#being alive is wild every damn day

[magdaclaire]

the disparity between things i'm certified in and things i'm good at is fucking insane

[izumkay]

"CAUGHT, KEPT, CRAVED" |Ch-1|

❥Pairing- Hunter!Satoru × Fairy!Reader

❥Synposis- Satoru Gojo never believed in fairy tales—until he found one standing right in front of him. A real, flesh-and-blood fairy, in his forest. He should’ve been concerned, maybe even terrified, but mostly? He was just shocked as hell.

Fairies weren’t real. They belonged in bedtime stories, not in the middle of his hunt, staring at him like he was the strange one. And yet, days passed, and she didn’t vanish like a dream. Instead, she became something else entirely—something dangerous, something forbidden. Keeping her close is reckless. Letting her go? Impossible.

❥Gerne/theme- MDNI. Explicit sexual content, lot of sexual tension, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, forbidden love, fantasy AU, fire, abuse, possessiveness, SA attempts, longing, sacrifices, reunion, seperation, fluff too <3

→ WC- 10k

Satoru Gojo grumbled as he trudged through the dense forest, the heavy weight of his bow hanging against his back. The sun was high, casting harsh beams that barely broke through the thick canopy above, and yet, he still had to hunt. Of course, a hunter couldn’t survive without a kill, but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated.

Why did he always have to do this? It wasn’t like he needed the money that much—he lived alone, away from the cities, far from any expectations. His lifestyle was simple, and really, the whole hunting thing felt more like a chore than a necessity. But it was for his living, so here he was, walking through the damn forest again, tracking some monster or wild animal for dinner.

“I swear, if I see one more damn deer today—” he whined under his breath, kicking a stray branch out of his path. “I’ll—”

His words caught in his throat as he paused, his eyes narrowing at the sudden shift in the air around him. It wasn’t the normal breeze that rustled the leaves; no, this felt… different. Almost alive, as if the very forest itself was holding its breath.

He shook his head, chuckling bitterly at himself.

It’s just the wind, he told himself, moving forward again. But the deeper he ventured into the woods, the more uneasy he felt. Something was off. Something was watching him.

And when a faint, almost ethereal sound drifted through the trees—too soft to be an animal, too melodic to be anything but strange—he froze.

His instincts kicked in, the trained hunter in him waking up. The forest was quiet now. Too quiet.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for his bow, his eyes scanning the shadows.

Nothing.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to shake off the feeling. There was no way—he couldn’t afford to let his mind wander. Yet the sensation of being observed was growing stronger with every step. His pulse quickened, but instead of fear, there was an odd sense of curiosity—a pull, something he couldn’t explain.

With a quick exhale, he adjusted his grip on the bow and moved deeper into the forest, determined to uncover what was hiding in the shadows.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, a sudden loud thud echoed through the trees, followed by the unmistakable sound of something—or someone—crashing through the underbrush. Gojo’s eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips. Finally, some action.

He crept toward the source of the noise, his footsteps silent on the forest floor. As he approached, he spotted a foot sticking out from behind a large fern. He bit his tongue to suppress a chuckle. Whoever this was, they were about to get an earful.

Stepping closer, he peered around the fern to find a young woman sprawled on the ground, her wings—yes, wings—splayed out awkwardly beside her. She had a few branches and leaves tangled in her hair, and dirt smudged her cheeks. She looked up, eyes wide with surprise, and they both froze.

For a moment, neither moved. Then, in unison, they both screamed.

"AHHHH!"

Gojo stumbled back, nearly dropping his bow. "What the—?"

The woman scrambled to her feet, brushing off leaves and dirt. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Gojo blinked, still processing the sight before him. "I... I should be asking you that. What are you doing in my forest?"

She crossed her arms, her wings fluttering slightly. "Your forest? This is a public forest!"

"Not anymore," he retorted, smirk returning. "I just claimed it."

She rolled her eyes. "Typical. Another human thinking they own everything."

"Hey, I was here first," he shot back. "And last time I checked, humans were the dominant species around here."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Because last time I checked, humans were the ones who needed to be saved from themselves."

Gojo chuckled. "Touché. But seriously, what are you? Some kind of... fairy?"

She huffed, wings twitching slightly. "Yes. I am. And for the record, not all fairies are tiny and delicate. Some of us can hold our own."

Gojo stared at her for a solid few seconds before scoffing. "Yeah, okay. Sure. And I’m a royal prince."

She frowned. "What?"

"Come on," he waved a hand at her wings. "Fairies aren’t real. You can just admit it now before this gets embarrassing."

Her glare sharpened. "I am a fairy."

Gojo crossed his arms. "No, you’re not."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you’re not."

She exhaled sharply. "Why is this so hard for you to believe?"

Gojo threw up his hands. "Because fairies belong in bedtime stories! Magic, wings, flying around all sparkly—yeah, it’s cute for kids, but in real life? People don’t just have wings."

She rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."

"No, I’m just sane," he shot back. Then, his gaze flickered back to her wings, still skeptical. "What even are those? You make them yourself? They’re kinda impressive, I’ll give you that."

She twitched. "They’re real."

"Right, sure." His smirk deepened as he stepped closer. "Bet they’re just attached to your clothes or something—"

Before he could finish, his hand reached out, fingers just barely grazing the edge of her wing—

SMACK!

"Ow!" Gojo yelped, stumbling back as she slapped his hand away with a force he definitely wasn’t expecting.

"I told you not to touch them!" she yelled, wings flaring wide.

Gojo clutched his hand, eyes wide. "What the hell?! That actually hurt!"

"It was supposed to!" she snapped, her face burning with irritation. "Do you go around grabbing random people's limbs too?"

Gojo blinked, still holding his hand. "Well... I mean, if I thought they were fake, yeah."

She groaned, shoving past him. "Unbelievable. I don’t have time for this."

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" He quickly stepped in front of her, arms outstretched. "Alright, let’s just—wait a second." His blue eyes studied her, skeptical yet intrigued. "So you’re really trying to convince me that you’re some mystical, magical creature, huh?"

She folded her arms. "I’m not trying to convince you. I am one."

Gojo tapped his chin. "Mmm. Nope. Still don’t buy it."

She scowled. "You just saw my wings!"

"Yeah, and I’ve also seen some very good costumes."

Her eye twitched. "I flew before I fell!"

"And I’ve seen people jump off roofs and think they’re flying."

She let out a long, slow exhale, visibly restraining herself from strangling him. "You're insufferable."

Gojo grinned. "So I’ve been told."

Silence hung between them, thick with tension. She was clearly done with him. He was clearly entertained by her frustration. And yet, neither of them moved.

The forest had gone eerily quiet. The wind barely rustled the leaves. It was as if the world itself was waiting to see what happened next.

Finally, Gojo spoke. "Alright, fine—I’ll play along. So, fairy girl, if you’re real... prove it."

She narrowed her eyes, a slow, knowing smirk creeping onto her face. "Oh, you’ll regret saying that."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m shaking.”

Without another word, she stepped back, rolling her shoulders as her wings stretched to their full span. The soft glow of the setting sun caught on them, illuminating the delicate but powerful structure. Gojo barely had time to process the sight before—

Whoosh.

She launched herself into the air, wings beating with precise, controlled movements. Leaves and dust swirled around as she hovered effortlessly above him, the wind from her wings rustling his hair.

Gojo’s smirk faltered.

His brain short-circuited for a second.

She… flew.

Not jumped. Not swung from a branch. Not some elaborate trick of wires or illusions. No, she lifted clean off the ground, rising higher and higher with each beat of her wings.

“What.” His voice came out flat, his head tilting back as he followed her ascent.

She did a slow, mocking circle above him before descending just a few feet in front of his face, her arms crossed and a smug look plastered on her face.

"Still fake?" she taunted.

Gojo blinked. "Okay. Hold on. Wait a damn minute."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, what now? Are you going to say I’m on some invisible ropes? A hallucination, maybe?"

Gojo rubbed his temples. "I'm the hallucination at this point. This—this doesn’t happen. People don’t just—fly.”

"Well, good thing I’m not people," she shot back. "Say it. Fairies are real."

Gojo pointed at her. "You have to be messing with me."

She hovered a little closer. "Say. It."

Gojo squinted at her. Then at the wings. Then at her feet. Then back at the wings. Then—

"…Nah," he said, shaking his head.

Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?!"

"You’re still messing with me," he said firmly, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. “This is—this is a trick. Maybe some weird physics thing I never learned. Or—or maybe I’m dehydrated. Yeah. Maybe I hit my head. That would explain why I’m seeing some girl floatin’ in front of me with—”

She sighed deeply before flapping her wings hard, sending a burst of wind directly into his face.

"—AGH, shit!" He stumbled back, hands shielding his face from the sudden gust.

She landed smoothly in front of him, looking pleased with herself. "Convinced now?"

Gojo, hair now an absolute mess, slowly lowered his hands. His expression was unreadable as he stared at her, the gears in his head practically screaming as they tried to process the impossible.

Then, finally—

“…Okay, so let’s pretend for a second,” he began, still skeptical but clearly shaken, “that you are some kind of fairy.”

She groaned. "Oh my god."

"Hey, I’m getting there!" He waved a hand. "It’s just—you can’t expect me to accept that just like that. Fairies aren’t supposed to be real. They’re myths. Fantasy stuff! Kids’ stories! You can’t just—just exist like this!"

"And yet, here I am," she deadpanned.

Gojo dragged a hand down his face. “You see why this is a lot to take in, right?”

"Oh, I do. You’re just painfully slow."

"Excuse you—"

"How about this?" She stepped forward, tilting her head. "Instead of standing here having an existential crisis, you start believing what’s right in front of you?"

Gojo inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and nodded. “Okay.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. I’m… open to considering the possibility that maybe—just maybe—you are not, in fact, a very dedicated prankster.”

She rolled her eyes. "Close enough."

Another pause. Gojo ran a hand through his hair, still visibly shaken.

“…So, uh,” he started, “if fairies are real, does that mean, like… elves are real, too? Or, like, dragons?”

She sighed. “Oh boy.”

Gojo stared at her for a long moment, his hands on his hips, lips pressed together like he was really trying to process what just happened. Then, with a deep sigh, he finally spoke.

"Okay. Fine," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Maybe—maybe—you're actually a fairy."

She crossed her arms. "Wow. That must have hurt to admit."

Gojo shot her a look. "Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited. But seriously—how? How is this even possible?" He gestured at her wings like they personally offended him. "People don’t just have these! There’s gotta be some explanation. Science? Magic? Divine intervention? Hell, did I eat something weird this morning?"

She just blinked at him.

Gojo stared back.

More silence.

Finally, she sighed and turned on her heel. "Yeah, nope. Not explaining anything to someone this stupid."

Gojo gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. "Hey! First of all—rude. Second of all—I think I deserve some kind of answer here!"

"You think?" she scoffed, already walking away. "I don't owe you anything."

"You literally just fell out of the sky in front of me, flapped your little wings, and sent my entire worldview into flames!" Gojo threw his arms up. "The least you could do is tell me how!"

She ignored him, stepping over some fallen branches. "Not my problem."

Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face before quickly following after her. "Oh, come on. Just a little hint? A tiny fairy secret? A—hey, wait up!"

She didn't wait.

Gojo let out an exasperated huff. "Unbelievable. First, I find out fairies are real, and now, apparently, they’re jerks, too."

She smirked but didn't turn around. "Took you long enough to figure that one out."

Gojo huffed as he followed after her, stepping over roots and crunching leaves underfoot. “You know, if you’re gonna crash-land in front of me, the least you could do is answer a few simple questions.”

She didn’t even look back. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Wow. The attitude.” Gojo scoffed, quickening his pace to walk beside her. “You’re seriously not gonna explain anything? Nothing at all? Not even a tiny little—”

“Nope.”

He blinked. “Not even like, ‘Oh, Gojo, I’m actually from a magical fairy kingdom, and I fell out of the sky because an evil wizard cursed me’?”

She gave him a look. “Do I look cursed to you?”

Gojo looked her up and down, taking in the dirt, leaves, and general mess she had become from falling. “Honestly? A little bit.”

Her eye twitched. "I swear, you're the most annoying human I've ever met."

Gojo grinned. “You’ve met a lot of humans, then? Or am I just special?”

"You're something," she muttered under her breath, shoving a branch out of her way as she walked faster.

Gojo followed easily. “Oh, come on. I get nothing? No tragic backstory? No mysterious quest? No ‘I’m the lost princess of the fairy realm’?”

“Keep guessing,” she said dryly.

Gojo groaned dramatically. “Unbelievable. I stumble across a real-life fairy, and she won’t even tell me how she exists.”

She suddenly stopped walking, spinning on her heel so fast that Gojo barely avoided bumping into her. She looked up at him, unimpressed. “Let me make this very clear, human—I don’t have to tell you anything. Not to someone as stupid as you.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest like she had physically wounded him. “Stupid?! Me?! I’ll have you know I’m very intelligent.”

“Oh, really?” she deadpanned. “Because a very intelligent person would’ve accepted reality by now instead of standing here whining like a child.”

Gojo pouted. “I’m not whining.”

“You are whining.”

Gojo scoffed. “I am not—”

“You are.”

“I am not—”

She sighed, turning back around and walking again. “I don’t have time for this.”

Gojo followed instantly. “You keep saying that, but you don’t seem to be going anywhere important.”

She ignored him.

Gojo smirked. “You do know where you’re going, right?”

Silence.

Gojo blinked. “Wait… do you not know?”

More silence.

Gojo grinned. “Ohhh, you don’t, do you?”

She exhaled slowly. "Shut. Up."

Gojo chuckled, hands behind his head as he walked beside her. “So what I’m hearing is—you’re lost.”

“I’m not lost.”

“Right, right. You just don’t know where you’re going. Totally different.”

She clenched her jaw, clearly regretting every life decision that led her to this moment.

Gojo leaned down slightly, tilting his head to look at her face. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed. I get it. You fell out of the sky, got dirt in your hair, met a very handsome stranger—”

She shot him a glare so sharp he actually paused.

“…Right. Moving on.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Lucky for you, I know this forest like the back of my hand.”

She snorted. “Oh, great. That makes one of us.”

Gojo smirked. “So, that means you do need my help.”

She looked up at the sky, as if praying for patience. “I never said that.”

Gojo’s grin widened. “You didn’t have to.”

She groaned, rubbing her temple. "I swear, if you don't shut up—"

"—You'll what?" Gojo cut in, completely unfazed. "Hit me again? Because, honestly, I think you just wanted an excuse to touch me the first time."

Her wings flared as she turned sharply. "I will throw you into a tree."

Gojo held up his hands, laughing. “Alright, alright, no need for violence, fairy girl.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t call me that.”

Gojo smirked. “Not a fan of nicknames? What about wings? Feathers? Angry little—”

She glared at him for another second before rolling her eyes and turning back around. “You’re so lucky I have better things to do than argue with you.”

Gojo hummed. “Mm. Seems like you’re still here, though.”

She clenched her fists, muttering something under her breath about insufferable humans.

She walked in silence for a while, probably hoping Gojo would get bored and leave her alone. That was adorable. Like he was the kind of guy to walk away from something this interesting.

After a few minutes, she finally sighed and turned to look at him. “Alright, human—what are you even doing here?”

Gojo blinked. “Huh? Oh. Hunting, obviously.”

After a moment, he tilted his head. “So… how long have you been coming here?”

She eyed him warily. “Why do you care?”

Gojo shrugged. “Curiosity. Humor me.”

She exhaled sharply, clearly debating whether answering him was even worth her time. Finally, she muttered, “Years.”

Gojo blinked. “Years?”

She shot him a look. “Yes. Why?”

Gojo gestured around dramatically. “Because I’ve been hunting here for a long time, too, and I’ve never seen you before.”

She rolled her eyes. “Clearly.”

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “So where’ve you been hiding, huh? Are you some kind of stealth fairy?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “No, you idiot. I come at night.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “At night?”

She nodded. “It’s quieter. No humans stomping around, killing things.”

Gojo smirked. “Ouch. That felt personal.”

She ignored him. “It’s peaceful when the moon is out. The forest belongs to itself again. No arrows flying, no traps waiting, no…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It’s just… better.”

Gojo hummed, tapping his chin. “Huh. Never figured fairies for night owls.”

She gave him a deadpan look. “You figured nothing because you didn’t even believe I existed five minutes ago.”

Gojo grinned. “Touché.”

Silence settled between them, but this time, it wasn’t hostile. Gojo watched her, something unreadable in his expression.

Years. She had been here for years, and he never even noticed. How was that possible? And more importantly…

Why did that bother him?

Gojo tilted his head, watching her with renewed curiosity. “So, you’ve been coming here for years, huh?”

She didn’t respond, just kept walking.

His grin widened. “Alright, next question—how old are you?”

She scoffed. “Not answering that.”

Gojo smirked. “Oh? Why? Is it a fairy secret? Or are you just—” He gasped dramatically. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re, like, a hundred years old or something.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not.”

“Two hundred?”

“No.”

“Five hundred?”

“Oh my god.”

Gojo tapped his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Then… judging by your height, I’d say… what, fifteen? Maybe sixteen?”

She froze.

Slowly, she turned to glare at him, pure offense in her eyes. “I’m twenty-two!”

Gojo grinned like he knew that would get a reaction. “Ohhh, there it is.”

Her wings fluttered aggressively. “You are so irritating.”

Gojo shrugged, still smirking. “Hey, I was just guessing. But wow, twenty-two? You sure?”

She clenched her fists. “Yes!”

Gojo hummed, looking at her like he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Mmm. I dunno. You kinda give off little sister energy.”

Her eye twitched. “Say that again, and I will dropkick you.”

Gojo snorted. “I’d like to see you try, shortstack.”

Her wings flared. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” Gojo said casually, hands behind his head. “You just wish you did.”

She stopped abruptly, turning to face him with an exasperated sigh. “And by the way,” she huffed, “can you stop calling me random nicknames? I have a name, you know.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh? You do?”

She folded her arms. “Obviously.”

He leaned in slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well then, mysterious fairy, what is it?”

She introduced herself in annoyance, voice clipped and impatient.

Gojo blinked, then grinned. “Huh. That’s actually a really nice name.”

She gave him a flat look. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh, never,” he said, hand over his heart. Then, after a beat, his smirk deepened. “Alright then, fairy girl.”

Her eye twitched. “I just told you my name.”

“Yeah, and I heard it,” Gojo said casually. “But, y’know, ‘fairy girl’ just suits you better.”

She groaned, turning back around. “You’re impossible.”

“Or magical,” Gojo shot back, walking beside her. “You did call me stupid earlier, so maybe I just forgot your name already.”

She didn’t even dignify that with a response.

Gojo grinned, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Alright, how about winged menace? Tiny terror? Ooh, what about sparkles?”

She stopped so fast that Gojo nearly bumped into her. Slowly, she turned, her glare sharp enough to cut. “Call me that, and I swear, I will bury you in this forest.”

Gojo pressed his lips together, looking like he was really fighting back laughter. “Alright, alright. No ‘sparkles.’”

She exhaled sharply, resuming her pace.

Gojo let the silence linger for a few moments before grinning.

“…But pixie is still on the table, right?”

She didn’t answer. She was too busy resisting the urge to strangle him.

She kept walking, clearly trying to ignore him, but Gojo was nothing if not persistent.

“Well,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head, “since you were kind enough to introduce yourself, it’s only fair I do the same.”

She shot him a dry look. “I don’t actually care.”

Gojo ignored that completely. “Satoru Gojo. Best hunter in these lands, possibly the most handsome man you’ll ever meet, and definitely the funniest.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “You really just talk like that, huh?”

Gojo grinned. “What can I say? Some people are born to be great.”

She sighed, muttering, “And some people are born to be insufferable.”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Wow. Rude.”

She kept walking.

Gojo smirked. “Anyway, as I was saying—I’m twenty-four, I live alone, and I technically don’t have to hunt that much, but hey, a man’s gotta make a living.”

She side-eyed him. “You hunt for sport?”

Gojo scoffed. “What? No. I hunt to survive. But if I happen to look really cool doing it, that’s just a bonus.”

She exhaled sharply. “Right. Of course.”

Gojo continued, completely unfazed. “I don’t really like dealing with people, which is why I live on my own. Less drama, less noise. Just me and the great outdoors.” He spread his arms dramatically. “Peaceful, right?”

She glanced at him. “You? Living in peace? Hard to imagine.”

Gojo chuckled. “Alright, fair point. But hey, I could be worse. I could be some grumpy old hunter who never cracks a joke.”

“I think I’d prefer that.”

“Ouch,” Gojo laughed. “You wound me.”

She rolled her eyes and kept walking.

Gojo, of course, followed right after her, still talking.

“Anyway, what else? Oh! I have amazing eyesight. You might’ve noticed.”

“Didn’t ask.”

“And I’m ridiculously strong. Seriously, I could probably carry you and your wings with one arm.”

“Not happening.”

“And, best of all—” Gojo grinned, stepping in front of her and walking backward so he could face her directly— “I’m really fun to be around.”

She stared at him blankly. “You’re really something, alright.”

Gojo smirked, absolutely taking that as a compliment. “See? You’re warming up to me already.”

She groaned. “You are so lucky I have more important things to deal with.”

Gojo chuckled, hands behind his head. “I am lucky. Lucky I found a real-life fairy to bother for the rest of the day.”

She let out a long breath, as if gathering every ounce of patience she had left.

Gojo just grinned, completely entertained. ThisGojo walked alongside her, hands behind his head, still grinning like he had all the time in the world. “So, fairy girl, where do you live?”

She glanced at him, clearly suspicious. “In the forest.”

Gojo snorted. “Yeah, obviously. But I mean, where’s your house?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze flickered ahead, wings shifting slightly as she kept walking.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t wanna tell me? Afraid I’ll crash at your place? I promise I don’t take up much space.”

Still, no response.

Gojo slowed his pace slightly, watching her carefully. “Wait… do fairies even live in houses? Do you guys have little tree villages? Hollow logs? Underground tunnels? Ooooh, or do you sleep in giant flower petals?”

She let out a sharp sigh before finally answering, voice quiet.

“…I don’t have one.”

Gojo blinked.

For once, he didn’t have a snarky response ready.

She kept walking like she hadn’t just dropped that information so casually, like it wasn’t something strange or concerning.

Gojo, of course, wasn’t about to let it slide.

“…Wait. What do you mean you don’t have one?” He frowned. “Like, at all?”

She didn’t look at him. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly, processing that. No house. Nowhere to go. Nowhere she belonged.

Something about that didn’t sit right with him.

And for the first time since meeting her, his teasing grin completely disappeared.

Gojo stared at her, still processing the fact that she didn’t have a home. Then, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, he grinned and said, “Woah. You can live at my place.”

She stopped walking.

Gojo kept going. “It’s big enough for us, and I am an excellent host. I can take care of you—make sure you have food, a warm bed, maybe even—”

She turned to him with a look of pure disgust.

“First of all, no way am I living with someone like you.”

Gojo clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch.”

“And second,” she continued, rolling her eyes, “I can’t leave the forest.”

Gojo frowned. “Why not?”

She gave him a look like he was dense. “Because if humans saw me, they’d hunt me. Or—or worse. I don’t even want to know what they’d do.”

Gojo blinked, tilting his head. “I mean… I’m also a human?”

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then, without meeting his eyes, she muttered, “You’re different.”

Gojo stared at her, something unreadable flashing across his face.

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “And please… don’t tell anyone about me, okay?” Her voice softened just a little. “Not like they’d believe you anyway.”

Gojo watched her carefully, noting the way her wings folded slightly, as if she was trying to make herself smaller.

Then, with a smirk, he shoved his hands into his pockets and said, “Don’t worry, pixie. Your secret’s safe with me.”

She groaned. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Gojo chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”

But despite his teasing, something in his expression had shifted.

And for reasons he didn’t quite understand yet… he meant what he said.

Gojo kept walking beside her, his usual smirk still present but his mind running with thoughts he couldn’t quite shake. She really had nowhere to go? She couldn’t even leave the forest?

That… didn’t sit right with him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of whatever birds were still left in this part of the forest.

Then Gojo broke the silence.

“So,” he started, tilting his head at her, “you’ve been hiding here for years, huh? Just… out here, alone?”

She didn’t look at him. “I’m not alone.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You got a secret fairy society somewhere?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. But I don’t need one.”

Gojo hummed, unconvinced. “Must get kinda lonely, though.”

She stiffened slightly.

It was small—barely noticeable—but Gojo caught it.

“…It’s not so bad,” she muttered after a while.

Gojo watched her carefully.

Then, out of nowhere, he grinned and threw an arm over her shoulder. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got me now!”

She immediately shoved him off. “Don’t touch me!”

Gojo burst out laughing, hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright! No touching the fairy, got it.”

She scowled. “You are the worst.”

“Aw, come on, I’m a great companion!” He smirked. “Super fun, super strong, and super annoying. The full package.”

She groaned. “Why are you still following me?”

Gojo stretched his arms behind his head. “Dunno. Maybe I’m just curious.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Curious about what?”

Gojo shrugged. “Dunno yet. Guess I’ll find out.”

She sighed heavily, clearly realizing he had no plans of leaving her alone anytime soon.

Gojo chuckled.

For some reason, that thought didn’t bother him one bit.

She sighed, her gaze dropping to the forest floor as they walked. Then, almost too quietly, she muttered, “But… I do want to go outside the forest.”

Gojo’s brows lifted slightly in surprise.

“But I’m scared,” she admitted, voice softer now. “If someone saw me—” She shook her head, cutting herself off. “I don’t know what they’d do.”

Gojo watched her carefully, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of her being scared—of her being trapped here—didn’t sit right with him.

And maybe he should’ve thought it through more, maybe he should’ve considered what he was about to offer—

But he didn’t.

Instead, he grinned, stepping in front of her and bending slightly so they were eye level. “Then let me do it for you.”

She blinked, taken aback. “What?”

Gojo smirked. “You wanna see the outside world, right?” He tapped his chest. “I’ll take you.”

She stared at him, clearly trying to figure out if he was joking. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.” His grin widened. “C’mon. Who better to sneak you out than me?”

She hesitated, her wings twitching slightly. “You’re a human.”

Gojo tilted his head. “Yeah. And?”

She frowned. “You know why that’s a problem.”

Gojo chuckled. “Relax. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” His voice was still teasing, still playful, but underneath it was something else—something solid.

She searched his face for a long moment, uncertain.

He let her think. Let her weigh the idea, weigh him.

Then, slowly, she exhaled and looked away. “…It’s not that simple.”

Gojo just smirked. “Maybe not.” He straightened up, hands on his hips. “But hey, lucky for you, I love complicated things.”

She sighed heavily, like she already regretted this conversation. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo chuckled, turning to walk beside her again. “And yet, you still haven’t said no.”

She didn’t reply.

Gojo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his smirk softening just a little.

He didn’t know why he cared so much.

But he did.

And that was enough.

➽──────────────❥

You sat peacefully on a thick tree branch, the cool morning breeze brushing against your skin as you ran your fingers gently over the feathers of a small bird perched beside you. It chirped softly, pressing into your touch, unbothered by your presence.

This was your routine—finding solace in the quiet of the forest, away from the chaos, away from—

"Oi! Fairy girl!"

Your peace shattered instantly.

You stiffened, closing your eyes briefly, exhaling through your nose. Of course.

He came.

Satoru Gojo.

You glanced down, and sure enough, there he was, standing beneath your tree, looking just as insufferable as ever. His usual grin was present, but something else caught your attention—he was holding a brown cloak in his hand, waving it slightly.

You narrowed your eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Gojo smirked. "What, no ‘good morning’?"

You sighed, shifting slightly on the branch. "Gojo."

His grin widened. "That’s better."

You rolled your eyes. "Why are you here?"

Gojo held up the cape. "Brought you a gift."

You blinked. "…A what?"

"A cape," he said casually, shaking it out. "You did say you wanted to go outside the forest, right?"

You hesitated.

Gojo smirked. "Figured you’d need a disguise. Y’know, since your very obvious wings might make people lose their minds."

You frowned, eyeing the fabric warily. "And you just… had that lying around?"

Gojo shrugged. "Not exactly. But I may have borrowed it."

You scoffed. "You stole it, didn’t you?"

Gojo gasped dramatically. "Excuse me! I acquired it. Totally different thing."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "You’re impossible."

Gojo chuckled, stepping closer. "C’mon. Try it on."

You eyed him suspiciously, but curiosity got the better of you. With a sigh, you leapt down from the branch, landing lightly on your feet in front of him.

Gojo handed you the cloak, watching as you hesitantly draped it over your shoulders. The fabric was thick but surprisingly soft, and when you adjusted it, it covered your wings completely.

Gojo grinned. "See? Looks good on you. Almost makes you look normal."

You shot him a glare. "Gee, thanks."

He chuckled. "So, what do you think? Ready to step out of the forest?"

You hesitated again, gripping the fabric slightly.

Gojo watched you carefully, his usual playfulness still there, but something else lingered in his expression—something patient.

You exhaled. "Maybe."

Gojo smirked. "Maybe is a good start."

You adjusted the cloak slightly, shifting your shoulders. The fabric was thick and heavy, pressing against your wings in a way that wasn’t exactly painful but definitely uncomfortable.

“…It’s kinda uncomfortable for my wings,” you muttered, frowning as you tried to reposition them beneath the fabric. “Feels weird.”

Gojo hummed, tilting his head as he watched you. “Yeah, I figured that might be a problem.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then why didn’t you get something better?”

Gojo smirked. “What, and rob an entire tailor’s shop? I’m not that much of a criminal.”

You scoffed. “Debatable.”

