#but it keeps giving me just one painful memory of her saying it was so long until we would see again’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ja3yun · 5 months ago

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Love Me Tender | S.JY

bf!jaeyun x gf!reader warnings: smut (mdni), soft-dom jake, oral (f. rec), unprotected sex, cream pie, wax play, knife play, bondage, leather gloves, pussy slapping (once), nipple play, not proof read, anything else lmk. wc: 10.2k synopsis: when your tender, loving boyfriend jaeyun overhears a conversation about you wishing he was a bit rougher in bed, he vows to make sure you're completely satisfied, catering to all your hearts desires. a/n: hi! this is something i had sitting in my mind but also this is for my girl @yzzyhee because i genuinely cannot express my love or gratitude more than semi-dom, blonde jake. i hope you love it, mars and just know that i am and always will be proud of you, no matter what.

“It’s great and, fuck, I love him so much. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s just…”

Just what?

Jaeyun halts abruptly outside your bedroom door as your muffled voice drifts through the wood. Having just returned from work, he had eagerly sprinted up the stairs upon seeing your shoes by the doorway, signalling your presence. Now, that excitement has dissipated, replaced by a creeping anxiety that crawls over his skin.

His mind races through every minor mistake he might have made in the past week to prompt you to discuss your relationship with someone else. No, you haven’t mentioned his name, he can’t fathom the idea of another man being the ‘best thing that ever happened to you’, so he jumps to conclusions.

Was it because he didn't clean on his day off last week? Or perhaps because he brought home that stray dog and begged you to keep her, even though neither of you had the time to give it the love it deserved? Jaeyun bites his bottom lip, pondering the meaning behind your words.

Leaning closer, he presses his hand against the door frame and hovers his ear just above the slit in the door to hear you better. In his eyes, everything in your relationship is more than fine, so he’s desperate to understand how he can fix whatever is wrong. If Jaeyun is determined to do one thing right in his life, it’s to be your perfect boyfriend.

The house is as quiet as a hairdresser's salon on a Monday morning, the silence thick and suffocating, until you break it with a sigh. “I just wish he was a bit rougher,” you finally say aloud, causing Jaeyun’s eyes to widen and ears to perk up.

Of all the things in the world, he never expected you to say that. What do you mean rougher? He taps his foot on the carpet, as if trying to hurry your conversation along to hear your explanation. “He’s not bad in bed, far from it actually; he does this thing with his tongue that sends me to heaven…”

You trail off, and Jaeyun can vividly picture how you’re standing: your pretty pink lips caught between your teeth, a coy smile on your face, and your thighs rubbing together as you shift on your feet. There is a tiny swelling of pride adding to his emotions as you speak.

He knows how much you love his tongue, so much so that you’re often begging for it most nights and cumming on his face within minutes. His mind flashes back to those nights, your moans echoing in his memory.

That’s why it’s so hard for him to grasp what you’re talking about. He is rough with you to an extent - spanking your ass, sometimes tying you up, even pulling at your hair. Was that not enough for you? He’s always been scared of hurting you, even in those moments, so he can’t imagine going further than that. The thought of causing you pain, even unintentionally, sends a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, exactly,” you agree with whoever is on the other line, “I want to just be manhandled and fucked like in the books we read or those Twitter porn videos. It’s just never going to happen, not with Jaeyun.”

Jaeyun’s body grows hot with nerves, goosebumps rising on his skin at your implication. Not with Jaeyun. What if you get bored every time he makes love to you and eventually leave him for someone else, someone who can fulfil those fantasies? The idea of losing you to someone else, someone who might treat you with the roughness you crave, makes his stomach churn with dread.

Oh, no. No, no, no. He cannot and will not let that happen. He refuses to lose you over something like this.

“Anyway, he’ll be home soon… No, I can’t say anything. You know how much he loves me. If I start asking him to edge me or bring a knife to a love fight, he would freak the fuck out,” you laugh disheartened, intending it as a joke but the sentence coming out as distant longing.

Jaeyun’s breath catches in his throat at the mention of a knife. You don’t mean a physical one right? It has to be a metaphor and you don’t want him to actually bring out the good kitchen knives and chop you up like yesterday’s salad? He’s not even a chef, never mind a butcher.

He hears you say your final goodbyes to your friend, causing him to silently run back to the top of the stairs, creating the facade that he has just arrived home. Just as he gets into place, you swing open your bedroom door and jolt back for a moment, surprised to see him there.

Swallowing the mix of hurt and apprehension, Jaeyun flashes the smile you fell in love with at first sight and walks over to you, pretending he didn’t hear a thing. “Hi, baby,” he says as chirpily as he can manage given the circumstances, walking towards you with an air of forced nonchalance.

“Hey, Jaeyun,” you say, looking him up and down with furrowed brows. “Babe, why are you so… all over the place?” The question isn’t misplaced. Despite his best attempts to conceal his true emotions, his body betrays him. His chest heaves as if he’s out of breath, his face is still flushed with a mix of embarrassment and nerves, and his hands tremble slightly.

“Oh, just those stairs, you know how they kill me,” he lets out a tense chuckle, trying to pass it off as his aversion to the gym.

Narrowing your eyes, you pout sceptically at his response, clearly not buying it. Your boyfriend might not frequent the gym, but he certainly plays football every Wednesday with his workmates, and his stamina during sex is nothing short of impressive. There’s definitely something else going on.

Now it’s your turn to get bitten by the anxiety bug. Surely he hadn’t overheard your conversation with Yeojeong just now? You would never be able to forgive yourself if he did because, in your mind, it wasn’t a complaint, just a small, wistful desire. But if he overheard, he might think it meant you were dissatisfied with him, even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

You blame the dark romance BookTok recommendations you've been indulging in for your sudden craving for a little, or a lot, of spice. That, and the three-month fascination you had with Ghostface after watching Scream 6.

Before your mind can wander to your boyfriend wearing a delicious mask as he pounds into you, you shake your head to clear your thoughts and smile widely, choosing to believe him over your own worries for a change.

Encircling your arms around his waist, you place a kiss on his chest as you always do, hoping the tenderness and love from your lips reach his heart. “I would say go to the gym with me, but I like you just as you are,” you say gently, hoping that if he did, in fact, hear the conversation, it will put his mind at ease. That, and because you mean it wholeheartedly.

There isn’t a man in the world that could compare to your boyfriend, and you wouldn’t want to change any aspect of him. Not his tardiness, not his gentleness, and certainly not his soul.

Jaeyun feels your warmth and the sincerity in your voice. Your words provide a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. He wraps his arms around you tighter, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I love you so fucking much, Y/N. You know I would do anything for you, right?”

You look up at him and nod. “I know, baby.”

It’s strange how you are both having a silent conversation with your words. Each of you is reassuring the other, yet meaning different things. You are telling him that despite your own fantasies, he would never have to change just to meet them.

Jaeyun, on the other hand, is conveying his commitment that he’s about to fulfil each and every single one of them.

_____

Jaeyun waits anxiously for the sound of your keys jingling in the lock as you secure the door behind you. The moment he hears it, he springs into action, heart pounding with a mix of determination and trepidation. He’s taken the day off work specifically for this - a day to explore a world he has no right to be stepping into, but one he is compelled to understand for your sake.

As the sound of your footsteps fades away, Jaeyun makes his way to the bedroom, his sanctuary of comfort and intimacy. Today, however, it feels like uncharted territory. The room is filled with reminders of your shared life: photographs capturing moments of joy, your favourite books stacked neatly on the nightstand, and the scent of your perfume lingering in the air. It all feels both reassuring and daunting.

Jaeyun sits at your shared desk, his heart pounding as he opens your laptop. Rather than logging into his own account, he attempts to access yours. It’s not that you’ve ever hidden anything from him; he’s just never needed to know your password or lurk in your browsing history. You’ve always been an open book. That is, until now.

Determined to delve into your private world to better understand and satisfy your cravings in bed, Jaeyun convinces himself that his intentions are pure. Logging into your account and discovering any form of porn you might own feels inherently better than randomly searching the internet. Surely, you must have a treasure trove of knowledge about your desires just sitting in plain sight, waiting to be explored. He just needs the password to unlock it.

Staring at your account login screen, he watches the cursor blink patiently in the password box. His mind races, trying to guess what it could be. The first thing that comes to mind is your anniversary. With a confident smile, he types in the date, knowing that it’s his own password as well. But when the message ‘Incorrect Pin’ flashes on the screen, his confidence wavers. He sits back, eyes wide with surprise.

What could it possibly be, then? Jaeyun runs through a list of possible passwords in his mind: your birthday, the name of your favourite pet, maybe even a significant place. Each attempt is met with the same frustrating result—‘Incorrect Pin.’

After a few more failed tries, he feels a pang of guilt but pushes it aside. This is for the greater good, he tells himself. This is to make you happy. He takes a deep breath and thinks more deeply about what the password could be. Something personal, something meaningful. He recalls moments you've shared, your inside jokes, and your shared passions. Then it hits him: your favourite band.

If there was another Jaeyun in your life, it was Lee Jaeyun from TO1. He’s not a jealous person but for that man, he is the most green-nosed, spiteful gremlin. Day after day he has had to hear about him despite the short answers and disinterest he shows, it doesn’t deter you in the slightest. It doesn’t help they have the same name either.

Pulling out his phone, he searches for the leader’s date of birth, already resigned to the idea that this will work and that he will have to somehow get you to change it before he becomes the human embodiment of envy. Typing in ‘160800’, the computer finally unlocks with ease. His face falls as the screen reveals your desktop, confirming his suspicion. Maybe to save himself the tiny heartache, he should have just searched for all of this on his own account; that’s what he gets for snooping, he supposes.

Jaeyun takes a moment to compose himself, shaking off the petty jealousy that flares up. He reminds himself why he’s doing this: to better understand your desires and make you happy. With a sigh, he begins navigating through your files, searching for anything that might give him insight into your fantasies.

The wallpaper is a picture of you and him on your third date to the petting farm. You both were covered up to the heavens, puffer jackets, scarves, and gloves to match since it was a bitingly cold winter. Jaeyun had insisted you go to the Christmas markets since it was one of the most romantic things to do; taking pictures under the lights and riding the swings, all while sharing kisses and nuzzling his nose with yours in an attempt to stay warm in the night.

But you had other plans. You wanted to see the cows and pigs instead, petting them and feeding them with the guidance of the farmer. It was one of the best dates of your life, Jaeyun had never seen you on such a high and he has still to replicate the elation on your face from the picture. Despite both of you getting covered in mud and earning a cold from the trip - that just meant cuddles in bed the next few days which then resulted in the first ‘I love you’ being shared - he is so glad you talked him into it.

His heart pounds at the memory, a fond smile growing on his face. There is no better joy to him than seeing you happy. And that brings him back to his original task.

Clicking on the browser, Jaeyun goes to your bookmarks first, scouring for anything that could seem on the darker side. However, it’s filled with movie links and furniture you’re considering buying when you redecorate the living room.

He then recalls something you said on the phone about BookTok and frantically searches for the app on the computer. Once he sees the familiar logo, he clicks on it quickly and heads straight for your favourites. Luckily for him, you are a folder freak and categorise everything, so it’s easy to scroll past the TO1 edits, cooking recipes, and things Jaeyun would like folders to find the coveted book rec folder.

He clicks on the first one and grabs his phone, ready to make a list of every kink that is hidden within the reviews. Two hours and fourteen minutes later, he finds his mind completely immersed in your fantasy world filled with CEOs, bikers, vampires, guns, knives, BDSM, corruption, cockwarming, and many, many, other things. Each paragraph and trigger warning becomes more outlandish than the last, and he realises he may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Jaeyun is thankful there isn’t anything that seems too brutal in there, but there are definitely some things he just point-blank refuses to take part in. Personally, he can’t imagine you are into some of the more extreme aspects either, but he understands that some elements come hand-in-hand with books like these. A few ideas are swirling in his head, however. There are things he doesn’t know if he can do, but for you, he will try his best.

As Jaeyun jots down notes, he starts with the milder kinks and gradually works his way up to the more intense ones: dominance and submission, rough play, role-playing, and bondage. These are things he feels he can explore with you, drawing inspiration from the confident and assertive male leads he's encountered in your favourite books. He imagines scenarios where he takes control, ties you up, and whispers dirty things in your ear—thankful to those characters for providing him with some content to work with. His pulse quickens at the thought, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through him.

Yet, there is one recurring theme that stands out among all your fantasies:

Knives.

It’s something you verbally pointed out in the phone call and is flagged as a potential trigger in almost all of the books you've favourited. The mere thought of it makes Jaeyun’s cheeks flush and sends a chill down his body. The idea of causing you harm, even in a controlled and consensual manner, is unsettling to him.

But Jaeyun is committed to understanding and fulfilling your desires. He knows this is about pleasing you and embracing your fantasies to keep his role as your perfect partner. There must be safe ways to explore this particular kink, ways that satisfy your cravings without risking harm.

So, with determination, Jaeyun rolls up his sleeves and cracks his neck from side to side, preparing himself for a deep dive into your kink. Tonight, he will make sure you never have to go back to those books again.

_____

Walking through the door, you see the lights entirely out, causing a bit of alarm to ring inside your chest. Jaeyun is always home by now on his days off, so it’s strange that the house is in darkness.

“Baby? Are you home?” you whisper-shout, just on the off chance that he has decided to take a nap and it’s run through to 8pm. He has been working hard the past few days, so exhaustion is granted, but it’s just not like him to at least wait up for you.

You take off your shoes and place your bag next to the door, waiting for a response that never comes. Arching a brow, you look around, seeing that the house is in peak condition, just the way you left it this morning. Jaeyun is notorious for leaving a pint glass on the table and a plate that held his lunch on the coffee table, yet, nothing.

Gingerly, you make your way up the stairs, the balls of your feet never hitting the surface as you tiptoe slowly. You can’t understand why your mind went straight to a man murdering your lover while you were away, yet, your brain has conjured up this picture in your mind. The thought makes your heart pound and your throat go dry; if there was one person you couldn’t live without, it was Jaeyun.

“Baby, please answer me?” you say a bit louder at the top of the stairs, hoping he’ll respond and dispel any worries that are currently stabbing in your heart.

There is a soft flicker coming from your bedroom, a golden hue seeping through the glass pane at the top. It doesn’t smell like a fire, and you don’t own a lamp like that, so your curiosity is piqued. Your favourite scent of vanilla and amberwood engulfs the hall, causing you to drift rather than charge to your bedroom. The familiar fragrance calms your nerves, making you feel like you’re being welcomed home in the most intimate way.

Reaching for the door, you timidly open it, your hand trembling slightly. As the door creaks open, the soft glow of candlelight bathes the room in a warm, intimate atmosphere. The bed is adorned with fresh, crisp linens, and there are petals of your favourite pink and yellow tulips scattered over the floor. You’ve never been one for roses, and Jaeyun knows this, opting to get you only the best. The sight of the room, meticulously prepared, tugs at your heartstrings, filling you with a blend of love and anticipation.

You step further into the room, careful not to disrupt the scene before you. The effort Jaeyun has put into this is clearly extensive, and you would hate to mess with it before he has the chance to show it off to you. That does beg the question, though: where is he?

Just as you mentally ponder his whereabouts, you feel a pair of hands grip your shoulders, massaging you slowly. The sensation is different, though; it’s not Jaeyun’s normal soft touch. His fingers feel chunkier and are clearly covered by something. A shiver runs down your spine as the mystery deepens.

“I thought you were never coming home, baby,” he whispers into your ear, his lips softly grazing your lobe as he speaks. The sensation of his proximity and the lower octave of his tone instantly travels down to your core. There’s an edge to his voice that you’ve never heard before, making your pulse quicken with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

You twist your head to look at him, but the darkness of the room prevents you from fully seeing his beautiful, strong features, however, that big nose and blonde hair are still prominent enough to make you weak. What you do notice in addition, though, are the thick, black leather gloves that hold you in place. The sight of them makes your heart race; they add an unexpected, thrilling element to the scene.

In confusion, you reach up to touch them, the feeling of them oddly cool despite the heat invading both the room and your body. “Jaeyun, it’s like 16 degrees outside, why are you—”

“Shh, I’m doing something special for you. Just relax, Princess.” The use of “Princess” sends a jolt through you. It’s a term of endearment reserved for special occasions: birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. It must mean you are either forgetting a crucial moment in your relationship or he’s up to something. Boyfriends don’t do “something special” without a reason.

Turning your body to face him, you eye him with intense scepticism. “What did you do wrong?”

He laughs, but it’s not his usual heart-warming giggle. It’s mocking, as if you have the nerve to ask the question. “Me? I think it was you who did something wrong, baby"

Okay, now you really are confused. There is nothing you have done wrong, and you know it. Plus, if you did, Jaeyun would whine about it to you right after and make you give at least three kisses as an apology. Now that you look at him, you take in his appearance. His beautiful blonde hair styled to fall just slightly over his usual puppy eyes, the water ducts of his eyelids are painted with a subtle liner, and there is a red tint to his lips, only making them more enticing. The cute boyfriend you love so dearly is nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by a smug-looking man with eyes glaring into yours.

What you don’t know is that Jaeyun’s heart is pounding in his chest, and the fire in his eyes is determined to see this plan through. He needs everything to go well, and that means staying in character and giving you the fucking you deserve, the one you crave so bad.

“What did I do, Jaeyun?” you ask a bit breathlessly, a frown forming on your face at the prospect of hurting your man. The idea of disappointing him gnaws at your heart, yet the unfamiliar intensity in his eyes sends a thrill through you.

It almost cracks Jaeyun’s well-curated persona that he spent all afternoon figuring out, from the white shirt with the collar open and the sleeves rolled up, the gloves on his hands, to the daring glint in his eye. He’s determined to give you everything your heart desires tonight. He softens his gaze, just a touch, and his hand gently runs over your cheek, the once thoughtful and endearing gesture now turned slightly sinister with the leather of the glove, the cracks bumping over your blushed skin.

“You did something bad, Princess, something I’m going to have to punish you for,” he replies to your question, never actually answering it but rather giving you more queries. His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument, and it makes your heart pound in your chest. You’re torn between trepidation and arousal, the lines between them blurring as you stand before him.

He takes his eyes off of you, giving up the harsh stare, and focuses on your work shirt. “Take it off,” he instructs demandingly, his eyebrows arching expectantly. His tone leaves no room for hesitation, and your hands move almost automatically.

Almost under a spell, you nod, fumbling with the top button. Your mind is racing with trepidation and nervousness as you try to process this new side of your boyfriend. You aren’t complaining; he looks fucking hot, and the way he’s directing you is making your legs shake in the best possible way. The atmosphere in the room is charged with raw, electric energy, every second stretching out with heightened anticipation.

He watches the first few buttons pop open, but you’re going far too slow for him, causing him to take action. He grabs the flimsy collar of your pink shirt, ripping it open with tenacity. Buttons fly across the room and clatter against the surfaces of the floor and the chest of drawers, your shocked gasp echoing the sound.

A smirk marks his face as he sees the pretty white bra holding your perfect tits up. He loves your body more than anything, and honestly, he isn’t thrilled about marking it up tonight. However, the more he thinks about it, something is enticing about the marks being made by him. His desire to please you is interwoven with a burgeoning sense of ownership and dominance, the sight of you laid bare before him stirring something deep within, the persona of being dominant now enveloping his whole demeanour.

“Are you wearing the matching panties?” he asks carefully, knowing full well you never leave the house in an odd set, scared of the bad luck it could bring.

Nodding, you already know what he is asking and unzip your black, matt skirt, letting it fall to the floor as you stand in nothing but the lingerie set you bought spontaneously, and by fuck are you glad you wore it today. It was not intentional, your expectations of coming home were not to this but rather a quiet night in the way you usually do, but something compelled you to the sexier underwear today. Perhaps in the back of your mind, you knew something special was going to happen.

Jaeyun takes you in, staring blatantly at your body and thinks of all the ways he is ready to take you tonight. He wants this to be the best fuck you’ve ever had and you are making it so easy for him to do so.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful, Princess,” he compliments, looking at you with hungry eyes. The gesture should make you feel insecure but it only fuels your need to have him closer. Blushing you look down, which he quickly rectifies, grasping at your jaw tight enough for you to feel commanded but not hurt, and brings his face closer to yours. “Get on the bed, on your knees and wait until I tell you to move.”

If your pussy could cry, it would. Your typical love-making boyfriend is now showing his more dominant side, and it’s driving you wild. You move to the bed, your legs feeling like jelly, and position yourself on your knees as instructed. The air is thick with anticipation, your body aching for his touch.

Jaeyun watches you, his eyes dark with desire. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him: you, waiting obediently, dressed in nothing but that perfect lingerie set. His heart pounds in his chest, a mix of love and primal need fueling his actions. He wants to make you feel things you’ve never felt before, to push the boundaries of pleasure and trust between you.

Walking towards you, he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself behind you. His gloved hands run down your back, the cool leather a stark contrast to your heated skin. “You look so fucking perfect like this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion and desire. The sensation of his gloved hands on your bare skin sends waves of pleasure through you, making you arch your back slightly, seeking more of him.

He reaches around to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently through the lace of your bra. The pressure is just right, enough to make you gasp and press back against him. “Do you like that, Princess?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe out, the word escaping you in a rush of need.

“Good,” he replies, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. “I want to hear you tonight. I want to know exactly how much you’re enjoying this. And if I need to stop, say the word and I will.”

Before you can fully comprehend his words, Jaeyun reaches to the side of the bed, retrieving something. The air is thick with anticipation, the suspense almost tangible. The idea that your typically gentle boyfriend has transformed into someone so dominant is exhilarating. Your heart races as you wait for his next move, the atmosphere charged with excitement.

Suddenly, your hands are bound together with a silky pink ribbon. The fabric is soft against your skin, a stark contrast to the intense emotions bubbling inside you. A shiver of need runs down your spine, your breath hitching as Jaeyun tightens the ribbon around your wrists. This gentle restraint heightens your vulnerability, making you feel even more exposed and ready for whatever Jaeyun has planned.

He ties the ribbon into a delicate bow, his fingers moving with confident precision. The care he takes with each loop and knot sends a wave of warmth through you, reminding you of the love and trust that form the foundation of this intense experience, one you didn’t ask him for yet somehow he knew you wanted The bow rests softly against your skin, a symbol of the control you've willingly surrendered to him.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration and desire. Leaning in, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "You’re perfect like this, Princess."

His words send a rush of heat through you, particularly to your core, your body responding to the deep, commanding tone. Every touch, every whisper, ignites a fire within you, your anticipation almost unbearable. The sensation of being bound and at his mercy only heightens your arousal. This is what you have been craving and he is feeding you full.

Jaeyun's gloved hands move slowly over your body, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. The cool leather contrasts with your warmth, sending shivers of pleasure through you. He traces the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, and the dip of your waist, his touch both gentle and firm. Each caress leaves a trail of tingling sensation, your body hypersensitive to his every movement.

Kneeling behind you, his chest pressed against your back, he whispers, "You trust me, don’t you?"

"Always" you breathe out, your voice a mix of need and certainty. You trust him completely, ready to let him guide you through this new and exhilarating experience. Although you have always dreamed of this, you still don’t really know what to expect but if Jaeyun is on the other side of it, you feel more than safe.

His hands sliding down your arms to rest on your bound wrists. He holds them gently, the ribbon a reminder of your submission. "I’m going to make you feel so good, Princess."

His words are filled with love and adoration despite the commanding edge in his tone and grip. While he is playing the role of a dominant, the tenderness and affection he has for you remain palpable. He is still your loving boyfriend, and he will ensure you feel cherished and safe throughout this experience.

With a careful, guiding touch, he lays you down on your back, your bound hands resting against your stomach. He moves your legs so you're completely flat and comfortable against the mattress. The vulnerability of your position heightens your awareness of every sensation, yet you surrender yourself to him with ease, trusting him completely.

Jaeyun's smile is a mixture of pride and desire as he observes your obedience. He climbs over you, reaching for one of the candles on the bedside table. The soft glow of the flame illuminates his face, casting shadows that dance across his features, making him look even more enticing.

