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eclipseslayer · 4 months ago

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CURIOSITY GOT THE... DOG?

➭ LAIOS TOUDEN X HYBRID!F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

➭ Day 2 of Kinktober: Accidental Stimulation

➭ SUMMARY: Laios gets curious about his fuzzy party member and reaches out to scratch her ears, however, he wasn't expecting a certain reaction when he goes to scratch behind her tail.

➭ CW: Breast play/nipple play, Laios slaps one of your boobs, semi-public sex, fingering, penetrative sex.

➭ WC: 2.8k

➭ 18+ ONLY! MDNI!

You're the newest member to the party, one that everyone found a bit strange, as you were unusual to see.

You're a hybrid—similar to Izutsumi in the sense that you're cursed—part dog, part human, except, you're human for the most part. You're far from a Kobold, as you're not quite on that level of "dog", as the only dog part of you are your ears, your tail, and your keen sense of smell and hearing. The rest of you is human.

And of course, Laios is the one to find you the most fascinating.

He's the one who's constantly behind you during trips, reaching out to curiously pet your ears or maybe feel your fluffy tail, but by the time he's close to touching you, Marcille bonks him on his head with her magic wooden staff.

Though, now, as you're asleep, Laios remains awake, with a curiosity to be satisfied.

He sits upright, looking down at you as you're curled up into a ball, sleeping peacefully, snoozing away.

His fists are tight as he battles a mental block. He knows that he shouldn't touch you. Senshi, Chilchuck, and Marcille remind him every day, and yet, there's this urge deep within him that needs to satisfy his curiosity, and he hates that he couldn't, at least until now.

He sighs, hanging his head, knowing he'll just have to reap the consequences later as he's now decided he's committed to touching you.

So, he reaches out, slowly, not wanting to wake you and brings his hand to your ears. He smiles softly at how cute you look, sleeping so peacefully, and slowly, he begins to scratch on your ears. He tilts his head, trying to see if he'll elicit some sort of reaction from you as his eyes search your body. His eyes widen when he sees you begin to whimper and kick in your sleep, just like a dog would. He smiles, feeling pleased that he's getting a reaction out of you, so he keeps scratching behind your ears.

What he didn't expect, though, was for you to suddenly wake up, as you shoot your eyes open and give him a side-eye, which has him quickly retracting his hand. His face flushes a bright red in the act of being caught.

"I-I'm sorry... I was only curious..." He mutters slowly, afraid you'd get angry at him.

Though, opposite to Laios' thoughts, you're definitely not angry, as those scratches were very nice. You hadn't actually been scratched like that before, as usually you'd tell people to "fuck off" before they'd even get close to you, but, now... you're curious. You want more.

"It's okay," you mumble, also hating that you're admitting to yourself that you love it so much. You pause, and you sigh. "You can continue."

Laios' eyes widen. "R-Really??"

You huff, and you sit up. You lean your head forward to let him continue scratching. "Yes. Now hurry up before I change my mind."

Laios smiles from ear to ear, so he eagerly reaches out and starts scratching behind your ears again. He hums contently to himself as he scratches you, and finds it joyously amusing when you start wagging your tail.

"Aww, look at how cute you are! You're wagging—"

"Don't. "

Your words are sharp, almost grumbling under your breath as you grip your sleeping bad from underneath you. You huff.

"Don't say I'm cute or any of that stuff... just... scratch me," you grumble, as Laios' praise had you dangerously close to getting even more happy.

Laios' eagerness seems to fade away when you knock aside his praise, but, nonetheless, he keeps scratching behind your ear.

You feel content with just the scratching of his hand behind your ear, wanting to shake your leg like a dog, but you opt just for wagging your tail.

Though, Laios gets a bit more curious as his hand moves downward, a bit deeper into your hair but still scratching behind your ear, and, for some reason, this makes your eyes widen and it makes your leg jolt as this new spot has unlocked something inside of you. You almost bark from the feeling, but you settle for a whimper.

"L-Laios..." You whimper his name and he raises an eyebrow.

"You okay?" He asks softly and you nod. In fact, you're more than okay.

"Scratch that spot again, please," you beg, which has Laios's eyes widening in shock. That was the last thing he expected from you, but, he's certainly not going to say no.

"Alright," he complies with ease and continues to scratch behind your ears at that spot, and this time, he's more surprised to see you begin to suddenly act more dog-ish as you start whimpering, and your tongue hangs out, and your eyes cross from how good those scratches feel.

He smirks to himself at the sight, just finding your behavior entirely too cute. He chuckles and he tilts his head as he sees your tail wagging against the fabric of your sleeping bag, and as you let out soft whimpers.

His curiosity aches once more about your tail, and so, while you're distracted with the ear scratch, he uses his other hand to reach down to the spot just above your tail, where your tail meets your behind and begins to scratch there also.

Shocked, your eyes widen at this and you whip your head around to look at Laios as he scratches that spot. That spot where you're so sensitive that it stimulates something inside of you. You swallow thickly and you look up at the blonde man who contently scratches behind your ear still, while his gaze is fixed on your moving tail, unaware that you're staring at him.

"I-I... Laios..." You whimper, and you feel your face heating up because of that continuous stimulation.

Laios' head perks up at your whimper and he looks over at you, wondering if you're alright.

"Everything alright?" He asks softly, and continues to scratch despite your whimpering.

You nod and you give him shy, puppy-dog eyes as Laios continues to scratch your behind, as that spot creates a familiar ache inside of you. One with need that gets you all wound up. You swallow thickly.

Laios seems to take notice of this as you look at him with eyes like that. His eyebrows raise and his scratching comes to a slow. He looks around at the other sleepers beside him and then turns back to you. He pulls his hand away from your behind and offers it to you.

"Follow me."

You take his hand, and the both of you get up, carefully stepping over the other sleepers as you make your way to a corner in the dungeon, away from the soundly sleeping party.

You sit on the ground and you look up at him with a pouting lip, and fuck, does it make Laios' cock throb. He swallows thickly.

"What's going on?" He asks, and he takes a knee so he's stooped down to your level.

You reach out and you paw at his leg. This behavior is most unexpected from you, as you were never one to display needs of help or affection, and yet, here you were, basically begging for it.

"Laios you... when you scratched me I... something in me... I don't know but I'm aching. I need something to help..." You murmur a bit pathetically, and you curse under your breath for showing signs of neediness.

Twitch. There it is again. His cock throbs and twitches, hardening as you paw at him. He swallows thickly, looking down at you as you beg for him to touch you. He lets out a shaky breath.

"I think..." He swallow thickly. "I think you need something. Something like..." He reaches down for your hand that's pawing at his knee and he places it onto his hard cock. His face flushes as he watches your eyes widen in response. "...think you need this?"

Embarrassed, your face flushes and you look down. You know it's what you need, and yet, you can hardly bring yourself to admit it. You squirm in your spot and you look up at him.

"Y-Yes please..." Your words are shy, and so cute as you give him those puppy-dog eyes again. He smiles softly.

"Okay, pup," he grins, and he feels a sense of achievement as his chest swells, knowing that he's finally going to fuck something that's not human, or at least, not completely. "Let's get these clothes off of you, yeah?"

You nod once again, and shyly, you raise your arms up as Laios slowly pulls your top off, and then he pulls your bottoms off.

His breath hitches in his throat when he sees you fully naked. He hums, pleased with himself that he's gotten you to this point, and he once again feels his hard cock throb in his pants. He groans and he leans down, towering over you as he presses you against the ground.

You gasp at the coldness of the floor hitting your back, earning a chuckle from Laios.

He leans down and begins to press kisses down your body, starting with your neck. He huffs as he takes in your scent, smelling that familiarity of a dog, which has his senses pleased.

He goes down your body, and his hands wander over it, trying to pinpoint the spots that has you the most sensitive.

Although, what he doesn't know is that everywhere where Laios is touching has your body on fire. You're a whimpering mess as his hands wander your body, alongside his kisses that continue a trek down your skin.

His hands soon glide over your breasts, and his fingers tweak at your nipples, making you whine loudly.

He chuckles upon finding your sensitive spot, but he winds a hand back and slaps your breast which has you whimpering. Your ears fall flat as you look up at him, wondering what went wrong.

"No, no, bad pup. Can't be loud, okay? Don't need to wake the others," he murmurs into your ear, and he then leans back down to press a kiss to your breast to soothe it.

Luckily, the stinging sensation of the slap quickly dies down as Laios' tongue laps over it, soothing it warmly. You hum and you whine as you start kicking your feet when his tongue glides over your nipple, eliciting a feeling of lightning shoot through your spine as that's yet another sensitive spot Laios has found.

Your hands grip his hair in return as his mouth sloppily covers your nipple in saliva, sucking oh-so-earnestly, lips puckering and suckling around that hardened peak.

You're writhing in pleasure as Laios' mouth is busy, meanwhile, his hand begins a journey down your body and slips between your thighs. He blushes when he feels that you're wet, knowing that his scratches made your body so accepting and willing.

He slips two fingers inside of you and sighs as they're accepted so willingly. He begins to pump and curl them inside of you, earning him soft moans from you, and your fingers grip his hair even harder.

"Laios..." You whisper his name in a soft whimper, and your hips buck against his hand.

He watches, amused and enthused that you're taking his fingers so well, and that your tail twitches with each curl of his fingers.

"So... wet..." He acknowledges it as if it was a statement that came from his curiosity. He wasn't even sure hybrids could even have sexual organs, or something along those lines, and yet, here you were, sucking in his fingers.

"Laios..." You repeat his name again, and you tug at his shirt. "Need you. In me."

Laios raises his eyebrows. That was the last thing he expected from you, as he just figured he'd finger-fuck you until you're satisfied, but, fuck. He's surely not going to say no.

He starts pulling down his pants, but before he can finish, he raises an eyebrow at you.

"You sure?"

"Yes!" You whisper-shout, murmuring under your breath. Your tail twitches and your ears flatten, frustrated.

Laios senses your impatience so he quickly pushes down his pants, leaving them around his ankles. He moves to hover over you, but, before he can completely situate himself, his eyes widen when he thinks of another way he can fuck you.

"Wait," he stops himself and sits back on his knees. "Get on all fours."

You look up at him and narrow your eyes at him. Oh he's having too much fun with this. You huff.

"Really? You want me in doggy?" You almost sound like you're in disbelief, but, then again, it's Laios. Of course he wants you in doggy.

He scratches the back of his head and lets out a weak chuckle. "Heh... can you blame me?"

You mumble and roll your eyes, but, regardless, you entertain him. You sit up and shift so you're on your knees and your palms are on the ground.

You look forward at the cobblestone wall while you hear Laios shift behind you. Your eyes widen when you feel a fat head line itself with you. You swallow thickly and you let out a choked gasp as you feel him slowly push inside you.

He's thick, and he stretches you so deliciously as you feel him cling to your walls, pushing deep inside of you until you feel the fatness of his tip press against your g-spot.

You moan as it curves so perfectly, hitting that spot so nicely. Your hands curls into fists and you bite your lip while you get used to the amazing stretch that Laios gives you.

"I'm going to move now... alright?" His voice is gentle, and his big, rough hands grip your hips. He doesn't even give you the chance to respond as he starts moving, chasing after what he wants.

With the first thrust, you let out a moan when you feel his hips and stomach meet your ass, his fat cock instantly meeting your pleasure spot inside of you, making your eyes roll back.

Then, again, the second thrust, and the third, and the fourth and—your brain starts to go numb as you take his cock, his pace quickly picks up and the sound of his stomach hitting your ass fills the room. At this point, you don't even care if the others hear you and Laios. His cock feels way too good to care about the other party members.

He grips your hips firmly and he mutters curses under his breath while he moves in and out. Your pussy feels so good around him, so tight and needy as it squelches, singing it's songs of praise to Laios, telling him how good he feels inside of you. He grunts, and his thick hands grip your hips again, tighter this time, and he picks up his pace.

It's harder, harsher, and you can't suddenly seem to keep up. You whine and your ears twitch every which way, and so does your tail as you feel your senses start to go haywire.

Your sense of smell, your hearing, your vision, hell even your taste gets lost as your head goes fuzzy from taking Laios so deep within you.

"Hnnnghhh... Laios!" You moan out, and you hear him let out a dry laugh. You know he has to be trying to keep himself together from cumming so quickly, and honestly, you are too.

Flames are being lit within your stomach, kindling as Laios keeps thrusting, meeting that spot that creates sparks, thus making the flame only grow.

It's sickening, almost, for how quickly the flame in the furnace grows, and you have to burg your nails into your palms to keep yourself in reality, but that pain is short lived when it's overpowered by the pleasure that Laios is giving you.

"L-Laios..." You're almost there, you can feel it. You're hot, you're sticky, and your pussy is squelching so loudly from being so wet. "I'm..."

Laios feels your wet pussy tightens around his cock and he groans.

"Fuck, so am I," he grunts, and he starts breathing heavily.

Laios picks up the pace again. It's in short, quick bursts that have you moaning in every breath. Almost. You're almost there. Your stomach, so tight, so, so, so tight—

"Aaah!!"

Your moan rips through the air, soon followed by Laios' own moan. Your legs shake and your head falls dizzy as you fall against the cold, hard floor of the dungeon, and Laios quickly pulls out, as his hot seed pours out of him and leaks onto your ass, and onto your tail.

A long moment of heavy breaths and sighs are exchanged between the two of you as you try to collect yourselves.

Soon, Laios brings a hand to your ass and wipes up all of his mess.

"Sorry about uh... scratching that spot..." He apologizes softly.

You raise an eyebrow, and you turn your face to look at him. You give him a lazy smile and you giggle.

"Don't be sorry... I happened to like it."

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #delicious in dungeon smut #dungeon meshi smut #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #laios touden smut #laios smut #laios touden x reader #laios x reader #laios touden x you #laios x you #🌑 my fics

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a-aexotic · 2 years ago

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HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!

Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)

And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣

Maybe he says “It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x

hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes

cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything

You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.

When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.

During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.

But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.

When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.

You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.

You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.

Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.

He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.

He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.

He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.

He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.

During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.

Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.

The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.

You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.

You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.

Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.

You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.

When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.

When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."

The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."

Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.

You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.

The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.

As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.

You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.

Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.

"I have a plan."

"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."

Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."

You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."

Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.

"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."

It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.

You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.

Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.

You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?

You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.

You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?

"Hello, Y/N."

You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.

He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."

You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.

"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."

You shook your head. "No."

He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"

"No." You said again, louder.

He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."

He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.

If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.

They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.

"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."

You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.

"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"

Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.

Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.

You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.

It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.

You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.

But you knew that was just the beginning.

You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.

"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.

A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.

"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."

You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.

He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.

As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.

That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."

You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.

There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.

"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.

"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.

"Are you.. Are you really here?"

"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.

His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."

You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.

Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.

Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.

You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.

When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.

You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."

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maybejj · 1 month ago

Text

The Beginning of Us. Part 3

babydaddy!Rafe x sweetheart!reader

masterlist

warnings: mentions of child abuse, mentions of bruises/blood, slight flirting, slight possessive rafe ?

summary: You and Rafe were high school sweethearts that continued into college however Rafe went down the wrong path and you found out you were pregnant. 4 years later finds you and Rafe trying to navigate co-parenting your 3 year old son while overcoming life’s obstacles and past experiences.

word count: 2.2k

“Listen, I’m not going to make it. Rafe’s out of town and I don’t have anyone to watch Asher. I’m sorry, truly.” You apologized to Madeline over the phone while you continued to make dinner. Asher was at the kitchen table drawing in his coloring book, tongue sticking out to the side while he tried to color in the lines.

It was shaping up to be a quiet night when Madeline, one of your girlfriends, had called asking if you wanted to tag along to see the new romcom that was in theaters. You would normally jump at the opportunity to hangout with your friends but with Rafe out of town, you couldn’t leave Asher.

You heard your friend whine playfully on the other side of the phone, “Maybe you could get Sarah or Wheezie to watch him for a couple hours. You know they adore him.”

You squeezed your eyes closed tightly. You knew in your soul they would never hurt Asher. They weren’t capable of it and they did adore your son, worshipped the ground he walked on. They always showered him in love and gifts and hugs whenever they saw him but there was that voice in the back of your head that said it would happen again if you left Asher alone with anyone other than Rafe.

It had only been three months since it happened and you were still reaping the fallout from all the chaos. Asher was getting better, he could finally sleep in his own bed though it was you who held off on making him sleep alone because you wanted him close, wanted to protect him. Rafe was the one who gently coaxed you into letting Asher back in his room after sleeping in your bed for two months. You had sat outside your son’s bedroom door, hand over your mouth, quietly sobbing that whole night.

You sighed deeply as you turned to watch your son. He was so young and already he had been exposed to how cruel the world could be. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

You shook your head even though Madeline couldn’t see you, “They’re probably busy. I’ll have to rain check on this one but you guys have fun.”

There was silence on the phone for a moment before Madeline’s voice traveled through the speaker, her tone of voice held a hint of frustration and annoyance, “I know it’s been hard but you’re going to have to let people help you, Rafe won’t always be here. This is a prime example.”

You were stunned by her words, completely catching you off guard. You knew she could be blunt and up front but this was a sensitive topic.

“Until you have a son of your own, you don’t get to tell me what to do. Especially after someone beat him like a punching bag,” You said as you hung up abruptly. You set the phone down roughly on the kitchen counter while your hands came to rest on the top, your back turned to Asher. You closed your eyes once you started to feel the sting of tears. You dropped your head to your chest and counted to ten. You could feel yourself shaking as you tried to block out the images of seeing him in the hospital, the bruises, the blood. You could still hear Rafe’s frantic voice over the phone telling you to meet him at the hospital. It was the worst day of your life.

“Mommy?”

You sucked in a deep breath and quickly wiped your eyes before turning around. Asher was staring at you with wide eyes from the kitchen table, his drawing abandoned, “Yes, baby?”

He squinted his big green eyes at you, like he knew something was off but couldn’t explain it, “You seem sad. Like when I can’t find my favorite tractor.”

A laugh you couldn’t stop escaped from you, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you started smiling, “Mommy’s okay. I promise. I was just counting to ten.”

You could see his little mind was going a mile a minute trying to make sure you weren’t lying to him. You always told him lying was frowned upon and that you should always tell the truth. He was a very intelligent toddler for only being three years old. He was very observant too, something he inherited from his father.

“Like you and daddy showed me when I get sad?” Asher quietly asked you. Your heart squeezed in your chest as he recalled what you and Rafe had taught him.

“Yes, baby. That’s exactly right,” you smiled sadly at him. It was something you and Rafe had taught him when he would get upset and didn’t know how to control his emotions. You had taught him to close his eyes and then slowly count to ten, with the hope that it would help clear his mind. After he had calmed down, you and Rafe would sit down with him while he tried to explain what he was feeling so you both could help him through it. Most of the time it worked.

“But that means you were sad mommy,” He furrowed his eyebrows at you while sliding off the chair, making his way towards you. Once he reached you, he wrapped both arms around your waist and hugged you tightly.

You gently put your hand on the top of his head, stroking his hair out of his face while you smiled down at him. You had so much love for this little boy. You were suppose to be there for him, protecting him and here he was doing it for you.

You squat down to your knees so you’re face to face and hug him closer. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss his temple, “You are the sweetest little boy, Asher Cameron.”

You heard him giggle against your neck, “Daddy said I had to take care of you while he was gone since I’m the man of the house now.”

“Did he?” You say as you pull away from the hug, your eyebrows raising as you grin at him.

He nods excitedly. Just as you were about to respond, your computer starts to ring from the living room coffee table.

Asher instantly grabs your hand and drags you into the living room, dinner abandoned on the counter tops. You both plop down on the couch as Asher opens your laptop to an incoming FaceTime call from Rafe.

“It’s daddy!” Asher squealed while you laughed and pushed the green accept call button. Rafes face instantly popped up on screen. You could tell he was sitting against the headboard of his bed in the hotel room. He was currently in New York closing on a deal with a big corporation. As soon as you and Asher came into view, Rafe had a soft smile on his face.

“Hey big man, you taking care of mommy?”

Asher nodded his head and scooted closer to the screen to get closer to his father, “I am! I’m the man of the house now daddy, that’s what you said.”

You smiled at your son, shaking your head. Seeing Rafe and Asher interact never failed to give you butterflies. He was such a good dad to Asher. He always made time for him, no matter where he was. It made your heart squeeze in your chest in the best way possible.

You could hear Rafe’s laugh through the computer as he responded, “I did. It’s a big job I can only trust you with.”

“You can trust me daddy!” Your son said seriously, hand saluting to the computer. Rafe saluted back with a big smile on his face. Before Rafe could say anything more, Asher started talking about his tractor drawing he was working on before dinner. You gently sat back against the couch, tucking your knees underneath you as you watched the father and son talk back and forth. Asher was speaking fast and talking with his hands as he got excited about his drawing he couldn’t wait to show Rafe. It warmed your heart, this was exactly what you needed after the phone call with Madeline.

“And then mommy had to count to ten so I gave her a hug like you do when I get sad.”

Your eyes went wide as Asher recalled what happened in the kitchen just moments ago. Rafe’s attention shifted to you in the corner of the screen as he furrowed his eyebrows, talking a bit slower now, “You did good buddy. Just like we taught you. Why don’t you go finish your drawing so it’ll be done when I get home tomorrow, yeah?”

Asher immediately jumped up from the couch, briefly saying goodbye to his dad on the laptop before zooming to the kitchen table to do as his dad said. Once he was seated, you turned your attention back to Rafe who was already watching you. You leaned forward slightly to turn the volume down. You knew this conversation wasn’t for little ears.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Rafe quietly asked. He didn’t want to push you but he wanted to be there for you. It was a fine line he had been walking since Asher was born. You weren’t in a relationship but you still trusted him more than anyone else.

You glance back to make sure Asher was occupied before speaking softly, “Madeline called earlier. She just said some things that she shouldn’t have. Made me think about what happened.”

Even through the laptop screen, you could see Rafe’s jaw clench. His eyes slightly narrowing as he tried to think about what Madeline had said to you. He had never been fond of Madeline. He thought she was self centered and blunt. Not the kind of good blunt where people needed to hear the truth, it was the kind of blunt where she hurt people’s feelings on purpose to get what she wanted. She was what he classified as a mean girl. He didn’t understand why you were still friends with her but every time he brought it up you demanded he drop it.

Before Rafe could say anything you started talking again, “I already know what you’re thinking and after what was said I don’t think we’ll be hanging out anytime soon.”

“Good. Never liked the bitch anyways,” Rafe was smug when he responded. You rolled your eyes and checked on Asher to make sure he didn’t hear the swear word despite the volume being low.

Rafe hesitated before he spoke next, “Are you okay though?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” You paused briefly before continuing, “I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’ve got a man of the house looking after me now,” You grinned as you brought your elbows to lay on your knees, hands resting under your chin.

Rafe let out a big, booming laugh. His hand came into the screen as he ran it across his chin, a huge grin sliding across his face, “The only man I’ll allow to take my place until I get back.”

You paused as you studied his face and his comment. Despite you two not being together, you did flirt back and forth with each other. It was just natural, you couldn’t stop it if you tried. Just because you weren’t together didn’t mean you no longer found him attractive and as he got older, he only got hotter. The buzz cut he got about a year ago was still your favorite look and made your mouth water.

“The only man you’ll allow, huh?” You countered back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Thats right, sweetheart. Don’t act like you got someone else. Besides, Asher would’ve spilled already,” He winked at you. You quietly laughed because you knew it was true. Asher and Rafe were two peas in a pod.

“Yeah I’m aware. My own son would sell me out,” You shook your head as you glanced down at your feet, smiling.

“As long as you have us, you don’t need another man,” Rafe said confidently, shrugging his shoulders.

“Like I want another man. You two are handfuls already,” You couldn’t even imagine starting a new relationship. Having to introduce them to Asher and Rafe. That just sounds like an experience you’d rather not go through. While Rafe was respectful of your boundaries, he still could get very jealous whether you two were dating or not. The good thing was you had no desire to start dating again. Your main focus was your son.

“And don’t you forget it,” He chuckled as he glanced at his watch, yawning. He started stretching his arms above his head as he said, “I should get some sleep. Early flight tomorrow.”

You nodded your head, tucking the hair behind your ear as it started to fall, “Get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rafe said his goodbyes and ended the phone call. You closed the laptop as you got up from the couch, ready to finish dinner. As you walked to the stove, you noticed Asher was almost done with his drawing. As you got closer, you could see he had drawn three stick figures in the corner of the page. One of the taller stick figures had long hair, which you assumed was you while the other stick figure stood taller than the rest. The last of the stick figures was small with green eyes, just like your son.

“Is that mommy and daddy holding your hands, baby?”

Asher nodded without glancing at you, too determined to finish his artwork, “You think daddy will like it?”

You leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head, the love you have for your three year old bursting out of your chest, “Daddy will love it.”

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe #rafe obx #obx #outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe imagine #season 4 rafe cameron #babydaddy rafe #babydaddy!rafe #outerbanks rafe #tbou rafe fic

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saeun · 3 months ago

Text

ꪆ୧ ── REAP WHAT YOU SOW ┊ LOVE TO LOSE ﹑ JJK. ⤿ starring: gojo satoru x fem!reader.

꒰ heart to none ﹢ if only he knew karma would come back to bite his ass a few years later. now he misses his ex while she's moved on.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: nothing much!! just moments of him suffering

co-parenting with satoru truly isn't all butterflies. as reserved and respectful as he is (to a selected few), satoru never hesitated to taunt you whenever you mentioned going on dates.

“a date? hmm, good luck with that.”

“if it happens to kick off, good for you, but i don't want him near my child.”

“how exciting! i hope it fails.”

those are just some examples of his behaviour. he's vocal about disliking you and the idea of sharing you. had he known beforehand he'd become slightly possessive, he would've avoided you and relationships altogether.

loving someone his mind hates but his heart longs for isn't an experience he'd wish upon his worst enemy — it's too much. the wretched feeling in his chest deepens whenever he's with the kid; scenarios of you being beside him at that very moment flashes before his eyes, but his pride's too high to crash whatever you're doing.

that doesn't stop him from texting, however. he never had an issue with double—triple texting you. if he had something to say (which is never anything important), he'll say it.

satoru: hey.

satoru: did you forget you have a family at home?

satoru: my child's asleep btw, we had fun all day.

you: my* child. not yours.

satoru: so what am i, an elf on babysitting duties?

you: sure if that's what you want. now stop texting my phone.

satoru: what if i'm dying?

you: i'd pop some champagne. throw something on the grill. light up a cigarette, even.

satoru: you don't even like cigarettes.

you: exactly. now bye i'll be there for six.

yeah, there's no doubt that you'll never entertain him again. he, too, wouldn't entertain himself if he was in your position. sure, he was an ass in the relationship but— you're both older and wiser. maybe you can put the differences aside and come together? a flat no is what you'd answer.

satoru doesn't even hear from you often; most of your activity reports come from your child who excitedly tells their father the details, wishing he was there.

“you guys had fun. i wish i was there too, bub.”

a sentimental tone settled in his voice. he's suffering the consequences of his actions, and he desperately needs you to help him through it.

just like old times: you'd be there for him, going along with whatever he needed to calm down. whether it's wanting to be in you or on you— as long as your arms were wrapped around him.

but it's all a memory now. a bitter one.

do you show your vulnerable side to the guys you date, too? do you hold them the way you held him? do they even know what you like? do they know you the way he knows you?

jealousy, regret, longing— everything mixes in his mind. his stomach aches. it feels as though his insides are hollow.

he adores your child. they look mostly like him, but the personality stems from you. the attitude, tantrums, even the way they hold things — it's all you. he guesses the kid's observed you and eventually picked up your habits. satoru relates; after all, he still has some of your habits he picked up.

as the clock ticks on, his fingers hover over the keyboard on his phone. somehow, he found himself in your pinned chat— debating whether he should text or not. he's been typing and deleting for the past ten minutes. unless you're not on the app, there's no way you didn't notice the ‘typing...’ under his contact name.

satoru: i've been thinking.

(message deleted)

satoru: fuck your date let's get back together.

(message deleted)

satoru: or whatever you're doing right now. let me apologize — it's been years. our baby's four now.

