#I AM GNAWING MY COUCH I YEARN FOR HIM

[nkogneatho]

you so fucking crazy, i think i wanna have your babies😩

[ur-mousey]

I'll Make You Miss Me ~

Imagine - Jude Duarte x Singer! Cardan Greenbriar (Song inspo linked ⬇️)

Imagine! Cardan Greenbriar, the High King of Elfhame, sitting alone on his throne. The crown made of thorns felt heavy upon his head, a constant reminder of who he'd banished. The grand hall emptied of its accord. However, in the wake of their presence, where diplomats lose their inhibition at his feet, Cardan never felt more abandoned.

He was without Jude, his wife, whom he had sentenced to a mortal life. She was his beautiful and most terrifying love, but Cardan knew deep down that she belonged elsewhere from this place. 

It was selfish of him to believe otherwise. She was a queen, robbed of her status by her wicked king. Why would she return for him?

Imagine! It has been months since Cardan's riddle went unsolved. He drove himself mad, over-analyzing why his letters were left discarded. He left himself painfully sober for days. Torturing himself to come up with a lure. He missed her lying whims. I hate you, were her whispers of promise. He hated that their marriage started on a sour note. 

Cardan never even came close to matching her strength. What if she wholly decided to leave Elfhame and him entirely? He doubted that age would fog his memories of her. And, even if it would be fatal to resist, he vowed to cradle his obsession between the pages of Alice in Wonderland as he had done through their childhood. 

Imagine! Living through boring meetings where thoughts of Jude pressed heavily on your mind. The surrounding diplomatic dribble was doomed to fall on deaf ears. 

Cardan sought distractions from his quill and parchment whenever his emotions overwhelmed him. He felt the constant restlessness of yearning for Jude's return. It was a feeling that gnawed at him day in and day out until he could take it no longer. Down in this cellar, where his love became realized, he could hardly but briefly assume that his wife would come to protect him from his woes.

"Jude's absence makes you worry." The Bomb noted as she stirred her brandy lazily. Her voice rang sympathetic and in tune with the ice cubes clinking against glass. Cardan halted his shuffling of cards, the room's silence now keenly felt.

Cardan dealt the cards with ease and confidence among the Court of Shadows, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "I'm obvious, aren't I?" he quipped as if talking to no one in particular. However, his mirth quickly faded as he continued, "Jude hasn't yet responded to a single letter of mine. I'm afraid."

The Roach hummed, reaching for his cards. "If letters don't reach her, your voice will."

Imagine! Despite the dark circles under her eyes caused by sleepless nights, Jude forced herself to get up from the couch and walk to the window. She craved the fresh air to clear her mind and drive away her growing hatred towards everything related to Elfhame.

"I'll make you miss me~" The haunting melody danced over the bend of the wind. She recognized the voice of Cardan singing the tune and the realization that he was desperate. The thought both excited and frightened her.

.............................. Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! I am currently taking in ideas 🥳 This idea has been shoved to the back of my mind so I'm glad to have written it. Holly Black stated that Valerian has sexual feelings towards Jude...

[fanmoose12]

"Four-eyes," quiet, soft at first.

"Hm?"

"I have a question."

"Hm?"

"Four-eyes," this time - sterner. "Look at me."

Hange does, putting the book down. Levi is standing in the doorway, leaning heavily against it. He is tense, his lips are pressed together, turning white. Hange moves immediately, gathering the books up in their arms to free a place for Levi on the couch. He takes it, falling on soft cushions heavily. He grips the armrest firmly, breaths coming out of him in form of pants.

"How many times I told you to not overstrain yourself?" Hange chides softly, pulling Levi's legs up and onto their lap. They start to massage his feet, their movements measured, careful and loving. "You have a wheelchair, a cane... you shouldn't walk around like that."

"I wasn't walking around," Levi grits through pain. "I was standing, waiting for you. I have a question."

"Well? What is it?"

Levi doesn't answer instantly. For a long moment, he is silent, and when Hange looks up at him, meeting his eyes, they find them strange. Levi's eyes... Hange never saw them like that, not in the light of day. That uncertain, vulnerable look belongs to long, solemn nights, when darkness seems especially dark and full of ghosts, and every nightmare is frighteningly real. That look... it is unfitting to their new peaceful life.

"Are you happy?" Levi asks at last, and the question- is so sudden that it rips a chuckle out of Hange. All the tension that gathered in their fingertips during Levi's silence dissipates, curving their lips into a smile.

"Huh?" they're equal parts confused and playful. "What kind of question is that?"

Levi's one hundred percent done with them. "A simple one."

"Well..." Hange taps their chin. "Answer it yourself then. Are you happy?"

Levi bristles. "I asked you first."

"I asked you second."

"Don't be so childish."

"Don't be so dull."

"Hange," he sighs, skimping back onto the couch, with a hand thrown over his eyes. "Answer me. Please."

The defeated, nearly mournful tint of his voice tugs at Hange's heart. They drop the teasing and lean forward, peeking into Levi's eyes. "I'll answer your question, but then you'll have to answer mine. Alright?"

"Fine," Levi grumbles. He looks at them but not directly, as though... he's anxious, afraid to actually hear what Hange is going to say.

Something is gnawing at him, it is obvious, and whatever has him worried so won't be thwarted with just words, and so Hange sits up, then settles on top of Levi, with their legs tucked neatly in between his and chin resting on top of his chest.

"Am I happy?" they say, fingers sprawled across his ribcage. "What a silly question. I have this lovely house, my gorgeous garden, you..."

"And this..." Levi speaks slowly, hoarsely as though every word he says hurts him. "Is this enough for you?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Is this what you dreamt of? Of being stuck in a house, with only books and plants as your only entertainment, of having to care for a cri-"

Hange shushes him, presses a palm to Levi's lips before that awful word gets out. It is forbidden in their house. Hange hates it with passion, especially when it is Levi who utters it.

"Don't know what's gotten into you," their voice gains some steel, acquired during the days Hange wishes to put behind. "But it is indeed what I've been dreaming of. For years that we've been stuck in that hell, the only thing that got me through most days was this, Levi - an image of a peaceful, normal life. With you by my side. So yes, of course, I'm happy. Happier," they say, making an emphasis on that word, "than I've ever dreamed of being."

"But don't you ever yearn for more? Doesn't this routine bore you?"

"Are you trying to say that you're boring?" Hange laughs. "Levi, I hate to disappoint, but you're anything but."

"But..."

"Shush, my love," Hange reaches to his lips, leaves a quick kiss there, then returns to their previous place, to their most favorite place in the world - in Levi's arms. "Enough of it, all this talk has already exhausted me. I need a nap now."

Whether Levi needs it too or not - is of no importance for Hange. After all, it was all on him: if he didn't wish to nap and cuddle, he shouldn't have tired them out with stupid questions.

"Erm... wouldn't it be more comfortable to nap in bed?"

Hange nuzzles their nose into his shirt, widely grins. "Nope. We're staying here."

Levi sighs, but surrenders and buries his fingers into their hair, gently folding their soft brown locks. For a while, silence embraces the room around them, Hange is nearly at the edge of slumber, when-

"Hey," Levi calls. "And what about that question?"

"Huh?"

"The one you wanted to ask me."

"Ah, right," Hange yawns, then turns their head up to meet Levi's eye. "Are you happy?"

He clicks his tongue, and somehow - the sound is filled with so much fondness that Hange can't keep a smile off their face.

"Am I happy?" Levi brings them closer, presses a kiss to their temple. "What an absurd question. How can I be not, when you, four-eyes, were the one who introduced this feeling to me."

[littlefreya]

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”  

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.”  Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.  

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.  

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support. 

[simpleserendipity]

Best Friend of the Groom | Michael Clifford

Pairing: Michael Clifford x Reader (best friends)

Warning: some slight angst

Word count: 1,252 words

You had always been close with Michael, ever since the first day of high school when you had to sit next to each other in your math class. Ever since you’ve been inseparable.

“There you go!” The maid of honor shouted with a cheery tone as she clipped the veil into the bride’s hair. The maid of honor and other bridesmaids were wrapped up in doing their own thing, waiting for the big reveal. You zoned out nervously, watching Crystal fiddle with the veil. Although you were friends with Crystal, you weren’t as close to her friends because to be completely honest, you were only here because you're Michael’s best friend. Crystal insisted you come since you knew Michael best.

“Voila!” The make-up artist says as she finishes touching up the details, “The most beautiful bride in the world!”

“Oh stop it.” She laughs spinning around, her friends were all showering her with compliments. She turns to face you, “Do you think Michael will like it?”

“You look absolutely beautiful Crystal,” You smiled at the woman standing in front of you. She was adorned in a shining wedding dress, “Michael is so lucky.”

“Oh whatever, _____…” Crystal trails off as her friends are gushing and taking pictures. Everyone else was still running around, putting on their finishing touches.

“I mean it,” You laughed along, “You’re so good for Michael. You don’t know how good you are for him.” Crystal smiled and sat next to you.

“Thank you for being here.” She turned to face you, amongst the chatter.

“It really means a lot that you asked me to be a part of the wedding.” You smiled and Crystal opened her arms for a hug. You leaned in and closed the gap, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Of course, you’re the most important person to Michael.” She lets a sad smile cross her face.

“Oh I’m nothing,” you brush her comments off and reach for the bouquets on the table, “You’re obviously the most important woman in his life Crystal.” you laughed.

“No I don’t think you get it-“ Crystal starts only to be cut off by the maid of honor.

“Are you two ready to go?” The maid of honor asks while standing by the door.

“One minute please,” Crystal waves and the room clears out. It was just me and her left, “I don’t think you understand, I’ve accepted it.”

“Accepted what?” you looked at her shocked.

“You are and always will be the most important person in Michael’s life.” Crystal smiled weakly.

“Crystal, you’re being ridiculous.” you bit your cheek softly in fear of what she’s insinuating. “I’m not though,” Crystal shook her head, “I know he loves me and we’re going to live a lovely life together but it’s not the same. He has never looked at me like he looks at you. He would move heaven and earth for you any and every day.” “Crystal-“ She cuts you off. “Don’t say it’s not the truth. I have accepted it. I am his second choice to you always” Crystal stops to wipe the tear that was threatening to fall, “I may ‘have’ him but I’ll never ‘have’ him completely.” “Crystal...” you trailed off and looked at the ground, “I’m sorry.” The thought was gnawing away at you because of course you always noticed the lingering glances, the gestures, and how he was at your beck and call. You figured that was just him being a good best friend, you never took it more than face value, yet she had. “Don’t be.” she looks up with a smile. “Crystal, I am sorry,” you huffed, “I’m sorry you think this way.” “It’s just how it is,” Her weak smile showing, “He loves me and I love him. We’re very close but we’re never going to be as close as you two are.” “I don’t want to come in between you two.” “You aren’t,” Another tear escapes quickly, making her makeup run slightly, “You’re the best thing to ever happen to him and he’s the best thing to ever happen to me. This is how it’s always going to be.” “Crystal-“ you were cut off once more by a knock at the door. She rolls her eyes, wiping under them once more, “Now let’s get going, we have a wedding to get to.” Crystal gets up and exits the room. You follow after her, watching her head towards the ceremony. You go to follow but instead head towards the other end of the hall from the ceremony. You found the room where Michael was getting ready and without a second thought you pushed it open, “Michael…” You called as you saw him sitting on the couch beside Calum. You and Michael immediately lock eyes. Calum looks between us, “I’ll give you a minute.” Before getting up and leaving. “Are you excited?” You asked, walking over slowly. “I am,” He smiles as you sit beside him, “Can’t wait.” His eyes were locked on his lap and your eyes on him. “That sounded way too sarcastic for someone who’s about to get married,” I set a hand on his shoulder, “Come on Mike this is the happiest day of your life.” You smiled, Crystal’s words echoing in the back of my mind. “It is the happiest day of my life.” Michael reached up and put his hand on top of the hand you had on his shoulder, “Are you alright? You seem off…” He trailed off as he looked up, eyes examining your face. “Michael do you love Crystal?” You looked up to meet his eyes, “Wait… That came out wrong-” He cuts you off, “I’m marrying her aren’t I?” “I feel like that should have answered my question…” You trailed off for a minute, “But for some reason, it didn’t.” “What are you talking about _____?” Michael’s face drops, he looks almost panicked. “What Crystal said to me…” “What did she say? I’ll talk to her-” This time it’s you cutting him off, “Michael what she said isn’t about me, it’s about you.” “Oh..” His face dropped further. “Michael,” You paused not sure what to say but your heart takes over with its yearning for the truth, “Are you in love with me?” As soon as you blurted that out, you turned away from him, avoiding looking at him at all. “_____, what are you asking me?” You slowly turn back, scared to make eye contact but you do it anyway, “Are you in love with me Clifford?” “What- what would you- why would you?” Michael speaks like he’s baffled. “Crystal said-” “She’s just mad that I’m so close to you.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Michael stop,” Your tone gets more serious, “Answer me.” He looks away, avoiding your eyes. You both sit there silently, both afraid of what was said. After a few moments, you slip your hand off his shoulder and stand up. Michael’s hand falls to his lap. “I’ve gotta go…” You whispered before leaving the room. You know you shouldn’t but you couldn’t stomach being at the wedding any longer. You couldn’t stomach the fact that your best friend was in love with you and was about to get married to someone he promised to love. You didn’t want to be the reason their marriage falls through. If you love something let it go, that's what Michael did when he decided to marry someone else, and that's what you’re doing now as you walk out of his life.

[simphellscape]

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 3RD, 2020 - 5:39PM // TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 3RD, 2020 - 7:08PM // next | tw: description of injury and care for injury, therapy mention, description of a panic attack

You put on a movie, you swear you did. Pretty much as soon as it starts, you realize that Kei does not have the attention span for a whole movie. That, or he’d much rather just talk to you.

When you hesitantly took your seat on the sectional at the beginning of the evening, you kept your distance. At first, he respected that, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. Then, he got up to get drinks, and he plopped back down a little closer to you. Then, he cracked a joke, and you laughed, scooting yourself a hair to the left in the process.

The take-out arrived about forty five minutes after he called them. You were surprised when he served it to you: fried chicken. You weren’t complaining, but it just seemed wrong. You were expecting a less indulgent option from such a fit guy. As you ate, your mind wandered back to his interview with the health magazine.

“Fried chicken… I was expecting something different from a pro-hero.”

“I eat healthy sometimes. I just find that I don’t really have to. High metabolism and constant exercise and all that. I also just really like fried chicken!”

As you both chuckled once again, Kei shifted just a bit closer to you. The night just went on like that until your knees were touching.

Now, the movie is long over. In fact, the TV has shut off from inactivity. You two sit, facing each other, swaddled in the same blanket. You never thought you would get this far on your first meeting with Kei, but the embarrassing stories you two are swapping back and forth have made you forget all about your preconceived notions.

“And I almost fell on my fucking face. The first time I met Endeavor of all people. I know he still remembers that shit, because he still brings it up every once in a while,” he laughs.

You’re laughing freely with him at this point. You don’t feel the need to hold back as much anymore. That knot in your stomach is nearly gone, but there is a gnawing feeling in your chest. The urge to tell embarrassing stories from your hero days. They’re funny, and you know that he would relate to them. Instead of shying away from it, you now yearn to reveal that shared thread between you. Common sense rules out, you don’t. You can’t. You decide for the millionth time that night to stick with stories from your time at the piercing shop.

Kei’s eyes flick over to your glass, now empty.

“Refill?” he asks.

You nod and hand him your cup. He sheds off his portion of the blanket cocoon and retreats to the kitchen. The absence of his warmth, the missing pressure on your kneecaps, empties you. You stare at his spot, just waiting for him to come back. You notice a wet spot on the black blanket. You can’t really tell what it is. You tentatively reach out a finger and graze against it. As you pull your finger back to your face, you recognize it immediately. Blood.

Kei waltzes back in, drink in hand. You scan his body and notice a growing stain on the side of his white t-shirt. Concern gnaws at you, taking all remaining guards down with it.

“Kei, you’re bleeding,” you blurt out, “A lot.”

He pauses and follows your eyes to the stain overtaking his shirt.

“Huh, I guess I am.”

“What happened? Let me help you.”

You fight your way out of your blanket and rush over to him.

“Got any bandages in the bathroom?” you ask.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, leading you there.

As soon as you walk in, you hone in on your task.

“Sit down on the toilet,” you instruct.

He wordlessly obeys as you search the cabinets for medical supplies. You find a small, plastic container overflowing with every first-aid product known to man in the cupboard just below his sink. You place it on top of the counter and turn to face him. He’s staring at you, in awe.

“Take your shirt off,” you order.

“Well, if you say so.”

You’re about to make a comment about his flirtatious remark when you see the source of the blood. He has a bandage over it, though it’s almost entirely red now. It was shoddily done. You know that a pro-hero can do better work than this. He tears the taped gaze off of it, grimacing. An oozing cut, stretching along his ribs, is revealed. You can tell right off the bat that simply slapping another bandage on this isn’t going to do it any good.

“You might need stitches,” you inform him, plainly.

“Aw, man, don’t make me go to the hospital.”

You have two choices here: you can ignore him and force him to get medical attention, or you can do this yourself. You received first aid training as a hero, and ended up performing a lot of minor procedures on yourself. Most heroes pick up these skills. Maybe Kei did as well, but in this spot, it’ll be impossible to do much of anything on his own.

You inspect the injury more closely and sort through the medical knowledge in your brain. You admit, you’re out of practice, but it seems as though you were right. Stitches are the best option. You’re afraid that you might blow your cover. Maybe you can risk it. You mull over bullshit excuses in your brain as you meet his firm gaze.

“Um… I know how to do it. Do you have a kit or something?”

Kei nods and points to the bucket you placed on the counter. You sigh and rifle through it, producing a clean needle and surgical thread after a moment of searching. As you turn toward the other supplies you’d dug out, the needle falls from your grip. Without thinking, you reach down and grab it midair. Of course, it’s a perfect catch. Your accuracy and reflexes never fail. You look back at Keigo, and you can tell that the gears are turning in his head.

“Nice catch,” he mutters.

You laugh nervously as you grab alcohol and a piece of gauze. You kneel next to him and soak the piece of gauze.

“This is going to sting,” you warn him.

You see him take a deep breath in and hold it as you near the cut. As soon as you make contact with it, he groans.

“I told you.”

“Yeah,” he chokes out, “I know. I just forget how bad it is every time.”

You take care to saturate every part of the cut, and then you get to work. Thanks to your quirk, you are able to sew quickly. You contemplate slowing down, but you decide that saving time is more important than protecting yourself.

“How’d you learn how to do stitches, anyway? You seem to be kind of an expert,”

You gulp.

“I was in EMT school for a bit.”

Your heart starts beating faster.

“You know, I can tell when you’re lying.”

Shit.

“What do you mean?”

“Your heartbeat picked up. Usually means you’re lying.”

You decide not to respond. You don’t want to incriminate yourself further. You decide to pose a question of your own instead.

“How’d you get this cut?”

Thankfully, he pauses his interrogation.

“I was fighting some guy and he threw a knife at me. Was able to move out of the way just in time. If I didn’t, the thing was going straight for my chest.”

You know from experience that you can take that sort of thing into account with your quirk if you focus hard enough. You’ve had to before. You shiver.

“Good thing you moved then. You probably should have done more than slap a bandaid on it and call it good, though. I’m surprised you didn’t bleed out hours ago.”

“Look, I got in late from patrol. I wanted to be on time to pick you up! I deal with shit like this all the time. I wasn’t gonna let a little scratch get in the way of our plans tonight, are you kidding? And, to be honest, I didn’t think you were gonna stick around for this long. Not that I’m complaining.”

You can’t help but blush at this. Even though it was undoubtedly stupid to ignore a gaping wound in favor of your meeting tonight, his insistence on being punctual for it is tooth-rottingly sweet.

“You know what’s been bugging me?”

He waits for you to answer. You hum in response, still pleasantly dazed from his confession.

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

You freeze, mid thread. Your mind races. All the giddiness is immediately stripped away as your heart practically beats out of your chest. This is the first time since you started leaving the house, after the press died down, that anyone has said this to you. Recover, you remind yourself.

“You saw me yesterday at the piercing shop!”

“No, I mean somewhere else. You ever been on the news or something?”

“No,” you lie.

“I just… I remember seeing your face somewhere years ago. I can’t remember for the life of me where or why though.”

You notice yourself tugging on the thread a little harder, precision never faltering. You will yourself to go faster.

“Maybe it was someone who just kinda looks like me.”

“I thought about that. Now that I’ve brought it up though, you’re lying through your teeth. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You don’t like the way he’s able to peer through you. His heightened senses must be a tremendous aid to interrogation like this. From experience, you know that this is a light, minor investigation. Just gentle prodding. You still hate that he’s doing it. The only way you were taught to avoid this is to remain calm, but lie strategically. You’ve maintained a relatively even exterior, but you can’t control your heartbeat. The gig is up. But he’s gonna have to try incredibly hard to wrestle this away from you. There’s no way you’re giving everything up this easily.

“Fine,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “I was involved in an incident three years ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”

You pray that he doesn’t continue to pry. There is, however, this tug in your chest. The shred of hopefulness left in you insists that he would understand. Ami doesn’t understand. She tries, but she can never truly know. Kei, on the other hand, has to have been in that kind of danger before. He has to know the effects it can have on a person. Maybe he’s the only person you’ve met in the last three years that can wrap their head around it.

“Have you talked about it with someone at least?”

You weren’t expecting that. You look up at him and his eyes are swimming with worry. He looks intense. He barely knows you. Is he like this with everyone?

“Yeah. I’ve got a therapist.”

“Good. How often do you see them?”

The vigilant inner defenses you’ve built over the last three years are screaming at you. He’s crumbling them with ease.

“I see her once a week. Have for a while.”

“Good. You’re really brave, you know. A lot of people don’t seek out therapy after villain attacks. It helps a lot.”

