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areyouwell · 1 month

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Philophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of love. Children or adults with Philophobia may experience cases of extreme loneliness due to this condition.

Ch.3

Ch.1 <--

Ch.2 <--

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: uhhhh mild (?) descriptions of grief, logan romance or Lomance ™️, unfortunate Harry Potter inspiration... you'll see what I mean :(

Word count: 15.6k (oh fuck me)

A/N: i didn't think it would be this long genuinely i am gagged like what in the dissertation is this??? bisexual icon reader because slay boots that's why. also i don't see Logan as this harsh, dominating alpha male he's a sad grumpy man who just craves intimacy in any way he can get it, or he is in this fic <3

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside (lmk if you wanna be added lovelies)

Since when did you gnaw at your cuticles? How long had you been picking at your lips? Anxiety had plagued your body throughout your morning workout, deafening music doing nothing to drown out those starving nerves eating through your insides. Fuck you didn’t want to do this, why the hell had you let him convince you this was a good idea. You’d barely eaten anything all day in fear that if you put anything in your mouth that wasn’t water, it would just come back up again.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone today. Sure, you’d seen people, and they’d tried talking to you, but you mainly just nodded absently through the conversation, only contributing an occasional hum or bland “Yep.” Rumour had of course spread that you were to begin teaching again today, especially after Storm had caught you leaving the Professor’s office that morning, looking as if you’d just confessed to first-degree murder. Charles had, of course, thought it was a wonderful idea to get you back into teaching. However, he offered you several words of warning around trying to use whatever new extent your powers had reached and had given you strict instructions to only use what you were used to.

In all honesty, you hadn’t intended on using your powers at all, but you guessed it all depended on Logan’s teaching methods. And you had a feeling they were quite hands-on. You pulled again at the loose skin on your lip you’d been picking again, feeling the sharp skin as it came loose, iron dusting your tongue, crimson dusting your fingertips as you could do nothing but wait, listening to the mocking ticking of the clock. You clamped down on your bleeding lip, that metallic taste now flooding your mouth as you absently sucked on the hurt. It helped keep your mind from racing.

“You look like you’re gonna throw up,”

You loosened a breath as Logan strode down the hallway to the danger room, looking as self-assured as ever. Self-confident asshole.

“Would you think less of me if I told you I already have?” You half-joked, hoping he didn’t see right through you to the truth in your words. You’d thrown up this morning, after your workout. Though any hope that he took you at face value died when his harsh features softened.

“Never,” he responded, and you felt a wave of calm wash over your chest. You weren’t doing this alone, you had to remember that. You were helping, not leading the class. Nothing more than a teaching assistant. The idea put you at ease, though not more than Logan’s presence did.

The school bell rang out on the floors above you, and though it sounded distant, it very much sounded like your funeral toll. You scraped your nails through your hair. “I take it back, I don’t wanna do this anymore. Why did I agree? Why did I let you convince me?” You gestured to him wildly, your other hand braced on your hip in an attempt to catch your escaping breath. “I mean, fuck I haven’t done this in years. Years, Logan! And I wasn’t even good at it back then!” you panicked, exasperated at the whole situation.

Though your entire train of thought came to an abrupt halt when he gently took your flailing wrist in his hands, one of his thumbs smoothing circles against the back of your palm. “You’re gonna be fine. You did this for five years before you left, and teaching ain’t one of those skills you just forget,” he squeezed your hand gently, and you couldn’t find anything else to look at other than his earnest eyes.

“How did you know I taught for five years?” you asked quietly, careful not to make any sudden moves in case he remembered he was still holding your hand and let you go.

Logan shrugged a little. “People talk, and there was a lot of talk around you when those rumours started,”

“Not that you believed them, of course,” you found peace in the teasing, and your heart skipped a beat when you recognised relief on his face.

“Not a single word,” he winked, and you laughed slightly. It seemed Logan had a knack for bringing you back from the brink of whatever kind of breakdown you were moments away from having. You took a calming breath, feeling your nerves settle.

“Alright, what’s the lesson for today then, Professor,”

Logan rolled his eyes, snorting a laugh at the deliberate use of that title. “Thought we’d start easy, just do teamwork exercises, nothin’ too intense. Thought it might play into your strengths more,” You felt like you could cry. Theoretical teamwork you were fantastic at, teaching others how to work together you could do until the sun went down. There was a small kernel of hope in your heart that you wouldn’t have to put any of this into practice. That was where your teaching fell a little short.

“Okay… yeah, okay, I can do that, just as long as we don’t have to do it too. More of a ‘fuck this I’ll do it myself’ kinda gal,” you admitted with a sheepish laugh.

If he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t peg you as the kind of person to just go off on her own. He didn’t know why he assumed you’d be good at teamwork, maybe it was because you’d been part of the X-men for far longer than he had, so automatically assumed you’d just be inherently good at it. What he hadn’t taken into account, was the fact that you’d been away for two years with nobody but yourself to rely on. Maybe this wasn’t such a good start after all, especially since his teaching methods were very… involved.

“Demonstrations are a part of the class…” he said with a raised brow, though before you could reply fuck a definitive ‘fuck no’, the lift at the end of the hallway slid open, and your students for the day all filed out, deep in conversation with each other and each wearing a black suit, modified and trimmed to fit each mutation. Marie and Bobby lead the small group, followed by Peter, Julian, Jubilee and, to your surprise, Kitty, who sent you an enthusiastic wave.

You cocked your head to the side, wondering why on earth Kitty was still taking classes before Logan leaned down to your ear. “Thought ya might need some moral support.” He’d noticed how close you and Kitty seemed to be, and so had asked her this morning if she’d attend his class. She, of course, gave him a bunch of knowing looks and sly comments but agreed in a heartbeat. And your smile of wondrous disbelief was worth every bite of his tongue.

Your eyes flickered between his as you searched for the right words, having to settle on a whispered “Thank you,” before turning back to the students, still a little lost in your daze as Logan started to explain the point of today’s class. A comforting warmth had settled around your heart with the complete knowledge and belief that Logan had your back, there was no way you could doubt that at this point.

“Now, Jubilee and Julian, I know you two are newer to this than the rest of the students here, but from what I’ve seen so far, ya won’t have much of a problem. Any questions ‘fore we start?” Logan asked, looking at each student individually, though deliberately missing Kitty out. She knew far too much for her own good, and the sole reason for her presence was for your benefit. The class shook their heads, each of them as eager as the last to start the exercise. And with a quick glance to you, he saw you give him a determined nod. “Alright then, let’s go,” he nodded for them all to make their way inside, the simulation already having started to take shape.

You took a deep breath, before following suit, Logan closing the doors behind you. “Y’alright bub?” he asked quietly, and you flashed him a nervous smile.

“Never better,” it was an obvious lie, but at this point, you didn’t feel the need to hide it. He’d already proven himself trustworthy with your thoughts.

“You’re doing great,”

“I haven’t done anything yet!”

“And you’ve been great at it.” He smirked at your frown, once again flicking the centre of your forehead. Though you waved him off, it did help to smooth the wrinkles that had formed between your brows. “Trust yourself a little more, yeah?”

Your smile was anything but genuine, and honestly, you hoped he saw how spiteful it was. “I’ll try,” was all you said, before jogging a little to catch up with the others. Logan sighed as he watched you disappear through the dense forest. He’d picked this simulation for a reason. Mainly because the whole mission took place during the night, and through the aforementioned forest. Plenty of shadows for you to disappear into if things got too much or you needed a break. There was a small part of him that hoped you realised that, and an equally small part of him that hoped you’d never catch on.

“A stealth rescue mission with a time limit, my favourite…” you heard Bobby quip sarcastically, and you silently chuckled. He always did have some kind of comment to make, whether it be helpful or just simply funny. You heard Marie giggle, and looked between the two of them, noticing the way her gaze fell to his lips most of the time. You really fucking hoped you weren’t that obvious with Logan.

Though one look from Kitty told you that you were. God fucking damnit.

“Okay… so how do we go about this? We don’t even know where we’re going or what we’re looking for, and it’s not like we can see much cuz we’re in a damn forest!” Jubilee lamented, and you had the urge to tell her to watch her language. Maybe getting back into teaching wasn’t so hard after all.

“Not one of us has any kind of enhanced sight? Jubilee, can’t you sense electromagnetic fields or something?” Marie asked a little desperately. None of them seemed too keen to fail at the first hurdle.

“That’s not how my mutation works, Rogue. I can produce and wield light and energy, not sense it,” she responded, opening her palm and creating a small ball of sparking, multicoloured light in her hand.

“Okaaay… Julian?” Rogue turned to the boy, who shook his head in response.

“Telekinesis,” was all he said.

You sighed, folding your arms across your chest. Maybe you could help them out, just a little… “So if not one of you can do something, maybe a few of you can?” you prompted, causing the group to turn to you. Taking a breath, you stepped forward, a smile of understanding pulling at your lips. “You’re establishing strengths and weaknesses. That’s good, keep going down that track,” you encouraged, watching as they all formed back into a circle, considering your words. It filled you with an old, familiar sense of pride, and Kitty quickly shot you a double thumbs up, before dipping her head back into the circle.

Logan stood behind you, leaning against the thick trunk of a tree. Honestly, he had no fucking clue how they were going to figure out where to go or what to do, and if it were him in this situation, he’d simply just pick a direction or follow his nose. You, however, seemed to already have a plan figured out. It was impressive.

Much like everything else you did.

“Okay, so we all agree?” Marie asked to a chorus of nodding heads. “Right, Bobby you set up the slide, Peter, see if you can find a log big enough to shield Kitty from Jubilee. Julian, you just get ready to catch her,” Each student set about their tasks instantly, Bobby placing his hand on the floor. You observed as sheets of ice started blanketing a wide path in front of him, curling the far end into a slope. Peter returned with a hollowed-out tree trunk that looked more like a bobsled than anything else, and you had a feeling he may have done that on purpose.

Jubilee looked as if she was about to vomit. “Are we sure this is a good idea?” she asked, wringing her hands out in front of her. You felt for the girl, knowing what that kind of stress felt like. Julian placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded silently, encouragingly. The sight was achingly familiar, and you couldn’t help but glance at Logan behind you.

Though you weren’t expecting him to already be looking at you.

Something you would unpack later.

You turned back in time to see Bobby freezing two sharp blades to the bottom of Kitty’s boots, and the understanding dawned on you. Oh, fucking hell these kids were insane. They were about to launch Kitty above the treeline.

Your eyes widened, hands balling at your sides in a physical display of restraint. This could only end badly. You couldn’t see a scenario where this went well, and you’d fucking encouraged them. To hell with the exercise, you wouldn’t let them endanger themselves like this. You took a step forward to stop them in their tracks before a large hand settled on your shoulder.

“Give ‘em a chance,” Logan whispered, and you looked over at him. He blinked at your expression, not having seen this kind of fear on your face yet. You told him you worried too much when you were a teacher, but this was heart-stopping terror. His arms ached to pull you in, chest itching to feel you against it, but he couldn’t. Not here anyway. “I won’t let anythin’ happen to ‘em, okay? I promise,” his palm moved to cup your jaw, thumb tracing a line from your chin to your ear.

You closed your eyes, listening to that strange, primal need to be near to him, leaning into his touch ever so slightly and willing yourself to believe him. To believe in them. The smell of him consumed you; pine needles, woodsmoke and whiskey. Was it a deliberate cologne or did he just naturally smell this good? You didn’t know and to be quite honest, at that moment, you didn’t care.

“Okay…” you voice barely above a whisper, opening your eyes to find yourself instantly captivated in his intense gaze. Pupils blown in the darkness, flickering from your eyes to the rest of your face, before finally down to your lips. And there they lingered, to a point where you could no longer deny that what you felt was just friendship. And you didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want to just have a friendship with him. You wanted him in ways you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Maybe ever. “Logan…”

Your voice was a symphony to him, a cooling balm for his ears. Saying his name like that, in a way, he felt like it didn’t deserve to be said, shattered his resolve. Leaning down, he angled his head to the left, shivering at the way your breath fanned his lips. Fuck, he could taste you, taste the cherry-flavoured chapstick you used. He could taste the slight hint of mint where you’d brushed your teeth that morning. Taste something else he couldn’t identify but was distinctly you.

A hair’s breadth between you, all it would take was a micromovement before his lips were on yours. You wondered if he could hear your pulse quicken. If he could hear your heartbeat race. Could he see the desire in your eyes? Could he smell just how badly you wanted him?

All these questions you were millimetres away from knowing the answers to before Peter’s voice shattered the illusion.

“Ready?” he boomed, and you jerked your head back, searching his face for an unspoken explanation as to what the fuck was happening before you whipped your head around and finally came back to reality. You didn’t have time to so much as scream before Jubilee extended her hands toward the vertical hollow log, held by Colossus, containing Kitty. Peter stepped back, allowing the blast of explosive energy to hit the centre of the log and send her rocketing forward, the wood suddenly lighting up green as Julian caught it briefly with his telekinesis, leaving Kitty to shoot up the slope alone, her makeshift skates scratching on the ice.

Logan’s hand fell from your neck back to your shoulder, squeezing gently in reassurance as you watched her disappear through a gap in the canopy above, your heart in your throat.

“You got her Julian?” Marie called, and you looked at the boy, his hand outstretched, a low hum accompanying a faint green light above. He was holding her up there, giving her as much time as he could for her to survey their surroundings and find where they needed to go. It was a sight to behold, though you couldn’t quite let out your held breath just yet, Kitty was still a good eighty feet above the ground.

“Found it!” you heard her shout from the sky before the green glow stuttered slightly. Your eyes flickered from the skies to Julian, who’s hand was trembling from the strain. He was still a kid, effectively, and he still hadn’t developed his mutation properly. Taking a step forward, you made to pull away from Logan, already formulating a plan to catch Kitty with your own mutation. If you timed it right, you could minimise the impact by dissolving and reforming both of you. You’d done it a few times before, but it took a toll on both you and the recipient, having to keep a tight hold on their consciousness whilst in shadow. It took more concentration than you had right now, but you didn’t see any other way.

“Wait.” Logan stopped you, his hand on your shoulder tightening, stopping you from launching forward. He needed you to see. He needed you to see you didn’t need to constantly be worried about them. He’d taught most of these kids for the last almost two years, he knew what they were capable of. You’d been gone for a while, he understood that, but he needed you to see that you didn’t need to step in all the time. You didn’t have to save them anymore. You didn’t have to be scared anymore. Not for them.

Julian’s hand fell to his side, the boy bending at the waist panting as the green glow sputtered out completely, the hum of his ability fading away. You knew Kitty was falling, but how far you couldn’t say, losing sight of her now there was no longer an aura around her. Logan felt you shift under his grip, but he held firm. You had to watch.

Kitty phased through the canopy, and you hadn’t noticed Peter positioning himself beneath. A shining coat of metal materialised across his skin as he jumped to her, catching her safely in his arms before landing with a heavy thud.

You couldn’t quite believe what you’d just seen, Kitty safe and sound with her own two feet touching the ground, a wide grin stretching across her face as her eyes found hers, once again giving you another double thumbs up. You weakly returned her smile, but it was fleeting as the group started jogging in the direction she pointed in.

A pin could drop and you would hear it clatter to the earthen ground in the lingering silence, your breath audible as you stared at the last place you’d seen the students you’d taught for five years. You were aware of Logan’s presence extremely close behind you, but you didn’t have it in you to care.

“Told ya,” he murmured smugly. You couldn’t be mad at him, he had reason to be smug. He’d taught these kids incredibly well in your absence. You had him to thank for that expert display of their mutations. The back of your head rested against his chest as you relaxed, using him one would a wall to lean against.

“Yeah… you did,” you responded, laughing slightly with relief and pride. It was the sweetest sound Logan had heard you make, other than perhaps the way you whispered his name not moments ago. He wondered what could have happened had you not been interrupted. Though he quickly had to stop himself, gritting his jaw against the images his mind conjured. He absolutely couldn’t be thinking about that during class.

“So, this is why you didn’t wanna get back into teaching?” he asked, taking the first steps to follow the students, though he kept his hand on your shoulder as you fell into step beside him, his arm now basically holding you against him. You didn’t seem to move away, and he hoped you were too caught up in your relief to notice.

Though, of course, you noticed. Your entire body was alight with the feeling of his proximity, of the recent memory of what had nearly happened between you. It was fucking stupid, and insanely irresponsible and you were definitely going to beat yourself up about it at a later date, but there was something so comforting about his embrace that you didn’t feel bad about it. “Yeah… mostly. I don’t think I worried quite this much back then, but yeah. I guess…” you trailed off, not knowing how to phrase your thoughts.

Logan gave you time and stayed quiet as you gathered yourself. From Scott’s reaction yesterday morning after he’d mentioned you opened up to him, he got the impression you didn’t do this often. A warmth spread through his chest at the idea of him being the one you’re comfortable enough to talk to, despite only knowing him for two days.

“I guess, I’ve known these kids since they were younger, ya know? Most of them came here after some huge traumatic event in their lives and–” You took a steadying breath. “I don’t know, I just don’t wanna see them hurt even more than they already have been, physically or mentally.”

As if you could be any more endearing to him. Logan took a minute to let your words sink in, not only listening to you but truly hearing you. He didn’t know it was possible to feel this way for someone so quickly, and if you both weren’t in the middle of teaching a class, he’d pull you into his chest and fuse his lips to yours. Although, being in the middle of a class wasn’t enough to stop him earlier…

“Could you say something before my insides knot themselves further, i’m dying here,” you elbowed him lightly, breaking him from his reverie. He hadn’t realised he’d just been staring at you in awestruck silence, but he understood how since you’d just opened your heart a little, that lingering silence was extremely awkward for you.

“They’re stronger than you think,” was all he could offer, before the two of you finally caught up to the students, and you pulled away from him. Logan knew it was most likely for the best, however, that didn’t mean he was happy about it.

“You were saying…” you drawled, turning back to look pointedly at him over your shoulder. Logan cocked his head to the side, not entirely sure what you meant, before he heard what you were looking at. Every single one of his students had been caught in one of the various traps around the hidden facility, faceless guards and soldiers pointed guns in their direction. His stomach was full of lead, he looked at you, trying to gauge whether or not you were about to go ape shit. But you just stood, assessing the situation with a sense of professionalism he’d only seen on the rest of the X-men.

They were all bickering with each other, blaming each other for the situation they’d found themselves in. Peter and Bobby swung upside down from one of the branches above, their ankles tied together and their wrists bound. They were held at such a height that, if Peter was to coat himself in steel, the fall would most likely injure Bobby badly.

Marie and Julian were facing each other, Marie’s hand was dangerously near Julian’s face. One movement and she’d be draining his energy and life force. You could see the fear in both of their eyes. Jubilee was on the ground beneath Peter and Bobby, her hands also tied behind her back. If she were to use her mutation, the two strung from the trees would be blasted to ash. Kitty was nowhere to be seen.

What a predicament they’d found themselves in. You stepped back to Logan’s side, arms folded across your chest, eyes trained on his expression. “We could wait to see what they’ll do…” you suggested though the raise of your brow told him you had another option.

“Or?” he prompted.

“Or, we could show ‘em. What did you say earlier? Demonstrations are part of the class,” you once again tried to mimic his voice, your chin dipping as you reached the depth of your vocal chords. Logan rolled his eyes, refusing to show that he found your terrible impressions endearing.

“An’ how d’ya wanna do that?” he asked, his disobedient lips morphing into a smile as you winked back at him.

“We teach. And do try to keep up, fossil, I don’t wanna do all the work,” you grinned, and before he could even voice his irritation at you calling him a fossil again, you melted back into the shadows, completely disappearing from his view.

Logan swore lowly, slowly releasing his claws from his knuckles, keeping his footsteps steady and measured. This was, after all, supposed to be a stealth mission. And who better for stealth than a mutant who could quite literally walk through darkness? Feeling pretty damn happy with himself for his choice of simulation, Logan pressed his back against one of the trees, sliding around the trunk before he had a decent view of the situation.

He held his position for a beat, preparing himself to move forward again before there was a brief, cut-off scream from one of the masked guards. Torches and guns whipped to where the sound was last heard and found nothing but a discarded weapon and another torch flickering on the ground.

A beat passed, and this time Logan bore witness to what happened to the other guy. Passing up through the shadows on the ground, a ghostly pale hand wrapped around the ankle of another faceless guard. They didn’t have time to scream like the other before their entire body was dragged into the shadows. He didn’t even know you could do that. You could drag other people into the darkness with you? Since when? You’d failed to mention that little detail.

However as he watched you work, he noticed there was a pattern to your movements. You never went for any of the taller, stockier-looking guards, mainly picking off the smaller ones. Your latest victim fell into one of the trees, and Logan watched as every torch turned to shine against the trunk. From what he knew of your mutation, yes you could move through shadows, but you were trapped if that shadow became isolated, much like the one behind the tree he was certain you were in.

The way he raced through the forest was both a testament to Logan’s speed and his sudden, overwhelming urge to make sure you were safe, the simulation completely forgotten. Thrusting himself into the light of the torches, Logan branched a gateway shadow for you, throwing his arm out to the side and casting a dark bridge behind the tree.

Bullets fired instantly, and Logan grit his teeth as his chest and abdomen were used as fucking target practice for these faceless assholes. Though he was used to the feeling, what he wasn’t expecting, was the almost unbearable itching in his back. Were you… wait were you on him? His theory was confirmed when the rounds of gunfire ceased briefly. Logan felt a slight pull against his spine, and the itching stopped as you reformed, your back pressed against his own.

“Thanks,” you breathed, peering around his shoulder, your eyes flickering to each crimson stain on the front of his white t-shirt. “Fuck! Are you–”

“‘M fine. Fight from my shadow,” he instructed, and you nodded once, before dissolving into his pitch-black silhouette on the ground. With a crack of his neck, Logan growled lowly, before walking towards what was left of the armed force. Picking up momentum, he broke into a run, releasing a bellowing roar before tearing limb from limb.

You leapt from Logan’s shadow like a dolphin from water, using his momentum as his own, your foot collided with one of the masked faces before you dissolved back into the darkness he was casting.

Ducking and diving, slicing and stabbing, you timed every movement perfectly to his own. Logan swung in a wide horizontal arc, and if you’d been a second too slow, he would have sliced you in half. But you soared over his arm, your hands tucked in at your shoulders, striking out with your leg and into another faceless mask, watching as the satisfying crunch of a broken neck snapped their head to the side. You didn’t dive back into his shadow this time as you landed, the clearing around you plunged into darkness as the last of the guards dropped to the ground.

Breathlessly, you looked over to where Logan was grimacing slightly, the wounds against his chest closing up, various bullets and shrapnel falling to the ground from his body. His eyes met yours before looking at the bodies you’d both just lay waste to. So much for not being able to work as a team.

“Holy shit…” Bobby breathed from above.

“Language!” Both you and Logan barked in unison before you approached the captured students, a hand on your hip. “Now, can anyone tell me why that worked so smoothly?” you asked, and Logan stood back and watched you in your element. He couldn’t help but think it was a little cruel to teach whilst they were all still in various positions of capture, but who was he to question your teaching methods? He’d never worked so well as a team in his goddamn life. Even he was learning things today.

“You uh, you both knew the capabilities of the other’s mutation?” Julian piped up a little shakily, Marie’s hand still far too close to his face for anyone’s liking. You nodded, raising a brow to Logan in a silent request to free the two of them. He nodded, slicing through the rope around them with one of his claws. Julian stumbled away, and Marie instantly went to put her gloves back on.

“Absolutely. That only worked well because I knew Professor Howlett’s capabilities, and he was aware of my weaknesses. If isolated in a shadow, I’m cornered. He knew that and formulated a plan to get me out of that mess. Thanks, by the way,” you shot him a smile, and he waved you off.

“Don’t mention it,” he didn’t want to mention how he didn’t know the extent of your current abilities. He had no idea you could drag people into shadow with you. That was very much a surprise for him.

“What else?” you prompted, looking to each student individually.”

“You were aware of the other’s movements. If you weren’t, you’d be sliced into ribbons,” Bobby offered, his voice a little strained from swinging upside down. You sighed, trying to stop your smile. He wasn’t wrong…

“Unnecessarily graphic, Bobby, but yes. I took the time to study Lo– Professor Howlett’s movements from his shadow. It’s important to know how your team operates, and equally as important for them to know how you move.” You explained, before setting about getting them down safely. It took some fiddling before you found the rope that held them up. Logan took it from you, slowly lowering them to the ground.

“Anything else?” you asked, stooping to free Jubilee. You were already satisfied with their answers, not expecting them to have anything else to offer until a voice piped up from behind you.

“You trusted each other completely.”

You whirled to find Marie fiddling awkwardly with her gloves, stealing glances at Bobby. You’d been thrown for a loop. The girl was right. That plan never would have worked had you questioned Logan’s judgement at the time, and spent too long thinking about it. You’d put your faith in him, and it worked out for the best. And you found, now you were thinking about it, you’d do it again in a heartbeat. Your only problem was, did he trust you?

