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jenchan-writingmultis · 4 months

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What do the dorm leaders + a few more students do when you leave them without saying goodbye / you go missing? (Series: Part 2)

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Genre: Fluff/ Angst

Pairing: Leona x Gn Reader

A/n: Ooh It took me a while to create an update of this, I’m still in my second semester hell but I got a bit of time! So, I decided to write something for our dearest Lion, also I wanted to note that I’ll be doing this based on the book chapters, for example, Riddle First, Leona Second, Azul Third, and so on… I hope you like this part! I loved writing every part of it.

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards.

Warning: Cussing, OOC Crowley (lmao), smitten Leona, slight blood mention Masterlist Part one (Riddle x Gn Reader)

──────⊱⁜⊰────── Sypnosis: You went off already, actually, they didn’t even know where you were right now, Grimm was worried about you, where have you gone? You just vanished into the mirror that you were talking to every midnight, he knew that he should have listened to his gut feeling when he realized that you were warning him about your sudden disappearance. The moment he went dashing out of Ramshackle, paws cold from the snow that he stepped on and it was really bad that when he needed Hornton he wasn’t there. Savanaclaw:

Leona: He was annoyed when Grim started screaming outside of his dorm in the middle of the night causing all beastmen to wake up due to his ruckus, but his annoyance vanished when he realized what the furball was saying. You were gone, while he looked indifferent outside, telling Grim to calm the fuck down because he can easily hear him without him screaming in his ears, he was a bit worried. (Just a bit)

“Oi, can you tone down your screaming?” he grabbed Grim by the collar as the kitty sobbed, “Calm down, we’ll help” He sighed, causing Ruggie to stare at him surprised, “What do you mean we?” Leona scoffed before he threw Grim at him.

“This furball will just keep on screaming if we leave him” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. Ruggie huffed “Well, it’s surprising for you to immediately agree to help though” he whispered to himself, Leona could clearly hear him, but he ignored what the other said. It was rare for you to leave Grim all alone, you two were practically attached to the hip, so you vanishing out of nowhere was odd, did you finally get back to your homeland? You didn’t talk about it, but he can see how you look at others when they’re with their families and he knows that look. It was a look he had when he was younger, when Farena was the golden child, and he was the black sheep.

He wanted that kind of familial love from his parents before, but they never gave it to him. You probably missed your family in your original world, he understands the feeling, but he can’t help but feel a bitter ache in his heart. Did he and the others not make you feel at home here? Sure, they overblotted and probably could have killed an herbivore like you, but he’s a changed man, surely you didn’t leave because you got sick of him or the others, right?

Of course, he went to interrogate Grim, asking him various questions, and after a few hours of barking orders to his fellow beastmen, he went to Crowley personally to ask, he was running out of options, and he was starting to feel that his theory that you went home was right. The last time Grim saw you was you got sucked in the mirror that was inside your bedroom. He tried to check on that mirror too, he didn’t feel any type of magic in it, it was just an ordinary mirror. You’d know he’s already at the edge of his seat trying to find you when he asked Crowley out of all people for help, denying the feeling in his gut that you were truly wiped out of this world.

“You’re saying that the prefect vanished?” Crowley put his hand on his chin, he was a bit annoyed about how calm Crowley was, and he crossed his arms glaring at the guy. “Did you send them home?” He questioned, getting straight to the point, which made Crowley shake his head “No, I didn’t, I have yet to find the portal back to their homeland, but this is certainly worrisome, I’ll try to help you find them, and can you summon the other head wardens for a meeting?” Crowley walked past him, Leona’s eyes following him. “I’ll be getting the teachers involved, this is a missing student case after all” He murmured, now that’s the sight he likes to see, somehow his opinion of Crowley increased. He guessed Mc became important to him as well.

However, despite the ton of effort to find you, none of them got any leads, the ache he was feeling from before got worse, he found himself awake than asleep most of the time, his head was aching, it was affecting his health too. When the housewarden meeting along with the teachers happened, of course, the majority of them volunteered to have their housemates search for you outside and inside, Crowley couldn’t get any officers involved since you weren’t officially in Twisted Wonderland, you were a walking unregistered herbivore; it was dangerous, it could get the school closed so he had to ask his staffs and students to help around, which no one complained. Everyone cared for you, you helped them one way or another; helped them grow as a person and as a mage, it made him fascinated that you get to change almost everyone in this school in just a few months of your presence, and you’re magicless even.

The improvement of the school happened because of you, and you just vanished out of thin air just like that, like some God who graced everyone with their presence only to leave once everything was sorted out. What about him?

Leona couldn’t help but feel numb, eyebags evident on his face, it was so unlike him to be overworking trying to find you, you were just a herbivore to him, someone who had the audacity to annoy him before just to gain his help. Ruggie was worried about him too, the guy tried to ease him into that he would try to use his “connections” to gain more manpower to search the whole twisted wonderland, it made him laugh, he was a second prince, he had more connections that can help with the search than Ruggie, plus he knew that you weren’t here anymore. He couldn’t accept it at first, it was just slapped on his face multiple times.

Your scent continued to fade as the days continued, he didn’t have any motivation to do anything else but try to find you, find you, and find you for the first few weeks health be damned, but when you manifested in his mind, festering him to do something else, to try to finish third year, then maybe during internship he can find leads to you. He decided that if he plans to continue to persevere, then he will. After all, he was known for his tenacity before.

Ruggie was surprised when one day, Leona started to become focus on his studies, Leona was sometimes going to class, just enough to the point he could be promoted to 4th year, where he could do internships. He thought that Leona might have forgotten about you, which kind of annoyed him, was Leona only good at doing stuff in the first place and abandoning it once he realized it was futile? Of course not! Ruggie slapped his cheeks and shook his head, Leona could never, he’s mischaracterizing his Housewarden.

While the search died down, plenty of students gave up because they kept reaching dead end after dead end in their search. Grim was often with Ace and Deuce, he noticed that the furball lost a lot of weight and he often seemed out of it. Most of the students who knew Grim understood the devastation of losing someone whom he treated as family. They try to get Grim to eat more, but he always ends up either overeating or not eating at all, the only housewardens who get him to eat normally are Vil and Riddle who have strict diets for him. Riddle is more lenient due to knowing Grim longer than Vil.

The housewardens get split custody of the Cat, and the main custody being with Riddle, Ace, and Deuce. Leona barely gets any time with Grim, and when he does, he usually just gives him to Ruggie. One time, Grim got really upset at him though.

Leona flinched in pain, blood seeping out of his arm, a scratch mark forming on it. Jack jolted and grabbed Grim’s arms, subduing him immediately. “Grim! What are you doing!?” Jack yelled out, gripping on the squirming cat.

“You! Out of everyone here, you’re the one who’s always so calm and relaxed!” Grim cried out, glaring at the Lion. Leona glared at him as he used his magic to heal his arm. “Do you even care! You just gave up after a few months!” He continued, biting Jack making Jack let go out of pain, and when Grim jumped on Leona. He got grabbed by the scuffle.

“What makes you think I stopped trying to find them?!” Leona snapped, gripping on the cat, as if he’s a cub misbehaving, this was annoying, people thinking that he doesn’t do a lot when in fact he’s been giving more than just effort “You think I’m not trying my best here!?” He lets Grim go who is surprised at his outburst. “Shit” He pinched the bridge of his nose, Jack carrying Grim again. “I’m really sorry Leona” He apologized on Grim’s behalf, but Leona just waved him off. “It’s fine,” he said, looking down at the cat. “But I want you to understand that some people just prefer doing work behind the scenes, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean they’re not trying.”

He really was trying. The you that was cuddling him in his dreams, playing with his hair and kissing him, telling him to do his best. That had kept him sane while trying to find you. It was stupid and pathetic, but at least he knew that somehow, he never forgot your face, your scent, and your voice even if it took years. Even once he graduated, even if Falena tried to set him up with other Beastwomen or some high-ranking princess. He rejected them all, in favor of waiting for you, despite not knowing if you’ll ever come back.

He never even got to tell you his feelings before you vanished, if he did would that make you not go back to your own world? Even after a few years, your friends had already graduated, he was working in Sunset Savanna, temporarily because his brother asked him for help, he was busy jumping from place to place to maintain connections and build new ones so while his brother is gone, he was the one in charge, Cheka was already in Junior High school dreaming of getting inside Royal Sword Academy where his friends would be around as well as his father encouraging him to enroll there due to being an alumni, and his sister in law kept festering Leona about mates and stuff.

Right, did he tell you that he kept the mirror that you vanished from to his room? When he finally graduated, he felt that he needed the mirror, so he decided to buy it from Crowley, who graciously gave him the mirror without any complaints. Sometimes, he looks at himself in the mirror, hoping to see you behind it. He really wishes you would come back.

He went to sit down on the edge of his bed, sliding himself into the covers, his bed feeling cold and needing another, he stared at the ceiling, wishing in his mind that when he woke up, you’d be there, touching his cheek.

Drifting into sleep, he dreamt of you again, a dream that he saw multiple times after you vanished, his head laying on the soft plush of your thighs, he stared up at you, who was looking down at him with a soft smile, he nuzzled the hand that you placed on his cheek, placing his hand on it as he guides your hand to his lips, kissing it.

“I miss you” he murmured in his dream, your hand felt incredibly warm and soft right now, it felt… real. Maybe whatever Deity from above decided to pity him today and give him your touch that he was constantly seeking.

He didn’t want to wake up, the warmth of the sun hitting his body except for his face which you were shielding it from. The moment he lifted himself up, to go nearer your face, he wanted to kiss you now or else he might never feel this surreal experience ever again, a blinding light suddenly flashed in his vision, causing him to flinch.

“Oh, sorry Leona” a familiar voice apologized, making him groan and blink a few times, was he still dreaming? He felt his head resting on something else and not his pillow, it felt softer. When he finally was fully awake, he realized that he was in fact, not dreaming anymore. He looked up only to see you, in the same position as you did in his dream.

“Herbivore…” he froze as you rubbed his cheek gently. “Yes, I’m here” You hummed as you pushed away a bit of his hair just to see his face better. “Oh wow, Leona you became prettier!” you giggled, causing him to sit up, grabbing your cheeks, he examined you. He can’t believe it, it really is you, he’s not dreaming anymore.

“How? What?” he questioned, glaring at you maybe this was a trap, if this was some doppelganger or some shapeshifter, he’d turn you to dust, but the way you weren’t scared of his glare made his will falter, you were warm, you were there, your scent was there too, nobody can replicate that. “Herbivore you’re back” he finally caved in, pulling you into a crushing hug, which you gave back happily. “I’m back Leona, I’m sorry I vanished,” you said, burying your face into his shoulder. “You idiot, I definitely deserve an explanation for this” He growled out, not letting you go at all.

Word Count: 2,359

#twisted wonderland #angst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted series #grim twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #fluff #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst yuu #ruggie bucchi #twst fluff #twst ruggie #jack howl

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lovelyhan · 1 year

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— starcrossed losers (a teaser) ⟢

at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so, when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1k words

★ TAGS; princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, emotional romantic and sexual tension all in one lmao, angst, smut (in the future scenes, this teaser is sfw!)

★ NOTES; so my blog won't die in my absence nd slight inactivity from writing, i decided to leave you guys a snippet of the third n last part of my royalty series <3 as always, content in my teasers are not final and can be subject to change so heads up on that!

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

It’s several hours past midnight when you hear three gentle but firm knocks on the door to your bedchambers.

Annoyed, you stare at the collection of unopened gifts stacked high on your vanity. From delicacies from the neighboring kingdoms to the most expensive collection of cosmetics in Ancarra, your guests certainly knew how to curry your favor. But not even their lavish presents can dispel the pure vexation that’s been making your blood boil the entire evening.

Not bothering to answer the door, you whisk yourself into the plush seat tucked underneath the dresser. There’s only one halfwit currently residing in the castle brave enough to disturb you in the dead of night, and with how terribly tonight’s festivities went, you’re in no mood to extend your hospitality to anyone—much less Seraphia’s exasperating, insufferable, scheming—

“Isn’t it a little too late to be testing out swatches, Your Grace?”

You try to ignore him. The way his silken dress shirt dangles half untucked from his trousers. The self-satisfied look on his face when he notices you fumbling with the cherry red rouge you’re applying to your lips.

But try as you may, you cannot ignore Jeonghan when he reaches a hand in front of you, nimble fingers wiping off the excess color that you accidentally tinted just a few millimeters from your lip line.

Not when his smoldering stare holds yours captive in the image reflected in your gilded mirror. Not when you can’t even find it in yourself to resist when he gently grabs your chin and forces your gaze to marvel at the man himself.

“Sulking again, Princess?” Jeonghan sneers and you want to hate him for it, but you can’t. “I saved you from a man charged with treason three times in a single decade. Why are you pouting at me like I took away the love of your life?”

“Because you’ve made it your life’s purpose to make mine miserable,” you snarl, putting as much venom into the words as you can. “Minghao isn’t a traitor. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on top of the Rènxìng empire. He wouldn’t even be daring enough to show his face here for the sole purpose of courting me.”

He sighs as if meaning to be sympathetic, but you’ve long seen past the ruse. “Poor little thing, still being played like a fool all because you abhor the idea of one day becoming my wife. Tell me, didn’t you find it odd, how persistent he was in pursuing a woman who’s already spoken for?”

“I am not spoken for,” you interject, trying not to crumble from how his thumb lightly dabs at your lower lip. “Not by you. Not by anyone. Father gave me a choice—”

“Yes, of course. Everyone knows the story of the Ancarran Princess who’s chained to a troublesome foreigner. So troublesome that she had to beg on her knees just to get the king to reconsider,” Jeonghan coos, face inching ever-so close to yours.

“But as it turns out, all the other men you’re trying your damnedest to replace me with are even worse fiends than I.”

Your lungs burn as if they’ve been set aflame and Jeonghan is merely adding more fuel to the blaze. “You’re despicable.”

“And you, Your Grace, are much too gullible,” he chuckles, each breath fanning hotly against your skin. “I’d say just give it up and surrender, but you’ve been fighting against me since we were children. Putting an end to our very interesting relationship in such a boring way wouldn’t make good for the history books, no?”

All of a sudden, you remember something that Soonyoung told you in passing. How Jeonghan is someone who cherishes his loved ones deeper than one would otherwise expect. He loves his homeland. He loves his family. Above all, he loves his people.

With how he keeps reeling you back from all your attempts to escape your engagement, any other person would assume that he loves you just as much.

But how are you supposed to believe that someone like him is capable of love when all he does is thrive off your misery?