Gojo laughed, but then his grin shifted into something a little more thoughtful. “Still, even with the cape, people might get suspicious.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gojo gestured vaguely. “You know, seeing me walking around with a girl they’ve never seen before? Might raise some eyebrows.”

You blinked, suddenly realizing the flaw in his plan. “Oh.”

Gojo grinned. “Yeah. I mean, I am quite the handsome and mysterious man—people tend to notice me.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not the issue.”

He smirked. “You sure? Could be a great excuse to say you’re my secret lover.”

Your wings twitched under the cloak. “I will punch you.”

Gojo laughed. “Alright, alright. No need for violence, pixie.”

You groaned. “Ugh, we’re gonna get caught before we even try at this rate.”

Gojo tapped his chin. “Hmm. Guess we need a cover story, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?”

Gojo grinned. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas.”

You had a feeling you were about to regret everything.

You walked beside Gojo, your hands gripping the edges of the cloak as you stepped out of the forest for the first time in years. The open air felt different—less wild, less free. The towering trees were replaced by open roads, stone pathways leading toward a town that seemed to hum with life.

As you approached, the first thing you noticed was the people.

Children ran barefoot through the streets, their laughter echoing as they weaved between market stalls. Vendors called out their wares—fresh bread, spices, handwoven fabrics—all filling the air with an odd but strangely comforting mix of scents. Women strolled by in elegant dresses, their skirts swishing with every step, their hair pinned in intricate styles as they gossiped with one another. The faint melody of a musician’s tune drifted through the air, blending into the sound of horses trotting down the cobbled paths.

It was… overwhelming.

You kept your head down, pressing the hood of the cloak lower over your face as you walked closer beside Gojo.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“Nervous?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

You scowled. “No.”

Gojo smirked. “Right. That’s why you’re clinging to that cloak like it’s your lifeline.”

You huffed, loosening your grip slightly but still keeping your pace quick. “People are staring.”

Gojo chuckled. “They’re curious. That’s normal.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “That’s bad.”

Gojo just shrugged, walking with that same relaxed confidence he always had, completely unbothered. “Relax. Just stick with me. No one’s gonna do anything.”

That was easy for him to say.

You swallowed, ignoring the way a few passing townsfolk gave you curious glances.

You had made it this far.

Now you just had to blend in.

As you walked deeper into town, your nerves were starting to get the better of you. Every passing glance felt like it lasted too long, every whispered conversation felt like it was about you.

Then, without warning—

Gojo grabbed your hand.

You immediately tensed. “What are you—?”

“Relax,” he said smoothly, his grip firm but not forceful. “You’re looking too jumpy. This’ll make you seem less suspicious.”

You frowned, trying to pull away. “I don’t need your help blending in.”

Gojo smirked, effortlessly keeping his hold. “Oh, really? Because right now, you look like you just walked into civilization for the first time in your life.”

You glared at him. “That’s because I did.”

Gojo chuckled. “Exactly. Which is why you should listen to me.”

You tried again to yank your hand back. “This is unnecessary.”

He didn’t let go. “It’s convincing.”

You huffed, wings twitching uncomfortably beneath the cloak. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Gojo grinned. “A little, yeah.”

You groaned, giving up the struggle. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are, holding my hand.”

“I’m not—you are—” You shut your mouth, inhaled deeply, and faced forward. “Whatever. Just… don’t make it weird.”

Gojo squeezed your hand lightly. “No promises.”

You were so going to regret this.

➽──────────────❥

Gojo wasted no time leading you through the bustling streets, completely in his element while you tried your best to blend in. He was annoyingly casual about the whole thing, weaving effortlessly through the crowd, dragging you along as if this were just another ordinary day.

He stopped at a food stall first, handing the vendor a few coins before turning to you with a smug grin. “Here. Try this.”

You eyed the small pastry in his hand, then glanced at him suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Good,” he said simply, shoving it toward you.

You hesitated but took a cautious bite. The soft, flaky crust melted in your mouth, the filling warm and sweet with a hint of spice. Your eyes widened slightly—it was actually delicious.

Gojo smirked. “Told you.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, swallowing the bite before muttering, “…It’s alright.”

Gojo laughed. “You’re a terrible liar.”

And so it continued.

He dragged you from stall to stall, making you try different things—fruits so sweet they made your lips tingle, roasted nuts coated in honey, warm bread fresh from the oven. Every time you protested, he would shove something else into your hands, grinning like a child as he watched you try new flavors.

You were starting to suspect this wasn’t about “blending in” at all—he just wanted an excuse to feed you.

He guided you through the winding streets, pointing out different places—where to get the best food, which vendor had the softest fabrics, which alleyways to avoid unless you wanted to get robbed (which he said with way too much amusement).

And then, of course, people started noticing.

It started with whispers. Curious glances.

And then finally—

“Hey, Gojo,” a passing merchant called out, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s this girl with you?”

You stiffened. Your heart picked up pace. Shit.

More people turned to look, the attention settling heavily on you. Gojo, of course, looked completely unbothered.

Then he smiled. And opened his mouth.

“Oh, her?” He pulled you slightly closer, tilting his head as if the answer was obvious.

“My secret lover, not secret anymore though—”

Silence.

Every single person around you froze.

Eyes widened. Mouths dropped open.

The air grew thick with shock.

You blinked, your brain momentarily unable to process what he had just said.

Then—

Your eyebrow twitched.

Oh god. He really said that.

Gojo just grinned, clearly entertained by everyone’s reaction. He squeezed your hand lightly, as if sealing the deal.

You, on the other hand, were one second away from killing him.

Your fingers curled into a fist. Your wings twitched violently beneath the cloak.

Oh, he was so dead.

And yet, Gojo just chuckled, completely ignoring the way you were vibrating with barely restrained rage.

"What?" he said innocently, looking around at the stunned crowd. “Is that so hard to believe?”

You were so going to murder him in broad daylight.

The second the words left Gojo’s mouth, the questions exploded.

“Wait—seriously?”

“Gojo, since when?!”

“Where’s she from?”

“Why haven’t we seen her before?”

You stiffened as the crowd suddenly closed in, eager for answers. Oh god, what had he done?

Gojo, of course, was perfectly relaxed, grinning like he was enjoying every second of this. “She’s from a neighboring town,” he said smoothly, not missing a beat. “That’s why you haven’t seen her before.”

People nodded like that made perfect sense.

You, meanwhile, were standing there like a deer caught in torchlight, unable to do anything. You couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t argue. Couldn’t even glare at him properly because all eyes were on you.

You had no choice but to go along with it.

Gojo was still talking, still lying effortlessly, answering every question thrown his way.

“How long have you two been together?”

“A while now,” Gojo replied, slinging an arm around your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You nearly choked.

He was enjoying this too much.

Then, someone laughed—a young man standing by one of the market stalls, shaking his head in amusement. “Damn, Gojo,” he said, grinning. “You really broke all the ladies’ hearts, huh?”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

Of course he’d be popular.

You hated to admit it, but… Gojo was handsome.

Annoyingly so.

His bright blue eyes, his sharp features, the way his white hair somehow looked effortlessly perfect—he had the kind of beauty that stood out, that demanded attention. Even in a town full of people, he was the person you’d notice first.

You hated that you noticed.

Gojo just laughed, completely unfazed. “Ahh, what can I say?” he sighed dramatically. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

More laughter, more teasing.

You, on the other hand, were still recovering from the fact that he had just made you his “lover” in front of half the town.

This was not how you expected today to go.

And judging by the way Gojo was still smirking, you had a very bad feeling that this wasn’t over yet.

You could feel their eyes on you.

The women in the crowd—some subtle, some not—were all staring. Some whispered to each other, casting quick glances your way, while others openly examined you, their expressions ranging from curiosity to thinly veiled judgment.

You shifted slightly under the weight of their stares, resisting the urge to pull your hood lower, fidgeting with it.

It made sense. Gojo was handsome, charming, and irritatingly confident. He was the type of person who naturally drew attention, the kind who could have anyone he wanted—so why had he suddenly claimed you?

The disbelief in their gazes said it all.

You clenched your jaw, pretending not to notice the way some of them whispered behind their hands.

Gojo, meanwhile, was completely unfazed.

If he noticed the way the women were sizing you up, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just stood there, grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in ages.

You, on the other hand, were not having fun.

Not only were you stuck in this ridiculous situation, but now you were also dealing with the silent judgment of people who had probably spent years fawning over him.

Great. Just great.

You subtly exhaled, trying to ignore it.

But the longer it went on, the more you wanted to strangle the man standing beside you.

And judging by the glint of amusement in his eyes, he knew it.

You exhaled slowly, keeping your expression neutral as Gojo continued to entertain the crowd like this was his personal stage.

The questions didn’t stop.

“Where did you two meet?”

Gojo hummed, tapping his chin. “Ah, it’s quite the romantic story, actually—”

You shot him a warning glare.

He smirked. “—but that’s a secret.”

The crowd groaned, clearly disappointed but still eating up every word he fed them.

You, meanwhile, were dying inside.

The stares from the women hadn’t stopped. Some of them had their arms crossed, unimpressed. Others whispered behind their hands, their eyes flickering between you and Gojo like they were trying to make sense of this unbelievable pairing.

And the worst part?

Gojo knew it.

You could see it in the way he smirked, the way his grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if to prove a point.

Oh, he was enjoying this way too much.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You tugged at his arm, lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Enough,” you hissed. “Can we go now?”

Gojo glanced at you, clearly amused. “Hmm? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Your eye twitched. “I will kill you.”

Gojo laughed. Actually laughed.

The crowd looked between you, interest piqued.

“You two are adorable,” one of the older women in the market cooed.

Gojo grinned. “Aren’t we?”

You resisted the very strong urge to stomp on his foot.

Instead, you yanked at his sleeve again, hissing, “If you don’t walk away in the next five seconds, I swear—”

Gojo chuckled, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

With that, he pulled you through the crowd, his hand still firmly holding onto yours, as if to make sure you couldn’t escape just yet.

The stares followed you as you walked away.

You could still feel them.

And as Gojo led you down another street, humming to himself like nothing had happened, you made a silent vow—

You were getting back at him for this.

As soon as you were far enough from the crowd, without hesitation—

SMACK.

Your hand came down hard on Gojo’s head.

“Ow—hey!” He stumbled slightly, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated wince. “What was that for?”

You shot him a look. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe for LYING TO HALF THE TOWN?!”

Gojo blinked. Then smirked. “Ohhh, that?”

Your eye twitched. “YES, THAT.”

He chuckled, still rubbing his head. “Damn, fairy girl, you’re stronger than you look.”

“I should’ve hit you harder.”

Gojo grinned. “Aww, but then I’d have to tell everyone my lover is abusing me.”

You lunged at him.

Gojo dodged, laughing as he raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Relax! It was just a joke!”

“Oh, just a joke?” You crossed your arms, glaring. “Do you have any idea what you just did?!”

Gojo tilted his head. “Uh… made you a local celebrity?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Now the whole town thinks we’re together!”

Gojo shrugged. “Eh, could be worse.”

You looked at him like you wanted to strangle him. “How?"

He smirked. “Well, technically, I could’ve said we were married.”

You gaped at him in horror.

Gojo burst out laughing.

“Ohhh, your face—” He wiped a fake tear from his eye, still grinning. “That was priceless.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you actually killed him.

Gojo smirked, tilting his head. “You’re really worked up over this, huh?”

You glared. “Because now people are going to keep asking about it! The women in town are already mad!”

Gojo hummed, amused. “Jealous, you think?”

“Oh, definitely,” you deadpanned. “I mean, look at you. Handsome, charming, the worst person I’ve ever met—”

Gojo placed a hand on his chest. “Aw, stop, you’re making me blush.”

You were so close to knocking him out.

“Look,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Just—just fix this, okay?”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “Fix it?”

“Yes! Tell them you were lying, or joking, or—something!”

Gojo just grinned. “Ehhh… I dunno.”

Your hands curled into fists. “Gojo.”

He leaned in slightly, still smirking. “But you haven’t denied it, have you?”

Your breath caught for a second.

Then—

You shoved him so hard that he actually stumbled back, laughing.

“Fix it.”

Gojo just winked. “No promises.”

You hated him.

You really did.

And the worst part?

He knew it.

Gojo was still grinning, completely unbothered by the fact that you had just smacked him.

Then, as if he hadn’t just caused chaos, he stretched lazily and said, “Alright, let’s go to my place.”

You blinked. “What?”

Gojo looked at you like it was obvious. “My house. You know, where I live? Where we can not stand in the middle of town while you plot my murder?”

You scowled. “I don’t need to go to your house.”

Gojo smirked. “Oh, so you want to stay out here where people might keep asking about us?”

Your lips pressed together.

Damn him.

“…Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “But only because I need to sit somewhere and recover from the disaster you just caused.”

Gojo chuckled. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, pixie.”

You shot him a glare, but he just grinned and led the way.

The walk to his home wasn’t long, but by the time you arrived, you were… surprised.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the small house in front of you wasn’t anything extravagant. It wasn’t large or overly fancy, but it had a certain charm to it. The wooden walls looked well-maintained, the small porch had a few crates stacked neatly against the side, and a window had soft, warm light spilling out from within.

It looked… cozy.

You glanced at Gojo, raising an eyebrow. “This is your place?”

He grinned. “What? Expecting a castle?”

You huffed. “No. Just… thought it’d be messier.”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Wow. You really don’t think highly of me, huh?”

You smirked. “Not even a little.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he pushed the door open. “Well, come on in. Mi casa es tu casa, fairy girl.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him inside.

And for the first time, you stepped into his world.

The moment Gojo pushed the door open, you stepped inside cautiously, taking in your surroundings.

It was… not what you expected.

The space was small but warm, with wooden beams overhead and stone walls that gave it a sturdy, lived-in feel. A wooden dining table sat at the center, covered with a checkered cloth, a half-empty bottle of wine resting on it like it had been forgotten there. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with jars, plates, and random trinkets, while an old clock ticked softly above the fireplace. The scent of dried herbs and faint traces of smoke from the stove lingered in the air, making the place feel oddly inviting.

Your gaze drifted to the kitchen area, where pots and pans hung neatly from hooks, and sunlight filtered through a small window, casting a golden glow across the room. Everything had a simple charm to it—unexpectedly cute, even.

“…Huh.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, shutting the door behind him. “What?”

You glanced at him. “I don’t know. I just… thought you’d live in more of a mess.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Wow. So little faith in me.”

You smirked. “I mean, considering the way you act, I expected, I don’t know—half-eaten food lying around, arrows stuck in the walls, maybe a dead animal on the floor.”

Gojo snorted. “I am a hunter, not a wild animal.”

You hummed, unconvinced, as you wandered toward the table, brushing your fingers over the wooden surface. “It’s… cute.”

Gojo smirked. “Oh? You think I’m cute?”

You turned to him with a deadpan expression. “The house.”

Gojo chuckled, clearly entertained. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re too proud to admit I’ve got taste.”

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. The chair creaked slightly under your weight, but it was sturdy, just like everything else in this place.

Gojo walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of mugs from a shelf. “Tea?”

You blinked. “You drink tea?”

Gojo smirked over his shoulder. “What, did you think I just survive off the thrill of the hunt and sheer charisma?”

“…Yes.”

He laughed. “Fair. But no. I drink tea, and so do you now.” He placed a cup in front of you before sitting across the table, resting his chin in his palm.

For the first time since stepping into town, you felt yourself relax just a little.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

As you sat at the wooden table, fingers curling around the warm mug Gojo had placed in front of you, a strange feeling settled in your chest.

Comfort.

You weren’t sure why, but something about this place—this home—felt… good. Safe. Like it had been lived in, like it had stories within its walls. It wasn’t grand or extravagant, but it had warmth. The soft ticking of the clock, the scent of herbs in the air, the way the light spilled gently through the window—it all felt oddly familiar.

Like home.

You weren’t supposed to feel that way. Not outside the forest. Not in a human’s house. And yet…

You exhaled slowly, letting yourself sink into the moment.

Gojo, of course, noticed. He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a lazy smirk. “Comfy?”

You shot him a look. “No.”

His grin widened. “Liar.”

You huffed, sipping your tea to avoid answering. It was warm, a little bitter, but soothing in a way you hadn’t expected.

Gojo chuckled, but for once, he didn’t push.

For a moment, the two of you sat there, just existing in the quiet.

And for the first time in a long time… you didn’t feel so out of place.

The warmth of the tea seeped through the cup into your fingers, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy it—the quiet, the stillness, the way the air inside this small home felt different from the outside world.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, watching you over the rim of his mug. “Y’know,” he started, voice smooth and teasing, “for someone who acted like they hated coming here, you’re looking awfully comfortable.

You shot him a side glance, unimpressed. “I can leave.”

Gojo smirked. “Yeah? And go where?”

That shut you up.

He knew you had nowhere else to be. That the forest was the only place you ever returned to, and even that wasn’t really a home.

You set your mug down, crossing your arms. “Don’t think this means I like you.”

Gojo grinned. “Oh, obviously. You just like my house.”

You scoffed, looking away. “Maybe.”

Gojo chuckled, but his expression softened slightly as he rested his chin in his palm, watching you. “Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he said, voice quieter this time, “you can stay as long as you want.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like the idea of you being here, in his space, wasn’t strange at all.

You hesitated, glancing down at your cup. “…I won’t stay long.”

Gojo just smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

And for once, you didn’t argue.

The warmth of the tea, the flickering light from the stove, the faint creaks of the wooden house settling—it all felt strangely calm.

Too calm.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, letting the silence stretch between you and Gojo. But for once, he wasn’t talking. He just leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, watching you with that lazy, unreadable expression.

You didn’t like it.

It felt like he was waiting for something.

“…What?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow.

Gojo smirked. “Nothing.”

You scowled. “Then stop looking at me like that.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up, grabbing your empty mug along with his. “Alright, alright. No need to get all shy, fairy girl.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach twisted slightly at his words.

As he turned away, moving toward the small sink, you let your gaze drift around the house once more. The warmth, the familiarity of it—it was dangerous. It made you forget, just for a second, that you didn’t belong here.

You exhaled, standing up as well.

You wouldn’t get too comfortable.

Because sooner or later… you’d have to leave.

A/n- Honestly, writing this took longer than I expected, but I had so much fun with it. Gojo is already a menace, and reader is already so done with him, lmao. But hey, she did feel comfortable at his place… wonder what that means. I hope I didn't disappointed y'all:>

Chapter 2 is gonna be interesting, so stay tuned! And let me know what you think so far, have a great day🩷🫶

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[halfmoonaria]

her own undoing

pairing: cairo sweet & female reader

summary: for the first time, one of cairo's actions doesn't go as planned; backfires and leaves her to face the consequences.

word count: 8.0k

author’s note: tell me if smth is confusing

You and Cairo had been inseparable for as long as you could remember.

The kind of friendship where one person's name always followed the other, like an inevitable pairing.

Cairo and you. You and Cairo. It was a constant, a certainty, even when everything else felt like it was shifting.

You'd been there through it all: the days when Cairo's sharp wit earned her more enemies than friends, the times her wild schemes left you both in trouble, and the moments when she leaned too far into chaos, dragging you along for the ride.

People called her trouble, said she was too much, too intense, too unpredictable.

But where they saw a storm, you'd always seen something else—an unrelenting force of nature, sure, but also someone who could light up a room when she wasn't burning it down.

It wasn't always easy, being her best friend. Cairo had a way of taking up all the space in the room, leaving little for anyone else. But you didn't mind—not really. You liked the way her presence made everything feel bigger, brighter, more alive. And when her edges got too sharp, cutting into anyone who dared get too close, you stayed. You always stayed.

That loyalty had been tested before, but never like this.

Lately, Cairo had been different.

Sharper, somehow. Restless in a way that felt dangerous, even for her. It started with the way she spoke about Mr. Miller, the high school English teacher who barely acknowledged Cairo's sharp intellect and sharper tongue. She claimed he was condescending, always brushing her off when she tried to speak up in class. But there was something else behind the way she lingered on his name—something more personal.

When she finally told you her plan, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath you.

She was going to seduce him. That was her big idea. She'd said it with that confident smirk of hers, like it was all a joke, daring you to challenge her.

She claimed it was for her college admissions essay, said she had nothing interesting to write about and needed something that would "stand out." But you knew better. Cairo wasn't interested in crafting the perfect essay. No, she was still hung up on the fact that she was a virgin.

You'd tried to talk her out of it, to reason with her, but Cairo wasn't someone you could reason with once her mind was made up. And when her plan backfired—when Mr. Miller brushed her off and scolded her for being inappropriate—it sent her into a spiral.

Cairo never got scolded. Never got told no.

Her parents were always gone, too preoccupied with their own lives to bother enforcing rules or boundaries. So when Mr. Miller did what no one else ever dared to do, she couldn't take it. It wasn't just rejection. It was humiliation. And Cairo wasn't built to handle that.

The bitterness festered, twisting her anger into something sharper, uglier. She started talking about him like he was an enemy, plotting ways to "teach him a lesson" or "knock him off his pedestal."

At first, you'd tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just another one of her phases. But tonight, as you stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching her scribble furiously on a crumpled piece of paper, you realized this was different.

Cairo thought her plan was flawless.

Perfect, even. She'd spent hours rehearsing every angle, every word, until she could see it unfolding as clearly as a scene in one of those old noir films she loved.

Her testimony would be bold, damning, unforgettable. She'd finally show everyone—him—what happened when someone underestimated her. The satisfaction of it burned low in her chest, warm and steady, as if victory were already hers.

She sat on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, her pen moving across the page in sharp, deliberate strokes. The smoke from her cigarette curled lazily above her head, the faint scent of tobacco mixing with her perfume.

Satisfaction flickered across her face, subtle but unmistakable, as though she'd already won a game nobody was even playing.

The room was quiet except for the scratch of her pen, a rhythm she found oddly soothing amidst her growing anger.

The sound of your voice broke through the stillness like a slap.

"Cairo, what are you doing?"

Cairo's pen stilled mid-word. For a moment, she didn't move, her hand hovering above the page as she weighed her options.

Pretend not to hear you? Act like nothing was out of the ordinary? The anger in your tone suggested neither would work, and something sour twisted in her stomach. Slowly, she placed the pen down, flicking ash from her cigarette with a casualness she didn't feel.

"I'm completing my admissions essay," she said, her voice smooth and detached, rehearsed to sound nonchalant.

Her words were clipped, her tone dismissive, as if your presence were a minor inconvenience—just another interruption in her meticulously crafted plan. But even as she spoke, Cairo could feel the fragile edges of her control fraying.

Then she heard it: your footsteps.

Each step closer made her chest tighten, a quiet panic rising beneath her practiced exterior. She focused on the cigarette between her fingers, watching the smoke curl upward in lazy tendrils, as though ignoring the tension in the room might make it disappear.

You stepped further into the room, your movements deliberate, each step purposeful and calculated. Your gaze swept over the bed—the scattered papers, the chaotic but purposeful arrangement of her notes. Everything about it felt off, and your expression told Cairo that you knew it.

"Cairo, don't bullshit me."

The directness of your words made her freeze, the cigarette trembling slightly between her fingers. You'd never spoken to her like that before, not with that sharpness. It threw her off balance in a way she wasn't used to.

You were the constant. The one who stayed when everyone else called her too much, too strange. The one who always agreed, who always supported her.

The one who wasn't supposed to look at her like that.

"What's going on?"

She fought to keep her expression neutral, forcing a smirk that felt far less convincing than usual. "What's it look like?"

It was a weak defense, and she knew it. So did you.

Your jaw tightened, and there was something in your eyes she couldn't quite place—concern, maybe, but also something sharper, like betrayal. You stepped closer, and Cairo's heart began to race—not with fear, but frustration.

Why couldn't you just let it go? Why did you have to question her, of all people?

"It looks like you're planning something," you said, your tone measured but edged with something bitter. Your gaze moved over the bed again, taking in the crumpled pages, the sharp handwriting, the chaos she'd created in pursuit of perfection.

"Something that's going to blow up in your face."

The accusation stung, sharper than she expected. For a split second, her smirk faltered, the confidence she wore like armor slipping just enough to reveal the unease beneath it.

She quickly forced it back into place. "I'm testifying against him," she said, the words deliberate, carefully chosen, like she was reciting lines from a script.

But your reaction shattered her attempt at calm.

The flicker of disbelief in your expression sparked a strange, hollow satisfaction in her chest. Let you be shocked. Let you struggle to process it. Maybe then you'd understand.

"Testifying?"

She nodded, the motion sharp and deliberate, as though solidifying her decision. Standing, she began to pace, her thoughts spiraling in tandem with each step. Her movements were restless, her anger—a low, simmering thing—flared brighter when she caught the way your concern clouded your face.

"In front of the school board," she clarified, her tone detached, as if she weren't actively dismantling someone's life. She flicked ash from her cigarette, her gestures deliberately careless.

You blinked, the weight of her words settling in as you tried to reconcile what you were hearing with the person you thought you knew. "Are you serious?" you asked, your voice softening, though tension still underpinned your words. "Do you know what that'll do to him?"

There it was—your care, your empathy, spilling out in the way it always did. Cairo's chest tightened, her stomach twisting with a volatile mix of resentment and shame. She didn't need you to care about him. She needed you to see her. To understand why this mattered.

"He underestimated me," she said, her voice dropping lower, her pacing slowing. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the floor, her fingers curling tighter around the cigarette. "I overestimated him."

Your silence hit her harder than she expected, the weight of it unbearable. She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, the way your lips pressed into a thin line, your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

The disappointment lingering in your eyes was louder than anything you could've said, and it cut deeper than she wanted to admit.

"So, what?" you said finally, your voice firmer now. "This is revenge? Because he didn't fall for your game?"

The words landed like a blow, a direct hit to a nerve she hadn't realized was exposed. Her smirk tightened into a thin, rigid line, and her hand trembled slightly as she stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on her desk.

"It's justice," she said, forcing the word out, as if saying it enough times could make it true.

"Justice?" Your disbelief carried a sharper edge now, and you took a step closer, your voice rising with frustration. "Cairo, this isn't some movie. You're playing with someone's life."

Her nails dug into her palm as your words sank in. Flames of anger licked at her chest, fueled by a suffocating mix of guilt and defiance. You were supposed to understand. You were supposed to agree, like you always had.

That was your role. That was what made everything work.

"You don't get it," she said, her tone softening, though it was laced with something almost pitying. "You never have."

"No," you shot back, your voice steady and unwavering. "I don't. Because this isn't you. At least, I didn't think it was."

The remark sliced through her defenses, sharp and unrelenting, leaving her raw in a way she hadn't felt in years. For a long moment, she could only stare at you, her heart pounding against her ribs. Anger swirled with shame, tangling into something unrecognizable, and for the first time, she felt the edges of control slipping from her grasp.

"You've always had such a sweet way of looking at the world," she said finally, her voice turning mocking to hide the crack in it. "It must be exhausting."

"And you've always been too proud to admit when you're wrong," you countered, your tone colder now, the words landing with precision. "But this? This is cruel, Cairo. Even for you."

Her mask cracked at that, the smirk falling away as the anger simmering beneath the surface began to boil over. But she refused to let it show. Instead, she turned her back on you, pacing toward the bed as her fists clenched at her sides.

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think," she said, her voice colder now, mechanical in its delivery.

But the weight of her own words hit her almost immediately, settling heavily in her chest, suffocating her in a way she couldn't escape. The truth was, you knew her better than anyone. You always had. And that was the part that scared her the most.

Cairo's jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. She could feel the heat rising in her chest, burning hotter with every second that passed. You weren't supposed to talk to her like this. Not you. Everyone else could think she was too much, could roll their eyes and call her dramatic, but not you.

You were supposed to get it. To get her. That had always been the unspoken rule between you. You didn't argue with her schemes, didn't question her decisions—no matter how reckless or wild they seemed. You were the steady one, the loyal one, the one who always stuck by her side when no one else would.

She'd always relied on that. Counted on it, even. But now, standing in her room with your arms crossed and that look on your face—the one that said you thought she was wrong—it felt like the ground was shifting under her feet.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice quieter now but still firm, still pushing.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. The words themselves weren't what set her off; it was the tone. Like you thought you knew better. Like you thought she was being ridiculous.

"You don't understand," Cairo snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She turned away from you, pacing to the other side of the room as if putting distance between you would help her think.

The truth was, she didn't know how to explain it. She'd never had to before—not to you. You'd always just gone along with whatever she said, even when it didn't make sense. It was part of why she needed you, part of why she'd kept you so close all these years.

But now, you were standing there with that stubborn look on your face, and it was like every time someone had told her "no" or "you can't" was flooding back all at once.

Like when her parents had laughed off her dreams of going to college out of state, saying she'd never survive without them. Or when that teacher in middle school had told her she'd amount to nothing if she didn't learn to sit still and follow the rules.

But this was worse. Because it was you.

"You're supposed to have my back," she said finally, her voice lower now but no less angry. She turned to face you, her eyes blazing. "That's what you've always done."

You didn't flinch, didn't even blink. "Not if it means watching you ruin someone's life," you said, your tone calm but unwavering.

Cairo felt something snap. Her vision blurred at the edges, her thoughts coming so fast she couldn't hold onto any of them.

"Why do you care so much about him?" she almost shouted, her voice breaking slightly. She hated the way it sounded, raw and desperate, but she couldn't stop herself. "He doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about anyone!"

"And that's supposed to make this okay?" you shot back, your own voice rising now. "Because he didn't care for your attempt of seduction, it's fine to ruin him? That's not justice, Cairo—that's you being a bully."

The word hit her like a slap. A bully. She'd been called a lot of things in her life—manipulative, selfish, too intense—but bully wasn't one of them. She stared at you, her chest heaving, her nails biting into her palms so hard she thought they might break the skin.

