybe a quick nap wouldn't hurt... then you could get up and make some lunch for the two of you, or maybe finish the laundry you started last night. Sleep doesn't come to you, though, because you feel Noah move beside you, lifting his head up to bury against the crook of your neck.

You think nothing of it, even when you feel the ghost of his lips against your skin. You sigh, a happy sound, and by instinct your fingers tug gently at his hair before letting your nails scratch at his scalp again. You feel him whine rather than hear it, feeling the vibrations against your skin as he continues to trail kisses up your neck. Your eyes flutter open at the first roll of his hips against your thigh, and heat swirls in your stomach.

Oh.

So, you’re definitely not about to take a nap.

You thought he had been asleep, and maybe he was on the brink, but you think your little tug woke him up. You gasp quietly when you feel his teeth graze the skin of your neck before another sloppy kiss is pressed there, his hips rolling into your thigh again. You can practically feel him growing harder with every roll, the sweats he's adorning leaving nothing up to the imagination.

With another scratch to his scalp, your fingers tangle in his hair again, tugging much harder than you had moments prior. The force was enough to pull Noah's head back only slightly, inches away from your neck, and the sound he released was so delicious it had you shivering. He grinds against you again, this time with purpose, and you hear a faint hum of your name as he tries to press another kiss along the length of your neck.

"What is it, baby?" You mumble out, voice hoarse from barely speaking today.

Noah doesn't reply in words, instead lets out a few broken noises in response before attaching his lips back to your neck, another desperate roll of his hips against your thigh. You pull his head back again.

"Use your words, Noah."

It's been so long since you've shifted into this dynamic, usually Noah being the one to have the control recently. You loved that you were able to shift back and forth, because sometimes you needed him to be the one under you. Something shifts in his eyes as they widen and his tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, still not saying a word.

You sigh, tugging at his hair once more. "Don't make me ask again."

"Just..." He finally manages to whine out, pupils dilating. "Miss you."

"I'm right here, baby."

"I know, but..." He groans, trying to bury his face back against your neck, hips rolling into your thigh again. "I miss you."

"Hm..." You hum as you card your fingers back through his hair, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him. Your stomach flips at his dilated pupils, big brown eyes staring at you with such need that you physically have to restrain yourself from surging forward and kissing him right then and there. "My poor baby. I can tell you miss me a lot, yeah?"

He nods, a bit too desperately, pressing himself against your thigh again. You bite down on your bottom lip to keep any noises of yours at bay.

"Yeah." He mumbles and his tongue darts out to slide over his bottom lip again, eyes watching you closely. "Miss you. Need you.”

For some reason those words strike a chord within you, your heart clenching beneath your chest at his confession. You couldn't help but get emotional sometimes whenever he gave this part of himself up to you, putting all his trust in your hands. There was a time where that was rare, and in your years spent together, you watched the walls he built around himself slowly come down. There was no better feeling in this world than having his trust, and you would never take it for granted.

You scratch at his scalp again and smile at the way his eyes flutter shut, body shuddering against yours. "You have me, sweet boy."

He whines again, a pathetic sound, and you take the chance to lean forward, lips pressing against his for the first time in hours. The last kiss you shared was innocent, early in the morning when you had made breakfast for the two of you - this was the complete opposite. It was full of need, Noah whimpering into your mouth as your free hand slid between your bodies, pressing against the front of his sweats. His hips cant forward, pressing into your touch, and you couldn't stop yourself from squeezing.

"Shit." He hissed against your lips and you took it upon yourself to slip your hand past the hem of sweats and boxers, letting your fingers wrap around his length.

"Oh." You gasp quietly once you have a firm hold on his cock, thumb brushing over the tip. "All for me?"

He nods quickly, lips brushing against yours as his hips roll into your fist. "Yes. You. All for you."

Pride swells up beneath your chest and your hand strokes up and down his cock a few times. The angle is awkward, and with a very displeased sound from the boy beside you, you let go for just a second to push him onto his back. You roll onto him with ease, hips pressed firmly against his aching cock. He arches up off the bed with a loud noise, and you take a moment to admire the way he looks beneath you.

Cheeks flushed, lips slick and bitten and parted beautifully, brown eyes hooded as he stared up at you. All fucked out, out of his head, and you've barely even started.

"Oh, look at you." You can't help but reach down, swiping your thumb over his bottom lip. "Aren't you just the prettiest thing, hm?"

He nods, a deep groan escaping him as your hips roll over his for a second time. His mouth follows your thumb and before you can pull it away, his lips part. You watch with widened eyes as his lips wrap around your digit, slipping into his mouth with ease and out of curiosity your thumb presses down against his tongue. You feel him hum around it, a delicious sound, and you press harder, further.

"Such a pretty boy... especially with your mouth full." You feel his cock twitch beneath you, the bounce having you sucking in a breath as your hips roll without much thought. "How do you want it, baby? My hands? My mouth?"

You're not sure how you're even making complete sentences, the feeling of his tongue circling around your thumb having your brain feeling like complete mush, but you push through it. This is about him. His brows furrowed and he shakes his head, hands coming up to grip your hips, grinding you down against him again. You gasp.

"Oh. Baby wants me to fuck him?" He nods, whatever noise that leaves him being muffled by your thumb. You slowly pull it away from his mouth, dragging it down his chin. "Words, Noah."

"Yes, please." He breathes out, voice already wrecked. "Please, please, please."

"Shhh." You hush him, grounding your hips into his one more time - nice and slow. "I got you. I'll give you what you want."

You don't waste any time after that, sitting up on your knees to tug your sleep shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. Noah groans beneath you and with the way his cock twitches under your hips you're sure he's more than pleased to see that you wore nothing else underneath. You grin down at him, admiring the way his skin flushed from his chest up to the tips of his ears before leaning down, pressing another kiss to his lips. It doesn’t last long until you're trailing your kisses down his body, trying to taste every part of him that you could.

This was about getting him out of his head and letting him continue to not worry about everything like he typically would. Sometimes when he was home he’d be… sort of a nightmare, fixated on the next song, the next tour, the next merch drop. You didn’t want that. You wanted him relaxed, without a care in the world in that pretty little head of his. Tomorrow he can go back to his worried self, but today… he’s yours, and you’re going to do everything in your power to have your boy feeling like putty once you’re finished with him.

Your fingers hook in the waistband of his sweats and boxers, not wanting to waste anymore time. He was squirming beneath you, becoming impatient, and you’re selfish enough to admit you can’t wait much longer to have him inside of you, either. The thought of his cock had heat shooting straight to your core, and you tugged at his sweats. He immediately got the hint, hips rising off the bed and he helped you shimmy them off his body, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothes.

“Pretty boy.” You gasped, eyes widening at the sight of his cock resting against his stomach. You subconsciously lick at your lips, the need for Noah growing more and more by the second, and your fingers hook into your own underwear, sliding them off with haste. “All mine?”

He nods, words being followed by a whine as his eyes watch you toss your underwear to the floor. “All yours.”

You smile in response but can’t help yourself from leaving forward, licking a stride up the base of his cock all the way to the tip. He shudders beneath you, especially when you place feather light kisses around his tip before crawling back up his body.

“Baby…” He groans, hands reaching for you.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice of me.” You giggle despite your apology, lips finding home against Noah’s yet again. “No more teasing, okay? No more. Promise.”

You pull back and sit up on your knees again, hips shifting over Noah’s. His cock twitches beneath you and you don’t stop the moan that falls from your lips. Your head drops to watch the way his cock slips between your soaked folds, tip nudging against your clit. He shudders again, hands gripping your hips to stop you.

“Wanna…” He takes a deep breath to collect himself, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Inside. Wanna be inside. I’ll come if you keep going.”

You giggle, a little breathless, and nod at his words. “Already so worked up? How cute.”

You lift your hips up just slightly as your fingers wrap around him, lining him up with your entrance. You caught his eyes just as you began to sink down on his cock and the sight was... everything. From the way his brows furrowed, his pretty lips parting as you slowly sink further and further, and then the way his body arches the second you bottom out. You gasp, the arch of his body pressing him deeper into you, and your eyes flutter shut at just how deep he was.

"Shit, Noah." You moan out, your current facade breaking for just a moment. “Always feel so fucking good, baby. Oh my god.”

You give yourself just a moment to adjust to his cock, no prep making the stretch burn slightly more than usual - still delicious all the same. With a sigh of pleasure, you rise and slowly drop, the slow drag of his cock making the both of you moan in unison. The hand that was on your hip slid up your body to the back of your neck, pulling you down to him. Your lips slide together messily as you roll your hips into his, picking up speed.

“Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” He pants against your mouth, no longer kissing you, too consumed by the feeling of your pussy clenching around him.

You sit up again, resting your hands against his chest as you continue your relentless grinding, gasping every so often whenever Noah’s thrusts would meet your own. You knew he was close, so worked up and overwhelmed even before he had gotten inside you. A part of you wants to tease him, get him so close to the edge before stopping completely. You want to see him cry, feel him shake underneath you and hear him beg for you to keep going, but today wasn’t the day for that. No, your poor boy was already there, cock twitching inside you with every roll of your hips, and you weren’t that far behind him either.

“Baby.” He gasped out, fingers digging into your hips as you grounded into him. “Gonna… fuck, ‘m gonna…”

His words get stuck in his throat and you stare down at him in awe, truly captivated at how beautiful he looked beneath you. Skin flushed the perfect shade of pink, brows knitted together and mouth dropped open, the most delicious noises leaving him. You’re not even sure if he even knows what he’s saying at this point, too consumed by you and the way his cock feels buried inside your pussy. You grin lazily down at him, giving another slow, deep roll of your hips, nails digging into his chest.

“Yeah? Gonna what? Use your words, pretty boy.”

“Oh.” It’s a choked sound and you feel his cock twitch inside of you the exact time you clench around him, and you swear his grip on your hips will leave a bruise tomorrow. “Fuck. Gonna come, ‘m gonna come. Please, please, please, baby please.”

“You can come.” You sigh out in pleasure, never stopping the movement of your hips. “Fuck, yes, you can come. So good for me, baby.”

With a few more sporadic thrusts from Noah he stills with a choked sob, cock twitching while he spills inside of you. You moan at the feeling, body shuddering as he fills you up, and it almost pushes you over the edge. Almost. You sit up and let a hand slide to your center, middle and ring fingers rubbing against your aching clit as you continue to ride him. Your body slumps forward the second your orgasm crashes into you, burying your face into Noah’s shoulder as you cry out in ecstasy.

All that was left to be heard in your bedroom was the combination of both yours and Noah’s labored breathing. You stayed still for a moment, catching your breath, and smiled lazily to yourself when you felt his lips brush against the side of your head.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, voice low, and you could tell just how… gone he still truly was. “Needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” You reply just as tired, but your words get drowned out by the soft moan you let out when he shifts under you, reminding you of his now softening cock still buried inside.

“Fuck.” He whimpered next to your ear, obviously sensitive from you still wrapped around him, but made no effort to move just yet.

You pull back to finally stare at him, heat swirling in the pit of your stomach again at just his fucked out he looked. Eyes barely open, the happiest little smile on his lips, cheeks stained with tears that you must’ve missed during your climax. He whimpers again, pathetically at that, when you roll your hips and clench around him one last time, his body shaking under yours.

“Sorry, my love.” You mumble, sitting up fully and then reaching down to wild at his cheeks. “Just look so beautiful like this. Can’t help myself.”

You could easily take him again, and you knew he’d let you, especially with the way his cheeks flush at your compliment. He’d probably let you take him six more times if it meant not parting from you - when he got in this headspace all he ever wanted to be was closecloseclose. Though, instead, you rise on your knees and the two of you groan in unison when his cock slips from you, the mess between your legs becoming very apparent.

“Come on, shower time.”

It takes a second to finally get him out of the bed and into the bathroom, and you knew with the way his eyes were fluttering every five seconds you had about ten minutes before he’d pass out from exhaustion. You speed through the shower and before you know it, you’re back in bed with Noah’s face buried against your chest once again. This time sleep does find you both, and you nap into the afternoon with a grin on your lips and your boy in your arms.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fic #mine

163 notes · View notes

jazziejax · 3 days

Text

Queen Treatment for

The King

Pairings- Tashi Duncan x black!OC, Art Donaldson x black!OC, Patrick x black!OC

Summary- cute, sexy, and heated moments between Dion King and her best friends who adore her

Warnings- anxiety attack??, jealousy, crying?, confessing if feeling, girls kissing ;)

Jazzie’s Notes!- sorry for any typos or mistakes, it is yet again, 1AM…I guess this is when I thrive??? It’s also not proofread because I don’t enjoy reading my own work :)

Word Count- 3,239

Part I, Part II

The only that Dion could hear was the sound of her small grunts that sounded through the empty tennis court as she hit the ball back and forth. She was currently practicing with one of her teammates. She had asked the girl to match her in the cafeteria earlier, catching her with some of her friends. The table had gotten quiet when she walked over but she didn’t care. Daphne agreed and Dion walked away, but she could hear the hushed cheer between them. She was a good player but nowhere as good as Dion. Although said skills weren’t anywhere on display at the moment. She was struggling to play against some regular who could barely keep up with her.

She was in her head after what Patrick had told her. She knew she told the boy to let the whole situation go and she’d talk to the girl but it’s been two days and both of them have been MIA with the other. She and Tashi never had something like this happen between them and it was throwing Dion off her game.

Instead of focusing on her opponent, watching their moves to see their weaknesses and strengths, whether they were better at a backhand or forehand, she was listening to the sound of her heartbeat. She could hear the sound of her feet hitting the ground in an irregular pattern. She could hear the sound of other people practicing tennis beyond the fence. All those things distracted her from thinking, trying to make her mind blank.

Trying to erase the thoughts about what Tashi was doing right now. Trying to not think about what Patrick said about Tashi. Trying to think of something other than the fact she still had feelings for her best friend. Trying to stop the feeling she got in her heart and her stomach whenever she thought about her. Felt that she was near. Trying to rid the thoughts of the girl who’s been plaguing her mind since they were thirteen.

She swung with all her force when the ball came her way, causing the bright beam to soar across the net. Daphne ducked as the ball passed her, barely skimming her shoulder. Dion slammed her racket down in frustration, letting out a loud groan. She was out of breath as she racked her fingers along the surface of her tight bun. Her back faced the girl on the other side of the net as she tried to collect her thoughts and calm her heart. Her fingers clasped at the nape of her neck, Daphne could see her shoulders rise and fall quickly, sweat glistening in the sun off her back.

Quicker than usual.

Concerned, the girl hopped over the net and jogged over to Dion.

“Hey, D, you okay?” She asked, stopping a few feet away from the girl. But Dion didn’t answer her, she couldn’t hear her. Her mind and heart were racing as she took in deep breaths. Her head started to spin, so she bent her knees and rested her hands on them to keep her up. She could feel her throat closing up in her. Worried, Daphne eased closer to the girl. She placed her hand on the girl’s back, not minding the sweat she could feel beneath her fingers.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re alright.” She tried to soothe. Seeing that it wasn’t helping the girl, she looked around to see if there was anything to help her. Catching the sight of her water bottle sitting near her bag, the girl ran over and grabbed the large bottle before running back. She squatted down to the girl's height, handing the bottle to her. “Here, drink this.” She said, grabbing Dion’s wrist and placing the bottle in her hand.

Dion immediately twisted the cap off the bottle. She stood up and threw her back bag, starting to chug the cold water in the metal can. Daphne just stood there, watching as the girl put her mouth on her water bottle. She could see some water spill past the mouth and make its way down the girl's sweat-covered skin. Dion then brought the bottle down once she was down, causing Daphne to gulp and snap back into reality.

“You good?” The pale girl asked her long brown hair in a high ponytail. Dion looked over at her, hard brown eyes making contact with her green ones. She was a little taller than Daphne, who found it and her general aura to be a bit intimidating. Especially now.

“Yeah.” Was all Dion said, still trying to catch her breath, although it was better than earlier? She looked down at the bottle in her hands, the unfamiliar feeling of the metal cup in her hand. “Uh, sorry about your water.” She said, looking back up at her teammate and pointing at the bottle. “I drink it all.” She then held it out for the girl to take.

Daphne, who was a little more nervous than before, awkwardly chuckled as she took the bottle back. “It’s no problem at all.” She said. There was an awkward pause between them, both girls looking anywhere beside each other with their minds clouded.

“What was that, just now?” Daphne suddenly asked, causing Dion to look back over at her. The darker girl furrowed her brows, which made Daphne start to panic. “I mean, like, are you okay? Because that looked like it could have gotten worse. Intense, I mean.” She rambled, not wanting to sound rude and step on any toes, especially those of the Dion King, aka King Dion.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Dion said, offering the girl the smallest smile which made Daphne feel things she wasn’t ready to admit. “It’s just…life.” She continued with a shrug. “It’s getting a little rough.” She joked, using her fingers to accentuate the word little with a small smirk on her face. It was almost like someone flipped a switch somewhere with how fast she chugged. She went from this girl who looked utterly helpless a few moments ago, back to regular charming Dion King.

“I know what you mean, schools kicking my ass right now in more ways than just class work,” Daphne said, a slight smile on her lips. “But, I’m always here if you need to talk, ya know? I’ve been told I’m a very good listener by…friends?” She said, more of a question to herself than to Dion. Dion furrowed her brows again in confusion, something she finds herself doing a lot of lately.

“I don’t have many friends,” Daphne answered her unspoken question. “Or any, honestly.” She shrugged.

“What about those girls you were eating lunch with earlier?”

“Sports groupies. Regular Stanford students that liked the idea of me being here on the tennis team and I was, kinda the only one that gave them the time of day.” Daphne stated with a simple shrug. Dion nodded at her with her arms crossed. “So that’s why I heard their giggles when I walked away?” She asked, even though she already knew the answer. Daphne silently winced at her words, almost tucking her head into her shoulders.

“You heard that?” She asked. Dion just chuckled and softly nodded her head. “Yeah, but it’s no big deal.” She shrugged. The girls shared soft giggles, unbeknownst to the lurking figure near the gates.

“Um, but yeah. I might take you up on that offer.” Dion said before walking over to her bags. Daphne was stunned into silence a little. “Oh. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” She said, nodding her head as her eyes followed the girl’s form when she caught another figure in the corner of her eye. She looked over to see a familiar face.

“Oh, hey, Tashi.” She said casually.

Daphne almost froze at the girl’s words but she just tensed up as she continued to gather her things. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she turned to see Daphne look over at the tall and slender figure of her best friend. Tashi didn’t say anything, arms folded over her chest as her eyes darted between the two. Before the atmosphere could get awkward, Dion started walking to the exit gate.

“See ya, Daph.” She called out over her shoulder. Daphne smiled, waving at the girl before she realized that Dion couldn’t see her. “Oh. See ya.” She called out. Dion passed Tashi without a word, feeling the girl's eyes follow her but not her body. Tashi stood at the gate for a moment, as she watched Dion walk away before looking back over at Daphne. Said girl just awkwardly smiled and waved at her, intimidated and uncomfortable under the tennis player's harsh gaze. Tashi gave her a once over before offering a sliver of a smile and a two-finger wave and jogging off to catch up with Dion. Daphne stood there, watching as she ran away.

“What the fuck just happened?” She whispered to herself.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Tashi hissed as she caught Dion. The girl in black didn’t turn around to answer her, keeping her eyes forward as she walked quickly to her dorm. “Don’t speak to me that way, you know I won’t answer you.” Was all she said, never once stopping. Tashi sighed as she trident father herself, too caught up in her emotions to think straight. She knew Dion was right, the girl never responded to such language, no matter how much she used it herself. After a few seconds of silence, the only sound being the sound of their fit hitting the ground, Tashi spoke again.

“What has been up with you these past few days?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I already know that you know.”

“Okay, but I want to hear you say it.”

There was nothing said after that, causing Dion to let out a bitter chuckle. “That’s what I thought.” She said as she adjusted her bag on her shoulders and sped up her walking. Tashi said, following the girl hit on her trials. “Dion, it’s not like that.” The light-skinned girl pleaded.

“I don’t know what you mean, I can’t read your mind, Tash.” She said, still focused on her destination, never meeting the eyes that had been flushed on the side of her face their whole walk.

“What? So you want me to admit that I was jealous of how close you and Patrick were becoming? How I felt that you were replacing me with my boyfriend. The sexual tension between you two? Is that what you want?” She hissed. “As if you didn’t fuck Art when you came back from shopping, knowing we could hear you two in the next room.”

“I would never fuck Art to make you jealous, Tashi.” Dion said, her tone softening for just a few moments. “Not to make anyone jealous. I love Art.”

“You love him?” Tashi asked, almost stopping her walking at what Dion said. But Dion continued. But she couldn’t tell if whether it was because her mind was too busy to realize what she said or she was trying to avoid conversation. “Yes. Just how I love you and Patrick.” Was all the girl said.

“That’s not the same.” Tashi said, catching back up to her once she shook back from her shock.