“Right,” Logan confirmed. Well, that answered that. “We wouldn’t’ve gotten to that point if we’d spent half ‘n hour bickering ‘bout it. I trust her implicitly,” he looked at you, eyes lingering on your own. “And she trusts me.” He finished quietly, and you smiled in affirmation, offering him a small nod of acknowledgement. The silence dragged on as you both looked at each other, once again completely unaware of your surroundings.

That was until Kitty came barrelling through the stone wall of the facility, sweat beading down the side of her head, her hand clasped on the shoulder of a little girl whose eyes blinked bright yellow, vertical pupils broadening in the sudden darkness. You guessed that was who they were supposed to rescue.

“Got her! Wh– woah…” she looked around at the carnage littering the clearing floor, her eyes clocking onto the bloodstains on Logan’s shirt and on the leg of your suit. “What’d I miss?” she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Only the sickest example of teamwork by our professors!” Jubilee exclaimed, and you had to blink a few times, unused to being referred to as a professor. But before you could correct the girl, Kitty clicked her tongue.

“Huh, interesting. Teamwork from two of the most ‘I’ll do this alone’ people I know,” she said nonchalantly, though it was obvious to you what she meant by that, and your brows furrowed into a scowl.

“And where were you? This was supposed to be a teamwork exercise, Kitty.” You set your jaw, jutting out your chin a little defensively. Kitty gestured down to the kid right as the simulation started to pixilate and the girl disappeared along with the forest.

“We were under a time limit, right? Part of teamwork is knowing when to prioritise the mission over the safety of your team. Everyone knows the stakes, everyone knows the consequences,” Kitty said pointedly. Logan narrowed his eyes slightly, noticing how this was turning into something a little more personal than a lesson. He saw your eyes flicker with an emotion he couldn’t place before your features hardened.

“That depends on the risk you’re taking, and some consequences aren’t worth it. If this had gone badly, you could have lost your entire team.” You gestured to the students behind who were all staying incredibly quiet.

To the untrained ear, it looked like Kitty was just mumbling under her breath, but Logan very clearly heard what she said. “You’d know all about taking those risks, wouldn’t you?”

You tensed, nostrils flaring slightly. Fury and shame swirled in your irises.

“Class dismissed.” You grit sternly, your shoulders more tensed than he’d ever seen them. One by one the students filed out, Kitty sending you an apologetic glance but you were too busy being utterly furious to notice or care. You stared at the ground, and Logan could almost taste your rage.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about this. Should he leave you to it? Follow the students and make sure they’re all alright? Should he stay silent and let you work through whatever it was you had going on in your beautiful head?

You decided for him. “That went well…”

He watched you visibly deflate, exhaustion radiating from your very bones, a hand braced on your brow bone.

Logan crossed to you, allowing his instincts to rein free. Extending his arms, he gently pulled you into his body, smiling as you sighed in what he refused to believe was comfort. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself as you buried your face in his slightly bloodied jacket.

“Quite the display of teamwork we put on, huh?” His voice rumbled from his throat and you had to bite back another sigh. You couldn’t tell if he knew you needed this, or if this was just a happy coincidence, but honestly? You didn’t fucking care. It felt good to be held by him, and after Kitty dragged up memories from the past, you needed to drown yourself in something other than your consuming sense of guilt, and Logan’s body seemed to be the next best thing.

He tried his best not to tense as your hands slid to his back, tried his fucking best not to shiver as you clung to his slightly, his arms wrapped around your waist and shoulders securely.

“Yeah… it was,” you smiled, shifting so your forehead was pressed against his chest, your breath fanning one of the many holes in his shirt. You resisted the urge to run your hands through the hair poking through the bloodstains, keeping them firmly at his back. Unfortunately, willpower alone didn’t seem to be enough, so you stepped back from his embrace, just far enough to remove the temptation from your mind.

Logan searched your tired face, one question echoing in his mind. “What did Kitty mean? When she said you’d know ‘bout takin’ risks?”

All it took was one question for you to shut down completely. Your once soft features petrified to stone, any insight he had into your mind was quickly shut through your eyes as you stepped completely out of his range. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said dismissively, raising your head in challenge. Daring him to keep asking questions. It frustrated him, and he decided he really didn’t like you lying to his face.

“That’s a lie.” He declared, his jaw clenched. This was not how to approach the subject, but he couldn’t understand why you weren’t talking to him. You’d told him the good about your life, you’d told him about your situation with your mutation, why was this suddenly too far?

“Oh, and you’d know, yeah? Though, from what I remember, you weren’t actually there. Because, and correct me if I’m wrong, I’ve only known you for two days. Just because we get on well doesn’t give you a fast pass ticket to knowing everything about my life,” you hissed, and Logan decided he’d had enough.

“Didn’t feel like we ‘just got on well’ earlier, did it princess?” He bit back, and you blinked.

Did this motherfucker seriously have the audacity to bring that up right now? “Maybe it didn’t to you, but I know my fucking priorities,”

“Yeah? Is that what Kitty meant? Sounds like you haven’t always had your priorities straight.” He knew he’d crossed a line when the stone wall of your features cracked, his words sinking deeper than he ever meant them to. He didn’t know what happened, he didn’t know your situation, but it was obvious now he’d struck a nerve. Obvious in the way your head shook slightly, your shining eyes flickering in utter, disgusted disbelief.

Any hope you had for whatever was between you and Logan shattered in an instant. You didn’t even know what to say, your mouth flapping open and closed. Taking a few steps back from him, you looked him up and down, as if searching for where that comment came from. You didn’t know he was capable of something like this, and what made it so much worse, was that he was right. You’d made a huge mistake in the past, and people had suffered because of it. People died because of it.

Logan wanted to reach for you, to pull you back into his embrace and apologise, but he found himself stuck, staring as your features morphed from heartbreaking disbelief to savage understanding. A smile cut across your lips, though your eyes still shimmered with unshed tears.

“Okay,” your harsh voice shattered the silence as you nodded along with whatever internal conclusion you’d come to. “That’s that then.” Your eyes pierced through his soul. Logan had a lot of moments in his life he regretted, but seeing the way he’d destroyed whatever was building between you two with a single, stupid fucking comment, might have taken the top spot. Perhaps narrowly overtaken by letting you walk away from him.

There was something to be said about how peaceful the dark was. Floating in nothing but an ocean of shadows, you let yourself imagine. Let yourself imagine what it would be like if you let go. If you stopped trying to develop your mutation and let it consume you. It was only yesterday you were so fucking stubborn about your possible fate. But now… it didn’t seem so bad.

You sensed a disturbance in the balance between the light and the dark, another shadow moving smoothly in the brilliant white. You knew instantly who it was, and you attempted to still your conscience.

“You can hide all you want, I know you’re here,” Xavier spoke aloud, though you knew he didn’t need to. He could have reached you even as nothing but a concept. You mentally sighed, only reforming your head, upper shoulders and arms out of the darkness, rising slightly out of the floor. You rested your chin against your folded hands.

“How can I help, Professor?” you asked, summoning as much mental strength as you could to at least try and appear okay. You’d disappeared into the garden, always finding the darkness outside to be more freeing than that of a dark room. Charles interlaced his fingers on his lap.

“I wanted to ask how your class went today. Logan spoke incredibly highly of you, it’s rare he has much to say about anyone,” he smiled knowingly.

You couldn’t help your sarcastic scoff. “Oh, I’m sure Logan found plenty to say about me,” clearly the wound was still fresh. Fresher than even you realised. Xavier tilted his head in faux confusion.

“Are you referring to the comment Kitty made?”

Your head shot up from its resting place against your hands. “How do you know about that?” It was a stupid question, Charles Xavier knew everything that happened in his school. However, you found that he only brought up certain things if he’d been verbally informed. Something about not abusing his power.

“Logan told me, before asking me what happened.”

“Still can’t stay out of other people’s businesses, can he?” you snarled, reforming the rest of your body and crossing to sit on one of the benches.

“He cares for you.” The statement shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but you still blinked as Charles came to sit opposite you.

“He’s got a real funny way of showing it.” You grumbled.

“How much do you know about him?”

“That’s the fucking problem!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “I don’t know a damn thing! He’s asked me everything about my life, from when I was a waitress at some shitty little diner to how I learned how to cook so well. I told him all about growing up with my brother, my parents d–” You couldn’t finish that sentence, your throat closing up.

“Does he know that? About your parents?”

“He knew they weren’t around, and it was just me and my brother for a while. But what does that matter? He won’t fucking talk to me! Not in the same way… Why are you talking to me about this?” you suddenly realised how strange the situation was, and in your moment of clarity, you decided that for once in your fucking life, this was nobody else’s business. You came out here to be away from people, not to be bothered twenty minutes into your escape.

“Am I a bother?”

Fuck, you fucking forgot he could read your mind like a damn book. You sighed defeatedly, already regretting being so combative. “Yes and no. Look, Kitty said what she said. It wasn’t like I completely forgot what happened three years ago I just… I’d put a lot of effort into moving forward. I understand the point she was making, it was just–”

“Unnecessary,” Charles finished with a nod of understanding. It was nice, in a way, to be understood without having to voice everything. Even if it was because he could read every single thought in your head at any given time.

“And then Logan said what he said and it was just… yeah. I don’t know…” you shrugged, hugging your knees.

Charles leaned forward to place a hand atop your own, causing you to lift your head from the home you’d made within your arms. “This is a school of second chances. Of third chances. I do hope you don’t believe that only applies to the students,” you winced as he slipped into his ‘Professor’ voice, gritting your teeth, suddenly feeling like a scolded schoolgirl again.

“I know it isn’t. I of all people know that. There’s just so much going on right now, with getting back into teaching and developing my mutation so I don’t just fade into nothingness and whatever the fuck is going on with Logan I just, I have a lot on my mind.” you admitted, though it was a little stunted. Admitting you weren’t exactly in a good headspace wasn’t the easiest for you if your recent outbursts of unadulterated rage were anything to go by.

Fuck, this meant you definitely had to talk things out with him. Maybe even confront whatever the fuck was happening between you, or whatever the fuck could have happened had you both not been in the middle of teaching a class. You didn’t know if you had the emotional capacity for that right now. As much as you wanted to.

Charles squeezed your hand gently. “I didn’t teach you to run from trouble, did I? And I certainly didn’t teach you to hide. What happened three years ago was an accident. It’s time you stopped blaming yourself.” You looked to the sky, trying your fucking hardest not to let the tears in your eyes fall, blinking rapidly and simply willing your eyes to dry. You knew he was right. You’d harboured a sense of guilt so strong it made teaching terrifying for you. Being so afraid something like that would happen again, you’d spent the rest of that year trying to discourage your students from doing the same things as you did on that mission.

No wonder Kitty was so irritated at you. You were such a fucking hypocrite.

With a shaky breath, you stood from the bench, and Charles moved back a little. You wouldn’t find Logan immediately, you had a lot of your own thoughts to figure out, but you would find him at some point. Besides, he was the one who managed to reassure you in the danger room. He was the one who showed you what those kids were capable of. You shouldn’t probably thank him for that.

You seemed to spend your life recently either wanting to thank the man or wanting to yell at him. But either way, he was constantly on your mind.

With a wordless nod to the Professor, a silent show of gratitude, you crossed back through the gardens and through the double doors, knowing already what you wanted to do. You’d found it yesterday whilst making meatballs, and your mind briefly wondered who had taken such time to hide it away.

Crouching to the cans cupboard, you gently moved aside that same tower of soup, feeling your breathing stutter slightly as you saw her again. Your heart cracked at her faded smile, her white teeth glowing against the deep bronze of her complexion. You remembered the delicate gold necklace she wore, even more so the locket resting against the hollow of her throat.

You’d thrown yours out the day you lost her. Unable to look at the reminder of what you’d had. Of what you’d destroyed. Your thumb skirted across the angles of her features as if you could feel her beneath your palm once again. You’d tried so hard to forget her, to push her from your mind, to gaslight yourself into believing what you felt for her was nothing but a desire for companionship. A temporary fling.

But you knew now. You had something to compare those feelings to, and you knew now. Because the way you felt around Logan, the way you felt just thinking about him, it was exactly the fucking same.

Holding the mug to your chest, your shoulders shuddered in silent sobs. What you wouldn’t do to be in her arms again. To hear her heartbeat one last time. To laugh with her again. To stay up all night, a tangle of limbs and passion, giggling quietly into the dark. But you’d disrespected her memory by trying to forget her altogether.

A soft call of your name by a voice you knew all too well by now brought you back from your grief, and you turned your head to see him standing by the door. The concern on his face despite the savage argument earlier speared your heart, and you wiped a stray tear from your face with the heel of your palm.

Logan didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know why you’d fallen out so badly earlier today, he didn’t know how it got so out of control so quickly. And fuck did it break him to see you cry. Every instinct was screaming at him, begging him to go to you, to encase you in his arms and hold you until the rest of the world faded away. But when you didn’t respond to him, when you just stared absently after he said your name, he admitted to himself the likelihood of that ever happening was slim to none.

“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone…” he muttered with a nod of acknowledgement, turning to leave back the way he came.

You stood quickly, vision swimming slightly with the velocity of the movement. “Logan wait,” you watched as he stopped, his shoulders tensed. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t dare to. The fact you’d even spoken to him was miracle enough, he didn’t want to shatter reality by turning to see your face dismissive, asking him to wait just so you could tell him how much of a fucking asshole he was. At least, that’s what he deserved to happen. “Sit…”

Now he turned, eyes rising from the floor to meet your broken ones. He wasn’t about to push his luck and ask why, so he did what you told him and took a seat at the table, watching you like a hawk as you dragged a chair to sit next to him, your proximity electric.

Silently, you set the mug on the table in front of you both, rotating it slightly so he could see the faded photograph. His brows raised as he looked between the photo and you, working to put the pieces together.

“Who was she?” he asked hesitantly, baring in the mind the last two times he’d asked you about anything a little darker you’d shut down completely. He managed to fight the urge to take your hand.

“Her name was Jade. She’s the reason we found the school, and the reason I became a teacher,” you paused, steeling your nerves before you continued. “And the reason I stopped.” You were unable to tear your eyes away from the picture, retracing the lines and curvature of her face.

“I thought you stopped teaching because Charles sent you to search for more young mutants?” Logan queried, and you finally glanced at him.

“That’s why I left, yeah. He probably thought it would be good for me to get away, but I stopped teaching because I made a stupid fucking mistake on a mission and it–” You paused again, not knowing if you could continue, the lump growing in your throat making it borderline impossible. You hadn’t spoken about this in the last two years, using your travels to distract yourself.

To hell with ignoring his instincts. To hell with keeping himself from you. To hell with being cautious. Logan gently took your hand in his own, briefly relishing in how soft your palm was. He wasn’t going to push you, he’d seen how well that worked last time. But he wanted you to know he was here. He was listening, if you wanted to continue.

The silence dragged on as you stared at your smaller fingers interlaced with his, your nails digging ever so slightly into the back of his hand between his knuckles, and you sincerely hoped it wasn’t uncomfortable for him.

“It got her killed.” Finally, it was out in the open. Finally, though it was nothing more than a shaky whisper, you’d said it. A tear slipped down your cheek, hanging from the line of your jaw. “It was supposed to be a survey mission. Nothing more. Draw up the layout of the land and report back, where we could actually formulate a plan. But I–” You sandwiched your lips between your teeth, hoping the physical pain would distract you from the mental. “I fucked up. I acted out of passion and rage. I saw what they were doing. I saw what they were fucking doing. They were kids, Logan. They were just kids. And they were being treated like prisoners of war. The torture, the experiments, the agony. I don’t remember what happened, but I snapped.

“The next thing I remember was being back on the jet with my hands bound. I thought I’d been caught somehow, but they were all safe. All those kids were safe. But Jade was nowhere to be seen. I… nobody told me exactly what happened. Nobody needed to. Whatever I… did, she got caught up in it. Jade–” You refused to blink, refused to let yourself see anything but her smiling visage, one captured moment of pure joy before you’d decimated it. “They said she didn’t make it out. But I could feel it. I could feel the fear in the room. I don’t know what I did. I don’t know what happened, but it terrified them. My team and the kids. It fucking terrified them. And Jade was gone.” you finished, inhaling a stuttered breath, tears now falling freely from your lashes.

Logan didn’t care that you gripped his hand so tightly he felt a shift in his damn bones. He didn’t give a shit that he could feel your nails almost break the skin of his knuckles, not that the sensation was unfamiliar to him. What he did care about, was the fact that he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t reassure you that it was your fault because it was, and he didn’t want to lie to you. You’d lost control, and it resulted in the death of your… friend? Lover? He still didn’t know the relationship between the two of you, but judging from the way your eyes sparkled in the photo, the way your smiled curled in pure adoration, he could figure it out.

“It was an accident. You didn’t mean to,” was all he could offer. It was shit. He knew it was shit, and you laughed tearily, clearly knowing that.

“Yeah, tricky one to respond to, huh? But that’s why I stopped teaching before i went away. I just… couldn’t do it anymore. And I tried so hard to forget about her because that was easier. It was easier than remembering, as fucked up as that is,” you swiped away your tears with your unoccupied hand, and it took every fibre of Logan’s self-control not to take your face in his hands and do it for you. “So that’s what Kitty meant. It was shitty and unnecessary but I think I needed to hear it. I’m surprised she’s still friends with me, to be honest with you. Jade was like a big sister to her.” you sniffled, offering him a tight, awkward smile.

Fuck, did you know how gorgeous you were? Even now? It saddened him to think you didn’t.

“How d’ya know each other, you and Jade? You meet here?” he asked, hoping to inspire some kind of happy memory to associate with your past, rather than bottomless grief.

“Nah, I’d known Jade since we were kids. She was our neighbour growing up. There were eight of us in that little group. Stuck together since we were all mutants. Called ourselves Nine Lives Minus One. Or Nilmo for short. Some stupid inside joke I don’t even remember now, but she was the only one to come with me after I fell out with my brother.” He might as well know the rest of the story since you’d already come this far.

“What happened?”

“Eh, some stupid fucking argument, also don’t remember it. I just remember packing up and leaving one day, and Jade came with me. We weren’t… together, at that point. But I think we both knew we liked each other,” you explained lowly, absently staring at your still joined hands. “Jean and Scott picked us up on the side of the highway and brought us here. I begged them to go find the rest, but by the time they did, they’d all packed up and moved on. That’s what they told me anyway,”

“You didn’t go with ‘em?”

You shook your head. “Charles reassured us both the team would do what they could. Besides, we were caught up in actually learning about our mutations.” You didn’t mind this. Talking about her as if she were just someone you used to know. Someone who was a part of your past. Someone you didn’t fucking kill. Hurt still echoed through your bones like a cry in an empty room, but it was bearable.

You let the quiet blanket the two of you, taking a moment to bask in his presence. To appreciate everything he’d done, and was still doing, for you. He still had questions, he must do, you knew you would if the tables had been turned. You do have questions for him. About his past, his mutation, and his life before the school. He hadn’t been here very long in the grand scheme of things, and you wanted to know what he was doing beforehand. He’d said it wasn’t a happy story, but you were mutants.

None of you had a happy story.

“I, uh…” you began, tasting your words before you said them to make sure they were the right tone. God knows you’ve fucked that up too many times recently. “Look, I’m not expecting you to divulge your life story. Shit, after what I said earlier, I wasn’t expecting this,” you took a breath, turning your head to examine his features. “But at any point, you feel like you want to, or you feel comfortable enough to, I’m here. And I’m sorry. For what I said. What Kitty did threw me off and I lashed out.” You sighed, only capable of hoping he’d forgive you. You couldn’t imagine Logan was the kind of guy to give many second chances, but didn’t Charles just say that’s what this school was for? “And for what it’s worth, you’re a really good teacher.”

Logan stared, quietly stunned. Most people here had been kind to him since he arrived with Marie, and it was still a lot to get used to, but you were on a different level. The promise in your eyes, the hope in your tone, he didn’t think there would be a time when he couldn’t forgive you. Fuck, he’d known you were in here from the start. Simply ‘coming across’ you in the kitchen was just an excuse. He could smell you from the other side of the mansion, and before he knew what was happening, he was on his feet walking through that door.

He ached to be around you. He yearned to touch you. To hold you. To have you. In any way you would let him. Acquaintance, friend, something more. He’d take every piece you gave him and fucking cherish it. You weren’t just some woman he’d met two days ago. He didn’t think there was a moment where you were just some woman he’d met an hour ago.

From the moment he saw you, something in his heart snapped into place. And it had been a long time since he’d felt whole. Wordlessly, Logan stood from his seat, almost finding your confusion amusing considering what he was planning on doing.

It was a strange feeling, your soul sinking. You’d thought that this could have repaired whatever damage you’d done to your friendship, or whatever the fuck this was. But when he silently stood, you internally accepted that this was probably the most you were gonna get out of him.

That was until he crossed to the radio on the counter and flipped through the stations, stopping when you heard a song you knew well. Your brows furrowed. What was he doing? He turned back to you, extending a hand, and your eyes flickered between his open palm and his face. Logan just looked at you expectantly, wiggling his fingers and nodding to his invitation.

You huffed a laugh of fond disbelief, before standing from your chair and taking his hand, allowing yourself to be brought into his embrace. Your arms hooked around his neck, wrists crossing at the short hairs at his nape. His hands settling on your waist as the static crackle of lyrics hummed from the radio.

‘Pass me that lovely little gun My dear my darling one’

“What’re you doing?” you asked, your soft smile untamable as you both started swaying slowly to the beat.

“Pretty sure they call it danicin’, bub,” he responded, eyes alight with an emotion you couldn’t place, but one you could get used to.

‘The cleaners are coming, one by one You don’t even wanna let them start’

A small laugh escaped your lips, fanning the lower part of his face. “I got that, but why?” You searched his face for an answer, from the slight crease in his brow to the bridge of his nose to the cupid’s bow of his lip. There your gaze lingered.

‘They’re knocking now upon your door They measure the room, they know the score’

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

‘They’re mopping up the butcher’s floor Of your broken little hearts’

Logan’s hand left your waist to cup the side of your face, his thumb gently smoothing your cheekbone. “Truthfully?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you immediately returned to his features. “Truthfully.”

‘Forgive us now for what we’ve done It started out as a bit of fun Here, take these keys before you run away The keys to the gulag’

“‘cause I’m running out of excuses to be close to you,” he admitted quietly. And though it was nothing but a soft murmur of admission, you felt the wounded parts of your heart begin to stitch back together at his words. Their meaning.

‘Here comes Frank and poor old Jim They’re gathering round with all my friends We’re older now, and the light is dim And you are only just beginning’

“You don’t need excuses, Lo’,” you hoped he could read the meaning of what you said. Hoped he could feel, just as much as he did, that you wanted to be near him. Close to him. You inhaled that smoky, pinewood scent you craved so much, torn between nestling your head beneath his chin and your need to drink in and memorise every peak, plain and valley of his face.

‘O, children, We have the answers to all your fears It’s short, it’s simple, it’s crystal clear It’s roundabout and it’s somewhere here Lost amongst our winnings’

Logan chose for you, guiding your head to rest against the hollow of his throat, his chin settling atop your hair. His arms circled your waist, pulling you tighter and holding you close against him. Peace radiated from your slowly swaying form, and knowing that the feeling came from him, your newfound sense of tranquillity, and warmth spread throughout his chest.

‘The cleaners have done their job on you They’re hip to it, man, they’re in the groove They’ve hosed you down, you’re good as new And they’re lining up to inspect you’

“I spoke to Charles.” he started, and you shivered slightly, the rumble of his voice resonating through every fibre of your being.

“He mentioned…” you smiled knowingly, thinking back to your conversation with the Professor.

“I’m gonna oversee your mutation development,” it was a gamble, telling you now so soon after the argument from before, but he’d rather you know now than be thrown for a loop tomorrow. But his gamble paid off as you raised your head from his chest, your eyes brimming with unspoken awe.

‘O children Poor old Jim’s white as a ghost He’d found the answer that we lost We’re weeping now, weeping because There ain’t nothing we can do to protect you’

“Thought I said you didn’t need excuses.” you teased lightly, and he all but shoved your head back into the home you’d made in his neck, basking in the staggered breaths against his skin from your laughter.

“Yeah, well, that was ‘fore I knew. ‘N after you dressed me down earlier–”

“‘M still sorry about that.”

“I didn’t think you’d still wanna be… this.” He didn’t want to say friends. Because he didn’t think you were friends. There was something so much more between you, friends didn’t seem the right word. And you seemed to know it too, tightening your hold around his neck.

‘O, children Lift up your voice, lift up your voice Children Rejoice, rejoice’

“It was a bold move, I’ll give you that.”

Logan could sense someone in the doorway, though whoever it may have been seemed to have the good sense to leave swiftly.

‘Hey little train, we’re jumping on The train that goes to the Kingdom We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun And the train ain’t even left the station’

Logan lifted your head from his neck, calloused palm cupping the side of your jaw. “Darlin’, I’m nothin' if not bold.”