For a moment, she didn't say anything. She couldn't.

Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her face a storm of emotions she couldn't contain.

She wanted to scream, to drag you into her world and force you to see things her way; like you always had. But all you did was stand there, your arms crossed, your expression hard and unrelenting.

The silence stretched too long, filled with the sharp scent of cigarette smoke and the suffocating weight of her frustration. She could feel her fury boiling over, pushing against the edges of her control.

"I can't believe you're acting like this," she said finally, her voice trembling, half with rage and half with disbelief. "After everything I've done for you."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Everything you've done for me?" The disbelief in your voice cut deep, sharper than she expected. "You mean dragging me into your messes? Covering for you every time you screw something up? Cairo, that's not loyalty—that's enabling."

Her face twisted, a mix of anger and something dangerously close to hurt. "You're seriously turning this on me?"

You shook your head, stepping back toward the door. "I'm not turning anything on you. I'm just—" You stopped, exhaling sharply, like you didn't know how to say what you needed to. "I'm just done with this, Cairo. You don't care about anyone but yourself."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She'd heard them before, from teachers, from her parents, from so-called friends who didn't stick around. But hearing them from you? It felt like the world was tilting off its axis.

She watched as you reached for the doorknob, her stomach twisting into knots. "So that's it?" she said, her voice low, deadly. "You're just going to walk away?"

You hesitated, your hand resting on the knob, but you didn't turn back. "Yeah," you said finally. "I am."

The door clicked shut behind you, and the sound echoed in the vast emptiness of the room. Cairo stood there, frozen, staring at the space you'd just occupied. For a moment, she felt nothing at all, just the numbness that came with realizing she was truly, utterly alone.

The mansion around her seemed to close in, its dark corners and cold walls pressing against her like a physical weight. No parents. No friends. No one but herself and the stale, ever-present scent of cigarette smoke.

And that was when it hit her—the rage.

Her hand slammed against the edge of the desk, sending a stack of papers tumbling to the floor. You were supposed to get her. You were supposed to agree. That was how this worked. You were the one who told her it was all fine, the one who stood by her side no matter how crazy things got.

But you didn't. You didn't tell her it was a great idea. You didn't tell her she was right. And that betrayal—it burned hotter than anything she'd felt before.

If she couldn't ruin Mr. Miller, she'd ruin you instead.

The thought was so clear, so sharp, it was like a switch flipped in her brain. You thought you could walk away from her, leave her to stew in this? Fine. But she wasn't going to let you come out of this unscathed.

Cairo knelt down, her hands shaking as she gathered the scattered papers from the floor. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if each page she picked up solidified her resolve. By the time she stood, the fire in her chest had consumed every shred of doubt.

You would regret this. She would make sure of it.

___

It wouldn't be hard. Cairo knew that much.

In a school like yours—like hers—people believed anything as long as it was juicy enough to distract from their own boring lives. A small-town high school in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee, didn't offer much in the way of excitement. So when there was even the faintest whiff of scandal, people ran with it.

She thought of how last year, someone started a rumor that Sarah Bishop was pregnant. By third period, half the school had already decided the father was her ex-boyfriend, and by lunch, they'd pinned it on a senior she'd never even spoken to. The truth didn't matter. Sarah's denial didn't matter. The story was too good to let go of, and Cairo had watched, half-amused, as it unraveled Sarah's life for weeks.

Or the time someone claimed Mr. Thompson had been fired for sleeping with a student. He hadn't even been fired—just transferred to another district—but that didn't stop the whispers, the snickering in the hallways. It didn't stop people from glancing at random students, wondering who the lucky—or unlucky—one was.

People were starving for something to talk about. It didn't even have to be plausible. It just had to stick. And if there was one thing Cairo Sweet was good at, it was making things stick.

Her mind whirled with possibilities, her anger sharpening every detail into focus. The pieces were already there, waiting for her to assemble them into the perfect story. The kind that wouldn't just ruin your reputation but would linger, infecting every interaction you had at that school.

Cairo sat back on the edge of her bed, the cigarette still clutched in her fingers, her lips curving into a slow, bitter smile. She'd light the match and watch it burn.

And you? You'd have no idea what hit you.

So the next morning, Cairo walked to school with purpose, the cold air biting at her cheeks as her plan solidified in her mind.

She hadn't slept, her thoughts running wild, feeding on her anger until it consumed her entirely. By the time she reached the gates, her smile was sharp and satisfied, her rage buried deep beneath the cool detachment she wore like armor.

Winnie was waiting near the courtyard, leaning against a bench and scrolling through her phone. Cairo approached her casually, though the fire in her chest burned hotter with every step. Winnie wasn't just any friend—she was the one with the loudest mouth, the one who lived for drama, thrived on it. If anyone could spread a rumor faster than wildfire, it was her.

It hadn't taken much for Cairo to spin the story, just enough details to make it believable but tantalizing enough to keep people guessing. She'd started with a nonchalant mention of Mr. Miller's sudden absence, dropping hints that she'd heard "something big." Winnie's interest was immediate, her phone slipping into her pocket as she turned her full attention to Cairo.

And then Cairo had delivered the blow, the rumor she'd carefully constructed in the sleepless hours of the night. You and Mr. Miller. A secret relationship. A scandal so twisted it explained everything—why he wasn't at school anymore, why he'd been fired.

She'd painted the picture vividly, her words dripping with calculated disgust: the late meetings, the whispers behind closed doors, the final confrontation that led to his downfall.

Cairo had been deliberate, choosing every word to strike at the heart of what would horrify and captivate the school's gossipy, bored population. Sleeping with a teacher wasn't just scandalous—it was unforgivable. And it fit perfectly into the narrative she wanted to create. It was your fault he was gone. You'd ruined him. You'd dragged everyone into your mess.

Winnie's eyes had widened, her hand flying to her mouth in shock before she'd quickly recovered, leaning closer to hear more. Cairo had fed her just enough to make it irresistible, dropping hints about where you'd supposedly met him and how it had all unraveled.

The beauty of it was that it didn't need to be true. It only needed to sound like it could be.

By the time Cairo walked away, she didn't even have to look back to know the wheels were already in motion. Winnie would tell someone else, who would tell someone else, and by lunch, the whole school would be buzzing with whispers and sideways glances.

It was the perfect plan, Cairo thought, her hands buried deep in her coat pockets as she made her way to class. A masterpiece of manipulation, tailored to destroy you in the same way you'd tried to dismantle her.

She didn't need to say another word. The damage was already done.

She didn't feel doubt either. Normal people might've cringed or hesitated when they heard whispers echoing through the halls—heard your name paired with Mr. Miller's in hushed, scandalized tones.

Normal people might've felt a pang of guilt at the sight of you walking into school, oblivious to the tidal wave of rumors about to crash over you. But Cairo wasn't normal. She never had been, and she knew it.

Her parents used to tell her as much, back when they still tried to parent her. "You've always been different, Cairo," her mother would say, her voice careful, measured, like she was trying not to provoke something. And her father? He didn't say much at all, but his absence spoke louder than any words could. They were always gone, always "working," always finding new reasons not to be around.

She wasn't stupid. She'd started to wonder if work was just an excuse. Maybe they didn't know what to do with her. Maybe they couldn't stand to be around her.

But that was fine. Cairo didn't need them. She didn't need anyone.

She convinced herself of that now as she strolled through the hallway, catching snippets of conversation, fleeting glances at the chaos she'd created.

"Did you hear—?"

"...Mr. Miller?"

"I always thought she was kind of weird..."

It should've stung, hearing them talk about you like that. But it didn't.

Because this was how things had to be.

In Cairo's world, there were no compromises, no apologies, no middle ground. There was only winning or losing. And if you weren't with her, you were against her.

She thought about the way you'd stood there yesterday, daring to question her, to challenge her. You were supposed to agree with her. That's what friends did, wasn't it? That's what YOU were supposed to do. You were supposed to see her plan for what it was—brilliant, unstoppable—and back her up without hesitation.

But you didn't.i

And now, you saw what happened when you didn't.

For Cairo, this wasn't revenge—it was balance. It was restoring the natural order of things. You'd crossed her, so she had to ruin you. That was the only way she knew how to handle betrayal. She didn't understand how to argue it out or let it go. She only knew how to burn it to the ground.

She'd done it before. She could still remember the look on Taylor Myers' face when Cairo had spread that rumor about her stealing from the drama club fundraiser.

Taylor had cried in the bathroom for weeks. She'd eventually left school altogether. But Cairo hadn't felt bad then, either. Taylor had deserved it.

She'd said something snide to Cairo in class, and Cairo had responded the only way she knew how: with fire.

This wasn't any different. If anything, it was worse. You hadn't just made a snide comment—you'd betrayed her. You'd questioned her.

So she would ruin you, just like she ruined everyone else who dared to cross her.

And maybe, in the quiet moments, when she thought too hard about why she was like this, she felt a flicker of unease. But she buried it deep, under layers of pride and rage.

Because what else could she do? This was who she was.

Now, Cairo was leaning against her locker, one hand gripping the metal door while the other fidgeted with the zipper of her jacket. The hallway was loud with overlapping conversations, but her focus was elsewhere. She wasn't paying attention to her surroundings—not really. She was waiting. For you.

And then she saw you.

You walked through the corridor, your head held a little lower than usual, your gaze flitting uncertainly between the clusters of students you passed. You didn't look at Cairo. Not even once. But everyone else? You couldn't avoid them.

The whispers were pointed now, no longer concealed behind cupped hands or turned backs. Someone standing by the water fountain said something loud enough for you to hear, their voice laced with mockery.

A group of girls by the lockers looked you up and down, their expressions curled into sneers.

One of them muttered something—just a single word—but it was enough to send a ripple of laughter through their group.

And you? You just kept walking, your lips pressed tightly together, your face betraying what you were trying so hard to hide. Confusion. Hurt.

Cairo's stomach twisted.

She didn't want to feel it, but she did—a pang of something sharp and uncomfortable, cutting through the armor she'd built around herself. For a moment, her mask nearly slipped. For a moment, she remembered exactly who she had done this to.

It wasn't just anyone. It wasn't some random classmate who'd made an offhand comment she didn't like. It wasn't an enemy or a stranger.

It was you.

Her best friend.

And for the briefest of moments, the fire in her chest faltered, replaced by something she couldn't quite name. Regret? Doubt? She didn't know.

All she knew was that the look on your face—the way you blinked back whatever emotions were welling up, the way you kept moving even as the whispers grew louder—made her stomach churn.

But then she reminded herself why she'd done this.

You had tried to scold her. You hadn't supported her like you were supposed to. You hadn't told her it was a great idea. You hadn't agreed with her.

That was your mistake.

So no, her mask didn't fully slip. The flicker of guilt was smothered before it could grow. She gripped the edge of her locker tighter, her knuckles turning white, and forced herself to hold onto the anger. Because that was easier. That was familiar.

By the time you disappeared into your next class, the churning in her stomach had faded. All that remained was the satisfaction of knowing she'd taught you what happened when you didn't side with her.

And maybe, just maybe, that satisfaction wasn't as comforting as it should've been.

But as Cairo slammed her locker shut, the faint echo of your face lingered in her mind—confused, hurt, and vulnerable. It was only a matter of time, she thought.

She could already picture it: you standing in front of her, eyes wide with regret, voice trembling as you apologized.

You'd tell her you were sorry. That you should've supported her. That you hadn't meant to go against her.

The thought soothed the last trace of unease in her chest, replacing it with a cruel sort of satisfaction.

Because you'd come crawling back. You always did.

___

By the time next day arrived, Cairo had barely slept. She had laid on her bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as the hours stretched on endlessly. Every time her eyelids grew heavy, her mind would jolt her awake again, replaying fragments of the day she wished she could forget.

She had tried to blame the restlessness on the scratch in her throat, the raspy cough brought on by the cigarettes she'd burned through in a desperate attempt to calm herself down. But deep down, she knew it wasn't the smoke.

It was the silence.

An entire day had passed without speaking to you—a record. She hadn't spoken to you during lunch, in the hallways, or even through text. She had told herself it didn't matter, but the silence had gnawed at her insides until she felt hollow.

What had unsettled her most, though, was the memory of you in the corridor. She could still see the look on your face, clear as day—the confusion, the flicker of hurt, as people stared at you, whispering openly. They hadn't even tried to hide it, glaring or laughing as you'd walked by. And you?

You had looked around at everyone but her, clearly searching for answers, completely unaware of the storm Cairo had unleashed.

That was what had kept her up all night. You didn't know.

She had rolled over onto her side, burying her face in her pillow as if that could smother the thoughts clawing at her. She had tried to remind herself why she'd done it.

You hadn't agreed with her. You had scolded her, told her she was wrong, tried to stop her. You were supposed to understand her, supposed to stand by her, but instead, you'd turned against her.

Still, it hadn't gone away. By the time she'd finally fallen asleep, it had been far too late, and the restless hours she'd managed hadn't done much to help. When she'd woken up, the unease had clung to her chest, heavy and unrelenting, like it was a part of her.

It was a feeling she couldn't describe, though that wasn't new. She had lived with that kind of nameless heaviness since she was seven. But this? This was different.

When she had walked into the corridor where your lockers were, it had only gotten worse.

Students were clustered in groups, leaning against walls, whispering and giggling behind their hands. Some pointed toward a single locker, their laughter spilling out in bursts. Others simply walked past, sparing a glance and then smirking as they moved on.

Cairo hadn't thought much of it—until she had gotten close enough to see what they were laughing at.

It was your locker.

A single piece of paper had been taped across the front, its letters bold and jagged.

SKANK.

Cairo's breath had caught for a moment, but she had quickly swallowed it down. She had felt something twist in her stomach, but she had forced her expression to remain blank as she passed by.

Students were still pointing and snickering, some snapping pictures on their phones, others nudging each other and whispering even louder when they saw you walking in.

Cairo quickly walked to her locker, which was further down the corridor. Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she yanked the door open and pretended to sift through her things. She didn't want you to think she was the one who had done it.

Of course, technically, she was—the rumor she had planted had led to this, even if she hadn't physically taped that paper to your locker. Still, she couldn't stand the idea of you connecting her to it, of you knowing.

She kept her back turned, keeping her movements deliberate and unhurried, but the noise behind her—the laughter, the whispers—was impossible to tune out. She was itching to look, to see what you were doing. And eventually, she did.

Turning just slightly, she let her eyes find you again.

You were still standing in front of your locker, frozen, staring at the word scrawled across the paper as if trying to understand how it had gotten there.

Your brows were furrowed, your lips pressed tightly together, and your shoulders trembled just enough to be noticeable. It was the way your chin tilted ever so slightly upward, like you were trying to hold yourself together, that hit Cairo the hardest.

Your eyes were glassy, shimmering with unshed tears that you refused to let fall. The confusion on your face was heartbreaking—because it was clear you didn't know why this had happened. You didn't know who had done it, or why.

It broke something in Cairo, watching you like that.

Her mask—the cool, detached exterior she had perfected over the years—almost shattered completely.

She tried to remind herself of why she'd done this. You hadn't agreed with her. You had scolded her. You had stood in her way, when you were supposed to stand with her. And this—this was what happened to people who didn't.

But none of it felt like enough anymore.

You turned your head, scanning the hallway for any signs of who might have done it. But everyone avoided your gaze. Some were glaring or whispering behind their hands, others laughing outright, and the rest simply turned away the moment you looked in their direction.

And then your eyes landed on her.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Cairo could feel her chest tighten as she held your gaze. She could see the question there, unspoken but loud enough to hear in her head: Was it you?

And for a split second, Cairo thought about stepping forward. About saying something, anything, that might erase the look on your face, the crack in your voice that would inevitably follow if you spoke.

But she didn't.

Instead, she forced her façade to stay in place, locking down the guilt threatening to spill over. Her jaw tightened as she turned back to her locker, shoving a book inside with more force than necessary.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw you finally move. You ripped the paper from your locker, crumpling it in your fist. Your movements were quick and sharp, but not angry—just desperate, like you were trying to erase it before anyone else could see.

And then you yanked open your locker, shoving the crumpled paper inside before slamming it shut. The clang of the metal door echoed down the hallway, cutting through the noise like a knife.

Cairo didn't look at you again. She couldn't.

By the time lunch rolled around, the rumor Cairo had started had taken on a life of its own. The cafeteria buzzed with hushed voices, none of them low enough to be discreet. Cairo could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating—a storm she had set loose but couldn't control.

Sliding into her usual seat, she kept her head low, poking at the sandwich on her tray as the conversations around her hit her like punches to the gut. None of it sounded like what she had told Winnie. Not even close.

"I heard she's pregnant with his kid," a girl at the next table whispered, her tone a mix of disgust and disbelief. "That's why he left. He's, like, running from the responsibility."

"Pregnant?" another voice chimed in. "No way. I heard she was doing it for better grades, but it got out of hand, and he had to leave because it was a whole thing with the administration."

"She's probably slept with all the male teachers," someone muttered nearby, barely hiding their laughter. "Wouldn't be surprised if that's how she got through high school in the first place."

Cairo's stomach churned.

Every new twist, every new grotesque fabrication, felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. None of this was what she had said. She had been deliberate, precise, sticking to just enough to make it believable. She had wanted to hurt you, yes, but she hadn't expected it to spiral this far, this quickly.

And now? Now it was everywhere.

She clenched her fists under the table, her knuckles whitening as she stared down at her untouched lunch. Cairo never panicked. She didn't know how. Chaos was her playground; she was the one who thrived in it, the one who created it. But now, for the first time, she felt like the chaos was swallowing her whole.

This wasn't what she'd wanted. She didn't want people to think you were pregnant, or that you'd been sleeping with other teachers, or any of the other twisted lies that were spreading like wildfire.

Her breath hitched when she overheard another snippet of conversation from the table behind her.

"She probably blackmailed him," a boy said, loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear. "That's why he left so fast. She's got dirt on all of them, I bet."

Cairo's pulse was racing, her chest tight with something she couldn't name. Guilt? Fear? She didn't know, and she didn't want to. All she knew was that she'd started something she couldn't stop, and now it was spiraling out of control.

Her hands trembled as she picked up her sandwich, forcing herself to take a bite. The dry bread caught in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to let anyone see her crack. She was Cairo Sweet, after all. She didn't panic. She didn't feel bad.

But then she thought about you. About the look on your face that morning. About how you had stared at her, confused and hurt, like you were searching for answers in her eyes.

And suddenly, she wasn't so sure about any of it anymore.

She sat frozen at her table, staring blankly at her tray. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there when she noticed you enter.

You held a tray of food against your hip, walking with a calmness that almost seemed defiant. Your expression was blank, almost disinterested, as though the entire day hadn't been spent tearing you apart in the cruelest ways imaginable.

Cairo's chest tightened at the sight, her eyes glued to you as you scanned the room. She could see what you were looking for—somewhere, anywhere you could sit by yourself.

And for a moment, it seemed like you'd found it. Your gaze lingered on a bench in the far corner, away from the noise, the eyes, the whispers.

But before you could take another step toward the corner bench you'd spotted, someone's voice sliced through the air, louder than the rest.

"That Y/N slut slept with Mr. Miller," the voice sneered, dripping with mockery. "Heard she's pregnant, too. Maybe that's why she's always looking so bloated."

The words hung there, loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear, and Cairo's heart stopped.

Your head turned sharply toward the source, and Cairo saw the way your shoulders stiffened, your tray trembling in your hands. They didn't see you—too wrapped up in their laughter, too oblivious to the pain they were causing—but Cairo saw everything.

And then, your gaze shifted. You turned your head, scanning the crowd, and Cairo's stomach dropped.

You were looking for her.

When your eyes finally found hers, it was like a punch to the chest. Cairo froze, every muscle in her body locking up as if she'd been caught in a spotlight.

She didn't dare look away, even though she wanted to. Even though she couldn't stand the way you were staring at her.

Your eyes were glassy, tears brimming just enough to make the cafeteria lights reflect in them. But they didn't fall. Your jaw was clenched tight, your lips pressed into a trembling line as if holding back the urge to scream.

And the look you gave her—it was like a knife twisting in her gut.

You knew.

Cairo's breath hitched as she felt your gaze bore into her, relentless and unyielding. It was the same look you'd given her when you were kids, the time she'd blamed you for stealing cookies from the jar in front of her parents. Back then, it was a childish betrayal, the kind that faded by the next day.

This wasn't.

This was anger and hurt, disbelief and something that felt far worse: recognition. You looked at her as if she had been the one to put the note on your locker. And in a way, you weren't wrong.

Cairo's lips trembled, and she quickly bit the inside of her cheek to steady herself. It was ridiculous. Cairo Sweet didn't panic. She didn't regret. She didn't crack.

But now, under your gaze, she felt like she was crumbling.

You didn't say a word. You didn't need to. The way you stared at her, as if she were a stranger, said more than words ever could.

And then, without breaking eye contact, you turned on your heel.

Cairo's breath caught as she watched you stride to the nearest trash can. Your movements were sharp, deliberate, each step like a hammer driving a nail into her chest. When you reached it, you dumped your entire tray of food into the bin with a force that made it clang loudly, drawing the attention of half the room.

You didn't hesitate. You didn't pause. You just walked out, your head held high despite the tears threatening to spill.

Cairo sat frozen, her lungs struggling for air as the cafeteria noise gradually swelled back around her. People whispered and laughed again, oblivious to the storm raging inside her.

Her mind was spinning, replaying everything in an endless loop. She had wanted to hurt you, to punish you for standing in her way, for not agreeing with her plan.

But now, watching you walk out of the cafeteria—broken but still carrying yourself with a dignity she'd tried so hard to strip away—she realized something she couldn't ignore.

Cairo sat frozen, her lungs still fighting for air as the cafeteria roared back to life around her. The noise felt distant, muffled, like she was underwater. People were still laughing, still whispering, still twisting the knife deeper into the wound she had created. But Cairo didn't hear them. Not really.

Her mind spun in endless circles, replaying the way you'd looked at her—the tears in your eyes, the sharpness of your jaw, the weight of your silence. It was unbearable. It was suffocating.

And it was entirely her fault.

She had wanted to hurt you. She could admit that now, if only to herself. She had wanted to knock you down a peg, to remind you that you weren't perfect, that you didn't always get to be the one who was right. You'd stood in her way, called her out, refused to see things her way. And for that, she had wanted you to feel what it was like to lose.

But this?

This wasn't what she had expected.

Cairo had told herself it would be harmless. A rumor, a few whispers—something petty and fleeting that would blow over in a week. She had convinced herself it was just words, just noise, nothing that would stick. You'd get mad, maybe confront her, and she'd roll her eyes and shrug it off. You'd forgive her eventually. You always did.

But instead, she had lit a fire she couldn't control.

The rumor had spread like poison, twisting into something grotesque and unrecognizable. It wasn't just about Mr. Miller anymore. It was about everything they could find to tear you down. They'd taken her words and turned them into weapons, each one sharper than the last.

And you were the one left bleeding.

Cairo's chest tightened as guilt clawed at her throat. She had wanted you to feel small, to feel the sting of being wrong. But now, she realized what she had actually done. She hadn't just hurt you. She had handed you over to the wolves and stood back while they tore you apart.

And for what?

Why had she done it?

Because she was angry? Because she wanted to be right? Because it was easier to blame you than to admit that maybe, just maybe, she was the one in the wrong?

The truth hit her like a punch to the gut. She hadn't done it for any grand reason. She'd done it because she was selfish. Because she was scared. Because when you'd looked at her that day, challenging her, standing your ground, she'd felt small. And she hated feeling small.

But now, sitting there in the chaos she had created, Cairo felt smaller than ever.

Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. She wanted to fix it. She wanted to take it all back, to rewind the clock to that day in the hallway, to the moment she'd let her anger get the better of her. But it was too late.

The damage was done.

Cairo's stomach churned as she thought of the look in your eyes, the way you had walked out of the cafeteria with your head held high, even as everything around you crumbled. You were stronger than she'd ever given you credit for. Stronger than her.

And yet, she had broken something between you that could never be repaired.

She had expected to feel triumphant, to feel vindicated. Instead, all she felt was hollow.

The laughter around her grew louder, grating against her skin, and she wanted to scream, to tell them all to shut up, to stop talking about you like you were some kind of joke. But she didn't. She couldn't.

Because this was her fault.

Cairo clenched her jaw, her nails biting into her palms as the guilt twisted deeper. She had pushed you too far, dragged you into something you hadn't deserved, all because she couldn't control herself. She had ruined you, and in doing so, she had ruined herself.

This wasn't what she had wanted.

And as she sat there, drowning in the weight of her own actions, Cairo realized something that terrified her more than anything else.

She didn't know how to stop it.

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Cevans Series Rec List

thought i’d make a list of all the best cevans (characters) series i have read!! i have lots more to add and will continue to update this list🫶🏻 i will also create a one shot fic rec list in the near future💖💘💞

Preying On You Tonight - @evansbby

“Steve is the cocky, brash and domineering alpha who makes your life at university a living hell every day. You’re the complete opposite - quiet, meek and reserved. You’re convinced Steve hates you, but what happens when he finds out you have a boyfriend? (a/b/o dynamics)”

Wicked Games - @evansbby

Ari is the campus fuckboy and you’re his little plaything. But he’s telling the truth when he says he’s going to make you his girlfriend soon, right?

What A World - @onsunnyside

S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lot of secrets, you just never expected one of them to be an actual person—a blue-eyed giant, wild manbeast at that. [tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader, nomad!steve, size difference]

Just Because I Won’t Die For You, Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Kill For You - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd Hansen is just another job for you. Your last job. However, when he decides that he wants to take you for a ride and have a good time, well...how’s a girl supposed to say no?

Closer To Heaven And Closer To You - @georgiapeach30513

When your boyfriend, Ransom wants to take a trip back home to the ranch to meet your family, you are unsure.  Knowing that a rodeo is in town could only mean your ex, Frank Adler, was most likely riding for eight seconds, still trying to beat his best friend, Steve Rogers.  All you wanted was a nice time, not old memories bothering your brain.

Just Like The Caged Bird - @georgiapeach30513

You are a widow who moves back to her husband's hometown after selling your in Georgia home.  Moving in above your brother in law's garage.  Sharing the space with his friend Bucky Barnes, but your other brother-in-law Andy causes problems, along with your overprotective brothers.

Pretty Petals - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems. (multi-character)

His Koala Bear - @kinanabinks

you and steve have been best friends since you were 5. for the longest time, he has wanted so much more from you. and it's getting harder for him to stop himself from taking it.

Belong Here - @angrythingstarlight

Steve has been looking for his perfect girl and suddenly there you are stuck in this dingy restaurant. You don't belong here, you belong with him.

Finding Home - @navybrat817

Steve finds a home with you. (lumberjack Au)

Their Doll - @kaiparker-avengerssmut

y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

No Better Than Beast’s - @lokislastlove

You’re an animal rights activist who sets out to put an end to animal testing… but it’s a risky mission. (Dark!Steve Rogers)

Doppelgänger - @boxofbonesfic

Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale + Dark!Lloyd Hansen)

Million Dollar Man - @chrisevansgoodgirl

your relationship with ransom and his insane family.

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart - @spacesnail3000

Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise.

Let It Snow - @spacesnail3000

She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Sweet Renegade - @cevansbrat0007

A new arrival in town leads to an unexpected complication in the form of a sexy as sin Bounty Hunter named Ari Levinson.

Evergreen, Evermore - @babyjakes

loving husbands jake and ari had always believed they were all each other could ever want or need. but one unusual summer, when their world is turned upside-down by an uncanny girl from down the street, they find that having someone to love, nurture, and care for together is the missing piece that finally completes their perfect family and lives.

A Huckleberry Is Nothing Without His Hummingbird - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd and Y/N have been amicably(ish) divorced for four years. However, when earth shattering trauma come their way, will they lean into what they truly want, or will the flames from past traumas still burn too bright?

Civil war- Brooklyn - @saiyanprincessswanie

Ten years ago the Readers world was turned upside down when her father was killed by Hydras Brock Rumlow. She believes the loves of her life Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes were also killed while trying to avenge her fathers death. Reader is now working for the FBI on a task force that is meant to take down Hydra. She volunteers to go undercover to take down Hydra. In doing so she not only puts herself in the cross hairs with Rumlow but she gets to meet the mystery men causing Hydra issues. Who are the Captain and Winter Soldier? What lengths will you go through to uncover the truth and seek revenge?

The Boston Brute - @time-for-a-lullaby

When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake. 

Planet Evans Universe - @astranva

In which Chris was a nervous mess when he met his A+ list celebrity crush, highest-paid, and the most iconic actress, you, at Vanity Fair’s 2014 after party. (Following the life of overprotective!dad!Chris x wife!actress!reader!)

Don’t Speak - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (Dark!Andy Barber)

Cat and Mouse - @queen-of-the-avengers

You’re called the Vixen because you were HYDRA’s favorite creation. You’re very hard to catch, and once you are, it’s even harder to keep you.

Let’s Ride - @starryevermore

You’re a single mom and have just moved into a new town. You have no interest in looking for love, but the funny thing about love is, it waits for no one. (Biker!Ari Levinson)

Out Of The Darkness - @sunshinexsin

Sienna Jons has lived in Boston for three years now after graduating and is running her own salon in the city. With a small group of friends sticking by her side, she's content with her life. Enter Chris Evans, a known and feared mob boss in Boston’s underground crime world. Coming out of a long relationship ended in a bitter divorce, Chris isn’t looking for anything serious until Sienna crosses his path. Trying to win her over proves difficult for the man who seemingly has it all and Sienna is not willing to be with someone who causes such destruction in his own hometown. Sienna soon finds herself entangled in the crazy, violent world of the mob and struggles to find a way to either live with the hardened man Chris has always been or get away from him before her own life spirals out of control.