He’s got it wrong. You’re not brave.

You suddenly remember a high profile trauma specialist reaching out to you after your recovery. You declined it. Maybe if you’d accepted, you would still be in the game. Maybe, you’d be like Hawks.

“I’ve seen some shit, Sagi. By the sound of it, you have too.”

Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out of your mouth, “Yeah, we have more in common than you think.”

If your hands weren’t busy tying off the thread in Kei’s torso, you’d clap them over your mouth. You have to go. You’ve said too much. You’ve ruined this.

“What do you mean?”

His tone is lighthearted. It breaks you even more, knowing you have to leave him. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He just wanted to know you. To help you. To praise you. You bite the thread just above the knot and back away from him, slowly. Your vision starts to blur, and that familiar, aching tightness in your throat starts to rise.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

You can hear him start to protest, but you’re already running. Through the haze of tears, you manage to find the front door. As you throw it open, you hear the padding of Kei’s bare feet.

“It’s late, it’s not safe to--”

“I can handle myself,” you snap.

You aren’t even really in control of your actions at this point. Everything in your body is focused on holding back the threatening tears. You aren’t in Ami’s office. It’s not safe. It’s not right.

Stop crying, you repeat to yourself, don’t cry.

You bound down the stairs.

Don’t cry.

You stumble onto the sidewalk.

Don’t cry.

You fish your phone out from your back pocket. It’s dead.

Don’t cry.

You look around hopelessly, aimlessly. Straight ahead seems like a good direction.

Don’t cry.

You start walking. Then jogging. Then running. You run until you don’t feel like crying anymore.

As you come to your senses, you realize that you have no clue where you are.

Something pricks your thumb. You open your clenched hand to see the needle you were using on Kei sitting in your clammy palm. You sink to the ground.

Don’t. Cry.

[all1e23]

Toasted Coconut

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Why does everything seem to fall apart faster than it came together?

Warnings:  Angst.

A/N:   It’s finally here! Yes, I did it. I added Johnny Storm and yes, I am using Evans Storm because I find that hilarious consider Steve is in this chapter a bit. It’s probably not as funny as I find it. But, ya know. If you like it come sing me a song, write me a story or scream at me!  This is the fifth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

You had insisted that you would meet Bucky at The Plaza. It’s been a bit since you laid eyes on each other, and you were nervous to see him again. Not the mention the fact that there was a slight chance Wanda and Nat would attack him the moment he arrived. It was better for everyone if you met him there. He had argued with you, of course. Bucky didn’t like meeting you there as if you were just some woman he was taking out -- a meaningless date. That really had your hackles up because that’s exactly what you were. You were just some woman he was using to pass the time until he found his wife. 

Whoever that famed siren of a woman may be. 

The dress Bucky had picked stole your breath when you opened the box he had delivered to your apartment. It was a pretty champagne color, with thin straps and completely covered in glitter that started heavy on the top and faded away to leave sheer fabric shimmering around your feet. The back was as low as a designer could get it without showing something entirely inappropriate. You weren’t surprised. Bucky loved your back. He liked to run his knuckles up and down your spine and feel the way you shivered from the slightest of brushes. 

It was breathtaking, and yeah, you looked gorgeous. You couldn’t deny that, but you would much rather be spending the night in one of Bucky’s ratty old shirts than in this fancy gown surrounded by all these people that simply didn’t matter. Your days with Bucky were numbered, and you didn’t know how many more you would get to call him yours -- this isn’t how you wanted to spend those days.  

Your heels clinked loudly on the floor and bounced off the stone walls of the ballroom. There had to be close to a thousand people gathered around cocktail tables, auction tables, and the bar. You’ve never seen a room this gorgeous before. The paintings, the sculptures within the stonework; it was beautiful and had you on edge. Your nerves were finally making their presence known the further you made it through the crowd. You felt out of place next to all these people. They were worth millions, some billions if you counted Stark. You undoubtedly didn’t belong here, no matter how much sparkle you were wearing. 

The crowd was massive. No sign of Bucky or Steve. You thought you caught a glimpse of Sam, but it turned out to be someone you didn’t know. You were beginning to think this was all a mistake, and you should find your way to the bar. Bucky would have to find you there eventually. Or maybe, you should go simply go home. 

A roughened hand pressed on to the small of your back sending all your thoughts haywire, fingertips brushed under the fabric of your gown teasing the sensitive skin hidden there for only a moment, and there was a scratch of stubble against your neck before you felt two soft lips land just below your ear. Everything you were feeling about not being enough melted the second you heard his voice. 

“You look…” Bucky groaned in your ear and slid his hand around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. “You’re way too gorgeous to actually be mine. Let’s skip this whole damn thing. I change my mind. I’d rather take you home and make love to you for the rest of the night.” 

Your heart fluttered at the thought, and it reminded you there was something you should be doing, Tell him you know! Let him explain for himself! You weren’t listening. The damage had been done, and no explanation would fix the hurt his words caused. You slowly spun around in his grasp and wrapped an arm around his neck, smiling widely when you spot the excitement sparkling in his eyes. He looked so excited to see you as if you were the best thing in the room. 

How was he so good at faking his feelings for you? 

“I am fairly certain you told me you had to come and had to make at least three bids before I could let you leave. As well as make sure you were seen by all the big, important people here.” 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t prepared for this baby…” Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, eyes trained on yours. “I don’t think I can concentrate when you look this good.” 

You laughed and gave him a slow teasing kiss, just barely brushing against his lips and whispered. “You picked out the dress.” 

“I’m a masochist. Clearly.” 

With your arm hooked in his, you pulled him towards the table where Steve and Sharon were resting, talking Sam. Bucky didn’t want to talk, though. You knew that by the way, he was pawing at your dress as discreetly as one can while maneuvering through a sea of New York’s finest. 

Bucky had left your side for what was supposed to be a short chat with someone about some rehabilitation project in Queens, nearly the second you arrived at the table. The talk was longer than he intended, and he proceeded to get snatched up by important person after important person. Bucky flashed you an apologetic smile as an older gentleman ushered him towards a work of art, and you could see the want in his eyes hidden behind all that frustration. He didn’t want to be there, but it was part of his job. A big part. You could keep yourself entertained while he worked. You wandered off towards the bar and settled on a stool that probably cost more than the couch in your living room. 

A sharp whistle hits your ears as you deciding what to order, and it had you turning your head to find the source. You expected to see Sam standing there ready to tease you, but instead, you found a strange man you didn’t know watching you with interest. His hair was buzzed so short you could nearly see his scalp, he was younger than most of the people in the room. You would have guessed close to your age, if not, only a few years older -- much closer to your age than your current beau. 

“That’s a hell of a dress you got on tonight, beautiful.” 

He gave you a charming smirk and leaned his elbow on the bar next to you. He was obviously trying to tease you, gain a bit of your desire, and judging by the smug smile on his face, he wasn’t used to having to work very hard to make women swoon over him. You were not interested in the least, but you should at least make conversation while you wait for the man you were engaged with. 

“Nice suit.”

“Nice suit? Nice?” The stranger squawked in disbelief. He ran his hands over his jacket, looking every bit a pained, entitled schoolboy, and for some reason, you couldn’t figure out you found it entirely adorable. He glanced down at his attire and back to you, whispering with on full pout, “This is Gucci.” 

You chuckled quietly and shook your head, wearing a small conciliatory smile as you shrug. “My boyfriend’s suit is a lot nicer is all I’m saying.” 

Okay, so  Bucky wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your… whatever he was, but Bucky was, in fact, still yours, and you were always going to be his. For now. You weren’t going to flirt with some guy that threw you a cheesy line while you were on a date with the man you… love. There you admitted it. Your heart and head can shut up now and leave you to fall apart in peace.

The man licked his lips and leaned both elbows on the bar next to you. “Boyfriend, huh? That your subtle way of telling me I’m wasting my time?” 

Your eyes quickly scanned the crowd looking for Bucky, but he was nowhere to be found. 

“In a sense, you are. I’m taken.” 

“By tall, dark, and broody?” 

You grinned. 

“Yes, by tall, dark, and broody.” For as long as he wants me anyway, you couldn’t help the bitter thought from filling your head. 

“Interesting.” 

“So…” You raised your brow, waiting for him to introduce himself before you carried on.

“Johnny. Johnny Storm.” 

“Johnny,” You repeated and smiled kindly, too kindly. “You saw me with my boyfriend and thought it would be a good idea to come over and talk to me?” 

“Well…” Johnny paused, waiting for you. 

“Y/n.” 

“Y/n,” He repeated with the same charming smile he wore earlier. “You looked lonely, and if I'm honest, I saw you the second you walked through the door. Pretty sure everyone did. It was way before I saw the two of you together. I just wanted to see if I could keep you company and maybe get a real smile out of you before the night over.” 

The smile on your face faltered only a fraction, and your heart twisted at his words. He was right. You didn’t have to see your face to know you have that look on your face. You’ve had it since Boston, and nothing seemed to make it go away. The only person that could fix it was Bucky, but he wasn’t interested in doing so. 

“Okay, how about this? What if I sit down right here.” Johnny pointed to the stool in front of him and slowly sat down, leaving an empty seat between you two. “I can keep you company until Prince Grumpy comes back to whisk you off your feet.” 

You gnaw on your bottom lip. It wasn’t a good idea. Spending time with Johnny only made you yearn for Bucky that much more. 

“I’m getting two glasses of champagne,” Johnny added with a grin. “One could be for you. It matches the sparkle you’re wearing so damn well.” 

You rolled your eyes and shifted over to the empty stool. 

“You’re not impressing me, you know? It’s an open bar.” 

Johnny threw his head back, his whole body shaking from laughter. You liked that. He was free with whatever he was feeling. It was right there, out in the open, and there was no room for guessing. It was merely a given. Two glasses were placed in front of you, and you grabbed one, sliding it in place in front of you. 

“Damn.” He wheezed quietly. “ I didn’t think you knew that. Totally thought I was suave. Your boyfriend already try that one on you?” 

“Nope. He doesn’t need all that to get my attention.”

Johnny winced and blew out a pained breath, his fingers were fidgeting around the stem of the champagne glass in his hands, and he muttered, a little defeated but attempting to keep hope floating, “Man, I’ve got no chance, do I?” 

You spun around on your stool to face him, You were grinning now, and you shrugged your shoulders casual like. Why were you holding back from talking to this cute guy again? Bucky doesn’t want you. He made that clear in Boston. He didn’t see a future with you, so why were you turning away someone who could see you for more than something temporary? You knew, deep down, this Johnny guy didn’t stand a chance next to Bucky, but it was nice to know when Bucky was through with you, someone else could see you and still want you. 

“Not really, but I didn’t take you as someone who backs down from a challenge.” 

He watched you for a second, taking you in now that you were up close and fully facing him. He finally shook his head, took a big swig of from his glass, and said, “Not usually. This isn’t a challenge I can win, though. Now, is it?”

Your smile fell a bit as you turned back around to face the bartender, and you muttered against the glass pressed to your lips, “No, it’s really not.”  

A few tables over Bucky was adjusting his bow tie, aggressively. He wanted out of the damn thing, and he wanted to find you, which was evident to everyone around him by his constant fidgeting. 

“Where is your gal?” Steve pushed with that stupid dopy grin. 

Bucky honestly had no idea where you had gotten off to. He had to make the rounds mingle with people he would rather not, and in the midst of it all, he lost you. It looked like you had made your way towards the bar through the sea of stiff suits and chiffon so he could start there and work his way around the room. 

“I don’t know, Stevie.” He patted the taller man's shoulder. “I’m gonna go find out, ya?” 

He navigated his way through the crowd, making a hard left when he heard Stark’s loud obnoxious rambling about what was art and what was not. It was bad enough he had to come to this damn thing and bid on art he wasn’t going to hang up, but no one was going to tell him what crappy art he could or could not bid on. Someone called his name, and he turned back to give them a quick handshake and a ‘how ya doing.’ Bucky spun back around, and his heart dropped when he spotted you, fell right out of his chest, and dropped to his feet. You were laughing, harder than he’s seen in a long time, and it was thanks to the young guy next to you. 

Bucky waited too long. He should have said something in Boston or before he loved you, but it was all too late now.  

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

It took Bucky a long time to find you at the bar, which you thought was strange. He should know by now at events like that you always go to the bar when you get separated, but by the tension in his shoulders, you assumed something happened with a client or with Tony Stark. Tony tended to hit all the right buttons where Bucky was concerned, or that was what Steve told you.  It wasn’t long after you found each other that Bucky asking if you were ready to leave, assuming he meant back to his place you readily agreed. The drive was silent, and he didn’t take you back to his penthouse, he dove you out to Brooklyn to your apartment. It wasn’t uncommon to spend nights at your place, but with The Plaza being so close to his, you thought that’s where you would spend the night. 

You guessed wrong. 

Bucky quietly walked you up to your door and stood a few steps back, waiting for you to unlock it. The door swung open to the dark apartment, and you immediately began to remove your heels before you even stepped through the door.  Bucky watched from the hallway as you stepped out of your heels, letting them hang off your fingers by the tiny ankle strap. You turned to look at him, sultry smile in place. “Are you going to come in so I can thank you for tonight?” 

You couldn’t read his expression, but it was one you’ve never seen on his face, not while he was looking at you. You didn’t know what happened tonight, but it was almost if he didn’t want to come in -- he didn’t want you. 

"Not tonight, doll. I have an early day tomorrow. I should get home.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, the same way he would Sharon, and it left you... confused, heartbroken, and frankly a little discouraged. You knew he could read the confusion clouding your eyes and the slight disappointment you were emitting, but he made no effort to explain his actions. He simply carried on his way as if he had already given you a proper goodbye. 

“Should I come by for dinner tomorrow?” You squeaked, finding yourself on unfamiliar ground, you were nervous to ask him for the first time since you’ve known him -- not because you thought he would be mad at you for speaking up but because you feared the answer would be no.  

“I can meet you at your place after you get off.” 

Bucky stopped halfway down the hallway, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his dress pants. He looked up at the crack in the ceiling as if he was asking the Gods for something or waiting for some mysterious answer to fall through the crevice. He never turned back around to look at you, but he did turn his head to the side so you could catch a glimpse of the darkened blue now shading his eyes. His reply cut deeper than his refusal to face you.

“I don't know. It’s going to be a hectic day. I may not have time for dinner. I’ll give you a call tomorrow if I have time, okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered feebly. “Okay.” 

You watched as Bucky made his way down the stairs because the elevator in your building was out again. He never looked back. You shut the door once you could no longer see him and dropped your two hundred dollar shoes on the floor by the door. The cold wood of the door hitting your back made you shiver as you slid down to the floor, ruining your dress, you were sure. Not that you cared about the damn gown or the stupid shoes. If you had recognized what tonight was, you would have relished in his touch, taken more kisses than given, and begged for sweeter whispers. 

You hadn’t realized this was his goodbye. If you had known, you would have loved him a little harder, not to change his mind, but to give you one more sweet memory to live in. 

The memories you had would have to do because it seemed as though your number was up. Bucky just didn’t know how to tell you. 

[heatherhedera]

Here I lay on the bathroom floor, nails bloody and knees bruised from fighting off a relentless predator. I scream, but nobody dares to hear the cries of a big black girl suffering and fighting for the reigns of her own body, particularly after midnight. The time is now 12:33 am. Minutes convert themselves to hours in my mind; time devours itself, and I find myself trapped in a loop. I’ve been here before, I think to myself. Making my final attempt to arise from the hypothetical ashes of sweat and shame, I come face to face with the sole of a thick leather boot. I shift my gaze to eyes that shine like pebbles in a pond, and I am immediately taken back to simpler times.

I met William during the fall of 2015 at the tender age of eighteen. He approached me under pale moonlight, dressed in dark slacks and a striped polo. Tall and tan with full, ruby-hued lips reminiscent of the underbelly of a calla lily, William was the type of man who could a girl deliciously uncomfortable with just a grin or the batting of his lashes; the kind of man that could snatch the breath right out of your lungs without ever saying a word. I was so caught up in William’s sexiness that I hadn’t realized that this Adonis of a man was talking to me: “Yo…? Did you hear me? You wanna hang out or not?” I should’ve said no.

I fell for William the way darkness falls: slowly and heavily. He seduced me with my favorite books, home-cooked meals, and desire; all things that made the coldness in my heart melt away. Even though he was a good twelve years older than I and we shared so much difference, I could only see the innocence in him. It was like he had these childlike entities living within him; full of energy, passion, and light. I let my skewed vision of William push me over the ledge enough to consider taking a real chance on him, and it was in the early dawn of winter that I made the (not so conscious) decision to give in to his persistence.

Warning and tragedy must go hand in hand because I woke up one morning in a cold, paralyzing sweat. An instinctual fear washed over me, and in that very moment, I knew that something wasn’t right. I checked my phone, and to my surprise, I had fourteen missed calls from William. I remember thinking, maybe he’s hurt...perhaps he needs help. Precisely, that panicky feeling made its way back to me, and I called him in desperation, hoping that he was alright. He answered after the third dial tone in a distinctly giddy voice and told me that he would pick me up later that night. “Wear something comfortable,” he teased. Everything seemed to be peachy keen, but my intuition screamed in rebuttal.

William picked me up earlier than usual that evening; there was still light out, and the sparrows that swarm about the tree in front of my apartment were still chirping away. I reached for the door handle of his black Dodge Ram, but he popped the door open from the inside before I even had the chance to grasp it.

“You know, I didn’t wanna worry you earlier,” he murmured as I fixated my rear into the front seat, “It’s just...I felt kinda lonely and...and I needed to see you.” I let out a brief cry of relief before grabbing his hand and placing it on my chest. He trailed his fingers towards the tips of my bosom, and I could feel my heart pounding within. He smirked as he made his way down to my nether regions, as I began to feel a queasiness in the pit of my gut. William was all too eager, as if he were waiting for the moment to make me his prey and it pissed me off.

“Was this your plan all along? Make me feel bad so that you can get some?!” I was fed up with fear, lust, and distrust by this point, and I needed answers. He remained silent.

“You know what? Fuck you!” I barked as I threw him off of me. I was equal parts disgust and despair; on the one hand, I wanted him to pull over and let me out while secretly yearning to feel him on the other. My conflicting emotions battled well into the night, and by the time we parked in William’s driveway, I had given up the good fight. I sat on his couch, defeated, staring blankly at the television screen. He slithered over to me with a glass of Prosecco, gulped it down, and lunged at me. I could hear myself screaming the word ‘stop’ at full capacity, but this nightmare was real, and I wasn’t waking up. His ravenous hands became knives; my thighs became barbed wire, and he didn’t seem to care. I clawed at his fleshy back and gnawed at his veiny arms, but neither phased him. He penetrated the aching little wound between my legs and God herself. Exhaustion silenced me and my body went numb.

Now all I can taste is the mixture of his blood and mine. All I can feel is the coldness of the tile beneath my bare ass. I can hear the deafening stillness in his voice as he tells me that he is sorry and begs for forgiveness, but any warmth I had left was stripped from me. I no longer see his innocence; I see an insatiable night creature who lures young women to his side before devouring them. I stand up, pull on my black dress, and I run out to the front lawn. I call my mother, and in a performance that would put Joan Crawford to shame, I tell her that I’m okay and I need a ride home. The time is now 1:40 am. I guess this is what I’ll do whenever a man breaks my heart and takes what isn’t his. I’ll wash it all away in the shower and pretend it never happened.

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Strawberry Wine

This was prompted by my lovely, mythical friend Ross ( @mythical-ross ). 

—

Rhett shifted in his seat as the interviewer and his small crew were setting up around them. Rhett’s back was aching from sitting too long on the uncomfortable couch, and the hunger that has been gnawing at his insides for a while now had just audibly announced itself to the room. Jenna seemed to notice Rhett’s discomfort because she got up and walked to him. She leaned down to brush off invisible lint from his shoulder and whispered, “This is the last one.”

Rhett gave her a small grateful smile and trained his attention to the interviewer. He was a young guy, probably in his early twenties. Rhett had already forgotten where the guy had said he was from but by his appearance, Rhett could guess it was some kind of a website – something young and hip and trendy. Exactly the type of site they wanted writing about Bleak Creek.

“Okay, you guys ready to start?” the interviewer asked. Rhett glanced at Link, whose smile was wide but tight around the edges – he was tired too. 

“Let’s go,” Rhett said jovially as Link nodded in agreement.

The interviewer launched into his intro with way too much energy for Rhett’s liking. The questions were all boilerplate – stuff they’d already answered dozens if not hundreds of times during the press tour of Bleak Creek. In a way Rhett is thankful. The answers flowed out of him without much effort, and the carefully rehearsed give and take with Link shone brightly despite their weariness.

“Okay. Great! One more thing I wanted to talk to you about. Actually, it’s something I wanted to show you. Our researchers found an interesting video. Here, let me…” the guy said, setting up a laptop in front of them. He looked almost giddy, and Rhett frowned wondering which of their videos could garner that strong of a reaction.

A blurry image of a guy with a guitar filled the screen. Rhett stared at it for a beat, confused. It was clearly him, but it wasn’t any of their usual sets. He looked so young with his cropped hair and barely bearded face.

“What’s this?” Link asked, curiously leaning towards the laptop.

“Our researchers found a deleted Myspace page saved up on one of those vault sites. It appears to be Rhett’s, yes?” he asked looking at Rhett expectantly. Rhett nodded slowly as the image started to move. Young Rhett was strumming the guitar. There was a chill creeping inside Rhett now, making him weak and a bit nauseous. This couldn’t be…

“Really?” Link asked with a crooked smile, glancing at Rhett. “I didn’t know you had a Myspace page.”

Young Rhett was singing but no sound came from the laptop. The interviewer cursed and his hand shot to turn up the volume.

No! Oh, no. No, no, no.