Sitting himself firmly over your core, he holds the candle above you, the wax slowly beginning to melt. The anticipation sends shivers through your body, the heat from the candle contrasting with the coolness of the room. This was something you always wished to try, granted, it was on him rather than you but you welcomed the experience nonetheless.

"Are you ready, Princess?" he asks, his voice a husky whisper filled with promise.

You nod, your breath hitching in your throat. "Yes," you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement.

His eyes lock onto yours, ensuring you are fully present in this moment. "Tell me if it’s too much," he instructs, his tone softening for a moment. He wants to be rough with you but also let you know that you are in control to stop and go as you please.

"I will," you promise, trusting him implicitly.

With that, he tilts the candle, allowing a drop of hot wax to fall onto your bare skin, just above your breast. The sensation is sharp and intense, a sudden burst of heat that quickly cools, leaving a tingling trail of pleasure in its wake. You gasp, your body arching slightly at the unexpected sensation. Instinctively, your arms move to reach for him, but bound by the ribbon, all you can do is stretch them above your head, your fists clenching. There is nothing you can do because if you interfere, he will simply stop, and that is the last thing you want.

So, you bear the mingling pain and pleasure, wiggling under him with lust as your arousal soaks the freshly made bed. Each drop of wax is accompanied by the heat of the flame, adding to the wonder you are feeling. The mixture of sensations – the heat of the wax, the coolness of the air, the firmness of the mattress beneath you, and the weight of Jaeyun’s body – creates a symphony of pleasure that envelops you completely. Your breaths come in short, shallow gasps, your mind consumed by the intense, intoxicating experience.

Your legs kick involuntarily as he moves the candle lower, dripping the hot wax into your navel. The feeling is overwhelming over the sensitive area, making your whole body yelp and your hips buck up into him. Each new drop intensifies your arousal, your body responding eagerly to the mix of pleasure and slight pain.

Jaeyun's eyes darken with satisfaction at your reactions, his dominant persona growing stronger. The wax paints your body like paint on a fresh canvas, telling a story of your shared passion and want. The sight is so beautiful he can’t believe he created such a masterpiece.

Satisfied with his work, he sets the candle aside and runs his gloved hands over your body, tracing the cooling trails of wax with a gentle touch. The contrasting sensations of the smooth leather against your heated skin make you shiver, your body hypersensitive to his every touch.

"You're doing so well, Princess," he praises, his voice a low, soothing rumble that sends waves of pleasure through you.

His hands move lower, parting your thighs as he positions himself between them, his body sleeking to lie half on and half off the bed. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your body aching for his touch, for his tongue. He leans down, his breath hot against your core, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Nothing makes you happier than when Jaeyun is between your legs and that skilful tongue of his is making you cum over and over again. With your hands tied to grant you just enough freedom, you reach down into his hair and grasp it, guiding him closer to where you need it most.

“Jaeyun, please, I need you so bad,” you whimper, the tone of your voice desperate and needy much to his satisfaction.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "God, I love it when you beg," he murmurs, his lips curling into a knowing grin. If there is one thing he always makes you do in the bedroom, it’s begging, and fuck does he eat it up every single time.

Without an ounce of hesitation, his mouth descends upon you, his tongue circling your clit with fervour, his lips creating a comforting cocoon around his actions. The grip on his blonde hair is harsher than before, your fingers threading through with ease as you push him further into your heat, his nose subsequently grazing just above where he is focusing. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, each flick of his tongue sending pulses of pleasure through your body.

His still-gloved hands grip your thighs and push them apart, holding you wide open for him as he sucks and licks with velocity. His eagerness to please you is seeping through, the boyfriend that you know and love with a need to make sure you’re receiving the most intense experience of your life. The leather of his gloves against your skin adds an unexpected thrill, a reminder of the control he holds and the lengths he is willing to go to make you feel incredible.

Sucking on your bud, his eyes glance up at you with a mischievous glint, watching your every reaction. The connection between you deepens, a silent communication passing between you, the love he has for you evident in the sparkle you see flash before you. Your breath hitches, and your back arches off the bed as his tongue works its magic, each movement precise and deliberate; your body is his instrument, and he is playing it masterfully, drawing out notes of ecstasy that resonate in your very core.

Your moans grow louder, more desperate, filling the room with the sounds of your pleasure. Jaeyun's grip on your thighs tightens, his determination evident in the way he devours you. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to bring you to the brink of orgasm.

"Please, Jaeyun," you gasp, your voice barely a whisper, laced with need.

His response is a deep, satisfied hum against your clit, the vibrations adding another layer to your mounting pleasure. The combination of his skilled mouth and the teasing flicks of his tongue drive you wild, your body trembling with the intensity of your arousal.

Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he increases his pace, his tongue moving faster, his suction stronger. The world fades away, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on you, the heat pooling in your belly, ready to explode.

With a final, powerful suck, he sends you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure, your moans turning into cries of rapture. He doesn't stop, prolonging your climax, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you're left breathless and spent.

Jaeyun laps up all of your juices like a dog craving water in the summer sun, his eyes closed to enhance his senses as he cleans you up. He loves nothing more than eating you out, seeing it as an honour rather than a chore. The taste and smell of you drive him wild. He continues to slurp your essence, even though you’re squirming each time the tip of his tongue drags along your clit.

“Jaeyun, it’s too much,” you gasp as he nibbles around your sensitive area, each touch sending shivers through your body.

Removing his face from your cunt, he licks the wetness from his lips with a sadistic smirk, his eyes predatory and ready to ravage you at any moment. The intense gaze makes you shudder with longing, the need for his cock so obvious that you’re moving down with your legs, your pussy chasing his still-clothed erection.

But Jaeyun has other plans, much more sinister plans.

“Don’t be so needy, Princess,” he growls, slapping your pussy once and snapping his fingers. “Move up.” The command in his voice leaves you no room for error or hesitation. You move up, the restraint on your wrists making it a little more difficult than anticipated.

As you lay your head on the soft pillow that carries his scent, Jaeyun smiles in satisfaction, reaching under the bed to find something. If it’s anything like the silk ribbon that is still bounding your wrists, you’re excitedly awaiting the reveal. The prolepsis is almost too much to bear, your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him find exactly what he is looking for.

When his hand re-emerges, it holds a knife: the handle thick and enticing, the blade sharp and dangerous . Your eyes widen in a mix of fear and excitement, your breath catching in your throat. This is all you’ve ever wanted, a fantasy you’ve kept hidden, and now it’s coming to life. How did he know?

The sight of the silver glinting in the candlelight sends a thrill through you, your body trembling with a potent blend of arousal and trepidation. If there was one thing you never expected Jaeyun to do, it was this. Often, he would apologise during sex if he pressed into you too hard, so you can’t understand what the sudden change is about.

Tying you up, slapping your pussy, all of that you could understand, none causing enough damage to scar you, yet the knife he wields is an instrument meant to deface you in some way, to hurt you which is exactly the opposite of anything Jaeyun has ever wished to do upon you.

Rolling the knife between his covered fingers as though it is a drumstick, he looks at you menacingly. “Does this shit turn you on? A knife?” he scoffs at the question he doesn’t expect an answer for. “It can do so much damage yet you finger yourself over the thought of it, don’t you?”

All the novels you’ve read suddenly come rushing back but you swore you never spoke to him about this before. Knives aren’t exactly a common bedroom item so for him to know this tiny detail about your fantasy is so…

…The phone call. He did hear it.

Your heartbeat quickens with a mixture of love and anxiety. Jaeyun is doing all of this for you because of what you said, going to extraordinary lengths to fulfil your desires. Most wouldn’t care to cater to your wants, yet here he is, stepping out of his comfort zone just to please you. The realisation floods through you, bringing a wave of gratitude and affection.

Jaeyun notices the shift in your expression immediately, smiling knowingly. “Oh, yeah, I know all about your twisted fantasies,” he smirks, pointing the knife to himself. At first, panic grips you, fearing what he might do, but to your relief, he catches the blade on his shirt and drags it down with force, ripping the material effortlessly, and leaving his torso exposed. “And I’m going to make sure every single one of them comes true.”

Taking in the sight of his abs, you whimper, longing to touch them, yet you resist, keeping your hands firmly above your head in obedience. Jaeyun’s body causes butterflies to erupt in your tummy, the movement stirring your arousal even more.

He brings the knife to your chest, pressing ever so lightly. He spent considerable time practising the pressure of the blade on various objects, ensuring he wouldn’t hurt you in any way. His meticulous preparation is evident as he caters to your needs without going too far.

Your lungs tighten as you feel the cold steel between your breasts, the sharp tip piercing just enough to feel it but not cutting you. The sensation is electrifying, a blend of fear and excitement that heightens every nerve in your body. Your breaths come in shallow gasps, your chest rising and falling rapidly under his touch.

“Just breathe, Princess,” Jaeyun murmurs soothingly, his voice a gentle counterpoint to the sharpness of the knife. His eyes never leave yours, maintaining a connection that grounds you even in the intensity of the moment. The trust between you is palpable, a silent understanding that he will never truly harm you.

He moves the blade with precision, tracing patterns over your skin, each touch sending shivers down your spine. The cool metal contrasts with the heat of your body, creating a tantalising mix of sensations that leaves you breathless. Your nipples harden, the chill of the knife adding to your arousal.

Jaeyun’s eyes darken with desire as he watches your reactions, his own arousal evident in the bulge pressing against his trousers. The power he wields, the control he has over your pleasure, fuels his own need despite his own worries, making him more determined to give you everything you desire.

The knife slides down to your stomach, pressing lightly against your navel. The sensation is both thrilling and terrifying, your body trembling under his ministrations. You can feel every inch of the blade’s journey, the delicate pressure a reminder of his control and your submission. The cold steel creates a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body, each touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Is this what you wanted, Princess?” he asks, his voice a seductive whisper. The intensity in his eyes makes your core tighten, your need for him overwhelming. The power dynamic between you amplifies your arousal, each moment of vulnerability intensifying the bond you share.

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, swallowing air as your mouth dries up in complete lust for the man. The anticipation and desire build within you, each second stretched taut with expectation.

Jaeyun pouts mockingly, the corners of his lips curling into a teasing smile. The blade digs a tiny bit deeper, just enough to nick your skin but not draw blood. The sharp sting elicits a gasp from your lips, a mix of pain and pleasure that sends waves of heat through your body. The sensation is electrifying, your senses heightened by the thrill of the knife's edge and the knowledge of Jaeyun��s precise control.

His eyes never leave yours, the connection between you unbreakable. The trust and love you share make this moment possible, allowing you to surrender completely to his whims. His free hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips tenderly, a stark contrast to the harshness of the blade against your skin. The leather of his glove traces your lip and you suck on it gently, sparking a twitch in his cock.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect.”

His words, filled with adoration and possessiveness, send another wave of arousal through you. Every touch, every word, is a testament to his dedication to you, his willingness to explore your deepest fantasies.

His lips lean into yours, the edge of the blade now scarily close to your tender area. You quiver, scared yet enthralled at the idea that one move could change the pace of this night. His plump lips peck yours, leaving you longing for more, but he is already pulling away, sitting back up and looking thoughtfully at the knife in his hand.

“It’s strange that you crave this. I’m still trying to understand what it is about it that you love so much,” he questions, the shine of the steel hitting the candlelight once more. “Is it really better than my cock?”

You shake your head frantically, never wishing to set doubts into his head about his ability to please you. That cock has done more for you in the two years you have been together than anyone has ever done in your life. The planets that rocket has taken you to is more than you could ever wish for, no kink could ever top it.

Swiftly, he flicks the knife in his hand, the blade digging into his glove. To be fair, the whole reason he put on the gloves was exactly for this reason. Initially, he was going to spread you open and fuck you with it handle first just like in the books he skimmed on TikTok, but as he kneels between your thighs, power in his hands, he realises this is his opportunity to show you just how little you need this to satisfy you.

Licking his lips, he drags the handle down your slit, causing you to mewl out in want. At this point, you’ll take anything, all the teasing from him and greed to be fulfilled inside your body is too much to ignore. You need to be stuffed by something and you need it now.

The curve of the haft sits teasingly at your entrance, begging to be inside you, or rather, you’re begging it to be inside you. Your hips lift instinctively, seeking the pressure and the pleasure that promises to follow. Your breaths come in short, desperate gasps, your eyes locked onto his, silently pleading for release.

Jaeyun’s eyes burn with an intensity that matches your own. “You want this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. The way he looks at you, with a mixture of dominance and affection, sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please, Jaeyun, I need it.”

His smirk widens at your admission. “Too bad, Princess,” he suddenly chucks the knife away, the metal clattering against the floor as it slides out of reach. Your eyes widen in shock and confusion, a whimper escaping your lips at the unexpected turn of events.

“But-” you begin, your voice cracking with desperation. Jaeyun silences you with a finger pressed to your lips, his expression softening just a fraction as he leans in close.

“Trust me,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “I know what you need more than you do.”

With that, he shifts his position, his body pressing you down into the mattress with a delicious weight. He whips off his gloves and his bare hands roam your body, fingers tracing over your sensitive skin, sending sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. The sensation of his skin against your flesh is intoxicating and desperately what you need, heightening your awareness of every movement.

Jaeyun’s mouth moves down, his lips enveloping your breast, taking a nipple between his teeth and tugging lightly. You gasp, the sharp pleasure shooting straight to your core, your hips lifting instinctively to seek more contact.

“Jaeyun,” you moan, your voice a desperate plea. In response, he lavishes attention on your other breast, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“I love it when you say my name like that,” he growls against your skin, his hands moving to grip your hips with a possessive intensity, just harsh enough to bruise you tomorrow. “Give me your wrists.”

Obliging, you offer your tied hands, presenting them as though they are a gift from you to him. The look in his eyes is fierce and tender all at once. He takes one of the ends of the bow, biting it gently before pulling, undoing his knot from earlier. The scene before you is so sensual that a tear rolls down your cheek, falling onto the bed beneath you.

The ribbon falls between you, resting on your body adorned with drops of wax. Jaeyun leaves it there, loving the way it decorates your skin. His eyes trace the path of the ribbon, admiring the contrast against your flesh.

He leans down, kissing the tear-streaked path on your cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice a mix of awe and adoration. “And you’re mine.”

His words send a shiver through you, the possessiveness in his tone amplifying your desire. His hands slide down your sides, fingers tracing the curves of your body with reverence. Every touch and every movement is deliberate, designed to heighten your pleasure.

Jaeyun’s lips follow the path of his hands, trailing kisses down your stomach, pausing to nuzzle the delicate skin just above your navel. His breath is warm against your skin, the sensation sending sparks of anticipation through you.

“Tell me what you want, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice a seductive growl. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you,” you breathe out, your voice trembling with need. “I need you inside me, Jaeyun.”

He smiles, already on his way to unbutton his slacks and take them off, trying his best to do it gracefully while still kneeling on the bed. Once his cock is free, his right hand grasps it firmly, stroking it with laziness.

The tip of his cock looks so delectable, the red, angry tip is begging to be satisfied, meaning he is enjoying this just as much as you are. Holding you steady, he positions himself between your thighs. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your body aching for his touch, for the feeling of him filling you completely.

“Please,” you beg, your voice breathless with need. “I need you, Jaeyun.”

“More than a knife?”

“Fuck the knife, I only want you, baby. Forever,” you whimper out, your pussy instinctively bucking up to find his cock, like two magnets destined for one another, just like your hearts. Never in your dreams did you think you could find a man like him, someone so easily willing to love you and everything you are, even the desires you hold deep in your heart.

His eyes gleam the same way they do when you tell him you love him or leave him to go to work. It’s adoration and acceptance that runs constantly throughout his blood and bones. The connection between you is palpable, a silent agreement that no matter where your fantasies take you, the love and trust you share will always bring you back to each other.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Jaeyun eases into you, the feeling of him stretching and filling you is pure bliss. You both let out a collective sigh, the initial penetration electrifying every nerve in your body. The sensation of him inside you, coupled with the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, is overwhelming in the best possible way.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice thick with gratification. He pauses for a moment, allowing you both to savour the connection before he begins to move.

His thrusts start slow, each one measured and deep, designed to draw out the pleasure and build the anticipation. Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch your back, meeting each of his movements with equal fervour.

The room fills with the symphony of your passion, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the creak of the bed, and your shared moans of ecstasy. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, your senses heightened, your body responding to his every touch.

“Jaeyun,” you gasp, your voice a breathless plea. “Harder.”

His eyes flash with a primal intensity, and he complies, increasing the force and speed of his thrusts. The bed shakes beneath you, the headboard tapping rhythmically against the wall as he drives into you with a fierce, unrelenting pace.

You grip the sheets tightly as the tip of his cock bruises your cervix, his hips moving with pure desire. This is the hardest he’s fucked you in his life, the grip on your waist and the powerful thrusts enough to leave marks. His lips devour yours in a passionate kiss, adding to the perfect blend of love and rawness you’ve been craving.

Tears well up in your eyes as he takes you to greater heights than anyone has before. You've never needed elaborate kinks to feel satisfied; you just needed Jaeyun. Yet, as he dominates you now, you realise how intoxicating his control can be. Maybe he could adopt this dominant persona more often because he is undeniably skilled at it.

Every movement, every touch, and every word from him ignites a fire within you, building towards an explosive climax. The room echoes with your shared moans, the bed creaking in protest as he thrusts into you relentlessly. Each sensation, from the sting of his bites to the deep ache of his penetration, pushes you closer to the edge of euphoria.

As your bodies meld together in passion and rhythm, you feel a deep connection that transcends mere physicality. It’s a dance of trust and desire, a symphony of pleasure orchestrated by the man who knows you intimately. In this moment, wrapped in his arms and lost in the ecstasy of his love, you realise that Jaeyun is not just fulfilling your fantasies - he’s surpassing them, guiding you to realms of bliss you never dared to imagine.

“I’m close, Princess,” he mutters, his head burying deep into your neck as his hips falter slightly.

You nod eagerly, your nails digging into his back to convey your urgency, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. His cock feels so snug inside you that when you tighten involuntarily at his words, he’s drawn deeper into your depths, unable to resist your passionate grip as you cascade violently into orgasm.

“Fuck, Jaeyun!” you scream, your mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut, surrendering to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that engulfs every one of your senses. The intensity of your release leaves you trembling, your body quaking with the aftershocks of ecstasy as he continues to drive into you, prolonging your shared ecstasy.

In the midst of your euphoria, you feel Jaeyun’s own climax building, his movements becoming more urgent and erratic. His moans mingle with yours in a symphony of shared pleasure, the culmination of desire and connection that binds you together in this intimate moment.

As he finds release within you, his body stiffens with the force of his orgasm, his breaths ragged against your skin. He drawls out a long and desperate ‘fuck’ as he released his seed inside of you, painting your walls a pretty shade of white, the warmth of his cum somehow a soothing balm over to your shaking rapture.

Both of your hearts are racing as you come down, each of you just lost in sloppy kisses and hands roaming over one another. This was easily the most intense orgasm you have ever had thanks to the build-up that Jaeyun has provided and he feels the exact same way.

In the quiet aftermath, as you lie entwined and breathless, you revel in the depth of your connection with Jaeyun. Each gasp and whispered declaration of love reaffirms the bond you share, a bond forged through trust, intimacy, and the unrivalled pleasure of loving each other completely.

You look at him, his eyes still dazed but present. “I’m sorry you heard that phone call. I promise, I love you so much and you are enough for me, I don’t need anything more than I just need you.” You hope the words come across as sincere and heartfelt because you mean every syllable of it.

aeyun’s expression softens as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. “I know, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice tender. “I love you too, more than anything. Nothing can shake what we have. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I can do more if you just ask.”

His words sink deep into your heart, reminding you of his unwavering commitment and willingness to fulfil your desires. You feel a pang of regret for not confiding in him sooner, for letting fear hold you back from sharing your deepest fantasies with the man who loves you unconditionally.

“That’s the thing,” you say softly, your fingers lightly tracing the contours of his face. “I was afraid. Afraid that if I told you, it might change things between us. I love you so much, Jaeyun, and the thought of losing you scared me more than anything.”

Jaeyun’s gaze holds yours with such tenderness that it melts away your remaining doubts. “You’ll never lose me, Princess,” he reassures, his thumb brushing over your lips. “I want us to explore everything together, to share in each other’s desires and pleasures. Your happiness means everything to me.”

His sincerity washes over you like a soothing wave, filling you with a sense of relief and newfound courage. You realise now that true intimacy lies not only in physical connection but also in emotional honesty and vulnerability.

“I promise to communicate better,” you vow, meeting his gaze with determination. “To trust in us, in our love, and to share everything with you, no matter how wild or unconventional.”

He laughs heartily, his pretty teeth coming into display as he shakes his head. “I’ll do whatever you want, baby. Just say the kink and I’m there.”

You nod and press your lips against his, your body instinctively laying upon his, your thighs now straddling his side as your tongue explores his mouth with fervour. You hope everyone in the world gets to experience the love and trust that you and Jaeyun have,

Drawing back, he looks at you a little seriously, causing you to sit up straight. “We do need to talk about your computer password being Lee Jaeyun’s birthday and not mine,” he says half jokingly, half serious

Narrowing your eyes, you look deep into his. “Now, how do you know what my computer pin is?”

Instead of giving you an answer, he pulls you in closer, enveloping your lips with his as he swirls his tongue gently with his, hoping to distract you from the question It should only take a few more orgasms to make sure you never remember the question, saving him the scolding he would get for checking your password.

Maybe he’ll gag you this time, just in case.

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @pockettwinzz @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @emi-en @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @iikeustar @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #jaeyun smut #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #aj writes #enhypen hard hours

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persephoneflouwers · 2 years ago

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🤍.

#it’s been a month without her #how can time pass by so fast #I have never spent so much time without seeing her #except for the lockdown #cause we sent 54 days apart #it was so stressful and scary #and now it will be this same feeling forever #there is no way i will stop missing her #i tear up every time im thinking of her #i can barely say the word and mention her now #i think think you can get used to it in the way people say #i think you will always miss them but will create this safe imaginary life in your mind #where they still are beside you and you kinda feel them around you all the time #but it wont go away #some voids are too big to pretend you are gonna replace that emptiness with something else #i miss her and I will forever wish I could have had her here just one more minute #one minute. i wish memory could help me remember what did we talk about the last time i call her #but it keeps giving me just one painful memory of her saying it was so long until we would see again’#I wish I was there for her #i am being good at divind work case and my real life #i dont get much stressed now #but this feeling of loneliness i feel is overwhelming and i hope she will prove to me she’s here somehow #I desperately want to say to her I am sorry I wasn’t there and im sorry I left #the only thing i know is she was proud of me and that the only comfort thought i have

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 month ago

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He's A Killer

Summary: She’s known among her family and friends for being single, and everyone worries about her. Determined to prove them wrong, she finally makes her first move, only to discover that the person she likes is dangerous.

The second part : He's The Sweetest

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The emergency room of St. Grace Medical Center buzzes with activity. Doctors and nurses move swiftly, handling patients with precision. Voices blur together in the chaos, and the sharp scent of antiseptic fills the air.

You're inside the medical storage room, scanning shelves for the supplies the doctor requested: syringes, tubes, and medication vials. Besides, you is Clara, your co-worker and friend, busy sorting through trays.

"I told you I had that family dinner, right?" you say, picking up a pack of syringes.

"Yeah, how was it?" Clara asks, not looking up from the tray she's organizing.

“Dreadful. Dreadful. Dreadful,” you reply, shaking your head in exasperation.

Clara glances at you, a smirk forming. "Wow, three times? That bad, huh?"

The memory flashes through your mind: Sunday, family dinner. You sit across from your aunts, who seem more interested in your love life than the meal.

"Your mom’s worried about you, you know," one of your aunts says between bites. "She didn't tell you because she's afraid of hurting your feelings," another aunt adds. "You’re already over 30; the clock is ticking." "My friend’s son works at the oil company. I could get his contact if you want. He’s a good catch."

Back in the storage room, Clara's voice breaks through your thoughts. "Well, you probably won’t like this, but your aunt’s kinda right. I mean, bestie, I’m only saying this because I care about you."

You hum, trying to keep your focus on entering patient data into the system. Clara means well, but the topic is starting to get old.