Murder He Wrote - @wiypt-writes

You���re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale)

Poison Paradise - @the-iceni-bitch

Robert Pronge was sure he could settle for a fake domestic life as long as he could go on killing. Little did he know that you could give him everything he needed.

A Bun In The Oven - @witchywithwhiskey

the leaves are changing—green fading into golden yellow, burnt orange and radiant red—and the days are getting shorter and colder as autumn settles in. it's the perfect time of year for baked goods, fall foliage, book stores, and to curl up next to (and get under) our favorite man with a plan, steve rogers

Wilford’s Demands - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Wilford places you in Curtis’ care so he can impregnate you.

In The Balance - @goodgirlofglory

One unsuspecting evening, the stranger Steve Rogers appears bloodied and in need of aid at your doorstep. You immediately catch his eye, and he forces himself upon you within the hour. Several months of repeated visits from him results in your pregnancy, and the night you find out, Steve intereceps you on your way to an abortion clinic and kidnaps you to his mansion. Will you carry the child to term? Will you buckle under the pressure of capitivity? Will you escape the grasp Steve has on you, or will you submit to it and your own, conflicted desires?

Drowning Siren - @rogerswifesblog

The Avengers found an old abandoned HYDRA base, that had been cleared after HYDRAs existence had been exposed. At least they thought it was cleared. It was the biggest experimental lab they had ever seen, the closest base to the ocean, full with creatures-dead creatures. Some of them laid still on tables, stripped with metal cuffs, open and already rotting. It was an awful smell. But then they heard something beautiful. A melody, a beautiful voice singing unbelievably gentle sounds. Walking into the building full with ocean creatures, they had no idea their life was about to change.

Vampire Kings Religion - @marvelcriminalhoe

In a world where fantasy beings roam every corner, the humans are on the bottom. Looked at as weak and disgraceful. The vampires are the opposite. They rule the land, and all of the creatures that take part of it. the current ruler, King Steven, has ruled for more than 150 years, alone. After many nights, and long talks with his most trusted hands, he comes to the long awaited decision that he will finally, take a wife. All female creatures, are to be evaluated, so he can find his perfect match. Of course, no one expects for him to choose a human. Especially not one from the church. Especially not the daughter, of the leader, of the church. The same church that detests the mythical creatures, wishing for nothing more than for them to perish in fire. How could this union possibly end well?

Ride And Prejudice - @pagesoflauren

A take on Pride & Prejudice, certain circumstances in your life have led you to take refuge and work in a farm village, particularly on the ranch owned by Steve Rogers. He doesn’t take kindly to you, having bad perceptions about city folk. Your only reaction to that is the one you deem acceptable: get annoyed at every little thing he does whilst doing your best to annoy him and still keep your job.

Love On The Brain - @howardpotts

You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and voilence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer? (MobBoss!Steve Rogers)

Flamingo King - @onsunnyside

The sun is brutal this summer, especially in Flamingo Trailer Park, the land of big hearts and cheap tricks, you’ve been here for years unlike your “new” neighbour, Ari. He’s older, bigger, and intimidating, the local rockstar, and you, well, aren’t you just the sweetest girl in the whole damn city?

Make It A December To Remember - @imyourbratzdoll

AGE AND SIZE DIFFERENCE IS ADDED TO ALL! SANTA AND THE GRINCH ARE LARGER THAN THE READER! THE ELVES ARE THE SIZE OF HER PALM! (a chris evans xmas universe)

This Love Is Bad - @wildestdreamsblog

You were just trying to escape your past, and Ari was trying to chase his future.

Nowhere To Run - @sagechanoafterdark

On the last day that Steve spent in your small town before heading off to basic training for the army, he made sure it was one you wouldn’t ever forget. Years later when he appears in your town he seems like a changed man in more ways than one, but you’re ready to show him that you’ve never forgotten that day. (Dark!Steve Rogers+ Bucky Barnes)

Nice To Be Kneaded - @rogersideup

Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. Steve Rogers face had been plastered on the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. It had been just a few long months shy of a year, just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, he found himself in the scanty town of Greenwood in the house right next to yours.

Forever And Ever More - @syntheticavenger

Ransom Drysdale may be Boston’s most eligible Alpha who has his eyes set on you. With his inheritance hanging in the balance, he won’t take no for an answer, whether you like him or not.

Hackers Heart - @bakugousaysdie

steve rogers has always been america’s golden boy, leading earth’s mightiest heroes and serving his country. you have always been bad with boundaries, a little too curious, and an absolute disruption. you are an absolute menace,so it’s only right you fell in love with the most adored man in the country.

Arranged - @time-for-a-lullaby

Living in this life, you’ve never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you’re dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you’re pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He’s the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.

[jadegrey711]

Please I love your Wally smut

What about like giving Wally head for the first time as he watched you already before you died

And either a first time blow job or Wally fingering you for the first time (ifykyk) whatever you feel like writing moreee

Thank you for the compliment Dear Anon. Enjoy. You can check you my other Wally Clark x Reader fics on my masterlist on @jadegreywriting

As always 18+ ONLY

*Not my GIF*

Wally had watched you for the longest time. He'd love watching your meets as you would dive gracefully into the pool. As an athlete himself he was in awe of how fast you were once you hit the water. He didn't know if the Olympics were your dream but he knew you could make it if you wanted too. But that wasn't in the cards for you, instead it was a drunk driver, who pulled out of the school too fast and didn't see you as you were walking out to your car after a game.

You couldn't understand what was happening as you watched the ambulance pull away from the school, kids huddled together and crying.

Wally watched as you tried to get anyones attention. But no one could hear or see you. He was nervous as he first approached you, putting his hands up like you were a wild animal and he was trying to keep you calm.

At first you were relieved someone was talking to you, but then he broke the news. You had been hit and you were already dead when the ambulance pulled away from the school.

You were in denial for a long while, and Wally watched as you would just sit on the curb for hours, watching as everyone pulled away from the parking lot. Watching as the flowers that were laid down on your school parking spot, slowly rotted and blew away.

Wally would spend those days, sitting right next to you, and he waited. Waited until you were ready to talk, and when you finally did, you felt the damn break loose. You told Wally everything you were feeling, how sad you were, how angry you were at how unfair this all was. You told him about your life that he didn't get to see outside of school. How much you loved to read, how going to the lake every summer felt like a recharge for the rest of the year, when you first knew you loved swimming.

And in kind Wally told you about his life, what kind of music he listened to, how he wanted to travel when he got out of highschool and that he wasn't a big reader when he was alive; which made you chuckle.

After that day, you and Wally felt inseparable, being with him felt like the sun. Warm and comforting, he always made you laugh and you did the same to him; surprising him with how funny you were, he didn't know that about you.

You still like going to Group; Mr. Martin was a bit creepy and you always had issues with authority figures. But Wally liked coming to the group so you sat there and participated here and there. You never shared anything personal with the group, well anything that was real. You saved that for your time with Wally.

Which often felt like this one, where you would go into the pool and do laps, or float on the surface of the water, while Wally watched on the edge of the pool. He loved watching you do flip turns, amazed at how fast you were, how fast you could cut through the water.

You came up from under the water and smiled at Wally, who was floating in the pool next to you, watching as you would flip and do handstands in the shallow end of the water. When you came up again, you saw Wally had made his way over to the steps of the pool, he sat there and watched you. His smile was contagious as he watched you.

"What are you looking at, Clark?" You asked, flicking water towards him.

"I think it's some kind of pool nymph." He teased.

"A pool nymph?" You chuckled.

"Yeah, and she's mesmerizing."

"Mesmerizing huh?" You asked, as you swam closer to him.

"Oh yeah. Just one of the many adjectives I'd use to describe her."

"Oh? And what are these other adjectives that you'd use? I know you're not a big reader, so this will be fun to see how many you actually know."

"Hey! I think my vocabulary has increased immensely since I met you."

"Thank goodness for that! I don't think I could handle you saying "Rad" for the rest of eternity."

"As if, "Cool beans" is any better!" He huffed before flicking his fingers in the water, splashing you in the face. 

"Hey!" You scowled, grabbing his bare thighs and bringing your face close to his, but stopped inches in front of his face.

Wally tilted his head, his brown eyes holding yours. "Hey what?" He smiled. His eyes moved to your lips.

"I-" You stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat as you remembered where your hands were. “I don’t actually remember what I was going to say.” You chuckled, before leaning in and gave Wally a quick kiss on the lips, intending to give him a quick kiss and then swim away. But Wally had other ideas on the matter, before you could turn your body away he grabbed your hips and placed you so you were sitting on his lap. His large hands wrapped themselves around your waist bringing you back in for another kiss. 

“I wasn’t done telling you about the beautiful pool nymph I saw.” He smiled against your lips.

This wasn’t the first time you and Wally kissed, not by a long shot, there were so many times where the two of you would sneak off when Wally was supposed to be in Group, kissing in the locker room. Sometimes you two would get really hot and heavy, but before anything could happen there was always something that had you two breaking apart. Whether it was Charley or Rhonda catching you two in the heat of the moment or someone else barging in, sometimes it was really hard to get a moment alone with your hot boyfriend in your own afterlife. 

But, you had a feeling that this time would be different. 

You let out a small little moan as you felt Wally’s tongue dance with yours. His large hands roaming down to your backside and giving you a little squeeze. You pulled away from the kiss, earning a groan from Wally. “You didn’t finish describing this pool nymph to me.” You grinned. 

“Well I told you that she was mesmerizing and beautiful. I would dare say graceful as well.” 

“Graceful huh?” You smiled leaning in to brush a kiss to the edge of Wally’s soft lips, before pressing another one to his jawline earning a low moan from him. You made sure to pocket that reaction for that spot in particular for later. 

“Y-Yeah graceful.”

“What else Wally?” You teased, sucking on that spot at his jawline, before moving down to his neck, placing a soft kiss to his carotid, before sucking on the spot where his pulse point would be. You chuckled as you heard Wally stutter, losing his words and losing them fast as you sucked and kissed your way down his neck. 

“Breathtaking.” He moaned out.

As you kissed Wally, making sure to pay attention to the other side of his neck like you did the first, you could feel him grow hard underneath you. “What else Wally?”

“Baby. Please.” 

“Please what Wally?”

“Stop torturing me.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just listening to all the ways that you’re describing this beautiful pool nymph.” you mumbled against his skin, taking your tongue and dipping it into his collarbone, before taking that golden chain necklace into your mouth and sucking on the pendant there. 

You looked up at Wally’s face and smiled. He looked so tense, his hands were gripping noticeably harder on your ass as he looked down at you. 

“Unless you want me to stop?” You asked, placing a quick kiss to the center of his chest. “Do you want me to stop Wally?” You asked and placed another kiss on his chest. 

“No.” He ground out. 

You gave him a wolfish smile. “I didn’t think so.” You purred, leaning your head back down so you can trace your tongue around his nipples. Wally leaned back, letting out a low groan. 

“You’re so sweet to me Wally.” You said softly against his skin as you traced your tongue down his stomach, and dipped in his belly button, earning another deep moan from Wally. You looked back up to him, your body now on the step just below him, your hands poised on top of the waistband of his boxers. “Can I be sweet to you?” You asked him innocently. 

Wally’s eyes went wide. “Baby.” He said his voice came out breathy before he let out a small cough to clear his throat. “Baby, are you sure?” He asked his hand coming out to brush a small piece of hair out of your face. 

“Yes Wally. I want to do this for you.” 

Wally let out a breath that seemed to be a mix of desperation and relief. His hands were reaching for the waistband of his boxers and you took that as your sign that he wanted this as bad as you did. You helped him pull his boxers off and let them float off in the pool, before leaning back down to Wally. Running your tongue down the soft “V” on each side of his hips, earning a low whimper from Wally. 

You looked up at Wally, as you ran your hands up and down his thighs, while taking in how hard he was for you and you smiled up at him. “All this for me?” you teased. 

“Yeah baby.” He said breathily. “Only for you.” 

You were in control in this situation but you grew wet at Wally’s words, surprising yourself at how just those simple words of admiration had you growing slick in between your legs. “Only for me huh?” You said reaching for him, giving his cock a slow pump with your hand, earning a stuttering lift of Wally’s hips for you. 

You smirked, biting your lip. “So sensitive.” Leaning down to run your tongue around the head of his cock. Wally let out a low moan, as you took him deeper into your mouth letting your tongue trace around the head of his cock, and relaxing as he slid deeper for a moment before having your hand join the efforts of your mouth. 

“I love it when you make those little moans, Wally.” You whispered, before continuing to pump his cock with your hand as you took him back into your mouth. 

You didn’t have a lot of experience doing this, but you were an avid reader and Wally seemed to love it when your tongue did this particular motion. You smiled to yourself as you felt Wally’s hands find their way into your wet hair, gathering the wet strands in a messy clump and fisting it in his hand. You felt Wally’s hips jerk every now and again as he fought the urge to pump his hips and thrust his cock deeper into your hot little mouth. 

You hummed in satisfaction against his cock, and that seemed to have Wally taking a ragged breath. 

“Baby.” He breathed. “I’m really trying here.” 

You hummed again, the vibrations seeming to send Wally closer to the edge. You popped your mouth off of his cock and looked up at him, taking in the tensed way he pulled his eyebrows together and how he bit down on his bottom lip, making it a darker pink. 

“Trying to do what?” You asked innocently, as you rested your head against his strong thigh, your hand still pumping his cock. 

“Trying to not, fuck your mouth.” He breathed out. “I know you haven’t really done this before and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You hummed again, he really was the sweetest boy you’d ever met. You’d never thought you actually like sucking dick, but with Wally, as he whined and moaned above you, letting you bring him closer and closer to orgasm. You didn’t think you could actually get enough of this, of him being this vulnerable for you, you felt drunk off of the way his puppy eyes looked down at you, awestruck. 

“Wally.” You said breathily. “I have your cock in my mouth and I am so fucking wet for you right now. And if I’m uncomfortable, I’ll just give you a little nip.” You chuckled and leaned back down and licked up the shaft of his cock before taking his head back into your mouth. 

His hands, delved deeper into your hair, and his hold felt a little tighter, as he bucked his hips to your mouth still holding back, but not as much as he was before. 

“Oh baby.” He moaned. “God you look so pretty like this. Your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock. I wish I could take a picture of you right now.” 

You moaned, at his words, feeling yourself grow wetter between your legs, and started to pump him faster, your mouth and hand working in time together to bring Wally closer to release. 

“God damn it, baby.” Wally groaned, his hips increasing their speed, just enough that you started to feel water in your eyes, but you didn’t want to stop not when Wally was so close. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that up.” 

That was your cue, you squeezed Wally’s cock harder with your hand before sucking him down again and felt him come inside your mouth. You pulled away, unable to fully swallow Wally’s release, and continued to pump him through his orgasm. You watched his hips shake as he finished coming, Wally’s moans were audible enough for anyone who was walking past the double doors of the indoor pool could definitely hear him. 

You dropped your hand away from him and looked up at the totally ruined expression on Wally’s face. His hair that was usually so well kept, was sticking up in places he ran his hands through and some of it still stuck to his forehead from when he was swimming with you. 

“Such a good and sweet boy.” You smiled, pulling yourself up by his thighs and giving him a kiss. Wally seemed to preen at the compliment and deepened the kiss; tasting himself on your lips, earning a low satisfied moan from the both of you. 

[emacrow]

Welcome to the Starlight Toy Galore! Temporary close for the day!

Danny could only blush heavily in his ghost form. His brightened green eyes watched Jazz pick out an outfit for his date. Ellen looked at the deep blue colored scarf before throwing it to the aside to the pile of rejected other colored scarfs.

"Now you have the braille menu that Tucker sent you of the restaurant, right? Remember to take your black bandana if your eyes get irritated again. Sam, you missed a chibi toy on the right side of his hair." Jazz spoke as she was judging two different colored turtleneck with narrowed eyes.

To Danny's eyes, the bright colors felt normal in his ghost form compared to the black abyss in his human form beside the luminous foggy shapes of ghosts, spirits, souls, demons and faes in his sights.

He can still remember the horrifying shock in mom's and dad's eyes was the last thing he ever saw as the pure excruciating pain sizzle in his eyes as they were showing the Fenton Ghost On Sight double Blaster that will reveal any ghosts hiding invisible to the human eyes and unfortunately locked onto him once again and blasted directly into his eyes.

Waking up in a hospital bed only to see nothing at all was pure panicked, being touched by something or someone hugging him was worse, especially when he couldn't see a god damn thing, only to see ember's head appears was when he realized something immediately.

He couldn't see anything at all except Ghosts. It didn't stop there as he saw a dashing tiny being with wings stealing a cube of sugar, a red parasite bug whispering to some junkie that he pummeled into paste the wall, and a wild spirit messing around from the very black shape form of a person that he couldn't see before sneaking back in their form.

Jazz told him about her telling Mom and Dad the truth about him while he was in a privates hospital room thanks to Sam, Dad actually broken down and Mom couldn't stop staring down at her hands as she had been the one to do the example on the double blaster.

Two month of him still unconscious after that event, and thanks to Frostbite being brought to heal him, Along side teaching mom and dad his needs as it seem he can see in his ghost form, but not in his alive human form.

He couldn't see the damage of his eyes in his ghost form. Only his eyes were much green with much paler pupil, but apparently, what Tucker descriptive of his eyes were his pupil went brighter then a rainbow pearl that cause his iris to go from deep blue to a much paler icy blue.

The struggle was intensely real after he left the hospital, especially now handicapped and kept bumping into everything and every wall, Cujo thankfully helping him along with his new blind cane. Kitty and Johnny 13 actually helped him out, considering Kitty had a cousin who was born blind.

He couldn't be the astronaut that he wanted to be, especially when now he was blind. He was so down in his own depression state upon realizing that It took Jazz, Sam, Tucker, Ellen, and shocking, Dash dragged him, caving himself into his room after 5 months in. His hair was the length of his waist after that, but he didn't cut it since he didn't trust his dad or Jazz to cut his hair again.

They brought him to a great museum with an audio speakers for blind people like him, wandering the halls with glimpses of soul spirits embezzling in their masterpiece, even some in old toys on display, and accidentally finding himself into a kid's crafts their art room upon hearing the sounds of a crying child.

He couldn't see what they were crying, but he could see the well loved toy that was a Raggedy Andy doll so bright with a joyous old soul spirit of a elderly lady with plush separated arm on the floor.

Danny helped clumsily tie the doll's arm back in place with the help of that soul spirit whispering in his ear about which thread is tied where and tighten up.

He wouldn't know it but feeling the warmth glowing off a child's inner joyful spirit playfully peaking out the shell that was a human.

Danny felt a new dream born before his sightless eyes. He ended up fixing beloved toys here and there in Amity Park, then word got out after he made a beautiful music box that has a dancing ballerina in her box for a sweet grandma who was a retired Principal Dancer due to her torn achilles tendon after Danny saw how down her spirit mumbling how she wished to dance in the opera once last time.

A fix here, donated parts, threads, fabrics, buttons, cotton full of lonely spirits there, rebuild a lost dream of spirits all around all for 1 tiny trade each. He didn't know that the people he helped have been collectively anonymous a goFundme in Amity parks for him after he spoke about wanting to make a space theme toy shop and repair.

Danny would be 26 year old before he decided to invest in a building after going through a gigantic tsunami of customer wanting him to fix their old toys, plushy or antiques.

Danny had to change his last name due to the fact that nobody wouldn't let him rent a building nearly as far as new Jersey, much less a shop after hearing his last name being Fenton. Getting a cozy shop in a gotham full of saturated Ectoplasm was a wise choice.

It would be 3 months later meeting a lady with a soul spirit more wild peaking out of her body in a wheelchair who made his heart skip several slow beats after doing that Ashidon motion against the parenting section bookshelf even though her real body is still at the public library's counter.

7 months in of being befriended and compliments Babs Gordon, while her dominating spirit is nearly crossing the line. obviously flirting to him alongside whispering about how she loves to pull his silky hair again to hear him make that cute whine. If only people and ghosts could see the patient and restrain he had on himself, he would've probably already passed out again from the blood rushing to his head that day.

He learned many things about Babs, even though her wild spirit is dancing, showing off martial art techniques seductively, and talking the many many ways she can take him out that made Danny feel his heart about to stop.

Ellen, his sweet clone daughter, apparently was the first to say something about his most obvious crush on Babs and helped him practice, even though he failed miserable at the result. He got a date tonight.

Hopefully, everything goes well..

Part 2 link <-

[akela-nakamura]

Fuck Around, Find Out

HI! Hello, this is your friendly neighborhood author, who isn't feeling so friendly right now.

Listen to me very, very carefully: Fandom is a community. You have to build it, engage with it, say hi to your neighbors, and be courteous.

It seems that some of y'all have forgotten that.

Fanart, fanfics, fan analysis, GIFs, and all of the things that keep a fandom alive are made by -gasp!- real people!!

It's crazy I know, that the person who writes that fic you love, and the other person who makes those amazing GIFs, and that other person who writes in-depth character analysis are real people with real feelings! What a wild concept!

So tell me, why do y'all feel the need to be assholes? Why do you feel the need to demand updates, to demand more artwork, to tell an author how their story should go, or that you hate the direction they took a story in? Why do you tell the people are are working hard to create everything you hate about what they've done?

Why is it so damn hard for some of you people to hit the fucking X at the top of the screen? Presumably, being as you're on the internet, you know how to leave a page without announcing why you've left in the process.

Presumably, you know how to be a decent fucking human being.

This is a goddamn PSA. Fuck around and find out. If y'all keep telling authors how much you hate their works, if y'all keep telling artists how they should be drawing people, or demanding more for creators, you will find that they will leave. And they will take all their works with them. Why not? Clearly you didn't want it anyway.

You think I'm kidding? It's been done. It's happening right now.

I've had friends wonder if they should just delete their entire AO3. If they should just Nuke their Tumblrs.

Every day you act like assholes you lose more content. Which is apparently the only thing you care about, since you can't seem to remember that there's another real life breathing person on the other end of the screen.

Fuck around and find out. See how fast my AO3 vanishes. See how fast you lose work after work.

I fucking dare you.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: I knew you were trouble // part two: would’ve could’ve should’ve

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_The Capitol's Dream girl was depressed. After Snow broke her heart and returned only to haunt her. It only takes an official marriage proposal on New Year's Day, an interview with Lucky Flickerman and a rebel bombing to completely break you, and make Snow realize there's a place for one last person to love for the rest of his life.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ 10k words fic ups, reader is depressed, blood, violence, angst, tears, drama, reader makes some cruel things, antidepressants, nothing wild but they have sex so mdni 18+ , Snow actually loves reader (well idk). I couldn't add anything about the games of Mags SORRY.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_main song for this is Would've Could've Should've, song added to my Coryo Copito's playlist. Also, listen to the 1 and memory lane!!!

♪ ♫ Coryo playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

____________________________________

Nights were longer now. You couldn't sleep. Nightmares of the games, how you contributed. The vivid image of the first time you saw Clemensia after the snake bite. Your mind made you recreate Sejanus being hanged in District 12. And finally, your mind also made you replay every moment you had with Coriolanus Snow since you met him at 17.

You wished you never asked to sit with him at lunch. You wished you never asked to see him again.

He would've been just another classmate. If the things that happened in the 10th Hunger Games were meant to be, at least you wouldn't have been involved.

It wouldn't have hurt you enough to feel so miserable in the present.

But this was as good as it was going to get.

You weren't the best driver, but since very few people had a car, you dared to take the one your chauffeur was meant to. It distracts you from staring at the window and overthinking.

Sometimes you wonder how it would've turned out if Snow won the prize without being a mentor, just like it was planned to happen. Would you have made a stop at his place? For him to get inside your car and kiss you good morning. Then drive to the University of the Capitol? Could've been fun.

But you made your way alone. Only listening to the music that played on the radio.

And you wondered what would've happened if Arachne was alive, Sejanus too, and Clemensia was fine to take classes in person. Would they have made fun of you and Snow entering University holding hands? Could've been sweet.

But again, you were alone. It's a cloudy day at The Capitol. Your long emerald green coat gets stuck with the car door. You roll your eyes, opening the damn door once again to set free the piece of fabric.

You started wearing high heels. It made you look taller and you loved the sound every time you stepped out of your home. Your mother had launched a new collection, and she loved seeing you wearing her creations.

For the record, you haven't seen Coriolanus Snow since the day you had your first counselor appointment. That was a month ago, and it was… great.

Actually, it wasn't, but yeah…

A lot of people greeted you, but none were your friends. You see, the University isn't very different compared to the Academy. The same architecture, and familiar faces that no longer wear the red uniform. And even so, you feel like a fish out of water.

Life isn't perfect. But you weren't ready to start your young adult days feeling so out of breath.

"Y/n!…" you turn to encounter Persephone. A sweet girl from the Academy.

"Persephone. Hi…" You do your best to smile. She was a classmate from the Academy. And she never was your friend but you always thought she was so sweet.

"How have you been? You're all over the news" For the first time in weeks you giggle, feeling a little blushed. The feeling of someone asking you how you were doing felt so good.

"I've had better days. But here we are… And you?" She tilts her head.

"I visited my grandma's lake house in District 4. It was so good. I heard you're in the science and law program" you nod. You also knew Persephone was on the law program.

"Yeah, you're in law too…."

"Is Coriolanus going to be there too?" You stop smiling.

In fact, you weren't sure. But probably he would also be in law. Tigris once said he wanted to pursue politics.

"I'm not sure… We-…we don't talk anymore" she gasped in shock.

"What? Oh, I'm so sorry. I thought you were…"

"No. But it's fine. He must be doing great…" you cut her off before she can ask more questions.

Your first class was okay. Until Snow walked in, wearing a perfect dark blue suit. His silly hair looked slightly longer than the last time you saw him, but still, nothing compared to his messy hair from months ago. You pretend you didn't see him, opting to keep writing something in your journal. But he had to stop beside you. There are some minutes of silence, but nothing would make you turn to knowledge of his presence.

"Can I sit with you?" His voice is colder again. You can notice through a little glimpse of a white rose decorating his suit. But you keep your eyes set on the page in front of you.

And you know you won't fail again.

"No."

He can feel the venom in your voice.

"I'm sitting here." He says after all.

You really don't have time to tear up on the first day of University. You want to stand up and leave, but you're so mature that you won't say anything else.

At least, for the rest of the class, he doesn't say anything else, but you know he occasionally turns to see you.

"Is it gonna be like this forever?" He asks when it's over. You dare to see him in the eyes, enchanting blue as always. But the young man in front of you isn't the boy you met. And yet, he still made your heart beat like he was the same who was once your lover.

"I don't have time for this. Have a nice day, Snow'' he looks as you leave the classroom. His hands shook, and that feeling of guilt assaulted him once again. You are the proof alive of all the pain he caused. So he needs to have you back on his side, so he can feel some humanity remaining in him after all the things he did months ago. Because he knows there's no good left on him, but he can't get rid of you like he did with Sejanus, Highbottom… and Lucy Gray.

You were meant for him. But he was so infatuated with the other girl. And Snow was aware that you deserve the best. You were his ally since day one. So having you by his side again… would seal his imaginary pact.

He looks at you and sees the girl that gave him the chance of his life. He promised his grandma'am you would be the girl he would give a home and a family.

But now, every time he asked Tigris how you were, she avoided giving details. grandma'am was growing suspicious that things weren't going great. Tigris had been a lot of times on your house and mother's shows. Your father would ask for Coriolanus but he didn't know all the things the young man did to his daughter.

So Tigris would say he was still serving as a peacekeeper. And you, you would say you haven't talked a lot with him.

Not anymore. Coriolanus would try every day. As he denied he loved you, he pretended he needed you as you were the one. Just that.

…

"Y/n y/l/n." Suddenly a peacekeeper comes to you.

"Yes?" You ask politely.

"Dr. Gaul demands your presence in her laboratory" you sigh. Of course, she would be the first to ask to see you.

It was the same laboratory. Only that now was near. The way to get there was slow, even peaceful. Maybe because the day was almost over.

The first thing you notice is how many empty water tanks are scattered.

"There you are, Ms. Y/l/n" she appears from the crystal stairs at the end of the room. Wearing a yellow set that made her eyes more bright. Her hair is the same. Looking as evil and cynic as always.

"Dr. Gaul" you greet. Stopping some feet away from her.

"A school new year means new planning ahead" You nod. Already hearing what she was about to say. Well, not entirely.

"The last games were a mess. Between the rebels and Mr. Snow's bright decisions. Our central ideas couldn't be fulfilled. However, I decided to give him another chance, there's so much potential in that boy" You don't know how to feel about that. So you just remain quiet.

"Speaking of the devil…" when you turned back, Snow was walking towards you and the woman near you. Immediately you avoided his eyes, knowing he was probably looking at your dress. The coat was long gone, leaving a soft and accentuating pink dress with long sleeves.

He knew it was inappropriate. But ever since he gained your trust and his feelings of attachment to you, he had a long time to accept he had a thing for your hips. The dress was extremely simple but looked elegant with some bright exotic earrings, and it was your body that created the most attractive shape he'd ever seen.

And soon, his view of you became sided.

"I believe I don't need to remind you of your actions from the last games, Mr. Snow," the woman said.

"It won't happen again." He answered with confidence.

"I know it won't happen again," Gaul says laughing. Making you wonder how much time she had been trying to get into the position she was now.

"This year, let's say you'll be under probation, Mr.Snow. On the other hand, Ms. y/l/n. Another year and another success from you" his eyes were on you again. Turned to his left without shame. And that's when Snow remembered since he came back from District 12 how smart you were. Without saying anything, even avoiding it, you knew he had cheated on the games. And probably, without talking to him anymore, you knew he wasn't a good man.