Rhett was trying to make his limbs move. He waited for his fight or flight response to kick in, but he was stuck inside his immobile body, staring at the screen. He needed to shut this down before –

“…of his eyes. Lips red and moon kissed…” young Rhett sang from the laptop speakers. His voice was shaky but deep and full of emotion. Present Rhett was still frozen in place. His heart was thrumming in his ears and he wondered if you could faint from panic.

“…made me so weak, but it was the blue that got me, and threw me into the deep. And I wished he was mine, that night we –“

The video stopped. Rhett felt numb as he stared at Link’s long, slender fingers on the space bar.

“Oh, this one!” Link said as if he knew what he was talking about. “God, Rhett, you really didn’t know how to use your voice back then,” Link said with an affable laughter, playfully nudging Rhett’s side. Even as confused and panicked as Rhett felt, he realized that Link was trying to save him. He forced out a laugh that sounded more like a hoarse cackle.

The interviewer was watching them like a hawk and Rhett saw his hand move towards the laptop. Finally, Rhett’s self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he slammed the laptop closed. The interviewer almost got his hand caught inside it and jerked back. Rhett smiled at him, trying to look playful, but feared that his expression was probably more on the manic side. He coughed and let out a measured chuckle.

“Well, that was a blast from the past. Yeah, a friend of ours wanted to surprise her boyfriend with a song. But she wasn’t much of a composer, so Link and I helped her with that. She wrote the lyrics.”

“Oh,” the interviewer said, his face falling. “So, this was not about–?”

“You know what?” Link interrupted him. “I think Sarah is still with the guy.”

“Really? That’s nice. Good for her. They were a lovely couple,” Rhett mused.

“Okay. Well, I guess, that’s all…” the interviewer barely got out before Rhett was already getting up and with a hasty goodbye rushed to the door. Link followed close behind him as they left the conference room the hotel had provided for them. Jenna could barely keep up with them as they strode to the elevators.

Rhett was stealing glances at Link all the way up to their floor, wondering if he’d heard enough to know. If he’d made the connection. If he finally knew. But Link was closed off, no emotion showing on his face. A slight twitch at the corner of his lips was the only thing Rhett could see, but it told him nothing.   

When the elevator doors opened, Link walked past Rhett, colliding with Rhett’s side with surprising force. Rhett was pushed aside by him and had to rub his arm that had gotten a sharp jab from Link’s elbow. There was no apology and the panic Rhett had felt when the video started playing gripped him again.

“Do you want me to order you guys some dinner?” Jenna asked as she followed Link out of the elevator. She’d been looking at her phone and missed Link’s strangely violent departure.

“Ummm. I think we’ll just order some room service and head to bed. Long day,” Rhett mumbled, distracted by his pounding heart and Link’s receding back.

“Okay. See you tomorrow,” Jenna chirped and turned the other way to head to her room. 

Link was already inside their room when Rhett reached the open door. He followed in gingerly. Link was standing at the far end of the room, trying to get his jean jacket off with angry tugs. His whole body was strung tight – muscles tense and posture abnormally straight. He was about to go off. Rhett could see it clear as day. 

Link knew. 

Rhett’s knees almost bucked and with shaky legs, he sat on the edge of his bad. There was no other explanation. Link had realized who the song was about. Rhett pushed his hands against his thighs, trying to rid the sticky sweat that was gathering on his palms.

“Link, I – I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I…” he started. Link whipped around. His mouth was a tight line and his eyes blazed with anger.

“I can’t – I just can’t believe it! How long have you…? All these years… And to find out like that!“ Link’s voice was rising and there was a shrill edge to it.

“I should’ve told you. I know that. But you gotta understand… The way we were raised – You know how it was back then. And you… You were so – I thought if I told you…”

“You’re my best friend! You have been that for the past thirty-five years! You honestly thought you couldn’t confide in me?! I – Fuck, Rhett. I don’t even know… Who are you?” Link whispered, voice cracking. Rhett got up and stepped towards him.

Link threw his jacket on the floor with a thud, covered his mouth with his hand and rushed past Rhett, pushing him out of the way.

“I’m sorry! I am. But I thought – Link, please wait. Let me explain!” Rhett called after him. Link stopped with his hand on the doorknob. His posture was hunched and his whole body trembled as a sob ripped its way out of him.

“Who was it?” His voice was barely a whisper, and Rhett was sure he’d heard him wrong.

“What?”

“Who was it?” Link repeated, louder, turning around and staring at Rhett with a pained expression. “Who was the guy with the moon kissed lips? Did you – ?” Link’s voice cracked and his eyes slipped closed. “Did you just kiss him or was there more?”

Rhett stared at Link, mouth hanging open. Link thought…

“No. Wait, Link, no! I wasn’t – there wasn’t…”

“Just tell me. Was it someone I know? I need to know.”

“Please sit down.”

Link still stood at the door, eyes closed, trembling. “Tell me,” he repeated.

“I will,” Rhett promised. “Just sit down”

Link moved slowly, dragging his feet, avoiding Rhett’s gaze and sat on his bed. Rhett took a deep breath and grabbed his guitar.

“What are you –?” Link tried to ask but Rhett silenced him with a hand gesture.

“Just listen.” He strummed the guitar, trying to remember the chords. The lyrics were etched into his mind. He would have no trouble remembering those. That stupid song. Why had he ever uploaded it into the internet was still beyond him. Link shifted on the bed, opening his mouth, about to say something but when Rhett began to sing he fell silent and listened.

“It was like ice burning

In the dead of the night

It was the blue that made me fall

The blue of his eyes

Lips red and moon kissed

Made me so weak

But it was the blue that got me

And threw me into the deep

And I wished – oh how I wished

He was mine

That night we drank

Our strawberry wine

You said it had a bite

That it burned oh, so bright

I laughed and agreed

But, baby, I lied

Because no amount of wine

Could match the burn

Of my wish, oh how I yearn

That one day

You could be mine

After that night

All I wished from my life

Was that one day

You would be mine

The blue of his eyes still burns

Oh so bright.

Years have gone by

And I’m still by his side

Even though he’s not mine

The torch that I carry

Still has a flame as bright

As it was that night

And baby,

I still wish you were mine

Just like that night

When we drank

The bottle of sweet

Strawberry wine”

Rhett settled his palm over the strings of the guitar to silence it and slowly lifted his gaze to Link.

“Oh,” Link whispered, lips parted and eyes round.

“Yeah.”

Link got up and walked to the huge picture window showcasing a view of the city lights. Rhett put away the guitar and sat back down on his bed. He tried to find words. Something to say, to explain. But what else was there to say? Nothing. Now Link knew, and Rhett just had to deal with whatever the consequences would be.

The silence stretched and Rhett got lost in his memories. When Link finally spoke, it jarred Rhett into the present, making him jump and kick-starting his heart into an anxious flutter. 

“The wine was horrible,” Link said. Rhett chuckled.

“It was.”

“I almost kissed you that night.”

Rhett’s heart missed a beat. 

“What?” He’d gotten up without realizing it. Link’s back was still turned. Rhett walked up to him and with trembling hand pulled on his arm to make him turn.

“Please, say that again,” Rhett whispered. Link still refused to look at him, his gaze firmly trained on the burgundy carpet of the hotel room.

“I’d wanted to, for years. And I almost did. But…” He finally lifted his gaze and looked Rhett in the eyes.

“But?” Rhett coaxed him on.

“I was a coward. I was afraid of rejection… Of losing you. I –” Link’s voice broke and he turned his face away again. Rhett gently grabbed his chin and lifted it up. Link’s eyes were glistening with a film of tears and he gave Rhett a small, apologetic smile. One lone tear spilled over and rolled down his cheek. Rhett brushed it away and with a trembling voice said:

“We were both cowards.” 

Rhett cupped Link’s cheek and his thumb slowly brushed along Link’s lower lip. Link’s lips parted and he let out a stuttering gasp. Rhett wondered if the beating of Link’s heart was as wild as his was. They stood close, bodies almost touching. Link closed his eyes for a beat and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, their icy flare almost burned a hole into Rhett’s stomach.  

“I’m not a coward anymore,” Link whispered before grabbing Rhett’s collar and rising on his tiptoes. 

And as their lips met for the first time, Rhett could have sworn that there was a faint taste of strawberry wine.

[archadianskies]

people keep teasing us about being a couple so we come up with a plan to fake date and have a fake breakup so they’ll feel awkward and leave us alone, OR, my ex is an asshole and I really don't want them to think I'm still in love (Simon/RK900, unless you've got someone else in mind!)

「 hold me, til i’m not lonely anymore  」 → on Ao3

The thing about those long days and nights in Jericho before Markus’ arrival is that hopelessness makes any relationship seem positive. Bonding out of desperation and survival seemed the right thing, the perfectly normal thing, to do at the time to soothe his abandonment issues and incessant craving for validation and affection. 

It had started off as a healthy relationship- a broken runaway PL600 and a discarded AX700, two domestics with no family to care for but each other. They had found solace together, and the cold dreary nights in the rotting freighter seemed just a little warmer. But Gideon was possessive, fiercely so, and detested Markus’ pacifist ways even though for the first time it seemed Jericho meant something, and had purpose and direction. Even as Simon quietly pined and yearned for Markus’ eloquence and easy affection and gentle demeanour, he stayed by Gideon’s side.

The possessiveness doesn’t stop after they win the revolution, and though they’re now recognised as living, sentient beings Simon still feels like he’s no more than an object owned by another. Gideon wants to make all the decisions, plans where they are to live and what’s to fill their apartment and how much time Simon is allotted to spend at Jericho. He is a broken runaway PL600, and so one quiet unassuming afternoon when Gideon is on a supply run with his team, Simon simply packs up his favourite jumper and a spare packet of thirium and runs away. 

He hops from place to place, from the sprawling, colourful Manfred Manor to Josh’s quiet little apartment crammed with books, to North’s haphazard, eclectic Eden commune. They are his friends, they remind him, and they welcome his company even if Simon feels like he’s intruding into their organised lives.

To combat the ache for companionship, Simon throws himself into work; there is much to do now they are legally Alive. Without Gideon planning every moment of his life, Simon helps out as much as he can. When Markus informs them of the DPD requesting an android liaison to ensure open communication between Jericho and the police, Simon volunteers. 

He knows Connor well now, knows the deviant hunter turned deviant is blossoming as an individual. He has likes and dislikes, a friendly, open personality and an eagerness to help. He also has a family now- a human father, a dog, and an android brother. 

“Simon this is my RK900 brother, Ronan.” Connor introduces them, and Simon takes in the looming figure who looks like Connor but not quite. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ronan.” They shake hands and his grip is as firm as Simon expects an upgraded RK800 to be. 

“It is an honour to meet you, Simon of the Jericho Four.” He replies with a nod, all crisp received pronunciation; a polished British accent is not on the list of things Simon expects though somehow it suits the tall, handsome not-RK800. 

Gideon confronts him one unassuming afternoon when he is supposed to be on a supply run but isn’t. 

“You left so suddenly.” There’s anger and betrayal in his eyes.

“I did.” Simon nods.

“It’s supposed to be us against the world!” He steps forward and Simon steps back. “All those days and nights in Jericho, hoping and waiting for a world where we’d be free and here we are! Why did you leave?”

“I too am alive, Gideon.” Simon replies slowly, unable to quell the sick anxiety rising in his core. “You don’t own me, or my time.”

“I’m the upgraded android,” he sighs heavily and he’s using the patient tone programmed into domestics when talking to children. “I can make the better decisions for us, Simon. You’re an obsolete android with an inferior processing core but I love you all the same. It’s alright, I understand it’s very overwhelming for you now we have many more freedoms than before. I can wait patiently for you to come to your senses. You’ll always have a place in my hearts, and in my life.”

Androids don’t need to shower but Gideon’s words make him feel grimy, as if there’s a layer of filth contaminating his dermal layer and he must wash it off. Gideon’s words play over and over in his mind and Josh worries over his red LED when Simon appears in his apartment to bunk down for the night. Josh wraps him in a blanket and loans him another sweater from his ever growing collection of gifted sweaters, and Simon’s LED slowly cycles yellow. 

*~*

“You are distracted.” Ronan comments as Simon stares blankly at the tablet in his hands.

“Hm?”

“I said,” there’s the barest hint of a smile on his lips, “you are distracted.”

“Oh um.” Simon ducks his head sheepishly. “Yes. Sorry. I um- just…an old acquaintance reared up recently and we parted on not-so-nice terms.”

“Are they a danger to you?” Ronan’s voice loses all its mirth, his expression turning serious and Simon thinks he loves him a little for it.

“I wouldn’t say that. He’s not dangerous, he’s just very…stubborn.” Possessive, Simon wants to say but he doesn’t really want to say it. “We exchanged some words and I’m going to keep my distance.”

“It’s getting late.” Ronan glances outside. “I will walk you home.”

“Oh I-” I don’t have a home. “I’m staying at Josh’s tonight. We’re working on a speech draft together.”

“Then I will walk you to Professor Joshua’s apartment.” He says it so matter-of-factly Simon can’t help but smile.

“Thank you Ronan.”

Gideon finds him two days later when he’s at the creche visiting David, the sole YK500 who made it to and survived Jericho. 

“Are you ready to come home?” Gideon asks, and his voice is soft and gentle the way Simon used to love. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m not going back to you.” Simon says curtly, stepping away from the children so they’re out of earshot. “I don’t want to go back to your home, I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Ah, still thinking it over.” Gideon sighs, his smile placating and Simon hates it, oh he hates it so much. “That’s alright. I’ll wait.”

“You’ll wait forever, then, because I won’t go back to you.” Simon feels the anger burn in his core and he wants to grab him by the shoulders and shout until he leaves but he doesn’t do that because the children are here and the children deserve not to hear raised angry voices. 

“Take your time, my love.” He reaches forward and brushes back a lock of hair from Simon’s face and Simon bites his lip so as not to flinch. 

“Here.” Ronan offers him a soft navy blue scarf that had been wrapped around his neck but a moment ago. “Your hands are shaking. It is common for PL600s to suffer malfunctions in their temperature regulators. Please wear this to help stabilise your internal heat.”

Simon accepts the scarf with a nod and wraps it around his neck and closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of clean knitted wool. He doesn’t want to correct Ronan, doesn’t want to tell him his hands are shaking because of his encounter with Gideon earlier that day and not because of the cold. 

“There’s an integrated cafe closeby, it’s where most of the precinct go to get their hot beverages.” Ronan gestures ahead. “The interior is kept at a pleasant temperature. Shall we have our meeting there?”

“Yes please.” Simon mumbles into the scarf, nodding to doubly confirm. He doesn’t want to think about Gideon, he doesn’t want to acknowledge that small black spot, that gnawing, growing fear for his safety that actually, Gideon might be dangerous after all. 

*~*

The Manfred manor is wonderfully distracting with its eccentric style as eccentric as its owner. Carl Manfred’s abode is crammed with art in many forms, and the bursts of colour against the warm tones make the place feel homely and welcoming and exciting. Simon loves staying over, even if he hasn’t quite mastered how to hide his pining for Markus. 

“Listen, as a big fan of your cooking I know for a fact that’s absolutely delicious,” Leo pipes up, “but I’m not sure you can actually drink that.”

Simon blinks, looking at the mug in his hands and belatedly realising it’s Leo’s hot chocolate and not his mug of thirium.

“Oh, sorry Leo!” He swaps the mugs and sighs tiredly.

“You’re super stressed. Your LED’s been red the whole time. What’s up, Simon?” Leo sets his laptop on the coffee table and scoots closer on the couch. “You alright?”

There’s no harm in telling Leo, Simon reasons with himself, since he’s not a part of Jericho and he’s not even an android.

“My…ex is…clingy.” Forcing the words out is harder than he thinks, and he buries his face in his hands, unable to even look at his human friend. 

“Clingy? Yikes, sorry Simon.” Leo offers a sympathetic grin. “They still don’t get the message?”

“I’ve told him flat out that I won’t go back to him but he’s insisting I just need to think things through.” Simon sips idly at his drink, taking comfort in the heat it provides. “I don’t need to think about it any further- we’re over. I’m not in love with him anymore and I hate that he thinks it’s somehow his decision to make!”

“Wait, Simon, is he-” Leo’s tone changes, and it reminds him of Ronan’s protective tone. “Is he bothering you? Like, stalking you? Threatening you?”

“Well, I mean he’s not-” a sigh of frustration. “I don’t know what to say to him to convince him to let me go! Not- not physically! Just- the idea of me, the idea of us still in a relationship. He needs to let that go!” 

“Say you’ve found someone else. You’ve moved on and so should he.” Leo suggests and Simon slumps down further.

“Leo, he’s a part of Jericho. He’d just find out I made it up.” Simon closes his eyes, feeling the fight drain out of him. “And I hate that some nights I miss him. Or, well, more that I miss being with someone and being loved.”

“You’re better off without him, he sounds gross.” 

“I know.” He thinks back to the early stages of Jericho, to those long cold nights wrapped in Gideon’s arms and how the future seemed a little less bleak. Then he thinks of Gideon’s anger, Gideon’s patronising words, and suddenly those memories seem less sweet and more sour. 

“I mean, I’d say pretend to date Markus but my brother is blissfully oblivious and completely ditzy when it comes to all that.” Leo grins as Simon shoots him a warning glare. “Anyway he’d be a downgrade. You’re absolutely wonderful- no I won’t accept your protests, you are, Simon, I mean it. You deserve someone super cool who will love you and keep you safe and my brother is not that.” A pause, his grin turning cheeky. “Pretend to date one of the Andersons. They’re plenty cool.”

He knows Leo’s teasing him, and it works because he lets out a helpless laugh and even a few days later just thinking about their exchange makes him smile to himself. 

“Hello darling.” Gideon’s voice interrupts his fond musing, and Simon’s smile vanishes instantly. “It’s been two weeks now, are you ready to come home?”

“What part of ‘no’ do you not understand, Gideon?” Simon demands, exasperated.

“Look, I know you’re still finding your feet, it’s okay! I told you I’m patient.” He tries to soothe, palms bared in a calming gesture.

“My feet are firmly planted, thank you very much!” Simon spits, and he is fuming. “I’ve already told you, more than once, that I’m not going back to you!”

“Simon, think about this critically.” Gideon sighs as if he’s been put upon. “You’re a PL600, we’re made for each other. Who will love you if I don’t?”

It feels like Gideon’s reached over and yanked his heart regulator out, and Simon’s struck by how awful, how absolutely awful he feels as those words seep into his core and spread through every cable, every fibre in his body. Plenty, he wants to scream, plenty of people love me, the love of friends is no less than the love of a partner! 

“I’m already seeing someone else.” Simon forces through gritted teeth. “I’ve moved on, and so should you.”

“Oh yeah?” Gideon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “And who’s the guy, Simon? Who’s willing to love a broken, obsolete PL600 if not me?”

“Ronan Anderson.” He clenches his hands into fists, willing himself to be brave, to not back down. “He’s an RK900, with processing capabilities far superior to yours. I’ve upgraded, Gideon. I’m not settling for a lesser model.” Without waiting for a reply, he pivots and strides away even though it feels like his knees will buckle at any moment. It feels like a victory but he knows it isn’t, it isn’t at all.

“Your stress levels, by the way, are astronomical.” North pokes his LED from where she’s lounging on his lap. “What’s up, Si?”

They’re sitting in a common room piled with cushions and beanbags and blankets, in a condominium rising from the ashes of the Eden Club. It’s populated by North’s brothers and sisters, those seeking refuge from their lifetime of abuse. Not many non WR400s and HR400s are permitted inside but Simon’s one of them. It must be a PL600 thing, Simon thinks, to appear so docile and hapless and helpless and the furthest thing from a threat. 

“Si?” North prompts, sitting up and cupping his cheek with her palm. “Hey, c’mon. Look at me.”

“Um-” he takes a shaky breath. “Just…bad breakup, that’s all. Clingy ex, but I think I got rid of him for good.” 

“I can kill him for you.” North shrugs, and though her tone is light Simon doesn’t doubt she’d keep her word. It’s why he loves her. 

“I don’t think it needs to come to that.” He manages a short laugh, shifting to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her soft strawberry blonde hair.

“If it does, I’ll kill him.” Her tone is deadly serious, just like Leo’s had been, just like Ronan’s had been and it makes his hearts ache in a good, good way.

“I know.” He huffs a not-laugh, squeezing her close. “Thank you.”

*~*

It’s been a week since he last saw Gideon and work has kept him busy enough not to dwell on it. With Christmas on the horizon and Detroit’s humans slowly settling back into their lives albeit alongside their newly appointed, newly legal fellow android citizens, the DPD are run off their feet. By extension that means Simon is too, but he welcomes the never ending list of tasks. 

He spends more and more time at the precinct speaking on behalf of Jericho and ensuring both sides are kept updated with current events whether it be the status of yet another bill Markus is fighting for, or the progress on any one of the numerous open cases worked on by Lieutenant Anderson and his sons. 

“Tearium, Simon.” Ronan announces softly as he sets the tall takeaway cup on their shared desk. “Ms Essie says it’s their new milk tea flavour.”

“Thank you Ronan.” Simon smiles tiredly as he takes the cup and carefully takes a sip. The coding spreads on his tongue, sweet and creamy and soothing. He closes his eyes to savour it and sighs in relief. 

“Connor’s just waiting for Captain Fowler to sign off on the report and then we’ll be done.” Ronan takes his seat opposite him. “Shall I walk you home?”

“You can walk me to my taxi at the curb.” Simon corrects. “I’ll be heading to the Manfreds after this.” 

“Good.” Ronan nods, seemingly pleased with the information. “Carl Manfred has a state of the art temperature stabiliser in his home, and it’s forecast to snow overnight.”

“You really don’t need to worry about me, Ronan.” He mumbles into his Tearium, feeling ever the burden. 

“Perhaps. But I do anyway.” There’s something soft in his voice, in the small upward tilt of his lips. “I think we’re permitted to worry over those we care for deeply.”