“It is that same.” Dion said, stopping right outside the door of the dorm building and staring Tashi dead in the eyes for the first time during their whole conversation, back to her cold exterior. Both of them could hear the sound of Tashi’s heart breaking. But Dion was sticking up for herself. And Tashi was hearing the exact words she didn’t want to. She never wanted her love for Dion to amount to anything else in the world. She wanted what they had to special l. Something that almost existed outside of time, in a pocket just for them to access.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Dion asked, looking innocently into Tashi’s eyes. She knew her words dug a knife into the girls heart but she was tried of Tashi playing with everyone’s feelings. Especially her, when she’s been there since the beginning.

“So, don’t even try to spin it like that. Like it’s on me. As if you and I don’t have sex when he or Patrick isn’t here.” Dion spat back quietly, going back to the what they were previously talking about and getting pissed all over again. “You were the one that agreed we could sleep together, but I never did for the sake of you. You were the one who still wanted me to be available so we could have what we had going on. I don’t know what you have going on in that head of yours besides tennis but you need to be honest with yourself before trying to put the blame on me.” She hissed before slamming open the glass door to the girl’s dormitory area. Tashi couldn’t say anything, knowing Dion was telling the truth. She felt her heart clench at the girl's words, Dion’s stress evident in her tone. It hurt her to even think about what she could have been going through these past few days.

She continued to follow the girl. To be fair, her dorm was directly next to hers. Nothing was said between them after that, but the air was tense wherever they stepped, so tense that it could suffocate those who were just in their rooms studying. Dion walked a step ahead of Tashi all the way to her dorm, and when she was about to opened the door, Tashi’s voice stopped her.

“I admit it.” She started. Dion paused, her back still facing her. “I admit that I was jealous because I thought I was losing you.” When she saw that Dion had no intention of turning around, she placed her hand on her shoulder and moved her. Now face to face, Dion spoke.

“Is that all?” She asked, her harsh tone from earlier now gone, replaced with a softer one. One that showed sadness. And her eyes wound meet the girl across from her, pulling on Tashi’s heartstrings.

“No.” Tashi said timidly.

Dion glanced up to meet her eyes, signaling the girl to continue.

“I can’t lose you, Dion.” She started, dropping her constant tough girl act. She always became vulnerable around Dion. And now here she was being vulnerable in the middle of the hall. “It was already tough watching you basically live the married life with Art around campus. He practically lives in your dorm room. I was jealous then because I didn’t have my boyfriend around and it felt like Art knew more about you than I did at some point. I didn’t say anything because…I felt like I had no right to. Not after what we agreed on. And then Patrick came and I saw how close you guys were, always laughing and jumping around. And whoever that chick was you were practicing with.” She ranted, her breaths becoming short as her heart rate picked up. Dion took a step forward, looking Tashi in her eyes that looked like they were about to water. “I could almost feel you slipping away from me. And I can’t have that because you’re all I know. You’re all I have, Dee.” She confessed.

Dion shook her head at the girls words, eyes mirroring Tashi’s. “That not true because I’ll never slip away from you.” She started, taking another step and clasping Tashi’s hands within hers. “Tash, you’ll always be my number one. No one could ever replace you.” She said. She looked down at their intertwined hands, the contracts between their skin tones almost symbolic of their opposite personalities. Yin & Yang.

“But you have to realize that I need other people in my life too.” She gulped, looking back up into her eyes. “You decided that you wanted to be with Patrick. You decided that you wanted to still sleep with me even though you don’t want anything exclusive. You make all the decisions, Tashi. I want to make some of my own.” She said softly, bringing her hands up to the girl's waist and pulling her close. Tashi unconsciously did the same, placing her hands on Dion 's back. They were practically breathing each other's air at this point. Telling every breath the other let out against their skin. “And just because I love them doesn’t mean I love you any less. You will always be important to me.” She said before cupping the girls cheek and connecting their lips. Tashi lunged into the kiss, missing the feeling of Dion entirely.

In the middle of the hall, the two girls kiss in each other's embrace, currently not caring if anyone saw them. To catch their breath,they pulled away from one another and connected their foreheads. Tashi closed her eyes as she raised her head to rub her nose against Dion’s face, basking in her scent and the feel of her skin on hers.

“You love them?” She asked, her words so soft that even their proximity didn’t do anything for it. But Dion heard her, and she nodded her head.

“I do.” She said, taking a moment to continue. As if saying it out loud made her finally accept what she was feeling. “But you will always be my first love.” She said.

“And you will always be mine. And I will always love you.” Tashi said.

Dion had the urge to kiss her again at her words, but she could feel her tiredness getting to her. So she grabbed hold of Tashi’s hand and opened the door to her room. She didn’t even turn around to look at the girl as she spoke. “I have something for you.”

Closing the door behind her, she dropped her tennis bag and made her way to the same nightstand she grabbed Patrick’s gift from. She pulled out two long dark red boxes. She handed one to Tashi, who filled her across the room, and kept the other one.

Opening it, Tashi could see that it was a silver tennis bracelet with large diamonds in it. They were all different cuts, giving the bracelet a more unique feeling than just the average tennis bracelet. “I have a matching one. And I know you’re more of a good girl but this was all they had. Maybe in the future I could get some custom ones made for us.” She said. Tashi just smiled down at the gift. “I love it.” She said, before looking up at the girl. “I love that we have matching ones.” She said, taking it out of the box and letting Dion clasp it in her wrist before doing the same for her.

She looked down at the beautiful bracelet with a soft look in her eyes before looking back up at Dion. “I love you.” She said, her tone egging for reassurance. Almost scared that Dion didn’t feel the same, no matter their previous conversation. Dion smiled at her. “I love you too.” She said before grabbing a hold of her hand that held the bracelet in her wrist. “Stay the night.” She demanded more than asked.

After taking a shower, the girls laid within her bed while light kisses were shared between the two. And then they drifted off to sleep, within each other's arms.

Thabk you guys for reading!!!! Let me know if you want more of this little series. I’m currently writing another full length Chakkengers fic that will go off the movies plot a little, with my own things to add and tweak. That will be out soon!

@lottiematthewsceo @djoenthusiast @summerssover @tsukishimawhore @miximora @jackierose902109 @rueblackst @douceurrrr

#challengers #challengersmovie #patrick zweig #art donaldson #tashi duncan #tashi x reader #tashi donaldson #zenday coleman #zendaya #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader

88 notes · View notes

the-clumsywitchtarot · 2 days

Text

Pick-a-Card Reading: What Positive Changes Could be Happening for You in the Next 6 Months?

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

Cards

The High Priestess

The World

Seven of Cups

Five of Pentacles

Eight of Swords

Before I even shuffled the cards I kept seeing a key, like a bronze skeleton key floating almost like in a video game selection screen. That sounds weird I know, just disregard it if it doesn't resonate.

I feel like your intuition will definitely be strengthened with the high priestess card. If you have been trying to figure out what witchy path best suits you, don't worry because there are many you could go down and still get the results you're looking for. With the world card I feel like you will be learning a lot about new cultures, I also feel like if you've been trying to get into a program to go abroad for a semester of college this will either come through. Or you will have an experience close to the one you would've had abroad but in a different place.

Trust that doors that cannot be closed are opening for you and your path is cleared.

Cards

Ten of Cups

Seven of Cups

Page of Cups (Reversed)

Queen of Wands

Seven of Wands

If you've been trying to manifest love I feel like your happily ever after will be just around the corner 6 months from now. By this I mean 6 months from now you could be wondering "where the heck is my person?", then bam! Out of nowhere it's like they appear. You've put so much into bringing this love into this physical reality, praying, spellwork, meditations, you name it and I feel like it's finally finding its way to you! With the queen of wands I feel like this person will love your fiery nature or how motivated you are when it comes to achieving your goals. However, I do see that the work won't end once you've started a relationship with this person, you may be closed off emotionally and struggle to connect in that way. If you want to keep this relationship healthy you will need to address that but I feel that your person will be understanding as you are working through this issue. But if they sense that you've stopped trying to better yourself in this area they will withdraw from you and the relationship may end.

Take this time now to address any emotional issues you may have so that you can prepare to be a good partner. And also so that you can take better care of yourself.

Cards

Six of Wands (Reversed)

Justice (Reversed)

Knight of Cups

The Sun

Judgement

6 months from now I can see you realizing that something you thought you wanted, like really wanted incredibly bad but did not get. Was actually a blessing in disguise, while you only saw the good it would bring into your life, there were hidden aspects to this situation that you couldn't possibly have seen. I feel like this is something that just recently happened and you may still be sulking about it now. But in time you'll realize you only saw the glittery happy side of the situation but the divine saw it all. It reminds me of an iceberg where you only see a small amount of ice not realizing underneath there is an enormous structure.

Rejoice for what you didn't get and get excited for what is coming for you, what is actually meant for you.

Please let me know if your reading resonated and always remember not to make a decision based on a reading unless it's one you feel completely comfortable with. Thank you for visiting my tarot page!

All the best to you,

Erika, The Clumsy Witch

#The Clumsy Witch #The Clumsy Witch Tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #pick a card tarot #pick a card tarot reading #tarot #tarot reader #tarot readers of tumblr #witches of tumblr #black witches of tumblr #tarot blog #tarotblr

98 notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 2 days

Text

quiet eyes — geto suguru.

He took in the image of you, one that has matured, has grown, has changed over the course of a decade. Yet there was something in his eyes, a conflict, when he looked at you. You didn’t understand why, you didn’t understand where it came from but you didn’t say anything. You just let this moment stay as it was. You let your eyes quietly take in how he has grown in these years. And you know, he was doing the same with you.

GENRE: Pre-Hidden Inventory Arc to Post-Hidden Inventory Arc, 1997 to 2010;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Young Love, First Love, Emotional Hurt, Domestic Life, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining, Friends to Lovers, Grief, Long Distance Relationship, Break-Up , Reconciliation, Closure, Past Lives, Emotional Turmoil, Trauma, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Parenthood;

masterlist

song: quiet eyes by sharon van etten

note: i wrote this after sobbing to a rewatch of celine song's past lives and i realized, its so suguru coded and this is what i came up with. my friend did the beta read and they said i should stop writing for their mental health cause they sobbed about it!!! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy it!!! i love you all~

YOU SOMEHOW ALWAYS GET LOST. It was New Year’s Eve again, a night you eagerly anticipated each year. You wore your best winter coat, its soft, warm fabric wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The streets were alive with festive energy, and your hand was firmly clasped in your mother’s as you navigated the lively crowd. This annual visit to the shrine was a cherished tradition—a time to pray to the gods for a good year and wish for a bountiful year ahead.

The shrine was adorned with vibrant decorations, and the air was filled with the tantalizing scents of festival foods. Lanterns hung from every tree branch, casting a magical glow that made the snow glisten like a blanket of tiny diamonds. As you and your mother approached the shrine, you could hear the rhythmic beating of taiko drums and the joyful chatter of families and friends coming together to celebrate.

After making your way through the crowd, you and your mother finally reached the shrine. You joined the line of people waiting to offer their prayers. Your mother guided you through the familiar ritual—ringing the bell, clapping your hands, and bowing deeply. Together, you prayed for health, happiness, and prosperity, the wishes echoing in the silent spaces of your hearts.

Once your prayers were done, you and your mother decided to explore the festival. There were so many stalls, each one more fascinating than the last. You were particularly captivated by a booth selling colorful masks and another with a game where you could win goldfish.

Amidst the excitement, you noticed a beautiful display of kites. Entranced, you let go of your mother’s hand for just a moment, stepping closer to get a better look. When you turned back, she was nowhere in sight. Panic surged through you, and the festive sounds around you became a blur of noise as you called out for her, your voice lost in the sea of revelers.

Tears began to well up in your eyes as you frantically searched for any familiar face. It felt as if the world was closing in around you. One moment, you were holding her hand tightly, and the next, you were adrift in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. Panic set in as you called out for her, your voice swallowed by the cacophony of the celebration. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt a sinking feeling of helplessness.

Just as the world seemed to close in around you, a gentle voice broke through your anxiety.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You turned to see a boy about your age with kind and warm purple eyes and a reassuringly graceful smile. His dark hair framed his face, and he carried an air of calmness that immediately put you at ease. This young boy, his name was Geto Suguru, though you didn't know his name yet.

"I... I can't find my mom," you stammered, your voice trembling, wiping your tears away.

Geto's expression softened with understanding. "It's okay. I'll stay with you until we find her. Don't worry."

He took your hand in his, and together, you began to navigate the crowd. Despite the chaos around you, Geto's presence made you feel safe. He chatted with you, asking about your favorite games and food, distracting you from your fear. You found yourself laughing at his jokes and stories, the tension slowly easing from your shoulders.

As you wandered, Geto kept an eye out for anyone who might be looking for you. He was patient and kind, never letting go of your hand. His maturity and kindness were far beyond his years, and you were in awe of him. He seemed so composed, so generous, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration. There were stars in your eyes as you watched him interact with others, his gentle demeanor and thoughtful actions standing out amidst the bustling crowd.

You wondered if you could ever be like him—so good, so tender, so mature. The way he handled the situation with such grace and calmness inspired you. You admired his ability to stay composed and kind, even when faced with the daunting task of helping a stranger in distress. It made you aspire to be better, to embody those same qualities of compassion and maturity.

As the festival began to wind down and the crowd thinned out, Geto reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flip phone. With practiced ease, he dialed his mother's number, his fingers moving swiftly over the keypad. After a few moments, he brought the phone to his ear, his expression tense with anticipation.

"Mom?" he said, his voice soft but urgent. "I'm at the shrine. Can you come pick me up? I found someone who got separated from their mom."

As he spoke, you watched Geto's face, noting the concern etched into his features. Despite his calm demeanor, you could tell that he was worried about his own mother's reaction. But to your relief, his expression softened as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

"Okay, I'll wait here," Geto replied, his voice tinged with relief. "Thank you, Mom."

With a click, he closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. Turning to you, he offered a reassuring smile. "My mom is on her way. She'll be here soon."

True to his word, within minutes, a woman appeared in the distance, her face a mixture of concern and relief as she hurried toward you both. Geto's mother enveloped him in a tight hug, her eyes brimming with tears as she whispered words of reassurance.

"Suguru, are you okay? What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Geto explained the situation, recounting how he had found you wandering alone in the crowd and stayed by your side until help arrived. His mother listened intently, her expression softening with pride as she looked at her son.

"You did the right thing, Suguru," she said, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'm so proud of you."

Together, Geto and his mother welcomed you both, offering words of comfort and reassurance. They stayed with you until your own mother arrived, her face a mixture of relief and gratitude as she hugged you tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what we would have done without you and your son."

Geto's mother smiled warmly, her eyes shining with kindness. "It was no trouble at all. I'm just glad we could help."

As the evening drew to a close and the festival began to wind down, it was time for you and Geto Suguru to part ways. You approached him, a mixture of gratitude and reluctance filling your heart. Geto turned to you, his gentle smile putting you at ease even as you felt a pang of sadness at the thought of saying goodbye.

"Thank you so much." you said, your voice filled with sincerity. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Geto's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "It was nothing, really," he replied modestly. "I'm just glad I could help."

Your mom whispers to you, that you should go home and get some rest. You nodded at her and you watched that boy wave his hand at you. You nodded back at him. You turn your back on him. But it was then, you gasp and turn around and run towards him, causing him to gasp as you lean against his personal space.

"Hey, what's your name?" you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Geto Suguru," he replied, blinking as his voice responded softly.

You nodded, committing his name to memory. You introduced yourself too, extending your hand in friendship. He smiled at you, his purple eyes turning brightly back at you.

Geto shook your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "It's nice to meet you," he said, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” You gleefully say back to him, grinning.

"I hope we meet again someday," Geto said, his voice tinged with sincerity.

You smiled back at him, your heart feeling lighter knowing that even though you were saying goodbye for now, there was a chance that your paths might cross again in the future.

"Me too," you replied, the words carrying a promise of friendship and possibility.

With a final wave, you and Geto went your separate ways, the memory of your chance encounter lingering in your thoughts long after the festival had ended. And as you made your way home, getting ready for bed, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected friendship. You think that this will fill your heart with joy for a long time. One that had brightened your New Year's celebration and left a lasting imprint on your heart.

You lay in bed, moving to your side and closing your eyes.

You wonder if the gods would allow you one more wish.

You wish you could meet Geto Suguru when you wake up.

WHEN YOU MEET SUGURU AGAIN, IT WAS MIDDLE SCHOOL. The first day of middle school was a whirlwind of excitement and nerves, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling through the air like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. As you stepped through the doors of the school, you were greeted by the lively buzz of students reuniting after the summer break, their voices rising and falling in a symphony of anticipation.

The corridors echoed with the sound of footsteps echoing on the linoleum floors, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or excited chatter. Lockers slammed shut with a metallic clang, backpacks were slung over shoulders, and pencils were nervously tapped against desks as students settled into their new classrooms.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation tinged with a hint of apprehension. Everything felt new and unfamiliar—the layout of the school, the faces of your classmates, the rhythm of the day unfolding before you.

As you made your way to your first class, you were met with a whirlwind of activity—a flurry of introductions, syllabus handouts, and icebreaker games designed to break the ice and ease the transition into the new academic year. The air crackled with energy as teachers and students alike embraced the opportunity for a fresh start, eager to embark on the journey that lay ahead.

In the hushed stillness of the classroom, amidst the shuffling of papers and the murmur of conversations, you found yourself unable to resist stealing short glances across the room. There, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, your eyes locked onto a figure that seemed oddly familiar—a flash of recognition igniting a spark of curiosity within you.

As the pieces fell into place, a realization washed over you like a wave crashing against the shore—it was Geto Suguru. The same Geto Suguru who had once been your companion in childhood, the same Geto Suguru who had shared in moments of laughter and understanding during that fateful New Year's festival all those years ago.

Your lips parted in silent astonishment as you stood there, a sense of wonderment enveloping you like a warm embrace. It was as if fate itself had intervened, weaving your paths together once more in a way that felt almost predestined—a serendipitous twist of fate that defied explanation yet felt undeniably right.

The realization that you and Geto were classmates filled you with a sense of awe and gratitude, the threads of destiny drawing you together in a way that transcended the boundaries of time and space. It was as if the universe had conspired to reunite you, stitching together the fabric of your lives in a way that felt both miraculous and inevitable.

In that moment of silent awe, a wave of comfort washed over you, soothing the fluttering nerves that had danced in your stomach upon realizing that Geto Suguru was indeed your classmate once more. It had been so long since you had seen him, since the days of childhood innocence and carefree laughter. And yet, despite the passage of time, the bond you shared felt as strong and immutable as ever.

With each step you took towards him, the distance between you seemed to shrink, bridging the gap that had separated you for so long. The morning light cast a soft glow upon his features, illuminating the contours of his face and the subtle changes that time had wrought. You couldn't help but notice how he had grown taller since you last saw him, how his frame had filled out with the promise of adulthood. His hair, once a tousled mop of unruly curls, was now neatly tied back in a bun, accentuating the angular lines of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze.

As you drew closer, you couldn't help but marvel at the transformation that had taken place—the way he had grown more beautiful and handsome with each passing year. There was a quiet strength in the set of his shoulders, a confidence in the way he carried himself that spoke of maturity and self-assurance. And yet, beneath the veneer of adulthood, you could still see traces of the boy you had known—the same warmth in his eyes, the same kindness in his smile.

In that moment, as you stood before him, the years melted away, leaving behind only the essence of your shared history and the promise of new beginnings.

"Geto–kun?" you uttered softly, the name slipping from your lips almost instinctively.

Geto's gaze met yours, his expression mirroring your own sense of surprise and recognition. "Oh, it’s you!" he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Fancy seeing you here."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the serendipitous twist of fate that had brought you together once again. "I can't believe we're in the same class," you exclaimed, a hint of excitement in your voice. “After all this time, huh?”

"Yeah, it's pretty wild," Geto agreed, his eyes bright with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

As the realization sank in, a flood of memories from your childhood encounter at the New Year's festival came rushing back. The shared laughter, the moments of quiet understanding—it all felt like a lifetime ago, yet here you were, reunited once again in the most unexpected of places.

"It's like fate brought us together," you mused, a sense of awe coloring your words.

Geto nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Maybe it did," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of wonder.

As you pondered the serendipitous nature of your reunion, a faint smile played at the corners of Geto's lips, mirroring the quiet sense of wonder that danced in his eyes.

"It's strange how life works sometimes," he continued, his voice soft and contemplative. "The way it brings people back into our lives when we least expect it."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of kinship with Geto as you shared in the mystery of fate's guiding hand. "Yeah, it's like we were meant to find each other again," you remarked, a sense of certainty settling within you like a comforting embrace.

For a moment, the two of you stood in companionable silence, lost in the quiet beauty of the moment. The bustling classroom faded into the background, leaving behind only the warmth of shared memories and the promise of new beginnings.

"I'm glad we did," Geto said softly, his gaze meeting yours with a depth of understanding that resonated deep within your soul.

"Me too," you replied, a genuine smile gracing your lips as you felt the weight of the years slip away, leaving behind only the simple joy of reconnecting with an old friend.