Your heart stopped as he leaned down, ever so softly grazing his lips against yours, testing the waters, a silent request. And you responded in kind, eyes fluttering closed and craning your neck to erase whatever space was left between you.

‘Hey, little train, wait for me I once was blind, but now I see Have you left a seat for me? Is that such a stretch of the imagination?’

Logan was wrong. Oh, he was so wrong. You tasted so much better than he imagined. That cherry chapstick wasn’t even on his mind as you kissed him along with the beat of the music, with each sway of your body. He barely managed to silence his groan, feeling the unbearable tension between the two of you slip away, making room for another kind of tension completely.

‘Hey little train, wait for me Was held in chains but now I’m free I’m hanging in there, don’t you see In this process of elimination’

You drew back just far enough to exhale a breathless “Logan…” before the loss of contact became too much and he brought you in again, as if he could only breathe if he was connected to you. Your tongue swiped across his lips, another silent request, and his eyes rolled behind closed lids. Your nimble tongue weaved through his parted mouth. You tasted of summer storms and mountain forests and it wasn’t fucking fair.

‘Hey little train, we’re jumping on The train that goes to the Kingdom We are happy, Ma, we’re having fun Beyond my wildest expectations…’

The music started to fade, though as long as you could both hear the beat, neither of you stopped moving until the room trickled into to silence. You drew back once again, eyes still closed as you savoured what was left of him on your tongue. You were right. He did taste faintly of whiskey. Whiskey, tobacco and sheer, endless adoration.

“You okay?” he asked, still a little breathless, still reeling slightly. Your eyes slid open and you smiled. You smiled in a way that stopped his heart and had him wondering if he was dead. Or at the very least, dying.

“Now I am. Wanted to do that back in the danger room,” you confessed to his cocked brow of amusement.

“Oh yeah? Thought you said you felt nothin’.” he jabbed with no trace of malice or bitterness. He’d known then it was a lie, but it was nice to finally hear you say it. More than nice.

Your face fell forward to hide your sheepish embarrassment in his chest, Logan’s hand moving to cup the back of your head, fingers grazing through your hair. “Ugh, can we never bring that up again?” your plea was muffled slightly, but he heard you loud and clear.

“Only if you agree not to keep talkin’ ‘bout how I didn’t think you existed.” He bargained, much to your gape of injustice.

“Absolutely no deal, that’s half my jokes right there! The other half is just you being old enough to b–”

“And that’s enough of that.” Logan cut you off, pulling you back up to press his lips to yours once again in a fleeting, silencing kiss. You chuckled against his mouth and he vowed there and then he would do anything to protect that sound. To protect you.

“Fucking finally,” with the speed you withdrew from Logan’s lips, he was slightly surprised you didn’t break your neck as you whipped around to face the doorway, finding Marie and Kitty standing with their arms folded with exactly the same expression on their faces. He’d heard them approach, but couldn’t find the willpower to move away from you in time. You were fucking intoxicating.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘finally’, it’s not like we’ve been pining over each other for years,” you sent a pointed look to Marie, and watched as she rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what you were talking about, but was clearly not in the mood to be wrong. “And this has been pretty fucking fast in my opinion,” you paused, glancing back to Logan. “Not that I mind, by the way.”

He shrugged, resisting the urge to grin. “Good to know.” A smile tugged at your lips as you removed your arms from around his neck, turning fully to face the two girls. Your eyes landed on Kitty, schooling your expression to one of subdued rage. You still hadn’t forgiven her for what she’d said, and judging by the way her face fell from smug knowing to sheepish regret, she knew too.

Logan sensed the shift in the air, looking between you and Kitty. “I’ll be in the lounge.” He muttered to you, planting a kiss on the side of your head and giving your arm a quick squeeze before gesturing for Marie to follow him. He knew you needed this time alone with your friend, and he also knew he was about to be subjected to Marie’s excited squealing and begs for details.

But he’d endure it if it meant you could sort things out with Kitty.

The room fell into silence as you stared at one another, both of you waiting for the other to say something first. Kitty’s eyes left your face, falling to the mug left on the table. Regret swirled around your gut as the light caught the brimming tears on her lashes.

“I didn’t forget about her…” you said in way of explanation, running a tired hand down the side of your face. “No. That’s a lie. I did. I had to. It–”

“I know.” she interrupted you, holding her arm in vulnerability. “I know… I don’t know why I said what I said earlier. It was cruel. I know you have your priorities sorted, and I know what happened was a mistake,” your heart cracked as tears slipped down her face. “I miss her so much.” Whatever resolve she had not to cry shattered there and then as her words ended in a sob. You couldn’t remain angry at her, fuck you didn’t have the right to be angry at her in the first place.

Crossing the kitchen in two strides, you pulled her into your arms, wrapping her protectively in your embrace as she cried, her hands weakly clutching your back. “I know. I do too. I miss her every damn day, and I’m so sorry I took her from us. From you.” You smoothed her hair, blinking your tears away rapidly. You couldn’t cry again, that would just be excessive…

Right?

You let her cry on your shoulder, simply allowing her to release whatever she’d had building since the day Jade died. You let her sob against your t-shirt, staining the fabric several shades darker until her cries quietened to nothing but hiccups.

“I hated you for what happened,” you let her words land, let them sink in. “I hated you so fucking much. I think… I think a part of me still does. But I saw what it did to you. I saw what happened in the days after. You were different. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always been a little chaotic,” she giggled slightly, and you nodded in confirmation. Yeah, you had been chaotic since the day you were born. “But you became manic. Frantic. I knew you were terrified in every class you had to teach after that, I could see it. I realised you were hurting just as much as I was. I’m so sorry I hated you. I’m so sorry a part of me still does, I don’t know how to stop it.”

You loosened your grip, placing your hands on her shoulders to look her in the eye. “You had every right to. You still do. I– I don’t know what happened that day. I still don’t. Nobody would tell me and at this point, I’m too scared to ask. And if, somehow, I could go back, I would change everything.” you admitted, though her slight cheeky smile wasn’t the response you were expecting.

“Even if it meant you and Logan wouldn’t be making out in the kitchen?” she asked, the mischievous glint in her eye exaggerated by the shining of her recently shed tears. You stuck your tongue in your cheek.

“Nah, that probably would have happened anyway. I don’t think things between Jade and I would have lasted…” you admitted. You loved her. You loved her so much, but the differences between the two of you were too great.

“I also think I have the right to say the biggest told you-so in history.” She continued, and you lightly punched her arm. She was right. Of course, she was right. She knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll buy you a ‘World’s greatest mind reader’ mug. I’m kinda glad you were right…” you smiled as you thought of him, the moments you’d already shared. Kitty laughed, using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe at the damp streaks down her face.

“Oh girl you are down bad. I hope he knows you had sex in the bin shed of that bar you used to work at. What was it called?” she teased, and you clamped your hand over her mouth.

“No, he doesn’t know that Kitty Big-Mouth,” you whispered loudly, laughing through your words. “The bar was called Shots Shack, and he will never know that.” It wasn’t your finest moment. The bar had some extremely relaxed drinking policies for the staff, and to say you were a little tipsy was an understatement. Some guy had just been in the right place at the right time, flirting relentlessly with you. It had been more of a ‘fuck it why not’ moment but you still weren’t exactly proud of it.

Kitty started talking behind your palm, and you had half a mind to leave it there, but your morbid curiosity got the best of you. “Huh?”

“I said he should probably know how nasty you are. Who knows what escapades you got up to on your travels?” She grinned and you wanted to clamp your hand back over her mouth to stop her from spilling all your secrets.

Your heart settled at her contented sigh, the weight lifting from her shoulders almost visibly. “Thank you for this. Despite everything, and despite a part of me still hating you, you know I love you to pieces, right?” you could see she was genuinely worried, her brows creasing ever so slightly.

“Yeah. I know.” You smiled broadly, and she mirrored your expression.

“Go on, your boyfriend’s waiting for you in the lounge. Besides, I have to somehow convince Marie to actually talk to Bobby if she wants him to actually know she exists.” she rolled her eyes, and you snorted.

“Can’t imagine that’ll be an easy conversation. And Logan’s not my boyfriend, we still only met three days ago.”

“And yet you were dancing and holding each other like you’ve been married for decades. Yeah, totally not your boyfriend.” she wiggled her brows and you pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling. Throwing your arm around her shoulders, the two of you fell into step easily, instinctively, leaving the kitchen and heading into the lounge.

The TV had been turned down low, the glow changing every few moments as whatever show Logan and Marie were watching progressed. You don’t think you’d ever seen him so relaxed, his arm stretched across the back of the sofa, legs crossed at the ankle, his feet propped up on the coffee table.

Before you’d even said anything, he turned to the door, smiling instantly as he looked between you and Kitty. Or rather, as soon as he looked at you. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I’m here to return your girlfriend in exchange for my friend,” Kitty smirked as she ducked out from under your arm. You huffed in faux irritation, though paused when Logan didn’t correct her. He hadn’t looked away from you, his smile hadn’t faded or shifted in any way. “C’mon Marie, we need to debrief.”

The girl nodded as she rose from the sofa, casting a glance at Logan and grinning wildly as she noticed the same as the rest of the room. Linking their arms together, the to girls left, chattering away and you could distinctly hear Kitty gloating about how she knew from the start.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You grinned, using his own words against him.

Logan blinked back to reality. In all honesty, he was completely caught up in the memory of the two of you in the kitchen, arms encased around each other, basking in the intimacy. It was only when you spoke did he remember you were right in front of him again. He raised his arm, a silent request for you to join him, and one you read instantly, hopping over the back of the sofa and onto the plush cushions.

“How’d it go?” he asked, draping his arm around your shoulders to hold you tightly against his side as if he’d been doing it forever. It felt so natural, so routine, it was hard to remember the two of you hadn’t been doing this forever. He felt at peace again the moment you settled, next to him.

“Yeah, well. We talked everything out, cried, ya know, the usual.” You breathed a peaceful sigh. After the events of the day, you genuinely didn’t think it would end this well. Sorting everything out with Kitty, you and Logan acknowledging whatever the fuck was between you, and now settling for what looked to be a cosy evening? You couldn’t be happier.

“You’re starin’, bub.” You shook your head slightly, breaking yourself from your reverie. Had you really been staring?

“You’re nice to stare at.” Logan snorted at your shit-eating grin, pushing your face to look elsewhere. You laughed beneath his palm, instantly bouncing back to his side profile. Fuck he was gorgeous. Utterly and undeniably beautiful. But you only spared yourself a fleeting glance, scooting down the sofa slightly to settle into the crook of his arm.

His hand mindlessly travelled to your waist, drawing small circles with his thumb. Though you were both looking at the TV, you had a feeling he was watching it just as much as you were, which was absolutely none. Sure your eyes followed the movements of the characters, watching as they engaged in some cockamamy scheme to kidnap some children from an orphanage, but you weren’t actually watching. Not when you felt so comfortable your lids started to grow heavy, your breathing slowing a fraction.

“So. Shots Shack. Wanna tell me ‘bout that?”

Nevermind. Sleep couldn’t be further from your mind as you shot bolt upright from his side, your mouth wide in shock, staring wildly at his smug face.

“Wh– How did y– Did Kitty tell you? Motherfucker! Oh, she is so fucking dead the next time I see her!” you seethed, looking out the door as if she were waiting behind it and giggling to herself.

“Kitty didn’t tell me.” You could fucking hear how smug he was, and you were torn between smacking him in the chest or smothering his lips with your own.

“Wait, then how did you–?” Logan cut you off, pointing at his ear.

“I’ve got real good hearing, didn’t ya know?” You narrowed his eyes at his faux condescending tone, now leaning much more toward smacking him in the chest. “Part of the mutation, darlin’. Got good sense of smell too, and eyesight. Just senses in general. So I heard all about your sexcapades in that bin shed. Makes a man wonder wh–” It was your turn to cut him off, smacking your palm over his mouth.

“It was one time and I was a drunk eighteen–year–old. I don’t make a habit of taking people behind the bins to fuck ‘em, so we can never talk about this again, yeah? Yeah.” you answered for him, not even giving him time to nod or shake his head from beneath your hand, his eyes alight with sheer and pure amusement. Honestly, it was almost worth living through the mortification just to see that alone.

You kept your palm solidly in place until Logan rolled his eyes and held his hands up in surrender. Keeping it against him for another few seconds just for safety, you finally removed it, squinting at him with no small degree of suspicion.

“I’m done,” was all he said, though you didn’t need super senses to smell the mischief on him. This man might genuinely be the death of you and only now were you realising it too late. You slowly settled back against him, your head resting against his chest as the volume on the TV was raised slightly, Logan setting the remote back down on the arm of the sofa. “Although, I am curious–”

“Nope. Goodnight Logan.” you went to stand, only making it a few inches on the sofa before strong, sinewy arms wrapped around your middle, tugging you back against a wall of muscle so hard you were almost winded. Christ, it was like hitting cobblestones.

“No ya don’t, sorry sweetheart, you don’t get outta this that easy,” you attempted to wriggle free, finding yourself woefully basked in light, the only shadows to be found pitched in the corners of the room or behind bookcases. With every struggle, Logan’s grip tightened until you had to stop, unable to breathe both from laughter and from a simple lack of oxygen.

“Okay, okay I concede!” You panted, sagging against his chest as his arms loosened to the point where you could shuffle down further, lying across his lap, your face a picture of unadulterated joy as you caught your breath, one hand braced against your stomach.

“You gonna talk now?” he asked with a raised brow, his smile never faltering. You closed your eyes, grimacing slightly as you tried to remember. Was his name Jordan? Or was it Josh? Joe…?

“Look, in all honesty, I don’t remember much of the night. We had a super relaxed drinking behind-the-bar policy, and it wasn’t uncommon for all of us to be tipsy bordering wasted most shifts. This guy just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” you explained as flatly and as matter-of-fact as you could without wanting to crawl into a ball and die. “I mean, he’d put in the work, was flirting with me all night and I’d just thrown back two strawberry daiquiris and a cherry picker at the end of my shift so what’s a girl to do?”

“Fuck someone in the bin shed, obviously.”

“Right? Worked in that shithole for three years of my life. It was totally a front for a drug cartel. There’s no way that place is open now, it was so fucking dodgy.” you sighed fondly, remembering those long nights dragging into the early hours of the morning, belting some shitty seventies song at the top of your lungs after the doors closed, mopping like your life depended on it to the beat of Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. You swore you could still nail that solo on Guitar Hero.

“Sounds like average hospitality to me,” Logan shrugged, and you gaped at him in mock offence.

“They might have all been super scary drug dealers, but they were super scary drugged dealers that had my back on more than one occasion. Sorta treated us all like one huge family. It was… nice.” you were only realising now how much you missed your old life. How much you missed living with your brother and hanging out with the rest of Nine Lives Minus One, or Nilmo for short. You wished you hadn’t deleted his number. Wished that somehow you could reach out to him, or any of your old friends. None of them had texted you back, so you assumed they were all still mad at you for an argument you didn’t even fucking remember.

Clearly, they all did.

What was that argument about anyway…?

“You look exhausted.” Logan’s brows pinched slightly in concern. He’d noticed it earlier, the area beneath your eyes had darkened slightly, and your skin looked a little paler than it did a few days ago when you’d walked through those doors. And the way you smiled tiredly at him now confirmed everything he was thinking.

“I’m a shadow-walker, Lo’. I’m not supposed to look like sunshine.” You leaned into his touch as his fingers tucked a strand of your hair from your face, and he listened to the way you almost fucking purred when he ran his fingers through the roots of your hair, repeating the movement a few times. This is what he couldn’t wait for. To learn each and every one of your little quirks like this. The way your lids fluttered slightly even though your eyes were cold. The way your jaw clenched and unclenched as if you had to manually remind it to relax every few moments. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when he stopped and smoothed again when he continued.

Everything you did fascinated him. Captivated him. Even the things you didn’t know you were doing. Logan brushed your hair from around your neck, a gesture that was supposed to be calming and soothing.

At least, it was for you.

What he saw stopped his heart, his hand faltering. A scar decorated your pulse point, no more than half an inch wide and barely a millimetre thick, but it was deep enough to leave its mark on you. His thumb traced the mark delicately, and you suddenly jerked away, eyes opening slowly to peer up at him.

“You have a scar here…” he murmured, his hand returning to your hair. He wasn’t expecting you to have jumped like that, to almost flinch as if he’d stabbed you himself.

“That I do. Perceptive guy,” you smiled, closing your eyes again, seemingly unbothered by the situation. It put him at ease, at least. You didn’t seem to care.

“Where’s it from?” he asked.

“Used to get into a lot of fights as a kid. I have a few of ‘em in the most random places, which now doesn’t make any sense since my body breaks down and reforms every time I shadow-walk but eh, I’m not too bothered by them,” you did the equivalent of the world’s smallest shrug, and Logan dropped the topic. Until they understood more about your mutation, there wasn’t much he could ask that you could have a solid answer to.

Turning his attention back to whatever trashy TV show had been in the background, the two of you sat like this until the credits rolled and a new episode started anew, continuing on the trashy story from the trashy previous episode. It wasn’t until he noticed your breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm and you were no longer twitching did he swich it off. You really were exhausted, and Logan was a little terrified to move you in case you woke up. That and, if he was being truthful, a large part of him didn’t want to move. But he knew you’d wake up sore in the morning if you slept like this, so he steeled himself to gently manoeuvre you off his lap, supporting your upper body as he stood.

“C’mon sweetheart, time for bed,” Logan whispered, stooping to lift you into his arms as smoothly as he could. You frowned in your sleep, tensing your jaw, but made no further movement as he steadied himself. Stepping around the sofa, Logan sincerely hoped everyone else had gone to bed. This would be incredibly tricky to explain in a way that wasn’t either extremely concerning or extremely obvious.

He hadn’t managed to check his watch before he picked you up, so all he could do was hope and pray he didn’t come across anyone. And whatever gods had been watching had also heard loud and clear, the journey from the living room up to your bedroom on the third floor being as quiet as he’d ever heard the mansion.

Shouldering the door open, Logan propped it open with his foot as he shuffled inside, instinctively cradling the back of your head as he passed through the doorframe. He took a breath, pleasantly surprised as all he could smell was you. The last time he was in this room, you’d barely been back an hour, not nearly long enough to leave your scent anywhere. But now, now being in your room was a whole different experience. He was surrounded by you. Consumed by you. It made him want to build up the pillows on your bed and never leave, huddle you against him for all eternity. Hold you safe and never let you go.

However, since he’d only just kissed you today, he’d manage to hold out on the protective behaviour for now. And he sincerely hoped that would last since he was certain your training was going to be anything but safe for you. At least he would be there, by your side. He would be there to drag you back if anything went wrong. But nothing would go wrong. He wouldn’t let it.

Setting you down on one side of your bed, Logan pulled back the covers on the other side. Fuck it was getting so much harder to resist climbing in alongside you, but he grit his teeth against his instincts. One step at a time he promised himself.

You weren’t in any kind of sleepwear, but he didn’t think you were the kind of girl who cared too much what she slept in, as long as it was comfy and not jeans. He smiled as he imagined you saying just that, though knowing your foul mouth, you’d probably slip a ‘fucking’ or ‘shit’ in there somewhere. And you’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved T-shirt which seemed comfy enough.

Logan tucked you in, staying for so much longer than he needed to, before finally admitting to himself that adjusting your bedside clock for the fourth wasn’t necessary and he was just stalling. He didn’t want to leave. Shit, every fibre of his being was screaming against leaving. But he had to. Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss against your brow before touching his forehead against your own, simply feeling you.

“Sleep well, firefly.” The nickname came to him in the moment, and he couldn’t help but think just how well it suited you. A blinking light in the darkness. You were a beacon of hope for him, and he hoped that one day, you could see yourself in the same light he saw you.

Maybe one day.

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett #x men logan #x men wolverine #x men x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan smut #wolverine smut #the wolverine x reader #essa's works

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bluemerakis · 9 months

Text

┌── ˚*❀*̥˚ ─── ˚*̥❀*˚ ──┐

✐ᝰ bluemerakis

┗━━• ❃ ° •° ❀ °• ° ❃ •━━┛

❝ I’m the guy mothers warn you about, the son they’re afraid to have ❞

⇀ Word count: 15k words (sorry ☠️)

!! 18+ ONLY !!

Guess who finally mustered up the courage to write a Coriolanus Snow fic, and holy shit, this might just be the longest once-off I’ve ever written.

My dear @quicksilversg1rl , this fic goes out to you 100x over. I hope this makes up for the fact that I couldn’t put Tom under your tree ☹️ I hope that it’s enough that I put him in your dreams instead <3

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WARNINGS:

dom!coriolanus, some out-of-pocket makes-you-go “wtaf💀” Coriolanus moments, smut, swearing, possessiveness, manipulation, toxic relationship, choking, pet names, degradation, edging, lots of italics and dashes (sorry I was feeling myself (not literally you sicko) ), masturbation, unprotected sex, cockwarming, dryhumping/wethumping(?), fingering/fisting, oral sex f receiving, the therapy you’ll need after reading these warnings

‼️DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THE ABOVE-MENTIONED WARNINGS‼️

SYNOPSIS:

Coriolanus had always known you held potential to win the games, from the day he’d laid his eyes on you at the 10th annual reaping. You were the key he’d been missing all these years, and how he saw almost every opportunity unlocked by your presence at that year’s hunger games.

The secret of how he’d risen into power? The answer was much simpler than anyone had expected. You. Sure, Coriolanus had done his fair share of treason and murder to contribute to his status, but it was your victory that had granted him access to the Plinth fortune and made his ambitions possible. He wasn’t a man that liked to share credit, but he thought your performance in the games a worthy enough candidate.

To show you just how thankful he was, he’d invited you to live with him after the games, for however long you pleased, and he’d made it his mission to show you all the pleasures the Capitol and his lifestyle had to offer. He liked having you near him at all times, and he liked it even better when he was inside of you.

What he didn’t like, though? When you flirted with other men, especially when it served to get a rise out of him.

Coriolanus Snow doesn’t like sharing, and he doesn’t tolerate disobedience, either. You’d learn that lesson the hard way.

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Coriolanus was a man bred for purpose, like his father before him, and it was a purpose he often reminded you of—a means to keep your neediness at bay, to tame your urge to be at his side every waking hour of the day, a ploy to remind you just how little value you posed to him outside of a night of fleeting pleasure. He marvelled in the opportunity to make you feel insignificant, a false promise too-quickly forsaken the moment your existence captured another man’s desire—a man that wasn’t him.

In the midst of a party he’d rather not have attended, he watched you from a quiet corner of the venue hall, conversing away with a man he hadn’t had the displeasure of meeting just yet. He didn’t know whether you were honestly that painfully oblivious to the desires of the man before you, who clearly wanted nothing more than a taste of one of the renowned hunger games victors, or whether you had deliberately struck up a conversation to get a rise out of Coriolanus.

But when his eyes narrowed on your hand that reached to move a strand of your hair back to the security behind your ear, he knew then exactly which particular game you were playing.

You always did that when you felt subconscious—when you knew you were being watched. It was a tell that Coriolanus had come to identify the more time he’d spent observing you. He’d needed to—it was necessary in order to know the truths you would not tell him. Not out loud, at least. But now, he was pretty fluent in your body language, in more than one way.

He watched you tilt your head to the side in the slightest manner, an act that often sent all the conservativeness of men toppling over the edge. Your lip suctioned into a concentrated bite as you offered small, attentive nods—you were getting him to think you’re interested in what he has to say, pretending not to notice the way his eyes traced your lips and occasionally flickered across your peeping breasts.

The sight stirred an anger in Coriolanus, his fingers tightening around the glass of wine clutched in one hand. He lifted the wine to his lips, taking a sip as though it would somehow quench the imminent fire that threatened to take control of all reasonability. He couldn’t let you get a rise out of him, not in public where he had an image to uphold. Goddamn you and your games, he hated being the one to play it. That had been the fate of you and the districts, not him—Capitol-born and rich beyond imagination. Was this his retribution to pay? Sentenced to your little games after all he’d brought upon you?

You moved a hand to caress the man’s shoulder, offering a sweet giggle. And then there it was, the slightest glance in his direction, fleeting but an obvious beckon for attention. Coriolanus clenched his jaw as you purposefully turned your back on him, his eyes boring into your exposed shoulder blades, framed by a dress that paraded all the right aspects of your body—a dress he’d picked out for you. He hadn’t gone through all that effort to make you look so ravishing, only for another man to enjoy it. It had been for him, a reminder of what his prize would be after enduring this insufferable party.

He’d planned to rip it from you, as mercilessly as he could offer, to toss it onto the floor and you onto the bed, naked and accessible to whatever he desired. However, you seemed hellbent on denying him a good night. He watched you reach for the man’s hand, your motion suggestive as you tugged on him and began to lead him away from the mayhem.