(message deleted)

satoru: hey.

you: what's with these deleted messages?

you: are you okay?

he wonders. is he okay? would you come over if he said no? are you going to be mad if he re-sent what the deleted messages said?

satoru: uhhh yeah. everything's fine.

satoru: i'm bored that's why.

satoru: you should totally come over.

you: no.

you: talk to you later.

satoru: please? i'm serious.

you: fine.

satoru: might as well spend the night.

(message deleted)

satoru: thanks.

(message delivered)

“well fuck...” he sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. he doesn't have anything to say nor do with you. actually, he does — he has quite a few, but he wouldn't push your buttons. he'd love to, but the chances of him receiving a slap is high.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk scenarios #jjk drabbles

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glossykissies · 2 months ago

Note

in the age of answering machines, clark knows your parents aren’t home but you are. and often talks to your machine like he’s waiting for you to pick up the phone. sometimes when you’re in a fight he’ll try to coax you over so you can answer the phone so that he can clear the air. sometimes he gets carried away and details some of his fave parts of last night while you’re grinning at the machine letting him do it

you were honestly just being petty. you often tried not to get mad at clark when he was being all… clark-like.

you’d told yourself you wasn’t going to be that kind of girlfriend anyway. the one that stops him from doing what he needs to do, which is often stopping tragedies and saving people— but you supposed you were only human. you had feelings too.

chaos had been reaping through smallville lately, so clark had been a little out of it. first it was him staring into space when you were talking to him about some gossip he’d usually love to hear about, then he’d thrown you off his lap mid makeout session because he thought he saw someone dangerous out your bedroom window (however he did make up for that by putting you through the mattress that night…) but the final straw was him promising to meet you at a restaurant for dinner and then never showing up.

another life saved whilst you sat waiting for him. you were sure he’d received enough praise for the night, so you called it — leaving the place and heading back to your empty house to sulk around in your pyjamas instead of that pretty skirt you’d recently purchased, having saved it for a date night with clark. you’re sure he’ll see it some other time.

you peel yourself off the couch to grab a glass of water when the phone starts to ring. it’s him, you know it — but with the upset stirring in your tummy and heart, you just didn’t feel like picking up. you were hurt, selfishly maybe, but you couldn’t help it. the tone beeps, and his voice sounds. you warm up instantly, just the effect he had on you but you stay strong, folding your arms over you protectively as he talks.

“baby? look, please pick up. i am so, so sorry i missed our date. i mean i— i ran there as soon as i could when i finished up with… well, i’m sure you’d seen it on the news by now.” he rambles, clearly not wanting to brag in your face about the save. he was humble like that — and really, he tried his hardest not to use it as an excuse most times. he waits a beat, and when you don’t pick up, the continues talking. “you’re really not gonna pick up the phone? how can i make it up to you, huh? i’ll do whatever it is you want me to do. within reason. if you’re gonna ask me for a million dollars i’m afraid i’m a little short.”

you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. you hated that he could do this — make you smile even when you’re hurt or mad at him. or both. the joyous near-giggle is replaced by a sigh at your own slight defeat. as if he can hear this, clark continues.

“okay, not funny. noted. come on sweet girl, i’m not above begging, i will beg for your forgiveness… though, on the subject of begging…” you’re unsure of what he’s cooking up, but you hear the playful smile in his voice. “you got me thinking… about last night.” you can almost see the slight dusting of red across his cheeks at the memory. it seems as though he’s shuffled closer to the phone, lowering his tone. “the way you were begging to take me… you just sounded so… pretty. gosh, i was thinking about it all day. the way you looked up at me with those big… beautiful eyes… the way you could barely keep them open when i pushed inside you. getting me hot just thinking about it.”

your stomach flips at the memory, a quick flash of you on your back with your ankles resting on broad shoulders, whining at the stretch. “i want to take care of you like that again. tonight. i’d like to rub your clit for you until you’re shutting your legs around my hand like you usually do, and when you’re wet enough, well then i’ll push all the way inside of you if you’d let me. make that bulge in your tummy like last time. you’re so little but you take it so well.” he hums, really into it now.

the only reason you hadn’t dived for the phone was because your legs were giving out and you’d wobbled to the couch, just to see if he’d say anything else. you were enjoying this plead for you a little too much.

“i just have this feeling that you’re listening. would be pretty embarrassing if i’d just dirty talked a completely empty living room. actually, it would be worse if i’ve got it all wrong and your parents are home tonight. uh, yeah — i really hope —”

“clark.” you pick up the phone, breathy and almost exasperated at his ramblings. you hear his sigh of relief.

“thank god.”

“i do have the house… and i am home alone.” you offer meekly, almost disappointed in yourself. clark perks up, restlessly moving the phone to his other ear.

“yeah? well i should come round. i’m gonna come round. can you wait five minutes? i’ll be so fast.”

“yes clark, come round.” you smile, twirling the phone line feeling the heat spread through you all the way to your crotch at the thought of him making it up to you.

“great. and baby, i really am sorry.”

you smile. he really was just such a good guy. “i know clark. now hurry over.”

#hanasnx #indycakes with another good idea <3 #c.k ♡#clark kent prompt

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seradyn · 5 days ago

Text

Yours To Bare, Mine to Cherish

Dragon!Sylus tries to push you away when old wounds flare up, causing him too much pain to trust you. You refuse to let him, and instead teach him how to ask for help, how to be vulnerable and not fear the lashes that follow. Basically: how to train your dragon to let you comfort him and give good massages.

As a chronic pain haver, I am forced to give all my blorbos chronic pain :) I’ve been working on this for SO LONG 😭 Still not over his myth so please enjoy us pampering our dragon 💕

Word count: 11,021. AO3 Link cause it's long

Important tags: gender neutral reader, no y/n, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, chronic pain!Sylus, cuddling and snuggling, massages, Dragon!Sylus, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, present!Sylus (you’ll see), arguing, Sylus x reader, Sylus x MC, canon compliant, canon-typical violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your dragon was in a foul mood.

It’d started when you decided you’d like to restore some of the old weapons Sylus had discarded haphazardly around his home. Swords, axes, spears and daggers laid in broken heaps throughout the cavern, each one a trophy plucked from his would-be assassins turned prey, he’d boasted. Impressive as they may have once been, though, they were now but piles of chipped rubbish, pushed up against the walls and out of the walkways, hardly spared more than a glance. A dragon has no use for such weaponry; their claws are daggers, their teeth swords, so the battlements remained as haughty decorations, a warning to all those who dared enter his domain, lest they meet the same fate.

One particular sword had caught your eye. Dragon’s Scourge, Sylus said the warrior had called it, sniffing derisively at the pretentiousness of such a name and the underwhelming performance of said blade. It had pierced neither scale nor flesh before the sorry sod had been strung up in the stalactites of the cave and left to rot, much like his weapon. Sylus claimed it wasn’t even worthy of straightening his bangs, dismissing the old thing, as he had with the daggers you once turned against him.

Upon further inspection, though, after returning from another successful raid, and bored beyond belief, you found the steel to be of decent quality. Being raised under the army’s instruction taught you how to recognize the mark of a good smith. Taught you to know the quality of the metalwork on your blades, how the weight felt as you gripped it, the feeling of it sliding through the air before hitting its mark. They taught you many things, as they groomed you to be their killing machine, while the lordlings sat getting drunk on their own false grandeur.

You hoped with all the blood you planned to spill with it, its steel would take up a new name, carved from crimson rivulets of the faithful. You were thinking something along the lines of Justitia’s Scourge, or maybe even Human’s Scourge, just to rub salty irony into their wounds. But that would have to wait, you thought as you scrutinized it, until it wasn’t caked in rust from centuries of disuse, and a proper whetstone had been taken to its dull edges.

It took a full day and night of work to restore it, though you now reaped the fruits of your labor, watching with a satisfied smile as you turned the blade to catch stray beams of moonlight through the porous cave ceiling. A vinegar bath overnight had peeled off the old rust, and with the tools Sylus had snagged for you from the armories you’d torched, you were able to scour and polish the sword the following day. By nightfall, the edges were properly sharp again, a few experimental swings showed it was ready for battle once more. A bolt of excitement ricocheted down your spine, tingling to your fingertips as you thought of showing the rebirthed blade to Sylus, of cleaving pious flesh from bone to earn it its new name.

It had been at least three days since you had seen your dragon, however. He left you to your devices when you began work on your little pet project, when you’d shooed him out of your chambers to prepare a ‘surprise’. He seemed less than thrilled with the idea, if the downward curl of his lips was any tell, but he’d nevertheless entertained your whims and left you be. You were grateful to have his eyes off you for a day or two, but now that you’d finished, his absence reverberated through the yawning emptiness in your chest, where his claws had carved a dragon shaped hole. Normally, he often lingered nearby, watching curiously as you tried to climb out of his cave, or polished his coins out of sheer boredom, or even while you ate your meals, made of sparse rations stolen from soldier barracks. You hated it, at first, until you realized he didn’t do so out of malice. He was but a shepherd, watching with intrigue as his sheep tried to jump the fence of its enclosure, wondering if it would ever have the strength to clear it, or if it was doomed to an early trip to the slaughterhouse, ushered there on broken legs.

But now you’d seen neither sight nor heard sound of him, and you couldn’t help but miss him. If he wasn’t nearby, you could usually still hear him deeper in the cave, the clinking of coins as he moved about, or the faint rustling of his scales gliding across stone. The gust of wind from a flap of his impressive wings as he took off. The sword was complete the previous evening, and yet the cavern remained noticeably silent. As if the mountain held its breath, anxiously waiting for his return. The mark he left on your neck throbbed, pulsed, beckoning you to him as the fisherman’s lure calls the guppies from the safety of the school.

This wasn’t like him.

Leaving the blade in your chambers; it wouldn’t do to approach an agitated dragon with such a thing; you began to make your way through the winding tunnels, deeper into the darkness. His own quarters, the ones you’d once slunk into with thoughts of dragon eyes and dripping red, were in the heart of the mountain, where the sun didn’t dare reach, and veins of buried magma spread like spiderwebs underfoot, keeping it pleasantly warm. Sylus made it clear his distaste for sunlight, and dragons ran naturally hot; all you need do was follow as the darkness stretched deeper into the earth, down the spiral staircase in the heart of his nest, as the air grew warm and charged.

You descended the last crude steps, carved by his own claws, landing with a thud in his chamber. His overflowing coffers, now teeming with the prizes from your exploits, glittered in the dull orange glow of the candles, a kaleidoscope of technicolor treasures. You felt a wave of satisfaction as you gazed upon your additions to his hoard, proof of your enacted vengeance in every pillaged gem. But less so the jewels, you were pleased with the tapestries, the blankets and pillows now strewn about his cave, after you’d bemoaned the harshness of the stone against your skin. You had no scales to protect you, after all. Sylus thought you odd for requesting things so mundane, but he acquiesced, if only to sate your growing desires.

And there you found him, sat amongst a pile of pillows on his ‘perch’, as you’d lovingly called it, a dark shape against the speckled constellations of his gold. The raised stone dais, where he often lazed about when not with you, had not escaped your demands to make his home more accommodating for a human. A puffy white blanket now laid over the old rock, stolen straight from an Oracle’s bedchamber. You’d tucked ivory pillows with gold tinsel into the corners, to rest his head or back against, you’d reasoned, but Sylus only scoffed. He made no move to stop you though, and you weren’t blind to how he snuggled into the cushions when he thought you weren’t looking, his tail flicking and eyes closed like a contented, oversized cat.

You came up short, however, when you fully took in the state of your dragon. Sitting up, his back turned to you, he was curled in on himself, a taloned hand gripping his tensed shoulders, his tail draped over the edge, twitching restlessly. He hung his head, hiding his face from view, his body heaving with faint pants that echoed in the tight space. Next to him, the once pristine and well kept bedding had been shredded, huge gashes running across the delicate fabric, a plume of feathery down decorating his bed and the cave floors where the stuffing had been ripped out.

The mark on your neck flared to life at seeing him, and you instinctively clasped a hand over it. You could feel the outline of his bite under your fingers, his reminder of your deal, a stamp and signature on your contract. You let out a stuttered breath as the ache spread underneath your skin, consuming, tearing, flaying your flesh open with phantom fire. It burned.

You’d never seen Sylus like this before, never felt the mark throb quite as sharply. It tended to hurt, when his draconic instincts expressed themselves, when you felt him crave mortal souls, but that was a feeling you’d grown familiar with. You knew it, felt it, and discarded it, the mark and his desire tampered down as quickly as it had roared to life. You’d grown accustomed to the feeling, the ache deep in your chest that cried devour, devour, consume, it’s yours, even as it filled you with a sense of wrongness. Sylus never acknowledged it, never hinted that his desire grew in twine with yours, even as you felt the reflection of it in yourself. He swallowed it down, and with it, the mark would go dormant again, like nothing had happened, his stoic expression no less tamed than before.

The pain it radiated now was so different. You felt it travel along the highways of your nerves, burning and burning and burning its way down your spine, through your limbs, all the way to your toes, where it felt like your meat was being pulled from your bones, ripped and sliced and stabbed. You shuddered, a harsh exhale pushed from your lungs as you suppressed the urge to scream, to rip into your own flesh to find the source of your pain, and carve it out. You’d felt a distant ache from the mark as you traveled deeper into the mountain, but standing in front of Sylus, it was nearly unbearable.

Was Sylus…Could he feel it too?

Carefully, on gentle padded steps, you approached him. You made no attempt to hide the sound of your footfalls, you were sure he already knew you were there, if your previous meetings were any indication. However, he was surely irritated, the jerky movements of his tail confirmed as much, and you had no desire to exacerbate it by startling him. You’d been on the receiving end of it before, when you teased him too much too often, or when you demanded he bring you something particularly ridiculous, like the fuzzy mountain cat that now roamed his domain with you. You’d not seen it in a while either though, it could likely sense the ire of its master, and decided it was better to simply stay out of sight, lest it become collateral.

“Sylus?” you broached softly, as you neared his place on the dais. Even the quiet whisper of his name felt too loud in that space, where the tension grew thick, made the air scrape across your suddenly dry throat.