Only that…slowly, you were also turning into a bad woman.

"Those water creatures are fully developed. They're nothing compared to the snakes from last year. This new invention has marked a new era for us…" To be honest, you don't know how to feel about it. Everything related to the games made you remember your dear friend Sejanus Plinth. He would've hated this creation from you. But on the bright side, this was your future. These were the constant obstacles you would have if you were to achieve success.

"Dr. Gaul. An emergency message has been sent to y/n y/l/n" Immediately you turned confused looking at a new peacekeeper. When you look at your mentor, she nods, indicating to you that you're allowed to leave.

"Excuse me." As you walk away, another peacekeeper has a cable phone. One of the newest wireless ones. Red and shiny, silently beeping. You can hear Snow asking Dr. Gaul something, but the sound of your heels is loud enough to make it difficult to understand as you reach the phone

The peacekeeper hands the cable phone. You pick up, feeling your heart pounding.

"Hello?" The low breathing of your mother can be heard.

"Darling! Something bad happened…"

"What?" You ask. And you don't know but Snow is trying so hard to listen to your conversation.

"Our mines in District 12. Your father made a little trip there with some friends. The people caused a revolt. They bombed the mines." You frown, in shock. Already feeling anger building up in your chest.

"Is pa' okay?" She sighs, which stresses you more.

"Some burns. The peacekeepers saved him on time" Snow listens to Gaul but he literally has an ear on you and the other in the mentor.

"Is it too bad? Like… putting our wealth in danger?" You whisper the last sentence. Your mother is a proud woman. But in the privacy of her family, she allowed herself to be vulnerable.

"I don't know, darling. We still have the mines in District 1. But the ones on the 12 represented greater materials" There's no time to cry and you know it.

So after some soothing words to your mother, you hang up. And you're not thinking clearly. You just know you're angry, and convinced someone had to pay. If you started disliking District 12 after the last games, now it was getting personal.

When you go back to stand beside Snow. You hear Gaul explaining to him how most of the lessons would go. But as soon as she turns back to you, there's an idea that leaves your mouth before you can breathe or blink.

"I was about to say that we should change the arena of the games. Each year it should change, like the seasons. Wasting the opportunity to use the water mutts sounds like a waste of potential for the views. If we still want a spectacle like the one from last year." The woman analyses your words. And after some seconds of silence, she speaks.

At the same time, Snow can't comprehend how poisonous you sound. He knew the call enraged you, it must've been bad.

"Then I'll ask you to find some suggestions for the arena"

"And… I have some ideas for this year Reaping" the woman's evil smile grows. She knows she's turning two young adults into monsters.

"I can't wait till Summer of next year" Gaul giggles, then lets you go, commenting that the next day the actual lessons would begin.

You sigh once she leaves. Finally acknowledging what you just did. Dooming a bunch of kids to fight for their lives with those water monsters. You remember Sejanus. The way he screamed in anger when his tribute was punished for trying to escape.

You're also a monster.

Snow turns to your side, looking as if you have just been cut with something, and he's searching for the wound.

"Are you okay? What happened?" he asks worriedly, caressing your forearm.

"Your beloved district 12. That's what happened." You spit with venom, squirming away from him.

Your harshness takes all over the place as you move away from him.

…

It's New Year's Day. A bright morning, and you already have your first guest. Clemensia Dovecote.

She still wears turtlenecks. But the gloves are gone. You can't stop smiling after seeing her smile and laugh as she drinks tea on your patio.

"I can't believe it worked, y/n," she says changing the subject. The first dose you gave her was after the games, in late summer. And now, at the peak of winter, Clemensia looked amazing. The cracked and raspy yellowish skin she had, the bright yellow eyes that contrasted her dark brown irises, all of that was mostly gone.

"To be honest, me neither…" you admit smiling proudly. Her skin looked slightly covered in scales, but the texture was soft. Like a snake that shines with a new layer of skin. Her eyes were still a little yellow, but the white was coming back.

"How did you come up with it? The treatment and everything?" you gulp nervously, sipping at your tea. If you opened your mouth, there would be no turning back.

Clemmie knew Snow had cheated, she swore to keep quiet about it. She knew about his exile. But she didn't know everything.

Then you thought you owed nothing to Snow. He owed you a lot, and yet, the way he paid was… cruel.

The only thing you were not in your right to share was about… the boy he killed. And as you'd never know he killed many more, Clemmie wouldn't either.

"He chose her. The songbird" Clemensia's eyes widened, she left the cookie she was about to eat.

"No…" you nod, confirming your words.

"Yes. During the games… he sacrificed everything for her. When I confronted him, he said nothing. After he was exiled, he committed a bribe to ensure his service as a peacekeeper on the 12" you spit with hate. The pride you carried each day, had a big crack thanks to that man, and like broken porcelain, it would never be healed.

"But he only had eyes for you… The Christmas after you arrived here, I asked him out and he said he had eyes on someone else. I can't believe him…" you giggle, rolling your eyes.

"He only had eyes for my money and father's position. He had the chance to win the prize and got obsessed with winning something by himself. The girl was just the cherry on top" You quickly added more as you were about to reveal he was… poor. Not because of him, but for Tigris and her grandmother. Tigris would lose her job and your mother would likely turn her down. So no, you weren't as bad as Snow yet.

"After he left. I realized how much he traced the scar on my face. I simply started hating it. And sooner I dreamed I had it gone. So I thought… Why can't I make something for my dear Clemensia and myself at the same time?" The black haired inspected your face.

"Your scar…" she remembered your face back then. The long pink line across your face. Clemensia did once see Snow caressing your face, his thumb traced the line across your nose until it landed on your lips.

Not it was just a memory as your scar. It was gone. Your face is clean, shiny, and perfect. Too bad that just your face was able to get rid of the touch of Snow.

You can't tell her he asked you to marry him. That was embarrassing enough to say it out loud.

"That's now the boy I knew. He had always been a little cold but… he was good. Now… I just can't stand what he did to you. And while I'll thank you for the rest of my life, you helped with my condition. I will ever feel sorry that you came up with it from such pain" Maybe before the bite, Clemmie was a little narcissistic. And her ambition led her to lie and get bitten. But now, she was all about being thankful and seeking peace everywhere.

"It's okay, Clemmie. Even after all, with Sejanus gone, all of what happened last summer… I'm happy that I have you" she smiles, offering you a big hug.

"Yeah, you won't get rid of me next year" She was officially coming back to class at the University after the winter break was over. Now Snow wouldn't be able to sit next to you.

"I won't mind…" Suddenly your mother comes out from one of the many balconies of your house.

"Girls! The stylist is here!" She lets you and Clemmie know.

This year, the annual New Year's Day will be at your house. The patio where you had breakfast and tea with your friend was already decorated with long tables. Porcelain plates are perfectly accommodated with wine velvet bows decorating them.

Clemensia's father talks with you about the revolt in District 12 and the burns he got. After that… more peacekeepers were sent. And slowly… the whole territory was becoming marginalized.

You ignore it, you only have eyes for the dress writing you on the other side.

When you open the door of your room, there it is.

A golden dress. Shinny and full of sequined beats. With metallic gold puffy fabric resting on your lower half back and ending around your wrists. Bare shoulders style.

You feel bad for not asking Tigris to style you, but she was already busy.

"I... I can't believe this…" you gasp, touching the elegant fabric of the dress. Clemmie can't stop saying how beautiful the dress is.

"With red lipstick and burnt pink eyeshadows… it'll look fantastic," the stylist says to your mother, already visualizing the look.

…

The patio is full of people. Elegant bonfires make everyone warm. Most of the guests look at your dress as you greet them. The last guests were Tigris and her grandmother, you placed them both in a table full of fashion contacts of your mother.

Clemmie is talking with Festus, Persephone, and other classmates.

Everything goes well until you set your eyes on the garden's entrance and you spot Snow entering.

Your eyebrows immediately frown. The night had been peaceful. And ever since winter break started, you haven't heard of him.

Why did he have to come? Was it for his grandmother?. Doesn't matter, you don't want him in your house.

He spots you and knows you just turned angry. You grab him by the arm and pull him away.

"What are you doing here?" You ask annoyed.

"You invited Tigris and Grandma'am" he shrugs.

"Yes. Tigris and Grandma'am. Not Tigris, Grandma'am, and Coriolanus" For the first time in months, you say his name.

"I have to talk to your father," he admits. You are confused, but he won't say anything yet.

"You look lovely tonight" You ignore the praise in his voice. But he genuinely believes you look astronomically beautiful. Snow was trying to act confident, but deep down he was nervous.

And it worsened when your dad interfered.

"Coriolanus. I'm glad you made it on time. Just an hour away till the countdown" you turn to see your father, offering him a glass of champagne. Neither of you should be drinking yet. But the elite of The Capitol was allowed to break the rules a little.

"No, of course I couldn't. I was just saying how gorgeous y/n looks tonight" your father smiles. You knew your father was believing Snow, that he was a gentleman.

"My one and only child. Perfect as always…" your father answers, putting his arm around your shoulders.

"I would like to discuss something with you. In private…" your heart beats faster.

"Be my guest, boy…" he tells him to enter the party. And as they leave you feel nauseous.

…

There are twenty minutes left till New Year's Day. Your father hasn't come out with Coriolanus yet. You nervously want to chew your nails. But you do your best for Clemmie. It was her first public appearance since the summer.

You had been trained to satisfy The Capitol's expectations since you were a kid. You knew what you could and couldn't do.

But none had prepared you to hide your shock.

"Dear guests. Family and friends. I would like to give an announcement" Your father appears, the sound of the glass capturing everyone's attention.

"With a new year around the corner, changes are too."

It couldn't…

Snow walked through the tables, towards you.

No, no, no, no.

"It is my pleasure to announce the engagement between Coriolanus Snow and my only daughter, y/n"

You swear you can't breathe.

You don't see Clemmie's face of horror. Tigris is highly confused. Grandma'am at the verge of tears.

"For my darling and her fiancé. Whom I wish eternal luck and happiness" your father finishes the toast.

Snow is beside you, he's not happy either. But he is the first one to start acting for the sudden flashes and cheering.

"How couldn't you tell me you wanted to get married, dear?" Your father asks, being the first person to hug you.

Your shock is so big that you don't even remember smiling for the pictures. You don't remember feeling his hand around your shoulders. You don't remember bursting into the house.

Snow follows you. It's empty, everyone is cheering because the countdown is about to start.

He calls your name. But you don't listen. He follows you through the kitchen and living room.

"WHAT?" You explode before being able to go upstairs.

You see his desperate eyes.

"I didn't know your father was going to announce it that way." He notices your face is red from anger.

"Listen to me, Coriolanus Snow. NO MAN will come and take away the pride of the woman I am." You scream in his face. You won't go quiet like the first time.

"YOU WERE NOTHING!. YOU OWE ME YOUR LUCK!" Snow can only fix his eyes on the sequins of your dress. He had never seen you screaming like that. And nobody would hear anyway.

"If this was your way to make me surrender and get me back. You're so wrong. Because you are going to be in debt with me for the rest of your life. Unless you want a rebel wife like it was your beloved Lucy Gray Baird." His eyes widened at your sudden attack. He has to process every word, every disgusted face you are making. He hadn’t thought about the songbird in many days. Hearing her names sent chills to his spine.

"I wanted this to be different. I had to "You hate him. You can't stand seeing him in his perfect grey suit, his perfect hair and eyes. You really hate him.

"YOU HAD NOTHING!. IF YOU WERE GONNA HUMILIATE ME LIKE THAT, YOU HAD TO GET ON YOUR KNEES AND BEG TO MARRY ME!" Whisking away, he grabs your hand, and when you turn, you find him on his knees.

"Please…" you feel he placed the ring in your hand. And it's too much.

You slap him. And then run away to your room.

As you lock the door, you throw the ring. And when tears start streaming down like a waterfall, you hear the first fireworks.

There's a bottle of pills in your vanity. The treatment for your low mood. You only need it once in a day. But you take two hoping it would knock you out and make you forget about the night.

It's officially a new year.

…

Three weeks later, Lucky Flickerman is interviewing you and Snow in his late-night show. You can't stand how Snow is caressing your hand. The way he slightly giggles and smiles at you, whenever there is a silly question.

You only do this because nobody knows the truth. Just Clemensia and Tigris.

"Sources tell us that it'll be a spring wedding. Is that right, y/n?" The man asks. You sigh, smiling.

'We're not sure yet, Lucky. There are so many details. Especially with my dress. But my man here is patiently waiting" the interviewer laughs, throwing a sarcastic comment about the dress.

"And what about kids? Is a baby on the plans?" Immediately, both of you blush.

"Yes. We want to have kids one day" Snow hurries to answer. You want to laugh.

He would be a terrible father. Some days ago, he was at your house for a family gathering and while he liked seeing you with your baby cousins, he knew he wasn't good with them. He didn't know how to play or make them laugh. But he had to make everyone believe he was a man of family and marriage. Even when both of you were still nineteen.

"Oh. Well, you're still young. There's plenty of time, pair of lovebirds" You make the strength to turn and smile at Snow. He returns you the smile.

And he wants to believe it's an honest reaction from you. He really hates that everything happened this way. He wanted to wait personally and privately ask you to marry him again. Not like this.

"Y/n… How did you know Coriolanus was the one?" It takes you aback. You can't lie. There's a truth.

"When I met him, he made me feel comfortable. He was so sweet and he trusted me. He made it hard for me not to love him. He has these gorgeous ocean eyes, that every time I see him I get lost in them. It reminds me of the kind boy I met some time ago…" Everyone feels emotional. Coriolanus is aware of the real meaning behind your words, and he can't help but honestly smile. He knows he realized it, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"These ladies and gentlemen… is a couple in love!" Lucky laughs and points at you and Snow excited. And he says that he'll be back with the broadcast for the weather, he thanks you and your fiancé for being there.

"Take care, guys. Don't forget to invite me to the wedding!, I'll get some people inside to bring the news anyways…"

And finally, both of you are behind the set. You don't even glance at Snow. But he hurries to stop you, interfering in your way.

"I'm sorry. For everything…" you cross your arms.

"No. You hate me. That's why you keep doing this to me…"

Your assistant appears handing you a glass of water and a little plate of something Snow can't see.

"Here's some water and your antidepressants, miss" You blush and ignore the way your fiancé is looking.

As you walk away, Coriolanus only feels worse.

…

You stare at the public library. Now closed just for your wedding happening in a couple of hours.

There are white roses everywhere. Petition of your mother to commemorate Snow and his family. You hated it.

It ended up being a spring wedding. But a very cold one. By early June, summer would start. And for now, snowflakes still fell upon The Capitol.

"The dress is ready…" Tigris says, appearing on your side. She sees how you stare at the whole place with dismay.

"How could this happen?" She asks, wondering.

"My younger self would've loved this day. But now… is different" You didn't want to insult her cousin.

"His younger self would've also loved this" Tigris remembered how enchanted was Coriolanus for you. Saying that he made a rich friend who was so sweet. Soon he admitted you were gorgeous and delicate. Now forgetting to mention you only when Grandma'am asked.

"He's trying to get you back," Tigris adds. And you question it.

Ever since the engagement. He always reached for you. Asking how you were. The kisses on the cheek to greet you. Felt honest. But you doubted you would ever forgive him. Even if you ended up having his children someday…

"I know it won't change anything. But I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this…" the young woman lamented. After you confessed most of the things Snow did to you, she added that to her list. And slowly, Tigris had slightly brushed aside her cousin.

"I didn't. But what's pissing me off is the wedding night" Tigris coughed awkwardly. And you rolled your eyes.

"No, Tigris. It's not about the sex. It's about me having to leave my house forever. I refuse…" She relaxed.

Honestly, you hadn't thought about sex. You knew it would happen anytime after marrying. But you wouldn't give Snow the satisfaction to even give hints.

At least, your father suggested Snow temporarily move in with you in your room since his new penthouse would be only for Tigris and grandmother. He would sleep in your tub.

"It's a great place for a honeymoon. Capitol's north is full of mountains, fancy restaurants, and actual snow" Somehow, you laugh.

"Fitting for my new legal name" Tigris joins you and laughs, hugging you tightly.

You stare at the flowers, and the hundreds of seats, and you aren't ready. But there's a smile on your face. Because at that point you don't even care.

…

Coriolanus was alone. He thinks Sejanus could've been there. Annoying and smiley as always, but he would've been the best man. Chosen by him because there wasn't another option. But it's only him. Staring at his mother's ring.

Pure gold, a medium size rectangle-shaped diamond. Shining ridiculously in white and small rainbows.

You look just like your father on his wedding day.

Your mother was so happy. Spinning and laughing as your father danced with her.

Remember. As you take a wife, you are choosing a life partner. You have to remember every morning why you chose her. You have to respect and protect her. Give her a home, a warm place to grow old together.

Y/n is the perfect woman for you. She's so lucky to have you, my boy.

All of those things, Grandma'am had said to him as she handed the ring.

And now sitting alone in a room. Suit ready, in black, and very little gold details in the white shirt under. Tigris said it was going to match your dress.

Your father actually loved your mother, Coriolanus. Treat her right. That is the least you could do…

She knew. Tigris had to know everything.

Coriolanus wondered how you would look. A princess-style dress? Maybe velvet? And he imagined your face.

That's when he can't take it anymore. He cries. Because everything was going to be a lie. He cries because it could've been true. If only he had made better decisions. If only you weren't so smart that you discovered him.

He's a broken man.

But he grips the ring on his palm. Wiping the tears and deciding that he's never going to fail you again. As he knew you had never failed him. And even when you hated him, neither you would.

…

There are three mirrors. Your hands trace the shiny beats of your dress. From the strips to your breasts, to your waist and hips. The end was full of them. Combining gold, and even dark brown or grey. It was simple, slightly sheer. But extremely elegant. Made with crystals from your family's mines. Representative of your native District 1. Your hair is down, perfectly cut in that shag haircut you had when you were a teen. It fits perfectly with your veil. Also covered in tiny pieces of crystals that cover your head, to the tail of the dress.

You looked like a Capitol's bride.

And for some reason, you can't find the tears. It's just you staring at the mirrors. Accepting your doomed life.

As you open the door, you know there are already tears on everyone but you.

Clemensia, Persephone, your mother, and Tigris sob and look at you in shock.

"Oh my god, my baby. You look perfect!" Your mother cries, caressing your cheeks and sobbing. You smile at her, just that.

They keep talking about the dress when you hear a knock followed by the door of the room opening.

"Is there any time for this old woman to see the bride?" Tigris smiles at her grandmother, inviting her to join.

"There's only ten minutes left. Everyone hurry!" Your mother says. They exaggerate, only Tigris gives you one last retouch, and hands you the bouquet. With white roses and some lilies scattered.

She kisses your cheek and smiles deeply.

"It's gonna be fine. I swear…" and with that, she leaves.

Grandma'am only looks at you with love. She always liked you for his grandson. And she believed love floated around you two. For the record, she said it two weeks ago in a rehearsal you had.

"I knew it from the first day my little Coriolanus came home rambling about you" she smiles.

"And from that day, it always had been you, my dear. Even today… always saying you are the love of his life" Your eyes water. Coriolanus wouldn't lie to his grandma about something like that. He could lie about killing someone but not about something he knew would make her happy.

"He did?" You ask as she takes your hand.

"Of course. I know I'm old, and I can't tell he has committed some errors. But I know those blue always are so in love with you, my child" That couldn't be.

"Do you love him?" You won't cry. But you're fighting the lump in your throat.

"I do. Ever since the first day…" you admit.

Maybe you would always resent the man you were going to marry. But you would always love the memory of the boy you once had.

"Promise me you will make him happy, dear. He has so little when we lost everything once. Take care of him. Give him a family, that's all I ask" You can't say no to her. You just can't.

"I promise." She hugs you. And you swallow the lump, looking at the door.

…

The moment had arrived. The doors opened, the music started and everyone turned back to see you entering by the hand of your father.

Sounds of shock, admiring, and more are very low but noticeable.

For Coriolanus, it's only you. Your hair was like when you met him. The dress is so perfect. Your makeup too. And he promises to keep the image of you in his mind for the rest of his life.

He genuinely smiles. And you are feeling so confused. Could his grandmother have been telling the truth?

Coriolanus actually loved you? The way he had been smiling and treating you for the past months. Had he really been feeling sorry?

Would you forgive him if that was the case?

You can't tell because your father has dropped you at the altar.

You didn't even feel his kiss on the head and promised good luck.

You just feel Snow taking your hand. It's warm, even soft for his calloused hands.

And you can't turn to see him.

There are many people taking pictures of you and him.

Everyone loved the Capitol's Dream Girl and her handsome wealthy fiancé ever since the engagement.

When you last expected it, you are officially Mrs. Snow.

"You may kiss the bride…" you know he's doubting. But there's no time, so you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him.

It takes him aback, but soon, his hands find that damn spot, in your hips. And it doesn't feel wrong, for some reason.

You just see him and you realize he's your man now.

Neither of you can understand the emotions flowing at the moment. You like seeing him smiling at you like that, but you also feel sad. And he loves the way you look, he feels so attached to you.

In other words, both feel like it was real. But both knew the truth.

You don't dare to eye any of your family or friends as you leave by the hand of your now husband.

…

The reception was just as big as the ceremony. With the most elegant music, food of all kinds, and a varied menu.

Your husband has chosen to give the option of fish florentine, mentioning to you that his uncle used to get the best food from District 4 before the war.

For you, it was fried steak with three types of cheese and coated with mushroom cream.

There's a picture for everyone. You and Snow enter the party. Your father says a little speech about how much of a great marriage you would have.

You dance with your baby cousins. Lucky Flickerman was able to ask about your dress and possible honeymoon location.

You ignore your husband for the rest of the night. Only when the cake has to be sliced. It's a 5 layer cake, covered in white and very little baby pink roses. Snow and you agreed to make it white chocolate with raspberries and cream.

He cleans some cream from your cheek, and before you can even think about it, you laugh.

He danced with you but you only decided to hear his heartbeats, instead of seeing him. It made you understand that lonely days were over. But at what cost?

…

That night, you are already seeing the mountains and green woods covered in white at the top. You sigh, looking at the metallic silk nightgown. You didn't want the traditional white or pink silk gown. This was short, offered some cleavage, it shined in orange and pink tones when it was supposed to be lavender.

During the whole hour trip to the residence of the honeymoon, you didn't say anything to him.

When you come out of the bathroom, he's sitting at the edge of the bed. A dark grey robe on him and you wonder if he was naked too.

Ignoring him, you go to the giant vanity in front of the bed.

You try to focus on the plenty of assignments you'll have after the honeymoon. With less than three months before the next games, your water mutts had already killed a person. Gaul only laughed and insisted on you to feed the beasts with the corpse.

Little did everyone know that on the Reaping day, District 12 people would receive a tiny stain of liquid Mercury on their ballot. Within months of inhaling that thing, they would be sick. It was your revenge for the revolt in the mines that almost killed your father.

But for now, you can only feel his eyes on you. Like the first day of school. You know he wants to touch you. He wants to claim you as his wife. But he doesn't have the right.

So he stays seated, hoping you will make the first move.

Ignoring the way your heart beats, wanting to feel something. Your heart was blind, thinking you could make love with Coriolanus.

Once you have finished with your facial cream. You turn off the light. Only the balcony offered some glimpses.

You step between his legs, hands on his shoulders. The smell of tobacco leaf and vanilla bean perfume hits him, making him gulp. Unsure whether to touch you or not.

"Wait, y/n… Are you-… Are you sure?" He asks, unsure of what is happening. He kind of thanked you for turning off the lights. That way you couldn't see how blushed he was. After all, this was going to be his first time. After actual years of desiring you, he gets to have you for the rest of his life.

Then you lean, inches away from his lips.

" I don't want to hear you" and you don't say more, neither does he. In the darkness, he finds your lips and there's plenty of time to kiss you slowly. With wet sounds, your hands fly to his hair. Making him moan for the first time. It shouldn't be turning you on. But it is, so you slightly move your head, and maybe he understood, 'cause he started kissing your jaw, soon your neck.

He feels you pulling out the nightgown, and it's making him so fucking hard.

You kiss him again and he's free to wander across your naked body. Now his…

It's his first time, just like it is yours. So when he tries to touch you past your lower belly, you guide him.

Softly making him slide his fingers across your wet folds. You moan and he thinks it's the most erotic thing he's ever heard in his life. He knows you are skilled even when it's also your first time. He knows because of your timing, the way you swayed your hips any time you walked, and the way you balanced touching him and moaning at the same time.

Before you, he rarely touched himself or thought about sex. But soon after kissing you for the first time, he would hate himself for thinking how you would look underneath the Academy uniform.

And now, there you were, naked, taking his virginity as you slowly rode him. You swear he has to be big enough to be able to feel him and his details inside you. The pacing was so soft yet hard. Soft because of your slick, hard because of the pleasure.

All you could hear was his sighs, but the stars of the night were your moans and little yelps for him. No words exchanged, just the sound of your desire and his response.

And when you start going faster, holding onto him as if your life depended on it, he was over the edge to say it. But he couldn't.

Your first time should've been with him on top. Tigris said it was traditional. But he let you take the lead, and it was turning out better. You even let him paint your walls with his cum. You let him kiss and suck your nipples as he felt the last spasms of his climax, prolonged by the way you squeezed him.

Even with the silence, both of you knew. It was the hardest and best orgasm of your life.

…

At the outsides of The Capitol, there's an office. All University students needed to submit their petition to graduate two years prior to the ceremony. Gaul demanded you and Snow to go as soon as you returned from the honeymoon.

Now, two months married, you feel slightly lighter. You talked a little bit more with him. Breakfasts were quiet but peaceful. At the University he always tried to protect you.

The news was all about the wedding. Saying it was the event that officially marked the end of the war. People loved you and encouraged your husband to pursue a political party to start campaigns, hoping to win the presidency. As for you, rumors had spread that you were going to be the next game maker of Panem. Evenings were to study and go for some walks. And most of the nights you repeated the same formula. Ending up tangled in your bed with the darkness reigning.

You couldn't help but wonder if something had changed.

Coriolanus Snow was still cold, serious, a man of few but harsh words. But to you, he seemed warm. Like if fucking him had made him switch and now he was eating out from the palm of your hand.

Still, you still felt like the past was haunting you. With memories of the last games and the moment you lost your lovely blonde guy.

"It's done," Snow says coming out of a private office. The green tiles stop being attractive to your eye, making you blink twice to stare at your husband.

He's yours, just like you wanted. With his perfect eyes, perfect smile, hair, body, and dream life.

You sigh with relief. He had insisted on submitting both papers to soothe you from stress.

"We are likely to receive a letter next year. The woman said it was basically approved for us…" you nod. He offers you a sweet smile, that you can't help but reply.

He offers you his arm to take, ready to leave the office.

Lately, Coriolanus has been worried for you. The antidepressant treatment was over, but you were under pressure because you had created the arena and strategies for the 11th Hunger Games. People debated your capacity and ideals. And he knew that would stress you.

He was patiently trying to make you feel comfortable on his side. To make you feel again like you said in the interview with Flickerman.

"Thank you." You say to him.

"Of course."

After taking the elevator, you two are ready to walk out. Until there's a loud explosion near. You exchange looks with your husband, and as he squeezes your hand tighter, what feels like another explosion makes you and Snow fly away.

When he opens his eyes, the building is literally on fire. He reacts quickly, realizing there has been another bombing.

He's okay, just his neck hurts, but there's no blood. It's you who's worrying him a lot.

He calls your name but you don't respond.

Through the ashes and hazes of dust, he looks out for you.

A few feet away, you are coughing, lying on the ground.

He runs and kneels beside you.

"Y/n, please. Can you hear me?" You nod slowly, barely moving.

"I-can't breathe…" Snow sees how your nose bleeds and there are some glasses making your arm shake a little. The sleeve of your cardigan is drenched in blood.

He panics and goes into a full panic attack. Not even when he was in the arena and got hurt. He truly feared losing you.

"I'm taking you out of here" he looks around and notices there's no one around.

He carries you, doing his best to run out of the increasing fire.

"I don't want to die, Coriolanus" you gasp, trying to breathe. He looks down at you, now looking at the dirt in your face.

"You won't die, love. Just calm down and breathe" In fact he knows you could die. But he refuses to accept it as he finds the exit of the building.

There's chaos on the streets.

And in the middle of the disaster, he starts asking for help.

"Please… I need an ambulance for my wife!" He pleads to some people who seem to be helping a group of kids.

A woman listens and calls for a man.

"Help is coming, y/n. Do not close your eyes" The rush in him impeded him from crying. Because he was so freaked out.

"Mr. Snow, I'm a doctor. I'll help your wife get into a hospital" A middle-aged man gets closer, inspecting your face. You can't hear anything. Your eyes close by themselves, and you still feel so out of breath.

It's the sound of the ambulance that works as a lullaby and makes you pass out.

…

It's uncertain. But reliable sources said it was a direct target from rebel allies, a direct target to you. Because the next game maker needed to be erased from Panem before she could even start. Snow is shockingly angered. And he adds another point to his hate for rebellion.

"I won't quit." You affirm from the hospital bed. Your mother frowns.

"I don't think you're understanding the seriousness of this situation, y/n" she suggests, to which your father also nods.

The door opens and Coriolanus enters, hurried to inspect you.

"Are you Okay? The doctor said it wasn't that bad but-" you smile, caressing his shoulder.

"I'm fine. Just inhaled too much smoke. And my arm, but that's it" You show him your left arm covered in gazes.