Coriolanus knew exactly where you were taking him.

He watched you weave your way through the dancing bodies, the music falling into the background as he trailed your every move—the way the man blatantly admired the curve of your ass. What an unacceptable circumstance, to think his favourite toy was not his own limited edition—one only he could afford to play with. After all, why had he endured the battlefield of this unfair life to claim a reward that promised power and money and control, only to feel so helpless in his infatuation over you. He hated what primal need controlled him, rendered him incapable of letting you go.

What had it all been for? The poison, the betrayal, the heinous crimes he’d committed—all to prove that he bore no seal of humanity, felt no obligation to love, until you came along, making him look the fool each time you batted a devious lash or wrung those perfect lips around suggestive words. Each time you spoke was like fragments of an enchantment, slowly being made whole and taking its magical toll on his entire being, beginning to claim everything he was—making him obsess, making him weak.

The day he’d gotten you as his tribute, you’d had been nothing more than a mission—a means to secure a prize that would set him for life. But there had been something about you, something that had drawn him in like a sudden whirlpool, now he couldn’t escape the obsession you’d cursed him with. He’d never before felt the burden of caring about another person’s life, needing to know what they were up to at all times.

Coriolanus recalled seeing you for the first time, the day of the reaping, after the tributes had been transported to the Capitol. He remembered seeing you thrown into the zoo display—the way you had instantly found your feet and ran a hand through your hair, made unruly by a rough and sleepless night. Your brows were knitted closely together with unmistakable anger, a look that promised vengeance to the Capitol despite the silence on your lips. Your dress had been made ragged to match your hair, evidence that the bats had showed no mercy toward your pretty privilege. Maybe it had been your looks that had drawn them in, after all.

He’d been ready to deem you a lost cause, disappointed that once again, he’d been stuck with rigged odds. He had been convinced that somewhere beneath that shredded fabric on your skin, you bore the kiss of rabies, doomed to die like countless before you. But he’d seen a few of the other tributes, bearing the same tells of their struggle with the bats in their shredded clothes and tired eyes. One of those amongst the suffering had been your fellow district twelve tribute, Morgan Lark, and he had possessed the worst wounds out of all the affected.

It’d been less than a few hours until the wounded tributes started retching up fountains of white, their eyes glassy and their movements frantically lost on them. Yet there you had sat, watching with perfect control and composure as they had dwindled into mere husks of the people they used to be.

Coriolanus knew then that you had been different—stronger, a tribute that might just prove the risk to be worth it. He’d insisted on investigating the cart you’d been transported in, eager to know the truth behind your journey. Had you truly been strong enough to evade the consequences of the bats? The mystery of it all was pressing enough to consume his every thought. He needed to know. His future depended on it, depended on you.

That evening, after much persistence and a bribe that he honestly couldn’t have afforded, he’d gained access to your cart. There wasn’t much to look at, given that it was nothing more than an empty container, without even the courtesy of a blanket. The scene was almost hauntingly familiar, personal. Nonetheless, he’d paced the walls, eyes searching every aspect of the metal, every dent and hole in the floor. He’d found nothing other than a few rusty nails—nothing interesting, that is until he’d picked one of them up and inspected it closer to find its apex crusted with blood.

A few of the nails were identical in their blood-coating, not a coincidence. Coriolanus gathered them up into his father’s handkerchief, almost regretting the decision as the rust stained the symbolic, white fabric. He placed them cautiously into his blazer pocket, scanning the cart one last time before making his departure. He made a beeline to the morgue, where the bodies of the five infected tributes had been placed shortly after their passing. He needed to see Morgan Lark’s body, to know what secret you could have hidden in his death.

Once he’d gained access to the corpse, he’d pulled back the white covering. A strong waft of formaldehyde greeted his senses and burned his eyes teary. He had been surprised that the body was being preserved, though he didn’t doubt that Dr. Gual had plans to somehow extract and weaponise the rabies in the next games. The chemicals had instantly become so overwhelming that he had to pull his handkerchief from his pocket, empty the rusted nails onto the tray and cover his mouth and nose with the fabric to keep his nausea at bay.

Coriolanus studied the corpse, struggling to contain his pressing disgust as he laid his eyes on the shredded flesh. The bats had gone to town on Morgan, leaving little sections of skin intact. He’d mustered up the courage to get close enough to inspect the wounds, noting that the scratches embedded along his body were not all the work of the bats. No, some of them had been too deep of a wound for a bat’s claws to commit. He had a very good idea of the origins of those wounds, his eyes flickering to the rusted nails on the tray.

He knew then that it was not strength or immunity that had protected you from the touch of death, but your keen mind and craftiness with sharp objects. Coriolanus had pieced together a rough picture of what had happened: you’d managed to get close enough to cut Morgan with the nails, ensuring wounds that were deep enough to bleed profusely, which attracted and encouraged the bats to attack him. You hadn’t been so lucky to go completely unnoticed by the bats, hence the disheveled dress, but you had sure as hell been lucky enough to have been spared from their bite.

What a clever girl you were, perhaps too much for your own good.

Coriolanus had to admit that he’d been impressed by your cruelty—your drive to survive. It gave you an edge, a promising reason to win. He liked those odds, you were becoming a plausible risk to him. Just what would you have been willing to do to a tribute you’ve yet to meet, if you’d so easily betrayed a fellow district partner?

As he’d left the morgue that evening, he couldn’t deny the smirk that had wound his lips the entire trip back. He knew then that, for the first time in all his years as a mentor, this might be the year that he’d finally claim the Plinth prize.

What a worthwhile pick you had been. He liked good investments, and you had proven to be the best one yet. You’d taken that entire game, playing it smart, staying lost in the shadows and gathering what scraps you could make into a worthwhile means of defence. You weren’t the strongest or the most skilled fighter by any means, but you were smart, and that was a quality lost on many of the tributes. They all marched around, boasting their strength as some sort of show of dominance. They thought it made them ferocious, earned them another hour of life, but Coriolanus knew that it only drew attention, that they were stupid in bringing about a speedier death. You had known that, too.

Coriolanus slipped out of his mind, watching as you’d stopped by one of the tables to grab a snack, making a point to be sloppy so that the strange man would feel honour in being able to wipe your lips clean, spurring on his ego and his erection. You had pulled that trick on Coriolanus many times. He hated seeing you provide that same sort of attention to anyone else.

His attention was diverted to a pair of Capitol business men, who had approached him and were attempting to bombard him with pitches he couldn’t have been more arsed to consider, not when he had something more pressing on his mind—not when you had deliberately stolen his attention away.

How incredibly selfish that you should demand his time even when you were not at his side, or laying below him with your legs spread open and cunt practically begging for his generosity. He didn’t tolerate time-wasters of any regard, so he’d ensure that you made up for it.

He lifted a dismissive hand toward the face of one of the men, who fell silent with a look of indignation, but even he wasn’t fool enough to unleash his temper unto the heir of the Plinth fortune. Had Coriolanus known that murdering his best friend would have come with so many perks, he’d have made a point to bring about that particular death benefit much sooner.

He lifted the glass to his lips, draining the rich wine that had been marinating the depths of the glass for far too long. He beckoned over one of the runners, placing his empty glass onto the tray before turning his attention back to the business men.

He offered an insincere dip of his chin. “My apologies, but I’ve more pressing matters to tend to. Please, do enjoy the beverages,” he slipped between their dumbfounded bodies, before adding, “and the women, if it’d please you.”

Coriolanus manoeuvred his way through the crowd, his eyes not once leaving you, even if he had to watch you relentlessly flirt with the other man. Not only were you good with your hands, but you unintentionally weaponised your beauty, too. He had always thought you to possess an innocence that seemed to frame your features, a natural gift that kept eyes focused on the contours of your face rather than on the schemes of your hands. That had always been your advantage—in the games and in your everyday interactions.

It made him angry that you’d remade his mind in this way. No matter how much Coriolanus tried to remind himself of the purpose he’d been bred for, all that he’d done to get to where he was now, all the people he’d carelessly murdered—there was no denying the truth:

No matter what higher, callous deity he claimed to be, he was only just a man, carved from anger and burdened with otherworldly jealously. All because of you.

Just as Coriolanus had managed to push past the last of the dancing bodies that had been blocking his path, he spotted you leaving through the doors, dragging your new pet behind you. His footsteps were brisk as he made for that same doorway, his fists balling at his sides as he stifled the urge to redirect his anger unto the unsuspecting door man. No, he’d best save that anger for you, transform it into something that would make you suffer, as he’d been forced to endure this evening.

He slipped through the doors, instantly greeted by a much quieter atmosphere, the laughter and music of the event muffled behind the now closed doors. Across the room, he saw you slip into the elevator, glimpsing just a hint of a smirk on your perfect lips as the doors slid closed and engulfed his view of you.

Annoyance pricked at his chest, he’d have to wait for the elevator to come back down. That was too much time gifted to you, time that could easily be used to bring you one step closer to coming undressed for that man. He’d never found himself wishing for a stairwell more than he did right now, but Capitol architecture stupidly insisted that stairs were a concept made only for the districts.

Coriolanus trudged his way over to the elevator, running an impatient hand through his hair as he watched the countdown of the various different floors commence on the monitor. His residence was the topmost floor, an expensive suite that the Plinths had gifted him on his day of recognition. He’d been kind enough to allow you to stay in one of his rooms, to have you in his proximity at all times where you’d more than once enjoyed the free luxury of his lifestyle, and this is how you’d repaid him—by bringing other men into his sacred space.

He couldn’t help but imagine what you were up to at this instant. The thought of you trapped beneath the man on one of the sofas overlooking the city made him bite the inside of his cheek—those were the sofas he’d so often pinned you to, forcing you to admire the view as he admired you, demonstrating his praise for your beauty through the actions of his fingers in your cunt.

When Coriolanus had first met you, he had thought you hated drawing attention, especially when it warranted a much speedier death in the games. You’d always been so reserved, so hellbent on silence as you kept a calculating eyes on anybody who wasn’t you. He’d like that quiet air about you, it was a call for guidance, a plea for somebody to claim your trust—he knew he could have given that to you.

But now, Coriolanus could have laughed at that thought.

You, hating attention? What an odd facade he’d so easily been fooled by—but he’d grown smarter since your first encounter. He knew the real truth now. What a glorious night that had been, the first time he’d taken you to bed. He could still smell the desperation that had trailed from your cunt as his nose burrowed into your swollen and beckoning clit—the way his hands had squeezed the skin of your inner thighs a faint blue in his attempt to trap them against the bed. They’d been so eager to wrap around his neck, to make him prisoner within your euphoria. He’d shown his disapproval by wedging your thighs further apart, an action that earned a shocked moan from you, coupled with a gasp at the growing aggression of his tongue inside of you.

How he enjoyed being the puppeteer of your body, pulling your limbs every which way until you’d been contorted and opened up for him to exploit. You often needed reminding that you were sentenced to his will, made prisoner to his desires.

He could still feel the faint traces of your arousal that had painted pictures across the sharp lines of his jaw, mercilessly freed by the way his tongue had ravished your folds and plucked from you what little dignity and silence you had managed to fashion up until that very moment. No matter how much you’d pretend to feel indifferent to his attention, your body had always betrayed you—it was unashamedly and passionately thankful to his ministrations.

Your pathetic moans still echoed on a loop in the dark corners of his mind—an ear worm he couldn’t discard of, though he couldn’t honestly admit that he’d want anything of the sort. It spurred him on, serving as a constant reminder of his pretty possession, and just how much you needed him—his touch, his validation, his attention. He was the poison-kissed oxygen that you couldn’t help but inhale, fooling yourself that it would somehow replenish the air in your lungs and give you the freedom of living, existing, all the while your every bodily cell came closer and closer to becoming his. It didn’t take much for him to claim all that you were and all that you could be, only the right words and that glorious goddamn night in bed.

He’d completely remade you in his image, branded you with his bedroom generosity, always leaving you with just enough to satisfy, but never enough to last for more than a few hours. You always came back begging for more.

What an attention whore.

At last, the elevator dinged its arrival, the doors opening to welcome Coriolanus inside. He slipped in almost instantly, moving to press the button of the top floor. When the doors finally closed, he became trapped in the air lingering inside, noticing a trace of your sweet perfume. He’d come to admire that scent, thought of it as a way to identify every place you’d been in. But your sweet scent had fused with the musky odour of that strange man, an unpleasant smell that suffocated your own in mere seconds. He could only imagine that same odour plastering itself to your neck and all across your clothes as the man forced himself onto you, enjoying what didn’t belong to him.

After a few minutes, the elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal two intertwined bodies at the other end of the lobby. You were pinned against the doors to Coriolanus’ suite, the man’s hands wandering beneath your dress and up your magnificent thighs, shrivelled lips sloppily searching the skin of your neck. Your head was tossed back against the wood, eyes sown shut as you let slip the sweetest of moans, a sound that Coriolanus had claimed as his own.

He barged through the elevator doors, the sound of his angered footsteps earning your attention. You lowered your head to him, watching with a playful smile at what was about to unfold. He ignored it, the satisfaction in that grin, the sense of achievement at your ability to control him, have him trailing after you like a dog on a leash. He’d let you have this moment, to savour its short-lived existence because once he was through with this man, he’d show you just how much trouble you’d caused him.

Coriolanus grabbed the oblivious man at the collar of his shirt, too far gone to think with his brain rather than his cock to notice he’d appeared, and plucked him from you. He shoved the man away, who stumbled backwards with his footsteps serving as clear evidence of mild intoxication. The toad began protesting, before his eyes finally found Coriolanus and his lips clamped shut on a look of realisation.

“You come into my house, drink my wine, enjoy my woman, all without a trace of shame?” Coriolanus snapped, his voice gruff with built-up anger.

The man fashioned an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean any offence, Mr. Snow, I swear by it!” His hands made frantic gestures, eager to exonerate himself. “It was her that came onto me, she invited me back here, suggested we get to know each other better—“

Coriolanus lifted his chin, his glare cold as he stared down his nose at the man. “Are you implying that it’s her fault?” It most certainly was, but if Coriolanus had to endure all that had just happened, he intended to have some fun with it.

The man stilled with a look of uncertainty that passed between you and Coriolanus, his hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

“Are you even a man at all, if you’re so easily influenced by a girl that bats her lashes at you and caresses your arm one time?” He had to ignore the irony in that statement; he could’ve almost been talking into a mirror. “You’re pathetic, blaming your lack of control and better judgement on her,” he said, eyes hardening as he took a step forward, the man simultaneously retreating a step with a gulp.

“Go find whatever excuse of a manhood you claim to have in somebody else’s cunt, and don’t let me catch you back in this building. It wont be words that warn you off next time.” His hands clenched into fists at his side, itching to grab the fleeing man and grace him with a well-earned punch—but he wouldn’t gift you that satisfaction, too.

When the elevator doors closed on the stranger, Coriolanus turned to face you. You were picking at your nails busily, as though the entire interaction had bored you beyond interest.

“What were you thinking?” He snapped at you, inching closer to glare you down.

You glanced up from your hands, offering a mere shrug as you crossed your arms and glanced up at him cheekily. “I wasn’t thinking at all, really,” you admitted. “Just wanted to feel some good things.”

Bitterness found its way onto Coriolanus’ tongue. “Do I not make you feel good enough?” He scolded coolly, his eyes searching yours angrily. “Would you rather I call that prick back and have him stick his two expired inches inside you?”

A hint of hurt seemed to widen your eyes, your expression shaped with confusion. “Didn’t think you cared what I got up to,” you muttered, glancing off to the side.

Coriolanus knew that to be complete bullshit, a feeble play at attempting to settle your own insecurities. He knew what you wanted to hear from him—that you mattered to him, that he wanted you to himself, that the mere thought of another man touching you would send him into inexplicable rage. To an extent, those were all true, but not in the way you'd wanted them to be, not in a way he was capable of giving.

He restrained the anger he felt towards you, knowing that he needed to take a gentler approach. You weren't in a state fit to endure his anger, not now. He needed to coddle you, to keep your emotions intact, otherwise he risked losing you. He couldn't have that.

“I care,” he said at last, moving a hand to grip at your chin. He’d forgotten how soft your skin was, it’d been weeks since he’d been permitted to touch you, business keeping him away from your warmth. He moved your face to his, searching between your eyes and your lips. “And you know that I care, too, or you wouldn’t have put on this little display.”

“You don’t care—not really, Coriolanus,” you snapped, your hand plucking his from your chin. “You constantly remind me that I’m nothing more than pleasure to you, an object you love to parade around, so as long as it’s your name engraved on me.”

Correct, he thought, his hand returning to his side. He gazed at you, the cogs of his mind reeling busily as he cautiously selected his next words. He couldn’t be angry with you, not now when you were so fragilely being kept together by emotion. It mattered what he said to you, even if the words weren’t honest. He knew that you needed reassurance, something akin to love to cling to, to keep you satisfied beside him. The condition that came with having a toy he loved to play with, was having to look after it, to ensure it didn’t break or wear with time.

That was exactly what he had to do with you, so he fed you whatever conniving words he could to keep you indulged in whatever illusion you’d had about your relationship with Coriolanus. A necessary evil to preserve his hold over you. He was selfish that way, but you were far too entertaining to let slip, and he did rather enjoy you—your company and your body.

Truthfully, you did have some sort of hold over him, and he’d let just enough of that truth show to control you, to convince you of his love for you.

“In all my years of existing, I've never once felt compelled to share my life with somebody else," Coriolanus told you softly. He moved his hand to return that same rogue strand of hair back behind your ear. "Not until you. I can't explain it, the way the mere thought of you with another man sends me into an unparalleled rage—to think that he could give you something I couldn't. The thought of somebody touching you the way I touch you. . . It's unbearable, unacceptable." He placed his hands on either one of your cheeks, lifting your head to face him. His words had too easily buttered you up, moulded your face with a look of infatuation. “If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t have followed you all the way up here. I’d have let you fuck whoever you want, whenever you want, however you want. But the fact is, I care—a lot.”

You still harboured a certain look of uncertainty in your eyes, those damned eyes that made him go feral. He could tell that you wanted to believe him, but you had reservations that he hadn’t yet satisfied with his words. He needed to say more, do more.

“Do you see me chasing after any other girl the way I chase after you?” He pressed on, grabbing your face a little more ferociously, just to sell the point. “You’ve consumed me, reduced any ounce of respect I’ve once had for myself to nothingness. I could’ve had you pawned off the Capitol after the games, to do whatever bidding they demanded of you, but I chose to keep you by my side, to spoil you with everything you deserve for winning the games. Tell me one person who’d be willing to do the same for a district nobody that they held no care for?”

Your eyes had grown teary at his words, your bottom lip quivering beyond your control. You had meant to look tougher, Coriolanus could tell, unmoved by his words, but you were only just a naive girl burdened with the need to be loved. So you believed it, every poisonous word dripping from his lips—lapped it up hungrily like a douse of honey, in fact. Perfect. He was gaining back your trust.

You caved into Coriolanus, his hands falling from your face to wrap around your body and keep you against him. His one hand curled around the nape of your neck while the other wrapped around the small of your back, so perfectly shaped to accommodate his arm. How could he be convinced that you were not made just for him, when every aspect of your body seemed to be carved just for his touch? The hand on your head began to move with rhythmic strokes across your hair, his lips moving to place a kiss on the crown of your head. He rested his chin where he’d placed his kiss, as though sealing in the sensation, before he spoke up.

“You were incredibly selfish tonight,” he murmured. You pulled back subtly to glance up at him with slightly furrowed brows, and he lifted his chin from your head to gaze back at you impassively. “You put me through hell, making me watch as you flirted with that man, touched on him all over as you promised him sex. Do you think that was fun for me?”

Your eyes glinted with a hint of guilt, your lips parting with a soft no.

“No,” Coriolanus agreed, his eyes undeniably annoyed as he glared at your guilt-ridden expression. His fingers ventured along your back, finding the zip to your dress, the only thing keeping your body prisoner in the fabric. He tugged at the zip, harshly at first, his need to punish you poking through his actions, but he had to refrain from that for the time-being. More slowly, he began to pull the zip down your body. “I think it only fitting that you should be punished for your little games, don’t you agree?” His eyes flickered back up to yours coolly, almost challenging you to disagree.

The fabric of your dress grew loose on your body, the straps beginning to slide along the slope of your shoulders. You glanced up at him in silence, not wanting to admit the words, but the neediness on your expression told him that you were all game for your punishment—not that it ever was something unpleasant. Coriolanus was always generous when it came to putting you in your place.

“Glad we’re on the same page, dove,” he said, the dress releasing your body at last. It pooled onto the floor around your heels, leaving you barren save for the bra suffocating your breasts. He glanced down at your lower half, faintly surprised to find that you’d neglected the courtesy of wearing any underwear. "Was this supposed to be an apology?" He asked, glancing back at you through a charming smirk.

A smile broke through onto your lips. "I thought it'd make undressing me quicker," you replied, lowering yourself to remove the heels from your feet. You were glad to be free of that hell. They made your calves look good, but they were torture on your feet.

"Well, aren't you considerate?" Coriolanus responded, then paused before adding. "So you knew how this night would end, with you and I nothing but a sexual amalgamation?”

"It was more of a hope,” you replied as you straightened yourself up.

Coriolanus' constraint gave in at your insinuations, his hand moving to caress your cheek, his eyes lowering to your perfect lips that he craved to taste in that very moment. You reached up to deliver the unspoken need onto his lips, but he kept you grounded with a hand around your collarbone. "You're not kissing me with those lips," he told you. “Not after that prick has wiped his saliva all over you.”

His hand left your body to reach into his blazer pockets. He pulled out a key, his hand snaking around your waist to slip the key into the door hole. His face was intentionally leaned close to yours, his eyes narrowed with a mixture of concentration as he struggled to unlock the door, and because he could smell the man’s cologne clinging desperately to your skin. He’d need to take care of that before the evening could proceed, it was a detrimental hinderance to his cock. At last, the doors gave in with a loud click, and he pulled the key from the lock.

He leaned back with a curt beckoning of his chin. "After you,” he said, placing the key back into his blazer, his eyes not once neglecting yours.

You gave him a long stare, almost daring to be disobedient before you clearly thought better of it. You bent over to collect your dress and your shoes before turning to push the doors open. Coriolanus dropped his attention to your ass, which practically begged for his approval as it bounced with your every step. He entered inside after you, closing the doors behind him.

You ventured a few steps into the well-furnished living room of the suite and tossed your clothing onto the nearest sofa, your eyes trained on the glass walls that offered a breath-taking view of Panem. You’d always marvel over the cityscape as if it was your first time seeing it, but in all honesty, it was the fact that the lights of Panem fashioned a different colour each night, and it always seemed to illuminate new buildings and views that you’d never noticed before.

Coriolanus watched you, your hand absentmindedly reaching to hold your elbow as you admired the view—one that you’d already seen countless times before, he thought. He wondered whether you were contemplating your circumstances in this instant, as if the reality of what you’d done had finally started to sink in, and what the consequences to follow would be. He could read you fairly well, but there were still moments that your thoughts were lost on him.

“Are you scared?” He asked, his voice echoing throughout the empty space.

You turned to face him, your hands falling to your side. The lighting was dim, but the amusement etched onto your features were clear. “Scared? I didn’t survive the games only to be scared of you, Coriolanus Snow. Besides, this is hardly our first rodeo. I can’t imagine there’s much more surprises you could spring on me.”

Coriolanus cocked his eyebrows, smiling at those words. He appreciated your effortless wit. Most of Panem’s ladies were annoyingly submissive in their conversation, saying only what they thought he wanted to hear, as though it’d make them more desirable to him. You didn’t need to be told what to say, you just said it, and he was glad for it. Control could be exhausting, especially when he strove to maintain it in almost every aspect of his life. It was refreshing to know that he didn’t have to control your personality, too.

“Good,” he said, inching closer until he could reach out a hand to grab your arm. He turned you around forcefully, cool fingers teasingly tracing the skin of your shoulder as he made his way down to the clasp of your bra. He undid the hook, freeing your breasts from the pretty white lace, before tossing it onto the sofa beside your other discarded items. He turned you back to him, his eyes instantly lowering to the hardened nipples crowning your soft breasts. “Somebody’s eager,” He jested, his voice a soft rumble as his eyes rose to meet yours. “Did you want something from me?”

“You know I always do, Coryo,” you responded, taking your lower lip into a subtle bite.

Coriolanus’s eyes hardened at that nickname. “Don’t call me that,” he demanded. That version of himself had died a long time ago.

Your eyebrows cocked at his tone, your lips momentarily pursed before you asked, “should I call you Mr. Snow instead?”

“Just Coriolanus,” he replied, rolling his shoulders to remove his crimson blazer. Your eyes were stalking his every move. He could tell that you wanted nothing more than to reach out to what little clothing remained on his body and tear it away mercilessly—that you wanted him to take you right here at this very instant. But he was faintly impressed at your patience as you decided against any reckless action, instead opting to wait for his next command.