“Honey, you’re a great friend and an amazing co-worker. Everyone here relies on you because you’re so reliable. You know why?” Clara’s voice softens as she leans in. “Because you’re single. You don’t have someone waiting for you, or someone to hang out with on Saturdays and Sundays.”

You freeze for a moment, glancing up at her with raised eyebrows.

“Please, go out and talk to someone," she continues. "You've been single for way too long. You deserve some love, girl. It’s not like you need to get married right away.”

Clara shudders, as if the thought gives her chills. “No, not at all! Just, you know, make friends first?” She winks playfully before gathering a tray of supplies and heading out to assist the doctor.

Alone in the storage room, you sigh, leaning against the counter for a moment. Clara means well, but every time someone offers to introduce you to someone, it irks you. You know you’ve been single for a long time—your whole life, really—but it’s not that you don’t want a relationship.

It’s complicated.

You've seen too many relationships fall apart. Your parents, your aunts, your cousins—all their stories weigh on you. The cheating, the abuse, the constant reminders from your cousins: “Don’t get married.” It’s no wonder you’re hesitant.

But what stings the most is finding out your father, who you always thought was a devoted husband, had cheated on your mom. That betrayal shaped your fears. You don’t want to end up like her—trapped in a painful, one-sided marriage.

Part of you is scared of commitment, scared of getting hurt. But another part of you craves it—a real connection. The irony of it all is that the same aunts pushing you to settle down are stuck in abusive marriages themselves. It’s almost comedic, in a sad, twisted way.

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside as you gather the last of the supplies.

🐼🐼🐼🐼🐼

Working at ER felt like living in a whirlwind. You rarely went home, often staying for almost 24 hours at a time. The chaos of patients coming in with life-threatening injuries, doctors shouting orders, and the constant rush to save lives left you drained but fulfilled. When you finally had a day off, there was only one thing you looked forward to—visiting the zoo to see your favorite animal: the panda. 🐼

You’ve always had a soft spot for pandas. Something about their calm, slow movements and gentle nature soothed you. The baby panda, in particular, had become your little escape. Watching it tumble around, clumsily explore, or nibble on bamboo always brought you a sense of peace. You had its appearances memorized on your schedule since it wasn’t allowed out every day.

Today was one of those rare days off, and you made your way to the zoo, excited to see the baby panda. But when you arrived, the mood shifted. A zoo employee stood in front of the panda enclosure, addressing the crowd of disappointed families.

“Sorry folks, the panda viewing has been rescheduled. We have made an announcement on our social media last week—we worked on it all night, without sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Without sleep? Try handling an ER at peak hours. Annoyed but resigned, you sighed and checked the next available viewing time. As the crowd started dispersing, one person caught your attention.

A tall man stood at the panda window, his broad shoulders slumped in disappointment. He sighed deeply before turning around. That’s when your eyes met. It wasn’t intentional, but the sudden connection caught you off guard. Quickly, you bowed your head and hurried away, feeling your cheeks warm from the brief moment.

The next day, you returned to the zoo, and this time, the baby panda was out. You joined the crowd, eager to see your favorite animal. The baby panda was as adorable as ever, tumbling clumsily around its habitat. You found yourself smiling, the sight of it immediately calming your busy mind. But as you glanced around, you saw him again—the tall man from yesterday. He was also watching the panda, just as captivated as the rest of the crowd.

The panda display ended too soon, and just as you were about to leave, the sky opened up and rain started pouring. The panda enclosure was far from the main entrance, and there was no shelter nearby. Luckily, you always carried an umbrella. As you received a message from the hospital calling you in for an emergency, you saw other visitors quickly opening their umbrellas and leaving one by one.

Soon, it was just you and the tall man left in the rain.

You noticed him glancing at his watch, pacing back and forth like he was debating whether to make a run for it. His indecision made you smile. He clearly wasn’t prepared for the weather. Without thinking much of it, you walked up to him, holding out your umbrella.

“Ehm,” you said, voice slightly raised over the sound of the rain. “Want to walk to the gate together?”

His eyes flicked to the umbrella in your hand before he gave you a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, stepping under it with you.

The walk was quiet, the sound of the rain drumming on the umbrella louder than any conversation you might have had. It should have felt awkward—after all, you were strangers—but the rain filled the silence. He stayed close to your side, even leaning a little toward you to make sure you weren’t getting wet. You noticed his left side was already damp, but he didn’t seem to care. Is he a gentleman? you wondered as you both continued walking.

When you finally reached the entrance, you closed your umbrella. The man pointed toward the parking lot. “My car’s pretty far,” he said, glancing toward the rain-soaked lot.

“I’ve got to go too,” you replied, showing him your phone. “I booked a car from the app. It should be here soon.”

He nodded, still standing close. You hesitated for a moment, then held out the umbrella to him. “Here. Take this. It’s better than running through the rain.”

He blinked in surprise, looking down at the umbrella. “How do I return this to you?”

You smiled, shrugging lightly. “It’s alright. I have more. But… if you really want to return it, you can find me at the hospital E.R. St. Grace Medical Center.”

His lips curled into a small smile, a flash of warmth in his eyes. “Alright then, the hospital. I’ll remember that.”

Before he could say anything more, your car pulled up. You gave him one last smile, ducking into the back seat, and as you drove off, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d see him again.

🐼🐼🐼🐼

The night shift at St. Grace Medical Center had just begun, but unlike most nights, the ER was unusually quiet. A handful of patients sat in the waiting area, the usual chaos replaced by a lull. The soft beeping of monitors filled the air, interrupted occasionally by the rustle of paperwork or a distant cough.

Clara, your ever-observant co-worker, stood beside you, arms crossed, her brow raised in curiosity. "You look different tonight. What’s going on?" She tilted her head, smirking slightly.

You paused, your lips twitching into a small smile. "Well… I met this guy when I went to see my favorite panda."

Clara’s smirk grew wide. “Ah, the fluffy black and white mammals. So, what makes this guy more special than your favorite animal?”

You were about to answer when a loud commotion broke out near the entrance. A drunk patient stumbled through the doors, yelling incoherently, bumping into chairs, and causing a scene.

“Perfect timing,” you muttered under your breath.

Clara groaned. "Here we go."

You both rushed over to try and calm him down. He was clearly in no state to be reasoned with, slurring his words and swaying dangerously as he tried to grab hold of another patient’s wheelchair.

“Sir, you need to sit down,” you said, holding up your hands in a calming gesture.

The man blinked at you, confused, then suddenly lunged forward, trying to grab your arm. Panic surged through you, but before he could make contact, a firm hand caught the drunk man's wrist.

"That's enough," a deep voice said from behind you.

You turned around, startled to see him—the man from the zoo. The one who borrowed your umbrella. He stood tall, his grip firm but not aggressive as he guided the drunk man back into a chair. The drunk patient, surprised by the sudden interference, mumbled something incoherent but didn’t resist.

Relief washed over you, and you let out a shaky breath. “Thanks. That could’ve gotten ugly.”

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s quiet here,” he said casually.

You quickly shook your head, eyes widening. “Don’t say that! You’ll jinx it.”

He chuckled at your reaction, then glanced down at your name tag. “Y/N, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

You blinked, feeling the warmth of his smile seep into you. "Nice to meet you too… Bucky."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar item—your umbrella. “Sorry I’m late returning this. Thanks again for letting me borrow it.”

You grinned, feeling a bit of your usual humor return. “Hey, as panda lovers, we have to help each other out, right?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to dig a hole and hide in it. Did I really just say that?

To your surprise, Bucky laughed—a genuine, warm sound. “You’re right. We do.” Then, as if to return the favor for your kindness, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Actually, I have something for you.”

You furrowed your brows, confused, until you unfolded the paper. Your eyes widened in disbelief—it was a VIP ticket for a face-to-face panda experience, something you had only dreamed about.

“What? How did you get this?” you asked, astonished.

Bucky smiled, a little mischievously. “I’ve got some connections.”

Before you could fully process what had just happened, Bucky waved and left the hospital. As soon as he was out of sight, Clara whistled softly behind you.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is someone making panda dates now?”

You rolled your eyes, though a blush crept up your cheeks. "It’s not like that, Clara."

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, her eyes twinkling. “I’m sure it’s all innocent.”

The next day, you found yourself back at the zoo, clutching your VIP ticket nervously. And there he was again—Bucky, standing near the entrance, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he greeted you with that same easy smile.

“Hey,” you replied, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. The two of you walked together into the building, and soon, the moment you'd been waiting for arrived: you were face to face with the baby panda.

Both of you were silent as the tiny creature waddled toward you. The panda was as adorable as you had imagined, its soft fur and curious little eyes making your heart melt. Bucky stood next to you, just as captivated. When the panda let out a small squeak, you both exchanged a glance, wide-eyed, before grinning like kids.

As you held the baby panda for a brief moment, you felt all the exhaustion from your long shifts melt away. It was like a small pocket of happiness you hadn’t realized you needed. You could hear Bucky chuckling softly beside you, clearly sharing the same sentiment.

“Why pandas?” he asked softly after a while, turning to look at you.

You shrugged, smiling. “They’re just… calming. Whenever I’m tired from the hospital or life, looking at them helps. It’s like all the stress just melts away.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still on the baby panda. “I get it. My job is… well, it’s tiring. Dangerous too. But seeing animals like this, being cuddled, living peacefully—it helps. Makes me feel like there’s still good out there.”

You glanced at him curiously, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “Sounds like a tough job,” you said carefully.

Bucky smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah… it can be.”

It's his turn to hold and cuddle the baby panda, and the sight is nothing short of heartwarming. The little creature, with its round face and soft, fuzzy coat, snuggles into his arms as he cradles it gently. Bucky’s eyes light up with a mix of joy and awe, his broad smile breaking through his usually composed demeanor. He chuckles softly, a sound that resonates with warmth, as the panda nuzzles against his chest, completely at ease.

There’s a brief pause, the kind that feels heavy with something unsaid, as he shifts his gaze from the panda to you. The moment stretches out, filled with unspoken tension.

Then, suddenly, he turns toward you, a hint of awkwardness creeping into his expression. “You know… if you’re not busy sometime, maybe we could grab a coffee? Or dinner, maybe?” His cheeks flush slightly, as if he’s unsure how his invitation will be received, but the sincerity in his eyes reveals his hopefulness.

Your heart skipped a beat. His voice was casual, but there was a hint of nervousness behind it, which made it all the more endearing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’d like that.”

His face lit up, the awkward tension lifting. “Great,” he said, looking almost relieved. “I’ll, uh, message you then?”

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling the beginnings of a connection you hadn’t expected. “I’d like that a lot.”

🐼🐼🐼🐼

Your relationship with Bucky started innocently enough, bonding over your shared love for pandas and animals. What began as casual conversations about your common interests slowly grew deeper. The two of you spent more time together, texting throughout the day, meeting for coffee, or watching movies late into the night. It wasn’t long before you started spending nights at each other’s places. The closeness felt natural, and his easygoing demeanor made you feel safe.

Clara, of course, couldn’t resist teasing you about it. One evening during a shift, she shot you a knowing look. “You know,” she began with a smirk, “you should introduce him to your family. I bet his shadow alone could shut them up.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "One step at a time, Clara. I don't want him to run away after meeting my family."

Over time, your relationship with Bucky deepened, and intimacy followed. You spent nights at his apartment, and he did the same at yours. The affection between you two was comfortable and warm. Bucky worked as a contractor, which sometimes took him out of town for a while. That’s why, one day, he handed you the key to his apartment with a smile.

“Keep it,” he said. “Just in case you need to check on Alpine.”

Alpine was his cat, a fluffy white ball of fur who quickly won your heart. You adored her, and it was easy to see why Bucky did too.

One day, on your day off, you decided to spend the afternoon at Bucky’s place. It was quiet and cozy, perfect for unwinding after a long week. His salary as a contractor must be high enough that he can afford this house.

Alpine was curled up on your lap as you sat on the couch, absentmindedly stroking her soft fur. The gentle purrs coming from her were soothing.

Suddenly, Alpine’s ears perked up, and before you knew it, she jumped from your lap and padded over to the bookshelf. You watched curiously as she stretched her paws toward one of the shelves.

“What are you up to, little one?” you murmured, getting up to see what had caught her attention. As you reached out to move a book, you heard a soft click. Before you could react, the bookshelf started to shift, revealing a hidden door.

Your heart raced as you hesitated for a moment, but when Alpine darted through the opening, you knew you couldn’t just leave her. Steeling your nerves, you stepped inside.

The room you entered was nothing like the cozy, homey apartment you knew. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the scene before you. Guns lined the walls, various types of explosives were neatly arranged on shelves, and papers filled with detailed information were pinned to a whiteboard. It looked like something straight out of a spy movie—except it wasn’t a movie. It was real.

“When I finally make a move, turns out the man I like is a killer,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you picked up Alpine and quickly backed out of the room. You closed the secret door, your mind racing.

What do I do now?

You paced back and forth in the living room, your heart pounding in your chest. Your thoughts spiraled as you tried to process what you had just seen. Finally, in a panic, you grabbed your phone and dialed Clara.

After a couple of rings, her voice came through, light and cheery. “Yo, girls, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, still clutching Alpine close to you. “Clara…”

“Yeah?” Her tone shifted slightly, sensing something was off.

You whispered into the phone, your voice shaky as you held Alpine close to your chest, “I think my boyfriend is a hitman."

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff

Extras:

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alchemistc · 7 days ago

Text

Eddie tips his beer against his lips, fights the smile turning up the corners of his mouth as Mara and Jee each cling to one of Buck's arms, the both of them screaming to their hearts content. It's - loud, and Buck isn't doing anything to temper the noise, growling out one of his Roledex of monster noises, lifting one arm and then the other like some bastardized workout routine.

Beside him, Tommy sighs.

It's a familiar sound, at this point. Tommy is so fucking full of love, and Eddie knows he's spent a long ass time looking for a place to put it. He can't think of a person better prepared to take the bulk of it on than Evan Buckley.

"I cannot handle your lovelorn sighs, dude. You got the guy, you don't need to act like some regency hero watching from the sidelines."

Tommy eyes the neck of Eddie's bottle like he's thinking about punishing Eddie for the comment with a beer tap, so Eddie shifts it out of his reach - he's in no mood for another lesson on the physics of cavitation from Buck while he's cleaning foam off the patio and trying to prevent Jee from lapping it up like a dog.

Denny's too old for most of the horseplay, now, but there's something about Buck that makes kids unafraid to act like kids - he takes a flying leap and gets an arm around Buck's neck, and now he's somehow hauling three of them around with one of those wide, uncareful smiles Eddie's always been a bit jealous of.

Tommy's chest expands, and Eddie can feel his lips pursing, his eyes rolling to the side in warning. Tommy blows the breath out through his nose and scowls.

"I knew Shannon was it for me after our first date," Eddie says into the silence, shocking himself with the ease her name slides past his lips. He hasn't - he doesn't - Christ, even thinking her name sets him back sometimes. But this feels - it feels like the only memory pertinent to the situation.

Tommy's pretty good at keeping a straight face when he's feeling big things - decades of practice, Eddie knows, and he's aware that Tommy has spent another ten years unpacking that, forcing himself to wear his heart on his sleeve. Still. It seems easiest when it's Buck, and Eddie can't fault him that.

"She was such an asshole," Eddie continues, fond, while Tommy's gaze shifts to him, careful, concentrated, that special blend of steady eye contact and a stilling of his body that lets people know he's really listening, retaining, will be able to recite word for word something personal someone told him about themselves. "Even then, even as young as we were, I just wanted to share everything with her. Jokes, and stories about my day - happiness and sadness and... life, you know?"

Tommy swallows. His gaze shifts in the quiet of Eddie's confession, unerringly returning to Buck. Eddie's watched plenty of women in love with Buck looking at him. It's never been that look.

The one Eddie'd clocked months ago, a subtle shift from smitten to in love to something else. Something more.

In the grass, Buck levers himself to his knees and begs for mercy, and nearly takes a knee to the groin for his surrender.

Tommy's chest expands.

"You measured his ring size while he's passed out coming off an extra shift, yet?" (Buck has. Eddie's been fielding a fucking deluge of links in his messages, at least a hundred different rings at this point that look identical to Eddie but Buck apparently has half a million opinions about that he seems to think Eddie can help him with.)

Tommy doesn't give him time to react, this time. The bottom of his bottle hits the top of Eddie's and Eddie scrambles too late, foam spilling along the sides, over his fingers. The patio rug soaks up the liquid as it spills over his fingers, but Tommy seems to think the hassle of cleaning off his brand new patio is worth it, if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

"I'm going to go rescue my boyfriend before Jee-Yun decides hearing Evan howl in real pain is her new favorite hobby."

Eddie's beer is still foaming, a steady trickle up the neck and down the side, right over his fingers, dripping to the rug beneath his feet. He'll need to go inside and wash his hands soon, maybe rearrange Tommy's tea drawer while he's in there - it's the only thing safe from Buck's wrath in that kitchen. "Get me another beer while you're up," Eddie snarks back, and leans back to watch the way Buck's eyes gleam when, instead of rescuing Buck, Jee and Mara both take aim at Tommy instead, and Tommy's swings them both up into the air while they screech in delight.

#eddie&tommy #bucktommy #feeling some type of way about all the shannon i keep seeing on my dash #eddie recognizing the 'thats the one' look from a mile off is something that can be so personal #and heartbreaking #bucktommy fic #beer tapping as a love language

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igotanidea · 1 month ago

Text

Dress rehearsal: Jason Todd x reader

Summary/request: @ladychibirae and @animegirlfromvietnam decided to not let me function normally requesting Jason being a witness to his fiance triyng on wedding dresses. And then those two just went on, making Jason all flustered, generous and horny at the same time. So - here's that XD

Spicy, but not explicit ;)

****

It was all so … white.

Like a freaking hospital.

And it made him flinch, involuntarily diving back into the stream of bad memories involving injuries, hurt, pain and –

“Look at all those dresses!”

Oh, right, back to reality.

No pain, no fear, just the incoming future.

With Y/N.

His wonderful, beautiful, perfect Y/N.

His future bride. His future wife.

But even the sweetness of her presence and the smile forming on her face couldn’t have bellied the overwhelming feeling of being – well - overwhelmed. He was just supposed to drop off Y/N, Kori and Babs and the boutique and excuse himself under any false pretense he could produce and the rattling and pipsqueak and three girls making a commotion worth six or so people only fueled that resolve.

And then Y/N picked some random dress, putting it to herself and giving him a look, with a silent question what was he thinking and suddenly his plans did a full 180.

Like hell he was going anywhere.

He was going to watch his fiancée change and dress up and give a little show of the whole parade of wedding dresses, enjoying it deeply, though not admitting openly.

“What’s with your face?” Y/N teased, reading right through him. “ thought you were supposed to meet Dick for your boys’ stuff?”

“Really? Was I? Can’t remember. I’d rather stay here. Make sure you don’t get locked up here after hours.”

“Well if that’s your only concern-“

“Y/N, come on, really?” Babs chimed in “He shouldn’t be here, it’s against the tradition for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Well the tradition doesn’t mention anything about seeing each other a few months before the wedding, does it?”

“It’s –“

“Don’t say it.” Jason cut her off, probably harsher than it was necessary. It was Barbara after all, but he was slowly losing patience. No one was going to keep him away from his girl. Not Barbara, not Kori, no silly beliefs and certainly not some outdated tradition.

“I think you should listen to Barbara.” Obviously Kori had to add her three cents. “Though I find your earthly customs amusing.”

“I’m staying.” Jason repeated sternly

“He’s staying.” Y/N echoed at the same time. “I want him here. Luck or not, he’s my fiancé. The rest can go to hell.”

Barbara and Kori looked at her with a little bit of surprise. This definitely was not the standard behavior of their friend, but clearly Jason brought some dominant instincts in her. If her changing was going to be kept in such pace, the second after the wedding she would turn into a full-blown Red hood’s girl. Maybe even running the streets, shooting and beating the shit out of people alongside him without a care in the world.

Jason though had a look of pure admiration on his face. Of course she wanted him here. Of course the rest could go to hell. If anyone had the right to see her picking a dress, it was him.

Conceitedly and ostentatiously he took a spot on the sofa, leaning back on the soft furniture like he owned the place and almost daring Kori and Babs to oppose his presence.

“Shall we begin then?” Y/N grabbed a dress from the hanger, twirling around in the cloud of lace and satin, disappearing in the changing room.

***

Three dresses later, he had to deal not only with Babs and Kori but also with five more people. Somehow (it might have had something to do with Kori sending group messages of photos of Y/N) the rest of the batkids decided to join the fun.

Therefore, instead of being left alone with the love of his life, Jason found himself squeezed on the couch, between Dick and Stephanie, who just happened to be around. Forced to listen to the sighs of delight and exclamations of Cass and nodding of approval of Tim.

Fucking approval!

That freaking bunch though they could just comment on how his Y/N looked. That they were allowed to watch her spin and twirl and watch herself in the mirror, tilting head in that way, see her smile when she liked something or frown when she did not.

Bastards.

He was the only one allowed here and was hanging on the edge of the seat to just tell them all to piss off and throw them on the street.

He did not.

Mostly because every time she walked out, clad in another white outfit all the mean, harsh words intended at his sibling were stuck in the back of his throat and he was turning into a mewling-inside-little-cat-who-just-wanted-to-be-around-its-owner.

Y/N.

Standing in the middle of the boutique clad in the simple yet elegant wedding dress, accentuating all her curves and making her look like a princess. Literally. All she was missing was some sort of crown on her head, but Jason was going to make sure she would wear one during their entire life together. For she was going to be not only a princess, but his queen.

And he was speechless.

So quiet and unable to say any teasing comment or snarky remark it was slowly becoming suspicious.

“Um… Jace?” her voice reached his ears as if through a fog.

“Huh?” he was immediately thrown out from his reverie. “That’s my name, yeah.”

Everyone looked at him like he just grew a third arm (though in this family this probably wouldn’t be that shocking after all.)

“Are you okay?’ Dick asked with a smirk

“I’m fine!”

“You are quiet.” Stephanie slurped on her slushie, loudly and annoyingly.

“What a bright observation” he mocked.

“Aaaaaand he’s back.”

“Piss off!”

“Y/N asked you a question!”

“I know! I heard!”

“She had to call your names three times before you reacted!”

“Maybe I just like her saying my name!”

“You are blushing!”

“I am not blushing!”

“Enough!”

Y/N finally stepped in, deciding to cut off this family bantering and save Jason, thrown at the mercy of the wolves of his siblings. Of course they used the very rare moment of his sensitivity showing to tease him mercilessly and her poor fiancé did not deserve it.

“Oh, saved by the bell.” Damian smirked “if she will have to step up for you during your whole marriage then- OUCH!”

“I said enough. That includes you, Damian.” Perfectly aimed, though not that strong slap on the head made the youngest of the Wayne shut up. “Everyone out.”

“What?!”

“Y/n!”

“Come on, don’t be like that! You still got some dresses to try on!”

“I said: out. All of you. Now.”

With whines and groans of disappointment everyone moved to the exit.

Everyone, including Jason.

Y/N cleared her throat.

He turned around, looking at her questioningly.

“Not you.”

“No?”

“No. Of course not, you idiot. In case you missed something, you are the only person I wanted here from the start.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t be shy with me now. Better tell me how you like this dress.” She turned towards the mirror, looking at her reflection and playing with the layers of lace on the outfit.

“I think it would look better if-“

“Don’t finish that sentence!”

“You asked for my opinion!”

“Exactly! Opinion! Not your dirty thoughts and sinful desires.”

“Those are very strong words you are using here, sunshine…” he muttered, stepping behind her, wrapping arms on her waist and kissing the back of her neck “but you are not wrong…” one hand slipped to the zipper of her dress.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to buy it either way…”

“What? Why? You look so pretty in it!”

“Got your answer.” She teased, revealing how she played him.

“ha-ha! Very funny princess. Why don’t you want to buy it?” his grip on her hips tightened a little. “Look at us, look how we fit…” his chin rested on her shoulder as they watched themselves in the reflection.

“We do…” her voice was a soft whisper of affection and amusement, eyes flicked with love and hope for the future. “We do…” she snuggled a little further in his embrace, hoping for the love of god that he would not take it as an invitation and get any ideas.”