“Signed!” Connor declares, and the moment is gone as he brandishes the tablet. “Report approved and logged. Time to go home!” He skips down the scant steps from Captain Fowler’s office, placing the tablet on his table and snatching up his coat from the back of his chair. “Shall we drop you off somewhere, Simon?”

“I’ll be catching a cab to the Manfreds, thank you for the offer though, Connor.” Simon declines politely, pulling on his coat and retrieving his half finished drink. He waves goodbye to Miss Stephanie, the ST300 receptionist, on their way out. 

“Oh, it’s snowing already.” Connor holds up his palm, watching the snowflakes flutter down. “Is your cab far away?” 

“Shouldn’t be too far now.” Simon looks down the road. 

“Connor, you head home first. Sumo will need his evening walk before the snowfall becomes heavier.” Ronan opens an umbrella and steps beside Simon, holding it over the both of them. “I’ll keep Simon company and see him home safely.”

They exchange a look Simon can’t quite decipher, a probable conversation he’s not privy to, but it ends with Connor grinning one of his puppylike grins and Ronan ducking his head suddenly and averting his eyes. The older Anderson brother takes his leave and then it’s just Ronan standing very close at his side as the snow falls around them. 

Simon sips at his tea, sneaking the RK900 furtive glances and trying not to think about how very handsome he is and how he’s actually rather funny and far more gentle and kind than his false reputation dictates. He tries not to think of how much he wants his parting words to Gideon to be a reality and not just a lie spit out of spite. 

In a way Gideon is right- who would love Simon, not as a friend but as a partner when he is so broken and obsolete? Certainly not a one of a kind Kamski creation, the saviour of their kind and leader of their revolution. Certainly not the most cutting edge, state of the art android honed like a blade by CyberLife.

“Have a safe trip to the Manfreds, Simon, and goodnight.” Ronan’s voice cuts through his wallowing as the cab tucks itself neatly at the curb. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” For the Tearium, for the umbrella, for waiting, for being patient and humoring him, Simon wants to say. But he doesn’t, and Ronan closes the door and watches him drive off until the cab turns the corner and is out of sight.

Deciding to return the favour the next day doesn’t seem quite fair, and Simon can’t bring himself to buy just one Tearium and leave others empty handed so he ends up buying Teariums for both Anderson brothers, one for Miss Stephanie, and an actual coffee for Lieutenant Anderson. 

He’s partway up the steps of the precinct carefully holding the tray of drinks when he spots Gideon sitting in the reception area. Their eyes meet and Gideon’s standing up and that means it’s too late for Simon to turn tail and run.

“Here Simon, let me help you with that.” Ronan’s voice is a gentle murmur by his side and he nearly jumps out of his casing. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“N-no it’s not- you’re fine, I just-” He’s stammering and Ronan’s expression is one of concern as he takes the drinks from him, Simon belatedly realising his trembling violently. 

“Best to get you inside where it’s warmer.” He keeps stride with him as they enter the precinct, but all Simon wants to do is bolt away.

“So you weren’t lying.” Gideon greets him with a sneer, eyes roaming over Ronan briefly before returning to him. “Somehow convinced the RK900 to take pity on you, is that it? He’s not a domestic, Simon, he can’t take care of you!”

“Simon does not need my pity, or anyone else’s, he is perfectly capable of caring for himself.” Ronan places the tray on the reception desk, sizing up the AX700. “I do not appreciate you coming here to berate him publicly, and I do not care who you are but you will leave.”

“Or are you lying, Simon?” Gideon’s grin is malicious and the lie is unraveling in his hands. “Made up some relationship to make me jealous? Oh but that just means I’m right, doesn’t it? That no else could possibly love you, you broken, obs-”

Ronan’s hand closes around his throat, and the RK900 lifts him off the ground with no effort whatsoever, gaze positively murderous. “I love him plenty. And he didn’t bother telling me about you because you’re not worth his time, nor mine. Get out of here and don’t you ever, ever speak to Simon again.” 

He lets go and Gideon falls to the floor in a heap, scrambling back in fear as Ronan towers over him. “You don’t even deserve to look at him, you cruel little cretin. If I ever hear of you approaching him again I will pull you apart piece by piece, do you understand?”

Gideon nods hastily, whimpering when Ronan lunges down to grab him by the shirt and haul him up.

“I asked: do you understand?” He growls, voice low and threatening.

“Y-y-yes! Yes I understand!” 

“Excellent.” Ronan releases him. “See yourself out, then.”

Scrambling away, Gideon nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to escape and someone laughs a high-pitched almost hysterical laugh and after a moment Simon realises it’s him.

“Are you alright?”

“This isn’t happening.” Simon giggles and his vision is blurry and his LED is red enough it’s emitting heat. “I’m having an actual breakdown.”

“You are not.” Ronan’s expression is serious, his movements purposefully slow as he ever so gently guides Simon through the security gates and into a small room. “You are recovering from an emotionally abusive relationship and it has worn you thin. Your stress is understandable.”

“He- it wasn’t! That’s just how he is, he never hurt me I’m just overthinking things, I’m-” Simon can’t breathe which is an odd thing since androids can’t breathe but it feels like there isn’t enough air ventilating his biocomponents. “I used you, I told him we were together, I lied so he’d leave me alone and now you’re caught up in this, you had to lie to him too and I never meant-”

“What makes you think I was lying?” Ronan embraces him tightly and Simon cries because his system doesn’t know what else to do, how else to cope with his critical stress levels. “I love you plenty. Whether you accept that as the love of a friend or the love of a romantic partner, or not accept it at all- that is your choice to make. You need only tell me once, and I swear I will respect your wishes.”

“Then love me, because I want this to be real.” Simon pleads, and words aren’t enough so he lets the skin recede from his hand and Ronan presses his palm to his and the world falls away until there’s nothing left but the ache of yearning and pining and fondness and affection and love, and love and love.

He tips up just as Ronan leans down and their lips meet and their hearts sync and Simon knows finally this is real.

[artboitrash]

His Bloody Rose (Stefano Valentini fanfiction) Chapter 19 - Four Letters, Three words

I walked through the gallery, allowing one foot to be placed in front of the other.

"How? How can you not remember me?!" the man cried out once I answered.

"I... I don't know, I just..."

"After everything, dio mio, you have to go and lose yourself?!"

I looked at some pictures hanging in the hallway I turned down. They were unexpected, for a gallery, but they were something to look at and think about at least.

"Maybe calm down, just... Start from the beginning..."

"There isn't a beginning to start from!"

I raised a hand, but he grabbed it before I could gesture for him to settle down. He made an angry grumble, releasing my hand and stepping back. He stormed off into the darkness, leaving me alone again.

I ran my fingers along the wallpaper as I explored. It was painful, almost every step leading me to feel pain shooting through my side. But it was at least better, at least to me, than laying on a couch with a giant spotlight trained on me.

That man eventually approached me a few minutes later, sitting down on the couch next to me. He sat down a glass of red wine and a small plate of food.

"Eat, bella. You must regain your strength."

I was hesitant, and ignored the gnawing feeling of hunger. He watched me with baited breath, a calmed look across his face.

Eventually he sighed, then picked up the wine and tipped some into his mouth. Once he swallowed without hesitation, he picked up small samplings of food and ate some as well. He chewed, swallowed, and turned the fork towards me.

"I am not hungry tonight, as I have too much work to do." He waved a finger slightly, and brushed his fingers through his bangs. "But I hope that will prove to you that I do not intend to harm you."

I slid my fingers across a gilded frame. A picture titled "Bouquet" sat before me. A small golden plaque beneath it, hammered into the wall as though the picture was meant to sit there forever. I wondered if the piece had been manipulated in Photoshop, or if they were somehow real.

I heard a click behind me, making me turn around. There was nothing there, making me swallow and wonder if it was possible for any ghosts to be in Union. That is, if I was still in Union.

I glanced over the blue dress, reddened by blood and rose petals cascading down. I looked as a gust of wind seem to carry them in motion away from the woman's body. I saw the scissors in her hand, a mask, or what could be her face, in another. She leaned elegantly against a table, silent elegance in portrayal in her existence.

I sighed, thinking to myself. These were all pricking at the back of my mind, but I couldn't reach them in the darkness. I had seen some of these pictures before, but where or when continually escaped me.

I turned and continued down the hallway. I kept exploring the empty, darkened building, hoping to find some shred as to who that man was. I tried to find the answers as to why he, these pictures, and my own life kept escaping me.

-Stefano's P.O.V.-

"Son of a bitch!" I shouted aloud.

I threw my enlarger across the room, anger taking hold of me.

"How?!"

I tore down a clothes line that held drying pictures, scattering still developing photos and used gloves.

"How?!"

I picked up a blurry image of one of the men that had come to Union. I tore it in half and threw it into the sink.

"How can she not remember me?!"

I stood in the silence of my dark room, extending it further and making it turn into a hallway. I had been granted the most wonderful gift, finding I was able to shape this world as I pleased. I had everything I could have possibly asked for.

I sank to my knees. I buried my face in my hands, screaming incoherently. I jumped between English and Italian with reckless abandon, just wanting whatever was listening to know how much agony I was in.

Was this some sort of twisted fate? My price for the ability to create my work?

Her memories for unlimited materials.

Was this his doing? That man...

No, he was even less than that. If he was behind this, I would slice him into pieces where he stood the next time he faced me.

He promised me everything I could ever want, for that girl. The little girl in pink pajamas and a short black bob of hair. He called her "the core," and she was apparently far too important to allow to wander the streets.

I grumbled to myself, turning to a counter as I stood. "(My dear beauty... Please, I would do anything for you, and you knew it. Did you forget me because you came her, to this town? Or did they manipulate you, like they tried to do to me?)"

I knew my pride was to strong to admit it aloud, but I had forgotten who I was. I forgot my work, what inspired me most. I forgot my life when I came to this town, and I couldn't remember the one person who had stolen my affections.

She was living in Union with me, and I didn't even notice.

I slid my hand over one of my pieces. The proof of her as my art sitting next to the piece of the man in the chair. Ryan Turner, I believe. It was cathartic to kill someone who had the same name as the man who hurt her. I still need to make a nameplate for this work, but for now I could be satisfied.

I quietly inhaled. Counting to ten, slowly exhaling to calm myself. I smiled down at her picture. She was here, at least. The night I had been taken, I had simply taken her home and asked her to be my date for the next time my gallery showed. Once she was safely home, I decided to go to a Mu Center, or whatever they were called. I didn't want my correspondence with them to go any further.

"Stefano..."

I jerked my head to where I heard her. There was nothing there, almost as usual.

"A-ah..."

I closed my eye, pushing my hands into my head.

"N-no, no not again..."

"Ah, p-please..."

"Stop it, stop... You're not real..."

"I love you! Ah, I... I love you!!"

The sound she made as her orgasm crashed over her body took over my head. Our first night together, haunting me. Soon would come my second night with her, in the gallery. Then would be her shrieking. The sound of her trying to scream when almost no one could hear. The time I wasn't there to help her. The time I doubted her, the time I thought she had instantly went to someone else. I had abandoned her that night, and the terror in her eyes has been following me like a demon in the night.

"I... I love you..."

The ache I've been plagued with. The yearning for her touch. The want for her voice.

I backed away from her photo.

I love you.

"Stefano..."

I love you!

I covered my face, seething in anger.

"I... I l-love you, Stefano..."

I slammed my fist on the counter. I could almost hear the shattering

"Bella...!" I shouted.

I fell to the ground, holding onto the counter as my knees hit the tile. I held my hand over my mouth, feeling a burn in my heart. I tried to keep from hyperventilating.

It wasn't so gentle, so soft. Not anymore. It burned in pain, cracking my heart open and making it burst again and again and again.

"(My muse,)" I muttered in my native tongue. "(My dear, my beauty, my one...)"

"Stefano--!"

"I know, my dear, I know."

I slid my hand from my mouth. I pressed it over my chest. I could feel my heartbeat through the skin, beating its way out of my chest.

A few days ago, I had brought her to my gallery. I lay her along a couch and placed a curtain over her. I couldn't keep from posing her briefly, so excited my muse has returned for me. I took several pictures of her beaten and bloodied body as she slept.

It angered me that someone has hurt her, but I felt turmoil as she looked so... Beautiful.

Someone had gone over my work. I laughed at the time; it felt like "L. H. O. O. Q." in a way, someone adding a new part to my art and throwing her back into the world. Oh, my poor muse stumbling through that door so bloodied and frightened. Oh, how lovely that she was so frightened she couldn't recognized me...

But now I know so much better. I didn't want to know better.

I wanted my Rose.

The woman who cracked open the cavity in my chest and created the most wonderful art through me. The woman who would force me to make art from myself if I wished to see it. I wanted the Rose who kissed me, and made me question myself. I wanted the woman who made me hurt when I wasn't with her.

I wanted the Rose that trusted me. The Rose that called me in the night to tell me her nightmare, the Rose that held me when someone fired a gun and shot off fireworks.

We had already been through so much when they took me. We had been staying at each others house every other day, and she had stayed with me for so many days before I had gone.

I walked away from my red room, slipping a piece of paper out of my pocket. I slid out the black letter from the envelope. I sneered at it, having received the duplicate letter that ensnared me in this town after the world began to fall apart and I discovered my gift.

I remembered leaving her home, and going back to mine to get everything I needed. I decided to get some work around my house done now that I could relax since my gallery had been unveiled. After I had changed my sheets, I found that letter again. I read over the letter and decided I should head to one of those centers to tell them I wasn't interested. That was the only way I could opt out of that service, since they had such strange exiting details.

When I entered the Mu Center I had found, I walked to the receptionist and gave my full name. After I began discussing leaving the letters program, or whatever it was I was involved with.

And after that I couldn't remember a thing.

I woke in a place I somehow recognized. It was like a dream, a studio house with two floors. I could remember almost immediately weeks of moving into a new home. I had boxes of belongings to put away, and a welcome letter waiting on the table.

I couldn't remember what had changed my mind. I couldn't remember what made me decide to move to a new town. I couldn't remember more than being excited on moving into a new town.

I couldn't remember my Rose.

I grabbed my white pen out of my pocket. I growled quietly to myself in my anger, and threw the letter on a side table. I defiled the letter in my anger, scrawling violently across the paper. "LIES! ALL LIES!"

They lied to me about opting out of that ludicrous program. He lied that I would get everything I wanted. He lied about what he would give, about his religious front. He lied about even caring about what I wrote about in my letters.

He only gave a damn when he realized I was useful. He tried to sing me praise, false interest and fake encouragement.

I slammed the letter on the side table in the hallway. I walked away, my will slamming the metal bars down to lock it away forever. No one would see their words again, no one would be fooled with false promises and fake gods.

I walked away, feeling a little better now that I've ruined some of his "perfection." His perfection is useless and he was only a simpleton. I laughed quietly. I will speak to him, I will confront him. I will force him to give me back my muse's memories. I will force him to let go of her.

If he wanted to barter, so be it. I will get what I truly want, and I will not allow her to slip away from me again.

[szk-only]

It’s Always Been You: A Min Yoongi Story

Okay, so, this is the first part of a story that I am currently writing. Let me know what you think! Also, my request box is always open if y’all want more.

Word count: 6k

**Theme songs:

Stay - EXO, Lights Out - EXO, Inner Child - BTS, Magic Shop - BTS, Lie Again - SEVENTEEN, Crystal Snow - BTS, Fall - EXO, Hug - PENTAGON, I Need You - BTS (Makes the experience better)**

Where It Began

Hobi and I had been together for two months now. Things were going great. He was an amazing person and he did absolutely everything right. I could never have asked for a better boyfriend. We had met in a coffee shop one morning when he had gotten in line behind me and asked me what the best thing on the menu was. Such a simple conversation led to a whole lot more. 

Now, we were sitting in his car outside of the Big Hit building. After some time of asking, begging and a little bit of pouting, he finally got me to come meet his friends. For some reason I had always been nervous about meeting the people he spent the majority of his time with. I mean these were the people he basically lived with. Had been living with for the last seven years! I guess I was just afraid that they wouldn’t like me because that would mean the end of me and Hobi. I would never make him choose between them or me. I would hope that he would always choose them. 

“So, are you ready?” Hobi said with a bright smile that radiated sunshine. That was his nickname, sunshine, because he radiated the sun. All. The. Time. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be. I really hope that they like me,” I said while leaning back against the seat of his Range Rover. I was really stressed over this meeting. 

“Don’t be worried. They will absolutely love you. There is literally no reason they could not love you. Also, they’ve been begging to meet you since we started dating,” he said while reaching over and taking my hand in his. He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. 

“Okay, then let’s do this,” I said while smiling at him. He flashed a bright smile and we both got out of the car. I rounded the car and he grabbed my hand in his and led us inside. 

“Okay, so we are gonna meet them in the dorms since that’s the most casual place and also we want to be able to annoy anyone else. People always complain about how loud we are but I just say that's one of our many charms,” he said. He continued talking but I drifted to my own little world. My mind was reeling at all the scenarios that could play out until finally we walked through a door and a group of guys sitting on couches. 

I felt my heart stop when my eyes met with a blonde haired guy, Suga if I wasn’t mistaken, sitting towards the back of the room. It was like the world slowed and I was floating. My attention was pulled away when Hobi pulled me into the room. I forced myself to look away to smile as the tallest guy in the room walked up with an outstretched hand. I put on a bright smile and grabbed his hand but was surprised when he pulled me into a hug. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you! I’m glad to finally meet the girl that Hobi can’t stop talking about. For a while I thought you were made up,” he said when he released me from his hug. I couldn’t help but laugh as Hobi punched the dude in the arm. 

I followed Hobi to a couch and we took a seat. I pulled my legs up and crossed them, placing my laced hands in my lap. I felt myself begin to relax when everyone settled down in the couches. I looked up from hands to find Suga sitting right across from me. For a moment we just looked at each other, as if there was no one else in the room. 

“So I’m sure you know our names already but let us introduce ourselves. I’m Namjoon, aka the dad of this group and welcome to the family,” he said, pulling my attention away from the guy sitting in front of me. I smiled at him, beginning to feel more at ease. 

“Hi, I’m Jin and I’m the youngest. Also, known as world handsome,” he said, sending us all laughing. I glanced over at Suga and felt my heart stop at his gummy smile.

“I’m JK but you can call me Jungkook also, you are really short,” he said. I couldn’t fight the deep laugh that rumbled through me.

“Yes I am. Four foot eleven to be exact,” I said once I regained my composure. 

“My little shortie,” Hobi said while wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into him. My eyes drifted over to Suga and found him looking at the floor. I felt an ache go through my chest. I shifted and Hobi moved his arm. 

“I’m Jimin and I just so happen to be the shortest in this group so we can be short together,” he said with a wink that sent the whole group laughing. 

“I’m V but you can call me Taehyung,” he said with a shy smile. And then finally we came to Suga. I felt my heart begin to beat a little faster at the thought of hearing his voice. He looked up and let out a smile that shattered my entire world. It was the most perfect thing I had ever seen. 

“Hi, I’m Suga but you can call me Yoongi, it’s nice to meet you,” he said with a deep voice that made my entire world shift. His voice was perfect. He was perfect. 

“Nice to meet you all too. I am so glad I was able to let Hobi talk me into coming over to meet y’all,” I said with a sweet smile. 

“You are welcome here anytime and we are glad that Hobi finally brought you over,” Namjoon said. With that we all started talking and I no longer felt worried. 

When dinner was over and Hobi was in an intense match of ping-pong with Namjoon, I grabbed plates and walked into the kitchen. I set them down in the sink and opened the dishwasher. 

“Let me help you with that,” said a deep voice that made me feel safe. I looked up and smiled at Yoongi as he walked over to the other side of the dishwasher. 

“Thank you,” I said. We reached into the sink at the same time and our hands met. I felt something I have never felt go through me. I looked up and he looked at me. After a long pause he pulled his hand back and continued putting dishes in the dishwasher.  

“Umm. So, how long have you lived in Seoul?” Yoongi asked, his cheeks turning pink. I felt heat rush to my own cheeks. 

“For the last six years. Me and my best friend moved here after we graduated from college,” I said. Even though my mind was reeling from what had just happened, talking to him was easy..  

“Oh wow, that’s cool. So what do y’all do now?” he said.

“Well I’m a pediatric nurse practitioner at the local hospital and she’s a linguistic anthropologist professor at the local university. So what about you? What do you do other than make every girl in the world fall in love with you?,” I said with a smile. I watched as a smile formed on his face and a laugh rumbled through him. His smile was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. While Hobi’s was full of sunshine, Yoongi’s was everything good that was in the world. Everything that I had ever dreamed of. 

“Wow that’s so amazing. But other than making every girl fall in love with me, I produce music. I actually produce a lot of our music too,” he said with a shy smile. 

“That’s so cool. You’ll have to show me some of the music you produced,” I said with a bright smile. I couldn’t stop smiling. He was everything I had ever dreamed of but didn’t know I had been dreaming of. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. With that we finished the dishes and headed back into the living room to join the others. Now knowing that soon both our worlds would shift.

Later that evening I fell onto my bed, my mind filled with so many thoughts. What was I going to do? It was wrong of me to be with Hobi but feel myself falling in love with someone else. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts, stopping on my best friend Joanna’s number. I put the phone to my ear and waited for her to pick up. 

“Hello,” said my absolute best friend. We had been friends for as long as I could remember and I couldn’t live life without her. 

“Hey Joanna! How are you?” I said, feeling myself get excited.

“Good, how about you? How did meeting Hobi’s friends go?”

“It went absolutely amazing and a certain member that I think you find really attractive is single” 

“No way! Namjoon is single?” she said, almost screaming. 

“Yup and I may or may not have said that I would be bringing you along the next time we hang out and they look forward to meeting you.” I said while laughing at how she was now screaming on the other end of the phone. 

“Oh my gosh. You may just be the best person to ever breathe on this planet,” she said when she finally stopped screaming. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” the smile slipping from my lips at the situation I now found myself in. 