He folded his blazer and draped it over his arm, his free hand beckoning for you to follow him to his bedroom. “Come on.”

Your eyes followed his footsteps, your disbelief keeping your feet glued to the ground. Coriolanus glanced over his shoulder when your footsteps didn’t commence behind him. Your reaction was justifiable. He’d never once once invited you into his room in all the months you’d lived with him. He knew that you were foolishly thinking that this moment marked an intimate milestone in your relationship, that this act was an attempt for him to show just how much you meant to him.

“Problem?” He asked.

You willed away the dumbfounded look on your face, offering a half-hearted no as you caught up to Coriolanus. As if the sentiment was fragile, you merely walked ahead of him in silence, afraid that one wrong word would revoke the invite.

He trailed behind you as you approached the door to his bedroom. You tossed a glance over your shoulder as you sought out confirmation in your actions. Coriolanus gave a small nod, an encouraging smirk poking through. You smiled back, turning your attention to opening the door. You slipped inside, your attention instantly flying to the furniture that occupied the space. It was modest, very limited to necessities.

The bed, needlessly big, was slightly undone, the comforters left untidy as though he’d just climbed out of bed and the covers half pulled from the pillows—a picture frozen in time. A plate and a mug was stacked onto the bedside table, the previous day’s clothes draped across the sofas near the windows. Your eyes were fixating every detail around the room, as though burning a mental picture into your mind as a souvenir for later.

Coriolanus moved to place his blazer beside his other clothes on the sofa. “Sorry for the mess,” he offered, moving to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. “As I’m sure you know, I don’t usually have the worry of entertaining guests.”

You turned to face him, your eyes lowering to his skilful fingers. “I like the mess,” you responded, making your way over to him. “It feels personal, seeing this side of you—allow me to.” You shooed his hands off the waistcoat, taking his place in undoing the buttons. You glanced up at him seductively, your eyes flickering down to his full lips.

He watched you undress him, slowly but surely, knowing that he could’ve done a much faster job. But he allowed you to take on the role, knowing that it made you feel important, that your body would show him just how thankful you were and how much these little details meant to you. Once you had unfastened the last button, you removed the waistcoat and admired his toned and broad physique, painfully concealed behind his white shirt.

Coriolanus glared at your wandering eyes, wondering whether you were trying to picture him naked. He’d never been fully undressed in all of their little rendezvous, it was something far too intimate for him. And there had only been a few occasions where he’d fucked you with his cock and not his fingers or his mouth. He’d found himself deriving the utmost pleasure when he got to solely focus on how you came undone for him, how powerful his every movement upon you really was.

When your hands moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, he grabbed at your wrist. “Not yet,” he told you. “You still reek of him.” You frowned at his words, your hands falling to your sides in disappointment. “Come with me,” he said, moving past you toward the bathroom. “We’re going to take a little bath.”

Your interest peaked at his words. “We’re going to bath together?” You asked curiously as you followed after him.

“You’re going to bath,” Coriolanus corrected as he reached the large alcove bathtub. He leaned over to turn on the tap. “I’m going to watch.” His hand trailed the many soaps and balms that lined the rim of the bathtub. He’d made it a mission to collect every scented product he could manage once he got his hand on the money, simply because he could, and he liked smelling good.

“Sounds perverted,” you shot at him, crossing your arms as you watched him draw your bath.

He grabbed ahold of a rose-scented oil and began pouring it into the water. “You didn’t agree to live with me because of my normalcy,” he said distractedly. “But because you knew just how much my so called perversion had to offer your pathetic, little, touch-starved body.”

He tossed a glance at you over his shoulder, satisfied by the red gleam that had snuck onto your cheeks. He turned his attention back to the tub, reaching for a bottle of bubble bath. He began adding it to the water, a few droplets reaching up to stain his shirt.

“In any case,” Coriolanus continued. “It’s the least you could do for me after tonight’s shit-show.” He placed the bottle back against the wall, closing the tap once the water had reached an appropriate level. He unbuttoned the cufflinks of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves, taking a few paces back. He jerked his head at you. “Go on,” he demanded.

You unfurled into a dramatic stretch, parading your breasts as you faced him. “Join me.”

He fixed you with an unwavering stare, not so keen to play into another one of your games. “Get in.”

With one last glare, you turned and dipped one leg into the bath, instantly pulling back with a hiss. Your head snapped to face him. “It’s too hot,” you protested.

Coriolanus moved to retrieve a chair from the corner of the bathroom, placing it a few inches from where you stood. He sat himself down, offering a mere shrug to your words. “Good observation.”

“I’m not going to burn myself bloody just so that you can get off,” you spat.

“Then let’s kill some time while we wait for the water to cool down,” he suggested, his eyes once again tracing over every inch of your exposed body with keen interest.

You looked open to his request. “What did you have in mind?”

Coriolanus’s eyes flickered back up to you. “Touch yourself,” he said earnestly. You paused at his words, suddenly looking self-conscious, before you hesitantly began to caress your breasts. He watched your fingers squeeze and grope at your skin, imagining that it were his own hands in their stead, only he’d be a lot less kind in his touch. Your fingers trailed teasing circles around your nipples, further hardened at your own toying and his intense observation.

“Lower,” he ordered, feeling frustrated at your lack of venturing into your lower extremities.

Your eyes glinted at him, a look that seemed to say greedy. Yes, he was. Who could blame him? He’d grown up starving for most days of the year, now he’d take as much as he wanted.

His eyes fixated the hand that lowered in a painfully slow motion across your stomach, reaching that sweet spot housed between your legs. As your fingers began to fondle with your clit, you threw your head back with a pitiful moan. He knew he could’ve extracted a louder sound. He almost felt obliged to take over, but he had to remind himself that you were undeserving of his touch, that you needed to be punished with the urge to feel him, yet be denied that pleasure.

A few minutes of your fondling had passed before your ministrations eventually became too overwhelming to maintain control over your body. You lowered yourself to the bathmat, your hand not once leaving your cunt. You spread your legs open, offering a broader view to Coriolanus. Your eyes were glazed over as you glanced at him. He tilted his head slightly in approval, feeling his own cock growing interested at his view of your pathetic situation.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he praised, noting the way your eyes lowered to his pants. He parted his legs slightly to take the pressure off of his growing erection, eager to hide his arousal. He didn’t want you to notice just yet how much he was truly enjoying this. Your movements eventually became more erratic, incoherent sounds spewing from your lips.

“I need you, Coriolanus,” you managed to blabber out, your tired head resting onto the rim of the bathtub, eyes periodically fluttering closed as you alternated between consciousness and whatever universe of pleasure was found behind your eyes. “Please,” you begged.

“You’ll have me soon,” he said, “when I see it fit.”

“I’ve been good for you,” you protested breathlessly. “I’ve done everything you told me to.”

“You have a lot to atone for,” Coriolanus pointed out, his eyes lowering to where your hand had slowed its movements. “Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

You glanced at him past your tired lids, but you obliged nonetheless, adding a finger inside of your cunt to increase the pressure. He supposed it was fair, if he had refused to place his own fingers inside of you. He couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto lips as he watched a stream of white begin to trail from your opening, recalling how good you tasted. It was a shame, really, that it would go to waste onto the bathroom mat instead of onto his appreciative tongue. From the sound of your pathetic mewling and your ragged breathing, Coriolanus knew that you were growing close to your high. He didn’t intend for the fun to end just yet.

“I want you to continue until you feel like you’re going to cum,” he told you, though he wasn’t sure you’d heard him past you own noise. “And then I want you to stop just before that happens.”

“That’s mean, Coriolanus,” you managed to say.

“You haven’t seen mean yet, dove,” he said. “Now stop talking and focus.”

Your fingers picked up their pace with a newfound eagerness, the knot in your stomach growing inescapably larger, the urge to come undone becoming harder and harder to contain. Coriolanus wasn’t sure you’d obey his command at this point, you looked too far gone to resume control over your own actions. His eyes narrowed, watching closely at what fate you’d choose to follow. Much to his disappointment, you practiced constraint, your hips shooting up with anticipation, only to sink to the floor as you denied yourself the orgasm.

You glanced at Coriolanus past your teary lashes, a silent request for praise. He heeded your need, rising from his seat to crouch beside your slumped figure. He combed the loose hair from your face, wiping away the beads of sweat that dotted your forehead.

“You’re too good for this world,” he murmured sweetly. He felt as though he could have choked on the banality of his words, but the soft look in your eyes as you gazed up at him made it worthwhile. He nodded to your hand, still resting on your cunt. “Show me how good you felt.”

You pulled your hand from its playground between your legs, creamy white webs entangled on your fingers. They pulled a string along your stomach as you lifted your fingers for Coriolanus to study.

“It almost looks like you don’t need my help,” he chuckled, his hand fastening around your wrist to bring your fingers to his lips. His blue eyes bore down into you as he took each of your fingers into his mouth. One by one, his tongue hungrily weaved around them, claiming your juices from your skin.

You gazed at him with a wild look ablaze in your eyes. “Don’t I deserve a taste?” You said. “After all, I did all the hard work. I deserve to taste the fruits of my labour.”

“You should be modest,” Coriolanus said once he removed your fingers from his mouth. “Nobody likes a brag.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” you retorted lightly, your eyes glinting with exhaustion. “I like you.”

“Mhm,” he offered softly, placing your hand gently onto your chest. He reached his hand between your legs, an action that caused your thighs to stiffen around him. “Relax,” he cooed, pressing his palm into one of your thighs, encouraging you to open up to him.

“Sorry,” you said, easing off the defensiveness. “I’m sensitive down there at the moment.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, gazing at your fragile expression. Fuck, he could take you right here. His fingers moved with caution as they glided along the folds of your drenched cunt, gathering up your cum into untidy clumps. He followed a trail of arousal that had traveled down into the cleft of your ass, pressing a teasing finger into your asshole.

You gasped at the sudden invasion, and Coriolanus’s throat rumbled with a chuckle. He removed his fingers and brought them to your lips. You glanced at his slender fingers, not needing much convincing to take them into your mouth. You turned your attention to him as you began to suck at him suggestively, exaggerating your head bobbing as you made a point to cover the entire length of his fingers.

He watched you with a lopsided smirk, enjoying the whore-like behaviour you so willingly offered him. Now and again, he’d thrust his fingers a little too deep, more than what your throat could handle, which caused you to gag around him. Strings of your saliva had begun to slither down his exposed forearm, pleasantly warm on his skin. He imagined his cock in the stead of his fingers, enjoying the same warmth and wetness your mouth had to offer.

When you’d decidedly had enough of licking his fingers clean, you pulled your lips from him with a characteristic pop. Coriolanus reached that hand over the bathtub, dipping it into the water to feel its temperature. It had cooled down considerably, but it was still warm enough for a worthwhile soak. He withdrew his hand and wiped his fingers onto his shirt.

“The bath will get cold soon,” he told you. “Get in.”

“Is that all?” You asked disappointedly.

“Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll show you what I’ve got in stock for you.” He straightened up and took a few paces back as you perked with new resolve and found your feet.

He backed up to reclaim his position on the chair, crossing his legs as he watched you. Your back was momentarily on him as you climbed into the bathtub, the water sloshing a welcome. You submerged yourself into the warmth almost instantly, a content groan reverberating in your throat. His eyes lowered to your hand, which had began to spread the foam of the bubble bath across your bare chest and breasts.

“The water’s so good,” you murmured.

“Don’t get too relaxed,” he warned.

“Why don’t you join me, Coriolanus,” you said, your eyes fluttered open as you moved to fold your arms onto the lip of bathtub. You rested your chin onto your arms, glancing at the erection he could no longer conceal. “I’ll take good care of your little cock, that should keep me on my toes.” Your expression beamed at your choice of words, deliberately chosen to get a rise out of him.

Coriolanus merely scoffed at your teasing. He had many things to prove, but the size of his cock was not one of them.

“You sure you could handle me, since you’re still so sensitive down there?” He asking mockingly. He leaned back into his chair, his hand coming up to clench his chin, the other grabbing his elbow.

You tilted your head prettily to one side. “Only one way to find out,” you murmured, leaning back against the wall of the tub as you kicked your foot out and onto the edge. Water splashed partially onto the bathmat, but most had been caught by the bare floor.

Coriolanus lowered his eyes to the puddle. “You’re making quite a mess for someone who’s been in here for less than half an hour.”

“Give me an hour and you’ll see just how much of a mess I can make,” you challenged.

He lifted his chin to face you, his eyes narrowing the slightest. This side of you was something he’d never experienced before; you were a lot more daring, undoubtedly brought on by the importance you felt at being allowed the opportunity to bathe in his bathroom and in his company. He’d like to test just how long you could keep up this illusion of bravery, and how quickly you’d drop it when he had you sprawled onto his fingers.

“Come here, then,” he said, uncrossing his legs and spreading it as an invitation for your thighs.

Your eyes snuck a peak at his hard on before you broke away from your slutty pose and climbed from the warmth of the tub. You took a few steps toward Coriolanus, water and soap slithering down the curves of your body and onto the floor.

You stopped short of his legs. “You’re sure?” You asked, eyes making a point of the shirt and pants he still wore. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with a little less on?”

Coriolanus grunted from a place of impatience, reaching out his hand to grab at your wrist. He pulled you into his lap, rough hands guiding your hips to comfortably straddle his clothed thighs. The soapy water coating your body began to bleed into his clothes, his pants the most affected, but he could hardly be arsed in this moment. He just needed to feel you, needed to use you. His fingers gripped at your thighs, his heavenly blue eyes boring down onto your strained expression as he began to forcibly guide your bare cunt over his bulge.

Coriolanus’s movements set a generous pace, endorphins bolting through your core each time his bulge struck your sensitive clit. The texture of his pants was harsh on your skin, creating a friction that seemed to generate copious amounts of heat—screw sticks and stones, this method of fucking could have started all the fires in the world. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lower half instinctively beginning to cooperate as you rocked back and fourth in sync with his guidance.

Your head came to rest in the chiselled crook of his neck, his earthy fragrance fucking heaven-sent on your senses, further engulfing you in bliss. His throat vibrated against your ear with strained moans, they came as subtle grunts that prompted his hands to speed up the pace. He was so eager to feel you, to settle his drawn-out erection. You winced as his fingers burrowed into the skin of your thighs. He’d neglected all caution in your handling, his need to control your movements overpowering what slither of consideration he’d held for your comfort.

It didn’t take long for the stinging sensation to blend with your pleasure, slurred moans pouring from your lips as you felt cum begin to leak from your entrance. It lubricated the fabric of Coriolanus’s pants, offering some relief from the coarse material. You screwed your eyes shut and pressed your face into his shirt, eager to muffle the mewls of pleasure you seemed to have zero control over. His chest rumbled with a breathy fuck, and you felt his body momentarily convulse with the overwhelming feelings your bodies shared.

You turned your head, your nose brushing against the skin of his neck. Your eyes fluttered open, drinking in the view of his adam’s apple, so prominent and manly. It bobbed as Coriolanus swallowed a moan. You brought your furthest hand forward to hook the side of his neck, pulling him against your lips. He didn’t resist, it’s almost as though he was too focused on his own work to pay attention to your own dealings. You littered sloppy kisses all across his neck, placing extra emphasis around his adam’s apple. You kissed all around the bulge before giving into your thoughts and dragging your tongue over it, leaving a sloppy trail in your wake.

The warmth and wetness of your tongue on his throat made Coriolanus release an unexpected groan, a hand leaving your hips to wrap around your throat. You let slip a chuckle at his action, and he held you out in front of him, his cold eyes glaring into yours as he decided to brutalise his movements. You moaned loudly, the sound strained as you forced it past his suffocating hold on your neck.

“Coriolanus,” you choked out breathlessly, your hands sliding along his broad shoulders. “I need you inside of me.”

“You’ve waited this long,” Coriolanus muttered. “You can wait a little longer.” His hold on your throat grew tighter, your vision starting to blur behind a mixture of fresh tears and your compromised oxygen.

He watched your eyes flutter closed and your teeth clench as you inched closer and closer to your edge, your nails digging through his shirt and into his shoulders, steading yourself against his aggression. His singular hand on your hip began to cramp at his incessant groping and steering, but he was beginning to feel his own orgasm approaching, and that was motivation enough to push through—that, and your whorish desperation.

He released his grip on your neck, the air returning to your lungs as a cough and a splutter. He hooked the nape of your neck and pulled you into the comfort of his shoulder, urging you to rest your tired head there as he finished you both off. With both hands once again firm on your hips, he picked up the pace. He rested his chin onto the crown of your head, his eyes fluttering closed as he allowed the scent of your conditioner to swallow his senses.

With each movement, he brought you down harder onto his cock, craving rougher strokes. The squelching of the cum coating your folds and spreading along his pants was music to his ears, and he gritted his teeth to bite back his ragged breathing so that he could continue to hear the way he’d transformed your cunt. He could feel his own pre-cum trickling from his tip, the warmth spreading along his shaft by the generosity of your wet folds. Fucking hell did he yearn to be inside of you, almost as much as you craved him, but he had to be stronger than his own desires.

It didn’t take long before every nerve tracing the length of his cock began to fire rapid impulses, the prolonged stimulation proving to be too overbearing. His lips parted with strained breaths, the black abyss behind his eyes beginning to birth a cosmos of anticipatory stars. The image built and built until he thrust you one last violent time along his cock, his hips rocking up into you, delivering just the right ounce of pressure before white engulfed his vision.

His grip on your hips loosened, his ears buzzing with the aftermath of his high. He hadn’t even realised that you’d come undone before he had, your whimpers and vulgar pleas lost in his concentration. The only evidence of your orgasm was the new patch of wetness that had marked his pants, a generous mixture of squirt and cum.

Your breathless voice sounded at his ear as you moved your head from under his chin. “I want to feel like that all the time.”

“That can be arranged, dove,” he chuckled hoarsely.

You felt his hand leave your hip, the skin there instantly growing cool. He dragged his fingers repeatedly along the wisps of your hair. It was as though he were petting a dog, only his touch was a lot gentler and more intimate. You allowed your eyes to flutter closed, your lips parting with a content sigh as you waited for the ecstasy of your orgasm to dissolve. You rested your chin on his shoulder, listening to the calm of his breathing, focusing on his hand caressing your hair.

You pulled back to glance at him, his eyes questioning as he returned your stare. Your attention moved to his lips, they looked so soft and plump, not nearly red enough. You’d been robbed of the opportunity to nibble on them, to contort them between your own lips, to taste the wine he’d downed at the party. You didn’t think you’d be properly satisfied until you got your wish. Did that make you ungrateful?

Coriolanus offered a faint smirk, your thoughts loud and clear. How selfish of him, he’d forgotten to kiss you during your little ride. Not a train-smash, he had the entire night to make up for that. His hand on your hair tightened there, forcing you into his vicinity. You wanted to protest at the hairs pulling at your scalp, but you hadn’t gotten the chance, not when his lips silenced yours in a hungry tumble.

He didn’t kiss you as often as you would’ve liked, but when he did, it was always imbued with passion, his movements erratic like he’d been starving and you were the first source of food he’d encountered in days. You got lost in the movement of his lips, the pace so fast that you couldn’t properly match it, though not for lack of trying. You allowed yourself to be swept up in his kiss, accepting that he was in control.

Coriolanus moved his hands to grab ahold of your breasts, his attention marvellously divided between fondling them and tracing his tongue along the inside of your mouth. You moaned into him, the sound muffled and lost to your entanglement. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, offering a sharp nip that caused you to wince in surprise. You felt his lips broaden in a smug smile, his hands neglecting your breasts and trailing a seductive path down your waist to deliver a crisp spank to your ass.

The skin stung where he’d struck you, but he was so quick to soothe the ache with gentle rubbing. The curves of your ass fit so perfectly into his palms. He pulled his lips from yours, not sparing even an instant for you to process his movements before his sharp nose found sanctuary in your cleavage. He littered kisses there before moving to plant a trail around the circumference of your breasts.

“Coriolanus,” you moaned, your head lolling back.

He hummed against your skin, a halfhearted acknowledgement. His hand found its way between your thighs, his middle finger sliding between your labia where beads of your brand new arousal waited to greet him. He slathered his fingers in your juice, lubricating the skin before he slid his finger into your entrance.

Your entire composure collapsed at that, the built up suspense of needing him inside you satisfied at last. Your entrance clamped around him at first, the sensation always forgotten with how few and far apart these glorious moments were spread, but within a fraction of a second, you melted onto his finger.

You nibbled at your lower lip, the bite deepening as Coriolanus’s teeth found your nipple. He alternated between tugging at your hardened buds and swirling his tongue around and all over it, mischievously marking steaks of saliva along your skin. A few seconds later, his ring and index finger joined the party within you.

Your grip on his shoulders lowered down his back, eagerly clawing at the hard and chiselled muscles, but his damned shirt got in the way. You pulled back, Coriolanus’ lips robbed of your breasts. He glanced at you, his fingers continuing their thrusts. Your hands flew to tug at the buttons of his shirt. The first few you’d managed to undo, but you had finite patience for the others, resorting to an aggressive tug that split the buttons from the fabric.

“Are you going to pay for that?” Coriolanus jested lightly.

“I’m sure there’s plenty more shirts where that one came from,” you said hastily, yanking the sleeves down his broad shoulders.

You instantly dove in to kiss at his chest. He’d never been excessively muscled, but he was still strong and toned, his frame broad and absolutely mouth-watering to gaze upon. Your hands wandered along his chest, sliding along his shoulders and down his arms. You attempted to tug his shirt all the way off, Coriolanus aiding your motion as he momentarily pulled his fingers from inside you.

He rolled his shoulders and removed his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. You glanced at his torso, now completely exposed to you. You couldn’t stifle the smile on your lips, thinking that he looked a lot like a male stripper—bare-chested yet still clothed from the waist down, presenting himself on a chair. All he was missing was a sexy dance of some sort.

Coriolanus frowned at your gawking. “What’s on that mind of yours?”

You pursed your lips. “Nothing,” you answered, placing a kiss on his lips. You moved to murmur in his ear, “now If it’s not too much to ask, would you kindly stick your fingers back inside of me?”

When you withdrew to look at him, Coriolanus wore a wicked smirk. “What a slutty thing to say.” His fingers returned to your cunt, but instead of easing his way inside, he opted for his whole hand at once.

You didn’t know whether you were more shocked at his gesture, or the way your cunt had easily welcomed him. His movements were considerably less cautious than before, but you didn’t care about that now, only that he was finally inside of you. You let out a lengthy moan, so eager to verbalise your appreciation. Your hands moved to cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading them together as you tilted your head back.

You closed your eyes and focused on his hand inside you, how each thrust grew deeper and closer to your sweet spot. It’s as though he’d already mapped out your insides, his fingers knowing exactly which way to wander. Gods, you truly didn’t know whether you or Coriolanus enjoyed this more. He kept up a regular pace for a while, and you’d quickly grown impatient and needy for his brutality.

“Faster,” you complained.

Coriolanus slowed his movements, coming to a complete stop. He wholly expected the miserable look on your face as your head snapped down to face him. How could he allow you to think that he was here to serve you, as opposed to you serving him. He wasn’t just going to hand you what you wanted, life certainly hadn’t been that generous with him. No, you’d have to work for it.

“Okay, we can go faster,” he said, cocking his head slightly. You regained a spark at those words, but it quickly blew out at what came next. “But you’ll do it yourself, since you’re unsatisfied with what I’m giving you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—“ you attempted to protest, but Coriolanus cut you off with free his index finger pressing against your lips, his lips fashioned in a hush.

“No talking,” he murmured. “Just get to work.” He beckoned down to your cunt, his hand motionless inside of you.

Devastated at having to do the work yourself, you crossed your arms around his neck, your expression adorably resentful as you lifted your hips and began to ride him. Coriolanus lowered his free hand to rest at your hip, his attention wandering to your breasts. He couldn’t have ignored them even if he tried, not when they were bouncing inches from his face and calling out for attention. Your moans quickly commenced, your hips already starting to tremble with your next orgasm. You tossed your head back, your movements becoming uncoordinated, like your body had already started to give up.

Coriolanus felt your walls begin to clench around his hand, glancing up to glimpse your face. “Look at me,” he called to you. Your head lowered to face him at once, your eyelids drooping. “Are you going to cum?” He asked, and you nodded eagerly, followed by a strewn out moan.

Good, he thought. His hand on your hip began to press against your movements, interrupting the pace you’d managed to get going. Your eyes widened as your orgasm retracted into a dissatisfying gasp, the high that had been building instantly collapsed at your sudden lack of movement.

“Coriolanus,” you snapped, your tone coming across as a whine. You’d become frustrated with his teasing, and your body shared the sentiment. Your clit ached now, exhausted tremors seizing every muscle of your body. “You’re being a dick!”

“No,” he countered, pulling his hand from your entrance. He looked condescending as his eyes flickered across you face. “I’m punishing you, just like I promised. You’re getting exactly what you deserve, but you’re spoiled and used to getting your way.”