“This new rouge you’re testing out,” he murmurs, as if it’s remotely acceptable to just shift the conversation after what he just told you. “It’s the kind that takes days to remove once it dries, no?”

“In what way does it concern you?” you grit.

The despicable prince simply hums. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’m quite curious about its actual longevity.”

You can practically hear your heart stutter to a stop when he closes the distance even more—only a hair’s breadth separating your mouth from his. You’re clueless as to how it happened, but you suddenly find your fingers coiled around the front of his shirt. Looking for purchase. For solid ground.

But you should know better than to anchor yourself to someone as unpredictable as Jeonghan.

“If someone were to ruin it in the next ten seconds, would you even be more furious than you are now?” he whispers and you can feel the ghost of a smirk against your lips. “Or would it garner the opposite effect? Would you finally melt into their arms? Would you let them tear all your defenses asunder?”

Your pulse is roaring in your ears and all of a sudden, you can’t remember how to breathe. His intense stare is pinning you in place no matter how badly you want to escape. The scent of expensive champagne lingers on his lips and you find yourself craving for a taste.

But you can’t. You can’t want that. You can’t want him.

This is the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember. The man you’ll be cursed to sit beside in a throne room forever if you don’t do anything about it fast.

You know these facts perfectly well, and yet…

Your eyes flutter closed as you hook your wrists across the back of his neck, letting your arch-nemesis fall deep into you.

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

want to be added to the taglist? leave a reply <3

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #jeonghan smut #jeonghan fanfic #svthub #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan

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residenthughes · 6 months

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coming home - connor dewar

pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader

word count: 11k

tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing

summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your own feelings about your best friend.

notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333

(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)

Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.

Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.

Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.

And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.

Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”

Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”

She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”

Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”

A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”

“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”

Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.

“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.

You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.

“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.

He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”

It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.

“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.

Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”

“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.

“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.

Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”

“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”

Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”

A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.

You swear he loves to hear himself talk.

“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”

“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.

“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. “What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”

Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”

Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”

Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.

“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”

That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.

The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”

You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”

“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.

“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”

You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.

Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.

What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.

“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”

You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”

A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”

You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.

“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”

Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”

Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”

To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”

“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.

However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”

“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”

You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.

“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”

His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”

Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.

Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.

“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.

With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.

“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.

You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.

It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.

She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”

Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?

“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.

“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”

Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.

She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”

It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.

Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.

Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.

“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.

You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-

“Like what you see?”

The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.

Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.

“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”

You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.

“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”

You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.

Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.

Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.

“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.

Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.

“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”

Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.

Of. Course.

“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.

Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.

“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.

“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.

“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”

The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.

A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”

His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”

“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”

He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”

Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.

Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.

“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”

For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.

You look away, even more flustered than before.

It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.

“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.

Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.

“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.

It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.

As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.

It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.

When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.

Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.

A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.

“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”

It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.

You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.

In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.

“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.

“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.

“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.

Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.

You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.

“One night and one night only.”

The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.

The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.

Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.

“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”

The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.

You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”

A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.

“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”

There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.

It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”

You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.

“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.

You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.

How is it always the two of you left alone?

“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.

Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.

“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”

You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.

“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.

“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.

You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”

It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.

Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.

Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.

“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”

For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.

It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”

You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.

“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.

So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”

“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.

The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.

Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.

He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”

You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”

“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.

After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.

“Wait, isn’t that…?”

As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.

They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.

You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.

“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.

“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”

You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.

A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.

It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.

Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don’t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.

He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.

Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.

“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.

“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.

So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”

That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.

You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.

A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.

“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”

His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”

He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”

Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.

“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”

Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.

There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”

Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.

“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”

You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.

A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.

“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.

At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.

“Good or bad?” you ask.

His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.

“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.”

You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.

The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.

#connor dewar x reader #connor dewar #connor dewar fic #cd24 #minnesota wild #toronto maple leafs #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #connor dewar fluff #dewey 2 #brandon duhaime #dewey 1 #dewey #residenthughes

349 notes · View notes

writingstoraes · 2 years

Text

total swiftie 🎶

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine/social media au

notes: this was requested but somehow i cant find it in my inbox :(( anyway i hope u like this, anon! happy the eras tour 🤍 sorry this took so long lol

about: it's your life mission to convert charles into a total swiftie.

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, isahernaez, carlossainz55, and 234,592 others

yourusername i once believed love would be burning red — but it's golden, like daylight 🌅

appreciation post for the personification of the lover album, songs and the entire english vocabulary are not enough to express how much i adore u 🤍

(ps. pls join me in being a swiftie baby)

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc As much as I want to, I just can't grasp the folklore love triangle, amoúr

f1swift LMAO NOT THE FOLKLORE LOVE TRIANGLE??? Y/N SO REAL FOR THIS

lecsmidnight absolutely right queen charles is such a lover album

sainzz55 more like 1989???

pierregasly I caught Charles today watching the Bejeweled music video if it helps 😅

charles_leclerc MATE

yourusername awwww baby :((

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, lorenzotl, and 1,329,112 others

charles_leclerc Spontaneous adventure around the city at night + my passenger princess ❤️ (She races me for the AUX and blasts Taylor songs the whole ride in her efforts to convert me into a swiftie)

tagged: yourusername

yourusername anddd how am i doing so far?

charles_leclerc Getting close 😘

leclercs13 y/n converting charles into a swiftie is just so real of her

carlossainz55 Just be a swiftie Charles, Midnights is so good 😁

yourusername SEE YOU GET IT CARLOS

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, leclerc_pascale, lorenzotl, and 1,892,330 others

charles_leclerc How I masterminded my way into catching my girlfriend by surprise with the fact that I actually am a Swiftie:

1. Adore how passionate she becomes when talking about her favorite artist

2. Let her rant about album theories, which "Taylor's version" we get next, and finally listen properly when she explains the folklore love triangle

3. Learn Taylor Swift's entire discography, from debut until now

4. Pester the whole grid in helping me get The Eras front row tour tickets

5. Surprise her with the concert tickets and just watch her have the time of her life (surprised that I know the lyrics to the songs)

6. Just when she thinks the night ends at the concert, take her to a magnificent dinner and propose using a "Paper Rings" reference.

isahernaez Oh my god the big surprise is finally here! Congratulations, you two 🥂

lecs13 WHAT THE FUCK WAS THE LAST STEP IM GONNA RIP MY HAIR OUT

sainzzhero charles proposing what the actual FUCK I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING

danielricciardo ...I am so honored to be the one who got the tickets (me and my fast typing skills)

landonorris You only got those cause my computer lagged 😒

carlossainz55 You two arguing I was literally the first one on the website

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon23, pierregasly, and 507,991 others

yourusername i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings, charles_leclerc 💍

except you actually got me a real ring, but i would have said yes as long as it's you. je tàime, my love 🤍

charles_leclerc Excited to spend the rest of my life screaming Taylor Swift songs in the car with you, baby 😚

c2legends such goals im going to cry

charles1655 GOD ME WHEN

lewishamilton Congratulations, Y/N and Charles 🥂 Swiftie Charles is a refreshing new side of him hahaha

carlossainz55 Best wishes, you two! Please remember: I was the first on the ticket website. Don't believe whatever Daniel says 😁

arthur_leclerc Welcome to the family, Y/N! I also want tour tickets 🙏

--------

tagging: @slytherheign

notes: this took some time to make lol ANYWAYYYY thank you so much for reading and lmk what u guys think! 🤍 tumblr is giving me a hard time right now apparently the formatting is weird in ios devices 🥹 like the bold texts are all off n shit and it wont let me fix it 😭

2K notes · View notes

ultralightpoe · 8 months

Text

High Infidelity - Coriolanus Snow

Authors Note: Yup. I wrote for him. Hate me for it. (This was also the first time I wrote him so it’s not the best characterization, but hey. It’s been sitting in my drafts foreverrrrrr)

Word Count: 5642

Warnings: Prostitution. Lmao. And really bad writing so be prepared for that.

Apart of the Midnights Album Event

My MAIN Masterlist is here!

(Thank you for the gif @youremyvioleta )

Enjoy!

Lock broken, slur spoken

Wound open, game token

I didn't know you were keeping count

Rain soaking, blind hoping

You said I was freeloading

I didn't know you were keeping count

Your mother had always warned you away from him, warning you of the terrible terrible things that came from his family, she used to sit you at the table and plead with you to stay as far away from Coriolanus Snow as you could.

“Everything with that family ends with bloodshed.” She had warned you, telling you to stay away.

You hadn’t, and you never would….. well at least you never thought you would.

You had grown up with Coryo, known eachother since you were just children and had survived a war together. Had gone through starvation together. Back then you hadn’t understood why your mother was so afraid of him, this was the boy that had shared a can of beans with you when you had nothing. And now that the Capitol was back you were still as thick as thieves.

“I’m sorry.” You rush out, staring at your best friend right now, tears sliding your cheeks. “I don’t understand Coryo.”

It had been months since you last saw him, his hair was shorter and whiter now, and his face set into a grim glare. But it was the eyes that were different, they were cold and dark, just making eye contact made you shutter.

You had rushed to the train station to pick him up, an expensive flower in your hand and a wide smile. That had promptly been wiped away the second he got off the train and snapped at you.

The words fuzzed a bit, but it was something along the lines of “I’m warning you to stay away from my family, you freeloading wretch.”

“Do I really need to repeat myself?” The smile he gives you is anything but warm. “What? Now that I’m back you want to tag along all the time? Steal my family's fortune and pretend you’re not a starving leech?”

“Starving Leech? When have I ever taken anything from you?” You bite back, hands curling into fists.

“I can give you an entire list of everything you have taken from my family.” He laughs. “And I promise you that there will be no more favors.”

“You….. I hadn’t realized helping eachother from not starving was a favor. You ate from my table to need I remind you.” You snap, a heat crossing your skin, casting eyes towards a pair of on lookers.

You didn’t have time for this, you had a shift at the med wing.

You said as much to him, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed as he finally took in your medical garb. “We’ll talk later.” He scoffs, and you walk off after that, set on never talking to him again.

High infidelity

Put on your records and regret me

I bent the truth too far tonight

I was dancing around, dancing around it

High infidelity

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

I was dancing around, dancing around it

It was nothing but sobs the night your mother passed away, cuddled on the floor of Coryos floor with his arms wrapped around you, trying to keep quiet just in case his grandmother woke up.

She hated tears, always thought them a sign of weakness.

“Shhh.” Coryo whispers, petting your hair back. “It will be okay.”

“What will I do?” You sob, feeling like your chest was caving in. “How will I survive?”

“We’ll find a way.” He whispers, using the pad of his thumb to rub the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sure Tigris can get you a job, and you can move in here if you need. Just take a moment-“

“I can’t. I can’t breathe.” You panic, hand snapping to his jacket as if he could keep you planted to the earth, your breathing ragged panting as your vision begins to blur.

“No. No.” He breathes, fingers snatching your jaw to make you look at him, digging into your skin. “Focus. Breathe. You’re stronger than this. Take. A. Breath.”

You listen, breathing in the same time he does, deep and open, breathing out when he does. Your nerves calm a bit, and you close your eyes as the tears keep falling. He pushes your head until it is laying on his chest. “Your mother just died. Don’t focus on the future, just let the pain settle. You’re safe here. I promise.”

And so you did, letting the sobs free as he held you all night.

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

“Did….. did you see her?” Tigris asks, keeping close to the doorframe of his room, hugging her arms close to herself as she watches him work at his desk.

He feels himself tense, spine stiffening so much a wave of pain passed over him, doing his best to seem natural about it all. “She will not be coming around anymore if that is what you want to ask.”

He would make sure of it, he would make sure no one took from him or his family ever again. Not that bitch from 12, not Highbottom and not….. you. You whose face filled his brain with sunlight and warmth, you who made his chest melt and hands shake from nerves.

He loved you, always had.

But that couldn’t be anymore. He was set for a pristine life now, he could not let his weakness get in the way. He already risked it more than he should have.

“She missed you. A lot.” Tigris sighs, moving a little closer. “And she…. Well she helped us scrap together money for care packages and rent.”

“I’m sure there was something she could get from it. Don’t worry.” Even as he says it his gut clenches. He didn’t believe it for a second, but this needed to be done.

“She….. Coryo she-“ Tigris seems to stutter over the words, closing her eyes as if just thinking about it dragged her into a wave of pain. He tries not to laugh because what did she have to hurt about? Living the plush life here as he fought for them in 12, fought for them in the games. Risked his life to make sure that girl survived.

“She. What?”

“She….. well once she found out we were short on rent and she had nothing to offer she…. Slept with someone…… for us.”

“How would whoring herself out help us?” He already knew, his heart beating through his chest as his hands began to shake, clenching them into fists so it wouldn’t show. He was going to be sick.

You wouldn’t have. No.

“For money. She made us-“

“GET. OUT.” He sneers, standing quickly. “Get out right now.” He watches his cousin dash from the room with tears sliding down her face, his own kings constricting at the news.

You couldn’t have. You couldn’t have.

Regret laces through his stomach, your face flickering through his mind. Of course you would. You would do anything for him and his family.

Storm coming, good husband

Bad omen

Dragged my feet right down the aisle

At the house lonely, good money

I'd pay if you'd just know me

Seemed like the right thing at the time

It had been a fools dream long ago that you would marry for love, nothing but a dream of a child that didn’t know better, hadn't let the world destroy her yet.

Now, you knew better. Staring at your soon to be husband, Festus Creed, with a small smile playing at your lips. You were trying to make it seem like you actually loved him, like you actually cared what he was saying as cameras flashed at you both. The light of it blinded you a bit, and you tried not to flinch while he merely laughed and gripped your hand tighter.

He saved your ass and the Snow’s asses. Playing pretty little fucking wife is a small price to pay. You remind yourself when he kisses your cheek. Just pretend. Smile and pretend.

You had sold yourself to Festus in the months that Coryo…. Coriolanus was gone. When you were barely making ends meet and his cousin and grandmother weren’t making it. You had known that Tigris sometimes sold herself to people that wouldn’t really know her last name, but she hadn’t ever been able to get the primary houses due to her family's nobility.

You could.

So, you offered yourself to Creed, a classmate of Coriolanus’ and one that he had warned you to stay away from. “A viper wearing human skin.” How ironic how things turned around.

You tried not thinking about Snow at all, tried to get his face out of your mind, but every time you got close to winning against your memory, he somehow managed to pop up. Every. Single. Time.

It had been months since that initial argument the day he returned. You had been a fool who planned on confessing your love to him, planning on asking him to marry you. Then he called you a gluttonous leech, and Festus proposed a week later. It should be history.

And yet, right on cue, you spot a light blonde head of hair making his way through the crowd quickly as you and your fiancé stand quickly, the crowd of cameras dispersing at the engagement party resumes its flow.