“What’s up?” she said. She knew me better than anyone, so I wasn’t surprised when she noticed my small change in tone. That was one of her super powers. She could read anyone and anything. 

“It’s one of his friends, his name is Yoongi. There is just something about him that I’ve never felt before. We connected in a way that just felt natural. We did the dishes together and our hands touched and something went through me. He felt it too because he let his hand linger,” I said. For a moment there was silence. 

“Oh wow,” she said softly. 

“Yeah and now he is all i can think about. He’s all I want,” I said, a yearning burning in my heart.

“What are you going to do?” she said. 

“I don’t know but I know I need to talk to Hobi because he deserves to know. I just don’t want him to get hurt because he is such a good person and deserves the world. I just don’t feel the same way for him and it’s not fair to him,” I said. 

“That would be a good idea. I would wait just a little while before I told him because you did just meet Yoongi. If your feelings get stronger or you feel that you are about to slip, talk to him,” she said. 

“Okay. I just don’t want Hobi to get hurt,” I said. I felt guilt begin to gnaw at my heart. 

“Just go with your heart and be honest with him. I know for a fact from what you have told me and from seeing the kind of person he is that he will understand,” she said. 

“I hope so because I’ve never been in this kind of situation and I would never want to hurt anyone,” I said. 

“I know you will do the right thing Grace. You always do,” she said. I felt a smile form on my lips. She really was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. 

“Thank you Joanna. So, the group is getting together again this weekend and I was hoping that you could go with me?” I said. I crossed my fingers, hoping that she could go so I could set her up with Namjoon. 

“Of course! You know I wouldn’t miss a chance to hang out with my best friend,” she said. 

“Yeah, that’s totally the reason you're coming,” I said. With that we both laughed. 

That night I laid in bed, unable to sleep. My mind raced with the conversation that me and Yoongi had in the kitchen. Even though it was small, it was everything. All I wanted was to talk to him again. I wanted to hear his voice, wanted to watch the way his lips moved. 

‘Grace stop. You can’t think about these things while you are with Hobi. It’s not fair to him,’ I thought to myself. What had I gotten myself into?

I turned over and pulled a pillow close to me. How was I going to get out of this? 

A week later Joanna and I walked into the Big Hit building. All week she had been talking about the weekend and how excited she was to meet Namjoon. What she didn’t know was that I had been talking to Namjoon and he was beyond excited to meet her too. This was going to go so great and I couldn’t wait to see where it would go. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so nervous,” she said as we walked down the hallway to the dorms. 

“Don’t be. These guys are amazing. I promise you, you have nothing to worry about,” I said with a huge smile. She gave me a small smile and I just laughed.

“Are you laughing at me?” she said dramatically. 

“No, of course not,” I said while laughing even harder. She just stared at me before she broke out into her own laughter. 

“Oh my gosh, I could hear y’all laughing all the way down the hall,” said a familiar voice. I turned to find Hobi rounding the corner with a smile as bright as the sun. I smiled right back at him and walked into his open arms. 

“Pshh I doubt that,” I said while shaking my head at Joanna. She just smiled as she walked up to us.

“Hi, I’m Hobi. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. Grace talks about you all the time,” he said while extending his hand out. 

“All good things I hope are the same for you,” she said while shaking his hand. I was so happy that my two favorite people were finally meeting. 

“Really now?” he said while turning to look at me. I just stepped out of his reach and threw my hands up in the air. 

“Oh yeah. Who do you think was the one who got her to go out on that first date with you,” she said while winking. Hobi scoffed and Joanna and I burst into laughter. It didn’t take long before Hobi joined in. 

“Hey! Why are we missing out on all the fun,” said a certain Namjoon. I turned to Joanna who was now no longer laughing but completely entranced by Namjoon. 

“Hey Namjoon, this is Joanna and we were just about to make our way to the dorms,” I said while grabbing Hobi’s hand and pulling him towards the dorms, leaving Namjoon and Joanna together. I turned back for a second and gave her a thumbs up before we walked into the dorms. 

Hobi and I took a seat on our usual couch as Namjoon and Joanna walked in the door. She was smiling bigger than I had seen in a long time. I was happy for her. She deserved to be this happy and I hope that she will be able to stay that way. 

“Where are the others?” I said while looking around the room. It was unusually quiet now that all seven of them weren’t in here together. 

“The others are out and about. They will be back later, they are going to bring food too,” he said while wrapping his arm around my shoulders as Joanna and Namjoon took the couch in front of us.

“Okay, so what are we going to do?” I said while looking over at Namjoon. He smirked and I knew that he was thinking up something. 

“Well, I have a game in mind. So it's a couples verses couples game. And it’s called the blow challenge,” he said. 

“I’ve heard of this game and it seems really fun but super intense,” Joanna said. I couldn’t fight the urge to wink at her because of how close her and Namjoon would be getting. When she finally realized her cheeks tinged pink. 

“Awesome! So basically the point of the game is to see which couple can move the most pieces of paper with their lips holding the paper. The loser gets last dibs on the food,” he said with a smirk. I turned to Hobi with an exasperated look. I was met with the same look. 

“Oh, we cannot lose this game,” he said. There was no way that we were going to go without food and knowing this group they would take all the food. That was just not possible. We would literally die.

“Agreed. You guys are on,” I said while holding out a hand. Hobi met it with our handshake and we were ready. Namjoon stood to go grab the supplies from the other room and Hobi and I moved to the floor to strategize until he returned. 

“Alright, so I’m going to set the timer for 1 minute and GO,” he said. With that I turned to our first piece of paper and sucked it up. I turned to Hobi who leaned in and sucked it from my lips and turned to our basket. We were like a well oiled machine, getting piece after piece. However, we were so focused on winning that we never checked to see how Namjoon and Joanna were doing. 

A minute later a ringing pierced through our stern concentration. The paper fell from my lips but Hobi saw that as an opportunity because he continued leaning in. His lips met mine in a sweet peck. I smiled onto his lips and let out a small laugh. I heard the same laugh from beside me and knew that Namjoon had done the same thing.

“Alright people, the time is up. Let’s count out our paper and see who won,” Namjoon said. I turned to our basket and Hobi dumped the contents onto the floor. We counted a total of 15 pieces of paper. 

“15! We have 15 pieces!” Hobi and I screamed in unison. We fist bumped at our sure victory. 

“Sorry my dudes but read em and weep because we have 20,” Namjoon said with a smug grin. Joanna shot me a smirk and I fell onto Hobi with a moan. 

“NO! We are going to starve,” I said into his chest. I felt him deflate as we began thinking about how we were quite literally going to starve. 

“Who’s going to starve?” said Jimin as the door opened. Hobi and I only sighed loudly and creeped back over to the couch. 

“That would be Hobi and Grace because they lost the game. Sucks for them!” Namjoon said while laughing evilly

“I’m going to kill him,” I said. I jumped from Hobi’s arms onto an unsuspecting Namjoon who began screaming like a girl, sending the entire room into laughter. 

When everyone had grabbed what they wanted from the food that was brought, Hobi and I made our way into the kitchen to see what was left. However, I was stopped by Yoongi who pointed toward a cabinet with his chopsticks and winked. I couldn’t fight the grin as I went to the cabinet and found a plate full of food. I turned to look over my shoulder as Hobi picked through what was left. When his back was turned I grabbed the plate and silently walked back into the living room. 

I took a seat on the floor next to a smiling Yoongi. My arm pressed against his as I positioned myself in front of the low table. The skin on skin contact had me blushing like crazy and every nerve in my body tingling. I looked over at him and noticed that his cheeks were slightly pink. However, he didn’t move and neither did I. His warmth was addicting. 

Eventually Hobi made his way into the living room with a sad looking plate of food. However, when he saw my full plate, he almost dropped his plate. 

“Where did you get all that?” he said while taking a seat in front of me. I just shrugged my shoulders and Yoongi let out a quiet laugh. His shoulders shook causing his arm to rub mine. For a moment the world was forgotten and all I could think about was his arm rubbing mine. I looked to the floor when I realized that Hobi was now looking at me. Guilt began gnawing at me so I shifted slightly but not far enough that I couldn’t feel Yoongi’s warmth. 

I glanced up and found Joanna staring at me. She raised her eyebrows and I knew what that meant. I was playing it too close. It was either stop or tell Hobi and I wasn’t ready to tell Hobi yet. I turned my gaze back to my food and pushed the plate so Hobi could get some. He smiled at me and we all ate. 

I fell back onto my bed when I got home. Joanna did the same thing and for a moment we just laid there looking up at the ceiling. This was a rather common thing for us to do. We were the kind of best friends who could just sit there in silence and be totally fine. 

“Girl, tonight was so much fun,” Joanna said, breaking the silence. 

“I know. So you and Namjoon seemed pretty chummy all cuddled on the couch during the movie,” I said while turning my head so she could see my raised eyebrows. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said while turning away from me but I knew she was blushing like a mad woman. 

“Okay. Whatever you say,” I said with a high pitched voice. A few seconds later her hand hit my arm with a loud smack. 

“Hey! What was that for?” I said after we both stopped laughing. 

“You know what. You were toeing the line tonight with Yoongi. I could read it on both of your faces. Grace that boy is in love with you and you are in love with him. You need to tell Hobi as soon as possible,” she said. I looked over at her and she gave me one of her looks.**

**“I know. I’m just so afraid of hurting him. He is one of the sweetest guys I have ever met and I don’t want to break his heart. I just don’t know when would be the right time to tell him,” I said while turning away. I couldn't bear her looks. They could make even the toughest person crumple. 

“Just tell him. If you don’t you could end up losing them both and I have seen the way that you look at Yoongi,” she said. The thought of losing them both sent a pang through my heart. I couldn’t imagine a life without Yoongi. He was the one and the only one. 

“You’re right. I will tell him soon. Now, let’s talk about you and Namjoon,” I said, changing the subject as quickly as possible. 

“I know what you are doing but he kissed me at the end of the game and girl let me tell you. It was unlike anything I have ever felt before,” she said. I could hear the amazement in her voice. I thought back to my kiss with Hobi and realized that I didn’t feel that way. 

“It felt like true love,” I said. I felt the bed shift but I continued to stare at the ceiling, knowing that that would be the feeling I would get if I ever kissed Yoongi.

“Exactly,” she said softly. With that we stayed in silence for the rest of the night as we fell asleep. 

The next few weeks were hard. All I could think about was Yoongi and how much I wanted him. When I saw him it was all I could do to keep my eyes off of him. The looks from across the room set me on fire no matter how many times it happened Then the small touches started. Simple hand brushing when we walked past each other, brushing shoulders when we sat next to each other. 

This was becoming a problem and we both knew it but we just couldn’t stop. We were addicted to each other. We wanted each other more and more each time we saw one another but neither one of us spoke a word of it. However, we didn’t need to. Our gazes and small touches said it all. 

I had to tell Hobi soon.

 I walked through the hallways of Big Hit, looking for Hobi but couldn’t find him anywhere. I guess that's what happens when you don’t tell him that you are coming. As I turned around another corner a soft melody caught my ears. It was beautiful and full of so much passion. I let my ears guide me and walked to the end of the hallway, the sound gradually getting louder. As I rounded a corner there was a door leading to a practice room and the music was coming loudly from the other side. 

Without thinking, I opened the door and walked in. Yoongi was sitting at a piano in the middle of the room playing a beautiful song. For a moment I watched as he moved with the music. It was unlike anything I had ever seen or heard. I closed my eyes, letting my body drink up the beautiful song that he was playing. It was familiar but I couldn’t place the name. 

When he stopped I opened my eyes to find him sitting there, hands still on the keys, shoulders rising and falling. I took a step and he turned around. He smiled at me and scooted over. 

“How long have you been there?” he said as I took a seat beside him, our arms brushing against each other. I let my body soak up the warmth of his touch. 

“Long enough to know that you are amazing. I’ve never seen anyone play with such passion,” I said while turning to look at him. 

“I've been playing for a long time but the piano was my first love. Now, whenever I need to get away from the world I always find myself sitting in front of one,” he said with a soft smile. I couldn’t fight the smile that formed on my lips. 

“Wow, that’s amazing. Can you play it again,” I said with a brighter smile. His smile widened and he turned back to the piano. I watched as his fingers reached out over the keys and how his foot fell upon the pedals. He took a deep breath and unleashed himself.

I closed my eyes and let the familiar but still unnamed melody move through me. At that moment, I knew that I only wanted Yoongi and that I couldn’t wait any longer. I wanted him, every single part. I opened my eyes and watched as he moved with every note. How his eyes were closed and his lips pursed every time he moved. He was beautiful. 

When he finished, he turned to me and opened his eyes, smiling softly. My body warmed with his gaze. I felt myself leaning closer but I stopped myself a few inches away. He shifted and moved closer. Noses almost brushing. 

“I need you,” he whispered, his breath tickling my lips. 

“What?” I whispered back, pouring every ounce of my strength into not closing the distance. 

“I need you is the name of the song. I could see you thinking about it,” he whispered, a smile tugging on his lips. I couldn’t fight the laugh that rose through me. I gave up and leaned my forehead against his, sighing. He brushed his nose against mine and I could feel myself slowly melting. 

“I need you,” I whispered, almost inaudibly. His hand brushed mine and I knew that he had heard me. But it was true. I needed him, needed every single part of him. He made me whole in a way no one ever had. I shuddered as his fingers slowly caressed mine, as if he wanted to grab my hand but just couldn’t yet. I closed my eyes as he slowly laced our fingers together, my hand fitting perfectly in his. He slipped his thumb in between our hands and started tracing small circles on my palm. Time seemed to stop and we were the only ones existing. I never wanted it to end. 

“I know you are with Hobi but I have to tell you this. When you walked through the door to the dorms for the first time, my world shifted the instant my eyes met yours. Our hands fit perfectly together and that means something. Grace you don’t have to say anything but I want you. I want you more than anything I have ever wanted in this world,” he whispered. Each breath brushed my lips, making them tingle. I felt like I was about to explode as the love swelled through me. He was the one and there was nothing I could do about it. 

“Yoongi, the moment I walked through that door, you were the first one and the only one I saw. My world shifted in a way that it has never shifted before. I’m not going to lie and tell you that I didn’t feel something when you touched my hand or that I wasn’t secretly hoping that we would brush hands again because I did. Yoongi, I want you too, more than anything in this world. Give me time to talk to Hobi because it’s not fair to him but you are the only one I want,” I whispered. I bit my lip, finding it harder to not kiss him. I watched as his eyes flicked to my lips and back up to my eyes. I was going to cave soon but the thought of Hobi floated through me. 

I closed my eyes and pulled myself away with a sigh. I couldn’t do that to Hobi, I wouldn't do that to him. I kept my eyes closed as I felt tears rise in my eyes at the pure wanting of his warmth back, to be back in Yoongi’s warmth. He was perfect in every way. With heavy lids, I opened my eyes and found Yoongi looking at me with an expression that mirrored my own. 

“Soon. Soon, I promise,” I whispered with a sigh. He nodded his head and I stood up from the piano. I let my fingers graze over the keys before turning back to him. He looked up at me with eyes that tore me to pieces. There was passion mixed in with sadness. At that moment, I almost gave in. 

“I will be here, waiting no matter how long it takes,” he said while standing. I felt a tear slip down my cheek. No one had ever said that to me, not even Hobi. He reached up and gently wiped away the tear. I leaned into his touch but he pulled away, leaving my cheek cold.

“Today. I will tell him today,” I said and with that I turned to leave, not trusting myself if I stayed any longer. I closed the door behind me and leaned against the wall. I took a deep breath, clearing my mind. That was too close. I had to talk to Hobi. I took my phone out and sent him a message. 

‘Hey can we talk?’ It was better to be straightforward. 

‘Yeah, I’m in a practice room down the hall from the dorms.’ With that I took a deep breath and pushed myself off the wall. I glanced through the door and found Yoongi sitting in front of the piano again. Waiting. 

I made my way to the practice room and found Hobi sitting against the wall, alone. I took a deep breath and opened the door. He looked up from his phone and gave me a soft smile. It took me by surprise because I was used to his bright smile all the time. 

“Hey,” he said as I took a seat beside him. 

“Hey,” I said while leaning my head against the wall. For a moment there was silence.

“I need to tell you something,” we said at the same time. We both let out small laughs. 

“You first,” he said. I took a deep breath and turned to look him in the eyes. 

“Hobi, I don’t really know how to tell you this but I am going to be honest with you. I am in love with Yoongi. I wanted to tell you sooner but you had just introduced me to the guys and I felt like that I could have just been imagining things, but over these past few weeks I’ve realized that I am in love with him. Hobi, I still love you and I am so sorry if this hurts you. I never wanted to hurt you but he is the one,” I said. I blinked back tears that began rising. He looked at the ground for a while before finally looking back at me. He gave me a small smile. 

“It’s okay and I still love you too but I’ve also fallen in love with someone else. I think she is the one but that doesn’t mean that I never loved you because I did. She’s just the one, you know?” he said. I felt my body relax as I let out a deep sigh that I had been holding in for so long. All my fear dissipated in seconds.

“I do,” I said. We smiled at each other, genuine smiles this time. We were both afraid of hurting one another but it turned out we were both in the same boat. 

“Well , then let’s go out and get our love,” he said while standing. He reached down and I grabbed his hand as he pulled me up. He pulled me in for a hug and we stood there for a moment. 

“Let’s go get it. So we are good then?” I said when we released each other. 

“We are totally good. I would say we could now be best friends. In fact, I think we would work better as best friends,” he said with a laugh. I joined in and we walked out the door. I waved as he turned to walk in the opposite direction and watched as he disappeared around the corner. I turned towards the direction of the practice room Yoongi was in and felt every part of me fill with love. I could finally love him. I took off in a sprint to the practice room, ready to give him every single bit of my love. 

I came to a stop outside of the practice room and found him still sitting in front of the piano. He was now playing another song. I felt a smile break out on my lips as I thought to myself, ‘he was mine to love now.’ I pushed open the door and walked in. He stopped playing and turned to me. 

“I love you,” I said. He stood up and moved out from behind the piano. 

“I love you too,” he said. With that we ran to each other and I jumped into his arms, lips meeting for the first time. Everything in the world fell into place as we kissed. My world was complete. Everything felt right, everything was right as I kissed him harder. Even though we had the rest of eternity together, all that mattered was this moment right now. 

He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine as we caught our breath. He smiled and his lips brushed mine. I felt my own lips turn up as I placed a small kiss on his lips as we started our journey into forever.

[undermoonlightst]

First Time (Woozi/Lee Jihoon) (Smut)

A/N: I rewrote this sucker fOUR times. I also got carried away and made it extremely long on accident. When I found out this was over 5,000 words I choked on my coffee a little.... anyway. About the Jicheol part of this request, I have never written a boy x boy smut before, in fact, this story is only my third time writing smut. So for now, I am still struggling learning to write just regular smut and make it good so I don’t yet feel comfortable writing any SVT ship smuts yet. I am not against the idea at all, and would love to write them in the future once I get more settled in here. Anyway, thanks so much for your request!! I hope you enjoy this! <3

Request: Can we have a first time with JIcheol? (No reader involved just jicheol) if not then a first time with Jihoon?    

➵ Pairing: Woozi/Lee Jihoon x Reader

➵ Theme: Smut, slight dom!Jihoon (only for a moment...then he goes back to being a cinnamon roll)

➵ Words: 5,163 (holy cRAP!)

*credits to gif owner, not mine*

Jihoon was slow as molasses when it came to your relationship. You were friends long before you dated and it literally took him years to slowly fall in love with you. But that’s what made it so beautiful. His steady pace of falling in love with you over time meant that by the time he finally admitted it to you, he was smitten. Terribly smitten. Jihoon was usually very stoic and didn’t show much emotion. But in private, when he felt an emotion, he was passionate about it. Especially around you. He never failed to express to you how much he loved you, even when he was away on tour or stressed out making music. You felt extremely proud that you were basically the only one that got to see Jihoon’s real emotions.

Since he was so slow, so careful with your relationship, it took him a very long time to be ready for sex. He wanted it, oh he definitely wanted it, but he was weary of bringing it up to you. All these months of being together and you still hadn’t talked about sex with him, nor had you done anything with him that could be considered, well... sexy. What if you didn’t even want sex? It was a stupid thought, yet Jihoon thought it.

He fiddled with the tv remote, not paying attention to his show, but instead thinking about you. His thoughts were running wild. He wanted you, badly, but if you didn’t want sex and he brought it up to you... Jihoon didn’t want you to think he was some hormonal horn dog. But, holding back had started to become more and more difficult for him. He began to have dreams at night about you, about making love to you passionately. And every time he would see you during the day, along with his extreme adoration and love for you, a slight ache would gnaw at him from somewhere deep inside. He recognized it as sexual desire, and it was becoming more unbearable as time went on. Every little thing that you did made his emotions go into a frenzy and his fingers would be itching to touch you, to just get a taste of your soft skin.

“I’m home!” You walked into the living room, placing your keys down on the counter and Jihoon was startled out of his thoughts. What he didn’t know, was that you had been having very similar thoughts about him. Your growing desire to have sex with Jihoon had been rising, yet you hadn’t mentioned it to him. What he also didn’t know was that you were tired of holding yourself back from him. You had secretly noticed Jihoon’s gazes at you the past few weeks, watching him bite his lip as he eyed you from a distance, his mind obviously full of unclean thoughts. His recent kisses with you lingered longer than they usually did, his hands holding onto you tightly like he might lose you. You were tired of letting sexual tension make things uneasy for the both of you. You wanted him. You wanted his long, slender fingers to feel your skin, you wanted them tracing lazy shapes on your lower stomach before finding your soaking clit-

You cleared your throat and turned to see Jihoon looking at you.