You didn’t have anything to retort, so you glared at him in silence, ignoring the hurt that his words had inflicted upon you.

“Don’t pout,” he murmured, wiping his wet hand along your thigh.

Then, without warning, he hoisted you up at the thighs and manoeuvred you bridal-style from the bathroom towards the bedroom. He lowered you onto the undone comforters of his bed, leaning down with you to place a swift kiss on your furrowed brows. He straightened up at the foot of the bed, his hands reaching for your calves.

“You want to cum?” He asked, his fingers wrapping around your legs to pull you down the bed and closer to where he stood. “I’ll make you cum, over and over again.” That was a promise.

Your lips parted with shock, words scattering from your tongue as his hands travelled over yours knees and grabbed at your thighs. He pried your legs apart, exposing your cunt to him. The last view you captured of him was the way his eyes traced your exposed lower half, a barely noticeable smirk pulling at one corner of his lips. Then, his head dipped into you, his tongue flat and rough on your folds.

You threw your head back into the sheets, your fingers instantly curling into the material as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded and preventing you from getting carried away into another universe. Coriolanus was conscious to strike his nose against your tender clit every so often, clearly enjoying the way it sent a jerk through your body. It was like his own personal control-switch to play with. You were too exhausted to limit the noises that you produced for him, so everything came out a loud and blabbering mess. You didn’t ever want to stop being touched this way.

Coriolanus was a clean man. He liked to keep his hair tamed, his jaw void of any developing beard that he felt would deface his appearance. But it had to have been a week since his last shave, you thought. You could feel the faint stubble poking through, grazing your intimate area as he ravished you below. It was the perfect addition to your arousal, adding just enough noise to push you into overstimulation.

You fought the urge to lift your lower half from the sheets, to greedily claim a deeper thrust of his tongue. He wouldn’t take kindly to that, and you didn’t think you had the capacity to endure any more teasing. Instead, you opened your thighs even wider, your hands releasing the comforter to grip at your breasts.

Coriolanus approved of your behaviour, his praise coming in the form of his tongue up your entrance. You let slip a breathy gasp, your jaw clenching at the lightning that seemed to obscure your vision.

“Fuck, Coriolanus,” you drawled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Please—let me cum!”

He hummed against your clit, the vibrations serving as the fucking icing on top of this sex-themed cake. You core knotted, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes screwed shut, the pressure building and building and threatening to spill over as Coriolanus’ tongue picked up the pace. He twirled your clit around, his fingers pinching at your thighs, and just like that, your body released all the tension of the evening.

Your chest bobbed up and down with heavy breathing, not feeling as though you could bear to open your eyes. It’s only when you felt Coriolanus’ warmth withdraw from your thighs that you lifted your head to glance up at him. He straightened up and met your gaze with an impressed look, his perfect lips offering a smile—a genuine smile. The sight set off butterflies in your stomach. He was proud of you and your performance.

“You did well, dove,” he praised.

You beamed at his compliment, words not easily extracted from him. The sheen on his jaw caught your attention, your heart jolting with shame to see him absolutely doused in your juice. It trailed well down his neck and onto his chest, making a point to follow the natural contours of his pecs.

“I’m sorry—“ a hand flew to your mouth, hardly believing that you’d produced a mess of that magnitude.

“Sorry?” Coriolanus mocked, his perfect teeth flashing in a laugh. “Don’t be. It’s a compliment. You show your appreciation like a real woman, just the way I like it.”

You watched as his hands lowered to his red trousers, his fingers moving to undo the button. You glanced back at him in alarm.

“You didn’t think we were done just yet?” He asked, his smile turning wicked as he unzipped his trousers and pulled it down. “I edged you twice,” he explained. “And I’d like to think I’m a fair man. So,” he paused and lowered his underwear, which freed his erection. “I owe you another good time.”

He stepped out from the last of his clothing, towering over your body as he inched his way toward you. “I won’t lie, though,” he murmured once he’d reached your ear. “I’m doing this mostly for me. I think I’ve waited long enough to feel you, really feel you.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes large and pleading like a pathetic mutt begging for scraps. “I don’t think I can take any more, Coriolanus.”

“Did it feel good, what you did just now?”

“It felt like heaven,” you told him softly.

“Then this time will feel like being completely reborn,” Coriolanus insisted, his hand relocating hair from your sticky face. “And even if it doesn’t, you’ll push through because this is your punishment, and punishment is not always meant to be enjoyable.”

You glanced off to the side, hating how much the cold look in his eyes stirred something inside of you.

Coriolanus found satisfaction in the way his words kept you silent. He grabbed your chin and turned you back to him, his thumb pressing into your lower lip before he planted a hollow kiss in its stead. He placed his forearm beside your head, leaning onto that side as his other hand reached down for his cock. He gave a lazy pump across his hard length, a pathetic attempt at spreading his pre-cum. He didn’t need to do any better, not when your drenched cunt offered enough lubrication for him to enter without a struggle.

And it did, without a single hitch, as he pushed himself inside of you. Your soft gasp sounded in his ear, his attention still trained below. Once he was sure he was properly inside of you, he turned his head up and placed his arm on the other side of your head. You felt so warm and welcoming, definitely a lot more relaxed than the previous times he’d stuck his cock inside of you.

He began to thrust, not having much patience to start slow and gradually build up the pressure. This entire evening had been leading up to this moment, the opportunity for him to be in this exact position. He’d spent all of his patience, now he just needed to finish what he’d set out to do. He was pleased to feel your hands snake beneath his arms and take up a hold on his back, that is until your nails suddenly sunk into his skin.

He let out pained moan, his gaze growing fierce at the satisfaction on your face. Two could play that game. He withdrew his length a far way out, his tip almost slipping from your entrance entirely, before he rammed himself back inside with an animalistic thrust. His tip collided with your g-spot, a harsh and sudden greeting to the sensitive area.

You let out a scream, your stomach lifting against him. Before you could process the shock, he rammed into you again, and again, and again. Each time, he returned with the same force, and not once did he fail to miss his target. Your nails in his skin continued to sink deeper, the both of you reduced to nothing more than grunting and gasping.

The bed creaked with every movement, the room echoing with the raw percussion of your skin-on-skin contact. Coriolanus bucked into you with such aggression that he began to moan with every sway of his hips. His hands, trapping your head on either side, slipped behind your head to grip at your hair. He yanked, opening up your neck to him. You moaned as his lips buried against your skin, the tip of his nose flattening into you as his teeth sought out your skin.

His movements became jerky, his teeth gritted as he grunted against your neck. You slipped a hand from his back to bury it into his hair, fastening your fingers around his blond wisps that had turned curly from the sweat of his activity.

“I’m going to cum,” he breathed into your neck, his hand flying to one of your thighs. He pulled it up to wrap around his lower half, his thrusts growing violently needy. “Fuck,” he spat, then called your name desperately. You felt too good, especially now that your walls seemed to clench around him—he knew that you were close, too.

Your second orgasm arrived, the hot wetness pooling around his length. He couldn’t maintain his control anymore. At last, he gave himself over to his pleasure, his movements becoming sluggish as he felt his release inside of you. He didn’t stop his thrusts, not until he felt himself empty every last drop inside of you.

Coriolanus collapsed beside you, his hand finding your cheek and pulling your head against his chest. For many minutes, nobody spoke, each one struggling to regain their breath. His other hand held your lower body against him, keeping his cock secure inside of you. He could feel your mingled juices leaking along his thigh and onto the sheets, a mess he didn’t mind right now.

You burrowed into Coriolanus’ arm, a tired sigh leaving your lips. “Fucking hell,” was all you could manage to say after an ordeal like this. Tonight had been his most brutal fuck thus far.

Your body ached everywhere, and you weren’t sure your swollen clit would ever forgive you for what you’d brought upon it. You supposed it served you right for trying to make him jealous by flirting with another man. You’d never stupidly test his limits that way again, that was for sure. You two laid in comfortable silence, riding out the last of your highs.

“Coriolanus,” you called to him softly, your fingers playing with his. “Do you love me?”

Coriolanus tilted his head down to you, his eyes widening at the sudden question. His lips parted to say something, but he quickly bit on his tongue. It was clear that your need for his attention had grown into something more profound, that you’d started to care about him in more than just what he had to offer your body. He turned his gaze up to the roof. “My position doesn’t permit me the time to love,” he answered carefully.

Your hair shuffled against his arm as you sat yourself up to face him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He turned his gaze back onto you, calling your name softly. “I have goals to achieve in this world. It leaves little time for relationships.”

Your eyes held disappointment. “Then what’s the point of all of this?”

“The point,” Coriolanus said, taking your hand into his, his thumb rubbing comforting circles across your skin. “Is that we keep each other company, offer a comfort that others couldn’t gift us even if they tried. We satisfy each other in ways that only we know how to.”

“So I’m just a source of entertainment to you?” You snapped, attempting to pull your hand from his, but his grasp on you tightened.

“Am I anything different to you?” He asked, his tone level, his cool eyes challenging. “Don’t mount a high horse, not when you entered this knowing exactly what you were in for. I take care of you and I make you feel good—that’s plenty more than you would’ve gotten back in the district and in any other location in the Capitol, for that matter. Would you rather go back to your district, back to a cold bed and an empty stomach with nobody to rely on? Maybe you’d rather I put you on the market for as some Capitol slut looking for her next sponsor. I can make that happen—“

“No!” You interrupted, your hard eyes thawing with a look of horror, like you’d recalled all the terrible memories of your life in the district. It was far from pleasant, a past you’d have liked to forget for good. You had nobody, nothing to return to.

As for the Capitol, you knew that there were infinite weirdos and perverts that would marvel at the opportunity to get their hands on a hunger games victor, especially one that had been branded by Coriolanus Snow more than once. You could only imagine what sort of prize that made you, a collectible to be displayed. The thought made your stomach turn.

“I don’t want that,” you said, your head lowering in defeat. “I just want you.”

Coriolanus’s eyes raked across your figure, so slumped in submission and hopelessness. He realised then just how much he’d broken you, reshaped you into a lapdog that would only eat directly out of his hand. “Good,” he murmured. “I want you, too. Only you.” His free hand moved to cup your chin, tilting it to face him. “And maybe. . . you could teach me how to love.”

Your eyes widened at those words, the hand clasped in his going stiff. He tugged at you, pulling you into him. Your head found its way nuzzled into the crook of his neck, his chin moving to rest atop your head. He continued to play with your fingers, his other arm cushioning your neck and holding you against him. He felt your breathing slow into an easy sleep, your warm breath flushing against his chest. He closed his own eyes, breathing deeply at the sweet scent radiating from your hair. He allowed it to lull him to sleep, mulling over your interaction.

He’d known the truth for years already—that his heart bore no capacity for love. It had saddened him, at first, made him feel as though he’d been formed wrong in the womb. His father had loved his mother enough to bring him into this world—his cousin, Tigris, had loved him, too, to the point where she’d have sacrificed everything to ensure that he’d survived the war. Sejanus, too, had loved him like a brother, trusted him with all that he was, and it had ultimately killed him.

All his life, Coriolanus had been cradled with love, but he’d been forever cursed with the inability to return it. It had taken him years to accept it, until one day, everything had clicked into place.

Perhaps he wasn’t meant to love, not when the world had become a disastrous mess in need of order, in need of somebody to bring it to that stage. He knew then that he could offer the order that Panem needed. Peace came at the cost of blood, and blood came at the cost of strength. Strength meant that love had no place and no say in the hard decisions to be made, for its love that made you vulnerable, and vulnerability was a weakness. He didn’t bear that weakness, and he never would.

As for you? Well, you were somewhat of a complicated matter as of now. When it came down to it—the decision between you and his destiny, he’d choose destiny without a doubt. But for now, he’d keep you close. He’d shower you with attention, spoil you with his touch, offer you everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. And once you’ve lost all worth to him, he’d discard of you.

Coriolanus knew that his path was one headed straight for the top, to claim the title of president of Panem. All that he’d done to get here, everything that he’d achieved up until now, it was all just the beginning. He was glad now—that he could not find it in himself to love anyone. It left him free of any liabilities, gave his enemies not even a fraction of power to hurt him.

For it’s the things we love most that destroy us.

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You MUST know I had to include that iconic line

Anyways, I’m sincerely sorry that this fic is like 15k words. I always tell myself to keep it simple but I’ve literally got no say over what happens once my fingers start typing away. I hope you all have enjoyed this read. I’m not TOO sure how I feel about it, but I think I’ve just gotten to the point where I’ve proof-read it so much that I honestly can’t stand it anymore.

This is my first every coryo fic and it was incredibly daunting to write, considering that he is such a complex character to portray and because I unintentionally resorted to flowing between his and the reader’s perspective, which I usually hate, but shit happens. I’ve never read the books (I am getting them for my birthday yay) so it was difficult to get inside of his mind given that I’ve never trod there before. In any case, I hope that I did his character justice in this blabbering mess, even if I did add my own sadistic twist lmao.

MERRY CHRISTMAS MY LOVELIES🎄

Your comments & reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you!! ~

I take requests (so long as I’m comfortable writing it) <3

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#tom blyth #billy the kid #young coriolanus snow #tom blyth x reader #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus imagine #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #coryo smut #coriolanus fanfiction

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whatudowhennooneseesyou · 8 months

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬 (𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1K

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: Think about it. Write about it. Have hard thoughts. Do not take it seriously. None of this information is confirmed and all theoretical. If you want to read more, I have further analysis in my 'Lee Know As Your Late Bloomer Bf' post.

ᴍᴇᴛʜᴏᴅᴏʟᴏɢʏ: Traditional Astrology & Whole Sign

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ:

Rising is in Gemini (Suspected)

Scorpio Sun (6th House)

Sagittarius Moon (7th House)

Scorpio Mercury (6th House)

Scorpio Venus (6th House)

Virgo Mars (4th House)

ꜰᴜᴄᴋʙᴏɪ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ:

3/10

Lee Know's fuckboi radar is a strong medium energy because his Sagittarius Moon makes him naturally impulsive and prone to boredom but his Scorpio stellium indicates he values a deep soul to soul connection.

So while he can detach sex and feelings, casual/one night stands wouldn't satisfy him and he's more likely to enter into FWB/situationships.

He also forms attachment easily, although you wouldn't know it because he can mask very...VERY well.

His Virgo Mars in 4th House also makes him pedantic with hygiene, he COULD...could view anonymous/casual encounters as 'dirty' or 'unclean' and have concern about infection and/or disease.

(No..I'm not personally judging hook-up culture but I included this because Virgo/6th House rules over health and wellness so they prioritise sexual hygiene more so than other Mars Signs.)

And there's loads of evidence with the SKZ episodes of Lee Know valuing cleanliness and tidiness so I'm certain that would transfer to sex and foreplay.

ʀᴇᴅ & ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ꜰʟᴀɢꜱ:

Red:

His Scorpio Mercury gives him a wicked tongue and his Sagittarius Moon means he has no impulse control which =

PETTINESS!!!

His Mercury rulership indicates he's thoroughly observant, analytical and has a great memory, the type to remember little details about something that happened 11 months ago.

He's learnt your sore spots, your insecurities and your anxieties and he might just use them against you in moments of conflict.

Inherently stubborn so wouldn't be the type to apologise after an argument but would make you a meal, buy you something, run you a bath as a way of calling truce.

He probably has an avoidant-attachment style and is the type to 'freeze' or ice you out if he's annoyed or irritated...could even go as far as giving the 'silent treatment' as a way of asserting control.

When Lee Know has been recorded feeling hurt, upset or frustrated he becomes really quiet and his posture shifts into a more defensive stance...this is really evident in the infamous SKZ Room episode where Chris says 'you don't care about me' and you can literally SEE his entire body change at that remark.

Green:

Honesty is a strong value and trait of Lee Know so outside of conflict...you would never feel like he's hiding something from you or second-guessing his actions...what you see is what you get with Lee Know- even to a fault.

A good example of this was Lee Know's ending-ment and he says 'I have been having a lot of thoughts and I'm organising my feelings' (which is so Mercury coded to rationalise your feelings by 'organising' them).

Routine, stability and consistency are HUGE traits and values that Lee Know will contribute to the relationship and this is reaffirmed countless of times with his Bubble messages.

He always sends you a 'morning' message and asks if you've eaten lunch or dinner every day, he's consistent at going live on YouTube every Saturday and he's endlessly sending through photos of food and his cats on Bubble which means Lee Know is not a man prone to 'flakiness'- it's all or nothing for Lee Know and he will stick with you through to the end.

And this is not even natal chart based, this is just my opinion- there is something about Lee Know's personality that is incredibly wholesome for a man his age...in his spare time he likes night-time walks and plays with his cats which to me is someone who enjoys the little things in life and a lavish and excessive lifestyle is not a priority for him.

He's not shallow and therefore he's not going to give you a shallow relationship.

ɪᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴛʏᴘᴇ…ɪꜰ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ

Lee Know's sexual orientation is unknown so I don't know if he's into women but if he is...these are the physical and personality traits he would find attractive.

Physical Traits

(Focus on his Libra 5th House, Scorpio Venus and Virgo Mars)

Has to smell nice because Virgo & Scorpio are sensory motivated and would SIMP over a person with a signature scent...probably would like a floral and clean, fresh smell.

Scorpio's go for other Scorpio's so his ideal type probably would have Scorpio placements (Sun,Rising or Venus) and have a dark feminine aesthetic but still kinda coquetteish with the Libra influence.

Someone who has the duality of looking sexy in a black, skimpy dress with stiletto heels but also looks cute wearing an oversized t-shirt with no make-up and a messy bun.

Definitely a waist,arse and thighs kind of man is totally the type to get hot and heavy if you wear a sundress.

Personality Traits

A tsundere to the absolute max, you cannot get more tsundere than Lee Know so his partner has to be okay with his 'quiet love' style of showing affection and care.

Intelligence is a strong turn-on for Lee Know so his partner has to be smart and worldly, would be attracted to someone who has a degree or a type of tertiary education.

Lee Know was accepted into university for computer programming prior to graduating high school so he could find people with careers in STEM, engineering, environment, sociology etc quite alluring and attractive.

Preferable love languages to be acts of service, gifts and quality time...words of affirmation and physical touch are not a strong suit of his.

ᴅᴏᴍ, ꜱᴜʙ ᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪᴛᴄʜ?

Lee Know is a switch with a heavy dominant preference and would prefer to be dominant 80% of the time.

I think even if he was in a more submissive mood...it would be more 'I'm yours and you can do whatever you want' energy rather than a complete release of control.

6th House Stellium= service/pleasure dom preference

Lee Know in-person has a very gentle and stoic presence (I've seen him live) and that would transfer to the bedroom so a SOFT DOM and much more soft and tender than the aggressively harsh sadistic dom persona Stays give him.

Whilst Lee Know can and likes being 'rough' in the bedroom, there is a difference in being rough and painful versus rough passionate.

Lee Know wouldn't be into the rough and painful 'you're just a hole for me to fuck' degrading type of sex.

Lee Know would be into the rough and passionate 'how many times can we go before we fall unconscious' type of sex.

There's a difference.

ᴋ!ɴᴋꜱ...ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ

Olfactophilia

The scent kink is WILDIN with this man and would be addicted by your natural scent and smell. Scorpio placements are primal in general and is the type to lick the sweat when making love and for his cock to ache as he inhales the sweet scent of your panties.

I can't get enough of your sweet pussy kitten, could bury my face here all day.

Would smell your shirt after wearing it at the gym as he doing laundry because you're his favourite fragrance.

If Lee Know didn't see you for a few days, he would spray your perfume on his clothes and wear your scented body lotion because the smell carries the very essence of who you are, who he loves, who he yearns for.

Clothed Sex

Buttons ripped, stockings torn, skirt tattered at the seam, smeared lipstick, heels on, the desperation and the need to fuck you so badly that he doesn't have the patience to take your clothes off.

That would drive Lee Know insane with desire.

Bend over kitten...fuck your legs look so good in these heels...I can't wait, need to feel how tight you are now.

Bonus points if you allow him to take photos of your ruined state afterwards.

Also...

You being naked whilst Lee Know is entirely clothed and the power imbalance and the DOMINANCE he would feel in that moment of you just being so submissive and vulnerable and trusting under his hands and body...

Taglist: @hipster-shiz @creativechaoticloner @cherry-0420 @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @junieshohoho @mrcarrots @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @craxy-person @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @shinestarhwaa @hexheathen @northerngalxy @michel-angelhoe @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @justaaveragereader @shroomoth @marykpoppin @joonyoonjinnie @ja3hwa @leomggg

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thecuddlycauldron · 3 months

Text

Pick a card!

What your future friends will be like.

✩°｡🧸𓏲⋆.🧺𖦹 ₊˚ These are general readings, only take what resonates and leave the rest! These are only meant to be for fun and nothing else. Trust your intuition and don't overthink. If nothing resonates, feel free to move on. If you stay, I hope you enjoy what the cards have in store for you today! ✩°｡🧸𓏲⋆.🧺𖦹 ₊˚

🍄 Card 1 (The empress)

The empress embodies femininity, creativity, abundance, and nurturing. She represents the Mother Earth archetype. She symbolizes life-giving energies, fertility, and the power of nature. Your future friends may exhibit qualities associated with motherhood: nurturing, compassion, and a deep connection to life. The empress encourages you to tap into your creative expression. Your friends will be artistic, imaginative, and open to exploring various forms of self-expression together. She nurtures and cares for others, so they may be supportive, understanding, and compassionate with you. Remember, the empress embodies a harmonious blend of feminine energy and creative abundance. Your future friends may reflect these qualities, enriching your life with their nurturing presence. These friendships will be enriching, helping you to grow and thrive emotionally, creatively, and maybe even spiritually.

🍄 Card 2 (Knight of pentacles)

The knight of pentacles represents diligence, reliability, hard work, and practicality. Your friends will be dependable and steadfast. They won’t make impulsive decisions but will carefully consider their actions. Like the knight of pentacles, they’ll approach friendships with a slow and steady energy, valuing consistency and reliability. He is also very practical and grounded. Your future friends will likely approach life with a sensible and pragmatic attitude, helping you stay grounded as well. Loyalty is a key trait of this card. Your friends will be loyal and committed to your friendship, sticking by you through thick and thin. It encourages shared experiences, so you will appreciate the mutual respect and understanding between you and your friends. Friendships built on steady foundations tend to last. Your future friends, like the knight of pentacles, will contribute to a reliable and enduring social circle.

🍄 Card 3 (Nine of wands)

The nine of wands represents resilience, perseverance, and the ability to stand firm despite challenges. Your future friends will be resilient individuals who have faced their own challenges and emerged stronger. They can inspire you with their ability to persevere and stand strong in the face of adversity. They will be very protective and supportive of you. They stand by you during tough times, offering encouragement and solidarity when you need it most. Your future friends will have a persistent and tenacious spirit. They won't give up easily and will encourage you to keep going even when the going gets tough! Loyalty is a strong trait of the nine of wands. Your future friends will be loyal and reliable, always there to support you and stand by your side. These friendships will be marked by mutual support, loyalty, and a shared strength to face and overcome difficulties together.

Love, Willow

♡⸝⸝🪐⋆ In depth and reasonably priced tarot readings here ♡⸝⸝🪐⋆

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hellokittyyyysblog · 3 months

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𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷/ part 3

Pairing: vampire!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

The shock of your supervisor's cruel death had settled into your bones, gnawing at your conscience. The mere thought that you were teetering on the brink of becoming the very person you despised—a bystander in the face of injustice—was almost too much to bear. Edward Davis was more than just a hard worker; he was a mentor who valued your contributions, always expressing gratitude for the extra hours you put in. Despite the extra workload he entrusted to you all the time, he never took your efforts for granted. —You couldn’t shake the thought of his wife, whom he had married less than a year ago discovering that he was gone. A man’s life had been brutally cut short, and you were grappling with the horrifying possibility that you might stand by and do nothing. The guilt was a heavy shroud, suffocating you. Yet, the thought of speaking out, of risking everything for the truth, was equally paralyzing. Would anyone even believe your story? and if they did, was the truth worth dying for? you knew Natasha was going to keep her side of the deal.

Natasha’s cautionary words of the night before echoed in your mind—was this knowledge a blessing or a curse? would it consume you, driving you to unravel more mysteries and risk your safety in the process? You had always prided yourself on valuing reason and pragmatism, but now you stood at a crossroads where the allure of uncovering secrets clashed with the very real threat of danger. You needed to believe that you could navigate this treacherous path without succumbing to paranoia or becoming a casualty of the unknown.

Maybe Natasha was right after all—Were you letting this truth about the supernatural world consume you, clouding your judgment and leading you down a perilous road? More importantly, were you willing to die because of it? You valued your life too much to throw it away, just because the situation seemed impossible to handle and the reality too harsh to bear. The decision loomed heavy as you contemplated the upcoming police inquiry—would you dare to lie to protect yourself!? you knew it was a necessary step for your own survival. You needed to protect yourself from the ramifications of this newfound knowledge, even if it meant veering from the path of truth. You were going to lie.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The early morning light filtered faintly through your half-drawn curtains, casting a soft glow on the room as your phone erupted into insistent ringing. Kate's name flashed on the screen—your best friend—whose calls you had been avoiding since the day before. You knew you should confide in her—as you always had. Your friendship thrived on honesty. But the weight of the recent discoveries held you back. You couldn't risk involving her, not while you navigated this dangerous reality—You would never do that to her.