His reply was a deep, rumbling growl, coursing its way out of the depths of his chest and echoing on the cave walls. You stopped in your tracks, eyes going wide as the sound made the fine hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Leave me be,” he spoke, and it sounded nothing like the smooth velvet of his voice, tinged with tender fondness and amusement that you’d grown to adore over the long months. No, this was the voice of a dragon - one filled with seething flames to scorch the earth, make his bed of ash and rubble. A fury so potent, the heavens trembled in its presence.

This wasn’t like him at all.

“Sylus, what is wrong?” You asked, your worry spreading like mold throughout your body, choking you, covering up the pain from his mark, even as it swelled, surged, pushed into your fingertips.

“I am in no mood for your games. Leave.” He hissed. Actually hissed. His tail lashed, gouging out shallow grooves in the rock below his perch, the pointed barb extending and retracting. Poised and ready, like a scorpion’s, right before the kill.

In all the time you’d known him, all the months of shared hardships, he had never spoken to you like that.

Not even when you both dreamed of tearing the other apart.

“What is going on with you?” You breathed, not bothering to hide the worry in your voice, your heart.

“It is no concern of yours,” he threw over his shoulder, and it struck like a sword in your chest.

How could he say that, after spending months with you, helping you, fighting alongside you against a world that abhorred you and him?

How could he say that, as the only person who stood by you now? And you, the only one left who stood by him?

“Of course it’s my concern,” you said, and you wondered if he could hear the hurt in your voice. “Sylus, what is-”

“Have you lost your hearing?” He snarled, cutting you off as his voice grew louder. “I thought I made myself clear. Leave. Now.”

You stared at him, stunned, as Sylus seethed vitriol at the tender place inside you, where you’d planted the seeds of affection, adoration, where they timidly poked their tender leaves out. As you felt them wither, their crumbling stalks easily pulled out, shredded in apathetic claws.

Had you made him angry, somehow? Crossed a line he forgot to draw in the sand, and now he wanted nothing to do with you? Your heart kicked, lurching at the thought. Had your dragon finally grown tired of you?

But, as you looked at him, tensed up and refusing to look at you, your intuition cracked like a whip, and you realized what he was actually doing. Your skin rippled, and you felt a steady stream of anger pump into your veins, to match his own, where once was only worry. You’d worked so hard, tending that garden, to grow something other than bloodlust and hatred inside of you. But now they came back, like weeds you could never fully eradicate, twisting around your fragile heart.

Did Sylus truly think he could scare you away so easily? Intimidate you into abandoning him, so effortlessly? Did he forget that you were not the same helpless little thing he rescued from the Abyss? He said it himself; you’d grown your own horns, when you vowed vengeance on those who damned you, and vowed your soul to him in tandem. You weren’t just going to let him destroy whatever it was you two had built together. You hated the thought so much, it filled your mouth with the acrid taste of bile.

“Sylus, I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly, planting your feet. If he wanted you to leave, he’d have to throw you out. The gnawing worry and anger, coupled with the pain still writhing under your skin, made the thought so unpalatable you wanted to peel yourself open, let him consume your soul if only to let him feel the tender emotions that enveloped you whenever you thought of him, when you looked at him.

“Then you are a fool,” he sneered, and you felt your hopes being snuffed out. “Begone.”

“Sylus, let me help-”

“I need no help.” He spat, the final word tasting foul on his tongue. His tail flexed, muscles rippling as he drove it into the ground, a clean puncture straight through the stone, pebbles scattering across the floor.

You breathed through your nose, trying very hard to stop yourself from saying ‘yes, you do’, bluntly to his face, or it may anger him more than your continued presence already was. You knew when to hold your tongue, despite what he may think.

“Please, can you just tell me what’s wrong?” You begged, hating how desperate you sounded. It reminded you too much of when you first met, when he held your life so easily in his hands. But, strangely, you found you hated his current state even more, could stomach begging like a peasant if it meant you could get through to him.

“Do you truly wish to test my benevolence again, sorceress?” He ignored your question, saying the nickname he normally spoke with such fond amusement, filled with contempt and repulsion. Spoke it the way the Judicators did, as they condemned you, sentenced you to die. As they took you away from everything you knew and loved, and made you watch as they reduced your world to rubble, made you watch as the only people you ever knew chanted for your execution, rejoiced at your damnation.

The extent of this transgression, this intentional cruelty made your skin grow hot, your brows drawing down as nothing but rage bubbled up and shot out of your heart like lava, a volcano erupting and eating away at the worry there. How dare he? How dare he speak to you like that, after all you had been through together? After you blocked blows, fought off the wrath of the holy army that aimed for his vulnerable flank while you raided their temples, their armories, their barracks. You’d taken hits for him, gladly, if it meant sparing him pain, even if it meant feeling the wounds twice; once for when your blood spilled, and again when Sylus admonished you for being reckless, for worrying about him, even if he inevitably patched you up, told you to be more careful in that quiet way he did. After you learned to enjoy what slivers of peace you could find together, how he took you to the night markets, bought you anything your hands touched, and tried to fight the smile that curled his lips as you covered him in cheap, counterfeit jewelry, in leather pouches that he would never use, but you liked the designs of, or that set of old red keys that’d been turned into an ornament, simply because it matched his eyes.

Did all of that mean nothing to him, for him to treat you this way? Treat you worse than he did when you were nothing more than a meal to him?

Part of you was so angry and hurt, you wanted to just do as he said. Leave him to his devices, and let him suffer in solitude. Tell him to never ask for your help again, since he clearly didn’t need it.

You turned, took a step away from him, fighting back the stinging in your eyes. You stopped, your breath catching, as your heart stuttered, like your chest was caving in around it, crushing it. Your vision swam, and you clamped your eyes shut, as you tried to hold onto your anger at him for speaking so cruelly to you. At hurting you in a way you hadn’t been sure you were still capable of hurting. But all you could see were those moments when he showed you the kind of creature he really was. Those moments like when you sang to him on the cliff, and he looked at you with affectionate awe, promised to buy you an organ so you could play it properly for him. The gentle lull of his voice as he carried you away from the tavern in Tarus City, retelling the play to you when you complained you’d have nightmares if he didn’t. How he snuggled with you at night when you had them anyway, because the thought of him mutilating himself was so much worse than whatever you could’ve imagined was the reason for the end to that awful, awful play. How you two poured over maps and star charts, planning your next assault while joking and teasing each other. Smiling, laughing.

Your heart screamed, as the dragon shaped hole he’d carved hemorrhaged, filled your chest with so much blood, you felt like choking.

As much as you wanted to be enraged at him, force him to suffer for hurting you so thoroughly…you couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t bear to walk away, even if it meant your own destruction. The prospect hurt so much more than the words he used like daggers.

You straightened, hardening your resolve, tucking your anger away for later. You turned back, marched over to the dais. If Sylus refused to see reason, then you would make him understand his own foolishness.

“This has nothing to do with your benevolence, or lack thereof,” you snapped, proud of yourself when your voice came out even, unaffected by the anger and revitalized concern that now mixed into a potent concoction inside you. “It has everything to do with you being too afraid to admit you need help!”

What you thought before was a snarl was nothing compared to the throaty, guttural angry and inhuman sound that burst from his throat at that, echoing around the both of you like the detonating of a bomb. He twisted violently, pinning you with his eyes, the ill omen of those ominous pools of ruby rose. They crackled like a storm, his nose crinkled and lip curled in utter contempt at your accusation. His next words came out as a barely contained roar.

“I am a dragon-”

“Indeed,” you cut him off, raising your voice to match him, unflinching in the face of his utter childishness. “In which case you can surely stomach telling me why you’re so upset.”

He paused, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptibly, before he quickly wiped the expression off with a scowl, turning away from you as his tail continued to flick. You stared at the back of his head, crossing your arms, daring him to try to deny it again. You always did like a challenge, he knew this about you. You weren’t going to leave, if for no other reason than the fact that only he could soothe the burning of the mark, douse the fire that tore through you, even as you stood there meeting his anger head on. The truth was, though, that you still cared about him. You weren’t sure if that would ever change, now. Even when he was being insufferable.

Eventually, he let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“…Everything hurts,” he whispered through gritted teeth, curling in on himself further.

Your heart dropped at that, the confirmation that the fire in your muscles was also in his, the untouchability of him in your mind shattering.

Sylus always seemed so invincible; he shrugged off the blows from the army as if they were nothing, he stopped arrows with a flick of his wrist, rended battalions with a swipe of his tail. A grimace and a stare, his right eye roaring to life sending whole squadrons into madness, howling as they tore each other apart. You’d yet to see anything perforate his impenetrable scales, save for the greatsword nestled somewhere deep in your chest. Even then, when you first found him in the depths of the abyss, looking up at the sheer size of his true form, all rippling scales, muscle, and teeth, he had seemed more annoyed than anguished, while he sat ran through with the sword, with his massive scarlet wings cocooned in chains. He watched you as the lion does the mouse, waiting for the inevitable, for you to wrap your hands around the hilt, for the blade to slide smoothly out from where it was implanted in his chest, to set him free from the prison of your ancestor’s making.

He seemed so…almost boyish now, in the near fetal position, tail flicking, flicking. And what a strange sight it was. Something filled you at it, boiling and prickly thorned, wrapping around your heart and squeezing, pulsing along with the mark on your neck. It took a moment to recognize it as offense. Offense at seeing your untouchable, mighty dragon, who scoffed at attempts for his slaughter, who laughed as you tried to procure his eye, now besought by something intangible, something which you could not name, that you could not know. Something that your daggers, your swords, all the weapons in the caves could not split away from, could not heal the jagged edges that cut him, and thus cut you.

Through the fire seeping into your veins, though, the only train of thought that remained on course, reverberating through your head was why, why, why is your dragon in pain?

What could be causing your dragon such agony?

You wracked your brain, trying to think if you had missed something, if he had hidden any injuries from your last raid. But the Justitiaurs fell as easily as they always had; tearing each other apart with one look from his glowing red eye. You two were together when you stormed the resident Oracle's chamber, cut his throat with your daggers, and watched his blood paint the ivory tiles a color that matched the gem in Sylus’s chest. Non had presented more than an inconvenience to you both, more like fleas squashed between your fingers. He’d claimed his invulnerability, and proven it just as easily; what could have possibly inflicted such debilitating pain upon him?

Though, you quickly realized it didn’t matter so much the why or how of what Sylus was feeling. What mattered was that he felt it, and you didn’t want him to be feeling it, regardless of the fact his pain was reflected into you.

You gently padded to the dais, watching his twitching tail as you sat on the edge of the coarse stone, brushing aside loose feathers. Here, you caught a glimpse of his face; his nose scrunched, lip slightly curled to reveal pointed fangs, and eyes clamped shut by furrowed brows. Your heart plummeted like a stone thrown in a mirrored lake, lost in darkness’ depths, seeing the pain etched so clearly onto his marble face, disrupting the collected, bored expression he always wore.

“Where does it hurt?” Your voice came out soft, soothing. Gracing the air as a brush of fingers on his skin, a kiss of petals.

“Everywhere,” he huffed, exasperated. He shook his head violently, his claws bearing down on his delicate skin, just shy of breaking the surface and drawing blood. Your fingers flexed, wanting to pull the deadly talons away from his shoulder, away from himself, but you refrained. Patience was key, with a predator so close to snapping.

“Where does it hurt most?”

A growl reverberated out of his throat, a discontented purr. He peaked open his eyes, though he did not look at you, his gaze remained fixed on the shredded blankets, the frayed threads loosened by his rough scales and talons. You simply waited, for the waves of pain to abate, for him to find his voice again. He let out a heavy exhale, closing his eyes.

“…My tail, my shoulders, and my back.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, gaze flitting to each area as he listed them off. Outwardly, you could see no damage to them, the scales glistened a burned amber shade from the sconces scattered about, his mortal flesh was smooth and unblemished, save for the marks his claws had already begun to leave from gripping his shoulder so tightly. Your curiosity burned with the desire to ask questions - had he been poisoned, perhaps? Was he sick? But again, you reminded yourself that questions could come later. Healing must come first.

“Give me your tail.” You outstretched your hand to him, palm up expectantly.

His eyes opened again, darted to you, the deep, preternatural growl rumbling in his throat. You held his stare, unwavering in his clear attempts to dissuade you.

“This is none of your concern.” He looked away, shaking his head again to try to rid himself of the nagging sensations plaguing him.

You frowned. “I know,” you said, making grabby motions with your hand. “Now stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

His growl transformed back into a hiss as he shot you a glare. When you, again, didn’t back down from his challenge, he let out a disgruntled snort. Spitefully, like a child angry about being caught stealing his mother’s pastries, he turned his back to you, letting his long, lithe tail plop gracelessly onto your lap. You let out a light ‘oof’ as the weight settled across your thighs, effectively pinning you down. It reminded you of when he effortlessly threw the dagger out of your hand and pulled you to him with the lean appendage, like you were weightless, like it required barely a thought. You couldn’t say you were surprised, as you admired it, your hands tentatively brushing along the top and sides, feeling, searching as you thought about how to help him deal with the pain.

You weren’t sure if what you had in mind would work, but you were willing to try, if it meant he had a chance at relief. You were taught some basic medicine in the Sanctuary; as was mandated by the army. Basic first aid, how to treat a wound, what was reasonable to handle on the field and what required a doctor. Nothing too sophisticated.

But most importantly; how to handle basic muscle aches and soreness.

You decided to start at the tip of his tail, the impressive spike and retracting barbs you had enviously stared at more than once. You gently took it in your hands, holding it steady as it attempted to twitch out of your grasp. Sylus let out another angry snort, but held still when you refused to let go. Observing the lithe appendage, you realized the end was forged of bone, and beyond your help, but on the underside, the scales slowly faded into a soft, leathery underbelly. You felt along it, slowly moving up, using your fingers and the heel of your palm to gently push on it until finally, you felt it; a knot of twisted flesh just below the surface.

Being as tender as possible, you held his tail firmly as you began to grind your palm into the center of the knot in tight circles, to loosen and soothe the ache there. It was definitely painful; Sylus growled, his tail jerking to wrest it from your grasp, but you simply tightened your grip, not letting him get away. He slowly relaxed, as you felt his flesh detangle, pushing bigger circles into his scales until it lost its shape, molding into the rest of his powerful, healthy muscles. Sylus let out something like hum, clearly pleased, his body starting to relax under your fingers.