As the bell rang, signaling the start of the day's lessons, you and Geto exchanged a knowing glance, silently acknowledging the significance of this unexpected reunion. And as you took your seats side by side, a sense of anticipation filled the air, carrying with it the promise of friendship and camaraderie that would endure far beyond the confines of the classroom walls.

You looked at him for a moment.

His glance turns back at you too.

You smiled at him, he smiled at you.

You felt your face turn red for a moment.

Has his smile always looked this beautiful?

YOU BOTH WENT IN DIFFERENT SCHOOLS IN HIGH SCHOOL.Watching Suguru step into his new chapter at Jujutsu High filled you with a complex array of emotions. Pride swelled within you as you witnessed him embark on this journey he had long dreamed of. His determination, his dedication—it was inspiring to see him pursue his passion with such fervor and commitment. Yet, intertwined with that pride was a profound sense of longing, a yearning for his presence that tugged at your heartstrings with each passing moment.

The prospect of being apart from Suguru, even temporarily, casts a shadow over your excitement. The thought of not having him by your side, of not being able to share in each other's daily joys and struggles, left an ache in your chest that was difficult to ignore. As much as you wanted him to succeed and thrive at Jujutsu High, the prospect of being separated from him weighed heavily on your heart.

Every time you thought about Suguru navigating the challenges of his new school, facing dangerous cursed spirits and confronting the unknown, a wave of worry washed over you. You couldn't help but fret over his safety, over the dangers he might encounter in his quest to become a jujutsu sorcerer. The distance between you only amplified these fears, leaving you feeling helpless and vulnerable.

You had always known about Suguru's ability to see cursed spirits. You had witnessed firsthand the toll it took on him—the sleepless nights, the restless tossing and turning as his mind wrestled with the dark entities that plagued his existence. And though he always reassured you that he was fine, that he could handle it on his own, you couldn't help but worry about him.

As you sat together in Suguru's childhood bedroom, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the air. Suguru had just confided in you about his ability to see cursed spirits, a revelation that sent a chill down your spine.

"I've always been able to see them," Suguru admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Ever since I was a child."

You listened intently as Suguru recounted his experiences, describing the terrifying visions that haunted his nights and the relentless whispers that echoed in his mind. It was as if he were living in a nightmare, trapped in a world where darkness lurked around every corner.

"And the worst part is," Suguru continued, his expression haunted, "I can't escape them. No matter where I go, they're always there, lurking in the shadows."

Your heart ached at the pain etched into Suguru's features, the weight of his burden evident in every word he spoke. You had witnessed firsthand the toll it took on him—the sleepless nights, the restless tossing and turning as his mind wrestled with the dark entities that plagued his existence.

"I'm fine, really," Suguru assured you, sensing your concern. "I've learned to live with it. But sometimes...sometimes it's hard to bear."

In that moment, as you gazed into Suguru's weary eyes, a surge of empathy washed over you. You couldn't begin to imagine the horrors he faced on a daily basis, the constant battle against forces beyond his control. Yet, despite the darkness that threatened to consume him, Suguru remained steadfast, his resilience a testament to his strength of character.

Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled Suguru close, offering whatever comfort you could in the face of his suffering. "You don't have to face this alone," you whispered, your voice filled with determination. "I'll be here for you, no matter what."

But amidst the whirlwind of emotions, there was a glimmer of hope—a deep-seated belief that no matter the distance, your bond with Suguru would endure. You clung to the memories you shared, the moments of laughter and love that had forged an unbreakable connection between you. And though the road ahead might be fraught with challenges and obstacles, you knew that together, you and Suguru could overcome anything.

So, as you watched him stride confidently into the halls of Jujutsu High, a sense of determination took root within you. You would weather this storm of separation, you would support Suguru from afar, and you would eagerly await the day when you could be reunited once more. For now, all you could do was hold onto the love you shared, trusting in its power to bridge the distance and keep your hearts connected, no matter where life may lead.

One thing that particularly concerned you was his aversion to the taste of cursed energy. Whenever he mentioned it, a pang of anxiety would grip your heart, knowing that he was enduring something unpleasant just to fulfill his duty as a jujutsu sorcerer.

Despite the distance between you, Suguru made sure to keep you updated on his well-being. He would send you messages whenever he had a free moment, sharing snippets of his day and letting you know that he was okay. And on his rare free days, you would make it a point to meet up with him, cherishing every precious moment you had together.

Your dates were a welcome respite from the challenges of long-distance, a chance for you to reconnect and strengthen your bond despite the miles that separated you. Whether it was a leisurely stroll through the park, a cozy dinner at your favorite restaurant, or simply spending quality time together at home, every moment with Suguru was a treasure to be cherished.

And though the distance between you was daunting at times, your love for each other remained steadfast and unwavering. Together, you navigated the ups and downs of long-distance with grace and resilience, knowing that no matter the obstacles you faced, your love would always endure.

As you and Suguru sat across from each other in a cozy café, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm ambiance around you, you found yourselves catching up on each other's lives. Suguru had just finished recounting his latest adventures at Jujutsu High, regaling you with tales of intense training sessions and encounters with formidable curses.

"It sounds like you've been keeping busy," you remarked with a smile, sipping on your latte. "How are things going at the school?"

Suguru nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's challenging, but I'm managing," he replied, his tone calm and composed. "The training can be rigorous, but I'm learning a lot."

You nodded, though a hint of concern flickered in your eyes. "And what about the jujutsu sorcery? Is it... difficult?"

Suguru's gaze met yours, and for a moment, you thought you detected a shadow of hesitation in his eyes. But then, he offered you a reassuring smile. "It's not easy, but I'm okay," he assured you. "I've got some great teachers and classmates who help me out."

Despite his words, a knot of worry tightened in your chest. You had seen firsthand the toll that dealing with cursed spirits could take on Suguru, and while you trusted in his strength and resilience, you couldn't help but wonder if he was truly alright.

"I'm glad to hear that you're getting support," you said, reaching across the table to gently place your hand on his. "But if things ever get too tough, if you ever need someone to talk to..."

Suguru's fingers intertwined with yours, his touch warm and reassuring. "Thank you," he said softly, his gaze sincere. "I appreciate that more than you know."

As you sat together in that intimate moment, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across your faces, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. With Suguru by your side, you felt a sense of strength and comfort that filled you with unwavering hope for the future. And as you leaned in to share a tender kiss, the worries of the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of your love and the promise of tomorrow.

As the year 2007 progressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss between you and Suguru. It started with small changes—missed calls, delayed responses to messages, and last-minute cancellations of plans. At first, you brushed it off, attributing it to his busy schedule with missions and training at Jujutsu High. He had a duty to that after all. You never questioned him about it.

But as time went on, Suguru's behavior became more pronounced. He became increasingly distant, avoiding your attempts to spend time together and offering vague excuses about being swamped with work. When you did manage to hang out, you couldn't ignore the noticeable shift in his demeanor. He seemed withdrawn, his usually vibrant energy replaced with a palpable sense of exhaustion.

Concern gnawed at your heart as you watched Suguru's health deteriorate before your eyes. "Suguru, are you okay?" you asked gently one evening, unable to ignore the worry that twisted in your gut.

He waved off your concern with a forced smile. "I'm fine, just tired from all the missions," he replied, his voice strained. "Don't worry about me."

But you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was troubling him. "Suguru, please," you insisted, reaching out to touch his arm. "You don't seem okay. Talk to me."

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you saw a flash of frustration in his eyes. "I said I'm fine," he snapped, pulling away from your touch. "You don't need to keep asking."

The tension between you simmered beneath the surface, unresolved and heavy with unspoken words. "I just want to help," you murmured, your voice tinged with hurt. "But I can't do that if you won't let me in."

Suguru's jaw tensed, his gaze hardening. "I don't need your help," he retorted, his tone sharp with irritation. "I can handle things on my own."

The words stung like a knife to your heart, leaving you reeling with a sense of rejection. "But I care about you, Suguru," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I can't just stand by and watch you suffer."

A heavy silence settled between you, thick with unresolved tension and unspoken fears. In that moment, you realized that despite your love for Suguru, you were powerless to ease his pain if he refused to let you in. And as the weight of his distance pressed down upon you like a suffocating blanket, you couldn't help but wonder if your relationship could weather this storm—or if it was destined to crumble beneath the weight of unspoken truths and untold secrets.

The air crackled with tension as Suguru's conflicted emotions waged war within him. He wanted to reach out, to grasp onto your comforting presence, but the weight of his burdens held him back like chains around his heart. Each moment spent in your company only served to amplify his guilt and shame, reminders of the facade he was desperately trying to maintain.

"I'm sorry," Suguru murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes cast downward in shame. "I just... I can't do this anymore."

Your heart clenched at his words, aching with the pain of impending loss. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice trembling with fear.

Suguru shook his head, unable to meet your gaze. "I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not," he admitted, his words heavy with resignation. "I need to figure things out on my own."

The finality of his words hung in the air like a heavy shroud, suffocating any hope of reconciliation. Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the sudden unraveling of your relationship, the dreams you had woven together now torn asunder by the cruel hand of fate.

"I understand," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion, though the pain of acceptance felt like a dagger to your heart. "I just wish... I wish things could have been different."

Suguru's shoulders slumped in defeat, his own anguish mirrored in the depths of his gaze. "So do I." he admitted, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But sometimes... sometimes it's better to let go than to hold on to something that's already broken. I can’t hurt you more than I already have.”

Your heart clenched at his words, each syllable a dagger piercing through the fragile remnants of your shattered dreams. The weight of his pain, his self-imposed exile, bore down upon you with suffocating force, leaving you gasping for breath in the wake of his confession.

"Suguru, please..." you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion, reaching out for him as if to bridge the ever-widening chasm between you. "Don't shut me out. We can work through this together."

But Suguru's resolve remained steadfast, his gaze haunted by the ghosts of his past and the specter of his uncertain future. "I can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the tumult of your emotions. "I need to do this alone."

Tears welled in your eyes as you watched him turn away, his silhouette fading into the darkness with each step. The ache of his absence echoed in the hollow chambers of your heart, a void that seemed impossible to fill.

As the weight of his absence settled over you like a heavy blanket, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the end. If the love you had once shared was destined to fade into nothingness, swallowed whole by the vast expanse of time and distance.

But even as you grappled with the pain of separation, a flicker of hope danced in the recesses of your soul. Perhaps, in letting go, you would find the strength to heal, to move forward, to forge a new path untethered by the chains of the past.

Heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks, you whispered.

The sound of silent farewells shuddered in the cold air.

You try to live through the ashes of your broken dreams.

But you would be fine, you knew you would be one day.

Suguru loved you enough to bear the weight of the world.

THINGS CHANGED OVER NINE YEARS. You couldn't shake the feeling that you'd never truly move on from Suguru. His presence lingered in the recesses of your mind, a constant reminder of what once was and what could have been. But life was relentless in its forward march, indifferent to your heartache and longing. You knew you had to move on, to carve out a path for yourself in a world that would keep spinning regardless of your pain.

In the days and weeks that followed, tears became a familiar companion, each drop a silent tribute to the love you had lost. But with time, you found solace in the gentle rhythm of life's ebb and flow. You learned to navigate the world with a newfound resilience, allowing the pain of your past to shape you into someone stronger, someone more resilient than you ever thought possible.

As the days turned into months and the months into years, you grew around the grief in your heart, like a vine winding its way around a sturdy tree. You became a new person—a version of yourself that your past self would hardly recognize. You embraced new experiences, pursued your passions with unwavering determination, and forged connections with those who filled your life with light and warmth.

And though Suguru would always hold a special place in your heart, you came to understand that moving on didn't mean forgetting or erasing the past. It meant honoring the memories you shared while making space for new beginnings, new adventures, and new love to bloom.

As you navigated the bustling streets of Tokyo, the weight of your responsibilities pressed heavily upon your shoulders. The city buzzed with activity, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions churning within you. In the nine years since parting ways with Suguru, life had taken unexpected turns, leading you down paths you never imagined traversing.

Becoming a mother had been the greatest joy amidst the tumultuous journey of life. The moment your son entered the world, a surge of indescribable love washed over you, eclipsing the pain of your past and filling your heart with boundless happiness. Holding him in your arms for the first time, you knew that your life would never be the same—that every sacrifice, every struggle, was worth it for the sake of this precious new life.

You had always wanted a life like this with Suguru. You had always thought that you would end up having a lifetime together, to have children, to have normal lives — to grow old together. When you looked at your son, you thought about the life that had been robbed from you by fate, but also the hope that came with the birth of the most precious thing in your life. Your son was, after all, your pride and joy.

Parenthood brought with it a sense of purpose unlike anything you had experienced before. From sleepless nights to endless diaper changes, every moment spent caring for your son filled you with a sense of fulfillment and contentment you never thought possible. Watching him grow and thrive, witnessing his first steps and hearing his infectious laughter, became the highlights of your days, grounding you in the present and reminding you of the beauty that existed amidst life's chaos.

Despite the challenges of balancing motherhood with your career, you found moments of joy in the simple pleasures of everyday life. From bedtime stories and snuggles to impromptu dance parties in the living room, each day brought new opportunities to cherish the bond you shared with your son, a bond forged in the unbreakable bonds of love and devotion.

And as you raced through the crowded streets of Tokyo, your thoughts drifted to the little boy eagerly awaiting your arrival at school. In his laughter and in his smile, you found solace and strength, a reminder that no matter where life's journey took you, the love of your family would always be the anchor that held you steady amidst the storm.

Today, however, brought with it a new challenge—a decision that would alter the course of your lives once again. Your husband, a foreigner whose stint in Japan was coming to an end, had been called back to Europe. After much deliberation, you both had decided to accompany him, embarking on a new adventure in a foreign land.

As you hurried to pick up your child from school, a sense of urgency pulsed through your veins. His teacher had informed you that he would be finishing up his language lessons, buying you some much-needed time to make it there before his class ended.

Breathless and slightly disheveled, you finally arrived at the school, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the bustling courtyard for any sign of your son. And then, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, you saw him—Geto Suguru, standing there in a traditional geto-kesa, engaged in conversation with one of the middle school teachers.

Your pulse quickened at the sight of him, a flood of memories washing over you like a tidal wave. It had been so long since you had last seen each other, and yet, in that moment, it felt as though no time had passed at all. Quiet eyes feasting upon him, relearning him after a decade of him disappearing from your world.

As you approached him, your heart hammered in your chest, uncertainty and longing warring within you. Would he even remember you after all these years? And more importantly, did you still hold a place in his heart as he did in yours?

Summoning every ounce of courage you possessed, you called out his name, the sound barely audible amidst the cacophony of voices around you. And then, as he turned to face you, his expression a mixture of surprise and recognition, you knew that some things truly never change.

As Suguru turned to face you, his eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you stood before each other, the weight of the years that had passed between you palpable in the air. The teacher seemed a bit flustered, but you smiled at them and bowed with an apology. They seemed to understand, they bowed and left.

"Suguru," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, the name feeling both foreign and achingly familiar on your lips. “Hi.”

Recognition dawned in his eyes as he studied your face, his expression softening with a hint of nostalgia. "It’s you." he replied, his voice a quiet murmur that seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken memories.

The years melted away in an instant as you stood there, lost in each other's gaze, the past and present converging in a bittersweet collision of emotions. It was as if no time had passed at all, as if you were once again the young souls who had shared secrets beneath the cherry blossom tree, bound together by an invisible thread that transcended the passage of time.

"It's been a long time," he murmured, his warm voice neutral as he looked at you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his. "Too long." you agreed softly, the ache of longing and regret threading through your words. “I just….this is a surprise.”

“I should say that.” He whispers back to you. “How have you been?”

“Good,” You smiled at him, fidgeting with your gloved hands. “I’ve just been busy with life.”

Suguru's gaze softened as he listened to your words, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad to hear that," he replied, his voice warm with sincerity. "Life has a way of keeping us on our toes, doesn't it?"

You nodded, a wistful expression crossing your features. "It certainly does," you agreed softly, the weight of the years weighing heavily on your shoulders. "But enough about me. How about you? How have you been?"

A flicker of emotion crossed Suguru's face, his expression momentarily guarded before he offered you a small, reassuring smile. "I've been... managing," he replied carefully, his words laced with a hint of uncertainty. “It’s been a lot.”

“I’m….I’m glad that you’re managing.” You mumbled back to him, unsure of what to say. “It’s rough to be an adult now.”

You studied his face, noting the subtle tension in his features and the guarded look in his eyes. It was clear that there was more to his story than he was letting on, but you didn't press him further. Instead, you offered him a gentle smile, hoping to convey your support and understanding without words.

"Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here," you said softly, the sincerity in your voice unmistakable. "No matter what, you'll always have a friend in me."

Suguru's smile widened at your words, a flicker of gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "That means more to me than you know."

Silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. In that moment, you both stood on the precipice of something uncertain, the weight of your shared history hanging between you like a fragile thread.

As Suguru's gaze shifted towards you, his brows furrowed in confusion, a question lingering on his lips. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Before you could respond, a familiar voice echoed across the hall, drawing your attention away from Suguru. You turned just in time to see your son rushing towards you, his arms outstretched in excitement. With a laugh bubbling up from deep within you, you opened your arms wide, ready to catch him in a warm embrace.

As your son leaped into your arms, his laughter filling the air, you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy and warmth wash over you. Holding him close, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, relishing in the simple pleasure of being reunited with the one who brought so much light into your life.

In the midst of the joyful reunion, you failed to notice the subtle shift in Suguru's demeanor. His gaze lingered on you and your son, his expression clouded with a mixture of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and perhaps even a hint of resentment.

As you finally turned back to face Suguru, his eyes met yours, his expression guarded and unreadable. It was clear that something had shifted between you, a rift forming between the two of you that seemed impossible to bridge. And in that moment, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps some wounds were too deep to heal, no matter how much time had passed.

As the weight of Suguru's gaze bore down on you, a pang of sadness tugged at your heart. You had hoped that this unexpected reunion would bring a sense of closure, a chance to reconnect and perhaps even rebuild what had been lost between you. But now, as you stood before him, the distance between you felt insurmountable.

Summoning a smile that felt forced, you attempted to break the tension that hung heavy in the air. "This is my son," you explained, gesturing towards the young boy in your arms. "His name is Shouma.”

Suguru's eyes softened slightly at the introduction, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. For a moment, he looks at your son and sees nothing but you. He was you when you were younger. You when he first felt what joy, what life looks like in all its glory.

His eyes scan lower as the boy played with his nametag. Purple orbs widened slightly as he read the letters of the boy's name. 憧 for longing. 真 for genuine. He meets your gaze for a moment. It was the moment he knew. You pursed your lips into a flat line as you lowered your gaze, busying yourself with fixing your son's shoelaces.

Shouma.

Genuine.

Longing.

"He's... he's beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Looks exactly like you.”

“That’s what my husband said.” You responded, a tight smile on your lips as you said those words. You could see something in his face shift. Despite the warmth in his words, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach. There was something about the way Suguru looked at you and your son—a mixture of longing and regret—that left you feeling unsettled. “He is my mini-me.”

“He really is.”

When the bell sounded, the steps of children and the ringing of their voices echoed across the rooms and into the halls. It was then two children, twin girls, excitedly rushed when they saw Suguru standing near you. The two girls, Mimiko and Nanako, whose names were written in their name-tags, emerged from their classroom happily. You watched them embrace Suguru as they spoke and chattered. You take your son’s hand, who looks at the older girls in front of him.

You couldn't help but notice the apprehensive mistrust in their gaze as they glanced at you and your son. Their eyes held a mixture of curiosity and wariness, as though unsure of what to make of the unexpected encounter. They’d never seen you in their entire lives before, you were a stranger. They didn’t know you. They clung closer to Suguru, as though to instinctively protect him.

Suguru, sensing the tension, stepped forward to bridge the gap between his daughters and your little family. With a gentle smile, he introduced you and your son, his voice warm yet tinged with a hint of unease. "Mimiko, Nanako, this is an old friend of mine and her son," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and his daughters. “These two angels are my daughters.”

As the introductions were made, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness wash over you. They seem to let their guard down slightly, as you watch them cling less towards Suguru and greet you cordially, almost shyly. You smiled at them. They seem to be polite girls. Suguru had raised them well, with all the love in the world.

You were glad that Suguru had managed to build a family, a life beyond what you had—one that seemed to have escaped the grief, pain, and misery that had engulfed him when you last saw each other. Even if it wasn’t with you. But as you looked into each other's eyes, you saw the same mourning glint reflected in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the 'what if' that would forever linger in the shadows of your hearts.

The presence of Mimiko and Nanako, standing by Suguru's side, served as a bittersweet reminder of the life you were supposed to have together. A life where you imagined waking up beside him, raising children together, sharing dreams and burdens. But that future had slipped through your fingers like sand, and now you stood on separate shores, each tethered to a different destiny.

You knew you would never leave your husband. He had been your anchor, your partner through the ups and downs, the father of your cherished son. Your life with him was built on love and commitment, and you were grateful for the family you had. Yet, the ache of what might have been remained, a quiet sorrow that echoed in the moments of stillness and reflection.