“Don’t you like the dress?” he asked softly, rubbing her sides affectionately.

“I do. But it’s expensive—”

“Wait. What? That’s your reasoning of let’s-not-buy-it? Really? Here.” He reached into his pocket, handing her his credit card. “Take this one. And that ivory one, I liked how it brought out your eyes. And you can also take something for the wedding reception. And preferably a little something for the wedding night?” he winked.

“I believe we’re in the wrong shop for the last one-“

“Then we’ll go to the right shop.”

“But Jason-“

“Don’t Jason me. Money is not the problem. In fact – keep my card.”

“What?”

“Shut up and take my money.”

“Jason!”

“Hm?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Better get used to it, sunshine. I intend to keep you amused for the rest of our lives.”

“That would indicate you are not planning to leave me at the altar.”

“Leave you? Never. No promises on letting you walk the aisle though. Cause I might just snatch you away from everyone and make sure that pretty dress you are buying ends up on the floor before even exchanging out vows…”

“I’m starting to regret casting your family out. At least you were behaving with them around.”

“But still – you like when I misbehave…”

His hands sneaked under the dress, traveling up her leg, spinning her around so she was now facing him, fingers inching higher and higher on the inside of her thigh-

“Jason…”

“hmmmm…”

“Are you really going to-?”

“I would love nothing more.” He whispered in her ear, getting bolder by a second. Having her in her wedding dress, then and there was doing so many things to him.

“Just so you know, I only got one dress like that! Limited edition! If you ruin it now, there’s no chance for you to wear the same on the wedding day!”

The saleswoman’s voice cut right into their ragged breaths and quickened heartbeats making them jump away from each other immediately.

“Wanna buy this and go home?” he smirked.

‘For what? Dress rehearsal?”

“Mh! You make me fall in love with you all over again.” His smirk grew wider.

It took them literally three minutes to buy the dress and rush home. And for the purposes of that night, there was no need for any clothes shopping.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #jason todd smut

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klausinamarink · 8 months ago

Text

based on this hilarious video with Gianmarco Soresi whom I’ve been watching his comedy work for a few months now

read on ao3

“What do you do?” The standup of the hour - the guy had introduced himself as Eddie - points at Steve.

Flustered at the attention directing every eye in the club to his table, Steve tries not to stammer as he answers, “Well, uh, I make movies.”

“Oh!” Eddie genuinely looks interested. “So you’re a director?”

“Yeah, pretty much. At least I started out as an indie, but I have a big project that’s out and a couple more on the way.” One table nearby claps and Steve tries to wave them off to stop.

“So what was that big project? Was it something we would’ve seen?” Eddie repositions himself so he has one leg up on the stool. Steve stares at how lean they seem with the tight black jeans. He’s got them daddy long legs. His brain suddenly burps out and it nearly makes Steve lose his composure.

“Uh, ha, I did The Final Bat. It’s on Shudder.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly, perfectly hiding his internal cringe. The horror genre is way out of his league and Steve’s already seen The Final Bat being on a few critical lists damning the title as another cliche-filled mess. He only did it because he had finally caved to Dustin’s pleading to make at least one horror movie.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems ecstatic by this revelation. “No way! That’s sick, dude! So the next time you make a horror flick, you’re gonna watch Blumhouse and A24 coming in at each other with steel chairs for distribution rights.”

Everyone laughs, including Robin. She smacks on Steve’s bicep with a wide grin. He smacks her back before he turns back to Eddie and clarifies, “I don’t like horror! I’m not doing it again!”

Aghast, Eddie throws an invisible hat to the ground and stamps on his feet. “Come on! Then what’s the point of watching the studios bite each other’s dicks off when you’re slipping out to watch - I don’t know - the Barbie movie! Now they’re just fighting for the next shitty horror movie to exist!”

Steve covers his mouth but fails to hold back in the laughter. Eddie’s infectious energy is starting to get to him. It makes his chest clench with something other than the usual pains.

Eddie patiently waits for the patrons to quiet down before continuing, still attentive to Steve, “I’m just wondering actually if you ever done theater class.”

“Sure did! Two years in high school,” Steve confirms.

“Let me guess, they did Hamlet?” Eddie raises an eyebrow like it’s meant to be accusatory.

“Yep, soon after I joined.” Steve nods, the memory of that production flashing before his eyes. It had its ups and downs but it was one of the most fun things Steve had ever experienced.

“No wonder they started as soon as your handsome ass walked in the club.” Eddie says low and flirtatiously into the microphone, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. It echoes across the room and back, bringing the howling laughter with it.

Heat crawls behind his face. Steve keeps his hands on the table, forcing down the urge to hide behind them. “I-” He stops to cough, “I wasn’t supposed to play Hamlet.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “What do you mean?!”

Robin answers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He was the grave robber, but the other guy who did Hamlet got into a coma a week before the show and Steve knew all the lines.”

“W-Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie holds his hands out, looking scandalous. He throws looks around the club. “Everyone, shut the fuck up right now! This is more important than caring about the rest of you!” Eddie drags the stool over and perches on it like a very much invested gargoyle, almost oblivious to the audience’s reaction.

“Okay, let me go through this.” He points at Steve, still holding eye contact as if Steve’s soul would provide the answer. “You weren’t Hamlet. You were meant to be the guy who gives him the skull to monologue. The OG Hamlet got into a coma for some reason-“

“Car accident.” Robin interjects.

“Yeah, no need to elaborate, ma’am. You, Steve-” Eddie breaks off for a second, holding back a laugh of his own. “You somehow knew all the Hamlet lines because you were waiting to skin OG Hamlet’s head and make his skull yours to do the monologue.”

There’s a scandalous outcry from all tables. Even when they mostly calm down, Steve uses the growing anticipation to ‘think’ about what Eddie just said before he casually shrugs and says, “Sounds about right.”

Eddie drops his face into his arm, letting everyone laugh at him. Steve lets himself break, his laughter bubbling out of him in a way that doesn’t sound so self-deprecating or hollow. If he was in a cynical mood, he would’ve thought it was pathetic that the only person who made him laugh so lightly again was some random standup.

After a moment, Eddie finally looks up, his face broken in disbelieving grin. He chuckles into the mic and looks back at Steve, “Sorry, it’s just I hear some wild stories in the crowd some nights and I think yours takes the cake.”

Steve smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Eddie stands up back, half-leaning onto the stool. “Do you still remember those lines? To be or not to be?”

The whole damn thing. “Uh… some of it?”

Eddie’s grin shifts into something more mischievous. “Let’s see who knows more.”

A collective oooh goes around the room, including Robin. She already has her phone out for recording. Steve rolls his eyes at her and takes a quick sip of his water. He clears his throat and starts, “‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’”

“‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..’” Eddie says without missing a beat.

Oh, he thinks he knows it all. The sense of competition that Steve thought had died out with his future of a sports career reignites in his chest. He sits up even straighter. “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’”

“‘To die-to sleep, no more.’” Eddie slowly walks over to the edge of the stage, “‘And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.’”

“'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.’” Steve almost shivers as he recites the line, uncertain if it’s from the club’s cooling temperatures or the intense gaze from Eddie’s eyes. “‘To die, to sleep.’”

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,’” Eddie suggestively rubs a hand on his chest as he squats down. Steve’s eyes flicker to the hand, almost hypnotized by the motion. Nay, he shakes himself out of it. No distractions!

“‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.’” It’s getting harder to remember the following lines. That hasn’t happened before. Steve has never forgotten the damn soliloquy in years, even when other people try to challenge him.

Eddie continues, “‘Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.’”

“‘The pangs-’” Steve feels his breath catching in his throat when he realizes, for the first time, what beautiful eyes Eddie has.

Oh.

Eddie suddenly perks up in excitement. For a second, Steve thinks that Eddie has come to the exact same thoughts for him. But then he remembers that he hasn’t completed his line, so Steve feigns defeat.

“I win!” Eddie stands up with a triumphant cry. He spreads his arms out to embrace the cheering whoops and applause. “And I’ve only got to play Hamlet in-” He spins around and crouches down so he can look Steve in the eye again as Eddie’s voice booms into the mic, “-FOURTH GRADE, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Steve’s not even mad. He just throws his head back, laughing and clapping along.

Almost too soon, Eddie moves on to heckle on another table. But he keeps glancing over at Steve, his smile widening every time. And Steve smiles back, feeling a laugh slip out of his slips at every joke. He watches Eddie more closely, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest the more Eddie stays onstage.

By the time Eddie has to depart and thank everyone for being here, Robin announces her need to go home and snuggle with her girlfriend.

“Man, that was the most I’ve ever laughed in this place.” Steve stretches his back, groaning at the little pops. God, being in his early thirties can be a bitch sometimes.

Robin only hums, moving her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Steve pointedly makes no further comment as he pays the tab.

Outside, the crisp night air welcomes him. Steve takes in a whiff, staring up at the light-polluted sky as he bids Robin a goodbye. Then he hears his name being called. He turns around and sees Eddie hurrying out the doors.

Steve feels a smile already on his face, “Hey, Hamlet.”

Eddie grins at him, teeth and all, “Hey, yourself.”

They stare at each other but it lacks the competitive intensity earlier. Steve likes this. But he already has a feeling that this won’t be the first time either one of them would challenge the other.

“Sooo…” Steve says when the silence stretches a little too long. He gestures between himself and Eddie, “Wanna restart our introductions?”

Eddie’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and thrusts a hand out. “My name is Eddie Munson. Self-proclaimed comedian and musician. You may recognize me as the guy who beat you in Hamlet’s famous speech.”

Steve takes his hand. Eddie feels bony and thin, but large enough to fit perfectly into Steve’s palm. He tries not to sound so eager as he says, “Steve Harrington. Film director who doesn’t like horror. Believe it or not, I actually know the whole stupid thing.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, “Really? Like, no offense, but even if you remember that much-”

“‘And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’” Steve winks with the Harrington Charm, smile and all.

Eddie stares at him for so long that Steve feels his heart racing for a different reason. And then, Eddie turns around and muffles a loud scream into his free hand. When the man turns back to face him, he’s sporting the widest smile Steve has never seen.

“You knew the whole thing!?” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with utter adoration.

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p’, grinning like a little shit.

“But why did you forget that line?”

“Let’s just say,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, “I got distracted by the pangs of love.”

Eddie bites on his lower lip as he swoons his body over so they are pressing against each other. With half-lidded eyes, Eddie whispers, “You know that part is Hamlet referring to missing his dead dad, right?”

Of course Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

#and now for something silly #as if i don’t always write something silly for steddie #klaus writes #steddie #stranger things

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sinofwriting · 10 months ago

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Every Kiss Begins With Tabs - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,544 Summary: Max and her have a tradition that was born from their first kiss. Note(s): The idea for this fic popped into my head one night, didn’t know what driver to do with it, and then quickly realized Max is the only option with him driving for a literal energy drink company. Also, this features Max and Charles being best friends, because your honor, I love them. (and features a bit of Ferrari bashing, because of course)

Masterlist | Support Me!

At the end of their first date, Max had watched as she shyly reached into her purse, fishing for something, before pressing a small thing into his hand and instinctively he held it. He didn’t even get a second to figure out what it was, since she kissed him as soon as it was pressed into his hand. It was small, barely a second, just a peck. But it had made him flush, staring at her with wide eyes before he murmured a quiet again.

Her bottom lip had found its way between her teeth for a second, before she nodded at his hand, the one she had pressed something into. For the kiss. He remembers her mumble, making her all the more cute to him, how she was shy yet bold in the same breath.

It had been near painful to look away from her, but he forced his eyes down as he uncurled his hand and saw a generic soda tab sitting in his palm. Her words rang in his ears and memories of watching girls in school give them to boys run through his head and he’s pressing their hands together, keeping it between their palms as he kisses her.

—

Max’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he messes with the tab on his can of Red Bull. The sound of the press and his fellow drivers' voices washing over him. When it easily tears off, he pockets it, just as he’s asked a question.

“Over these last few months, you’ve been a lot happier. Many people thought it was you winning races making you so happy, but with Singapore happening, that has been disproven. Is there something other than winning that makes you so happy?” Max’s eyes darted over to his press officer, personal questions were on the no list for after races. She looks back at him with a raised eyebrow and he has to resist letting his brows press together. She clearly didn’t think this was personal and in nature he supposes it wasn’t, but it was leading. Raising the microphone to his lips, he speaks. “Well, I think I’d have a very boring, shit life if the only thing that made me happy was winning.” The reporter coughs, “Of course. But nothing new in your life?” “Not that I can think of.” There’s a frown on the reporter's face, but they don’t ask anything else, and the session is called to a close.

“I fucking hate reporters.” Max murmurs as he walks out the room. Charles snorts, hearing him and gently bumping their shoulders together. “I couldn’t tell.” “Haha. Was a good race for you today, though.” “I feel like I need a fucking bodyguard. I’ve been getting threats like crazy.” Max winces, having seen some for himself and also knowing from experience how bad they could get. “Ferrari hasn’t hired any for you?” He scoffs, “No, too much faith, I suppose.” “Stick close, come to Red Bull’s hotel with me, I’ve got an extra room and security.” “Ooh.” Charles teases, poking at his side as they exit the building. “Look at the golden boy with his security.” Max rolls his eyes, but feigns away as he reaches out again. “Are you coming or not?” He scoffs again. “Of course. I’m too pretty to be killed.” It’s Max’s turn to scoff, “You're something, alright.” he mutters.

Entering Red Bull’s garage with Charles would feel weird if it weren't for the fact that for nearly all of this season Bradley, Christian, Tom, GP, or himself had all been sneaking the Ferrari driver in. Max knows that Christian is hoping with them allowing Charles access to their garage and helping hide him away from Ferrari that he’ll join their team, and Max isn’t too proud to say that he’s started to wish that too.

“I’ve gotta get something from Christian first.” Max murmurs when Charles makes a confused hum when they don’t immediately go to his driver’s room. “Also, might want to text something to collect your stuff.” “Andrea will get it. I just need the hotel and room number so he can send some stuff over.” “Don’t want to sleep in Red Bull branded clothes?” Charles sniffs, sticking his chin in the air, perfectly making a haughty face. “Of course not. I have fashion sense.”

—

“You want room service or something delivered from somewhere?” Charles stares at him, “Mate.” Max grins at him before returning his gaze to his phone. “Had to ask. We do have Brazil next weekend after all.” “I want all the tacos in the world right now.” “Margaritas as well?” It’s silent for a second, “why not. Just one though.” Max rolls his eyes, typing out the number ten before hitting send.

“Food has been ordered.” “Thank god. I’m starving.” “Not going to offer to pay?” Max jokes, even though he’d refuse. “God no.” He scoffs before grinning at him. “Thank you, Max, honestly.” “It’s no problem.”

“When will the food get here?” Charles asks nearly thirty minutes later as Max unlocks the door. “Already here.” He tells him, opening the door up and stepping through.

Tossing his backpack to the armchair, he doesn’t see the confused look on Charles’ face or how it grows more confused when Max fishes something out of his pocket and holds it out, a grin on his face as he stands just beside the suite's sofa.

Charles nearly stumbles when a girl appears out of nowhere, words gathering on his tongue, only for them to die before they can form when she takes whatever it is out of Max’s hand and kisses him. He knows his mouth is open, jaw dropped, as he stares at the two.

“Hello.” Max murmurs, pulling away after pressing another kiss to her lips. Her head is tilted up a bit to look at him, nose scrunching a little as she smiles. “Hi. Well done on the race.” He grins and is unable to resist kissing her again before finally separating from her, only to wrap an arm around her and pull her into his side as he turns them both to face Charles. “Charles, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.” The other driver blinks at them for a few seconds before smiling. “Hello. It’s lovely to meet you.” He tells her, stepping forward to greet her with a hug, giving Max a thumbs up when she easily goes along with it. Max snorts at the thumbs up.

“Congrats on your race as well, Charles. Always nice to see you on the podium.” “Oh.” He can feel his cheeks turn a little pink at the compliment. “Well, it is always nice to be there, even if he is always taking the top spot.” She laughs and then she’s ushering them both to sit down at the small table nearly overflowing with food. “Oh my god.” Charles breaths, staring at it all. “It’s beautiful.” “I think you're just hungry, mate.” Max remarks and Charles notices how she passes whatever Max handed her before they kissed back to the driver before giving him a peck on the lips. “Of course, I’m hungry.” His eyes wander over all the food, all the tacos, and he knows that Andrea will be pissed at their next session when Charles tells him what he ate, but he knows he won’t regret it. Even when Andrea makes the session a triple.

“Can I ask a question?” Charles asks, after they are done eating. The twelve tacos he ate and two margaritas he had in combination with pleasant company made him feel content. “Is it a stupid one?” “Max.” She playfully scolds, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course.” “What is with the thing? The small thing you pass back and forth.” “Oh,” her eyes are a little wide and she seems to have stiffened and it has Charles' eyes widened. “You do not have to answer. I was just curious. You can of course tell me to shut up.” “No, it’s okay.” She shares a look with Max. “It’s just a habit, I don’t even really think about it anymore.”

Charles watches as she carefully extends her hand and opens it so he can stare at the thing the couple has been exchanging. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s a tab to a Red Bull can.

“Before I kissed Max for the first time, I gave him a tab from a soda can. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” His face softens at the explanation, and this whole weekend he has missed Alex, but now more than ever he wishes that she was able to come with him. “That is very sweet.” His lips then curl into a smirk and he looks at Max. “Must make sex uncomfortable though.” “You mother,” Max cuts himself off as he hits Charles with a pillow, his fellow driver howling with laughter. Hitting him with a pillow again, Max looks at her to see her laughing as well, face bright with joy and his hand is ducking into his pocket pulling out a spare tab he always keeps on him, pressing it into her hand before kissing her, ignoring the fake sounds of throwing up from Charles as he does.

@gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67

#f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #sins fics

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kiss-me-muchoo · 11 months ago

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𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬, 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: stop, you’re losing me || part two: in the trees, in the breeze (here)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ your memory kept haunting Coriolanus Snow, so he found the way to end his exile. It’s a new era, but the same old feelings between Coriolanus and you keep causing scandals. Although, you are not ready to let go the pain he caused to you.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ Capitol ballerina!reader, angst, drama, violence and death lol, jealousy, unhinged Coriolanus, sex mentions, reader still has health problems, etc. 13k words fic IM SORRY

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ hear this along Can’t catch me now, I’m not an OR fan but I love that song from her. I mean, who didn’t? And thank you for the wait and loveeeee. PLEASE TELL ME OF ANY ERRORS BC I CAN’T BE ALMOST ACCUSED OF BEING TRANSPHOBIC PLEASEEEE

♪ ♫ awful Coriolanus Snow playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

_____________________________________________

Red, blue, red, red, yellow, green, green, pink.

Every color is correctly marked. A nurse smiles with some papers on her hand before she dissapears.

You can get dressed again. The color test was done, your vision was okay.

Purple and green bruises are scattered across your skin. Some appeared on your inner thighs. Two on your knees and one on the ribs from the day you collapsed after the post-Hunger Games celebration. You sigh covering your skin with a long floral dress. The reflection of yourself on the mirror salutes you with a tired, broken and sad face. It makes you force a smile, pretending more people were watching you. The room in empty though.

“Everything is fine. Your body is responding well to the shots.” A doctor asks as soon as he walks in into the room.

“The only thing that worries me is your mental health. Have you been stressed or has anything happened to you that could be considered a traumatic experience?”

The pointe shoes soaked in blood. The unstoppable bleeding on your feet. The late nights with panic attacks and over thinking. That young blonde man and the songbird together. The night on dressing room, how your hand burned after slapping the man so hard. The shock of all the events surrounding your life two weeks ago. How you lost control, your head spinning, blurred vision, heart pounding, numb arms and how you felt the oxygen was leaving. All the things you did for someone who never deserved you, making you shatter, fainting as soon as you finished dancing.

“Miss y/l/n… Are you okay?” The distant voice of the doctor breaks your bubble. You shake your head in disguise before turning away from the mirror, facing him and smiling politely.

“Yes, I’m fine. I was very stressed, yeah. Working with the production of the Hunger Games. My artistic performances, last days at the Academy. It was a lot…” the doctor sighs, annotating something. He then handed you the paper.

“I’m giving you some treatment for that. And please, you have to be careful and calm. Only that way the medicine will help everything to work here” he points his head. You nod, accepting the paper.

After that, you leave the private hospital. Trevor is there, your chauffeur and friend. He smiles, opening the door for you.

“Thank you, Trevor” he starts the car soon after.

“Is everything okay?” You nod, looking at the bright day at the Capitol.

“I just need to relax and eat well.” Trevor had trimmed his hair. It made him look younger, making you smile at the memory of him saying his wife was his hairstylist.

“Good. Oh, I received a call from your mother. This woman…uh, Dr. Volumnia Gaul? She wants to see you at the Univeristy today” you frown to look at him confused.

“Oh? So… Can we go now?” He nods, turning left to start the route. Meanwhile, you wonder what could she want. You made your part, the games had a higher amount of viewers compared to last year. You engaged with the production and the celebration was at full capacity. Your little accident even made it more attractive to the media. Appearing on the papers and magazines across Panem.

And after everything, you still wanted to keep dancing. Or else range would consume you.

…

It’s the first time you step inside the Capitol’s University. It’s very similar to the Academy, but the floor tiles are green and white. There’s a lot of white, cream, golden and black decorating the halls and long stairs.

Since it’s summer, most of the building was empty. Only some of the staff, and very few people who seemed like students. You see they dress very elegant. Some women wore hats with feathers or flowers. The men wore classy suits and you genuinely thought you would fit in.

You couldn’t wait to have some sense of normality as a Univeristy student along Clemensia and Lysistrata. Your only close friends left. Well, also Festus and Sejanus. At the time, you didn’t event know your dear friend was dead.

What seems like the private office of Gaul has a red door. Inside, she had a laboratory, smaller but weirder than the one you had seen before. Full of dissected creatures, tanks and crystal containers with unknown chemicals.

Some steps further and you see her desk, where she is collecting some folders and putting them away in some shelves.

“Glad to see you breathing, miss y/l/n…” somehow you found the humor to smile coldly.

“As you can see.” You reply standing perfectly correct.

“By this point you should know what happened to Mr. Snow” goosebumps make you shake your shoulders slightly, you nod again.

“He was exiled. Twenty years. He lied to me and did not said a thing about cheating on the games”

“Indeed. However this morning, I just discovered he bribed a woman to be sent to District 12.” You bite your tongue to hide your fury. A hot feeling invade your chest in rage. But you just breathe, failing to not show discontent.

“That’s not any of my business anymore.” Even Gaul seems taken aback. However, she doesn’t say anything, she just keeps pulling away the pile of folders.

“Well, since it seems you both parted ways… I must share that I’m deleting any record or data related to the 10th Hunger Games. Too many things happened before, during and after the games. Things that would compromise the reputation of the whole organization. Including me, the Academy, the mentors, you and Mr. Snow” honestly, you don’t know what to say. You just frown slightly, demonstrating how confused you were. But you also understood with half of the context. The death of Arachne, Coriolanus and his odd ways to make his songbird oustand, the rebel attack, Lucy Gray Baird winning from cheat. And the things you didnt know like Sejanus entering the arena.

However, you stick to your parent’s advice. You have to think about you and anyone else.

“I understand. But I did my part. I completed my task so I hope this decision doesn’t jeopardize my grant” she smiles. Dr. Gaul secretly believed that you and Coriolanus Snow could rule Panem together. In a sick and evil way, so she really hoped her dark intentions would work.

“Of course not. We had a deal. The views went up this year. You brought a new vision for the promotion that I’ll hardly let go.” The ambition started tickling you. Making you roll your tongue inside your closed mouth, at the verge of opening it and talking.

“Good.”

“In fact, you would be a nice option to become head of the promotion and relations team.” From the last games, you realized the director only gave instructions but he rarely did the dirty job. You liked having some power over the games. And now, a childish and unjustified resentment towards District 12 made you smile as Gaul offered you a new job.

“Is it a possible option to be working in behalf of my mother’s institution?”