When you were satisfied the knot had been thoroughly worked out, you moved on to the next section of his tail, where the pointed barbs faded into smooth ringlets of scales, rippling from half formed, stubbed spikes. You carefully coiled the finished section around you, not wanting to pull his tail by letting it dangle off the dais, and began running your fingers around the base of his spines. The ones closer to the base of his tail were thinner, sharper, little knives diving out of his scales. In contrast, these ones were wide, dull, and short, as if they hadn’t fully formed yet. You wondered if Sylus was even younger than you first thought, feeling the ache of a body that wasn’t done metamorphosing, hadn’t finished growing all the scales and spikes dragons were known for. You wondered if that was why he ached, why his muscles had tensed into knots.

You gently pushed your fingers into his scales, into the mountains and valleys of the contours of what made his draconic skin. You felt how they dipped, like city streets that snaked through clusters of buildings, made a network of highways where you could see the sky, feel the wind on your face. You felt how they rose again, like shockwaves pulsing away from the origin of an explosion, as you pressed your palm into another knot. Sylus grunted, his tail curling of its own volition, as you soothed his muscles. It was different, from the human skin you’d practiced on, but so similar, too. His scales were warm and rough to the touch, but underneath, his muscles steadily smoothed out, like you’d been taught these massages would do.

When you were done there, you had to scoot closer to him, to massage the last part of his tail. The finished parts curled around you, inviting you closer, keeping you in place. You worked around the magnificent spines that curved toward his back, the deadly weapons smooth to the touch, but unmistakably sharp, as you brushed your hand around them. The scales here were bumpy, like permanent gooseflesh pebbled his scales, though the heat radiating off him proved otherwise. You ran your hands up and down, spreading your fingers, rubbing circles and indistinguishable shapes into the peaks and valleys, the bumps and ridges that made the topography of his reptilian skin. You wrapped one arm under him, cradling him gently, so gently, as you massaged the place under the fin-like protrusions that jutted out from the sides of his tail. A deep rumble broke the stillness, and you smiled, when you realized Sylus was doing the dragon equivalent of a purr. His head lowered, relaxing, as you rubbed the leathery membrane of the frills between your fingers, smoothed over the spiked ridges where it turned back into polished scales.

You leaned back, relishing in satisfaction as his tail curled further around you, without pain, without a grunt or grimace. It quickly faded though, as you looked at him, tilting your head appraisingly. Tracing your eyes over his bejeweled back, how the red streaks flowed from it, slithered around his body and rejoined at the gem in his chest. He said his back and shoulders hurt too, didn’t he?

You weren’t quite done, then.

You angled yourself towards him, his tail still in your lap, holding you in place. You laid your hands on his back, the lower part of his shoulder blades, spreading your fingers across the smooth planes of mortal flesh. They tensed at your touch on instinct, drawing his shoulders together, before they relaxed, surrendered to you, trusted you. His tail flicked once, intrigued, before you started slowly rolling your hands, from his shoulders to his lower back, up and down, like using a rolling pin, kneading out dough with your hands. The rumbling purr grew louder, echoed through the cave, his back beginning to arch slightly to give you better access, his head tilting in bliss. You didn’t bother hiding the smirk that spread across your face. Instead, you had to suppress a shiver as you marveled at the feeling of his skin beneath your hands, so delicate and fragile and beautiful, like what you thought holding a newborn babe would feel like. You moved your hands in, towards the cord of scales that traveled down his spine, untangling the knots you found there too. You rolled your shoulders, the pain that burned and ripped through you settling, easing as you soothed Sylus’s ache.

Once his back was done, you leaned forward, chest nearly flush with it, intent on giving his shoulders proper care next, when you yelped as Sylus fell back into you in a heap, his tail sliding out beneath him. You stared at him in disbelief as he settled in your lap, purring, ever purring, his face completely relaxed as he nuzzled it into your chest. His eyes were closed, and he let out a long, tired sigh, as he made himself comfortable, reclining into you like a chair.

“More,” he mumbled, when your hands didn’t return to him, didn’t continue his massage. Against your will, a bark of laughter erupted from your chest, watching the big, scary dragon melting on top of you. His warmth soaked into you, your skin a greedy sponge, and you let yourself just relish in it, for a moment. The outer caves, where your chambers were, got so cold at night, where the lifeblood of the mountain didn’t flow. He brought you blankets, wrapped you in silk, velvet, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as the heat that surrounded him, an aura of warmth that kept the fire in his heart, his belly burning. You held him in a tighter embrace, as you were reminded of how much you missed him, how you shivered in the plush nest of bedding you made, how unbearably cold it was, absent of his warmth for the past few days.

Sylus wriggled, grunting unhappily when you didn’t immediately comply. You snapped out of your stupor, chuckling, impatient dragon, before putting your hands on his wide, muscular shoulders, beginning to slowly roll them in your palms. His left one was much harder to work on, the scales rising up like jagged peaks, the pointed ends barely kept from your tender flesh. You did your best to work around them, pressing your fingers into the canyons where the scales parted, rolling the heel of your palm where they met his neck. He huffed, rolling his shoulders as the knots came loose, as the soreness he felt dissolved like warm fog, the reflection of it in your own shoulders draining.

When the taut string that held his shoulder blades together finally went lax, your hands traveled downward, beginning to delicately caress his arms, over the backs of his hands, before ascending again. An achingly tender touch that your caregivers at the Sanctuary used to sooth you with when you were a child, the faintest ghosting of fingers across skin, a touch so sickeningly sweet it made you want to weep. Sylus’s breath hitched, as you shared this delicate caress with him. He let out a shuddered sigh, turning his hands and opening them, so you could slide your fingers all the way over his wrists, down to his palms, and travel back again.

You both let the moment stretch, let the silence bloom between you, save for the occasional purr or sigh. You watched him, as you tended to his pain, how his back pushed against you with every breath, how his eyes were closed in sheer euphoria as he rested his cheek on your chest. You stared at him as you felt emotions build in your chest, push on your tender ribs, your heart clenching. Happiness that he was no longer in pain, anguish that he felt it at all. Joy that you were able to comfort him when he needed it most, despair that you both let him suffer for so long, by not seeking the other out.

I will always come to your aid.

You vowed it, to yourself, in the deepest recess of your soul. You promised it, to him, in the darkest echelons of your heart. And as much as you would’ve liked to let the silence last, let this feeling of your heart leaping as a blissful doe across a grassy, sun dappled knoll, with your beloved dragon in your lap, there was only one way to ensure such a promise remained intact.

You kissed his hair to smooth him, the delicate silver strands tickling your lips. “Sylus?”

“Hmm?” His eyes remained closed.

“What caused you such pain?”

His contented half smile vanished, brows furrowing. He opened his beautiful eyes, averted his gaze from you, tail swaying in renewed agitation. You worried for a moment that he may not answer you, or worse, try to part from you again.

“Before I was imprisoned in the Abyss, many sought me out. To claim glory in my slaughter, to be the one who finally killed the fiend. I was accosted by armies, whole battalions.” He paused, weighing his words carefully. “They were…harder to repel, when I was younger.”

You closed your eyes. You closed your eyes, against the sinking feeling in your chest, against the despair that crested, flooded you. You could see it. The mark pulsed, and you stared out of eyes that were not your own. You heard a dragon's roar, a familiar sound, as you watched a writhing, living ocean of gleaming steel bound down the hilltops towards you. Massive, scaled hands stretched away from you, swatting at the bright shapes as they threatened you with their polished swords, their axes, their spears. You screamed, as they dug into your arms, your flank, arrows embedded into your wings, your neck. A flash of red streaked across your vision, a sword made of blood descending on you, aimed at your heart.

You shook your head, the images swirling together in blotches of color, condensing, precipitating back into a picture of a dark, black cave. You felt steel along your limbs, pinching, pulling and locking you in place. You thrashed, snarling and snapping your jaws at the chains as your muscles ignited with pain from the wounds that never got proper care. But the chains did not yield against the thrashing of your head, the beating of your wings, your lashing tail. A sword made of blood, holding you in place.

You opened your eyes. You opened your eyes, and looked down at the tormented creature in your lap, who trusted you enough to show you his soft underbelly (even if it required some coaxing), the tender parts that took the blade so easily. And what a monumental feat that was, for a dragon, you realized. For a being whose very existence depended on being the strongest, on having the will to fight against a world that longed for his head from the first moment he opened his eyes. Vulnerability was weakness, and weakness was death. Cruelty was a shield against the swords, bows, axes of cruelty that were wielded against him first. He’d snapped at you, before, as a wolf does when caught in a snare, baring fangs and snarling even as the kind hunter tries to free him. Tries to restore his freedom, before he could finish gnawing his leg off, because what is a leg compared to the boundless sky, a forest that stretches and stretches into a pinprick of darkness, or an ocean that reaches so far, it touches the horizon with blue gold fingers?

You rested your chin atop his head, his horns framing your face. Your hands kept moving, spreading your fingers, closing them, down the ridged scales on his arms, back again over soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, because it was the only thing that felt right to say.

Sylus huffed, brushing off the heaviness that cloaked you at his admission. “You’ve no reason to be sorry.”

You squeezed him. “And yet I am, for what my kin did to you.”

He hummed, clearly still in disagreement, but letting the matter drop. He adjusted his position, getting more comfortable in your lap, snuggling against you. You watched him fondly while you bore the full brunt of his weight without protest, shielded him from the pain as best you knew.

“Maybe tomorrow we can go down to the market and get you some lotion for the soreness.” You suggested, not stopping your hands from moving across his skin.

He hummed again, thinking on it. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Why?” You tilted your head at him.

Sylus took a deep breath. “…This is enough.” He said, his voice heavy with emotions he was too prideful to share.

“…Okay,” you said, because you trusted him, now, to be honest with you about this. Trusted him not to push you away when pain made him feel weak, made him want to hide in the shadows.

Even with this newfound trust, though, you gently cupped his chin in your hand, turning his face so he’s forced to look at you. So he could not claim ignorance as his blood-red eyes took in the conviction on your face, in your words, spoken with genuine, honest devotion.

“Come to me next time you’re feeling like this.”

He stared at you. You held his gaze, holding him softly, but firmly, not letting him pull away from the words you needed him to hear from you, and what you needed to hear from him. Would grow sick with worry, if you didn’t.

He looked away, staring up at your lovely neck, his teeth marks in your skin. He nodded, once, before meeting your eyes again.

“Very well.”

You let out a tense breath, your shoulder blades easing. You let go of his face, but he was quick to grab your hand. He held it up, turned his face into your wrist, nuzzling it, his lips softer than the purest, freshest wool as they pressed into your skin.

“Only if you promise to hold me, as you have today, when I do.” He pushed your palm into his cheek, his hot breath fanning down your arm as he sighed, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

Your heart swelled, felt like it might burst from affection, an adoration that it felt too small to contain. You swallowed around the lump in your throat those thick emotions formed, as he asked you to be his safety, his comfort.

“Always, my dragon.”

Sylus smiled, buried his face in your palm. He placed another gentle kiss on the outside of your wrist, before returning your hand to his cheek.

“How did you know to come to me?” He asked softly.

You paused, tapped his cheek to make sure he was looking at you. Your hand moved, his gaze following it, as you brought it up to press against the imprint of his teeth marks in your neck.

“Because…I felt it, too.”

He stared at you, with those perfect rubies, traveling across your face. His eyes flicked between the mark and your face, before his nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned away from you again.

“That wasn’t my intention, when I gave it to you,” he said, some of his irritation creeping back at his displeasure.

You let out a heavy breath. You suspected as much, weren’t sure he even knew you caught traces of his own desires through it. “I know. It’s okay.”

“No.” His tail swayed unhappily. “You should be angry with me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You were angry at him, still. Just not for that. “I can handle the pain,” you said, instead of admitting your hidden feelings.

“But you shouldn’t have to.” He looked up at you, his rose colored eyes filled with…remorse?

“I am willing to, if it’s for you.” You leaned forward, brushing your lips over his temple to reassure him.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disdain. “Humans are foolish,” he hissed, though there was no heat in his words.

You grinned down at him. “One of our many charms.”

He snorted, and you felt how his lips quirked up in a smile. He relaxed again, closing his eyes, your reassurances a powerful balm for his soul. His tail stopped swaying, curled around your ankle instead to hold you closer.

“I am still mad at you, though.”

He stilled, his expression falling. He opened his eyes again, caught your gaze, puzzled.

“I care about you. A lot,” you said, hardening your expression, so he knew you were serious. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you speak to me like you just did without any consequences.”

Understanding colored his features. He had the decency to look slightly sheepish, hanging his head.

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” he admitted quietly. He slowly lowered your hand from his face, guiding it to his chest, to the gem embedded over his rapidly beating heart. You brushed your fingers across the smooth surface, traced the edges of each uneven, polished side. He engulfed your hand with his massive claw, closed both of them over his heart. “I will make it up to you. Anything you desire, it’s yours.”

You hummed, considering his offer, letting him open your hand again, lean down to run his nose across your palm. Watched him, as his forked tongue parted his lips, licked a soft stripe across your skin so sweetly, you may have wondered if you imagined it, were your eyes not locked on him. Not an apology, but perhaps the closest a dragon could come to the concept.

You smiled.

“You’re going to have to be an obedient little dragon for a long time to make up for it.”

Sylus stilled, his talons tightening around your open palm. Then he shifted, met your eyes with his, a toothy grin meeting your own.

“I am at your mercy, O great sorceress.”

🐉 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 🐉

Sylus is in a foul mood.

A deal had gone belly up, that he’d been working on for weeks. Weeks of dealing with the sniveling underlings of a business partner he coveted, whom nearly pissed themselves whenever he spoke, of long, boring negotiations that got dragged on for hours beyond what was necessary, of finally drafting and signing a contract for the protocores he needed, only to have a rival business, some small faction he couldn’t even bother to know the name of, made of traitors and vultures alike, had outbid him with an offer too tantalus; the promise of Onychinus on a platter, them as the new reigning monarchs of the N109 Zone.