Suguru’s eyes, filled with a mix of pride and melancholy, told you he felt the same. He too mourned the lost possibilities, the dreams that had withered in the wake of your separation. The shared sorrow created a bond, a silent understanding that no amount of time could erase.

Meeting Suguru's gaze, you saw the turmoil reflected in his eyes, mirroring the conflicting emotions swirling within your own heart. It was as though the ghosts of your past lives were living through your regrets, haunting you with the memories of what could have been.

"I’m happy for you, Suguru," you said softly, your voice tinged with genuine warmth. "You've built something beautiful."

He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting in a bittersweet smile. "And you too. Your son... he's wonderful."

Before either of you could say more, your son tugged at your hand, his innocent eyes wide with curiosity. "Mom, who are they?" he asked, glancing at Suguru and his daughters.

You crouched down to your son's level, smoothing his hair affectionately. "This is Suguru, mama’s old friend. And these are his daughters, Mimiko and Nanako."

Your son smiled shyly at the girls, and they responded with slow, but tentative smiles of their own. The innocence of the children contrasted sharply with the complex emotions swirling between you and Suguru, a poignant reminder of the simplicity and purity of childhood. Somehow, reminisce about how you and Suguru met.

“You raised them well, Suguru.” You smiled at him. “They got your kindness too.”

“And your son, he’s everything that’s you.” He retorts back, a quiet smile on his lips.

As the conversation continued, you felt a mix of sadness and acceptance. Life had moved on, taking you down different paths, but the connection you once shared with Suguru remained, however muted by time and circumstance. You would always mourn the life that could have been, but you knew that the choices you made had led you to where you were meant to be.

Suguru’s voice broke through your reverie. "Take care of yourself, and your family," he said, his tone carrying the weight of unspoken words.

"You too, Suguru," you replied, your heart heavy yet resolute. “Thank you for letting me….relive a past life.”

He took a deep breath and smiled for a bit. “You too. Thank you.”

But as the sounds of the bustling city called to you, you knew that some things were better left unsaid.Some things were best left as they were — past lives. You took your son’s hand and kissed the top of his head. You looked at Suguru and nodded. With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, you offered him a small, bittersweet smile.

"It's good to see you, Suguru," you said, the words laced with a quiet ache.

His gaze softened, a flicker of regret dancing in the depths of his eyes. "You too," he replied softly, his voice barely above a softened whisper.

It wasn’t lost on Suguru, the irony of you being the last to walk away.

As he lay dying, his quiet eyes shifting to the ground of his past life,

He smiles, thinking about how good it was to see you one last time.

He hopes in the next life, you would live a long happy life together.

If the gods were kind, they'd let you love each other once again.

71 notes · View notes

seredelgi · 1 day

Text

And what pet names do they use the most? / AOT x ferm!reader

featuring: Eren Jaeger, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Reiner Braun, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman

tw: kissing, groping, pet names, slight angst, fem!reader

Eren:

You love to hear him say it, honestly. Doesn’t matter if you’re actually with him or if you guys are talking over the phone. It’s about the hoarseness in his voice as he breathes it out. And it honestly already puts you in a better mood as soon as you walk into your new shared apartment. He immediately catches the tiredness in your expression and he comes to take you in his arms “ C'mere, doll”.

Armin:

He loves to call you his princess. It’s his way of making you aware of how much you mean to him. And of course, he knows how to treat you like one, as well. Armin always showers you with praises and gifts. It honestly baffles you how much affection you can feel in the way he treats you. And if you ever question him about it, you know the answer will be “That’s ‘cause you deserve it, princess”

Jean:

The way Jean addresses you is the sweetest you’ve ever heard him use. His tone of voice can go from harsh to downright sugary the moment his words are referred to you instead of his friends or co-workers. No matter the situation, he can’t bring himself to be rude to you, not even while fighting. So it’s no surprise when he stops mid-sentence during an argument over the phone as you enter the room. He smiles charmingly before greeting you “ What’s up, darling?”

Connie:

Connie plays around with a lot of pet names, honestly. He uses many, and some are very weird and even too sweet, but very often they’re thrown around playfully. His favorite one, however, remains the one that has always been able to genuinely make you smile shyly to yourself. And it comes out of nowhere, maybe as you’re cuddling snugly on your couch, only for him to pull you in closer and whisper it huskily in your ear “ ‘Gimme a kiss, baby”

Reiner:

You honestly have no idea where it came from, but you love it. It speaks of the way Reiner sees you, the way he feels as if you’re everything good in his life. He’s had a harsh childhood, and you’re the only person he ever trusted with all his secrets, the only one who has been able to help him through a long process of acceptance and self-love. So it makes you giddy and ecstatic when he greets you warmly and hushes on your lips “ I love you so much, angel”

Erwin:

Erwin is a gentleman. The man just never misses an occasion to remind you how good you look, and it’s been like this since you two started dating. He loves to call you gorgeous or even his pretty girl, which always makes you feel some type of way, honestly. But he reserves his favorite for whenever you’re feeling especially down or insecure. And it’s said lovingly, usually while holding your chin up with his finger, making you look into his shimmering blue eyes “Tell me what’s wrong, beautiful”

Levi:

Levi doesn’t use nicknames. He honestly just loves the sound of your name, the way it rolls off his tongue and so easily gets your attention. However sometimes it just slips, very often in the bedroom, and very probably because you mewl so loudly at every single one of his hot kisses on your skin that he can’t help it. There he says it, and it’s so breathless that your insides twirl “Want me to touch you, kitten?”

So what about the way they kiss you?

What gets them going?

How do they take you?

Do they get jealous?

83 notes · View notes

cobaltperun · 4 hours

Text

Genius (4) - Bittersuite

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part

Word count: 3.5k

-God, I hope it all goes away, 'cause I can't fall in love with you-

A madman’s love.

Cairo had no idea how that felt, but the way Miller described it sounded exactly like what she was yearning for. Ever since she was old enough to yearn for love. To be loved by someone to the point of madness, for that someone to merely be a bone monolith beneath her, to be loved so fiercely and strongly that both her and the one loving her end up consumed by the flames of emotions within them.

To be madly loved and to madly love in return.

How did that feel? To fight for someone’s love, no matter the circumstances, the taboo, the judgment of society. To feel so right no matter how many people said it’s wrong.

She didn’t know, but she imagined Miller knew, he described it, after all. He wrote it with passion that struck her, that made her yearn for what he was painting in her mind. What about his age? Well, she did desire something that others would deem wrong, didn’t she? And then there was Winnie, and Cairo would have cursed her for filling her head with the ideas of giving her virginity to someone older if Winnie didn’t present such a convincing argument. To give her virginity to someone that was, as Winnie put it, wagyu beef, and not deli meat.

She didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to bleed the first time she has sex, the books she read made sex out to be raw, rough, immediate, a desperate act of chasing pleasure, they hardly ventured into the ideas of woman’s arousal, much less aftercare.

Could he give it to her? Could he see her for who she really was? Reveal sides of her she didn’t even know existed yet? He certainly found something worth it in this damn village she despised, he could do the same with her. Find worth no one else did, make her feel wanted by someone. Make her feel like she was the only one who mattered.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it. You sent her a message, but she didn’t reach for her phone to reply. She just leaned her head back instead. She couldn’t deny the visceral reaction she had whenever she was reminded of you. Of her heart beating faster, or the dreams she had, or the fact that she wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking forward to more on Monday mornings, listening to Miller, or sitting next to you, your arms occasionally touching and making her feel like she was on fire.

How did you see her? Did you still see the girl who read to you, the girl that dragged you around the forest around her house, the girl who pushed you away? Or did you see her for who she was right now? A ghost, someone a rare few paid attention to, though she kept hearing she was extraordinary. A lonely girl longing for attention and escape. You were certainly providing her with the escape she needed, seeing as Saturdays became your usual getaways, and you took her to places she had no idea about, she was living when she was with you, free from the shackles of nowhere Tennessee.

But your love for her was a lot like Winnie’s. Immature, normal, fueled by reasons appropriate for your age. She couldn’t imagine you or Winnie being driven to madness by your love for her, if the way you loved her even included anything romantic in the first place.

She needed a love that wasn’t ordinary. She needed her madman’s love.

And she feared that whatever was happening between the two of you wasn’t a product of love or friendship, but a desperate attempt to emulate what was once lost.

Cairo didn’t want that. She didn’t want to emulate the past, she wanted… What did she want? She knew what she didn’t want, but what did she actually want?

~X~

This wasn’t working, and the only reason you still tolerated this class was because Cairo was there as well. You suppressed a sigh as Miller droned on about the writer’s style being bold, and too much, and it really was.

You were trying to reignite your love for reading but all this was doing was making you wish to never open a book again in your entire life. You couldn’t get the fact that he went thought student’s stuff out of your head, and that impression alone ruined the class for you.

“Meet me after classes,” he leaned over Cairo’s shoulder, too close to her, secretive, whispering so no one else but Cairo could hear him. Though not quiet enough for you not to hear him, even if you looked like you weren’t paying attention. The fuck was with this guy? After classes?

You were reading too much into it, right?

~X~

Was he seeing her? Like Winnie said? Cairo wasn’t sure yet, but she couldn’t deny their similarities, how at ease she felt, how the only time she felt this much at ease was when she was with you on your rides outside the village. It compared to that as far as her ease went, but it went further, it met other needs she had as well. The ones she hated to admit she had. Her need for approval and attention from someone older, something she never got before, being a big part of it, and what made this seem more impactful to her than what she had with you.

And then there was a part of her that consciously made what she had with you feel like it was to be expected. Like it was a given that you’d reconnect. And she needed to look at it that way, otherwise she’d spiral into fear and panic, because if it wasn’t a given, and if both of you chose to actively put effort into rebuilding what you once had, then that in and of itself, would be a form of madness she wasn’t ready to face just yet.

“See you on Monday, Mr. Miller,” Winnie said as she opened the doors so she could drag Cairo to get her beloved food.

“Bye, kid,” a kid, that’s how he saw Winnie, but he didn’t call Cairo a ‘kid’, so at the very least he didn’t see her as one, though her and Winnie were the same age. He saw her as an adult, and she very much liked that. “Oh, and Cairo, are you going to come this Saturday?” he asked her.

She realized she never got to answer him, and it wasn’t just because Winnie came in, there was an issue of already making plans with you. “I already made plans with Y/N, but I’ll see if she’s fine with postponing,” she told him, not quite ready to give a definitive answer.

He seemed a bit startled all of a sudden. “Y/N?”

Cairo nodded, not sure what made him react the way he did just now, though it was subtle she could see he was a bit uncomfortable.

“Did- Uh, did she mention me in any way?” he tried to brush it off as a normal question, but the way he avoided her eyes gave him away.

“No,” she replied. Not even sure why you would mention him. You didn’t particularly enjoy his class, she could tell by the way you actively tried not to listen to him, and she knew you were doing bare minimum on the assignments. You didn’t like either him or the class, and Caro didn’t know why, she didn’t ask why, and you never told her why.

“Oh, okay, forget I said anything,” Miller regained some color when she denied you ever mentioning him and she just nodded, choosing not to ask him about it.

She’d just ask you. After all, you were the one who kept something from her.

~X~

You were in your garage, just cleaning your motorcycle and your gear when you heard the doorbell ringing. You weren’t expecting any visitors, so maybe it was just one of your neighbors. When the doorbell rang the second time you got up, leaving the rug you were using on the bucket, and quickly washed your hands in the sink, before going outside.

“Sorry for the wait, I was-“ you paused, seeing Cairo on your doorstep. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here,” you climbed up the stairs as Cairo looked to the side. You couldn’t read her, but you could tell something wasn’t right.

“Hey, Y/N,” she greeted you.

“Come in,” you opened the doors for her and stepped aside, she knew the house. Even if she hasn’t been inside in a long time. You followed after Cairo, taking notice of how she stopped and stared at the copy of Jules Verne’s ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’. You were trying to read it, but between Miller killing your desire to read and the book being closely tied to your and Cairo’s friendship while you were kids, you hated to admit it, but you weren’t having an easy time with it. Still, you were about two thirds in, so at least you were making some progress.

“Do you want something to drink? Or eat? I was about to make something for lunch anyway,” you were already heading toward the kitchen as Cairo sat down on the armchair.

“No, I just ate with Winnie, I’m okay,” she said and you chose not to push her. She was tense, and it didn’t escape your notice that she chose one seat that would put the most distance between the two of you regardless of where you sat down.

So, you mirrored her, taking a seat on the far end of the sofa, letting the distance between you engulf you. The silence felt deafening, and you hoped it wouldn’t come to this. This was the tension you were worried about the first time you took her out of the village, it wasn’t supposed to be happening now, two weeks after you reunited. “What’s wrong?” you asked carefully.

“Mr. Miller said something, well, he asked me if you mentioned him. Why?” she asked, looking you in the eyes and clutching the straps of her bag in her hand.

You could swear you were hearing alarm bells ringing in your head. Why would he ask her that? “I caught him and coach what’s-his-name going through your books on the first day, that’s all,” you had no reason to protect him, since Cairo asked so openly. Frankly, you weren’t sure why you haven’t told her that in the first place.

“That’s it?” she asked incredulously.

“You wanted more?” you were astonished. Now, you didn’t expect her to be furious, or go on a rant, or anything like that, but you didn’t expect her to think nothing of it. What did she even want from you, because you honestly couldn’t tell where you were standing with her.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she defended him. “Mr. Miller isn’t being inappropriate, he sees me,” she told you.

You raised an eyebrow, puzzled. Sees her? “Cairo, what do you mean he sees you?” you questioned, leaning a bit closer over the dreadfully large distance between the two of you.

Cairo looked away, contemplating whether she should tell you something and then, finally, she made her decision. “He sees my talent; he sees what others’ don’t. He- he gave me special treatment, offered me an early mid-term assignment,” she leaned back, likely reading your frown as if you were disapproving of her.

It wasn’t her. It was his actions. It didn’t feel right. It felt unprofessional, it felt like he was actively crossing boundaries with her, taking advantage of her need to be seen, as she put it. “Cairo, he might not be good for you,” you didn’t feel like you had the right to influence her, or get involved in her decisions, but you also felt like you had to, much like all those years ago, pull her away from something that could harm her.

“You just came back, don’t pretend you understand what is best for me,” she snapped, her voice shaking a bit and even from this distance you could see the tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m going to a poetry reading this Saturday, to see him, just so you know,” the fact that she was canceling your plans didn’t matter nearly as much as the reason why she chose to cancel them.

What pushed her this far? To seek approval from him of all people? “Okay,” but she was too emotional to talk to properly right now. So, you chose to back away for now, to just hope that nothing even worse would happen. And Cairo? She just left, closing the doors with a sound that rang through your mind as if it signaled the start of madness.

~X~

He truly did see her, he saw all of her. The ghost, the rose bush that wasn’t allowed to blossom, no matter how hard she tried. And she saw herself in him, she saw her reflection, and she wondered if he saw himself in her as well. She was willing to bet he did, they were both ghosts, cursed to never be seen for what they were by anyone who wasn’t like them.

He didn’t take her somewhere else, he showed her a side of her home she wasn’t aware of, and she managed to see worth in it she never knew existed. She yearned for more. She yearned for an even deeper connection. She yearned… she longed… she…

This wasn’t a given. This was something she had to reach for, something she had to work for, something forbidden, and yet so appealing at the same time.

Would he fight for her? Accept her entirely and burn in their shared passion and desires and yearning, or would he refuse to participate in this dance? She feared the answer, because, if he wouldn’t… who would?

And in the middle of it all, of all those thoughts and feelings, she just for a moment, saw your face as you told her he wasn’t good for her. Your eyes, intensely looking right at her. What did you see? What compelled you to look at her like that? And along the image of you, leaning closer to her, so close that she, despite the almost overwhelming distance, caught herself unsure if she should back away, maintain the distance, or lean in, encouraging you to keep closing the distance until there was none of it left. Along that image she vividly saw the wild rose bush crushed by an old fallen tree and her eyes widened as she remembered you pulling her away from it all.

Would you pull her back once again? Would Miller be the old tree to crush her? Or would he stand strong next to her as she blossomed? She didn’t decide yet, but she knew the way he was looking at her right now lacked the intensity your stare had.

~X~

You’ve been denying it for years, but Cairo, even after she pushed you away remained a constant presence in your life. You still remembered that time in the forest around her house, when she dragged you around and then just froze when she saw an old tree that had fallen over a bush of wild roses. It wasn’t the scene that remained in your memory. You weren’t old enough for it to profoundly affect you. Even now you didn’t come to give any deeper meaning to the imagery you witnessed.

It was still an impactful memory because she sobbed, and she wasn’t even aware of it. She let out a sound, filled with so much sorrow you couldn’t even comprehend what was going through her head back then. To this day, you didn’t know why it affected her so much, but you knew how it affected you. How it made you feel like you had to take her away from there, that you had to do something so she would smile again.

She set a bar so damn high for you that it wasn’t just the fact that you were moving a lot that stopped you from being best friends with someone. It was the fact that they just couldn’t compare to her. And then you got a bit older and started understanding your sexuality and you tried, you really did. You dated on and off, but again, the connection you were seeking wasn’t there. No matter how amazing the girl was you just found it hard to let someone in the way you did with Cairo. Did you ever have any feelings for Cairo that weren’t purely friendship related? No, not even a childish crush, but the connection between you was just strong enough to affect you years after you last saw her. You felt that connection in the songs you learnt to play, in some of the music you created, brimming with longing and inspired by a friendship long ago left in the past that refused to fade away.

You glanced at her, at her focused gaze meant only for Miller in this very moment, and you weren’t sure how to feel. You just waited for the class to end. And then he approached your and Cairo’s table from behind, and you saw his left hand reaching for her hand as he leaned over her shoulder.

As if he absolutely had to say something only to her.

Your eyebrow twitched. How dare he? He was her teacher, and she was only eighteen. Without thinking you pushed the table to your left so abruptly he lost his hold on the edge of the table and stumbled forward, and, unable to stay on his feet he dropped to his knees to the gasps of the students.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t worry,” he got up, dusting his pants and raising his hands as he turned away from the class, embarrassed by what just happened. Just for a moment his eyes met yours and you glared, begging for him to read your mind and see what you thought. ‘Learn where the damn boundary is,’ is what you were trying to convey through your eyes. Consequences be damned.

Not like there would be any. If he went and reported you, you’d just say what you suspected, consequences of those actions be damned. He, at the very least, did show favoritism toward Cairo.

When the class ended you stormed out of the classroom, ignoring Cairo and Winnie’s eyes following you.

~X~

As you walked out of the classroom after all your classes ended you suddenly felt a hand grab your forearm and pull you aside much to your utter surprise.

“Come with me,” Cairo demanded, ordering you as if you had no choice but to follow her every whim.

“You could be a bit gentler,” you complained, not appreciating how tightly she was gripping your arm.

Cairo looked back at you, anger flashing in her eyes. “I could say the same to you, why would you make him fall like that?” she hissed, dragging you to a slightly secluded corner.

“Maybe next time he’ll think twice before putting his hands where they shouldn’t be,” you were instantly annoyed by the reminder of where he was about to put his hands. And Cairo jumping to his defense wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, and where is that?” she challenged you as you leaned against the wall and she stepped right in front of you. If you moved even a bit, you’d be pressed right against her.

“Not on you, that’s for sure. Or any of his students,” he had his responsibilities and one of those was to keep the proper boundaries with his students.

“And if I want him to?” Cairo demanded and you just… weren’t sure how to answer that. You knew how it made you feel though. And suddenly it wasn’t just about his advances toward Cairo being inappropriate in your eyes. You finally felt as if the pieces on your side were falling into place, and you were no longer seeing the girl you spent your childhood with. You saw an eighteen-year-old girl and somehow you were no longer certain you only saw her as a friend. It was as if the very thought of him touching her ignited flames of madness within you, a jealousy you didn’t even know you could feel over Cairo.

“Do you really?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

You took her words in, you forced yourself to calm down, to take it easy, to think rationally. “Why did you push me away when we were kids Cairo?” you asked and she backed away a bit, and though she didn’t leave, you could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t going to answer. And her answer mattered to you more than anything, because her answer was the only thing that could make any of this worth it. That was the only thing that could validate or invalidate your feelings. That was the only thing that could solve every question running through your mind. And she wasn’t giving it to you.

A/N: Is Cairo confused at the moment? Yup! Is R? Absolutely! So, tell me what you think, I would appreciate it!

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund @tekanparadiae

@alexkolax @ioveyouyouloveme @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh

#cairo sweet x female reader #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #miller's girl #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

38 notes · View notes

theloganator101 · 2 days

Text

One thing about Vaggie's backstory that doesn't work was that we weren't given enough context to actually care or get behind her actions.

All we know is that she used to be an Exorcist Angel, spared a child and that caused her to get injured and left for dead.

So already I see a few problems with this.