“Hi.” He hummed, and your heart warmed up at the loving gaze he was giving you. As soon as he saw you, Jihoon’s body instantly filled with want. He cursed himself for being so weak for you. Yet, you were so beautiful, so soft. Every inch of him adored you, and he yearned to show you how crazy you made him. His mind wandered to what you might sound like sighing in pleasure, begging him to touch you, begging him to give it to you faster...harder. He felt something rise inside of him and he scanned your gorgeous body quickly. He swallowed, suddenly becoming very aware of how aroused he had gotten so quickly, just at the fucking sight of you.

“How was your day?” He forced himself to ask, his tone hoarse. You lifted a brow slightly at the sound of his voice. It sounded slightly weak, like something had drained the energy from him.

“Boring.” You chuckled. “It’s better now that I’m home with you.” You smiled, strutting over to the couch, swaying your hips slightly. Jihoon had to force himself to keep his eyes on yours instead of drifting them to your swinging hips as you approached him. You sat down, instantly leaning an arm over Jihoon’s shoulders so your fingers could play with his soft hair. He hummed in approval, leaning into your touch a little too quickly, giving away his desperateness for you. He turned his face to look at you, and you almost melted at the urgent look in his eyes. He was anxious to get more physical attention from you than you just playing with his hair, so he leaned in suddenly, connecting your lips in a searing kiss. It deepened almost instantly as you wrapped both arms around Jihoon’s neck.

His kisses quickly became frantic and you were beginning to feel very aroused by just the sound of Jihoon’s wet lips parting from yours repeatedly with small pops, just to be reconnected to them again a millisecond later. He repeated this action over and over again, giving you quick, frenzied pecks that, though they were quick, were deep, and they had you squeezing your thighs together in arousal.

“Jihoon...” You whispered, and he swallowed at the sultry sound of your voice. His hand was gripping your thigh and you knew that at this point, you had to say or do something to let Jihoon know, you wanted sex. Now.

“Jihoon.” You said his name again, and he pulled away from your lips, giving you his full attention. You didn’t know how to word what you wanted so you settled for moving to straddle his lap. Jihoon looked surprised but he adjusted quickly, his hands naturally smoothing to hold your hips. You gently grabbed both his cheeks, leaning in close.

“Kiss me again.” You begged, your hot breath hitting Jihoon’s face, causing him to shiver. He didn’t say a word, but instead obeyed your request, slamming his lips into yours and gripping your hips so tight you thought you might have bruises later. The kissing instantly became a heated make out session, your tongue battling Jihoon’s for dominance, yet he was winning easily. The whole thing was a blur of pleasure and crazy hormones, both of you breathing heavily on each other’s lips, and your hands wandering each other desperately.

You didn’t mean for it to happen but it did. As soon as Jihoon gave your bottom lip a gentle, yet sultry bite, you involuntarily ground your hips down against his. He immediately gasped and threw his head back at the feeling of you pushing against his half-hard cock.

“O-oh.” He sighed, his eyes closing, and your cheeks instantly flushed at the sight and sound of him experiencing sexual pleasure. You had never heard him make such a gorgeous noise before. Wanting to hear it again, you rolled your hips down on him again, this time jolting slightly at the feeling of Jihoon’s hard cock rubbing against your clit. He groaned and then chuckled lowly at your reaction to feeling his cock against you. You had frozen, your eyes wide as you stared at him.

“Are you surprised?” He laughed and you blushed, looking down at your lap. “Do you even know what you do to me?” He purred, leaning in close to your face and a shiver ran down your body. You gripped his shoulders.

“W-what do I do to you?”

“This.” Jihoon growled and shifted without warning, pinning you down on your back on the couch so fast that it took your breath away from you temporarily. Before you could recover, Jihoon smashed his lips into yours, instantly biting down roughly. You let a whimper at his sudden roughness, your heart racing with excitement. Jihoon’s delicate hands were exploring your body with fervor, grabbing at anything and everything he could as you squirmed underneath him. His free hand that wasn’t holding himself up over you, eventually found one of your breasts and when he gave it a gentle squeeze, you instinctively arched your back, pushing yourself into Jihoon’s touch and moaning softly. He smiled at your noise of pleasure, continuing to fondle your breast as he resumed kissing you eagerly. His fingers eventually danced down to the bottom of your shirt, tugging at the hem of it. He pulled away from your lips hesitantly so he could look you in the eyes. You wanted to melt at the sight of him above you, staring at you with hooded eyes that screamed ‘lust’. Yet, behind it was a sparkle of deep affection and love for you. Only you.

“May I?” He referred to your shirt and you nodded eagerly. He sighed in relief and pulled it over your head, revealing your almost-bare chest. Jihoon had to swallow back his desire as his eyes landed on your beautiful chest for the first time.

“You’re so gorgeous, (Y/N).” He breathed and you laughed.

“I barely have gotten any clothes off!”

“Yes, but even looking at you like this drives me insane.” Jihoon smirked, leaning down to nibble at your ear. He immediately wanted your bra off, and he assured you that it was pretty... but it was in the way. You arched your back, letting him slip his nimble fingers behind you so he could undo your bra and toss it wherever he pleased. You watched his eyes widen in awe at the sight of you.

“Oh God, baby.” He breathed, letting his fingers trace your nipples softly, causing you to jerk slightly. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long.”

“So have I.” You were breathless, even at his simple touches to your breasts. Jihoon smiled softly at your response and gave your nipples a few more flicks before leaning down, wrapping his lips around one of them and sucking gently. You couldn’t contain your mewl, arching your back as pleasure raced through your body. His lips felt heavenly on your breast, sucking and kissing the sensitive bud, his hand palming the other breast. You had felt wetness pooling between your thighs the minute you began kissing Jihoon, but now you were so wet that it was unbearable and you were aching to get out of your pants. Your back would arch deeply any time Jihoon swirled his tongue around your nipple and you were becoming more and more desperate.

“P-please.” You finally whimpered, and Jihoon made eye contact with you while keeping his lips on your breast. He felt his cock twitch as he saw the pleading look in your eyes, and it turned him on to no end that you were as desperate as he was to do this. He parted from your nipple with a soft ‘pop’.

“We’ll get there baby, hold on. We’re in no rush.” He soothed you, moving his lips to give your other nipple the same amount of blissful attention. You were becoming impatient, your core aching with anticipation, but Jihoon was working sinful magic on your body and you knew you still had a long ways to go before it was finally time for the main event. You suddenly felt Jihoon’s fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down gently. You sighed in relief and helped kick them off your legs. You shivered as Jihoon slowly slid a hand up your thigh as he stared at you.

“Are you wet for me?” He whispered sultrily and you felt your core clench around nothing. You couldn’t reply, your mind instead intensely focused on Jihoon’s hand creeping up your thigh, getting closer and closer to where you needed him the most. You nodded your head meekly.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” His tone was sharp and you shot your eyes up to meet his, shocked and aroused by his sudden change in personality.

“Y-yes.” You replied.

“Good girl. Let me see just how wet you are for me.” He began to dip a finger into your panties but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Wait, Jihoon. Please take off your clothes.” You requested. Jihoon chuckled but obliged, your mouth beginning to water as he undressed, your eyes finding his boxers and his erection pressing against them, begging for release. Your hands immediately found Jihoon’s chest, massaging the toned muscles gently, earning a groan of satisfaction from him. You were expecting him to continue his mission of sliding his fingers into your panties, like he had been doing before you asked him to remove his clothing. Yet, it seemed he had changed his mind, his mouth now instead wandering your almost-bare body. His lips kissed and sucked angry red marks down your chest and stomach, not planning on stopping any time soon. As he worshipped your body with his lips, his free hand reached for yours, instantly intertwining your fingers and squeezing lovingly. You were utterly confused by the way his demeanor kept changing throughout the whole thing. One minute, he was demanded you to speak up, the next, he was holding onto your hand with a gentle grip that seemed to convey the message that he would never let go of you.

You loved both sides of him, but his dominating side was one that you had only seen glimpses of, mainly when he was jealous or feeling possessive. Curiosity and mischief ran through your body, your mind wondering what he would be like if he switched in bed and fully dominated you. You let your curiosity take over and you decided to test him. You took your knee as Jihoon began kissing your abdomen, and softly brushed it against his straining cock. He let out a low groan, his lips pulling away from your stomach for only a moment before they returned again. You repeated your acting, pushing your knee against him a bit harder.

“(Y/N)...don’t tease me.” He was looking at you now, and you almost couldn’t hold back your smile. You disobeyed, rubbing his cock thoroughly with your knee.

“Don’t.” He begged breathlessly. You weren’t listening. Wanting to push him over the edge of his patience, you tried to grind your leg against him one more time-

Jihoon snapped up to sit on his knees in-between your legs, his hand finding your thigh and pushing your leg up into the air so fast that you gasped in shock, his other hand immediately coming down with a harsh smack to your exposed ass. You cried out.

“You’re so stubborn.” He hissed with a hint of admiration in his tone, rubbing the spot on your ass that he had just slapped.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

All you could do was stare at him and at the way he was holding one of your legs close to your chest so it lifted your butt off the couch, his other palm massaging your stinging cheek. His concealed dominant side was slipping out slightly. 

“Answer me.” He demanded. Yes. You thought. God yes. You were loving this side of him. You were nervous to see his dominating side, yet exhilarated at the same time.

“No.” You lied. Jihoon hummed.

“Are you lying to me, baby girl?” He purred. You swallowed, not wanted to admit to him that you were trying to get him to snap. It took you too long for Jihoon’s liking for you to respond and he delivered another sinful smack to your ass. You moaned at the pleasure of it. Jihoon bit his lip at the delicious noise that left your feminine lips. Before he could scold you again, you quickly spoke.

“I want you.” Was all you could say. Jihoon chuckled.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He was smirking as his hand moved to massage your upper thigh. All you wanted was his fingers sliding through your slick folds, dipping in and out of your aching entrance.

“Are you that impatient? Even though it’s our first time? God, how long have you wanted me like this, baby?” His voice was incredibly melodic and it made you shiver. Jihoon was scolding you for your impatience, yet he was just as needy as you. He was physically holding his desire back, making himself go slow, so that you would feel safe.

“For a really long time. Please, Jihoon. I want you.”

Jihoon’s heart skipped violently at your words. He gently putting your leg back down and shifted to hover over you again. Even though you had teased him, provoked him to let his dominant side out, the way you looked underneath him, so innocent and gorgeous, made him want to make love to you slowly and passionately. He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss.

“I know our hormones are running crazy right now because this is all new and we’ve both wanted each other for so long. But, I want to be gentle with you, baby. I want to go slow with you. I want to draw out the pleasure as long as possible and make our first time amazing.” He made intense eye contact with you and you smiled.

He was right. He was so right. This was your first time together. It’s supposed to be slow and experimental.

“I would like that.” You ran your fingers through Jihoon’s hair. He sighed in relief.

“I do have to say though... I didn’t mind you spanking me.” You laughed awkwardly and your cheeks heated up. Jihoon raised an eyebrow at you.

“Really? Well, let’s keep that in mind for next time then.” He smirked and you blushed harder. He pushed his lips into yours for the millionth time that night, sighing at the simple, yet blissful feeling of his mouth on yours. Your hands wandered his body eagerly as your lips sensually played with his. You pulled away suddenly, wanting to put your lips on Jihoon’s neck. You reached up and  grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging slightly so that his neck was exposed to you and used your other hand to push down on his upper back so that he was closer to you. You let out a soft moan of satisfaction as soon as your lips met his neck, and you immediately began to suck on the sensitive skin. Jihoon let out a low groan of pleasure, rutting his hips into your thigh, letting you feel his erection.

You smiled against his neck before giving him a soft nibble. Jihoon hissed and you pulled back a little, your hot breath hitting his neck, making him shiver.

“Did I hurt you?” You asked.

“No, I like it. Keep going, doll.” His voice sounded desperate and you didn’t deny him, resuming your work of leaving a deep hickey for him to stare at for the next few days. He continued letting out soft groans as you worked on him, his fingers eventually dancing around the waistband of your panties. You bucked your hips into his hand, letting him know he had a green light to continue and that you wanted it. He eagerly freed you of your panties before bringing his fingers back to ghost over your folds. He slightly pressed a finger to your soaked lips and your breath hitched, your mouth parting from Jihoon’s neck. It was the simplest touch, yet it sent shock-waves throughout your body. You instinctively spread your legs as wide as the constraints of the couch would let you, a silent plea for Jihoon to finger you properly.

“That’s a good girl.” He cooed, smiling at your action of opening your legs for him. You released your firm hold on Jihoon’s hair and he instantly looked down at you when you did, so he could watch your face as he touched you. He glided his fingers down your folds and you mewled hoarsely.

Jihoon bit his lip, his desire sky rocketing through the roof.

“So wet...” He trailed off, experimentally flicking his thumb over your swollen clit. You hissed, wrapping your arms around Jihoon’s waist as he continued the action gently.

“Please.” It was a vague request but Jihoon understood. He slipped a finger lower, teasing your dripping entrance. He circled around it once, agonizingly slow, and you bucked your hips impatiently into his finger.

“Yes. Please.” You begged him again, and Jihoon was biting his lip so hard that it hurt as he watched your stunning expressions of pleasure. He didn’t have the self-control anymore to tease you, and he slowly eased his digit into you. You whined in relief, squeezing Jihoon’s shoulders tightly. His eyes widened as he pushed his finger inside of you, surprised at how tight you were just around his single digit. His mouth watered at the thought of what you would feel like around his cock, which was much thicker than his finger. He pulled his digit out, just to slowly ease it back in. His simple movements already had your back arching, your soft moans filling the living room. You opened your eyes, which had been closed for the past few moments to focus on the pleasure, and you noticed Jihoon’s watchful gaze down at you. You smiled at him and he returned it. You quickly realized that he was giving you all the pleasure, so you decided to share.

You slipped your hand down Jihoon’s chest, his muscles tensing at your warm touch. Your fingers quickly found their destination and Jihoon let out a loud moan, his breath stuttering as you pressed your hand against his hard cock through his underwear. He groaned as you begin to palm him gently, and he instinctively added another finger inside of you. You whimpered at this, closing your eyes again and letting yourself focus on the pleasure Jihoon was giving you, and that you were giving him. You fondled his cock a bit longer before grabbing the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down with Jihoon’s assistance. Your hand instantly found his cock again, Jihoon’s breath hitching at the feeling of your soft skin on his. You rubbed your thumb over his tip, spreading pre-cum generously before beginning to pump him softly. Jihoon’s eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, a drop of sweat beginning to form on his brow.

In a desperate attempt to muffle his pathetic moans, Jihoon slammed his lips into yours, still focusing on fingering you expertly. You took his lips willingly, your body beginning to shake at the overstimulation of Jihoon fingering and kissing you, along with your hand pumping his cock as well. You were aroused to no end, your hand unknowingly speeding up on Jihoon’s member as you began to lose your cool from all the attacks on all five senses at the same time. You whimpered, your legs shaking as Jihoon rubbed circles into your clit, his fingers going in and out quicker.

He was whispering your name but you didn’t hear it. His head had dropped into your neck but you didn’t know it, you were so overwhelmed, your eyes closed, that you didn’t realize you were pumping Jihoon insanely fast, his orgasm skyrocketing towards him. You couldn’t hear him gasping for breath, in shock at how amazing your hand was around him. Your mind was on cloud nine. But suddenly, Jihoon’s body was shaking and he jerked to grip your wrist tightly.

“A-ah!” He cried out. “Shit, (Y/N), stop.” Your eyes snapped open, your mind coming back to reality. Your hand froze on his cock froze and Jihoon released your wrist, shakily pushing himself back up on his arms to hover over you. His cheeks were extremely pink and he was out of breath. Your eyes widened in realization.

“Were you about to cum?” You asked. Jihoon nodded and laughed breathlessly, giving your cheek a quick kiss.

“How is your hand so good?” He moaned, giving you a few more kisses. “We’ll have to try that again later. But for now, I don’t want to cum quite yet.”

He stood up from the couch and walked to the bedroom, your body suddenly feeling very cold without him. He returned quickly, tearing open a foil packet with his mouth. Your heart raced as you watched him. You admired his naked body as he walked over to you, his alluring pale skin, his broad shoulders, his dark eyes, and of course his member, dripping with pre-cum. Lust raged through your body and you wanted him inside of you instantly.  You brought your eyes back to meet his and you realized Jihoon was eating you up with his eyes as well, his gaze lingering on your pussy for several moments before continuing back up. He licked his lips quickly and you blushed.

“You’re so gorgeous. And insanely perfect.” He murmured and your flush deepened. Jihoon chuckled at your cute reaction and slipped the condom onto his cock before getting on top of you again. Your body immediately felt warm once again and you smiled as Jihoon began giving you quick, yet deep kisses.

“Are you ready?” He paused and looked you in the eyes, searching them for any hint of hesitation or worry.

“More than ready.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’ll go at whatever pace you need me to. Just tell me when it’s good, okay?” Jihoon was softly pushing your shaking thighs apart and you nodded in reply. He smiled and placed a few more kisses on your breasts.

“Good girl.” He sighed and gave himself a few quick pumps before aligning himself with your entrance. Your breath hitched as he slowly pushed in with a grunt, your arms around his neck squeezing tighter. Jihoon held himself back, eyeing your facial expressions as he inched himself into you. You looked incredible. Your head was thrown back in pleasure and your mouth was agape. Jihoon moaned softly at the sight.

“More.” You hissed and Jihoon obliged, pushing himself in the rest of the way. You both moaned as he bottomed out.

“Oh, shit.” Jihoon swore. “You feel so good, (Y/N). You’re so tight.” You hummed in response, the sting from him stretching you slowly fading away. He kissed your lips, staying still so that you could get used to the fit.

“I love you so much.” He whispered in between kisses.

“I love you too.” You lifted one arm from around Jihoon’s neck and laced your fingers into his hair. “You can move now.”

Jihoon nodded, pulling almost all the way out of you before pushing back in gently. You moaned loudly, biting your lip to cover the noise.

“Don’t do that, baby.” Jihoon added hoarsely as he thrusted into you again. “Let me hear your noises.”

You obeyed his request, letting go of your lip and letting yourself moan freely as Jihoon made love to you slowly.

“That’s it.” He smiled proudly.

“A-a little faster.” You instructed and Jihoon didn’t need to be asked twice, picking up his pace noticeably. He groaned in satisfaction, the sound of how wet you were mixed with his thrusts driving him crazy.

“So good... its so good...” He murmured, in awe of how amazing you felt around him. Jihoon gave you a particular hard thrust and you cried out, your core clenching around him at its own will.

“O-oh holy shit.” He whimpered at the feeling of you clenching and you purposefully made yourself tighten around him again, causing him to groan decadently.  

“Oh God, It feels so amazing when you tighten around me, baby girl. Are you alright?” He asked you and you nodded, moving your hands to hold his upper back.  

“It feels so good, Jihoon. I want more.” You whined, pushing your head back against the couch.

“You can have as much of me as you want.” Jihoon replied, picking up his speed once again, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the air.

“Ah, o-oh my God..” You were a moaning mess underneath Jihoon, squirming and writhing as a pleasurable knot in your stomach began to tighten.

“Oh Jihoon! I’m close! Please, please faster!” You begged him and he began to thrust into you mercilessly.

“Fuck, Say my name like that again, (Y/N).” Jihoon’s hands found yours and he intertwined his fingers into them as he fucked you with every bit of built up passion he had developed since the two of you started dating. His hips snapped into you and you cried out in pleasure.

“Oh, Jihoon.” You whined his name and he groaned.

“Say it again.” He was out of breath but his tone was still firm.

“A-ah Jihoon! I’m all yours.” You gasped. Jihoon’s cock twitched at your breathless words and he suddenly realized he was nearing his end.

“I’m c-close.” He managed and you were feeling the exact same way, the knot in your stomach rising, threatening to overflow. You thought you still had some time left, but when Jihoon’s thumb met your swollen clit, your whole body was jerking and you were clinging onto his back for dear life. A gorgeous cry escaped your lips and Jihoon was shaking, rubbing merciless circles around your bundle of nerves. You tried to hold on, to last a little longer and draw out the pleasure as long as possible, but Jihoon rubbed your clit harder and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Please cum for me, (Y/N). Please.”

You came instantly, digging your nails into Jihoon’s back, your toes curling and crying out helplessly as your orgasm hit you in waves so strong, each one caused your whole body to jerk with it.

One look at your stunning orgasmic expression and the blissful feeling of your core clenching around his cock, and Jihoon’s thrusts became erratic. He grunted with effort at each labored push into you. His orgasm hit him suddenly a few seconds after yours and he was moaning into your neck, repeating your name as he released.

For several moments, the only thing that could be heard was you and Jihoon’s labored breathing as he laid on top of you. Finally, he shifted slightly so he could see you.

“Are you okay?” He asked worriedly and your heart fluttered.

“More than okay.” You began to massage his shoulders and he hummed.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. You were amazing.” You gave his shoulders a slight squeeze.

“So were you.” Jihoon lazily lifted his head to give you a quick peck on the lips. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Jihoon.”

After Jihoon insisted he helped you wash up by wiping you down gently with a wet towel, the both of you opted to lay in each other’s arms and sleep on the couch for the rest of the night. Jihoon requested that you sleep together naked, and when you gave him a look of mock annoyance he replied with,

“Why wear pajamas when they’re not needed?”

A/N: Ahhhh well... I don’t think this is nearly as good as my Minghao “First Time” smut tbh... I felt a lot of pressure to make this one as good and I ended up being disappointed. Well, I hope someone enjoyed it!

[tracies-tales]

Letter by Letter

Dear Arin...

Dan’s pen paused. He pinched the tip and wiggled it as he surveyed his work. He’d written plenty of love songs in his day, comedy variety though they were. Writing out an actual love letter was basically second nature. Although, it wasn’t helping him get his feelings out and onto a tangible page as he’d hoped it would. He’d heard that pouring one’s soul out in words was a way that helped some people manage their emotions.