You tried not to sneer about the sheer amount of money these people threw at everything. Just a couple months ago you had been starving, and now you can only watch as dozens of tables were set up with ludicrously decorated desserts that wouldn’t actually be eaten. “Never eat the food in front of them. Makes us look bad.” Festus has told you before your first party with all of them.

“Might I go to the restroom really quick?” You ask him, trying to move around with his arm tightly wrapped around you.

“Of course.” He smiles, giving your hip a tight squeeze before his eyebrows pinch together. “Let’s greet Snow first. I’m sure your old best friend would love to see you.”

Wish I could say the same. You bite back the remark on the tip of your tongue with a pleasant smile, allowing Festus to lead you to where your old friend was finally cutting through people. He had a grim look on his face, he always did these days, and if you didn’t know better you would assume he was upset.

“Snow.” Festus smiles, “glad you can make it. I know game keeping has been keeping your attention these days.”

Something in your stomach clenches at the words, no matter how many times people spoke of it you still could not believe that he was helping with the games.

You feel his stare in the side of your head, but you keep your eyes firmly on Festus, playing with his hair a bit as you play the role of lovestruck girl. Festus glows at this, eyes lighting up as he looks at you.

Whether or not he knows you’re using him as an excuse you can’t possibly care, he likes that you’re rubbing it in Snows face all the same.

“How could I miss this…. Joyous occasion?” Every word is clipped, and you try not to roll your eyes. “It’s wonderful that you’re family is able to take the young medic in.”

You know the underlying meaning beneath the words, snapping to glare at him. A smirk slides onto his lips as his eyes spark with excitement, it takes you a minute bro realize you had just fallen into a trap he laid out. To get you to look at him.

“Well I’m no freeloader.” You bite out. “I’ll obviously keep working in the hospital.”

Festus barks out a laugh at this, hand tightening on your hip as his other moves to hold his stomach, pure humor on his face. “Oh darling. How outrageously funny that was.”

“How was that funny?” You ask, blanching a bit.

“You’re not going to work! How would that make my family look?” Festus laughs, leaning to kiss your lips. You try to kiss back, something tightening in your throat as a sharp sting begins to form in your eyes. Do not cry. Do not cry.

“I’m going to go grab a drink. Keep our friend entertained will you?” Festus smiles, squeezing your hip once more before moving to walk away, leaving you with Coriolanus.

You risk one look to him, already seeing that he was staring right at you, and take a small sip from the Champagne in the flute as you think about how to get away. You decide on “I do hope you enjoy the party. I’m going to make my way to the ladies room.”

And for a second you think you’re brilliant, turning on your heel to walk away quickly but he is fast, taking three easy steps and cutting into your path.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“We just did.”

“Did we?”

“What do you call that whole conversation with my fiancé if not talking?” You put on an airy smile, and fear freezes at you at the sheer anger in his gaze. Panic settles in, and you stand straighter, choosing to play offense. “Besides. You’re the one that warned me to stay away. What was it you said? ‘Or suffer the consequences’, wasn't it?”

His eyes shutter but otherwise he does a good job of playing calm, using one hand to pull imaginary lint off his jacket. “I believe so. But maybe I’ve decided I was wrong.”

“You weren’t wrong.” You snipe. “I was a freeloading wretch and now I’m not. Problem handled. We can go our separate ways and never speak again-“

“Festus was the one that paid you, wasn’t he?” His voice is low, but his eyes are screaming at you as he leans closer. “To help pay for rent. It was Festus.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You did. And he knew it, which was answer enough.

“I’m sorry you-“but you’re gone, dashing to find the bathroom.

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

The slowest way is never loving them enough

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

The door to the Snow Mansion caught a little, letting some of the winter air in with you, your teeth chattering as you did your best to shut it. Managing to push all your body weight into the door to finally get it closed before you puffed hot air into your palms, the sack you carried heavy in your hand as you hear someone call your name.

Then he’s there, surrounding you in what little warmth he had, arms wrapped around you as you try to ease the shivers.

“Come in. We are burning some of mothers old romance novels for warmth.” He smiles, grabbing your hand and leading you to the fireplace where there were indeed pages from novels burning quickly.

“I brought this-“ you smile, holding up the bag of the goodies you managed to smuggle out of work. “It was someone’s anniversary and they had tables of food. I grabbed what I could before they threw it all out.”

A smile breaks out across his face as his cousin and grandmother both gasp and move to surround you. Before you know it you are all huddled close to the fire, eating quickly to try and ease the hunger, Coryo sitting close to you.

Once all the food is gone his grandmother retires to bed and Tigris goes to heat up water, leaving you with Coryo by the dying fire.

“I…. I always imagined small family dinners. Always wanted it for my own family, eating close together rather than a large table.” You admit, pulling your legs close to yourself. “Never did I imagine this though.”

“One day I’m going to get us out of this.” He mumbles, one hand reaching to hold onto one of your own. “And we will have that.”

There was that feeling of happiness rising in your chest as you looked at his determined face, leaning to kiss the corner of his lips softly. “I look forward to it.” And you believed he could make it happen, you truly did.

High infidelity

Put on your records and regret me

I bent the truth too far tonight

I was dancing around, dancing around it

You could learn to love him, you were sure of it. Somehow someway you would fall in love with my Festus, provide him a child that would inherit his families vast fortune and you would see to it that your kid never had to worry about starving.

You would rake yourself over coals before letting your child do any of what you had to do.

Like right now, fake moans filtering from your lips as Festus had his way with you on a random desk in a study room you did not recognize. Not that it was surprising, this family liked their secrets.

Once he was done he smiled at you, kissing you quickly as he fixed his pants and tucked in his shirt. “Fix yourself up. We have an engagement party to get back to.”

And with that he was gone from the room, leaving you to fix the skirt and sink to the floor, using the side of the large oak desk to lean on.

The sound of the door opening barely draws your attention, sighing out as you stare at the bookshelf, trying to piece your nerves back together as you always did after Festus.

“Are you alright?” The tone was a mix between your old friends comforting voice and the new Snows voice, and you tried not to roll your eyes.

“I’m fine.” You snap, your spine stiff. “Go back to the party.”

“I should be saying that to you.” He mumbles, moving closer and sliding to sit next to you. “It is your party after all.”

“Yeah? Is it?” You mumble, scooting over slightly to get away from him. He merely follows you, sliding right next to you once more.

Before you can yell at him he is holding out a cloth napkin, filled with those crème cookies that filled the tables out there. Macarons, Festus had called them. But you hadn’t had one. Rich people liked to starve.

“Come on. We both know you want one.” He smiles.

“Does it have poison?” You snipe, remembering the reason he had been sent away in the first place. He had given that Lucy girl an advantage in the games. Poison.

“No, not for you.” He smiles, like you hadn’t just completely tried to chase him off. Then he grabs one and shoves the entire thing in his mouth, making a small laugh slip from you before you bite it down, rolling your eyes. “Do you remember my 13th birthday?”

“No.” Yes.

He had stolen sandwiches from his school lunch and you had somehow managed to steal chocolate chip cookies from some party you had been working at. You ate together in the park, huddled by a tree so no one would see you, whispering all the things you wanted to see in the world.

“It was by far one of the best birthdays I had ever had.”

“One of?”

“Well my favorite birthday was the one before the war. I got so many gifts my parents made me a playroom.” He smiles.

You try not to let the words sting, what were measly cookies to a playroom. That was the life he belonged in. Luxury.

“You won’t be working then?” He asks after a moment of silence. “I always thought you liked being a medic.”

“I haven’t been an actual medic for long.” You sneer, you had only earned the honor while he was gone. Before that you simply volunteered every morning before your actual job, taking lessons whenever you could scrounge up money.

“A short lived career then.”

“What do you want me to say? My husband won’t allow me to work then I won’t work. It’s simple.”

“I would need my wife to work.” He shrugs.

“Why? You wouldn’t want a freeloader?”

“No. I would be running for president of Panem. And I believe that a medic for a wife would help my votes.” He states bluntly, eyes catching yours as your own widen.

“I’m sorry?” But he doesn’t respond, instead he holds out that damned napkin of cookies again. And you snatch one quickly, turning away the slightest bit to eat it.

“You’ll think about it?” He asks, eyes never leaving you.

“Think about it? There is nothing to think about.” You laugh, wiping sugar from the corner of your mouth before using the desk to help you stand and stepping over him.

Before you could fully escape his hands snatch your calf, pulling you down until you unceremoniously fall into his lap. “I told you to stay away from Festus. His family is not-….. he won’t give you what you want.”

“He’s paying my rent Snow. I’m just fine.”

“What happened to family dinners? Or the 6 kids running around.”

“I can have that with him.”

“Can you?” He lets you go then, knowing his words hit the mark when your face falls.

You leave the study, trying to pretend things are fine for the rest of the day, but his words cling to you like a skin of a snake.

High infidelity

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

I was dancing around, dancing around it

You would have loved the atmosphere of District 12’s underground space, the dancing and music, laughter falling through your ears and the best of their dancing jolting down your spine with every stomp and clap.

Though he never understood your fascination with the districts back then, during the games he was beginning to understand slowly, and seeing this he could.

“Let’s go get a drink.” Sejanus laughs, pushing him to the bar as he imagines you twirling through, stomping and clapping at the right times.

It’s that night, drunk and a bit out of it that he lets the words he had been holding back for years slip. Sejanus had been grousing on and on about how he knew Snow was a good guy by the fact that his closest companion had been a young student healer rather than a Capitol clone and Snow tried not to bristle as how easy Sejanus laughed off your history.

You had worked for everything, and yet the man in front of him made it seem like you had chosen the healer life out of pity, rather than your hardwork and dedication.

Then the words slipped, “She’s a rare one and that’s why I love her.”

His friends eyes widen, and so does snow, both breathing in for a second before a wave of laughter fills them as Lucy’s voice fills the room.

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

The slowest way is never loving them enough

It had taken you 10 minutes to sneak out of the Creed mansion, and another 15 to walk to Snow mansion where he had asked to meet you.

He being Coriolanus, through a telegram sent directly to you earlier in the day.

The door sticks a little, just like it used to, but the rest of the place had been professionally cleaned and you kept to the front rug in the entrance so as to not drag mud in.

“What are you doing?” He asks, coming around the corner to look at you in the entrance. “I’m in here, let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait to see your panic at the clean floors, so you rush to take off your shoes before tiptoeing to the main sitting room he was in.

“You said it was urgent.” You mumble, looking around at all the papers strewn about. Some designs of outfits and dresses, some of creatures and set ups. “What is all this?”

“This, my dear, is the 11th annual hunger games.” He smiles, and you try not to shudder at how easy he says dear.

“Oh I see, you’ll be making the tributes wear extravagant gowns in the arena then?” You hold up a sketch of what looks to be an evening gown designed for district 3.

“Tigris will be styling and dressing them before the games now.” He explains, moving closer to you. “For if they wish to be performers then we shall let them. Give them all a fighting chance.”

“Like Lucy?”

He doesn’t answer, instead moving to pick up another sketch. “And now, once they are in the arena they will all wear the same uniform.”

“They won’t die in their own clothes?”

“They’ll die at the Capitol wills it.” He sneers, taking a second to regain his composure. “But this isn’t why I have brought you here today.”

“Okay….” He grabs your hand, pulling you to the desk and showing you plans and sketches. “I need your medical advice.”

“For?”

“For a poisonous sea creature.” You rear back at that, but he is quick to snatch your hand. “I just need to know how to prolong the death.”

“I’m not helping-“

“Please. I need you.” He admits, his hand still on you. “I always need you.”

“Coryo-“ it’s the first time you’ve called him that in forever, and he can’t help but rush to you, pressing his lips to yours quickly.

You kiss back, although your common sense is screaming at you to stop. And soon enough the kiss is deepening, and he’s shoving all the documents off the table to place you upon it, making quick work of stripping you down while trying to keep his lips to you at all times.

And you were ashamed to admit you found pleasure for the first time that night, allowing him to pull that pleasure from you over and over and over.

High infidelity

Put on your records and regret meeting me

I bent the truth too far tonight

I was dancing around, dancing around it

“He’s a mad man….” Festus mumbles, hand clenched on your knee. “A mad genius but a madman.”

He was right of course, you could do nothing but blink as the games unfolded before you, surrounded by his peers and coworkers as they all cheered and booed at the tributes.

You couldn’t pay attention, the gore beginning to get to you as well as the fact that Coryo kept glaring over at you and Festus from his podium in the center, eyes narrowing as a sneer coated his mouth.

You hated these moments, when you were anxious about the affair and when Festus was in the same room with the two of you. Don’t do anything stupid, you silently plead.

But when has Coryo ever played stupid? No. Everything he did was smart, three moves ahead.

“How about a wager?” He smiles to his friends, and you bite your lip. That scheming look not good.

“Yeah?” Festus smiles. “My moneys on district 2. Girl.”

Vivi, was her name. She had 2 sisters at home and was playing viciously. She would not win though, she had been bitten by a snake with slow killing venom, you would know since you helped Coryo make it.

“No. Money is far too boring.” Coryo smiles, ever the Capitol player. “How about we wager…… the healer.”

Festus freezes, hand tightening on your thigh in a searing grip that you know has Coryo seething under his calm exterior, those blue eyes lighting with a challenge. He hated when Festus was rough, which was more often than not.

Coryo preferred to be…. Rough in the sheets and gentle every other moment.

“You want my fiancé? Don’t you have whores for that?” Festus laughs, but there is no humor behind it.

“I don’t want a whore. I want a wife.” Coryo smiles, holding out his hand. “District 4, Mags.”

People begin whispering and smiling at the challenge, and you realize why Coryo had been talking too loud then, because Festus would look weak to back away now.

Festus risks a look to you, narrowing on your shocked look before taking Coryos hand. When the blonde walks away your fiancé leans in, “we will be discussing this later.”

After he won, if he won. He would make your life hell.

High infidelity

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

I was dancing around, dancing around it

“Your mood swings make my head spin,” you admit, laying on the mattress lazily as Coryo sits leaning on the headboard, tracing his finger across your exposed back. “One moment you’re rutting into me like you hate me, the next your murmuring love sonnets.”

“Do the Creeds actually have money?” He murmurs, fingers dancing across your ribs. “Or are they pretending just as I had been for awhile?”

“They have money, loads and loads of it. So much that they burnt some of it for fun the other day to see how long it took to burn.” You mumble, keeping your eyes closed.

“Then why do you still look starving?” He asks, moving closer to curl around you.

“Because they only eat one meal a day, and it’s more of….. well they don’t like gluttonous people.”

“Surviving is gluttonous?”