Their hubris was their own undoing. They hadn’t tried to disguise the bombs they put in his shipment very well, assuming with the contract in place, Sylus was keen to be lax. What they didn’t know is that Sylus is nothing if not thorough, consistent with his business. Every shipment bound for his warehouses is checked, checked, and checked again, to ensure he gets exactly what he is promised, and to ensure situations - precisely like these - are foiled before even having a chance at fruition. The protocore shaped explosives had been caught on the first scans, and Sylus is offended, not at the attempt on his life, but the sloppy execution of the whole ordeal, especially from his own ex-employees.

He’d repaid the offensive slight tenfold. It was customary, after all. Crushed the insurrectionists who coveted the seat of the N109 Zone, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. They’d made their bed, and Sylus is more than happy to help them lay in it, under six feet of dirt. And his new supplier, who was so for such a short amount of time, got the same treatment for consorting against him in his own territory. He stormed the building they used as a den in a hail of bullets and red-black evol, looking forward to the mushroom cloud that would erupt in a ball of fire when he blew the place off the map. He’d smirked, thumbing the detonator in his pocket, as his men scoured the building for anything valuable or useful, while his supplier hung suspended in the air by his evol.

It was when his men reported back what they’d found in the building’s basement that he took a special pleasure in the vengeance he planned to enact. The dozens of women, in cages, they’d found, emaciated and barely alive. Whom he’d had to relocate anonymously to a shelter within Linkon, because he refused to leave them buried among the rubble. He remembers the way his face twisted in outrage when his men first delivered the news of what was going on in that wretched place.

This was one business Sylus refused to dip his fingers into. That level of depravity was lower than a swine’s belly, and he refused to stoop so low as to wallow in the mud with people more monstrous than he could ever hope to be. Had he known about his new supplier’s involvement in such things, he never would’ve pursued them in the first place. But he was a weapons dealer, first and foremost, and his particular brand required top quality protocores to meet his, and his buyers, standards. And, supposedly, his newest catch sold some of the best on the market after his last, and longest lasting one, had been caught in a turf war near the outskirts of the N109 Zone, and was erased from existence completely.

Sylus prefers to keep his emotions out of business; it simply made things easier, less messy. But perhaps he was more biased than he let on, because he let that old, familiar bloodlust make his bones feel restless, let the burning fire of rage seep into his veins like molasses as he discovered the kind of pigs that tried to lay with him. As they tarnished his reputation, by even associating with them.

It was no matter, though. That contract was now neatly shredded in his bin, all copies of it eradicated, and that portly man who ran that business, well, he’d made for a fine night’s entertainment. Sylus feels a deep sense of satisfaction at having acted as his comeuppance, tearing down his fragile kingdom brick by brick, ensuring nothing but a crater would be left of it. His lips quirk up in a smile, as he remembers how the man had squealed - as all hogs do - when he peeled his skin off, slowly, and fed it to the wanderers that lurk in the nearby no-hunt zones.

But, as much fun as he’d had smearing another pest in his territory into the dirt, he is now facing the consequences of his actions, dealing with the fallout of indulging in his murderous whims. Without a proper supplier, he is pressed to find another way to fulfill the orders that had piled up over the last couple of weeks. Onychinus always fulfills its orders, Sylus prides his business on that, but now he is scrambling, trying to find a new supplier who won’t sell him fakes within the next 48 hours.

Sylus sighs, staring down at the papers on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. Swirls the glass of wine that’s gone warm in his hand. His head is beginning to throb.

A light rapping at the door has Sylus lifting his head. His first impulse is to be irritated, as he suspects it’s the twins, and with the drumming behind his temples, he has half a mind to tell them to leave him be. But, perhaps their reconnaissance to find a new source for the protocores he needed was fruitful. He could handle them for the few minutes it would take to be debriefed on the results, he decides.

“Enter,” the smooth baritone of his voice broke the stillness of his office. Sylus leans back, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he waits for them to comply.

The door handle turns, and Sylus sits up, when he sees not the twins, but your beautiful, perfect self, wearing one of the outfits he bought you, dart through his door, quickly closing it behind you.

“Sweetie,” he greets, perking up as you turn, flashing him a sweet, gentle smile as you make your way over to him. Though only an expert could see how the slight widening of his eyes, the faint relaxing of his shoulders belied his adoration for you. You, who made every deal worth slogging through, made every contract a stitch in the fabric of the tapestry of all he would do for you, offer you. You, his most precious treasure, who smiled so sweetly as you approached him, are the only one who can tell his face lit up the moment he saw you.

Your brows furrow slightly as you round his desk. “Everything okay? You look exhausted.” You ask softly. Your voice, a caress of feathers against his rough exterior, made him want to shed the armor that protects the soft, squishy parts of himself. He discards the wine on his desk, opens his arms for you, and you obediently plant yourself shamelessly in his lap, straddling him to bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding him as tightly as he holds you.

He let out another sigh, the stress he feels seeping out of him as he absorbs your warmth, his shoulders slumping. “Unpleasant business,” he answers, kissing the crown of your head, his thumbs rubbing back and forth along your lower back. He feels his heart swell, strain against the warmth that fills it, as you hum in acknowledgement, nestling deeper into him, rubbing your hands up and down his recently tense shoulders. He wonders how you are able to do it, how you are able to tamper the lingering bloodlust towards the sycophants who thought they would consort against him, by simply being there, holding him, existing.

“Do you want a massage?”

Sylus opens his eyes, tightening his grip as he tries to suppress the way his heart leaps at the offer. You do this for him so often, yet his heart is just as excited every time. He thought he would get used to it, that the greedy, yawning maw inside him that wants to swallow you whole would be soothed by your presence. But with every indulgence, every time you run your hands along his skin, he only feels his greed growing bigger and bigger, his desire for you like a cancer that grows and grows without ending.

“I might become a spoiled brat, if you keep offering so often,” he teases, calm, collected. Hiding the way he wants to say yes, please yes into your ear, beg for his desires that squirm and wiggle in the deepest parts of his heart. He would, for you. He’d bend the knee with a smile on his face, if it meant he’d get to feel more of your angelic touch.

You lean back and he lets you, despite his urge to keep you crushed against him. You smile, and he can see that mischievous twinkle in your pretty eyes.

“Who says I don’t want to spoil you?”

Sylus can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. You may make a monster of him yet, with such promises. “I could certainly get used to it.”

You nod happily. “Good,” you say, leaning in to trace your nose up his neck, pepper the underside of his jaw with kisses. He groans, tries to keep himself from devouring you, like he so desires to do. “Come on then,” you speak into his skin. “Let’s go.”

He chuckles, but dutifully stands, lifting you as he does, your legs naturally coiling around his waist. The papers, his problems from the last few days, slide off his shoulders like rain on hydrophobic feathers as he carries you out of his office, down the hall to his bedroom. The door opens, shuts behind him with a soft click and the brush of his evol, the lock sliding into place to ensure you’re not interrupted.

Sylus sits down on the edge of the bed, holding you in his lap as you begin to unbutton his dress shirt. He buries his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, smelling you, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your plushness. You kiss the place just above his ear, finishing the last of the buttons and pulling the shirt off him. He takes it, throws it somewhere inconsequential, then shifts you off his lap, looking at you expectantly. You waste no time getting to work, and as soon as you prop up a suitable amount of pillows against the headboard, settle yourself to lean comfortably on them, he crawls after you, letting himself fall on top of you like a giant weighted blanket, wrapping his arms underneath you. You laugh breathlessly, squirming while you complain that you can’t get to the skin oil with him on top of you. Without opening his eyes, his fingers twitch, the sound of a drawer being opened reaching his ears, the small container of oil put in your hands by inky red tendrils.

You scoff playfully at him, before popping the cap and lathering the oil into your hands. Sylus’s nostrils flare, trying to catch as much of the scent as he can. Datura flowers, a splash of vanilla, a hint of lavender. The same scent in the lotion you got for him in Tarus City, when you finally convinced him it would help the muscle soreness, despite his protests. You’d been right, of course. You usually are, Sylus had learned. Though, he is sure you don’t remember the scent, wouldn’t have reacted so lukewarm towards it if you did. Another attempt at making you remember bound for the bin.

He gives up on dwelling on it though, because he has to swallow a moan as your hands, which are so, so unbelievably soft, start to knead his supple flesh, pushing and pulling on his skin expertly. You trace every inch along the planes of his back, the contours of every muscle, down his spine, the place just below his neck. He can feel as his stress is worked out of every inch of him, your hands leaving no place ignored, forgotten. He shivers, his skin tingling with delight as he holds you closer, tries to absorb the feeling into his bones so he can never be without it. He could live here, he thinks. Would be content if this moment stretched into infinity, and he never had to leave your embrace.

He isn’t sure how long he lets you dote on him. All he knows is that sleep has begun to call for him, he feels so relaxed, so full, completed. That the oil, whose touch was cold at first, is now warmed by his body and your hands, is disappearing into his skin as you and it cradle him. He wants to accept the invitation to unconsciousness, let the world fade into nothing around him, but he knows stress has dug its greedy claws into you, as well. You tried to hide it from him, said you didn’t want to bother him; he already had so much on his plate. When would you learn you are never a bother to him? When would you learn that he would strip Onychinus down to a cadaver, if it meant you are always happy, always pleased, always at his side?

So instead of allowing himself to fall asleep, despite how tempting, he holds you more firmly, before he abruptly rolls, planting you snugly on his chest.

“Sylus!” You protest, and he can’t help but smirk; you’re so cute when you’re annoyed with him. “You could give me a little warning, at least.”

“I could,” he agrees, pinching the fabric of your clothes between his fingers. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You huff, peel yourself off him to scrutinize his form. “You want a chest rub too?” You ask, hands instinctively moving to start anew.

Sylus quickly grabs your hands, gives them a gentle squeeze. “You already pampered me. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t,” he concurs again, running his hands up and down your arms. “But I want to. I know you’ve been stressed lately, too.”

Your lips part slightly, eyes going wide. You always thought you hid it so well. “I’m okay, really-”

“Don’t lie to me.” He gives you a pointed look, cupping your face in one big hand, running his thumb below your eye. “I can see the bags under your eyes.”

You stiffen, avert your gaze. Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulls you further into him, so you can bury your face into his neck. He runs the tip of his nose along your own neck, kisses the place his teeth once punctured.

“Let me take care of you.”

You don’t respond, for a long moment, and Sylus worries you may try to deny your fatigue further. But then, you give the smallest nod, and he is relieved.

He doesn’t hesitate; starts working your clothes off as soon as he has your permission. His fingers run across your skin, pulling the fabric up, giving you a chaste kiss when you obediently lift your arms so he can finish removing it. You shiver as the cold air graces your form, and Sylus pulls you more tightly into him, letting you soak up as much of his warmth as you can. His evol stirs when you settle, placing the bottle of oil in his hands. He pours a generous amount onto them, the hands made for you, to love you, made for your pleasure, lathers it into them. He puts them on your shoulder blades, spreading his fingers in an attempt to be as gentle as you, before he begins to slowly roll your doughy flesh. You let out a whimper, then a happy sigh as you melt into him, get lost in the feeling of his hands on you. He allows himself to start humming the tune you taught him, the one he knows you do remember, somewhere deep in your subconscious. Your hands grip his shoulders, clutching him as he watches the oil slide across your body, sooth the deep aches where his hands can’t reach.

It doesn’t take long for your breaths to grow long and even, your body sinking further into him as drowsiness overtakes you. Sylus feels a profound sense of satisfaction that he is able to comfort you so thoroughly as to lull you to sleep, as you just had for him. That you trust him enough to let down all your defenses. He remembers, not so long ago, when you hated him, accused him of being a monster, a title more literal than you remembered. When you thought he was responsible for ripping everything you loved from your desperate fingers.

You’ve both come so far since then.

He lets his lips roam across your scalp, nibbles on the shell of your ear. You stir, shifting to secure yourself more firmly in his lap.

“I love you.” Your voice is gruff with sleep, though the words come out no less assured.

Sylus hums. “I love you,” he echos, nuzzling his face into your soft, downy hair. He presses his lips into your temple one more time before closing his own eyes, settling into the cushions. “Get some rest, my beloved.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had so much fun with this, even though it took around 2 months and like, 20 drafts 😂😭 But I really wanted to show the progression between the past lives both Sylus and us/MC have had and how they are now, while exploring the scars Sylus definitely has from being hunted in his youth. I wanted to show this mirroring effect with past/present and how they’re the same people, but they’ve also changed over time. It was also an excuse to write more nonsexual intimacy, which I couldn’t say no to :)

Btw I hope Sylus wasn’t too mean in this. I HC that he can revert back to such a state when his instincts kick in, because of his cruel lines right before MC stabs him the second time (right before they share souls). It’s like how animals become more aggressive/hide away when they’re sick because they know they’re more valuable during that time. But I hope it wasn’t too much 🙏

I also definitely didn’t cry while rewatching his myth to get names/details right, because the song that plays when he dies plays intermittently throughout the entire myth. You do not perceive me

Disclaimer: I do not consent to my work being translated, published, used without my knowledge, reposted, or used in AI training.

#sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace #lnds #my writing #my fanfic #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lnds x you #lnds x mc

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, how’s your day been going? Hoping it was amazing. I just saw your post about needing inspo for Coriolanus fics! I’m not sure if you are taking requests but if you are Could you maybe do a touch-starved Coryo fic? Something fluffy/angsty where Coryo can finally fulfill those needs and be himself and vulnerable with the reader. Thanks!

as long as you need me - c.s

pairing: coryo x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, he just needs you and you just want to help.

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav / coriolanus snow masterlist

a/n: ahhh thank you for sending this in! it was so fun to write like stopppp i just want to give him a hug omg. also thought i'd post this to hold y'all off until i post the next part of LTPF. anyway, enjoy!

You had a very stable grasp of the limits of your relationship. What was appropriate, and what was not. You were quite shy, and Coryo always carried himself with a high level of decorum. You would eat together at lunch, and he would walk you home most days. The weekends, your study dates, were always your favourite. He was significantly more relaxed, but you could still tell he was just a little tightly wound. By now, you've just learned that's who he is. Not overly affectionate, but he cares for you and you care for him.