First off, what makes having to kill this specific demon be the breaking point and have Vaggie spare them? Did she only kill adults? Has she not killed children before? If she hates having to kill kids, why pursue them?

Not to mention she's been at this for who knows how long, so what made her have a change of heart? You can't show us this kind of scene without the full context of why the character did what they did. Because if you don't, the scene itself is going to feel very half baked and out of nowhere.

And it's like, I get it. With only 8 episodes you can only cover so much. But they literally couldn't spare a few seconds to have a line or flashback that provides us WHY Vaggie had a change of heart?

It MAY sound like I'm nitpicking here, but its these kinds of details that can go a long way.

And as much as I would love to talk about the content they tried to shove in only 8 episodes, that's going to be for another post.

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #vaggie critical #anti vaggie

33 notes · View notes

oftenwantedafton · 21 hours

Text

the long way home | steve raglan x female reader

inspired by @arkarti ’s ongoing fanart series

rating | explicit

words | 4.7k

cw | sexual content

ao3 link

It’s the worst sort of luck, breaking down in the middle of nowhere.

The only saving grace is that it happens in the early morning, just after sunrise. You walk that dusty interstate road for what feels like hours. You have cowboy boots on that are meant to be flashy, not really proper footwear. Your heels are killing you and the sand that decorates the barren landscape feels like it has seeped into every pore and crevice. You can taste it, feel its grit in your hair and on your skin. The sun beats down and you’re grateful that you at least have sunglasses to shield your eyes. You’ve got your hair pinned up but it doesn’t really help with the heat much. You’re drenched in sweat that makes your tshirt cling to an even wetter bra and your skirt drags against damp thighs with every step. Sheer misery and yet you plod on, because you can’t—won’t—go back where you came from. There is just the promise of something more, moving forward.

You think you hear an engine and turn your head. The road has that shimmery haze to it, making it difficult to discern if there is anything moving over that lift of pavement you’d navigated awhile back. It’s getting larger, closer, so you decide it’s not a mirage after all. The vehicle is the same color as the ground you’ve grown to detest trodding over, a bland beige shade with a slightly darker interior. You grind to a halt and the sedan slows and pulls onto the shoulder, the tires dipping off the asphalt and onto the dirt.

You’ve been taught never to pick up hitchhikers, but not what to do when faced with the prospect of being one. Your steps are cautious as you approach the parked car. You haven’t gotten a good look at the driver yet, not that that was any clear indication of their intentions. Looks could be deceiving. Anyone could be dangerous.

The man—you can see it’s a male now, behind the wheel—leans over and cranks the handle of the window around, the glass descending and disappearing from view. He’s got a long sleeve shirt on which seems a poor choice given the climate, but you can feel the cool waft of air that emanates from within. The car has air conditioning. You find yourself taking an involuntary step closer towards that promised land. To be away from the sun. To feel a cool breeze. You’re not sure you can resist that kind of temptation.

“Need a ride?” It seems a foolish question. Of course you did. You’re hardly out for a leisurely stroll. “That was your car back there, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, she quit on me.”

“That’s a shame.”

The man’s voice is pleasant. You like the sound of it. There’s a rasp to it, combined with something else that’s difficult to describe. You notice he’s wearing a tie to go with the shirt. A traveling salesman, maybe? He’s got that demeanor. Smooth talker. Neatly trimmed facial hair, the same blend of salt and pepper as the rest. Glasses. Friendly smile that makes the lines around his eyes crinkle, becoming more pronounced. Dimples, too. You know you’re staring and you know it’s rude. You shuffle your feet, kicking up a little cloud of dust.

“I’m happy to give you a lift somewhere. I promise I’m not a serial killer.” He chuckles softly and you join him, relaxing slightly. The driver seems innocent enough. Maybe you’re just being paranoid.

Still you hesitate. You glance back the way you came. You look ahead. It all looks the same. So far to travel on foot. It was almost midday. The temperature was rising. It isn’t just about discomfort; it’s dangerous to your health, being out here like this.

“I’ve got water. Ice has melted by now, but…”

It’s the final shove you need. You lift the chrome handle and settle inside, cranking the window back up. The shift in the temperature is incredible. The shade. You murmur your gratitude. A thermos is pressed into your hands.

“Make sure you put your seatbelt on. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” You finish gulping down the drink he’s gifted to you. Best damn thing you’ve ever tasted. You hastily jerk on the nylon strap, securing it over your shoulder and across your waist, the buckle settling into place with a satisfying click. You offer to return the drink, secretly glad when he insists you finish it.

You drain that container so fast your stomach aches. The ice hadn’t melted that much, actually. You keep the leftovers in your mouth, allowing them to dissolve. You squirm a bit, your feet still uncomfortable.

“Take those off, if you want.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry if my feet stink. I wasn’t planning on walking so much in them.” You bend and tug each one off, sighing in relief. Your bare feet curl against the shallowly carpeted floor mat. Sheer bliss, except those tender spots you’re pretty sure might be forming blisters. You’re not going to prod them just yet to verify.

“Thanks again for giving me a lift.” You introduce yourself.

“No problem. I was heading in this direction anyway. No reason not to. Put the radio on if you want. Or take a nap.”

You’re not sure sleeping is the best idea right now, as weary as you are. The man is still a stranger. So you opt for the first choice, fiddling with the dials until you find a station with a decent signal. Not really your type of music, but at least it’s background noise. You let your head tip back into the cradle of the head rest. Your eyes shut. You’re only going to rest them for a moment.

You fall asleep.

***

You jerk awake, suddenly aware the vehicle has stopped.

There’s a definite trail of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. You swipe at it hastily, straightening in your seat, your eyes darting around frantically. You’re suddenly thinking of the drink you’d been offered. Drugged? How stupid and careless can you be?

No. You’re mistaken, surely. Just tired. You can see you’re at a gas station. He’d stopped at a gas station. Nothing wrong with that.

You struggle to shove your feet—yes, those are blisters, a matching set for each foot—back into your boots, depressing the button to release the seat belt’s buckle, the restraint making a little whining sound as it retracts back into its plastic casing mounted on the side of the car. You push the passenger door open and it creaks in protest. You’re not about to pass up a chance to use the restroom, as vile as it probably is, and grab yourself a drink and a snack.

The man giving you a lift emerges from the store, and you realize then just how tall he is, mostly legs that go on forever. He’s got a rolling sort of walk that draws your attention to his hips. Your cheeks flush and you force yourself to look at somewhere safer, fixing back on his face. There’s a piece of cherry licorice between his teeth, shiny red twined ropes tucked through a barrier of even white, the pocket of his shirt bulging with what looks like a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of soda in hand. “Hey. I was going to wake you, just wanted to give you a chance to rest a bit more. You were really worn out.”

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

“Want something from inside? My treat.”

“No, I…I got it. You don’t mind waiting?”

“Not at all.”

“Th…thanks. I won’t be long.” You duck inside the shop to get a key for the restroom. It’s attached to a comically large piece of scrap wood. You unlock the restroom door and push it open with trepidation. Okay, not terrible. Seems relatively clean. Certainly not the grossest you’ve seen. No paper towels in the dispenser, but at least there was toilet paper. Even soap in the pump on the wall. Definitely could have been worse.

You return the key and peruse the aisles quickly, aware the man is still waiting for you. You decide water is still the best for hydration, opting for a package of mini powdered donuts for a snack. Not the healthiest option, but hey, you think you’ve earned it considering the day you’ve had.

Back inside the sedan, you slide the seatbelt back into place. You shove your feet free of the boots again and crack the plastic wrapper off the water bottle. It’s one of those ones with the nozzles you pull up and down to open and close it. You take a long pull and get started on the donuts. Your companion has made short work of the candy, chewing and staring at nothing in particular. He reaches for the pack—cigarettes, just as you’d suspected—in his shirt pocket and pulls the bit of red plastic tab that marks where to unravel the wrapper. He glances over at you as if to ask if you mind and you shrug. It’s not really your place to tell the owner of the vehicle you’re in if he can or can’t indulge.

He leans and pushes in the cigarette lighter on the dashboard, slotting one of the paper rolls between his lips while he’s waiting. For a time you sit in companionable silence, you nibbling on your donuts, your fingers and lips already dusted in powdered sugar, while the older man lights the end of his cigarette and takes a deep inhale, sighing the smoke out of the open window. You’re surprised he’s a smoker, honestly; his teeth look too pearly white for that. Maybe it was something he only did rarely, when the mood struck him. Traveling with a young female hitchhiker, perhaps.

You demolish the contents of the package in your lap embarrassingly quickly. You’d been starving. You lick the white coating off your fingers and lips and feel the man’s eyes on you as you crumple the plastic packaging in a tight ball. He points to the center console, where the lone vacant cup holder holds spare change and a faded looking receipt, the other occupied by his soda. You deposit your trash there and take another sip from your bottle, staring out the window. The engine rumbles to life. You hear the window crank being rotated and you copy the man, closing your own. The cool air soon returns, drafting welcomingly over your skin. The car is moving again. You’re on your way once more.

***

When the sun starts to go down, things feel different.

Maybe it’s because the radio signal has finally gone out of range. You tire of working your way through bursts of static and finally shut it off.

You wonder if the driver is getting tired at all.

He doesn’t seem it, his eyes focused on the road his headlights reveal, his posture still straight and upright. You don’t know how he maintains it. You can’t stop squirming, trying to get comfortable. Your ass hurts and your legs are cramped and you just want a shower and any even remotely flat surface that can serve as a bed.

“You never mentioned where you wanted to go.”

His voice startles you. It’s been so long since either of you has spoken. You’d forgotten how his sounded. That pleasant gravel drag.

“Hurricane. But I know that’s still a ways ahead. I don’t expect you to take me all the way there.”

“What’s in Hurricane?”

“Not what. Who. My sister.”

He grunts. “I’m going to Hurricane as well.”

“Really? Why?”

“That’s where I live. Where my business is.”

“What business is that?”

“Restaurant.”

“Really? Which one?”

“What do you think about stopping here for the night?” He gestures and you look through the windshield, seeing the lights of a motel glowing like a beacon against the growing darkness.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

The turn signal taps in a rhythm that sounds a little too rapid, matching your elevated heart rate. You’re feeling nervous again. Mistrustful, although if the man had wanted to take advantage of you, he certainly could have done so before now.

He pulls into one of the empty spots in front of the office that shares a similar bit of crimson neon to match the motel’s vacancy sign. You speak before he exits the car, feeling pressured to say something before this continues any further.

“I’m grateful for the ride, and I know you’ve been nothing but kind this far, and I appreciate it. I might…I might just see if my sister can come pick me up tomorrow. I hope you’re not offended.”

He pauses, his fingers still curled around the door handle. “If that’s what you want.” You nod. “Alright, then. I guess this is where we part ways. Good luck to you, miss.”

“Thanks. You, too.” You’re suddenly feeling guilty. He really was just a nice guy trying to help a stranded woman out. He didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. “Maybe I’ll visit your restaurant, leave a generous tip for—” The door shuts and you cease talking. Well. That was one way to end a conversation.

You pull the boots back on and exit the car for what you think will be the final time. Your traveling companion is already inside, speaking to the man behind the counter. You can see the rows of keys with red tags hooked on the wall behind him. The man turns and pulls two down while the driver scribbles into a book on the counter. There’s a faint jingling of bells to announce your arrival, and the man passes you without a word.

“I need a room please. Single.” Your eyes glance down at the log book. You can’t read the signature of your benefactor. He still hasn’t told you his name.

“You’re all set, miss. Paid up by your friend there.” He waggles his eyebrows and nods towards the door.

“Oh, he’s not…”

“No?” The smile on the man’s features is far too suggestive. You grab the key off the counter, turning to leave.

“Sign the book, please. Then you can go to your room. Or your friend’s. Both paid for, so it’s all the same to me.” Another smug smile. You hurriedly scrawl your signature and exit the office, feeling your cheeks burn.

Your heels are loud on the decking that lines the front of the motel rooms. You glance down at the number printed on the tag, a chipped white six greeting your vision.

Your steps slow when you reach the correct door. The sedan is parked in front of the door beside yours. Of course the motel manager has given you rooms next to each other. Of course he has.

The man is apparently already inside the room, the car empty. You insert the key in the lock and shut the door, sliding the chain across. You close the blinds and turn to survey your surroundings. About what you’d expected. Dated furniture that felt straight out of the seventies. A carpet that badly needed to be replaced. You hoped there weren’t bed bugs. Gross.

You stride over to the bathroom. Chipped sink. Chipped toilet. Chipped tub too, but you don’t really care. You crank the faucet and let the water pour out, hastily reaching to plug the drain. You’re finally back out of that accursed footwear. Your clothes pile on the floor. Maybe not the best idea, but you’re too desperate to get into the tub just then.

It’s heaven. Sheer bliss, submerging yourself in that basin. You spend a long time soaking, letting your body temperature decrease. Scrubbing away the dirt that has clung so stubbornly to your skin. Rinsing your hair twice. You linger until your fingers prune and then you unplug the drain and turn on the shower, rinsing off a final time. You don’t have anything clean to sleep in, but you’ll survive. You’d wash your clothes in the sink, but it will take time to dry them. So back on the shirt and panties go. You leave your bra and skirt draped over the shower curtain rod. Fuck those boots.

You put the television on low volume and flip back the flower patterned coverlet. Well, it seemed insect free, anyway. You sink onto the mattress and pile the pillows together behind your head. You don’t hear any noise from next door. The room on the other side looked unoccupied, and the driver’s…well, maybe he’d just gone to bed.

He’d paid for your room. You had to thank him, at least. Damn it.

You slide back out of bed, returning to the bathroom to slip on your bra and skirt, cringing when you view those hated boots again. Fuck it. You’ll risk going barefoot. Knowing your luck you’ll step on a rusty nail and get tentanus, but fuck it.

You open your door, startled when you see the man standing outside. He’s leaning against one of the deck posts, smoking again. The end of the cigarette glows in the darkness.

“Thank you for paying for my room. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I’m aware.” He barely spares you a glance, blowing a stream of smoke and flicking the ashes from the end of the cylinder pinched between his fingers.

“You should let me pay you back. There’s a liquor store just down the road.”

“I noticed that.”

“I’ll treat you. Pick your poison.”

His eyes focus on you again, his gaze lingering on your bare feet. “I don’t think they’ll let you inside like that.”

“I’ll put the boots back on,” you grumble.

The man hums thoughtfully. “Tell you what. I’ll go get something and bring it back here to share.”

“But then that’s you doing me a favor again.”

“Yes.”

“So then I’ll owe you even more.”

“I’m not keeping track. That’s you doing that.”

You chew your bottom lip. “Why did you pay for my room?”

He shrugs, taking another drag. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

You don’t have a response for that. Everything the man did just made you feel more and more ashamed for doubting his intentions.

“What do you want to drink?”

“I…beer is fine.”

“Then beer it is.” The remains of the cigarette land on the pavement and the man steps off the deck, grinding it beneath his heel. “I’ll be right back.”

You nod, settling into the one of the cheap plastic chairs beside a small circular table that served as a patio set. You can hear the faint hum of insects, or maybe it’s the neon signs. It’s still hot. The pleasant effects of your bath are already fading.

True to his word, the man returns with a case, setting it on the table and sitting across from you. He’s loosened his tie so that it drapes in a lazy knot around his neck. It doesn’t look like he’s sampled the motel’s plumbing just yet. He rips a hole through the carboard box and hands you one of the bottles before taking his own. Chilled, and already sweating. You wrap the hem of your shirt over the cap and twist it off. You take a sip and hear the satisfied sigh of your companion as he does the same.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” you say, fiddling with the metal cap with the crimped edges, spinning it on the table’s surface. There isn’t much room with the beer case there.

“It’s Steve.”

“Steve,” you repeat. “Steve what?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“In case I decide to look you up. You know, to pay you back.”

He waves a hand in the air dismissively. “You didn’t see what I wrote in the logbook?”

“Your handwriting is atrocious.”

Steve clutches his chest, sucking in his breath dramatically. “I’m deeply offended.”

“You’re not. Why won’t you tell me? Is it a big secret?”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m a celebrity, just trying to live like the common folk.” He takes a pull from the bottle.

“Yeah, sure. Just like the rest of us losers.” You pause. “You’re handsome enough to be an actor. Got the voice for it. I can kind of see it, actually.” The compliment slips from your lips before you can think better of it.

“Flattery, now? I don’t think my heart can take this much stress.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Probably.” He finishes the bottle and reaches for another.

“So out with it, Mister Movie Star. What is it?”

“Raglan.”

“See? Was that so difficult? Nice to meet you, Steven Raglan.”

“Not Steven. Just Steve.”

“Okay. Just Steve.” You finish your bottle and colllect another. “How come you’re so chatty all of a sudden? You didn’t say five words to me all day. Are you that much of a lightweight?” You gesture with the beer bottle.

“Hardly. I was concentrating on the road.”

“You could’ve talked more.”

“I apologize for not making your ride more entertaining.” He stands, resuming his position leaning against the post again. You rise as well, noting you are the actual lightweight, already feeling a bit lightheaded. Blame the empty stomach. You pad over to stand beside him. “I thought you wanted privacy. It’s not my place to ask for details about your life.”

You consider that. “You think I’m being nosy.”

“No. Not really.” He swallows another mouthful of beer. “You don’t trust me.”

“I…I’m being cautious. A woman stranded in the middle of nowhere should be, don’t you agree?”

“Of course.”

“If it was your wife, or daughter…”

He smirks. “Clever way to source the information you want. I’m no longer married. Children are grown. It’s just me. The handsome movie star, all alone.”

“Okay, okay.” You nudge his arm playfully.

“What about you?”

“Single as a Pringle,” you quip.

“That’s a new development, isn’t it? What you’re leaving behind.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“I’m good at reading people.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

You pull the now empty bottle from his hands and place it along with yours down on the table, selecting two more. You hand one to him and take a long sip from yours. They’re going down so smooth. You don’t even really like beer all that much. It’s making you feel warm and you hate that, but you like the buzz and you like the company, too.

“Okay, since you’re so insightful, tell me what I’m thinking right now?” You fold your arms across your chest, smirking after issuing the challenge. You’d meant it to be playful, but the look he gives you as he turns to face you holds no humor. Those blue eyes capture yours and trap them.

“You’re hoping your sister is more welcoming than you remember, because when you left, you weren’t on the best of terms. You’re hoping you can find a job soon and get back on your own two feet again. Relying on your ex so much was a mistake. You hate asking for help, even if you need it desperately. You—”

“—Stop.” You cut him off. “Don’t…don’t say that. You don’t know that. You don’t know me.”

“Alright.” Another shrug. He swallows more beer.

“How do you know so much?” Your voice is soft.

“I told you. I have a way with people.”

“You should be a fortune teller. Or one of those televangelists. Spouting prophecies that are actually real.”

“I despise religion. And I don’t predict the future. I just…understand people. Their motives. Even the ones they’re too ashamed to admit to.”

You’re not sure how to respond. The conversation is shifting, no longer light and comfortable and teasing.

“That’s why I don’t talk much. People don’t like hearing the truth,” he concludes, polishing off the rest of the alcoholic beverage he’s clutching. “I’m going to say goodnight now. It’s been a long day. Again, good luck.”

“Wait.” Your hand clutches his sleeve. “Let me…let me try it. What you just did.”

“You think you know all my secrets? Okay, I’ll indulge you. Go ahead.”

You lick your lips. “You’re coming back from somewhere you didn’t want to go, but you’re not exactly eager to get home, either. You’re tired of your business. You’re probably good at it, but it’s boring. Monotonous. You’ve always played by the rules. You long to break them, just once. See how the other half lives.”

His mouth curves slightly. “A nice attempt. But way off. Goodnight.”

He’s back at his door, hand reaching for the brass knob.

“You’re name isn’t really Steve Raglan.”

His fingers freeze. You see his shoulder blades stiffen beneath the dress shirt. He turns back to face you. Smiling again, but this one is darker, less friendly. “Good. That’s good. Clever girl.”

“What else have you lied about?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

You take a step closer to him. “Tell me now.”

“Why don’t you just ask for what you really want instead of playing this tedious game?”

Your mouth gapes, then snaps shut. “I don’t know what you’re…”

“This,” he breathes, dragging you to him, his lips touching yours.

Any protest you might have murmured dies. You melt against him, sink hands into hair that feels as dusty as yours had earlier, clutch handfuls of the rumpled fabric of his shirt that had undoubtedly started out the day crisply pressed and neatly tucked. He tastes like the beer he’s just consumed and the cigarette from earlier and you savor it all, letting him lick your mouth open for discovery. You’re shoved against the door and it strikes you again how tall he is, how much he towers over you. Those large hands already display more finesse than anything you’ve previously known, stroking over every curve, mapping each sensation. You hear the doorknob rattle as he fumbles it open, keeping you secured, not letting you tumble back into the sudden void at your back. His room is dark and he shoves you down onto the bed that’s still made. You wonder what he’d done while you’d been lingering in your own bathtub for all that time.