“The rich have never made sense.” You admonish. “They starve themselves to prove they can, no sugar or dairy. No this or that. They don’t know hunger like we did.”

“I thought you were marrying him to stop that hunger.” He mutters, a bit of anger in it.

“I also have a roof over my head and warmth. There is more to it.” You sigh, not wanting this to be another argument as it was every week. “There’s nothing we can do Coryo. I get married after the games.”

“They talk about you like you’re a pet.”

“To them I am.”

Oh, there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

And it's never enough, it's never enough

“So this is what he does now?” Festus sneers, whipping his tie off as he storms into his room, dragging you in with him.

The games would last another night it seemed, and Snow sent everyone out as he was getting ready for the big finish.

“He is making it all one big game. Placing wagers and gambling. It’s bullshit!” You try not to roll your eyes at his outburst since he had been all about it before Coryo called him out.

But apparently you still somehow rolled your eyes and his face falls into pure rage as he begins charging for you. Fear coats your system as his hand latches around your neck, cutting off oxygen.

Before it could get worse there is a knock on the door.

“YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!” His little sister calls, turning on his screen to reveal the games, where many of the players are fighting a very large creature in the body of water.

“What is that?” Festus gasps.

“A sea monster.” You breathe out, watching with a small amount of excitement mixed with disgust as Mags plunges her spear into its eye.

Lock broken, slur spoken

Wound open, game token

I didn't know you were keeping count

Rain soaking, blind hoping

You said I was freeloading

I didn't know you were keeping count

But oh, you were keeping count

You married him on April 29th, a year later he ran for president and to no one's surprise he won.

You became First Lady of panem. And would of course bear tons of children.

He kept his promise, eating close together every night, making sure all his kids were well fed and never knew the hunger you both did. And when your youngest was blasted in the tabloids for her ‘pudginess’ Coryo made sure to send the writer and his family to District 7 and the very next year the oldest daughter of the family was chosen in the reaping.

You lived in constant disgust and amazement, the battle never ending.

You helped him come up with ideas for creatures and implemented healing and medicine into the games to at least give some of those kids a fighting chance.

“Remember when I warned you to stay away?” He asks one night, watching you from his spot on the bed as you get air at the window.

“Quite vividly.” You laugh, breathing in the night scent in his shirt as he lay naked save for a sheet. “Said I was a freeloader.”

“I was trying to push you away.”

“Gathered that.” You nod, watching him extend a hand before shuffling across the floor and climbing across the bed until you reach his hands where he pulled you in for a warm kiss.

“You are a freeloader.” He teases, his lips still against yours. “You owe me so much.”

“Oh do I?” You laugh.

“Yeah! You owe me a can of beans, never got paid back for that.” He smiles and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll go get the dirtiest can of beans, expired, and it will be just like old times.”

Before he can say anything else you are pushing to kiss him again, falling into his warmth with a hum and letting him drag you under the sheet.

(Yeah. It stayed in the draft because I never quite liked how the story worked….. something always seemed off. I rewrote this 10 times back then, but since I am releasing my old drafts this baby is out now. )

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #Coriolanus angst #Coriolanus fluff #snow smit #snow smut #snow angst #snow imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #Coriolanus snow smut #Coriolanus snow angst #Coriolanus snow fluff #Coriolanus snow imagine

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sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 28 days

Text

Got shocked.

Quick summary: Before he knows why, Rust is fixating on you.

Warnings: Not much except it does get literally sick here kind of; sexism and really gross remarks; kind of workplace harassment; Rust being unsettling.

Word count: 3.6K

A/N: Erm this is not the second part to the Idler Wheel but I just thought I’d write this because whyyy not! It was kind of written quickly so if there are weird grammar mistakes just ignore them lmao 😭😭 might come back and edit when it’s not past midnight if you know what im saying. Anyhoo it’s September now?

***

The brain-rotting contents of his colleagues’ pass-time conversations was an unfortunate byproduct of Rust’s refusal to pay mind to his own thoughts. He needed it, he thought sometimes, though he’d rather not have had need for anything: it served as a focal point for his attentions, which, otherwise, might be directed inward at himself for too long.

He didn’t pay much attention to the exacts of it all. Bar last night, dick jokes, some wild sexual exploit from their twenties: once Rust had heard it once, he did not need to hear it again. Even before they spoke, Rust had had most of them figured out. He only had to watch them, his first day at the office. Still, initially, he let them tell their shit to him and believe like maybe they could be friends, like, maybe, Rust was one of them, too, that he was entertained by their boring fucking carousel of stories. Fucking arrogant. Plagued by the crack and froth of some dry ash-type taste, Rust would swallow it down. Just the first time, though. Not the second, and not any time after that.

No, he did not care for the details. More like, it was the tone of their voices that he could plaster his resentment on. Proud, girthy, spread over too much ground, self-important. For the most part, if he had to talk to one of them, more dogs than anything else, his throat would feel too full—his mouth, too. It was what it was: force-feeding. Why anyone in their right mind would pretend to enjoy it, Rust had no idea. Everything down here displeased him, but no less so than it had in other places. Everywhere he went, Rust came with himself, though he’d tried to sever that unwelcome tie a long time ago. If he was lucky enough, some floating sensation would find him, and Rust would get to leave the conversation for some worthy train of thought. Finally, he would get to pry apart a crime scene - in his head, he did not have to use gloves: he could play it like a tape, a thousand times, a thousand different ways.

Hear them now. Rust’s lip begged to curl, which was odd. It was then, coming to terms with the sensation of his instinct, its physical demands, that he understood that something was strange about this conversation.

Slow, crawling, his eyes made their way to Marty, who had scooted his chair over to Rust’s desk. With steely eyes, he took note of how his partner’s elbow was flopped over his paperwork, how his body was sprawled open wide so unnecessarily.

Rust removed a pen wedged under Marty’s forearm. He didn’t even shift.

With the aim of cleansing his mouth of that bitter swell, he took a mouthful of cold coffee, and another, and another. When he was alone, Rust took one sugar, but, here, it wasn’t enough. Shit, it was never enough to neutralise that foul taste. Sometimes, it grew so strong that Rust would take a little longer on his smoke breaks, making his way through one, two, maybe three cigarettes. Yeah, that usually quenched it. But it was no use inside - no, he needed an open sky above him, to let all the fumes out, like smoke from a smouldering kitchen. Something about four walls and a ceiling: how many men like them had sat there, sweat there, jawed there, pissed there, before them? It just made him sick, made his head spin.

There was no need to turn to know how the rest of them were arranged. So predictable. So deeply interwoven into their psyches: the strong belief that they deserved the space that they took up, and, shit, they took up a lot. Fighting for dominance of the conversation, pushing, shoving, overlapping, each trying to mark out a platform for themselves. He wouldn’t, and it unsettled them, just as they could never comprehend anything else that wasn’t like them.

Gradual-like, Rust let his mind melt back to the specifics of the conversation, the messy, brutal abstraction of their voices condensing into words and phrases, like ink-blots soaking back up into the brushes from which they were dispelled. It didn’t take long listening for him to understand that you had drawn the interest of the hoard.

Johansson would’ve said something—if he were here. The more Rust listened—to them inching closer to what they really wanted to say, hopping around the hot topic of women and their ways on them—the fatter his tongue felt, sitting big and swollen in his mouth like it shouldn’t have been there, like he ought to have cut it out by now.

With his spectre hands, he reached into his pocket, slipped a cigarette between his lips, lit it with one flick of his lighter. That click was enough to make his mouth water, most days, although not now. Breath scraped painfully through his throat, like sandpaper.

You were distinct from them - that was a fact. When he’d been thrown into the department, he found it odd that more remarks weren’t made to your face about most things: your capability, your temperament, your looks. More often, it’d be behind your back, huddled over in the office kitchen, passed around like a note in a fuckin’ middle school classroom. He figured it was because you were smarter than them, and they knew it. At least you were only a woman, they told themselves. They couldn’t beat you up, but they could do whatever they wanted to you in their heads. They could talk about how they’d pin you down if they ever got the chance.

That last comment only happened once. At least, only once when Rust was around. He’d ended up in the captain’s office, his fingers still twitching with the way that that pulse had begged and struggled for release.

His body ached with the effort to keep himself from shaking - the tremor in his fingers would not be eased by the deep, punishing drag of smoke into his lungs, nor would the dirt clouding his brain be cleansed and sanitised by the sting, the burn of the breath he held close to him, until it hurt his chest. No, he needed the sky—but he didn’t want to leave you either.

Rust’s head swung under a bout of nausea, which hit him like the impact of falling in a dream. Briefly, he closed his eyes, taking another drag, swallowing down the husk of it. It only made it all worse.

Punch him, he thought desperately, like maybe you could be telepathic, like maybe he was as well. Who?—he didn’t know. Any of them, all of them. It was all the same.

When Marty let out a bellow of a laugh, full and selfish and fucking stupid, Rust had to look at the photograph of the dead girl in front of him again to steady himself.

Delusion did not seduce Rust. Relying on what he knew to be true, he figured that you must’ve known what you were doing. You had worn your hair down today, not in a bun as was your usual - it hadn’t taken long for Bishop, this morning, to tug on a strand of your hair, like it was just waiting to be done, like bait on a hook. If he hadn’t done it, someone else would’ve. He was inclined to simply because you dared to exist in his presence. Even then, Rust’s throat had tightened, like this. So, even though his back was defiantly turned to the hoard, Rust knew—he knew—that, when you grunted softly, it was because it had happened again. Rust closed his eyes and willed that you would hit whoever did that.

People already knew the decision they were going to make, always, in some part of their minds, so Rust didn’t see the point in attempting to console or consult anyone about anything. If it was detrimental to a case, then he would explain this to Marty, calmly point out or even correct his mistake, but, on the most part, that was the extent of his reasoning. If his partner was in a bar, flushed and loose, and flirting with the twenty-one year-old bar-keep, he wouldn’t intervene. He hadn’t. Marty dug his own grave, and Rust let him. To do otherwise would be to overestimate the sensibilities of the other and to inconvenience himself. Fuck that. People didn’t want to be changed and Rust certainly had no interest in trying to. It was a losing game, a dumb one at that. Waste of time, waste of space. Rust knew better than to take up space - he would keep what he could close to his chest; otherwise, it was dead weight that needed losing sooner rather than later.

Everyone was begging to tell, to be fucking heard. It was a naïve, selfish way to look at the world: to assume that every other human put on Earth was someone to unload onto, to purify yourself with. Rust stared hard at the twenty-four year-old woman in the photo, sprawled over her bed, that long gash down her belly, like gutting a pig. He thought of how satisfied that the killer must’ve felt, to be able to finally share his urges with someone, to get to sit, placated, with their shoulders finally light.

He looked over the coroner’s report again, despite already knowing every statement on there, trying to fill your silence—which scratched over his eyes, the front of his brain, like claws—with the lull, the truth, of the case.

They were talking to you, now.

“Let’s get you down to the bar, buck,” somebody said to you, and he was pretty sure it was Geraci, oily, slick, fat. The skin over the back of Rust’s neck, thin, had crawled.

The boys liked to call you that—buck—like you hadn’t run the same track as them, jumped the same hurdles as them. You’d transferred from Brooklyn. Same shitshow, different department. They could tell, some of them said. City girl, high up on her horse. Not really, though. Your nature threw some people off at first, he speculated - you were not cold or brash, which he sort of thought maybe you ought to be, but, somehow, decidedly kind. Not gentle. There was a difference.

You were smart, and this was why you were not choking Geraci out right now. Did you want to? Rust could not get it out of his mind. He wanted to turn and look at you—not now, just some time—and figure it out. He had an outline, like the edge pieces of a puzzle all joined up. That was always a good start. Still, he didn’t appreciate it: the effort. It made you interesting, which was inconvenient. The people who worked here were not difficult to understand - their innermost desires were eager to be released, Pandora’s box, bursting at the very seams of their mouths, and, shit, Rust let it happen. It played out that way most times with the monsters he sat across from in the box: he would listen unflinchingly, and that was attractive to a lot of people, apparently. Someone who would not shy away. Maybe that was where Rust was misstepping with you. It wasn’t like him to be glad for things, but he was when it came to the orientation of your desks: your back was to his, and he did not have to look at you, and he was glad for it. He could not pin down why.

His knuckles were glowing, he was sure of it: if he looked down at them, Rust could’ve seen that illumination, his violence emanating from within, daring to break the skin like splitting, old leather. He could smell the embers already. Maybe that was you, though, or something else.

The heat bubbled up through his nausea. No, it was him - he would be up in flames soon, some sight to behold. His eyes pulsed against the thin skin of his eyelids, so he ruled out the option of closing them.

He flexed his hands slowly, passing feeling all along his weary tendons, before he continued typing, though the letters spun and jumped out at him like bugs in long-grass. Crickets in his ears, deafening. Was almost like he could understand them, some language he knew to respond to as a child, now long left behind. He was not alone, as much as he wanted to be.

When you spoke, Rust’s shoulders tensed, like a cramp. “I got business tonight,” you drawled, ever-polite, even sweet. That raw, thick, sugary taste oozed over his tongue, clogged his throat - Rust almost gagged.

Bishop’s voice emerged from the clatter: “What business you got on a Friday night? You got better plans?”

Fuck if you did, fuck if you didn’t.

A shrill whine speared through Rust’s head then, like a fissure in the Earth’s crust, his brain a liquid, churning beneath. He fought the urge to touch his own face, make sure everything was in its right place. He knew it would be, so he didn’t move. Sensation did not indicate reality. If it did, then Rust would have had to have discovered a whole other world a long time ago. He sat still, a statue, for several heartbeats. Then, he resumed his typing. A suspect’s alibi. He did not kill her.

“You don’t gotta spend a dime with us. We’ll take care of ye,” Howard added, and the hoard hummed and chuckled their agreement, a sick tilt to all of it. Rust wished his desk were anywhere else - he rarely wished for anything.

Conviction was not an area in which you lacked. You were a quiet, formidable force. Nobody at the precinct admired the way you worked the way it ought to have been. Not enough people gave enough fucks when you conducted interviews. Once, he had seen it. He had wanted to find Marty, and Marty was with Johansson, and Johansson had been on one side of the mirror, the other side behind which you were smiling warmly at a woman who had not long ago eaten about two thirds of her boyfriend, holding her hand. She had been twice your age at least, but you were the two-headed mother there, walking that fine line. For a moment, Rust had thought to himself that you would’ve worked him, wrung him out, if he was the one across from you. Not just a thought: a realisation. It unsettled him whenever he thought about it too long. What had confused him was your distinct lack of calculation. At least, he perceived it that way. Was it instinct that let you master that certain slope of your shoulders? No amount of practice could let him fabricate it to the same standard. Or maybe you had really felt it: sympathy.