Looking at the letter again, Dan was pretty positive this had only deepened his infatuation.

It reminded him of everything he loved about Arin. It was filled end to end with the feelings that he tried to convey to Arin every day. Once he’d begun spilling the things he desperately wished he could find the courage to say out loud, he’d found it difficult to stop.

Because this letter also contained his terror.

As much as his heart was laid out in ink, so too was the underlying fear that this letter could mean the end of their friendship. He didn’t truly believe Arin would shun him if he knew how Dan felt, but he knew things would never be the same. Not really. You can’t just confess your undying love for a person and not experience a change one way or another. 

A sigh parted Dan’s lips as he folded the paper and laid it on his chest beneath his hand. Somewhere, deep down, a piece of him yearned to give Arin the letter. The worst that would probably happen was Arin would apologize and say he didn’t feel the same way. Then they would go back to their lives, recording Game Grumps sessions, laughing at dick jokes, doing his best to hide the pain behind a smile.

He shifted to lay down on the Grump couch, utilizing the space while everyone else was absorbed in their own projects. He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned into his palms. He tried to get himself to accept the fact that Arin’s gay jokes were just that--jokes. But he said them too often, the inflection of his tone always just lilted enough to make Dan’s heart flutter and his thoughts turn to static. The way Arin’s hand would always linger on Dan’s arm or shoulder, or ass, on special occasions, made Dan unable to help but wonder. 

“Whatcha got there?” Arin asked.

Dan jumped and snatched the letter off his chest, crumpling it into his fist. “What’s what?” he asked, far too quickly to be convincing. He hadn’t even heard the door to the studio open.

Arin’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Ooohhh, secrety secrets?” he prompted as he shut the door behind him.

Dan snorted, unable to help but chuckle at his tone. He figured he might as well play along. “Yes, the tippitiest toppest of secrets.”

“My favorite kind!” Arin walked over. Dan didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced to Dan’s hands as he sat up.

Dan shook a finger at him, “No siree, they’re secrets for a reason, Ar.”

A pout immediately overtook his features. They almost made Dan feel guilty enough to show him right then. “Dannyyy,” Arin whined, sitting next to him and leaning heavily into his shoulder. “Come on, at least give me a hint.”

Dan hated when he called him Danny--it was so damn cute. “Dude, cut it out,” he smiled, ruffling Arin’s hair with his free hand. 

“Not until you tell me,” Arin looked up at him.

Dan pursed his lips. He was distracted just long enough by Arin’s puppy eyes for the letter to be snatched from his grip. “Hey!” Dan yelped, leaning to try to grab it back.

Arin stretched his arm to its maximum limit and leaned away from him, holding the paper out of reach. “Dan, come on, how bad can it be?”

“It’s just stupid song lyrics!” Dan blurted, immediately cursing himself for such a blatant lie.

“You’re never ashamed to show me your ideas for new lyrics,” Arin retorted. However, he relented and shifted back up, holding the letter out. Dan grabbed it, but it felt like some otherworldly force was stopping his hand from yanking it away.

Dan frowned down at it, refusing to meet Arin’s eyes. “I know,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm up with a tingling blush. 

“So...what is it?” Arin asked, his tone much less jovial than it was a minute ago.

Dan bit his lip. He shut his eyes and said, “It’s...a letter. To you.”

That made Arin’s brows knit in confusion. “To me?” 

“To you.”

“So why the hell were you so adamantly against showing it to me?”

“Because, I-” Dan’s voice got caught in his throat. “I wasn’t...sure if I was ready for you to know,” he replied, letting the paper go.

Arin glanced to his hand and back up to him. Waiting for approval. Dan grinned in spite of himself, through all the roiling fear tearing his guts apart; he was touched that Arin was actually double checking to make sure he had permission. Dan nodded, but he couldn’t meet Arin’s eyes. He tucked his knees up to hug them as he heard the crinkle of the paper being unfolded and straightened out. Then Arin began to read aloud, which only made Dan’s grip on his legs tighten.

“Dear Arin, 

Where do I begin? I guess all letters have to start somewhere. So here it is, greatest intro to a letter there ever was. Smooth, Avidaniel

How was I supposed to know? I need to stop starting lines with questions How could I have known how big of a part you were going to play in my life? 

Maybe it was your charming smile. Maybe it was your musical resounding laugh. Maybe it was the way you wanted me, a 38 year old nobody, to be your Game Grumps partner in crime. I don’t fucking know, but somehow you took a hold of me and never let me go.

No amount of words in pen, text, audio recording, or verbal assault will ever be able to quantify what it means to me. What you mean to me. Because, fuck dude, you mean the world. 

You deserve everything you have. I mean it. The internet popularity, the lovelies, the job, you’ve worked your ass off for this. Everyone is so proud of what you’ve accomplished, and I couldn’t be happier or luckier to get to see you shine so brightly. I don’t care that the spotlight isn’t on me--you’re more of a star than I’ll ever be.

Shit, I’m running out of paper already. Curse my own large-print hubris! 

I suppose there is one way I could have summed this up rather than write a whole ass essay about the subject.

What I’ve been struggling to write this whole time, because once I’ve written it I’ll know for sure it’s true:

I love you, Arin. 

Nothing’s ever going to change that, whether or not you do, too. 

You can count on it, Big Cat.”

The silence in the room that followed gnawed at Dan’s stomach like acid. Maybe giving him the letter wasn’t the best idea after all. Was he mad? No, he was probably thinking of the gentlest way to turn him down. The waiting was agonizing, driving Dan insane.

The horrendous ache was quelled by Arin’s arms wrapping around him. They encompassed Dan entirely, legs and all, into a snug embrace. Dan was shocked enough that he forgot to adjust to help as Arin hauled him into his lap. The paper had left Arin’s hand and fluttered to the floor.

A sniffle made Dan turn his head. “Arin? Are...are you crying?” he asked.

“Fuck you, what do you mean am I crying?” Arin laughed, the sound broken up with gentle sobs. “How the fuck am I s’posed to read shit like that and not get emotional?”

“I’m...fuck man, I’m sorry, I didn’t even mean to give it to you, I...”

“So you were just gonna bottle it up like some kind of dumbass?”

Dan blinked, “What?”

“Like I haven’t been hinting this at you for years,” he scoffed. “Years, Daniel! I spent this entire damn time thinking the same shit, more or less.”

Dan was dumbfounded. He felt tears start to well up in his eyes, as well, “Really?”

“Of c--of course really! What the hell do you think I was implying? I was hitting on you but really what I wanted was to bang Ross?”

The curse of the static-brain returned. “Hitting on me?”

“Holy fuck, you really were clueless,” Arin laughed, snuggling his face into Dan’s shoulder. He sniffled again and said, “This is only about a couple years too late, but I love you too, Dan.”

Warmth blossomed in Dan’s chest, and his heart raced with no indication of slowing any time soon. He had succumbed to tears as well, beaming at Arin before he shifted his torso and threw his arms around his neck. When Arin lifted his head in curiosity at the adjusted posture, Dan pulled him into a kiss. 

When they parted, Dan noticed Arin now shared his blush. “I’m glad,” Dan said, unsure that he could manage to say anything else.

They both turned their heads when they heard the door opening to Ross, who said, “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” His gaze drifted to the floor as he noticed the letter. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Dan and Arin said.

cliche? maybe a little

regrets? none

this was inspired by the book “to all the boys i’ve loved before" :) ps i know dan’s 39 i just picked 38 bc idk

edit: this additional little note is to let y’all know i really am taking writing suggestions almost always so if you have ideas or a prompt from somewhere else you want me to tackle, pitch it to me! the worst i can do is say no (and I probably won’t, unless it’s too terribly nsfw) :D

[1800-seungshine]

rules in love.

member: ong seongwoo  genre(s): drama, romance, bestfriend!au summary: the whole world runs on rules and if it weren’t for it, we’d all fall into utter chaos. but, then again as they say, rules are made to be broken - not kept. (requested - bullet point format)  word count: 1.8k

note: shamalamadingdong i disappeared for two or three weeks wow ;; i’m so sorry - i am ready to get disowned lmao. but yes hi!! lois is alive (surprisingly) i sincerely apologise for the sudden missing in action; i caught the writers’ block and lost inspiration to write for a little bit like wow i can’t even. i also got quite busy bc of this graduation thing last week so i’m really sorry if i worried some of you and i hope none of you were too concerned about me bc i’m really fine!! anyways, it took me awhile to finish it bc i’m inexperienced lmao so pls understand if it’s horrible w heezes. but other than that, happy readings!! < 33 

rules the whole world revolves around it 

despite it not being declared and stamped on a piece of paper, even love has rules

for example

rule #1 - never cheat on your partner. 

probably one of the most crucial rule that determines one’s commitment and overall morality because if you were a good person, you wouldn’t dare cheat; it leads to people drifting away from one another with broken hearts and hatred in their chests. 

and while cheating is common, it does not mean it’s tolerated 

but of course, there are things called accident  

“accidentally cheating?” “what a joke” “how would that happen?” 

those were your very thoughts back then 

but back then was before you decided to recklessly let go of yourself to forget the pain you were feeling by drinking

back then was before ong seongwoo entered your apartment that night and found you drinking by yourself 

and back then was before he joined you, telling you with a grin to cheer you up that “you shouldn’t be drinking alone, i’m your best friend - we’re supposed to do this together.” 

those thoughts immediately dissipated once you woke up the very next morning with a throbbing head, your naked body covered by the tousled blankets next to a sleeping figure

specifically, your childhood friend, seongwoo.

glancing at his peaceful state, blurred memories of the previous night vaguely played in your head and suddenly you felt disgusted with yourself 

you slept with a person who belonged to someone else

you were always the type to confront situations that needed to be handled and if they needed to be solved, you wouldn’t hesitate to try to solve it

but when seongwoo’s in the picture, the best option is to run away and lie

like that time in second year of high school when you saw him and this pretty girl from a different class, walking down the hallways hand in hand, smiling 

you still remember immediately dismissing him by excusing yourself, “sorry ong, i’m quite busy right now - mr. park’s making me do errands.” 

and before he could introduce her to you, you ran as soon as you were out of his vision

away from him and away from your feelings 

because that was the day when you realised you liked him a lot more than you wanted

more than you expected 

and this current situation is no exception either 

seeing seongwoo would remind you of everything that shouldn’t have happened last night 

hence, the best solution was to avoid him at all cost 

yet he knows you like the back of his hand; nineteen years of his life and counting, every single day he lived through you were there with him 

from a to z and everything else about you, no one knows you better than seongwoo 

so he knows you well enough to know that when you ignore him, he’s done something wrong 

multiple texts, calls and occasional voicemails, none of which you answered 

when he tried to call again, seongwoo was met with a cold, robotic tone of voice.

“the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. please try again later.”

but the moment he saw you across the campus’ hallways, he pushed his way past other people, hastily throwing apologies as he tried to catch up to you 

as his hand securely held onto your wrist, you were left with no choice other than to face the problem as he dragged you to a desolate part of the campus 

“why are you avoiding me?” 

“seongwoo, you should know why-” 

“yeah i know but there’s a better solution than running away, y/n.” 

in less than a few minutes, the amount of sighs heaved multiplied and vexation began to show before you found yourselves raising your voices at one another.

“ok then what should i do, seongwoo? do you want me to admit the fact that we accidentally had sex? am i suppose to comfort you that our friendship won’t be affected? should we assure each other that you’re not really cheating on your girlfriend because last night was accidental? go on, tell me what other solutions there are.” 

“look i’m not asking any of that, i just want to save our friendship.” 

“it wouldn’t be in need of saving if last night didn’t happen. so please, seongwoo let’s just give each other some space for now; i need it and so will you.”

“...would we still be okay after this?” 

“i honestly don’t know.”

loud laughter and random outbursts of yelling within the campus halls had suddenly died down when you and seongwoo decided to act as if neither of you barely knew of each other

and it didn’t take long enough for people to notice that something was wrong

even his girlfriend started to become suspicious of the cold atmosphere between you two 

because what two friends, who’ve known each other since they were four, would suddenly drift apart from one other just like that? 

now you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t miss having seongwoo around

he never failed to make you laugh or smile; your friendship with seongwoo had always been the main source of your happiness

but weeks had already passed and that same friendship you cherished with all your heart was slowly drifting 

and although you expected it, you still found yourself crying over it because you two could never go back to the way things were 

you’ve been avoiding everyone since the night of the incident occurred, isolating yourself when in campus grounds and immediately escaping once classes finished 

so you’ve been at home, staying up all night in the living room, afraid to lay in the bed where, despite the numerous washes of your sheets, his scent still lingers.

sometimes you laughed at the movies in front of you to casually cover the pain you were bearing 

other times you’d shed tears when the loneliness becomes too overwhelming and the yearning to talk to him turns rather painful 

but this time was different

at an ungodly hour such as this, you didn’t expect scurried knocks on your door 

and from the slurred voice calling your name, you knew who the person was at the other side

seongwoo, drunk and clearly unsteady, is greeted by your worried expression as you notice his right cheek red and rather swollen

with no choice, you sling his arm around your shoulder helping him to sit on the couch before you bent down in front of him to examine his face

“what happened?” 

“i,,, broke up with her. well- no,, she broke up with me...” he replied, a perplexed look on his face as he struggles to choose the right term, his eyes furrowed together, “or did we break up with each other....?”

seongwoo suddenly laughs, absent-mindedly waving it off, “whatever! it doesn’t matter but all you need to know is that this,” he tells you whilst he points at his swollen cheek, “is the result of that. don’t i look cute?” 

you heave a sigh, shaking your head as you refuse to answer his question by grabbing an ice pack from the kitchen 

he watches you sit down next to him, taking note of the huge space between you two as you gently place the ice pack on his cheek

“do i look like i have some sort of disease? am i a virus? why are you so far away?” he grumbles a little, shuffling closer to leave no gap between you two.

though he hears no reply from you, almost as if you couldn’t hear him even if you processed every single word he had said. 

and it causes him to grumble a little more with a childish pout eventually forming on his lips, “i hope you know i’m still mad at you.” 

“you’re such a little brat, leaving me all lonely like this, and i got slapped because of you, my precious face of all things - i mean sure, i deserve it but it’s my face!” seongwoo continues to rant, his voice becoming more exasperated and whiny after every word before he ends with big hand gestures. 

of course, seongwoo had always been more dramatic and childish when drunk that you couldn’t help but to sassily reply after you roll your eyes at him, “your face wasn’t even that special - what the hell did you do anyways?” 

and you know him better than anyone can; with the alcohol in his system, seongwoo becomes more talkative and the best way to prevent his whiny ass from going off is to listen to his every word 

although you were unsure you were prepared to listen to the next few things he’s about say. 

“for nearly all my life, i took advantaged of having you by my side and i realised how i should have told you what i felt sooner because i ended up hurting her and i ended up hurting you. you know, those weeks where you weren’t beside me, i tried to be happy with her and with everyone around me but at the end of the day, i felt empty.” he starts off, the frustration he had of himself beginning to show. 

“i know that i shouldn’t have cheated on her, regardless of whether by pure accident or not, and my conscience couldn’t take it, neither did my heart, so i told her what happened and that’s how i got this slap but she did it because we both knew that she deserves someone better - a different person who could treat her better than i will, one who’ll give her undivided attention and one who’d give his entire heart to her.” 

seongwoo turns his head towards you, glancing at your face - noticing how you were silently gnawing your bottom lip, a habit that he grew familiar to whenever you wanted to cry. 

“because all this time, i only gave her a part of my heart but you had and always will have my everything; heart, soul and body.” 

letting out a shaky breath, you simply shake your head at him as you proceed to stand, “seongwoo - you’re drunk. you don’t know half the stuff that you’re saying.” you say, trying to convince yourself instead.

and for all those years of memories shared together, seongwoo knows well enough what you’re trying to do so he follows suit, standing in front of your way. 

with his hand on your wrist, seongwoo pulls you closer to him and soon enough, you’re met with his familiar scent once he pulls you in an embrace that causes you to hear his heart rapidly palpitating, similarly in beat with yours. 

“i might be drunk but i’m sober enough to know that what i’m saying is sincere so even just once, please don’t run away from me.” 

hence with those simple hushed words, your arms eventually wraps around his waist as you chose to remain in his embrace because, unlike you had planned earlier, you weren’t going to run from him. 

and you probably never will. 

[ellanainthetardis]

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know!

{FF] or [AO3]

21. Twenty-five weeks

Haymitch deepened the kiss, doing his best to ignore the flickering lights and the high-pitched voice coming from the kitchen where Elindra was trying to get through her phone call despite the statics on the line. He would grant that to the Capitol woman, the couch she had picked was very comfortable – and perfect for making-out.

“Are you trying to give my mother a scare?” Effie chuckled against her lips. “Horrify her into leaving the house?”

“Maybe.” he snorted, before kissing her again.

Not that it would do any good right now.

They had tried to put Elindra on a train three days earlier but the station had been closed in anticipation of the snowstorm that was supposed to hit Twelve. It had finally reached them that morning. They had woken up to a world of immaculate white, snowflakes slamming down from the sky, and no hope of safely getting out of the house, not even to reach the kids’.

Haymitch had never minded being snowed in. The house was stocked with wood, the fireplace would be more than enough if electricity failed – and from past experience and given the flickering lights, he knew electricity would fail – and they had enough food to last them a month. It also assured a certain tranquility he usually enjoyed.

Now though not only did he have a pregnant woman and a restless puppy on his hands, he also had a Capitol woman he couldn’t run away from. Being locked in with Elindra Trinket wasn’t fun. The house felt small, terribly small. Even when he stuck to their bedroom with a book, he couldn’t help overhearing her talking downstairs – if Effie was loud, her mother was worse.

“She will be gone soon.” she promised, pecking his lips one more time before drawing back. “You have been very good with her. I… Thank you.”

He shrugged, preferring to leave that unanswered.

Truth be told, a part of him felt grateful for the woman’s presence. They could have managed without her, they always had, but… She had been helpful in a way. He would never have thought of completely redecorating the living-room to prevent any potential trigger, for instance. And whatever she had done to get Effie downstairs…

It had gnawed at him to see Effie like that, the terror so obvious on her face. He hadn’t known what to do and hadn’t been able to stomach doing nothing. Peeta’s attempt had failed. He hadn’t wanted to argue with her again so he had kept his peace, choosing to give her space and time in the vague hope it would sort itself out…  

When Elindra had requested he left for the day, he hadn’t been sure. He didn’t trust the woman. Not only was she Capitol but he knew she had hurt Effie’s feelings in the past – something he had trouble forgiving. Whatever it was she had done though… It seemed to have worked.

Effie still spaced out sometimes and there were still nightmares but, for all intent and purposes, she was back to her usual self.

“I like the books your dad sent.” he said eventually, trying to find a positive spin to this invasion of their home. He was grateful to Elindra but he wouldn’t be sorry to see her leave, to get the house back, to go back to how things usually worked. Having the kids over, going to their house for dinner… Being a family again. To her credit, her mother had tried to respect what they had going but she didn’t fit in.

“He will be glad.” Effie hummed, pressing against her back. She made a face. “Would you…”

“Yeah.” he sighed.

She flashed him a beaming smile and turned around so he could work on her back. She was growing huge. Well… Maybe not huge but she was usually so tiny, she looked huge to him. And she had been tired for the past few days – one of the reasons why he was wary of the storm, because it meant they were cut off from any potential help they could need – her back particularly bothered her. He was rubbish at massages but it relieved her for a little while.

“I wish he wouldn’t kick so hard.” she complained, placing a hand on her belly.

“Maybe he’s impatient to get out.” he snorted.

“Well.” she huffed. “If he intends to act like this for the next three months, I am impatient for him to get out too. So young and already so unruly. There are no doubts about who his father is.”

“Sure.” he taunted. “’Cause you’re the soul of obedience.”

“I will have you know I am very well behaved and have always be very obedient.” she retorted.

“The things one must hear.” Elindra scoffed from the living-room’s threshold. Haymitch’s hand froze on Effie’s back, not sure how long she had been standing there. It must have been long enough because her face was schooled into her usual polite casualness. “You were the most unruly child, Euphemia. Quite the rebel. Whenever I said blue, you had to pick pink. You liked to contradict me just for the sake of it. Oh, it used to drive me crazy.”

“Lyssa was always the good daughter.” Effie joked with obvious bitterness and he slowly went back to work, trying to relieve her aches. “I had to improvise.”

“You maneuvered behind my back to get hired as a model at seventeen, I remember.” her mother insisted, shaking her head. “I was quite against it.”

“You did not think I would be successful and were afraid I would tarnish the family name.” she hummed and then chuckled without any amusement. “I suppose in the end your fears were justified.”

“I was simply wary of you getting hurt.” Elindra retorted. “There are some blows one’s pride does not recover from.” Effie turned her head to study her mother. They stared at each other for a while until the Capitol woman cleared her throat. “Is your back bothering you again? The heating patch was quite effective the other day, wasn’t it? I could fetch one for you, dear.”

“Later maybe.” Effie dismissed, clicking her fingers together. Snowball lifted his head from where he was slumbering in his bed and seemed to evaluate the distance and effort it would take to reach her. That puppy was spoiled and becoming lazy. “Come here, my pretty baby…”

The coaxing seemed to work. The dog paddled to the couch and then jumped up, curling into a ball in front of her and going right back to sleep with his head on her leg while she treaded her fingers in its fur.

The atmosphere was tense and awkward.

It was Haymitch’s turn to clear his throat. “So, what kind of rebel kid were you, sweetheart?”

“I was hardly a rebellious child.” Effie huffed.

“Come on, there must be funny stories…” he insisted, seeking Elindra’s gaze. Maybe he should have dropped it, let them deal with their own business but they had been doing better and he was kind of curious about her childhood.

“She did convince the hairdresser to dye her hair pink when I specifically wanted it purple.” her mother sighed. “She was eight but she already had a gift for convincing people to do her binding.”