“You’re very smart, y/n y/l/n. You are going further than Mr. Snow” your smile only grows, knowing you are nit being correct. You are letting the rage and resentment to guide you. You will make your last name shine brighter than your parents did. Just to rub it in the face of certain blonde who was now exiled. Probably savoring the country life of District 12.

“I just want to make my family’s name bigger than it already is” the woman giggles, taking out a red envelope and handing it you.

“I assume you’ll pursue the arts as you’re speciality. But if you want to get involved with the production, marketing and relations. You are taking politics and some lessons with me” when you look down at the envelope, the golden logo of the university is greeting you. It’s the admission letter.

“I expect to see you here by the end of the summer” you nod, thanking her.

And as you walk outside where Trevor is waiting for you, you have a cocky smile. Feelings like things could go better. You don’t even remember the doctor’s appointment you were in before coming to see Gaul.

…

Your soft hands gently brush against his forehead. Coriolanus had chills, he hadn’t had fever since he was 15 years old. But your hands are so soft even when they feel cold as ice. He just knows he’s in his bed. In his rottening penthouse. He can see a slightly blurred image of you, wearing a green dress, your hair in a braid, a golden necklace, dark purple lips. He can’t hear your words, but you are talking to him, spreading some cream across his chest, immediately he felt the mint soothing his cough and pain. He must’ve said something funny, because he can now see clearly your face, gorgeous as always. And he can clearly hear you laughing.

Coriolanus wakes up smiling. And he realised he was dreaming.

He was in a small and creaky lower bunk bed. Sejanus sleeping in the upper bunk. The sun hasn’t come up. And he’s a peacekeeper in District 12.

It’s been weeks since he left the Capitol. And since day one, you seem to be haunting him.

Current dreams of you, swearing to be hearing your voice. It makes him want to call you every single day. But he doesn’t. He was able to forget about you when he was in the peacekeeper training and duties. When he was with Lucy Gray any trace of you was gone. But as soon as he had a moment alone, he would remember everyhting about you.

He missed you. Painfully a lot.

Every Friday, he had been sending the letters. He hoped your mother would hand them to you. But Coriolanus knew you too well to know you likely would not be reading them. Nonetheless, he was letting himself to write the most vulnerable pieces of him, putting his heart on each word and phrase. Hoping that by the time his exile was over, you would have forgiven him.

When the sun came up, he was up along the rest of the boys. Sejanus gives him a friendly smile and they’re out exercising and doing jobs all day long. During his break, he’s able to seat in an old bench, with a beautiful view of an open green field.

That’s when he dreams of seeing you there, dancing or simply standing there with a sundress. Like the ones you used to wear on summer when he visited the house your parents had in District 4. He dreams so hard that he swears seeing the skirt of your dress swaying through the trees. And that’s when he knows he’s so fucked up.

But that’s long forgotten after the break is over. And by the night, he’s on the biggest bar of the town. He sees Lucy Gray singing something new. He honestly never understood the meaning behind her songs, but he was enchanted by her do what she loved.

After her live presentation, a big projector was introduced. They started playing the weather with Lucky Flickerman. Which made Coriolanus miss the Capitol so bad.

“They’re probably waiting for some women. That’s why the always start that thing” Lucy Gray said, appearing by his side and pointing at the projector. He smiled at her.

“To see women?” She nodded, grabbing a glass of cold water.

“You know how are men around here” with no tv around, no ostentatious lifestyles, men could get excited with little makeup and satin gowns. Coriolanus was disgusted by many mannerism of the 12. He had heard and seen many disapproving behaviors. But he was happy to be able to find some peace along the songbird.

“Yes, I know. What’s that thing by the way?” When Coriolanus turned around to see the old projector, he almost choked after seeing the big logo appearing.

It was the summer fundraising charity of your mother. Another luxurious gala to help the constructions of the Capitol after war. However, that wasnt the most impressive part for Coriolanus. Seconds after the recovered from seeing something directly related to his past, you appeared in the projector, entering the stage and getting in pose to start a performance.

Lucy Gray Baird was in shock. So if she was surprised, the men all around the bar where cheering and whistling.

There you were, with curled wet hair, metallic bronze makeup, wine lips, golden bracelets on your arms. But it was the attire. A two piece set that let your legs and stomach show off. With bare feet, and two elegant knives, one in each hand. Your cocky smile was back. And it was ruining Coriolanus Snow.

He literally jumped from his seat, leaving Lucy Gray to cross the river of men and properly see you.

She knew you had broken up with him. And that relieved the songbird, as she felt like she could let her feelings for Coriolanus flow freely. But seeing the boy literally hipnotized as soon he saw you, it made her feel uneasy. Deeply she knew that Coriolanus wasn’t over you. And no matter what, you were a sensible subject for him. That not even herself could ever test.

But he kept going. Each step meant hearing them say how good you looked, the places where they’d put their hands on your body. It boiled his blood.

But finally, the dance killed him. Because maybe for the capitol you were still elegant and classy. Their eyes would publicly appreciate your art, and privately let their mind wander with your half naked body. But for people from the 12. It was like throwing a piece of meat to lions in starvation.

With your hips swaying tentatively, pointed feet and letting everyone know how flexible you were. That sassy look on your face that Coriolanus was feeling too personal. It was like you were saying “look what you lost”.

He was used to see you in pastel tutus, hair in a bun. Not this goddess ritual dance type of thing. The music was very different, something very uncommon in Panem. He really wants to punch every man in the room. He sees how most of the women in the bar see your graceful image with disgust. And Coriolanus couldn’t blame them. But it made him remember that he had lost the right to call you his. And that intrusive thought made him automatically think he wanted to go back home so badly.

Your sensual and meticulous steps keep going, the knives making him remember the folk tales of women dancing with sharp objects to show fertility, honor of their kingdom and to seal a man’s faith. Every minute more desperate for Snow, who’s over the edge of hearing men say plenty of things about you. But soon, the music stops with you arched, pointed feet, your curls kissing the stage, the knives perfectly pointing like a clock.

Coriolanus doesnt miss your evil smile. He can sense you are changing. And he remember all the pain he caused you, making him sigh in resignation. His desire of going back for you only growing.

“I’m sorry I left like that” he explains to Lucy Gray. She notices how quick he drank his beer. She was a woman after all, she knew the effect a fine female could have on men. Especially on the man who was their lover. The one that probably hurt her and left her, ending their history in bad terms.

“It’s okay. I told you she was very pretty before” Coriolanus learns that Lucy Gray was not being sarcastic that day at the zoo.

…

It had come to the point where he couldn’t run away from his thoughts. Coriolanus was borderline obsessed with your memory. He constantly wondered how you were doing. He had to ask Tigris every time they talked to see learn anything about you.

For the first time, since he left the Capitol, Tigris shares that she had talked to you.

Coriolanus was surprised to hear that the reason you gave about the breakup was only because he cheated with Lucy Gray.

You didn’t said a word about him the lies, the last argument you two had. You only say that his songbird was special. And that you stopped to be what he needed.

Which was heavily mistaken. Some days before he accepted that you were the only thing he needed to keep going. He imagines a fake scenario where you came to the 12 with him. You find a humble home where you wait till his training is over. The lake where he spent hours with Lucy Gray and The Covey could’ve been hours with you. Talking about anything and everything. He would’ve come straight home to you when the training was over. Make love to you, promise to fight for a higher position, possibly as a commander one day and marrying you. And soon the years would’ve passed, his exile would be over and you would go back to the Capitol with him. Maybe some children along.

But that would never happen. And his delusion was starting to make him find a way to go back where he belonged.

He questioned if his urges where for power, or to get back with the woman he loved.

Whatever the reason was, a lot of people would pay the price. First were the daughter of the mayor and her partner, then the man who had the decency to hide the gun he used to kill those two. Who also happened to be his alleged best friend.

His hands trembling as he pressed to record Sejanus. But he knew there were high possibilities of being heard. And that way, he would go back. He would find you and slowly start again.

The death of Sejanus would haunt him for a long time. He knew he was a close friend of yours, which made him get chills, uneasy to decide what could be your reaction to the news. Either way, it was done. The heavens had to have heard him. He was offered to serve in District 2, gain some money and he could easily take the train to see you if anything.

But Lucy Gray had other plans. And Coriolanus wasnt even sure of what he was doing. Probably in his rambling and panic after everything he went through as a peacekeeper, one side of him wanted to run away and never see back again. To forget about his decisions as a mentor, to forget about his decisions as a peacekeeper and to forget about you. That way he would never have to face all the pain he caused you.

After some hours of walking, Coriolanus should have seen the signs.

“Everyone in the Covey are really good dancers. But I don’t think it’s my thing. I just have my voice…” Lucy Gray said, holding her bag tightly. Coriolanus only smiled, remembering how bad the songbird was when he tried to teach her how to waltz.

“Is it like… exclusive in the Capitol?”

“I think so. Today there’s only one institution, the mother of…” he goes quiet, realizing what he was about to say.

“…y/n?” She asked, almost nervous about mentioning your name. But in reality, she wasnt. After Coriolanus nodded, they just kept walking in silence.

“Her mother founded it?”

“It was her grandmother actually. Mine knew her, and they were kind of friends” he said smiling, trying to look away from Lucy Gray so he couldn’t see him smiling.

Once you leaned Coriolanus was financially struggling some years ago, you ended up visiting him for the first time. That day you learned Grandma’am was friend of your family before your mother was born. And that only made her appreciate you faster. Which made Coriolanus happy. Finally seeing her grandmother to let go the days of the war and any crazy ideas that stayed on her mind. All thanks to you.

“Grandma’am even started planting pink roses for her.” It slipped out automatically, he couldn’t control it.

“She’s like ink…” Coriolanus missed the point. But after some minutes of silence, he understood what Lucy Gray said. Which resulted true. Metaphorically, you were the brightest tint he’d ever seen. He let that ink fall and splash everywhere, leaving stains on him that probably would never leave.

And finally, Lucy Gray Baird fell to her end in the shallow woods. Hunted like a prey. By a broken man who decided to stop being good. Who was losing his mind for the pieces of a woman he let go so easily.

That changes like the destination of Coriolanus.

He’s going back to the Capitol. With tiny sparks of hope. But firmly believing that everyhting was meant to happen like that so he could go back to you.

However, as he came closer, Coriolanus realized he was lost. He had no idea what would await for him. And what version of you would greet him.

…

There isn’t an exact period over the Capitol that can’t be considered as autumn. The summer was practically over, and winter was already happening. Coriolanus had to wait longer than expected to get into University. In the meantime, he accepted the money from the Plinth family. He decided to get ahead of time. He used the last hot days to get Tigris and Grandma’am back to the penthouse. He bought the whole building and in two weeks the whole place was renewed. There was only one thing he couldn’t get rid of. The living room and entrance olive paint you brought. He painted the halls, dining room, studio and kitchen in a dark blue paint. But he wasnt able to get rid of the memories he made with you. His old self was long gone. But he had his supcisions that the version he was for you would never change.

However, he decided to stay afar from the public eye for that month after returning from exile.

Tigris said she hadn’t seen you. But that was okay. He would soon enter to University. He was going to see you there.

Eventually the day came. He gets rid off Casca Highbottom and then he walks towards the big and imposing University of the Capitol. He had a driver now, but he thought it wouldn’t be bad to use the mornings to walk.

In his first hours inside, he has private lessons with Dr. Gaul. Already mentoring him to be a game maker. She kind of suspects he was involved with the sudden death of Highbottom. But for some reason, Gaul has a lot of hopes in him, so she would easily act blind to keep her plans to keep going.

After that, Coriolanus starts looking out for you. He crosses the big seminar rooms and other halls. Until he is able to locate the arts building. It’s smaller but probably the most interesting. With a beautiful barroque facade. As soon as he enters, he sees a group of girls holding large canvas with beautiful paintings on them. Then, some steps later he spots two guys trying to carry a sculpture. Coriolanus believes that kind of modern art was the future of the Capitol. He had to admit the arts building was fully alive, he even forgot he was still at the university.

Coming down from some stairs, he sees two girls. A red haired and a tanned with black leotards and floral skirts are giggling. They seems like dancers, he doesnt think twice. He’s already approaching the girls.

“Excuse me, ladies. Do you know by any chance where I can find y/n y/l/n?” The girls look cheekily at each other, before smiling at him. Which makes Coriolanus wonder what type of rumours had been flowing around about you and him. Since mostly everyone knew the last Snow heir was dating the daughter of the kings of Panem´s television industry.

“She’s rehearsing a class for new students. It’s on the second floor, you’ll hear the music…” he thanks the tanned girl before going upstairs.

She wasn’t lying. He started hearing the classical piano music. He can hear some distant and low cheering. The whole floor is full of dancers. It’s a long hall, to the right, a big studio, with a classical mural, chandeliers and the most giant mirror he’d ever seen.

The people outside the studio see him with curiosity. But he only has eyes for the ballerina dancing all across the studio.

There you are, with a coral tutu, baby pink leotard and thighs. Your pointe shoes seem new. Your cheeks look so pink and your smile is there.

He has to understand that you have become popular enough to have your own fans. Some rumors said that your mother was offering master classes at the University. And he couldn’t help but think how much your family’s name have growth since he left.

He lost count of many turns you did, but you finish cleanly, offering a beautiful view of your tutu wadding. He can’t stop smiling.

People start a round of applauses. He debates whether to get closer or not. He doesnt have any speech prepared. He doesn’t know what to say to you.

“Coriolanus?” When he turns around, he sees Clemensia Dovecote there. Her old study buddy looked older, but not in a bad way. He saw the scales on her skin. But he didnt had to ask, he knew it was because of the rainbow snakes. It just seemed weird to see her short sleeves but turtleneck, rather than her trying to cover all of her face.

“Clemensia” he greets her. Clemmie was probably your female best friend. It wasnt a surprise that suddenly the woman seemed to dislike him.

“Since when you returned?” He looks back at you again. As the music keeps playing, he just smiles. He know the way things would now work. With no how are you questions or anything like the past.

“Some weeks ago.” Clemensia looks like she’s analyzing every movement and word of him.

“Why are you here?” Her hostile tone only makes Coriolanus to act more relaxed than he already is.

“I made the promise to come back for y/n…” the woman stares at him, probably taken aback.

“She doesn’t need this, Coriolanus. She can’t have this” Clemensia had visited you at the hospital. She learned most of his lies towards you. She knew you didn’t deserved to fall again. And especially not because of him.

“I know, Clemmie. I won’t be a burden for her” the music stops, and Coriolanus decides that it’s not time to talk to you yet. So he smiles once again to Clemensia.

“I hope so. Because you already failed her once…” his smile drops. Clemensia dissapears to get inside the studio. Coriolanus stares at you one last time, before he silently walks out.

…

Before you can reach your glass of posca, a porcelain plate with your food slides on the way. A soft piece pile of fried little steaks, with melted cheese and a golden sauce of mushrooms dripping. Your stomach churns and it makes Clemensia laugh.

She had a salmon fine cut with caviar and other exotic stuff. It was a beautiful afternoon to have dinner at one of the most elegant restaurants of the Capitol Downtown.

“Bless your food.”

“Bless your food” you reply back to her.

“So, How it went the rehearsal?” You roll your eyes giggling.

“It was great, until the girls taking the masterclass appeared to see me” your father was right. After working in the production of the 10th Hunger Games, many doors opened for you. Splendid career opportunities here and there. Only that you didn’t enjoy a lot of attention.

“Are they still at the Academy” you nod.

“Rich girls who can make their parents pay the classes of course” Clemensia smiles, drinking a little bit before getting back to eat.

“Coriolanus was looking for you…” you literally stopped eating. You almost drop your fork, but you decided to hold it firmly.

“What?”

“Apparently he’s back.” She reveals. Making you close your eyes in panic.

“How? He was exiled” you say whispering. Clemmie shrugs.

“Gaul. He’s her pupil star. And with Dean Highbottom dead now…” it must’ve been great for Coriolanus to learn the man was gone. Always putting him in the lowest, it was a mark for change.

“Doesn’t matter, I won’t let this get into my way” she smiles.

“What about what your father said?” During a late lunch, you had been talking with your parents, revealing that you broke up with Coriolanus because he cheated. Your mother was shocked, but soon she joined your father to give a twisted advice. He asked if you still loved him. You answered you weren’t sure.

Then I suggest you to proceed to ignore him. Soon you’ll learn his intentions if he ever comes back. Play with him a little. Show him that nobody will laugh in the face of family like ours. Let your hands get dirty, but never show this insecurity you’re talking about.

From that day, you still wake up every morning without knowing how you actually feel about Coriolanus Snow. You know you can’t just simply forget about all the things you did with him. But you firmly pretended that he was in the past.

“I still don’t know how I feel about him.”

“Are you still in contact with his family?” You remember Tigris and Grandma’am.

“Not as much as I used to”

“Mhm. Did they ever learned what happened?” You sigh.

“Just that he opted to choose the songbird before me. And I know Tigris has her own opinion. I just never gave her the opportunity to share it.”

“With him back… probably you’ll find out sooner than later” Clemensia admits, leaving you thinking for the rest of the dinner.

Turns out that you are not ready to find out yet.

…

The first time you see him, it’s at the gardens of the University. You had lunch and wanted to have a brief walk. Through a maze of flowers and plants, you spot him on a bench. He’s very concentrated reading a book. Your eyes widen, seeing how much different he looked. The posture, the clothes, the hair, the cold look.

Something notoriously changed. And you have your suspicions. It wasn’t a coincidence that Sejanus was gone, and Lucy Gray Baird had dissapeared.

You mourned the death of Sejanus one week. You send your condolences to his parents at the funeral. And that night you can’t help but cry on your pillow. Wondering why had life slowly turned dark. In a matter of months you had experienced things you never thought you would. You lost people, you had your first heart broken. You had lost the will to do much things. But, you had to keep going. And you felt guilty, because you thought you had no right to feel like your life was hard, just for being Capitol. The districts struggled more. However, it’s not on your power to mend their lives. Just as it’s not their case to judge your life.

And now, seeing Coriolanus so firm, so calm, it makes you doubt. Sensing that there must’ve been something off about him. Something bad, like all the things he did and hid from you.

You pretend you’re looking for some papers in your bag when you walk past him. He doesn’t see you though, and you thank it.

A couple of days later, you hear for the first time the rumours about him courting Livia Cardew. It makes you feel depressed. You cry out of anger as soon as you get home.

And to your dismay, the first thing you see after turning into a room for the politics class, it’s them. Coriolanus Snow is talking to Livia just beside the door.

That’s the first time you two look at each other again. He sees the anger, discontent and so much resentment. You see the questioning, curiosity and admiration in his eyes.

Nothing else is said because you break the gazes, you walk inside the room with your head high, and your presence is so evident that even Livia has to look at you. Taking too much time to see your beautiful heels.

A week later, you are having a good time with your friends. Festus and Lysistrata are there with you and Clemensia. You are talking all about the upcoming winter gala held at the biggest auditorium in the Capitol. Everyone is excited because it’s the great opportunity to make contacts and eat the most delicious food.

“Is your mother inviting Coriolanus?” Lysistrata asks with curiosity. You roll your eyes at the subject.

“I hope not. I haven’t even spoken with him ever since he came back” everyone knew you had broke up with him. But only Clemensia knew the details.

“Well, apparently he is courting Livia now” Festus mocks, making everyone laugh. Not that any of you had something personal against Livia. But she wasn’t the most brilliant star at the Academy. Now not certainly at University.

“Why Livia?” Clemmie asks laughing.

“Perhaps it’s becase how naïve she is”

“Or because of her father’s inheritance” you add.

“I don’t think so. He’s now the heir of the Plinth fortune” Festus remarks with dessaproval, which makes you feel angered.

“He’s dancing on Sejanus’ grave” your words create some minutes of silence for your late friend. Even when Festus and Lysistrata had made fun of him for being District and the ways of his parents to go up, at the end, they were friends. And now his absence had created a void.

“Ambitious and annoying. Just like his father…” Lysistrata comments sipping on her glass of water.

“How unfortunate. If he had stayed with you, we wouldn’t be talking bad things about him behind his back” you sigh at Clemensia’s words.

“Speaking of the king…” when you look past Lysistrata seated on her chair, you spot Coriolanus. He was wearing a dark grey suit, he looked so fine you had to admit. But soon you look away, the sudden memories of your last days with him haunt you.

After spotting his old friends and ex lover in a table at the cafeteria, he start walking towards there. Trying to make his first moves to go back to normality.

“Yeah. He would’ve been seated beside me right now. But he consciously choose the songbird before me. At least he’s refining himself a little bit with Livia” your friends turn to look at you in shock after the revelation, Clemmie only rises her brows as she sips her water silently, hiding her smile. By the time Coriolanus arrives the table, you’re gone and he curses himself for not walking faster. Festus and Lysistrata are shocked, making him furrow his brows in confusion.

“Did I missed something?” He asks.

“You had an affair with your tribute?” Lysistrata asks back in disgust. Coriolanus sees Clemensia giggling in silence with her head down. Probably enjoying his embarrassment.

His silence meets the requirement for an answer. One that they take as yes.

“And now y/n knows about you and Livia” Coriolanus frowns ever deeper after looking at Clemensia.

“There’s no Livia and I” He responds firmly. Even disgusted to her his name along the least smart girl of his finances class.

“Oh but everyone believes so. That you’re courting her…” he rolls his eyes, annoyed.

“I’m just talking to her because we’re partners for some stupid research paper” the silent sipping on their drinks at the same time is ridiculous to Coriolanus. He just stares at them annoyed.

“Do me a favor and leave her alone, Coriolanus. You were gone to go to your nobody girl from 12, but I stayed and saw her struggling in that hospital bed” Clemensia speaks confidently. Making the blonde to feel threatened.

So he realises that maybe you could have feelings for him still. And that this rumors could have weight on you. He curses himself. Even without realizing, he’s still hurting you.

“I won’t lose the girl twice, Clemmie. Have a good day” he says with a fake smile before leaving the table in shock.

He had to quicken the pace of his proximity with you. He had to make you see he never stopped caring for you.

…

There’s a shattering mess of broken glasses. You quickly move away from the crime scene, looking for your pills, immediately swallowing two.

Your mother’s assistant opens the door, asking for you with concern.

“Is everything okay, miss y/n?” You turn to look a the woman.

“I accidentally threw the jar. Sorry…” Millie is in her mid thirties. She was your mother’s confidant, and slowly yours too. She sees the news paper in the floor, half of it drenched from the broken jar that had water. She can see the title, The Snow heir tights the knot with the Cardew family?

“I’ll call the maids. Don’t worry” she says looking back at you.

“Thanks Millie.” She smiles, closing the door behind.

You breathe loudly, sighing in stress. Of course you had purposely thrown the water jar because of the news paper. A portrait picture of Livia is placed perfectly aligned with one of Coriolanus. Between some paragraph there’s your name too. But you don’t dare to see why.

You may pretend to be okay to the public eye, but you’re still drowning in the same feelings you got after Coriolanus Snow revealed his lies to you.

It’s almost like if he was still mocking you. Showing everyone how easy he had played with you. And how easy he got rid of you.

Someone had to pay. No, not someone, he. He, himself, Coriolanus Snow had to fail. Only that way you would feel slightly better. Only that way your tears would stop being for him.

The first chance you had, you would take it.

…

While you loved pursuing a dancing career along the production stuff. You still had some duties regarding politics and economy. Which is why you ended up at the submissions office so early in the morning. To send a petition.

You end up at at a messy office. A man is there, moving folders and other type of papers. There’s three baskets that can clearly be read as; approved, denied, pending.

However, you quickly look away to smile at the man who’s sitting behind the chair.

“Good morning.” Your smile is contagious to everyone. The man replies with a warm greeting.

“Good morning, miss y//l/n. How can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you could hand me a petition form to send” he nods, standing up, leaving the mess of papers behind.

“I can, just let me go and print the form. It won’t take too long…” you smile again, letting him go outside the office.

As you wait, you start seeing the racks of boxes and more boxes filled with yellow and lined papers.

Your curiosity grows, making you look at the baskets on the desk.

You see at first glance some graduation petitions, letters, etc. You are still curious to see why some papers where pending. So you look at the door one last time before diving into the papers. You don’t know the first students mentioned. Until you see the third yellow folder, where you can see a white strip with black letter saying Coriolanus Snow.