But no. Once it was done, you’d exited, and your attention was searing. Rust had left before you had time to notice him.

Stoicism: you had mastered it, and Rust itched to know you, to understand how. How was the vein in your neck not throbbing like it would burst? How were your hands not fists, white-knuckled?

And you spoke through a smile, of all things: “That’s nice, but I can’t.”

“C’mon, buck, what kinda business you got that’s so important?”

Once again, Rust scoured over the coroner’s report, flit between the list of observable marks and wounds, correlating them with the visual aid of the photograph of the entire corpse. Total ten lacerations, eight of which had been on her stomach. Other two, on her face: slicing into each of her cheeks, those soft parts.

If he did this, Rust did not have to read into your answer, which was what his mind immediately raced towards, a bullet train, blindly searching in the darkness for some semblance of you. “My own,” you replied, and it did not mean anything to him because he was doing this.

Rust body itched to leap up and lay someone out, right then and there. His fist yearned for it, for the contact. For however often Rust felt like his body was not his, he had rarely considered the possibility that it might be in charge. People did what they would with him - his job was merely to take it. There was a strange sort of peace in that type of compartmentalisation, the kind where he could simply leave what apparently made up his person. If he was away from himself, he wouldn’t have to face whatever he was doing. An education in the dissociative state, an underutilised tool. He’d even had a course on it, he was sure. It was part of the reason he could keep his pulse so low, retreating so far into this meat shell that not even his blood flowed too close to the surface. But he felt it now, thrumming in his neck, a riptide. Taking his pulse now would do nothing to save it. The muscles there were stiff, flexing oddly under the strain of choking back on the natural instinct that, it appeared, was his. It tasted like vomit. Maybe that was real, though.

You were not some lamb that needed a shepherd. Fuck, he could never be one, not any version of him: he’d only be leading a thing to rot and ruin, and the parasite would get them, too. No, Rust wasn’t the shepherd. Never the shepherd. Rust was critical and cold. He might’ve been the wolf.

Ten lacerations. Raped.

The laughter of the hoard circled his head again, again, again. Someone must’ve picked at your hair - you grunted.

Abruptly, Rust stood up, like he got shocked because the room was on two different circuits. His spine like some iron rod, so unnaturally straight, his body so unnaturally tense, so unlike himself, he momentarily drew the attention of the other detectives all clustered together in the bullpen. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought they knew, that he was fighting for the wheel, that he was battling back the grey that had begun to vignette his vision. Why was he suddenly so tall? Not even that. Alive. He could hear it: life rushing, roaring, in his ears, crackling like a wildfire. Rust’s body, that strange entity, was momentarily reborn as something else, whose neck was never bowed, whose shoulders never rounded, who conducted itself like it was powerful. Maybe it was.

Marty eyed him like he had grown another fuckin’ head.

Despite the dissipating attention, murmurs to the side, you were still looking at him, too, with your eyes so hard, almost black, like two cherry pits. Rust was piloting, and he would not look away. No. He would look on, as he always did. No matter the electricity burn of your attention, which he preferred to avoid - the energy was coursing through him, bright, his veins fried and blackening. Beneath the surface, his being spasmed and seized. But he knew that you were no different than anything, so he looked.

If he didn’t, he would hit someone. That could be taken the wrong way.

Geraci’s hand was braced on your desk, just next to you, his fat, greasy palm covering some paragraph that you had no doubt been trying to read. Rust’s hands twitched, but he had managed to bring himself inward, had relaxed most of his body thus far, and he would not fuck himself over by letting fists form now.

So, Rust stared at you, cool, unrelenting.

He was surprised by the distance of his own voice when he asked you if you could come over to the files room just a minute and give your opinion on something for him. It was like his own mouth was at the end of a long, stretching tunnel, his words far away from him. He crushed his cigarette into the closest ashtray, annihilating it.

He tasted pennies there, in his mouth. Perhaps he had been biting his tongue. Perhaps it was just the look on your face.

Okay, you said, quiet-like, before you rose, prying yourself away from your desk. As you stepped past him, Rust let himself look at Geraci. People dug their own graves, but that did not cancel out Rust’s thirst to kill. That kind of justice lies in the bones.

Most likely, he just needed to sleep. It was coming up on four days, nearly, without, which did not aid in the dizziness that threatened the stability of Rust’s every step as he slowly turned to follow behind you.

In the files room, you were waiting for him, staring up at the flickering halogen bulb that illuminated this section, the chain still swinging from when you had just pulled it.

Rust stared at your back, far away from himself, almost stumbling back when he closed the door, sealing the two of you off from the real world. His anger flung about like a whirlpool behind his eyes, thrashing and throbbing. If he had mind to say something to you—which he did not—he wouldn’t have been able to anyways. Saliva pooled in his mouth, pushing under his tongue. He cleared his throat, delaying a gag.

When you began to turn to look at him, Rust almost begged out loud that you wouldn’t, his heartbeat thrumming in his throat, almost daring him to start panting for air like a dog. The assault of the light from the halogen bulb was invisible to you, so it could not be real. No, you were looking at him now. With his hand still gripping the handle like it could save him, like he could escape it, you, he almost closed his eyes, cringed away. But what was he?—some child? He could not. Sensation was not necessarily reality, and he was not sick, and you were not of concern to him. Still, he turned slightly, his body angled toward the door at which he still stood, refusing to step any closer. He couldn’t close his eyes—you could get the wrong idea—so, instead, he opted for the linoleum floor, careful to avoid your feet.

Fuck, he could feel your relief washing over him like a warm wave. It almost knocked him clear off his feet, and it left his knees weak, threatening to buckle. Once, he had gone out west, to the coast, with Sophia and Claire. Nothing like where he grew up: out there, in that endless cold, his pa used to warn against any and all large bodies of water, ice. Even when you thought the surface beneath you was safe, it could give out, and you’d fall through into waters you didn’t know could be so deep.

Rust had reason enough to believe that this might’ve been worse.

There was salt spray in his mouth, now. Your ebb and flow churned in his stomach like the beat of a drum, reverberating through his flesh, which he was suddenly very aware of.

You’d figured it out: he didn’t need your help. He didn’t need to be in here either.

Something tangible rolled around on his tongue as your eyes scanned over him, a meticulous, slow rake. It grit between his teeth, like a grain of sand or a seed or something. Rust swallowed it and then fought a proceeding dry heave, smothered by a bright feeling in his throat that only flared up when he heard your breath hitch, too.

You were polite to spare him, to stare at your hands. Wordless, you left him to go busy yourself with nothing in the back of the files room, melting into the shadows, concealing yourself behind a shelving unit.

Even though he couldn’t see you, though, your sweetness still flooded Rust’s mouth, inescapable. He knew you were there, thinking, maybe about him.

He almost wished he had done nothing.

#rust cohle #rust cohle x reader #the idler wheel td #true detective season 1 #marty hart #true detective #idk you’re telling me you wouldn’t throw up if you had to hang out with that lot all day five days a week

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ioniansunsets · 10 months

Note

Hi! Recently found you, and i LOVE your writing and ideas! Their very tasty, like high-quality chocolate &/or caramel!

I offer (potentially angsty) scenario(you don't have to do) with heartsteel kayn & Idol or k/da!Reader?

What if a stage malfunction happened during readers' (or kayns) show?? (Or a sabotage from a fan? Perhaps?)

(Bonus: & What if... reader or kayn got hurt?) Thank you if you choose to do this ask🩷 (Sorry ahhh-- this is my first time sending an ask)

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn x KDA!Reader Where Reader Gets Injured✖

✖ Word Count: 1.4k

✖ Tags: Established R/S, Mild Injury, Ends with Comfort, IDK if I'd even tag this as Angsty (maybe a tinge)

✖ A/N: I think its cute how Ahri, Akali, Evelyn and Kai’sa all technically can dash towards you with their actual in game skills LMFAO so cute...these girls would do anything to protect you. I think it’s very cute when a lover goes batshit insane with worry for you. Have mercy too, I’ve never been hospitalized, only visited people LMAO

Also thank you for asking this! I am so happy that you love my thoughts and words ><

✖ Wrote This Listening To: Drugs and Candy

----

There were always toxic fans. You knew that, and Kayn of course knew his fanbase were sometimes as batshit insane as him. But the past few weeks were great! Social media was abuzz with positive comments about you two, fans congratulated you at fanmeets praising how cute you looked with Kayn.

Everything pointed towards how the fanbase took the official announcement of you two dating well but of course, you know delusional, parasocial fans existed too.

What you don’t know, was how they got past security.

You don’t know how they sneaked past all the checks and stage tests.

Maybe it was on you, maybe you were training too hard and were too tired to notice.

Maybe the high of performing live on stage and all the bits and bops of things to do left it so you didn’t notice the creak of the bright lights above you. The lights in the same pink purple hues of Kayn’s hair. The last thing you remember was the crackle of lights, the screams of your fans, and all your band mates in a blur dashing towards you.

It was arguably just as bad for Kayn.

Sure he wasn’t there, he wasn’t injured, he wasn’t the target of the attack nor was he the one in the hospital but there was nothing worse than hearing that you were still out cold, uncertain of how hurt you actually were.

There was nothing worse really, seeing the clips circulating online of what happened being reposted by all sorts of accounts. The blood that flowed from you onto the stage, oh god he didn’t even know humans could bleed this much.

There was nothing worse than knowing that he was stuck on tour and couldn’t be by your side.

There was nothing worse than not being able to call you and check on you because according to Akali you were STILL in the ER right now, you’re still unconscious and the doctors have no updates. How! It has been at least 4 hours since your opening act. Since the incident.

There was nothing worse, than fighting with his bandmates and managers, begging to go back to be by your side, and only after Alune stood up for him saying how “ The Heartbeats would understand why Kayn was missing. Let him go or he would just sneak off at night and do it anyway.” That management allowed them to postpone their weekend show so he could book a midnight flight to you.

There was nothing worse, than sitting alone in the private airport lounge, checking socials for updates and finding out HIS fan was the one that was caught on CCTV being the perpetrator, the one that did this to you, the love of his life. They even wore a jacket with Rhaast’s icon sewn onto the back, almost mocking him. Sure you were the one physically hurt, but the way his emotions were all over the place, the way his heart refused to calm down, the way he haven’t felt so much like throwing up since he left his old band. He hated this.

Hands tightening around his already cracked phone, the only reason he hasn’t angrily thrown it against the wall was because Akali messaged him telling Kayn how you were stable now, you lived fine, you were still sleeping but you were out of surgery at least. He swallows hard, quickly picking up his small luggage as he runs over to the gate to board his plane. Kayn breathes heavy, only thoughts about being by your side when you wake up keep him walking and keep the absolute rage and chaos Rhaast has at bay. The flight couldn’t be any longer to him.

He ran, the second the Taxi dropped him off at the hospital he phased through walls and booked it straight up to your room, leaving Akali to sigh as she signs him in. The way his hands shook as he slowly opened the door to your ward. Feeling like it was somehow rude to phase through this one way although one, you were still unconscious and two he already violated the privacy of half the hospital.

“ My little demon…This is all my fault.”

Kayn slowly walked to your side after he steps in, watching and noting how you had your eye patched up, how bandages trailed down your body, how pale your skin was. He was going to throw up again, seeing you this way. Ahri who was in the room watching over you let him know you could still see of course, and nothing plastic surgery can’t fix about the scars. You would be fine after a week or two of rest. The shards of glass from the strobe lights missed all the important bits, only scratching up your brow, cheek and collar. Ahri offers Kayn a small sad smile before leaving to give him time with you. The other girls in K/DA has some cuts and bruises saving your from the falling light but otherwise were fine.

It was another hour of your steady breathing and the beeping of machines around him. To Kayn, it felt like hours. Inconsolable hours where his thoughts went wild. Rhaast kept at bay from trashing the place solely from how weak and shaky your breathing was. So when the beeping finally started to pick up Kayn was standing up, hand holding yours, calling out to you frantic and concerned as you slowly blinked and opened your eyes.

“ Oh my god you’re finally awake baby.”

You watched your boyfriend cry, silent tears falling as he spoke over and over about how he should have curated his audience more, warned them to not pull shit like this to you. Anger about how could his “obsessive fans” not know that hurting you would hurt him just as much. Frustration about not being in the audience this time to save you. Sorrow about seeing how much pain you were in right now because of him. Anger once again from Rhaast this time about how incompetent your security was for letting a mistake like this go unnoticed and finally…overwhelming relief that you were ultimately ok. It was new, seeing him so scared, so worried, no doubt all of these emotions were because of just how much Kayn loved you but still, you felt bad making him worry so much. Finally he updates you, telling you about what happened, how you would be ok, he would make sure of it.

“ I…I’m sorry you had to go through this because of me. If you want to leave me because of my fans I will totally understand.”

You watched his voice crack as his hand grasps yours tighter. Your lover’s brows furrowed as he thinks hard. Biting his lip so hard you could almost see it bleed.

“ No Kayn! I would never! It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault, my own crazy fans could have done this to me too y’know. Plus if I breakup with you, they totally won.”

You reply, throat a little dry from not speaking so long but you had to tell him. No way you’re letting some insane fan ruin your performance, your day and your relationship. You watch him finally smile a little as you speak, the corners of his lips barely curving, tears stopping at your frantic attempts to make sure he knows just how much you love him back. No way in hell or heaven would you give up what you have with him because of some lunatic. Especially after seeing just how much he loved you, flying here for you? Putting his work behind for You? How could you let this man go.

“ Hey, at least we can get matching eyepatches now?”

At your comment, he lets out an exasperated laugh.

" I’m sorry, I should be the one making you feel better not the other way around. Here.”

You watch as Kayn slips a finger under his eyepatch, pulling it off carefully before bending down to give your bandaged side a small kiss. Hands uncharacteristically gentle as they worked their way around your hair and all the gauze to put his eyepatch on you. Giving you another quick kiss on your lips before pulling away.

" Looking good darling."

" Only because you style me so well!"

Yeah, it will be ok, the two of you were motivated, hardworking idols, a setback like this meant nothing. As he smiles again at you, the signature cheeky, prideful smile you’ve come to love from him. Your heart flutters. Yeah, something like this won’t stop you from loving him.