He’s at your neck and you’re at his pants and somehow you manage the belt and the fly while your skirt is lifted, panties tugged down. You’re not thinking about anything other than the need screaming between your legs, hot and damp and urgent, whimpering when you feel his cock pressing against your entrance. You’re not even sure if he’s shut the motel door in his haste to be at you.

He slides out of you almost as soon as he’s begun—you’re so wet and slippery—and he grabs your hips and shoves you back, leaning his body weight against you, and this time he fills you to the hilt. You wrap your legs around him and roll your hips to match his momentum, your mouth brushing facial hair before reconnecting with his lips. You’re fucking a stranger that lied about his name and you don’t care; it makes it better somehow, not really knowing. You don’t want to get caught up in details, in feelings again this soon. This man can be anything and everything and if it only lasts for tonight that’s fine, too.

His mouth tucks beside your ear and he whispers to you in that wonderful rusted voice of his, the hand slithering between your bodies stroking you just right, lighting those nerves up. He’s urging you to let go and you do, your body taut and then ragdoll limp as he pumps you full of his own release. You’re sticky, sweaty, pressed against him but you remain there, tucked now beside him, panting and spent and feeling better than you have in a long time.

You’ve nearly drifted off to sleep when you hear his voice again, or perhaps this is merely a dream, asking if you need a ride for the remainder of your journey.

You offer an affirmative answer, then inquire the last of your drowsy thoughts, asking if he might take the long way home.

You don’t hear an answer, already asleep. But that’s alright.

You can ask again in the morning.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #divider @cafekitsune

22 notes · View notes

just-a-silly-little-whumper · 2 days

Text

Tender

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Tender is the flesh that yields so easily. Tender is the flesh that refuses to yield at all.