You open the folder, seeing what it was all about. A petition to start a political campaign at the age of 19. You frowned. He was good at writing. Even with letters he had some charm. But you know he never beated you to be precise and delicate. You always heard Grandma’am saying he would one day be president. But you never seriously discussed it with him. Now you know it was real. And you can’t help but feel an enormous amount of remorse.

He doesn’t deserve it. He had lost everything once, but the way he was earning everything was through breaking you, and probably others you’ll never knew about. Even when it would make Tigris and Grandma’am happy, you slip the folder into the basket of denied. You don’t feel nothing as you do it.

In fact, you offer the sweet man a smile when he comes back with the form for you. You thank him and then walk out.

…

Coriolanus swears he didn’t intend to bump into your father at the bank. Your father was a frivolous man, but since he knew him, he greeted Coriolanus with respect.

The blonde was taken aback when he invited him to have dinner at your house. And he couldn’t say no.

Your house is the same. At least from the outside, because inside, there’s more color. Coriolanus sees your mother. And she offers him a smile before he leans to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Coriolanus, look at you. You look very handsome!” His cheeks warm, as your father giggles, handing his coat to a maid.

“I ran into him at the bank. Where’s y/n, dear?” Your mother laughs, rolling her eyes.

“That girl. I haven’t seen her out of her room since midday” the sudden sound of your heels gets noticed.

“I’m here” you say, coming down the stairs, putting some earrings on. Coriolanus notices the grey dress and black heels along the red tights. A diadem on your head and a bright smile that soon dissapears as you spot him in your house.

“Look who I found earlier” you sigh, standing straight.

“I see…” Your parents can see the way you correct your posture, showing how uncomfortable you are.

“We’re having dinner…” you ignore Coriolanus and his deep gaze on you.

“I can’t stay for dinner. I have rehearsals and I promised Clemmie to go to her birthday dinner party” they exchange looks. And Coriolanus is at the verge of smiling at the way you are making up an excuse to leave. Running away from him.

“Are you meeting with Jan before?” Coriolanus head almost pops to look at your father. And you don’t know if you should smile. Jan was your dance partner, he would dance with you at the gala. He was older, very handsome. And you wished he wasn’t off limits from you. Because you easily could admit your attraction towards him.

“Can you at least stay for some drinks?” You shrug at your mother, accepting your purse from a maid. You ignore Coriolanus and his way of looking at you, almost petrified.

His head was spinning, he needed to know who the hell was Jan.

“Unless you want me to do horrible at the Winter Gala, no. I cannot stay, mother” she sighs, tilting her head towards your father. He understands, your father was the one who convinced you to ignore Coriolanus and play with him.

“Well, that’s fine. Just be polite and say goodbye to Coriolanus.” You nod, watching them leave inside the long corridor to enter the dinning table.

You remain quiet, looking down at your purse to avoid his eyes.

“You look lovely” he says, breaking the ice.

“Thank you.”

It’s the first time you two talk since months ago.

“I heard you want to start your political campaign” you opt to pretend you are okay and you can face him with confidence.

“I did. But the idiots of the council rejected my essay. Guess it’ll give me more time to focus on university.” You nod, grabbing a pair of gloves from inside the purse. You want to smile so badly. He would never know you were the reason of his failed first steps in the politic of Panem.

“Anyways… How you’ve been?”

“I’m fine, Coriolanus.” the way you sound tired. Like tired of him makes him uncomfortable. But he tries to keep his best smile too.

“Who is Jan?” He asks almost too seriously. You smile politely at him

“No one of your business, Snow” you calling him by his last name takes him very aback.

“You know, I just hoped that… you know. Maybe we could start off again… like friends of course” you giggle, lowering your head. He frowns confused.

“Miss y/n, Trevor is waiting in the car for you” the butler say appearing from the side door, you thank him and he leaves again.

“I don’t think there’s a way to start again. You already failed me once, Coriolanus.” You admit, putting on the gloves with a bittersweet smile on your face. You turn to pat his cheek, and he swears he’s about to melt. He lounged for your touch since the moment he left you at the hospital. He closes his eyes, hoping to slow down time and felt your cold touch.

But you move away your hand. He opens his eyes and sees you putting the last pair of the gloves on. You walk towards the door.

“You know where the dinning table room is.” And with that, you are gone.

…

Your father gave him the green light to court you again. Coriolanus had to swear that he would never cause you any type of pain, or else, your father would destroy his career before it officially started.

That was more than enough for him. Since that day, slowly, he had been greeting you almost every day, at Univeristy and when you ecountered him and Tigris in a furniture store. You personally invited her to the Winter gala, and Tigris agreed to not share the news about the invitation. But to the young Snow woman, it was a surprise that your father had already invited Coriolanus to the gala.

Soon the day came. As usual the gala opened with the performance of an specific play, than everyone celebrated in the hall with fine dining, and everyone gossiped as auctions happened. It had been a couple of weeks, very busy ones. Probably it was even more important than the arts gala on March. But for this special occasion you had rehearsed a lot to be an elegant black swan.

You smile at your own reflection at the mirror, the black tutu was gorgeous. The crown you had to use was very intriguing. And the black makeup made you feel very confident.

“I came as soon as I could” Clemensia suddenly opens the door of your dressing room. She looks agitated, but she looked amazing on a beige dress and her hair in half ponytail.

“You look very pretty” she thanks you.

“But look at you. You are going to be amazing.” She sits and both start gossiping.

“Your father invited Coriolanus.” It makes you roll your eyes tired. But you are having a heartache.

“I’m… not sure if I don’t feel anything about him” Clemmie leaves her glass of champagne.

“The newspaper rumour affected you. Right?” Slowly, you nod. Too embarrassed to look at her in the eye. But Coriolanus had been really good. He smiled at you at any chance he could. Some days he would join you and your friends and he was fun, you had to bite your tongue to avoid giggling. And Clemensia had seen it too.

“I can’t blame you. I was there since the beginning…” your friend had seen the courting, the first awkward hand holding, how you two formed a strong connection. And Coriolanus left you at the hospital.

“You two had a beautiful bond. And he broke it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t miss him” Clemmie goes to hug you.

“Pa’ said to keep playing with him, to ignore him. But I’m tired, I just want to heal” she nods, letting you hide your face on her shoulder.

“You want my advice?” You nod.

“Do not force anything. Be polite to him, but avoid giving him any chance yet. As you heal, you’ll find the answer; if you should let him have another chance or not”

A man knocks. When Clemensia opens the door, he receives a bouquet of white roses.

You could recognize those roses anywhere. You get closer, taking the attached note.

Grandma’am and Tigris didn’t know what flowers to cut.

Good luck.

You try to hide your smile. But it’s impossible.

…

The whole place is full. Coriolanus takes a seat with Tigris besides.

“I talked with her yesterday. She said she was very nervous about this one” Tigris says. Coriolanus knows she’s talking about you.

“She’s always perfect, she shouldn’t feel nervous.” His mind was only thinking about Jan. He did his research. And learned he was a former dancer of your mother’s institution. It made him mad.

“Have you thought about inviting her to have dinner?” Coriolanus shakes his head.

“Not yet, I haven’t talked enough to her”

“Well, hurry up. Grandma’am wanted to see you married by the age of 20” she says laughing. But it doesn’t make Coriolanus smile.

“Oh look, it’s starting” Tigris squealed with excitement. The curtains lifted and the show started.

For the first twenty minutes, he’s so bored. Nothing exciting happens. He thinks the white swan is boring. And for the first time, he meets Jan. It makes him feel jealous.

It only worsened when you appeared on stage. Your black attire makes him go mad. He had never seen you in anything like that. He gets very invested in your scenes. He feels the emotion you are trying to project. Sassy, cheeky and attractive. You succeed to him.

Unfortunely, Jan had to appear too. And Coriolanus has to sigh, dealing with the scene of the man holding you to make you gracefully spin. The music doesn’t help, it holds the sense of you and Jan dancing together. Coriolanus knows dancing has a lot to do with acting. But he doesn’t enjoy the looks of lust and desire between you and your partner. The worst part? He had to seat and watch it for at least fifteen minutes.

His head malfunctions. But he already is telling Tigris he needs to the restroom.

It’s a lie. He goes to the dressing rooms. And his luck was so big that he found the one with the name of Jan. He slowly made his way inside. The place was so old that he didn’t need to check for security or anything, but he wanted to make sure nobody would see him in real time.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to accomplish, but surely he wanted to get rid of the man who apparently had your attention now. Your mother had said you and Jan worked very well. And now, with him seeing the performance, he was more than sure he couldn’t let it move forward.

His hand went to his pocket, and his eyes widened. He felt the little glass tubes of narcotics. The same he used to kill Casca Highbottom.

He thought about it just for a little. Was it worth it? Getting rid of a man just to have easier access to you.

Maybe.

Then he questioned how bad he wanted you back. Coriolanus had missed you since day one. He knew he would never love anyone else. He knew no one would treat him as you once did.

So he poured the liquid from one of the tubes inside the water flask resting on the vanity. And before leaving, Coriolanus slipped two more tubes inside the bag that contained Jan’s clothes.

“You took very long at the restroom” Tigris tells her cousin when he came back.

“There was a long line”

…

This time, is different. You smile and you can hear the big round of applauses as you make reverence to go off from stage. You were the last one and the curtains came down finally.

Once you are free, you have all the time in the world to breathe. Other dancers and production staff members congratulate you. But it’s Coriolanus Snow the one who makes you frown confused. He was backstage, looking at you with a soft smile. His classic black suit makes you go back and remember about the Reaping ceremony. How happy that day initiated, and how bad it turned out.

“Coriolanus.” You greet him, he can see a tiny smile on your face.

“You were amazing. As usual, of course”

“Thank you. And for the flowers, they were gorgeous. As usual, of course” he’s so surprised that you were talking to him with some humor sense. Both of you laugh and it feels… warm, and natural.

“It’s nothing. But.. perhaps we could just sit together at dinner?” Your cheeks warmth. You think about your confusing feelings, what your father and Clemensia respectively said. Sitting with him once wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“Yeah, we could.” He smiles, and even when his hair changed, his deeper voice. For some seconds you can see the boy you once loved.

And he almost feels like he was seventeen again. Watching you dance backstage, ready to greet you with a kiss. He sees the girl who helped him so much. And he just know all the horrible things he’d done were worth it.

“I-…” but his words stay lingering in the air. Both of you hear a female scream. Coriolanus and you exchange looks before starting to walk where the sound was heard. In the corridor of the dressing rooms you see a woman lingering to an open door. Immediately you recognize it’s Jan’s room. You quickly make it there, through the pain of your caged foot inside the pointe shoe. Coriolanus goes behind you, already sensing the scene inside.

He hears you gasp in shock, covering your mouth and tears forming on your eyes.

You are in shock, you sob, unable to blink.

Jan is on the floor, pale and blood on his mouth. He’s dead.

And as much as the scene shocks you, you are trained to entertain the Capitol, so you turn to them random woman.

“Go and find Millie. Tell her about this and do keep your mouth shut. Nobody can know beside my parents. Understood?” You indicate the woman with a broken voice. She nods in horror dissapearing through the corridor. When she leaves you can finally cry.

When you don’t know what else to do, you are holding onto Coriolanus Snow. You find comfort on his chest. And he immediately holds you back.

As much as you hate to admit it, you feel you are home in his arms.

With one hand, he closes the door of the dressing room and returns to completely be there to hug you. He smiles, knowing he’s already slowly winning.

Because when your parents find out what happened, they make you put a cute black and green velvet gown with crystals. They make you pretend nothing happened and you sit with Coriolanus and Tigris. Ignoring the upcoming rumors, and certainly not respecting the sudden death of Jan.

…

Two days later, Coriolanus finds you seating on a bench. You are eating a sandwich, looking lost. He takes a seat beside you.

“I’m sorry about Jan. It happened so suddenly” he doesn’t feel sorry. Opposite of what he felt about Sejanus and Lucy Gray. However, he firmly believes it was the only way.

“He was a wonderful man. A devoted dancer, with principales. He had a wife in District 3.” Coriolanus coughs. He wasn’t expecting that. That little detail wasn’t on his research. Something twisted inside him, but he still didn’t regret or felt sorry.

“He didn’t seem the type to use narcotics…he must’ve been very stressed out” you add. Oblivious that you are talking with Jan’s murderer.

“Are you sure you are okay?” You roll your eyes sighing.

“No. I’m not okay, Coriolanus. Not since that cursed Reaping ceremony day”

“I’m just trying to be here for you” he admits, and it’s your breaking point.

“WHY DO YOU CARE NOW? YOU FAILED ME WHEN I MOST NEEDED YOU!” He looks around to see if anyone was around. But the place is empty.

“I know I committed many errors but-“

“BUT NOTHING, CORIOLANUS.” You spit out with such anger, that makes him frown.

“You violated the trust, loyalty, respect and love we had for each other. You dissapear after making me have a damn breakdown. Only to go after that girl. And now you appear trying to mend things?” You won’t tell him about his denied petition and what you did. You just want to share all you couldn’t before at his face.

“Do you know how many doctor appointments I’ve had since you left?” He looks down.

“Twelve. And I have to swallow four different pills every day. Only to stay sane. And who’s fault it is? The hunger games, the galas, dancing, Lucy Gray Baird. But specially, you” when he looks up at you again, you are crying.

“If you really want to be here for me, you need to stay away and leave me alone.” You finall state, looking at his blue eyes one last time, before standing from the bench and walking away.

That wasn’t your day. Neither the following ones. Your pointe shoes died and your size was out of stock. The food took such a long time. Your parents left to have an audience in District 1 and your evening was to listen to music and cry.

But certainly what broke you once again was a phone call.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Y/n?”

“Tigris?” You ask. Her voice sounding worried.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Is everything okay? You sound alarmed, dear” you are able to hear her sighing.

“It’s Grandma’am. She’s sick. Coriolanus is busy at the Univeristy and the doctor I requested hasn’t appeared” your heart beats faster.

“She has a strong fever and it’s been like that for hours.” She adds, finally sounding more worried.

“Tigris, calm down. I’ll call my cousin, he’s one of the most prepared doctors around. I’m going there with you in the meantime” you reassure her, already taking off your nightgown and taking out a dress and coat from your closet.

“Thank you, y/n. I truly appreciate this, thank you.” You hang up after saying everything was going to be okay.

…

You see how changed is the penthouse. Fully renovated, with bright lights that contrasted the dark blue wallpapers. But you find interesting how the olive paint you brought is still there. And your portrait from the day of your eighteen birthday is still with the family pictures.

You wait outside the room of the elder woman, as your cousin is checking Grandma’am. You have to hold the urge from biting your nails. A maid offers you posca, but you can’t think about drinking at the time.

The front doors opens and seconds later, Coriolanus is there. He seems surprised to see you there. Since the day of your argument, he hadn’t see you. He tried calling you but your butler said you were out for the weekend to your grandparents house.

“Y/n?” He asks, dropping his coat on a chair.

“Tigris called me. She wanted a doctor for your grandmother” he worried a bit.

“Is she not feeling better. When I left she seemed better…” he says hurrying to go to her room, but you stop him, grabbing by his forearm.

“Don’t. My cousin is already there with her. I’m waiting for the results” Coriolanus only stares at you. He wants to smile. You came only to help his family once again.

“You look very lovely” you smirk, looking at his window with your arms crossed.

“Really? Your grandmother is sick and you are here saying how lovely I look today?” He smiles.

“You told me to wait. What else can I do?”

“How cynical of you” you respond coldly. After all you told him, he was acting like it never happened.

The door of the room opened and Tigris came out with your cousin.

He revealed Grandma’am was having a little difficulties in her lungs, which made her prone to catch a flu. He gave her some strong medicines and promised it would be fine with some days of resting.

After some minutes, you are also ready to leave.

You say good night to the Snow cousins and leave.

“Y/n. Wait…” Tigris comes out. Stopping you some feet away of the now working elevator.

“I-… Thank you.” She slowly says hugging you.

“It’s nothing, Tigris. I told Coriolanus once I would always help the people I love” Tigris suddenly feels so sad to hear you say that. She really hoped you and her little cousin had a different ending.

“He still loves you so much.” You fight harder against the tears when she says that.

“I know. And I still love him too. But… he never apologized. And I’m not ready to let go my resentment towards him.” You admit looking away.

“Although things did’t work out for you and Coriolanus, I really appreciate and care for you, y/n” se almost whispers in your ear. And your eyes water.

“I feel the same, Tigris. I really do” you reply slowly, controlling your voice to not sound cracked.

“I’ll come back in some days” she nods.

She lets you go and you finally head out. Not noticing that Coriolanus heard everything.

He never apologized.

That night, you are reading on the living room when your butler walks in.

“Coriolanus Snow is asking for you in the telephone” you thank him, walking bare feet towards the kitchen telephone.

“Yes, Mr. Snow?” You ask.

“I just wanted to thank you for coming today. You didn’t have to and yet you appeared here” you sigh.

“Whatever that happened between us has nothing to do with my relationship with Tigris and your mother” now he sighs, from his office, in complete darkness.

“About that y/n…” your hands go numb, and panic floods you.

“You don’t know how much I’m-“

“I know.” You interrupt him, cracked voice and you hang up.

“Sorry” he says through the dead line.

That night, you read his letters. The ones he sent when he was a peacekeeper at the 12. Where he seemed to have projected his more vulnerable and emotional side of his heart. Maybe he had been drunk, maybe Lucy Gray wrote them for him. You’d never know, and you preferred to ignore the idea of him actually feeling sorry.

…

A week later you’re applauding for Grandma’am as she sings for you. You smile, changing her pillow case and complementing how much of a sweet voice she had.

It’s getting late, and you must return to your house.

After wishing Grandma’am sweet dreams, you carefully close her door and you walk with the old pillow case away.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Tigris asks with a sweet smile, taking the pillow case from you. Coriolanus is seated, drinking something as he carefully looks at you. You ignore him.

“I must decline, dear. I have to go back and pack some things” she frowns, stopping to put some plates on the dinning table.

“Pack?”

“Yes. I think I’ll spend the holidays at District 1. My mother is opening a new studio and she’s going to need help. And well, if everything goes right, I might even stay there” Tigris almost drops the pillow case. And Coriolanus almost chokes on his drink.

“What? Why?. What about university? The galas? Your production job for the hunger games” you shrug with an honest smile.

“Lately the Capitol life has... it has been a burden. I want to live a peaceful life. I want to heal” Tigris sends daggers with her eyes to Coriolanus. He coughs, uncomfortable.

“CORIOLANUS!” Grandma’am calls the man, you only sigh. And slowly, he stands up to to the woman. He hears you keep talking with Tigris. And he wants to do something to stop you from leaving. Now he can give you the life he couldn’t before.

“Is everything alright, Grandma’am?” The elder woman looks at him from her bed.

“Are you really letting that young woman to walk away again?” Coriolanus frowns.

“What?”

“You’ve heard me.” Even in her sick days, she was firm.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore” Grandma’am shrugs.

“I don’t think so. Her eyes shine sadly at every mention of you. She was part of the family after all.” Coriolanus remains quiet. But he admits to himself that’s what he missed the most.

“I think she always waited for an apology. One that never came.” His heart pounds very fast. He tried, and you hung up.

“What do you suggest me to do?” Grandma’am smiles, coughing tiredly.

“You run to wherever she goes and beg on your knees. One time you show her vulnerability and you’ll never do it again. We, women, only want real love, stupid love. You show her that stupid love once and you can silently do it for the rest of your again”

“You already won the money and respect. You’re just missing out the girl” Coriolanus sweats, but when he turns to look at her grandmother again, she nods, reassuring him.

“Go. Get her back, Coriolanus” without saying anything back, he leaves.

When he enters the dinning room, he only sees two plates of food. He looks at Tigris confused.

“Where’s y/n?” She shrugs, taking a seat.

“She just left.”

Coriolanus runs. He actually runs out of his penthouse and when the elevator starts taking to much time, he decided to choose the stairs as his getaway. He feels sweaty and agitated, but as he goes down, he can’t help but feel slightly happy, the adrenaline of making it on time make him hurry.

“Y/N!” He yells your name once he makes it to the lobby, where he can see you turning back to see him.

You are waiting for Trevor when he appears running towards you.

And before you can even blink or breathe, he gets on his knees.

“Coriolanus Snow. What are you doing?” You ask confused and blushed.

“I’m sorry.” He says.

“I’m sorry about all the stupid things I did. I’m sorry about letting you down. I’m sorry for ruining our relationship. For letting you in that hospital bed and return to do everyhting but apologize to you” you look at him perplexed, not believing his words.

“I can’t lose you again. Because I know you’re the last and only person I’ll love. I won’t trust anyone else. And nobody would have ever looked down at me like you did when I had nothing” you sigh, feeling the tears coming again. You know he’s not lying. You knew him so well that you sense it.

“If you let me. To give me another chance, I’ll do things right. I will never fail you again in life. You’ll be the only person I’ll cherish and show love.” He offers you his hand, and he looks very suppliant.

You blink quickly to soothe the tears. And you know he doesnt deserve you. But aren’t the best person, so maybe you two were actually meant to be together.and that’s the only viable reason to why you want to let your heart freely beat for him again.

“Please don’t go, y/n” he whispers, waiting for your answer. You sigh, slowly and shaking, but you end up taking his hand.

“You’ll better be the most perfect lover of the history of Panem, then” he wraps your fingers together, and stands up.

“I promise, I swear�� he knows the memory of Lucy Gray would always follow him. As well of all the deaths he had caused. But nothing compared to the joy of him kissing you again.

Your lips welcome him in the most sweet way. And he finds himself smiling through the kiss, gently holding you closer to him.

It’s in the start of the Road of Hope in the Capitol where Coriolanus Snow had his fully owned penthouse. Where he had nothing, and now had won everything.

…

Time flies, things had changed, probably for the better. You made Coriolanus keep fighting for a good and healthy relationship. Slowly, he made you completely fall in love again. And although there was certain spark missing, you knew it would never come back. However, you had also accepted that both of you had grown up.

The late talks were mature now. Talking about the future of Panem, planning dinners together. The kisses were more passionate, unlike the softness that was all over your early relationship. The sex was harder rather than slow and sweet like the beginning. Coriolanus would like to leave many hickeys scattered across your body, make a wet mess of saliva and fluids. He loved feelings your almond nails leave gentle scratches across his pale back.

But certainly, the biggest change was the way you two were handling a life together.

After turning twenty, you got married. Soon Coriolanus bought the house he always wished to give you. The one with black and white tiles floor, beige walls and big stairs.

By the first week in, he had done many refurbishments and he had fucked you in every room, every corner and every surface of the house.

Till the day you turned twenty-two. By that time, you had almost ditched your dancing career. Sometimes you still had some chances to perform on galas. But Coriolanus convinced you to focus on public services and the production of the hunger games. Dr. Gaul had officially retired, and it was going to be the first year of Coriolanus as a game maker. Things had really changed.

But everything seemed fine.

“Dear, Are you ready?” You turn to look at your husband, who waits on the frame of the door.

“Just one moment” you run to slip into your silver heels before grabbing your purse.

Trevor kept his job as your chauffeur and Millie was now your private secretary. Sometimes you hated how formal your life had become. Especially now that Coriolanus had some plans in mind.

As soon as you arrive to the fancy patio from a million-dollar man house, many women eye you and Coriolanus.

“Remind me what are we doing here?” You ask him. He holds your hand tightly, smiling at many of the invited people.

“I’m assuming the role of game maker. You are giving a speech about the improvements for the 14th Hunger Games, my dear” you nod, clutching onto his cold hand harder. Both of you were kind of the sensation around the Capitol. You know how they whisper about your dress and your husband’s physic.

“You’re going to be fine. You always choose the right words. And your voice can charm anyone here” he whispers on your ear, pressing a soft kiss on your temple.

“Thank goddess I’ve been studying the constitution. Or else these men would bury me” Coriolanus laughs. Soon you enter the actual event. With long white tables, candles and everyone dressed either on red or black.

“Men around here don’t know how smart my wife is” he says shrugging, remembering how many honors you received from university. Some of the wives ask you to join them. You wave hello to them before leaning to your man.

“Do not make me jealous or leave me alone during the speech.” You firmly say to him.