#I THINK THIS WENT OK #I love kayn........i dreamt of heartsteel kayn last night so here we go more kayn x reader #SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE A MONTH Oh my god im so sorry #I HOPE ITS WORTH THE WAIT........#Kayn League of Legends #Heartsteel!Kayn x Reader #Shieda Kayn #Kayn League #Heartsteel Kayn #Anon Answer #Heartsteel!Kayn #Kayn x Reader #Kayn LoL #KaynLeague #K/DA Reader #SCENARIO

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mynahx3 · 6 months

Note

CAN I REQUEST SOME HEADCANNONS OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT OF CHOSO, NANAMI, AND GOJO HELPING THE READER GET THROUGH A BREAKUP

LMAO It's finally here! This took me way longer than needed. So sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy! Made HC and a lil fic with Choso, Nanami, and Gojo

Choso

Def think Choso would be standoffish at first but would be a good friend once he gets closer, someone you could talk to about things easily.

Wouldn’t know how to talk to you or what to do when you were upset but he would be genuine.

Choso might not be vocal but he would notice how distant you acted the last couple of weeks, not as open, more closed off now.

He wouldn’t know how to approach you right away but he would definitely be one of the first people to notice.

Begins to slyly ask people around what's wrong, ending up asking Yuji who tells him what happened.

Immediately goes to your place, even if it’s dark

Choso knocked on your door urgently with panting breath; he had run from Jujutsu Tech, and it was now almost midnight. He became anxious once he realized the time; he was afraid you might be asleep and had rushed over without a second thought. His heart beats loudly in his chest, waiting for you to answer the door. Thoughts raced through his mind, wondering what excuse he could give for showing up at your door late at night without warning.

After hearing that you had found your boyfriend cheating on you with a close friend and then dumped you, he rushed over. Anger filled him at the thought of someone hurting you like this. You showered your ex-boyfriend with love and acceptance, yet he never reciprocated. Offering excuse after excuse for that man to improve his treatment of you.

One day, while you were venting on a phone call about your toxic ex, Yuuji overheard and informed Choso about the breakup. His brother grew close to you as you helped mentor him by overseeing the missions of first-year students at times.

Having grown close to you over time, Choso had heard some of your complaints about him firsthand. He had his own thoughts on your relationship but remained quiet out of respect for you.

Over the course of knowing you, Choso has grown to admire you. Your strength as a sorcerer and your unwavering kindness towards others had captured his heart. He knew he couldn't stand the thought of you suffering alone. These feelings confused him in the beginning; he had only felt this love for his brothers to that extent. You weren't family, and yet he felt drawn to protect you. When he talked to his little brother about his feelings—wanting to hold you from the world, wanting to be there for you closer—his brother simply smiled, telling him it sounded like he had a crush.

At this realization, Choso began to understand that his feelings for you went beyond mere admiration and protection. He was falling in love with you, and it both thrilled and terrified him. Your relationship did deter him from confessing, but he couldn't deny the growing affection he felt for you. Choso knew he needed to confront his feelings and decide whether to take the risk of revealing them to you.

Coming back to reality, he saw your lights turned on inside. Taking a deep breath, he waited for you to open the door.

You peeked out with sleepy eyes and messy hair, dressed in a faded shirt and sweatpants, giving him a confused look. To him, you were absolutely adorable. The redness in your eyes and the faint traces of tears on your cheeks caught his attention before his mind could process your appearance.

"Choso, why are you here?" Your voice was raspy, and your lips were slightly cracked and dry. It looked like you had been crying a bit and had just woken up.

"I-I" He stammered, unable to find an excuse as his voice stuck in his throat, and his dark eyes avoided contact in his nervousness. "I heard what happened; I wanted to check on you."

You visibly looked shocked. Feeling a wave of mixed emotions crashing over you, caught off guard by his unexpected gesture of concern. As he shifted uncomfortably, the gravity of the moment settled heavily on both of you.

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding," he added softly, hoping to convey his genuine concern for you.

"No, I appreciate it, Cho." You smiled, trying to reassure him, grateful for his presence during a difficult time. You stepped to the side to let him in. The chill of the night air crept into your apartment. "Get in here; it's cold out."

His eyes softened at your response, a flicker of relief crossing his face before he nodded in understanding. Walking in, he took his shoes off, slipping into the guest slippers you offered.

After multiple invitations, this was his first visit to your residence; it fit you. The place appeared worn-out and cozy, with small trinkets strewn about. Your personality showed in your decoration choice, making him feel more at ease. In a hurry, you clean the kitchen counter that was cluttered with dishes from your dinner earlier.

"Sorry about the mess," you apologized, feeling a bit embarrassed. You hadn't been keeping up with your cleaning as of late due to your lack of energy and busy schedule. He waved it off with a smile, appreciating your hospitality regardless of the state of your home.

"Don't worry about it. I'm the one that came out of nowhere."

Moving to your living room, you both sit in an awkward silence on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm ambiance. The tension slowly dissipates as you relax in each other's company as the conversation flows naturally with him.

"I know this is sudden." He starts getting to the reason for his unexpected visit, fiddling with his hands. "I heard what happened and was worried about you."

You sat close to him, still smiling, as you tried to convince him you were fine. Choso felt his heart race more. This was the closest he's ever been to you alone. It felt different than being at the school—a good different.

"I'm not familiar with human relations, but… I could tell you were not yourself lately." Choso's words are hesitant, but his concern is genuine. You appreciate his honesty and the effort he's making to connect with you on a personal level. You nodded to him, laughing a little at his awkwardness.

"I guess I've been out of it. I appreciate you checking in on me," you reply, feeling grateful for his presence. Choso smiles softly, relieved that he was able to express his concern for you.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew that I'm here for you if you ever need someone to talk to."

"Coming in the middle of the night was… sudden, but it means a lot to me." You say it with a laugh at his unexpected visit. "Talking would be nice, actually. Want some snacks first?"

Choso nods, eager to continue the conversation over some snacks. You both head to the kitchen, grateful for the opportunity to bond and share a moment of connection.

Hours slipped by unnoticed as you engaged in a heartfelt conversation with Choso, delving deep into your thoughts and emotions over steaming mugs of tea and a plate of cookies. With each word shared, a sense of relief washed over you, lightening the burden on your shoulders. Choso listens attentively as you speak, his eyes empathetic. You vented about how your ex-boyfriend dismissed your concerns and belittled your feelings, brushing off the warning signs you desperately tried to address. You hesitated to speak up further, fearing that your ex would accuse you of being a jealous partner.

"I just wish I didn't let him walk all over me like that." You sniffle, wiping your eyes. Choso reaches out and places a comforting hand on yours, offering a reassuring smile.

"You possess a strength within you that shines even in moments of vulnerability," he says softly, his words a gentle balm to your wounded spirit, offering the support and understanding you craved.

"Pfft, yeah, right." You laugh, rolling your eyes at him. "I was so stupid. I thought he'd change or realize how much he was hurting me, but nothing I did was good enough."

Firmly, he takes both of your hands, capturing your attention.

"Do not say that about yourself. He was the one who hurt you after everything you had done for him. It was his fault; not yours. You deserve more than that dick who betrayed your trust. You are incredible; he didn't see it."

His words took you by surprise; he wasn't one to swear much or get so passionate without reason, usually remaining quiet. Squeezing his hands back, you smiled at him, feeling a warmth in your chest at his unexpected outburst of support.

"Thank you," you whispered, grateful for his words and the comfort they brought.

"You possess a strength beyond measure," he said softly, his eyes brimming with sincerity. With a gentle touch, he brushed away your tears, cradling your face tenderly. "You deserve far more than the way he mistreated you. You deserve to be cherished and valued for the amazing person you are."

"It's odd, but… I feel relieved after all this. It felt like our relationship was over months ago. I just didn't have the guts to end it myself." You sigh, leaning into his hand that cupped your face, as you contemplate the newfound clarity in your heart. It was a bittersweet realization.

Choso nodded, his movements slow and deliberate, scooting closer to you on the couch. "I'm glad you feel that way."

Looking at him, time seemed to slow, his eyes looking between your lips and back up looking into your eyes. The two of you slowly lean closer, unspoken words hanging in the air between you.

“I just… I care about you.” He said, his voice almost a whisper, as he got lost in you. Taking in your beauty this close was amazing to him. “A lot, actually.”

You lean in closer to him, putting a finger on his lips to stop his stammering. His cheeks tinted a light pink from your proximity. You had a hunch that he had some feelings for you. You, yourself, had felt a blooming attraction to him but tried to push it down because your boyfriend, now ex. Choso, was always attentive to you on missions, keeping you safe, and making sure you were okay. With nothing else holding you back, you decided to take a plunge.

“You care about me?” You ask, a teasing tone to your voice. Thumb tracing his bottom lips in thought at your next actions. ”Want to show me how much?”

Without hesitation, he breaks the distance between you both. As your lips finally met, you could tell he was inexperienced. His hands didn’t know where to go, almost scrambling before settling on your waist. Your hands went into his hair, tangling in his black, soft locks as you guided him in the kiss, teaching him with each movement. The initial awkwardness melted away as he began to respond, his lips moving in sync with yours, a silent promise of learning and growing together.

The kiss started tentatively, with a soft and gentle meeting of lips that conveyed innocence and curiosity. In that moment of shared vulnerability, you both embarked on a journey of exploration and intimacy, marking the start of a new and thrilling chapter in your relationship.

As the kiss breaks, your foreheads rest together, smiles playing on your lips at the sweetness of the moment. Choso's face was a bright red in the realization that it was his first kiss; he couldn't be happier that it was with you.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he whispers, his deep voice filled with emotion, caressing your face.

"Please, do it again," you say, your voice filled with longing and anticipation.

Choso leans in for another kiss, this time more confident and passionate, as if he had been waiting for your request. The second kiss lingers longer, the depth of his emotions evident in the tender caress of his lips against yours. After breaking the kiss again, you laugh and hug each other tightly. This moment marks the beginning of a new chapter in your relationship, a chapter filled with promise and affection.

Nanami

You two have known each other since highschool but lost touch after graduating.

Reunited with you in your 20s, you were still a sorcerer.

Never liked your ex when you brought him around to hangouts after work.

Noticed how you were always dismissed when talking or flat out ignored by him. .

Sees that you’re depressed after your BF of 3 years broke up with you suddenly only to get with someone shortly after.

Wouldn’t confess his feelings right away so you could focus on healing yourself first

Show his support through acts of service but never out right calling you out on your different mood.

Had feelings for you for a long time but didn’t act on them due to the both of you being sorcerers

Nanami walked alongside you, occasionally glancing sideways, his heart fluttering with each step. Tonight, he decided to finally confess to you after years of yearning for you.

He never acted on his emotions before due to the history of your old relationship. The breakup was a nasty one that left you feeling hurt and broken. Your ex left you suddenly with no real reason after almost three years together. Shortly after, he was seen with another woman, leaving you feeling betrayed and devastated.

It had been almost a year since then, in which he remained by your side as a friend. He ensured your well-being and helped gradually rebuild you into a healthier you.

For months, Nanami quietly supported you in your weakest moments.

Checking in on you frequently, as well as walking you home almost every day, became part of his routine. You barely ate after the breakup, which led to significant weight loss. Because he cared about you, he frequently prepared or offered to buy you lunch. Your energy and color made their way back as you slowly started to heal, and he couldn't keep his feelings hidden any longer, especially due to recent events.

Just a few days ago, you had gone on a mission, one that risked your life greatly. With luck by your side, you made it to Shoko in time, getting healed like nothing had occurred. Despite the pain of the past, Nanami couldn't ignore his feelings any longer and knew he had to take a chance on confessing his love to you. The fear of losing you was too great to keep silent any longer.

Gaining courage, he broke the comfortable silence between the two of you. The streets of Tokyo were quiet this time of night, creating a serene atmosphere.

"You know, you scared me the other day." He stated this, looking at you. His warm brown eyes could be seen because he was not wearing normal sunglasses.

You wince at him, shaking your head at the mention of it, looking up towards him.

Nanami had rushed to the infirmary when he heard the news, grateful to find you laughing in bed with Shoko by your side. You were fine, with the exception of a few scratches, one of which was still on your cheek and was covered with a bandage now.

"Yeah, I was scared for a second too." You admit rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile on your lips. "Things got a little crazy, but I managed to get out."

"I'm glad you're okay," he says, his eyes reflecting genuine concern and a small smile playing on his lips. "Next time, be more careful, please."

A frog felt like it had settled in his throat, making it hard to speak. He wasn't one to normally let his feelings get the better of him, but in this moment, he felt like a teenager all over again. Before he could speak, you broke the silence.

"Thank you, Nanami. I appreciate you checking in on me; you didn't have to." You say this, nudging him playfully with your shoulder as you walk.

As you both passed a nearby ramen shop, it served as a reminder to him that you were almost at your apartment. He needed to act fast before he lost his nerve.

"Regardless. Who would I be if I didn't come check on you? I care about you." His tone was gentle as he asked, a departure from his usual stoic demeanor.

You smiled at his words, feeling grateful for his presence in your life.

Nanami remained by your side, forcing you to work out with him and helping clean your apartment when you were at your worst. He was always there for you, even when you didn't ask. His actions spoke volumes about the depth of his care and concern for you.

Slowly, you felt your feelings for him begin to shift from gratitude to something deeper, something that made your heart flutter whenever he was near. It was a realization that maybe, just maybe, there was more to your relationship than just friendship. Apart from that, you were too scared to admit it, afraid of ruining the friendship you cherished so much. Deciding to bury your feelings deep down instead.

As you approached your apartment building, you felt disheartened. Your time with him was going to come to an end soon.

"Well, I'll make sure to cook you a nice meal to thank you for being such a good friend," you said with a grin, already planning your way of showing appreciation.

You experimented with different foods and cooked often, making it a new pastime of yours. You discovered your passion for baking through this endeavor, so you surprised him with his favorite bread when you felt he was feeling down or worn out. It was your way of reciprocating the kindness he always showed you.

He chuckled, the sound making your heart flutter as you both walked up the steps to your building, filled with joy. Shaking his head at that, he said, "You don't have to. It was more so for my heart than anything. Scare me again like that, and I might not recover."

Your hearty laugh fills the air as you reach the top of the steps, grateful for his presence in your life.

"You'd be fine without me."

"I highly doubt that," he replied, flashing you a warm smile.

As you were caught in his eyes, your hand rested on the door handle, delaying your entry into the apartment lobby.

"Thank you for always being there for me," you tell him as you watch him step closer to you, holding your breath in anticipation.

"No need to thank me. I'll always be here for you."

You both locked in for a split second as you stood there. Neither of the two wanted to be apart from the other just yet. Taking a chance, Nanami made a brave move and approached you. He held your hand, asking you to stay for a moment. Words escape you as you nod, letting him talk.

Nanami looked nervous, something you've never seen before, as he contemplated what to say. The air is electric in your shared silence, both of you feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Finally, Nanami broke the silence with a heartfelt confession that left you speechless.