She had been in Bali for a week now, celebrating her mother getting engaged. The thought of Kate, carefree and enjoying the tropical paradise, was a stark contrast to your current reality. Maybe you should’ve accepted her offer on going to Bali with them, you probably would’ve been enjoying the sun whilst reading a good book and maybe you would’ve also got the tan your skin so obviously needed, out of it—the shear, rose of your skin not complimenting your bright, light hair enough. Or so you thought. That seemed far more thrilling to you, than having to dwell between truth and death.

Kate wasn’t exactly thriving about the vacation, but she knew better than to say no to her mother.

Kate's mother was a striking woman with an air of elegance that masked an underlying fragility. She had a commanding presence, always impeccably dressed, with elegant, manicured hands and a natural grace that drew attention wherever she went. Despite her outward poise, she harbored a protective streak towards Kate that often bordered on overbearing. She had raised Kate single-handedly since her husband's premature death when Kate was just a child, leaving her fiercely devoted but also overwhelmed by the responsibility.

Kate often envied the physical distance you had from your own family, admiring how supportive, trustworthy and loving your mother was, despite you living on the other side of the world. You reassured her countless times that her mother’s love for her was equal, if not greater, but tempered by grief and overprotection.

You would lie if you said you didn’t miss kate—even if it had only been a week. Kate practically lived at your place due to her tumultuous relationship with her mother. Not like you were against it. You loved her pecan pie on Sundays.

You and Kate had been best friends since college, where you had been roommates. Both of you were naïve, young, and foolish, but in the best possible way. You complemented each other perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle that clicked together effortlessly.

Your friendship was a sanctuary of purest loyalty and understanding, untainted by judgment or betrayal, that’s why lying to her was extremely hard for you. However you couldn’t avoid her anymore, you needed to talk to her; so you finally conceived yourself accepting her call.

As you finally answered, Kate's voice erupted from the other end in a mix of worry and frustration. "Why the hell haven't you been picking up uh? You piece of shit!" Her words were sharp, filled with concern beneath the anger.

“Kate,calm down” you replied trying to keep your voice steady.

"I'm sorry…yesterday was…rough— someone... someone was found dead at the law firm….It's probably Davis, my supervisor; I don’t know much but it seems serious” you took a breath before continuing to talk “also my boss is MIA” you finished, choosing your words careful to not reveal too much. For the first time in your friendship, you were keeping something significant from her, not out of deceit but out of necessity.

The line was silent for a moment before Kate responded, her tone softening slightly. "Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“yeah I’m alright…just uh still in shock..but I’ll let you know when they tell us more; probably this morning”

“Eait you’re going to work after what happened?”

“Yeah, we all have to, but don’t worry kate, I’m okay now” you remarked, sensing the need for a change of topic—“anyway, how are you? how’s Bali?”

“Bali’s..okay…I mean don’t get me wrong, the beaches are gorgeous, but I miss New York”

“Oh Kate, not again! there’s only one week left..enjoy yourself, get a gorgeous tan, drink as much as you want, flirt with the boyzzz” you say enthusiastically.

“I feel like you need this vacation more than me” she says with a sigh.

“Maybe I do” you said—a weak attempt at humor.

"Seriously, you okay? You don’t sound like yourself" Kate pressed, her concern palpable even through the phone.

“yes, kate I’m fine” you hesitated—the words had caught in your throat for a brief moment.

How could you explain the surreal encounter with Natasha, the death of your supervisor, you almost getting killed by your boss, and the existential dread that followed?—Kate had always been your rock, grounding you in reality, but this situation felt too dangerous. The thought of dragging Kate into this nightmare felt selfish, yet the need for her unwavering support was almost overwhelming. "Just…a lot on my mind. Work stuff too" you finally said, the half-truth sitting heavy on your conscience.

Kate's voice softened, the concern not fading but shifting into a familiar tone of support. "You know I'm here for you, right? Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone."

Her words brought a lump to your throat, the sincerity piercing through your defenses. Despite the distance, despite the different realities you were living right now, Kate’s unwavering friendship was a beacon of hope. Maybe you couldn’t tell her everything— no, not yet—but knowing she was there for you was enough for now.

After assuring Kate that you were fine, (which you obviously weren’t) you talked for a few more minutes while you were having breakfast. You probed about her vacation in Bali, sensing her reluctance to share details, knowing the grim circumstances you were facing. Kate didn't want to seem insensitive or like she was boasting about her trip while you were dealing with such a heavy situation. Eventually, you both agreed to end the call—she needed to have breakfast with her mom and her mom's fiancé, and you needed to mentally prepare for the day ahead.

Hanging up, you couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get more complicated from here on.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The morning air was crisp as you made your way to the office, a gnawing sense of dread accompanying each step. As you entered the building, the usual hum of activity felt heavier, more subdued. You nodded at a few colleagues but kept your head down, avoiding prolonged interactions. Today, your goal was to blend into the background as much as possible.

As you approached your desk, you noticed a murmur spreading through the office. Small clusters of employees huddled together, their voices low but animated. The news had spread: Edward Davis had been found dead.

The office was alive with hushed conversations, speculations about what had happened, and what it meant for all of you.

As you were about to reach your desk, you found Ava already buried in her work. Her eyes were red-rimmed, a clear sign she hadn't slept well either. You exchanged a brief, weary smile before settling in.

"Hey" Ava said softly, breaking the silence. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm managing" you replied, trying to muster a convincing smile. "I was thinking of going through some of Davis's projects, see if I can pick up where he left off. Maybe it will help keep my mind off…things."

Ava approached with a look of concern etched across her face. "So, you've heard too?" she asked softly.

You met her gaze, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. "Yeah, I've been hearing whispers about it everywhere in here."

Ava nodded understandingly, her expression mirroring your solemnity. "It's unsettling, isn't it?"

You nodded in agreement, struggling to find words that could capture the mix of emotions swirling inside you. "It's just...hard to process.”

Ava nodded, her expression somber. "It's strange, isn't it? One moment he's here, the next... anyway, if you need any help, just let me know."

"Thanks, Ava" you said, appreciating her offer. —You turned your attention to the stack of files on Edward's desk, each one representing hours of his meticulous work.

Just as you were starting to immerse yourself in Edward's notes, the door to the office main door swung open.

You looked up to see the remaining CEO, James Anderson, entering with Emily at his side. Their faces were grave, adding to the already tense atmosphere.

"Attention, everyone" James called out, his voice carrying a note of urgency—"The police are in the building, and they will be questioning all employees. When you're called, please cooperate fully. I figure you’ve all heard the sad news; we need to get to the bottom of this, for Edward's sake and for the safety of everyone here."

Murmurs spread through the office as people exchanged worried glances. Your heart raced, knowing that you would soon have to face the authorities. You glanced at Ava, who gave you a supportive nod.

"Let's try to stay focused" Ava whispered, attempting to bring some normalcy back to the moment. "We'll get through this."

You took a deep breath and returned to the files in front of you. The work provided a small distraction, but your mind kept wandering back to the inevitable police interview—you needed to be prepared, not just to answer their questions, but to protect the secrets you had uncovered.

As you tried to concentrate, the words on the page blurred; the office felt stifling, the air heavy with unspoken fears. Edward's absence was palpable, a void that couldn't be filled with work or routine. And now, with the police involved, the stakes were higher than ever.

After what seemed like an eternity, though, in reality, only about twenty minutes had passed, Emily approached your desk carefully, her expression a mix of concern and weariness. She touched your shoulder, leaning in slightly. "You're up next" she said softly. "The police are ready to question you."

You felt a jolt of anxiety but nodded, trying to keep your composure. "Okay" you replied—your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Before you could move, Emily continued, her voice a touch more personal. "I also told the police that you were looking for Davis and that he had been looking for you. They suspect that Bowman had something to do with it, since he's MIA and was the last one to see Edward."

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. Emily seemed heartbroken and incredulous, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I can't believe this is happening" she continued, shaking her head. "Edward was a good man, and now... this.”— She paused taking a deep breath. “But don't worry, you have nothing to fear. Just tell them what you know."

You reached out, squeezing her hand in silent support. "We'll get through this" you said, echoing Ava's earlier words of encouragement. But inside, the turmoil churned more heavily.

With a final glance at Ava, you stood up and made your way to the conference room, where the police were waiting. Each step felt like walking on a tightrope, with the abyss of uncertainty yawning below. This was it—the moment where everything could change.

You could lose everything; you couldn’t afford to make a single mistake.

Emily's small smile as she gestured toward the conference room door was both reassuring and laden with unspoken concern. Her eyes, usually bright and determined, now held a glint of worry, reflecting the gravity of the situation you were all living in. You nodded in acknowledgement, grateful for her silent encouragement, and took a deep breath to steady yourself before stepping into the room.

You entered the conference room, feeling the weight of the investigation settle heavily on your shoulders. The atmosphere was charged with tension, each moment stretching taut as you braced yourself for the probing questions ahead. Thankfully, you had spent the night rehearsing what to say, each word carefully chosen and mentally cataloged. The hours of restless tossing and turning in your bed had given you ample time to prepare, ensuring that your story was airtight. Or at least you hoped it would be.

Two detectives were seated at the table, their serious expressions making your stomach churn. One of them, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a stern face, nodded at you. "Good morning, Miss (y/n y/ln), please have a seat" he said. "I'm Detective Mitchell, and this is Detective Harris." He gestured to his partner, a younger woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor.

"Good morning" you replied, taking a seat and clasping your hands in your lap to hide their slight tremor.

"We understand this is a difficult time" Detective Mitchell began, his tone somewhat gentle. "But we need to ask you some questions about Edward Davis and your interactions with him before his death."

You nodded, doing your best to appear composed. "Of course" you said, keeping your voice steady— "I'll help in any way I can."

"Emily mentioned that you had been looking for Davis the night he was found dead" Detective Harris said, leaning forward slightly. "Can you explain why?"

"Yes" you said, taking a deep breath. "Edward is…was my supervisor, and I needed him to review the work on a case I had finished. I went looking for him, but Emily had told me that he was in a late meeting with Bowman. I went to his office and knocked, but no one answered I made sure no one was there. However, I knew better than to disturb the CEO during a meeting—so I left."

The detectives exchanged a glance before continuing their line of questioning. You answered as truthfully as you could, omitting the supernatural elements and focusing on the mundane aspects of your interactions. The weight of your concealed knowledge pressed heavily on your conscience, but you couldn't afford to let it slip.

"Did Edward ever mention any concerns or threats?" Detective Mitchell asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Not directly" you said, frowning in concentration. "But he did seem more on edge recently. I just thought it was the pressure from the projects we were handling."

They nodded, noting your responses. Detective Harris flipped through her notes before asking—"Were you aware of any conflicts between Edward Davis and Mr Bowman?"

You shook your head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. They had disagreements, sure, but nothing that seemed serious."

After what felt like an eternity, the questioning finally concluded. The officers thanked you for your cooperation and told you that you were free to go. You stood up, your legs feeling unsteady beneath you.

Returning to your desk, you found it difficult to concentrate on the work in front of you. The office buzzed with nervous energy, the tension palpable. You knew that the day's events were far from over, and the real challenge lay in maintaining the facade you had carefully constructed.

Ava gave you a reassuring smile as you passed her desk, but the worry in her eyes mirrored your own. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever came next.

What if the security cameras had captured your hurried departure from Bowman's office, or worse, your flustered demeanor? Would the detectives interpret it as suspicious behavior? —You couldn't shake the feeling that every move you made was under scrutiny, every word you spoke weighed against yourself.

The day unfolded beneath the weight of palpable tension that seemed to seep into every corner of the office. Thoughts of Davis, his sudden absence and the unsettling whispers that flitted around occupied your mind, making it impossible to focus on your task. It was a stark reminder of how swiftly people's perceptions could shift; just days ago, your colleagues might have grumbled about Davis behind closed doors, yet now they were engaged in feigned sympathy and outreach to his grieving family—It struck a chord within you, this human inclination to reassess and sometimes sanctify individuals once they're no longer present.

Amidst the murmurs a middle-aged woman, who you remembered her name to be Lilian and two other women who you did not recognize, walked from desk to desk, discussing plans for a gathering to commemorate Davis's life on Monday. Their sudden shift in demeanor, from casual office gossip to earnest condolences, wasn't lost on you. It was a performance of respect that contrasted sharply with their previous feelings and opinion.

Oh the irony of it all, you thought as you sought quickly “refuge” in Ava's office. "Are we still on for those cocktails?" you blurted out almost desperately as Ava greeted you with a knowing look. Without hesitation, she nodded, understanding the urgency in your request. You quickly made plans and escaped the suffocating atmosphere of the office.

Walking through the busy streets of New York, the chill air nipped at your skin despite the layers you wore—you could almost hear your mother's voice admonishing you for not wearing a scarf and hat, which you despised for they seemed to always irritate your skin. The click of your high heels on the pavement echoed in the bustling cityscape, a reminder of the relentless pace of urban life, as you and Ava walked side by side.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Stepping into the cocktail bar felt like entering a different world. Soft lighting enveloped the room, casting a cozy glow over the polished wooden bar, the scent of cigar lingered in the air— the aroma mingled with the soft jazz playing in the background, creating an ambiance that made you feel at peace for an instant. If that was even possible. Peace.

The clink of glasses and the murmur of conversations created a soothing backdrop as you both settled into a corner booth. You found yourself drawn to observing the people around you, each clad in their work attire. You wondered what was hidden beneath their professional exteriors, surely it couldn’t have been as worse as the secrets you were hiding—still you couldn't help but speculate about their lives. What were their aspirations, fears, and burdens? —That’s what kept your mind occupied as Ava recounted the intricate beginnings of her relationship with Louis.

She spoke with a mixture of sarcasm and affection, making you laugh as she mimicked his deep voice and exaggerated mannerisms. “So then he says, ‘Ava, you're like no one I've ever met’ "and I'm thinking, 'Oh great, here comes the line that'll get him slapped.' But instead, I laugh and then I kiss him, and there we are, two idiots laug..” Ava paused mid-sentence, noticing your distant expression.

“Hellooo!? earth to (y/n)" she called out, waving a hand in front of your face. "You still with me?"

You snapped back, managing a weak smile. "Yeah, sorry, just a lot on my mind today" —Ava gave you a knowing look and flagged down the bartender. "Two of your strongest, please.”

As the drinks arrived, Ava slid one over to you. "Here, this'll do the trick. She said grinning at you. Ava raised her glass "To us handling this shit together." "To us" you echoed, clinking your glass against hers.

"So," Ava began, taking a sip, "what's eating you so bad?"

You sighed, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. "It's just... everything that happened today. The whole office buzzing about Davis, people suddenly acting like they cared."

Ava rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Half of them probably couldn't stand him when he was alive. Now they're all 'Poor Davis this' and 'Poor Davis that.' Hypocrites."

"Right?" you said, feeling a bit lighter. "It's like they forgot everything they said about him just a few days ago."

"They always do" Ava replied with a smirk. "But you know what? Screw them. Tonight is about us. No work talk, no office drama.Just you, me, and these kickass cocktails." —You couldn't help but laugh at Ava's attempt to lighten the mood as she quickly swallowed her drink. Taking a deep breath, you decided to follow her lead, setting aside the weight of the day for the moment. Ava leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Now, tell me. Have you seen that bartender? Total eye candy. And he seems interested, given that he hasn't taken his eyes off us for a second, if I might add."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Only you would come to a bar to pick up the bartender"

"Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do" Ava replied, winking. "And...you know that I’m very into Louis right now, however, I think you two could churn out awesome babies”

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "Please, like I need that kind of drama in my life"

Ava grinned. "Come on, you know I'm right. You two would have the cutest kids. Besides, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone else..."

You sighed, taking a sip of your cocktail. "Yeah, well, it’s not exactly at the top of my to-do list, Ava”

Ava raised an eyebrow, a sly grin creeping across her face. "Or is there someone else on your mind?"

"No, there's no one" you replied quickly, too quickly. The image of a certain redhead had flashed through your mind. You brushed it off, convincing yourself that you were just inebriated by her charm—You vaguely remembered reading something about vampires being able to enchant people. Probably just a myth, but it was a convenient enough excuse to ease your mind.

"Uh-huh" Ava said, clearly not buying it. "I know that look”

You smirked, shaking your head. "There's really no one." Ava leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Sure, sure. But if there was someone, you'd tell me, right?"

“Of course" you lied smoothly, taking another sip to avoid her piercing gaze.

She laughed, nudging you with her elbow. "Alright, I'll let it slide for now. But I expect details the minute you find someone interesting. Deal?"

"Deal" you agreed, feeling the tension in your shoulders loosen slightly. —Ava's playful banter was exactly what you needed to distract yourself, just only for a moment.

"Good. Now, back to Louis" Ava continued excitedly.

Watching Ava talking about Louis, you couldn't help but notice the way her eyes twinkled with genuine excitement and affection. It was clear that she was really into him, perhaps more than she even realized. You started wondering if you were ever going to feel that way about someone, if you were destined for that kind of connection—Would you ever find someone who made your heart race just by walking into the room? Someone whose mere presence could light up your world the way Louis did for Ava?—Or were you doomed to be an observer, always on the outside looking in, marveling at the happiness of others while your own heart remained untouched?

A part of you couldn't help but hope that one day, you'd experience that kind of love too— A love that doesn’t need to be asked or prayed for, a love that makes you feel whole without demanding pieces of yourself.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

As you stumbled through your flat's gate, each uneven step echoing in the quiet corridor, the faint optimism from your evening with Ava helped alleviate the weight on your shoulders—though it might have been the lingering effects of the alcohol.

With each precarious ascent up the stairs, your feet begged for respite—the unforgiving heels a torment that briefly sharpened your focus as you aimed the keys at the lock.

Finally inside, you shut the door behind you with a sense of relief—the world outside momentarily silenced as you kicked off your heels—the cool floor a welcome contrast to the ache in your feet.

"Enjoyed yourself?" a warm, mellifluous voice broke through the silence of your apartment. —Had you imagined it? —You had enough alcohol in your veins to rival your blood supply. But this voice, you knew well enough this voice, for your mind had replayed it endlessly for the past two days for it to stick in your mind permanently.

Turning carefully around, your eyes caught a figure perched on your couch, bathed in the gentle moonlight filtering through the partly-open window. Recognition washed over you, followed by a wave of relief.

"Natasha?" you asked, your voice tinged with surprise and a hint of annoyance as you reached for the light switch, flooding the room with a warm glow.

"That would be me, yes" she replied, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.

"What are you doing here?" you demanded, unimpressed by her ability to break into your apartment for the second time. The how of it no longer seemed relevant; you knew she wouldn't explain anyway.

"Looking for you, obviously. But you were taking too long, so I thought I’d entertain myself with a book. Hope you don't mind" she said, casually indicating the open book on her lap.

"I—uh..." you began, but she interrupted before you could form a coherent thought.

"By the way, I found your little notes on the book very amusing" she remarked, her smirk widening.

"Amusing?" you echoed, confusion coloring your tone.

"Yes, amusing" she confirmed. "However,as much as compelling that would be, I’m not here to discuss your insightful marginalia."

"Then why are you here?" you responded, maybe too quickly for the vampire’s liking— your curiosity tinged with apprehension.

"Is my presence here disturbing you in any way?" she asked, setting the book aside and rising gracefully from the couch.

"No, no..." you blurted out almost too quickly. "I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, they say" she murmured, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, her eyes glinting with amusement.

You flinched at her response, your mind racing. Was she here to kill you? Is that what she had meant? Had her intentions changed?

"Are you saying you’re here to..." you gulped, your voice barely a whisper, "kill me?"

"Darling, relax. I can feel how stiff you are. I'm not here to kill you" she assured—her tone soothing your paranoid thoughts.

"Thanks" you mumbled, her smile rendering you momentarily speechless. It was embarrassing how easily she affected you.

"So...you still haven’t replied to my question" she prompted, her patience seemingly endless.

"Yeah, your question, right..." you stammered, trying to recall what she'd asked. The alcohol hadn’t entirely worn off, and her unexpected presence scrambled your thoughts further. — What had she asked again? Her mere presence seemed to erase your memory, leaving you in a daze.

She smiled softly, clearly amused by your struggle to remember.

"How much have you had?" she inquired—her voice pulling you back to reality.

"Uh, what?" you asked, still disoriented.

"Alcohol. I could smell it on you since you opened the door" she said— her smirk softening into a more genuine smile.

"Uh, just enough to forget about everything" you admitted, your words tumbling out in a ramble.

Natasha's expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing her features. "So you have come to reason; you wish to forget."

"No, that's not what I meant... I, uh, I kept thinking about Davis, and then…and then the detectives questioning us all, my colleagues... It was just overwhelming, I felt like I needed a night out with a friend" you confessed, your voice tinged with the day's accumulated stress and worry.

"Detectives, you say?" Her concern deepened, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yeah, they questioned us all this morning" you explained—the memory of the interrogation fresh in your mind.

As you spoke, your movements were restless, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your blouse, your eyes darting around the room. — Natasha's gaze followed your every move, her eyes darkening with a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place—Despite the day's events, or perhaps because of them, her presence had a grounding effect on you.

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly, her gaze steady on yours, as she leaned closer. “What did you tell them?”

“The thruth”

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

Note:

hello:)

I've been tinkering with this chapter for weeks now, trying to get it just right. In the meantime, I've already started working on the next one. But, I have to be honest—I'm not sure when I'll get around to posting it because I've got exams coming up soon.

I'll do my best to get the next chapter out to you as soon as possible!

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poipoipoi-2016 · 1 year

Text

Apropos of nothing

If you are the techiest person in the house (and for many of you, this is not techy at all), today is a good day to build a pihole thanks to Google's new TLDs.

For the record, this straight up stopped Dad from getting computer viruses when coupled with the Ublock browser extension, so I will volunteer my time to get you set up. We will find an evening and do a Zoom call. I am serious.

Prerequisities:

Before you start, this will be way way easier if your router has a magic way to:

Set static IP addresses

Set a custom DNS server

If you can't do this, I'm not saying you're stuck, but there's some non-obvious failure modes and maybe it's time to buy a better router.

Parts:

Raspberry Pi 4B. 2GB if you just want to set and forget, 8GB if you want to do more things on this than just your pihole (Coughs in a MarioKart box) -> https://www.raspberrypi.com/products/raspberry-pi-4-model-b/

Spare USB-C charger if you don't have one already. I'm a fan of https://www.amazon.com/Argon-USB-C-Power-Supply-Switch/dp/B0919CQKQ8/ myself

A microSD card at least UHS class 3 or better. 32 is fine for just a pihole, I have a 512 in some of mine that I use for more stuff. https://www.tomshardware.com/best-picks/raspberry-pi-microsd-cards

Some method of flashing the card if you don't have one (Some come with SD to micro-SD adapters, if not a USB to SD/micro-SD adapter is about $10 off Amazon)

If you really feel like going nuts, go buy yourself an Argon case and then very very carefully never ever install the software for the fan that does nothing. The value is entirely in having a big giant brick that is self-cooling. If you want to play MarioKart, I would consider this a requirement. https://www.amazon.com/Argon-Raspberry-Aluminum-Heatsink-Supports/dp/B07WP8WC3V

Setup:

Do yourself a favor and ignore all the signs telling you to go get Raspbian and instead go grab an ISO of Ubuntu 64-bit using RPi Imager. Because Raspbian cannot be upgraded across version WHY U DO THIS

Download Rpi Imager, plug the microSD card into your computer,

Other General Purpose OS -> Ubuntu -> Ubuntu 22.04 LTS

So now you have an operating system on an SD card.

Assemble the case if you bought one, plug in the SD card, power supply, ethernet cable if you have one or mouse and (mini) HDMI cable if you don't. If you bought that Argon case, you can just plug a keyboard (server OS means no mouse gang; In this house, we use the Command Line) and HDMI cable into the Pi. Turn it on.

Gaining access

The end state of this is that your pi is:

Connected to the internet by cable or wifi

You can SSH to it (Also not scary)

If you plugged in an ethernet cable, once it's done booting (1-2 minutes?), you should be able to ssh to "ubuntu@<the IP of the system>". Look it up in your router. It may make sense to give the static IP NOW to keep it stable.

If you've never used SSH before, I think the standard is Putty on Window or you can just open a terminal in Mac. (And if you know enough Linux to have a Linux computer, why are you reading this?)

If you didn't plug it in, and need to setup the wifi, there's magic incantations to attach it to the wifi and to be quite blunt, I forget what they are.