“Of course not, my love”

“Love you.” And with one last kiss, you walk away.

For the rest of the night. You feel uneasy. Because you succeeded with the speech. But once you read the part from Coriolanus, you are at the verge of babbling.

He shared some of his initial proposals for the games. Like lowering the age of the tributes, increasing the obstacles in the arena, using more mutts, allowing weapons, and making the interviews with Lucky Flickerman longer.

It had been a long time since you think about the games so much. But that guilt you felt after seeing Coriolanus as mentor, never left. And after that dinner, everyone claps for your husband and you, after being considered as the couple of the next generation for Panem.

In the privacy of your new home, you constantly zone out to think about it. You can’t ask Coriolanus to stop the games, but he could make some changes.

You knock swiftly on his door.

“Come in.” You walk in and he drops the papers he was signing to smile at the sight of you.

“Hello, you.” he says cheekily.

“Hello, you’.” You reply. He indicates you to seat on his lap and you do so. His arms lock around you, hands resting on your back.

“Are you coming to bed anytime soon?” You ask.

“I just need to sign some things, darling” he watches you frown, and he won’t say you look older, because you don’t. But you certainly look wiser, mature and more like a woman rather than a girl.

“I’ve been thinking about the games” He’s all ears now. He knows you had some specific opinions. You had said in your first interview how brutal the games were.

“What about them?”

“I would never ask you to stop the games. But…” you stop, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“But what, my dear?”

“Don’t you think those tributes are humans? Yes, the Districts deserve to be reminded of the consequences of their acts. But most of the tributes are kids. Who don’t even understand everything that conveys a war.” Coriolanus sighs, trying to choose the correct words to answer you.

“What are you suggesting?” He tries to sound calm, but the mere subject makes him a little irritated.

“I don’t know… Maybe giving them more opportunities?” He giggles, caressing the skin on your hips.

“Giving them opportunities means going soft on them. And going soft on them could trigger a new rebellion” this time you sigh, trying to persuade him by brushing his hair, softly grasping his chin.

“Not like that, Coryo. I mean… raising the majority age of the tributes. Giving them at least the chance to train. To eat a proper meal on the last night. To show who they are one last time before they’re sent to die” Coriolanus would always believe that you’re only one weakness was your humanity. How you always turned to see down on others, feeling guilty from being born with all the commodities.

So, he tries to ignore it. He tries to see your suggestions as a way to punish the tributes harder. Give them everything to then killing them.

So, he smiles, urging you to kiss him. You reply immediately, holding him closer to feel the heated proximity.

“I could arrange some changes. Would that make you feel better?” You nod on his lips, smiling.

“Now let me finish this before meeting you in bed. And I expect you have this thing off before I get there” he says grabbing your nightgown. You laugh with a potent blush, gently pushing him away.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not being silly. In two days, we start the tour, we will be very tired to make love daily as we do now” you roll your eyes, almost running away ad your husband laughs, making fun of your embarrassment.

“This is madness. I’m going to bed” you say getting out of his office.

“Don’t forget about what I said!” He yells, making you smile in love as you leave upstairs, wishing good night to the maids and butler. For the record, you do not forget about your husband’s petition.

…

The best part of the house is the rooftop in your opinion. A terrace with cristal walls and ceilings that had a gorgeous view of the Capitol. A view that included some monuments and the snowy mountains surrounding the city.

You had a little bar there, an eccentric dining table and some couches with colorful cushions.

Grandma’am made you take some of his roses so you could start your own garden. That brought tears to your eyes. But now, it was only you and Tigris there.

You asked the chef to make some vegetables and creams as your sister-in-law arrived for dinner. Coriolanus and you were set to leave the next morning for his political campaign tour.

“Have you packed everything?” Tigris asks.

“Yes. I wish I could take Trevor with me. But only Millie will be able to come” you say smiling. Tigris notices how you constantly look at the door, hoping to see Coriolanus entering.

“Have you told him?” You shake your head at the woman.

“Not yet. Probably by the time we arrive District 4. We have good memories from there” Tigris smiles. She was really excited when you got back together with Coriolanus. She even made your wedding dress. And now she was so proud of the career you two were making.

“Sorry for the delay. I was arguing with some incompetent who cancelled the delivery of our new chandeliers” Tigris rolls her eyes as your husband cheekily smiles.

“Dinner isn’t ready yet, anyways” you say patting his back as he takes a seat beside you.

“You shouldn’t be stressing over the tour. Your dear wife must’ve prepared the most wonderful speeches for you to say” Coriolanus smiles, turning to give you a peck on the nose, making you laugh.

“It’s not that, Tigris. It’s the time that’s freaking me out. I don’t want to be gone for almost two months.” You sigh, trying to keep everything together. You just pray that the tour goes smoothly.

“Each district will host you with all commodities” it’s a lie. Coriolanus isn’t ready to go to District 12 again. Where his father died, where he committed the worst decisions of his early life. He knows those days will be a little sour. But he’s willing to play pretend very well for you.

“It’s going to be fine. Pardon me, dear” Coriolanus says after seeing your face of over thinking. His wife is so smart that she’s probably wondering the same as him. And that’s the least he needs of.

You take his hand, before hearing the food has arrived. The air changes, the dinner flows happily as you talk and gossip with Tigris and your husband. It’s a great dinner actually.

Maybe he broke your heart when you were teenagers. But you delayed his political campaign for four years. Maybe he had looked too much at Lucy Gray Baird, but at the end it would only be you.

You could’ve done better to get rid of that guilt for participating in the hunger games, but you just realize that maybe you didn’t because you are not a good person either.

Even so, every morning, you wake up in his arms as he fulfilled his promise of never failing you again.

You just hope that the tour, the upcoming games and everything else doesn’t get into your way. Nothing can be a recoil. Not when Coriolanus Snow’s first child rests peacefully in your womb.

The future was uncertain. But your past and present along him always seemed like… a hatred road.

_____________________________________________

fyi, in my head, if reader hadn’t delayed Coriolanus political emergence, the second rebellion would’ve started earlier and probably it wouldn’t have been successful. (Basically it would’ve been like a second time “dark days” situation and then back to reconstruction again)

Taglist: @dear-bunnyboo @daydreamerprocrastinator @lecrercsgirlshhs @athanasia-day @devils-blackrose @reader-bookling123 @cookielovesbook-akie @justacaliforniandreamer @m1ndbrand @blairfox04 @darktrashsoulbear @fartybobabutt @diannana @iwantosleep @sarysuniverse @unclecrunkle @f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @didneyworld13 @imguce @angelscrime @impeterporker @lem122 @cryaka @ietss @michelleisheres-blog @capsiclesworldsblog @circe143

#coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #corio snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas

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logansdoll · 3 months ago

Text

chimichangas

part two of "jim beam"

CW: suggestive, profanity, Blind Al, takes place after the events of Deadpool 3, reader is going through some stuff, Logan is an animal, Wade is Wade, etc.

"I see you found my stash," Althea smirked, poorly pouring you another glass of whiskey as you sat down at the table.

"Sorry," you sighed, taking a swig. "If I'd known you could tell, I would've asked."

She cocked a brow with a smirk, and you let out a half-hearted chuckle.

She could read you surprisingly well for a blind woman.

"Yeah, no, I wouldn't."

She smiled as she poured herself her own drink, but when the silence settled, she could tll your expression had fell.

"All right, what's on your mind?" she sighed, almost like an order as she pulled up a chair.

You scoffed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It may have been a while since I've actually talked woman to woman, but I can still tell when something's up," she nodded, taking a sip from her glass. "And judgin' by the way you're downin' that drink, I'd say it's man troubles."

You nearly choked on your liquor, and she let out a quiet chuckle.

"Of course not. It's not him at all," you quickly assured, not wanting the woman to get the wrong idea. "Logan has been amazing. And if anything... it's me troubles."

She smiled, attempting to reach out and touch your hand, but missed.

By a whole lot.

"I'm all ears."

You didn't know what it was, be it her elderly charm or her comforting presence, but something about her just made you feel like spilling your guts.

You sighed, taking a deep breath before deciding to start from the beginning.

"My power allows me to see the future," you looked down at your drink, solemnly. "Be it seconds or minutes or days, you name it, I can see it... so long as my power is activated."

"Okay..." Althea nodded in understandig.

"But that night... the night everything went to shit... I was asleep... I couldn't see the Sentinels coming."

You squeezed your glass, the self-loathing clawing at your throat like an angry tomcat.

"I tried to save the kids... but it wasn't long before everyone was gone... and I was taken captive."

Your voice quaked, hands trembling as fragmented memories of the bloodshed flashed in your mind.

"I can't remember much after that... and Wade won't tell me the details of what happened to me in that laboratory. But after who knows how long in that chamber I'm stuck in this new world with no way to get back to mine and I just can't help but wonder if I'd just been awake that night then maybe... my family would still be alive... my home wouldn't be destroyed..."

You turned to her, eyes glassy as you sniffled.

"My Logan... not so guilty about what happened..."

Althea sighed, her hand finally finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Honey..." she started, her tone warm and forgiving. "Guilt is one of those feelings that feeds on the pain you give it."

Her thumb smoothed over the back of your hand, bringing a sort of grandmotherly comfort to your heart.

"You can't turn back the clock... but you can decide whether you're gonna let this feeling hold you back, or show you the strength you need to keep on living."

You sighed, knowing her words were true, yet still hearing that nagging voice in the back of your mind.

Maybe it's time to leave the past in the past...

"It's Chimichanga Time, bitches!" Wade suddenly exclaimed, bursting through Al's apartment door and striking a pose, waving the take-out bags around theatrically.

"Motherfucker!" Althea jolted, snatching a gun from under the table and taking aim...

Directly at the wall.

Muffling your snickers, you carefully pushed her hand the right way, changing her target to Wade's chest rather than the door frame.

"Jazz hands?" you raised a brow, turning to the man.

"I believe the politically correct term is spirit fingers," he corrected, mater-of-factly. "Times have changed, my dear (y/n). Next thing you know you'll be old Al here a colored."

"The fuck did you just say to me?" Althea exclaimed.

"(n/n)'s words, not mine!"

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Logan groaned, snatching the bags from him and plopping them down on the table. "Eat your damn food and keep fuckin' quiet."

You stood from your chair, walking up to your man and pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, baby," you greeted, resting your head on his chest. "How was your day?"

His shoulders sank under your touch, all the anger melting away as he wrapped his arms around you, placing a tender kiss on your hairline.

"I'm just glad it's over," he sighed, resting his tired head against yours.

It was no secret to anyone that Logan had some serious anxiety when it came to leaving you places by yourself.

And it wasn't that he didn't trust in your ability to handle yourself, but rather he didn't trust the powers that be not to try and fuck his life over for the hundredth time.

Granted, he couldn't really help it when he had to go to work, or assist Wade with his post-breakup, mercenary bullshit...

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

"M'sorry," you cooed, cupping his cheek in your hand. "If you want we can—"

Suddenly, it felt like all the air was snatched out of your lungs, the image of a bunch of thugs flashing in your mind, along with the door being broken down.

It was your first vision since being in the chamber.

"(n/n)?" Logan asked, worry spiking up his chest as he lifted your chin. "You alright?"

'Althea!'

Five seconds...

"GET DOWN!" you shouted, quickly kicking over the table and shoving Al behind it just as the men kicked open the door.

Quickly, Wade grabbed a cast-iron skillet off the stove, slamming it over the head of the first grunt to rush in before using it to deflect a shotgun.

"Behind the couch! Now!" Logan barked, shoving himself in front of you and unsheathing his claws as bullets began ricocheting around the room

You dropped to the ground without argument, army crawling away to safety.

And once you were secure, Logan went off, letting out a roar of anger as he charged into the fight.

They come into his home... in his safe haven... and try and take his reason for living?

Heads. Were. Going. To. Roll.

Wade slid across the kitchen counter under the heavy gunfire, grabbing the knife block before flipping over the edge, tossing a steak knife into a man's neck before finishing him off with a bread knife to the dick.

Logan launched himself at the one with the shotgun, not even flinching as a chunk of his shoulder was blown off, still plunging his claws into the man's chest.

Clocking the grunt coming up behind him, he quickly whipped around, sending an uppercut straight through his head.

Out of nowhere, one of the thugs popped up with an AK-47, completely spraying the couch while Wade handled the dumbass with the baseball bat.

'(Y/N)!'

"RAAAAAAH!" Logan bellowed, furious, as he sprinted toward the one responsible, tanking countless bullets before slicing the gun to pieces and proceeding to absolutely maul the poor bastard.

Wade hit Baseball Douche in the face with the knife block before dodging a swing, stabbing him in the chest with a butcher's knife before turning around and throwing it at the head of a man going for Althea.

But when he whipped around to finish off Baseball Douche, Logan was already there, stabbing him right through the head and spraying blood all over Wade's face.

"Oh, God! Oh, God, time out!" he whined, dropping to his knees as he covered his face. "Got bad guy blood right in my open eye. Oh, that is gross..."

As the dust began to settle, it became eerily quiet, all the enemies seemingly dead.

"(n/n)?" Logan panted, chest heaving and heart panicked as he glanced around. "(y/n)?"

Slowly, you rose from behind the couch, unharmed.

"I'm okay," you assured, a little shaken up, but otherwise alright.

"Althea," Wade sang, wiping his eye with his shirt. "Are you dead?"

"I wish," she groaned, hoisting herself up from behind the table.

Without another word, Logan sped toward you, retracting his claws before pulling you into a bone crushing embrace—one you reciprocated with just as, if not more, relief.

"I thought I lost you again," he exhaled, relishing the way you felt in his arms, hands sliding all over you to squeeze what could've been taken away from him.

"I'm right here, Logan," you cooed, carding your hand through his scruffy hair as he nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. "I'm right here..."

Though, unknowingly to the other, you both were going through your own forms of consolation.

You had protected your family from a tragedy you couldn't before.

He had saved you from the fate that befell countless others from his past.

Both were beginning to realize that maybe this new life really could be different.

Working together to protect and save one another...

Learning to love without fear of separation...

Forgiving the past mistakes that made you who you are today...

Growth that could only be attributed to absolute trust in each other.

"Heyo!" Wade gasped, a smile stretching on his face as he stared at the ground. "The Chimichanga Gods have spoken."

The rest of you turned to face him, watching as he fished a bloody take-out bag out from under the body of a dead man—who looked like he had mush for a face.

"Tonight... we feast."

"You are fucking disgusting."

#james howlett #james howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #wolverine x reader #x men #x men x reader #wolverine

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ladywhistlewrites · 5 months ago

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Hiiiiiii can I request a wife x Anthony bridgerton story where they are newly married and back from their honeymoon so Anthony works a lot where reader nearly never sees him so when she goes to talk to him he snaps at her and takes his stress out on her and reader gives him the silent treatment until she feels like it’s enough. Pls make him work for her forgiveness 😭😭😭😭😭

hii thanks for sending an ask!!🩷 hope you like it :))

Anthony Bridgerton x wife! reader

***

The morning sun casts a golden glow through the windows of your shared home, a beacon of warmth and new beginnings. You and Anthony have just returned from your honeymoon, the memories and whispered promises still fresh in your minds. Every corner of your home feels infused with the love and joy of your new life together, a life that seems to stretch out before you with infinite possibilities.

The first few days are blissful. You and Anthony spend lazy mornings entwined in each other’s arms, sharing laughter over breakfast, and planning your future with excitement. His touch, his voice, everything about him fills you with an overwhelming sense of contentment. You are his, and he is yours.

But as the days turn into weeks, you notice a change. Anthony, ever the diligent worker, begins to spend more time in his study, pouring over documents and attending meetings. At first, you understand. You admire his dedication and are proud of his accomplishments. Yet, gradually, his presence becomes a rarity. He leaves early and returns late, often slipping into bed after you’ve fallen asleep and rising before you awaken.

One evening, after another long day of waiting for him, you decide to confront him. The house is quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock in the hallway. You find him in his study, hunched over his desk, the dim light casting shadows on his face.

“Anthony,” you call softly, stepping into the room. He doesn’t look up, his attention firmly on the papers before him. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “We need to talk.”

He finally glances up, his expression a mix of exhaustion and impatience. “What is it, my love? I’m very busy.”

The endearment feels hollow, and your heart aches. “I know you’re busy, but I miss you. We barely even spend time together . It feels like you’ve forgotten about me, about us.” you murmur

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m doing this for us, for our future. Can’t you understand that?” he says with venom in his mouth.

“I understand, but what good is the future if we’re not happy now?” The words tumble out, your voice rising with emotion. “You’re consumed by your work, Anthony. You’re neglecting our marriage.”

His eyes flash with irritation, and before you can react, he snaps. “Just mind your own business, will you? I’m doing what needs to be done.” he spats.

You stand there, stunned and hurt, his harsh words cutting deeper than you’d imagined possible. Without another word, you turn and leave, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silent house.

In the days that follow, the pain of his outburst lingers. You decide to give him the silent treatment, unable to bear the thought of speaking to him. You avoid him, your interactions reduced to strained silences and cold civility. He tries to reach out, but you turn away, your hurt and pride keeping you at a distance.

Anthony, realizing his mistake, begins to make amends. Each morning, you find fresh flowers on your bedside table, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the dull ache in your heart. He sends you beautiful gowns, their fine fabrics a reminder of his thoughtfulness. Every day, he apologizes, his voice earnest and filled with regret.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says repeatedly. “Please forgive me.”

A week passes, and you find yourself missing him more than you can bear. The sight of the flowers, the sound of his apologies, all begin to chip away at your resolve. One evening, as the sun sets and the house is bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you find him in his study once more.“Anthony,” you say quietly. He looks up, hope flickering in his eyes. “I forgive you. But you must promise me, promise me that you will never speak to me like that again.”

He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he might never let go. “I’ve missed you too, more than you can imagine.”

You stand there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the world outside fading away. In that moment, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together, bound by love and the promise of a future filled with happiness.

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bluetooththereptile · 11 months ago

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Crimson bride

(Yandere Damian Wayne x twin sister reader)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Summary: Your life is going to end horribly, your will to live is slipping away, will your only hope come to save you?

Tw: mentions of violence and abuse

The smell of blood and incense had filled the air, your lungs could hardly bear the responsibility of bringing you oxygen under the pressure of your stress, not that they could easily filter the smoke in the air anyway. It felt like the air was on fire, with each breath your body shuddered slightly, your body could hardly bear the burden of keeping you alert. The beads of sweat slithered down your spine, making the already uncomfortable rags even more unbearable. You were just 11, why were you stuck in a room full of adults in dark long robes...you were not sure...or perhaps you knew what was going to happen, but you didn't know why on earth you were there. You eyed the sacred blade in the hand of the leader of the group, the light of the candles shimmering on its uneven blade, and swallowed your saliva down your throat that now had turned extremely dry. You could already feel the pain in your chest. Dear God, if you hear me...please help!

The dark monks' chants echoed in the chambers, and the puddles of red wax candles under the feet of pillars carved with different images of unholy creatures, seemed like oozing puddles of blood to you, already boiling with crimson liquid of life right out of hell, where they hailed their master from. The veil on your head was thin enough for you to recognize people's faces, well, at least the ones who didn't have a mask on, and your terrified eyes spotted the figure of your grandfather standing behind the leader, himself holding a golden bowl at hand. You gritted your teeth at remembering his words. The memory is still fresh for you, it was just two months ago when he was having a drink with the leader himself in his boudoir, with you present by his side.

"She's a fitting lady Ra's...I give you the credit of having good hereditary genes..." the leader spoke in his smooth voice, his eyes scanning you up and down. You knew how the way he looked at you was inappropriate but you still stayed, holding the tray of drinks, standing by your grandfather's side, if you were going to flinch even for an inch, your mother wouldn't be happy. "She is..." your grandfather hummed, rubbing his chin before he chuckled "What is it old friend? You seem too interested in my child..." the words spoken made your shoulders stiffen slightly, your fingers tightening around the edges of the tray. "I am...but not for what you think...she is too young for marriage for a mortal man..." his smirk grew wider as he continued "But she's at the ripe age for being gifted to our dear lord...she'd make a decent bride..." you could see Ra's hold on his glass of drink tighten, what did his friend mean? Did he want to marry you off to someone? You wondered, but your confusion soon turned into horror as the leader continued "Her heart fits the unholy bowl perfectly" Oh no...you had heard from your nanny that this man was bearer of bad news but this...this was unpredictable! Your head turned to your grandfather to see how he'd respond...please say no, please say no, I've been a good granddaughter...please say no! "What price do you offer?" And with that, your whole world shattered, you felt like life was slipping away from your shell of being as he negotiated the price of marriage, did he...did he just agree on making you a sacrificial lamb?!

You snapped out of your thoughts by feeling the extremely warm hold of the leader on your naked arm as he pulled you away from the corner of the damp room, the metallic chains on your weak ankles clinking loudly as you dragged them on the floor, your feet already bruised by the rough edges of the old tiles on the floor, leaving red trails of blood. He walked you to the alter, your heart skipped as you saw the white dressing of the stone bed, flower petals spread on the surface, how hauntingly fitting for a bridal bed... The man stopped you right before the altar and started chanting in a language you didn't know a word of. But whatever it was, it was working...because the tiles under your feet started to turn unbearably hot, the circles and symbols drawn onto the walls and the floor turned bright red, oh dear God...if you hear me...please help! You had lost your hope a long time ago, but still, you wanted to hold onto a sliver of hope, maybe your grandfather would change his decision at the last minute, or perhaps he would come...but no...how could Damian come to the other side of the world that quickly? He was just a child, like you, sure, he was a capable boy but still, he was just a boy. His words circled in your mind as the priest poured a warm liquid on your body that painted it red, its sweet aroma filling the air, unbeknownst to you, it was a poison that through skin pores penetrated the body and ran into your blood, slowly relaxing your muscles until your heart would stop, this way, if the demons preferred to have your body whole, you'd still be dead. As you felt your skin itch and your vision turn slowly blurry, Damian's voice echoed in your mind "I will come...I promise...I promise!" His voice was filled with determination, but you knew he'd be late. It was already too late...

They helped you lay down on the alter, the wet veil sticking to your face, slowly suffocating you, but you were too weak to move on your own, your eyes were closed, as if the liquid had sealed your eyelashes together, and the voices around you were turning into distant murmurs, your hands limp as they crossed it on your chest. It was too late...and he hadn't held up to his promise...your lips formed a pout, unable to cry, hardly latching onto the task of breathing, your breaths became labored. Soon your chest would be cut open and your warm paralyzed heart would be put into that golden bowl, and then thrown into a fire...you had hoped things would be different, but you knew from the very start, that you were unwanted, and one day, your family would give you up if they have the chance to do so.

Your ears couldn't detect the loud sound of the explosion of the tear gas in the room, how the cult members shouted and pulled out their weapons but were disarmed quickly by the man in black and a few younger ones. You didn't notice them until someone yanked the wet veil from your face and wiped the clotted liquid off of your nose and mouth, putting an oxygen mask on your face "Y/N!" The voice seemed familiar, but you were too weak to respond "Y/N!" He cried for your attention, his trembling hands shaking your shoulders, his voice muffled by his mask, his hold was pushed away from you when you felt a sharp pain on your neck, the detoxing liquid surged in your veins forward by copious amounts, yet you were already unconscious to see your father cry silently as he held your body close to his chest. Poor girl...poor poor girl...he wished he was there sooner.

Your nanny had pulled the small phone behind her apron with trembling hands, she knew your actions had consequences, but she wanted you to feel happy, so she'd do anything in her power to ensure it'd happen. You quickly snatched the phone out of her calloused hands and started to take the number you had repeated over and over in your mind since the moment you had snuck into your mother's study and had found it deep in her files, it was the Wayne Manor's, where your Damian lived with your father. You were separated since birth, him getting most of the attention of your mother, well the one who was to be her weapon, you were too weak to fight from the very first moments you had started to walk, but still, you tried to have a connection with your twin, who even if neglected your attention or bullied you, still felt a twinge of sibling love deep down. It was not until when he was sent to live by his father that Damian had found out how much he dearly loved you, and how much you meant to him. You dialed the number, hearing it slowly beep, one...two...three...you could hear your nervous breaths into the phone, and four "Hello?" You stiffened at hearing Damian's voice, moving your lips to speak but you couldn't, the sheer luck of having him pick up the phone himself was too much! "Hello?!" Damian's voice turned sour with annoyance, you knew he'd hung up quickly so you finally spoke "Hi..."