He kisses your forehead.

"I was so afraid," he whispers in your ear.

And maybe it was all about your emotions after the shocking day. But you finally feel it. You love him. And the way he had acted since the engagement made you believe he could possibly feel the same. But you aren't sure.

"I won't quit. That would only give the rebels a point. I will make this games memorable. And nobody in Panem will ever question my methods" Your words shouldn't have made your husband proud. But it does.

"You're so right, dear," he says, making you smile nervously.

…

You are allowed to leave the hospital that night. And the whole ride, you have to fight the tears. You can't take it anymore.

As soon as you get inside your room. Coriolanus starts running the tub to clean you up.

You get on your knees. Your throat already feels as if you were choking. He spots you on your carpet, looking so vague and lost.

"Please, Coriolanus." He's watching you carefully. And by your face, he feels you are about to say something from the bottom of your heart.

"What? Are you in pain?" He asks scared, kneeling in front of you. You don't answer and that terrifies him. Until you do.

"Tell me you are in love with me. Just once, doesn't matter if you never say it again for the rest of my life. If you mean it, say you love me." Tears start flowing, your face turns red, and Coriolanus can't help but feel vulnerable by seeing like that.

"Because if you say you only insisted on marrying me because of the money, and my father's position… I'm gonna hate you till the day I die. For all you did to me and everything that could've been" he has to close his eyes. To not see you as a tear falls without a warning from his left eye. He has to decide. Is he going to break his promise? He said he couldn't love anyone again. But you weren't new. You were the first. She was the last.

Coriolanus wished to be your boyfriend soon after meeting you. And from waiting for the right moment to ask, he ended up ruining everything for his ambition. From believing she was different, that she was worth it. Ignoring all the pain he caused to you.

And until that moment he realized he had almost obligated you to marry him.

He already had what he wanted. The money and his power were growing, and he had the girl.

Crying on her knees in front of him. Asking him to end her pain. Just by loving her after all the pain he caused her.

Slowly, he reaches for your face. Your sobs became almost silent. Your heart was beating so fast. And if Coriolanus didn't speak now, you would end up having a second mental breakdown.

But he caressed your cheeks. And he traced your face. Where your scar should've been. New waves of tears fall as you feel what he's doing. Only making shut your eyes harder.

"Look at me, y/n" you can't. You're not ready to hear him saying he used you once again.

"I can't." You whisper, sobbing. He decided then to grab you by the waist. Being so gentle, made you feel like two years ago when he was still your lover.

He placed you carefully on the bed. Making you hide your face against the pillows, ruining the white satin with your makeup.

He doesn't care. He just wants to be honest. Real. He's still young. Coriolanus knows he can't live the rest of his life married to you, making you believe he never loved you.

Only you would be able to see who he really was. Even if he ended up having children with you someday. He would never love them like you.

He could be cold and his decisions would be considered cruel. But the only person on earth that would judge him was going to be you.

"Please look at me, y/n" he caresses your cheek, smiling softly. Slowly, you sit, facing him finally.

You can see your old and sweet Coriolanus with the smile he's giving you. And it only makes you cry and cry again.

"I love you."

You stop. Hiccuping, you look perplexed at him.

He's still smiling.

You know he killed two people, probably three.

You'd never know he sent Sejanus to be hanged.

You know he's not the best person.

You'd never know he had a letter he was going to send to you before going to District 12.

You know he caused you so much pain.

And yet you thought you'd never hear him saying those three words.

"I made you suffer. I ruined everything. You know what I did just by looking at my eyes. How can we love each other after all?" You shrug. Trying to control yourself and answer him properly.

"Maybe because we never got the chance to make it real." He chuckles, taking your hand.

"You know I also did cruel things this year." He nodded, having no right to judge you. He wondered if you did all of that from rage, for everything that happened.

"And I still believe you deserve the world, Capitol's dream girl…" he makes you laugh. Out of embarrassment from the silly nickname Flickerman gave you.

"My father was a bad man, and yet, he always treated my mom right. I can't promise I'll be perfect, but I will never hurt you again" You brush his hair. Dishevelling it in the process, making him look like a year ago.

"Promise me. Just you and I, getting each other's back" he says. And you know you'll go to hell for being with him. But he was the love of your life.

"Just you and I, my love" he smiles again.

"I'll make you First Lady of Panem one day. It'll fit better for your current nickname" you roll your eyes.

"What will we do with that much power?" He stares deeply into your eyes. You changed his hair, and he hoped he could still see the scar on your face. But it was gone. Just like the girl he met two years ago. So was the boy he was. But it was okay. Because he'd make you be like him. And nothing would matter more than you and him.

"Everything, dear" you smile. And feeling like teenagers again, both lean at the same time to kiss. Like it was the first time.

"Can I?…" he asks on your lips. You nod, hugging from his neck.

He kisses you finally. Soft, slow but demanding.

And you remember you made it. Your husband would have the power, but you just won control.

And for the next two weeks, during summer break, Coriolanus and you spent your days in District 1. Spending the days eating in the best restaurants, visiting museums, and swimming in private pools. Spending the nights exploring each other for the first time. He marked you his and you marked him yours. Watching the moon and forgetting about the university, moving into a new house, letting the past die.

Maybe the memory of Lucy Gray Baird would haunt Coriolanus for the rest of his life, but you were going to be there to turn it into haze. And maybe you would never forget the pain of losing thanks to him, but he would paint your days golden. He would be a good husband who would make it up each day.

…

The first day of your second year of University started differently. Coriolanus refused to learn to drive and refused to let you do it. But you convinced him it was okay.

You left home together. And arrived together on campus. Went through the stairs holding hands.

"Look, it's The Capitol's trendiest couple" Persephone, an old classmate from the Academy but also a new friend said. Festus, Clemmie, and other new friends were there, laughing and making fun of you and Coriolanus.

And you blushed. Abruptly stopping your steps. Your husband turned to see you.

"Everything is fine?" You nod, smiling.

"I just… This is exactly how I wanted to begin University last year" It made his heart clench.

"Only… he's missing it" Like a needle taking him aback, Coriolanus knew what you meant.

"He'd hate what we have become though" It's bad, but you laugh.

"You're right, dear" you agree with your husband.

"But happy for us…" he adds, and you nod. Grabbing his arm to finally enter the building.

Soon, two peacekeepers call you to Gaul's office, just like last year. She's not there. But there's a letter on her desk.

You exchange looks with Coriolanus. He tilts his head and follows you to the desk. Carefully, he grabs the envelope and opens it.

Students, as the summer ends, I hope you had a pleasant summer.

Congratulations on your success after the games, Mr and Mrs. Snow.

Given the circumstances of Dean Highbottom's death last year, I won't be able to begin with the preparation for the 12th Hunger Games.

I believe you two have gained enough knowledge to start without me.

You'll find materials in the backroom of my principal laboratory. You'll find it quite interesting.

Make me proud and you two will be the first and automatic option to replace me in a couple of years.

And keep in mind what I always ask. What are the games for?

Dr. Volumnia Gaul

No words are exchanged after reading the letter. Coriolanus only nods to you, agreeing to the message.

So you go to the principal laboratory. It's clean and the sound of different animals is the only sound inside.

There are two long tables, and it's obvious, that there are at least six corpses covered in white blankets.

When you pull away the blanket, you gasp in shock.

The corpses that were once humans now seemed a mix of animals.

Until you see what it is.

"Coryo. These are the corpses of the death tributes" You are shocked. He was also surprised.

"The mutt bite… transformed them?" Slowly, you nod. He hands you some gloves and a face mask

"Every year I end up creating something more vile" you admit touching the slimy skin of the corpses, turning dark and the human face blemished. Only a girl from District 4 had won Mags. A lot of people loved her. But the cheer wasn't very loud, thank you and your marriage.

"These were also the people who probably agreed on the bombs. They hate us, y/n" he's right.

"They need a yearly reminder that war is over. That we won and that you won't give up" You turn to face him. There's the anger and hate you disliked about him. But now you have plenty of reasons to agree with him.

"They deserve this."

"You're right"

He sees you making some tests to study the altered DNA and smiles. He was so fucked up.

"Don't stare, silly. Come here and help me. There's a lot to do" you say playfully. So he smirks mockingly and starts helping you.

"Maybe we could have some resting after this" he suggests, you laugh.

"Here? With deformed corpses? I don't think so, dear"

"Not here. We can go to the private ladies' room." Sometimes you made fun of him for having the kind of a pervert teenager. Ever since you decided to make up with him, Coriolanus and you were the biggest switching couple in the history of sex.

"Oh, my goodness. Can you behave for once, Mr. Snow?" You ignore him, sealing some glass containers with pieces of skin, fluids, and more from the corpses.

"You know what? Forget it. We haven't done it in the upper living room, or the library. Yeah, I can wait." Brushing past him, you laugh.

"I swear I will turn you into a mutt if you don't shut up, Coryo" both of you laugh. And Coriolanus feels happy. He thinks he has your back. He finally won.

He won the money, the fame, and the power was growing. And he won the girl.

…

It was already dark when you were done doing the practices at the University. Coriolanus helps you with your coat and bag as you make your way to the car.

"After you, dear" he indicates that you should sit first. So you do, and after you start the car, you turn to see him.

He has rebellious hair hanging on his forehead. He lets you brush his hair and smiles, relaxing after a long day.

There's time to catch your lips and kiss you deeply. Hands on your hips as usual and yours tangled in his hair. Even after brushing it.

"Do you think she'll notice?" He asks agitated, breathing unevenly. You giggle, fixing your dark purple lipstick through the mirror of the car.

"She gave us six bodies, but seven doesn't make much difference. Right?" He smiles too, even giggling a bit.

"I can't wait to take a shower," he admits.

"I can't wait for you to take me to bed after shower" Before you make it outside of campus, he kisses you again, squeezing your inner thigh, almost making you moan.

"Me neither…"

___________________________

Taglist: @sarnbarnes @user0440822 @poppyflower-22 @h-l-vlovesvintage @zxrcle @gloryekaterina @dakotali @especiallythewomenandthechildren @mymadokamagica @drvnkn-dazed

In my head… this was the wedding dress<3

[tiki-was-here]

Billy Butcher x GN Reader Part One

Word count: 1.1k

Uuuh reader has luck powers like domino from Deadpool. They’re a retired supe who became disgusted by the culture and their inability to save the people they really cared about. The boys lowkey kidnapped you because they wanted to use your powers for their own benefit and now you’re kinda just a part of the group. 

Takes place after a mission gone wrong where Hughie gets badly hurt and butcher starts tweaking like he always does. This was lowkey hard to write and i had to split it because butcher speaks like hes in a cartoon + school is kicking my ass

[Part Two]

The warehouse was dark, the air thick with the smell of damp concrete and blood. MM had already gone to lie down whilst Frenchie and Kimiko went to scrounge medical supplies. You were still catching your breath, leaning against the wall, watching Starlight pace like she was looking for a way to explain herself. The mission had gone wrong- horribly wrong.

Billy wasn’t letting it go.

“You just couldn’t fucking help yourself, could you?” he growled, rushing at her like a wild animal. His hands were clenched into fists, jaw tight. “We had one job. One. Fucking. Job. Get the bastard with the intel. But no, you had to go and play bloody hero.”

“Billy,” Starlight said, her voice trembling. “That girl—she was going to die.”

“And what’s that to you, eh?!” he snapped. “We needed the prick alive to tell us where Vought’s next lab is, and instead of doing your job, you decided to swoop in and save the day. You love it, don’t you? Being the fucking golden girl.”

“You think I wanted Hughie to get hurt? You think I wanted him to get away? We all make mistakes Butcher… blaming everything on me just isn’t fair. ” she shot back, her voice breaking.

“Fair?” he barked, laughing bitterly. “Life ain’t fair, sweetheart. You think I give a fuck about fair? People are gonna die because you couldn’t keep your shiny little nose out of it!”

“Enough. We’re all still alive and that’s all that matters.” you said, stepping between them. “You’ve made your point, Billy.”

His gaze shifted to you, dark and piercing. “Oh, don’t you fucking start. You wanna defend her, do you? Might I remind you that the only reason your sorry ass is even here is to make things easier on us? So far you’ve been fucking useless.”

You clenched your jaw, your heart pounding. “This isn’t about me.” (u lowkey kinda did insert yourself into the conversation tho dude) 

“The hell it isn’t!” he snapped. “You’re all the same. You think the rules don’t apply to you. Think your powers give you the right to do whatever you want. To make every decision for everyone else. And whenever you fuck it up -which you always do- someone else pays the price because god forbid you ever face some consequences. Luck my ass…You know what you really are? A walking disaster.”

“Drop it, Billy,” you said, your voice dangerously low.

“Oh, what’re you gonna do? Get mad? Use your little powers to make everything go your way, like you always do?” He stepped closer, towering over you now. “Here’s the truth, love: you’re no better than her. You’re no better than any of ‘em. Supes are all bloody the same. Arrogant, reckless, and absolutely fucking useless when it really matters.”

His words cut deep, sharper than you thought they could. Your hands trembled at your sides, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, don’t I?” he said, sneering. “I know enough. I know you’ve got no bloody clue what it’s like to live without some fucking crutch to lean on. You think you’re clever, think you’re helping. But you’re just another liability. Just another Supe.”

That was it. The line snapped.

“Fuck you, Billy!” you shouted, shoving him back. “I’m not one of them, and you know it. You’re just too much of an asshole to admit it!”

For a moment, he looked genuinely stunned. Then his expression hardened again. “Oh, what’s the matter? Did I hurt your feelings? Poor thing.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With a growl of frustration, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the warehouse, the door slamming behind you. As much as you wanted to punch the shit out of him (and as much as you knew he deserved it), both your injuries were too severe to risk it. Your chest heaved with anger, tears stinging your eyes as you stalked down the dark alleyway.

He’d gone too far this time. You’d shared those things- your feelings, your failures- in confidence, making yourself vulnerable for the first time in years. 

Just for him to use it against you when things didn’t go his way. 

You’d make him apologize later, but for now you needed to clear your head

Hours later, you found yourself wandering the streets, letting your luck guide you. You didn’t know why you were doing this—why you couldn’t just let it go. Maybe it was because you couldn’t stand the idea of letting him think he’d won.

Your feet led you to a cheap motel on the edge of town. Room 312. It just felt right

You knocked on the door, your heart pounding.

The door opened, and there he was, standing in the dim light of the hallway. His hair was a mess, his shirt rumpled, expression unreadable.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he said, his voice low.

“So do you,” you shot back, roughly pushing past him into the room.

He closed the door and turned to face you, his arms crossed over his chest. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I want you to shut the fuck up and listen for once,” you said, your voice shaking with barely contained fury. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. Not after everything I’ve done for you.”

“Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Go on, then. Give me the sob story.”

“I’m serious, Billy. You think you’re the only one who’s been through shit? Newsflash: you’re not special. And just because you’re hurt doesn’t mean you get to hurt everyone else.”

His jaw tightened, but he stayed silent. 

“You want to call me a liability?” you continued, voice rising. “Fine. But you and I both know you wouldn’t have gotten half this far without me. So maybe, just maybe, you should start showing a little fucking gratitude.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might start shouting again. But instead, he just stood there, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“You done?” he asked finally, his voice quieter now but no less tense.

“No,” you said, stepping right up to him, your nose inches from his. “You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to push me away just because you’re scared. You want to keep this thing between us? Then you’d better apologize . Because I’m not sticking around to be your punching bag.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you crackled with tension, the silence heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, he spoke

“Make me.”

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝓘 𝓛𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒮𝑜

Pairing: Sinister!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Oh lord, where do I start… I don’t like saying non-con ‘cause that’s gross but… I mean, it’s Sinister, it’s kinda always that way with him isn’t it? Abuse (physical & emotional), reader’s held captive, cannibalistic implications

Tags: Yandere!Mark, Mark’s bipolar as hell, this is post-wasteland in an AU where he made it out alive

Word Count: 1,326 

Synopsis: Mark LOVES you – he swears he does. You just don’t understand it – you used to though. That’s okay. He’ll make you feel good – even if it’s through restraint and little bit of pain.

Inspiration: ‘Breezeblocks’ by Alt-J

a/n: this shit is sooo dark & twisted please ONLY READ if you’re really ‘bout that FUCKED UP SINISTER life 😩😮‍💨 i had to put that extra mature filter on this bihh just for safe measure phew

He doesn’t mean to hurt you.

That’s what he tells himself when your voice is hoarse from screaming, wrists raw from the restraints, and you won’t even look at him anymore.

“You keep trying to leave me,” Mark whispers, crouched by your side like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks. “You keep trying to ruin what we have. Why would you do that? Why would you do that to me?”

You don’t answer.

You’re curled into yourself—barefoot, bruised, trembling. The first few days, you fought. Viciously. Now? You just wait. Watch. Plot with your silence.

He hates it.

“Say something,” he breathes, hand twitching. “Please. I brought you dinner. I brought you your favorite, remember? You used to love when I cooked for you.”

You stare at the wall. Don’t move.

He swallows thickly. Then slams the tray of food into the wall hard enough to shatter the plate.

“You loved me,” he says, voice shaking with something ugly. “You used to smile when you saw me. You’d run out to meet me like you couldn’t wait to touch me—now you act like I’m the monster.”

He crouches lower, tilting his head, eyes wide and red-rimmed.

“I’m not the monster. You made me this way. You broke me.”

Your voice is quiet. Brittle. “I didn’t break you, Mark. You were always fucked up.”

That earns a dark laugh. He licks his bottom lip and leans forward, touching his forehead to yours. You flinch, but he doesn’t move.

“I’m gonna fix us, baby. I promise.”

“We're not—” Your voice trembles. “You’re not fixable.”

His grip tightens in your hair.

“Then I’ll keep you broken with me.”

—

You don’t scream anymore. That’s what kills him most.

You just whimper, low and bitter, when he yanks your ankle and drags you across the floor like some ragdoll he paid for. Skin scraped. Hair tangled. And that damn shirt slipping off your shoulder again—his shirt. The one he left folded on the end of the bed to remind you you’re his.

You didn’t wear it by choice. But he still stares like it means something.

“Every time you pull away,” he growls, slamming you down onto the mattress, “you make it worse for yourself.”

Your chest heaves. You’re breathless, not even resisting as he forces you down, wrists pinned, thighs spread. Your lip’s split from earlier. He kissed it before. Then did it again.

“You want to act like you don’t feel this,” he hisses, rutting his hips between your legs. “You want to pretend you don’t drip for me. But I know you. I know your body better than you do.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, eyes wild.

His grip tightens. And for a second—just a second—he looks devastated.

“You will.”

Then he slams into you with no warning, no mercy, and your cry cracks the air like thunder. In truth, it's somewhere between fury and pleasure.

He fucks you like he’s angry. Like you betrayed him. Like you belong to him and you’re being ungrateful for not crawling into his lap and thanking him for keeping you alive. The mattress creaks. The headboard slams against the wall. You bite your lip so hard it bleeds.

Still, his voice is tender—sweet, even—as he leans down to brush your hair from your face mid-thrust.

“You’re so pretty when you cry.”

He kisses you. Gently. Tender as a lullaby.

Then flips you over and shoves your face into the pillow.

You’re choking on gasps now, wrists straining where he’s tied them above your head. His pace is brutal, hips slapping against your ass with unforgiving rhythm. And all the while, he’s panting against your ear, whispering promises like a lover—not a captor.

“I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to be scared. You never have to leave again. I’ll kill anyone for you.”

You jerk beneath him, thighs trembling, and he feels it—feels you tightening around him like your body’s betraying you.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, licking a tear from your cheek. “There she is.”

He pulls out just long enough to flip you again, dragging you down the bed by the hips so you’re looking at him. Your lips are swollen. Your eyes—glassy, fucked-out, furious.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “So perfect.”

Then he sinks back in, slow and deep this time, watching you squirm. One of his hands slips between your legs—just to feel how soaked you are. How ruined.

“Say it,” he murmurs, not even angry now. “Say you’re mine and I’ll let you come.”

You glare at him. Bloody lip. Heat in your eyes.

“I hate you.”

He smiles, tender.

“I know.”

And he makes you come anyway.

—

The room is quiet now.

Your wrists are raw where the restraints rubbed your skin. Your thighs still tremble from the way he took you—again and again until you couldn’t see anything but white.

You lie still. Breathing slow. Not asleep. Just… tired.

And then he’s there.

Curled into your chest like a child—like the monster never existed. His face presses into your collarbone, arms looped tight around your waist, breathing like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. He’s warm. Heavy. Almost peaceful.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

Your hand twitches. But you don’t move it. Don’t touch him. That’s enough to make his breath hitch.

“You’re not saying it back.”

Silence.

He exhales shakily, rubbing his cheek against your sternum like he’s trying to burrow inside you. “Please don’t leave me. Please, baby. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good.”

Still, nothing.

And that’s when the switch flips.

It’s not sudden. It never is. It creeps in quiet—like the cold. Like the memory of what he did there.

He lifts his head. Eyes distant. Wet. Wide.

“I was alone for so long.”

You feel yourself grow tense.

“They left me in that world. I didn’t eat for weeks. My powers were fading. I—I started seeing things. Voices. My own reflection talking back to me.” He laughs softly. “But I lived. I won. Do you know how?”

His mouth curls—not cruel, not angry. Reverent.

“I killed the others. All the other versions of me. I—I ate them.”

You don't say anything, every muscle frozen.

“I didn’t want to.” His voice trembles. “But I was starving. I loved them. They were me. But I love you more.”

You try to move. Just a little—just a shift.

His grip tightens violently.

“Don’t go,” he says. Then louder. “Don’t go.”

He’s shaking now. Trembling all over. His hands fist the sheets beside you like he doesn’t trust himself not to crush you if he touches you again.

“I’ll eat you whole if I have to,” he breathes, staring into your eyes with something too wild to name. “I’ll keep you inside me forever. I’ll love you so much it hurts.”

Tears slip down his cheeks.

“You’re the only thing that ever tasted like home.”

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 3

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent (Reader doesn't know Sylus is also watching her and gets a little handsy with hersef)

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You lay frozen in bed, breaths shallow, the silence pressing in, turning your own apartment into something like a cage. Outside, the city’s hum felt distant, indifferent. You stared at the ceiling, your phone still clutched in your hand from when you’d called in sick that morning, informing Captain Jenna that you would stay in Linkon until you felt better. Your usual weekly report would have to wait too.

The call had been brief, your voice cold and controlled, but brittle at the edges. “I’m not well,” you’d said. 

You hadn’t offered an explanation beyond that, and Captain Jenna, perceptive as she was, hadn’t pressed. “Take a few days, then. No one’s else can cover for you so the mission has to be paused until you’re better. Just… rest.”

Rest. As if that was possible.

Every corner of your apartment felt claustrophobic, the sharp lines and muted lights closing in, mocking you. The stillness, almost unbearable. The shadows cast by the dim lighting stretched too far, crowding the corners of the room, while outside the city pulsed with its usual dispassionate hum.

You’d killed a man - for him. Pulled the trigger, watched his body collapse in the darkness, the knife still inches from Sylus. The memory looped in your mind, every instant replaying in agonising detail. Your hand had moved on instinct, your shot trained with precision you couldn’t remember planning. The whole scene burned behind your eyes, refusing to fade.

And still, even as you felt the weight of guilt twist in your stomach, you couldn’t stop the darker thoughts clawing up through the silence. The way he looked that night, standing so close to danger, his strength an unbreakable presence. No one else could pull you into madness like he did.

You couldn’t deny it any longer: it wasn’t instinct. It was him.

That damned pinboard drew your eyes like a magnet. His face stared back at you from every angle: the piercing red eyes, the sharp, almost predatory jawline, the messy silver hair that looked too perfect in its disarray. And that body - muscular and powerful. A god of chaos and control wrapped in one dangerous package.

As the hours passed, you began to try and justify it to yourself. But no amount of rationalising could erase the truth: you’d killed for him. Your mind circled back to the moment, instinct gone wild, your gun trained on someone whose life ended at your hands, all for Sylus. 

You told yourself. If you hadn’t acted, he would have killed him. And Sylus… well the Hunter’s Association wanted him alive, didn't they? You tried to believe it - tried to tell yourself that saving him would count as part of the mission, that it was the right thing to do. But even as you repeated the word, you knew there was more to it.

The thought twisted in your mind, seeping into something darker. You’d killed someone for him. It had been quick, instinctual - your gun aimed and fired before you could think. And the traitor had collapsed in a heap, his life snuffed out in an instant. You hadn’t even thought about it at the time.

But now, in the silence of your apartment, the weight of what you’d done crashed down on you like a suffocating wave. You’d murdered someone. You, the hunter. The enforcer of justice. How could you justify that? How could you look at yourself and think it was acceptable, even for a second?

Your heart began to race, your breath growing shallow as the image of the dead man replayed in your mind. His body crumpling, the blood pooling beneath him. It was like a scar that wouldn’t fade, burned into the back of your eyelids whenever you closed them. What kind of person did that make you?

But you couldn’t sit with that thought for too long. Taking a deep breath, you calmed your racing thoughts and justified yourself.

No. You’d saved him. You would have done it for anyone, wouldn’t you? If anyone had been in Sylus’ position - if they’d been about to be stabbed in the back - you would have acted the same way. You would have saved anyone.

Liar.

The word echoed in your mind, taunting you, but you pushed it down, suppressing it until it was nothing but a whisper. You had to believe it wasn’t just about him. It couldn’t be.

But the truth gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, and you knew, deep down, that you were lying to yourself. You’d done it because it was him. Because the idea of Sylus being hurt - of him being vulnerable - made your chest tighten in ways you couldn’t control.

You stared at his image on the pin board. Him walking in the N109 zone, him in business meetings, him in his office, him, him, Sylus. Each picture seemed to distort under your gaze, his eyes drawing you in, his presence - his power - taking up more space in your mind until nothing else mattered.

You dropped your head into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to chase the thought away. He’s dangerous. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. But the more you tried to push it down, the more it bubbled to the surface, the more it consumed you.

You sighed, it was getting harder and harder to fight your feelings. You rubbed your hand over the crease in your brows, trying to soothe away the headache that had formed there. This time, it was clear that you were obsessed with him - every inch of him, it couldn’t be mistaken for young love and infatuation. Would it be so bad to just give into it?

The clock ticked steadily in the background, marking the slow passage of time, but you remained frozen, trapped in the tug-of-war between your obsession and your guilt. Just the thought of turning him in filled you with a visceral unease, a sick twist in your gut. How could you betray him? And yet, how could you justify not doing it?

You stabbed your fork into the cold dinner on your plate and forced yourself to look away from the pinboard, How could you betray him? How could you hand him over, not knowing what his fate would be? The idea filled you with dread, your stomach twisting at the thought. 

The truth settled like a weight in your chest. It wasn’t a decision you’d made in a moment - it had been building, creeping into your mind, just like your infatuation with him. You weren’t just following orders anymore. The mission had become something else, something darker and more twisted. 

You told yourself to let it go, that you would stop watching so closely. You wouldn’t interfere again. If Sylus got hurt - if he made a mistake - it would be on him.

But even as you made that vow, you felt the tug, dark and undeniable, pulling you under. The truth was as unyielding as it was terrifying: you’d fallen too deep, and there was no climbing out.

The second day of your sick leave dragged by in slow motion, every tick of the clock scraping against your already frayed nerves. Each passing minute felt heavier than the last, your apartment a quiet reminder of everything you couldn’t escape. Your usual clean standards were nowhere to be seen, the fork in your dinner from last night still resting on the plate you hadn’t bothered to clean, almost mocking you.

A soft buzz from your phone jolted you from your spiralling thoughts.

10:32: Tara: Hey! Miss you! How’s it going? Feel up to grabbing a coffee later? We can catch up! :)

Your thumb hovered over the reply button. A part of you baulked at the idea of stepping back into normalcy, as if facing Tara and pretending everything was fine would unravel the fragile grip you still had on yourself. But Tara was your friend, and she hadn’t pressed for any details when you called in sick. You owed her this.

10:47 Me: Sure, let’s meet at Café Preston in an hour?

10:48 Tara: Perfect! See you there! :D

You sighed, tossing your phone onto the couch before heading to get ready. 

The bell above the café door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the warmth of the place wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, mixing with the subtle crackle of a fireplace in the corner. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, giving the place a rustic, homely feel, and soft jazz music played in the background, adding to the cosy atmosphere. 

Tara waved excitedly from a table near the large window that overlooked the river outside. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the autumn trees, casting golden patterns onto the wooden floor. For a moment, you almost forgot how heavy the weight in your chest felt. Almost.

As you moved closer, the slight happiness you felt began to dissipate. Sitting across from Tara was Xavier. The air seemed to thicken in your lungs. You swallowed the unease that rose in your throat, plastering a smile on your face as you made your way over to them. 

You hadn’t expected him to be here. You didn’t dislike Xavier - he’d been your partner before this assignment - but his presence always carried a weight, one you weren’t prepared to shoulder right now. Especially not with the things you couldn’t say.

"Y/N!" Tara greeted, her voice bright and full of cheer. She jumped up to give you a quick hug before pulling you into a seat next to her. Tara beamed, her enthusiasm infectious as she pushed a cup of coffee toward you. “I thought you were dying or something. But then again, I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for too long.” She winked, nudging you playfully. It was so typical of her—sweet, worry mixed with teasing, always trying to lift your spirits.

You laughed, though it felt a bit forced. "I guess I just needed some rest. I’m fine now." 

You avoided glancing at Xavier, focusing instead on the warm wooden table in front of you, the gentle flicker of a candle casting soft light across the surface. But he made his presence known anyway. “How have you been?” He asked. “Captain Jenna said you were sick, do you need to visit the doctor?”