"I've come to realize I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship." He declared. "Would you do me the honor of letting me take you out on a date? Friday, at 7 p.m., I'll pick you up for dinner. What do you say?"

As your heart raced with anticipation, you eagerly nodded, a wide smile lighting up your face. His face relaxed, and he was clearly relieved that you accepted his invitation for a date. Smiling with you, he let his emotions take hold.

He cupped your face, your lips connecting in a soft, tender kiss that left you breathless. The world around you seemed to fade away as you both embraced one another. You gladly returned the affection that the two of you had lost in the moment of a long-awaited kiss. Your lips locked together passionately, his hold tight as if he never wanted to let you go. He kissed you in a way that left you wanting more, his lips expertly moving against yours with a sense of longing and passion.

Just as your lungs burned for air, he broke the kiss, a chuckle escaping his lips as he looked at your flushed face. Both of your lips are slightly pink and puffy from the intense kiss. His hands still cupped your face as he gazed at you with nothing but love in his eyes. His thumb rubbed on the bandage on your cheek, and his brows furrowed in concern.

"I apologize for the suddenness. I honestly believed I had lost you." He admitted it with a tenderness meant for you alone while gazing into your eyes. "I don't think... Should you disappear, I'm not sure what I would do. My world would fall apart, I fear."

His heartfelt words filled your heart with warmth and comfort. You tried to speak, but the weight of his confession in combination with the kiss left you speechless, with no words escaping your lips. Heat went to your face as your mind processed everything. You reached out and gently placed your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. In that moment, you knew that his feelings were genuine and that you meant more to him than you had ever realized.

"You have me, and I'm not going anywhere. Not without a fight."

His eyes softened at your reassurance, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Looking down, he wanted to kiss you once more.

"I don’t doubt about that, sweetheart.”

As he leaned in for another kiss, you felt a sense of security and love envelope you, knowing that you had someone by your side who would always be there for you. With his lips against yours, you felt safe.

Gojo

Met you when you were a new teacher at Jujutsu Tech when he just became one.

You both quickly became close friends, he jokingly called you his work wife.

100% would hear about your breakup in person cause you went to him first.

Talks with you with wine at his place, letting you ugly cry a bit, eventually sadness turns to anger, which he encourages. (ex broke up with you because of the distance and didn't want to move)

Would suggest hooking up to get back at him as a joke but the night escalates

Starts as a rebound relationship to both of you catching feelings, hard.

He starts only seeing you, ditches his other hookups and booty calls.

Treats you like a queen, spoils you when he could and takes you on dates.

Other people were shocked to hear you weren’t together but spend time together like you are

In the dimly lit room of his apartment, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, you lay on a bed under silk sheets, gazing out at the city below. The city lights twinkled in the night, offering a captivating view that evoked feelings of both insignificance and unity with the world around you. The soft sounds of traffic and distant chatter contributed to the serene atmosphere, easing you into a state of relaxation.

You were lost in thought until you felt the gentle touch of small kisses being peppered on your bare shoulder, drawing your attention to the culprit beside you. With a lazy grin, Satoru laid beside you, his eyes reflecting a mix of contentment and mischief as he propped his head up on his hands. He was just as bare under the sheets, flush next to you, love bites littering his pale chest, hair ruffled.

"What chu thinking of, gorgeous?" He asked, his tone as teasing as always, moving a strand of your hair from your face to behind your ear.

Sweat still covered your bodies in a sheen, proof of your intimate activities only moments ago. The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin, a reminder of the passion you both shared. Satoru's playful demeanor brought a genuine smile to your face, warming your heart with affection.

"Nothing much handsome." You leaned in to press a soft kiss against his lips, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. In that moment, all worries melted away as you basked in the afterglow of your time together.

The soft moonlight enveloped both of you, casting a gentle glow, while the stars above shimmered like distant diamonds in the night sky.

"Yeah, nothing, sure." He pouted, biting your shoulder, earning a yelp from you. Clingy as always.

"Stop it, Toru," you giggled, playfully swatting him away.

He only pressed himself more into your side, planting sloppy yet affectionate kisses along your face. The sound of his laughter filled the room—a sweet melody that you never wanted to end.

"Don't deny me! I know how much you can't get enough of me ," he teased, pulling you closer for another kiss.

Letting him kiss you, you couldn't help but smile at his playful antics. With the kiss over again, he begins to kiss down your neck. Your eyes look over to the side, seeing the time on the clock. With a groan of reluctance, you move to sit up, unknowingly missing the sad look in his eyes from your impending departure.

"I should start heading out; it's getting late."

Satoru's smile faltered for a moment before he masked it with a playful grin. Holding onto your wrist as you moved to get off the bed.

"Can't you stay just a little longer?" he pleaded, his eyes reflecting a hint of disappointment. A childish pout on his lips, azure eyes pleading with you to stay a little while longer.

Satoru, along with you, had long developed feelings, which breached your agreement to keep things casual. This was a relationship that only started as a rebound from your ex, who broke your heart for a stupid reason. Now you both wished for something more.

In all honesty, he had been treating you like his lover in every way but title, from taking you on frequent dates to showering you with gifts and affection. For the past few months, he has even avoided seeing his other hookups in favor of you.

Recently, you have been staying the entire night with him, or vice versa. Something you both knew crossed the line you agreed upon. You had grown so accustomed to each other that you kept each other's toothbrushes in your bathrooms and your clothes in your respective places.

Even the sex had changed into something more intimate.

He would always check on you after, so much so that your aftercare had become a ritual. He took the time to cuddle with you or talk about your day, showing a level of care and consideration that went beyond just physical attraction. An arm was always wrapped around you as the two of you fell asleep.

It was a stark contrast to how things were in the beginning, with one of you leaving right after intimacy without a second thought. He clearly valued you as more than just a casual fling, but the conversation about defining the relationship had yet to happen.

Waiting for your response, Satoru gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were feeling. The unspoken question hung in the air, heavy with tension, creating a palpable sense of anticipation that neither of you seemed ready to address just yet.

"I would like that." You say, avoiding his gaze, feeling a bit shy at the admission. Your heart fluttering nervously in anticipation of his response.

Satoru's face breaks into a warm smile, his eyes lighting up with happiness as he pulls you into a tight, reassuring embrace, conveying his genuine joy. You melted in his arms for a moment, your brows furrowed as you thought of your relationship with him.

"Can we actually talk about something?" You ask, wanting to address the elephant in the room now rather than later.

Satoru nods, his expression turning serious as he leans back to get a better look at you. His eyes lock onto yours as he gives you his full attention. He was serious for a change, knowing the conversation was important to you from the tone of your voice.

After gaining courage, you finally speak. "I wanted to talk about us."

Satoru's eyes soften, a hint of concern crossing his features as he waits for you to continue. You take a deep breath, knowing that this conversation could change everything between you two.

"What… What are we, Satoru?" Looking up at him, your eyes wavered, scared of what his answer would be.

Satoru's gaze held yours, his silence weighing heavily in the air as he carefully chose his words. Finally, he spoke softly, "I care about you deeply, but I understand if you need more clarity on where we stand."

Your heart raced, waiting for his next words to determine the fate of your relationship.

"Do you mean that we're just friends, or is there something more between us?" You ask, your voice small yet determined, betraying a mix of apprehension and resolve.

"I want us to be more than friends, if you're willing to take that step with me." Satoru's expression softened, and he reached out to gently hold your hand.

You hold his hand back, a little tighter than his grip, shaking from your anxiety. Your heart swelled with hope and anticipation, realizing that this conversation was indeed a pivotal turning point for both of you, a moment that could change the course of your relationship forever.

"Really?" You ask, disbelief in your tone, thinking your ears are deceiving you.

Satoru smiles warmly, nodding in affirmation. Your fears begin to melt away as you feel a newfound sense of courage and excitement for what the future may hold for your relationship.

"I care about you lots, babe. I want to see where this could go," he said softly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. Your fears began to melt away as you felt a sense of warmth and possibility enveloping you both.

Kissing you once more, he crawls over you. One hand held your face, the other moving your legs around his waist. Feeling envigored after your talk, you eagerly reciprocate, feeling a newfound sense of connection and passion between you both. The future suddenly seemed brighter and more promising than ever before.

Laying in bed, you couldn't be more happy to have him in your life, even with the rough beginnings.

He slept peacefully beside you, tired after more rounds together, now as an official couple. His features made him look angelic in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for this man who had brought so much light into your life. As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

Dividers by @rookthornesartistry

#jjk x reader #reader insert #gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk choso #jjk satoru #jjk nanami #oneshot #x reader #fem reader #gojo satoru x y/n #nanami kento x y/n #choso kamo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic

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after-witch · 3 months

Text

The only saving grace of my Really Irritating Evening was imagining my fictional yandere stalker watching me last night as I:

-Burnt one of those rice heating pads in the microwave oven but didn't realize it was smoking until I was in my room with it on my shoulder and was like "huh it is VERY hot right now..." and saw the burnt marks

-Freaked out and shoved the pad into the freezer

-Pulled it out and a bunch of smoke came out of freezer

-Paced back and forth trying to figure out what to do with the super hot, burnt, pad

-Walked outside and stood at the communal dumpster for 5 minutes then realized it was too hot and I shouldn't put it in there

-Put it on the back of my car hood, went ????? and went back inside

-Realized my apartment stank like burnt popcorny smoke

-Spent 2 hours scrubbing down the microwave, freezer with vinegar mixture

-Hurt my back really bad getting on the floor to plug in my air purifier

-Went outside to throw out the now cooled pad

-Came back in, realized it stank just as much like smoke as before, cried (but mostly because of my back at this point, it was feeling super good too up until last night too, lmao)

-Took everything out of the freezer and scrubbed it down

-Put bowls of vinegar everywhere to maybe help absorb the smell

-Gave up because it was almost midnight and I have to get up at 6

It's morning... still smells, maybe not as much??? idk. Going to go to work and hope my back calms down.

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madebycloud · 1 year

Text

I Can't Help Falling in Love With You

wednesday addams x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you took your girlfriend on a date, one she will remember for a long time to come. warnings/themes: FLUFF!! softwednesday (???), reader is a simp, (who's not? it's WEDNESDAY ADDAMS) slow dancing, making out. words: 4.5k note: LMAO THIS GOT ME GIGGLING WHILE I WROTE THIS! i think y'all need some fluff before i write another angsty one again.. 🏃

You raced over to Wednesday's dormitory as the clock struck midnight. You reached to her door, you gently rapped your knuckles against it, patiently waiting for someone to answer.

After a few long seconds of silence, the door slowly creaked open, revealing Enid, Wednesday's roommate and a dear friend of yours.

With a sense of urgency in her voice, she greeted you with a "Wednesday, faster! Y/N is here." She flashed you a panicked smile and added, "I told Principal Weems you're both sick, so she won't come looking for you."

You immediately understood the reason for Enid's stress and took a moment to appreciate her for saving your ass. "Thank you, Enid."

Eventually, Wednesday approached you, and you couldn't help but notice how stunningly beautiful she looked. She noticed your stunned expression and rolled her eyes, breaking the tension.

Enid gave you a wink before closing the door, leaving you on your own. You picked up Wednesday's bag in one hand and offered her your arm. She rolled her eyes again, took your offer, and off you went. Wednesday followed you through the school gates and out into the night.

Wednesday couldn't keep her curiosity at bay any longer, and she asked you, "Okay, where are you taking me?"

With a grin, you replied, "I don't want to ruin the surprise." You could see the cogs turning in her mind, but she decided not to press the matter for now.

You made your way to a car parked on the street. "Where did you get the car? It's not stolen, is it?" She immediately asked, her voice both emotionless and full of underlying curiosity.

"No, my love. It's my uncle's car. He let me borrow it for our date." Wednesday watched as you placed her bag in the trunk and walked around to open the passenger door for her, leaning your head back to give her room to get inside.

She didn't say anything but rolled her eyes one last time before sliding into the car's leather seat. You climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine, and opened the radio.

"That better not be a pop song." You laughed at her and responded, "Too bad, it is."

The catchy beat of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift filled the car, and you began singing along at the top of your lungs, your voice sounding surprisingly in tune.

"Come on, love," you teased, leaning over to her and grinning. Wednesday's lips twitched slightly, almost as if she was fighting back a smile. But she didn't give in, just shook her head and rolled her eyes again.

Despite her lack of enthusiasm, she sat in silence as you sang along to the pop song.

She was clearly not a fan of the song and was probably wishing she was listening to something else, but she said nothing. She didn't want to insult you or your musical tastes and was willing to listen to whatever music you liked, even if it wasn't her favorite.

You drove on for what seemed like hours, your eyes growing heavy as your eyelids drooped more and more with each passing moment.

The traffic was at a standstill, and the noise of the engine and the honking of horns from other drivers was starting to grate on your nerves.

Despite the chaos around you, you couldn't help but feel peaceful and content as you looked over at Wednesday, who slept peacefully next to you.

Her gentle breaths and demeanor were enough to make you forget about the traffic and the stress of the situation, and for a moment, everything seemed okay.

You couldn't imagine being anywhere else but right here by her side, even if it meant enduring the monotony of the stop-and-go traffic.

You reached over to the backseat and grabbed a pillow, placing it gently under her head. You wanted to make sure she was comfortable and that she was taken care of while she rested.

After enduring the never-ending road and traffic, you arrived at your destination, and then you saw a sight that was well worth the trouble.

You were greeted by a beach house, standing majestically in the middle of the pristine white sand and surrounded by clear blue water.

You turned to Wednesday, who was still sound asleep beside you. You gently nudged her awake and whispered softly in her ear, "Hey, love, we're here." She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open and looking up at you.

You leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She took in her surroundings, a look of confusion flitted across her face. "Where am I?" she murmured, her words still half-awake.

You replied reassuringly, "We're at the beach house I rented for us. I'll get the things, you stay here and rest," you said, and she nodded and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes.

You leaned down one more time to kiss her forehead, stepped outside the car, opened the trunk, and started unloading your belongings.

When you were done, you opened the passenger door and held out your hand to guide Wednesday out of the car. She took your hand, and you helped her step onto the sand.

You walked toward the beach house together, you noticed a small smirk forming on Wednesday's lips as she took in the scenery before her.

Even on Wednesday, the often stoic and reserved Addams, couldn't help but be amazed by the beauty of the surroundings.

You led her into the beach house, where you had already set up your bedroom.

Knowing she needed some rest after the long journey, you gently helped Wednesday settle in the bedroom, watching as she lay down on the bed, her eyes closing as soon as her head hit the pillow.