"Y/N?!" Damian's voice had turned from annoyed into one of surprise and concern, you spoke softly, asking how he had been doing, smiling as he quickly stammered to answer you, but then, when he was rambling on about missing you, you smiled sadly "Hey...I wanted to tell you something..." you interrupted him "Hmm? What is it?" He had asked with curiosity "Please, forgive me if I've done you anything wrong...okay?" "W-wait...Y/N..what do you? What is happening?!" "Grandpa wants to marry me off...to death..." and there was silence, a very uncomfortable silence. "I will come..." his voice was now filled with determination "I will come, I promise!...w-when's is the ceremony?" "Within two weeks-" the phone had slipped off of your hand when your mother's stinging slap met your face, you turned to look at her with wide eyes, trembling as you heard her crush the phone under her feet.

Your eyes opened up to a white light, with warmth surrounding your body. Were you in heaven? You naively asked yourself, but when the pain washed over your body, you knew you were still alive. "Hi..." Damian's voice made you turn your head to his direction at your side, your neck strained from being motionless for too long. He was holding your hand tightly, and your blurry vision could find the outlines of his face in what you could recognize as crying. "Welcome back..." his voice trembled as he sniffled, adjusting the oxygen mask on your face. You blind a few times to make your vision better, still, it felt a little blurry, but you could at least recognize you were somewhere dark, which you'd find out was the Batcave in the future, and Damian was sitting on your side. Your lips curled upwards slightly at how he held your hand to his chest, looking at you affectionately "Sorry I was late..." he spoke softly "But I will make things right from now on, I promise" he promised, and he would do anything in his power to ensure that.

#yandere #yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere bruce wayne #yandere robin #yandere Damian wayne #yandere bat family #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batboys

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rogueddie · 1 year ago

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Steve wakes up to a beeping noise- a heart monitor. He struggles to open his eyes, turning to squint around the hospital room. Something about it feels off, though he can’t tell what.

A woman stumbles in, almost spilling her coffee. She looks familiar.

“Hey,” Steve tries, only to end up coughing. His throat is painfully dry.

“Steve!” She exclaims. She hurries over, swapping the coffee for a plastic cup of water. She carefully holds it to his mouth for him to drink. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake! I know we can’t talk here but… fuck, man, you really had us scared for a minute. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again!”

“I promise?”

“Oh! Eddie finally woke up too! Just the other week. He keeps asking about you, I should go-”

Steve is only more confused. There’s only one Eddie he knows and that Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead worrying about someone like Steve. Not unless...

“Munson?”

“Duh. Oh! Nancy! I was supposed to- you’re ok, right? I’ll just be a minute!”

“Yeah, sure.”

She throws him a thumbs up, darting out the room, calling for Nancy.

His head throbs. He’s not sure what is going on, what happened… maybe that thing in the Byers house did get him after all? Maybe this is just a dream.

"Ah, Mr Harrington," a nurse greets with a warm smile. "It's good to see you awake. I'm just going to check your vitals and all of that stuff, then we'll need to go over some questions. Does that sound alright?"

"Questions?"

"You've been asleep for a few weeks. We need to make sure that everything up there is ok." She lightly raps her knuckles on the side of her head.

Despite how light she's trying to be, Steve feels a sinking in his stomach.

"Is that possible? What- what could be wrong?"

"Nothing too serious. You're speech is clear and legible, you're conscious and cognitive." She lifts the clipboard off the end of the hospital bed. "You remember your name?"

"Yeah," he says. After a moment, he realizes; "oh! Right, sorry. Steve Harrington."

"Date of birth?"

"April 29th, 1967."

"Do you know what todays date is?"

"Um... how long have I been out? You said a few weeks, right?"

"Almost three weeks, yes."

"Three weeks, so that would make today... December 4th?"

She doesn't respond for a moment. The way she keeps her eyes on the clipboard feels too calculated.

"The year?"

"Uh... 1983?"

She only pauses for a moment, before continuing to ask simple questions about current events, how he's feeling, where he feels any pain or discomfort.

He lies when she asks if he remembers what caused him to be hospitalized. He's not sure what the story Nancy and Byers will give. He can't imagine people... involved, would want the truth out. And he's not willing to risk whatever consequences will come with that.

"I'm going to talk with your doctor," she finally says. "I'll be one minute."

"Wait! What- am I ok?"

"Your doctor will explain everything, don't worry."

Amnesia, his doctor explains.

Three years of his life, gone. They try to reassure him, say that it's still early days and he could completely regain his memory, no problem.

But they don't know. Not really. It's all 'possibly's, and 'maybe's. No guarentee. There's still a chance that he may never remember.

The woman who ran in when he woke up, sat by his bedside and holding his hand in a death grip, doesn't look anymore reassured by their optimism than he is.

"We're... close?" He asks her.

"Yeah," she says, forcing a smile. "Platonic soulmates. It's, um... Robin, by the way. Robin Buckley."

"Do we have that... Mrs Click, you sit behind me, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." She looks stunned, almost dazed. "I didn't think you remembered, or even noticed me."

"How could I not? You're hilarious!"

"What? We never-"

"Oh, uh, you're muttering. Behind me. It wasn't exactly, um... quiet."

"Oh my god," she slaps a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "You heard me talk about you!"

"Yeah, like I said; you're funny."

Luckily, someone else bursts into the room, interrupting whatever epiphany Robin is having.

"Steve!" He yells.

The guy looks like a kid, barely out of middle school. But he rushes to Steve, eyeing him up like he's Steves babysitter.

"Uh, hi?"

"Oh no," is the kids response. He turns to Robin. "How much does he remember?"

"He is right here, you know."

"I think some time in 83?" Robin replies, ignoring him.

"Before or after the whole... uh..." He glances at Steve with suspicion, then pointedly to the door.

"Jesus," Steve mutters, rubbing at the crease between his brows. "Did Nancy and Jonathan tell you, or what?"

"Tell us about... what?"

He rolls his eyes at them, pointing to the kid. "Whatever has short stack paranoid. The thing with the-" he flops one hand around, raised towards the ceiling, "the lights."

"Do you remember anything that happened after that?" The kid quickly asks. "At the hospital, and Will?"

"You mean the Byers kid? Isn't he, like... dead?"

"So you... don't remember me."

"Sorry?"

"It's fine," he lies.

Steve hates how sad the kid sounds. He glances between the two of them, both seemingly wallowing quietly about the situation.

"Which room is Munson in?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"What?" The kid frowns. "Eddie? Why?"

"Which room?"

"He's two doors down to the left," Robin answers. "Why- woah! Don't get up! You're still-"

"I'm fine," Steve gently pushes her away, ignoring both of them trying to plead for him to get back into bed.

Despite the bandages, bruises and sick look to him, Munson somehow looks better than Steve remembers him looking. The longer hair definitely suits him.

"Steve?" He frowns. He tries to sit up but, grimacing, he soon stops. "What the hell are you doing up? You're gonna freak Dustin out."

"Dustin? That the kid?" He asks, grunting as he sits on the edge of his bed.

"What do-" he pauses, expressions slowly twisting with the horror and realization. "Yeah. Yeah, man, Dustin is the kid."

"Right. So... um... we're friends now?"

Eddie winces. "We haven't exactly had time to talk about... that."

"What? It's been years!"

"It's not that simple."

"Are you saying that because it's true or because you don't-"

"Because it's true," Eddie rolls his eyes. "A lot has happened since then, Steve. You fell in love with Wheeler."

"What?" Steve can't hide his confusion. "Nancy?"

"Yes, Nancy. You made sure everyone fucking knew about that."

Steve snorts, having to grab at his side with a wince. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"So you're still easy to rile up?" He asks, smirking.

"Wh- you-" Eddie gasps. He tries to sit up again, grunting when he flops back down. "You were trying to make me jealous?!"

He's looking at Steve with disbelief, but he's also smiling.

"Are we friends now?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Stevie. We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"I don't... Steve, how bad is your amnesia?"

Steve quickly looks away, wincing. "Not... that bad? I remember that- the first time. This, um... monster shit. Falling out with Tommy. And the doctors are optimistic- they're pretty sure I'm going to remember."

"Alright... maybe it'd be better if we talk then, instead of rushing into it now."

"Jesus," Steve frowns. "I really have missed a lot. When did you get mature?"

"Hey-"

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #steddie fic #ficlet #hurtcomfort

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year ago

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lover, you should've come over - m. schmidt

a/n: you guys should have seen this one coming! as always i appreciate any likes and reblogs and hope you enjoy :) warnings: suggestive themes, big angst, lots of talk about tattoos and pain and needles, mike having horrible anxiety and commitment issues, reader is mostly gender neutral except for one thing ! tattoo aftercare, hurt/comfort, kissing word count: 3.6k summary: you get a tattoo, and it terrifies mike. mostly because he realizes how much you love him. pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader now playing: lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley "my body turns and yearns/for a sleep that won't ever come/it's never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder."

Penny has done almost all of your tattoos, save for the stick and poke star you gave yourself while you were way too high to be handling that sort of equipment, and a few flash designs you’ve gotten for holidays. And usually, you keep it simple and easy, pitching a design idea and getting a finished stencil a few hours later.

But this time, you go into the shop a few months before you plan to get the tattoo and describe to her what you want. She’s shocked that you want a half sleeve—It’s a big step, she tells you, and it’ll mean sitting for a few hours while she does her work. It’ll be painful, and the design will take a few weeks to get made, because she wants to give you the best possible design.

She does good work. When you visit again in about three weeks, you put down a deposit and make an official date to get it done. October 9th.

You go home that night to your small, but warm home to find your boyfriend trying to make chicken parm. His goal all year has been to learn how to cook, not just to make things out of a box. You know a bit better how to cook, but you let him improve his skills, always providing helpful, gentle critiques.

Abby is worse at being gentle.

She’s brutal with her brother’s cooking, and even though Mike loves your gentle words, he appreciates Abby’s feedback, and just wants her to eat a full plate of food before bed each night.

Tonight, his food smells good. You mentioned about a month ago how you missed your mom’s chicken parm, and since then, he’s been reading and researching different recipes at work. Ever since he quit working at Freddy’s, he’s put down the book of dreams and has picked up cookbooks, working his way up slowly.

You tell him he’ll be making Thanksgiving Dinner in no time. You kiss his jaw when you say that, and later, he returns the favor by placing a kiss to your shoulder.

You go to him, standing in the kitchen, as he squints at the recipe book in front of him. He wears washed blue jeans, an old Foo Fighters tee shirt and a pair of blue fuzzy socks. A towel hangs over his shoulder as he mutters to himself, as he gets ready to put some garlic bread in the oven.

You’re still in your work clothes, though, it’s not as if you’re wearing anything fancy. Just a different pair of jeans, and a tee shirt with your shop’s logo on it. Your hair is messy, and you smell vaguely of dirt. The smell has become comforting to him in his time knowing you.

You step closer to him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He relaxes at your touch.

“Hey, Mike.” You say softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Not too bad. The food smells pretty good.”

“You think so?” His voice is hopeful, especially since he’s trying to live up to your memories of the dish as a kid. It’s his way of thanking you for being so good to him while he’s gotten his shit together.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go wash up and have Abby help me set the table.” You tell him. You kiss his jaw quickly before heading off to the bathroom to scrub the dirt from beneath your fingernails. You wash your face and arms too and begin to realize how domestic this all is.

You never saw yourself having kids, and never thought of yourself dating someone who did.

And you still never think about having kids, but you did find yourself treating Abby as if she is your own. This has nothing to do with how much you adore her brother. Abby is just easy to love. You wonder if anyone’s ever told her that.

When your work boots find themselves at the end of your bed, you change into a muscle tee. You’re awfully fond of them. You find a pair of Mike’s fuzzy socks and slip them on too. You take a moment to stare at your shoulder in the mirror, imagining how it’ll look when ink covers it. Most of your tattoos are on your legs, and for a long time, this arm has been bare of any ink. You’ve been saving it for this project for years.

You go to Abby’s room and knock gently before entering. You find her painting at this aisle you got for her birthday. She’s been working on this painting for a few days now, and it’s turning out quite nice.

“Hey, Abs.” You say softly, and she puts her paintbrush down to give you this big, toothy grin. “Go wash up and help me set the table?” You ask.

“Sure.” She hums and starts to skip along to the bathroom, but you stop her at the door.

“And remember, even if Mike’s food is bad, what do we say?”

“Mm, this food is so good and not horrible at all!”

“Abby.”

She sighs.

“This is unlike anything you’ve made before, and I appreciate the effort?”

“That’s it.” You let her go wash up, and then go to set the table.

When Mike eventually serves dinner, you’re starved. You don’t care if it’s bad, or if it’s burnt, you know you’ll like it because you weren’t able to take a lunch break that day. But it genuinely looks good.

He cuts up Abby’s food and puts the plate in front of her before sitting down and looking to you two for a reaction. You take a bite, and you have to pause.

Did Mike really cook something not just edible, but… good?

Not fine, not decent, really good.

“Mike, this is—”

“Amazing!” Abby gasps, going in for another bite. His cheeks flush.

“You guys don’t have to pretend, it’s alright—”

“No, Mike, we’re not pretending, it’s really good!” You defend, going in for a second bite yourself. “Try it!”

He does, and he even looks shocked at the quality of the food he’s produced. And it sets the mood for the whole dinner, until you eventually blurt out,

“I booked a tattoo appointment for next week.”

“What are you getting?” Mike can’t ever admit this to you, but he adores your tattoos. He thinks the placement of them are all wonderful, even if they’re smaller. He likes to kiss them, to trace his fingers over them, to just admire them in the summer.

“It’s a surprise.” You tell him. Owning your own shop and being your own boss has its perks. You have no worries about people judging you for your half sleeve, deciding that you can just ban them from your shop.

Your conversation drifts off and you focus on other things. When you’re done, you and Mike begin to clean up with him, letting some of the pan soak in the sink. You sit on the counter, drying some of the plates as Mike rinses.

“Thank you for dinner.” You tell him.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Comfortable silence fills the room. “You’re really not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” You smile softly. He dries his hand and steps between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in.

“Tease.” He mumbled, leaning forward, and kissing your shoulder. A hand goes to his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just being a little secretive.” You tell him, playing with his hair. You’re a fan of the scruff he’s been growing out lately.

“Isn’t it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll take breaks and remember to eat.” You tell him. “This isn’t my first tattoo, Mike.”

“I know, baby.” He says softly, “I just get worried—”

“You get worried about me? And yet, when I’m worried about you, you ignore me but—” He cuts you off with a kiss, and your hands land on his jaw, the scruff tickling your face.

• • •

The ink swirls around your shoulder, a moth wrapping around your shoulder and reaching to the top of your arm. Vines wrap around the moth, as flowers bloom in different places. Your birth flower is one of them, as well as your mother’s. You also place Abby and Mike’s around the moth, maybe protecting it. Thorns poke out of some of the vines, and the ink covers your shoulder, and down to just above your elbow.

You got it done on a Saturday afternoon, leaving late enough so Mike could sleep in without having to deal with Abby, but being able to give them some time to relax together.

It takes a few hours, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted. As with all your other tattoos, you’re sore, but this is a new type of sore. You ache for Mike’s hands on you, to hold you and kiss your shoulders, even though he can’t kiss your left shoulder for a few days.

The second skin will remain on your arm for a day or two, and then you’ll have to go through the process of moisturizing your tattoo.

You have Penny take lots of photos of it before you head home, Mike and Abby both waiting in anticipation for you to come home and show them your new ink. You’re excited to show them, since there’s a connection to them in the art.

When you open the door, Abby runs to you and immediately starts to look for the ink in question. She gasps when she sees it, all wrapped up on your arm.

“It’s a moth,” You tell her, “With my favorite plants.” You crouch down to point out different plans in the works. “These are my mom’s birth flowers, they’re carnations.” You tell her, “Do you know what these are?” You point to another flower.

Abby shakes her head, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fresh, raw flesh of the person she considers to be her caregiver.

“They’re lily of the valley flowers. They’re your birth flower.” You reach out and tuck hair behind her ear. Then, you point to the third flower. “And these? They’re honey suckles. They’re Mike’s birth flower.”

Mike watches your interaction, listening to your explanation of the tattoo. Suddenly, this anxiety pools in his chest. You’ve been living together for a few months, but somehow a symbol of him and Abby being engraved on your skin makes things all too real.

He could cry.

“Did you get the flowers because you’re a flower person?” You grin, knowing she doesn’t remember the title of your job.

“Botanist, you mean? Sort of, but you two mean a lot to me, and I wanted to tribute something to you guys.” You confess.

She grins and turns to look at Mike.

“I wanna be a tattoo artist when I’m older.” Mike is pale with anxiety.

He wants to tell you it looks good, that it’s brilliantly done, but he doesn’t find it in himself. He wants to run, to abandon this relationship at the door, to never speak to you again to avoid the fact that he wants you desperately and thinks he might marry you one day.

He walks off to the bathroom, and he’s unsure if it’s to throw up or to cry.

You’re disappointed, because you wanted him to like it desperately, since this tattoo is now on you forever, and you wanted it to be a tribute to him. It almost hurts you that he doesn’t love it. Or at least pretend to. Instead, his disdain is visible on his face, and you do your best to turn your attention back to Abby.

“Wanna help me make dinner?” You smile softly, and she nods.

“Did your tattoo hurt?” She acts gently.

“Yeah, but with a good artist it goes quickly, and they don’t aim to torture you.” You explain, as you begin to make mac and cheese.

As she sets the table, you turn back to her and ask, “Can you go get Mike for dinner?” She nods and skips along to your bedroom, where Mike sits on the bed, frustrated with himself.

“Mike?” She asks gently. “We’re making mac and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says softly, and Abby can just tell something isn’t right.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well..”

“Oh…” she suspects this is a lie.

“I’m sorry. Tell them I said sorry.” Tears prick Mike’s eyes. He’s unsure why he’s like this, and why he can’t just admire your tattoo and love you and tell you how much you mean to him. But he can’t. He gets the words out. He wants to love you so badly but something in him demands to not let him be happy.

He lays on the bed and tries to stay quiet as he cries.

• • •

Hours later, you sit at the table anxiously, your hands tapping on the wood, a cold bowl of Mac and Cheese on the table. You decide to get up to clean up dinner, and just as you do, soft steps creep out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

Mike stands and stares at the cold dinner that he feels bad for rejecting. He should just tell you what’s bothering him. Instead, his gaze turns and looks at you, doing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“You didn’t seem well, and Abby needed to eat.”

This comment sparks a much larger fire in Mike, and he isn’t sure why he’s angered by how much you care about his sister, his world.

“You aren’t her mom, you don’t have any reason to make her dinner or put her to bed—”

“Yeah, Mike, well, You’re not really her dad.” You glare. “I’ve taken care of her for months, fed her, made sure she’s taken care of, I’ve picked her up from school, and now suddenly, you’ve decided I have no right to just care about her? Fuck you, if you don’t love me anymore, then don’t take it out on your sister, talk to me like a god damn grown up and stop acting like a child.” You spit, angrily turning back around to keep doing your dishes so that Mike doesn’t see your red face or your tears.

With your back turned, he can see the moth on your shoulder blade, and he aches to trace the lines of your tattoos, kissing the skin around it. But cotton fills his mouth every time he tries to sew the gap between you two.

And your words strike him. He knows why you might think he doesn’t love you anymore, but he does. He loves you deeply and finds himself enamored with you, and yet he can’t even compliment this tattoo that you have obviously put a ton of time, effort and money into.

“I’m sorry—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I think we should give each other some space.” The words hit you like a ton of brick, and you’re ready to get on your hands and knees and beg him, beg him to not leave, beg him to forgive you (for what, you don’t know), beg him to touch you, beg him to want you.

“What..?”

“I just think I need some space.” He said softly, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You want to ask if he’s hungry, to kiss away all the sadness in the worry lines of his face.

You nod, bite your tongue. He wants to hold you and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You mumble, sighing softly. You also plan to leave early before Mike gets up.

Mike steps towards you, maybe to apologize. You step past him to go get pajamas from your dresser, not letting him grasp onto you. You don’t want him to apologize now. You want him to sit in his regret and you want to sit in your anger.

As you attempt to fall asleep that night, you pray Abby didn’t hear your conversation with him.

Both of you try to drift to sleep and salt streams from your eyes and into your ears.

• • •

A few days pass. Your tattoo starts to heal, and you take the second skin off your shoulder and arm and begin the process of aftercare.

You and Mike exchanged a total of about thirty words over the next few days. Abby noticed your angst towards each other and tried to get the two of you to make up. She figured that Mike was being an idiot, and just needed to apologize.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit that to his kid sister.

It’s hell. You have to pretend that you don’t want to beg for his forgiveness, but you know that neither of you are blameless. Your pride tells you not to be the first one to cave. His anxiety tells him that you hate him.

When he gets home one afternoon from work, you’re napping in bed. He knows the couch isn’t that comfortable and he’s sure you’re home because you’d mentioned to Abby that you weren’t feeling well. You probably didn’t expect to still be asleep when he got home.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts. He kisses your head and leaves a glass of water and cold medicine on the nightstand, before going to make himself busy somewhere else, as if not to disrupt your rest.

He takes one last glance at you before he leaves.

One night, he comes home from work late. You take it as an opportunity to take a hot shower after putting Abby to bed and taking a few minutes to sit in the bedroom that you missed while sleeping on the couch.

Besides, your bones ached from that uncomfortable couch while you were spoiled, used to Mike’s warm bed.

You barely hear the front door open as you continue your nightly routine. You need to apply lotion to your tattoo, to keep it moisturized as it heals. But you find yourself struggling to reach your shoulder.

Mike watches you from the doorway of the bedroom, biting his lip. The bags around his eyes have grown darker since your fight.

He takes off his boots first, and then strips his top down to an undershirt, then takes off his jeans. If you weren’t so busy, you’d acknowledge how handsome he looked in just his boxers and a gray tee shirt.

The bed dips behind you, as he sits behind you. You stop what you’re doing.

“Give me the lotion.” He says softly, and with a sigh of defeat, maybe even a bit of relief, you hand him the lotion. He squirts some lotion on his hands, then begins to rub it into your skin. You shudder at the contact, and he feels tears in his eyes again. He missed you. “I’m sorry I didn’t say I liked your tattoo. I love it.”

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t love me, and I’m sorry I said you weren’t Abby’s dad.”

“But I’m not—”

“But you are her parent.”

“So are you.”

A silence fills the room.

“What happened on Saturday?”

“I got anxious when I saw Abby and I’s birth flowers on you. Like how much I loved you was just engraved in your skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t mean to push you away, I was just terrified. Terrified that you’re going to leave. Terrified that I won’t be able to protect you.” His voice cracks at the end, and he leans his head against your shoulder that isn’t inked.

Your head turns to kiss his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know..” he says softly, but a part of him doesn’t believe it. You and Abby, you’re the only ones who have stayed, the only ones he’s been able to save. He doesn’t know who he is without the two of you. “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, but so was I.” You tell him.

“I love your tattoo. I love all of your tattoos. All of them. I love kissing them. I’m desperate for this one to heal so I can kiss this shoulder again.”

“Thank you for helping me with it. It itches like a son of a bitch.” You tell him, a weak smile on your face. Tears stain your shirt.

“Can we go back to normal now? I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you so much.” You turn and wrap your arms around him, the warmth radiating from his body as he holds you close. You wonder if either of you will ever be able to let yourselves be loved.

You hope to let each other try.

You kiss him, salty tears mixing, as you hold him close. He’s careful of your tattoo, not wanting to scratch or hurt you. He’s gentle in a way that betrays him. He desires you in this way that transcends want or need, something that is vital, as if it were breathing.

Yet his hands remain respectful. Gentle. You’re the one that adjusts your position to be over him, as you gently push him back against the bed, kissing him deeper.

He decides he will marry you someday. That maybe the idea of being with you for the rest of his life isn’t scary.

Not when you kiss him like that.

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