You forced a smile, "I’m okay. I think I just needed a few days off. Some time to relax and recuperate."

Tara, always the bubbly one, didn’t waste any time. She immediately launched into talking about work, asking you if you’d managed to see anything interesting on your mission so far. She kept things light, but you knew her well enough to catch the undercurrent of concern in her voice. Xavier, on the other hand, sat quietly, giving you the occasional glance that made you shift in your seat.

Tara smirked. “You’ve been off the grid for a couple of weeks. There must be some big developments.” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, but you knew better than to indulge it. You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment.

“Nothing I can really talk about Tara, unfortunately all of those juicy details are confidential” you said, giving her a little bop on the nose with your finger and grinning at her.

Xavier, who had been quietly watching you with that ever-present air of concern, spoke up again. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You’re looking…tired.”

Tired. If only he knew. But you brushed off the comment, giving a dismissive wave. “Good to know I look as good as I feel,” You joked, but you could see how he winced, like he knew that his comment was out of line. You took pity on him, “Just a lot of paperwork. The usual boring stuff.” You lied.

Tara pouted playfully. "Confidential, schmofidential. I just want to know one thing-" She leaned in closer, her grin turning mischievous. "Is Sylus as good looking as they say? Because if he is, I might have to request to take your place!"

For a split second, the café around you seemed to blur, and all you could see was Tara. The irrational surge of anger that welled up inside of you caught you off guard, your hand twitching as though ready to strike her. You could see it in your mind- her cheek reddening from the force of the slap. But then you blinked, and the image vanished. Your hand remained still on the table, and Tara was there, smiling, oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you. You shook your head, trying to dispel the irrational thought.

You forced a casual shrug, your voice steady even as your mind buzzed. “He’s fine, Tara. I think people just like to exaggerate for drama. Nothing special.” The words came easily, but your chest tightened with the effort of pretending.

“Oh please.” Tara waved you off with a laugh. “You expect me to believe that? Come on, Y/N. I’ve heard the rumours. The man’s practically a god in that zone. Dangerous, sure, but also… Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind seeing what all the fuss is about.”

You bristled, letting out a laugh that sounded more strained than you intended. “I guess your informants are liars, Tara. He’s really not all that. Trust me, you’re not missing anything," you said, though your mind was already flooded with images of Sylus and his unfair good looks. She was actually missing a lot and you’d like to keep it that way.

But Tara wasn’t buying it. She gave you a knowing smirk, leaning back in her chair. “You say that, but I can tell when someone’s hiding something.”

Your jaw clenched, “Let’s talk about something else,” you said sharply, and Tara, sensing the change in your mood, raised her hands in mock surrender.

The conversation shifted after that, with Tara steering it towards lighter topics - missions, work, and just catching up. You were grateful for it. You nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments, but your thoughts were miles away.

The café’s atmosphere continued to hum softly around you - quiet chatter from other patrons, the occasional clink of coffee cups and plates, the gentle rustling of leaves outside. It felt far too peaceful for what was happening inside your head.

Xavier, sitting across from you, seemed to be biding his time. Every once in a while, you caught him glancing your way, his lips pressed into a tight line. It was more like staring honestly. Eventually, Tara excused herself to grab another round of coffee, leaving you alone with Xavier. The comfortable hum of the café only served to heighten the awkward silence that stretched between you.

"So, Y/N," he began, voice low. "Are you sure you’re okay? I haven’t seen you in a long time. I missed you"

You shot him a glance, keeping your expression neutral. "I’m fine, Xav really.” You reached across the table and patted his hand which caused a blush to break out across his face. You quickly retracted it. “Just tired, I promise." You sighed before saying “I missed you too,” It wasn’t a complete lie at least.

He paused, clearly debating something, before leaning forward slightly. He smiled sheepishly before saying, "I’ve been meaning to ask…  I was wondering if you’d… want to grab dinner sometime?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. “Just us. I- I’ve liked you for a while and I would like to see if there’s a chance that we could move our relationship from friendship to something more ”

His rushed and inelegant confession hit like ice water, sending a cold jolt through your chest. You should have seen this coming - the quiet concern, the lingering glances - but your mind had been too preoccupied to notice. Your stomach twisted, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sitting across from him, pretending that your thoughts weren’t consumed by someone else. You couldn’t do it. You wouldn’t.

"I-" You hesitated, trying to find a kind way to turn him down. "I don’t think that’s a good idea, Xavier. I’m… I’ve got a lot on my plate right now." You forced a smile trying to show him that you didn’t mean to upset him. 

His smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face. He nodded stiffly, his forced smile not reaching his eyes. 'Yeah, I figured. It’s fine.' The words were casual, but the silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on both of you.

Just as the conversation threatened to fall into an even deeper awkwardness, Tara returned, oblivious to the tension between you and Xavier. She sat down with the coffees, flashing you both her usual bright smile. "Alright, let’s change the subject! No more mission talk. How about we discuss literally anything else?"

You smiled, but it felt like a mask - one Tara didn’t seem to notice, though Xavier might have. The warmth of the café felt alien compared to the storm inside you, a reminder of how far removed you were from this comfortable, ordinary world. How long could you keep pretending everything was normal?

The rustic charm of the café, the flickering candlelight, the soft jazz—everything felt jarringly out of sync with the churning inside of you. As if the world was moving on, oblivious, while you were sinking deeper into something you couldn’t explain or stop.

Sylus felt the absence of your usual shadow almost instantly. That persistent presence - always there, watching, hovering just at the edge of his awareness - had become almost... expected. For a hunter you sure were interesting. There was something about the way you moved, the way your gaze seemed to linger just a little too long, that had started to... interest him. 

He found the empty space you’d left behind strangely grating. He told himself it was only curiosity - a predator missing familiar prey. And yet, the thought of your absence itched at him, unsettling in ways he hadn’t expected. 

He found himself restless, a slow irritation building within him as he moved through his daily routine. Where were you?

“Boss, there’s been no sighting of the Miss Hunter for two days in the N109 zone,” Luke said, his voice breaking through the silence. The twins hung in the doorway of Sylus’ office, far too nervous to go inside. He’d been more volatile than usual with your sudden disappearance. “Shall we keep looking or…”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him as he contemplated your absence. For a moment, he considered simply letting it go. You were just another hunter, after all. But something about this situation gnawed at him. The last time he’d seen you, you’d killed a man to protect him and then seemingly horrified by your own actions, spiralled. He knew you were alive, of course, Mephisto’s only job recently was keeping track of you and relaying the footage to his master. But why had you abruptly left the N109 zone? Why had you abandoned your mission, him? It was puzzling.

“Keep watch,” Sylus murmured, his gaze sliding to the surveillance feed on the screen before him. He watched the live footage of your apartment with rapt attention, trying to figure out the mystery that was you. 

It was on the first evening that his attention became firmly fixed on you, his business meetings all but forgotten. There you were, sitting at your small dining table, a single plate of food untouched in front of you, your gaze fixed on something across the room. Sylus leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowing as he followed the direction of your stare.

The pinboard. His face, his movements, his operations - everything you had gathered about him was pinned up in meticulous detail. But it wasn’t the board itself that drew Sylus’ attention. No, it was the way you stared at it, like you were seeing something more, something deeper than just the details of a mission. The way your fingers traced over one of his photographs, lingering on the lines of his jaw, the shape of his lips.

He watched as you lifted your glass, sipping at the wine while your eyes never left his picture.

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes glinting with amusement. 

He’d watched as you paced back and forth, clearly torn between your loyalty to the Hunter’s Association and something else that gnawed at your mind. His lips quirked into a small smirk when you grew frustrated and stabbed your fork into your dinner, then abandoned it.

Watching you slump against the wall, arms wrapped around yourself as if you were holding back something darker, sent a strange thrill through him. There was a breaking point coming, and he found himself leaning closer, caught by the intensity of it.

He’d seen the same look in others before, but there was something about watching you go through it that tugged at him, a pull he couldn’t explain. He knew you were battling more than just the mission - there was something else, something darker simmering under the surface. It made his pulse race in anticipation.

You were strong though, that much was clear and Sylus could almost hear the cogs turning in your brain. You’d seemed to have made a decision of a kind, nodding firmly and then retiring to your bedroom.

By the next day, his irritation had settled into anticipation, curiosity pulling him back to the feed as if by instinct.

Things had been different. He watched you through Mephisto’s eyes as you met with your friends - Tara and that man, Xavier. Sylus was fine at first but the more he watched the more he grew to dislike the blonde boy sitting across from you. How he stared intently at you and acted like he knew you so well. Sylus mused to himself ‘if only Xavier knew what was really on your mind’. He grew to hate the way Xavier looked at you, that sense of familiarity. 

Eventually, it became all to clear that Xavier had feelings for you, the poor fool had an unsettlingly easy to read face. That, coupled with the way he got too close to you, pissed Sylus off. An unexpected possessiveness twisted low in his gut as he watched Xavier lean closer, speaking to you with a familiarity Sylus found grating. And when he saw that telltale smirk on Xavier’s face - the one that told him exactly what was coming - his fingers had drummed a rhythm of irritation against the desk.

Xavier had asked you on a solo dinner. Just the two of you? A date? 

The audacity. Sylus' teeth had clenched, anger pulsing just beneath the surface. How dare he? Xavier, with his hopeful smile and thinly-veiled intentions, dared to make a move on you. For a split second, Sylus’ mind wandered to thoughts of teaching Xavier a lesson - a harsh reminder of who was in control. Perhaps he could meet him in a dark alley, where no one would hear the crack of bones or the gasps of pain. Sylus pulled himself back, clearing his thoughts. No, that was irrational.

But still... when you turned Xavier down, a wave of satisfaction had rolled over him. Sylus’ lips had curled into a smirk as he watched the way you dismissed the offer with an air of indifference, your voice calm and uninterested. You had just rejected Xavier - but he wished that you had crushed any hope he had in a single breath instead. Still, he was almost proud of you in that moment. And yet, what pleased Sylus most was the flicker of something else in your eyes. It wasn’t just disinterest - it was disgust. You hadn’t wanted Xavier at all.

By the time the third evening had rolled around, Sylus had nearly decided to call off Mephisto's surveillance. You were no longer a threat, he reasoned. The intensity from your first day off had dulled, and you had seemingly returned to your usual routine. You’d seemed to have no intention of returning to the N109 zone. He was about to turn away from the feed, his fingers hovering over the button to recall Mephisto, when something unexpected caught his eye.

He leaned forward, narrowing his gaze as the screen displayed a familiar sight - you, sitting in your apartment, your eyes locked on the TV. The candle light bathed your body in a warm glow and Sylus would admit that these were his favourite moments of the surveillance on you. The way you relaxed in your own home, wearing your everyday clothing or even better, like tonight, your pyjamas. Shorts that were so short he could see the way your ass hung out of them. A little silky strappy top that did nothing to hide your breasts, or the way your nipples pebbled in the night's chilly air. He felt his trousers grow tighter at the image of you.

But tonight, he noticed something different, something that sent a thrill through him - you were watching him. Not his movements, not his tactics, just him. The screen displayed an image he knew well - himself, seated at his desk from weeks ago, pouring over a pile of documents. The footage was mundane, unremarkable. Yet, you seemed transfixed, the look in your eyes more private than anything he’d seen before.

He leaned in closer to the screen as he watched, riveted, as your expression softened, your lips parting ever so slightly, gaze lingering on his image as though he were something more than prey to you. The realisation sent a surge of satisfaction through him. 

Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, your hand began to move, dragging down your body and toying with the waistband of your underwear.

His breath caught as he saw your hand drift to the hem of your shorts, fingers tracing idly, your gaze never leaving the screen. Interesting, he thought, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward. What began as an absent touch turned intentional, your hand slipping beneath the waistband, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping your parted lips. Sylus felt a spark of heat surge through him, more intense than he’d expected.

You shifted on the couch, shorts sliding lower, exposing the soft curve of your hips in the candlelight. He watched, captivated, as you gave yourself over to the moment, oblivious to the world beyond that screen. Your fingers teased along the edges of your underwear, movements delicate, almost tentative - until your resolve broke.

Heat flushed through him and his cock grew hard at the sight of you. Sylus' breath hitched, eyes darkening as he watched you succumb to your desires, fingers moving in sync with the rhythm of the footage on screen. The way you were completely lost in the moment, oblivious to everything else, sent a thrill racing down his spine. You wanted him and that thought drove him crazy. 

He watched as your movements became more intense and then with a practised ease you pulled down your shorts. He could see the way your pussy glistened in the candle light. You were wet. Wet for him.

He could see your gasp as you played with your clit. It was mesmerising to see how you toyed with your own body, clearly well experienced with bringing yourself pleasure. 

Sylus used his Evol to close and lock his office door ensuring his and your privacy in this intimate moment. He didn’t want anyone else to see the way you bared yourself for him. 

His jaw tightened as he took in the scene, the heat in his own body mirroring yours. Without breaking his stare, he reached down, freeing himself from the confines of his trousers, his breath steady but deep as he matched his movements to yours, never taking his eyes from the screen.

Your head fell back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in an unguarded gasp. The candlelight traced over your exposed skin. His grip tightened, the intensity in his gaze growing sharper as he watched you, imagining your hands replaced by his own, feeling your skin, your heat, your desperation. 

Legs spread wide on the couch, your wet pussy was completely at the mercy of his hungry gaze. Your fingers rubbing your clit torturously slowly. He groaned as he thumbed at the top of his cock, smearing his precum over the head and down the shaft to ease his strokes. 

His eyes had drifted closed for barely a moment before snapping open, irritated with himself. He didn’t want to miss a single detail, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that left him as exposed as you were. The sight that greeted him made him nearly lose control. Your fingers were stuffed inside your pussy, thrusting in and out as your thumb stayed firmly against your clit. You looked tight and he felt his dick twitch in his hand and groaned loudly. Your strappy top had fallen down, becoming almost useless and your breasts completely visible. God, you looked perfect for him, like a sin. 

He picked up the pace on his cock in time with the thrusting of your fingers, imagining it was him stuffing your pretty pussy with his cock instead. Fuck! Your face, your figure, your tits and of course that pussy. He desperately wanted a taste, you’d be sweet he just knew it. 

A low, primal sound escaped his throat as you pushed your fingers deeper, your thumb grazing along your skin with a rhythm that matched his own pace. He could nearly feel your movements, the way your body would tense beneath his touch. He matched each of your breaths, the controlled rhythm dissolving as his grip tightened, his eyes tracing the way your body arched. God he wished he could hear you. 

His cock was painfully ready for release but he held back, he wanted to cum at the same time as you. No, he needed to. To see the way your face would flush and your expression would shift. 

You were close, he could tell that much, your movements focused entirely on your pleasure, no longer teasing at all. You bit your lip hard and Sylus wished that he could take its place. That you would bite his lip so viciously. Just a few more thrusts of your fingers inside you and your thumb moving over your clit and that was it. You were cumming. Your hips moving uncontrollably and your pussy clenching around your fingers. You threw your head back and he wished he could hear the way you moans pounded. Maybe he would have to plant a bug in your apartment for next time.

 He fought to keep his composure as you came undone, your body arching, but the sight of you, looking so beautiful as you came, was his undoing. He moved faster, his hand tracing the length of himself as he watched you unravel, imagining the heat of your skin, the sound of your voice, and the feel of you clenching around him.

As you finally stilled, your breaths slowing, he let himself fall over the edge, his own release spilling over his hand. He bit back the groan that rose in his throat, a deep satisfaction flooding through him as he watched you sink back against the cushions, unaware of how intimately he’d shared this moment with you.

He looked at you on the screen and nearly lost his control at the sight of you sucking on your fingers. It was so unexpected and dangerously erotic. He watched as you stood up on shaky legs and headed into the bathroom before cleaning himself up and stuffing him back into his trousers. The shirt would have to be dry cleaned. 

A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back, a dark resolve settling over him. This, he realised, was only the beginning. He would give you exactly what you wanted - and more. Even if you didn't know what that meant for yourself.

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

Chapter 3 is here! Please let me know what you think  ❥ Like, reblog, comment, message me, ask me something, literally anything - I live for your feedback on this  ❥

[brunettemarionette]

SOA as Romantic Tropes

The Sons of Anarchy characters as popular romance tropes.

♡ Jax Teller — Soulmates/Second Chances

Jax is the one who got away, the man you loved with every fiber of your being when you were both too young and too reckless to make it work. Back then, your relationship was a wildfire—passionate, all-consuming, and chaotic. You’d spend nights riding on the back of his bike, arms wrapped around his waist, feeling like the world couldn’t touch you. But the club, his family, and the weight of his destiny pulled you apart. It was right person, wrong time, and when it ended, it shattered you. Years later, after you’d both lived separate lives, you cross paths again—maybe at a gas station on the outskirts of Charming or at a bar where you didn’t expect to see him leaning against the counter, that same damn smirk on his face. The second your eyes meet, it’s like no time has passed. He’s rougher now, hardened by loss and violence, but the way he looks at you still makes your heart stutter. Jax doesn’t hesitate—he walks right up, cups your face, and kisses you like he’s been starving for it. From there, it’s a slow burn of rediscovery. You help him heal from the guilt and pain he carries while he reminds you what it feels like to be truly alive. The club life keeps trying to pull him away, but this time, he fights for you. You’re his soulmate, and no amount of blood or time can change that. It just took a second chance to prove it.

♡ Opie Winston — Childhood Sweethearts

Opie’s been in your life since you were kids, growing up in Charming together. You remember him as the lanky boy who’d share his snacks with you at recess and scare off anyone who messed with you. He was your first crush, your first dance at a school event, the one who taught you how to climb trees without falling. Life pulled you apart—his marriage, the club, your own path—but you never stopped thinking about him. When you come back to Charming after years away, he’s a widower, hardened by loss, but those familiar hazel eyes still light up when he sees you. You fall into old habits: late-night talks on his porch, fixing up his truck together, laughing about the dumb things you did as kids. The shift happens slowly—his hand brushing yours, a hug that lasts too long—and suddenly, you’re not just friends anymore. He’s hesitant, scared to love again, but with you, it feels like coming home. You’re his second chance at happiness, and he holds onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him steady.

♡ Happy Lowman — Opposites Attract

Happy’s the last guy anyone would picture with you. He’s the club’s enforcer. Silent, intense, with a body count that’d make most people run. You’re the sunshine to his storm, maybe a nurse who patched him up once or a florist who accidentally delivered flowers to the clubhouse. At first, he terrifies you, all grunts and tattoos, but then he keeps showing up—fixing your leaky sink, glaring at the creep who won’t leave you alone at the bar. You’re soft where he’s rough, chatty where he’s quiet, and yet it works. He’s drawn to your warmth, your refusal to flinch when he tells you about his darker side. You tease him until he cracks a rare smile, and he starts bringing you little things—a bullet casing he turned into a keychain, a cactus because “it’s tough like me.” You balance each other: you soften his edges, and he keeps you grounded. No one gets it, but when he pulls you close after a long day, it’s clear you’re his exception, the one person he’d kill—or die—for.

♡ Tig Trager — Forbidden Love

Tig’s wild, unpredictable, and totally off-limits. Maybe you’re a cop’s daughter, or worse, related to someone in a rival MC. The first time you meet, it’s electric. He’s all dark humor and suggestive grins, and you’re trying not to fall for it. You know getting involved with him is a bad idea; your family would flip, and the club would never approve. But Tig doesn’t care about rules. He sneaks you away for midnight rides, leaves flirty notes under your windshield wiper, and kisses you like he’s daring the world to stop him. The tension builds—stolen glances at club parties, secret meetups in abandoned lots until you can’t deny it anymore. He’s a mess of contradictions: loyal to the club but willing to risk it all for you, crude one minute and tender the next. You’re caught between worlds, but when he tells you he’d burn it all down to keep you safe, you believe him. It’s dangerous, messy, and undeniably addictive.

♡ Chibs Telford — Older Man/Younger Woman

Chibs is older, wiser, and carries the weight of a lifetime of scars—both literal and emotional. You’re newer to Charming, maybe a mechanic’s apprentice or a waitress at the diner, full of energy and sass that catches his eye. He calls you “lass” with that gravelly Scottish accent, teasing you about your “young folk ways,” but there’s a spark there he can’t ignore. You’re drawn to his quiet strength, the way he commands respect without raising his voice, and how he listens when you ramble about your day. At first, he resists, thinks he’s too old, too broken for someone like you but you wear him down with your persistence, sneaking into his orbit until he’s making excuses to see you. He takes you on long rides and shares stories of his past over whiskey, and soon, you’re the one patching him up after a fight, your hands steady against his battered skin. You bring light to his world, and he grounds you with a love that’s steady, fierce, and unshakable.

♡ Juice Ortiz — Fake Dating

Juice is your best friend in the club, the sweet, tech-savvy guy who’s always got your back. When your ex won’t leave you alone, or your family keeps bugging you about settling down, you rope Juice into pretending to be your boyfriend. He’s all in, goofy grin and all, showing up with flowers and holding your hand at the clubhouse like it’s real. You figure it’ll be easy—he’s adorable and easygoing, and you already spend all your time together fixing bikes or playing video games. But then it gets complicated: his arm around your waist feels too natural, and the way he looks at you when you laugh stops being an act. You’re sharing a bed one night after a club party, too drunk to care about boundaries and wake up tangled together. He’s shy about it, stammering apologies, but you pull him back, admitting you don’t want it to be fake anymore. Juice lights up, and suddenly, he’s kissing you like he’s been waiting forever. The club teases him mercilessly, but he doesn’t care—you’re his girl now, for real.

[noyasbunny]

The argument had been stupid.

Juvia didn’t even remember how it started, only that Gray had been cold again—distant in that way that made her heart ache. And this time, she had snapped.

"Why does Gray-sama always push Juvia away?"

"Maybe because I need space!" he had shot back, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Juvia had stared at him, eyes wide with hurt. Space? He wanted space? After everything?

Fury and heartbreak swirled inside her, and before she could stop herself, she had grabbed the quest flier on the table. "Then Juvia will give you space," she had said stiffly, voice trembling. "She will go alone."

She hadn’t given him a chance to respond before storming out.

That was three days ago.

Gray had tried to act like it didn’t bother him. Like he wasn’t worried that she’d gone off alone.

But then, the rumors started.

A powerful rogue mage had been causing chaos near the mountains—where Juvia had gone. Fairy Tail’s informants whispered about a brutal battle, a flood, a cave-in… and a lone girl being buried beneath the rubble.

Gray’s blood ran cold.

His heart nearly stopped when Erza returned from her own mission, her expression grim. "Gray… I heard something about Juvia’s quest."

His world cracked.

He didn't even wait for her to finish. He turned and ran.

The mountains were a blur of rain and broken terrain as Gray sprinted forward, his breath ragged.

"She’s not dead. She can’t be dead."

But the fear gnawed at him.

He had been so damn stupid. So stubborn. He had pushed her away, and now—

A sound cut through the rain.

Footsteps.

Gray skidded to a stop, barely managing to register the figure moving toward him before—

"Gray-sama?"

Juvia.

She was soaked, battered, but alive.

Gray’s heart nearly gave out. His knees buckled, relief slamming into him so hard that he almost collapsed.

Without thinking, he closed the distance between them in two long strides and crushed her against him.

"Juvia—" His voice was hoarse, broken. "You’re alive."

Juvia gasped at the force of his embrace. "O-Of course Juvia is alive. Why wouldn’t—?"

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands framing her face, his thumbs brushing over the dirt smudged on her cheeks. His eyes burned into hers, desperate, wild.

"They said—" His breath was shaky. "They said you died."

Juvia’s lips parted in shock. "Juvia would never leave Gray-sama like that—"

"Don’t say it," he muttered, pressing his forehead to hers. "I can't—" His voice cracked. "I thought I lost you."

Juvia’s eyes softened. "Gray-sama…"

His grip tightened, like he was afraid she'd vanish. "I was an idiot. I am an idiot. I told you I needed space, but I—damn it, Juvia, I need you."

Her breath hitched. "Gray-sama really means that?"

His response was immediate. His lips crashed against hers, stealing the words from her mouth.

Juvia melted, her arms wrapping around his neck as he kissed her like he was starving—like he was making up for every moment he had wasted pushing her away.

The rain poured around them, but Gray didn’t care.

His hands roamed, sliding down to grip her waist before pulling her flush against him. She was soft, warm, and his—if she’d still have him.

"Gray-sama…" she breathed, her voice trembling as he kissed down her jaw, his teeth grazing her pulse.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark with need. "Tell me I didn’t lose you."

"Never," she whispered. "Juvia is always Gray-sama’s."

His control snapped.

He lifted her effortlessly, pressing her against the nearest tree as their lips met again—hotter, deeper. His fingers traced the curves of her soaked clothes before slipping beneath, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"Good," he murmured against her lips. "Because I’m never letting you go again."

[romanarose]

hey! i just saw your supportive logan fic for writer gf, and i was wondering if you would be open to writing something for chronic pain? the (gn! if possible!) reader having severe chronic pain, mostly in their legs, that prevents them from walking sometimes when a flare up is particularly bad. the reader just kinda feeling hopeless and so tired because there’s no cure to their condition. just really soft cuddles and comfort, ya know?

totally chill if this isn’t something you’re up for writing or isn’t the vibe! <3

thank you!!

Hi friend!!! I suffer from fibromyaglia and i fucking SUCKS so yes, I'd love to write this for you! GN read is 100% good, i'll write all kinds of readers.

Here you go!

Supportive Logan Thoughts: Chronically Ill Partner

Logan Howlett x gn!reader

Summary: Logan takes care of you

Warnings: Chronic pain

************

When Logan came in after work, the house looked exactly the same as he left it, from the banana peel on the counter from breakfast to your shoes you always took off in the middle of the hall, which (lovingly) drove him a bit insane. It's not that he expected you to do housework while he was gone or anything, but it was a sure sign that no, you weren't feeling better.

"Honey?" Logan called.

"Upstairs!"

Logan opened the bedroom door to find you in the dark, only lit by the dim glow of the TV playing reruns of your favorite show. He took a seat down on the bed, brushing the apple of your cheeks. "Hurting pretty bad, is it?"

You give a little nod, looking up at him. "Sorry, I didn't get anything done..."

"Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it."

A little whine escaped your mouth, lip quivering. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have too, Lo, you just worked a ten hour day-"

With a playful smile, Logan pinched your lips together, making you giggle a little. "I'll survive doing a few dishes. You rest, I'll make dinner."

With a little kiss to your forehead, Logan did his best to prepare something you'd like. He was no chef, but after being alive all these years he was no idiot, and could cook pretty well. Plus, this was far from the first time your pain and exhaustion mad it hard to do anything. You liked to cook for him, but Logan liked to return the favor too. He liked taking care of you. He liked cooking for you and helping you bath and nursing you when the days were too hard.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!" He enters the bedroom again. "I lied, there's no eggs. Or Bacon. But I did make soup."

"Soup!" You exclaim, happily sitting up.

"There yuh are..." Logan smiles at seeing you animated again.

After you eat, Logan carries you into a warm bath, gently rubbing down your soapy body in a massage, careful with the tender spots. He works on your legs where he knows it hurts the most, making sure to massage the feet too, where he knows pain can start.

"You're really sweet, you know." You mumble sleepily. Doing nothing all day really takes it out of your when your own body feels like it hates you. "I know you pretend you aren't. But you are."

"Oh, I know." He teases. "You should see me at work. I can't get shit done because I'm smelling every damn daisy out there. I've been written up 3 times."

You can help but laugh at the idea of your big, hunky boyfriend laying on grass, kicking his feet as he smells a wild flower, his boss in the background shaking his fist.

"Oh I bed. Do you also break for butterflies?"

"Every damn day. Can't go a block without hitting my breaks. Hard to get anywhere."

You're giggling now, feeling better as Logan drains the bath. He starts to towel you down before picking you up and carrying you to bed.

"Thank you. For all you do for me." You snuggle up next to him watching your silly little shows. The pain is a little better, but still hurts.

Logan's lips are kissing your neck and face. you know he's not trying to initiate sex, just showing how much he loves just existing with you. "I like doing it, baby. I know it seems like I'm bullshitting you, but when it's for someone you love... really there's nothing easier."

*********

Thanks for the ask!!!!!! feel free to send more in!

[damnedwhispers]

Has anyone else ever started writing a chapter—armed with an outline you swore would keep you on track—only to have your characters turn around, look you dead in the eye, and say, ‘Nah, we’re doing this our way’? Because that’s what happened with Chapter 16 of my ACOTAR fanfic. It’s Azriel and Lyra’s story—Lyra being this fierce, unapologetic FMC who’s been clawing her way out of my heart and onto the page. I had a plan. She wasn’t supposed to feel this alive yet, wasn’t supposed to be cutting down eyeless, nightmare-fueled creatures or leaping off cliffs with this wild, reckless abandon by Chapter 16. But there she was, dragging me along, and I couldn’t stop her if I tried.

This fic—it’s a slow-burn enemies-to-lovers that digs deep, the kind where every glance and every fight feels like it’s carving something permanent. Lyra embodies female rage in a way that’s messy and raw, and honestly, it’s been pouring out of me in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve spent weeks plotting, tearing up at 2 a.m. over scenes that hit too close to home, and putting everything—blood, sweat, tears, you name it—into this thing. It’s still got that ACOTAR soul: Azriel’s brooding, Velaris glowing in the background, the Inner Circle tossing out their sharp-edged banter. But it’s also grown into something bigger—new characters, expanded world-building, a heartbeat of its own. One day, I dream of turning it into an original book. It’s a long shot, I know, but it’s the kind of dream that keeps me up at night.