Contains: Intimate whump, vivisection, gore, vampire whumper, captivity/gilded cage, mind control

~~~

“Stay with me, my light. I want us both to experience this.”

A shuddery, pained breath was his only response. The deep, vacuous agony that had swept over him made anything else seem inconceivable. All he could do was follow his Lord’s orders— keep breathing, cling desperately to consciousness, and maintain a steady outpouring of healing magic to weather the storm as his Lord cut deeper into his chest and pulled his skin aside.

It wasn’t enough to soothe the agony that ripped through him as his ribs met the cold air of the castle. It wasn’t enough to stop his blood from pouring out over his Lord’s fingers. It wasn’t enough to stop tears from gathering at the corners of his unseeing eyes. But his Lord wanting him alive, wanted him present, so he would keep his magic pulsing through him to deter the hungry jaws of oblivion.

“Beautiful.” There was something akin to reverence in his Lord’s voice as he trailed his fingers delicately along exposed ribs. A whine escape him; each touch sent panic and pain through his body, a feeling of distress and discord that had been muffled when his Lord had used magic to caress him in this way. His Lord merely chuckled, a dark sound that chilled his bones more than the open air. “Relax, my light. There is no need to be afraid. This is a wonderful thing, another way for us to be intimate. I’ve felt every part of you; now I’m going to see you, laid bare before me.”

The gentle touch turned firm, insistent, as clawed hands found their way to his sternum. The rush of fear had him closing his eyes; through the pain, he couldn’t see much anyway. A soft yet haunting scraping sound rang through the air as his Lord’s claws searched for purchase on his breast bone. His back arched at the sensation, almost bucking into those grasping hands as they found their grip and pulled. The sound of cracking bone was only drowned out by the scream of sheer uncomprehending agony that ripped through his rupturing chest.

Cold, comforting darkness surged forward to envelop him. There was no fighting it. His magic slipped through his fingers, and he fell back into oblivion.

Somewhere, someone was screaming. There was no sound, no voice, but he felt it, deep in his soul, a scream of rage and grief and terror so fundamental he almost thought the emotions were his own. If he could have shrank back from the force of it, he would have, but there was nowhere to flee to in the gentle, calm nothingness broken by the scream, nothing to do but absorb the torrent of love and fear that threatened to overwhelm him, and in his not-awareness try to decide what he could possibly feel about it.

“My light, wake up. You’re not done yet.”

His Lord’s voice was a lifeline, a shackle, a tether that wrapped around him and pulled him right back into awareness. He gasped like he was drowning, struggling to force his lungs to work through the pain that his chest had become. His fists clenched and unclenched spasmodically, a tortured body’s desperate attempt for some sort of control or release. Healing magic shuddered erratically through him; it was all he could do to keep himself conscious as his Lord wished, despite the wounds he had sustained, despite the agony, despite how little strength he had left.

A hand warm and slick with blood cradled his cheek. The sensation pulled a whine from him, even as he leaned desperately into the touch. “There you are, my light. I knew you could handle this. And it is glorious, is it not?”

Maybe it was, if glory was profound and all-consuming agony. That didn’t seem right, but he didn’t have the strength to deny it, to question it, to think much of anything at all.

The next weak, trembling breath he took was met by another hand pressing lightly against his lungs. There wasn’t enough force to prevent his inhale, but it still made his fluttering heart clench with fear, made his stomach churn with disgust and dread and despair. Lungs weren’t meant to be touched like this, even so reverently. They weren’t meant to be exposed to the same air that they breathed. They weren’t built to deal with clawed fingers tracing trails of blood down their lengths, leaving the body surrounding choking and spasming with distress.

And yet. Was any of his life really meant to be like this, when he was under the care of a being so dedicated to corruption?

“How wonderful. Even now, you are enduring beautifully, my light. A lesser man would have perished. But you are truly worthy of this, aren’t you? You’ve proven that time and time again. I chose well in making you my beloved.”

The words slid off of him like water off of glass as he struggled to just keep breathing under the gentle pressure of his Lord’s hand. The instinctual writhing of his body had already weakened, his strength having dissipated as rapidly as he had found it. All for the better; moving hurt, and risked damaging himself further. He couldn’t have that. Not when he was already struggling to keep himself together and whole enough to please his Lord’s will.

The hand on his cheek caressed him tenderly as it pulled away, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Did he feel better or worse now that it was gone? He couldn’t tell, at least not until that hand came to cup his heart with the same reverence it had held his face, as though it were the most precious thing in all of creation. The muscle quivered weakly, each beat an effort of magnitude, and he could feel how his heart strained to keep pumping blood that was spilling out against fingers that could very well push his body into stillness.

Heartbeat and breath. With barely a thought, his Lord could take away the very things that kept him alive. And yet, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Instead his Lord let him balance on the precipice, had him put everything into maintaining his grip on mortality, so that…

Why? For what end? Had there ever been a reason? Did he ever know, and just not remember? Or…

“What trust you give to me, my light, to put your heart in my hands.” His Lord’s words washed over him, mixing with the excruciating desolation that enveloped him to steal away all thought. “And who am I to waste this gift?”

He couldn’t quite see what his Lord did next; pain had overtaken his vision, leaving it blurry and incomprehensible. But he felt something new tenderly brush against his trembling heart— something he had felt countless times before, but never like this. The semblance of affection his Lord offered was just as chilling as the contact from the lips that kissed his heart, chastely at first, but then more insistently, more greedily. His lips parted in a silent gasp, his entire body rigid with horror.

How could he handle this? What could he do in the face of something this grisly and dreadful and perverse? If not for his Lord’s power continue to pull the puppet strings of his magic, he was sure he would have lost consciousness once again. He almost wished to; if this had to happen (and it didn’t, some part of him howled),he didn’t want to bear witness, be aware of being subject to something so uniquely violating in its intimacy.

At least his Lord wasn’t—

Teeth scraped against the soft exterior of his heart, sharp and probing, and despite how utterly empty and drained he was, he still found the strength to scream. Somewhere in the depths of his soul, someone screamed with him. And his Lord’s pleasure filled the room and his mind and the spaces between his ribs as his Lord drank and drank and drank from his frantically beating heart until it threatened to give out entirely.

And though his heart kept pumping that which his Lord loved so much, unable to fight the tethers of control, the tangled and thorny knots of emotion that encompassed it did begin to shrivel. As he lay there in utter devastation, listening to the screams in his soul, Elze’ith began to call back, crying out in agony and despair and determination, having realized that Lord Denholm would never offer him the tender mercy he so craved.

#flicker in the dark #silly writes #whump #whump writing #elze'ith sylrel oc #lord soren denholm oc #altair buchannan oc #i mean he's kind of here lmao #intimate whump #captivity #vampires #vivisection #gore #mind control

21 notes · View notes

panda-noosh · 2 days

Text

commissions open! pm for details.

———

coriolanus snow doesn't give up easily.

he's never been able to. his position in life has never given him the room to throw his hands up and say, "i give up." his world would crumble if he did that, dragging his entire family with him. he can't let that happen.

maybe that's why he finds it impossible to give up on you.

so many people have told him that you're not worth it, and not necessarily in a rude way. nobody is under any illusion that you are anything short of phoenomenal, the type of person to drop everything for those you love. all these people tell coriolanus you're not worth it, because he's broken you before, and nobody believes he can come back from that. the attempts would just be pointless.

once, coriolanus may have agreed. in fact, there's been multiple times where he has agreed, days when you won't even look in his direction during classes, when you scurry past him in the hallways like he has some sort of horrendous, contagious disease. despite this, he can't put his feelings to rest. he can't give up. his world would crumble if he did that.

he sits in the canteen of the academy, and so do you. he's starving, and he's stacked his plate full of all the foods the chefs have provided, but he can't focus on his plate long enough to start eating, not when you're say only feet away, trying everything in your power to avoid his piercing gaze. oh, how easy it would be to just walk over to you - you'd be cornered. coriolanus knows you well enough to know you would never make a scene amongst your peers, not in the way you did during that final argument.

yes, it would be easy, but that's not the way coriolanus does things. he's eager, maybe a little desperate, but he loves you enough that he wouldn't put you through that humiliation.

so instead he watches from the sidelines as you laugh at something jener has said, all massive smiles and thrown back heads, all fake. everyone in the academy is fake, and you know that. it's a topic you and coriolanus have discussed in plenty, cuddled under a blanket, you calling him 'cor' because everyone calls him 'coryo' and you never wanted to be just like everyone else.

oh, he misses you so much.

the memory breaks him enough that he looks away; he'll try again tomorrow.

"all alone again, coryo?"

sejanus appears out of nowhere, but coriolanus doesn't make his irritation clear. though he would much rather be alone, he nods to the empty chair in front of him and says, "i was waiting for you. where's your food?"

sejanus sits. "i haven't got time to eat. professor crildum only let us go two minutes ago, says we need to use all our free time making sure we know the codex off by heart." he rolls his eyes. "i swear, i haven't properly slept in weeks."

coriolanus has to bite into a cold hashbrown to keep from saying anything that would ruin their friendship. it usually never bothers him when his rich capital friends mention their surface level struggles, but he's been irritable lately, less mentally equipped to deal with it. there's been multiple times this week where he's just wanted to tell them all to shut up, that he doesn't even remember the last time he slept on an actual mattress, let alone had a good nights sleep. coriolanus hasn't properly slept in weeks because another resident in his apartment complex is dying of pneumonia, and the sound of his cousins stomach growling keeps waking him up. he would love for his biggest issue to be the looming doom of school work.

he sips his water. "i slept like a baby. it's good for the mind."

sejanus rolls his eyes, pinching a sausage off coriolanus's plate. coriolanus isn't bothered; he finds himself looking back over at you like you're some kind of magnet, laughing away with your friends, friends who have probably told you countless times to stay away from him.

he banishes the thought as soon as it appears; your friends aren't the issue, and he knows that. he's come to terms with the fact he messed up, but that doesn't mean he can ignore the hatred he feels for anyone who tarnishes his name even more to you.

sejanus pops into his field of vision. "hello. still with us?"

coriolanus snaps his gaze back to his plate.

sejanus sighs, leaning back to get a good look at the warmth crawling up coriolanus's face. "do i even need to ask?"

"no," coriolanus snaps. "you do not."

sejanus looks over his shoulder; you're standing up, dragging your coat with you. he looks back at coriolanus and smiles. "have you spoken to them yet?"

"we're not on speaking terms."

"and how badly is that tormenting you?"

coriolanus closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. "you told me to leave it alone."

"i didn't think you'd actually listen to me, though. it's not like coriolanus snow to take the advice of others, especially when it comes to. . . well, feelings."

coriolanus clenches his jaw, watching you leave the canteen without so much as a glance in his direction. "i don't waste time chasing things i have no chance of catching."

"sounds an awful lot like giving up."

coriolanus scowls. "could you mind your business, sejanus? we both have far more important things to be focusing on."

"ah yes," sejanus muses. "not a moment to be normal teenagers. i forgot the policy for a second."

---

coriolanus remembers the first time he laid eyes on you. it was his first day taking on 'group therapy', a remedy tigris recommended to him and would not shut up about. he agreed to give it a go purely so his cousin would give him some peace. he was also reaching a point of desperation, though he loathe to admit it; the nightmares of the way - the flashbacks - were returning full force, and his already grim sleeping schedule was becoming non-existent. he would go days without a wink of sleep, too afraid to close his eyes lest the tormenting images attacked him again.

he had little hope therapy would do him any good, but he dragged himself to the youth centre anyway. he wore only a loose pair of cargo trousers and a hooded shirt; ditching his rich capitol attire seemed like the best way to remain unnoticed if he were to accidentally run into any of his school mates, none of whom seemed even a tiny bit tormented by the war they too lived through.

the group coriolanus introduced himself to upon arrival was made up of ones from the poorer side of the capitol. of course, no one from the districts would be granted the privilege of therapy, so everyone around him was still neatly dressed and civil, shaking his hand and asking him all sorts of domestic questions in an attempt to ignore the circumstances in which they were meeting. everyone had horrors behind their eyes, which coriolanus found particularly difficult to ignore; did he look like that? haunted, scared of something that happened so long ago?

he reminded himself he was there to figure that out, and so took a seat in the small circle of patients. the professional, dr langmead, sat at the head and started the session by introducing two of the three new-comers.

"coriolanus snow, callistra stray, and. . ." she looked around, eyes squinted behind her spectacles. "uh, y/n-"

the doors burst open.

corionalus span just as you entered the room, hair a mess and eyes wild. his first instinct was to cringe away from how dishevelled you are, but his manners kicked in when you looked at him, as if your eyes were somehow drawn to his the minute you walked in the room.

"ah," dr landmead drawled. "you must be our final newcomer, y/n l/n. please, take a seat."

"we use first names in here?" you asked, dashing to the seat across from coriolanus. "pretty sure i opted out of that in the sign-up agreement."

"yes, we use first names, because we understand there is nothing shameful about being here," dr langmead replied.

"i'll be the judge of that." you smiled awkwardly. "sorry. nerves make me say stupid stuff."

dr langmead merely blinked before continuing with the session. already, however, coriolanus was distracted by you, the start of something he will not be able to shake. he spent that session staring, examining the way you hold yourself, how you would always look so bored and uninterested, yet always gave the most detailed, thought-out answers when called upon. when it was your turn to speak, coriolanus was shocked to discover you were born district - district thirteen, as a matter of fact. you and your family had travelled to district ten for business when the annihilation happened, leaving you with nothing, taking away everything you held dear. it was only by luck your father managed to secure a job in district ten as entertainment manager, a job that eventually gave you and your family access to capital life. it explained how coriolanus had never seen you before.

"i haven't taken the move well, clearly," you said. "that's why i'm here. mum and-"

"what was district thirteen like?"

your eyes snapped to rubeus helm, owner of the voice. "excuse me?"

"i mean, we all know the basics," rubeus said. "radioactive animals, poison in the soil, basically unlivable unless you have that, like, genetic mutation-"

"excuse me?"

"enough now." coriolanus spoke before he could stop himself, eyes pinned on rubeus. "don't be such an idiot. if you truly believe those rumours, you don't deserve the title of capitol citizen."

the circle went quiet. even dr langmead seemes stunned, mouth open but no words coming out to diffuse the situation. coriolanus turned to you, fully prepared to apologise on rubeus's behalf, but you didn't give him a chance; you stood, chair scraping the floor, and stormed out.

coriolanus followed you, because no one else did. he found you outside the youth building, doubled over with a hand covering your mouth, silent tears pouring down your face. so many people bustled past, not giving you the time of day, and not for the first time, coriolanus wondered if the districts worked like this, if they ignored each other all the time, if they lacked compassion in the same way the capitol did.

he approached slowly. "y/n. that's your name, right?"

you closed your eyes, tightening the hold on your lips. and then, as if only comfortable acknowledging him once you gathered your bearings, you opened your eyes and nodded. "that's right."

"coriolanus snow," he said.

"i know. you're one of the big shits at the academy." at his startled expression, you chuckled and said, "i'm starting there next week. you showed up on the records. multiple times, actually."

coriolanus blushed, though he wasn't entirely sure why; he was usually so proud of his academic achievements considering they were the only truthful things he could brag about. for some reason, however, that side of him being your first impression made him cringe a little.

"do you think they'll let me back up?" you asked.

"i don't think so," coriolanus answered truthfully. "not a bad thing, though; the whole thing is a scam."

"spoken exactly like someone who can't admit he has emotional baggage. what was it for you? war trauma?"

coriolanus pursed his lips. "a little bit. just a few night terrors i can't wash away; my cousin wanted me to try talking it out, so here i am."

"here you are." you pulled yourself onto the railing behind you. "here we both are; two capitol schmucks with issues."

coriolanus tilted his head. "you'd consider yourself capitol?"

you shrugged. "i'll consider myself whatever keeps my family and i safe, and saying i'm from district thirteen certainly isn't the way to do that."

coriolanus was struck by how easily you said it, how matter-of-fact you could sound whilst talking about the cruelties of the capitol, because you weren't exaggerating. coriolanus loathed to admit it, but the rumours rubeus detailed weren't pulled from his own desire to wind up someone from the districts - those were real rumours, real beliefs that even some of the most educated panem citizens believed.

coriolanus looked down, suddenly awkward, suddenly left wondering why he followed you in the first place. He's Capitol through and through, and looking at you from afar made him think you were, too, but now he's heard you speak, heard the tiniest glimpse of your story, and he realises you could very much be the farthest thing from it.

"it's nice here."

your voice brings him back. he looks up to see you staring out at the view, hands gripping the metal railing. your tears have dried, replaced by this look of fascination directed towards the towering sky scrapers and the perfectly clean streets of the capitol before you.

"not what i'm used you," you continue.

"was thirteen bad?" it's a stupid question, almost condescending; everyone in the capitol knows about the state of district thirteen, the horror stories that came out of it even before it's annihilation.

you lift your head, shoulders rising on an inhale. "i loved it. it was home." you turn to him fully. "do you not love your home?"

coriolanus blinks. "i - i like it here. it's all i've ever known."

you scoff. "that must be nice. i can't wait to live here so long that i get numb to it all."

"hey, i'm not numb. i'm thankful-"

you raise a hand, silencing him immediately, though he doesn't know why. that kind of rudeness would usually set him on a rant unlike any other, but the words immediately die in his throat when it's you.

"i don't want you to explain yourself. you're capitol. that's all there is to it."

coriolanus blinks, unsure how to respond. you stare at him a little while longer, as if giving him the opportunity to - what? apologise? he has nothing to apologise for. the annihilation of your home had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the districts grace overstep during the war.

when the silence continues to drag on, you look away and say, "i should probably start walking home."

coriolanus can only nod, but that is enough for you. you tip your head in a silent goodbye before ducking under the railing and crossing the road, not giving coriolanus a second glance.

---

after the first encounter, coriolanus sees you all the time.

you're a good worker. excellent, even. certainly excelling the expectations of someone district born. you are in most of coriolanus's classes, though if you realise that, you don't show it. coriolanus is almost impressed by how well you ignore him, how well you ignore everyone. you keep your head down, a smart decision on your part. though coriolanus has no problem with your district heritage, he knows not everyone is of the same opinion. even now, three weeks into the school year, he catches his fellow capitol classmates staring at you like you're some kind of spectacle, an animal at a zoo. it makes him angrier than he cares to admit.

it's during your fourth week at the academy that you finally grace coriolanus with a bit of acknowledgement. at least he thinks it's your fourth week; in all honesty, the days have become mere blurs to him recently, too plagued by his ptsd for him to really pay attention to how much time is passing. all he knows is that he has seen you almost everyday for a time long enough to grow his intrigue tenfold. he has quickly become part of your group of spectators, but for a completely different reason.

he sits in the library on his own, because that's what he does all the time. it is also what you do all the time, though neither of you have ever come together during these conveniently timed study sessions. not until this particular day. coriolanus is so absorbed in his business studies textbook that he doesn't even notice you standing over him until you reach over and pluck one of his pastel highlighters off the table. his head snaps up.

"excuse - oh!" he slams his textbook closed, though he doesn't really know why. "y/n. hello."

"hello," you reply. "are you doing business studies right now?"

"um, yes."

"great." you slump into the seat next to him, shoulder crashing against his. "it's the one class i can't get a grasp on; they explain things so weirdly here, it's genuinely like you're all speaking in code." you pull his textbook across the table and open it to a page coriolanus surpassed days ago. "help?"

coriolanus stares, waiting for the punchline, or perhaps your own realisation to kick in. he can tell you feel the tension judging by the way you tap your foot and bite your lip, the way you refuse to look at him, probably expecting him to say something first.

after a few excruciating moments, you inhale and say, "so no help?"

"god forbid you cut to the chase."

you sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. "i was hoping you'd let me off lightly."

"you haven't spoken to me in a month, y/n; i didn't think there was anything for me to let off in the first place."

you wince, crossing your arms over your chest. now that he has you all to himself, he can see the signs of exhaustion on your face, the bags under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders. your uniform looks too big, hanging off your frame like a mish-mash of blankets rather than a respectable, expensive uniform.

coriolanus leans forward, an eyebrow raised. "what's the matter?"

"how do you do it?" the question is so abrupt, like it's been ripped from your mouth by force.

"do what?" coriolanus asks.

you wave a hand. "this. all of it. the people, the attitudes. it's just so . . . different. backwards, almost." you pause to examine his face, and he has to fight off the blush threatening to make an appearance. "does it offend you when i say that?"

"no," he replies. "i just don't understand why you're saying it to me. i'm capitol, y/n, born and raised."

"i know," you say. "you're different, though."

"am i?"

you shrug. "you came after me that night, came to make sure i was okay. nobody else has even come close to making a gesture like that; i've just been ignored this entire time. like i have an illness or something."

coriolanus's first thought is that perhaps you do have an illness, most likely contracted by the heavily toxic fumes of district thirteen; he's heard all the evidence, that anything to escape thirteen after it's annihilation is likely bunged with all sorts of diseases.

he doesn't say that, though. instead he says, "so you're lonely?"

you wince. "it's embarrassing to say it out loud."

"but that's what it is, right? you miss your friends."

you shoot him a flat look. "my friends are dead, cor. complete annihilation, remember?"

coriolanus's attention should probably go straight to the blatant call-out of your comment, but instead his mind spirals to the nickname you slotted oh-so casually into the dig. his heart stutters hearing it, and he feels ridiculous for the reaction, but he'll be damned if he can help it.

"cor?" he pushes.

you frown. "are we not on a nickname basis?"

"i'm not even on a nickname basis with my own family."

"great. cor it is then." you grin, the first coriolanus has seen you properly do so since you got here. it's a transformative expression, one that brightens your haunted eyes and makes coriolanus's heart skip a single beat.

he rolls his eyes. "whatever. tell you what - there's a grade party taking place in board room three tomorrow night; i'm inviting you if you haven't already. it'll give me a plus one, and you'll get the chance to make more friends."

as soon as he says it, coriolanus knows making capitol friends isn't your goal. not at all. when you expressed being lonely, it was because every friend you had was killed; a school party isn't going to take away that kind of loneliness, the kind rooted in trauma.

your expression flickers for only a second before you wrestle it back into a smile. "oh. i didn't know you did parties."

"a few every year. splits up the work." he nudges your elbow. "what do you say?"

you purse your lips, eyes flicking to the table. after a moment, however, you meet his gaze again and say, "fine. i'm in. but you're picking me up, and i'm not dressing fancy."

----

coriolanus does exactly as you asked, because he wants this.

he truly didn't think you would actually agree to his invitation; all evidence he has observed the past few weeks points to the fact that you do not like the capitol, nor the people in it. why you would ever want to surround yourself with the very people who have tormented you throughout your entire stay is beyond him, but he can't deny he's happy you're joining him. he hates these parties just as much as you do, but he has an obligation to show his face; it's what is expected of a snow.

coriolanus knocks on your door shortly after seven. he has dressed down for the occasion, a dark blue suit with a white tie, one of grandma'am's roses pinned to the lapel. he fiddles with the stem, biting his lower lip as he waits for you to answer the door. he can hear movement behind the wood, your frustrated curses before finally the door flings open, and there you are.

you give him a grin that takes the attention off the oh-so-casual outfit you have decided to wear. coriolanus isn't very familiar with the fashions once presented in district thirteen, but he can think of no other place you got your inspiration from. you're wearing a pair of grey overalls over a plain white shirt, hair pinned back with a feather that runs down the left side of your face. unlike coriolanus, there is not a touch of make up to be seen on your face, not a touch of make up even needed.

"you're early," is the first thing you say.

coriolanus blinks. "is that not a good thing?"

"not necessarily," you reply. "what if i was still in the nude?"

coriolanus is certain he didn't hear you correctly. "excuse me?"

you wave a dismissive hand, banishing that particular conversation for another day. "never mind. let's just go."

coriolanus hasn't done anything grand, just a brisk walk through the more pleasant areas of the capitol. he had half a mind to borrow his fathers' old car, but he's glad he decided against it. you seem to enjoy the walk, happily looking at the flowers lining the sidewalk, the skyscrapers adorned with flags and happy colours. he wonders if you ever had views like this in thirteen, if your joyous reaction is a result of nostalgia or awe.

you arrive at the party, and coriolanus takes your hand. it's a bold move, but he doesn't know if he'll get the opportunity again. he doesn't care that all his classmates are oggling you both as you walk through the crowd, doesn't care that some of those classmates are even scowling, like coriolanus has suddenly become the scum of the earth for being associated with you. he tightens his grip on your hand, guiding you towards the refreshments table.

"want a drink?" he asks, and even as he says it, he can hear how short he is being.

you raise a brow before glancing at your joined hands; coriolanus only then notices his white knuckles, and quickly pulls his hand away.

"sorry," he says. "i just-"

"they've got an issue with me, cor," you interject. "not you. you don't need to get all riled up."

"they're being. . . i don't even know the word."

"assholes?"

coriolanus grins, tries to hide it behind a glass of red punch he doesn't even like the flavour of. "my grandma'am wouldn't like me saying that word."

you pluck the glass out of his hands and take a swig. "that's why i said it for you. now relax, okay? you didn't bring me here to watch you glare at your friends. at least i hope not."

coriolanus chuckles. "no. no, i didn't."

and so you join the party. as always, coriolanus thinks the whole thing is pointless and over the top, but for the first time since he started attending these parties, he isn't eager to go home at the earliest convenience. he finds himself actually having fun when you're by his side, watching you sway and jump around to the music everyone else is ignoring in favour of idle chat. coriolanus never realised just how boring his peers were until you came in as a contrast, someone who comes to a party to breathe life into it, someone who clearly knows what the meaning of 'letting go' is.

you encourage him to dance, and against his better judgement, he does just that. he dances until sweat rolls down his face, until his legs are sore, until he no longer pays attention to anything but you, not even his whispering peers sending scandalised glares your way. he accepts the food from the refreshments table and eats it like a man starved, laughing when you reach forward to wipe some sauce from the corner of his mouth.

he has fun, a new experience in itself. for so long he has been stuck in the business mindset, doing everything just to propel himself that one step forward. it's been so long since he did anything just for the sake of it, just because he can, just because he is human and he's allowed to be relaxed sometimes.

so lost in his own enjoyment, he doesn't notice the moment you duck away from him. it's only when he makes to grab for your hand and grasps nothing that he realises you are gone, and then a panic sets in. he doesn't know where it comes from, but it doesn't feel irrational considering the people surrounding you - these people don't like district born, and that's exactly what you are, all you are to people like them.

he spins, searching the room frantically for any sign of your bizarre outfit. he spots you too late, however, because by the time he finds you in the crowd, moreli has already sidled up beside you. coriolanus watches her grab your arm, that sneer on her face he so desperately wants to rip apart right now. your own expression dulls, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but how can you be confused right now? why did you think it was a good idea to run away from him? how could you be so dull?

he rushes forward, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. he snatches your arm the moment he can, placing himself between you and moreli.

moreli stumbles back, eyes widening. "excuse me."

"you're excused," coriolanus growls. "let's go, y/n. the nights over."

"wait, but i haven't-"

"y/n and i were just about to catch up," moreli says. "i don't know why you're freaking out, coryo."

coriolanus clenches his jaw and starts dragging you towards the door. he ignores the concerned glances being sent his way - to hell with all of them. he was having a good night, and it had to be spoiled by brats like moreli.

you tug on his hand, but he's too angry to even notice. it's only when you're outside in the lashing rain do you finally manage to pull your hand free, startling coriolanus back to reality.

he turns, slipping his jacket off to place over your shoulders. you step out of his way, however, frowning.

"what the hell, cor?"

"what? i saved you."

"saved me from what? moreli was asking if i'd had enough to drink!"

coriolanus rolls his eyes; sweet, innocent little you, thinking moreli meant anything kind by her actions. "so you were falling for her act."

your eyes widen, jaw dropping open. "act? coriolanus, you took me out tonight to make friends! how am i supposed to make friends if you just assume everyone is being rude to me?"

"because chances are, that's how it's going to be!"

you flinch back like coriolanus has just slapped you.

"oh, let's be real, y/n," he continues, because he's still so angry, so filled with adrenaline. "you're district. there aren't many people around here who have forgiven you for what happened."

you open and close your mouth, fighting to find the right words.

"i'm protecting you," he continues. "this party was a mistake."

"you're right," you spit. "it was. remind me to never step foot anywhere else with you, ever again." with that, you shove past him and into the rain, not even looking both ways before jogging across the street towards your home.

for a second, coriolanus is genuinely confused. he blinks, watching you go, not quite comprehending what has just happened; he was just trying to help. he was being honest at the end of the day, and what more did you want from him? he knows these people better than you do. he knows what he's talking about.

he sniffs, wiping a droplet of rain from the tip of his nose. he debates going after you, but you've already disappeared into the distance, and he's getting the vague impression you don't want to talk to him.

someone knocking into his shoulder brings him back. he looks over just as sejanus grabs him, probably a little tipsy if the alcohol on his breath is anything to go by.

"hey," he pants in coriolanus's ear. "where'd y/n go?"

coriolanus looks down, watching the raindrops crash against his dress shoes. "home." he inhales, giving sejanus his best fake smile. "i think i'll do the same, actually."

-----

you go back to ignoring him.

coriolanus can't believe the childishness. after a chat with tigris, and a little bit of thought on his part, he can understand why you were angry; as tigris said, you are your own person, a grown up who can make decisions no matter what part of the world you were born in. coriolanus should have let you make your own mistakes.

however, he still can't believe that your choice of punishment for him is the silent treatment.

you fail your business studies assignment because you refuse to let him help. he's offered about five times since the party, but every time you just turn around and pretend he hasn't even spoken. he's sat beside you at lunch, but you simply stand up and sit somewhere else.

it's like you want to have no friends.

coriolanus hates thinking it, but it's the truth; you're district. district people don't make friends in the capitol. they keep their distance, playing it smart. all coriolanus wants is to be a confidant to you, a protector.

until he sees you chatting to moreli again.

it's different this time. moreli is sitting beside you, rubbing elbows, a tray of food placed between you. there's a smile on her face, and at one point, she even laughs at something you say. coriolanus can only stare at the spectacle, an odd twist of jealousy darting around his stomach. he's got an exam to study for, this shouldn't be the thing keeping his attention, but he can't look away. if his eyes aren't deceiving him, then it looks as if moreli is actually being friendly to you.

sejanus slams his tray down in front of coriolanus, as he does every lunch. coriolanus doesn't even flinch, doesn't even bother hiding the direction his eyes are pointed. sejanus tilts his head, moving into coriolanus's view.

"hello."

coriolanus swats him away. "move."