"I can't stay late today, I'm sorry." You said, genuinely feeling bad for having to turn down the request. In your junior year, you started tutoring for younger grades at the academy and it is something you thoroughly enjoyed.

"I have a test tomorrow! Why can't you stay? Just for a few minutes- I just have a couple of questions." The first year, Aelia whined.

"My boyfriend is supposed to walk me home and he has a tight schedule, but I'll tell you what, I can meet you in the library in the morning before class. That way it will still be fresh in your mind, yeah?" You grinned, and she seemed satisfied as you agreed on a time, not knowing that a few of the girls in your grade were listening in.

"Y/N," Clemensia decided to approach you as Aelia walked off, Arachne and Livia following close behind. "Did I catch you telling someone that you have a boyfriend? Did I hear that right?"

"Oh, well, yes." You answered sheepishly, gathering your things to put in your bag before your next class.

"Really?" Livia chimed in, and you just nodded. "Okay, well, spill. Who is it? Do I know him?"

"Um..." You looked around, deciding what to say. You weren't necessarily keeping it a secret, but you just hadn't felt the need to tell anyone you went to school with. "It's Coriolanus. Snow." You cleared your throat, unsure why you even added his last name. It's not like the name Coriolanus was abundantly common.

"Shut up." Clemensia laughed slightly, eyes widening at you. "You're joking, right?"

"No... We've been together for almost seven months now."

"I just... wow. We had no idea. Seven months! I feel like I've never seen the two of you get closer than two feet apart." You weren't sure whether to interpret this response as teasing or genuine shock- so you just gave them an awkward smile and a small nod before walking away.

At the time, you had never considered how your lack of affection in public could be confusing to people- not that it mattered. Rumors had spread quickly after that, which was to be expected when Livia and Arachne were involved. However, PDA just wasn't your thing. General displays of affection weren't really your thing, either. Both of you always had a lot going on, and having been together for almost a year by now, you knew that you loved him and he loved you. You didn't have to prove it to each other or to anyone, there was no pressure for anything to change. On your end, anyway.

Coryo, on the other hand, was feeling something shift. Leading up to the reaping and more importantly, to the prize. You both were in the running, being in the top twenty-four of your class, and you had no doubt that Coryo was a shoo-in, but you didn't know how extremely anxious it was making him. The now constant thrumming of his heartbeat in his chest and his shaky hands were always less around you, and he can only dream of how much better it would be if he could just hold you.

These days, he'd wake up expecting you in his arms due to a particularly calming dream only to be disappointed. He respected you a great amount and wouldn't want to push your boundaries, however unspoken. Still, he wasn't sure how much longer he could go about his day-to-day without testing his theory that holding you could cure his fears, or at least let him forget about them for only a moment. He would happily take just a second of peace.

Coriolanus usually greeted you outside of your unshared classes, seeing that you tended to stay a few minutes late to ask questions or polish off your notes. He couldn't wait to see you, he needed to.

"Coryo." You smile, walking out of your lecture hall to see him waiting.

"Hi, Love. How was class?" Your boyfriend greets you, joining you on your walk towards the exit of the school.

"It was good. Though, I find the topic of the rebellion kind of redundant at this point." You say, books tucked against your chest under folded arms. "Is it not too soon to discuss it in a history class? I mean, I literally remember what it was like to live in a bomb shelter."

Your joke seemingly lands on deaf ears as he just hums, placing a hand on your lower back to guide you out of the building. This wasn't totally unusual, but with the way he was pushing you, albeit gently, was telling you that something was wrong.

"Is everything okay?" You ask him, looking up at the boy next to you as you reach the bottom of the academy's front steps.

"Fine." Coryo nods, attempting a reassuring smile that he isn't aware falls short.

"Okay, well... If you want to talk about anything, I'm here for you, you know. Always."

"I know. Thank you, Love." He drops his hand from your back to hold your free one, turning in the direction of your apartment.

The next afternoon, you're in the same class, one of the rare ones you don't share with Coryo, taking down notes from the lecture when there's a knock on the door, followed by it creaking open. You pay no mind, taking the opportunity to catch up on everything written on the board.

"May I borrow Y/N, please?" Your boyfriend's voice is scratchy and shakey in a way unfamiliar sounding to you, making your head snap up. You'd never seen him cry before. "Only for a moment."

Your teacher dismisses you, likely on account of your and Coriolanus's mutually spotless records and his red-rimmed eyes. Clearly, you were needed urgently. You leave your bag and your books, ignoring the whistles and heckling of some of your classmates as you rush to the door.

Coryo had reached his breaking point. He was writing his third paper of the week, unable to focus on that and get his mind off of how unlikely it was he would get the prize if the Dean had any say. Sitting in the library, the world had started turning around him. People were talking, laughing, even, and he couldn't take it anymore. The floodgates opened and he had rushed out of the room. He couldn't go home, his attendance would be affected and he'd be throwing away the prize most definitely. He had nowhere to go, except for to you.

You close the door behind yourself, thankful that the hallway is completely deserted during class time. "Hey, what's going on?" You ask, and before you can get a good look at him he's pulling you into a crushing hug, shaking around you.

You're shocked for a moment, pulling yourself out of your head to hug him back. Whatever is bothering him must be bad. He'd hugged you before, but never like this. "Hey, it's okay..." You whisper, rubbing his back. "Let's go outside for a second, yeah? Get some air?" You offer, gently prying yourself from his grasp to look at him.

Coryo can't speak, overtaken completely by the tears flowing down his cheeks and the anxiety flooding every inch of his body. He feels like he could be sick, all he knew that he needed was you. He just nods, trying to regain his composure, if only for the couple of minutes it takes to get outside.

"Okay. Let's go." You smile, trying not to show how worried you are as you wrap an arm around his back, still holding him close to you as if he has a broken ankle and you have to carry him. So far, his theory was proving to be correct. Just having you at his side was calming to him, and mentally he's cursing himself for not voicing his fears to you before they broke him.

As soon as the door of the rarely used back exit to the school is closed, he's essentially collapsing onto the ground, tucking his knees up to his chest and crying into his hands. You're quick to join him, draping an arm over his back and trying to grab one of his hands to hold. Your brow is knit with worry, rubbing his shoulder as he allows you to take one of his shaking hands. "Coryo..." You say softly, trying to get him to look at you but he won't. "What's happening? Talk to me, you can trust me. I just want to help."

He sniffles, looking up at you. "What is it?" You ask again, hoping to prompt any kind of information out of him. When he doesn't answer, you curve your approach to yes or no questions, hopefully, to make it easier on him. "Is someone hurt? Is it Grandma'am? Did something happen?"

He shakes his head slightly with every question, once again avoiding your eyes as he looks down at the ground, occasionally trying to cough out the knot in his throat.

"...Do you want to talk? Or do you just need a hug?" You realize, leaning in so he would look at you again.

He pulls you closer, wrapping both his arms around you awkwardly due to the way you are both sitting. "Just need you here." He mumbles, hardly audible as he buries his face in your shoulder and neck.

Relieved to hear his voice again, you place a hand on his hair and on his back, holding him tight. "I'm here, Coryo. As long as you need me."

taglist: @keziahcore, @soulessjourney, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @gloryekaterina, @andrewgarfieldsbitch, @queenofspades6, @pepperonipastas, @ladybug0095, @lunamothwrites, @sbrewer21, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @splxtscreen, @unclecrunkle, @karmaswitch, @rororo06, @coconut-dreamz, @nekee-lilac02, @ooooglymoooogly, @slytherinholland, @riddlerloveb0t, @lovedbalances, @notyourwildestdream, @snowlandson-top, @too-lit-for-fanfic, @utopiakys, @deafeningballoonnacho, @darlingisntit, @roosterschanelslut, @chmpgneprblem, @cosmoetik, @lauravanderbooben20, @dry0campa, @luclue, @lokidala, @urvampgfsworld, @carolanns-world,

#tbosas #tbosas fic #thg series #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coryo x reader #snow lands on top #the hunger games #tom blyth

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theveil-and-thepath · 2 months ago

Text

Mini PAC n°1 - What will happen until the end of the week?

Pile 1 - Pile 2

Pile 3 - Pile 4

You can pick more than one! Just follow your heart!

This is my first time fully using Lenormand cards, let's see how it goes.

*This is a source of entertainment, your destiny is in your hands.*

Pile 1

Wip, star, bouquet, mice, crossroad. Dog, fox, snake. Heart, birds, bear. Birds, garden, snake.

You'll suddenly accomplish something that you greatly desire, but in order for this to happen you'll need to defend your position and status and not let other people bring you down.

This thing you accomplish will have the double effect of solving some of your problems and concerns, and it might make some discontent people who steal your energy leave your life.

You'll interact with several people who are your seniors or more experienced than you. Only one has your true interest at heart, but all three are smart and will teach you new things about how to behave.

You may hear positive gossip about you. Some will say you have more money or are more important than you see yourself.

You may feel, or hear the promise of, the support of a powerful friend.

Keep an eye open in the places you go to this week. You can have fun at a party or event, but some will envy how you look.

Your spiritual protection practices are working, you'll see how you're more resitant to evil eye now.

Pile 2

Anchor, bear, book, heart, cross. Wip, letter, mountain. Coffin, mountain, tower. Snake, wip, ring.

Some of you will meet the love of your life, your counterpart. Maybe it's a new friend. Regardless, it's a fated encounter with someone who's as or more mature than you, stable in life, very smart/went to a good school, this person knows when to shut up and when to talk; try not to get a wrong first impression of them because theyll like you more than they'll convey. Your guides are planning your encounter.

You may start to study something new that you've been meaning to for a while.You may have an insight or receive a tarot reading (can be on youtube) that will help explain your recent love problems.

If you think of an ex this week, it's so that you see it all in a new light and move on, or to remind you how to avoid the same undesired result.

You may receive an email postponing an event or listing extra requirements you need to meet to accomplish a goal of yours.

You need to rest and sleep well before a big day.

Beware of double faced people offering you things too good to be true, perhaps they want you close to them so they can ruin your life more easily.

Be smart against those who are cunning and trying to get rid of you because they see you as competition.

Pile 3

Man, book, rider, lily, woman. Fox, anchor, child. Dog, bear, tree. Tower, heart, anchor.

A relationship you already have may progress this week and this person may reveal positive feelings that they've kept hidden. You may feel that one of your connections originated in past lives.

A good week for school and learning.

To start a new venture, you need to be smart not work hard. You may take a significant step to solidify a new project of yours.

You have great friends and family. This week you'll express your gratitude to the universe for having them. You may even receive help from old friends.

Old relationships become stronger.

This week you'll see how much support you have around you, you'll also be proud of how far you've come and how solid it's the life you've built.

Pile 4

Letter,sun, heart,bouquet, scythe. Tree, mice, wip. Anchor, sun,bouquet. Key, woman,clover.

What a bright and blessed week of reaping your rewards. Someone will compliment your work, give you amazing feedback, may say they want to keep in touch for future endeavors or ask for your number so they can call you on a date.

All the good things you desire? This week you can be so close to them it's just up to you to pick it up and take it for your life.

You receive the yes, the answer you wanted to get.

Your crush will text you, or your partner may ask you out.

If you're in a relationship, texting can turn into sexting, or you'll receive a kiss or offer for a sexy night out of a sudden.

You'll get rid of energy vampires or bad habits that have been draining your energy and slowing you down.

You'll cut off junk food or reject a specific food or drink for the sake of your health.

You may go to the doctor or start a health treatment.

This week feels so good, that some of you will get married or become engaged. May start dating too.

You'll feel your spirit guides close and showing you good things about your future.

You reach the jackpot. Somehow you'll know what you'll have to do so you level up big time.

You may receive the opportunity of a lifetime. Big thing!!! Receive it.

You're so smart and capable that people can't help but admire you.

This week you'll know that you can do it!

#pick a card #Pic a card reading #pac reading #tarot reading #lenormand #tarot #theveil-and-thepath

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year ago

Text

Lead Me To The Garden

pairing: Peeta Mellark x best friend!reader

Synopsis: Peeta kisses you before going into the Games but then has an onscreen romance with another girl

“Who do you think it’ll be this year?”

Peeta didn’t look up from the dough he was kneading as he thought about your question. Reaping day always brought a lot of anxiety for the two of you and Peeta typically distracted himself by baking. In a similar fashion, you liked to distract yourself by hanging around the bakery and watching Peeta.

“I don’t know. Maybe one of my brothers.” He said finally.

“Don’t even joke. I better never hear “Mellark” out of that crazy sparkly lady’s mouth.”

“I told you, she’s not crazy. That’s just how people dress in the Capital.” Peeta chuckled and held his hand out. You put some flour into his hand and he slapped in onto his dough.

“I don’t care how much money you have. Nobody should dress like that. How does she even sit in those dresses?” You wondered and took a bite of one of the muffins he had made. You hopped up on the counter top and let your legs swing as you watched him put his bread into the oven.

“What would you wear? If you had Capital money?” He asked as he wiped his hands on his apron.

“A yellow sweater.” You said with a sheepish smile.

“What? That’s it?” Peeta chuckled and leaned on the counter that you were sitting on, boxing you between his arms.

“Don’t laugh.” You gasped playfully. “You can dye cloth but not wool. At least not in this district. And you definitely can’t get any color as yellow as the dandelions that grow behind my house. So I would buy a nice, warm, yellow sweater. The kind with the fancy pattern that looks like a braid. It would be the first thing I own that’s pretty. And that’s new. I would be the first person to wear it.”

“If I had any money, I’d buy you one.” Peeta said with a soft smile.

“Really? You wouldn’t spend your money on yeast or milk?” You teased him.

“Baking isn’t my whole life, you know. I like other things too.” He said and leaned in a little. You inhaled his scent and could smell the baked goods he’d been baking all day on his skin. It was mixed with the scent that was just distinctly Peeta, a scent you had grown to associate with home.

“Like what?” You asked as you leaned in as well. Peeta’s eyes dropped to your lips for a second before he reminded himself that best friends weren’t supposed to think about each other that way.

“Stealing food from you.” He said to cover up his fondness and took the muffin from you hand. He held eye contact with you as he took a bite of the muffin which made you laugh and smack his arm.

“You’re really good at it.” You humored him.