If you stumble across this and think, ‘What the hell is happening here?’—I get it. Just know there’s a reason for the chaos, a thread I’m weaving that’ll make sense eventually. It’s fanfiction through and through, but it’s also me trying to say something real. So if you’re into emotional, heavy stories with a badass FMC who fights like she’s got nothing left to lose, maybe give it a chance. I’d love for you to meet Lyra—and see what she does next, because apparently, I don’t get to decide that anymore.

Whispers of the Broken and Damned

Link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/62181382/chapters/163839367

[sugar-coat-it]

Body piercer! Matty part three 

Part 1, Part 2

I missed writing for this man so much my god he is my everything. If you haven’t read the other parts, go ahead and do that first for context perhaps! 

Fem! Reader

Contains: Mutual pining, cutie newly established relationship, mention of marijuana, proud concert bf Matty, him being protective of girlie at the show, exhibitionism (light petting in the crowd), rough quickie (unprotected), public sex (bathroom), fingering and fucking on the counter, Matty puts his hand over her mouth, mirror sex, choking (with jewelry)

WC: ~6.3k

—-------------------------------------

PART THREE- Your new boyfriend takes you to a punk show, ending with a quickie in the venue bathroom

—-------------------------------------

Both you and Matty knew in your hearts that this wasn’t just a fling. Flings didn’t stay up for endless hours on the phone, knowing damn well that you both had work the next morning. Flings also didn’t think about each other for every waking minute, always sending each other sentimental messages when things reminded them of each other. And, they certainly don’t touch you the way Matty touches you: like he’s like he’s been starved of you his entire life. He’d frankly been losing his mind, constantly daydreaming at work as he stared at the Polaroid of the two of you he kept at the front desk, knowing he couldn’t stand not calling you his girlfriend much longer. Not after the past couple of weeks you’d been seeing each other had been some of the best of his life. He was so antsy over the fact that he couldn’t actually call you his that it was eating him alive, where else would he ever find someone as perfect for him as you? His work friends teased him endlessly for being so head over his platform boot heels, telling him how he needed to lock you down as soon as possible. He endearingly calls you his “favorite client”, but you’ve quickly become his favorite everything (“No. You don’t even get it, mate,” he’d said, rambling on to some poor guy whose ears he was piercing, “she's like… the light of my life, really”). But, considering that you couldn’t close your eyes without picturing his pretty brown irises staring back at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges with all his twinkling, wild mirth, you weren’t faring much better.

 Just as you’d hoped from that first night together, his sleepy eyes were in fact now a constant in your life. He asked you to be his girlfriend after taking you back to the same cafe where you’d had your blind date. Needless to say, it was an enthusiastic yes on your part, and everything has been so much brighter since, you can hardly imagine your life without all of his ruckus. Your days with him are long and lazy, and the nights are even longer, often spent wrapped up in his sheets or giggling while curled up on his couch after a smoke session.

You’ve learned a lot about Matty in the time you’ve been together. Like his tendency to leave things in your flat, his ungodly marijuana tolerance levels, and his love for his puppy Mayhem. You’ve also found that he takes his music very seriously. Listening to music is like a ritual to him, one that he refuses to partake in with “trashy” music. You call it snobbery, he calls it having good taste, and lately, he’s been trying to share that taste with you. He’s almost been subtly brainwashing you into getting into his bands, playing their songs in his car, burning some of their tracks on his CD mixtapes for you (always scrawled with cute Sharpie doodles and bad handwriting), humming the melodies of his favorite songs to you while cuddling. Honestly, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working, you’ve found yourself adding his music to your playlists, combining your styles much like how the mohawked man has slowly rooted his way into every corner of your life. 

So of course, words couldn’t describe how thrilled he was when you agreed to see one of his favorite bands play at a punk rock show. He’d approached you with the idea tentatively, explaining that it was fine if you didn’t want to go, he’d just take one of his mates from work if so. The way his face lit up when you said yes, your heart could have burst as you watched his eyes sparkle with pure unbridled joy. Then, he leaned in and kissed every inch of your face, ignoring your giggles and protests of him tickling you while he declared how much you were going to love it. 

 When the day of the show arrived, you kept your outfit simple: baggy, ripped jeans, a white tank top, a band hoodie, and a studded belt you recovered from the depths of your closet, figuring you’d at least blend in with the grungier crowd that way. You put on one last thing to complete the look, hooking Matty’s chunky, silver chain (that of course, he’d left on your dresser) around your neck. You smile to yourself as you tuck it under your clothes, liking the feel of having him close to your heart like this. When did you become such a sap?

Meanwhile, Matty was pacing around your flat, making sure he had everything he needed and that you’d get there in time for doors. His reasoning for being punctual was much less about him than it was for you. He wanted you to fully experience being close to the stage because he knows how much you like to take pictures at shows, your constantly full phone storage being a telltale sign of that. He was going full-on concert boyfriend mode, also keeping your lipstick and your wallet in his little hip pouch so you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying anything but your phone. He’d clearly thought this through quite a lot, he’d been looking forward to it for weeks. 

A sudden kiss to his cheek quiets the hum of his overactive mind when you approach him, his furrowed brows sloping to a soft look of adoration as he insists on you standing still so he can take a good look at your outfit. He holds his fingers up in front of him in the shape of a square, squinting one eye closed like he’s framing you for a memory. Sure, the relationship was shiny and new, but something about the way he looked at you told you this wasn’t going to dull with time’s cruel hands, not any time soon at least. 

“Ohh, yeah. Very punk rock, baby,” he smiles slyly, chuckling as you roll your eyes. 

“Hardly! I don’t exactly have the wardrobe for this.”

“Shh, nonsense. You’re like a regular Joan Jett, babe. But hotter.”

“But hotter? Wow,” you laugh, now glancing down at the jewelry adorning his hands and wrists, “I like your bracelet.”

Matty cringes, sucking a breath through his teeth while looking up towards the ceiling. He recalls just how he’d obtained said bracelet as a teenager with something to prove. He was never a bad kid, just a highly restless one who got bored too easily. Besides, he never got in any real trouble since his parents would have strung him up by his toes otherwise. 

“Erm, thanks. I think I nicked it when I was a teen.”

“You were a delinquent!?” you exclaim, causing Matty’s loud laughter to ring through the apartment.

“That’s a strong term, innit? Let’s call it… misguided… and stupid. Now c’mon, out the door, miss.” 

You shake your head playfully as he shoos you out of the flat, imagining a younger version of your boyfriend getting into all sorts of mischief. You can almost perfectly picture his toothy, boyish grin as he runs around the streets of his hometown with his mates by his side, freckle-faced and carefree, his curls in an unruly mop on his head. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in his younger, wilder days. An odd part of you hopes he still would have liked you. 

“Why do you still have it?” you ask as you start your walk to the train together. “What can I say? I’m unbelievably sentimental.”

The train ride is quiet, you share his wireless earbuds and listen to music side by side. The deal was that the queue of songs switched back and forth, you got to play one song, then him. He leans his head against your shoulder, the muss of hair atop the shaved sides of his head grazing your neck. He almost falls asleep as you start to scratch the top of his head. But, inevitably, all of his energy comes rushing back to him when the train comes to a halt. Immediately, he’s grabbing your hand to bound down the street to the venue, shouting about how good of a spot you’re going to get. 

—---------------------------------------------

Once inside, at a glance, you don’t exactly fit in here. A sort of insecurity festers in you as you eye some of the girls dressed in spikes and leather, they looked like they belonged here, and so did your boyfriend. But, you try to shake it off nonetheless, even if you didn’t feel nearly as cool as you wanted to. This place was like the high council of people who exclusively wear clothes with tears in them.

Matty stands close behind you as you pack in with the rest of the grungy-looking crowd. His hands are on your hips as he glances around, making sure that you have enough space to stand comfortably. He knows how these shows can get, and he’s made it his personal mission to make sure no one ruins the experience for you. He shoots a look at any guy who tries to stand too close to you, the coldness of his stare sending them inching away from your personal space with cowardice. In an instant, the mean look is wiped off his face as he glances down at you, seeing how happy you seem to be there with him. He leans down, the cool metal of his chain grazing your neck as he speaks near your ear, just loud enough so you can hear him over the buzz of chatter throughout the venue. 

“Can you see alright?” he asks, giving your hips a little squeeze. 

You nod with a smile, having a fairly clear view of the stage. You’re only about three rows back thanks to Matty’s punctuality. You turn your head, grasping the necklace around his neck gently before pulling him down further so you can kiss his cheek. A grin breaks out on your boyfriend’s face, he can’t help but chuckle at your little move, he loves it when you get bold with him. His lips brush against your ear as he murmurs “little minx” before standing back up to his full height.

Matty talks over the pre-show music as he tells you a bit of background about the bands playing tonight, prattling on about who plays what and what makes them so cool. You listen to him with an enamored look plastered on your face, nodding along even when you have no clue what he’s talking about, but what else is new? It only makes you adore him more with every detail rattled off from the depths of his mind.

“... and this one here I don’t know shit about, to be honest. I reckon they’re probably fine though,” he shrugs, showing you the lineup on his phone. 

You squint at the screen, tapping your nail against one of the names you recognize because of him. You blink up at him prettily, knowing he’s going to get a kick out of what you say next.

“This is the one with the guy who plays the drums with two pedals, right?” you recall, tilting your head at him, knowing damn well that you’re laying it on thick. 

“Yes!! Yes, exactly,” he beams, his eyes instantly lighting up before he presses an enthusiastic kiss to your temple, “That’s my fuckin’ girl. The coolest girlfriend.”

Soon, the show begins, and Matty lets out an excited whoop as the first band makes their entrance, the one he’d bought the tickets for in the first place. He lets go of your hips, taking a small step back to give you the room to dance if you want to. He’s so considerate of you, it makes a glowing sort of warmth swell in your chest. You glance back at him and he gives you two thumbs up, his face scrunching up with a grin that’s so earnestly Matty, you have to resist the urge to just grab him and kiss him till your lips are raw right in the middle of the crowd. Not to mention how fucking good he looks tonight, his tank top allowing his tattooed arms to be on full display, and it should be illegal how tightly those black leather pants cling to his legs.

Your attention turns back to the stage as the first notes ring through the small venue, grungy guitar chords echoing off of the walls. Nothing gives you the same feeling as live music does, the pure thrill it makes rush through you is unmatched (sorry, Matty). The music is harsh, it grates on your ears, but in the best way possible. It’s invigorating, fucking electrifying, it’s thrumming in the hollow of your chest. You feel alive. Matty leans over to see it all happen from just a step away, watching the stage lights reflect in your eyes. He hadn’t looked at the band once, this was far more mesmerizing than anything that could be happening up there. You’ve completely captured his attention, and when you start bobbing your head to the beat and singing along to the chorus, Matty almost drops to one knee right then and there. He’s already mentally noted that this song will in fact be played at your wedding reception.

As the set goes on, his eyes stay on you for the majority of the time, he’s just so taken by watching you have this much fun hearing his music, which is now your music too. He’s simply beaming with pride. Every time you look back at him with that thrilled look on your face while you’re moving to the rhythm only solidifies to him that you’re his absolute dream girl. And of course, he’s having the time of his life too. Matty mouthes along to all of the words, nodding his head in a way that makes his quaffed mohawk bounce with his movements. And, shit, it’s hot in the crowd, you can feel the heat radiating off of the bodies moving around you. The hoodie you brought may have been an oversight, you can practically feel your mascara melting off of your lashes. 

The show goes on, and when the moshing in the middle of the crowd gets increasingly rowdy, one man gets shoved and sent hurtling past the bodies between you and the mosh pit. You quickly hold your hands out to brace for the impact, knowing this can’t end well as you prepare to meet your leather-jacketed doom. The man is visibly very intoxicated and he would have stumbled straight into your body from the momentum if Matty’s hands hadn’t shot out to block him, catching him by his shoulders.

“Oi! Watch where you’re fuckin’ going, fuck’s sake!” Matty spits, sending him back toward the pit with a light push. 

Now, had Matty done his fair share of moshing and getting absolutely catapulted into other people at breakneck velocity? Yes. It’s not even entirely the guy’s fault that he almost crashed into you, he was pretty drunk and didn’t have his wits or his balance about him, but in Matty’s mind, he might as well have tried to tackle you to the ground WWE style. 

“I could have caught him!” you argue over the music, laughing at the bitter look on your boyfriend's face.

Matty raises an eyebrow at you and shakes his head with an amused smile, but doesn’t argue. Maybe you could have, but he wasn’t about to let some sloshed idiot break his girlfriend's back because that’s his job, dammit. 

The band’s set is finished with a bang, the final chords echoing in your ears as you try to catch your breath from moving almost nonstop, your heart thundering against your ribs. You turn around to face Matty with a giant grin plastered on your face, letting out a breathless, excited laugh. He just chuckles, eyeing the strands of hair sticking to your face from the sheen of sweat, your smudged makeup rimming your wide eyes. He’s not in much better shape, his tank top is clinging to his body like a second skin. By this point, your hoodie feels like it has its own climate, and you’re dying to peel it off. 

“Fun?” he asks, as you start to lift the fabric over your head.

“Oh my god, yeah,” you breathe, your voice muffled by the hoodie. 

“I-”

His next words die in his throat as his eyes immediately snap to your chest, his breath catching as he spots the clear outline of your nipple piercings through your drenched, white tank top and- was that one of his chains around your neck? He feels a stir in his tight leather pants as his mouth slightly drops, he can’t remember ever being so instantly and completely turned on. Heat ripples through his body, climbing up to his face as he shamelessly stares at your tits. Not only were you showing off his skillful work, but your pretty neck was adorned with the chain he’d forgotten all about at your place. It might even look better on you than it does on him.

 You’re tying your hoodie around your waist when you catch the look on his face, your brows knitting together with confusion till you follow his gaze and find your piercings proudly displayed through your shirt. As the realization dawns on you, you look up at your boyfriend with a coy smile. Matty shudders, lust crowding his mind as he struggles to come up with a coherent thought, one that isn’t wildly pornographic. He can actually feel his hands tense with the urge to grasp, to lay claim to you with his fingertips. You simply look up at him through your lashes, watching him short-circuit right before your eyes. 

Before he has the chance to say or do anything, the next band comes onto the stage, the crowd roaring to life a second time. You give him a knowing look before turning back around to face the direction of the music. Matty swallows hard, raking a hand through his mohawk like he’s grappling with demons… and losing.

The music is nothing more than a pulsing beat in his skull, his attention is fully on the back of your head. He begins to inch forward to you, his hands finding a home on your hips while you vibe to the beat. He brings your hips back against him, feeling your movements stutter as the protrusion in his trousers presses into your ass as if to say “Feel what you did to me?”. You get the message loud and clear, draping your weight against him, your head lolling back against his shoulder as you both rock to the beat of the drums, sweaty skin to sweaty skin. Matty’s hands begin to wander, mapping over the damp fabric of your tank top, up your stomach, over your ribs till- oh. You gasp, the stage lights strobing under your closed eyes as he squeezes your tits through your top. Matty can distinctly feel the barbells through the thin fabric, it drives him fucking wild. Your lips part as you melt into him like honey, your skin feels like it’s on fire as the music blares through the venue. Your stomach swoops when he dares to flick the piercings with his fingertips, danger humming in your veins as he gets bolder, as if you’re not surrounded by a sea of people. Your eyes snap open, you quickly glance around to find that everyone’s far too enthralled with the show to notice, not that Matty would give a shit if they did. No one can hear the way you whimper when he pinches your nipples. You stare down at the large hands that possessively grope your breasts, feeling a throb resound between your thighs. 

“Matty, you said this was the band you don’t know, right?” you call to him, your voice uneven and unnaturally high-pitched. 

His heavily lidded eyes look almost black with the way they darken as he reads between the lines. Even if it was one of the bands he liked, he’s pretty sure absolutely nothing could stop him from doing what comes next, not when his dick is this hard, and you’ve teased him this salaciously. Wordlessly, Matty lets go of your chest and grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd towards the exit. He moves fast, the urgency in his strides and on his face likely making people move out of the way quicker. You’d feel concerned about losing your spot up front if your mind wasn’t so scrambled with need, your legs rushing to keep up with your lanky boyfriend. 

Your head is spinning as he swiftly leads you into the nearest gender-neutral bathroom. Matty’s hands are on you the moment he closes and locks the door, he’s all over you in every sense of the term. You breathe in the musk of his sweat between the melding of your lips. The kiss is messy, it’s searingly hot as he desperately licks into your mouth, his fingertips digging into your hip bones. He backs you up blindly until your hips meet the bathroom counter, his hands reaching to undo the hoodie tied around your waist and toss it aside without breaking the kiss once. You didn’t think you could get much hotter than you were in the crowd, but now you’re burning up from the inside with white-hot desire.

Matty hastily turns you around to face the bathroom mirror, tagged with graffiti and littered with lipstick prints at the border. It was clear that the space was well-loved, but clean. A culmination of every aspiring artist and sticker enthusiast in the area, almost no spot on the wall was left untouched. Your eyes are drawn away from the decor as Matty grasps your jaw from behind you, turning your head to make you meet the almost feral look in his eyes through the mirror. He holds you that way as he leans down to press dire, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, his other hand snaking down your front to unbutton your pants. The feeling of his tongue stud soothing over faded love bites only makes you weaker in the knees. Matty fumbles with the zipper of your jeans for a moment before he shoves the clothing down your legs, the fabric pooling around your ankles. It’s clear that he’s not wasting time with his usual delicate, worshiping caresses of your thighs while he undresses you, this is an electrified frenzy. 

“No bra, baby? Is that how you want to play?” he mutters, his lips grazing the column of your neck teasingly. 

“I-I didn’t-” you begin to protest, only to be cut off by your own moan as he gives a rough pinch to your nipple through your top.

Matty follows the curve of your midsection with his hand, intense honey-colored eyes locked on you through your reflection, the image swirled at the edges with colorful spray paint. A shudder reverberates through your body as his fingers venture lower, dipping below the waistband of your soaked panties. Your body instinctually arches backward against his, mewling when his calloused fingertips brush against your swollen clit. It’s like he can light up every one of your senses with just a graze, your breath getting shallower by the second. You feel his stiff cock twitch in his trousers as you press yourself impossibly closer to him, every inch of his glowing skin flush against your back. Matty continues his loving assault on your neck as his thick digits gather the arousal pooling between your thighs. Your dazed vision trails downward as you stare at his hand shoved inside your panties from behind you, watching the fabric shift with every movement of his skilled hand. You whine as he circles your slit before beginning to sink his slicked fingers into you, your eyes squeezing shut as the dizzying pleasure thrums in your veins. 

“Shhh. You know how much I love your pretty noises, baby, but be good, okay? Can you do that? Don’t want anyone to know what we’re up to, do you?” he murmurs, dragging his plush bottom lip against your ear lobe. 

You nod wordlessly, afraid that if you open your mouth, noise will overflow from you uncontrollably, his fingers being knuckle-deep in you is just too damn good. If you don’t control yourself, anyone outside could hear you, could know how good your boyfriend is filling you with his fingers, satisfying you to your very core. The thought of it alone makes your heart hammer in your chest harder. You don’t want them to know… because that would be wrong, it would be undignified… it’d be… kind of hot.

 His digits stretch you open as he begins to diligently pump them in and out of you, curling them towards the spot that he knows will make you see stars. He works quickly, his pace is almost feverish from his determination to make you fall to pieces as efficiently as he can. Matty’s other hand is groping your breast, squeezing the fullness of it, his rings pressing into your flesh through your thin tank top. You bite down on your lip hard enough that you think you might tear the flesh open, desperately trying to keep your whimpers quiet. Matty’s gaze on you is cautionary, his eyebrows slightly raised like he’s testing you, seeing just how much you can take. 

The last of your defenses come crumbling down as the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, the flood of sensations making a moan burst from your throat as he begins to draw tight circles on the bundle of nerves. In an instant, Matty’s hand is off of your chest and is clasped over your mouth, muffling any noise. Fuck.

“I mean it. Pipe down, or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, smirking at you as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“No- no, please don’t stop,” you babble against his palm like the idea of it was simply unbearable.

Matty’s hand stays firmly over your mouth as he withdraws his fingers from inside you, ignoring the way you squirm in protest, whining uselessly. He tugs your ruined panties down your legs, letting them join your pants in a heap around your ankles. It’s almost embarrassing how you can hardly contain your desire, but he likes it that way, knowing how needy you are.

“Matty, please, fuck, need it,” you mumble, and he can see the way your desire is clawing at you from the inside just from a glance.

“Be patient for me, my love,” he smiles, hurriedly pulling himself out of his uncomfortably skin-tight pants with his free hand, “You’ll get what you want. Being stuffed full with my cock, hm?”

You whimper as Matty nudges your legs further apart with his foot, leaning you forward over the counter onto your elbows. He whistles lowly at the sight of you, his eyes following down your spine, over the curve of your ass, and to your dripping pussy. You tremble slightly as he reaches between your legs, collecting your honey on his fingers before spreading it over his shaft, slicking himself with your arousal. A whine vibrates against the palm Matty holds over your mouth as you swing your hips in a desperate attempt to entice him. He just chuckles darkly, keeping his hand securely in place as starts to guide his cock through your folds, the head kissing your aching clit as he rubs it back and forth. 

Matty doesn’t waste a second longer, you can hardly process it before he’s pushing inside of you, gasping as he fills you inch by inch. His fingertips press into the side of your face as he tightens his hold on your mouth to muffle your mewls, watching as your lashes flutter, your face contorting with pleasure. He can feel your hot, heavy breaths fanning into his palm, your chest heaving as he bottoms out inside of you. Matty groans loudly, tossing his head back as he’s fully surrounded by your velvety warmth, forgetting his own volume rules that he’d set for you. Hypocrite.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so good,” he sighs, reaching to pull your tank top over your breasts, “Stay like that for me, yeah? Wanna see your perfect tits.”

He barely allows you a moment to breathe before he’s snapping his hips against you roughly, letting out a strained grunt with every thrust. Sensations trickle up your spine like flickering flames as a muffled cry spills out of you. Matty angles his hips just right, hitting so deep inside you that you feel as though you’re being split open by each drive of his cock, it’s mind-numbing. Your whole body jolts against the counter with his purposeful movements, the edge of the porcelain biting into your hip bones. He can hardly focus on just one thing, his gaze darting from where he’s disappearing inside of you, to your gorgeous face, to your breasts. Matty’s raspy voice makes your eyes refocus on him, you watch in the mirror as he licks his teeth like he wants to devour you whole.

“You see how pretty you look? No, no, sweetheart, don’t look at me, look at yourself. God, isn’t she pretty?” he drawls, “You look so sexy, wearing my chain like that while you’re taking my cock.”

At his instruction, you meet your own eyes through the reflection, your eyebrows sloping as you realize that he’s right, you do look pretty when he’s fucking you. Your rosied cheeks, your blown pupils, your glowing skin… and your boyfriend’s hand over your mouth. Your chain bounces against your collarbones in tandem with your pierced tits, it’s no wonder he’s loving this position so much, he gets to watch everything at once. While you’re gazing at yourself, Matty reaches around and begins to rub two fingers on your clit, swirling them in intoxicatingly quick figure eights. You watch your own eyes go wide as the pleasure ricochets through your bones, making you light-headed. This must be the expression Matty lives for when he’s got you like this, the face to his sweetest wet dreams. You’re almost mesmerized by seeing yourself get railed to high heaven, it’s sort of an odd feeling.

In one swift motion, Matty lets go of your face and grasps the chain around your neck, pulling it taut against your throat from behind, ripping a shocked cry from your lips. 

“Ohh, she liked that one,” he grins lazily, tilting his head back with a groan as he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice, “Shit, not gonna last if you keep doin’ that, god damn.”

It feels like he’s stolen the air directly from your lungs as he lightly chokes you with the silver links you’d so slickly “borrowed” from him. Even just the slight restriction of oxygen has you reeling, your eyes rolling back as your hands claw at the counter, your whole body buzzing with mortifying heights of exhilaration. It’s a dizzying combination of thrill and precarious risk as Matty keeps a tight hold on the chain while fucking you with such vigor that you don’t feel attached to your body, the counter being your only loose grasp on reality. It only makes every drive of his cock feel that much more visceral, the tension coiling tighter in your belly. Heat prickles at your cheeks and the bridge of your nose at the purely obscene sounds of him thrusting into your sopping cunt, skin on skin echoing through the small space while his fingers abuse your clit.

It’s all building up so fast, quicker than usual due to Matty’s frenzied rhythm, his hips meeting yours again and again, unrelentingly. You bite back a wail as the tension so deep inside you reverberates in crackling pangs, threatening to break you to pieces as you arch backward. Your hips writhe against his hand both like you’re chasing the friction and trying to thrash away from its intensity. He can tell you’re on the edge of euphoria, teetering with every swipe of his fingers, every slam of his hips. He gives the chain a harsh tug, knowing it’ll send you spiraling into the depths of pleasure just beyond your fingertips.

“Fuck!” you gasp, one of your hands flying to grip his wrist as your mind goes impossibly blank, your nails digging into his skin, “I’m gonna- I-I can’t!”

“Shit, me too, angel. So close. Oh, fuck, cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me while I fill you up,” he grunts, a burst of energy coming over him as he manages to piston into you even more brutally. 

It crashes over you like a thunderous wave, spiraling through you from your dizzied head to the tips of your curled toes. He lets go of the chain, putting his hand over your mouth again to stifle your cry, the disorienting rush of oxygen almost making your knees give out from underneath you, and they just might have if Matty hadn’t kept you supported against the counter. It feels like pure white light is fizzling under your eyelids as Matty makes you reach the stars with your climax, dousing you in pulsating bliss as you clench around him tightly. He lets out a deep, animalistic sound as he spills inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he fucks you through your orgasm, his rhythm beginning to falter from the effort. 

“Fuuuck!” he hisses through gritted teeth, along with other breathy strings of profanities. 

Slowly, his body stutters to a stop, giving one last roll of his hips before he collapses over you as delicately as he can, enveloping you with his chest to your back. He lovingly presses kisses to the back of your neck as your head hangs forward slightly, both of you gasping to catch your breath. 

“H-holy shit, babe. You’re so good…you’re fucking incredible,” he mutters, seeming just as dazed as you are. 

He can’t seem to stop complimenting you and loving on you as he keeps you held up with his hands on your hips, rubbing little circles into your skin as you both come down from the highest of highs. The afterglow clouds your head in a way that makes you feel like you’re floating with Matty being your only anchor to the ground. 

“Matty…” you mumble, reaching back blindly for his face.

“I’m right here. Right here, love,” he whispers, guiding your palm to his cheek. 

You smile warmly as you feel the scruffy sides of his head at your fingertips, Matty keeping his hand over yours sweetly. At the same time you both glance upwards at the mirror, letting out simultaneous giggles as you appreciate the state you’re in. He leans to kiss your cheek, peering into your eyes adoringly through the reflection, pulling your top back down over your breasts. 

“Oh my god… we’re a mess,” you snort, rubbing aimlessly at your runny mascara with your free hand.

“You mean you’re a mess, I look damn good,” he jokes, starting to slowly ease you both back up into a standing position. 

You both let out a breathy sound as he pulls out of you slowly, his cum beginning to streak down your thighs. Of course, Matty stares, swallowing thickly like he’ll never quite get used to the sight while he shimmies back into his pants. Diligently, he reaches for a handful of paper towels, keeping a gentle hold on your hip. You reach to try and smack his arm when he laughs at the way your legs are trembling, your knees wobbling due to how hard he’d railed you. He dodges the blow, grinning at you triumphantly.

Matty gently wipes away the residue of his pearly release, whispering a hushed “I know, I know” when you squirm at the sensitivity. Once he discards the paper towels, he kneels down to pull your underwear and your jeans back up, kissing his way up the outside of your leg as he does so, looking into your eyes with a playful glint. He kisses you deeply while he buttons your pants with nimble hands, not even letting you lift a finger as he takes care of his girl. You throw your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as he teases his tongue piercing along your bottom lip just to make you shiver. 

“My perfect girl,” he mumbles against your mouth.

You stay in the bathroom for just a little longer, kissing and whispering sweet things to each other while your bodies fully come down, Matty shouting at whoever keeps intermittently knocking on the door to fuck off. You can’t help but feel a little tinge of guilt in your stomach for “christening” the restroom the way you did, but you highly doubt you were the first. 

After he reassures you that the makeup streaked down your cheeks is “hardcore” and that you should leave it the way it is, you finally leave to re-enter the show (not before one final, drawn-out kiss, of course). Your boyfriend keeps you close by his side, his fingers interlocked with yours as you find yourselves at the very back of the pit, scattered with only a few other people. Matty guides your arms around his neck, grinning at you like a fool as you start to rock back and forth to the rhythm of the drums. His smile is infectious as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours, singing to you when the song reaches its chorus. He looks incredibly dorky as mimics the wail of the guitar solo, swinging his hips while his hands rest comfortably on your waist, almost like you’re about to slow dance. You tell him as such and Matty just tosses his head back with a laugh like a little kid. His eyes are sparkling, but not just from the iridescent stage lighting, it’s the look he gets only when he’s with you. You feel your heart swell in your chest as you continue to dance like you’re the only two in the venue, and he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the whole world. 

—-----------------------------------------

SO I was a liar and I did write another part. I intended this to be a blurb but I had so many more thoughts about them and their relationship eeeeee

The ending was soooo “do you wanna dance, dance at the back of the hall”

I love them. I need them to be happy forever actually. 

This one is dedicated to my lovely lovely friend B (@haveyouseenherlately) thank you so much for the ideas, you get body piercer like no one else, queen. Love you!!!

Go check out her stuff if you haven’t it SLAYS <3