Your username is ubuntu, your password is ubuntu and then it will ask you to make a new password. If you know the meaning of the phrase "keypair-based access", it may make sense to run `ssh-copy-id` at this point in time.

Router settings (part 1)

Give your new Pi a static IP address, and reboot your pi (as simple as typing in `sudo reboot`).

Open a new SSH session to the pihole on the new address.

Installing pihole

Open up an SSH session and

curl -sSL https://install.pi-hole.net | bash

This is interactive. Answer the questions

When it's done, on your other computer, navigate to <the ip>/admin

Give your new Pi a static IP address then point your router at that address

Set the DNS servers to the static IP

Then ensure you're blocking something. Anything.

Then do what you want to do. You'll probably need to whitelist some sites, blacklist some more, but the main thing is going to be "Adding more list of bad sites". Reddit has some lists.

And... enjoy.

/But seriously, there's some stuff to do for maintenance and things. I wasn't joking about the pair setup.

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chocsra · 2 months

Text

✧ "THE SCORCHING BLAZE OF APPLE MIST"

☆ synopsis ↺: you, a rich and affluent descendant of the gojo clan, attend a luxurious school reunion after a year of attending jujutsu high. unable to take the constant pressure of your former classmates, you call up a friend to appease the tough audience.

☆ content ↺: fluff, fake dating, rich people stuff, female reader, megumi x reader, based off queen of tears ep 2

☆ NOW PLAYING ↺: mabagal — by daniel padilla & moira dela torre

☆ w/c ↺: 4.8k

in jujutsu society, long bloodlines of talented sorcerers create influential and tight-knit clans; clans contribute to the financial support of jujutsu tech, and influence jujutsu to outside organizations and public figures. in this world, there are 3 strongest sorcerer clans:

first, was the kamo clan—a bloodline known for its conservative and traditional beliefs. Like the ultra-rich, they practised old traditions to preserve their sacred bloodline. the people of this clan decide to live in a reserved manner, as the population is predominantly composed of the older generation.

second, was the zenin clan—a bloodline of toxicity, control and archaic values. if you didn't meet your family's standards as a sorcerer and person, you were shunned out by your blood, left to fend for yourself. their sorcery is potent, but their values are strict and unruly.

third, the gojo clan—your very own blood, cursed energy, and soul. they are the descendants of michizane sugawara, renowned as one of japan's big three vengeful spirits. predominantly, the gojo clan is highly respected for its bloodline's sheer talent. but, upon private family gatherings, you knew that the current strength of the clan was only held by the current head of the family. the one with the six eyes; the limitless technique—your relative, gojo satoru, was the gojo clan's invincible ace card. he made the decisions, the desire, the drive; gojo satoru is allowed to do whatever he pleases—because he is gojo satoru.

however, perhaps that was enough of your nonsensical inner dialogue, it was time to face the truth:

you stood beneath the polished white staircase, an entrance to a pair of huge, wooden double doors. for a descendant of a wealthy clan such as yourself, even if you were a little nervous at the raw size of this mansion. smoke enveloped the nooks and crannies of the luxurious establishment, and only the finest woods and architecture were crafted and delicately constructed here. to you, a school for the rich wasn't a place of friendships and recreation, it was simply a place to make connections.

which is why you attended a middle school reunion party, hosted by one of your former classmates, whose family is in the top 1% of japan's sustained wealth. as you stand before the mansion in front of you, you bite nervously onto a manicured nail. you were in high school now, not the high school that all your former classmates attended—which was one of the most prestigious academies in japan. but you attended a highly religious private institution with no more than 10 students, also known as jujutsu high.

yes, jujutsu high is an education recognized as the foundation of jujutsu society. but civilians, especially wealthy civilians, don't have the knowledge or mental capacity to understand the innate prestige that jujutsu high has in store for its students. to your middle school classmates, you disappeared into the outskirts of tokyo to become a monk.

you walk past the open double doors, inhaling and exhaling sharply to yourself. 'this is just another rich gathering holding moody teenagers, nothing new.' though immediately, you were met with the pungent smell of expensive fragrances lingering in the air and the accommodation of partying students in lavish dresses and suits.

you pause, intaking the crowd density of your environment, until you hear an excited yell: "[name] came! I just saw her enter!" suddenly, a rush of familiar high-schoolers surrounded you with surprised gasps and some noticeably hostile glares, "gojo [name]! you came out of hiding!" a teenager screams, earning a polite chuckle from you in return.

a few minutes pass, and you were already getting doted on by your girlfriends: "oh my god, you look stunning, I could kiss ya right now." your old friends take turns twirling you around, wrapping their arms around yours and your shoulders to show you around the place, "c'mere, bitch! I have to tell ya about takeda's dad's stock market scandal!" one of your friends yells, the excitement in her tone suspiciously slurred—you wonder what kind of drinks they served in this party.

once settled in, you linger around the establishment by yourself. looking at the people around you; the drinks served, the bright lighting of chandeliers, and the freshly waxed marble flooring.

you did notice one thing, though, sighing in disappointment, almost everybody was paired into neat assortments of young couples. you understood that relationships in youth, especially high school, have very slim longevity. but, it did sting you a bit; a feeling of subtle loneliness subsiding over you. even your friends had boyfriends—some good-looking, some not, but all well-off.

you twirl the base of your mocktail between delicate fingers, processing your observation bitterly. until, the soft sound of heels clicking behind you captures your attention, "ah, gojo," a feminine voice calls out to you. dressed in a raven cocktail dress, her presence reeked of chanel.

your former academic rival and classmate, yukina tominaga; a bitch dressed in prada.

you decide to leave the past behind you, politely smiling: "how are you, yukina?" you casually ask, no bite in your tone. you were here to make allies, not enemies, you thought, inhaling softly. the girl twirls a strand of her raven hair around her finger, smiling eagerly, "i'm good, my dad just opened up another mall in yokohama." she boasts, earning a nod from you. "i've heard. it's really popular right now, congratulations."

an awkward silence precedent in the massive party hall, the loud and giggly chatter in the background subsiding.

her amber gaze meets yours for a second, fleeting with a sense of animosity mixed with a hint of surprise, "thank you." yukina's lips curve into a smile, "you're attending jujutsu high, right? congratulations." you tilt your head slightly in confusion, a compliment from your peers about your source of education? that was entirely new to you. "hm? well, thank you." you reply, sipping your fruity drink carefully. "yeah, my dad won't shut up about how 'it's the backbone of society or something." she rolls her eyes teasingly.

"i like your dress, by the way." the girl adds, watching as you glance down at the cutting-edge navy blue party dress. it wasn't anything similar to a gown or tight skim dress—just fitting for the occasion, yet classy and expensive. it felt too bland in your honest opinion, the silk loops of your sleeves exposing the expanse of your shoulders and collarbone. "thank you, again." you smile, nodding graciously.

yukina adjusts the sleeves of her black cocktail dress, scoffing slightly in bemusement as she stops sipping her drink, turning to you. "no boyfriend yet?" she asks, quirking a mischievous brow, "no," you reply instantaneously, shaking your head. the girl almost smiles brightly, giggling softly. "really? not even a date over here?" you take another look around the expanse of couples doused in high-quality fabrics and drinks. "well, i'm not sure, i have to catch up with friends, after all."

"pfft," yukina stops twirling her hair, snickering softly, causing you to quirk a brow. "[name], do you not see that everyone here has a partner? this place is known for being one of the best ball-dancing establishments." you take a glance at your drink, pondering your life choices for a second, before looking off to the side: "i see, must be exciting for someone like you." you reply, earning a mocking gasp from the raven-head.

"tsk, i mean, did you even get asked out?" she questions, a cocky smirk present on her face. "by some, i refused, though." you sip into your drink again, running a few nervous fingers through the silk of your hair. "wow, that's surprising." yukina snickers, "knowing your personality, i wonder how you even had suitors that lasted more than one conversation."

the air gets tenser in the room once the grumble of words even threatens to escape past her lips, you glare expectantly at the shorter girl.

you scoff dryly, "excuse me?"

raising a brow, you grip the glass of your drink a little tighter, steadying yourself. "listen, you want some advice?" she asks, a bite of superiority and confidence in her tone. you tilt your chin curiously, "well, if you want to give it so bad.. go ahead."

yukina inhales sharply in annoyance for a second, before pursing her glossed lips into a smirk, "well, my boyfriend and i have always had this thing where we face the same direction on everything. i've never had one argument with him, yet… you argue with men all the time even if you're not dating. how interesting," she chuckles, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her decorated ear, taking another sip from her glass. "your point?" you question, crossing your arms. "all i'm saying is, you should be more pleasant to men, that's what they like, anyway." yukina snickers, brushing some dust off your shoulder teasingly, pulling an audacious scoff from your throat. "maybe then, you can get a boyfriend," she slyly walks past you, bumping the shoulder she just brushed.

you stare at her walking off, knitting your eyebrows in suppressed anger, your glabella forming a line between them. the girl then turns around once more, a humourless laugh in her tone: "or at least a date, since you couldn't get that either."

you scowl, snapping back a reply instantly, "that's becau—" yukina completely ignores you, instead running off to her boyfriend, cutting you off: "babe!" she giggles, disappearing into the crowd of chattering and partying.

this night couldn't get any worse, you thought.

you stood in one of the crystal white bathroom stalls, looking into the contacts of your phone:

"no.." you mutter, teeth pinching into the gold of your necklace. "itadori's too normal." brushing over his contact, your shoes clack against the waxed flooring. "inumaki would show up in a t-shirt and sweats," you mumble, scoffing momentarily as you brush over your upperclassman's contact.

"damn it.. who is tall, handsome and at least seemingly rich?.." you think to yourself, tapping a finger on your chin, before coming to a brilliant revelation. you press onto the contact of one of your classmates, pushing the phone to your ear. the line dials; one.. two.. the other line connects with a beep: "hello?"

you clear your throat nervously, whispering into the speaker of your phone, "fushiguro, do you like dior or tom ford?"

he didn't get you.

not yesterday, not tomorrow, and not today.

megumi sat in his dorm, fiddling with a recent non-fiction book he picked up at the library—scoffing abruptly to himself as you suddenly hung up the call. carding nimble fingers through spiky dark blue locks, the teenager sighs, dialling your number again.

"what is she on about.." he mutters as the line beeps patiently, waiting for you to pick up.

beep.

his eyes widen as the line picks up, "the number you called isn't available right now. please leave a voicemail at the bee—" end.

megumi sighs, grumbling to himself as you decline his call, before receiving a sudden message, a message of the address to the party you were currently attending, and a polite "can you please be there?" text present on his screen.

the boy was silently contemplating; pretending to be your boyfriend at some rich party? It's odd coming from his classmate nearing the end of the school year. on one hand, there was a deal—3 free dior sauvage perfume bottles at his doorstep, or really, any deal of choice that you could achieve for him.

but, he thought, megumi would have to spend some time getting ready, picking the correct suit for the occasion and a piece that would get him complimented by you at the door, and play the part by calling you his girlfriend: buying you drinks, holding your waist, and possibly dancing with you?—no, he couldn't do that.

although, out of the only gojo's he knew, you were the more competent one. megumi dearly respected you, as a friend, classmate and jujutsu sorcerer. the teenager often believed gojo satoru needed to take notes from you regarding efficiency, scoffing as the white-haired man would quirk a brow whenever megumi would talk about you is much better than gojo satoru—the six eyed greek god, or so he claimed.

megumi didn't want to let you down, the secret affection he felt towards you melting away in the back ropes of his heart. but then again, he would have a big role to play. being somebody's boyfriend, it took plenty of work. he heard the potency of relationship dilemmas from nobara, who kept up with celebrity scandals and drama. megumi thought about it, he didn't want to do it, he simply wasn't going to. even the thought of being lovey-dovey with you itself made the teenager's stomach churn in distaste. the teen shook his head, knowing he already had dior sauvage, he could get another bottle right now if he wanted to.

—megumi thought, buttoning up his fanciest white button-up as he searched for fine-clad suits to wear tonight.

"this is stupid, i'm being framed," he muttered to himself, closing his closet door begrudgingly.

was it begrudgingly, fushiguro?

his blurred vision outlined the bright lights of the establishment, loud music and the rich smell of attendees laughing and singing. megumi was surrounded by party-goers as soon as he walked through the double doors, clutching the raven of his cashmere blazer, stuffing a hand into his pocket.

"who is that?" a girly voice asked, earning curious glances from other people. "why's his hair so spiky?" soft giggles from the right whisper feverishly, though not so quietly: "that's what you're worried about?" another girl voices, smirking to the crowd, "why is he so handsome?"

"pfft—" the group of people surrounding the tall teen choked back a laugh, until a gruff voice spoke out playfully, "i mean, i get it, and i'm a dude, so.."

"ew!"

"get help, ryu."

"i'm just saying!"

megumi ignored the chatter in front of him, azure eyes only gazing at one thing; the very reason the rest of his vision was blurred.

you.

you—wearing a silk navy blue dress, an enchanting dip and curve to your shoulders, down your neck, and your natural hair clasped into a half-risen bun. you—who glossed lips parted in surprise, eyes sparkling gently under the chandelier's lighting. you—who currently stood next to another guy.

was it begrudgingly, fushiguro? he couldn't help but stare. the sudden realization that he was supposed to be your boyfriend at this exact moment kicking into his noggin. megumi had to act like it, he had to accommodate you, he had to like you. this feeling, made his knees feel like jelly, oceany eyes darting to the marble ground, megumi gasped softly as his knees buckled unexpectedly, clutching the nearest table beside him.

"oh my god, is he gonna die!? who even is that?" voices scramble in the back, watching as the teenager fumbles around in the front foyer.

"[y/n]," megumi wrinkles his flushed nose, the embarrassment of losing his balance over quite literally nothing in front of the wealthy crowd sinking in. "sorry i'm late."

everyone at the foyer turned to gawk at you and back to the boy, repeating this process an obscene amount of times. "gojo, is he your?.."

you froze in place, fingers nervously tangling in the strands of your hair, "—he's my date!" shuffling your drink onto the counter before you, your eyes widening by the second, "sorr.."

about to apologize, your gaze darts to fushiguro, brows immediately furrowing at the sight before you: he was a complete nervous wreck. a hand tightly clutching a countertop, the other one clasping over his mouth, a faint pink tinting his cheeks and ears. even his dark hair looked sad, the spikes drooping down ever so slightly. you fiddle with your fingers while a strange feeling reels in the pit of your stomach.

"sorry.. for the commotion." you choke out.

awkward gazes and unbothered shrugs filled the room before everyone left to do their thing. they made some comments about his refined looks, his weird stomach problems—assuming he just had IBS or digestive issues, and how you, of course, got lucky. coming to an anticlimactic revelation, you scratch the back of your neck sheepishly: maybe fushiguro megumi wasn't as competent as you thought.

patting a handkerchief against the boy's temple, collecting the dampening sweat near his hairline, your gaze softens, "you can stop covering your mouth, you've been frozen for how long?" your eyes stare at the teen for a few moments, narrowing in mock-disbelief as fushiguro remains silent. his slim hand still covering the lower half of his face, a prominent adam's apple bobs in the smooth expanse of his throat. fushiguro swallows thickly as he adjusts the white collar of his suit, "i.. didn't get to brush my teeth before i arrived."

what a liar. you thought.

"your ears aren't invisible, y'know, you don't have to lie." crossed your arms over your chest, curving your lips into a small smile. the teen flushes and bites his tongue at the old memory of gojo convincing him that his ears turn pink when he lies—in which megumi knew was also a lie as he grew older. but he couldn't help but purse his lips and cover his ears quickly in the spur of the moment.

you scoff mockingly at this little action. however, a hint of subtle endearment lingered in your gaze: "hey, what's gotten into you tonight?" fushiguro grumbled softly, removing his hands from his reddened ears, "nothing."

you quirk a brow, eyes drowning in mirth.

"no seriously, it's nothing." he assures, fingers prodding at the soft spikes in his hair, "your favour—it just makes me uneasy." you nod in soft agreement, "yeah, i understand." pausing for a brief moment, before waving delicate hands in defence, "but, it's not that hard. just stay near me and give people rude stares, like you always do."

megumi glares at you from the side in offence, an airy giggle threatening to pull from your chest.

"fine," he mutters reluctantly, before his lithe fingers suddenly find home in the silk of your hair, causing you to grumble. "you're ruining my hair, do you wanna die?" you sneer, earning a light chuckle from the taller boy. "shut up and let me rudely stare at the guy that's been looking at you."

your stunned eyes widen as your lips part ever so slightly; the sight of you alone sends the familiar, wobbly feeling in megumi's knees to buckle.. again. "i've noticed him for a while," the teen mutters, gazing down at you affectionately, "you attract weird men." he scolds. biting your inner cheek nervously, you begrudgingly let megumi stroke and ruffle your hair for quite some time. gazes darting to your old classmate, whose disappointment washed over his face as he stared at you two.

but was it begrudgingly, [name]? you couldn't help but feel your stomach churn.

you had never felt his hand before this close.

yes, there were times you've high-fived, times where he brushed a hand against your shoulder, but that was in battle. you knew the precautions of sorcery, so many of your classmates have already touched you. this, however, felt different. perhaps it was because megumi was always so stuck up—the only time you could admire the faint smile painted on his snowy lips was when yuji and nobara weren't looking. softly smiling as the two walked away snickering about something stupid, as per usual. you noticed it; you always did, because his smile was like the sun shining on snow. when the purity of soft white snow captures the gaze of a hint of light, bright and fuzzy. that's the closest thing you could pinpoint to his smile, even if it was so fleeting. perhaps it was his slim hand tangled in the locks of your hair and the same smile he held only for himself planted on his lips was why you felt different.

you questioned why he was acting so different in the first place—it made you wonder what kind of drinks they served at this party.

squinting your eyes softly, your gentle gaze follows from the lining of his white button-up to his cashmere suit pockets, to his sculpted jawline, then to the expanse of ivory skin; smooth and delightful. your eyes would follow rosy cheeks, to finally the shining sea of his eyes; one that was already looking into yours.

one—you swore time stopped for a second, your heart dropping in your chest. could there be cockroaches in your stomach? you could've sworn there was a better insect to represent this feeling.

two—have his eyes always been this gentle? must they be so glassy? Even his long eyelashes were gorgeous; not saying he was, of course.

three—those lips of his in which you dearly admired the smile of. you remembered it was only his smile, not his lips itself. you liked the hue, the shape, the colour. gosh, if only you could get a lip gloss in that shade, it would be a designer product. your gaze mindlessly returns to his eyes,

…

you both snap your heads away, his hand immediately jolting back into his pocket. pink coating the pads of your cheeks.

even you felt a little disappointed, but couldn't understand why.

yukina tominaga—the very reason you invited fushiguro to this party in the first place.

perhaps you should thank her because the night has been going smoothly; no, more than smoothly. megumi didn't talk to anyone else, didn't make a fool of himself other than his strange stomach problems upon first his entrance, and reeked of wealth. no seriously, how could he act so posh? The teen held his chin high, refusing to look at any other woman in the room, and only spoke to the more sophisticated teenagers at the party; he simply looked straight out of a conglomerate family.

and you quite enjoyed smirking at the raven-head, cocking a brow at her while making eye contact. her response only gripped the sleeve of her boyfriend's tuxedo, who was a taller man with a bowl cut and constantly had his mouth stuffed with food.

"here you go," — a waiter from behind the marble counter draws a glass towards her, she swallows thickly before taking the glass. you walk over to the girl, elbows planted beside her, "i'll have a mocktail, please." you smile at the waiter as he nods and draws you another glass. pausing to look at yukina, she nervously tangles her fingers at the chain of her diamond necklace. a furrow in her brows, and narrowed look in her gaze. "what was it you said?" you question suddenly, twirling the glass in between nimble fingers, "that you and your boyfriend like to face the same direction on things?" she merely scoffs in response, head facing the other direction. "well, i didn't understand what you meant until i saw him myself." you chuckle softly, an obvious bite crawling in your tone. the girl grits her teeth, snapping her head to glare at you, "what was that?"

you snicker, "It's just that, with my boyfriend, i prefer it when we face each other." yukina scoffs, fingers slipping away from her drink, glaring as you tap a mocking finger on your chin. "so i can look at his face, y'know?" cooing, you grab the base of your mocktail before smiling, "but i'm sure you know nothing about that." you sneer, walking away from the girl.

she tilts her chin towards the ceiling in disbelief, teeth grinding at her inner cheek. that bitch, she thought, adjusting the top of her satin dress. until a sudden voice calls out, excited and smiley, "baby!" yukina's boyfriend greets, chocolate plastered all over his cheeks. the girl tries to smile back, her gaze betraying her of her annoyance, "babe! what happened?.."

"i.. there's so much free food!" her boyfriend giggles, stuffing another piece of chocolate cake into his mouth, "i love it! i mean, i love you—" the girl bites her lip in irritation, finally snapping, "shut up and wipe your mouth, will you?!"

…

how comical.

"it's finally over," you sigh in relief, feet stumbling on the concrete ground. you were currently outside of the rich establishment, tired and relieved that the party ended. the boy put his hands in his pockets, scoffing softly, "you owe me one." he bites, though a hint of affection lurking in his tone. your brows raise in delight, elements of your phone call coming back into your memory, "oh right," you pause, finger tapping at your cheek. "you said you didn't want perfume in return, what do you want?"

megumi bit his inner cheek in a silent wince, gaze darting to the ground, "well, i think.." he whispers, before returning his eyes to yours, "i want you to use my first name, call me megumi." your gaze softened, jaw slacking slightly in surprise, "eh?" you question, "that simple?" the boy sighs with hesitance, "it's because i don't wanna call you gojo, i wanna call you [y/n]." he mutters, fingers wiping at his nose nervously. "ah, so you don't get confused with gojo, correct?" you smile, "i understand."

megumi pursed his lips into a hidden pout, you don't, how could you be this dense? he thought. "okay, I'll get going then. bye, megumi." you wave at the teen, your other hand pulling out your phone to call your driver.

until, a lithe hand wraps around your wrist softly, pushing your phone back into your purse. "don't." he whispers, his words demanding, but his innovation ever so pleading. "we practically live next to each other, why don't we just walk home together?" your lips part in a soft gasp, about to speak, until a sudden blush betrays your cheeks, "what?.. are you sure? i can just call my driver for both of u—"

suddenly, a blazer drapes over your head, not around the curves of your shoulders, but covering your entire head. "fushiguro?" you call out in confusion, until a gruffer voice responds, "it's megumi for you, and you can't be this stupid, right? it's not a far walk." he tuts, a certain sass within his tone, but you couldn't gouge his face for a reaction, so you fix the blazer on you around your shoulders. "i'm even giving you warmth while i walk in the cold." you scoff in amusement, "you're so dramatic. it'll still be too cold, let's drive." the boy rolls his eyes, muttering, "i'll get you ice cream."

you scorn with arrogance, "hey, y'know i'm rich, right? i can buy my damn ice cream—"

you find yourself licking an ice cream cone in the early hours of the morning, walking on the street next to your dear classmate, megumi fushiguro. his raven blazer draped over your shoulders, hand stuffed in his pockets as he watched you shuffle in heels, licking at his cone. "you didn't have to do this, you did enough by coming." you chuckle, staring softly at the melting ice cream.

the boy stares at you under the soft everglow of the moonlight, blue bangs falling over his face. he watches you in this view, catching a faint smile painting his lips, glad that you won't be cold wearing his jacket. megumi turned back to his cone, brows raising in surprise at the melting dessert, how long was he staring for?

the teen grumbles, licking the dripping ice cream from the soft cone, "it's the least i can do," he pouts gently, ears reddening as you giggle, "i should at least walk you home." you gaze into his eyes softly, softening up, "your future girlfriend is so lucky." complimenting casually, your lips curve into a smile as you shuffle awkwardly from the structure of the heels.

megumi huffs, "oh so now, you're the future? the gojo's seem to be everywhere now."

you and your stupid hair, he thought. fushiguro megumi swore he hated everyone, that he was done with everybody's bullshit, and that he didn't want to focus on anything else but school. so why did he blurt that out? that to him, he wanted you as his future. the teen watched plenty of romance movies with his friends, who gouged very different emotional reactions compared to his scoffs and eye rolls. so, why does the thought of you with another person rub him the wrong way?.. could there be cockroaches in his stomach? no, there must be a better insect to represent this forsaken feeling.

it wasn't only that, he yearned for more opportunities to see you wearing his clothing, to be the reason he smiled, the reason he'd walk home every night. it was really strange, and megumi didn't believe that this was a curse's doing. even when a rush of blood and nervousness wracked his brain, flourishing into a sweet colour of pink.

"hah, hah?" you tilt your head in everlasting confusion, "i'm what?.." the boy's eyes shoot up, the blush travels from his ears to his face. "what?!" he huffs,

you repeat after him, both cheeks flushed crazily, "what?!"

megumi stammers, "uuh, the ice cream's melting." he points, both of your desserts dripping onto the floor, "right, right! should hurry," you stutter out.

✧ chocsra™

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