sejanus raises a brow, looking over his shoulder. of course, it doesn't take him very long to pinpoint what has coriolanus so intrigued; despite his best efforts, you are the only thing coriolanus can talk about. he's always asking sejanus and his friends how you have been, if you've asked about him, if you're ready to talk yet. none of them know the answers, of course, because you avoid sejanus just as much as you avoid coriolanus, but he likes to try.

sejanus sighs. "this again?"

"since when were they friends?"

"moreli and y/n?" sejanus shrugs. "for a while. since the party, i think. they hang out in class all the time."

coriolanus digs his nails into his palms. "oh. good. i'm glad."

"has y/n spoken to you yet?"

"no. why?"

sejanus shrugs again. "just wondering. i think maybe you should try having a civil conversation-"

"they won't let me have any type of conversation."

"when has that ever stopped you from trying?" sejanus sighs, leaning forward. "look coryo, don't give up. whatever happened between you two at the party can be solved, but you can't give up. it's not in you."

coriolanus closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. sejanus doesn't know how hard he's been trying, how embarrassing it is to be shot down every time he so much as looks in your direction. he isn't used to this kind of treatment, but maybe that's why sejanus is right; this is a challenge, a task set before him to test if he's really got the commitment he says he does.

and so, after school that day, coriolanus catches up to you on the walk home.

it's snowing a little bit today, frost coating the ground, a hint of deep snowfall in the night. you're bundled up in a large waterproof coat that goes right to your knees, and you walk like a penguin on the ice. like coriolanus, your shoes aren't made for the ice, and yet coriolanus still manages to catch up to you.

you yelp when he taps your elbow, spinning around and very nearly slipping. he grips you a little tighter, keeping you upright, and for a minute, you look like you're not about to yell at him. however, the moment your eyes focus and the shock wears off, your expression slips into a scowl and you spin, storming off.

coriolanus groans. "y/n! stop this nonsense!"

"go away, coriolanus!"

"not until you talk to me."

much to his surprise, you stop. he takes the opportunity to walk in front and meet your eyes.

"not until you talk to me," he repeats, softer this time.

you inhale shakily. "i don't want to do this."

"i just want to explain myself," he replies. "if you want nothing to do with me after, then that's okay. i'll leave you be."

you fold your arms over your chest, looking more vulnerable than coriolanus has ever seen you before. he's so used to the tough, bulletproof version of yourself you show to the world, but now you look genuinely nervous, glancing at the ground, rubbing your foot in the frost.

but you don't run away, so coriolanus takes his chance.

"i'm sorry i assumed moreli was being rude to you," he begins. "i took you there to make friends, so i should have let you make friends. i was just worried. capitol folk. . . y/n, they aren't all clean cut and polished. they can be cruel. especially some we go to school with."

you scoff. "you think i don't know that?"

"i realise now that you probably know better than anyone," coriolanus admits. "but you understand where i'm coming from, right? i wanted to help. i wanted to protect you."

as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, he realises how vulnerable it sounds. your eyes flick up, lips pursed, but again, you aren't running away.

he tilts his head. "do you believe me?"

you pause. "i believe you. i just don't understand why you'd go through the hassle."

"you're not a hassle."

your shoulders slump like that's the sentence that knocks the wind out of you. you drop your arms to your side and shake your head at the sky, though coriolanus catches a hint of a tiny smile playing at your lips. it makes his heart sing, a chuckle escaping him.

"what?" he asks.

you shake your head again, finally meeting his eyes. "you're a surprise and a half, coriolanus snow."

he blushes, shrugs. "i've been told that before."

you loop your arm through his. "walk me home."

----

the next few weeks are strange, but glorious.

the shift in coriolanus's personality is noticeable to everyone. he gets asked about it multiple times, but the answer is always the same: a sly smile. in reality, he doesn't need to tell anyone why he is suddenly so over the moon; they all know. they see him walking to your house every morning, laughing with you in the hallways, walking you home after a long day.

tigris has asked about you multiple times, but coriolanus never gives her a proper answer. you are like a secret, something special he wants to keep close to his heart. he truly doesn't care that you're district, and he doesn't care if everyone else knows - to him, you are a reason to get up every morning.

he has yet to actually ask you out, because he isn't sure if that's something people do these days. he's read about it in the romance novels, and heard about it amongst elderly couples who grew up in a time where asking someone for their hand was a lot simpler. coriolanus doesn't know what the protocol is these days, and he's very afraid of messing it up. nonetheless, the urge to kiss you grows stronger each day, and he knows you're expecting it, too. sometimes there are these lapses in conversation where you just stare at each other, and more often than not, your eyes end up drifting to his lips. his do the same, though he likes to think he's a bit more subtle at it than you are.

by the time coriolanus finishes up his last class of the day, it's already dark outside. the winter months will do that, but it doesn't make it any more bearable. the moment he steps out of the academy, he is greeted by biting cold winds, flurried raindrops sprinkling his skin. he grunts, pulling his hood over his head so that his curls get pushed into his eyes, and he's going to lose his temper, because that class went so poorly, and now he has to walk home, and he just can't-

"awk, you look like a little puppy dog!"

he spins, very nearly slipping in the process.

you grin, giving him the smallest wave with just the tips of your fingers, the rest of your hand hidden beneath the sleeves of your coat. the minute he sees you, his face lights up, an expression he can't help. you just bring it out of him, this delight.

"what are you doing here?" he asks. "it's freezing!"

you loop your arm through his, guiding the way to the empty street. "i had nothing else to do, so i thought i'd walk you home."

"you're not walking me home. i'm walking you home."

you frown. "not fair."

"that's how this works, i'm afraid. get used to it."

you roll your eyes, letting coriolanus guide you in the direction of your home. it's a route he has unwillingly memorized, a route he has come to enjoy over any other. upon it, there are beautiful green trees slotted between the glass skyscrapers, statues erected tall, the smell of baked goods wafting from the countless bakeries dotted along the path. above all, however, is the you-ness of it. the view and the vibe is all well and good, but what coriolanus enjoys most is the smile it brings to your face, the way you have to halt every now and then to truly appreciate your surroundings.

this evening is no different, and coriolanus is enamored. he doesn't even realise he's staring, smiling until you pause and say, "what's that face for?"

coriolanus doesn't hide his smile, merely shakes his head and replies, "nothing. absolutely nothing."

you raise a brow, but let the subject drop. "you're strange, you know."

"am i?"

"yeah. you're too. . . mysterious, but not really."

coriolanus huffs out a laugh. "i'm going to need an explanation."

"well, let's put it this way." you loop your arm through his, as if to really get your point across. "as cheesy as it may sound, i feel like i know you pretty well. i know you're an absolute fiend for a nice bar of chocolate, that you have some strange obsession with roses-"

"it's not an obsession-"

you slap his arm. "i know you're a high achiever, whether you want to admit it or not. i also know you have a protective streak, which makes you very, very sweet in my eyes."

despite himself, coriolanus blishes; he's been called many things throughout his life, but hardly ever 'sweet.' it's possible that is a purposeful thing, him always playing the tough guy act, the legendary scholar in any attempt to protect the secrets he has held for so long.

"but," you continue, and coriolanus raises a brow. "i know all that stuff, yet i don't even know how many people are in your family. are you close? what was your childhood like?"

coriolanus's heart thuds. that smile he seems to permanently adorn when in your presence slips as the panic starts to set in. "the answers to those questions don't mean anything."

you frown. "you don't think so?"

"i just don't believe they add anything to our relationship. it's all pointless information."

your frows furrow, and coriolanus knows he's digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole. he doesn't understand the fight or flight response flooding his system, but it's there, is always there when anyone starts prodding into his personal life.

he's never felt guilty about his secrets before, but you're different.

"look," he says, "let's not get caught up in all that. we need to get you home before it gets too dark, and then i'll be forced to sleep on your front porch."

to his relief, you smile, eyes crinkling at the edges in that way he loves so much. "there it is. that protective streak."

"i believe it's called being a gentleman."

"oh, whatever."

and so, coriolanus walks you home, treading carefully around anything that could trigger a conversation about his home life. it's easy enough to avoid as you get lost in talking about the plant life surrounding you, so all coriolanus has to do is listen. he loves when you get like this - animated, human in a way the capitol doesn't recognise. it's a breath of fresh air. you're a breath of fresh air.

and maybe it's this realisation that convinces cirolanus to hover at your door for a little while longer. you turn to say goodbye, hands clasped in front of you, that tentative yet somehow confident smile playing at your lips.

you glance at his face, and immediately your entire demeanour shifts. his intentions - his desires - must be written all across his expression, but he doesn't even care right now. his heart is beating a hundred miles a minute, which can mean only one thing for him.

"cor. . ." you croak, sounding almost uncertain, but you don't move when he takes a step towards you. instead you let him take your hand and draw you close, so cose that the tips of your shoes touch his.

"cor," you repeat, clearer this time. "i don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

he nearly laughs. "i'll only regret it if you want me to stop."

a huff of air escapes you. "no."

"no?"

"no, i won't ask you to stop."

those words send a shiver down his spine, and before the nerves can get the better of him, he draws you closer and presses his lips to yours.

it is like fire, andd melting, and gasping for air all at the same time. he questions what he's doing even as he can't bring himself to stop, hands trailing down your sides to grab and pull your hips against his. you gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the noise, lets it drive him.

"cor," you gasp. "are you sure?"

"i'm certain," he replies, trailing his lips down your neck, a move he has never done before, but it feels right in this moment.

you cling to his shoulders. "i'm - i'm district."

he pauses, wondering if he even heard you right, because why would you say that? "i know."

you slowly straighten up, increasing the distance between you and him. "just think about this. you're a very big-shot name in the capitol. my name is barely scraping by without being buried in the dirt. most people think i'm radioactive or something."

"that's not-"

"you don't have to lie, cor. i'm not oblivious. sure, it got better when you took me under your wing, but i don't think that protection stretches as far as. . . this." you gesture between the two of you, a sheepish expression on your face that makes coriolanus angrier than he cares to admit. here he is, opening himself up to you, and you're shooting him down because of the rancid opinions of other people.

he runs a hand down the side of his face, tucking his tongue into his cheek. "okay. i didn't think that mattered."

"of course it matters. this is your name on the line, your legacy."

"there is no legacy."

you scoff, infuriating coriolanus even more.

"what?" he demands, and he doesn't mean to raise his voice, but he can't help it.

"everyone knows the snow name," you say. "as pure as snow is white, capitol through and through. that's what makes you so respected around here."

coriolanus nearly laughs; if only you knew. and maybe that's why the conversation irritates him so much - you don't know. just like everyone else, you hear his surname and assume he has no problems, that he's always had everything he's always wanted. it would never occur to you that maybe coriolanus has no food in the tiny fridge at home, that his cousin is working two insufferable jobs so he can go to school and give their family a chance. you don't know, so you assume, and that makes you just like everyone else.

coriolanus swallows and looks to the floor. "so because i'm a snow, i can't kiss who i want?"

you pause, as if the weight of your comments have finally dawned on you. "no. it's just. . . for your sake, i want you to think-"

"i have been thinking," he bursts, the anger and frustration bubbling over before he can stop it. "i've been thinking a lot, and you're right. my legacy will be ripped to shreds if i'm caught interacting with district scum like you."

the words are a bomb. for a moment, all coriolanus can hear is whistling, the rest of the world silent, as if waiting with bated breath. you stare at him, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide. sometimes soriolanus forgets that you've never seen this side to him, that you're one of the only people he lets himself be calm around.

but the damage has been done, and coriolanus recognises that the second the words are out.

you open your mouth to say something, but the silence stretches on. all you can manage is a miniscule nod, a dismissive hand wave before you turn on your heel and walk away.

desperately coriolanus wants to go after you, but he's frozen. he's shocked, shocked that he slipped so badly, that he even had the ability to hurt you at all. so he swipes a hand over his face, turns and starts the shameful trek home.

----

he tries getting you to speak to him, but nothing works.

he doesn't deserve your attention. he understands that, and he usually isn't one to chase a lost cause, but this is different. it's like he can't help himself. everytime he sees you walking through the halls, he tries to meet your eyes, tries to get you to notice him, but it doesn't work. you duck your head down and scurry away, like he's radioactive.

"what's wrong with you?"

tigris flicks his ear, startling him from whatever thoughts have sucked him into a daze this time.

he twists, slapping her hand away with a scowl. "nothing. go away."

"go away," she mimics in a high pitched, ridiculous voice. "honestly coryo, what age are we?" she sits down, folding one knee over the other and leaning close so their grandma'am can't hear. "you can talk to me. you know that."

"i've got nothing to talk about."

"that's a lie. you've been moping around this house for the past two weeks; sejanus rang and asked if you were alright because you haven't been coming down to the after school club. nothing keeps you away from the after school club."

coriolanus rolls his eyes, because that's all he can do when his cousin is making fairly good points against his argument. all of it is true, of course - he has just been moping around, because he doesn't want to do anything besides talk to you, and if he can't do that, then he's going to spend his time moping around.

he messes with the frayed fabric of his dressing gown sleeve. "i don't want you worrying about me, tigris. things are tough enough on you as it is."

tigris's chocolate eyes soften. "don't be ridiculous." she grabs his hands, tugs them into her lap. "you're my family, corio. some of the only family i have left. if i don't have you, i don't have anything, so i need you to be okay. i need you to talk to me."

he closes his eyes; those are the exact words he said to her when she was struggling only a few months before, words that once felt so true it seemed ridiculous he had to remind her of them.

he inhales shakily. "am i a bad person?"

tigris reels back. "what? no. of course not. what makes you think that?"

"just. . . my behaviour. the things i do sometimes to make myself seem. . . in control, i guess."

"like what?"

coriolanus purses his lips and doesn't reply. tigris stares at his side profile, calculating whatever it is she feels the need to calculate before she slowly leans back on her stool and says, "oh."

coriolanus closes his eyes. "don't."

"this is about y/n, isn't it?"

"how did you-"

"what happened?"

coriolanus tips his head back. "why do women always have to have the details of relationship gossip?"

tigris nearly leaps from her chair. "relationship? oh, coryo!" she grabs his hands again, pulling him close to her. "when did this happen?"

"nothing happened," coriolanus confirms. "well, nothing. . . nothing that matters anyway. we kissed."

tigris squeals, all intentions of not notifying the grandma'am forgotten to her excitement. "coryo! and you didn't think to tell me?"

"why would i tell you? i just said it doesn't matter."

"of course it matters. you haven't kissed anyone in years!"

"i've been busy-"

"you're eighteen! these are the kinds of conversations you should be having with me, not updating me on how your portfolio is coming along, or what grade you got in your last class." she leans back again, smirking. "what happened then? give me all the details."

"what happened was i lost my temper and they ran off. that's what happened."

tigris's face falls; in her excitement, she must have forgotten that coriolanus isn't quite as excited about this entire situation as she is. he tilts his head to the floor, unable to look her in the eyes right now; he wants to be alone, and yes, he has been alone the past two weeks, but he needs more time to mope, more time to figure out how in the hell he can make this right again, because not having you here is killing him, and he can't-

"oh, corio."

tigris tugs him into a hug that he does not fight against. his head falls against her shoulder, hands limp by his sides, but she doesn't let go. she strokes her fingers through his blonde hair, slowly swaying back and forth in the same way she used to do when they were kids and his nightmares would get too bad.

"what did you say to them?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper, like she's afraid of startling him if she talks too loudly.

"i called them district scum."

tigris's chest pauses for a moment as she processes the words. "why would you do that?"

he pulls away, squeezes his eyes shut. "i don't know, tigris, that's what i'm trying to figure out. that's why i'm asking if i'm a bad person or not. there was no reason for it! i just. . . got so annoyed."

"why?"

and so coriolanus tells her the whole story from start to finish, letting it push through those barriers of shame and embarrassment, because that's where he's had them kept the past two weeks. even as he recalls the details, his face heats up with self-hatred, remembering how angry he got over nothing, remembering the way your face dropped, the way your lower lip wobbled just the tiniest bit before you walked away. it's these little details that have kept him up at night, these little details that have broken his heart so much he can't even face his friends.

tigris listens with a deadpan expression. when coriolanus finishes talking, she stares as if waiting for more, but there is no more to give, not unless she wants him to spontaneously combust right in front of her.

"so there you go," he mumbles. "i'm a dick."

"well, that goes without saying," tigris replies. "and y/n hasn't spoken to you since then?"

"y/n has barely looked at me since then."

tigris is silent for a moment. and then, "you were raised better than that, coriolanus."

he closes his eyes, bites his lower lip. "i know."

"and you're smarter than this." tigris leans forward, taps his knee to get his attention. "you know what the right thing to do now is, don't you?"

he looks at her, tilts his head.

tigris rolls her eyes. "you need to apologise. you need to go over there and tell them exactly what you just told me. if i can see how guilty you feel, they definitely will." tigris takes a hold of his hands. "do you trust me?"

coriolanus nods immediately, because of course he does.

"then trust that i'm not setting you up for failure right now. you need to go over to y/n's house and make sure they listen to you. if they accept your apology, great. if not, that's completely understandable - you walk away and leave them alone. but until you've explained your side of things, this story isn't over."

----

coriolanus can't think straight.

he's arrived at your door with no plan in mind, which really isn't like him. he prides himself on organisation, on knowing exactly what points he wants to make before he's even stepped foot in the room.

but this time, he has no clue what he's actually doing.

his head hurts, but he continues to replay the words tigris said to him on a loop. she's right, of course. he needs to get his point across, needs to explain himself so you understand why he did what he did, why he is the way he is, why you'd probably be better off with someone other than him, but please don't be better off-

"coriolanus, go home."

your voice comes from the speaker drilled into the pillar he's leaning against. he flinches back, nearly stumbling over his feet in the process.

he glances around warily, narrowing his eyes at nothing.

"go home, coriolanus," you repeat. "i don't want to talk to you."

"y/n," he says, because your name has been the only thing he's been able to think about lately. "y/n, please. this is ridiculous. we're two adults."

"what does that have to do with anything?"

"we should communicate. work stuff out."

you scoff, and it's that noise that boils coriolanus's blood, the noise that set him off the last time. even now he has to bite his bottom lip to stop some snarky remark from rising to the surface, something that will only make this entire situation worse.

"there's nothing to work out. i don't want to see you. in fact, i don't want to hear from you ever again; that's all."

he curls his fingers, nipping nails into his palms. "i want to explain my side of things."

a moment of silence. finally, the buzzer goes off and the golden gates swing open.

"you have five minutes."

coriolanus doesn't waste a second. he makes the trek up to your front door, delighted to see you already standing in the doorway dressed in a fluffy green dressing gown, arms folded over your chest. you scowl at him, but coriolanus can't hold back his smile, his pure pleasure at just seeing you in the flesh, your eyes meeting his after so many weeks of you avoiding him completely. he tries to ignore the red rims around those eyes, too scared to admit he may be the reason behind them.

"y/n," he says again.

"coriolanus."

"thank you for meeting with me."

you roll your eyes. "this isn't a meeting, cor. you're going to say what you have to say, and then you're going to leave me alone." you glance down at your bare wrist. "did i mention you have five minutes?"

he hollows out his cheeks, trying to think of the best place to start. he has so much to say, so much to explain that it's nearly impossible to organise it into one coherent speech, but he has to try. he has to get this right.

"okay," he begins, voice already shaky. "first of all, i think it's important that you understand how terribly sorry i am for what i said. i just. . . i lost my temper. i felt rejected and embarrassed, and i took it out on you. it was wrong. it was childish. it was uncalled for, and i'm sorry."

okay, apology out of the way.

"i've never felt this way about anyone," he continues. "i wanted so badly for it to work between us, but then you said all that stuff about my legacy and the snow name and i just. . . i don't know, y/n. i just panicked and let my temper get the better of me. i've never known how to handle my emotions any differently."

you stare at him, but he doesn't know what else to say. he's given you his truth, far more than anyone else in his life has ever received. all he can do now is hope you accept it, hope you can see just how genuine he is being.

after a moment, you look away, swipe your tongue across your lower lip, and coriolanus doesn't know if this is a good thing or not. he's never seen you look so. . . unbothered, almost, and that's what gets to him. you've always been so full of emotion, so ready for anything, yet right now you're staring at him like there's nothing left for you to give, like you've given up.

he swallows thickly. "please say something."

"i don't know what you want me to say, cor," you croak. "you called me district scum. do you know how hard that is to hear? my home - my district - was destroyed. my family and friends were wiped out in seconds. i would take being district scum over that any day, but here i am, trying to make ends meet, and trying to fit in with your. . . your type, and you just throw it back in my face like that."

he closes his eyes. "y/n. . ."

"because it's so easy for you," you continue, voice rising. "you can hurt other people's feelings as much as you want and face no consequences, because you're a snow."

his eyes snap open, that fury he struggles to control rising to the surface. "i've just told you-"

"it doesn't matter what you tell me. you've showed me how that surname protects you. you looked me in the eye, called me district scum, and now you're here, expecting me to forgive you just because."

"that's not how i wanted it to come across."

"but that's how it is."

"why are you just assuming? is it not possible for you to believe that my apology is sincere?"

you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. "whether it is or it isn't, i don't accept it." you glance at your bare wrist again, the action making coriolanus's heart shatter. "your five minutes is up."

and with that, you step back into your house and shut the door, leaving coriolanus alone on your doorstep.

----

"how could they just do that to you?" sejanus asks, shaking his head as if in disgust. "you apologised!"

coriolanus shrugs, taking a sip of the too-strong coffee sejanus was kind enough to buy him, no questions asked. "it was humiliating."

"and you two had already kissed before this?"

"yep."

sejanus inhales sharply, tries hiding it by sipping from his own coffee mug. "that's tough."

"it is tough," morales says, sitting on sejanus's left with three plates worth of food stacked beside him. "but it just comes to show that the districts don't know what they're missing. in my opinion, y/n's made a big mistake not accepting your apology; it just means they're going to have to grapple for some respect for even longer, if they can even gain respect on their own."

coriolanus's stomach twists, but he says nothing. these are the kinds of comments he's been quietly listening to for the past two weeks, unable to respond lest his friends think he's let you won.

after the rejection, coriolanus knew he needed to get back to the way things were. he continued trying to get your attention, but in a much more subtle way, never letting his capitol friends see his eagerness, his excitement whenever you walked in a room. however, the hardest part of it all is trying not to show his anger when they make comments like this, comments they expect him to agree with because he is just like them, has always been just like them.

sejanus does the arguing for him, which he appreciates.

"don't be so small minded," sejanus snaps. "you forget i'm district, too."

"hardly," morales scoffs. "your family has always had the capitols back. y/n on the other hand. . ."

coriolanus curls his fingers beneath the table. "can we talk about something else? this really is a pointless conversation."

"i agree," sejanus quips. "i find talking to ignorant people quite unproductive."

"oh for-"

"did you just call me ignorant?"

morales stands, chair scraping against the tiled floor. coriolanus sighs, dipping his head into his hands as sejanus rises to meet morales face-to-face. around them, the dining room grows quiet, all heads turning in their direction; coriolanus scans the area for a quick, subtle get away, but comes up short.

he's going to have to step in.

slowly he stands, places a hand on sejanus's chest. "calm down, boys."

"no way; this little bastard thinks he can say whatever he wants just because he's different. well, i've had enough, and i'm not putting up with it any more!" morales exclaims.

coriolanus nearly laughs, but manages to hold it in. morales was born to very, very rich and protected parents, very high up in the capitol. his family spent their time in a bunker during the war, probably don't know the extents of what happened above ground to this day. imagining morales trying to fight a man like sejanus is almost impossible.

"yes, i'm sure you'll put him right in his place," coriolanus drawls. "but time and place, men, time and place. let's leave this little tiff for later, alright?"

morales meets his eyes, fury still building behind his dark irises. coriolanus merely raises a brow, and a moment later, morales has grumbled some obscenities beneath his breath, swatted a cup off the table, and stormed out.

the dining room erupts back into it's usual chatter, and coriolanus sits down to finish his coffee.

sejanus sighs, sitting next to him. "there it is. the coriolanus we all know and love."

"that entire argument was pointless," coriolanus grumbles. "i wish you two would have a bit more common sense than to start a scene in the middle of the dining room."

"i wasn't going to do anything," sejanus replies. "i knew you would step in eventually."

coriolanus rolls his eyes, but can't help the tiny smile that arises. at least that was a moment of normalcy, a moment where he could present his best self without feeling like a fraud.

sejanus nudges him. "i think you impressed some people, too."

he turns towards where sejanus is motioning, and his heart flips at the sight of you staring right at him. you don't even look away when your eyes meet his, though you make no move towards him, either. coriolanus offers the tiniest smile, a test of the waters, but you simply purse your lips and go back to the conversation taking place at your table.

still, it's something. a taste of interaction coriolanus hasn't been granted in weeks.

"be honest with me, coryo."

coriolanus forces himself to look at sejanus, to take his eyes off you for a moment. "hm?"

"are you still trying to make things work with y/n?"

coriolanus freezes. if anyone else had asked him that question, he would immediately put on the mask, laugh, call them ridiculous for thinking he would waste his time with something such as romance. but this is sejanus, the man who is a little bit smarter than the rest of his friends, a little bit more grounded, a little bit more present. chances are, he's been watching coriolanus closely, picking up on all the subtle marks coriolanus has been trying desperately to hide the past few weeks. would lying even be worth it?

it doesn't matter. sejanus takes his momentary silence as answer enough, tilts his head with a tiny smile.

"i thought so."

coriolanus folds his arms upon the table, deflating. "you think it's ridiculous."

"i think it's romantic," sejanus corrects. "it's been a long time since i've seen you pursue something. . . worthwhile."

coriolanus scoffs. "my education hardly isn't worthwhile. i have a future to still work towards."

"and do you want that future to include y/n?"

"yes. of course."

he says it so quickly, because of course. from the day he met you, no part of him ever wanted to be away from you, even on the worst days. it was a comfortable feeling, like slipping under warm covers after a long day in the cold. it wasn't a question, never something to be debated. from day one, you slotted into his idea of a future so perfectly, it was as if he knew you from birth.

and it's that realisation that makes him look over at you again. you've still got your head down, scribbling furiously in that little notebook that is always bulging out of your blazer pocket. he never asked what you write in it, but now he wonders if it's your thoughts and feelings, how many times his name appears, if you'll ever let him have a look.

but he'll never know, not if he doesn't put the effort in now, not if he continues letting everything else get in the way.

he looks to sejanus and receives only the tiniest smile, but it's all the encouragement coriolanus needs. without another word, he stands up and heads in your direction.

the minute you look up and see him walking towards you, your face drops. it breaks coriolanus's heart, but he keeps advancing, this new-found desperation driving him. you stand and make for the exit, prompting him to shout your name before making haste to catch up to you.

with the two of you in the near empty corridors, coriolanus has a chance to get your attention properly. he quickens just enough to grab your wrist and whirl you around to look at him, and it's then that he spots the tears trailing down your cheeks, then that his whole world seems to crumble around him. are those tears because of him? has he upset you even more, or do you miss him in the same treacherous way he misses you?

there is a brief moment of silence where he can do nothing but stare at you. you stare right back, which he supposes is a good sign, even if your eyes are filled with tears, and your hands are trembling, and you are yet to say a word. you're not running away. you're not cursing his name and leaving him to wallow in rejection again.

finally, he breaks the silence. "y/n."

your name. always just your name, like his brain can't come up with anything else to start a conversation.

your lower lip trembles. "what do you want, coriolanus?"

"you know what i want." he steps forward, fingertips brushing yours. "i miss you."

you close your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. "please don't say that."

"but i mean it," he presses. "i miss you, y/n l/n, district or not. i don't give a shit about my name, or what you will do to my legacy. i want you to understand me how i want to understand you."

"there's nothing to understand-"

"that's where you're wrong. that's where you've been wrong this entire time." he runs a hand through his blonde curls, trying to stay as calm as possible. he doesn't want to get ahead of himself, doesn't want to ruin yet another opportunity to make this right.

"it's partly my fault," he continues. "i never told you the truth about where i'm from, how my life has panned out since my father passed away. i kept the mask up with you like how i've done with everyone else, but i want that to change. i want to. . . i want you to understand me, y/n."

again, your lower lip trembles, and coriolanus can't help but reach out and brush a fingertip across your chin. your breath falters at the touch, making him realise this is the first time he's touched you like this in . . . forever. he's kissed your lips and held your hand, but not once has he ever allowed himself to be so careful, so meaningful with his touches.

not until now. not until you showed you're capable of breaking, that you need a delicate touch every now and then, too.

"i don't want to be stupid here, cor," you whisper. "all i have here is my dignity. i can't throw that away by forgiving the person who hurt me so badly."

coriolanus shakes his head, eyes drifting closed against his will. "i know i hurt you. i thought about it every day, beat myself up about it, asked myself why i am the way that i am." he inhales. "the way that i was, because this whole ordeal. . . nearly losing you . . . it's changed me, y/n. it's made me realise what's important, and it isn't my reputation, or my legacy, or impressing the right people." he opens his eyes, meets your own. "it's you. you're what's important."

your tears well up yet again, a fresh wave to accompany the ones that haven't even dried on your cheeks yet. coriolanus's chest squeezes, and it takes every fiber of his being not to draw you close to him, to hold you in the way he always so desperately craves. he doesn't know if that is allowed yet, if his words weigh enough for you to trust him like that again.

so he waits for the signal. he lets you take the reigns, watching your every move as you ponder on what he has just said, your own position in this situation. he listens to the hustle and bustle of the students now rushing from their classrooms as the bell for lunch sounds overhead, but coriolanus can barely hear it over the sound of his own heartbeat.

and then you take a step closer to him, a tentative one, prey approaching predator. slowly, you lift your hands and readjust the wonky top button on his dress shirt, and for a second, coriolanus panics that you may recognise it isn't made of one hundred percent silk, that it isn't brand new and freshly pressed by the best designers to grace the capitol.

but then you tug him closer, and he forgets everything.

your lips meet his, so different to the kiss from before. this one is slow, uncertain almost, but a promise that there will be a next time. he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer and closer, if that is even possible. your own hands wind around his neck, as if afraid he's going to leave again.

never. never again. he promises that much to any higher being who will listen. this right here is all he needs to feel alive and normal, and when alive and normal is all he's ever wanted, why would he throw it away?

you pull away when it becomes clear that coriolanus has no intention of being the one to do so. a small smile graces your perfect lips, forehead dipped against his own. when you speak, your voice is breathless, tired, a whisper that sends a shiver down his spine.

"let's try this again."

he laughs, pecking your lips one last time. "take two."

#coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus fanfic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas coryo snow #tbosas fanfic #coryo snow #coryo snow fanfic #coryo snow x reader

18 notes · View notes