You couldn't help but admire Wednesday's beauty, even in her slumber. Her dark hair fanned out around her on the pillow, and her pale skin looked even more ivory against the colorful bedding.

For a moment, you hesitated, wanting nothing more than to jump into the bed next to her and hold her close. You gently covered her with the blankets, whispering, "Sweet dreams, my love."

You went back and finished unloading the rest of your things. When you finished, you took a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief.

The long and strenuous journey to the beach house was finally over, and now you were both here, safe and sound.

You felt your stomach growl, reminding you that it was time for breakfast. So you steeled yourself and went to the kitchen.

You took a deep breath and began to prepare your meals, pouring the scrambled eggs and toasted bread into two bowls. You added a splash of hot sauce and some grated cheese on top, finishing off the meals with a sprinkle of parsley.

You set the plates on the table and took a seat, feeling proud of yourself for managing to cook such a delicious meal.

You were sipping your coffee when you suddenly heard the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. You turned your head to see Wednesday walking towards the table.

"Morning, my love," you said, standing up to greet her. You placed a kiss on her cheek and directed her towards the chair. "Sit down here, and I'll serve you breakfast. I was just about to wake you." She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

You placed a plate of warm food in front of Wednesday, the scent of eggs and toast filling the air. You sat down opposite her, and you both began to dig into your breakfast.

It was simple, but it was everything you needed after such a long drive.

—

You and Wednesday had spent the day enjoying each other's company at your beach house, playing board games, eating delicious food, and watching movies.

It was a day filled with fun (and perhaps even a little bit of competition), but it was about to get much more interesting.

The hours ticked by, you noticed it was already 4 PM, and with the scorching heat of the sun bearing down on you, you decided it was time for a dip in the ocean.

Wasting no time, you hurried to your closet, choosing your favorite two-piece swimsuit, which was a sleek, figure-hugging design that highlighted your curves. On the other hand, Wednesday opted for a more conservative choice, a one-piece swimsuit that covered her body, providing maximum protection from the sun's harmful rays.

You both walked down to the beach, and you couldn't resist taking a jab at Wednesday's swimsuit. "You look like a penguin in that," you teased with a smirk, admiring her graceful poise.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes. "Say that one more time, and I'll rip your tongue out of your head," she spat back.

Feeling guilty about your comment, you tried to make amends by reaching for her hand, only to have her put it away.

You tried again, but she pulled it away once more. "Not so fast. You've already offended me once, and I'm not one to forget easily," she said with a stern glare.

You tried to talk to her, but she ignored you, leading you to decide to tread quietly and keep following Wednesday as you both walked into the sea.

Wednesday's resentment erupted when a random female stranger approached the two of you and asked for your phone number.

Despite the fact that she detests physical intimacy, she swiftly encircled your hand in a display of affection and dominance.

She then marked her territory and made it known that you were hers and no one else's by giving the girl a death look until she walked away.

You smirked, enjoying the idea that Wednesday loves you so much, and said, "Come on," as you pulled her closer to you in the water.

You and Wednesday made your way to the water, and you felt the soft sand sinking beneath your toes. The waves crashed against your body, sending a tingle of excitement through every inch of your being.

Wednesday's movements were as graceful as ever as she swam around you, with her black hair billowing behind her like a banner of victory.

Both of you couldn't help but stare into each other's eyes, lost in the moment. You can't help but admire her features, the curve of her nose, the color of her eyes, and the way her hair flows in the water.

It felt as though time had stopped, and the only thing that mattered was the two of you, connected by an invisible thread.

With a mischievous smirk on your face, you couldn't resist the temptation to play around.

You took a handful of water and splashed it in her face. Wednesday's eyes widened with surprise, and you couldn't help but let out a chuckle at her reaction.

“Oh, you wanna play?" She asked, but her tone wasn't threatening or angry. Instead, it was filled with a playful edge, as though she was teasing you back.

Without hesitation, she began splashing you back, and you both were quickly engaged in an all-out water battle.

You tried to one-up each other with your splashes, but no matter how hard you tried, Wednesday seemed to always have the upper hand.

After a few minutes of fighting, you decided to take things up a notch.

Grabbing a hold of Wednesday's waist, you dipped her into the water and pulled her down with you.

She lets out a shriek of surprise as she is dragged beneath the surface. She kicks and thrashes her legs, desperate to reach the surface for air.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she emerges from the water, gasping for breath.

You couldn't help but let out a laugh at her wicked stare.

You noticed how beautiful she looked in the sunlight as you wiped the water from your eyes, the drops of water glistening on her skin like tiny diamonds.

Without warning, you leaned in and planted a kiss on her jaw, feeling her soft skin beneath your lips.

"I'm going to kill you, you know that?" she says with a mischievous glint in her eye as you scramble to get away from her.

You take off running, your heart pounding in your chest as you feel the sand and water beneath your feet.

Wednesday ran like a bolt of lightning, her legs propelling her forward at incredible speeds. You try to keep up, but it's no use, she's just too fast.

In desperation, you raise your hand in surrender and stop running.

You stumble to a stop and sit down on the sand to catch your breath, gasping for air.

You look up at Wednesday, still catching your breath, your chest aching with the exertion. “I didn't know penguins were this fast," you manage to gasp out between breaths.

She sits down next to you, still catching her breath as well. "You're not too fast yourself."

You couldn't help but breathe a sigh of awe as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. The sky was a vibrant canvas of color, filled with gradients of pink, purple, and gold. The beauty of the world was all around you, encapsulating every square inch of the beach and even the very air you breathed.

"Oh wow," you muttered under your breath, your eyes fixed on the sky.

You were so entranced by the breathtaking colors of the sky, the vibrant sound of the waves crashing against the shore, and the soothing rustle of the sand that you almost forgot you were sitting beside Wednesday.

Almost, but not quite, as your peripheral vision took in the fact that she was staring at you with such intensity that you couldn't help but smile. As if she couldn't believe that such a person even existed.

You continued to stare up at the sky as the sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon, casting the sky into a beautiful shade of orange and red.

Despite the beauty of the sunset, it was you who truly captivated her.

The way your eyes mirrored the colors of the sunset was almost hypnotic, your gaze drawing her in and making it impossible to look away.

Everything else was just noise, but the harmony of the setting sun, the sound of the waves, and your very existence were all perfectly combined. It felt like home, a place of serenity and completeness.

It was your presence that made her heart skip a beat, your face that kept her awake at night, and your voice that she would hear in her dreams.

Wednesday had never experienced anything like it before, a feeling so intense and overwhelming that she felt like she was falling through a tunnel, with you being the light at the end of it.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't realize how long she had been staring at you. She only snapped back to reality when you called out to her.

"What are you staring at?" you asked, noticing the intensity of her gaze.

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her voice soft and breathless. "You," she whispered.

You were about to respond when you felt your stomach growl. You looked down at your empty stomach and let out a sigh of frustration.

Without hesitation, you got up from your seat and turned around to face Wednesday. You silently motioned for her to take your hand, and she immediately reached out and grabbed it.

You both walked along the shore, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the sand in the distance. You kissed the back of her hand, a simple yet romantic gesture that seemed to speak volumes.

You both stayed silent as you walked back towards the beach house, both of you engrossed in your own private thoughts.

It was a comfortable silence, one that allowed both of you to simply be in each other's presence without feeling the need to fill the air with trivial conversation.

—

The soft hum of the radio fills the solitude of the night, and you can't help but feel a deep sense of peace and serenity sweep over you. The sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore below and the shimmering of the stars in the night sky add to this feeling of calmness.

Suddenly, the sound of the glass door opening takes your attention away from the tranquil surroundings as Wednesday steps onto the balcony.

With a curious expression on her face, Wednesday walks towards you and asks, "What are you doing up at such a late hour?"

"Just admiring..." Your response may be short and vague, but it is the truth. You are simply admiring the beauty of the world around you, a world that seems to come alive during these quiet hours of the night.

She walks to the edge of the balcony, taking in the view herself, her figure illuminated by the moonlight, her silhouette framed against the vast ocean.

A/N: (I recommend playing "Can't Help Falling in Love with You" while reading this part.)

As you took in the beauty of the ocean and the night sky, the first notes of the classic Elvis song "Can't Help Falling in Love with You" started playing from the radio, and your heart began to beat a little faster.

You stepped closer to Wednesday, wrapping your arms around her waist. You can feel the warmth of her body against yours and the texture of her clothes as your arms touch them. You can hear the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, a low murmur in the background, as the radio's soft voice fills the silent air.

She turns her head to look at you, the moonlight catching her features and illuminating her face, making her appear even more beautiful than before.

You place your chin on her shoulder, humming along to the lyrics of the song. Wednesday, feeling the warmth of your breath in her ear, turns to face the night and the endless ocean in front of you.

Slowly, you begin to sway her from side to side, the radio and the sound of the ocean providing a beautiful soundtrack to your dance.

The music lulls you both into a trance, and, without thinking, you lean down and kiss the back of her neck, feeling her skin against your lips, soft and warm.

Then, with a swift move, you twirled her around to face you, taking a hold of her hands and pulling her close. You held her left hand up, her right hand on your shoulder, and your left hand around her waist, pulling her closer to you.

She squeezed your hand, your faces were inches apart. You stared deeply into her eyes, feeling the slivers of light in them reflect the depth of your love.

You didn't say a word, but your eyes told her how much you loved her without needing to speak. Your eyes tell her everything, everything you can't put into words.

The song plays on and the moon shines brightly overhead, Wednesday relaxes against you. You feel the soft warmth of her breath brushing against your skin, and it makes you feel alive in a way you never have before.

The bond that existed between you was as deep as the ocean and as vast as the sky above. You didn't need words to express how you felt, the love you felt for each other went beyond words, beyond the physical.

You lean in to kiss the crown of Wednesday's head, and you take a moment to savor the moment.

The late-night air is crisp and cool, the sky is clear, and the ocean is sparkling under the light of the moon.

The song continues to play in the background, adding to the romantic atmosphere that you've created together. You close your eyes, feeling Wednesday's heart beating in your chest, and let the moment wash over you.

For a moment, the rest of the world falls away, and all that exists is the two of you, standing on the balcony, holding each other close.

—

The day had been perfect from start to finish, filled with memories that would last you both a lifetime. As the sun set over the ocean and the day came to an end, you could feel a sense of melancholy in the air.

It was time to head back to Nevermore, but a part of you didn't want the day to end.

You hopped into the car, with Wednesday riding shotgun.

She was sitting in the passenger seat, reading the book she had just bought, her eyes fixed on the pages, oblivious to the world around her.

You kept your focus on the road, though you couldn't help but steal glances at her as you drove.

Driving along, you couldn't help but let your mind wander, thinking about all the wonderful things that had happened that day. You had spent the morning exploring the shore with Wednesday, feeling the cool ocean breeze on your skin, and taking pictures together that you would treasure forever. You had bought souvenirs for your friends.

And then there was the car ride back to Nevermore, which seemed to fly by, the traffic moving swiftly for once.

The road was quiet, and you could hear the soft rustling of leaves as the cool night air blew through the open window of your car.

You felt a gentle tug on your right hand and looked down to see Wednesday's hand holding yours, her eyes still focused on her book. Your heart melted as you squeezed her hand.

Wednesday didn't say a word, but you could see the contented expression on her face as she continued reading, unaware of your gaze.

The red traffic lights changed to green, and you drove towards Nevermore, your thumb brushing against hers as you took turns on the road.

Once back at Nevermore, you headed directly to Wednesday's dorm, where Enid answered the door, her hair a disheveled mess as if she had just woken up from a deep sleep.

You smiled and handed her your gift, a smile spreading across her face as she took it. "Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, giving you a quick hug.

"Enid," Wednesday said, and the tone of her voice instantly signaled to you that something was amiss. Enid, clearly not wanting to add fuel to the fire, released her grip and offered an apology as she retreated back inside to help Wednesday unpack her things.

The door closed, leaving you and Wednesday alone in the hallway. You could feel the tension in the air, and a small part of you regretted coming back. You hesitantly stepped forward, afraid of the consequences.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

However, as you were about to leave, Wednesday grabbed your hand.

She gently caressed your palm with her thumb, and you couldn't help but feel a jolt of energy coursing through your body.

You leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she pulled you in for a deeper kiss, her lips meeting yours with a passion that took you by surprise.

Her hands roamed over your neck and shoulders, holding you close and pulling you in even further.

You pulled away, taking a deep breath as you smiled at the warmth spreading throughout your body.

Wednesday leaned in yet again, her lips finding yours for one more blissful moment. You couldn't help but savor the taste of her kisses as she held you close once more.

Once you finally broke apart, you rested your forehead against hers, feeling the connection that you shared.

It was a moment that felt like it would last an eternity, your bodies pressed against each other, your breath coming in short gasps.

You could feel the heat building between you, a tension that threatened to tear you apart at any moment.

"I love you."

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, a whisper that echoed in the silence of the hallway.

Wednesday's eyes locked onto yours, her breath catching in her throat as she took in your confession. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something in response, but the words refused to leave her mouth. Instead, she kissed you once again, this time with a passion that threatened to consume you whole.

You wanted to pull away, to catch your breath, to take in the moment. But you couldn't, your body was consumed by the heat of Wednesday's touch.

Your hands grasped her back, pulling her close as your lips found hers again and again. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you in the hallway, lost in a world of your own.

Finally, you pulled away, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Wednesday's lips were swollen from your kisses, her eyes shining with anticipation.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you managed to whisper, before you leaned in for one final kiss.

This time, it was slower, more gentle, as if you both understood that this moment was too precious to be rushed.

You held each other close, your bodies pressing together, feeling the warmth of each other's touch.

Feeling a tingle in your chest, you pulled away, the warmth of her touch lingering on your cheeks. Her hand slowly released its grip on yours, her fingers lingering for just a moment longer before she let go, her face falling back into its usual stony expression.

The grin on your face persisted as you made your way back to your dorm. You knew that you would forever hold on to the memories of that perfect day.

Then you sighed, the familiar weight of reality settling back in.

You walked toward your own dorm, feeling the fatigue of the long drive weigh on your shoulders. As you entered your room, the familiar smell of home beckoning you to rest your weary head on your pillow, you couldn't help but think of the image of Wednesday that was forever imprinted in your mind.

One last look, the sun setting over her shoulder, casting a glow of warmth over her face.

A moment frozen in time, a dream that would fade soon enough but remain a precious memory for as long as you lived.

And as you drifted off into sleep, the image of her remained seared into your mind.

The waves crashing against the shore, the smell of salt in the air, the warmth of the sun on your skin. A dream like no other, a reminder of what it meant to be truly alive.

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