“Thank you. I try to be.” He said and hopped up on the counter beside you. He handed the muffin back to you and you mouthed “thank you” before taking another bite.

“So what would you really buy?” You asked once you swallowed.

“I’d buy a house.” He said without having to think about it.

“Really? But you have a house.”

“I know. But I want my own house. With a nice oven and a book shelf for your books for when you come over. And it would be nice and quiet inside. And I’d have a garden so I never had to go to the market if I found a new recipe I wanted to try.” Peeta said as he traced the outline of a carnation on your leg. You slipped your arm through his and ran your fingers up and down it in the way he once told you his mom did when he was a little boy.

“That sounds really nice.” You said quietly. He looked into your eyes and smiled softly.

“You could live there too.” He told you.

“Why? So I could take care of the garden for you?” You teased.

“So we could be together everyday.” He said, making your laughter stop. You didn’t realize he was being serious and felt guilty for making a joke. You rested your head on his shoulder and continued to run your fingernails up and down his arm.

“That would be nice.” You agreed. “We could get a little house by the meadow. We could decorate it the way we wanted, like with your drawings and paintings. And there would never be shouting because we’d always talk to each other with love.”

“I think we’d be really happy there.” Peeta said as he lifted his head off of yours to look at you. You kept your head on his shoulder and stared straight ahead.

“But what if they call my name later?” You said quietly.

“They won’t. There’s dozens of girls in the district. They won’t call you.”

“What if they call you?”

“Theres even more boys in the district. And if they did call me, one of my brothers would probably volunteer.” Peeta shrugged but you could tell he didn’t believe himself.

You sat in silence for a little longer until his bread was ready. He took it out and brought it outside while you grabbed a blanket. You ate out on the grass in comfortably silence as you stared out at the mountains. A horn soon sounded in the air, signaling that it was time to go. You walked to town together and saw girls and boys getting into their respective lines.

“See you after?” You asked him with a nervous smile. Peeta nodded and pulled you into a tight hug. He kissed the side of your head before joining the rest of the boys. You got your finger pricked and joined the girls in a massive group that faced that stage. A younger girl from distract was called first and her sister immediately volunteered to go in for her. Your heart was finally started to calm down when you heard the worst two words you could possibly imagine being said into the microphone.

“Peeta Mellark.” Effie said with a poised smile. You’d never know she was giving s death sentence by the tone in her voice.

You froze as the crowd was swept with shocked murmurs and people looking at you. Your head was stiff as your eyes slowly followed Peeta emerging from the crowd and walking on stage. He was just as catatonic as you were on that stage and kept his eyes low. He shook hands with the girl who had been picked and was led backstage which was when you started screaming. You pushed through the crowd and ran towards the stage but were caught by two Peacekeepers. You thought you were about to be executed but they actually brought into the back to where Peeta had gone. You passed his brothers and parents in the hallway before getting shoved into a room. Peeta was inside with red eyes and a pale face.

“Peeta.” You choked out and threw your arms around him. Peeta hugged you as tight as he could without hurting you and buried his face in your shoulder. You stroked his hair and whispered comforting words in his ear until he calmed down.

“I’m so sorry.” You said into his ear.

“It’s okay.” He sniffled and pulled out of the hug. You stared into his teary eyes for a second before grabbing his hands.

“We can run. We can sneak out of here and head to the woods and just run.” You whispered.

“We can’t. They’ll catch me and kill you first trying.” He shook his head sadly.

“But we have to do something. They can’t do this to you. They can’t take you away.” You urged. Peeta put a hand on your face and wiped your tear with his thumb.

“There’s nothing we can do.” He whispered. You nodded your head and knew there was no use spending the little time you had left trying to come up with a plan that would never work.

“I guess you’re right. So I’ll see you when you come back, okay?” You said and cupped his face.

“Oh, honey.” He smiled sadly. “I’m not coming home.”

“Shh.” You covered his mouth. “Yes you are. You’re gonna come home to me and we’re gonna build the house with the garden like we said we would.”

“There’s never going to be a garden. I’m gonna die in there.” Peeta choked up so you pulled him back into a hug.

“No you’re not. You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you.” You promised him as you stroked his hair to calm him down.

“Our district can barely afford to feed themselves. We have no money for sponsorships. And I have no skills outside of the bakery. I can’t hunt or protect myself. I’ve never even killed an animal. I’m gonna die in there.” Peeta cried into your shoulder.

“Shhh. Don’t say that. You can still win. Maybe a miracle will happen.” You said but even you didn’t believe it. A Peacekeeper then pounded on the door to signal that your time was almost up. You froze in Peeta’s arms before gripping him tighter. Peeta pulled away suddenly and cupped your face in his hands.

“I need to tell you something.” He said hastily.

“What is it?” You worried when you saw the panic in his eyes.

“I’m in love with you. I always have been. Since we were kids.”

“Peeta, what?“ You whispered and wrapped your hands around his wrists.

“I have always loved you. I’m sorry it took me until now to tell you. I wish I told you when I first felt it. But I needed you to know before I left.” He said as he stared into your eyes. You were speechless as you stared back but before you could say anything, a Peacekeeper burst in the door. He grabbed your arm to pull you out of the room but you just yanked your arm away. You threw your arms around Peeta and kissed him for as long as you could before you were pulled away by the Peacekeeper.

“Now you have to come home.” You said to him as you struggled against the Peacekeeper trying to pull you out of the room. Peeta grabbed your hand and held it as long as he could until the Peacekeeper picked you up.

“I love you!” Peeta shouted after you with his hand still outstretched.

“I’ll wait for you!” You shouted back as you were carried out of the room.

You watched the broadcast everyday with your eyes peeled for any glimpse of Peeta. You were shocked to see him on fire in the tribute parade and even more surprised at the sight of him in a suit for his interview with Cesar Flickerman. You’d only ever seen Peeta in colorless, wrinkled, cotton clothes from your district which was a sharp contrast to the shiny black suit adorned with sparkly red flames on the sleeve. You smiled shyly as if he were right in front of you and tried to touch the projection of the broadcast but your fingers just went through. Peeta was surprisingly charming in his interview and it made your heart yearn for your best friend. You missed spending the day with him and him making you laugh in person so this was a nice substitution.

“Is there anyone special at home?” Cesar asked Peeta. Peeta smiled shyly and looked into the camera, making you feel like he was looking directly at you.

“Actually, yes. There is a special girl from home that I’ve loved for what feels like my entire life.” Peeta said with a bashful smile. You grinned and clasped your hands under your chin as you watched him talk about you.

“Well that’s great. If you win the games, she’ll have to go out with you.” Cesar said and patted his shoulder.

“Unfortunately winning the games isn’t going to help me.” Peeta said with a sad smile.

“Oh no? Why not?” Cesar asked him.

“Because she came here with me.” Peeta answered.

Your stomach dropped. Your jaw dropped. Your felt like you were going to be sick. He wasn’t talking about you. He was talking about the girl he got reaped with. You turned away from the broadcast and held yourself in your arms as you ran to your room. You slammed your door before throwing yourself on your bed. You cried yourself to sleep and when you woke up, you realized you had missed the start of the games. You lingered around areas that were broadcasting the games to keep an eye on Peeta. Your anxiety was at an all time high day in and day out as you prayed he’d live to see another day. It was a few days in that he got cut with a sword by one of the boys from district one. You cried yourself to sleep again that night since Peeta wasn’t shown on camera for a while after that. Finally, you heard from a girl in town that Peeta had been found by the lake by the girl from your district. You ran home as fast as you could and turned on the broadcast right in time to see him kissing Katniss. You let out a shocked squeak and quickly turned the games off. You did your best to avoid any information about the games after that but the romance between Katniss and Peeta was all anyone in your district could talk about. It was rare that people from your district lasted this long in the games, let alone two of them, so you couldn’t blame people for talking about it. To add to that, the romance was something that had never been seen in the games before and made for very entertaining television for every single person in your district besides you. You were rooting for Peeta, of course, but you could not bear to watch him cuddling with another girl as he fought for his life.

Finally, the last day came. You watched Peeta and Katniss win after nearly killing themselves in front of the world so that they didn’t have to kill each other. You felt your anxiety deplete for the first time in weeks when Peeta put down the berries. You didn’t even care that he was hugging another girl after nearly killing himself so that he didn’t have to lose her because it meant that he was coming home. He was finally coming home.

On the day the winners were set to return home, you waited in the crowd beside Gale Hawthorn, a boy from your district, and Katniss’s little sister. You and Gale were eyeing each other curiously and had no idea that you were in the same boat. Peeta and Katniss were brought out on stage and you felt tears come to your eyes the second you saw Peeta. You clapped for him like everyone else in the crowd but froze when you noticed that he was holding her hand. Peeta was scanning the crowd for you and when he finally spotted you, he dropped Katniss’s hand and waved to you. You weakly waved back but couldn’t shake the mixed emotions brewing inside you. You were beyond relieved and grateful that he was home safe. But that didn’t mean it didn’t deeply hurt you to watch him with another girl after he told you that he loved you. You and Peeta stared at each other from your places on the stage and the crowd and both began to cry without relaxing it. You wiped your face and put on a smile for him despite the pain you were feeling inside.

After Peeta and Katniss gave their speeches, the crowd dispersed and you followed Peeta’s brothers back to his house. You bounced your leg as you sat at their kitchen table and waited for Peeta to come home. Finally, the door opened and he walked inside. He was dressed in fancy Capital clothing but had the same old smile that you knew so well. You watched him hug his mother first, then father. His brothers hugged him all at once and patted his back or rubbed his hair, touching him in any way they could.

Then, he looked at you.

Peeta looked startled to see you at first but his eyes immediately softened. You stood up from your seat and your legs felt like jelly as you slowly walked towards him. His eyes were brimmed with tears and he could not believe you had come to see him after what he made you watch him do in the games. You were hurt and confused by his actions but you put on a brave face for him now that he was home.

“You’re here?” He asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“Of course I’m here. You’re here.”

“I thought you’d be mad.” He said in a weak voice. He was looking at you as if he was expecting a lecture or a blow out fight, but that’s not what you came for.

“I still had to see you.” You said simply.

Peeta gulped when you didn’t deny that you were mad but nodded his head.

“So where’s Katniss?” You asked him with fake politeness.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “With her family, probably.”

“Oh.” You nodded and an awkward silence fell between you. His family exchanged looks and Peeta was fully aware of it.

“Do you think we could talk? Just the two of us?” He asked hopefully. You nodded your head and he lead you to his bedroom and shut the door behind him. A black box on his dresser caught your eye as you sat down on his bed. He noticed it too and went over to it to open it up. When he turned around, he had a soft yellow knit sweater in his hands that made your jaw drop.

“I, uh, I brought you this from the Capital.” Peeta said as a shy blush covered his face.

“You found a yellow sweater?” You gasped and touched the sweater with gentle hands as if you were afraid your damage it. You’d never seen clothes that color in person before and it was even better than you imagined.

“I tried to but I never found one like the one you described. So I asked them to make it for me. They made four of them, actually. They can just do that there. They know nothing about want.” Peeta laughed shortly but neither of you found it funny.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You smiled gratefully and took the sweater. The fact that he had remembered the sweater you told him about despite everything he had just gone through. You felt guilty for being mad at him now that he had given you the sweater and realized you hadn’t even hugged him yet. You folded the sweater and left it on his bed before standing up. Peeta tensed up and wasn’t sure what you were about to do. You stepped towards him and wrapped your arms around him, to which he immediately responded to and hugged you back. He instantly broke down and cried in your arms just like he did the day of the Reaping. You stroked his hair and cooed in his ear until he calmed down enough to talk.

“I didn’t think you were ever gonna talk to me again.” He sniffled. You pressed your cheek against his blonde hair and took in his scent for the first time in weeks. Underneath the expensive cologne the Capital had dawned him in, you could still smell Peeta.

“Of course I’ll still talk to you. I’m sorry I was so cold to you. I’m just confused.” You admitted as you pulled out of the hug.

“I know.” Peeta nodded. “And you have every reason to be. I told you I loved you and then I professed my love to another girl with the whole world watching. If the roles were reversed, I’d be devastated. But you have to understand, that wasn’t what it looked like. It was all an act.”

“An act?”

“Yeah. We pretended to be a couple so people would send us food and medicine. I had no way to tell you that it wasn’t real and I’m so sorry about that. You don’t know how badly I wished I could tell you.” Peeta professed as he cupped your face in his hands.

“You were just pretending?” You smiled in surprise.

“Of course I was. What did you think? That it was real?” He laughed softly.

“Well, yeah. That’s what it looked like. I thought guys fell for each other during training and your love got you through the games.”

“Our acting got us through.” He corrected. “Haymitch told us to do it the day we met him. You really thought I fell for another girl that quickly?”

You didn’t share in his smile and shook your head instead. Peeta’s eyes softened and he rubbed his thumb on your cheek.

“I’m sorry, honey. I can’t imagine how confusing that must have been to watch after how we said goodbye.” Peeta said with a sympathetic pout. Your anger towards him melted away as you wrapped your hand around his wrists.

“So you don’t love her?”

“No. I never did. I’ve only ever loved you.” He answered with a soft smile. A smile tugged on your lips as well so you rested your forehead against his. Peeta let go of your face and wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you flushed against him.

“You know, the thought of coming home to you was the only thing that kept me going. I thought about the way you kissed me every night.” Peeta said as he stared into your eye.

“You did?” You smiled shyly at the memory.

“I did.” He nodded. “It was the only thing keeping me warm.”

You stared back into his eyes before tilting your head to the side and connecting his lips in a kiss. He kissed you back slowly and tightened his grip with one hand while moving the other up and down your back. All your anger and confusion melted away into the kiss now that he was yours again. When you pulled away, you stayed in comfortable silence in each others arms.

“Will you come live with me in Victors Village? We can plant our garden like we said.” Peeta asked you.

And so you did. You moved in with him and hung his paintings on the wall to decorate the place. You planted the garden in the backyard and put you in change of the vegetables while Peeta tended the flowers.

But you didn’t feel at home when you walked through the door each day. It was only when Peeta got home everyday with a fresh loaf of bread that the house became home.

#peeta mellark whump #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark fanfiction #peeta x reader

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