“You had her fired.” Effie countered.

“Of course, I had her fired. I left very specific instructions and they were not met.” Elindra waved a dismissive hand. “I believe you learned a very valuable lesson that day, though.”

“I learned to be more cunning.” she snorted.

“As I said.” her mother insisted. “A valuable lesson. When you started smocking behind my back at fifteen, you were smart enough not to get caught.”

Effie frowned. “How do you…”

“Oh, please.” Elindra scoffed. “Did you truly think I did not know?”

“Lyssa told you the cigarettes were hers.” she exclaimed defensively.

“Very noble of your sister.” the Capitol woman smiled. “But utterly ridiculous. Unlike you, Lyssa is not gifted for games of deception.”

Effie shrugged his hands off. “Are those stories funny enough for you?”

“I’m in stitches.” he deadpanned, reaching out for her again, focusing on her lower back.

That time, he didn’t try to lighten the weird mood.

Elindra breathed out a small sigh and flashed them a polite smile. “I will retire for the night.”

“Night.” Haymitch said automatically, a little too happy to be rid of her probably. Effie remained silent. Elindra waited for a second or two and then left the room. He heard the soft click of the study turned guest room’s door getting shut a moment later. “That was harsh.”

“Don’t you dare judge.” she hissed.

“Not judging, sweetheart.” he shrugged. “Just thought you were getting along better, that’s all.”

Her whole body tensed and he thought she might bolt away. She relaxed against his chest instead and he wrapped his arms around her, pressing an instinctive soothing kiss against her shoulder.

“We are.” she said softly. “Talking about the past though… We will never raise our child like I was raised. Promise me.”

“Promise.” he granted easily. It hadn’t been his plan to give their kid a Capitol upbringing anyway.

“He will be whoever he wants to be.” she hummed, guiding his hands on her belly, where the baby was kicking the hardest. “We won’t force him to play a role. He will be free.”

He kissed her neck, under her jaw, gently rubbing her stomach.

Their son would be free. There would be no threat of arenas dangling over his head nor the looming shadow of the mines… Twelve was a different place now. Panem was a different place. Everything was possible. Everyone could be whatever they wanted to be.

He would have killed to have that opportunity in his youth. For him. For his brother…

“He could go to an university.” he mused out loud.

It had been a long buried secret yearning of his in his youth… He had always been curious, thirsty for knowledge of all kind… The schools in Twelve had always taught the basics and hardly more and his attendance hadn’t been stellar. He had made his own education afterwards, in the long days after his Games that the booze alone couldn’t fill. He had read every book he had been able to put his hands on: philosophy, history, politics, biographies, novels…

There were only a few universities and they were all in the Capitol. But by the time their son would be old enough maybe… Panem was morphing so fast, he was sure there would be other places to go in closer Districts.

“If he wishes to.” she hummed, turning her head to nuzzle his neck. “Should we sleep down here?”

“Yeah.” he nodded, reaching out for the blanket folded on the footrest and tossing it on her. They always did that when the blizzard was too strong… It was better in case the electricity, and thus the heating, gave in. It was warmer closer to the fireplace. They settled on the couch, on their sides, spooning – once again, he was glad Elindra had good tastes in couches. His mind kept wandering though and he couldn’t quite drift off. “He knows how to suck his thumb by now… I’ve read that in the books.”

“Yes?” He could hear the grin in her voice. “I love him so badly already… I am afraid of what I will feel when I hold him in my arms. It might be too much.”

“Won’t be.” he denied. “Won’t ever be too much.”

“Katniss is already planning on teaching him how to hunt.” she chuckled. “And Peeta… Peeta is eager to teach him how to paint with his fingers… They will make such a mess…”

He smirked against her hair, amused at the kids’ eagerness. It was one of the reasons he knew they would be alright with a baby. The kids would help. He wasn’t sure how everything would work out but he knew it would.

“New name ideas?” he asked because she spent most of her time the nose in those books, making list after list. Researching, as she called it. They weren’t having much luck on that front though.

So far, the shrimp was still the shrimp.

“I thought maybe Ilario. It means cheerful.” she told him. “Although given how much he is kicking me, I am not sure we should encourage him to be cheerful.”

“Ilario.” he repeated. It wasn’t the worst she had offered. He still ended up making a face. “No. He’s not an Ilario.”

“Somehow, I knew you would say that.” she chuckled. “Your turn, then.”

“Devin.” he suggested.

“Not refined enough.” she declared. And he wasn’t any more surprised by her refusal than she had been by his. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Maybe when he’s born.” he joked. Or maybe they could just stick to shrimp…

They fell asleep slowly, lulled by the irregular popping of the logs in the fireplace and the hissing of the wind outside. Haymitch never quite managed to completely surrender to slumber though, the blizzard was making a racket, sometimes rattling the blinds, keeping him on edge. Effie didn’t have that problem, she was out cold, her face tucked in the crook of his elbow, sometimes letting out a soft groan when he felt the baby kick under his palm.

It really seemed like that child couldn’t stand still.

He was startled from his dozing by noises in the kitchen, quiet banging that couldn’t have been the wind. He knew that, logically, it could only be one person given that Snowball was sprawled on their feet, absolutely not alarmed, but his sleepy mind wouldn’t accept that at face value.

He needed to be sure that Effie and the baby were safe.

He needed to be sure it wasn’t another mad man eager to kill his family.

He needed to be sure.

Extricating himself from the couch without waking Effie up or making any noise was very difficult and not helped in any way by Snowball’s whimper of protest. The dog immediately took the warm spot he had vacated. He tried not to be jealous at being so easily replaced when Effie rolled over and wrapped her arm around the puppy but he couldn’t help a smirk. They were cute.

The floor was cold under his sock-clad feet and he tried not to hiss when he left the floorboards for the even colder tiles of the kitchen.

As he had thought, there was no burglar, just Elindra, wrapped in a newly-purchased woolen dressing gown – she had complained about the plain colors in Twelve’s shop for forty-five minutes at dinner the other night, leaving him and Katniss to exchange fed up looks while Peeta and Effie commiserated – fumbling with the steaming kettle.

He almost took a step back when he actually saw her face. He didn’t know if it was the harsh neon light or the fact that it was bare of any make-up but it was… horrible. The numerous plastic surgeries had given her skin an unnatural aspect that didn’t quite manage to hide how old it was, it looked thin and stretched to its extreme limit to avoid lines. She had next to no eyebrows to speak off, either waxed away or bleached, he wasn’t sure, her eyes looked ridiculously small and lost in the washed-out paleness of her complexion. Her loose turquoise dyed hair framed her face, some strands loosely curling at the edge in a way that reminded him of Effie’s.

“Oh, dear!” Elindra exclaimed, turning her back on him to better hide herself. “I did not expect… I did not think…”

“Sorry.” he winced even though they were in his kitchen and he shouldn’t have had to apologize. “Heard a noise. Wanted to check.” In retrospect, it was probably a good thing the generator chose that moment to stop working. The lights flickered once and then snuffed out at the same time as any appliance in the house. Elindra let out another alarmed gasp, as if the thought of finding herself without electricity was absolutely unconceivable. “Bound to happen.” he grumbled, heading for the dresser’s drawer. He didn’t like the dark, not to say he hated it. Ghosts lurked in the darkness. He didn’t need to see to orientate himself in his kitchen though. He found the drawer and the perfumed candles Effie kept there before making his way to the counter where they kept the matches. It took him a few minutes to have three candles lit and reeking of chemical vanilla. Better than darkness though. “Blow them out when you’re done, yeah? Can’t really afford a fire right now.”

He turned around, eager to get back to the couch and Effie’s warm body, but her voice stopped him before he could even reach the table. ���Would you care for some tea?”

Again, he had to swallow back the urge to tell him they were in his fucking kitchen and that she was offering him some of his own fucking tea.

She was obviously taking pain to be polite though, for Effie’s sake. And, truth be told, it was freezing and he wasn’t sleeping anyway so he could have done with some tea. “Sure, if you can find the chamomile stuff.”  

She lifted her non-existent eyebrows and rummaged in the tea box until she found the bag he was requesting. Her face wasn’t any less scary in the candlelight.

For the first time, Haymitch understood why Effie had always been so reluctant about being seen without make-up and wig back in the days, why it wasn’t socially acceptable for Capitols to show themselves without artifices… When people looked like that…

It was so… unnatural.

“I would not have pegged you for a chamomile drinker.” Elindra ventured, pouring water into two different mugs. “Although I do not suppose I ever pictured you drinking anything other than alcohol.”

The gibe didn’t hurt one bit.

He was a drunk – always would be, even sober – it wasn’t something he was deluding himself upon.

“Helps me sleep.” he muttered, choosing not to address the other issue. He snatched the mug and added sugar, picking up a teaspoon from the dish rack to stir it. He fully intended to bring his tea back to the living-room.

“Do you know I never had to boil water myself before coming here?” Elindra hummed, fixing her own tea to her taste. “Being in Twelve has been quite the experience. I cannot say I will mind going back to civilization though. I do not know how Effie manages on a day to day basis. This District lacks so much… I cannot imagine why it did not modernize more during the rebuilding…”

They modernized plenty. Twelve kept evolving. It had barely anything in common with what he remembered from his youth. The discrepancy between the Seam and the town had disappeared, it was more homogeneous now. There were so many shops they didn’t need, a clinic, the factory… Of course, they didn’t have the fancy showers with perfumed water, the huge screens in the streets or the housemaids and butlers so many Capitols favored…

But Twelve wasn’t just a dead pit anymore.

There was no more coal dust dancing in the air, no more people slaving themselves off in the mines to feed their family and coughing theirs lungs out as a result… People weren’t starving. People weren’t scared of the white uniforms patrolling the streets. People didn’t have to risk getting whipped for a stroll in the woods.

“It has the essential.” he growled, almost a warning. “We’re happy here.”

She’s happy here, he didn’t say. He didn’t need to. It was implied.

Elindra leaned her hip against the counter – stepping back into the shadow a little, clearly not keen on anyone seeing her like that – absent-mindedly stirring her tea. “Yes. I saw.”

Uncomfortable with the reluctant acceptance in her voice, he took a sip of his tea, burning his tongue in the process. He longed to escape but didn’t quite dare. It was new, this uncertainty. He had never played nice with Capitols before, had never cared enough to try really… And, given the choice, he would have liked to keep his world separated from Effie’s relatives.

It was different now, though, because it wouldn’t be just the two of them anymore. He had no right and no intention to keep his child from his grandparents as reticent as he was about letting Capitols into their lives. The shrimp would only have one set of those, after all.

“I suppose I should thank you.” she offered with some bitterness. “I expected you to be a lot more difficult about my presence here. I expected… I did not expect you to be as gracious about my visiting as you have been.”

He pondered his words carefully. “It’s her house too and you’re her mother.”

“That wouldn’t have stopped greater men from forbidding me entrance.” she remarked.

“Yeah, well… I lost mine. I know what it’s like to miss your mother. You’re not dead, so… If she wants to reconnect, I won’t stop her.” he shrugged, staring at the flickering light of one of the candles. “Not any of my business anyway.”

“I sense a but.” she probed, taking a sip of her tea.

He clicked his tongue against his cheek in annoyance, meeting her eyes in the semi-darkness. “But you better not hurt her this time around ‘cause I’ve picked her up after you’ve kicked her down too many times. I’m not sure how many more heartbreak she can take.”

She maintained eye contact for a few seconds and then turned her head away, her lips pursed in a severe pout. “You seem to think I take pleasure in causing her pain. I won’t deny I hurt her feelings in the past nor do I feel I should apologize for it. Everything I ever did was meant to assure her happiness in the long term.”

“Tough love.” he scowled.

He knew everything he needed to know about how Elindra had put Effie down at every given opportunity. He knew because the rare times she had met her family during the Games, she had always come back to the penthouse upset and eager to fuck her brain out, almost begging for him to tell her she was beautiful. He knew because it was at the core of who she used to be, the reason why she had been so thirsty for fame in the first place, and the key to unlocking the true Effie under the escort’s mask.

He had met her when she was twenty-three and she had been so desperate to prove a point back then, to show the world she was it…

The world or her mother, but it had taken him a while to figure that out.

He had thought she was like the rest of them back then. Shallow, clueless, empty-headed… And she had been mostly… Until she had opened her eyes…

“Perhaps.” Elindra granted softly. “Lyssandra has always been the beauty, you know, but Effie… Effie was quick in a way her sister never was. It is never good for anyone to be too bright in the Capitol, not with a heart like hers, at least. It is… dangerous.” She shook her head. “You are not a parent yet. You do not understand the choices one has to make to insure their children are safe. You think I was harsh on Euphemia and I was, harsher than I was on her sister certainly… But Lyssa was made for the life she was born to, she never questioned anything. Effie… She questioned. She wanted to be more, to do more… She was never meant for greatness anyway, that was just a fanciful dream of hers. All I ever wanted was for her to have the best she could have, to be safe…”

He clenched his jaw and brought the mug to his lips, forced himself to wash the bad taste in his mouth with a gulp of scalding tea.

“I can get that.” he muttered eventually, thinking back to the Quell and everything he had kept from Katniss and Peeta. To protect them, yes, even if they would have ended up hating him later on, but also ultimately knowing it wasn’t the right thing to do. They could have handled it, he figured. Peeta, at least, could have handled it. Katniss… Katniss had always been a powder keg. She was a coin you tossed in the air, there was no way of predicting on which side she would land. He understood her better than most but he had known, even then, letting her know wasn’t the best idea. Later, he had thought again and again, later he would tell her everything. Until it had been too late and the decision had been out of his hands.

“Can you?” she snorted. “Because Euphemia hates me for it.”

Just like Katniss had hated him.

Just like Peeta had resented him.

But it was different. He had lied about the rebellion but he had never lied about the rest. He had never put the kids down, had never mocked Peeta’s baking or painting, had never belittled Katniss for her hunting…

There was protecting and nurturing and the two weren’t mutually exclusive.

“Well, you did tell her to get lost.” he sneered. “After the war. You…”

“Yes.” she cut him off, terse. “I did.”

“Don’t get how you can do that.” he snarled. “Toss your kid away like… She’s your daughter. How do you look your daughter in the eyes and told her to fuck off ‘cause your reputation’s more important than she is?” He saw the shame flash clearly over her face in the soft glow of the candle but it was quickly hidden behind a haughty expression he didn’t care for. He scoffed. “Fuck that. She needed you and you let her down.”

“Are you in any position to cast blame?” she retorted. “You weren’t in the Capitol at the time either, I do believe. You left her behind.”

“Difference is, I had to and she knows that.” he snapped. “I would have stayed in that fucking city if that was what she had wanted and if I had had a choice. I had to go for Katniss and she had to stay for Peeta. The kids had to come first.”

“Yes, they always do, don’t they?” she hummed, sounding strangely puzzled by that. “I never thought she would last in Twelve. I thought she would come back to us, lesson learned. I thought…” She waved a dismissive hand, her eyes suspiciously shiny in the glow of the candle. “It does not matter what I thought. I was wrong.”

“Of course, she was going to stay here.” It was almost a taunt and it was unfair because he hadn’t been sure at the time either. They had shared phone calls during the year she had spent in the Capitol but she had never hinted at moving out of the city despite the numerous invitations he had extended for her to visit the children – and him. “We’re her family.”

“And what does that make us, then, pray tell?” she replied harshly. She breathed out a long sigh and clicked her tongue. “No matter. The past is in the past. Things are different now, will be different. Let bygones be bygones.” Her voice became a little anxious. “You won’t oppose us seeing the child, will you? You have been… Like I said, you have been gracious about our involvement so far but we have not been the most supportive of your relationship with our daughter and…”

“Understatement.” he snorted and then let out a sigh of his own. “Look…” The words felt like ash in his mouth but his decision about that had been made the moment Effie had made it clear she wanted to reconnect with her parents. “As far as I’m concerned and as long as it’s alright with Effie, you’re family to that kid.”

“Thank you.” Elindra breathed out with palpable relief.

“But.” he added. “My child won’t go through what Effie did. You won’t put him down even if it’s for what you think is his own good. You won’t sneer at him ‘cause his father’s a District drunk. You will treat him right or you won’t see him ever again. You can’t fuck him up with your twisted Capitol games. It’s gonna be straightforward. That’s the deal.”

“Yes.” she said at once, as if she truly didn’t expect that much.

He wondered what tales she had constructed in her mind about him all those months since Effie had definitely left the Capitol. What had she been imagining? That he kept Effie prisoner? That he tyrannized her with his uncivilized barbaric tendencies?

“I ain’t a… I ain’t a monster.” he spat because he felt he needed to. Not like that anyway, he added in the privacy of his own mind. “I know I’m not what you wanted for her. I know she deserves better, too.  But she’s…” He faltered, at a loss for words, not comfortable expressing his feelings on the best day and certainly not faced with a virtual stranger for whom he had mixed feelings. It wasn’t that he cared for her parents’ approval but… When he thought about the kids, about the shrimp… If he were them, he would like to know that… “I want her to be happy. I want her to…”

“You love her, yes.” Elindra clarified, putting him out of his stuttering misery. “Her father thinks she could have done a lot worse than you, that despite the obvious downsides, you are a good and clever man. I must say I remained unconvinced it wouldn’t have been better for everyone involved if she had chosen a wealthy Capitol man with the right pedigree.” She snorted before he could argue his point and ask about the past tense. Didn’t she think that any longer? “Well.. Better for everyone except Effie. She does love you. And… Despite my disinclination toward the match, I cannot deny you seem to be… good for her. You are certainly a more devoted boyfriend than anyone she could have found in the Capitol. None of them would know how to handle those… moods of hers.”

He figured she was referring to the PTSD.

“She’s doing better.” he growled defensively.

“And she made it perfectly clear to me several times that it was only thanks to you.” she argued. “Do not fret so, Haymitch. The time for disapproval has passed. For better or worse, you are the father of my grandson anyway. Now if you would just marry my daughter and make the whole thing proper…”

He rolled his eyes and finished his tea in two longs mouthfuls. The tiles were too cold and he couldn’t really feel his toes anymore.

“Yeah, well…” he scoffed. “I’ll work on that.” He wanted to, all the more so given that she was carrying his child, but every time he hinted at the subject, Effie deflected. She had put it inside her head that he only wanted to marry her because of the kid – and as much as it was a big factor in the decision, it wasn’t all about that – and wouldn’t hear about it. He placed the now empty mug in the sink and rubbed his hands together to warm them. “’Night, Mrs Trinket.”

It felt odd to call her by such a formal name when they had been living under the same roof for a couple of weeks now but she had never offered the use of her first name and he tended not to call her at all if he could help it.

“Mother.” she said, placing her own empty mug on the counter.

He frowned, watching her blow out the first candle – vaguely wondering if it was wise to let her go near a flame given that her face was so full of plastic. “What?”

She snuffed the second candle and he couldn’t quite see her in the dark anymore, he could barely guess at her shape.

“Mother is the proper form of address for one’s mother-in-law in our social circle.” she declared. “You shall call me Mother.”

No, was his immediate reaction. He had one mother, the fact that she was dead didn’t change anything. He had one mother and she wouldn’t be replaced by a Capitol half made of plastic, even if it was in title only.

“I can call you Elindra.” he bargained.

“You could, yes. However that is the form of address reserved to friends.” she dismissed. “You are family now. I insist on propriety. It might not mean much to you but it does to us. I shall call you Haymitch to please my daughter and you shall call me Mother for the very same reason. We are not each other’s first choice but we will compose for Effie’s sake. Now. Goodnight, Haymitch.”

When she put it like that… Refusing would make him look like an ass – something he didn’t quite mind – but it might also result in a longer argument he wasn’t really up to at that moment. Effie would hear, a fight would stress her out and she wasn’t supposed to stress. Stress might trigger another bout of those Braxton X contractions…

“Goodnight.” he said again. “Mother.”

The word was strange, felt absolutely inappropriate and he hated every second of it.

Elindra, on the other hand, seemed pleased. She nodded once and then left the kitchen, looking for every purpose regal, as if she owned the whole place.

He shook his head, blew out the last candle and decided he would pretend nothing had happened the next morning. It had obviously been one of those middle of the night discussions where people shared much more than they intended to.

Once back in the living-room, he stroke the fire, making sure it would keep on burning, then scooped the puppy up and placed it back in his own bed despite his displeased grumbling. Then, he slipped back on the couch, wriggling under the blanket, careful not to wake Effie.

Too little, too late.

“Is everything alright?” she mumbled, snuggling closer to him, letting out a hiss when her feet met his icy ones.

“I think your mother just adopted me.” he snorted. “Aside for that… Sure. Peachy.”

She opened heavy eyelids. “I beg your pardon?”

“She wants me to call her Mother.” he muttered.

“Oh…” she hummed dismissively, tucking her head under his chin. “Well, you are her son-in-law, it is the proper form of address. Not offering would have been a slight. It is nice of her, actually. Goodnight.”

And, just like that, she went back to sleep.

Capitols, he couldn’t help but think, are strange people.

His half-cooked plan of pretending the whole thing had never happened was short lived because Elindra made it clear in the following days that she intended to be addressed properly and, since she made a point of being polite and calling him by his name at every opportunity, he had no choice but to answer in kind or risk Effie’s wrath.

When the storm finally calmed down enough to allow them out, the first thing he did was take Snowball for a walk in the woods – where he met Katniss who looked far too smug when she asked him if he had managed not to murder his mother-in-law.

He was still relieved when the train station reopened and Elindra eagerly boarded the first train that would take her back to the Capitol. It was even funny to watch, really, because Effie went for a hug that her mother suffered for thirty seconds before chiding her about public effusions, prompting him to hug the woman for much longer just to see her turn red with embarrassment.

“You are a mean man.” Effie grinned, waving as the train left the station.

“Don’t you just love it, sweetheart…” he teased.

Her laughter echoed in the nearly deserted station.

To him, there was no sweetest sound.